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Author Topic: The Adventures of Vikarion the Red, vampire sorcerer in Skyrim.  (Read 6545 times)

Vikarion

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I enjoyed my last play through so much that I'm going to do another. Before I start writing, however, here's a run-down of the idea.

Character concept:
A sorcerer, Elder-scrolls style, which is to say, a character skilled in heavy armor, conjuration, destruction, and enchanting. Two-handed-weapon will be an alternate after Destruction is maxed.

This will be a "completionist" character, trying to complete every questline in the game. To make it interesting, I'm going to embark on the "Dawnguard" questline immediately after completing the Companions questline, hopefully before level 20. This will ensure that my character plays the majority of the game as a Volkihar Vampire, increasing the difficulty, but providing an alternate viewpoint on your normal Dragon-Born Experience (tm).

This character will be Stormcloak-aligned, because I feel icky every time I try to justify siding with the Empire after they tried to execute my character. Also, no quest-lines will be terminated early - i.e., no killing off the Dark Brotherhood. As a result, this character may appear somewhat sociopathic at times, but hopefully I can characterize him well enough to give legitimate reasons for his actions.

This chronicle will also be somewhat more "literary" than the last (Vikarion the Blue), as in, I will take some liberties from the strict in-game events (i.e., this character might read more off of an Elder Scroll than he is strictly stated to). This is entirely for my own artistic freedom - on the whole, in-game events will be adhered to (i.e., if a character dies in-game, it might die slightly more artistically here, but it will still be dead).

A note: I name all of my characters in RPG's either "Vikarion", or "Vicariess", or some variation of those. This is why most, if not all, of my stories will have a character with this name. It's just a habit, established more than a decade ago.

Level bonuses will be (mostly) assigned as such:
1, 3, 6, and 9: Magicka.
2, 4, 5, 7, and 8: Health.
10: Stamina.

This repeats every ten levels.

In my personal opinion, health is the most important attribute, followed by magicka, with stamina a very distant third. It is quite possible to go through the entire game without ever increasing stamina on any character concept, while even a warrior-style play-through will have difficulty making it through without at least a little magicka for Restoration. For this character, designed to eventually make it through every questline, I feel that a H/M/S ration of 5:4:1 is optimal. Also, it contributes to verisimilitude, as any character using as many talents as this one should probably grow stronger in all three.
« Last Edit: 11 Dec 2014, 00:16 by Vikarion »
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Vikarion

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Journal,
When I escaped from High Rock, I had thought that Skyrim would mean placing my troubles behind me. Instead, it nearly got me killed.

Of course, it was foolish to stand up to a noble, especially one with so many established cronies. Whether right is right doesn't matter when someone else has might. Turns out that that's not limited to High Rock, either.

I got picked up a bit after crossing the border, near Darkwater Crossing, in an Imperial cordon. Next thing I know, I'm bound, then on a wagon to Helgen to face the block. My head was literally seconds away from parting with my body when, apparently, the luckiest Breton in Skyrim turned out to be me. That's more than can be said for Helgen, of course, because the instrument of my salvation was the destruction of Helgen at the hands of a dragon. From my perspective, a more than fair trade, although I suspect that I am highly biased.

But to my point: apparently justice means even less than I thought it meant in the Empire. My execution was merely a matter of convenience to the Imperial Captain who decided my fate. Or thought she did, at any rate.

Fortunately, when I got loose, Ralof (one of the Stormcloaks) did as well. After a bit of dodging around the dragon through Helgen, we got away through an old escape tunnel in the cellar of the local fort. I had never thought of myself as a killer before, but to my own immense satisfaction, we encountered above-mentioned Imperial Captain along the way. Despite her initial commands for our deaths, she didn't face her own with much dignity. Heavy armor may protect someone from an axe or blade, but when heated to red hot by flames, Imperial Heavy Armor serves mostly as a roasting cage.

Aside from that, there was little effective opposition to stop Ralof and I from getting to Riverwood, where we met his sister, Gerdur. She was kind enough to offer me some gold and food to get me started, and asked me to bring word of the attack to Whiterun if I managed to make it there. I agreed.

I haven't made it there, yet, because I also took the opportunity of being in town to visit the local general store, where the owner was engaged with his sister in an argument over a stolen "Golden Dragon's Claw". Turns out that some thieves holed up at the local monument stole it, and I was offered a sizable reward for its return. Well, I thought that if I could survive my own execution, a dragon attack, and an Imperial garrison, I could fetch him his dragon claw.

I was right, although I hadn't figured on the local variety of undead: Draugr. It's hard to describe them, but they are ancient, mummified corpses that yet move with malevolent intellect, arising from coffins and alcoves alike with strange blue witch-lights for eyes, striking at you with the words of dead arcane tongues on their lips. I was glad to be out of there.

Actually, I stayed longer than I had to. I found the claw relatively easily, but my curiosity got the better of me and I kept exploring, until I found an ancient door that opened by the use of said claw, once the locks on the door were aligned with the symbols on the claw. These barrows may be ancient, but this one was at least well engineered.

On the other side of the door, I found a pedestal with a sarcophagus and some sort of writing on a curved wall. As I came close to the wall, it glowed blue, and I suddenly felt dizzy. I heard some sort of word, like "Fus"...and then I heard the lid of the sarcophagus fly off, and the armored form of a Draugr rose out of it.

He burned, eventually, but not before getting in a bruising hit to my ribs and arm, and not before I had to down two potions of magicka, damn it all. At any rate, he had some sort of strange stone on him, which I took, as well as an enchanted axe.

Both the golden claw and the axe got me a fair amount of gold in Riverwood, and after staying the night at the local inn (my second night, actually), I'm ready to set off for Whiterun. Let's hope today is less...exciting.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
It wasn't less exciting. Apparently, I've been chosen as a Dragonborn.

Let me digress, just in case there are future readers of this journal that aren't me.

I arrived in Whiterun safe and sound, with only two incidents along the way. One was an encounter with some vigilants of Stendarr, who spent the better part of an hour lecturing me on the evils of Daedra, vampires, and werewolves. Gee, thanks. The other was when I came across some folks trying to defend a farm against a rogue giant. As it turns out, they were happy to have my help, and their leader, a woman named Aela, invited me to join her association, called "The companions". She said that I looked capable and they'd be happy to have me, "even if I was a mage".

I agreed to come by as soon as I delivered my message to the Jarl. Unfortunately, I didn't quite manage to keep this promise.

You see, I went to the Jarl, fully expecting just to tell him about Helgen. I managed that, after being threatened by his bodyguard a bit (she's named Irileth), only to be asked to go to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve a "Dragonstone" by the Jarl and his court wizard. What a coincidence, then, that I'd already been there and had it in my pack. I had planned to find a scholar who might want it, but from my perspective at the time, this seemed like a long-overdue stroke of luck.

And then Irileth and a guard rushed in, claiming that there was a dragon about to attack the outskirts of Whiterun. Now, I try to be reasonable, but I don't think it was entirely fair for the Jarl to press-gang me into helping them. But life isn't fair, and he did. Within an hour or so, after waiting for Irileth to gather her troops, I found myself outside a rather burned and broken watchtower, observing a dragon diving towards us.

I have to say, this fight was nearly as perilous as my own (attempted) execution. I can't say that we lost, but at least three or four of the guard died before we brought it down. Thank goodness for health and magicka potions. And when it (the dragon) did die, I felt encompassed by a rushing wind, and suddenly, the "word" I had seen in Bleak Falls Barrow came back to me, with meaning. Force.

Apparently, according to the guards, I am "Dovaah-kin", or "Dragonborn", which is to say, capable of using the ancient language of the dragons without study. Yay. Good for me.

As if that weren't enough, when I returned to Whiterun, the heavens thundered with "Dov-vah-keen!". The Jarl told me it was the Greybeards calling me to High Hrothgar.

Well, they can call all they want. I made a promise to visit The Companions. And I shall. I never asked to be dragon-born, and those who call me such can wait on my pleasure.
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Vikarion

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Journal,

Well, I'm a member of the companions now, oddly enough. It turns out that it's a warrior hall of, essentially, mercenaries with honor. I don't think I would have made it in without Kodlak asking for it, as the other members aside from Aela seemed less than thrilled. Of the ones I've talked to, Vilkas was least comfortable, and started me out by having me run errands for him.

As that didn't phase me, apparently he decided on sterner measures, sending me off to confront a vampire in the moldering ruins south of Rorikstead. At least, I think it was Rorikstead. He (Vilkas) seemed a little surprised when I returned, apparently having assumed I wouldn't have the guts. Fortunately, I've been occasionally making trips to Windhelm, as the court mage there has an excellent grasp of Destruction magic, and it turns out that vampires have a vulnerability to fire. So do high elves, apparently: I met a group of Thalmor on the road to Rorikstead, and they accused me of being a "heretic" before attacking. After killing them, it seemed nothing but reasonable for me to release their prisoner. Oh, and I also met an old orc who wanted a "good death". It seemed the least I could do.

It occurs to me that I may have become somewhat more callous since nearly being executed, nearly dying in a dragon attack, and being assaulted by a few dozen bandits and growling undead. Just a tad, at least.

At any rate, killing the vampire apparently convinced Skjor, another of the companions, that I was worthwhile material. So he sent me off to "prove myself" by, you guessed it, raiding a Nordic Barrow, along with Farkas. Turns out that the barrow was infested by the Silver Hand, a werewolf hunting group. Also turns out that some of the companions are werewolves. Oh, and there were, of course, the standard helping of Draugr. I really don't understand people who make their homes in the upper levels of these tombs. You could wake up to find some ancient withered corpse with blue witch-light eyes standing over you with an ancient axe raised. Or, you know, not wake up at all.

Farkas is a bit of an idiot, but at least he was convinced of the utility of having me along by the end. Of course, I didn't do myself any favors by accidentally locking myself into a room from which he had to release me. Nonetheless, it went well enough. Any enemies I didn't catch at long range, Farkas took down with his sword, and he was perfectly willing to vouch for me when we returned.

Anyway, time for bed.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, that was...unpleasant. After doing a few more jobs for the companions (mostly run here and kill "that", whatever "that" is), I attracted the attention of Skjor. He brought me to the Underforge, and inducted me into the ranks of the Circle, which is the leadership of the companions. I wasn't exactly reluctant - after all, Farkas seemed to have it perfectly under control. However, when I turned, I had no choice, nor could I change back. I woke up, half-naked, in the woods, with Aela, who promptly press-ganged me into an attack on some Silver Hand who had killed Skjor - probably because he charged in there alone and without backup.

Well, to make a long story short, I've been chasing the Silver Hand around Skyrim for the last few days and weeks, at the request of Aela. Kodlak eventually got wind of it, and asked me if I would help him cure his lycanthropy. Apparently the entire process has a bit to do with magic, which is why he brought me on board.

Of course, this being the companions, the cure involves killing - in this case, I killed a few hagravens holed up in a cave who apparently got this whole "curse" started. We'll see where it goes from here.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Kodlak is dead.

When I returned from hunting the witches, I found that the Silver Hand had attacked the companions in my absence. Kodlak took down several of them, but they overwhelmed him. It is a sad day.

Vilkas and I had our revenge, though. We tracked them down to their headquarters, and wiped them out. Not one of them survived. The death of Kodlak seems to have changed Vilkas's opinion of my usefulness, at least where the Silver Hand are concerned - at least, if his yelling at me to "burn them!" is any clue.

In any case, we found the fragments of Ysgramor's axe, killed all the Silver Hand, and made it back in time for Kodlak's funeral. I have to say, I'm not much of one for "glory", and only a little bit for "honor", but Kodlak's pyre made me think that the old man might have been on to something. At the very least, Farkas, Aela, Vilkas, and I decided to try to honor the Harbinger's wishes. Ysgramor's Axe was reforged by Eorland, and we took it to Ysgramor's tomb.

The tomb was empty of draugr, but not of ghosts. They were a test, though, and not truly deadly. Farkas apparently has developed a fear of spiders that kept him from accompanying us, but Aela and I made it to the tomb, where we met Kodlak. For being dead, he seemed fairly happy. We freed him from his wolf spirit by casting one of the witch's heads into the purifying fire. Aela couldn't seem to see the wolf spirit that came forth to battle us, but I could, and by killing it, Kodlak was freed.

I think that I, too, shall make the same choice to be free. Living as a werewolf, I think I could handle. It's the nights that are the problem - endlessly restless, full of sudden fits and starts.

At any rate, I shall miss the old man. But apparently I am to be Harbinger of the Companions now. Not really a leader - well, not a leader at all, since the Companions have no leader - but an advisor. It seems a reasonable choice - I know a bit more about magic, although the companions are teaching me the use of heavy armor and warhammers. I'll do my best to advise them.

In the meantime, I've heard about a vampire-hunting group down in the Rift, called the Dawnguard. I'm not really one for exterminating vampires, but I should at least check them out...
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Vikarion

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Journal,
I didn't get around to heading down to the Rift today, because I found something in a chest - a Beacon of Meridia. When I picked it up, a voice - in my head - commanded me to go and cleanse her shrine of some undead with associated necromancer. It wasn't too far off the beaten path from Solitude, so it seemed like a reasonable request.

Well, I ended up crawling through another nordic ruin, with a twist - trying to get a cleansing beam of light through the temple. At least, Meridia claimed it was "cleansing". From my point of view, I was the one doing any cleansing, while the beam of light needed me to set up every little beacon for it. Nor did the little beam of light help me when I finally found the necromancer, who, it turned out, had a really good knowledge of cold spells - indeed, better than mine. I used every single healing potion and magicka potion I had, while Meridia sat there and twiddled her thumbs with her precious little beam of light. And when I finally put him down - twice, because his ghost wanted to kill me just as much as his body did - all I got for all that work was a short sword called "Dawnbreaker". Which I barely know how to wield because I prefer weapons that will actually kill things - like fire spells and battle-axes. Also, I prefer my weapons to be effective against more than undead.

Also not real fond of Meridia's habit of hoisting me a mile into the air every time she wants to talk to me. But then, I suppose she wanted me to be nearer to her "holy light". At least, that's my guess, because when I wasn't experiencing vertigo, I was being half blinded.

Oh well. I suppose it was at least nice that a Daedra Lord considered me to be worthy of her attention, and not the "squish that annoying bug" sort of attention.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, I made my way down to the Dawnguard fort. It's...well, huge. Really, really big. Along the way I met a young man who was there to sign up with them. As for me, I was more interested in just exploring the place, which I as much as told Isran (the man in charge) when I met him.

Oh, incidentally, as far as Isran goes, he makes the Vigilants of Stendarr look like level-headed merciful types. And, like most mages who conjure Daedra and raise undead, have about as much love for the Vigilants as we do for rats. And yet Isran was busy lecturing one of the Vigilants about how soft they were when I came it.

Well, Isran sent me off to go explore some cave, and above-mentioned Vigilant insisted on coming along. Actually, he agreed to meet me outside it. Apparently he couldn't wait, because I had no sooner made my way inside before I heard a couple of vampires talking about his demise.

Let the record show that, in the interests of good taste, I did not dance a jig at the relief of not having to escort a hammer-wielding nincompoop through a nest of irritated vampires.

There's not much to say about making my way through them, though. Most of them - ok, all of them - went down pretty easily. As I've written before - I think - I have nothing against vampires, save for their habit of trying to rip off my head without any discussion of other possibilities. I finally emerged on a ledge over a small group who were killed another Vigilant once he proclaimed he wouldn't tell them anything. Well, too bad for him, I guess, as I couldn't have saved him in any situation - firebolts just don't go through stone that well. I did kill the three killers, though.

Apparently they were trying to find something, and were congregated around some sort of column with a small dome on top of it, about waist height. I thought it looked like a bit of a button, and pushed it.

Again, for the record, I am not always the wisest man. Pushing the button resulted in me getting a spike through my palm, which has put a real damper on my button-pushing tendencies, let me tell you. However, it wasn't in vain, for once I finished screaming a few curses and casting a healing spell, I noticed that my blood - or my pain - or possibly the satisfaction of the sadism of the creator of the button - had caused little sheets of light to form from the floor. It didn't take a lot of work to figure out that moving some braziers on the floor around extend the sheet of light further around the room, so I started doing that.

In retrospect, I should have considered whether this was a good idea. For all I knew, I was arming an ancient super-weapon, some sort of vampire version of Numidium. At the time, however, I was rather more interested in finding out what would happen, possibly with an eye towards discovering the identity of the creator of spike-buttons with an eye towards introducing them to a few of my views on the subject.

Well, no sooner do I get everything into position than the floor drops down in stages, while the central column rises up, a hexagonal crypt in the center. Naturally, I open it, and a young woman fell forward. Let me point out that I am at least a little thoughtful - after my entirely reflexive jump back, I did do my best to catch her.

To make a long story short, she - her name is Serana - is a vampire, she's been stuck in that crypt for a very long time, and she would like me to take her back to her, uh, home...castle.

I suppose Isran would want me to kill her. On the other hand, I don't really give a damn what Isran wants. As well, I'm not exactly predisposed to hate vampires, and this particular one isn't trying to rip my head off. If I were going to do what Isran wanted, I should walk into the court of Jarl Elisif and start flinging fireballs at her court mage, who I am damn sure is also a vampire.

Besides, I rather like Serana. I believe I shall escort her to her home, as she desires.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised to be a vampire now, and I can't say that I really regret it.

I brought Serana to her...castle, or her father's castle, anyway, and we made our way in, where I found myself in a small vestibule overlooking an altogether uncomfortably large gathering of vampires. As I felt that I had now probably accomplished my duties as escort, I checked the door we'd just come through, just in case. Yep. Locked. Of course it was locked. What good horror story doesn't have the hero - or victim, come to think of it - suddenly realize their peril right after the conveniently innocent-looking doorman makes sure that retreat is not an option?

Well, unlike some of the other unfortunates on the tables below, I was not to be a victim, although Isran probably wouldn't see it that way. It turned out that Lord Harkon - Serana's father - was rather pleased by her return, or at least by the fact that she was still carrying an Elder Scroll on her back when she showed up. From his point of view, this merited a reward - that is to say, turning me. Not just into any vampire, either, but a Vampire Lord, one of the creations of Molag Bal, although it appears that devotion to that Daedric Lord is not required for it to be passed on.

My other option was to be "banished from the court", which I suspected at the time (and still somewhat do) would mean employment as dinner for either the vampires or whatever fishes inhabit the Sea of Ghosts. Or both.

It might be nice to claim that it was merely a choice between life and death - well, undeath and death - that I made, but that's not entirely true. Deep down, I liked - and like - the power, and the immortality doesn't hurt either. Perhaps, in the eyes of some, that should damn me. But I doubt it does. Jarl Elisif has sold her political soul - and possibly her province - to  the Empire, in the name of becoming High Queen, and she isn't being damned by anyone for that. More to the point, I suspect that the dragon-born - if I am the dragon-born - is already a bit of a vampire, except with regards to the souls of dragons rather than blood.

But that's justification. In the end, I'd rather exist than not, and I'd rather have power than not. It's as simple as that. It doesn't matter if that makes me good or evil. What matters is that I want to survive.

When I awoke, Lord Harkon had a task for me. He wanted me to go fill a chalice from a spring near Riften. There was a slight catch - it's the site of a skooma den. There was also the fact that I was hungry. Very, very hungry...or thirsty. It's difficult to tell - it's sort of both.

In any case, they keep thralls. Some are willing, others are unwilling. I found it hard to care, but I found one of the more willing ones. I suppose I should be ashamed at the fact that I did it, or that it was so natural and so easy, but I mostly don't care. I'm not hungry anymore, and he's not dead.

I'm on my way to Redwater Spring.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, now I know why Serana complained about the sun so much on the way to Castle Volkihar. I went outside, and it hurt. I also felt tired, and dull. Everything was far, far too bright. It took me longer than I expected to get to Redwater Spring, but I did, and getting inside was a relief.

I took the liberty of not killing everyone inside just because I could, and instead opted for pretending to be a customer and then slipping into the back. It turns out that the whole thing was a creation of a vampire. Rather clever, really. The waters of the spring are apparently debilitating and addicting, so he added it to skooma and turned it into a disguised buffet. Clever. And, from my point of view, a bit evil, although I confess I don't cry too much over skooma addicts. It only takes a healing potion (one of the modern formulations, of course) to cure the addiction, so I find it hard to believe that the incoherent nobleman I passed by on the floor of the den was exactly an "innocent victim".

Unfortunately, above-mentioned vampire decided to take the "violence without talking" approach towards me, which meant his little operation is now leaderless and a bit low on personnel at the moment, and probably permanently. I also had the enjoyable experience of being ambushed by two vampires of Harkon's court, who apparently decided that I would be easy pickings and that the chalice I carried was perfect for whatever political move their masters were planning.

Actually, it wasn't all that unfortunate. I also needed the blood of a powerful vampire for the chalice, and it was rather convenient to have two reasonably powerful vampire donors available, once they stopped screaming, anyway. It probably didn't help them that they decided to double-cross each other at the same time they ambushed me. I don't think it would have made much of a difference, however. A vampire with firebolts and a battle-axe who has been using both for months is probably going to beat two vampires who appear to have considered even training with a weapon beneath them. Still, I appreciated them going to the extra effort to ensure my victory.

Of course, you don't accomplish a task but someone gets the bright idea that competence should be rewarded with more work. Harkon decided he needed a moth priest to read the Elder Scroll Serana had brought back. Apparently there was one in Skyrim due to Harkon putting around the rumor that one had been found, and the court was tasked with finding him. At this point, Serana popped up (I have no idea where she went to while I was out trying to fill up the too-fancy goblet), and asked to come with. Why not, right? So, we're off to the College of Winterhold, to try to find a moth priest.
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Vikarion

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Journal,
Well, we got the bloody moth priest, but I'm not sure we should have.

It was a bit annoying, too. First, we went to Winterhold, which was promptly attacked by a dragon. I couldn't leave the people of Winterhold to its tender mercies, so I killed it - not very difficult a task, either, as it was one of the weaker ones I have fought. I also consumed its soul, which prompted Serana to note that apparently there are things I haven't told her about myself, either. Like I've had the time.

I have to say, though, Serana is a great traveling companion, aside from the griping about the weather. She's actually a remarkable person...been through a lot, and stayed strong.

Anyway, I had to convince Faralda, the gatekeeper of the College, to let me it. She agreed, after I displayed my magical capabilities, but insisted on signing me up as a member - a prospect I wasn't averse to. I'm not surprised they can offer membership for free, as the price they charge for magical training quickly adds up. Actually, I suspect that I could buy a few houses for all that I'll end up spending.


But I digress. We found out that the moth priest was on his way to Dragon Bridge, a small village near Solitude. Of course, when we got there, we found out that he'd left, and when we found his caravan, we found out that he'd been kidnapped by vampires - apparently, vampires not affiliated with us. Oh, and when we found the cave where they'd taken the moth priest, it turned out that the vampires had been killed by the Dawnguard.

As a note, it turns out that Isran has been outfitting the Dawnguard with armor that protects against vampire abilities. Doesn't do anything for firebolts, though. And I'm not sure what he thought armoring a troll would do. They're vulnerable to fire too.

The moth priest had been enthralled by the now-dead vampire that had caught him. Apparently the only cure for that is to enthrall him yourself, which I did. Not sure I care for being called "majesty". In fact, pretty sure I don't. But at least we got him back to the castle in one piece.

Harkon was pleased that we'd found him, less pleased once the moth priest read the scroll. Apparently there are two other scrolls that need to be found. What I did hear, though, makes me think that I may have unearthed a super-weapon of some sort after all: apparently, Harkon's big idea is to blot out the sun. Permanently.

Now, I confess to being no great fan of the big burn-y thing in the sky (at least not now), but it seems to me that turning it off might get all the people in...well, the world...pissed at you. You'd have to be a megalomaniac to think that you could survive that. And they'd be pissed for good reason: no crops, no warmth, eventually, no life. And where's the fun in that? I suppose that Harkon just thinks that if he darkens the sky, everyone will just fall on their knees to him. Yeah, sure. Just like everyone fell on their knees to Mehrunes Dagon in the Oblivion Crisis. Oh, wait.

Well, at this point, Serana took me aside and asked if we could try to find her mother and her Elder Scroll. I'm not sure what Serana's solution to her father's mad scheme is, but I suspect it's better for us to find that scroll than someone else. Which is why I helped her find her mother's laboratory, and why I'm now looking for ingredients to do some ritual that will get us into some place called the "Soul Cairn". Yay. I can hardly wait.
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Havohej

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The other was when I came across some folks trying to defend a farm against a rogue giant. As it turns out, they were happy to have my help, and their leader, a woman named Aela, invited me to join her association, called "The companions". She said that I looked capable and they'd be happy to have me, "even if I was a mage".
How the fuck?

I've never even been able to land a hit on the bastard.  It always goes down just as I'm coming within sight, and then Aela talks shit.

On topic: another enjoyable series ^^
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This is a forum on steroids tbh. The rate at which content worth reading is being generated could get you pregnant.

Rin Kaelestria

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The other was when I came across some folks trying to defend a farm against a rogue giant. As it turns out, they were happy to have my help, and their leader, a woman named Aela, invited me to join her association, called "The companions". She said that I looked capable and they'd be happy to have me, "even if I was a mage".
How the fuck?

I've never even been able to land a hit on the bastard.  It always goes down just as I'm coming within sight, and then Aela talks shit.

On topic: another enjoyable series ^^

Soon as you get to the farms around Whiterun, got to start hauling rear to where the Giant is to land a hit. Managed to do that on the last character I had in Skyrim.

Either way, been reading this series as well. Keep it up!  :D
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Havohej

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    • Insurmountable Logic

The other was when I came across some folks trying to defend a farm against a rogue giant. As it turns out, they were happy to have my help, and their leader, a woman named Aela, invited me to join her association, called "The companions". She said that I looked capable and they'd be happy to have me, "even if I was a mage".
How the fuck?

I've never even been able to land a hit on the bastard.  It always goes down just as I'm coming within sight, and then Aela talks shit.

On topic: another enjoyable series ^^

Soon as you get to the farms around Whiterun, got to start hauling rear to where the Giant is to land a hit. Managed to do that on the last character I had in Skyrim.

Either way, been reading this series as well. Keep it up!  :D
My best effort to date was to get within bowshot and lob an arrow, but the big oaf fell just before the arrow landed.  :(
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This is a forum on steroids tbh. The rate at which content worth reading is being generated could get you pregnant.

Vikarion

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The other was when I came across some folks trying to defend a farm against a rogue giant. As it turns out, they were happy to have my help, and their leader, a woman named Aela, invited me to join her association, called "The companions". She said that I looked capable and they'd be happy to have me, "even if I was a mage".
How the fuck?

I've never even been able to land a hit on the bastard.  It always goes down just as I'm coming within sight, and then Aela talks shit.

On topic: another enjoyable series ^^

Soon as you get to the farms around Whiterun, got to start hauling rear to where the Giant is to land a hit. Managed to do that on the last character I had in Skyrim.

Either way, been reading this series as well. Keep it up!  :D

Hey, thanks again. things like this help keep my motivation to write up - sometimes I just want to come home and veg.

Anyway, yeah, basically, the giant "event" fires right after you pass Honningbrew Meadery. If you then sprint, you can manage to get to the giant before it goes down, usually. For this character, wielding both Destruction and Two-handed, getting a hit only required having a firebolt handy (I believe I found it at the general store in Riverwood).
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