As the gates of Whiterun welcome me once more into the local capital, I breath a sigh of relief, as I imagine must Stenvar. I am carrying a lot of loot from my recent explorations, and anything which proved too much for even my muscle-bound form would be passed to Stenvar to carry - remember, he's a hired mercenary.
A lot of the equipment is weaponry and armour, so I visit Warmaiden's to sell it off. Like any other trader, Ulfberth War-Bear only holds a certain amount of gold, so in order to sell a majority of my gear I need to purchase items from him to balance the books. A lot of arrows have been lost in my recent adventuring, and so I buy large quantities of these for each of our quivers.
I leave the shop and make my way to Breezehome. Even though no one is home to tend it, the firepit still burns well. As I ascend the staircase, I glance over to the still-shut-door of Lydia's room, but quickly steal my eyes back again and walk into my own. The chest in the corner contains a lot of my gains from adventuring, and it is here that I store the remaining items I was unable to sell at Warmaiden's.
While looking through the chest, I decide to pick up large amount of leather and iron ingots which I had stored their previously. I make my way back outside, and, after getting the nod from Adrianne, begin to use the smithing equipment to make iron daggers and leather bracers. As I make each item, I become more and more proficient at it, so that the next item is better than the previous.
Naturally, by the end of all this manufacturing, I am left with a pile of armour and weapons which I have no need for. Luckily for me, Adrianne has a separate purse to Ulfberth, and I am easily able to sell the lot to her. I have no idea how she'll carry it all indoors - I'm barely able to lift the lot myself. But that's her issue, not mine.
I walk up the hill and enter the Temple of Kynareth. The priestess is happy to see me, and even happier to know that I've returned with the sap to help the special tree. She rewards me with gold, but isn't keen on taking back the Nettlebane sword. Fine, I'll hold onto it myself.
All through this conversation, I am waiting for the priestess to ask me about her assistant - after all, he never came back with me from Eldergleam Sanctuary. Maybe she wanted him away, and possibly dead? Either way, not my problem. I leave the temple.
As I begin to head out of Whiterun to begin my adventures once more, I have a quiet word with a little girl who has been bullying a boy. This boy turns out to be the Jarl's son - I fear that by not standing up for himself, this boy will not grow up to be a strong Jarl (assuming the Hold functions under some rudimentary form of hereditary monarchy).
We leave.
Friday, 30 December 2011
Skyrim - A delayed burial
We make our way from Stillborn Cave, still smarting from the wounds and harrowing battles fought in that cold grotto, and head south west, skirting the domain of Windhelm. A couple of wolves are beaten off easily, and some crabs at the side of a river we ford have bravery beyond their stature. Their chitin is taken for use in future alchemical mixtures.
Climbing the banks of the river near Lake Yorgrim, a range of mountains sits between me and Whiterun, forcing Stenvar and I to head west to get there. Without hunting for it, we stumble over the ancient Dwemer remains of Irkngthand. It is a ruined city of grey stone, set into the mountain side as many Dwemer edifices are. Branching between towers are stone walkways, as well as newer, wooden constructions.
The bandits announce themselves with a volley of arrow fire. Though inaccurate, it puts me and Stenvar on the defensive. But we are soon back on the front foot, eliminating each bandit we come to through savagery and cunning. Entry to the interior of the ruins is not available to me - no end of lockpicking results in a floor covered with broken picks. We move on.
On the way, I make yet another discovery - the ancient temple of Korvunjund. Much like many of the other draugr tombs I've frequented, a large exterior extends out, leading to a large metal door for access to the interior. My thirst for exploration isn't into it, and again we get back on our travels.
We finally make it onto the north-south road to Whiterun. Traveling down it, I speak with a rather odd man named Cicero who is standing next to a broken-wheeled cart. He appears to be some form of jester, and also appears to be completely insane. Dragons, bandits and poison-spitting spiders I can take with ease, but the crazed chatter of the mad leave me deeply disturbed.
I agree to help him fix his wheel, and speak with the owner of a nearby farm. The farmer seems very angry with the jester, and finds it absurd that someone would want to bring joy and happiness to these cold lands. I explain to him that he is carrying the body of his dear and departed mother in the back of the cart, and that it would be best to get the cart moving lest the dead and possibly diseased body have negative effects on his crops. The farmer agrees, and when I inform Cicero he is overjoyed.
I quickly depart south, and finally make it to the large wooden gates of Whiterun.
Climbing the banks of the river near Lake Yorgrim, a range of mountains sits between me and Whiterun, forcing Stenvar and I to head west to get there. Without hunting for it, we stumble over the ancient Dwemer remains of Irkngthand. It is a ruined city of grey stone, set into the mountain side as many Dwemer edifices are. Branching between towers are stone walkways, as well as newer, wooden constructions.
The bandits announce themselves with a volley of arrow fire. Though inaccurate, it puts me and Stenvar on the defensive. But we are soon back on the front foot, eliminating each bandit we come to through savagery and cunning. Entry to the interior of the ruins is not available to me - no end of lockpicking results in a floor covered with broken picks. We move on.
On the way, I make yet another discovery - the ancient temple of Korvunjund. Much like many of the other draugr tombs I've frequented, a large exterior extends out, leading to a large metal door for access to the interior. My thirst for exploration isn't into it, and again we get back on our travels.
We finally make it onto the north-south road to Whiterun. Traveling down it, I speak with a rather odd man named Cicero who is standing next to a broken-wheeled cart. He appears to be some form of jester, and also appears to be completely insane. Dragons, bandits and poison-spitting spiders I can take with ease, but the crazed chatter of the mad leave me deeply disturbed.
I agree to help him fix his wheel, and speak with the owner of a nearby farm. The farmer seems very angry with the jester, and finds it absurd that someone would want to bring joy and happiness to these cold lands. I explain to him that he is carrying the body of his dear and departed mother in the back of the cart, and that it would be best to get the cart moving lest the dead and possibly diseased body have negative effects on his crops. The farmer agrees, and when I inform Cicero he is overjoyed.
I quickly depart south, and finally make it to the large wooden gates of Whiterun.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Skyrim - Stillborn Cave
I return to the college at Winterhold to inform the archmage of what occurred at Saarthal. Amazingly, Tolfdir is back before me, and has already found somewhere to house the massive glowing orb I discovered at the aforementioned location. He asks me to study the orb, but I'm up to my armoured shoulderpads with tasks as it is - I'll look into it later.
I head back to Whiterun, a long and arduous journey across the frozen wastes. I choose to navigate around the mountain range clockwise this time, rather than across it, and find myself walking near Windhelm. On the way, a Khajiit randomly leaps out from behind a rock to attack Stenvar and I. Picking over his body, I find no hint as to why he chose to so futilely throw his life away in such a manner. I shrug at the madness of it all, and we traipse on.
I walk past the entrance to Stillborn Cave. Outside, bones of the dead have been arranged to keep explorers away. But none could have foretold the coming of me and my loyal follower Stenvar, and we dive into the darkness of the cave, eager for gold and glory.
The cave quickly changes from rock to pure ice - the walls and chambers carved my the winds of millennia throw the ice of the mountain. My gut tells me that danger lies ahead, but at this point I have no idea how much. But we soon fall into it.
This ice cave is populated by the grey-skinned falmer, humanoid subterranean dwellers who, though blind, can easily seek out invaders of their territory through smell and sound. Individually, they don't prove to be of much trouble to the two of us. But us soon as we come across multiples, things become quite tricky.
The falmer have small camps within the cave which we cleanse with blade and arrow and magic. The difficulty of managing them grows once they introduce the vile chaurus creatures, awful black-carapaced giant insects who throw gouts of poisonous spit our way when we approach. Again, single chaurus' die relatively quickly, but many a potion is required to stay alive amidst waves of the things.
Eventually, the entire cave complex is clear of both falmer and chaurus, and though I pull myself from the subterranean underworld with some treasures and gold, the difficulty and near-death suffered in sequestering them proves a sobering thought - was it all worth it?
I head back to Whiterun, a long and arduous journey across the frozen wastes. I choose to navigate around the mountain range clockwise this time, rather than across it, and find myself walking near Windhelm. On the way, a Khajiit randomly leaps out from behind a rock to attack Stenvar and I. Picking over his body, I find no hint as to why he chose to so futilely throw his life away in such a manner. I shrug at the madness of it all, and we traipse on.
I walk past the entrance to Stillborn Cave. Outside, bones of the dead have been arranged to keep explorers away. But none could have foretold the coming of me and my loyal follower Stenvar, and we dive into the darkness of the cave, eager for gold and glory.
The cave quickly changes from rock to pure ice - the walls and chambers carved my the winds of millennia throw the ice of the mountain. My gut tells me that danger lies ahead, but at this point I have no idea how much. But we soon fall into it.
This ice cave is populated by the grey-skinned falmer, humanoid subterranean dwellers who, though blind, can easily seek out invaders of their territory through smell and sound. Individually, they don't prove to be of much trouble to the two of us. But us soon as we come across multiples, things become quite tricky.
The falmer have small camps within the cave which we cleanse with blade and arrow and magic. The difficulty of managing them grows once they introduce the vile chaurus creatures, awful black-carapaced giant insects who throw gouts of poisonous spit our way when we approach. Again, single chaurus' die relatively quickly, but many a potion is required to stay alive amidst waves of the things.
Eventually, the entire cave complex is clear of both falmer and chaurus, and though I pull myself from the subterranean underworld with some treasures and gold, the difficulty and near-death suffered in sequestering them proves a sobering thought - was it all worth it?
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
Skyrim - Under Saarthal
The door closes behind me, and I find myself stood in a gloomy passageway, the only light coming from a few candles in the distance. Stenvar warns me that there are both treasures and traps in ruins like these - I can tell that he's becoming attached, despite his mercenary nature.
Tolfdir leads us through twisting tunnels, with large chambers setup with tables and chairs for the study of artifacts. Some students from the college sit and attend to various investigations as we work our way through. Tolfdir sets me an easy tasks by asking me to collect a variety of objects from around the main chamber we find ourselves in.
Most of the artifacts come freely, but an amulet I grab traps me behind a thick set of bars which slam shut, holding me tight in a small chamber. Naturally Tolfdir believes me to have touched something I wasn't meant to - he fidgets around for the release, and the trap is released.
He tells me to put the amulet on which I dutifully do, regardless of the fact the last order of his I followed resulted in me incapacitated behind bars with him scalding me. The wall behind where I was trapped begins to glow blue with magic, and I can tell that this isn't something Tolfdir expected. He tells me to cast some magic at the wall, and it breaks, exposing another chamber.
Entering it, I have some sort of... vision. A blue colour is cast around the chamber, and a figure talks to me. Apparently he is from the Psijic Order, which means nothing to me. But he does explain that due to the exploration of Saarthal, certain things have been set in motion and that there is danger. It sounds more like a warning than a threat. After a time, I am left standing there wondering what just happened, and I explain everything to Tolfdir.
Despite the warning, Tolfdir believes we should press on, and he sends me and Stenvar ahead to scout. What we find are draugr, and plenty of them. Most lay in their graves, or stand in burial chambes, only becoming active when I pass nearby. This requires that Stenvar and I sneak along so as not to wake them, for although one draugr is easily despatched, a room full of them is more of a problem. The sneaking allows me to pick the draugr off before they rise with accurate shots from my bow, letting the rest once more.
Some chambers we reach have a set of standing stones in them which are used as a key to access further parts of Saarthal. Though they test my mental fortitude, none present much of a challenge - the prehistoric Nords must have had smaller brains than the cleverer Imperial brain residing in my head.
I reach a large chamber, the largest yet, and am met by the sight of a large glowing orb floating in the middle of the room. It bathes everything in a soft green glow. So awed am I by this that I don't notice the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldruson sitting on a throne amongst it all, who dutifully arises to give me a swift seeing to.
Our attacks do not seem to have much of an affect on Jyrik, and it is only when Tolfdir catches up with us that the tide starts to turn. He alters the energy that Jyrik is using from the orb, and my attacks begin to hit home. Soon, the draugr is dead, once more.
While picking his corpse for useful bits, Toldfir tells me that it is vital that this news reaches the arch-mage. Of course this means that I have to head back to the college as soon as I leave Saarthal, but luckily I don't have plans to go anywhere else right now.
As I work my way towards an exit, I find another circular wall and learn yet another dragon word. These things seem to be scattered all over this land - I must find more of them. Stenvar doesn't seem to react at all when the rush of blue words hits me like a wind - does he even see it? We carry on working our way back through the ruins of Saarthal, and emerge into daylight.
Tolfdir leads us through twisting tunnels, with large chambers setup with tables and chairs for the study of artifacts. Some students from the college sit and attend to various investigations as we work our way through. Tolfdir sets me an easy tasks by asking me to collect a variety of objects from around the main chamber we find ourselves in.
Most of the artifacts come freely, but an amulet I grab traps me behind a thick set of bars which slam shut, holding me tight in a small chamber. Naturally Tolfdir believes me to have touched something I wasn't meant to - he fidgets around for the release, and the trap is released.
He tells me to put the amulet on which I dutifully do, regardless of the fact the last order of his I followed resulted in me incapacitated behind bars with him scalding me. The wall behind where I was trapped begins to glow blue with magic, and I can tell that this isn't something Tolfdir expected. He tells me to cast some magic at the wall, and it breaks, exposing another chamber.
Entering it, I have some sort of... vision. A blue colour is cast around the chamber, and a figure talks to me. Apparently he is from the Psijic Order, which means nothing to me. But he does explain that due to the exploration of Saarthal, certain things have been set in motion and that there is danger. It sounds more like a warning than a threat. After a time, I am left standing there wondering what just happened, and I explain everything to Tolfdir.
Despite the warning, Tolfdir believes we should press on, and he sends me and Stenvar ahead to scout. What we find are draugr, and plenty of them. Most lay in their graves, or stand in burial chambes, only becoming active when I pass nearby. This requires that Stenvar and I sneak along so as not to wake them, for although one draugr is easily despatched, a room full of them is more of a problem. The sneaking allows me to pick the draugr off before they rise with accurate shots from my bow, letting the rest once more.
Some chambers we reach have a set of standing stones in them which are used as a key to access further parts of Saarthal. Though they test my mental fortitude, none present much of a challenge - the prehistoric Nords must have had smaller brains than the cleverer Imperial brain residing in my head.
I reach a large chamber, the largest yet, and am met by the sight of a large glowing orb floating in the middle of the room. It bathes everything in a soft green glow. So awed am I by this that I don't notice the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldruson sitting on a throne amongst it all, who dutifully arises to give me a swift seeing to.
Our attacks do not seem to have much of an affect on Jyrik, and it is only when Tolfdir catches up with us that the tide starts to turn. He alters the energy that Jyrik is using from the orb, and my attacks begin to hit home. Soon, the draugr is dead, once more.
While picking his corpse for useful bits, Toldfir tells me that it is vital that this news reaches the arch-mage. Of course this means that I have to head back to the college as soon as I leave Saarthal, but luckily I don't have plans to go anywhere else right now.
As I work my way towards an exit, I find another circular wall and learn yet another dragon word. These things seem to be scattered all over this land - I must find more of them. Stenvar doesn't seem to react at all when the rush of blue words hits me like a wind - does he even see it? We carry on working our way back through the ruins of Saarthal, and emerge into daylight.
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Skyrim - The College of Winterhold
I attend my first lecture at the College of Winterhold. Tolfdir, the resident lecturer, rabbits on for a long time about magical application, but the other students are keen on learning something practical. He teaches me a basic ward spell, something to throw up as a shield should other mages use offensive magic on me. It drains my magicka quickly leaving me depleted, but Tolfdir is happy enough with my performance and today's lesson is over. Tolfdir asks me to join him on an exploration of a nearby ruin called Saarthal. I agree and Tolfdir leaves. Nothing is said of Stenvar's presence in the corner of the room.
After speaking with the other students, some of whom have either gotten themselves into a pickle or require my assistance, I exit the college and do what any new student would do after joining - head to the pub. I navigate my way back across the stupidly dangerous bridge, and back into Winterhold proper. As soon as I step off the bridge, the weather turns awful - a veritable blizzard blows through the town. Regardless of this, I run for the inn - The Frozen Hearth.
I speak with a dark elf mage called Nelacar. Apparently, he's a bit of an outsider around here. The Jarl hates the college and mages, thinking them responsible for the calamity which destroyed a large chunk of the town, while the college booted Nelacar from their ranks because some of his experiments went wrong. He doesn't seem overly cut up about it, but I choose not to pry.
I tell him that I have been sent to speak with him by the priestess of Azura. This seems to loosen his tongue somewhat and he tells me about Azura's Star, a strange daedric device used to trap souls. His previous master used to own it, and would experiment on it. This in turn deranged him, and he dragged some of his followers over to Ilinalta's Deep - a sunken fort where I will find the Star. He asks me not to return the Star to the shrine. I thank him for his information and leave.
Stenvar and I make our way out of the town, and head for the ruin of Saarthal. The path we follow is across an open plain of snow, and aside from the odd wolf attack, nothing of note happens in our traversal of it.
Saarthal itself is below the local sea-level, a fundamental design-flaw in my mind, but then I am not an architect. A scaffold of wood-work has been setup to ease the access from here to the main door, and Stenvar and I work our way down until we stand in front of the gates themselves. I know not what awaits us inside, but Tolfdir is already here, and eager for me to get stuck in. I enter the ruin.
After speaking with the other students, some of whom have either gotten themselves into a pickle or require my assistance, I exit the college and do what any new student would do after joining - head to the pub. I navigate my way back across the stupidly dangerous bridge, and back into Winterhold proper. As soon as I step off the bridge, the weather turns awful - a veritable blizzard blows through the town. Regardless of this, I run for the inn - The Frozen Hearth.
I speak with a dark elf mage called Nelacar. Apparently, he's a bit of an outsider around here. The Jarl hates the college and mages, thinking them responsible for the calamity which destroyed a large chunk of the town, while the college booted Nelacar from their ranks because some of his experiments went wrong. He doesn't seem overly cut up about it, but I choose not to pry.
I tell him that I have been sent to speak with him by the priestess of Azura. This seems to loosen his tongue somewhat and he tells me about Azura's Star, a strange daedric device used to trap souls. His previous master used to own it, and would experiment on it. This in turn deranged him, and he dragged some of his followers over to Ilinalta's Deep - a sunken fort where I will find the Star. He asks me not to return the Star to the shrine. I thank him for his information and leave.
Stenvar and I make our way out of the town, and head for the ruin of Saarthal. The path we follow is across an open plain of snow, and aside from the odd wolf attack, nothing of note happens in our traversal of it.
Saarthal itself is below the local sea-level, a fundamental design-flaw in my mind, but then I am not an architect. A scaffold of wood-work has been setup to ease the access from here to the main door, and Stenvar and I work our way down until we stand in front of the gates themselves. I know not what awaits us inside, but Tolfdir is already here, and eager for me to get stuck in. I enter the ruin.
Monday, 19 December 2011
Skyrim - Winterhold
As Stenvar and I head back to Winterhold, I spy an encampment up ahead. It appears deserted from a distance, but we approach quietly and with bows drawn. There is no need for this - the camp is a bloodbath of dead hunters. Whoever or whatever did this has long since departed, so I pick my way through the useful stuff. I stumble upon a locked safebox which, with judiciousness use of my lockpick, soon reveals a ring inside. I take it and leave.
The path leads through snowy mountain passes and shows me an impressive sight - Winterhold. From a distance, a large building is visible atop a spike of rock, perched precariously. Only a thin bridge links it to the town below.
We travel down the hill to Winterhold, which is in the depths of a terrible snow storm. The town seems to have suffered some terrible calamity - only a smattering of buildings are intact and upright, surrounded by others which are burnt-out shells. Guards walk up and down the main street.
I enter the Jarl's longhouse, and approach him on his thrown. He is Jarl Korir, and for him to trust me, he sets me a task. I must locate the Helm of Winterhold for him, an ancient horn-adorned helmet which has somehow become misplaced. Despite this, the Jarl is confident of its location which he duly marks on my map. After some uncomfortable moments of the Jarl explaining his disdain for the local college, I leave, promising a swift return of the item in question.
I decide to investigate the building I'd seen from the road. It appears to be the College of Winterhold, a unique place in Skyrim where mages can study unhindered by petty Nord tradition. The college is built on a higher section of ground than the rest of the town, and is reachable via a rather treacherous stonework bridge. To either side is a drop of several hundred feet.
I am but a humble Imperial adventurer, and the thought of at least a basic education is something that has been on my mind for some time. The college's entry conditions seem to be very basic - all I need to do is confirm to them that I am capable of casting some magic. Even though I'm joining "to improve my destruction" (my words, not theirs), the tutor has me cast a magelight illusion spell. This seems to be all that is required, and I am inducted into the ranks of apprentice mages.
I'm given my own room, which is in a roundel of other student rooms. At least I now I have somewhere to stay for free should I return to Winterhold on a regular basis. I meet some of the other characters, all of whom seem to be either socially inept, power-hungry, or too trusting. I think I'll get on just fine here.
The path leads through snowy mountain passes and shows me an impressive sight - Winterhold. From a distance, a large building is visible atop a spike of rock, perched precariously. Only a thin bridge links it to the town below.
We travel down the hill to Winterhold, which is in the depths of a terrible snow storm. The town seems to have suffered some terrible calamity - only a smattering of buildings are intact and upright, surrounded by others which are burnt-out shells. Guards walk up and down the main street.
I enter the Jarl's longhouse, and approach him on his thrown. He is Jarl Korir, and for him to trust me, he sets me a task. I must locate the Helm of Winterhold for him, an ancient horn-adorned helmet which has somehow become misplaced. Despite this, the Jarl is confident of its location which he duly marks on my map. After some uncomfortable moments of the Jarl explaining his disdain for the local college, I leave, promising a swift return of the item in question.
I decide to investigate the building I'd seen from the road. It appears to be the College of Winterhold, a unique place in Skyrim where mages can study unhindered by petty Nord tradition. The college is built on a higher section of ground than the rest of the town, and is reachable via a rather treacherous stonework bridge. To either side is a drop of several hundred feet.
I am but a humble Imperial adventurer, and the thought of at least a basic education is something that has been on my mind for some time. The college's entry conditions seem to be very basic - all I need to do is confirm to them that I am capable of casting some magic. Even though I'm joining "to improve my destruction" (my words, not theirs), the tutor has me cast a magelight illusion spell. This seems to be all that is required, and I am inducted into the ranks of apprentice mages.
I'm given my own room, which is in a roundel of other student rooms. At least I now I have somewhere to stay for free should I return to Winterhold on a regular basis. I meet some of the other characters, all of whom seem to be either socially inept, power-hungry, or too trusting. I think I'll get on just fine here.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Skyrim - The Shrine of Azura
I have to trudge down the mountain a bit before finding a usable path. The snow is falling heavily, the wind not helping by gusting it into flurries, obscuring my vision. Stenvar follows not far behind - he keeps up with me admirably, though complains that he hasn't worn something warmer.
Out of the blizzard appears something definitely made by hands of some sort - it is a Dwemer ruin, Alftand. The Dwemer have long since died out, a race of dwarves who built vast underground cities and utilised technology like no other seen on the surface. I am awed by the view of so much bronze, and such majesty of architecture, but choose to press on up the mountain - I can return to this place at a later date.
We next pass the entrance to a mine, called Sightless Pit. It is aptly named - it is barely viewable from the path. Again, I carry on. Wolves intermittently attack us as we force our way through the freezing air, Stenvar once again reminding me that it is so cold that he can barely hold a weapon. I've paid for his services, so he will go where I go, kill what I say, and put up with whatever the weather chooses to do.
I can see a large statue at the peak of the mountain, barely able to discern detail on the thing. A snow bear takes me by surprise, so well hidden it was by the snow, and so distract was I by the statue. I receive a number of swipes from its claws, then slash my sword across its neck. The beast falls down the slope and drops out of sight. I am not in the mood for harvesting its skin.
The rocks of the mountain begin to funnel us towards the top, and rounding a corner I once more see the statue - it is a woman with outstretched arms, one holding a star, the other a crescent moon. It is the Shrine of Azura, and it is here that I meet a priestess. She is the last of her kind, she says, her name being Aranea Ienith. She has had a vision of an Elven mage in a water-surrounded fort, and wants me to locate him. But I will have to travel to Winterhold first to find out the true whereabouts of this fort.
I step away from the shrine, and we make our way back down the mountain towards Winterhold. En route, I find an old watchtower called Journeyman's Nook. Inside, I discover a bandit who seems quite taken aback by my sudden intrusion, and leaps forward with a mace. I make short work of him with my sword, and return to investigating the building.
It seems as though this place was once home to a mage called Borvil, for I find his grisly corpse on the floor in a pool of blood. An enchanting table sits in the corner, alongside a small library of books, and Borvir's dagger. He won't be needing it anymore, so I take it and get back on the road.
Out of the blizzard appears something definitely made by hands of some sort - it is a Dwemer ruin, Alftand. The Dwemer have long since died out, a race of dwarves who built vast underground cities and utilised technology like no other seen on the surface. I am awed by the view of so much bronze, and such majesty of architecture, but choose to press on up the mountain - I can return to this place at a later date.
We next pass the entrance to a mine, called Sightless Pit. It is aptly named - it is barely viewable from the path. Again, I carry on. Wolves intermittently attack us as we force our way through the freezing air, Stenvar once again reminding me that it is so cold that he can barely hold a weapon. I've paid for his services, so he will go where I go, kill what I say, and put up with whatever the weather chooses to do.
I can see a large statue at the peak of the mountain, barely able to discern detail on the thing. A snow bear takes me by surprise, so well hidden it was by the snow, and so distract was I by the statue. I receive a number of swipes from its claws, then slash my sword across its neck. The beast falls down the slope and drops out of sight. I am not in the mood for harvesting its skin.
The rocks of the mountain begin to funnel us towards the top, and rounding a corner I once more see the statue - it is a woman with outstretched arms, one holding a star, the other a crescent moon. It is the Shrine of Azura, and it is here that I meet a priestess. She is the last of her kind, she says, her name being Aranea Ienith. She has had a vision of an Elven mage in a water-surrounded fort, and wants me to locate him. But I will have to travel to Winterhold first to find out the true whereabouts of this fort.
I step away from the shrine, and we make our way back down the mountain towards Winterhold. En route, I find an old watchtower called Journeyman's Nook. Inside, I discover a bandit who seems quite taken aback by my sudden intrusion, and leaps forward with a mace. I make short work of him with my sword, and return to investigating the building.
It seems as though this place was once home to a mage called Borvil, for I find his grisly corpse on the floor in a pool of blood. An enchanting table sits in the corner, alongside a small library of books, and Borvir's dagger. He won't be needing it anymore, so I take it and get back on the road.
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