Trouble never comes alone Options

[jack cloudy]

Yes, so I just couldn't resist and had to get this off my chest. We'll see how long it lasts. Same deal as with redemption, I'll be using this post as a character list and the first part will be in the next one. For now the list is simple.

A question. Should I add a separate entry for Spar at the very bottom that is basically the extra-spoilers edition?

Spar: A female Imperial and the main character of this story. Is guided by 'Them'.
(Portrait)

Silent Fist: A Companion Spar hires to escort her into Bleak Falls Barrow. He doesn't speak, wear shirts or use weapons. Click here for portrait

Faendal: A wood elf who lives in a small village known as Riverwood. He works as a hunter and lumberjack.

Lucan Valerius: The shopkeeper of Riverwood.

Jarl Balgruuf: The Jarl of Whiterun, a city located in the center of Skyrim between the fronts of the Imperial and Stormcloak factions.

Hrongar: Jarl Balgruuf's brother. Looks like he walked off the set of a Conan-film.

Irileth: A Dunmer who serves as Jarl Balgruuf's bodyguard.

Proventus Avenicci: Jarl Balgruuf's steward.


Vilkas: One of the Companions, a mercenary group in Whiterun
Vignar Grey-Mane: Formerly of the Companions, now retired.

Ulfric Stormcloak: The rebel leader in Skyrim, once on of the Emperor's generals.

Arkarik: Someone Spar was supposed to meet in Cyrodiil.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Aug 1 2013, 06:34 PM

[jack cloudy]

The problem with choosing an action-scene for your opening is that it slows down afterwards. I think I should mention here that my original draft begun in Riverwood before Faendal takes the heroine up the mountain but I decided that was just too boring. Now for a few random things.

Faendal is indeed in a love makes blind mode. But then again, he doesn't exactly have much choice. Everyone else is either married, too young, a dog or Sven's mom. Riverwood doesn't carry many suitors for him.

The mood-change of the nameless protagonist may be more extreme than I had intended. I like to think it is also because she went up by a route she knew was safe (having come down the same way just moments ago). And speaking of which, what is everyone's opinion on my constant switching from past tense to present tense? I personally like it, but all my teachers would have a heart-attack for committing such a great sin.


The barrow I always run through from start to finish in one go. But that is because I'm playing a videogame and confident in the knowledge that as the hero, I can kill a few zombies. That, and no one likes backtracking. But in-character turning around was the only option here.

For Them, I do have a distinct idea for what or who Them is. But I'm not telling yet.

Oh, and we get her name in this update! Rejoice! Time for me to update the character glossary!

Also, expect one of my random rant on things at the end. But first (finally), the update!



Chapter 1.3
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I was kicked out.



I'd felt good when I walked across the bridge into town with Faendal in tow. Tired and cold, but good. That feeling had all but evaporated when I was set back on the road, alone, the following morning. I think they actually blamed me for having the monster roaming their hills. As if I was the reason Helgen was destroyed, and I was the reason it had now come to the Barrow overlooking their homes. Me! If I had the ability to summon things like that, I would have sent them south. There were a lot of people that needed to be eaten over there.


"Helgen, at Barrow." I'd said in the tavern that night. I tried a few more combinations with the words I knew, often including Helgen and flapping my arms for emphasis. Faendal wasn't any help at bringing the message. He was too busy displaying his feathers to his Camilla. Without the elf to give a comprehensible translation, it took me a few tries and it was oddly enough the town drunk who first got it. Maybe all the fuzziness from constant inebriation had made him more accustomed to making sense of things that didn't than everyone else.


Their response had been twofold. First everyone evacuated to the underground mine just south of town. The other had been to push me the other way and demand that I went to another place and get protection for them. Demanding! As if I owed them. How easy it would have been for me to never return and warn the tiny village of the threat. How easy it would have been for me to now ignore their claims of debt. But I didn't for one simple reason.


I had been planning to get out of Riverwood anyway.





For the past month I had been making preparations for crossing the border. We'd tried it before. Me, my brothers and sisters and the director. But men in blue ambushed and killed most of us. Then a legion detachment ambushed the ambush and we were all driven to Helgen. Helgen fell, and I managed to survive and get to riverwood. If any of my kin were still alive, they were scattered. I had to assume I was the last one left and I had to try again, but I couldn't do it alone and I couldn't afford to fail. So I'd been preparing, using up much of the time I had left to maximize my chances. I'd learned the language, though speaking it was still problematic at best and I lost track if people spoke too fast, or were drunk and so on. I'd made stock of local gear and equipment. What I needed now was useable knowledge on the passes to Cyrodiil, its dangers, its defences and how to get by them. Finally I would need help from trustworthy folk who didn't ask questions. All of those were in short supply in Riverwood.


The following morning I was alone in Riverwood. I thought it was odd how no one trusted me enough to hide with in a cave or to even do as much as give me a loaf of bread for on the road, yet still left me all alone with their homes. It made me angry. The least they could have done was make sure I wouldn't starve.


I eased up my frustrations by taking the things they'd refused to offer myself. Things they wouldn't miss, hopefully. In a few minutes I fashioned a sword at the smithy. Not a good one. Just a strip of iron, not even sharpened or tempered in any way, wrapped with leather at one end to form the hilt. After that I went to the store. The door was locked however and I had no picks, which was a slight setback. But only a slight one. I had helped the blacksmith to make and install the lock so I knew it was a good one. But the windows were only kept by an old latch that kept falling off out of misery. I went around the back, gave a good rap to the frame and shimmied through.

There were a few things in the town's store that were of interest to me. Riverwood was at its core a rest stop for travellers. To call it a town as everyone did, was a bit of an exaggeration. It held a tavern, the store and the smithy. In total, there were just over a slight dozen people. I'd seen houses that kept more. In any case, I took a few old spell tomes from where they'd collected dust for years. I couldn't read them but if I couldn't make it to Cyrodiil in time, having some means of obtaining magic would be good. I also hooked a pair of torches, a small axe and pickaxe and a bedroll to my backpack. I took an empty journal and some charcoal for notekeeping. A piece of flint for making fire and finally a map and a compass. I boiled some potatoes from the tavern and for a moment considered checking the private rooms for the good stuff. The serving woman had hands none of the other women had in Riverwood. They were a man's hands, with the calluses and scars of armour and battle. And her eyes were haunted like a rabbit in a snare. It was a combination that made me nervous. I decided to leave her things alone in case she might desire retribution for taking them. But I kept the potatoes and a flask of mead.


Now I was as prepared as I could be so I went back out the window and across the bridge out of town.

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The place they wanted me to go to was called Whiterun and according to the townsfolk it was the county's capital. I hadn't been given any good directions to it other than follow the road and river, but the map I now possessed put it at just four, maybe five hours north from Riverwood. It also seemed to be covered to the north by a mountain range which would funnel most travelers in southern Skyrim through it at some point. Which suited me well. It meant the city was a commerce hub and held everything I was looking for.


The path split just after the bridge north of town. The day before Faendal had taken me west up the mountain, but today I followed the other side that winded down alongside the river. The journey was uneventful apart from one tense encounter with a wolf. Wolves are clever and capable hunters, but this one was alone and not hungry enough to risk a human. We locked eyes for a moment and it bounced away. I went on my way and soon got my first glimpse of the city.


I was still a few hours from actually reaching it, but while descending from the mountainside I could make a first impression. The city was surrounded by farmland. Actual farms, not the little backyards everyone kept in their not-a-town Riverwood. It was also fortified by stone walls and towers, the signs of old civilized cities everywhere. But these walls were battered and the towers were crumbling. I didn't make out any big fires, but it was obvious Whiterun had seen a siege. Whether it was one or multiples I couldn't tell, but the repairs were made of wood, which suggested it hadn't been too long ago. I decided to take a break then and eat my potatoes while I observed. I looked for military movements, but didn't make out any. There were no troops gathering either within Whiterun or outside. Maybe to the north, but that would put them up with the mountain on their backs. Good for defensive desperation, but not for an attacking army with needs for open supply-lines.


The farmers were working their lands and the fields looked mostly undisturbed which convinced me that the siege had been a few months ago at the least, probably longer than that. I wrapped up the last potato and continued my journey, down and following the road north and west till I got to the main gate. There I found the gates to be closed, which told me that though there was no siege in progress, the city wasn't in full peace-time either. I gave the guards a letter written by Lucan Valerius, who owned the store in Riverwood.


"Oh. Yes. Brother, you should read this." One guard said to the other. They traded the letter among each other as I studied them. Chain, a yellow scarf and conical helmet. A simple sword at their side. They had no shield to match the one-handed sword, for that would get in the way of their duties in processing travellers like me. But their bare arms were scarred and I saw repaired links in their armour so they weren't mere decoration-troops either. Not like the ones the emperor employs, with their medals and gems and noble blood.
"Hmm, Irileth would use it to rail against the steward again. I have little wish to find her in a sour mood tonight." The other said and shook his head.
"Still, it is not for us to decide in matters like these. You'd best take her up to Dragonsreach, brother. Foreigner like this could get lost or stopped by Imperial rules if you'd not."
"Aye."


They gave me back the letter, then one led me through a smaller door made in the gates themselves and into Whiterun. Instantly I saw that Whiterun was a much better place than Riverwood. The buildings were of stone, people came and went in chaotic activity. A legionnaire bartered with a smith right beside the gates. Strange that, I hadn't seen any Imperial troops since Helgen and Whiterun's guards wore yellow. There was just the one. Maybe he bought here but wanted his arms shipped elsewhere.


The Whiterun guide turned left passed a barracks and up steep stairs to a large keep that towered over the rest of the city. Water flowed down from it in ways reminiscent of Vivec. There underground fire boiled water, made it rise as steam to be caught in a basin and flow down from the temples. A similar method had to be employed here. We went beneath arches carved with skulls eerily similar to the ones in the Barrow and into the keep itself, to the throne-room where there sat a man, one hand resting upon the armrest of his throne, the other on the handle of the axe he balanced beside it. He was flanked by a dark elf in ancient glass and a bald Imperial in rich garb who read to him from a scroll and made notes of whatever the man said.

"Jarl Balgruuf." The Whiterun guard said to the man on the throne and went down on his knee. He removed his helmet to reveal a young head with short-cropped blonde hair and the whispy trailings of a virginal beard on his cheeks. I followed his lead, aware that not doing so could be a breach of protocol. Insulting the local ruler within the hour of entering the city would be unwise. The man, the Jarl I corrected myself, nodded and acknowledged his presence. The bald man rolled up his scroll and took a fresh one while the dark elf inspected me the same way I had inspected the gate guards.
"I present to you Spar the Imperial. From Helgen."


"Return to your post, my loyal guard. You have done well in bringing her here." The Jarl answered. My guide put his fist to his heart, rose and left. The Jarl continued, talking to me in fluid Cyrodiilic, something for which I was grateful and aware that as Jarl, it had been his right to demand us converse in Skyrim or with the aid of a translator.
"Rise, Spar. You are not the first survivor to come to my hold and I hope you are not the last. I have questions to ask you, but first I would know what is in that letter you hold."


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Rant on everything and nothing incoming!

Now usually I talk about things that don't make sense to me here. So I'll get that out of the way. Namely the waterfalls of Dragonsreach. Pretty, but water doesn't work that way. At least not in such large quantities. My personal fan-theory is that there is a dragon trapped beneath it (hey, they do say that's why Dragonsreach was built!) and its fire keeps turning an underground well to steam, make it rise and condense etc.

Now for everything else.

The first draft for this update held a lot more dialogue. Most notably, it had things like Alvor thinking Spar is aiming for Faendal ("Just because the elf likes one set of Imperial hips, doesn't mean he likes them all!"), and Sigrid manipulating him into sending Spar to Whiterun. Why? Because Sigrid doesn't like having other women near him. No seriously, that's something in the game. Oh, I also had Sigrid planned as pregnant because as much as I dislike the Skyrim kids for being nasty mind-controlling elitist brats, just one per couple is too few. Gotta keep the population up somehow. Just lie back and think of Skyrim.


But I changed that because it felt like it didn't go anywhere or do anything important for the story.

Admittedly I wrote myself into trouble with Riverwood. In the game dragons just vanish after Helgen, until you complete the Whiterun plotline. But since I had it stick around (probably hunting Helgen's surroundings for a month till it went north for fresher prey) I had to come up with a response to it. So I had everyone run to Embershard mine (bandit-free cause Alvor must get his iron from somewhere and not every cave has to hold hostiles) to hide for a while until they get some guards. And speaking of guards? Why aren't there any in Riverwood in the first place? I have a theory on that which I'll work into the story.


Now, Whiterun. I like the look of Whiterun. When you first get there, there is no siege going on but it is obvious that the city has seen better days. And it is placed in a strategic position which does make it critical for the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. And finally, there is also a very good reason why Balgruuf is so desperate to stay neutral. Good job, Skyrim team. Good job.


Also, I should probably finish the game instead of buggering off on after the Whiterun plot.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Apr 19 2013, 01:49 PM