Windhelm is its usual cold, blowy self. I enter the town without provocation. I find my way to Oengul War-Anvil, and give him the sword I retrieved from Cronvangr cave. He is much relieved, and happy for the return of Queen Freydis's blade, gifting me gold. I use this gold to restock my quiver with more arrows. I visit some of the other shop keepers, and we trade items.
Walking through the city, I stumble upon a gruesome sight just outside the Hall of the Dead - a woman, murdered and bloody. The people around mutter words of shock, but the guard on duty seems unperturbed and asks me to move along. Being the inquisitive type, I grill them for information.
Apparently there have been a spate of murders of young women in Windhelm - it seems that the alleged benefactor of Skyrim is unable to keep his own hold safe. The guards are too busy to properly investigate, so ask me, Hedron the Collider to look into things for them. Their thoughts obviously being that an adventurer should have some keen forensic skills.
It doesn't take much to work out what went on with this murder. All I have to do is follow the trail of blood (of which there is a lot) from the corpse back to its origin - a mansion called Hjerim. The front door is locked, so I ask a guard about it. The place belonged to a woman who was the first victim in this bizarre case. Naturally her grieving mother is keen for answers, and gives me the key to gain entry.
I rummage around the place, looking for answers. Stenvar remains silent throughout, though does stumble over some empty mead bottles. I tut and roll my eyes, his clumsiness will result in some serious problems in the future I feel. I find a chest with some pamphlets titled Beware the Butcher! and immediately think this may be useful.
I also find the entranceway to a hidden chamber at the back of a wardrobe. The chamber is filled with bones, blooded remains, and embalming tools similar to something that may have been used to kill the woman. The state of the room has no effect on my warrior sensibilities - I have too often been the cause of similar. I find another Butcher note, as well as an amulet. I leave the place.
Speaking with a guard about the pamphlets, it is revealed that a local lady is printing them as a means of warning the population against the killer. Viola Giordano tells me that the only person she'd suspect of murdering anyone is the mage in the Palace of Kings, Wuunferth, and she suspects him of necromancy. From the layout of bones I've seen, I tend to agree.
I head to the Palace to confront the mage.
Showing posts with label skyrim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label skyrim. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
Skyrim - Cronvangr Cave
The entranceway to Cronvangr Cave is surrounded by cobwebs and the empty egg husks of frostspiders. This suggests to my trained eye that there may be spiders within the cave. Neither I nor Stenvar have any fear of the eight-legged variety, so venture forth into the opening of the rockface.
Sure enough the first cavern I reach is filled with the things, which I slay with ease. They spit poison as I approach, but I merely wipe this away and drive my sword into their chitinous carapaces. I see the entrance to an ante-chamber across the cavern, which seems empty at first until I spot a rock doorway. I locate the button to activate it and it slides down into the floor.
Beyond lies a tighter series of corridors, supported by wooden structures, and then a house built in the middle of a large cavern. It is obvious to me that some form of inhabitant other than spiders dwell here, so it comes as no surprise to find vampires. The first of them sits at a desk, reading. I dip an arrow in some of the frostspider venom I gathered and fire it across the room into her head.
This is not the last of the gore I'll see, for further on I find large amounts of blood and viscera - these vampires are not tidy with their eating. I also find a lot of corpses, and it is while investigating these pile of bodies that another vampire appears. This one is a bit tougher to take down, casting magic at me while I try to slay it with my sword.
Carrying on with my exploration, I emerge into a more open cavern with several walkways leading down to a pool of water at the bottom. More spiders live here, and Stenvar assists me in arrowing them from afar. The cold from the pool below drifts up, and he comments to me that he could do with some warm ale.
One of the pathways leads us to a door to Broodlair, a further section of the cave which I would assume is filled with vampire scum. But instead, all I find are spiders both small and large. Webs lie everywhere, requiring me to cut through to gain access to areas. I stumble upon a large chest which is filled with gold, soul gems, and above all, the sword of Queen Freydis. Oengul best be please with this.
We turn around and leave the cave behind, heading west. Crossing the river just outside the cave, we stumble upon the ruined fort of Gallows Rock. Though I approach it with stealth, the Silver Hands atop the walls are ever vigilant, loosing volleys of arrows down at us as we pass. I'll deal with them later, mark my words.
In the meantime, I've got a sword to give to a blacksmith in Windhelm, so head north towards the walls city.
Sure enough the first cavern I reach is filled with the things, which I slay with ease. They spit poison as I approach, but I merely wipe this away and drive my sword into their chitinous carapaces. I see the entrance to an ante-chamber across the cavern, which seems empty at first until I spot a rock doorway. I locate the button to activate it and it slides down into the floor.
Beyond lies a tighter series of corridors, supported by wooden structures, and then a house built in the middle of a large cavern. It is obvious to me that some form of inhabitant other than spiders dwell here, so it comes as no surprise to find vampires. The first of them sits at a desk, reading. I dip an arrow in some of the frostspider venom I gathered and fire it across the room into her head.
This is not the last of the gore I'll see, for further on I find large amounts of blood and viscera - these vampires are not tidy with their eating. I also find a lot of corpses, and it is while investigating these pile of bodies that another vampire appears. This one is a bit tougher to take down, casting magic at me while I try to slay it with my sword.
Carrying on with my exploration, I emerge into a more open cavern with several walkways leading down to a pool of water at the bottom. More spiders live here, and Stenvar assists me in arrowing them from afar. The cold from the pool below drifts up, and he comments to me that he could do with some warm ale.
One of the pathways leads us to a door to Broodlair, a further section of the cave which I would assume is filled with vampire scum. But instead, all I find are spiders both small and large. Webs lie everywhere, requiring me to cut through to gain access to areas. I stumble upon a large chest which is filled with gold, soul gems, and above all, the sword of Queen Freydis. Oengul best be please with this.
We turn around and leave the cave behind, heading west. Crossing the river just outside the cave, we stumble upon the ruined fort of Gallows Rock. Though I approach it with stealth, the Silver Hands atop the walls are ever vigilant, loosing volleys of arrows down at us as we pass. I'll deal with them later, mark my words.
In the meantime, I've got a sword to give to a blacksmith in Windhelm, so head north towards the walls city.
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Skyrim - Discovering the Dwemer
The dwemer ruins in front of me are a series of steps working their way up the hillside. A number of open gates line the tops of each, and I ascend them swiftly. This must lead to a larger ruin, one filled with treasures! I push forward, Stenvar barely able to keep up with my breakneck speed.
I find a tower at the top, with a huge bronze double-door filling much of one side. Surely this must hide treasures galore? I rush over to it, my guard down against any possible attack - they would have spotted me by now anyway with my complete lack of stealth.
The door opens easily after a swift bit of lock-picking, and we enter the tower. It seems to be some sort of storeroom, for there is nothing inside but piles of dwarven metal. This is fine by me, for the metal of the dwemer is well renowned for its strength and durability - selling it on will return a handsome bonus. The only trouble I have is the sheer weight of the stuff. I have to pile much of it onto Stenvar, as there is no way even I could carry this lot.
We exit the storeroom and I survey the rest of the hillside. From around the bend of the stairways, I can hear a strange sound, almost like a strangle dragon. I venture forth, and to my amazement find an even greater ruin than the one I just left - the ruins of the ancient dwemer city of Mzulft.
Intricately cut stonework houses large metal tubes, all of which are broken open and venting vast quantities of steam, obviously the sound I had heard emanating forth. From where I stand, a tower is the closest point so I walk over to it in awe at the site of this construction. The door however does not yield, some form of key is required to access this place.
Disappointed, I head back down the hill. We may not get into Mzulft today, but mark my words we'll be back another. I we'll get in.
I head west across the badlands, sulphurous geysers bubbling away as they have done for millions of years. Nothing much bothers us as we walk over the vast expanse, even though we have to skirt close to Steamcrag Camp - the giants and mammoths either don't notice us, or don't care about us. That will be their undoing one of these days.
We reach Convangr Cave. This place had been marked on my map by Oengul War-Anvil as somewhere to look for the sword of Queen Freydis. If I can return it to him, I hope that he may see to a nice discount on his metal-work...
I find a tower at the top, with a huge bronze double-door filling much of one side. Surely this must hide treasures galore? I rush over to it, my guard down against any possible attack - they would have spotted me by now anyway with my complete lack of stealth.
The door opens easily after a swift bit of lock-picking, and we enter the tower. It seems to be some sort of storeroom, for there is nothing inside but piles of dwarven metal. This is fine by me, for the metal of the dwemer is well renowned for its strength and durability - selling it on will return a handsome bonus. The only trouble I have is the sheer weight of the stuff. I have to pile much of it onto Stenvar, as there is no way even I could carry this lot.
We exit the storeroom and I survey the rest of the hillside. From around the bend of the stairways, I can hear a strange sound, almost like a strangle dragon. I venture forth, and to my amazement find an even greater ruin than the one I just left - the ruins of the ancient dwemer city of Mzulft.
Intricately cut stonework houses large metal tubes, all of which are broken open and venting vast quantities of steam, obviously the sound I had heard emanating forth. From where I stand, a tower is the closest point so I walk over to it in awe at the site of this construction. The door however does not yield, some form of key is required to access this place.
Disappointed, I head back down the hill. We may not get into Mzulft today, but mark my words we'll be back another. I we'll get in.
I head west across the badlands, sulphurous geysers bubbling away as they have done for millions of years. Nothing much bothers us as we walk over the vast expanse, even though we have to skirt close to Steamcrag Camp - the giants and mammoths either don't notice us, or don't care about us. That will be their undoing one of these days.
We reach Convangr Cave. This place had been marked on my map by Oengul War-Anvil as somewhere to look for the sword of Queen Freydis. If I can return it to him, I hope that he may see to a nice discount on his metal-work...
Monday, 16 January 2012
Skyrim - Smooth Jazbay
Picking myself up from the recent dragon attack, I head north east with Stenvar towards some hot springs. One of the tasks on my list is to collect some small grapes called jazbars for a farmer, and they are known to grow in this area in the west of Skyrim known as Eastmarch.
I thought the sulphurous fumes of the springs were bad enough, but no sooner do we enter the domain than yet another blood dragon looms large, venting fiery death. This time, I do not have the preventative barrier of bandits to draw its fire - I must go toe-to-toe with the creature, relying on my skills and fortitude to bring it down.
Whether down to our recent encounter with the creature at Nilheim or some other blessing from the gods, but Stenvar and I work like a well-oiled machine at killing the flying reptile, and soon it collapses to the ground. Yet unlike other dragon deaths, this one does not yield a soul, nor does it burn up into ash. This troubles me, yet I still reach down to the body and remove things of worth from it.
One benefit of the fight is my inadvertent stumbling into an area of springs containing a plethora of the jazbar berries. I like to think that subconsciously this was an informed decision - Stenvar's helmet prevents me from seeing how he views this hypothisis.
I turn my back on the dragon corpse, and we make our way back south east, soon leaving the bad lands of the springs. The landscape turns lush and verdant, trees and grass abound. I enter the small hamlet of Sarethi Farm, and locate the Avrusa Sarethi, a dark elf farmer.
Her farm exudes a strange noise, verging on a vibration. Peering over the small wooden fence, I see that she is growing uncountable nirnroot. At night, the field most glow with the light of the nirn.
Avrusa is happy to see me, and happier still to be given the jazbays she'd asked me to get. According to her, they are exactly what is needed to help the nirnroot grow. I'd have thought she'd want a ready source of water, and maybe a lot of mud - I've seen them growing well at the sides of rivers and lakes. But what do I know, I'm an adventurer not a botanist. She rewards me with some potions, and we leave.
Something had piqued my interest while we were scouring for jazbays earlier, so I retread old ground to investigate some ruins I'd seen and trudge back to Eastmarch. On the way, we pass an imperial patrol escorting a prisoner somewhere. They seem keen to emphasise that it is none of my business, so I carry on without interfering.
The hills soon begin to rise in front of me, and it is here that I discover the ancient dwemer ruins. They scatter the hillside like discarded firewood. Eager to investigate, I push forward.
I thought the sulphurous fumes of the springs were bad enough, but no sooner do we enter the domain than yet another blood dragon looms large, venting fiery death. This time, I do not have the preventative barrier of bandits to draw its fire - I must go toe-to-toe with the creature, relying on my skills and fortitude to bring it down.
Whether down to our recent encounter with the creature at Nilheim or some other blessing from the gods, but Stenvar and I work like a well-oiled machine at killing the flying reptile, and soon it collapses to the ground. Yet unlike other dragon deaths, this one does not yield a soul, nor does it burn up into ash. This troubles me, yet I still reach down to the body and remove things of worth from it.
One benefit of the fight is my inadvertent stumbling into an area of springs containing a plethora of the jazbar berries. I like to think that subconsciously this was an informed decision - Stenvar's helmet prevents me from seeing how he views this hypothisis.
I turn my back on the dragon corpse, and we make our way back south east, soon leaving the bad lands of the springs. The landscape turns lush and verdant, trees and grass abound. I enter the small hamlet of Sarethi Farm, and locate the Avrusa Sarethi, a dark elf farmer.
Her farm exudes a strange noise, verging on a vibration. Peering over the small wooden fence, I see that she is growing uncountable nirnroot. At night, the field most glow with the light of the nirn.
Avrusa is happy to see me, and happier still to be given the jazbays she'd asked me to get. According to her, they are exactly what is needed to help the nirnroot grow. I'd have thought she'd want a ready source of water, and maybe a lot of mud - I've seen them growing well at the sides of rivers and lakes. But what do I know, I'm an adventurer not a botanist. She rewards me with some potions, and we leave.
Something had piqued my interest while we were scouring for jazbays earlier, so I retread old ground to investigate some ruins I'd seen and trudge back to Eastmarch. On the way, we pass an imperial patrol escorting a prisoner somewhere. They seem keen to emphasise that it is none of my business, so I carry on without interfering.
The hills soon begin to rise in front of me, and it is here that I discover the ancient dwemer ruins. They scatter the hillside like discarded firewood. Eager to investigate, I push forward.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
Skyrim - Nilheim
I head south-east towards a nearby lake. In the middle is a small island which we stroll through the water to - the water isn't very deep. I discover another tomb, Geirmund's Hall. Frankly, I had enough of wandering through ancient draugr-infested ruins earlier. So no, this one can wait for another time.
I can see an ominous dark tower further across the lake built atop a large mass of rock, and decide to investigate. This necessitates getting my feet wet again, but it is the only way we'll reach it. I just hope there aren't any slaughterfish in the shallows to chew at my shin bones.
Climbing up the bank, a man approaches me, claiming to be a merchant who was assaulted by the bandits in the tower who promptly stole all his gumpf. Naturally I can't let this sort of unjust incident go unpunished, otherwise I would not be the redoubtable adventurer Hedron the Collider!
Unsheathing my sword, I run up the pathway weaving through the rocks up to the tower. Bandits cockily announce themselves to me, but I run them through before they have a chance to finish their sentences. Stenvar follows closely, clearing up those who, in my bloodlust, I miss. The bandits are numerous, though all this does is form them into the anvil for our figurative hammer to smash.
We pause half way up the rocky path, mainly for me to check the dead for gold. The merchant catches up to me, and it is here that he reveals that it was all a trap to get me and Stenvar at this precise point! The only thing is, I've killed pretty much every living thing on this blasted hill. So when he pulls a simple iron dagger on me, it almost seems unfair for me to strike him down. This must be done though, for I fear we are not the first to have fallen for this.
I leave him to slump onto a nearby boulder, and we carry on up the path. A handlful of bandits and marauders try to stop us reaching the tower, but to no avail. They literally walk in the valley of death.
The tower, I find, is called Nilheim, and comprises a single black spike of stonework balanced on the edge of the lake. No one else has hung around for me to exact vengeance on, so I do a quick sweep of the place for things to loot, and make my way to the exit.
Things take a turn for the dramatic as reptile wings beat dust around us - a blood dragon blocks our path. But it doesn't attack us, choosing to breathe fire down upon some bandits which seem to have escaped the purge. This plays nicely into my hands, allowing me to fire orcish arrows ceaselessly towards the airbourne doom-monger.
Before it collapses to the dusty ground dead, it manages to kill the remaining bandits. I salute it for that at least.
I can see an ominous dark tower further across the lake built atop a large mass of rock, and decide to investigate. This necessitates getting my feet wet again, but it is the only way we'll reach it. I just hope there aren't any slaughterfish in the shallows to chew at my shin bones.
Climbing up the bank, a man approaches me, claiming to be a merchant who was assaulted by the bandits in the tower who promptly stole all his gumpf. Naturally I can't let this sort of unjust incident go unpunished, otherwise I would not be the redoubtable adventurer Hedron the Collider!
Unsheathing my sword, I run up the pathway weaving through the rocks up to the tower. Bandits cockily announce themselves to me, but I run them through before they have a chance to finish their sentences. Stenvar follows closely, clearing up those who, in my bloodlust, I miss. The bandits are numerous, though all this does is form them into the anvil for our figurative hammer to smash.
We pause half way up the rocky path, mainly for me to check the dead for gold. The merchant catches up to me, and it is here that he reveals that it was all a trap to get me and Stenvar at this precise point! The only thing is, I've killed pretty much every living thing on this blasted hill. So when he pulls a simple iron dagger on me, it almost seems unfair for me to strike him down. This must be done though, for I fear we are not the first to have fallen for this.
I leave him to slump onto a nearby boulder, and we carry on up the path. A handlful of bandits and marauders try to stop us reaching the tower, but to no avail. They literally walk in the valley of death.
The tower, I find, is called Nilheim, and comprises a single black spike of stonework balanced on the edge of the lake. No one else has hung around for me to exact vengeance on, so I do a quick sweep of the place for things to loot, and make my way to the exit.
Things take a turn for the dramatic as reptile wings beat dust around us - a blood dragon blocks our path. But it doesn't attack us, choosing to breathe fire down upon some bandits which seem to have escaped the purge. This plays nicely into my hands, allowing me to fire orcish arrows ceaselessly towards the airbourne doom-monger.
Before it collapses to the dusty ground dead, it manages to kill the remaining bandits. I salute it for that at least.
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Skyrim - Shroud Hearth Barrow
I've been into Shroud Hearth already, so run through the tomb with not much to worry about. I once more find the solid stone door which previously hindered my progress, and insert the sapphire claw into the specially designed nooks. At first, nothing happens with the door - it remains resolutely steadfast. A quick rotation of the outer discs to match up with the creatures shown on the pad of the claw sees the door sink into the floor upon reinsertion. This seems like a fundamental design floor for a form of security, but I don't complain to Stenvar - after all, I just got into the place.
Draugr and skeletons form the guard beyond the door, but with a wry smile I demolish them with my follower. We continue in this fashion, making swift progress through the barrow.
I enter a chamber with a large waterfall cascading down, and a drawbridge pulled up. Despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I am forced to calm myself to correctly solve the puzzle required to lower it. This is truly the mark of a great adventurer - excelling in battle, but with the cognitive capacity to infiltrate tombs and dungeons successfully.
Things get a bit hectic as soon as I enter the barrow depths. Whereas the entrance only contained your bog-standard draugr, this door had hidden the horrors of draugr scourgers. These, though undead in a similar fashion to normal draugr, do not go down quite as easily. They prove to be of most trouble when there are more than one, and we are regularly assailed from all sides by the sickening creatures. To make matters worse, they throw magic at us too.
Stenvar wades into them without a moment's hesitation, which regularly proves his undoing. He lies there at the mercy of the scourgers while I make a tactical withdrawal. This is by no means cowardly - by moving away from him, I draw the draugr away from my comrade, and I am able to lay damage upon them without fear of striking down Stenvar.
Where there aren't scourgers, there are layers of traps. Swinging axes lunge out of corridor walls to slash at me as I walk through. Pits of fire ambush me as I walk through chambers. Spiked doors operate from hidden switches to throw me across rooms. But the numerous treasures I acquire as I move through the tomb spur me on.
We finally enter a chamber populated by not only the dreaded scourgers, but something much worse - a Draugr Overlord. They slash at us with ancient yet powerful blades, and shock magic damages my ability to cast spells myself. I drink potions to aid in the regeneration of my magicka, and conjure up a fire atronach to give them something else to target. It does exactly what I need it to, throwing fireballs at the undead creatures while Stenvar and I use our blades to hack them down.
Eventually we are left on our own, and I begin to study the chamber. A few chests lie about, filled with yet more booty. But the familiar circular wall at the end of the room bestows the greatest treasure - another dragon word.
With the tomb clear, I exit to daylight from a nearby door. Today has been tough, probably the toughest yet with my erstwhile ally Stenvar. Yet we remain alive, for now.
Draugr and skeletons form the guard beyond the door, but with a wry smile I demolish them with my follower. We continue in this fashion, making swift progress through the barrow.
I enter a chamber with a large waterfall cascading down, and a drawbridge pulled up. Despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I am forced to calm myself to correctly solve the puzzle required to lower it. This is truly the mark of a great adventurer - excelling in battle, but with the cognitive capacity to infiltrate tombs and dungeons successfully.
Things get a bit hectic as soon as I enter the barrow depths. Whereas the entrance only contained your bog-standard draugr, this door had hidden the horrors of draugr scourgers. These, though undead in a similar fashion to normal draugr, do not go down quite as easily. They prove to be of most trouble when there are more than one, and we are regularly assailed from all sides by the sickening creatures. To make matters worse, they throw magic at us too.
Stenvar wades into them without a moment's hesitation, which regularly proves his undoing. He lies there at the mercy of the scourgers while I make a tactical withdrawal. This is by no means cowardly - by moving away from him, I draw the draugr away from my comrade, and I am able to lay damage upon them without fear of striking down Stenvar.
Where there aren't scourgers, there are layers of traps. Swinging axes lunge out of corridor walls to slash at me as I walk through. Pits of fire ambush me as I walk through chambers. Spiked doors operate from hidden switches to throw me across rooms. But the numerous treasures I acquire as I move through the tomb spur me on.
We finally enter a chamber populated by not only the dreaded scourgers, but something much worse - a Draugr Overlord. They slash at us with ancient yet powerful blades, and shock magic damages my ability to cast spells myself. I drink potions to aid in the regeneration of my magicka, and conjure up a fire atronach to give them something else to target. It does exactly what I need it to, throwing fireballs at the undead creatures while Stenvar and I use our blades to hack them down.
Eventually we are left on our own, and I begin to study the chamber. A few chests lie about, filled with yet more booty. But the familiar circular wall at the end of the room bestows the greatest treasure - another dragon word.
With the tomb clear, I exit to daylight from a nearby door. Today has been tough, probably the toughest yet with my erstwhile ally Stenvar. Yet we remain alive, for now.
Monday, 2 January 2012
Skyrim - Wylandriah's Spoon
Ivarstead is the next location on my list of places to visit. It has been a while since I returned there, and it will be good to see some of the people who I met on my visit so long ago. I take quite a roundabout route to get there, discovering Snapleg Cave on the way.
My arrival in the town is as dramatic as the journey was dull. As I crest a bridge looking down at Ivarstead, I see my good friend Klimmek engaged in mortal combat with a bear. He looks to be doing quite well until the bear stands upon its hind legs and smashes its weight on top of him. He falls dead, and I cry in dismay.
I run into the town and kill the bear. Everyone else goes about their business, despite the corpse of the much-loved Klimmek lying across the middle of the main street through the town. And to think, last time I was here he'd just confessed his love to Fastred. So much to live for, yet now nothing more than worm fodder.
I enter Fellstar Farm, and retrieve Wylandriah's spoon - she's the eccentric and very forgetful mage who works for the Jarl of Riften. She'd asked me to pick up various bits and pieces they'd she'd left scattered around various places in Skyrim, and this was the first I'd come to.
Again, no one in Ivarstead says a word - I've literally just broken into a house to get this spoon back. Maybe they're in shock from the death of Klimmek? Maybe they are over-awed that the Dragonborn is back in town? Who knows.
I walk into the Vilemyr Inn and speak with the barkeep. I give him a journal I found on my last visit to Shroud Heath Barrow, and he rewards me with one of the jeweled chicken feet that is used to access so many of these tombs. This one is a sapphire claw.
I head to the Barrow, just up the road from the inn. I have to pass Klimmek on the way, and to give him some dignity, drag him to the gutter - at least he won't be run over by passing carts. Turning my back on Ivarstead, I re-enter Shroud Hearth Barrow one more time.
My arrival in the town is as dramatic as the journey was dull. As I crest a bridge looking down at Ivarstead, I see my good friend Klimmek engaged in mortal combat with a bear. He looks to be doing quite well until the bear stands upon its hind legs and smashes its weight on top of him. He falls dead, and I cry in dismay.
I run into the town and kill the bear. Everyone else goes about their business, despite the corpse of the much-loved Klimmek lying across the middle of the main street through the town. And to think, last time I was here he'd just confessed his love to Fastred. So much to live for, yet now nothing more than worm fodder.
I enter Fellstar Farm, and retrieve Wylandriah's spoon - she's the eccentric and very forgetful mage who works for the Jarl of Riften. She'd asked me to pick up various bits and pieces they'd she'd left scattered around various places in Skyrim, and this was the first I'd come to.
Again, no one in Ivarstead says a word - I've literally just broken into a house to get this spoon back. Maybe they're in shock from the death of Klimmek? Maybe they are over-awed that the Dragonborn is back in town? Who knows.
I walk into the Vilemyr Inn and speak with the barkeep. I give him a journal I found on my last visit to Shroud Heath Barrow, and he rewards me with one of the jeweled chicken feet that is used to access so many of these tombs. This one is a sapphire claw.
I head to the Barrow, just up the road from the inn. I have to pass Klimmek on the way, and to give him some dignity, drag him to the gutter - at least he won't be run over by passing carts. Turning my back on Ivarstead, I re-enter Shroud Hearth Barrow one more time.
Friday, 30 December 2011
Skyrim - Much to do in Whiterun
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.
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.
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 - 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.
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.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
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.
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.
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