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: I almost had the housecarl do all the chatting to Helgi, but decided to stick with the player character Kothet. The two probably preferred not having the townsfolk in the way in Movarth's lair, especially as most of them are people who they might not want killed. Jurgen has part of Mehrunes Razor, Lami is the only merchant in town, and Thonnir sells lumber. Benor will brawl with you, if you need a quick 100 septims. Kothet's more likely to do that than Buffy, of course.

Renee: There are few reasons to go to Morthal. The Mehrunes Razor quest, and the Vampire cure are the only ones that send you there, but it's also somewhere on your map that needs "collecting".

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Previously: Kothet did the "Laid to Rest" quest in Morthal and picked up a request to go to Whiterun.

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14 - Gildergreen

Rather than wake the Jarl in the middle of the night just to tell her, we went back to the Moorside Inn for the rest of the night. We told Jonna what had happened, and she brightened up as we told her of Movarth's death. That would make her brother's life a lot easier, if he didn't have to keep the vampires away from the town any more.

She advised me to take a Cure Disease potion, if I hadn't already. You could catch vampirism from fighting them, and although Falion knew how to cure it, it was a process one would want to avoid. I didn't have one, but I could ask Lami how to make one in the morning.

---

After telling Jarl Idgrod the news, (and receiving a decent gold reward), we headed over to the Thaumaturgist's Hut to make some Cure Disease potions. Lami told me I could use the Vampire Dust to make them, as long as I had another ingredient, Mudcrab Chitin, or Charred Skeever Hide. "If you've got any Hawk Feathers, you don't even have to make a potion. Just eat them."

I had plenty of mudcrab remains, and soon had a good supply of potions. I drank one, and handed another to my housecarl. She took it and drank it immediately, without a word. I offered her another to carry, but she shook her head.

---

Since we now had two reasons to head for Whiterun, to deliver Idgrod's note to Danica, and to take the carriage back to Markarth, we set out for Labyrinthian, and the pass. A couple of the smaller frostbite spiders blocked the road ahead of us, briefly, as a fireball quickly flew in their direction and dealt with them in short order. It seemed that my companion had a new, more powerful, spell in her repertoire.

She also had longer legs, or a shorter skirt. Whichever it was, I approved heartily.

---

The same fireball spell proved useful against the frost trolls we met at the ruin. Although I got caught in the blast a couple of times, fire was not a problem to me, and the frost trolls certainly didn't like it at all. Not that they liked being hit with my warhammer, either.

We passed through the ruin without being too tempted to investigate the various doors we saw. We could come back later, after we'd dealt with our current quests. Likewise, there were several side-trails leading into the hills that we ignored. I was already struggling to remember what unfinished business we had, without starting more.

After crossing the tundra, and discovering that my housecarl could also surround herself with a shield of flame when a pack of wolves attacked us, we arrived at the Whiterun stables. I almost hired the carriage to go to Markarth, but just in time, I remembered Idgrod's letter to Danica. I needed to deliver that first.

Danica Pure-Spring was sitting under the old tree in the middle of town when we found her. She paid me for the delivery, and we started talking about the tree. This was the Gildergreen, and the temple to Kynareth had been built here because of the tree. But it was dying, and could only be revived with the help of sap from its parent tree, the Eldergleam. That would be hard to do, as there was only one way to get that sap, using a special knife called Nettlebane.

I'm not sure when my fascination with the story turned into an agreement to get this knife from the hags at Orphan Rock, but that's what happened. It was in the opposite direction from Markarth, too.

On the other hand, this wasn't an urgent matter. The Eldergleam had been growing for thousands of years, and its daughter tree for hundreds, so a few days wouldn't even be noticed.

---

We rode the carriage back to Markarth, and I delivered the statue to Lisbet. She was delighted, and gave me a sum of gold that was way more than I'd expected. It made me wonder what the second statue I'd found was worth, but she soon dashed my hopes. Gilded and solid are nowhere similar in value.

I decided to keep mine. I should be able to find somewhere to put it, back at the Tower.

---

Ghorza asked how my smithing was progressing. I confessed that I hadn't done much recently, not since my visit to Mor Khasgur. "I have a couple of ebony ingots, If you want to try making something," she told me.

"Not yet," I replied. "It's a big step from Orcish to Ebony, and I still have some way to go."

"You should go to Riften, and have Balimund train you," she suggested. "You'll need to go east for the ebony, anyway."

I needed to go east for Nettlebane, too, and Danica had mentioned that the grove where the Elderglem grew was also in that direction. It looked like we'd be going east.

"Everywhere in Skyrim's east from Markarth" Ghorza reminded me.

---

The road from Helgen towards Orphan Rock was familiar for some reason. Then it dawned on me that this was the way we'd come in on the cart, that day with the dragon. Except now I was going in the opposite direction, and I had much better company.

Yes, she was quite the opposite of Ralof. He'd kept up a constant steam of comment, even as we'd been supposedly sneaking past the bear in the cave on the way out.

Orphan Rock was guarded by witches who liked to use shock spells. That was unfortunate, as a fire mage is at a bit of a disadvantage when she has her magicka drained that way. A war-hammer is an appropriate counter-measure, however, to which they have no answer.

The final hag, and the hagraven that held Nettlebane, preferred fire spells, and that played into our strength. They had little to offer, apart from the dagger itself. A few potions, some ingredients, and a bit of gold. Nettlebane itelf didn't appear valuable, and was rather heavy, for just a short knife. But it was its unique ability to harvest sap from the Eldergleam that made it special, and we had to return to Whiterun to find out how.

---

There was a pilgrim in the temple when we took it to Danica, a man called Maurice Jondrelle, which I think is a Breton name. He'd come to see the Gildergreen, and been disappointed at its current state. When he overheard that we were to travel to the parent tree, he asked if he could come with us.

Since I'd cleared the bandits from Valtheim, before rebuilding the Tower, I knew that most of the road between here and Darkwater Crossing would be safe, apart from the usual wolves and other wild creatures we might run across. So I agreed that he could tag along. We'd not be responsible for his safety once we got there, as I had no idea what to expect when we reached the Eldergreen Sanctuary.

Apart from one incident where the idiot Breton tried to tackle a sabre-cat with his bare hands, and was only saved by a well-timed fireball, we reached Darkwater Crossing without too many problems. The miners there pointed out the way to the Sanctuary, through a cave entrance out among the hot springs.

The entrance tunnel brought us out into a large grotto, where light poured in through a hole in the roof of the cave. The light fell on a huge tree to one side of the cave, and spilled over to a lush green area with a steam flowing through it. A couple of other pilgrims were here ahead of us, admiring the flowers and shrubs by the streamside. The water was warm, and the air in the cave was heavy and moist, making growing conditions perfect for a lot of the tender plants that grew there.

The tangled roots of the great tree were everywhere, blocking the path up to its base. I pulled out Nettlebane and hacked at the nearest root, to see what happened. Would it give up its sap?

Instead the root lifted out of my way, letting me climb further up the path. I repeated the process at the next root, and the next ...

Maurice was horrified at this, and stopped me before I could cut into the trunk of the tree. He told me there had to be another way, and I allowed him to try his alternative first. If it didn't work, it would be back to the original plan.

After a few moments of silent prayer to Kyanreth, he got up off his knees and pointed. There, in front of the tree, was a small sapling, in a pot. "You can take this back to Danica. Tell her it's a daughter of the Eldergleam, just like the one she's trying to resurrect. The true blessings of nature are in renewal, not maintenance. This can become a new Gildergreen, in time."

I could see his point. This was not Dagon's way, but it was the way of this world. Everything dies, and is replaced by something younger, rather than being destroyed and rebuilt every so often. Since the Kyn do not have children, we tend to forget the ways of mortals, and see things a different way. Danica was a mortal, so I imagined that she'd see things more like Maurice did.