Skyrim - Life

Life. That is the word that greets me as we slowly leave the unending snows.

Life.

The winter landscape that we have lived in for so long gives way to scattered pockets of greenery. Life returns to the hillside, and not just in what I see - my heart is full of it. Whether it is the view of foxes chasing rabbits, the lush smattering of colour on mountain flowers, or Lydia bounding down after me, I cannot say. Either way, it is a beautiful day, and I'm glad to be enjoying it with her.

On our travel across the range, we have encountered many types of life. From the low-life bandits, wildlife of wolves and bears, to the undead life of the draugr, we think we have seen it all. But the wispmother is a surprise to us both.

A green clearing forms in front of us, with trees in view. Yet it is not the green which has drawn my eye, but the odd transparent blue floating woman burning into my retina from the other side of the clearing. Ice magic is soon thrown at us, and I immediately swallow a couple of potions to help resist this cold magic.

Lydia has her sword and shield raised, and runs towards the shimmering blues. A strange row of ice forms on the ground between me and the wispmother, the creature Lydia has sought to kill, and out of the ice leap three ice wraiths. Their only mission is to sink teeth into my soft imperial body, to protect their matriarch.

I resort to fire magic to deal as much damage to the living ice as possible, while thrashing away like a madman with my sword - all pretense of swordsmanship vanishes in that blur of metal. One by one I am smiting the things, all the while downing further potions to maintain my health and stamina.

It is a hard fight. I can see Lydia smashing away at the wispmother. She is the goddess of death. I can image a grin of hatred and satisfaction and admiration and longing and happiness displayed on her face, hidden behind that dwarven bronze helmet, yet in clear evidence in her action. It is the fight of her life, the fight that any young Housecarl would fantasise about while stuck in Whiterun.

I join Lydia in the fight, again hoping that my fire will reduce this thing to something approximating death. We are having an affect - it rapidly retreats from us, and we are eager to give chase. All the while it continues to spew frost magic at us, and all the while I hit it again and again and again.

The wispmother's life soon leaves it, and I am left standing over the odd corpse of this most strange of mountain denizens. "Yes, yes!" I cry. "We've done it!!" I turn to face Lydia. But I cannot see her. Not right away.

Close by she lays, face down. In the dirt. She does not move, does not make a sound, does not share in my fading celebration.

Life. Life is fleeting. And life is cheep in Skyrim.

I move over to her, afraid to touch her. She is so peaceful, so at peace with this world that has sort to damage her on so any occasions. The adrenalin of battle has been replaced by a feeling of absolute and crushing shock. I stand for minutes staring at her corpse, unable to move or even contemplate moving. Events past this moment wither out of existence.

After what seem like hours pass, I move closer, and turn her so that she can at least face the sun. I don't have the words to say to her, the feelings I have or had for her stick in my throat. I know what I must do, and it tears me apart to do it.

I take that of use from her - the dwarven helmet, the shield, and some gold and arrows. But I leave her on that mountain with her armour and her sword. I leave her as she would want to be remembered. A warrior. And a beautiful woman. 

I leave.

Skyrim - Calm descent

When morning comes, we set out back along the path. It is gradually leading us back down the mountain, but snow covered peaks are still in abundance. Hungry wolves snap at Lydia and I from time to time; their diet must be limited at this altitude, and they know not of the danger they face when hungrily approaching the two of us.

I fondly recall our battle against the bitter Hagraven and her minions the day before. We gelled so well that day, with Lydia taking the fight to the enemy, and me working my way around to snuff out the evil life at the top of the rock. Though hard-fought, we were victorious in a way we hadn't managed before.

Lydia walks a few steps behind me as we progress, and a smile creeps onto my face. We can't really discern each others looks due to the heavy armour covering both of our faces, but I know she smiles back. I can see Lydia remaining my Housecarl for a long while yet. Maybe she'll be something more one day? But that's for another day. In the meantime, we just enjoy the gentle stroll in the crisp mountain air.

I stumble upon a building constructed right on the edge of a mighty crevasse, a high arch visible before the rest of the stonework. The place is called North Skyward Watch, clearly some form of imperial watch tower.

I approach it without my usual reticence, seeing little of life around it. Nevertheless, I am soon met at the entrance-way by a couple of bandits intend on bashing my head in with iron maces. Lydia fires iron arrows into the narrow door, and helps me end them quickly. They aren't the thugs and outlaws we've previously tussled with, just your run-of-the-mill bandits.

The dead bandits have little of worth stored in the watch - a table contains their coin-purses, some almost-worthless potions, and a chest with a bit more gold in it. Other than that, the only luxury they've afforded themselves are a couple of wolf-skin beds.

I take one last look at the place, then we return to the path to continue our traipse down the mountain.

Skyrim - Battle at Orphan's Rock

A lake comes into view as we descend back down the mountain from Helgen. I walk over to it, and decide that with all the hubbub I've been through of late, that I deserve a dip.

The water is freezing cold, Lydia cleverly remains on the shore. I dive down into the depths. On the bottom, I find a sunken boat - its former occupants nowhere to be seen. Whoever they are, they left behind their chest of goodies -  stuff my pockets with what I can before surfacing and returning to the shore.

My quest still uncompleted, I resume my search for the magic blade which the priestess in Whiterun was after to fix the tree. The weather has turned from snow to rain, all around I am surrounded by dripping trees and grey rock. I wouldn't call it foreboding - there are just nicer places I'd rather be right now.

I can see a cleft of rock jetting out of a nearby hill - it is here, I work out, that I will find the blade. The priestess had said something about it being dangerous around these woods, but again I hadn't really listened to her. After all, a priestess is going to find most things outside the comfort zone of the  shrine to be a bit dodgy isn't she?

I wish I had heeded her warning, as moments later we are under attack from mages seemingly from all quarters. All forms of magic are lashing the ground around Lydia and I - fire, ice, even electrical. Lydia runs into the fray after loosing a volley of arrows, her sword flashing blows on the mages.

I try to follow her in, but someone or something else is throwing heavier magic at me. Large explosions rock the narrow valley we find ourselves in. I have no idea where they are coming from, or even what is capable of magic of such magnitude.

The mages are suffering a sound thrashing from Lydia, who is once more reveling in bloodshed. I finish off a few of them, dashing between outcrops of rock to prevent the magic expert from getting a bead on me. I'm feeling a bit strange - the near constant barrage, and the need to down potion after potion just to remain upright has left me somewhat light-headed.

A path is visible up to the outcrop of rock, and I make a dash for it. An ugly creature is at the top, in the middle of a savage encampment called Orphan's Rock. It is a hagraven, a disgusting cross between woman and bird. It is this which has been causing me so many problems. I apply some poison to my blade to stem the creatures magicka, as well as taking copious amounts of magical protection potions myself.

My blade swipes again and again at the evil harridan, and eventually I am left stood over the dead creature. Searching the body, I find the blade which the priestess was after - Nettlebane. It is made from a dark metal, and is dull in the afternoon gloom. I slip it into my pack.

The battle has been won, and now I allow myself the blessed luxury of sleep. I enter the cleanest tent I can find, and close my eyes for hours.

Skyrim - Ancient's Ascent

Though still chilly, the mountain air is welcome respite from the cold breeze of Bonehill Passage. It is early evening by now, and the sun creeping towards the horizon is beginning to turn the snow a gentle salmon pink.

The pathway leads us further up the mountain, the sides lined by alpine trees and sharp rocks. I spot some signs of ancient construction - walls and cut stones. Maybe we're nearing a tomb or an ancient ruin? Rounding a corner, the pathway opens up.

My voice catches in my throat as I glance up and see incoming doom. A dragon screeches, and both Lydia and I stumble with the volume of noise. It passes us many times, spewing flame at us as we fire arrows skyward.

I run toward a nearby stack of rocks in the hope of giving myself cover, but Lydia... Lydia remains in the open. She is shining, replete in her armour, flame licking at her from the flying beast. The dragon lands in the centre of the mountainous arena and tries to take bites of of Lydia. And yet she still stays put, sword now drawn.

I am throwing arrows doused with poison at the dragon, and a final flight of orcish arrows puts the thing to rest. It collapses on the ground, its incredible weight no longer supported by the once living muscles of my reptilian opponent.

The death of a dragon is an awe-inspiring sight. As the life leaves its body, the scales begin to glow with ruddy heat, and soon they are alight with magical fire. Flakes of ash are blown away from the massive skeleton of the creatures by the valley wind, lifted to the heavens.

And another wind builds up, one which builds and builds, pulling the dragon's soul into my very fibre. I'm left with a feeling of intense strength, but also massive loss. I whisper silent prayers to the departed creature, before taking that of use from its remains.

I turn to face the rest of the ruins, and see a circular wall, very similar to that seen earlier in Dustman's Cairn. A similar wind to the dragon soul builds around me, and a strange text in blue glows on the wall. I gain another shout, but do not have the knowledge to use it.

The path we followed here leads no further, so we turn back the way we came and head back through the ice cave, and down the path through Helgen. Soon another fort is within view, this one southeast from the destroyed town, named Fort Neugrad. Bandits walk its perimeter. Lydia and I walk on past - we will clear it another day.

Skyrim - Up to Bonehill Passage

The road into the mountains continues to weave upwards, and soon the weather turns chill. Snow covers all surfaces, and I can barely make out the road. Up ahead lies a familiar place. Have I been here before?

Yes, yes I have - for this town is Helgen, the town where I started this little adventure. Broken towers and burning pyres lie behind the walls of the destroyed town. I try to find a way in, but all the gates are locked. Some deft lock picking eventually opens the portal, and the doors swing open.

Anger and retribution rise in my throat like bile, as more vile bandits inhabit this murdered town. What level will these animals stoop to? Without a second throught for mine or Lydia's safety, I dash into combat with the nearest bandit, mad with bloodlust.

They seem to be coming out of the stonework itself, more and more of the feral men and women charging at me. Blades flash, and magic pulses across the wasted town, as Lydia pulls arrow after arrow from the quiver on her back and fires them into the pack.

I charge ahead, through broken homes, and finish each bandit off with gusto. I survey the devastation around me - bandit corpses lie scattered across the wrecked town, and blood seeps into the white snow floor.

I quit Helgen in disgust, and we continue our slog along the cold road. What appears to be a cave comes into view ahead of me, but not the normal rocky formation we have explored before. This is an ice cave called Bonehill Passage, the very walls formed from glacial ice. Lydia wonders aloud on what could be inside. We enter to find out.

A chill blows continuously through cave, the likes of which I have never felt. The heavy armour does nothing to warm me, the cold metal conducting the chill straight to my flesh. I spy bones littering the floor. Sounds of wildlife travel down the passage as we ascend up an ice bridge, the roar of a bear. I edge my way forward, suspicious that any noise will bring the creature upon us.

But it is an ambush. Despite my wariness, an ice wraith has crept up behind us and begins attacking. I drink potions of resist frost and strengthen my magicka, and I throw fire balls at the denizen until it moves no more.

The noise of our surprise draws a snow bear out of its lair further up the passage, and we slice again and again at the creature. It falls into the ice - no doubt its corpse will remain here for hundreds of years, desiccated by the intense cold wind blowing through the cave.

I find the exit to the cave, and we push our way out and back into the daylight of the mountainside.

Skyrim - Lydia, my Housecarl

With Lydia as my new follower, we depart Whiterun for some trial exploration. Though she seems knowledgeable in the ways of the world around the town, it will be interesting to see how she fares away from her comfort zone.

I kit her out in the same armour and weaponry which had previously belonged to Faedal. Amazingly, it all fits - clearly Nord women are built in a very similar way to elf males. She chooses to wear the steel helmet I give her, which is unfortunate, as I won't be able to see the expressions on her face. I know that Lydia is loyal to me, being a Housecarl of Whiterun, but her back-chat has an air of aloofness to it.

We head west - so far, I have only really explored the west of Skyrim. In the midst of a barren waste, the first location we come to is a fort by the name of Greymoor. Like most forts I've found, it looks uninhabited, though is actually filled to the ramparts with bandits. They have even made it look like more dwell there by making mannequins from pieces of wood and old armour. These are difficult to make out, as the sun has set.

Lydia and I leap into action, with her firing arrows into the crowd and me slicing them with my sword. Soon, the only sound we hear is the keening of the wind over the walls. Lydia has performed well in her first combat, and I am very pleased with her.

We clear out the remaining bandits from within the fort. This proves tougher than fighting the exterior guards - the leaders of this war band seem to have surrounded himself with thugs and minor mages. I sneak around the dark rooms and corridors, dispatching bandits wherever we find them. Occasionally, they run at us in droves, and we desperately hack at them with swords and magic.

By the time we emerge from the fort victorious, the night has passed and the sun is rising. I do one final sweep of the ramparts to make sure all of worth has been taken from these bandit filth, then we head out of the fort to walk over the plane further west.

I catch my first glimpse of a mammoth herd - they amble, graceful for creatures their size, slowly. Soon, I find myself outside another mine. It seems as though the bandits are busy in this part of Skyrim, as they dwell within the confines of this excavation too.

The minor foot soldiers prove little trouble to either myself or Lydia, and I pick gold and arrows from their bodies as we fell them. They protect a bandit chief - this man knows how to find. He swings his enchanted sword, narrowly missing my head. We have to hack it him with our weapons, yet leap back whenever he takes a swing at us. But just like the other bandits, he cannot survive us for long. I pick his body clean of magical weapons and armour - these will fetch a high price next time I'm in town.

Being a mine, there are veins of iron abound. Thanks to a nearby pickaxe, I dig out numerous chunks of iron ore, as well as the odd jewel here and there. All of this should help me with my smithing.

Skyrim - New Homeowner

Faedral and I set out for Whiterun - we know the route quite well by now, and nothing interrupts our gentle walk through the countryside. He is silent throughout our walk - clearly he is deep in thought, but I don't want to push it.

I have some business with the steward of Whiterun, who rewards me for slaying some bandits leader. He also reminds me that there is a house available to buy within the walls of Whiterun. By now, I have amassed a nice fortune, and happily spend almost all of it on the promise of property.

It is a small house called Breezehome, right next to the blacksmiths. I pray that he won't work all night - on previous trips to Whiterun, they tend to leave the forge around sixish, so I should get a good night's rest. The ground floor is a simple place, with room for racking weapons, and an ante-room for creating alchemical potions.

The first floor is one large room, with a chest for storing anything which I consider too valuable or heavy to carry around, and a nice double bed for sleeping in. Off that is another ante-room - this one is for my Housecarl, Lydia. She is already there when I enter my new house - clearly news travels fast around Whiterun, and the Steward has sent her ahead.

I can sense tension in the air. Faedal is standing there, and I have no idea how he feels - his face is hidden behind metal armour. Lydia, on the other hand, seems to want to actively talk to me. Faedal recent disappearance and reappearance certainly doesn't help things. I make my choice.


I walk over to him, and ask him for my bits of armour and weaponry back. He doesn't seem to have an issue with this, nor with me taking the gold currency stored on his person. "I'm going to have to let you go" I hear myself saying to him. "It's just now working anymore." Without any kind of antagonism, he says okay, that I can find him in Riverwood if I need him again, and walks off.

My voice catches in my throat as he walks down the stairs. I walk around the top floor to follow his progress out of the house and, just as he leaves, he glances around at me. There are tears in my eyes, and I'm speechless, but I know deep in my heart that I've made the right choice.