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.
Oblivion was my introduction to the Elder Scrolls. Follow my journey in Skyrim...
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Skyrim - Clearing Morvunskar
I awaken from my slumber in Candleheath Hall, and walk out of my room. The innkepper I met yesterday is still stood behind the bar, displaying not a sign of tiredness. In front of the bar is a table, and at this table is sat a man in armour.
I walk over to him. His name is Stenvar, and he is muscle for hire. The the princely sum of 500 gold, he will follow me. Thanks to yesterday's pugilistic endeavour, I have some money burning away in my pocket. With memories of my old Housecarl fresh in my mind, I decide to hire Stenvar as a follower - he's a mercenary after all. I've walked the cold hills of Skyrim alone for too long. If anything, he'll provide some useful extra carrying capacity for me while we clear out forts.
To this end, we leave Windhelm together and head back up to the fort of Morvunskar once more. I'd only cleared out the area outside the fort - now that I have backup, I'll be a lot more comfortable heading into the fort itself.
As we approach the fort, Stenvar says how he always wished for a fort of his own as a child. I can tell he's going to be chatty, despite being paid for. The outside of the fort is still littered with the corpses of those I had slain previously, yet he mentions nothing of this - death obviously has no impact on him.
The interior of the fort doesn't prove as easy as the exterior. Mages fill all rooms, and all are of a very high level. Frost magic is used in abandon against us, and I am forced to use potions of health just to stay upright. But once we get close, the mages are not able to suffer many hits from our blade.
Stenvar favours double-handed weapons, and swings his steel broadsword wide. Mages fall within a couple of strikes of his heavy metal, and I hack away with my blade too.
Soon, the fort is cleared, and both of us are still standing. I am impressed with Stenvar's resilience and power in battle - he will prove useful in the battles to come.
We exit the cave, and make our way back down the road that leads up the hill to the fort. At the bottom, I pass a group of four men, who only seem to realise who I am when I have passed. They attack us, but are obviously not up to speed on how well I excel in close combat. All are slain.
I check the bodies of all of them for gold and some such, and discover a note - it is signed Lars Battle-Born, and it describes orders to have me killed. The Battle-Borns are a family in Whiterun. I will be having words next time I see them.
I walk over to him. His name is Stenvar, and he is muscle for hire. The the princely sum of 500 gold, he will follow me. Thanks to yesterday's pugilistic endeavour, I have some money burning away in my pocket. With memories of my old Housecarl fresh in my mind, I decide to hire Stenvar as a follower - he's a mercenary after all. I've walked the cold hills of Skyrim alone for too long. If anything, he'll provide some useful extra carrying capacity for me while we clear out forts.
To this end, we leave Windhelm together and head back up to the fort of Morvunskar once more. I'd only cleared out the area outside the fort - now that I have backup, I'll be a lot more comfortable heading into the fort itself.
As we approach the fort, Stenvar says how he always wished for a fort of his own as a child. I can tell he's going to be chatty, despite being paid for. The outside of the fort is still littered with the corpses of those I had slain previously, yet he mentions nothing of this - death obviously has no impact on him.
The interior of the fort doesn't prove as easy as the exterior. Mages fill all rooms, and all are of a very high level. Frost magic is used in abandon against us, and I am forced to use potions of health just to stay upright. But once we get close, the mages are not able to suffer many hits from our blade.
Stenvar favours double-handed weapons, and swings his steel broadsword wide. Mages fall within a couple of strikes of his heavy metal, and I hack away with my blade too.
Soon, the fort is cleared, and both of us are still standing. I am impressed with Stenvar's resilience and power in battle - he will prove useful in the battles to come.
We exit the cave, and make our way back down the road that leads up the hill to the fort. At the bottom, I pass a group of four men, who only seem to realise who I am when I have passed. They attack us, but are obviously not up to speed on how well I excel in close combat. All are slain.
I check the bodies of all of them for gold and some such, and discover a note - it is signed Lars Battle-Born, and it describes orders to have me killed. The Battle-Borns are a family in Whiterun. I will be having words next time I see them.
Skyrim - Windhelm
I turn away from the fort of Morvunskar, and walk towards the edge of the hill it is built upon. In front of me, I see Windhelm, a large town on the shore of a slow and wide river.
I travel down to the town, across a small bridge and along a road. Windhelm is only accessible via a large fortified bridge, so I have to once more cross the river to get to it. As I approach the bridge, I notice an encampment of Khajiit next to the Windhelm stables.
The Khajiit are a strange humanoid cat-people, and though their language and custom is different from mine, I approach and we trade with each other. Throughout, the merchant named Ma'dran remains cross-legged in front of his animal skin tent.
Windhelm is a big place, encircled by a large stone wall. The snow snow falls around me as I cross the bridge, passing numerous guards on the way. My entrance to the town is via a tall metal door, which I enter without any fuss made. I'd have thought the conjurer blood dousing me would have made them think twice.
Inside, I speak with the towns folk. By the sound of things, the dark elves are not universally liked here, and their kind appear to have been forced into a shantytown ghetto. Why they are so hated, I have yet to find out, but I am not comfortable with this unabashed racism.
As I work my way through town, I remind myself that a child called Aventus Arentino lives here. He left the orphanage in Riften, intent on finding the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild to murder the old hag who ran the place. One of the other workers in the orphanage told me about this, and she wants me to ensure he doesn't act irrationally. In all honesty, I don't blame him - I've met the hag too, and she is a nasty piece of work.
My excellent tracking skills soon lead me to the house where Arventus is living. He has locked the front door, so I have to use a lockpick to carefully let myself in. The house is dusty, filled with cobwebs, and I find him in the main room, surrounded by candles and some bones - he is clearly a very disturbed child.
As I approach him, I can here him reciting the Black Sacrament, the verse used to draw the Dark Brotherhood to a person. He turns to face me, and rather than being scared by a strange adult breaking into his house, is genuinely excited to see me. He believes that I have been sent from the brotherhood, to answer his prayer for the hag at the orphanage to me murdered.
Of course I am not, but he won't listen to me, and insists that I leave quickly to begin my mission. He seems safe enough here on his own, so I nod slowly, and walk backwards and out of the crazy boy's home.
I'm feeling tired by this point, it's been a long day. So I enter the Candlehearth Hall, a large inn in the middle of the town. A warm fire burns, and the innkeeper is hospitable. But before I can ask her for a bed for the night, a drunk approaches me, and challenges me to a fight.
He doesn't really stand a chance. I punch him again and again and again, and he is soon on the floor asking for mercy. I give it to him, and he gives me some gold. Not that I asked for it. If anything, it'll pay for me rest, and then some.
I return to the innkeeper, and she shows me to my room. I thank her, close the door, and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
I travel down to the town, across a small bridge and along a road. Windhelm is only accessible via a large fortified bridge, so I have to once more cross the river to get to it. As I approach the bridge, I notice an encampment of Khajiit next to the Windhelm stables.
The Khajiit are a strange humanoid cat-people, and though their language and custom is different from mine, I approach and we trade with each other. Throughout, the merchant named Ma'dran remains cross-legged in front of his animal skin tent.
Windhelm is a big place, encircled by a large stone wall. The snow snow falls around me as I cross the bridge, passing numerous guards on the way. My entrance to the town is via a tall metal door, which I enter without any fuss made. I'd have thought the conjurer blood dousing me would have made them think twice.
Inside, I speak with the towns folk. By the sound of things, the dark elves are not universally liked here, and their kind appear to have been forced into a shantytown ghetto. Why they are so hated, I have yet to find out, but I am not comfortable with this unabashed racism.
As I work my way through town, I remind myself that a child called Aventus Arentino lives here. He left the orphanage in Riften, intent on finding the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild to murder the old hag who ran the place. One of the other workers in the orphanage told me about this, and she wants me to ensure he doesn't act irrationally. In all honesty, I don't blame him - I've met the hag too, and she is a nasty piece of work.
My excellent tracking skills soon lead me to the house where Arventus is living. He has locked the front door, so I have to use a lockpick to carefully let myself in. The house is dusty, filled with cobwebs, and I find him in the main room, surrounded by candles and some bones - he is clearly a very disturbed child.
As I approach him, I can here him reciting the Black Sacrament, the verse used to draw the Dark Brotherhood to a person. He turns to face me, and rather than being scared by a strange adult breaking into his house, is genuinely excited to see me. He believes that I have been sent from the brotherhood, to answer his prayer for the hag at the orphanage to me murdered.
Of course I am not, but he won't listen to me, and insists that I leave quickly to begin my mission. He seems safe enough here on his own, so I nod slowly, and walk backwards and out of the crazy boy's home.
I'm feeling tired by this point, it's been a long day. So I enter the Candlehearth Hall, a large inn in the middle of the town. A warm fire burns, and the innkeeper is hospitable. But before I can ask her for a bed for the night, a drunk approaches me, and challenges me to a fight.
He doesn't really stand a chance. I punch him again and again and again, and he is soon on the floor asking for mercy. I give it to him, and he gives me some gold. Not that I asked for it. If anything, it'll pay for me rest, and then some.
I return to the innkeeper, and she shows me to my room. I thank her, close the door, and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Skyrim - Northward bound
Leaving the cave of Eldergleam as the sun begins to set, I head for the north into lands cold but new to me. Passing once more over the blasted landscape of thermal vents and bubbling shallows, I skirt an encampment theatrically called Broken Limb Camp - a place of giants. They beat their clubs against the ground in warning, one which I am all too eager to listen to.
After the surprise spriggan attack earlier in the day, one would think I would want to keep my head above ground for a while. However, the loss of Lydia still haunts me, and I see my own life as cheap - the potential danger of cave-based combat means nothing to me.
Yet despite this I do no enter. I continue north, following a river and soon see a dilapidated shack lying on the shoreline. A sign proclaims this place to be called Riverside, which in all honesty it is. I find no find evidence that someone or something is using this as its home, so with the rapidly fading light choose to set up camp for the evening. I find sleep quickly.
I awake and head for the opposite bank of the river. It is flowing slowly, so I fair well in my crossing. On the beach, I hear a bear growl close by, and by survival instinct kicks in - I bring my sword out, and get down into a crouch. Sneaking up the bank, I see not only a bear, but also a huge giant. They are both involved in mortal combat, and as expected, the bear loses. I wait until the giant wanders off before taking the dead beast's claws.
All around me are thermal vents, and tucked between them are large deposits of iron and corundum. Placing my sword back in it's scabbard, and instead produce my pickaxe and mine each rich seam I come to. Soon my pack is laden with large amounts of ore, and I set out once more on exploration.
The vents have now vanished, to be replaced by cold rock and snow. A hill rises in front of me, and I can see the remains of a fort build atop it. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I ascend with great swiftness to see what this place may be.
The fort is called Morvunskar, and is populated by a large amount of conjurers. None of them seem keen on showing me their magic tricks, though many do chose to display their mastery of ice and lightning magic. For this insolence alone, I end all of those on the outskirts of the fort with my trusty bow and sword. I'll return for the others another day.
After the surprise spriggan attack earlier in the day, one would think I would want to keep my head above ground for a while. However, the loss of Lydia still haunts me, and I see my own life as cheap - the potential danger of cave-based combat means nothing to me.
Yet despite this I do no enter. I continue north, following a river and soon see a dilapidated shack lying on the shoreline. A sign proclaims this place to be called Riverside, which in all honesty it is. I find no find evidence that someone or something is using this as its home, so with the rapidly fading light choose to set up camp for the evening. I find sleep quickly.
I awake and head for the opposite bank of the river. It is flowing slowly, so I fair well in my crossing. On the beach, I hear a bear growl close by, and by survival instinct kicks in - I bring my sword out, and get down into a crouch. Sneaking up the bank, I see not only a bear, but also a huge giant. They are both involved in mortal combat, and as expected, the bear loses. I wait until the giant wanders off before taking the dead beast's claws.
All around me are thermal vents, and tucked between them are large deposits of iron and corundum. Placing my sword back in it's scabbard, and instead produce my pickaxe and mine each rich seam I come to. Soon my pack is laden with large amounts of ore, and I set out once more on exploration.
The vents have now vanished, to be replaced by cold rock and snow. A hill rises in front of me, and I can see the remains of a fort build atop it. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I ascend with great swiftness to see what this place may be.
The fort is called Morvunskar, and is populated by a large amount of conjurers. None of them seem keen on showing me their magic tricks, though many do chose to display their mastery of ice and lightning magic. For this insolence alone, I end all of those on the outskirts of the fort with my trusty bow and sword. I'll return for the others another day.
Skyrim - Strange occurances at Eldergleam Sanctuary
Through a shimmering cave entrance, the rock walls slick with water, I find myself on a trail leading off towards some light. As the cave opens, I stare up in awe at the beauty of nature in front of me. Grass stretches off into the distance, flowers burst from every available nook, a stream trickles quickly from a waterfall bursting from a small hill contained within the cave. And on top of the hill lies the Eldergleam tree itself, it's leaves a delicate pink.
A woman walks on the lush grass just down from the tree hillock, her name is Asta. She looks at me, armed with the strangely twisted blade of Nettlebane, and asks what I am doing in Eldergleam Sanctuary. So I tell her - I have been sent here to take a slice out of this big old tree to fix another tree in Whiterun. She is aghast at this, and begs me not to harm the tree. This woman is obviously some rural type who has no appreciation for urban redevelopment for the sake of public mental well-being.
I walk off towards the path which will lead me up the hill, and spot another human within the glade. He is sitting at the edge of the grass, with his feet dangling in the crystal waters of the stream. He has nothing to say to me, and I leave him to his quiet procrastination.
The path progresses up the hill quite steeply, and I would reach the top quickly were it not for the large roots extending down over the way. Fire magic does nought, though swift stabs with Nettlebane soon make the roots pull back as if in shock. I don't find this weird at all - afterall, though well watered from below, this huge old tree is growing quite successfully in a cave with very sporadic light.
The top of the hill is essentially just tree, with gentle light filtering down through a hole in the roof of the cave. I nonchalantly shimmy over to the main bough, and give it a quick nick with the blade to nab some sap. And then things turn strange...
A small whirlwind forms nearby, drawing leaves up from the ground to form a tree-like entity known as a spriggan. It doesn't try to speak to me, or merely eject me from what I assume to be its home - all it tries to do is kill me with strange magic and sharp wooded talons. I throw fire magic at it, and hit it with Nettlebane, theorising that it won't like either of these implements of death. And soon enough it is dead, and I am harvesting "tap root" from it's remains.
Heading back down the hill to exit the glade with my bounty, I can see several more of the creatures guarding the way out. To my horror Asta is lying dead on the grass. You'd think I'd blame myself, but she could have tried to stop me or at least get out of the cave before I stabbed the tree. I get the impression that this is where she would have wanted to die anyway.
I swap my blade for fire bow and arrow, and apply copious amounts of weakness-to-fire potions to my arsenal. These arrows mortally wound the spriggans, though some are tougher than others, and I again harvest their damaged bodies for things of worth.
I step over the man who was until recently bathing his feet, and burst out into the daylight.
A woman walks on the lush grass just down from the tree hillock, her name is Asta. She looks at me, armed with the strangely twisted blade of Nettlebane, and asks what I am doing in Eldergleam Sanctuary. So I tell her - I have been sent here to take a slice out of this big old tree to fix another tree in Whiterun. She is aghast at this, and begs me not to harm the tree. This woman is obviously some rural type who has no appreciation for urban redevelopment for the sake of public mental well-being.
I walk off towards the path which will lead me up the hill, and spot another human within the glade. He is sitting at the edge of the grass, with his feet dangling in the crystal waters of the stream. He has nothing to say to me, and I leave him to his quiet procrastination.
The path progresses up the hill quite steeply, and I would reach the top quickly were it not for the large roots extending down over the way. Fire magic does nought, though swift stabs with Nettlebane soon make the roots pull back as if in shock. I don't find this weird at all - afterall, though well watered from below, this huge old tree is growing quite successfully in a cave with very sporadic light.
The top of the hill is essentially just tree, with gentle light filtering down through a hole in the roof of the cave. I nonchalantly shimmy over to the main bough, and give it a quick nick with the blade to nab some sap. And then things turn strange...
A small whirlwind forms nearby, drawing leaves up from the ground to form a tree-like entity known as a spriggan. It doesn't try to speak to me, or merely eject me from what I assume to be its home - all it tries to do is kill me with strange magic and sharp wooded talons. I throw fire magic at it, and hit it with Nettlebane, theorising that it won't like either of these implements of death. And soon enough it is dead, and I am harvesting "tap root" from it's remains.
Heading back down the hill to exit the glade with my bounty, I can see several more of the creatures guarding the way out. To my horror Asta is lying dead on the grass. You'd think I'd blame myself, but she could have tried to stop me or at least get out of the cave before I stabbed the tree. I get the impression that this is where she would have wanted to die anyway.
I swap my blade for fire bow and arrow, and apply copious amounts of weakness-to-fire potions to my arsenal. These arrows mortally wound the spriggans, though some are tougher than others, and I again harvest their damaged bodies for things of worth.
I step over the man who was until recently bathing his feet, and burst out into the daylight.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Skyrim - Off to Eldergleam Sanctuary
Eldergleam is a fair distance from Whiterun, so I have plenty of opportunity for thought while walking. I spot some flowers ahead, butterflies touching the leaves delicately. I pick both the flora and insects for future alchemy, having to jump for some of the butterflies to reach them in the air. I'd feel like a child again if it wasn't for my deep remorse over the death of Lydia.
I am being followed by Maurice, who is on a pilgrimage to the same glade as me. He keeps up admirably, but frankly I'm not going to wait for him. I think he knows there is no love lost between us, he chooses not to engage in conversation when approached.
I see a figure at the side of the road, and approach him with blade raised. He doesn't attack, instead calls me over. He is an aspiring mage, sells me his "staff of reanimation" because he doesn't think he's cut out for maging. In actual fact, he just doesn't know how to recharge a magical weapon. But I decide that this staff may end up being dangerous in his hands, and take it off him for a song.
I continue along the road, which follows the natural path of a river as it cuts its way down the valley. A couple of wolves attack us as we round a bend - being the mighty adventurer I aim, I naturally find myself armed with sword and fire magic. But Maurice is a mere temple apprentice, and valiantly tries to injure the creatures with his bare fists.
I kill both the animals, and Maurice is beaten but alive. I dare not show any concern; he knows what he's gotten himself into. The path begins to switchback down a steep hill, so I take an extreme short cut - off the path and down a rocky slope. It appears too steep for Maurice to follow, and I soon lose track of him. Oh well, if he was really into the adventuring thing he would have brought some appropriate footwear with him.
The path continues to follow the existing river, but the rest of the landscape has morphed from the moor-like rolling steppe of Whiterun to a blasted post-apocalyptic environment of salt springs and geysers. Vapour hangs over the landscape, and shallow pools bubble away with potential energy,
I can see the entrance to Eldergleam ahead, what looks to be a cave. But I can also see one of my winged nemeses as well, and the dragon soon spies me too. As it wheels towards me, I already have my bow to hand, rubbing copious amounts of poison on the first arrow to give the dragon something to think about.
It hovers above me, great gusts of wind and dust beaten by its leathery wings only made worse by the gout of flame searing me from its gaping maw. A great number of arrows have left my quiver, and the dragon finds itself unable to hold itself aloft any longer. Bereft on the ground, it succumbs to heavy slices with my sword. Its life gone, the dragon rolls down to the bottom of the hill. As per usual, it disappears in bright fire, and I take what I can of it's bones and scales, soul absorbed.
Maurice is no where to be seen. I assume he has either returned to Whiterun, or succumbed to wolf attack. I really do not care - it was his choice to come along. I take one last look at the departed reptile, and walk into the cavernous entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary.
I am being followed by Maurice, who is on a pilgrimage to the same glade as me. He keeps up admirably, but frankly I'm not going to wait for him. I think he knows there is no love lost between us, he chooses not to engage in conversation when approached.
I see a figure at the side of the road, and approach him with blade raised. He doesn't attack, instead calls me over. He is an aspiring mage, sells me his "staff of reanimation" because he doesn't think he's cut out for maging. In actual fact, he just doesn't know how to recharge a magical weapon. But I decide that this staff may end up being dangerous in his hands, and take it off him for a song.
I continue along the road, which follows the natural path of a river as it cuts its way down the valley. A couple of wolves attack us as we round a bend - being the mighty adventurer I aim, I naturally find myself armed with sword and fire magic. But Maurice is a mere temple apprentice, and valiantly tries to injure the creatures with his bare fists.
I kill both the animals, and Maurice is beaten but alive. I dare not show any concern; he knows what he's gotten himself into. The path begins to switchback down a steep hill, so I take an extreme short cut - off the path and down a rocky slope. It appears too steep for Maurice to follow, and I soon lose track of him. Oh well, if he was really into the adventuring thing he would have brought some appropriate footwear with him.
The path continues to follow the existing river, but the rest of the landscape has morphed from the moor-like rolling steppe of Whiterun to a blasted post-apocalyptic environment of salt springs and geysers. Vapour hangs over the landscape, and shallow pools bubble away with potential energy,
I can see the entrance to Eldergleam ahead, what looks to be a cave. But I can also see one of my winged nemeses as well, and the dragon soon spies me too. As it wheels towards me, I already have my bow to hand, rubbing copious amounts of poison on the first arrow to give the dragon something to think about.
It hovers above me, great gusts of wind and dust beaten by its leathery wings only made worse by the gout of flame searing me from its gaping maw. A great number of arrows have left my quiver, and the dragon finds itself unable to hold itself aloft any longer. Bereft on the ground, it succumbs to heavy slices with my sword. Its life gone, the dragon rolls down to the bottom of the hill. As per usual, it disappears in bright fire, and I take what I can of it's bones and scales, soul absorbed.
Maurice is no where to be seen. I assume he has either returned to Whiterun, or succumbed to wolf attack. I really do not care - it was his choice to come along. I take one last look at the departed reptile, and walk into the cavernous entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary.
Skyrim - Lydia-less
With Lydia no longer at my side, I drift down the mountain as if in a dream. A landmark comes into view, an abandoned watchtower called South Skybound Lodge. Without my erstwhile follower, I sneak into the empty tower. I find a chest and a spider, which proves easy prey.
I am aiming for Whiterun, but find myself in the vicinity of Riverwood. I don't mention Lydia to anyone, and no one asks. I worry that her impact on this world wasn't as great as it was on my heart.
I enter Lucan Valerius' shop, and find him knocking things over. I imagine if I were to do the same, he wouldn't be too happy - his shop, his rules evidently. The golden chicken foot I brought back for him days ago is now displayed proudly on the counter. I sell a few things, lighten my load for the trek back to Whiterun. I leave without much of a chat.
The journey is uneventful, and I enter Breezehome. I store the items I took from Lydia in the chest next to my bed, as they will come in useful in the future. I walk back across the floor to where Lydia's room is. I take one last look at the tidy quarters, before shutting the door forever. This was her home, and I'll be damned if anyone else will ever enter that room.
Grasping Nettlebane, the magical blade I was tasked with procuring, I walk up the hill to the Temple of Kynareth. Walking through the door, I present it to the priestess. But she is wary of it, and does not seem keen to use it. She asks me to visit a glade and cut another big tree to get her some sap to fix the tree outside. I'm beginning to feel like the sap here - sure, she's dealing with a lot of sick and wounded, but there are other things I need to be getting on with.
I accept, and go to leave. Before I can, an acolyte called Maurice asks if he can come along with me, in pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary where I am heading. After the hurt of Lydia's death, I am tempted to tell him to stay put, that death follows me around like a bad smell. But he is quite insistent. I tell him he can come along, but give no promises on his safety. Skyrim has already proven to me how cheap life is in the wilderness.
I look into another matter before leaving Whiterun - a man from House Gray-Mane is missing, presumed dead. The Gray-Manes belief House Battleborn has something to do with it, and so they have tasked me with finding evidence that proves this. I walk into the main abode of House Battleborn, brazen. Almost instantly I spot an out of place diary on some drawers next to a bed. Inside are details to where the Gray-Mane is being held - he's alive! As I pocket the book, I hear an old woman say "I saw what you did."
Turning around, a Whiterun town guard has been called due to my theft. But I placate him - I am a Thane of Whiterun, and certain leniency is granted to me. I'm not sure how far I can go with this, but the feeling of power is dizzying.
I return to the Gray-Mane with the book. She is terrified that I won't be able to release him, that I'd require an army to do so. I tell her that I will take care of things, without bloodshed (though we both know this won't happen).
I leave Whiterun with Maurice in tow, and head for the mysterious glade of Eldergleam Sanctuary.
I am aiming for Whiterun, but find myself in the vicinity of Riverwood. I don't mention Lydia to anyone, and no one asks. I worry that her impact on this world wasn't as great as it was on my heart.
I enter Lucan Valerius' shop, and find him knocking things over. I imagine if I were to do the same, he wouldn't be too happy - his shop, his rules evidently. The golden chicken foot I brought back for him days ago is now displayed proudly on the counter. I sell a few things, lighten my load for the trek back to Whiterun. I leave without much of a chat.
The journey is uneventful, and I enter Breezehome. I store the items I took from Lydia in the chest next to my bed, as they will come in useful in the future. I walk back across the floor to where Lydia's room is. I take one last look at the tidy quarters, before shutting the door forever. This was her home, and I'll be damned if anyone else will ever enter that room.
Grasping Nettlebane, the magical blade I was tasked with procuring, I walk up the hill to the Temple of Kynareth. Walking through the door, I present it to the priestess. But she is wary of it, and does not seem keen to use it. She asks me to visit a glade and cut another big tree to get her some sap to fix the tree outside. I'm beginning to feel like the sap here - sure, she's dealing with a lot of sick and wounded, but there are other things I need to be getting on with.
I accept, and go to leave. Before I can, an acolyte called Maurice asks if he can come along with me, in pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary where I am heading. After the hurt of Lydia's death, I am tempted to tell him to stay put, that death follows me around like a bad smell. But he is quite insistent. I tell him he can come along, but give no promises on his safety. Skyrim has already proven to me how cheap life is in the wilderness.
I look into another matter before leaving Whiterun - a man from House Gray-Mane is missing, presumed dead. The Gray-Manes belief House Battleborn has something to do with it, and so they have tasked me with finding evidence that proves this. I walk into the main abode of House Battleborn, brazen. Almost instantly I spot an out of place diary on some drawers next to a bed. Inside are details to where the Gray-Mane is being held - he's alive! As I pocket the book, I hear an old woman say "I saw what you did."
Turning around, a Whiterun town guard has been called due to my theft. But I placate him - I am a Thane of Whiterun, and certain leniency is granted to me. I'm not sure how far I can go with this, but the feeling of power is dizzying.
I return to the Gray-Mane with the book. She is terrified that I won't be able to release him, that I'd require an army to do so. I tell her that I will take care of things, without bloodshed (though we both know this won't happen).
I leave Whiterun with Maurice in tow, and head for the mysterious glade of Eldergleam Sanctuary.
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