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 is not a mortal, so he'd be there the next time, too.

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Previously: Kothet had persuaded Ulfric and Tullius to negotiate a temporary truce at High Hrothgar, and was steering the terms to make the war harder to restart, and to give both sides a reason to protect Whiterun.

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29 - Trapper

And that's about the way it worked out. Ulfric was still reluctant to sign, but fortunately Esbern spoke up and reminded everyone of the greater threat. He also had the answer to a problem that had been worrying me: how to get a dragon to come to Whiterun and be captured.

"Every dragon's name is made up of three words of power. It's a Shout, that the Dragonborn can use to get its attention. It won't be compelled to come, but it should be enough of a challenge for it to want to investigate. And I've found, in the Akaviri archives, the name of at least one dragon whose burial site we can identify. Since that burial mound is now empty, it's one that Alduin has raised."

"The name is Od-Ah-Viing, which means something like 'Winged Snow Hunter' in the dragon tongue. Call that name from Whiterun, and I'm sure the dragon will appear."

Jarl Balgruuf nodded to Arngeir, who took the opportunity to firm up the terms of the treaty. Arrangements were made for the displaced Jarls to move to Windhelm and Solitude, and new ones were agreed to replace them. Elenwen had to agree to move her agents out of Markarth, so it was a good thing we had her stay.

---

Of course, Balgruuf wanted to know how I proposed to subdue the dragon once I'd called it. I told him about dragonrend, and how that would force the dragon to land. It was then just a matter of luring it into the trap that was already built in to the palace. The balcony was small, and there wasn't anywhere else it could go, so I had confidence of doing that.

Back in Whiterun, he issued orders that just he and I, and a few guards that had volunteered to operate the trap, would be allowed on the balcony. Not even his housecarl would be with us, although it was clear that she was chafing at the restriction. I was impressed that Balgruuf was doing this himself, and not delegating the responsibility.

---

We only lost one guard in the process. He'd foolishly run out with his bow to take on the dragon when it appeared, despite being told to stay back and leave it all to me. The whole point was to make this a one-on-one battle between the dragon and myself, so I'd have his complete attention. Once I had him grounded, I backed up into the building and he followed.

The Jarl gave the order at the right time, and the yoke descended onto the unsuspecting dragon's neck, and locked around it.

"You've gone to a lot of effort to put me in this humiliating position," he told me. "What is it you want of me?"

I asked him if he knew where Alduin had gone, after our battle at the Throat of the World. He'd heard about that, and had started to wonder if Alduin really was as powerful as he'd presented himself.

"He has gone to Sovngarde, where he feasts on the fallen Nords to restore his power. It is his privilege, which he guards jealously, as the source of his ascendency over the rest of us. The portal is at the temple of Skuldhavn, which can only be reached by flying. Can you fly?"

I could see his point. Unless I set him free again, and he flew me to Skuldhavn, the knowledge itself was useless. We haggled a bit more, and I agreed. I needed a little more from him, in particular his neutrality at least in any further conflict.

So now I had a means to reach Skuldhavn, and presumably Sovngrade from there, but Odahviing could only carry me. What about Zahra?

"Summon me when you get there. It's less unpleasant than not being there, and worrying about what might be happening without me. As your housecarl, I'm supposed to be with you."

Balgruuf said nothing, although I noticed that Irileth had joined him as soon as the trap had been sprung. And now I was opening it again, and he wasn't sending her away.

---

"This is as far as I can take you. Krif voth ahkrin. I will look for your return, or Alduin's."

I summoned Zahra immediately, and as soon as she appeared, she was hurling fireballs at the draugr archers guarding the entrance. They were soon joined by a dragon, which I brought down with dragonrend, and a number of sword-wielding wights. I needed to stop and heal before moving on.

Around the first corner there was another dragon, and more draugr, but now we had space to back up and draw them to us. Zahra could stand back out of their range, and pick off the stragglers, and it wasn't quite the frantic scrabble it had been at the beginning. I looked around the walls looming over us and planned our approach.

As soon as we could, we went up a level, and started to clear the walls. I didn't want any of the draugr getting behind us. We picked up a few helpful potions from chests, and managed not to use them all right away!

It appeared that the portal we were looking for was on the other side of the Temple, which may have been built through the tops of the mountains. There was certainly no sign of it from here.

---

It was about half-way through that temple that I started thinking: how did this all get here? Having time to think about things like that in the middle of battle can be a good sign, because it means that the fight has become routine, and the enemies aren't demanding my full attention. On the other hand, I'm also more likely to be interrupted by something I wasn't expecting, because my attention isn't focused as it should be.

But this was relevant to the task: it would give me some clue as to what was ahead. I was fighting draugr, the remains of men who clearly hadn't flown up here on their own. Had they been here since the Dragon Wars, just waiting for someone to visit? And who had built this temple? It wasn't something dragons did, and the style was definitely Nordic.

One possibility was that it wasn't as isolated in the past. Even mountains fell occasionally, and the path to get here may have been destroyed long ago. And if there was a portal to Sovngarde at the other end of all this, maybe some of these draugr were the ones who couldn't get in, and had to turn back.

---

I had more time to think now. What lay before me wasn't more draugr, but another of their puzzle gates. They usually left the key for anyone with an active mind to read, as they were there to separate the thinking from the unthinking. Yes, there above me were the symbols I needed. Except that there were four of them, and only three pillars to turn.

But there were also two gates to open. The two pillars nearest their clues stayed set, while I turned the third pillar first to one setting, opening one gate that led nowhere, and then the other, which opened the path forward. I ignored the chest behind the first gate, as I had no need to carry anything more.

Because I was in a thinking mood, I also recalled that these sorts of puzzles usually separated the parts where the enemies were numerous, but low-level, from the parts where they were fewer, but more dangerous. I shared that with Zahra, although I suspected she'd had the same thought herself.

As we progressed, I also started to notice a couple of things about our opponents. First, that a significant number of them knew how to Shout. More than the proportion of the living Nords, certainly. Perhaps that was because they'd lived in a time when the dragons were more numerous, and there was more opportunity to learn them. Although the Greybeards had told me it takes a long time meditating on the words of power, it appeared that some were easier to learn than others. Unrelenting Force, the first one I'd learned, was common knowledge among the draugr, and quite a few also knew at least the first word of Disarm.

The second insight was that the draugr exhibited little or no coordination as a fighting force. Each one attacked as soon as it saw us, usually targeting whoever was nearest. They also tended to do stupid things like trying to Disarm Zahra, who was only using spells. It didn't work on me, either, as I'd grown too strong for that, but at least it made sense to try, when the War-hammer I carried was doing so much damage.

Perhaps some of this was because they were all officers, wearing the horned helms that appeared to be a badge of rank. If the noises they made were language, perhaps they were all issuing orders and there was nobody of lesser rank to obey?

This post has been edited by ghastley: Feb 13 2017, 09:34 PM