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]

No problem guys. Take your time.


Regarding the Altmer: I could have given her name, but it would feel like a clunky addition. Besides, does Farengar look like the kind of person who bothers with remembering people's names?

Regarding Dagny: She is spoiled in-game too. I remember one of her brothers (the eldest I think) point it out to her and that she should stop complaining about not having her dress cause those things take time to make. Her response? "I'm gonna tell daddy and he'll spank you!" So yeah, Proventius idea was fully rooted in reality.

Regarding dragons: They do lose a certain, majesty/awesomeness/terror-inducing once you get passed the early game. The first few dragons are powerful because you're likely still running around with steel weapons and very few damageboosting perks. Also lousy armour/magic resistance and health.

At the point of my current character however? My response can be summed up as: "Oh hey there buddy. I would like to add your body and soul to my collection. So why don't you exchange kisses with my good friend Burning Hawk and come down here right now?" It's actually kind of sad to think about. Hopefully I get a more impressive tier of dragon after a few more levelups.

Regarding the guide: Well, I don't put much stock in guides myself, definitely not official ones to be released at the same time as the game. There are such things as late-term tweaks, additions, changes and cuts after all. Besides, I am a compulsive mod-user. No guide stays accurate with a disorder like that.

Regarding Fist: He's an original character. I'll see if I can drum up the picture I had to place in the character list. (it would also likely spoil his real name but I don't care about that too much)


For now, we enter Bleak Falls Barrow for the second and hopefully the last time! (cause no one likes backtracking.) Also, this means we are back in the danger zone. You know what that means.


"Cheese! Cheese for everyone! Wait! Scratch that! Cheese for no one, which is perfectly fine if you don't like cheese." Shut up, Sheogorath.




Chapter 1.9


The camp was still there just as we'd left it a few days earlier. There was no reason not to use it so just like last time I had Faendal relight the fire. I repeated the briefing I'd given them that morning, to refresh their memories. Granted, half of it was misdirection as they weren't supposed to know what I was really after and the other half was safety tips. Such as how to rekill a zombie. I had my misgivings about revealing that knowledge but I considered the safety to be worth it and framed it as something Hrongar had told me rather than the product of personal experience.


After that we made light, Faendal a torch and I the lantern. Then we began to search the tomb's many chambers and alcoves. It didn't take long to pick up some of the valuables I had noticed the first time but I argued that the Jarlsdotter was very picky and there were better trinkets deeper inside. Meanwhile, I looked at every cobblestone beneath my feet, every brick on the wall and every arch of the ceiling for the cube Farengar desired. I didn't find it. I found old broken traps, equally broken chests and urn and a single thick line of silk that seemed to run from the entrance directly to the room with the spider. Like a guideline.


In the end we were forced come back down to the spider's lair. I heard Faendal mumble about how this was the place where I killed a man and looked for the two corpses. I kind of wished he'd kept quiet about that though there was nothing to do about it now. There was also a continuous brrrrrt that I couldn't place. It was an odd sound for a dead tomb. I drew my makeshift sword out of its equally makeshift sheath and advanced cautiously into the room. Roughly at the center I came upon the Frostbite spider and the dark elf who had stolen Lucan's precious claw. Both spider and the thief where exactly where I'd left them but not how. The moment I approached a black wave rippled over the two bodies and away from the lantern's light. It wasn't a mere play of shadow and now I placed the brrrrrt. It was the sound of legs. Many.
"The spiders hatched." I said and then, when the mute began to stomp every spider he could reach. "Stay within the light. There is enough poison here to kill an entire herd of mammoths."


There were hundreds of thousands of them, each the size of a grain and about as harmful. But they'd done a good job at stripping clean their parent and the food it had intended for them so I considered ourselves fortunate that they shunned the light we'd brought. If buried in grain, a man shall not starve, but he shall die.


I recalled the lifecycle of their Wayrest cousins. Soon the carcasses would be reduced to empty bones and the spiders would turn on each other. The weak would serve as food for the strong. In a week the survivors would mate. Then they would all leave the nest. Some would find the outside and ride the winds to other faraway caves and tombs to make their own nest. They would hunt in the surrounding area and grow and grow. Finally, near the end of next summer, the fully matured spider would seal itself in with all the prey it had gathered, lay its eggs and wait. It would defend the nest until its dying breath, which was likely to come in the form of its ravenous young.


It was a grim form of life to say the least.
"Glad I'm not a spider."


I turned away from the foodstock and inspected the walls. According to the court wizard's map Bleak Falls Barrow went on much further than this. There should be a door somewhere, but the room's shape was horribly distorted by all the webbing and the foodsacks.
"Well, nothing here but cobwebs and little buggers." Faendal squeeked. "Let's head back, shall we? You got better things to do than burn webs, right?" He couldn't be afraid of the spiders, could he?
"No. That is exactly what I'm going to do. Hand me your torch." I said.


By matching the room with my memory of the map I found a spot close to where the thief had been strung up. The idiot, me killing him had been a mercy. I put fire to the silk and slowly the stuff began to burn away while releasing foulsmelling fumes. An opening was revealed at the edge of the hole I'd made and I burned more to expose it fully. The spider had sealed off this end, but why? There was no exit that way, no way for anything to come in. Unless, it had already been there when the spider made its nest and made for a lousy meal. Of course.


"There will be draugr beyond this point. Remember what I said about them."



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The response of the two men was like light and day. Faendal whimpered and tried to go back but then he remembered that I had both the torch and the lantern at the moment. He then grabbed his bow and I shook my head.
"Use the Axe." I had to remind him. Simple arrows were useless against undead. The elf looked absolutely terrified and I wondered how much of a help he would actually be in a fight.
But Silent Fist wasn't afraid. The way he cracked his knuckles and licked his chipped teeth was positively all murderous glee. I definitely didn't like him at all. But he looked to be more reliable for the moment than the wood elf.


I shook my head and indicated that the Companion should take point. And just in time as well. Something had already noticed my destruction of the blockade.
"Aav Dilon!" It rasped as it stepped into the light and my perspective shifted.


The skin, that which is not covered by heavy armour, is like a zombie, but older and dry like a mummy. It approaches, eyes burn blue. Faendal screams and Fist lets out a guttural laugh.
"Kren Sosaal!" The draugr hisses and it raises its weapon, a black axe held in both hands. Let the Breton handle it.


They rush to meet. The axe is raised, comes down again. Fist takes it by the shaft and wrenches it from the draugr's hands. The axe is tossed aside and the draugr leans after it. Fist grabs the outstretched hand, twists and pulls. The draugr loses its balance and stumbles passed the man, towards me. The hand is still held and rips from the undead. Fist turns and with the same contemptible ease rips of its head. It still moves. Where is Faendal?


He is frozen by panic. Useless. It is too close to avoid now. What magic moves it, spirit- or flesh-centered? Movements are obviously blind now. Flesh-centered magic. Duck low and step next to it. Swing sword across the gap in its leg armour. It falls and tries to rise but the needed muscle is destroyed. I hack at the joints of its arms till it can't fight. Still alive, undead are hard to kill, but no threat.



"Faendal, you are absolutely worthless. Pull yourself together already." I said to the elf. It didn't seem to help so I turned to the Breton, to tell him we would leave Faendal to stew and collect him on our way back. The brute was still holding the things head, and looking at it. The head for its matter was still alive as well. Alive and screaming. Uncentered flesh-based magick it was then, where every bit no matter how small was animated with its own energies. But that wasn't important, I told myself. What was important was that it was screaming words. To alert its brethren no doubt.
"Fist! If you want that for a souvenir, gag it and put it in a bag. We can have more here any moment."


"Faaz! Paak! Dinok!" The words that echoed through the tunnels gave me a cold shiver. I was almost like something I could understand. In any case, the meaning was obvious. Death to the intruders, guard the final crypt, that kind of thing. I looked back at gibbering Faendal and shook my head. Why had I brought him along again? To protect me in case of treachery from the Companion. It didn't look like the elf would be protecting me from anything. I placed the lantern at his feet and marched ahead to where the tunnel curved.



Roll an unbroken pot down the corridor. They evade it, step over it with quick jerks. Not blind in the darkness then. Stay just behind the Breton as he runs to tackle the first of the draugr. While he tears its limbs off, I use my sword to disarm the second and the torch to burn the third. Their flesh is older and drier than that of a zombie, far more fragile in many ways. I get behind the two draugr and break their legs out from under them.


Sprung! Duck and leap to the side. Right shoulder hits the wall hard, but my grip remains firm.
"Archer!" I warn the Breton. He gets up and using the limbless undead as a shield we run the last one down. It tries to use its bow as a club but I drop the torch and block it with my free hand supporting the flat of the sword. Fist grabs it by the neck and does to it what he's done to the others.


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I was breathing hard by the time we reached the final chamber. My shoulder hurt terribly and felt like it had almost been dislocated. We'd fought three battles against the draugr and incapacitated half a dozen of them in total. When defeated, they would scream for the others till I rammed my sword down their throat. How could they make so much noise without lungs attached to their vocal cords eluded me but I didn't want them to keep screeching. For one they might impart valuable information that could be used against us and for another it just made my head hurt.


There had also been the traps, well maintained for the looks of it even if said maintenance had been of an improvisational nature. Draugr weapons tied into ropes to sweep across the corridors, or pitfalls or urns of oil that were lighted and dropped into long pools of oil the moment we splashed in. That, their weapons and armour and finally their use of that harsh and ghastly familiar language proved that there was more brain in them than in their Cyrodiilic cousins. It made me wonder what else was different.
But brains weren't everything. The traps had been easy to spot, and even easier to coax into working, only for me to jump out of range and wait till it had fallen apart. And as for the battles, the Breton Vilkas had lent me fought like a wild beast. But a surprisingly effective one. I didn't know if the draugrs were that easily torn apart or he was just that strong, but I didn't argue with the results. I wouldn't have been able to handle them all myself, except maybe one by one. And the archer would definitely have been too much for me.


The map had described the room as 'unique descriptions'. I saw immediately why Lucan Valerius, for who else could it be, had written this. There were no coffins here, no more draugr to fight us every step of the way. It was wider than the tunnel that led here and carved of smoother stones with a hemispherical ceiling. And the descriptions, oh the descriptions. I forgot about the cube when I looked upon the walls.



OOC: We're in cloudyland so you get to have my version of zombies which can't be killed just by depleting a healthbar. Nothing wrong with that, but I like to think that killing undead outright means destroying the magic that makes them move and Spar and Fist didn't have anything for that. So they did it the hard way.

Also, the chapter was getting rather long so I'll cut it of here for now.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Aug 1 2013, 09:53 PM