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Stitcher

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #75 on: 31 Aug 2013, 14:06 »

8th of Heartfire, 4e 201

We're in Whiterun. It's where my house is, and a good stopover point before we head north to Winterhold. Plus, the food at the Bannered Mare is better than anywhere else in Skyrim I've yet found.

And... I spent a long time talking to Ysolda. I helped her out a couple of weeks back, before I started writing this journal, by finding a mammoth tusk for her. I guess she appreciated the gesture because...

Well. Let's just say she's being very friendly. We spent most of the night at a cozy table in the corner of the inn, in fact. I know Serana's eager to get on with searching for the Moth Priest, but all work and no fun makes life not worth living. And Ysolda is fun. Not to mention lovely...

Still. What kind of a relationship would that be, huh? I'm a vampire hunter, adventurer and oh yes let's not forget dragonborn. I spend my life in caves and barrows, fending off bandits and the wildlife on the road. My travelling companion is a vampire who was probably born in the first era, and just this week I was attacked on the street by cultists. As interesting, intelligent and lovely as Ysolda is, I have to face facts - a romance where one side could on any day wind up dead and undiscovered in some forsaken hole in the ground isn't sensible. That and the spending more time on the road than at home.

No. Give up on dreams of romance, Aaron. At least until after you've retired. And for Mara's sake have the wisdom to know when to do that.

*

If there's a starker, colder, bleaker place in all of Tamriel than Winterhold, I don't want to ever find myself there. There's hardly anything here - just a few smashed shells of buildings, an inn, a trading post, the jarl's longhouse, and the college squatting out on a spire of rock, with only a narrow and damaged bridge to get there.

The Frozen Hearth Inn is a decent enough place. The fire's obviously not gone out in an age so despite the blizzard outside it's cozy in here. the food is filling, the people seem nice enough, even if the two major pastimes around here seem to be drinking and complaining. The bed was comfortable, too. I gues~~~

...a dragon attacked. landed on the inn's roof, right over my head. I'm pleased to learn that dragons don't cope well if you put a steel bolt in their eye.

I can feel its name now. Taste it. I ripped its soul from its corpse without even knowing how, just by stepping close. "Yolkrosis" was its name - "Fiery woe."  And now I can breathe fire. I've not actually done it, but I know how. It's as easy and natural as breathing, as shouting. You don't have to have ever shouted in your life to know how to do it.

We should get up to the college. With luck, they will have some knowledge that's of use.

*

11th of Heartfire, 4e 201

Apparently I'm a member of the mage's college now. It was as easy as casting a healing hands spell on the gate guard. Makes you wonder why mages are such a rare breed, especially when you see how comfortable the quarters in the Hall of Attainment are.

Well, no matter. Thanks to the master of the Arcaneum, we know the Moth Priest was heading for Dragon Bridge.

*

11th of Heartfire, 4e 201

Three days of travel and rain, but we found him. Dexion Evicus, Moth Priest of the White Gold Tower. And surprisingly lethal with that akaviri warblade of his. The vampires got to him first, enthralled him. Four dead vampires and an impressive new scar later, Evicus came to his senses and broke their hold on him. Wish he'd done that before leaving a hand-long cut in my chest. At least my Brigandine turned aside the worst of it.

the route back will take us by Whiterun. Sorine Jurard said that some bandits near there might have got hold of some schematics for an improved crossbow, so we're going to get that on our way through. And I can enjoy some Honningbrew mead at the Bannered Mare...

...with Ysolda.

*

12th of Heartfire, 4e 201

Some days, it all goes to plan. Got back to Whiterun, strolled into the Mare, brought Ysolda a bottle of Honningbrew and before either of us noticed, it was well past midnight. No use denying it - I'm in love. And I got to thinking after she went home.

The little orphan girl Lucia is here too. I think Hulda lets her sleep by the fire when the weather's bad. Lucia's not the only orphaned or homeless kid I've seen in Skyrim. There's the girl who sells flowers in Windhelm, the boy who runs the food pails around for the miners in Dawnstar, the boy who works at the Solitude stables, a whole orphanage down in Riften.

And I think of Adrienne Avenicci, and her widower. The Shatter-Shields in Windhelm, who lost a daughter recently. All the Vigilants of Stendarr. Our carriage passed a trader's wagon in the Reach, obviously hit by Forsworn raiders. Husband and wife, dead together at the side of the road. Helgen. One dragon descends, a town dies. I lived, but it turns out I may be a pawn in a game of destinies. If I had been slower on the uptake, that lady in Markarth would have had a dagger in her kidneys.

So many dead. And so quickly too, that's my point. It can happen to anyone. Everywhere I go, I see how life can end early, and tragically. There are a lot more young dead than old living.

So is there any use in worrying? If that huge black dragon were to attack Whiterun, you could bid farewell to Dragonsreach, Jorrvaskr  and the Bannered Mare, godbye Lucia and Hulda and even Heimskr and that fetcher Nazeem. It's a painful thought, but in an age of dragons and vampires, it could have been Ysolda who burned to ash by the gates and I'd never have got to know her. In one moment of wings and fire, she could be plucked up and...

Anyway. I heard the Nords of Skyrim don't bother with a long courtship - straight to the point, that's their style. I understand why, now. It's because if you worry too much about making your loved one sad, you might forget to make them happy in whatever time is given to you.

And she's plainly interested. "It's a fine day with you around" she said when she saw me tonight.

Serana and I will be heading back to Fort Dawnguard in the morning anyway. The temple of Mara is in Riften. I'll get an amulet. The worst that can happen if I wear one for Ysolda is that she says "no". If I don't, the worst that can happen is she gets eaten by a dragon and I'm left to regret the things I never did.

I've faced down dragons, draugrs, trolls and vampires. Next to what any of those can do to you, being made to look a fool shouldn't hold any fear.

Shouldn't. Does. Lady Mara give me the strength to conquer that fear.

*

I suppose the problem with a horse is that when a monstrous lizard the size of a barn flies overhead, roars, and then breathes fire at it, the horse does the sensible thing and runs. How was Hjalti to know that Serana and I can bring down a dragon by ourselves?

I hope he shows up. Maybe he'll find his way back to the Whiterun stables.

This dragon's name was Maarjunkriid - "Terrible Slayer of Kings". I wonder if they choose their own names, or if they're given their names by other dragons in honour of their deeds?

Maybe it's a joke name? Terrible slayer of kings - he was really bad at it.

Oh well. On foot to Riften.

*

14th of Heartfire, 4e 201

SHE SAID YES!!!

It's settled. Ysolda and I are to be married. I think I'll always remember the way her eyes lit up when I sat down next to her wearing that amulet.

So. Now I have a very personal reason for saving the world and making it home alive.

That job still needs doing though. We need two more Elder Scrolls. Specific ones, too. Serana thinks her mother may know where one of them is. Small obstacle being, her mother vanished. Serana hopes there's some clue to her whereabouts left in Castle Volkihar. I can't say I relish the idea of sneaking back into that place but it's about the only useful lead we have. At least we'll be going in a side entrance, so it's at least plausible we might make it.

As for the other... who knows? And I've got my obligation to the dragon crisis, too.

Maybe it's time to go get that horn for the greybeards. They might have something more to teach me that may be useful.

But before all that... the wedding. Hjalti never showed up so it looks like I need a new horse, too.

It's hard to believe that this is only the end of the first month since I arrived in Skyrim.

((Day 28: score to date -

Level: 23 x50 = 1150
Locations discovered: 57 x10 = 570
Dungeons cleared: 8 x20 = 160
Chests looted: 324 x5 = 1620
Quests completed: 17 x30 = 510
Misc objectives: 25 x10 = 250
Hours slept: no penalty
Food eaten: no penalty
Difficulty: x1

Total: 4,260))
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Stitcher

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #76 on: 01 Sep 2013, 17:37 »

21st of Heartfire, 4e 201

An eventful few days. A marriage, a honeymoon, two dragons, four trolls, two dead farmers, a vampire attacked me on the streets of Riften..

I haven't had time to write about it all. But there's one thing I've found time to write about, and she's asleep right now.

She's asleep. Red hair, white pillow, pale skin, soft breathing. In the morning, I'll need to get moving again. I've put off this horn errand for the Greybeards too long, and Serana and I have a castle full of vampires to sneak into after that.

But for now... For now I think I'll just watch her a little longer, before I sleep.

((the wedding glitched the hell out and it took me the whole day to get it to work, otherwise there'd be a lot more here. Still a moment of quiet is no bad thing.))
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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #77 on: 07 Sep 2013, 17:18 »

23rd of Heartfire, 4e 201

There are two beggars in Whiterun. Brenuin's a bitter fetcher who's drinking himself straight into the hall of the dead, and I've not desire to help him do it, but Lucia...

She's just a kid. A scared, lonely, hungry kid, kicked off the farm by her foster parents for being "useless". It's heartbreaking... and stupid, too. A child can look after the chickens, do some chores, that's all a child her age should be expected to do. Were they thinking she'd shoe the horse and fix the wagon too? I'd go and give those people an education, if I knew where they lived.

It's becoming increasingly obvious that nobody in town is willing to take her in, though. Maybe we should do it. I should ask Ysolda.

oh, anyway. I left my journal at home when I went up to Robber's Gorge yesterday. Between Sorine's report that they may have some Dwemer technology the Dawnguard could use, and the bounty Jarl Balgruuf had placed on their chief, I thought a break from the vampire hunting and destiny-chasing was in order. Sorine was right, too - a schematic for crossbow bolts infused with elemental fire. very nice, and perfect for vampire slaying. I'll take it back to Fort Dawnguard as soon as I've retrieved that horn. I'm going to be away from home for a week. Ysolda says that's fine, but I had better bring her back something nice. I think I can do that.

*

The most you can say about Morthal is that the Jarl has her head screwed on right. The townsfolk certainly don't. One house burns down, a wizard moves in, and everyone's nervous. Wizards are smarter than that - you don't become a master of the arcane arts without figuring out that burning down homes at random isn't smart.

I've met a few of the Jarls now. Balgruuf the Greater has my respect, and from our brief meeting so too does Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone. Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath is arrogant scum - he summoned me by a courier not long ago, and when I attended he said that he had "had some dealings with" some local bandits and ordered me to kill them. I've got no problem with claiming a bounty, but I'm not willing to clean up a Jarl's corruption. Then there's Skald the Elder of Dawnstar - a bitter vicious old man - and the Jarl of Winterhold who's so focussed on blaming the College for the storm that broke his city that he's forgotten to even try to rebuild.

that just leaves the jarls of Riften, Markarth, Windhelm and Solitude. well... I did meet Ulfric, briefly. He was on the cart with me at Helgen. But I only heard him speak five words: "Legends don't burn down villages." He said it with authority and charisma, but I wouldn't call it the wisest thing I've ever heard.

and I should quite like to meet Jarl Elisif. I hope Ysolda forgives me if she ever reads this, but I'd quite like to lay eyes on a woman who's known across all of Skyrim as "the fair"...

Anyway, Jarl Idgrod has asked me to investigate this fire. Apparently the man who lived there lost his wife and daughter in the fire, but pledged himself to a woman called Alva before the ashes had even cooled.

I slept on the cart, and Serana seems more alert at night. may as well investigate.

*

Vampires! Well, A vampire, but where there's one...

this one was called Laelette. Wife of one of the Morthal townsfolk, she vanished not long ago apparently, after spending some time with this Alva woman, whom she previously despised. And then she turns up having tried to Turn this little girl.

Examining the corpse, she's not of the Volkihar clan, thank Arkay. She looks almost normal in fact, which means she's probably of one of the Cyrodiilic lines, who can pass for human if they have fed recently. Very dangerous - there's no telling who else in town may be a thrall, or a nightwalker. Besides Serana, of course.

I think it's time to pay Alva a visit. Jarl Idgrod is rightly wary of condemning her citizens on hearsay and speculation. I need some harder evidence.

*

Fortunately, I ran into Alva as she was entering in the inn, and made small talk. Not the faintest hint of a vampire's night-eyes about her, but if she really is a Cyrodiil vampire, that just means she's fed within the last day or so. With her at the inn, her house should be vacant. The Jarl didn't give me explicit permission to go picking locks around here, but if I'm right she'll thank me, and if I'm wrong she'll never find out.

*

I'd say a coffin in the cellar counts as hard evidence. And the journal within it counts even more so.

Movarth.

I may be new to vampire hunting, but I've done my research - there's plenty of material on the subject at Fort Dawnguard. Movarth Piquine. That's a name right out of Immortal Blood, the hunter who fell victim to the author's own wiles as a Cyrodiilic vampire.

If so, he must be ancient. And powerful. Good thing I prepared those paralysis poisons in Whiterun. If he's involved, then this is going to get nasty.

Oh yes, and if he's half as capable as the book made him out to be... I need to get in the first blow.

The Jarl has gone to bed and her housecarl insists she is not to be disturbed. I can't afford to sleep now, with vampires about town, so there's nothing for it but to rest here in the Jarl's hall, awake as much as I can be.

*

24th of Heartfire, 4e 201

Movarth is slain, though I have a new scar to show for it. Lightning magic leaves peculiar fern-shaped burns around where it strikes you. That one will be an interesting tale: "here is where an ancient vampire lord scorched me with destruction magic."

I have to be more careful. That was the closest brush I've had with death yet since Helgen. If I'm ever to tell the tales of my adventures to my grandchildren, I need to survive them first.

The Jarl was most grateful, and has granted me the right to purchase land in Hjaalmarch. Someplace I could build my own steading. Someplace nicer than Breezehome. I purchased it. They were only asking five thousand Septims, and I still have more money than I know what to do with. If nothing else, I can just keep it as a little staging post and resupply point when I'm up in this part of the world.

Onward to Ustengrav.

*

It seems hard to believe that I've visited enough Draugr catacombs to become a connoisseur of them, but it seems that I have Ustengrav was relatively easy - hardly any traps, only a handful of weak draugr. the worst challenges we faced were an enormous frostbite spider and the cabal of mages who had set up camp in the entrance hall, and they in fact mostly sorted themselves out by getting killed in a battle with the few draugr of any real strength in the whole complex, who were so weakened by the battle that mopping them up was almost a formality.

After the close shave with Movarth, I'm glad we had an easier time of it. They won't all be so simple.

I learned a new word. "Feim". The echo of a dragon's soul tell me it means "fade", to become ethereal, insubstantial. When I shout it, my body becomes a thing of smoke and I find that arrows, sword blows and even fire pass through me, and that I feel nothing when I fall from height.

Still, if this was supposed to be a test that only the dragonborn could pass, it failed. Somebody got here before me, stole the horn and left a note inviting me to rent the "attic room" at the Sleeping Giant in Riverwood. That inn has no attic.

I knew there was something strange about Delphine.

it's nighttime now. There's a bedroll outside in the camp those mages had set up. With the campfire there, it seems like a decent place to overnight. And there's my new plot of land just north of here. We'll visit in the morning.

*

25th of Heartfire, 4e 201

It's little more than a shack with a chest in it, but Windstad Manor is begun. I'm going to need a lot of lumber, nails, iron fittings, locks, hinges, glass and so much more before it's worthy of the name "house" let alone "manor" but there's plenty of room here. I can see it now - a grand hall with a big table and a crackling fireplace. A kitchen with a large oven just like Mother used to have back at the inn.  A luxurious bedroom. a forge in the basement. I don't know what to have at the back of the house yet. Probably just a room with lots of storage or something.

There's a lot of work to do before then, though, so for now it's just a bed, a chest, a locked door, and somewhere I can prepare my meals and grow some ingredients. Call it my retirement plan for after I've dealt with Harkon and the dragons.

Jarl Idgrod's steward was right though. This place has an amazing view over the Karth Delta towards Solitude.

Having spent all day building a basic little house, I'm exhausted. Getting it up that fast was hard work, even with the strength of a Dragonborn and an undying maiden of the night. Serana is restless to get back to Castle Volkihar, and I must agree that we've put it off too long. In the morning we'll cross the moor to Solitude, sell off all the valuables we hauled up out of Ustengrav, and then we can get going in pursuit of Valerica.

There's another ruin just north of the house, marked on my map as "High Gate Ruins". It seems sealed up pretty tight, though. No sign of draugr footprints in the snow outside. With luck, that won't change. I don't want to have to go in there and clear it out unless I have to. And there's a shack of some kind on an island in the delta west of here. Something about it sends chills down my spine. We'll check it on the way past to Solitude in the morning, see if there's anything dangerous there. A hint of the war, too: tents to the east and south-east of us. Looked like a Stormcloak war camp to the south, and an Imperial one further east. Let's hope they have the sense to respect my property.

*

26th of Heartfire, 4e 201

This shack is locked up tighter than an Altmeri chastity belt. The enormous blood spatter on the door doesn't inspire me to try and break in, either. Still, Stendarr's mercy be praised, it seems to be abandoned There are no footprints, no fresh food, no warmth from a fire, and the blood is old.

Best leave it alone then. onward to Solitude.

*

It's a shame that the arts of levitation and waterwalking magic are both lost. Wading and swimming the delta has left us both... well, Serana doesn't seem to feel it so much, but I'm freezing cold. thank goodness I wrap this journal in an oilcloth. I think in future we'll take the long way, south via Morthal and then up via Dragon Bridge.

Hopefully a mead at the Winking Skeever will warm me up.

*

Corpulus took one look at me, sat me down by the fire and gave me a warm spiced wine and a beef stew. He gave one to Serana too, but she handed it to me. Apparently she doesn't drink wine. I'm still a bit damp in my armour, but I can feel my fingers and toes again and I've got a full belly. What more could I ask for. That's good hospitality.

We've done the rounds of the blacksmith, general store, bowyer and alchemist. The time has come to strike out for Castle Volkihar. Again.

*

Serana wasn't entirely wrong about the side entrance being unguarded. the Volkihars had set up some skeleton serfs to watch it, but no alarm, which is what I was really afraid of. This courtyard obviously hasn't been touched since Serana first went in the box in Dimhollow Crypt, though. It's overgrown, run down and depressing. She seems upset at its condition, and if it was even half as beautiful as she made it sound, I can't blame her.

I'd better take a look around, see if there's anything lying around that might give us an idea where to look next.

*

What a choice. What a damned choice.

Valerica, it seems, retreated into a demiplane of Oblivion known as "the Soul Cairn." It's where those poor souls who find themselves in a soul gem go when it's... used.

I think I may have to forswear enchanting and conjuration after this. The thought that every soul used to enchant or recharge a magical item is... imprisoned. forever. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Anyway, the short version is that I can't go in there. The Soul Cairn demands payment in the form of a soul. Serana can enter just fine because, technically, she is not alive.

for me to go in there with her - and from what I gather, it would be far too dangerous for her to go alone - I need either to be dead, or I need to agree to barter a piece of my soul away to the masters of that place a "partial soul trap", Serana calls it.

She says she can "probably" fix it afterwards. She didn't sound certain. At all.

So I'm stuck with a dilemma. On the one hand, if there's one thing I do not ever want for myself, it's vampirism. On the other hand there's a "probably" bargain involving my very soul from somebody who sounded less than confident when she proposed it.

Option C I suppose would be to walk way, but the problem there is that Valerica's hiding place was secure before. now that we've broken in, who knows. It could be only a matter of hours, days or weeks before Harkon learns of our intrusion, follows our steps, finds this laboratory and then...

And then he'll march his vampiric minions into the Soul Cairn until he has Valerica's head on a spike, and her Elder Scroll in his hands. Opening this door in the first place has made it vulnerable. So I HAVE to go in there.

There's only one sane choice, really. However appalling becoming a vampire may be, I do know that you can "live" and be a good person with it. Serana has shown me that. And I have heard rumours of a cure. Awful a decision as it may be, I'll take rumours of a cure and a continued grip on my soul over a shaky "maybe" plan involving being soul-trapped.

I don't want to do it. But if it's that or let Harkon get his hands on this legendary power to black out the sun...

Stendarr forgive me.

*

Dawnbreaker burns my hand when I try to hold it. I've buried it in the bottom of my bag. My dawnguard-made and Stendarr-blessed waraxe and armour itch, but are bearable. My throat feels dry, and my teeth...

Mara preserve me, I don't want to be this. I don't want to be here. But I must.

I hope I must. I hope this wasn't a catastrophic error of judgement.

The Soul Cairn is a terrible place, and I have done a terrible thing to come here. The only saving grace is that I appear to still be myself. Serana's right - we should find Valerica and get out of here.

*

Valerica and Harkon turn out to be two sides of the same coin, with one important difference - when Serana spoke to her, Valerica listened, and snapped out of herself.

She's trapped. If we're to get our hands on that kel... kel? Elder scroll. If we're to have it and read it, then we need to release her from the prison the Ideal Masters have got her in.

I learned an important lesson today, too. Never make a bargain with the Ideal Masters - they always win. Strange as it sounds, I'm glad I chose the vampirism route. Making a partial soul-trap bargain with those beings could never have ended well for me.

*

We have the Elder Scroll, and I have a new ally. Durnehviir, undying guardian of the Soul Cairn. We had to defeat him to get our hands on the scroll, and he has asked me to grant him brief returns to Tamriel by calling his name. Apparently, he can't come back forever.

I see no harm in it.

It's hard to tell how long we were in there. It feels like only a few hours. It seems just as dark as it was when we first arrived at Castle Volkihar, but it could be the next night...

The moons are different. It can't be the same night. But I have no idea what the date is.

Worse, I feel the thirst. Even the thought of the word "blood" grips me with desire, and from the research I've done, I know that I'm in only the earliest, least stage of the craving.

The Volkihar vampires - which I suppose I am now too - can pass for human, though the blood-light in the eye gives them away. Most people don't know about it, they'll just see that the eyes look strange. But that's only true if I stay on top of the thirst. If I let it progress, then they'll see me for what I am and fear me. So, it's a choice between being an outcast, or being a predator.

Ordinarily I'd choose outcast. But this thirst... I don't know if I have the will to resist it if it gets more intense.

Isran doesn't know what it's like. This whole experience is changing my perspective - it's not about being a predator, or a monster. It's a disease, a curse. I can see how a charismatic man like Harkon might attract vampires who want to live without skulking in the shadows, who want revenge on a world that hates them.

There must be a middle way. Bear the curse without becoming the monster. Succumb without losing yourself. I know I can do it, even if it's only for long enough to find a cure. If there is one.

But I made a promise to Valerica that we'd go back to retrieve her after Harkon is defeated, and the only way that's going to happen is if I'm still a vampire. Damn my mouth and sense of honour for running off without me.

I WILL find a way to cope with this. I have to.

I can't go back to Fort Dawnguard yet. Not without the other scroll at least. I'm pretty sure Isran won't attack me on sight - he didn't slaughter Serana - but if I'm going to preserve any trust with him then I'll need to walk back up to the fort carrying both Kel... there it is again. Kel. Is that dragontongue? I guess it means Elder Scroll. In any case, it'll sell my case that I'm still on the Dawnguard's side if I come back to THEM with all three scrolls of the prophecy, rather than going to Harkon with them.

Tread carefully, Aaron. for now, let's just head back to Solitude.

*

The sun came up as we travelled and Mara preserve me, it hurts. If it gets on your flesh, it stings like a scorpion. I don't know how Serana handles it. Even with my hood up and every inch of flesh covered, it hurts my eyes to see.

The only thing for it is to rent a room at the Winking Skeever and endure until nightfall. At least the hunger isn't so bad during the day.

*

The carriage driver charged double for travelling at night, but it was worth it. We got back to Whiterun just before sunup. I collapsed into bed for twelve hours, citing exhaustion which wasn't wholly untrue. Ysolda doesn't seem to have noticed anything wrong with me yet, but that won't last forever. The thirst is stronger than ever, and will only get worse if I put off...

The thought. I would have thought that the idea of drinking somebody's blood would revolt me, but quite the opposite. Take the thirst of seeing a tall ale after a long hot day in the sun, add the hunger of spending two days on the road before finding an inn, and add the... amorousness of being away from your wife for five days, only to find her waiting, naked and smiling having heard you were back.

Blessedly, it seems that the thirst isn't abated by thinking of any particular person. I don't want to inflict this on Ysolda, but I think I could bring myself to bite Nazeem. If only he didn't sleep with his wife at the drunken huntsman.

Who else is there? Brenuin? He sleeps outdoors where a guard might see, and in any case... he's a beggar and a drunk. I married the only woman in Whiterun who lived alone. Ufberth War-Bear sleeps alone nowadays, but I don't want to spit on Adrienne's memory that way. That just leaves... Heimskr, I suppose. The Talos street preacher. He lives by himself and, who knows? Maybe if we're lucky he'll feel too weak to preach in the morning.

I have to feed from somebody before my condition becomes known, or else the hunters and guards will make my mission to stop Harkon all the more difficult. It's not predation, it's necessity. I have to remember that.

*

I fed. The thirst is gone for now. I feel dirty, but nobody's any the wiser.

It started out as everything the thirst implied. A heady rush, a surge of strength and the bliss of divine nectar on the tongue. Then it got disgusting. Warm. Sticky. I don't look forward to doing that again, even though I know I'll have to.

We're headed to Riverwood. If Delphine isn't the one who took that horn, then I'm a Khajiit. the scroll we're after speaks of dragons, so maybe the Greybeards are involved and can tell me something about it. Arngeir told me their leader is called Paarthurnax, and if that's not a dragon's name then I'm not Dovahkiin.

I need that horn.

*

30th of Heartfire, 4e 201

I was right. Delphine. She turns out to be one of the few surviving members of the Blades. I remember seeing Aldmeri warrants out offering rewards for information leading to the capture of errant Blades when I was a boy. Mother used to have them hanging in the inn - the Thalmor would threaten her if she didn't put them up.

Surprise surprise, she thinks the Thalmor are behind the return of the dragons. I'll reserve judgement - having seen what her vendetta with Harkon did to Valerica's motherly feelings, I doubt a Blade is inclined to think straight about the Thalmor. Still, Delphine could well be right, and if she is... Thalmor, dragons, the Thalmor hold White Gold Tower, that's where the Kel were stored, we're after the Kel that speaks of dragons... It's a tenuous lead, but it's at least worth pursuing in the absence of a better lead.

First, though, we're headed for Kynesgrove, south of Windhelm. Delphine thinks that something is about to resurrect the dragon buried in an old burial mound there. If so, we should probably deal with it anyway, let alone the added bonus of proving to her that I really am Dovahkiin.

I'm just going to have to put up with the sunlight, I suppose. It'll be long gone dawn by the time we reach Kynesgrove. If Serana's been enduring these days in my company, I can tough it out too.

*

Took the carriage in the end. Preserve my strength. The sun makes it hard to even think. Don't know how I'll fight a dragon in this heat.

Wrapped myself in a cloak. Try to sleep on the way to Windhelm. Hope for the best.

*

...the weather closed in a bit around Windhelm. It's not comfortable, but it's more bearable. Thank you, sweet Kynareth.

*

That damn dragon all but ripped my arm off. I knew I would be weaker outdoors during the day. At least healing magic and potions still work. I have another scar, but no permanent effects.

What's interesting is how the dragons are coming back. That black dragon from Helgen! It flew over the mound and shouted at it. "Slen tiid vo" something about flesh, and time. I don't understand it fully, but the shout knits the dragon's soul back to its bones, regenerates its flesh, and it bursts from its grave whole and ready to fight.

Poor bastard burst right out into the maw of a Dovahkiin, and I devoured its soul. Sahloknir: "Phantom sky hunter", if my understanding of the dovah tinvaak serves me. In the confusion, the big black one got away.

Delphine told me to meet her in Riverwood. First, it's back up to High Hrothgar. It should be nighttime by the time we reach Ivarstead, hopefully I'll be strong enough for the climb.

*

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok."

"Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, and of Shor, and of Atmora of old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Hearken to it."

I'd feel honoured, but the thirst is back. I'm not what I should be.

But I am what I must be. I remember Father saying that you should never regret the necessary. Mother agreed with him, too.

Neither of them said anything about how to handle the nagging worry that what you thought was necessary, may not have been. Once Harkon's dealt with, I'll relish getting this curse out of me.

Anyway. the Greybeards had no insight into the Kel. They view them as "blasphemies" and will have nothing to do with them. Hopefully Delphine's lead will turn up something. I may as well see where it takes me.

And I'd better hope there's somebody in Riverwood for me to feed on. the elf Faendal, maybe.

*

3rd of Frostfall, 4e 201

To make a long and too-complicated story short, the Thalmor don't know anything about the dragons, or about elder scrolls. But, interestingly, they did have a dossier on a man named Esbern, a Blade. Delphine is sending me to Riften - she thinks he's most likely hiding out in the "Ratway", a network of catacombs under the city. She seems confident that he'll be able to shed light on the subject of the dragons at least.

I have no idea how this is helping me get closer to finding the scroll we need to stop Harkon, and as a consequence get me closer to finding a cure for my daylight problem. But at this point... well, a loremaster of the Blades is as good a person to chase down as any other. Better than most, even. And having seen how the Thalmor treat their prisoners, I think I'd feel guilty if I didn't help.

Besides, I'm beginning to suspect that this dragon thing is more important than just a few homesteads and one town being torched. The Nords keep going on about the ancient legends about dragons being the harbingers of the end times. I'd write it off as frightened mythology, but   I can feel an echo in my soul.... something about that black dragon. Like the dragon souls I've absorbed are afraid of it.

Maybe it's a worthy thing to pursue in its own right.

The question is... seeing as I'm going to Riften anyway, maybe I should report back to the Dawnguard. I'm going to have to face them sooner or later anyway, and Sorine needs this crossbow bolt schematic...

...maybe they'll know how I can be cured. And if nothing else, Dexion can read Valerica's scroll. That'll put us a step ahead of Harkon.

Assuming they don't stake me on sight.

*

Well, I'm alive (-ish), but my "comrades-in-arms" could only have been less welcoming if they actually HAD staked me. Sorine wouldn't even take that schematic! She just recoiled, called me a monster.

"You're dead to me". Short-sighted ignorant.... extremists. That's their trouble. They're vampire hunters, therefore all vampires, even the ones on their side, the ones who count themselves among the Dawnguard, are to be slain.  Never mind that I only became this, only suffer this, to further their OUR cause. And this is what I get? No "How did this happen?" no "Why?" no "Well done on getting that Elder Scroll, Aaron. We promise, the price you paid will be worth it."

Harkon needs to be stopped, and Adrienne needs to be avenged, Vampires can't kill people on the street, and the Tyranny of the Sun must continue. But Stendarr forgive me, I'm beginning to think the Dawnguard have the potential to be just as bad as the Volkihar. I really should have seen the fanaticism behind Isran's talk of the Vigilants being "soft" and he being "prepared" and all that. Really, he's just another paranoid zealot who sees the world only in extremes.

Still, they did point me at a cure rather than ripping me apart, so maybe there is some lingering sense of fellowship at the Dawnguard yet. Isran mentioned the wizard Falion, in Morthal - if they're to take me back at all, then I need that cure. On tonight's evidence, the Dawnguard would rather lose this war than endure one of their own becoming a vampire.

Surely one of the big dangers of vampire hunting is getting infected? Surely somewhere, some-when in history a hunter got infect, became a night walker, and carried on fighting the good fight? They can't all have turned out like Movarth Piquine, right? I mean, look at Serana and me. We're living proof that this condition doesn't automatically make you a world-dominating monster.

Idiots. They've cut off their sword arm because of a tremor. Hypocrites, too: they're willing to trust me to work with a vampire to accomplish their ends, but the second I become one I'm a "danger"? This despite bringing them the kel they wanted? Nivahriin malhahdrum meyye!

And they've left me with the dilemma of having to break my promise to Valerica to notify her when Harkon is dead, or never actually being able to reach that point in the first place.

...fine. The greater good trumps my promises, I suppose. But by the Eight I wish it weren't so. They don't know what they're forcing me to condemn a good woman to endure.

We'll hunt down Esbern, get him back to Delphine, and then I'll go to Morthal and find this man who can cure me. Stendarr forgive me my broken vow.

*

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1nk

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #78 on: 11 Sep 2013, 12:00 »

I tried it again with an other beautyful Bosmer (Bosmess)..

She was killed by Drela.. It was a litte bit cheap, but dead is dead..

Some facts:

Main Skills: Archery, Light Armor
Sub Skills: Speech, Smithing
Faction: All

LV: 16 (800 P.)
Location Discovered: 87 (870 P.)
Dungeons cleared: 13 (260 P.)
Chests looted: 115 (575 P.)
Quests completed: 15 (450 P.)
Misc objectives: 58 (580 P.)
Hours slept: -300 P. as Malus
Food eaten: no penalt

I'll try it again xDD

3235 P. together
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Stitcher

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #79 on: 13 Sep 2013, 04:41 »

5th of Frostfall, 4e 201

Things moved quickly after we found Esbern. A vampire's senses came in useful in the Ratway - in the dark and stink of too much unwashed and forgotten humanity, the scent of an old man with books is a silver thread in the mud. The heavily reinforced door with five locks on it was a bit of a giveaway, too. the Thalmor were ahead of us, but we found Esbern first.

Since then, there hasn't been time to write. Esbern spent the whole carriage journey back telling me about Alduin.

Al-du-in: "Destroyer, devourer, master." First and greatest of the dragons, the very son of Akatosh himself, and his dark reflection. unslaad, nis viir, nis viik. Maar se lok, vokun se tiid. He who devours the souls of the dead, marauds the living, and will end the world in fire now that his rule over it is broken.

We didn't get the chance to stop over in Whiterun. I miss Ysolda, but I haven't fed in three days now, and there's no way she could miss it. I'll need to creep back into the city at night and find somebody... I think Arcadia... before I go home.

You see, dear journal, I've decided not to change back yet. It occurred to me that what separates a man from a monster isn't what they are, but what they do. Whether I am a vampire has no more bearing on whether I'm a good person than whether I'm a Redguard. And good men don't break their vows out of convenience.

I swore to Valerica she'd be freed from the Soul Cairn, and by Stendarr I meant it. Isran is just another Harkon - driven to short-sighted self-destruction by his obsession, and I won't feed it. If I have to find Auriel's Bow and put an end to Harkon without the Dawnguard's help, I shall. It's only if I MUST change back in order to make that objective happen that I'll seek out Falion.

Anyway. We returned to Riverwood and Esbern promptly dragged Delphine and I out into the Reach in pursuit of a lost temple - Sky Haven. The ancient blades built a wall here chronicling the defeat of Alduin in the ancient Merethic, and it shows a shout of some kind.

I suggested asking the Greybeards about it... it seems Delphine dislikes them. Calls them "scared of power" and bit into them for removing themselves from the world. She has a point. Power is dangerous - I know that more than I used to - but Faas do suleyk los voheyv. To fail to use the power you have out of fear is negligent, undutiful. Misuse your power, and you have done no good in the world. Fail to use your power and you have done no good in the world. Therefore, not using your power is misusing it.

Still. the Greybeards are the authority on the Thu'um. Back up the seven thousand steps I go. At least undead legs don't tire on the climb.
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Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #80 on: 13 Dec 2013, 17:58 »

Ok, trying this.

Race: Khajitt
Name: Vickarion

Progress so far: Escaped Helgen, made it through Bleak Falls Barrow.
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Druur Monakh

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #81 on: 13 Dec 2013, 23:31 »

This is an awesome idea! I won't do it (I hardly get to play games as it is), but you have my admiration. And for inspiration:

http://www.pcgamer.com/tag/an-illusionist-in-skyrim/
Dan Bull - Iron Man Mode (YouTube) (or the celebrity remix on http://www.ironmanmode.com/faq)

...hmm, I haven't played the DLC yet...
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Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #82 on: 26 Nov 2014, 00:50 »

Alright. Finally have a little time. Working on this. I will note: I love to try all dialog options, so I reload and try them in virtually every game, even though I know what I'm going to choose. I just like to hear the voice acting. I don't think that that goes against the spirit of this, and I don't use it to get out of dying - just to listen to different responses.

So, I've loaded up my Khajitt character: a black cat, formerly a soldier, now trying to make his way in Skyrim after narrowly escaping the headman's axe. He's mildly sympathetic to the Stormcloaks, since the Empire tried to kill him...

This one has completed Bleak falls barrow and killed Mirmulnir. This one is not very concerned about the Greybeards, and joined the companions instead. Updates to follow.

Dear journal,
As you know, we Khajitt are not prone to overthinking. Yet, this one finds himself thinking overmuch about the past.

This one has come close to death many times, but never so close as this last. To have one's head on the block...one's hair rises to remember it. And then...fire.

Well. We escaped. And thank that one, the Stormcloak. Ralof. This one will remember that.

Then this one followed him to Riverwood. What else to do? And from there, well, a favor owed must be repaid, as this one learned suckling at the teat. So this one brought word to the Jarl of Whiterun, who told him to help his wise-man-wizard. Wise-man-wizard said to find stone in Bleak Falls Barrow, so this one went back to Riverwood, and, in asking around, found man who needed a golden claw from same place! Truly this must be fate. And so, this one, carrying greatsword and armor, went up to kill bandits.

Hardly a challenge. Not even the sneaky thief-caught-in-web or ugly dead-with-swords could stop this one. Took stone, and rushing word from wall.

Brought stone and claw back. Claw owner happy. Jarl happy, except then word of dragon attack came. Of course, this one pressed into service as sword-carrier. Not first time. This one waited until dragon landed, then pounded head with warhammer. Head cave in, then very strange. Ate soul. Tasted like tuna and metal. Then this one spoke with iron and blood in voice, without any softness of the moons. FUS!

Well. Now Jarl wants this one to go to Greybeards. Perhaps this one will go, some time. Until then, this one has found home with Companions, this group of fighters who do not presume to much on a simple favor owed.

This is a strange land, this one thinks. I will write more, journal, soon.
« Last Edit: 26 Nov 2014, 01:04 by Vikarion »
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Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #83 on: 26 Nov 2014, 02:03 »

Dear journal,

This night less than good.

This one do favors for Companions. Bed is soft, pay is good. Beat up man to solve dispute, battle-axe to face of sabre-cat, then back to hall for soft bed. Much better than sand. Life seems good. Than Skjor-person speaks to meet him at night. This one goes, finds Skjor-person, goes with him into hidden cave.

There is wolf. Also Aela. Same person. Skjor say that this one must take blood to join circle, advance. Skjor person promises much power with new claw and fang. This one does take blood, then sleeps suddenly. Wakes.

Wakes as big dog. Never in life has this one wished to be big dog. Cat was fine. This one looks at self, runs for exit of town. This one sees guard - guard shoots. Well, this one will oblige. This one fights. Strong sweep, with swift new claw. Guard thinks that light breeze has touched his nose, pulls sword. This one strikes with both claws. Guard feels that slight breeze now comes from other location, seems to like cool breeze as he stabs at this one. This one flees. Wakes up in wild, undressed.

This new power worst power. Why be big dog when this one can be old cat, with cunning and strength? Skjor and Aela only want be big dog because they lack claw and fang. This one have no need. Kodlak have it right, for Khajitt anyway. Cat already have claw, no need for more, especially weak breezy claw that gently caress enemy body. Khajitt claw rip and tear. Keep Khajitt claw, this one will.

::pause::

Skjor dead. Him as stupid as this one suggested. Run in to kill Silver hand all alone. This one right about dog-form weak. Skjor turned into dog-meat. Still, Silver hand not good, very cruel. This one use battle-axe on all their faces. Very satisfying. No need for big-dog-form. Just axe.

::pause::

Caught Aela reading this. She say this one should use "I" instead of "this one". Says my writing not flowing. She keep saying nice things about this one, though. She say all nice thing she want, she still not going to be running fingers through fur any time soon.

More later, this one hopes. Unless this one become big dog again. Woof.

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Jace

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #84 on: 26 Nov 2014, 16:30 »

[I had no idea this thread existed. When/if I go back to Skyrim, I will certainly join in. This is a great idea that could be expanded to other games as well.]
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Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #85 on: 26 Nov 2014, 17:46 »

[I had no idea this thread existed. When/if I go back to Skyrim, I will certainly join in. This is a great idea that could be expanded to other games as well.]

It's old, but I said I was going to do it, so I'm going to.  :D
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Ember Vykos

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #86 on: 26 Nov 2014, 19:14 »

Quote
Ate soul. Tasted like tuna and metal.

Vik....I love you  :cube:

I think I'm gonna give this a shot too, but gonna use the alternate start mod as I cant stand the normal intro anymore. :D
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[spoiler][/spoiler]

Current active RP character(s) - Kairelle
Past RP characters - Ember Vykos, Simca Develon

Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #87 on: 27 Nov 2014, 03:17 »

Dammit. Got ambushed by a couple of Hagravens and a Forsworn Briarheart at level 14 when traveling. Cue death cutscene when the game decided that half health was enough to pull an insta-death spell animation.

Oh well.

Level
14 = 700 points

Locations Discovered
37 = 370 points

Dungeons Cleared
7 = 140 points

Chests Looted
117 = 585

Quests Completed
11 = 330

Misc Objectives Completed
14 = 140

Questlines Completed
None

Hours Slept (divided by) Days Passed
85 hours / 11 days = roughly 7 per day, no deduction

Food Eaten (divided by) Days Passed
141 items / 11 days = rougly 12 per day, no deduction

Multiply the final score according to the difficulty level you selected.
Adept

Final Score: 2265

In retrospect, playing a melee Khajitt with 50/50 health/magicka split  might not have been the best bet for survival. Worse, however, was my decision to keep going through the forest even after using up all my health potions in a random encounter with a cave bear. Of course, given that there's no fast travel and I was about as far from a major city as it's possible to get, I probably didn't have a great shot at making it back to civilization anyway.

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Vikarion

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #88 on: 27 Nov 2014, 03:25 »

Quote
Ate soul. Tasted like tuna and metal.

Vik....I love you  :cube:

I think I'm gonna give this a shot too, but gonna use the alternate start mod as I cant stand the normal intro anymore. :D

Aw, thanks.

Well, lessee. I'd like to try this again. Do a Khajiit? Or maybe something else? Suggestions?

Edit - actually, I'm going to try a Khajitt again.
« Last Edit: 27 Nov 2014, 03:50 by Vikarion »
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Nissui

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Re: Skyrim Hardcore RP Challenge
« Reply #89 on: 27 Nov 2014, 23:00 »

So many good reads.

Me... I fucking love the Dunmer.

Quote
Journal of Syele Helhalor

21st of Last Seed

Saints preserve us, will this downpour ever stop? The rain came just after midnight, only moments after I left the Whiterun gate on another errand for the jarl’s man, Avenicci. The thunder pealed above us relentlessly, and rather than advancing directly on this Silent Moons Camp, I was forced to take cover beneath a rocky overhang in the broken steppes.

After what must have been an hour, there was a break in the rain just long enough for me to close the distance to the perimeter of the ruin occupied by these brigands without having to swim. I guess I wasn’t the first visitor they had that night, because on the outskirts of the camp there were two bowmen talking over a corpse, and they mentioned the Afflicted. By the graces of the Anticipations, I’ll stay well clear of any of those poor souls.

In any case, the rain was picking back up, and I had a bounty to earn. Once the scout was clear of any of his cohorts, a lone arrow was enough to end him. Skirting around the edge of the grand stairway that lead up to the ruin’s dais, I was almost spotted by a skittish spellsword who was having some supper out of the rain with the other scout. They scrambled over some of the large broken stones toward me, but thankfully the sky stayed dark for a few moments and I was able to duck into a hollow in the outer wall. It was enough, eventually they returned to their lean-to, for whatever shelter it could provide in spite of the wind and clamor in the sky.

Before long the second scout returned to the perimeter, and though he would not find his friend who was now departed, I loosed another arrow in the hopes that they would be in one another’s spectral company soon enough. The solitary mage, now with her back turned to me, was dispatched handily. They prepared quite a tasty supper actually, so I helped myself to some of their meal, and wrapped some up for later. I took a few bites of baked potato before setting about the ascent to the dais, which was now clear up to its apex.

The rain had soaked me through, ceaseless as it was. Upon reaching the top of the ruin, my ears picked up the wheeze of a forge amidst the unquiet air. By the graces, I had not closed in too near what was actually a hollowed mound, and remained undiscovered. I crept around to the far side as fast as I could, circling opposite the stone mound’s front portals, and slowly climbed the slope of the mound toward its open center. Peering over the edge, I saw a Khajit at the bellows and another brigand who watched his work from under the lip of the wall. I waited a few moments, trying to pick out his shape against the glow of the forge between flashes of lightning. I notched and arrow, loosed it... and winced as it shattered on the stone below.

That damned Khajit began wheeling around, and I was as good as found out, so I drew another arrow and began sidestepping around the edge as I lined up another shot. A third bowman came from the interior of the structure, and all three were readying weapons. I needed that Khajit out of the way, so I aimed high and let fly. The arrow caught him in the neck: he spun and sank to the floor as two arrows whistled by on either side of me. I was about to retreat when my foot slipped on the slick precipice, and I fell forward into the hollow, dropping my bow to slide down the outside slope of the mound.

I landed squarely on my rump, luckily cushioned by the mail I took from the dead Whiterun guards. I was about the face another volley as I was scrambling  to my feet, but in grasping for a handhold to steady myself, my hands found only the open air of the crumbled inner wall, and I tumbled backward into the mound's entrance passage. The two brigands shouted at each other as I thanked my ancestors for my poor balance at that moment. I scrambled for the opening to the stairway with their footfalls fast behind me. I lunged left of the exit, trying to catch a glimpse of where my bow might have come to rest, but instead I nearly stepped on it. Those two shit-heeled robbers emerged from the portal separately, not very smart, and I took the advantage presented, firing four more volleys as fast as I could. I left their bodies for the wolves.

The workbench by the forge contained a pair of interesting manuals, curiously dry, which might make for good reading later. Magicked weapons had no one left to wield them, so I packed them up in case they'll fetch a decent price back in that old Nord settlement.

Thinking I was finished, I paced quickly down the steps, hoping to find some shelter nearby for waiting out the waning storm. At the base of the stairway was a gated arch which I could not open, but upon examination it appeared there was a trap door behind it. Being stuck in the rain was maddening. Drenched, I traced the wall up to a small platform, and sure enough, there was a door hidden in the darkness. Wiping the water from my face, I cracked the door open to peer inside.

There was an unattended fire in a small chamber with a collapsed ceiling. The rainwater from outside was running down the facing wall into small pools while the wind in the cracks masked the sound of my intrusion. Other than the gentle crackle of the fire, all became calm. Peering down the nearby corridor, I saw a figure snoring as he stood against the wall. A well-placed arrow to the neck put him down quietly. The passage behind him sloped downward into a narrow and stony hall which ended in a heavy wooden door. Another pair of outlaws slept back-to-back. They sleep forever now.

The once-locked door revealed a small storage room, mercifully quiet, where I am now. The ladder between the shelves leads up, perhaps to the trapdoor I saw outside. I can barely hear the accursed storm above. Skyrim is a strange land, like home and yet not. Were it not for my good fortune, it might feel like only the Saints can hear my prayers here. Especially with the Afflicted about, there seem to be many forces at work. Add me to the list, then, and we shall see what 'kindnesses' we can bestow upon this unforgiving province.

Tonight, I will sleep on a bed of warm ash and pray in thanks to my forebears. For now, while my belongings dry by the fire, I think I'll have some of that supper.

I'm playing a very chicken-shit stealth game because I want this character to last.
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