As the gates of Whiterun welcome me once more into the local capital, I breath a sigh of relief, as I imagine must Stenvar. I am carrying a lot of loot from my recent explorations, and anything which proved too much for even my muscle-bound form would be passed to Stenvar to carry - remember, he's a hired mercenary.
A lot of the equipment is weaponry and armour, so I visit Warmaiden's to sell it off. Like any other trader, Ulfberth War-Bear only holds a certain amount of gold, so in order to sell a majority of my gear I need to purchase items from him to balance the books. A lot of arrows have been lost in my recent adventuring, and so I buy large quantities of these for each of our quivers.
I leave the shop and make my way to Breezehome. Even though no one is home to tend it, the firepit still burns well. As I ascend the staircase, I glance over to the still-shut-door of Lydia's room, but quickly steal my eyes back again and walk into my own. The chest in the corner contains a lot of my gains from adventuring, and it is here that I store the remaining items I was unable to sell at Warmaiden's.
While looking through the chest, I decide to pick up large amount of leather and iron ingots which I had stored their previously. I make my way back outside, and, after getting the nod from Adrianne, begin to use the smithing equipment to make iron daggers and leather bracers. As I make each item, I become more and more proficient at it, so that the next item is better than the previous.
Naturally, by the end of all this manufacturing, I am left with a pile of armour and weapons which I have no need for. Luckily for me, Adrianne has a separate purse to Ulfberth, and I am easily able to sell the lot to her. I have no idea how she'll carry it all indoors - I'm barely able to lift the lot myself. But that's her issue, not mine.
I walk up the hill and enter the Temple of Kynareth. The priestess is happy to see me, and even happier to know that I've returned with the sap to help the special tree. She rewards me with gold, but isn't keen on taking back the Nettlebane sword. Fine, I'll hold onto it myself.
All through this conversation, I am waiting for the priestess to ask me about her assistant - after all, he never came back with me from Eldergleam Sanctuary. Maybe she wanted him away, and possibly dead? Either way, not my problem. I leave the temple.
As I begin to head out of Whiterun to begin my adventures once more, I have a quiet word with a little girl who has been bullying a boy. This boy turns out to be the Jarl's son - I fear that by not standing up for himself, this boy will not grow up to be a strong Jarl (assuming the Hold functions under some rudimentary form of hereditary monarchy).
We leave.
Friday, 30 December 2011
Skyrim - A delayed burial
We make our way from Stillborn Cave, still smarting from the wounds and harrowing battles fought in that cold grotto, and head south west, skirting the domain of Windhelm. A couple of wolves are beaten off easily, and some crabs at the side of a river we ford have bravery beyond their stature. Their chitin is taken for use in future alchemical mixtures.
Climbing the banks of the river near Lake Yorgrim, a range of mountains sits between me and Whiterun, forcing Stenvar and I to head west to get there. Without hunting for it, we stumble over the ancient Dwemer remains of Irkngthand. It is a ruined city of grey stone, set into the mountain side as many Dwemer edifices are. Branching between towers are stone walkways, as well as newer, wooden constructions.
The bandits announce themselves with a volley of arrow fire. Though inaccurate, it puts me and Stenvar on the defensive. But we are soon back on the front foot, eliminating each bandit we come to through savagery and cunning. Entry to the interior of the ruins is not available to me - no end of lockpicking results in a floor covered with broken picks. We move on.
On the way, I make yet another discovery - the ancient temple of Korvunjund. Much like many of the other draugr tombs I've frequented, a large exterior extends out, leading to a large metal door for access to the interior. My thirst for exploration isn't into it, and again we get back on our travels.
We finally make it onto the north-south road to Whiterun. Traveling down it, I speak with a rather odd man named Cicero who is standing next to a broken-wheeled cart. He appears to be some form of jester, and also appears to be completely insane. Dragons, bandits and poison-spitting spiders I can take with ease, but the crazed chatter of the mad leave me deeply disturbed.
I agree to help him fix his wheel, and speak with the owner of a nearby farm. The farmer seems very angry with the jester, and finds it absurd that someone would want to bring joy and happiness to these cold lands. I explain to him that he is carrying the body of his dear and departed mother in the back of the cart, and that it would be best to get the cart moving lest the dead and possibly diseased body have negative effects on his crops. The farmer agrees, and when I inform Cicero he is overjoyed.
I quickly depart south, and finally make it to the large wooden gates of Whiterun.
Climbing the banks of the river near Lake Yorgrim, a range of mountains sits between me and Whiterun, forcing Stenvar and I to head west to get there. Without hunting for it, we stumble over the ancient Dwemer remains of Irkngthand. It is a ruined city of grey stone, set into the mountain side as many Dwemer edifices are. Branching between towers are stone walkways, as well as newer, wooden constructions.
The bandits announce themselves with a volley of arrow fire. Though inaccurate, it puts me and Stenvar on the defensive. But we are soon back on the front foot, eliminating each bandit we come to through savagery and cunning. Entry to the interior of the ruins is not available to me - no end of lockpicking results in a floor covered with broken picks. We move on.
On the way, I make yet another discovery - the ancient temple of Korvunjund. Much like many of the other draugr tombs I've frequented, a large exterior extends out, leading to a large metal door for access to the interior. My thirst for exploration isn't into it, and again we get back on our travels.
We finally make it onto the north-south road to Whiterun. Traveling down it, I speak with a rather odd man named Cicero who is standing next to a broken-wheeled cart. He appears to be some form of jester, and also appears to be completely insane. Dragons, bandits and poison-spitting spiders I can take with ease, but the crazed chatter of the mad leave me deeply disturbed.
I agree to help him fix his wheel, and speak with the owner of a nearby farm. The farmer seems very angry with the jester, and finds it absurd that someone would want to bring joy and happiness to these cold lands. I explain to him that he is carrying the body of his dear and departed mother in the back of the cart, and that it would be best to get the cart moving lest the dead and possibly diseased body have negative effects on his crops. The farmer agrees, and when I inform Cicero he is overjoyed.
I quickly depart south, and finally make it to the large wooden gates of Whiterun.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Skyrim - Stillborn Cave
I return to the college at Winterhold to inform the archmage of what occurred at Saarthal. Amazingly, Tolfdir is back before me, and has already found somewhere to house the massive glowing orb I discovered at the aforementioned location. He asks me to study the orb, but I'm up to my armoured shoulderpads with tasks as it is - I'll look into it later.
I head back to Whiterun, a long and arduous journey across the frozen wastes. I choose to navigate around the mountain range clockwise this time, rather than across it, and find myself walking near Windhelm. On the way, a Khajiit randomly leaps out from behind a rock to attack Stenvar and I. Picking over his body, I find no hint as to why he chose to so futilely throw his life away in such a manner. I shrug at the madness of it all, and we traipse on.
I walk past the entrance to Stillborn Cave. Outside, bones of the dead have been arranged to keep explorers away. But none could have foretold the coming of me and my loyal follower Stenvar, and we dive into the darkness of the cave, eager for gold and glory.
The cave quickly changes from rock to pure ice - the walls and chambers carved my the winds of millennia throw the ice of the mountain. My gut tells me that danger lies ahead, but at this point I have no idea how much. But we soon fall into it.
This ice cave is populated by the grey-skinned falmer, humanoid subterranean dwellers who, though blind, can easily seek out invaders of their territory through smell and sound. Individually, they don't prove to be of much trouble to the two of us. But us soon as we come across multiples, things become quite tricky.
The falmer have small camps within the cave which we cleanse with blade and arrow and magic. The difficulty of managing them grows once they introduce the vile chaurus creatures, awful black-carapaced giant insects who throw gouts of poisonous spit our way when we approach. Again, single chaurus' die relatively quickly, but many a potion is required to stay alive amidst waves of the things.
Eventually, the entire cave complex is clear of both falmer and chaurus, and though I pull myself from the subterranean underworld with some treasures and gold, the difficulty and near-death suffered in sequestering them proves a sobering thought - was it all worth it?
I head back to Whiterun, a long and arduous journey across the frozen wastes. I choose to navigate around the mountain range clockwise this time, rather than across it, and find myself walking near Windhelm. On the way, a Khajiit randomly leaps out from behind a rock to attack Stenvar and I. Picking over his body, I find no hint as to why he chose to so futilely throw his life away in such a manner. I shrug at the madness of it all, and we traipse on.
I walk past the entrance to Stillborn Cave. Outside, bones of the dead have been arranged to keep explorers away. But none could have foretold the coming of me and my loyal follower Stenvar, and we dive into the darkness of the cave, eager for gold and glory.
The cave quickly changes from rock to pure ice - the walls and chambers carved my the winds of millennia throw the ice of the mountain. My gut tells me that danger lies ahead, but at this point I have no idea how much. But we soon fall into it.
This ice cave is populated by the grey-skinned falmer, humanoid subterranean dwellers who, though blind, can easily seek out invaders of their territory through smell and sound. Individually, they don't prove to be of much trouble to the two of us. But us soon as we come across multiples, things become quite tricky.
The falmer have small camps within the cave which we cleanse with blade and arrow and magic. The difficulty of managing them grows once they introduce the vile chaurus creatures, awful black-carapaced giant insects who throw gouts of poisonous spit our way when we approach. Again, single chaurus' die relatively quickly, but many a potion is required to stay alive amidst waves of the things.
Eventually, the entire cave complex is clear of both falmer and chaurus, and though I pull myself from the subterranean underworld with some treasures and gold, the difficulty and near-death suffered in sequestering them proves a sobering thought - was it all worth it?
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Skyrim - Under Saarthal
The door closes behind me, and I find myself stood in a gloomy passageway, the only light coming from a few candles in the distance. Stenvar warns me that there are both treasures and traps in ruins like these - I can tell that he's becoming attached, despite his mercenary nature.
Tolfdir leads us through twisting tunnels, with large chambers setup with tables and chairs for the study of artifacts. Some students from the college sit and attend to various investigations as we work our way through. Tolfdir sets me an easy tasks by asking me to collect a variety of objects from around the main chamber we find ourselves in.
Most of the artifacts come freely, but an amulet I grab traps me behind a thick set of bars which slam shut, holding me tight in a small chamber. Naturally Tolfdir believes me to have touched something I wasn't meant to - he fidgets around for the release, and the trap is released.
He tells me to put the amulet on which I dutifully do, regardless of the fact the last order of his I followed resulted in me incapacitated behind bars with him scalding me. The wall behind where I was trapped begins to glow blue with magic, and I can tell that this isn't something Tolfdir expected. He tells me to cast some magic at the wall, and it breaks, exposing another chamber.
Entering it, I have some sort of... vision. A blue colour is cast around the chamber, and a figure talks to me. Apparently he is from the Psijic Order, which means nothing to me. But he does explain that due to the exploration of Saarthal, certain things have been set in motion and that there is danger. It sounds more like a warning than a threat. After a time, I am left standing there wondering what just happened, and I explain everything to Tolfdir.
Despite the warning, Tolfdir believes we should press on, and he sends me and Stenvar ahead to scout. What we find are draugr, and plenty of them. Most lay in their graves, or stand in burial chambes, only becoming active when I pass nearby. This requires that Stenvar and I sneak along so as not to wake them, for although one draugr is easily despatched, a room full of them is more of a problem. The sneaking allows me to pick the draugr off before they rise with accurate shots from my bow, letting the rest once more.
Some chambers we reach have a set of standing stones in them which are used as a key to access further parts of Saarthal. Though they test my mental fortitude, none present much of a challenge - the prehistoric Nords must have had smaller brains than the cleverer Imperial brain residing in my head.
I reach a large chamber, the largest yet, and am met by the sight of a large glowing orb floating in the middle of the room. It bathes everything in a soft green glow. So awed am I by this that I don't notice the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldruson sitting on a throne amongst it all, who dutifully arises to give me a swift seeing to.
Our attacks do not seem to have much of an affect on Jyrik, and it is only when Tolfdir catches up with us that the tide starts to turn. He alters the energy that Jyrik is using from the orb, and my attacks begin to hit home. Soon, the draugr is dead, once more.
While picking his corpse for useful bits, Toldfir tells me that it is vital that this news reaches the arch-mage. Of course this means that I have to head back to the college as soon as I leave Saarthal, but luckily I don't have plans to go anywhere else right now.
As I work my way towards an exit, I find another circular wall and learn yet another dragon word. These things seem to be scattered all over this land - I must find more of them. Stenvar doesn't seem to react at all when the rush of blue words hits me like a wind - does he even see it? We carry on working our way back through the ruins of Saarthal, and emerge into daylight.
Tolfdir leads us through twisting tunnels, with large chambers setup with tables and chairs for the study of artifacts. Some students from the college sit and attend to various investigations as we work our way through. Tolfdir sets me an easy tasks by asking me to collect a variety of objects from around the main chamber we find ourselves in.
Most of the artifacts come freely, but an amulet I grab traps me behind a thick set of bars which slam shut, holding me tight in a small chamber. Naturally Tolfdir believes me to have touched something I wasn't meant to - he fidgets around for the release, and the trap is released.
He tells me to put the amulet on which I dutifully do, regardless of the fact the last order of his I followed resulted in me incapacitated behind bars with him scalding me. The wall behind where I was trapped begins to glow blue with magic, and I can tell that this isn't something Tolfdir expected. He tells me to cast some magic at the wall, and it breaks, exposing another chamber.
Entering it, I have some sort of... vision. A blue colour is cast around the chamber, and a figure talks to me. Apparently he is from the Psijic Order, which means nothing to me. But he does explain that due to the exploration of Saarthal, certain things have been set in motion and that there is danger. It sounds more like a warning than a threat. After a time, I am left standing there wondering what just happened, and I explain everything to Tolfdir.
Despite the warning, Tolfdir believes we should press on, and he sends me and Stenvar ahead to scout. What we find are draugr, and plenty of them. Most lay in their graves, or stand in burial chambes, only becoming active when I pass nearby. This requires that Stenvar and I sneak along so as not to wake them, for although one draugr is easily despatched, a room full of them is more of a problem. The sneaking allows me to pick the draugr off before they rise with accurate shots from my bow, letting the rest once more.
Some chambers we reach have a set of standing stones in them which are used as a key to access further parts of Saarthal. Though they test my mental fortitude, none present much of a challenge - the prehistoric Nords must have had smaller brains than the cleverer Imperial brain residing in my head.
I reach a large chamber, the largest yet, and am met by the sight of a large glowing orb floating in the middle of the room. It bathes everything in a soft green glow. So awed am I by this that I don't notice the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldruson sitting on a throne amongst it all, who dutifully arises to give me a swift seeing to.
Our attacks do not seem to have much of an affect on Jyrik, and it is only when Tolfdir catches up with us that the tide starts to turn. He alters the energy that Jyrik is using from the orb, and my attacks begin to hit home. Soon, the draugr is dead, once more.
While picking his corpse for useful bits, Toldfir tells me that it is vital that this news reaches the arch-mage. Of course this means that I have to head back to the college as soon as I leave Saarthal, but luckily I don't have plans to go anywhere else right now.
As I work my way towards an exit, I find another circular wall and learn yet another dragon word. These things seem to be scattered all over this land - I must find more of them. Stenvar doesn't seem to react at all when the rush of blue words hits me like a wind - does he even see it? We carry on working our way back through the ruins of Saarthal, and emerge into daylight.
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Skyrim - The College of Winterhold
I attend my first lecture at the College of Winterhold. Tolfdir, the resident lecturer, rabbits on for a long time about magical application, but the other students are keen on learning something practical. He teaches me a basic ward spell, something to throw up as a shield should other mages use offensive magic on me. It drains my magicka quickly leaving me depleted, but Tolfdir is happy enough with my performance and today's lesson is over. Tolfdir asks me to join him on an exploration of a nearby ruin called Saarthal. I agree and Tolfdir leaves. Nothing is said of Stenvar's presence in the corner of the room.
After speaking with the other students, some of whom have either gotten themselves into a pickle or require my assistance, I exit the college and do what any new student would do after joining - head to the pub. I navigate my way back across the stupidly dangerous bridge, and back into Winterhold proper. As soon as I step off the bridge, the weather turns awful - a veritable blizzard blows through the town. Regardless of this, I run for the inn - The Frozen Hearth.
I speak with a dark elf mage called Nelacar. Apparently, he's a bit of an outsider around here. The Jarl hates the college and mages, thinking them responsible for the calamity which destroyed a large chunk of the town, while the college booted Nelacar from their ranks because some of his experiments went wrong. He doesn't seem overly cut up about it, but I choose not to pry.
I tell him that I have been sent to speak with him by the priestess of Azura. This seems to loosen his tongue somewhat and he tells me about Azura's Star, a strange daedric device used to trap souls. His previous master used to own it, and would experiment on it. This in turn deranged him, and he dragged some of his followers over to Ilinalta's Deep - a sunken fort where I will find the Star. He asks me not to return the Star to the shrine. I thank him for his information and leave.
Stenvar and I make our way out of the town, and head for the ruin of Saarthal. The path we follow is across an open plain of snow, and aside from the odd wolf attack, nothing of note happens in our traversal of it.
Saarthal itself is below the local sea-level, a fundamental design-flaw in my mind, but then I am not an architect. A scaffold of wood-work has been setup to ease the access from here to the main door, and Stenvar and I work our way down until we stand in front of the gates themselves. I know not what awaits us inside, but Tolfdir is already here, and eager for me to get stuck in. I enter the ruin.
After speaking with the other students, some of whom have either gotten themselves into a pickle or require my assistance, I exit the college and do what any new student would do after joining - head to the pub. I navigate my way back across the stupidly dangerous bridge, and back into Winterhold proper. As soon as I step off the bridge, the weather turns awful - a veritable blizzard blows through the town. Regardless of this, I run for the inn - The Frozen Hearth.
I speak with a dark elf mage called Nelacar. Apparently, he's a bit of an outsider around here. The Jarl hates the college and mages, thinking them responsible for the calamity which destroyed a large chunk of the town, while the college booted Nelacar from their ranks because some of his experiments went wrong. He doesn't seem overly cut up about it, but I choose not to pry.
I tell him that I have been sent to speak with him by the priestess of Azura. This seems to loosen his tongue somewhat and he tells me about Azura's Star, a strange daedric device used to trap souls. His previous master used to own it, and would experiment on it. This in turn deranged him, and he dragged some of his followers over to Ilinalta's Deep - a sunken fort where I will find the Star. He asks me not to return the Star to the shrine. I thank him for his information and leave.
Stenvar and I make our way out of the town, and head for the ruin of Saarthal. The path we follow is across an open plain of snow, and aside from the odd wolf attack, nothing of note happens in our traversal of it.
Saarthal itself is below the local sea-level, a fundamental design-flaw in my mind, but then I am not an architect. A scaffold of wood-work has been setup to ease the access from here to the main door, and Stenvar and I work our way down until we stand in front of the gates themselves. I know not what awaits us inside, but Tolfdir is already here, and eager for me to get stuck in. I enter the ruin.
Monday, 19 December 2011
Skyrim - Winterhold
As Stenvar and I head back to Winterhold, I spy an encampment up ahead. It appears deserted from a distance, but we approach quietly and with bows drawn. There is no need for this - the camp is a bloodbath of dead hunters. Whoever or whatever did this has long since departed, so I pick my way through the useful stuff. I stumble upon a locked safebox which, with judiciousness use of my lockpick, soon reveals a ring inside. I take it and leave.
The path leads through snowy mountain passes and shows me an impressive sight - Winterhold. From a distance, a large building is visible atop a spike of rock, perched precariously. Only a thin bridge links it to the town below.
We travel down the hill to Winterhold, which is in the depths of a terrible snow storm. The town seems to have suffered some terrible calamity - only a smattering of buildings are intact and upright, surrounded by others which are burnt-out shells. Guards walk up and down the main street.
I enter the Jarl's longhouse, and approach him on his thrown. He is Jarl Korir, and for him to trust me, he sets me a task. I must locate the Helm of Winterhold for him, an ancient horn-adorned helmet which has somehow become misplaced. Despite this, the Jarl is confident of its location which he duly marks on my map. After some uncomfortable moments of the Jarl explaining his disdain for the local college, I leave, promising a swift return of the item in question.
I decide to investigate the building I'd seen from the road. It appears to be the College of Winterhold, a unique place in Skyrim where mages can study unhindered by petty Nord tradition. The college is built on a higher section of ground than the rest of the town, and is reachable via a rather treacherous stonework bridge. To either side is a drop of several hundred feet.
I am but a humble Imperial adventurer, and the thought of at least a basic education is something that has been on my mind for some time. The college's entry conditions seem to be very basic - all I need to do is confirm to them that I am capable of casting some magic. Even though I'm joining "to improve my destruction" (my words, not theirs), the tutor has me cast a magelight illusion spell. This seems to be all that is required, and I am inducted into the ranks of apprentice mages.
I'm given my own room, which is in a roundel of other student rooms. At least I now I have somewhere to stay for free should I return to Winterhold on a regular basis. I meet some of the other characters, all of whom seem to be either socially inept, power-hungry, or too trusting. I think I'll get on just fine here.
The path leads through snowy mountain passes and shows me an impressive sight - Winterhold. From a distance, a large building is visible atop a spike of rock, perched precariously. Only a thin bridge links it to the town below.
We travel down the hill to Winterhold, which is in the depths of a terrible snow storm. The town seems to have suffered some terrible calamity - only a smattering of buildings are intact and upright, surrounded by others which are burnt-out shells. Guards walk up and down the main street.
I enter the Jarl's longhouse, and approach him on his thrown. He is Jarl Korir, and for him to trust me, he sets me a task. I must locate the Helm of Winterhold for him, an ancient horn-adorned helmet which has somehow become misplaced. Despite this, the Jarl is confident of its location which he duly marks on my map. After some uncomfortable moments of the Jarl explaining his disdain for the local college, I leave, promising a swift return of the item in question.
I decide to investigate the building I'd seen from the road. It appears to be the College of Winterhold, a unique place in Skyrim where mages can study unhindered by petty Nord tradition. The college is built on a higher section of ground than the rest of the town, and is reachable via a rather treacherous stonework bridge. To either side is a drop of several hundred feet.
I am but a humble Imperial adventurer, and the thought of at least a basic education is something that has been on my mind for some time. The college's entry conditions seem to be very basic - all I need to do is confirm to them that I am capable of casting some magic. Even though I'm joining "to improve my destruction" (my words, not theirs), the tutor has me cast a magelight illusion spell. This seems to be all that is required, and I am inducted into the ranks of apprentice mages.
I'm given my own room, which is in a roundel of other student rooms. At least I now I have somewhere to stay for free should I return to Winterhold on a regular basis. I meet some of the other characters, all of whom seem to be either socially inept, power-hungry, or too trusting. I think I'll get on just fine here.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Skyrim - The Shrine of Azura
I have to trudge down the mountain a bit before finding a usable path. The snow is falling heavily, the wind not helping by gusting it into flurries, obscuring my vision. Stenvar follows not far behind - he keeps up with me admirably, though complains that he hasn't worn something warmer.
Out of the blizzard appears something definitely made by hands of some sort - it is a Dwemer ruin, Alftand. The Dwemer have long since died out, a race of dwarves who built vast underground cities and utilised technology like no other seen on the surface. I am awed by the view of so much bronze, and such majesty of architecture, but choose to press on up the mountain - I can return to this place at a later date.
We next pass the entrance to a mine, called Sightless Pit. It is aptly named - it is barely viewable from the path. Again, I carry on. Wolves intermittently attack us as we force our way through the freezing air, Stenvar once again reminding me that it is so cold that he can barely hold a weapon. I've paid for his services, so he will go where I go, kill what I say, and put up with whatever the weather chooses to do.
I can see a large statue at the peak of the mountain, barely able to discern detail on the thing. A snow bear takes me by surprise, so well hidden it was by the snow, and so distract was I by the statue. I receive a number of swipes from its claws, then slash my sword across its neck. The beast falls down the slope and drops out of sight. I am not in the mood for harvesting its skin.
The rocks of the mountain begin to funnel us towards the top, and rounding a corner I once more see the statue - it is a woman with outstretched arms, one holding a star, the other a crescent moon. It is the Shrine of Azura, and it is here that I meet a priestess. She is the last of her kind, she says, her name being Aranea Ienith. She has had a vision of an Elven mage in a water-surrounded fort, and wants me to locate him. But I will have to travel to Winterhold first to find out the true whereabouts of this fort.
I step away from the shrine, and we make our way back down the mountain towards Winterhold. En route, I find an old watchtower called Journeyman's Nook. Inside, I discover a bandit who seems quite taken aback by my sudden intrusion, and leaps forward with a mace. I make short work of him with my sword, and return to investigating the building.
It seems as though this place was once home to a mage called Borvil, for I find his grisly corpse on the floor in a pool of blood. An enchanting table sits in the corner, alongside a small library of books, and Borvir's dagger. He won't be needing it anymore, so I take it and get back on the road.
Out of the blizzard appears something definitely made by hands of some sort - it is a Dwemer ruin, Alftand. The Dwemer have long since died out, a race of dwarves who built vast underground cities and utilised technology like no other seen on the surface. I am awed by the view of so much bronze, and such majesty of architecture, but choose to press on up the mountain - I can return to this place at a later date.
We next pass the entrance to a mine, called Sightless Pit. It is aptly named - it is barely viewable from the path. Again, I carry on. Wolves intermittently attack us as we force our way through the freezing air, Stenvar once again reminding me that it is so cold that he can barely hold a weapon. I've paid for his services, so he will go where I go, kill what I say, and put up with whatever the weather chooses to do.
I can see a large statue at the peak of the mountain, barely able to discern detail on the thing. A snow bear takes me by surprise, so well hidden it was by the snow, and so distract was I by the statue. I receive a number of swipes from its claws, then slash my sword across its neck. The beast falls down the slope and drops out of sight. I am not in the mood for harvesting its skin.
The rocks of the mountain begin to funnel us towards the top, and rounding a corner I once more see the statue - it is a woman with outstretched arms, one holding a star, the other a crescent moon. It is the Shrine of Azura, and it is here that I meet a priestess. She is the last of her kind, she says, her name being Aranea Ienith. She has had a vision of an Elven mage in a water-surrounded fort, and wants me to locate him. But I will have to travel to Winterhold first to find out the true whereabouts of this fort.
I step away from the shrine, and we make our way back down the mountain towards Winterhold. En route, I find an old watchtower called Journeyman's Nook. Inside, I discover a bandit who seems quite taken aback by my sudden intrusion, and leaps forward with a mace. I make short work of him with my sword, and return to investigating the building.
It seems as though this place was once home to a mage called Borvil, for I find his grisly corpse on the floor in a pool of blood. An enchanting table sits in the corner, alongside a small library of books, and Borvir's dagger. He won't be needing it anymore, so I take it and get back on the road.
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Skyrim - Fort Kastav to Mount Anthor
Fort Kastav is the next destination for me. It sits just north of Windhelm, but Stenvar and I approach it from the east due to our long journey around the river. The fort appears abandoned as we crest the hill in front, but we are soon met by resistance from within the walls.
Necromancers throw various types of magic at me, backed up by some skeletons armed with ancient bows. My arrow shots appear ineffective against the dark mages (though the skeletons go down easily), and with Stenvar already in close combat with them, I join him. Again, another fort soon lies covered in the blood of its former tenants. As an aside, Stenvar says to me that he wonders if we'll find some bandits spitting a rabbit, and a keg of ale. Aim high Stenvar, aim high.
We don't bother to clear out the fort, instead choosing to carry on through the mountain passes to discover more of the land beyond Windhelm. I soon find a narrow hole in the rock, the direly named Stillborn Cave. A snow bear attacks us, obviously waiting for our attention to be diverted. We kill it, and find some unidentified remains nearby. Someone or something met a gruesome end to this beast.
Carrying on up the mountain, I can hear the sound of battle ahead. Through the driving snow, I see a group of men in battle, and one group walks away from the dead of the others. I run up to them, and discover that some Stormcloaks have finished off their Imperial counterparts. The Stormcloaks don't seem concerned with checking the bodies, so I take what I deem useful. Stenvar is useful to have as a beast of burden, though he does expect to be given piles of gold rather than pieces of armour and weaponry.
The snow is incredibly heavy now, leaving the landscape in white or black shades with very little in between. Another depressing scene faces me - what I at first thought was a pile of rock is actually the remains of some refugees, their cart lying smashed at the side of the path. Just like the Stormcloaks, whoever killed these people haven't taken the food and potions scattered on the mountain side.
While I am doing this, I hear the roar of a dragon. I prepare myself for battle, but the beast does not show itself. Either the snow is too thick, or it intends to fight me on better ground. Did these refugees die from dragon fire I wonder?
We trudge on, gradually reaching the summit of the mountain, and it is here that the dragon chooses to attack. It is a Blood Dragon, tougher than the other types I have fought so far in these lands. It doesn't land, instead circling and breathing fire at us as it passes. Stenvar has his bow drawn, as do I, and I use each and every dwarven arrow I have in my quiver to bring the beast down. It crashes into the the snow, burning up in to ash and fire, before its skeleton comes to rest against a rock.
Once more, I pick the useful bits from the carcass, dragon bone and scale proving to be particularly heavy. And once more I employ Stenvar to carry them for me. Around the corner from the dragon fight, I find its roost - Mount Anthor - and pick more treasure from chests and corpses laying scattered. I also find another wall detailing a dragon word, and learn the word for "ice."
Necromancers throw various types of magic at me, backed up by some skeletons armed with ancient bows. My arrow shots appear ineffective against the dark mages (though the skeletons go down easily), and with Stenvar already in close combat with them, I join him. Again, another fort soon lies covered in the blood of its former tenants. As an aside, Stenvar says to me that he wonders if we'll find some bandits spitting a rabbit, and a keg of ale. Aim high Stenvar, aim high.
We don't bother to clear out the fort, instead choosing to carry on through the mountain passes to discover more of the land beyond Windhelm. I soon find a narrow hole in the rock, the direly named Stillborn Cave. A snow bear attacks us, obviously waiting for our attention to be diverted. We kill it, and find some unidentified remains nearby. Someone or something met a gruesome end to this beast.
Carrying on up the mountain, I can hear the sound of battle ahead. Through the driving snow, I see a group of men in battle, and one group walks away from the dead of the others. I run up to them, and discover that some Stormcloaks have finished off their Imperial counterparts. The Stormcloaks don't seem concerned with checking the bodies, so I take what I deem useful. Stenvar is useful to have as a beast of burden, though he does expect to be given piles of gold rather than pieces of armour and weaponry.
The snow is incredibly heavy now, leaving the landscape in white or black shades with very little in between. Another depressing scene faces me - what I at first thought was a pile of rock is actually the remains of some refugees, their cart lying smashed at the side of the path. Just like the Stormcloaks, whoever killed these people haven't taken the food and potions scattered on the mountain side.
While I am doing this, I hear the roar of a dragon. I prepare myself for battle, but the beast does not show itself. Either the snow is too thick, or it intends to fight me on better ground. Did these refugees die from dragon fire I wonder?
We trudge on, gradually reaching the summit of the mountain, and it is here that the dragon chooses to attack. It is a Blood Dragon, tougher than the other types I have fought so far in these lands. It doesn't land, instead circling and breathing fire at us as it passes. Stenvar has his bow drawn, as do I, and I use each and every dwarven arrow I have in my quiver to bring the beast down. It crashes into the the snow, burning up in to ash and fire, before its skeleton comes to rest against a rock.
Skyrim - Traitor's Post and beyond
We head back to Windhelm to sell some items, the trip is uneventful. Oengul War-Anvil, the blacksmith in Windhelm, is pleased to do business with us. I purchase a new helmet for myself, something befitting Hedron the Collider. It is a masterfully smithed steel plate creation, one which fortifies the alchemy ability of those wearing it. I feel eager to crack out the pestle and mortar.
After a brief wander through the streets, I leave through the front gate with Stenvar in tow. He keeps up with my fast pace well. The snow is falling fast in these parts, I can barely see more than thirty feet in front of me.
What I can see are a smattering of buildings just up from the road we're walking along. It turns out to be a farm, by the name of Brandy-Mug. I have a quick word with the owner, who claims he can grow anything here - I raise an eye brow or two in doubt.
We continue along the road, passing a number of other farms before the path leaves civilisation and weaves into the snow-covered hills. I can see another building in the distance, and on approaching it can see that it has suffered the wrath of the constant-winter. It is a partially-collapsed wooden shack called Traitor's Post, and no sooner have I identified the place than bandits emerge from the place baying for our blood.
The ordinary bandits are dispatched easily, my sword flashing and Stenvar's broadsword crashing. But from behind the building steps a bandit chief who proves to be slightly more difficult. Matters aren't helped by a rogue ice wraith who happens upon our little battle, and my actions become slowed as I absorb shots of ice magic. But eventually, we slay both of them. I slump down into the nearest chair in the shack to recover for a moment.
I stand, and leave the building and dead bandits behind, and we head down the hill to the riverside. I wade across, and Stenvar follows closely. Once across, we head up the mountain, ankle deep in snow. A disturbing sight greets me as I round a bend - a number of bodies are on the road, some appear to be unclothed. A couple of Imperial soldiers step out in front of me, demanding payment in gold. I think that this may be to allow me to pass, and not to become the next person dead on the mountain.
Naturally, I won't be swayed by such mercenary behaviour, not least the war crimes these soldiers seem to have committed. I tell them no, and the leader of the duo attacks me instantly. They are not aware of the prowess Stenvar and I hold in battle, and I slay the leader with a swift side cut to the neck - his head leaves his body, and begins to roll down the slope.
The second soldier is soon slain by Stenvar, so we head up the hill to where I saw the bodies. They also appear to be Imperial soldiers - what actually occurred here, I guess we'll never find out. All original witnesses to this atrocity are no longer alive.
After a brief wander through the streets, I leave through the front gate with Stenvar in tow. He keeps up with my fast pace well. The snow is falling fast in these parts, I can barely see more than thirty feet in front of me.
What I can see are a smattering of buildings just up from the road we're walking along. It turns out to be a farm, by the name of Brandy-Mug. I have a quick word with the owner, who claims he can grow anything here - I raise an eye brow or two in doubt.
We continue along the road, passing a number of other farms before the path leaves civilisation and weaves into the snow-covered hills. I can see another building in the distance, and on approaching it can see that it has suffered the wrath of the constant-winter. It is a partially-collapsed wooden shack called Traitor's Post, and no sooner have I identified the place than bandits emerge from the place baying for our blood.
The ordinary bandits are dispatched easily, my sword flashing and Stenvar's broadsword crashing. But from behind the building steps a bandit chief who proves to be slightly more difficult. Matters aren't helped by a rogue ice wraith who happens upon our little battle, and my actions become slowed as I absorb shots of ice magic. But eventually, we slay both of them. I slump down into the nearest chair in the shack to recover for a moment.
I stand, and leave the building and dead bandits behind, and we head down the hill to the riverside. I wade across, and Stenvar follows closely. Once across, we head up the mountain, ankle deep in snow. A disturbing sight greets me as I round a bend - a number of bodies are on the road, some appear to be unclothed. A couple of Imperial soldiers step out in front of me, demanding payment in gold. I think that this may be to allow me to pass, and not to become the next person dead on the mountain.
Naturally, I won't be swayed by such mercenary behaviour, not least the war crimes these soldiers seem to have committed. I tell them no, and the leader of the duo attacks me instantly. They are not aware of the prowess Stenvar and I hold in battle, and I slay the leader with a swift side cut to the neck - his head leaves his body, and begins to roll down the slope.
The second soldier is soon slain by Stenvar, so we head up the hill to where I saw the bodies. They also appear to be Imperial soldiers - what actually occurred here, I guess we'll never find out. All original witnesses to this atrocity are no longer alive.
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Skyrim - Clearing Morvunskar
I awaken from my slumber in Candleheath Hall, and walk out of my room. The innkepper I met yesterday is still stood behind the bar, displaying not a sign of tiredness. In front of the bar is a table, and at this table is sat a man in armour.
I walk over to him. His name is Stenvar, and he is muscle for hire. The the princely sum of 500 gold, he will follow me. Thanks to yesterday's pugilistic endeavour, I have some money burning away in my pocket. With memories of my old Housecarl fresh in my mind, I decide to hire Stenvar as a follower - he's a mercenary after all. I've walked the cold hills of Skyrim alone for too long. If anything, he'll provide some useful extra carrying capacity for me while we clear out forts.
To this end, we leave Windhelm together and head back up to the fort of Morvunskar once more. I'd only cleared out the area outside the fort - now that I have backup, I'll be a lot more comfortable heading into the fort itself.
As we approach the fort, Stenvar says how he always wished for a fort of his own as a child. I can tell he's going to be chatty, despite being paid for. The outside of the fort is still littered with the corpses of those I had slain previously, yet he mentions nothing of this - death obviously has no impact on him.
The interior of the fort doesn't prove as easy as the exterior. Mages fill all rooms, and all are of a very high level. Frost magic is used in abandon against us, and I am forced to use potions of health just to stay upright. But once we get close, the mages are not able to suffer many hits from our blade.
Stenvar favours double-handed weapons, and swings his steel broadsword wide. Mages fall within a couple of strikes of his heavy metal, and I hack away with my blade too.
Soon, the fort is cleared, and both of us are still standing. I am impressed with Stenvar's resilience and power in battle - he will prove useful in the battles to come.
We exit the cave, and make our way back down the road that leads up the hill to the fort. At the bottom, I pass a group of four men, who only seem to realise who I am when I have passed. They attack us, but are obviously not up to speed on how well I excel in close combat. All are slain.
I check the bodies of all of them for gold and some such, and discover a note - it is signed Lars Battle-Born, and it describes orders to have me killed. The Battle-Borns are a family in Whiterun. I will be having words next time I see them.
I walk over to him. His name is Stenvar, and he is muscle for hire. The the princely sum of 500 gold, he will follow me. Thanks to yesterday's pugilistic endeavour, I have some money burning away in my pocket. With memories of my old Housecarl fresh in my mind, I decide to hire Stenvar as a follower - he's a mercenary after all. I've walked the cold hills of Skyrim alone for too long. If anything, he'll provide some useful extra carrying capacity for me while we clear out forts.
To this end, we leave Windhelm together and head back up to the fort of Morvunskar once more. I'd only cleared out the area outside the fort - now that I have backup, I'll be a lot more comfortable heading into the fort itself.
As we approach the fort, Stenvar says how he always wished for a fort of his own as a child. I can tell he's going to be chatty, despite being paid for. The outside of the fort is still littered with the corpses of those I had slain previously, yet he mentions nothing of this - death obviously has no impact on him.
The interior of the fort doesn't prove as easy as the exterior. Mages fill all rooms, and all are of a very high level. Frost magic is used in abandon against us, and I am forced to use potions of health just to stay upright. But once we get close, the mages are not able to suffer many hits from our blade.
Stenvar favours double-handed weapons, and swings his steel broadsword wide. Mages fall within a couple of strikes of his heavy metal, and I hack away with my blade too.
Soon, the fort is cleared, and both of us are still standing. I am impressed with Stenvar's resilience and power in battle - he will prove useful in the battles to come.
We exit the cave, and make our way back down the road that leads up the hill to the fort. At the bottom, I pass a group of four men, who only seem to realise who I am when I have passed. They attack us, but are obviously not up to speed on how well I excel in close combat. All are slain.
I check the bodies of all of them for gold and some such, and discover a note - it is signed Lars Battle-Born, and it describes orders to have me killed. The Battle-Borns are a family in Whiterun. I will be having words next time I see them.
Skyrim - Windhelm
I turn away from the fort of Morvunskar, and walk towards the edge of the hill it is built upon. In front of me, I see Windhelm, a large town on the shore of a slow and wide river.
I travel down to the town, across a small bridge and along a road. Windhelm is only accessible via a large fortified bridge, so I have to once more cross the river to get to it. As I approach the bridge, I notice an encampment of Khajiit next to the Windhelm stables.
The Khajiit are a strange humanoid cat-people, and though their language and custom is different from mine, I approach and we trade with each other. Throughout, the merchant named Ma'dran remains cross-legged in front of his animal skin tent.
Windhelm is a big place, encircled by a large stone wall. The snow snow falls around me as I cross the bridge, passing numerous guards on the way. My entrance to the town is via a tall metal door, which I enter without any fuss made. I'd have thought the conjurer blood dousing me would have made them think twice.
Inside, I speak with the towns folk. By the sound of things, the dark elves are not universally liked here, and their kind appear to have been forced into a shantytown ghetto. Why they are so hated, I have yet to find out, but I am not comfortable with this unabashed racism.
As I work my way through town, I remind myself that a child called Aventus Arentino lives here. He left the orphanage in Riften, intent on finding the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild to murder the old hag who ran the place. One of the other workers in the orphanage told me about this, and she wants me to ensure he doesn't act irrationally. In all honesty, I don't blame him - I've met the hag too, and she is a nasty piece of work.
My excellent tracking skills soon lead me to the house where Arventus is living. He has locked the front door, so I have to use a lockpick to carefully let myself in. The house is dusty, filled with cobwebs, and I find him in the main room, surrounded by candles and some bones - he is clearly a very disturbed child.
As I approach him, I can here him reciting the Black Sacrament, the verse used to draw the Dark Brotherhood to a person. He turns to face me, and rather than being scared by a strange adult breaking into his house, is genuinely excited to see me. He believes that I have been sent from the brotherhood, to answer his prayer for the hag at the orphanage to me murdered.
Of course I am not, but he won't listen to me, and insists that I leave quickly to begin my mission. He seems safe enough here on his own, so I nod slowly, and walk backwards and out of the crazy boy's home.
I'm feeling tired by this point, it's been a long day. So I enter the Candlehearth Hall, a large inn in the middle of the town. A warm fire burns, and the innkeeper is hospitable. But before I can ask her for a bed for the night, a drunk approaches me, and challenges me to a fight.
He doesn't really stand a chance. I punch him again and again and again, and he is soon on the floor asking for mercy. I give it to him, and he gives me some gold. Not that I asked for it. If anything, it'll pay for me rest, and then some.
I return to the innkeeper, and she shows me to my room. I thank her, close the door, and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
I travel down to the town, across a small bridge and along a road. Windhelm is only accessible via a large fortified bridge, so I have to once more cross the river to get to it. As I approach the bridge, I notice an encampment of Khajiit next to the Windhelm stables.
The Khajiit are a strange humanoid cat-people, and though their language and custom is different from mine, I approach and we trade with each other. Throughout, the merchant named Ma'dran remains cross-legged in front of his animal skin tent.
Windhelm is a big place, encircled by a large stone wall. The snow snow falls around me as I cross the bridge, passing numerous guards on the way. My entrance to the town is via a tall metal door, which I enter without any fuss made. I'd have thought the conjurer blood dousing me would have made them think twice.
Inside, I speak with the towns folk. By the sound of things, the dark elves are not universally liked here, and their kind appear to have been forced into a shantytown ghetto. Why they are so hated, I have yet to find out, but I am not comfortable with this unabashed racism.
As I work my way through town, I remind myself that a child called Aventus Arentino lives here. He left the orphanage in Riften, intent on finding the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild to murder the old hag who ran the place. One of the other workers in the orphanage told me about this, and she wants me to ensure he doesn't act irrationally. In all honesty, I don't blame him - I've met the hag too, and she is a nasty piece of work.
My excellent tracking skills soon lead me to the house where Arventus is living. He has locked the front door, so I have to use a lockpick to carefully let myself in. The house is dusty, filled with cobwebs, and I find him in the main room, surrounded by candles and some bones - he is clearly a very disturbed child.
As I approach him, I can here him reciting the Black Sacrament, the verse used to draw the Dark Brotherhood to a person. He turns to face me, and rather than being scared by a strange adult breaking into his house, is genuinely excited to see me. He believes that I have been sent from the brotherhood, to answer his prayer for the hag at the orphanage to me murdered.
Of course I am not, but he won't listen to me, and insists that I leave quickly to begin my mission. He seems safe enough here on his own, so I nod slowly, and walk backwards and out of the crazy boy's home.
I'm feeling tired by this point, it's been a long day. So I enter the Candlehearth Hall, a large inn in the middle of the town. A warm fire burns, and the innkeeper is hospitable. But before I can ask her for a bed for the night, a drunk approaches me, and challenges me to a fight.
He doesn't really stand a chance. I punch him again and again and again, and he is soon on the floor asking for mercy. I give it to him, and he gives me some gold. Not that I asked for it. If anything, it'll pay for me rest, and then some.
I return to the innkeeper, and she shows me to my room. I thank her, close the door, and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Skyrim - Northward bound
Leaving the cave of Eldergleam as the sun begins to set, I head for the north into lands cold but new to me. Passing once more over the blasted landscape of thermal vents and bubbling shallows, I skirt an encampment theatrically called Broken Limb Camp - a place of giants. They beat their clubs against the ground in warning, one which I am all too eager to listen to.
After the surprise spriggan attack earlier in the day, one would think I would want to keep my head above ground for a while. However, the loss of Lydia still haunts me, and I see my own life as cheap - the potential danger of cave-based combat means nothing to me.
Yet despite this I do no enter. I continue north, following a river and soon see a dilapidated shack lying on the shoreline. A sign proclaims this place to be called Riverside, which in all honesty it is. I find no find evidence that someone or something is using this as its home, so with the rapidly fading light choose to set up camp for the evening. I find sleep quickly.
I awake and head for the opposite bank of the river. It is flowing slowly, so I fair well in my crossing. On the beach, I hear a bear growl close by, and by survival instinct kicks in - I bring my sword out, and get down into a crouch. Sneaking up the bank, I see not only a bear, but also a huge giant. They are both involved in mortal combat, and as expected, the bear loses. I wait until the giant wanders off before taking the dead beast's claws.
All around me are thermal vents, and tucked between them are large deposits of iron and corundum. Placing my sword back in it's scabbard, and instead produce my pickaxe and mine each rich seam I come to. Soon my pack is laden with large amounts of ore, and I set out once more on exploration.
The vents have now vanished, to be replaced by cold rock and snow. A hill rises in front of me, and I can see the remains of a fort build atop it. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I ascend with great swiftness to see what this place may be.
The fort is called Morvunskar, and is populated by a large amount of conjurers. None of them seem keen on showing me their magic tricks, though many do chose to display their mastery of ice and lightning magic. For this insolence alone, I end all of those on the outskirts of the fort with my trusty bow and sword. I'll return for the others another day.
After the surprise spriggan attack earlier in the day, one would think I would want to keep my head above ground for a while. However, the loss of Lydia still haunts me, and I see my own life as cheap - the potential danger of cave-based combat means nothing to me.
Yet despite this I do no enter. I continue north, following a river and soon see a dilapidated shack lying on the shoreline. A sign proclaims this place to be called Riverside, which in all honesty it is. I find no find evidence that someone or something is using this as its home, so with the rapidly fading light choose to set up camp for the evening. I find sleep quickly.
I awake and head for the opposite bank of the river. It is flowing slowly, so I fair well in my crossing. On the beach, I hear a bear growl close by, and by survival instinct kicks in - I bring my sword out, and get down into a crouch. Sneaking up the bank, I see not only a bear, but also a huge giant. They are both involved in mortal combat, and as expected, the bear loses. I wait until the giant wanders off before taking the dead beast's claws.
All around me are thermal vents, and tucked between them are large deposits of iron and corundum. Placing my sword back in it's scabbard, and instead produce my pickaxe and mine each rich seam I come to. Soon my pack is laden with large amounts of ore, and I set out once more on exploration.
The vents have now vanished, to be replaced by cold rock and snow. A hill rises in front of me, and I can see the remains of a fort build atop it. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I ascend with great swiftness to see what this place may be.
The fort is called Morvunskar, and is populated by a large amount of conjurers. None of them seem keen on showing me their magic tricks, though many do chose to display their mastery of ice and lightning magic. For this insolence alone, I end all of those on the outskirts of the fort with my trusty bow and sword. I'll return for the others another day.
Skyrim - Strange occurances at Eldergleam Sanctuary
Through a shimmering cave entrance, the rock walls slick with water, I find myself on a trail leading off towards some light. As the cave opens, I stare up in awe at the beauty of nature in front of me. Grass stretches off into the distance, flowers burst from every available nook, a stream trickles quickly from a waterfall bursting from a small hill contained within the cave. And on top of the hill lies the Eldergleam tree itself, it's leaves a delicate pink.
A woman walks on the lush grass just down from the tree hillock, her name is Asta. She looks at me, armed with the strangely twisted blade of Nettlebane, and asks what I am doing in Eldergleam Sanctuary. So I tell her - I have been sent here to take a slice out of this big old tree to fix another tree in Whiterun. She is aghast at this, and begs me not to harm the tree. This woman is obviously some rural type who has no appreciation for urban redevelopment for the sake of public mental well-being.
I walk off towards the path which will lead me up the hill, and spot another human within the glade. He is sitting at the edge of the grass, with his feet dangling in the crystal waters of the stream. He has nothing to say to me, and I leave him to his quiet procrastination.
The path progresses up the hill quite steeply, and I would reach the top quickly were it not for the large roots extending down over the way. Fire magic does nought, though swift stabs with Nettlebane soon make the roots pull back as if in shock. I don't find this weird at all - afterall, though well watered from below, this huge old tree is growing quite successfully in a cave with very sporadic light.
The top of the hill is essentially just tree, with gentle light filtering down through a hole in the roof of the cave. I nonchalantly shimmy over to the main bough, and give it a quick nick with the blade to nab some sap. And then things turn strange...
A small whirlwind forms nearby, drawing leaves up from the ground to form a tree-like entity known as a spriggan. It doesn't try to speak to me, or merely eject me from what I assume to be its home - all it tries to do is kill me with strange magic and sharp wooded talons. I throw fire magic at it, and hit it with Nettlebane, theorising that it won't like either of these implements of death. And soon enough it is dead, and I am harvesting "tap root" from it's remains.
Heading back down the hill to exit the glade with my bounty, I can see several more of the creatures guarding the way out. To my horror Asta is lying dead on the grass. You'd think I'd blame myself, but she could have tried to stop me or at least get out of the cave before I stabbed the tree. I get the impression that this is where she would have wanted to die anyway.
I swap my blade for fire bow and arrow, and apply copious amounts of weakness-to-fire potions to my arsenal. These arrows mortally wound the spriggans, though some are tougher than others, and I again harvest their damaged bodies for things of worth.
I step over the man who was until recently bathing his feet, and burst out into the daylight.
A woman walks on the lush grass just down from the tree hillock, her name is Asta. She looks at me, armed with the strangely twisted blade of Nettlebane, and asks what I am doing in Eldergleam Sanctuary. So I tell her - I have been sent here to take a slice out of this big old tree to fix another tree in Whiterun. She is aghast at this, and begs me not to harm the tree. This woman is obviously some rural type who has no appreciation for urban redevelopment for the sake of public mental well-being.
I walk off towards the path which will lead me up the hill, and spot another human within the glade. He is sitting at the edge of the grass, with his feet dangling in the crystal waters of the stream. He has nothing to say to me, and I leave him to his quiet procrastination.
The path progresses up the hill quite steeply, and I would reach the top quickly were it not for the large roots extending down over the way. Fire magic does nought, though swift stabs with Nettlebane soon make the roots pull back as if in shock. I don't find this weird at all - afterall, though well watered from below, this huge old tree is growing quite successfully in a cave with very sporadic light.
The top of the hill is essentially just tree, with gentle light filtering down through a hole in the roof of the cave. I nonchalantly shimmy over to the main bough, and give it a quick nick with the blade to nab some sap. And then things turn strange...
A small whirlwind forms nearby, drawing leaves up from the ground to form a tree-like entity known as a spriggan. It doesn't try to speak to me, or merely eject me from what I assume to be its home - all it tries to do is kill me with strange magic and sharp wooded talons. I throw fire magic at it, and hit it with Nettlebane, theorising that it won't like either of these implements of death. And soon enough it is dead, and I am harvesting "tap root" from it's remains.
Heading back down the hill to exit the glade with my bounty, I can see several more of the creatures guarding the way out. To my horror Asta is lying dead on the grass. You'd think I'd blame myself, but she could have tried to stop me or at least get out of the cave before I stabbed the tree. I get the impression that this is where she would have wanted to die anyway.
I swap my blade for fire bow and arrow, and apply copious amounts of weakness-to-fire potions to my arsenal. These arrows mortally wound the spriggans, though some are tougher than others, and I again harvest their damaged bodies for things of worth.
I step over the man who was until recently bathing his feet, and burst out into the daylight.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Skyrim - Off to Eldergleam Sanctuary
Eldergleam is a fair distance from Whiterun, so I have plenty of opportunity for thought while walking. I spot some flowers ahead, butterflies touching the leaves delicately. I pick both the flora and insects for future alchemy, having to jump for some of the butterflies to reach them in the air. I'd feel like a child again if it wasn't for my deep remorse over the death of Lydia.
I am being followed by Maurice, who is on a pilgrimage to the same glade as me. He keeps up admirably, but frankly I'm not going to wait for him. I think he knows there is no love lost between us, he chooses not to engage in conversation when approached.
I see a figure at the side of the road, and approach him with blade raised. He doesn't attack, instead calls me over. He is an aspiring mage, sells me his "staff of reanimation" because he doesn't think he's cut out for maging. In actual fact, he just doesn't know how to recharge a magical weapon. But I decide that this staff may end up being dangerous in his hands, and take it off him for a song.
I continue along the road, which follows the natural path of a river as it cuts its way down the valley. A couple of wolves attack us as we round a bend - being the mighty adventurer I aim, I naturally find myself armed with sword and fire magic. But Maurice is a mere temple apprentice, and valiantly tries to injure the creatures with his bare fists.
I kill both the animals, and Maurice is beaten but alive. I dare not show any concern; he knows what he's gotten himself into. The path begins to switchback down a steep hill, so I take an extreme short cut - off the path and down a rocky slope. It appears too steep for Maurice to follow, and I soon lose track of him. Oh well, if he was really into the adventuring thing he would have brought some appropriate footwear with him.
The path continues to follow the existing river, but the rest of the landscape has morphed from the moor-like rolling steppe of Whiterun to a blasted post-apocalyptic environment of salt springs and geysers. Vapour hangs over the landscape, and shallow pools bubble away with potential energy,
I can see the entrance to Eldergleam ahead, what looks to be a cave. But I can also see one of my winged nemeses as well, and the dragon soon spies me too. As it wheels towards me, I already have my bow to hand, rubbing copious amounts of poison on the first arrow to give the dragon something to think about.
It hovers above me, great gusts of wind and dust beaten by its leathery wings only made worse by the gout of flame searing me from its gaping maw. A great number of arrows have left my quiver, and the dragon finds itself unable to hold itself aloft any longer. Bereft on the ground, it succumbs to heavy slices with my sword. Its life gone, the dragon rolls down to the bottom of the hill. As per usual, it disappears in bright fire, and I take what I can of it's bones and scales, soul absorbed.
Maurice is no where to be seen. I assume he has either returned to Whiterun, or succumbed to wolf attack. I really do not care - it was his choice to come along. I take one last look at the departed reptile, and walk into the cavernous entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary.
I am being followed by Maurice, who is on a pilgrimage to the same glade as me. He keeps up admirably, but frankly I'm not going to wait for him. I think he knows there is no love lost between us, he chooses not to engage in conversation when approached.
I see a figure at the side of the road, and approach him with blade raised. He doesn't attack, instead calls me over. He is an aspiring mage, sells me his "staff of reanimation" because he doesn't think he's cut out for maging. In actual fact, he just doesn't know how to recharge a magical weapon. But I decide that this staff may end up being dangerous in his hands, and take it off him for a song.
I continue along the road, which follows the natural path of a river as it cuts its way down the valley. A couple of wolves attack us as we round a bend - being the mighty adventurer I aim, I naturally find myself armed with sword and fire magic. But Maurice is a mere temple apprentice, and valiantly tries to injure the creatures with his bare fists.
I kill both the animals, and Maurice is beaten but alive. I dare not show any concern; he knows what he's gotten himself into. The path begins to switchback down a steep hill, so I take an extreme short cut - off the path and down a rocky slope. It appears too steep for Maurice to follow, and I soon lose track of him. Oh well, if he was really into the adventuring thing he would have brought some appropriate footwear with him.
The path continues to follow the existing river, but the rest of the landscape has morphed from the moor-like rolling steppe of Whiterun to a blasted post-apocalyptic environment of salt springs and geysers. Vapour hangs over the landscape, and shallow pools bubble away with potential energy,
I can see the entrance to Eldergleam ahead, what looks to be a cave. But I can also see one of my winged nemeses as well, and the dragon soon spies me too. As it wheels towards me, I already have my bow to hand, rubbing copious amounts of poison on the first arrow to give the dragon something to think about.
It hovers above me, great gusts of wind and dust beaten by its leathery wings only made worse by the gout of flame searing me from its gaping maw. A great number of arrows have left my quiver, and the dragon finds itself unable to hold itself aloft any longer. Bereft on the ground, it succumbs to heavy slices with my sword. Its life gone, the dragon rolls down to the bottom of the hill. As per usual, it disappears in bright fire, and I take what I can of it's bones and scales, soul absorbed.
Maurice is no where to be seen. I assume he has either returned to Whiterun, or succumbed to wolf attack. I really do not care - it was his choice to come along. I take one last look at the departed reptile, and walk into the cavernous entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary.
Skyrim - Lydia-less
With Lydia no longer at my side, I drift down the mountain as if in a dream. A landmark comes into view, an abandoned watchtower called South Skybound Lodge. Without my erstwhile follower, I sneak into the empty tower. I find a chest and a spider, which proves easy prey.
I am aiming for Whiterun, but find myself in the vicinity of Riverwood. I don't mention Lydia to anyone, and no one asks. I worry that her impact on this world wasn't as great as it was on my heart.
I enter Lucan Valerius' shop, and find him knocking things over. I imagine if I were to do the same, he wouldn't be too happy - his shop, his rules evidently. The golden chicken foot I brought back for him days ago is now displayed proudly on the counter. I sell a few things, lighten my load for the trek back to Whiterun. I leave without much of a chat.
The journey is uneventful, and I enter Breezehome. I store the items I took from Lydia in the chest next to my bed, as they will come in useful in the future. I walk back across the floor to where Lydia's room is. I take one last look at the tidy quarters, before shutting the door forever. This was her home, and I'll be damned if anyone else will ever enter that room.
Grasping Nettlebane, the magical blade I was tasked with procuring, I walk up the hill to the Temple of Kynareth. Walking through the door, I present it to the priestess. But she is wary of it, and does not seem keen to use it. She asks me to visit a glade and cut another big tree to get her some sap to fix the tree outside. I'm beginning to feel like the sap here - sure, she's dealing with a lot of sick and wounded, but there are other things I need to be getting on with.
I accept, and go to leave. Before I can, an acolyte called Maurice asks if he can come along with me, in pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary where I am heading. After the hurt of Lydia's death, I am tempted to tell him to stay put, that death follows me around like a bad smell. But he is quite insistent. I tell him he can come along, but give no promises on his safety. Skyrim has already proven to me how cheap life is in the wilderness.
I look into another matter before leaving Whiterun - a man from House Gray-Mane is missing, presumed dead. The Gray-Manes belief House Battleborn has something to do with it, and so they have tasked me with finding evidence that proves this. I walk into the main abode of House Battleborn, brazen. Almost instantly I spot an out of place diary on some drawers next to a bed. Inside are details to where the Gray-Mane is being held - he's alive! As I pocket the book, I hear an old woman say "I saw what you did."
Turning around, a Whiterun town guard has been called due to my theft. But I placate him - I am a Thane of Whiterun, and certain leniency is granted to me. I'm not sure how far I can go with this, but the feeling of power is dizzying.
I return to the Gray-Mane with the book. She is terrified that I won't be able to release him, that I'd require an army to do so. I tell her that I will take care of things, without bloodshed (though we both know this won't happen).
I leave Whiterun with Maurice in tow, and head for the mysterious glade of Eldergleam Sanctuary.
I am aiming for Whiterun, but find myself in the vicinity of Riverwood. I don't mention Lydia to anyone, and no one asks. I worry that her impact on this world wasn't as great as it was on my heart.
I enter Lucan Valerius' shop, and find him knocking things over. I imagine if I were to do the same, he wouldn't be too happy - his shop, his rules evidently. The golden chicken foot I brought back for him days ago is now displayed proudly on the counter. I sell a few things, lighten my load for the trek back to Whiterun. I leave without much of a chat.
The journey is uneventful, and I enter Breezehome. I store the items I took from Lydia in the chest next to my bed, as they will come in useful in the future. I walk back across the floor to where Lydia's room is. I take one last look at the tidy quarters, before shutting the door forever. This was her home, and I'll be damned if anyone else will ever enter that room.
Grasping Nettlebane, the magical blade I was tasked with procuring, I walk up the hill to the Temple of Kynareth. Walking through the door, I present it to the priestess. But she is wary of it, and does not seem keen to use it. She asks me to visit a glade and cut another big tree to get her some sap to fix the tree outside. I'm beginning to feel like the sap here - sure, she's dealing with a lot of sick and wounded, but there are other things I need to be getting on with.
I accept, and go to leave. Before I can, an acolyte called Maurice asks if he can come along with me, in pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary where I am heading. After the hurt of Lydia's death, I am tempted to tell him to stay put, that death follows me around like a bad smell. But he is quite insistent. I tell him he can come along, but give no promises on his safety. Skyrim has already proven to me how cheap life is in the wilderness.
I look into another matter before leaving Whiterun - a man from House Gray-Mane is missing, presumed dead. The Gray-Manes belief House Battleborn has something to do with it, and so they have tasked me with finding evidence that proves this. I walk into the main abode of House Battleborn, brazen. Almost instantly I spot an out of place diary on some drawers next to a bed. Inside are details to where the Gray-Mane is being held - he's alive! As I pocket the book, I hear an old woman say "I saw what you did."
Turning around, a Whiterun town guard has been called due to my theft. But I placate him - I am a Thane of Whiterun, and certain leniency is granted to me. I'm not sure how far I can go with this, but the feeling of power is dizzying.
I return to the Gray-Mane with the book. She is terrified that I won't be able to release him, that I'd require an army to do so. I tell her that I will take care of things, without bloodshed (though we both know this won't happen).
I leave Whiterun with Maurice in tow, and head for the mysterious glade of Eldergleam Sanctuary.
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