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]

And finally, after I don't know how much procrastrinating, we are back in the barrow! Or near it, anyway.


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Two days later, near Bleak Falls Barrow


My breath was like the dragon's own, great blasts of vapor that fogged my vision each time I exhaled. I closed my eyes and focussed on the rise and fall of my chest. One, two, three. It took thirty before I felt ready to go on. For the past two hours or so I'd been scaling what I now called Bleak Falls mountain. It was hard work, perhaps too hard for someone of my stature, but better than walking up the open path. From what I knew dragons possessed good eyesight, an irrational preference for human meat and a big enough brain to know a manmade stair when they saw one. Faendal claimed it hadn't so much as stirred since it made its nest. He thought it might be like some snakes from his homeland that ate twice their own bodyweight once every few months and spent the rest holed up in a hole to digest it. It would explain why it hadn't rampaged in the past month but I wasn't willing to test the hunter's theory.


Now I was hanging high up in the air with my feet and hands kept in a loop of rope while Faendal and the mercenary waited below. I wasn't too good a climber and in the past I'd mostly kept to Telvanni elixers of rising force. But I had done it a few times to get up on a balcony when a potion would be wasted. Those were short stints, just a few metres. Scaling a mountain however was a real test of endurance. This wasn't the first time I'd rested and tried to get the burn out of my throat and it wouldn't be the last. I knew I should have let either of the two men do this, probably Faendal, instead of setting out the rope myself. But I couldn't bring myself to put my life in their hands.


I removed one of the anchors and struck it into a crevice up higher. So far finding footholds for my anchors hadn't been too hard and the mountain hadn't been too steep either. But above me the rockface curved out into an overhang. That was going to be the real challenge. If I kept moving straight, I would have to strike my anchors into the stone directly overhead and move away from the slope. And then there was the matter of getting over the lip at the edge of the thing. With only two anchors and no means of flight? practically impossible. Besides, I had no idea how secure the stone ledge itself was. I would be better served by moving off to a side and finding an easier path.


Hand by hand I slowly and above all carefully moved the rope over to the right were a series of zigzagging outcroppings would make climbing easier and still keep me out of sight of the barrow. Even so it was at least another hour till I crawled onto the snowblasted top. I took some time to make certain both anchors were absolutely secure and to catch my breath. Then I waved to the two men below. I couldn't see them, but knew that Faendal would spot me with ease, if he was still watching.


It would take the two men quite some time to get up here, even though they would have it easier with the climbing rope in place. I took the opportunity to scout ahead and see if the dragon was indeed still lying atop the ancient ruin. I covered my furs with handfulls of snow and crawled from cover to cover, timing my movements to coincide with the intermittent gusts of wind, till I found a good vantage point. It was still there and true to Faendal's word, it hadn't even shifted. I also realized that what I'd assumed to be the wind was actually the dragon. It had only been a few days, and I'd already forgotten how loud something this big could be just by snoring. But from where I was, we would also be able to approach the door by sticking to the walls and effectively out of sight if it happened to wake up. Satisfied, I returned to the rope and waited.


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~~


The mercenary Vilkas had dumped on me was first to arrive. He heaved himself up to my position and sat down. I slipped the poisonvial into my left glove and said nothing.


The man rang all warningbells, both Them's and my own. It wasn't that Vilkas had weaselled himself out of the deal by claiming he had negotiated as all Jorrvaskr instead of himself as an individual. Sneaky and not what I wanted, but I couldn't really say he was wrong and Vilkas had vouched for his replacement. It wasn't that. Camilla had said that a man who refused to wear a shirt was either an idiot or a macho looking to score, but that wasn't it either. The man never talked and Vilkas didn't even know his name, just called him Silent Fist. Supposedly the elves had cut out his tongue.


It wasn't that either, though silent folk were harder to predict.


He carried no weapons and wielded no magic. For a Khajiit it was to be expected at some level and even made sense. Their claws could tear the flesh of an unarmored foe like wet paper. But for a Breton built like a Nord? The only reason he carried no weapons and still lived was because he didn't need them.


People who didn't talk, walked in freezing conditions half-naked without discomfort and fought without arms or magic belonged in only one category. Most dangerous. I was only too happy when Faendal vaulted up to the top with enviable ease.
"Need some rest?" I asked him but the Bosmer shook his head.
"No, I'd rather get this over with. Camilla needs me." He said. Ever since returning the claw he seemed to have gotten the favour of the woman and his attempts to stay in her good grace bordered on the desperate.


It was exactly that desperation that had brought him along again. Camilla was the younger sister of Lucan Valerius and had insisted that the elf come with me as a chaperone when she heard I was going back to Bleak Falls Barrow.


"Alright. Faendal, Companion. We'll keep to the right till we hit the Barrow and then follow the walls to the door. I'll explain more once we get inside. Oh, and try to stay quiet. Just in case."