It is fun how you are including numerous games into Lena's story. That certainly adds an unlimited scale to where she can go and what she can do!

Thank you, Acadian! But those are just some episodes, some memories, the main story is still in Cyrodiil. But of course now that Geralt is here, we need to know about his past a little.

The truth is that the other games that I draw in, do not give me such freedom for storytelling as Elder Scrolls - they are much more story-oriented, and as enjoyable as it was to play them two, three, even half a dozen times, once you've gone through the possible combinations of scenarios that you cared to explore, the game was truly exhausted. So in order not to allow Geralt to get "archived" in the Witcher, I had to bring him over to Tamriel where he can tell stories of his past exploits to his little sister, with whatever embellishments he chooses. See if she can spot what's real and what's there on artistic license.

22 Second Seed, 4E195 - Fyke Isle tower

"This tower is filled with wraiths" - thought Geralt, having fought off half a dozen of them in the entrance hall. "The baron, his family and his servants were slaughtered here by the angry mob - so we've got their wraiths and the wraiths of the dead intruders, too. But there is more - a more powerful spirit is presiding over this place."


Geralt looked around. Overturned furniture, dried blood, rotting corpses - a usual scene of a massacre presented itself. Was the house ransacked for valuables by the surviving attackers? May be, a little, but most of all it's the food cupboards that had been turned inside out. A trail of discoloured blood stains led to the basement.

The basement offered more of the same. "All of the remaining food is gone" - thought Geralt, checking empty shelves and barrels. "But what the..?" - he cursed, feeling a bite on his leg. Rats. Dozens and dozens of them.

...

"A fire spray is the best weapon when you are surrounded by small vermin" - the voice of his mentor echoed in his memory once the basement floor was covered in charred rats.

"But witchers aren't supposed to fight small vermin, Master!" - he heard himself reply. He was just a boy then, feeling more excited to learn swordplay than magic.

"A witcher must be able to fight anything. You won't get very far trying to hit a rat with your greatsword."

It seemed so long ago. Their home fortress, Kaer Morhen, filled with the mischief of young boys who thought they could conceal their misadventures from their masters. "Of course we knew what you were doing" - Vesemir told him years later. "But we let you have a bit of a childhood in between the training and the study." But of course. Geralt smiled at the memory, sending another gout of fire to the last rat still alive.

"So that's what was really keeping Keira away - not the wraiths but the rats" - Geralt grinned to himself. Keira was a powerful sorceress, she would have been able to put an end to all of that without much effort, but she was terrified of rats. "And there were too many of them here" - he thought. "Of course they fed on the corpses and multiplied, yet there must have been too many to begin with. And what's with the cages?" He lit up a torch to have a better look. A pile of small cages was taking up a whole corner. They were cages, not death traps - designed to capture small animals alive without harming them. Small animals like rats.

Geralt continued exploring the tower. The rooms on the upper floors were in a better shape - the attackers definitely did not ransack the house, they must have caught the family at dinner downstairs. There was just an odd corpse here and there, with more rats feeding off it. Did the rats stop them rummaging through the house? Were country folk afraid of rats? Stranger things had happened...

In the master bedroom Geralt found some letters thrown around on the floor. An argument had taken place here - an argument between the baron and his daughter, who fell in love with a local fisherman, and naturally her father disapproved. A tale that Geralt had heard before.

The upper floor seemed to have been occupied by a different person altogether - it was filled with books, bookcases and chests with books. "The mage" - Geralt remembered. "There was a mage living here who studied the plague. Ah. That explains the rats." Spotting a lever, he found an entrance to the mage's laboratory.

The laboratory was untouched, the mob must have never found a way in. Several human corpses were suspended in liquid in huge cylinders - victims of the plague that the mage had been studying. Did he kill these people? Or did they die of the plague, infected without his intervention? It didn't matter either way, the mage was now dead, too. His corpse was no where to be seen, although bones littered the floor. "The rats have eaten it all" - thought Geralt with disgust, spraying fire on the vermin but taking care not to burn any of the papers. "Keira would be right angry if I accidentally set the place on fire" - he thought. Besides, he wanted to know more about the mage before he returned to her.

When the rats' scuffles stopped and all was quiet, Geralt noticed a presence.

"You must be the spirit that possesses this place" - he addressed the room around him. "Show yourself."

He felt a movement of air but nothing appeared. "Not a wraith, must be a ghost" - he thought. "Well, let's see if I can bring you to light..." He lit up a magic lamp and a ghostly figure stood before him.

"You can see me?" - she said in surprise. "No one could see me..."

"Yes, I can see you with the help of this lamp" - Geralt pointed at the device. "What happened to you?"

"I was eaten alive!" - she cried. It was a young woman, Geralt realised, perhaps the baron's daughter. "The mage gave me a potion when the mob attacked, said to drink it to save my life, and I did, but when I woke up, these horrible creatures were all over me - eating me alive! And everyone else was dead! And he left me here, just left me behind to die!" She was wailing now. If ghosts had tears, she would have been crying.

"The rats" - Geralt concluded. "The mage gave you a sleeping potion so that you would appear dead to the mob, but he didn't think of the rats."

"He tried to save me" - the ghost nodded, calming down. "I am grateful to him for trying, but it didn't help - he still abandoned me!" She broke down in sobs again.

"He - who?" - Geralt thought he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from the woman.

"My beloved... He was a fisherman down in the village... He wasn't with the mob when they attacked, but he came later, I saw him, and yet he just left me here to die! Father was right all along - he wasn't worth it!" She sounded angry now more than sad, and Geralt thought that perhaps hers wasn't a simple ghost.

"Is that why you are still here - because of your anger?"

"I want you to take my bones and bring them to my beloved for a burial, and that would appease my spirit and allow me to move on" - she looked at him, both pleading and commanding.

Geralt looked around the room - there was no shortage of bones strewn around, and he would be able to pick out the ones belonging to a young woman... except... Except that taking away the bones of a woman who had died a violent death would under no circumstances appease her wraith - for this is what she was, a wraith, not a ghost. And if she was asking him to do it, it was only to make her stronger. "It's a Pesta" - Geralt thought, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "She spreads the plague on the neighbouring lands, the locals were right about that. She looks like a peaceful ghost now, but the moment I refuse her request, she'll turn on me. And there is no way of simply defeating a Pesta."

Geralt braced himself for a fight.

"I won't take away your bones - this will not lift the curse" - he said to her.

"Damn you, witcher!" - she shrieked, changing into a black wraith - a Plague Maiden, a Pesta. "You men are all alike!" And with that, she attacked.

...

This was a fight for survival, not a fight to win.

Not much is known about how to fight a plague maiden, though one can assume they possess many traits in common with other phantoms and wraiths. They undoubtedly pose a great danger, though a witcher's immunities should at least prevent him from catching the contagious illnesses they carry.

Geralt recalled a passage from a textbook - it wasn't much help. "Extremely rare" and "believed by some to be a hallucination of a diseased mind" - perhaps, but this particular hallucination was now slashing through his armour as if it was butter. "Are those fingernails..?" - he caught himself wondering, noticing long sharp blades extending from the tips of the wraith's fingers. And what was that about the diseases? "A witcher's immunities should prevent him from catching them" - should? Oh, this sounded promising indeed. "I will have to submit to Keira's full examination afterwards" - Geralt thought to himself, half-grinning, half-grimacing. Some aspects of it were quite pleasant, while others... Let's just say that Keira was quite thorough.

The wraith however wasted no time attacking Geralt. It was all he could do to block her attacks as much as possible, for she left him no time to cast a shield or to drink a potion. She was almost immune to fire and took little damage even from his silver blade... while Geralt was bleeding from more and more wounds. She led him outside and danced around him, vanishing from before his eyes only to reappear right behind him - this was as bad as wraiths went, he thought. She was playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse, certain of the final outcome.

"But may be you shouldn't be so certain" - thought Geralt, feeling for a particular vial on his belt and gulping down the contents between the wraith's disappearance and reappearance. His vision blurred for a moment and he staggered as the toxins in the decoction hit, but an extra wound from the wraith was worth what was to come. The Succubus Decoction was raising the power of his attacks, slowly and steadily, until finally the wraith began to reel back in pain from the hits of his sword.

She got enraged - she was shrieking more than usual. Then she vanished. "Wait for it..." - thought Geralt tensing up, he knew this trick. Trying to keep the entire area around him within his field of vision, he braced for an attack from behind - somehow it was always from behind, whichever way he was facing. Three wraiths appeared instead of one, surrounding him and attacked all at once. "Not taking turns like good girls, are you?!" - Geralt cursed, this wraith was not playing by the rules. Each of the three sisters was weaker than the original, but the three of them together were stronger and more dangerous than before. Again they hardly suffered from Geralt's attacks, but the wounds they were inflicting on Geralt were also less severe. The dance continued.

"I am done with you!" - Geralt caught himself before he called a Pesta sister "filth". He lunged at the weakest sister and she vanished with the thrust of his sword. Switching his parries between the two remaining sisters, he managed to end another one, after which the last one presented little challenge. "This isn't finished" - he reminded himself, fumbling for another vial. Not a decoction - never drink two decoctions at once, the combined toxins were enough to end even a witcher. Except this one - White Raffard's Decoction. "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" - this could be a witcher's motto, for the combined toxicity of the two decoctions blurred Geralt's vision and dimmed the light, and not just for a moment. Yet White Raffard also restored his vitality, bringing him back from the brink of death. At that moment the wraith reappeared and attacked. She was almost finished, and it only made her stronger.

"No!!! You cannot win this!!" - Geralt bellowed, lunging at her, twirling to throw off those razor sharp blades of her overgrown fingernails. Twist and slash, lunge and thrust - a sword fight against an ethereal being was quite different from one against an opponent of solid flesh, and Geralt silently thanked his mentors again for insisting on that particular training. Of course by now he'd had plenty of opportunities to train with actual wraiths, not imaginary ghosts, but moves learned as a child were the deepest ingrained, he could do the dance with his eyes closed, as they had trained, and by now his vision had blurred so much, that he was dancing practically blind. And then... he felt no new cuts on his skin and heard no shrieks from the wraith. Was it over? He stopped moving, allowing his vision to clear slightly, and looked around him - the wraith was no where to be seen. "But no remains either" - he checked the ground. She would either reappear and attack again in a moment, or she could have retreated.

Geralt waited, trying not to drop to his knees of exhaustion. Standing still was dangerous - without a fight, his adrenaline levels would fall, and in his current condition he would collapse with them. He decided to find shelter and hope that the wraith wouldn't come back. The hut where he had spent the night before, seemed like paradise. He made for it, bolted the door behind him and finally dropped to his knees. This would be a long meditation.

23 Second Seed, 4E195 - Keira's Elven bath house

The embers in the fire grate were all but out when Geralt finally woke up from his meditation after the fight with the Pesta. The wind was howling in the trees outside, and Fyke Isle looked as desolate as ever. He didn't defeat the Pesta, he never thought he would - he just needed to survive the fight. In the end, she retreated just before she could be finished, as Geralt knew she would do. If he wanted to lift the curse from this place and send the Pesta to the next world, he needed to find a way to appease her spirit.

Those who think that the work of a witcher consists exclusively of fighting monsters, know only the half of it, if even that. Lifting curses and sending lingering spirits onto the next world is a duty that requires empathy, diplomacy and understanding of human nature - for the clues often lie with the living left behind. And it is not always by fighting that the spirit is sent on, either.

Now that Geralt knew what had occurred in the Fyke Isle tower, he thought that lifting the curse of the Pesta would involve her beloved somehow - the fisherman from a nearby village. He could ask around and find him, certainly, but that might be too blunt an approach - Geralt had to know the man's side of the story first. With the Pesta controlling the tower, he could not go back there to look for any letters or notes either, now that she was angry with him, she would not allow it. So Geralt decided to return to Keira for advice - she had been living in Velen long enough to have noticed what was going on.

...

"Geralt!" - Keira met him with an impatient welcome. "How... oh. Follow me!" And without allowing him to reply, she stormed into the back room of her cottage and... vanished.

"Typical" - smirked Geralt. "Now where is she gone to? Follow me, indeed!" But looking around, he noticed a strange glowing object on the dressing table - a portal. He touched it and felt a teleport tear at him. "I hate portals!!!" - he had time to think before emerging in a rather idyllic spot, a garden with an elegant Elven ruin converted into a bath house. Keira was standing there, handing him a goblet of wine, and Lena came from behind the ruin.

"We need to give you a good going over first, by the looks of you" - said Keira cheerfully. "And have your... err... gear cleaned - what's left of it. Gods, Geralt, did you roll in the dung or something?!"

"Close" - he nodded, accepting the wine. "The tower was filled with rats..."

"Ugh!" - Keira reeled back as if he had brought some rats with him. "So that is... ugh!"

"That is mostly blood, Keira" - Lena joined in, unbuckling the many belts on Geralt's armour.

"Hey, I can take it off myself, thank you!" - he protested, without much conviction. "It'll need repairs, too."

It didn't take long before the three of them were sitting in the bath house, with Geralt dutifully washing himself in the pool. Lena was going to soak his clothes in the stream, but Keira stopped her. "We have a spell for that" - she said, winking. With a wave of her hand, she had the smell, the dirt and the blood stains vanish, most of it anyway.

"Hmm" - Lena examined the result. "I still think conventional laundry does a better job... but this is certainly more convenient" - she winked at Keira.

With the two healers attending to him, Geralt was sure to get a thorough check-up for any diseases he might have contracted from the Pesta or elsewhere, so when he was given an all-clear, he breathed with relief. There was still a not such a small matter of his festering wounds left though, and as the ladies went about attending to them, he had no choice but to submit.

"You don't want any additional scars for your collection, I don't think" - Keira was saying, rubbing a smelly ointment into his skin. "As attractive as they are to some women, I think you've got enough as it is."

"But each scar tells a story" - interjected Geralt. "This one here is from a striga, that one is from a cockatrice, and these... umm... I have no idea" - he laughed.


"And most would not have been there if they weren't left to fester without proper treatment" - Keira cut him off. "Turn over."

Geralt started muttering something about not normally having mother hens follow him around, but then gave up. Lavender oil in Keira's ointment was making him sleepy.

...

"That's just the point, isn't it - longevity" - Geralt woke up to Keira's words to Lena. "Regular folk just don't have it."

"Unless they are elves, of course" - Lena pointed out. "Or dwarves."

"Or halflings, and so on" - Keira nodded. "And it seems that where you are from, it is a lot less controversial, but here humans are the dominant race, they've been waging wars, both open and covert, against the other races, and it isn't pretty. Of course now King Radovid is waging a war against mages, and I am forced to hide in this swamp..." - Keira sighed. "Oh, I don't know... I just never met anyone who I would want to have around all the time, more than a friend or a... you know."

"And here I thought you loved me!" - Geralt raised his head in mock anger. "I fell for you, you know!"

"You fell on top of me - literally" - Keira laughed. "From a roof. That doesn't count."

"We need to talk about the tower" - he sat up, stretching. "The baron's daughter turned into a Pesta."

"So the peasants were right - she is spreading the plague over the land" - Keira nodded. "And it explains the condition you were in. But what now? I can't examine the tower with her around!" Keira's disappointment seemed disproportional somehow. Why was that tower so important? The mage who lived in it, had studied the plague, and obviously Keira was hoping to find something useful among his notes... Useful for what? Geralt wondered.

"You have a plan for the mage's notes" - he said, looking at her shrewdly. "Let's hear it."

"I... well... it rather depends on what I can find!" - Keira started defiantly. "But assuming he had discovered something useful... I was going to take that to Radovid and become his adviser."

"Keira! You want to weaponise the plague?" - Geralt exclaimed, this wasn't what he expected. "Are you out of your mind? And go to Radovid? To get burned at the stake?!"

"I intend not to get burned, I assure you!" - she exclaimed hotly. "And weaponise the plague - yes, what's the difference, it's already spreading on its own! Radovid would have to accept me if I were to present him with such a weapon."

"He would have to do no such thing" - Geralt shook his head. "Keira - why?"

"Bed bugs!!" - Keira shivered all over. "I cannot stand the filth! I've got to get out of Velen!!"

"All right, all right" - Geralt was saying soothingly, moving to sit next to Keira and putting an arm around her shoulders. "I can see it really gets to you. But have you considered Kaer Morhen? It's not what you call luxury, but we do have clean sheets."

No, Keira had not considered Kaer Morhen. How could she? No one could even find the place unless they had a charm with them - the entrance to the mountain pass leading to the witcher fortress carried a concealment enchantment. Not that it stopped those assassins recently... or the mob a few years before... perhaps it was wearing off, Geralt mused to himself, watching Keira's face transforming from desperate anger into hope.

"Well, if I travelled through the mountains, I could avoid the war zones" - she was already planning her trip. "And whatever the state of the fortress, it will be better than Velen. And may be even could be improved..." She got up and started pacing the garden, talking to herself at times, having completely forgotten about Geralt and Lena still sitting by the pool. After a while she caught herself. "Yes, thank you, Geralt, this is exactly what I shall do. So, if there's nothing else..."

"Wait - wait!" - Geralt grabbed her arm. "Sit down. I still have to lift the curse of the Pesta, and I need your help" - he reminded her. "She's the baron's daughter, and she had an affair with a local fisherman - do you know who he is?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard of that!" - Keira sat down, now quite calm. "He lives in Oreton. Don't know the exact details, but everyone was talking about the two of them - a baron's daughter and a fisherman! But I don't know if he really loved her or not, if that's what you're asking."

"What are you going to do?" - asked Lena, wondering where this was leading. "Assuming he did love her, that is."

"Yes, we have to assume that, otherwise the curse could not be lifted" - agreed Geralt. "Because then the wraith's anger would be justified, you see... there would be no way to appease her spirit. But if he did love her and wanted to save her but was prevented through some misunderstanding or some other misfortune... well... there could be a way." He looked at Lena and she knew it didn't bode well for the fisherman.

"You have to sacrifice him to stop the plague and save everyone else around here" - she answered his unasked question. "If there is a way, you have to do it."

"What are you two talking about?" - Keira looked at each of them in turn, watching the unspoken part of their conversation.

"Sometimes longevity is of no importance" - Lena turned to Keira. "If he chooses to join her in death, they would be together in whatever world comes next."

"If any" - nodded Keira. "Beyond the Fade... no one knows what happens there. Which is why I prefer to linger here for a bit longer. Perhaps I'll still meet someone who could be more than a friend..." She looked at Geralt with a longing. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh no, I didn't mean you" - she smiled. "I thought of Yennefer. Of what the two of you share."

"Twenty years of quarrels, you mean?" - Geralt smirked.

"She's taking her time, that's all" - Keira shrugged it off. "Neither of you are exactly house trained, moving around all the time as you do... But one day..."

"One day what?" - Geralt looked at her with interest, but she didn't continue.

...

The fisherman claimed to have loved the baron's daughter. He did try to save her but found her dead - or so he thought. When Geralt told him that she wasn't dead at that point but had taken a potion, the fisherman got distraught, lost even. He followed Geralt to the tower, happy to be reunited with his beloved. Geralt knew that the fisherman hadn't realised what it meant to be reunited with someone who'd died. But Geralt had a job to do, and this was the only way to do it.

The plague was lifted from the surrounding lands, and one more corpse added to the tower.

...

Keira left Velen within the next few days, staying only as long as was necessary to prepare for her long trip to Kaer Morhen.

"You can have my cottage, if you can stand the filth" - she told Lena. "It's probably better than the inn, unless you are looking for company" - she winked. "I leave the portal to the bath house here too - I've got others."

"Thanks, Keira, I'll see what I can do about the bed bugs, in case you need to return" - Lena smiled at her.

"I won't return! I'm going North!" - Keira exclaimed. "Well, East at first, crossing the whole of war-torn Temeria... then North, crossing equally war-torn Kaedwen... yeah... we'll see how that goes."

She smiled and mounted her horse, considerably less sure of herself, now that she took a bird's eye view of the road before her.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Oct 26 2021, 03:49 PM

Post 54--the part where it says "Are those Ayleid stones I see in the distance?" ... that is very VERY true in TES4: Oblivion. A lot of times those ruins can be hard to spot, especially with all the vegetation in this game. So many times we've thought we've discovered a new place, only to find the white stones we're seeing are merely an Ayelid Well, or a Nine Shrine!

Yep, good job Lena. Sometimes it's better if we explore on our own for awhile.

I love those gigantic mechanical traps. Even more, I love luring mindless undead and somewhat clueless necromancers straight into them.

"His ribs were crushed..." again, I notice you include the medical aspect within your gaming. I know another gamer (who's also a doctor) who does this.

Oh wow, she can summon daedroth. Were you gaming on console during this portion of the story? Or PC? If it's console, it sure sounds like those higher levels of the game are challenging.

Blacch.... you described the disgusting necromancer practices well. I need a drink.

Until next time...

This is still Xbox360. We were level 25 or so. Yeah, the enemies get interesting abilities on higher levels...

Rising floor traps are good for the necromancers but not so much for the undead. You cannot squash a wraith!

3 Hearthfire, 4E202 - The Jeralls West of Bruma

"Which way do you want to take - through Southern Skyrim or Northern Cyrodiil? Neither will be straightforward" - Lena looked at Geralt over breakfast at the Pale Pass Inn.

"Do you want me to guess? I don't know what to expect along either route" - Geralt didn't like unreasonable requests.

"Well... perhaps I was being a little unfair" - Lena conceded. "I can tell you what to expect in Cyrodiil, but in Skyrim we'd have to try and find a way through the mountains, and I don't even know if there is a pass we could use."

"But if we went through Cyrodiil, are you sure there is a crossing into Skyrim near Falkreath?"

"No."

"So, we do have to guess then" - Geralt concluded, studying the map. "What are all these places in Cyrodiil? There seems to be a road connecting them."

"Most of them, yes" - Lena poured over the map.


"We are here" - she pointed out the Pale Pass Inn. "The road to the Northern Inn is the Old Pale Pass, Riverwood is North from there. The other road is the official New Pale Pass Crossing, but it's only good for people on foot - you can't take a horse through there without breaking its legs several times" - she grimaced at the memory of taking Roach along once and having to return soon afterwards as Roach could not scale the narrow stairs, not to mention go through low doors and cramped passages. "This is Bruma of course, and from here there's a road going along the Southern side of the Jeralls almost all the way to the Hammerfell border here" - she pointed at the left most corner of the map.

"There are a few settlements seemingly in the middle of nowhere in the mountains" - Geralt pointed at the isolated villages and inns along the Jeralls. "What's all that about? How do you even get there?"

"Well, this one is Pinevale" - Lena pointed at the village in the mountains West of Bruma. "There's a mountain pass from below. It's a pretty setting, up there, with great views. Not much going on though, and completely cut off from everything else, unless you like tumbling down the mountain." They both shook their heads. "Then this here" - she pointed at a marker of an isolated inn further West. "It's supposed to be a mead hall right in the mountains, virtually impossible to get to, unless you are already properly drunk... It is said they wanted to get away from all those sensible people who interfered with their drinking" - she smirked. "What I want to know is how they get the mead in."

"All right, and this then?" - Geralt pointed at a Daedric Shrine symbol. "Right next to a village?"

"The shrine to Hermaeus Mora. That's right along the road. I've been there but don't remember a village - perhaps that's lower in the mountains, don't know. But from the shrine the view is fabulous and the descent into Skyrim appears to be acceptable. We could try that way."

Geralt nodded. "But let's leave the horses here. With all the mountain passes and whatnot, we'll only get complaints."

"There's supposed to be a pass into Helgen here somewhere too - between Falkreath and Riverwood. But Helgen isn't even on this map" - Lena grimaced. "It's a border watch post, you see, with a bit of a town grown around it to serve the Legion. All burned down to the ground now by the dragon, of course - yes, I've been there, but don't ask me how - I got intercepted trying to cross the mountains... Was I trying to slide down from Pinevale? Could have been."


"Just how much mead did you drink that you can't even remember?" - Geralt grinned.

"Well, there was nothing else to do in Pinevale, I told you - it's in the middle of nowhere!" - Lena exclaimed defiantly. "We'll just have to go there and you'll see for yourself."

Geralt shook his head muttering something along the lines of "as if I haven't seen enough boring villages in my life already".

"Why is the Southern Mine marked on your map?" - Geralt continued his study. "Have you been there? It seems close to that turn of the New Pale Pass."

"The one where we got ambushed by werewolves?" - Lena shuddered.


"That isn't very descriptive - where did we not get ambushed by werewolves?" - Geralt laughed. "But yes, I mean this turn here" - he pointed at the turn just South East of the Southern Mine.

"We could try and see if the slope is not too steep - the werewolves certainly didn't think so."

"Perhaps if we'll find Helgen around there somewhere - wasn't there a mine nearby?"

"Yes" - Lena nodded. "After the dragon attack, Hadvar led me through a passage that could have been an old mine. Perhaps even this mine..." Lena was lost in thought.

"And then - from Helgen to Falkreath, is that straightforward?"

"Of course not!" - Lena laughed. "Travel is never straightforward in Skyrim! They've got a lot of bears around there too."

"Yes, as well as amateur assassins, novice necromancers and walking skeletons" - Geralt grinned. "Like those by Lake View. Where is Lake View, by the way? It's not on your map."

"Why would I be marking something if I already know where it was?" - Lena raised her eyes at Geralt, innocence itself.

"I would submit a complaint to the cartographer if I were you" - Geralt smirked. "You don't even have the lake that the house is looking out onto."

"Lake Iliata, yes" - Lena nodded. "But at least this map has roads marked on it, not like these modern terrain maps that you buy in Skyrim."

"All right, roll it up and let's go" - Geralt finished his breakfast. "I'll take these flags for sticking into the ground to mark where we've been. Snow bears don't make for very reliable markers."


They packed some extra provisions and set out West from the Pale Pass Inn.

4 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Pinevale - The Red Hall

It was a misty and chilly morning when Lena and Geralt set off from the Pale Pass Inn going West. They passed a hunter headed into the wooded hills ("The deer won't see me in the mist") and circled around Bruma on its Northern side. There the road had several branches, and they met a confused Imperial Forrester not sure which branch to take ("Which way is Bruma?" - "It's that mountain over there - it just looks like a mountain in the fog, but it is actually a city wall"). Continuing on and getting equally confused themselves, they eventually stumbled upon Applewatch ("Did you say you knew this area?") where they ran into several fog-brained bandits, with predictable outcomes. A Legionnaire was pacing in circles a little further up ("We have received reports of bandit activity around here, but I don't seem to... oh, killed them already, did you?"), and seeing how it was well past lunchtime, Lena suggested going to Pinevale for a meal ("They do have an inn, you know"). An hour later they even found the entrance to the mountain pass.

"It's really quick, I wonder how they've done it" - Lena was saying to Geralt with her hand on the door handle. "You blink - and you stand in Pinevale."

"Oh no, it's a..." - Geralt started saying when Lena blinked. She stood by the pass door in Pinevale but Geralt wasn't with her.

She looked around. Everything was as she expected it to be, so whatever could have happened to Geralt? She walked around the village, perplexed. Then took the passage back - Geralt wasn't there either. Ok, back to Pinevale - if you get separated, it's always best to wait where you were supposed to go. After an hour or so she heard hoofs and heavy breathing of a horse climbing a mountain - with Geralt on its back.

"That bloody pass is a portal!" - Geralt swore and Roach's ears curled up. "I hate portals!!" Roach grunted. "I had to call Roach and make her climb the mountain to get here over land. It is possible, but rather hard." Roach noticed stables with hay and took off. "Where is that inn? They better had mead! Or brandy!"

"This way" - Lena took Geralt's arm thinking to herself that those cat eyes of his seemed to be glowing. And may be they were. Now, where did she see a glow like that fairly recently? Oh... Alduin, in Helgen, just before he... Oh. She hoped the inn had brandy.

...

After a few drinks at the inn and some walking around the village, they decided to continue on, even though it was almost dusk already. They went down the mountain the conventional way avoiding the portal, then coming out near Applewatch, they took the road along the Jeralls towards the shrine of Hermaeus Mora. The mist was growing steadily thicker and thicker, so when they almost bumped into some Dwemer ruins along the way, Lena looked up in surprise.


"I don't remember seeing those before!" - she exclaimed, watching the mist momentarily lift. Was that just in her head? "Wow, look at those towers and domes!"

"We are not going in just now" - Geralt took her hand. "Exploration of Dwemer ruins is a serious business, and we are leaving it for another day!"

The mist descended again as he was leading her away from the ruin.

...

They reached the shrine of Hermaeus Mora when the mist turned black, or may be the night turned misty, it was hard to tell, they could barely see where they were going. Lena told Geralt to look out for a sculpture with tentacles on the right side of the road, and eventually he spotted it. Damn, that witcher vision was working even in the mist.

"Are they having a celebration?" - he asked in surprise.

"I am not sure" - Lena too could now hear faint sounds of bells in the wind. "Let's go ask."

They climbed the stairs to the shrine podium, but all was quiet there, although the faint sound of bells was still present.

"Oh, it's the mead hall just down the road" - one of the worshippers told Lena. "They put on the bells from time to time."

"Mead hall? What mead hall?" - Lena looked at the worshipper, round-eyed. "I've been here before - I don't remember any mead hall!"

"Well, perhaps you haven't walked the path of Hermaeus Mora yet" - the worshipper shrugged her shoulders. "Or may be you've walked a little further by now so that you can at least see the mead hall" - she added, turning away, bored.

"A mead hall is just what we need right now" - Geralt said in Lena's ear. "It's close to midnight and we need a place to spend the night."

"That must be that 'village' on the map" - Lena said as they approached the mead hall, indeed just down the road. "How could I have possibly missed it?" - she wondered and pushed the door of the Red Hall.

...

"What? Geralt, is that you? Who's this?" - Lena felt someone's hands touching her in places where only very few people could touch her and still keep their hands.


"Oh don't mind me - have a drink!"

Was that an Orc? No, two Orcs. Three Orcs?

Lena's vision was undulating from blurry to tripled to fogged to normal, in no particular order. A strange rhythmic noise filled her ears. The hall was lit with red light - in places, as everything else here, it seemed. A Nordic fire pit gave off enormous heat, undoubtedly required to keep the dancers warm... but no one seemed to mind, except may be those dead people piled up in the corner... Were they truly dead or just passed out? Who could tell. Lena wasn't sure there was a difference here.

She went to say hello to the man on a throne - he must be the host. He said something odd, then yawned and turned away. She was welcome to stay, it seemed, no one minded. The revellers along the back wall were particularly enthusiastic, perhaps she should say hello to them.


They were... a bit odd... and not very talkative... "What is this place?" - wondered Lena, catching those brief moments of clear vision to look around. A mead hall. It was definitely a mead hall. With mead. And wine. And whatnot. Beds, too.

"Come, let's get you to bed" - she heard a clear voice in her ear. "Walk this way."

Geralt. Whatever was in the air, didn't seem to affect him very much. He held her arm firmly and directed her up the stairs. On the first floor they found a room with beds and bedrolls where some of the dancers were still sleeping, and Geralt pointed Lena at a free spot on the bed. "Use it." She did.


"My cousin has the best ass of them all" - she heard a voice behind her, with Geralt replying something that made the voice gasp, then footsteps hurried away. Lena fell asleep.

...

When she woke up, the scene didn't change much, except that the dancers were now awake and dancing around her. No one paid much attention to her presence, and she figured that all in all, it was a very good thing. She went downstairs to look for Geralt, found him right by the giant fire pit, grabbed his arm and dragged him out.

"Did you even go to sleep at all?" - she looked at him with suspicion when they were standing outside in crisp cold air.

"Why?" - he grinned. "The dancing continued all night. Drinking too."

Lena shook her head in disbelief.


"Come on - let's try to find Falkreath. It must be somewhere that way" - she pointed North. A road was branching off just there, and they took it.

57: Yikes. She's tempted to feed on a dead necroguy. The part when she wakes up in some room full of skeletons and such is so true. A lot of our characters wind up crashing in places which are full of the deceased they just killed. Hey! At least they know it is safer. Nobody's gonna suddenly get up and attack.

This is really creepy (compliment) Lena. Well-written and believable.



I like how you include weather. I do this too in stories and imagination. I imagine there are seasons. Which might not be true at all, because maybe Nirn rotates completely flat, without any sort of angle like Earth does. But I still like to imagine there have to be some changes. Plus, in Arena and Daggerfall there are holidays, which include little messages here and there that sometimes imply if the time of year is cold or not.



Ha I do this too! I either use the Wait button (if my character stays in the shop while stuff is repaired) or I imagine they have to drop their things off. That assumes the adventurer I'm with does not repair his/her own stuff. Sorry for going off-topic again but in Arena and I think Daggerfall, we actually do have to drop our stuff off. Repairs don't happen sometimes for days.

She's having a tough time in FG, despite being a member there. What a bunch of layabouts.


61: Azura shrine-goers are abrasive. Yeah, good idea to get away from them. At least they didn't attack.

These guys Hauk and Jowan are getting their butts kicked this time. Wait WHAT??? Hauk is deceased??? What happens next?

62: So Jowan can send her into afterlife? Did I get that right? Is this something he can do in Dragon Age (or whatever gameworld he comes from.... my memory's not always so good).

Whoa thjs is deep. This. Can't even spell. Uh oh, a fake Lucien. I don't think she's gonna find Hauk. Uh oh.

Now she's relaxing. Maybe she should let him go but I have a feeling she'll find him. Just because she's so persistent.

Have you done Namira's quest in Skyrim? It's a reference to that, but I am not saying any more in case you haven't done it.


Thank you!


The Fade is a realm of spirits, a place between Mundus and afterlife, and for Hauk afterlife is Sovngarde. He has to cross the Fade to get to Sovngarde. Think of it this way: when you play the main quest in Skyrim and capture that dragon in Dragonsreach, he takes you to near the gates of Sovngarde, to some sort of a "lobby" area, and you have to cross it to get to Sovngarde proper. This is the Fade. Obviously, it is different for everyone.

In Dragon Age (where Jowan is from, indeed) the Fade features quite prominently. Mages are drawn to the Fade and can enter it, sometimes of their own will, sometimes because they are being drawn in. Finding your way out is a major problem though, and of course there are demons there waiting to trick you, like the ones that Lena came across. In Jowan's world when mages graduate from their Arcane Academy, the final exam is to survive the Fade - literally. The student is sent into the Fade and must find a way out and not succumb to demons. Not everyone manages that. Some never find a way out and remain in the Fade forever - not dead and not alive. Others succumb to the demons - allow a demon possess them in exchange for something they want. When such a possessed student comes out of the Fade again, he or she is immediately struck down by a templar who is standing guard there exactly for that purpose. So the graduation then means death. But those students who survive the Fade and come out not possessed by a demon, they are declared fully graduated Mages rather than just apprentices. At that point they are allowed to leave the tower where they were kept prisoners their entire lives up until then...

If you play Dragon Age Origins as a mage, your prologue is such an exam, and trust me - it isn't easy. There is more needed to survive the Fade than just fighting skills, which at level 1 you don't have much of. No, you need to keep a clear head... Something that Lena is having trouble with.


Relaxing is good, right? Right?! Never trust anything in the Fade...

I think you would enjoy playing Dragon Age Origins if you like this stuff.

Oh My, a mead hall! I can hear the music now.

Incense and peppermints, meaningless nouns
Turn on, tune in, turn your eyes around

and Dwemer Ruins, wow.

I should give them a try an see how they look. They certainly would fit the story.

That mead hall was something else... exactly the kind of wisdom you would expect from Hermaeus Mora. Just like in that book - "Wabbajack".

As for Dwemer ruins, I found three mods that add them, but I haven't explored them yet. The two in Cyrodiil I've already checked from the outside, they look awesome (this is one of them). The third mod adds 8 ruins just over the border in Morrowind. Here are the mods:

- West of Bruma
- West of the Temple of Ancestor Moths
- Eight ruins in Morrowind

5-6 Hearthfire, 4E202 - The view of Falkreath - Elinhir

Going North from the shrine of Hermaeus Mora, Lena and Geralt could see the Chapel of Arkay in Falkreath quite a distance away. They couldn't see any other buildings, and figured the town would be on the other side of the hill. The road turned West however, and Geralt pointed out that they should just make for the chapel cross-country.

"But here is a road" - Lena put on her stubborn face. "It goes somewhere. Falkreath is the nearest settlement here, so it must go to Falkreath."

"But it goes in the wrong direction!" - Geralt protested. "Falkreath is back there!"

"Well, may be it just circles around a big rock or something!" - she continued marching.

"I think you shouldn't go to the Red Hall again" - Geralt shook his head. "It makes you more stubborn than usual."

The road stretched West, and didn't circle back. After about an hour walking, the landscape started changing, it got warmer, the snow receded and greenery took its place. A woman in her underwear stood along the road, looking bored.


"Hello and welcome to Hammerfell" - she smiled when Lena greeted her. "Coming from Cyrodiil and going to Skyrim, were you?" - the woman noticed a confused look on Lena's face. "You crossed the border back there at the Threesome Junction."

"The... what?"

"The point where three countries meet: Cyrodiil, Hammerfell and Skyrim. That road goes right trough it. You continued West into Hammerfell" - the woman explained. It seemed she was quite used to it.

"And you are..?"

"A guard" - the woman smiled again. "This is armour, not underwear. Hammerfell is not Skyrim - we do not require all that excessive clothing!" - she looked Lena over, shaking her head.

"Oh" - Lena returned the guard's stare. "I see. Good day to you." She turned and marched off West.

...

"That guard was certainly arresting" - Geralt quipped as they were walking through the wilderness. "Oh come on - fashions vary from country to country!"

"But she was half naked!"

"She had a hood on!"

"We are not in Blackwood! It isn't that warm!"

"You just want such armour for yourself" - Geralt winked. "It is probably enchanted against cold, as well as against damage, because it didn't look very protective in itself."

Lena glared at him, but Geralt only smirked.

"Oh look - what's this?"

They almost walked into a wall. It was made of whole tree trunks and was completely blending into the surrounding forest. They followed it.


...

"Perfectly straight - and with a right corner" - Lena commented as the wall suddenly turned left. "And I can see lights through the gap - it's a settlement. Which means that there must be a gate for entering it. But we've been here already, and didn't find it."

They stood by a road sign that seemed to imply this was where you would enter Elinhir, except that there didn't seem to be any gates or doors for doing so.

"Turn around" - Geralt called from a short distance away. "Come stand here and turn around."

There was no door but there was an opening in the wall, perfectly visible from where Geralt was standing, and completely concealed if you looked at it from any other angle.


"A trick of light" - Lena was amazed. "Basically, you only find it if you know where to look."

"Where to look from" - Geralt corrected her. "Clever."

Elinhir was a small settlement spread out on a largely empty patch of land within the walls. Cows, chickens and horses walked freely between the houses, and Lena commented that in a town like this, it wasn't necessary to leave your horse outside - there was plenty of room within the walls. Walking around and marvelling at everything they saw, they didn't notice how tired they were and how late it was, until eventually their stomachs' grumbles could not be ignored any longer.


"There must be an inn here" - Lena turned to Geralt. "Let's try a few doors."

The Mammoth Tail Inn was deserted.

"Just how late is it?" - Lena wondered, finding people sleeping in their beds and not selling them any food or drink. Judging by the stars, it was well past midnight.

"If it's an inn, they have a remarkable lack of sleeping accommodations" - Geralt noted, finding the two beds occupied. "We'll have to camp in the dining room."

They spread their bedrolls and fell asleep, exhausted.



"Oh don't mind me" - someone tripped over Lena's head. "Here, have a sweetroll."

In the morning the inn was still devoid of customers, but at least the staff were serving breakfast, and Geralt was already hard at work sampling local selection of pastries.

"Do you get a lot of visitors here?" - Lena asked the innkeeper, looking around.

"Some of the locals come for breakfast or dinner from time to time" - the innkeeper looked around the empty room. "But as Elinhir only has five houses, that's not very often" - she smiled. "But we are the last settlement in Hammerfell, so anyone travelling to Skyrim or Cyrodiil has to stop here for the night - Falkreath is a day's journey away."

"Stop for the night... but you have no beds to offer" - Geralt looked up.

"Well, you managed, didn't you" - the innkeep winked. "Most people just pitch a camp outside or come with their own caravan. We couldn't rent out rooms even if we wanted to."

It seemed not just clothes varied from country to country.

...

The way to Falkreath was uneventful. Once they passed the Threesome Junction - quite obvious, now that they knew what to look for - the landscape changed to snow again and Skyrim welcomed them with its crisp cold air.

"It's good to be back home again" - Lena turned to Geralt. "Hammerfell was... different."

"Home? Skyrim could be home for me, certainly, but isn't it rather Cyrodiil for you?" - Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, the Niben Valley" - Lena sighed wistfully. "But Skyrim comes close too."

They walked in silence for some time, then the Chapel of Arkay in Falkreath became visible on top of a hill. But first, a chasm lay before them, filled with unusual crystal formations.


"How... How is this possible?" - Lena was looking at the crystals in disbelief. "These are not of this realm..."

"Oh, I've seen them around" - Geralt wasn't surprised. "Perhaps you need to spend more time in Skyrim" - he smiled.

However, it was getting late and they decided to direct their efforts towards finding an inn - the chasm could wait until tomorrow.

7 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Falkreath

"Well, that's more like it" - Lena caught herself thinking as she woke up to the smell of fresh coffee at the Falkreath inn. Geralt was already up, and after breakfast they set off in search of any records of the Second Imperial Legion from about two hundred years ago. They started at the chapel.

"Oh, I'm not that old!" - the healer laughed. "The Legion has not been stationed here in a very long time. But yes, I've heard stories of past wars - and massacres - and yes, there should be some archives around here somewhere... Sorry, I am not being very helpful" - she looked apologetic. "Speak to Runil - the Priest of Arkay - he might know more. He's usually at the inn..."

Runil was indeed at the inn, snoozing by the fire.

"What can an old elf do for you?" - he lifted his eyes to Lena when she gently touched his arm. "Oh... I think I know" - he added, looking at Lena and Geralt in turn. "Asgarsens, both of you?"

Runil was an old Altmer, which meant that not only was he alive two hundred years ago, but he was middle-aged already then, and assuming he lived in Falkreath, he should have known their father. He must have done, for he saw the family resemblance in their faces.

"We are looking for any information about our father, yes" - Lena smiled with relief. "Wolf Asgarsen, Commander of the Second Imperial Legion. We came here hoping to find some Legion Archives and may be records of our father's death... Although that is a slim hope."

"Yes, there are records here - in the Barracks cellar" - Runil nodded. "I can take you there, if you wish. But you won't find your father's death certificate there. You do know who your mother was? What she was?" Lena nodded. "Of course you do..." - Runil continued, looking over her attire. "Followed in her footsteps, I see." There was no judgement in his words. "Well, after her death, your father quit the Legion. At least officially - like the Dark Brotherhood, you can never quit the Legion fully. I do not know if he joined the Brotherhood proper..." - he paused as Lena shook her head. "Ah, I thought so. But he became an assassin, an Agent - it's not a rank, it's a title. It's all very hush-hush, so you won't find any records of him from that point on. Not in any Imperial Legion archives, that is."

"But..." - Lena's eyes burned with a thousand questions, but Geralt stopped her.

"It's nearly lunchtime, and before you subject this mer to your interrogation, we should at least order some food and drink." Runil's face cleared, and Geralt knew his words hit the spot.

...

They spent most of the afternoon in conversation with Runil who seemed quite glad to have fresh audience for his tales of the past - tales that no one wanted to hear any longer, as no one knew any of the people in them. But Runil wasn't just telling tales, he wanted to hear tales too - of the Pale Pass Fortress, the desk filled with papers, the secret safe in the bedroom and of course the two wraiths that Geralt finally put to rest.

"'Wolf spawn' they called you?" - he smirked at that. "That'll be Haldor the Bear - the bigger one of the two. But I suppose they looked different as wraiths."

"One was fighting like a bear, yes" - Geralt nodded. "Who was the other one?"

"Rolf the Monk" - Runil's eye twinkled. "Always hiding in the kitchen by the mead kegs. I am glad they are truly gone now, although I doubt Arkay would accept their souls, not after all this time..."

"So, there are no records of our father after he left the post of Commander" - Lena brought the conversation back. "But I think you know a thing or two, records or no records" - she smiled at Runil. "Would you tell us, please?"

"Well..." - Runil was sitting back in his chair, smiling into his wine. "Since you ask so nicely..." He took another sip. "Two things you need to ask yourselves: Why is there a crystal formation just outside Falkreath that belongs in the Shivering Isles' Greymarch? And why are both of you susceptible to transformations?" He looked at them shrewdly, gauging whether they understood the questions. The first one was straightforward, but the second one...

"Transformations?" - Lena looked up. "How do you mean?"

"Your vampirism - of course you got infected by accident, like everyone else, but why did you get infected so easily? Why did the cure not go far enough? Why do you still transform?"

"Oh! I see..." - Lena looked at Geralt. "Wolfsbane in that potion you gave me... It worked."

"I know. I have the same problem."

"But you are not a vampire!"

"No" - Runil touched Lena's arm. "Not a vampire. But have you noticed the colour of his eyes? His night vision? His sense of smell? Witcher senses, of course, brought about by the Trial of Grasses. Very few survive that trial, which is a transformation, but survive it he did, coming out stronger than most. That surge of adrenaline... very few witchers get it quite as high. Why is that? It's like he transforms..." Runil was looking at Lena, smiling. Lena was looking at Geralt, seeing him in an entirely new light. Yes, she had seen him transform. He didn't change shape - he was still a man - but his whole being seemed to change: he moved faster and smoother, he jumped higher, he twirled his sword faster, and his lunges and thrusts were far more powerful... and his voice... But surely, those were just the wolves. "They call him the White Wolf" - Runil continued. "Do you think it's just because the wolf was his school's symbol?"

"It was our father's name" - Lena looked at Runil, uncertain. "That must be why they chose the School of the Wolf for Geralt."

"Is that all?"

Was Lena trying not to see the obvious? She seemed to have been pushing it away from her, but it didn't make it disappear.

"Lycanthropy can by cured" - she looked at Geralt. "And besides, you don't have it. I am confused now."

"I am not a werewolf, no" - Geralt shook his head, smiling. "And yet wolfsbane was the first herb I had to find in Skyrim. Runil, how did you know?" - he looked at the elf with a question.

"I've lived a long time" - he smiled. "I've known a lot of men from their first day to their last - human life is so short compared to that of an Altmer. I've watched generations pass before my eyes. I know the signs. Not a werewolf, not a plain one, anyway. He doesn't have lycanthropy" - he added, turning to Lena. "The same as you are not a dragon, even though you are Dragonborn."

"So our father..?" - Lena didn't know what to think.

"He was Dragonborn, he was... not quite a werewolf... and yes, he might still live" - Runil refilled his glass. "Follow the trail and see where it leads you. Don't forget those crystals in the chasm here either. I have given you clues - it is up to you to discover the rest."

Their father, an agent? Could he be The Agent. Yes, I think so. Wow, this is really good.
Umm, how old is Lena?

Yes, that... Complicated.

Lena was born in 3E417, Geralt was born in 3E413, their mother died in 3E421, and their father "quit" the Legion soon afterwards. So when certain events over the border took place in 3E427... Where was Agent Wolf Asgarsen then? The Imperial Archives have no records about that.

Then of course the Oblivion Crisis happened in 3E433, followed by the Greymarch in the Shivering Isles, all this taking several years. The Fourth Era commenced in 3E438.

How old is Lena then? It is now 4E202, so on the face of it she is 223 years old, but that's wrong. She was born 223 years ago, but time passes differently in other realms, such as Oblivion Deadlands and the Shivering Isles, not to mention the Northern Realms and the Great Ocean that one must cross to get there. In terms of life experience, Lena is about 50 years old. In contrast, Geralt is double her age even though he was born only 4 years before her.

Time is complicated.

Wait - it just dawned on me: The Agent was the hero of Daggerfall, not Morrowind! The events spawn the years 3E405 to 3E417... Wow. Wow!! Yes, look how that fits!!

When I bought Oblivion from GOG, I got Daggerfall and Arena for free. Never downloaded either game though. But now I also found this: Daggerfall Unity - remade for modern computers. Just skimmed through an outline of the main events. I see it coming.

Of course Runil told them that Wolf Asgarsen only became an Agent after their mother's death, that's in 3E421, but who is to say that he wasn't an "unofficial" Agent before that. Hmmm. Some things we shall never know.

...hours later...

Gosh, Macole - you spun me off into an entirely new direction. Daggerfall has been remastered! Daggerfall Unity mentioned above, plus DREAM - and you have an entirely new game. Daggerfall 2020. Wow. I think once Lena gives birth, she'll be stuck at home for a while anyway, so that will be the time to let another character take the lead. Agent Wolf Asgarsen? Why not.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Nov 9 2021, 12:41 PM

The Agent in Daggerfall is was I’m talking about.

As it’s been mentioned the Jandaga lived through the Daggerfall affair. With the Ladies giving him that cross-eyed stare, he was wondering how he was going to explain the two wild childs wandering around Tamriel some 200-years hence claiming to be his children. Then he remembered that the dragon break excuse. It makes everything possible.

Daggerfall Unity is an amazing project. I dreamed but never thought something like this would ever be accomplished. It plays so well. I’ve spent hours with no bugs or crashes.

Unity is good on its own but with 5 easy to install mods it is absolutely a D.R.E.A.M come true. I use 20 mods BTW.

One last thing, Daggerfall was where my idea for Kaleah’s story began.

Macole, I think there may have been more than one Agent in those times. There was a lot to do! 12 years is a long time. The Jandaga is an elf, while Wolf Asgarsen was definitely a Nord, so to reconcile this, they would both have to be snow elves or something... Not impossible in itself, but I think what rather happened, was that everything got mixed up during the Warp - people couldn't remember what happened anyway. There were many stories about The Agent - but note how no one knows what he looked like, what race he was or even whether it was a man or a woman! That's because there were several people working for the Emperor there, each bearing the title of The Agent. The Legion likes its plausible deniability - that's why they like Hauk so much, because of Iver, his twin brother. No one can ever be sure which one they saw at any given time, in particular from a distance wearing a helmet.

So the Jandaga can firmly tell his ladies that if he can't remember ever begetting two wild kids with a Breton assassin, that's because it didn't happen. It was another Agent altogether.

8 Hearthfire, 4E202 - Crystal Chasm

"So, what about these crystal formations?" - Lena put her hand on one protruding from a chasm just South of Falkreath. "They belong in the Shivering Isles' Greymarch - they are Jyggalag's, symbols of order or some such. They are not supposed to appear in Mundus, or to have any other meaning. I don't get it." She looked at Geralt with a question.

"I don't have an answer to that" - shrugged Geralt. "But I have seen them elsewhere in Skyrim. They are just as strange as these Oblivion gates - why have they not stopped appearing in spite of the Oblivion Crisis being over and done with? Perhaps this is connected."

"There must be a conduit that allows it" - mused Lena. "I wonder if it is related to the dragons returning, too."

She was still standing by the crystal, holding her hand on it.

"Let's have a look at the cave that these crystals enclose" - she said matter-of-factly.

"Cave? What cave? I don't see any cave" - Geralt looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know there's a cave here?"

"I do not know" - said Lena slowly. "It's this way" - she pointed.

The cave was completely made up of crystal formations, floor, walls, ceiling - everything. It was like being inside one of them.

"You know those Obelisks in the Shivering Isles? They are always there, but normally they are inert, just sitting there like rocks. However, during Greymarch, they open up, there's energy streaming through them, and they spawn Knights of Order. I wonder if they are in fact not solid as they seem to be, but hollow, extending deep underground, so that all they do during Greymarch, is just lift up the lid..." She looked around. "I wonder if we are in one such Obelisk now."

"Or something similar" - Geralt nodded. "Can you feel the buzz?"

Yes, she could feel the buzz, she could hear the din too. And then she could see it - a Legion Commander standing before them. Their father, or his ghost.

"I see you finally found this memory capsule" - he said. "I am not actually here, it is a recorded memory, preserved by the crystal. There was a service I did for Jyggalag, and in return he granted me a way to speak to you, even from beyond my grave. My only regret is that I cannot see you."

"Must be a blood enchantment" - Geralt whispered in Lena's ear. "Activated by our presence."

"There are other capsules like this in Skyrim, each holding a different message. I could not be sure which one you would find... although I was pretty sure you'd start here, in Falkreath."

"Father, can you hear us?" - Lena got up and approached the apparition. It made a movement but did not reply.

"It is enchanted to sense our presence, no more" - said Geralt. "You cannot actually talk to him. Pity."

"That wouldn't be something that Jyggalag could ever accomplish" - Lena turned to him. "He is too orderly."

"It is now the year 427 of the Third Era, and the Empire is once again in turmoil" - the apparition resumed its message. "Since you are here, you must have spoken to Runil, and he would have told you that after your mother's death in the year 421 I quit the Legion and became an Agent - an Agent of the Blades. Of course I didn't actually quit the Legion, but all official records of my activity had seized. This was different from my previous work when I was still officially a Commander. The Warp in the West served to confuse all of those accounts anyway, but the Legion regretted not to have made me a detached Agent already then. There are more people like me, of course. As of now, I depart for Morrowind to assist with the crisis there. There is no way of telling what will occur, but the signs are not good. Daedric activity is suspected, but may be it is something entirely different. One thing is for certain: the Blood Moon is on the rise."

The apparition paused, as if waiting for a response.

"Blood Moon?" - Lena looked at Geralt who wasn't taking his eyes off it, listening intently.

"Hircine's Great Hunt" - he answered without turning. "Not the same as the Wild Hunt that I was chasing in the Northern Realms, oh, this one is entirely different. But it seems I have a Hunt to chase again."

"You? Why? Oh..." Geralt's eyes seemed to be more orange than usual.

"Yes, I have felt it for a while already. The Great Hunt of the Fourth Era is upon us, but father - he was drawn into the previous one."

"But you are not a werewolf!!" - Lena exclaimed with defiance. "And neither was father! I hope..."

"You don't need to be a werewolf to be drawn into it" - Geralt looked at her as the apparition seemed to be waiting for them to finish talking. "Hircine marks his chosen ones, and father as Dragonborn was of course of great interest. I wonder why you haven't been marked? You don't seem to feel it."

"No, I don't" - Lena shrugged. "But I have absorbed several dragon souls already, father never had - there were no dragons around then. I wonder if it shields me from Hircine."

"Perhaps" - agreed Geralt, turning back to the apparition. "Please, continue" - he said to it.

"This capsule can only hold a short message, and my time is almost up" - the apparition continued. "I left you some accounts of the past in the other capsules, if you are curious. I shall try to leave traces - scrolls or letters - here and there, but you understand I cannot do it openly, and I have no knowledge how long these messages will have to wait for you to find them - it could be centuries for all I know. I shall try to find a way. I love you, children. I hope your lives are less tumultuous than mine, although I fear it is an empty hope."

The apparition fizzled out and vanished, the buzz and the din stopped. The crystal cavern they were in, was perfectly still. Geralt took out the scroll with their father's letter that they found at the Pale Pass Fortress.

"This was written some years after this message, I think" - he reread it. "There's no date, but from the way he talks about you, you must be older than ten - your age at the time of the recording we've just heard. I think he wrote this when the Oblivion Crisis broke out and you went about closing those gates..." - he looked up at her. "Talking about a tumultuous life" - he smirked. "Besides, in the letter he says that he became an Assassin, but in the recording he only says he's an Agent, which is more general."

"So what - he returned to the Pale Pass Fortress years later to hide this scroll?" - Lena was unsure.

"Why not? He said he wanted to leave traces for us to find and use secure places to do it. He knew you'd trace him to the Pale Pass Fortress, so it was a perfect place to leave a breadcrumb" - Geralt smiled at her. "He must have fought those wraiths that we finally put to rest..."

"That you put to rest" - Lena sat down next to him, hugging him around the shoulders. "Master Witcher, do be careful with them werewolves. They can swarm on you" - she winked.

"Oh, I'm not leaving yet" - he put his arm around her. "Hircine's Great Hunt is still some time off, although the werewolves are already swarming in Skyrim. There have been no other signs so far. From what I understand, Hircine likes to prepare these things in advance..."

They sat in a crystal cavern holding each other close, having just seen for the first time an image of their father. A ghostly image, but an image nonetheless...