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]

Almost there. Almost but not quite. So in this update Spar runs towards the climax of this chapter.




Chapter 1.14


I ran. Along bushes, slipping down small slopes and jumping crevasses. Wild goats, elks, wolves and possibly even a bear or two had drawn trails through the grass which made it easy to keep a good pace for the first half. But animals are smart enough to avoid civilization, at least the big ones which can be considered a threat or a good meal and warm fur. So for the second half I had to get more creative. The path I'd chosen was a compromise between speed, directness and ease of travel. Some of the brush and undergrowth possessed gaps I could cross by going down on my knees, slide through the gap and get back up running. There was a pond. Five boulders stuck out over the water and I leapt from one to the other without missing a pace.


It was another gamble. At the Barrow I'd gambled that the dragon would blindly pursue the first man it saw. Now I gambled that it couldn't maintain its vigilance forever. It was almost a law of nature that as a being grew larger, it grew slower and required more rest. A bee never sat still for even a moment in its busy but short life, flitting from flower to flower as quick and precise as a master swordsman's blade. The mammoth by contrast moved but slowly, each step measured and contemplated upon. Most of its days were spent grazing in a half-sleep. A dragon was even larger and this one, according to Faendal at least, had been hibernating on top of that. I hoped that it had been struggling to stay awake all this time and that as the hours went by, it had been losing that battle.


But still, I had to expect it to wake up again the moment it sensed the cube moving. The only question that remained was how long it would take. Resting after killing the lich and the long ascend afterwards had given it plenty of time to take up its position last time. This time would be different.


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The torchlight atop the watchtower served me as a compass but in retrospect I could have done it blind. I pounded their door, an ill-fitting pane of thick wood, and yelled for attention. When I saw the light of the two torches peering over the edge I yelled again.
"Signal Whiterun that an army is approaching! It's actually a dragon but you don't have a specific signal for that!"
I heard them converse in words too soft to follow and one of the torches disappeared. Where was Fist? He couldn't have taken the same path as I had. Perhaps if he'd been trained by Khajiti acrobats but he was too big and stiff. It would take him some time and a longer path to catch up. I saw light through the cracks between door and stone. A soldier opened the door and set his torch in an empty sconch. He looked like everyone else in the gloom with the light behind him. Big, bearded and smelling of mead. It made me wonder how I looked to him. Battered, burned, covered in mud, twigs and probably a few bugs as well. I pushed the thought aside and repeated my instructions.


"Heh? Imperial?" The soldier said to me in Skyrimese.
"Oblivion curse this backwards icepit." I thought. All my memories had said that Cyrodiilic was the common tongue of Tamriel but I was beginning to see that memories could lie. I repeated myself, slower, in case he'd just misunderstood but no, Cyrodiilic was not this man's tongue.
"Say to Whiterun." I stammered next in his language and tried to find the words to use. "Many Stormcloak."


"The Stormcloaks are coming? From the west? Are you crazy?" Wrong choice. Part of me, probably Them, couldn't help but file this part of information away. The Stormcloaks couldn't come from the west. South were the ruins of Helgen which had definitely been in Imperial hands. North were mountains and therefore by rule of elimination, the Stormcloak territory had to be to the east. It wasn't important. I had no plans to visit General Ulfric, though I was curious to what had compelled him to rebel, and I had better things to worry about right now.


I held up my hands in a pacifying gesture and tried to explain in my rough Skyrimese.
"No Stormcloak, but you not know how say thing. So say Stormcloak. Fix bad later." Again, wrong choice of words as it turned out.


The man grabbed me with both hands by my vest and almost lifted me clear off the ground as he hissed and spat in my face.
"Is this a joke? This some kind of banditry?" He said. What had set him off? Had I underestimated the paranoia the war had set in him, or was he just ill-tempered due to lack of sleep? I couldn't afford having to actually fight the soldiers I'd come to seek help from. But this stupid Nord wasn't making things easy.
"I estimate two minutes at the most," I muttered desperately, slipping back into Cyrodiilic, "then you lose unrestricted access to topside."


Where was Fist? He should have made it to the tower by now. Did he get turned around and went off the path he'd chosen? The man was no tracker and perhaps I'd asked to much of his pathfinding skills. But be that as it may, he should be able to use the torchlight of the watchtower as a reference point. The soldier had kept his voice down so far and his compatriot was still standing watch on top, unaware of what was playing right beneath him. Did the Breton get tangled up in the bushes? Or did he run off for Whiterun? No, he wasn't like that. He had to be struggling through the field.


If my attempts at using the Nord's language had been terrible, using Cyrodiilic at this point proved to be simply disastrous. He took it as proof that I was some conniving spy or something!
"What is this? Some kind of Imperial trick? Did your general decide to violate our neutrality and pin the blame on Ulfric?" I cursed my inability to communicate. There was no time for stupid misunderstandings and powerplays. Whiterun had to be signalled before the dragon got here and sealed off the towertop. My mission was too important to be hindered. By anyone. While the Nord was dribbling and raving in my face, I cast my eyes at the chamber behind him and catalogued what I saw.


Bare stones, one nearly expended torch in a sconce, stairs circling along the outer wall on my right and ending in a closed trapdoor. Table and stools for two, two dirty plates showing pointing at an old meal. A few knucklebones between the plates, like the ones used in games of chance all across Tamriel. One bedroll in a corner. No crates, sacks, shelves or other signs to hint at a long-term occupation. Considering the distance to Whiterun, I considered it likely that the guards were relieved each day and simply brought their own meals. Enough food for a single day wouldn't take up much space in a pack. There had been two torches moving when I ran here and the table and bedroll suggested that two soldiers were all who occupied the place. One was now here trying to intimidate me. The other I couldn't see, definitely still up on top then.


How much time was left before the dragon would be roused from its sleep? Was it already stalking through the grass like an oversized wolf, avoiding the sound of wingbeats or its roar? Or did its cube-sensing ability diminish while resting and so it would remain where it was till morning? I didn't want to take the chance of being wrong and assumed that the beast was already moving in. Which left the guard. I tried one last time but couldn't even get a full sentence out before he started growling about Imperial honour or lack thereof. He wasn't giving me a chance to explain, though I doubted I could even if given the opportunity to do so.


I turned all of my focus on him next. I measured the tension in his muscles, the placement of his feet. The armour he wore, simple chain and yellow scarf that was Whiterun's uniform, and the weapon, equally simple one-handed axe looped to his belt. No helmet, probably considered too uncomfortable and unnecessary while on an extended watch with no superiors to enforce discipline. There were gaps in the chain as well, old impacts that hadn't been fixed. I would have to speak with Hrongar about that later. I might not be part of Whiterun's forces, but this kind of laxness irritated me. But that talk would not help this one unless he let go off me right this instant. If the watchmen weren't going to help I would just have to get them out of the way and do it myself. Even without knowledge of the specific signals, I should get a response out of the city if I made enough of a ruckus. Perhaps I could put fire to the tall grass at the tower's base, mimic an attack.


But before all that I had to deal with the Nord who was holding me. I listened to Them's babble and prepared a plan of attack. Once I was set into motion, there would be no chance for hesitation or second-guessing so I had to make sure I did it right.


A headbutt right after the man exhaled would stun him long enough and prevent any screaming while I drove my knife through one of the damaged areas over his gut and then upwards through the midrif to puncture the heart and lungs. Anyone's instinct at this point would be to open their hands which would give me the opportunity to kick the side of his knee, taking him off balance and preventing any last-moment counterattacks. That would remove one of two from the equation. I would not have the advantage of surprise and preplanned form of attack on his colleague but given the circumstances, I would just have to risk a direct confrontation.


I already had one hand on the dagger strapped to my back where it had conveniently been hidden from his view. The other plucked at the cord and grabbed a loose end so I could undo the knot and cut through it with one swift motion. The soldier's warm, stinking breath washed over my face as his lungs emptied.


Then, the dragon roared and set the forest beneath it ablaze in what I would swear was a fit of rage. Rage over the rabbit that bolted out from under its nose.


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For once, I was actually glad for the beast. Which surprised me for a moment.
"That is thing that is bad. Thing of Helgen." I said to the Nord. He'd already let go when he heard the roar. Now he looked to where the sound had come from and saw the fire. In an instant his angry frown made way for realization and with it fear.
"Shor's bones." He said and then threw his head up in his neck as he yelled at the other soldier. "Dragon, Jorlof! Get those fireworks lit! You know, from the new crate!"


The Nord drew me inside and shut the door behind us. A large board was set across to lock it in place. Fist wasn't going to get in now and I had the feeling the Nords weren't planning on opening it until half Whiterun was banging on their door. I hoped he had the good sense to stay clear now because I wasn't going to open the door either.
"We heard those sounds earlier today, but didn't think it was the dragon coming." The soldier said as if to apologize.
"You not know dragonsound?" I asked him and he gave me an incredulous look.
"Hey now, woman. Stormcloaks attacking from the west may be impossible, but there is a bunch of them sneaking around hereabouts like cowards. And they make horns to scare us. Us, or the Impies in that fort just up the road. We were just thinking it was more of that. Besides, how in Oblivion are we supposed to know what a dragon sounds like?"


Above us the trapdoor was thrown open. For a moment I saw a flashing of lights in every coloured, then my vision was cut off by the silhouette of a second Nord scrambling down the stairs, throwing the trapdoor back down behind him.
"Woah! That was too close. I could hear it fly over me." He cried.
"Never ran so fast in my life." He added.


And with that my part was done. Through Jorlof's warning signals Silent Fist knew I was here. The dragon knew I was here. And Whiterun knew. The best news perhaps was that I had not been forced to kill the two men. It wasn't that I would feel guilty over it, but how was I going to explain the two bodies with knifewounds?
"They actually did have a warning specific to dragons. I underestimated the Jarl."


Again I waited. The Nords threw fearful eyes to the ceiling every time we heard the beat of massive wings or felt the floor rumble as the dragon landed nearby. The creature was stalking the tower, soft tremors accompanying every step it took like wardrums. Until it stopped right before the door. That wasn't a coincidence.
"Same thing it did at the Barrow. Guard the exit and spit fire the moment something comes out. But that's ok. It's not going to do anything while I have the cube and when the Jarl sorties his army it will be driven away."



We waited and after some time of silence Jorlof drew up his courage. He moved to open the door for a peek but I took his arm and shook his head.
"No. It is still here." I warned him. As if to agree with me, there was a loud crash and the whole tower shook. Old plaster fell from the ceiling. Again a crash and this time some brick came down, forcing us to run away from the walls to the center of the room.


"By the gods! It is breaking the tower! We'll be buried!" The nameless Nord yelled. But that was impossible. I'd been sure of it! The dragon would do everything it could to retrieve the cube without risking damage to it. Only when retrieval became impossible would it seek to destroy it. All I was doing was hiding from it till I could escape, delaying its recapture of the cube but by no means making it seem impossible. It shouldn't be trying to bury us alive!


I'd miscalculated.