Clark in Skyrim, A continued report from across the border. Options

[ghastley]

If mALX is back, then Clark should return too.

We left him in Evergloam at the beginning of the 4th Era, where Nocturnal had just inducted him and Minx as Nightingales, to join Dralsi. The two other members of the first trinity had been slain by Ogrim the Restless, who was the original occupant of the cave complex that became the Twilight Sepulchre.

He's about 225 years old now. Nocturnal and Azura made him immortal, rather than risk having to train a new one. He retired as a Nightingale some time ago, and went back into business managing brothels, and other enterprises that remain profitable in times of war. Much of the other intervening history should emerge as this unfolds.

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Part 1 - Over the border

"So Gilda, have you been into Skyrim before?" Clark asked the young woman sitting next to him. Ahead of them, the horse plodded onward, pulling Clark's carriage along the road towards Helgen. He gave the reins a jiggle, but the horse's gait didn't change. It only knew slow and steady.

Gilda wasn't really paying attention. She was busy looking at the scenery, which is why Clark had asked. "Oh, what? No, I barely got a mile from our farm before now. Mother didn't like me wandering off; she was scared I'd run into bandits."

"Is that how your nose got broken?" Clark guessed.

"Yes, the one time I did get away, she turned out to be right. When the bandits found out I didn't have anything valuable, they ... well, you can imagine what they had in mind. I gave the first one who tried anything my knee, and he did that in return. The others didn't stop me when I ran off, they were too busy laughing at our discomfort."

"How long ago was that? It looks like it's been that way for a while."

"About five months, I think. One day was much like another at our farm, and I lost track of time. I can't thank you enough for getting me away from there."

Clark wasn't sure what had made him offer to take her with him. He did need a new apprentice, that was true, but why he'd suddenly decided it could be her was beyond him. It wasn't her looks, for certain. Apart from her nose, she had crooked teeth, and looked like she never ate anything. Her mother was the exact opposite, so it was clear where all the food went in that household. She was wearing one of her mother's hand-me-down dresses, which fit her like a sack.

But he'd stopped at the farm for directions when he left Bruma, and she'd caught his eye. Before he knew it, he'd told her mother she could have a good career as a merchant's apprentice, hinting that she might be able to send some of her earnings home.

And if she'd persuaded him to do that, she probably had some speech talent, so she might work out well. He'd need to heal her nose, and fix her teeth first, and that would need more magicka than he had. Once he got to Whiterun, he'd be able to use the Alchemy lab at his house to make some fortification potions, but until then he couldn't do anything.

"We'll be in Helgen before long," he told her. "It's just over there, where you can see the smoke rising..." Clark's voice trailed off, as he realised that there shouldn't be that much smoke. Something had apparently set part of the town on fire, if not all of it.

They soon met a ragged bunch of imperial soldiers coming the other way, telling of a dragon attack on the town. Clark didn't think there were any dragons in Tamriel.

"Nor did we, until that one swooped down on us," the legionary told him. "We were preparing an execution for Ulfric Stormcloak and some of his men, when it was interrupted by a blast of magic. Threw everyone around like dolls. We'd heard that Ulfric could use the Thu'um like that, so we had him gagged, but a beast that size doing it was something else entirely."

"General Tullius and the Thalmor Ambassador were there too," one of the other men put in. "We have no idea if they got out."

Nobody knew if it was safe to try passing through. There were trails to Falkreath that might be preferable, as long as you weren't hauling anything heavy.

"But watch out for bandits if you go that way," another soldier advised. "That applies any time you leave the main roads in Skyrim."

Clark had heard much the same from legionaries in Cyrodiil. In his opinion, the roads weren't any safer than any other route, just better paved. He let his horse continue down the road.

Helgen was deserted when they got there. Most of the population seemed to be lying dead in the streets, scorched by the dragon's breath. Anyone alive had presumably fled, and the dragon itself was nowhere around. Clark decided to continue down into Riverwood and let them know what had happened. If the dragon didn't attack there next, of course.

---

Riverwood was intact, but they'd seen the dragon fly over. Gerdur, the mill-owner, told Clark that her brother Ralof had escaped from Helgen, and she thought that Hadvar, the legionary from the town, had too. Ralof had brought a stranger with him, and she'd gone on to Whiterun to warn the Jarl.

Clark knew from his earlier trips that Ralof was a Stormcloak, and he asked Gerdur if he'd been one of the men the soldiers had mentioned as due for execution. Ralof hadn't mentioned that part, just that he'd escaped from the dragon. But now it made sense why Hadvar had been there at the same time. "I'll make sure Ralof stays well hidden," she told Clark.

She turned back to what she'd been doing when they arrived. "When the dragon flew over, I was so startled, I dropped this firewood I'd just split in the river. I was trying to dry it out with a flare spell, but it looks like I'll just have to split some more."

"There's an easier way, you know," Clark told her. He took one of the pieces of firewood and stood it on a stump. "Cast a frost spell on it," he told Gerdur. She did so, until Clark told her to stop. "Now dispel the ice"

Gerdur didn't know that spell, so Clark taught it to her. "Now try the flare."

The wood caught immediately, and she quickly dispelled the flames. "I hardly used any magicka doing that. It was a lot easier than the way I was trying."

"Right, especially as the frost comes easily to you. Here, I'll help you finish these."

"You make it look so easy," Gerdur told him. "Are you sure you're an Imperial, not a Breton?"

"It's all practice, not magicka reserves," he told her. "It looks easy because I'm using less magicka than you would. Just like you know how to roll a log instead of doing it the hard way by lifting. But some spells are beyond my normal reach. That's why I have to wait until I get to Whiterun before I can heal Gilda's nose."

Gerdur noticed Gilda for the first time. "I can help her with a good meal, and you too. I owe you for that firewood trick."

"I hoped you might. Cooking is where you show your skill."

---

"Looking at her, I expected she had no appetite," Gerdur whispered to Clark. "But she's on her third helping of the stew already."

Clark told Gerdur that he suspected her mother had been starving her. Whether that was to keep her thin, or just because the mother ate all the food, he didn't know, but the mother was really fat. "She didn't think enough of Gilda to get her teeth straightened, so I doubt she had any positive feelings for her."

"If Gilda eats like that all the time, she might take after her," Gerdur warned.

"I don't expect she will. I'll get Lydia to look after her, and she'll keep her fit, not fat."

Lydia was Clark's housecarl in Whiterun. She'd been part of the deal when Jarl Balgruuf made Clark a Thane of the city, for his services to its people. He'd forgotten what he'd done for them; nothing major, just a lot of small things that added up. And the Jarl had noticed his effect on the local economy. Even the Khajiiti caravan that camped outside the gates seemed to be more prosperous after Clark had arrived.

They'd be at his house, Breezehome, by the end of the day, if there weren't any problems on the road.

---

"Oh, It's you, Thane," the guard at the gate knew Clark, even if he didn't know the girl. "Is she with you? I have orders to keep strangers out, with dragons sighted in the area."

Clark vouched for Gilda, and the guard opened the gate for them.

"That's a new development," Clark remarked. "The only ones not allowed in before were the Khajiit traders. They have an unjustified reputation as thieves. Well, maybe it's partly justified, but they're not the worst. They just have a more sharing attitude to property than the Nords are accustomed to, and it's often misinterpreted."

---

"What have you got in the sack?" Lydia asked.

"That's not a nice thing to say," Clark admonished. "Even if that is a good description of her outfit. This is Gilda, my new apprentice, and we'll be exchanging that 'sack' for something better-fitting as soon as we can. She's about your height, so is there something in the wardrobe she can try on?"

"You know I only keep a few changes of armour. If you're looking for a dress, you're probably out of luck."

"Leather armour might be more comfortable, if it fits."

Gilda took a look in the wardrobe, but there weren't any dresses, and the leather was loose, even with the straps tightened all the way. She put the "sack" back on, and tied the string back around her waist.

"We have to go to Belethor's in the morning anyway. We'll find you something then. Come out to the back room while I brew up some potions, and then I'll see what I can do about your nose," Clark told her.

Lydia was already back at the cookpot, stirring up some food. She could see that the poor girl needed feeding, even if Clark couldn't.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Oct 2 2014, 07:52 PM

[ghastley]

Acadian: It should be obvious where this is all headed, (no Jordis ... yet) but reminding myself how far it got is just as important for me. The bit I'm writing and the bit I'm posting are getting further apart.

Daedric bikinis aren't going to appear, as they're self-contradictory. Using Daedric material implies that the substance matters most, so you'd use as much as you can. Wearing a bikini as armour indicates trust in the enchantment, rather than the material, so you'd use something more comfortable. Gilda wears nice supple leather. She likes the fortify carry on the Thieves Guild cuirass, even if she can't get the right size. The housecarls don't do magic, so they wear full heavy armour.

Diablita does the magic armour only thing, because she couldn't get physical armour that fits her. Some of it is Gilda's problem, and some is the hooves. Swinging a big sword keeps everyone out of range, too.

-------------------

Previously: Clark and Gilda had entered Potema's catacombs to investigate new activity there. It appeared that necromancers had succeeded in raising her spirit, but hadn't yet brought her back to life. Gilda had experienced a wardrobe malfunction, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

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Part 24 - Potema's Tomb

A ghostly shape was floating in the center of the chamber, up near the roof. It was hard to see what it was, as lightning was crackling around it, and flaring randomly at the walls. Potema's voice was coming from the same direction, so they assumed it was her spirit energising it.

Several coffins standing around the periphery fell open when the lightning passed, and draugr emerged and advanced on Clark and Gilda. The first wave were weak, probably just a probe to test them.

"Impressive, but don't applaud yourself too soon!" Potema's voice announced another wave of draugr. Or maybe she'd just noticed Gilda, Clark thought to himself.

There were still draugr lying there from the first wave, and Clark tried an experiment. He raised one of them himself, and sent it back to fight its brethren. That seemed to cause them some confusion, as it was no longer obvious which side any draugr was on. Gilda caught on quickly, and added to the mayhem by using her Turn Undead spell. Clark continued raising any draugr that fell. It was a weak spell, and didn't take much magicka. The reanimated undead were also feeble, but their main task was to be a distraction, and that they did well.

Clark soon noticed that he was taking Potema's cannon fodder away from her. The draugr wouldn't raise a second time, and she was running out of allies. Gilda and he concentrated their offense on the tougher opponents, and let the others beat on each other. Since both of them were mainly using their blades for that, it didn't stop them raising and turning the rest with their other hand.

The final draugr lord shouted Clark's blade out of his hand. But he couldn't repeat that for Gilda, who struck before he could raise his own weapon. She kept him reeling back, unable to regain his balance, until he slipped over the edge of the stairs, down to where Clark was standing.

"Oh, that's where it went!" Clark gleefully grabbed up his sword. The draugr was just getting back on his feet from the fall, when a blow from Clark's weapon set him on fire. Clark kept him falling back, as Gilda jumped down to help.

A soul filled one of Clark's gems as the final draugr lord died. But the greater swirl of magicka was passing through the door at the end of the room. Potema was retreating to her throne room, and they needed to pursue. Clark could see a skull on the throne, presumably hers. He grabbed for it, but was pushed back by a ghostly shape which had to be Potema herself. Not entirely substantial yet, but she was already able to affect the mortal world, and the sword in her hand was real.

"If she can affect us, we can hurt her," Gilda reminded him. She hacked at the ghost, and her blade glowed as it absorbed health from the spectre. Clark could see Potema fade as that happened, and he added his assault to Gilda's. Finally there was no more resistence, and he picked the skull off the throne.

"I thought that someone had put a circlet around the skull, but it looks like these jewels and gold bands are embedded in the bone. I wonder what that would have felt like if she came back to life." Clark mused.

"I, for one, am glad I don't get to ask!" Gilda replied. "And I hope that door is the way out, and we don't have to go all the way back to the Temple. I don't think the priests would like me flashing my breasts there!"

"You can use both hands to hold your jacket in place now. We should be done with fighting."

"I still need to go somewhere I can fix it before we go back to the Temple. Open the door and see where it leads."

"There are a couple more draugr out here, but I don't think they'll be any trouble now Potema's gone," Clark called back to her, "and the next door leads out to the mountainside."

Out in the relative safety, Gilda rummaged through her backpack until she found a leather strip that she could use as a temporary fix.

"That still looks delightfully precarious," Clark told her, "but it won't give the guards an excuse to arrest you."

---

After a short side-trip to Beirand's forge for a more permanent repair, they made their way back to the Hall of the Dead with Potema's skull. Styr was intrigued with the way her followers had encrusted it with jewels. He wondered if that had had any influence on her return. Gemstones were often reservoirs of magicka, and that might have been part of their plans. He didn't detect any magicka now, and he'd remove the gems before the skull was sanctified.

Falk was delighted. He presented them with a Shield of Solitude and a decent amount of gold. "The Jarl would prefer this be kept quiet. You can imagine the chaos that would have ensued if Potema had succeeded in returning. Elisif will be much happier if the people don't start speculating about that!"

Gilda took the coin purse, and handed the shield to Clark. "I need to go back to Riften," she announced. "I have Guild work I should be doing."

"Before you go too," Falk addressed Clark, "there's another small matter that Jarl Elisif would like you to consider."

Elisif beckoned Clark over to the throne, and spoke to him quietly, so that her voice wouldn't carry too far.

"When my husband died, I made offerings to each of the Divines at the Temple. I couldn't make one to Talos, of course, and that's important to a Nord. Since I can't leave the city without a Thalmor escort, could you take Torygg's war horn to one of the shrines in the wilderness? Most of the members of my court are under too much surveillance to do it, but you're a travelling merchant that won't arouse any suspicion."

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark could see Bolgeir Bearclaw, her housecarl, nodding in approval. The White Gold Concordat was observed, but parts of it regularly ignored, in most of Skyrim. Whiterun was nominally under Imperial control, for example, but it still had a shrine to Talos in the Cloud District.

Clark asked if that wouldn't be a better location, but Elisif marked a specific location on his map. "There are reasons for sending you there. And also for my waiting until Gilda left before asking you. We know she's in the Thieves Guild."

"She may be its Guildmaster before we speak next," Clark confirmed.

"Then maybe I need not have worried. They'll be less of a concern under her control. Regardless, the horn is a unique item, and if it wanders from the shrine, that may provide useful intelligence. People who see it will remark on that, and other people may overhear."

---

Clark left with the horn and headed for Whiterun. Elisif had as good as told him that she expected him to be tailed by Thalmor spies, and probably some of her own. Only the former were of any concern, of course. He'd like to have Lydia with him when he went out to the shrine. If the Thalmor were going to do anything, that was the most likely place he'd encounter them.

What they weren't expecting to meet were a dragon, and giants. The latter were herding a couple of mammoths down the valley, and heading away from the shrine. The dragon seemed to be coming from the mountain to the north, headed towards the Throat of the World. The giants saw it, and reversed direction to see off the threat, which placed them between Clark and Lydia, coming from the west, and the shrine, to the east.

They paused, watching to see what unfolded. The dragon circled once, tempted by the mammoths, but then continued on its flight towards the Throat of the World. The giants stared after it for a while, then turned back towards their original path. Something else, however, drew their attention. Clark could see them shaking their clubs at another threat, this time on the ground.

After a minute or two of inaction, the giants resumed following the mammoths. But now it was clear to Clark and Lydia that there was something up ahead, and they were ready for it.

"Bears, do you think?" Lydia suggested.

"I doubt it, you usually hear them first. They'd rather warn you off than fight. No, this is something that likes to stay silent, and hidden. Bandits, for example."

Clark knew who he was really expecting, of course, and he wasn't wrong. A Thalmor Justiciar and a couple of soldiers were loitering near the shrine. They attacked without provocation. It seemed that just visiting that location was reason enough.

Clark did little other than block the wizard's spells with his ward. Lydia, in her carved nordic armour and with her recently-enchanted sword, tore through them without any real effort.

"Hey, this fiery soul trap really makes a difference!" she enthused. "I should have let you do this a long time ago."

"You improved the sword at Warmaiden's too. How do you know that wasn't the main factor?"

"Well, I don't. Not for certain. But the flames certainly intimidate the others. Hit one, and the others back off!"

"The soul trap didn't do anything, though," she added after a moment's thought.

"You don't have a black soul gem. You need one of those to trap a person's soul."

"Are Thalmor people?" she asked, almost seriously.

Clark didn't reply. He reverently laid the war horn that Elisif had given him on the shrine. It wasn't an ostentatiously decorated piece, but the workmanship was fine, and distinctive. He could understand what Elisif had said. Anyone who saw it would talk about it.