Kothet's Story, A dremora in Skyrim, and his housecarl. Options

[ghastley]

Kothet was a (dead) character in the Gweden Brothel mod. He was the Dremora Valkynaz who owned Prizna, before she killed him and escaped. I resurrected him to be the test character for the Dremora Hearthfires mod for Skyrim, and he hung around a bit longer than expected.

Since a Dremora in Skyrim normally only wears a special version of Daedric armour (with reduced stats) he can't use most regular armour, so his story reflects that limitation, and the gear he does use is the same as the houscarl can use in my mod, which was of course added to the game as wearable by a Dremora.

The housecarl's combat style and equipment are set by the mod to complement the abilities of the player character, so a mage, defined as a player who has higher magicka than health or stamina, wil get an archer housecarl. An archer ( a non-mage with Marksman skill above one- or two-handed) gets a melee housecarl, and others get a mage. Kothet's preference is two-handed, although he starts off using a one-handed weapon with a spell in the other. The spell-book offers three choices of housecarl - male, regular female, and sexy female. The last of those wears skimpier outfits, and has the sultry voice rather than the commander voice.

Kothet's story is already well under way, and I'll start to post more episodes here once I finish posting Clark's. There's a link at the top for those who've forgotten about Prizna's interview with Clark. I linked to the copy here, not the one on my site with the nude picture of her.

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1 - Helgen

I can understand the Stormcloaks deciding to hide in my cave. The entrance is well-concealed, which is why I chose it. And it stays that way, if I'm careful how I enter, and don't leave obvious footprints outside.

I can understand how the pursuing Imperials found them, too. What I can't understand is why the Imperials think I'm one of them. Seriously, how many Stormcloaks have horns?

I'm not talking about helmets here. My horns are on my head, just like any of the Kyn. But we are few in Tamriel, so maybe they've never seen a Dremora before.

Whatever they were thinking, we all ended up on the same cart headed for Helgen. I presume I was vocal about the Imperials' incompetence in including me, because I don't remember much about the journey, just waking with a sore head as we approached the town. By that time, I'd given up trying to make our captors actually think. They were military, which would generally mean that thinking was for officers only.

---

I know this because once, I was an officer. In Mehrunes Dagon's forces, I led the attack that took Ganonah, the city the locals call Kvatch. Which is why I got the blame when it was taken back, even though I wasn't there at the time. I was the officer, so I should have forseen the possibility, and not left the place under the command of a subordinate . Even though Dagon himself had sent me elsewhere, on an assignment beneath my station.

To make matters worse, the woman I'd been given as a reward for my success at Ganonah had turned on me. Admittedly, I'd probably been unfair in the way I treated her. Anger at Dagon can't be directed towards him, and she probably got the worst of my frustration. I was on guard duty - me, a Valkynaz, on guard duty! - inside the gate we'd opened near Bravil. That's where she killed me. A mere woman struck me down, with shock spells to weaken me, and a final blow from a mace! I was so proud of the way she did it, but of course, unable to tell her until I was restored.

And then, equally, I was in no position to do so, because I was somewhere else in Tamriel. I have no idea how long I was in the heatless flames of Oblivion waiting for restoration, but I expected to be restored in the Deadlands, in familiar territory. Clearly I'd lost even more of Dagon's regard by being slain by my own woman, and he'd sent me to guard another gate, this time from the outside.

I'd only been there a few hours, when the fire in the gate suddenly ceased, meaning the gate was closed, and I was stuck in the mortal world until Dagon decided to recall me. Given his recent actions, I did not imagine that happening soon.

---

Two centuries later, I'm still here. Each time I die, I'm restored to Tamriel, not the Deadlands. So stripping off my armour and wrestling a bear wasn't as much use as I thought it would be. It just lost me some useful equipment, and I had to replace it with lesser things that mortals had made. Since then, I've learned to make my own.

When these Imperial clowns have finished with me, I'll need to make some more, as they took everything when they put us on the carts. Since I'd just crawled out of my bedroll when the Stormcloaks arrived, I wasn't even wearing my armour, and they gave me some crude sack-cloth things to cover myself.

I can see Helgen gates now, so it looks like we'll be there in a few minutes. Hopefully there will be a competent officer in charge, and I'll be released.

---

The horse-thief the soldiers had rounded up with us didn't have any confidence in officers, and tried to run as soon as we got off the carts. He died in a volley of arrows.

There was a legionary calling the roll of prisoners, and lining us up for the General. I'd heard of this Tullius, and he seemed like a man who could think. I was confident that their mistake would soon be rectified.

Obviously, my name wasn't on their list. They didn't even know it yet, because I hadn't told them. The unthinking grunts hadn't asked; it wasn't their job. The legionary asked his commander, a woman, what he should do. This was as it should be, pass the decision-making up the chain, and do not take responsibility on yourself. I expected her in turn to ask Tullius, but she decided that she didn't need to bother him with this level of decision, and arbitrarily condemned me to join the others in line for the block.

Part of me admired her confidence in her own decisions, but most of me just wanted to kill her. I stared at the Captain, learning her features so I would know her if we met again. No, when we met again. Even if I had to return from the dead to kill her, and of course I would do so.

I was the second to the block. It had me thinking that I might even be returned before all the executions were complete, and how beautiful would be the justice if I could place her head on this very block in my next life. But then the dragon came, and everything was confusion.

---

I found myself running into a tower with one of the Stormcloaks. My hands were still bound, and he had nothing to cut the ropes. How he'd got his own free, I wasn't sure. We went looking for weapons, and eventually found some. With my hands loose, and an axe in one of them, I could determine my own fate.

And fate led my nemesis to me. The same Captain led a small group of Imperials into the chamber, and my Stormcloak allies helped me deliver justice. I took her armour, adjusted the straps to suit my very different shape, and put it on. Her ample chest meant that she wore a size large enough to protect a male, but it wasn't quite the right shape. I discarded the top half, even though it was plate that might have melted down. There was no smelter or forge here.

Ralof laughed when I tried it on. "We'll no doubt find you some more as we go further in," he predicted. "Probably not plate, but the regular Imperial armour isn't too bad. Of course, I can understand you not wanting to be mistaken for one of them. Especially not for a woman!"

I felt the thought he hadn't expressed. The hope that I wouldn't get the chance to take any Stormcloak amour. He didn't want to find any fallen comrades on our way out.

---

Some did fall, but they were crushed by the collapse of part of the buildings just after we passed, and out of our reach. I managed to add a basic long bow and some iron arrows, from an Imperial archer, but didn't bother to trade any armour. His covered more, but was thinner. We both picked up some potions, lockpicks and minor items as we passed through the cave beyond the dungeons. Some of those arrows went into fighting spiders and a bear.

Ralof and I parted company at the exit to the cave. He was going to head for another small town called Riverwood, where his sister lived. I was more inclined to try and head back towards my cave. I'd survived well enough in Tamriel by keeping away from the people, so going into town wasn't my first choice.

But I wasn't familiar with this part of Skyrim, so I ended up finding myself in the same town I was trying to avoid. It seemed that all the trails on this side of Helgen lead to the same place.

---

I went into the general store, hoping to trade some of the Imperial military junk I'd picked up for something a bit less tied to one side of the Civil War. I walked into the middle of an argument betwen the shopkeeper and his sister about something that had been stolen. Since he didn't seem to want to discuss trade until that subject was dealt with, I found myself agreeing to look for the missing item. I really had no intention of going to look for it, but his description intrigued me. It seemed to resemble a Clannfear Claw, something I hadn't seen for decades. I wondered if it actually was one that had been gilded as a trophy.

I got a decent trade for my goods, so apparently my agreement had put him in a good mood. His sister pointed out Bleak Falls Barrow on the hills at the other side of the valley as the likely place it had been taken. The map I'd bought put it on one of the trails that crossed the hills towards Whiterun, and I had to pass near that city to get back to the Rift and my cave. It was a bit longer that way, but why not take a look?

I suppose I was also looking forward to the prospect of some combat. There would be bandits this way, the ones that had stolen the claw at least, and the other route was a well-used road that would be relatively boring. I headed for the hills.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Jul 18 2016, 06:07 PM

[ghastley]

Acadian: Kothet decided to provision for the fight, and Clark and Vicuña decided not to let the Forsworn prepare for them. It's probably more due to Kothet having all he could carry, and Clark having all his loot on the cart.

Grits: Just about anyone finds the things they're not looking for. He's just particularly good at it.

Renee: Kothet has the advantage of not being a native, even if he has been there longer than any Nord.

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Previously Kothet and co. had cleared Kolskeggr mine, and he now has the gold for his crafting table.

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8 - Markarth

I smelted the ore down to ingots right outside the mine. Unlike iron, smelting gold reduced the weight, and I could carry more that way. We headed back to Left Hand Mine, to tell Pavo he could return.

Pavo paid us for our trouble. I wasn't expecting that, nor was I expecting the Orc with him to announce that he'd tell the Strongholds about me. I'd be welcome there in future, and not treated as an outsider, whatever that meant.

He didn't tell me where any of these strongholds were, so I asked Ghorza, the Markarth smith, when I went to use her forge. She pointed out four of them on my map, scattered at the four corners of the province, and told me a bit about life there. If she'd have stayed in one, she'd have been forced to marry some "lowly chieftain" as she put it, and probably become his third wife, or less. She had more status as a smith, as the Orcs respected that calling. Her brother was one, too, up at the Jarl's palace in Understone Keep.

Making some jewellery from the gold reduced the weight I was carrying even more, and I found I was able to improve my armour once I was done with it. It would appear that working on the smaller items had improved my detail work, and my results were better with the larger items too.

I asked Ghorza if she had any quicksilver, but she didn't. "Moth might have some, he does work for the elves if they pay him a bit extra. He doesn't like making elven, but he can do it well enough."

---

Moth had used up what he had. And he was reluctant to talk about the special project the Jarl wanted him to do. "He wants me to make a sword for him, and it takes a special ingredient. A Daedra heart."

Well at least he was honest. I told him that although I was very unlikely to be obtaining one for him, if I did recover one from someone who shouldn't have it, I'd consider his request. A daedra's heart should not be just wasted, and becoming part of a weapon was at least noble.

"It took courage to even ask," I reminded myself. "These Orcs are good people."

---

So we wouldn't be getting any quicksilver here, but I'd made a good quantity of jewellery with the gold, so I should see what they'd fetch at the merchant's. Maybe I'd have enough to buy the Soul Gem.

Arnleif and Sons was run by Arnleif's widow, Lisbet, who didn't have such a gem in stock. In fact, she didn't have much at all. But she did buy a lot of the rings and amulets, and told me that if I could just find the Statue of Dibella she'd ordered, she might be able to recover some of her recent losses. The Forsworn had probably stolen it, and she had an idea where they might have taken it.

---

We'd had enough of the Forsworn for now, and it was becoming clear that I wasn't going to find quicksilver in the Reach. I decided that we should head back to Whiterun, instead. The book that Ghorza wanted was in a fort on the way, and we could check that out as we passed.

So of course, the fort was up on a cliff we couldn't climb, and we had to go around to the other side of the hills to reach it. And when we did, we found the place full of ... more Forsworn!

There didn't appear to be any briarheart mages among them, so they weren't as difficult as they might have been. Still, there were more of them, and they were behind walls and barricades, which made it tiresome.

I read the book we'd come to find, and learned a bit more about smithing from it. It made sense that it would help Tacitus, too. Assuming, of course, that he could read.

---

Whiterun was closer than Markarth now, so we continued there. Adrianne didn't have any quicksilver, but Belethor had the gem and he knew where I could mine the ore I needed. "There's a vein near the Battle-Born farm, just outside town. Just the one, not like the whole mine full, up in Dawnstar. If you don't need a lot, I'd go there."

Naturally, when I went and mined the quicksilver, I also found a corundum vein, and one of gold, too. If I'd known about the gold, I wouldn't have had to go to Markarth. But then I wouldn't have made all the jewellery, and perhaps I couldn't have afforded the gem. Or made the breastplate, or improved my mace.

I didn't need to go back into town, as I could smelt the quicksilver at the tower. That was the next stop, and I'd be able to make the crafting table when I got there. And that was just about the last piece of furniture I needed to make. That, and a couple of chests, which would need locks, and I'd just found enough corundum for those.

---

The crafting table was a complex item to make, and used more different materials than the rest of the house put together. It was particularly pleasing to have my housecarl watch the whole process, as this was the ultimate proof of home-making skill.

She didn't show any admiration, but I didn't expect any. I was just doing what I should.

Now I could enchant or disenchant, and make potions and poisons. I had a collection of iron weapons with minor enchantments, and a few pieces of armour, too.

Of all the enchantments I learned, the ones that seemed immediately useful were fire damage, which I wanted to add to my mace, and fortify carry weight for my boots. I'd hoped to find something among them that I could apply to jewellery for a mage, but unless she wanted a circlet of archery, or a ring to fortify one-handed, it would have to wait. I knew that enchantments existed to improve magical skills, or magicka regeneration, but we hadn't collected anything yet.

I moved the dragon bones and scales out of the wardrobe into the new chest, and picked up the alchemy ingredients at the same time.

---

I made several potions to restore Health, and Stamina, as I used them all the time, and didn't always find enough ready-made. I didn't use spells much, but I made a couple of potions to restore Magicka and offered them to her. She shook her head, which was the closest we'd had to a conversation so far.

It was already dark, so I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, expecting her to take her guard position outside. Instead, she walked in and lay down on the bed. With her robe on, and her back to me. I joined her, lying as close as I could without actually touching.

When I woke, my arm was around her, and she was holding it in place. Not quite where I'd have liked, but close. And her back was against me, touching now.

Had I put my arm there, or had she? I hadn't dreamed anything like that; not last night, anyway.

She woke, too, and slipped from under my arm, and went downstairs without saying anything. I wished she would, even if it wasn't something I wanted to hear.

I know I'm being tested. It is Dagon's way. Every adversity is a challenge to be overcome, and I'd only be better for having done so. Her silence is part of that challenge. She's not permitted to assist me in understanding Dagon's will. That's the part I have to achieve for myself.

But she has spoken. Apparently she's allowed to warn me of the presence of enemies, and to challenge them, just as I would. If I want to hear her voice, I'll have to go looking for a fight!