A Question of Fate Options

[haute ecole rider]

I paid for the room and ordered the chicken dish. The food was delicious. Roasted chicken in a rich alto wine sauce with a sautéed combination of mushrooms, onions, and garlic. It came with bread that I used to mop up every bit of the sauce.

Now that's my kind of writing! Somewhere in all the slash and smash, there is time to sit down and enjoy a well-cooked meal!

I, too, wonder how Val's nearly-full Monty act made the news down in Riverwood, too!

Life is never simple, even when you think it is . . .

And ooh, some foreshadowing! I wonder where that is leading us!

[Darkness Eternal]

Chapter 20: So, he's told what he's done when he was absolutely drunk and out of his senses? Next time, a good man named Sam needs to be involved! I heard he's good at parties and nights to remember.

We pass on to see Val meet a fellow woodie and some supplies for the journey. A comical episode, one that was enjoyed from start to finish.

Chapter 21: Ah, information on the Stormies and political goodies of the Civil War and the Jarl's involvement. Delphine can cook, but I still don't like her. I echo Ghastly's statement! One thing I do pity about Valrimor is that he never gets a good night's sleep, does he? Either he wakes up with a overwhelming hangover or he's plagued by nightmares. I wonder what the dream means. Dragons, mages, fire . . . hmm. Has us wondering.

[jack cloudy]

The Nordmer returns. Yippee!

I don't think I have much to add that hasn't already been said. I do keep being amazed at the amount of liquor he downs in a day. It's like he can't walk five steps without ordering a mug of ale from someone.


Ralof's comments regarding Whiterun irritated me a little (mostly because I get too involved with these things). I like Proventus, and I'm rather anti-Stormcloak. But it makes sense that Ralof who was Stormcloak enough to hang out with Ulfric himself would be very pro-Stormcloak in everything. I do find it amusing how he is basically just chilling in Riverwood instead of hoofing it for Stormcloak territory at the earliest opportunity or staying indoors.


The mainstay of the dreams reminds me of what the Nerevarine experienced. It also puts some very strong hints at the role Val is going to play.

And finally, I like that he's reconsidering the Winterhold offer. He still doesn't like it, but he doesn't just dismiss it out of hand either.

[Acadian]

“I always try to keep my word, Ralof. I have my faults, but not repaying a debt isn’t one of them,” I replied. It was a true statement, for the most part.’ - - This is an important truism about Val. And it comes into play later in this very episode.

’Lucan’s face dropped the smile and grabbed a concerned scowl in the blink of an eye.’ - - I’ve been wondering what his reaction would be to Val’s request for the claw. . . and you did not disappoint. Nevertheless, it is clear the merchant has taken a liking to, and trusts, Val. For the eventual agreement includes no financial incentive for Val to return the claw. Indeed, Lucan even agrees to let the elf go off to a very dangerous dungeon crawl with a full, unpaid tab. He clearly thinks highly of the elf’s skill and honor. And I agree with Lucan’s assessment in that regard. You did a great job of wrapping all this up within a gruff ‘manly’ patina as well.

And another great meal! As you can tell, your readers certainly enjoy being well-fed. And water!?! (Seriously, good choice, Val.)

’...said a quick prayer to Stendarr, asking for a dreamless sleep. That prayer went unanswered.’ - - A great segue into the terrifying dream sequence that followed.

[SubRosa]

It is good to see Ralof again. Maybe not Hod though...

And Orgnar is happy to see Val. That is not a good sign. Oh no, he's heard about what happened in Whiterun! Maybe Val should join the Bard's College?

So Delphine can cook? At least she can do something useful...

And the eternal question - Mages Guild or Thieves Guild... Hopefully Val will go with the mages.

A wonderful (though not for Val!) more-than-nightmare at the end that shows Val's connection to Alduin, and the dragonblood in his veins. Through all of his bluster, Alduin seems afraid of Val. I wonder if Val will pick up on that?

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Thanks for all of your comments.

@ ghastley - Delphine needed something to offset that constant nagging.

@ haute ecole rider - The Skyrim version of Chicken Marsala, one of my favorite dishes. I actually asked Mrs. TSG to make some this weekend.

@ Darkness Eternal - I'm glad you enjoyed the humor in Ch. 20, and picked up on the fact that Val doesn't seem to be plagued by nightmares when he's smashed at bedtime in Ch. 21.

@ jack cloudy - Val is indeed a full blown alcoholic.

Apologies for Ralof ticking you off, but your are correct...he's as Stormcloak as you get. I also wonder why he is still laying around in Riverwood.

@ Acadian - Thank you for the very kind words. I guess I missed my mark in describing Lucan's demeanor. I wanted him to come off as selfish and somewhat greedy, not so much as trusting and friendly toward Val. He's in it for the money. Renting the claw was a win-win deal for him.

@ SubRosa - I don't think Hod will ever forgive Val...a bit over sensitive for a burly mill worker.

I'm not sure that Val has picked up on Aduin's fear, but I am glad you did.

*************************

Previously – Val has returned to Riverwood, fulfilling his promise to Gerdur. He met briefly with his friend Ralof, and then procured the Golden Claw from Lucan Valerius. Afterwards, he loaded up on provisions and had fruitlessly prayed for a good night’s rest…

Chapter 22 – Revisiting Bleak Falls Barrow

26th Last Seed, 4E201

I awoke suddenly, gasping for breath and trying to brush flames from my skin. It took a moment to realize that it had been a dream and that I was safely lying in my bed at The Sleeping Giant. I sighed heavily and shuddered with relief. It occurred to me that the dream had changed again. The dragon did not say its usual bit about coming as it knew I must. Instead, it had tried to dissuade me from action.

I can’t take this…

I shook my head and stood up. Splashing cold water in my face at the basin cleared my head and helped me to focus on what lay ahead as I got dressed. I shoved the memories of the dream aside and set my resolve as I left my room to get some food.

A good breakfast and a determined attitude saw me out the door of the Sleeping Giant Inn. The previous day’s weather had not improved, although thankfully, it had not worsened. A cold north wind buffeted me as I climbed back up the crude path that led toward Bleak Falls. When I reached the ruined keep that had been the thieves’ outpost on my first trip, I paused for a moment. The bandit that I had pinned to the tree with an arrow shot had caught my eye. The entire lower half of her body was missing. The wolves had been at her. They had also taken both arms below the elbow. What remained, including the arrow, was now draped in icicles. Shaking my head, I continued on toward the barrow. When I started climbing the stone stairway that led to the entrance, I deliberately avoided looking at the charred remnants of my uncontrolled fury. Then I entered the barrow and almost gagged on the odor of rotting flesh. Large, fat flies buzzed loudly in thick clouds around the maggot ridden corpses of skeevers and bandits. By the time I had made my way to the remains of Arvel, I had nearly lost my morning meal twice. The Dunmer thief was still posted on the swinging gate trap. Much of Arvel’s flesh had been…removed…from his body.

“The minions of the priests of old shall rend the flesh from your lifeless carcass...”

I shuddered and shook my head at the memory of the dream. Staring at his mangled corpse, I whispered, “I sure hope you weren’t feeding me a line of skeever dung.”

Reaffirming my resolve, I nocked an arrow to my bowstring and crept deeper into the barrow. Proof that it would not be a boring trek came quickly. A body that I had presumed to be lifeless suddenly contradicted that presumption. It rose from its prone position, opening eyes that glowed with azure anger and drawing a sword as it did so. I knew that two shots would be required, so I nocked a second arrow as quickly as I could after the first shot was away. The effect was the same as before. Old blue eyes dropped like an empty sack when the second bowshot split its sternum. I had no sooner rounded a bend when this activity was repeated. But something caught my attention in the process. Before the Draugr had moved, I noticed that the corpse’s armor appeared to have less dust coating it than the armor of those that remained motionless. This proved to be valuable information, because now I knew what to look for. With this knowledge, I could snipe these undead before they even moved. But that only helped with the Draugr that I could see in chambers that were relatively well lit. Sudden surprises still lurked in the darker areas. Plus, the damned corpses had a nasty habit of popping out of crypt boxes like some sort of sick magician’s party trick.

Soon my progress came to a halt when I found myself confronted with a set of pendulums swinging across a narrow passage, each with a half moon blade at the end of it. I could well understand Ralof’s advice about keeping my wits. The blades swung too close to the floor to consider crawling under them. There did appear to be enough space between blades to pause and wait. The only solution was to attempt a dash-and-pause advance between the arcs of certain death. It took all of my concentration to time those sprints, but I managed to get through without being filleted. These events seemed to go on forever. Between the constant risings of the hate filled deceased, a second set of swinging blades, and the confined space, my nerves were totally frayed by the time I reached the end of the passage.

It appeared that I could go no further. A pair of large braziers lit the stone wall at the terminus. The wall had a set of three concentric half circles. At the center of this arrangement was a full circle with three holes in it. Each of the three semi-circles had symbols that were aligned with each other to the vertical. I dug Arvel’s journal out of my pack and reviewed the writing.

“If you have the Claw, the Key is in the Palm of your Hand.”

I took out the claw and examined it. Then I walked up to the wall and looked at the symbols on the semi-circles. That was when I made the connection. The three symbols on the palm of the artifact were of the same style as those on the wall. I touched one symbol and suddenly the stone ring rotated, revealing a new symbol. Grinning at my success, I quickly spun the rings so that the symbols matched the order of those on the claw. Consternation chased my grin away when nothing happened. I tried sticking my fingers in the holes of the center disk to turn it, but could not get it to budge.

Think, bark-brain…You must be doing something wrong…

I squatted in front of the rings and studied them intently, and then studied the claw further. All of the symbols were correct. I was stymied. I started unconsciously twirling the claw in my hand by the nub of stylized forearm, like a crank on a well handle–

A crank!

I examined the claw with renewed vision, and then looked at the holes on the center disc. It was clear to me now. I rose and inserted the claw’s talons into the holes of the center disc. They fit perfectly. Then I cranked the claw and the disc spun with ease. The grinding of stone against stone and falling dust caused me to step back. I stared in amazement as the entire wall slowly slid downward. Sudden panic struck when I noticed the claw nearing the floor. I dove and recovered the artifact just in time to keep it from being ground into worthless chunks of metal. With a sigh of relief, I looked into the passage beyond. Stairs led upward, which I found to be a pleasant change. I resumed my journey with an arrow at the ready. When I reached the top of the steps, the passage ended a short distance later at the entrance to a large chamber that nature had created with water and eons of patience. The ancient Nords has been busy in here as well. Stone masons had created several raised platforms and a bridge that spanned an underground creek being fed by several waterfalls. A shaft of daylight was shining down on a large stone platform that had another of the stone tombs I had been encountering. As I approached the bridge, a flight of cave swallows took wing and caused me to let out a short yelp of alarm.

Screenshot

I continued inward. At the back of the main platform was a monument of some kind that towered toward the cave ceiling. A stylized dragon’s head was carved in relief out of the stone between two monoliths that rose on either side, giving the entire structure the appearance of a shrine. All of this rested on a concave stone base. As I climbed the steps up to the platform, I noticed markings on the base. But the odd part was that one set of these carvings was starting to glow. I stared at it, transfixed as though I were in a trance. Everything else around me was lost to my vision as streamers of roseate and cyan light pulsed into me. A chanting sound filled my ears. My vision blurred momentarily, and I went rigid as a rush of power surged into every nerve of my body. Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Momentarily dazed, I stood there and wondered what had just happened.

Reality came bursting back as a now familiar sound came from behind me. I spun around and saw a very large Draugr climb out of the sarcophagus that sat on the platform. I quickly shot two arrows into the walking corpse, with little effect. It was armed with an axe that glowed with the same cerulean evil as its eyes. Its armor appeared somehow more…complete…than that of my previous foes. Its size was daunting, nearly a foot taller than the others I had encountered. The Draugr suddenly barked an odd sound at me and concussive force knocked me backward, as though I had been shoved by a large Orc. The beast took advantage of my lack of balance and charged toward me. I was not able to get another arrow nocked before I had to roll out of the way of its descending blade. The axe clanged on the stone with a shower of sparks that were contradicted by shards of ice that ricocheted off my armor. I got up and ran as fast as I could down the stairs while getting another arrow nocked. Then I spun and shot, hitting the Draugr again. This shot had stunned it and that was my chance, or so I thought. I charged toward it while drawing my sword. It had just about recovered, kneeling on one knee. The thing glared at me with blue hatred and uttered the sound again. The force of this next concussion knocked me backward, down the stairs head first. Excruciating pain filled my head as quickly as stars filled my vision. Ringing roared through my ears as though I was in a temple belfry when services were being called. As my vision began to clear, the Draugr had almost reached me. He was raising his axe and charging at me full speed. By sheer reflex, I kicked my legs upward while still lying on my back, managing to plant a foot firmly into its chest. The Draugr’s momentum caused its body to catapult completely over me as its axe blade grazed my shoulder. Instant numbing cold ran down my left arm. I heard a loud “crack” when the creature landed behind me. I got up and turned to discover that the beast had also risen, but its neck had broken. The creature’s head was dangling sideways above its shoulders, its eyes still shining with azure vehemence. Leaping and raising my sword with my good arm, I brought it down with all my might on the thing’s crooked neck. This neatly separated its head from the rest of it. The walking corpse fell to the stone as I fell to my knees, panting for air. A sudden rush of nausea caused my head to start swimming. I dropped my sword and fumbled with my right hand to open my pack. I dumped the contents trying to find a healing potion. Flashes of light refilled my vision as I searched, and then I pitched forward. Blackness prevented me from feeling anything as my face met the stone floor.

[Acadian]

An ominous trek to the dungeon, then a harrowing trip inside, fighting blue-eyed Druglords.

So, Val figured out what the claw did. See? He’s not such a bark-brain.

Did Val just learn a dragon word or something?

Uh-oh, one of the Druglords knows how to shout! Well, not any more.

Nice screenie!

[SubRosa]

I did not think of it in the previous episode, but Val's musings about his nightmare when he woke made me realize that it had not only changed, but that it had done so when he decided to go to BFB to retrieve the Dragonstone. As he thought, the dream was trying to dissuade him from action, and that was the action he was taking. I wonder when it will sink in to Val?

Looks like Val has been feeding the local wildlife. And perhaps wildundead as well...

opening eyes that glowed with azure anger
This was a particularly nice passage.

Old blue eyes dropped like an empty sack when the second bowshot split its sternum.
Wow, I know a lot of people are not fans of Frank Sinatra, but that is a little harsh!

Loved the screenshot. That ending chamber in BFB is one of the coolest looking places in the game.


Nits: You have some really long paragraphs in this episode. Most can squeak by, but the final one is just way too much. It makes for a very imposing wall of text. I suggest breaking it up into three or four paragraphs.

[jack cloudy]

The distinction between the dream going from 'go ahead, make my day', to 'please stay away' was one I hadn't noticed till it was pointed out. And that must have been one mighty arrowshot, pinning the bandit so well the wolves couldn't pull the corpse down to the ground.


You skipped the filler parts of the barrow quite elegantly, saying only what was necessary to get the point across. By contrast, the door-puzzle was elaborated on nicely. You ran us through each step Val took to solving the puzzle and gave us desert in the funny image of him diving to the floor to save his rented key from getting smashed.



Now I only hope that he will learn a new trick soon. The draugr's shoving magic was quite a hindrance and payback is very liberating.

[haute ecole rider]

Bark-brain? I love it! I have to add it to the list along with tree-hugger, wood-eater, etc for the Bosmer! Derogatory coming from anyone else, but sarcastic coming from a Bosmer. Like a Mexican calling himself a "beanie," or an Italian calling herself "dago." As I am 1/4 Italian, I call myself a quarter-dago at times!

Now I don't have the game, so correct me if I'm wrong. But cave swallows? Maybe bats? Sometimes their flight patterns can be similar. Cave swallows cling to the walls, bats cling to the roof. If Val didn't see where they came from, maybe it would be difficult to see just what they were? I'm just wondering, that's all. I'm used to seeing bats in caves, not cave swallows, so that line caught my attention.

I echo everyone else, especially cloudy's comments.

Enjoyable as always. And I imagine Val is wishing for a nice, tall, stein of ice-cold ale, or maybe a stiff shot of Nordic whiskey, right about now.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

@ Acadian - LOL @ Druglords! Perseverance did indeed pay off with the claw / key, but Val has no clue what happened to him at the word wall. Glad you liked the screenshot.

@ SubRosa - Val doesn't dwell too much on the dreams. He would prefer to forget them all together. So the import of Alduin trying to dissuade him from action has not sunk in...yet.

Regarding the nit...When I wrote that paragraph, I had the same thought. But being such a novice writer, I did not know how to correctly fix it. Since the entire paragraph deals with one particular subject matter and scene, I could not find a natural paragraph break. I would truly love some tutoring and/or an example on how to correct this.

@ jack cloudy - The wolves probably could have pulled the entire bandit corpse down. I think they just gave up since they had taken all of the good meat already. Or, perhaps they were distracted...who knows?

@ haute ecole rider - I'm glad you like Val's self-deprecating name calling. He has more of them, and I hope you'll like those as much.

As to the cave swallows, I went that way over bats because in-game, that's the impression they gave. They didn't seem bat-like at all. If I had Fraps to record the scene, I'd show you and you would see what I mean.

@ Everyone - Thanks again to you all for your kind critiques and comments! On with the story now...

**********

Previously – Val had returned to Bleak Falls Barrow on an errand for Farengar. He fought his way through Draugr, obstacles, and a puzzling entrance to the monument chamber. A battle with a Draugr Overlord had left him wounded and unconscious…

Chapter 23 – Out of the Barrow

27th Last Seed, 4E201

The sound of falling water echoing off cave walls greeted my senses, followed by a wave of pain in my head and a numbness running down my left arm. I raised my head from a pool of congealed blood. My right hand went to my face and found a gash in my forehead and more dried blood on my cheek. When I examined my surroundings, memory replaced my disorientation. The contents of my pack were strewn about the floor. A large headless Draugr lay a few feet away, its head just a few feet further. When I tried to push myself up, my left arm gave way and I almost repeated a face plant on the stone. There was also dried blood on my arm and a shallow wound behind sliced leather on my left shoulder. A quick dose of healing potion revived the arm, although it was still sore and stiff.

I rose and walked over to the stream that babbled its way under the stone bridge. I washed my face, wincing as I cleansed the tender area on my forehead. That wince made an encore performance as I tended to the wound on my shoulder. I spared using more healing potion to completely rid myself of pain, as I still had to get out of this Gods forsaken barrow. Who knew what fresh Oblivions waited for me on the trek outward?

You’re getting a little ahead of yourself…the Dragonstone…

I frowned at the thought. Further examination of the area revealed that there was a chest next to the former guardian’s sarcophagus. I gathered all of my belongings and walked over to it. To my surprise, it was unlocked. Opening it failed to reveal any Dragonstone, but my dismay was tempered by the amount of loot held within. There were dozens of gold coins, a couple healing potions, and a leather helm that glowed with an iridescent aura. I realized immediately that this was a sign of some type of enchantment, but of what type I could not be sure.

With your luck, it is cursed with a spell of burdening that will leave you motionless here until you die of thirst and starvation…

That thought prevented me from trying it on, but I knew it could have great value, so I stowed it in my pack. On a small table nearby, two soul gems were in a pewter goblet. One glowed, indicating there was a trapped soul within. I placed these in my pack as well and turned my attention to the once undead guardian of the shrine. I loathed the idea of searching its body until I noticed something bulging out from behind its harness. When I pulled the item out, I actually laughed out loud. This had to be the Dragonstone. It was a stone tablet etched with a map and writings that I could not decipher. It did not appear fragile, yet I gingerly placed it in my pack as though it were made of glass.

Ok…time to leave…

I did not relish the idea of retracing my journey back through the catacombs of the barrow, especially those sets of pendulum blades. I did not think I could dodge them so well in my present condition. So I scanned the cave for other possible routes. A set of stairs climbed up the left side of the monument to an opening in the cave wall. This appeared to be the only other exit from the chamber. Since there was the possibility of more loot, and even better, an alternate exit from this mausoleum, I opted to investigate. The decision turned out to be the right one as I did indeed discover another loot filled chest and a back door. Soon I was deeply inhaling fresh air and enjoying the warmth of sunlight on my face. The only problem was that I had no clue as to my location in relation to Riverwood or Whiterun. I stood high on a mountainside, looking down into a valley that had a river running through the center.

Could this be the same river that passes Riverwood? Does it matter? There will likely be some sort of settlement along its banks where you can ask directions…

The climb down was arduous, as there was no defined path leading away from this barrow entrance. When I reached flatter ground, I tried to get my bearings. Not knowing whether it was morning or afternoon, the sun was useless as a guide. I decided to follow the river downstream. I hadn’t walked very far when I saw a small column of smoke rising from the opposite side of the river. Nocking an arrow and crouching, I approached the river bank for a better view. The smoke was from a campfire, and the gentle breeze was sharing the aroma of cooking fish with me, inciting growls from my stomach. Several more fish hung on a line that was strung between two poles. The fire was situated between the river bank and a lone tent. An occupant emerged and spotted me immediately.

“Lower your bow or my comrades shall kill you where you stand, thief,” said the woman as she quickly nocked an arrow of her own.

“I am no thief,” I replied as I glanced around for her comrades, “just a traveler that has had his appetite whetted by the smell of your food.”

“Then stow your weapon and cross. There is plenty if you do indeed be honorable,” offered the Nord, not stowing her own bow yet.

I still had provisions of my own in my pack, but the offer of fresh cooked fish was too good to be turned down. I slung my bow and crossed the river with my arms spread and visible, only slightly hindered by the shallow current over the ford that she had chosen to camp beside. I kept my eyes fixed on her bow until she also lowered it and set it aside. She was a fit young woman with boyishly short hair. A fishing pole rested across a backpack that was lying next to her tent. She eyed me with a measure of caution before she spoke.

“Are you a hunter as well?” she asked.

“Sometimes, but not today. I’m trying to get to Whiterun,” I replied.

“Taking a rather awkward route, are you not?”

“I got detoured from my way by…bandits,” I lied. “Before I knew it, I was lost in the mountains back there.”

She eyed the wound on my head and said, “Then I hope those bandits look worse than you do. Go ahead and take a seat, but do not presume that I am not ready for any trickery,” said the huntress, gesturing to a stump near the fire.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“I was just about to eat. You are welcome to join me,” she said as she dug wooden plates and forks out from her pack.

“I would like that…um…what was your name?”

“It was and still is Ingrid,” she replied with a sardonic grin.

“I’m Valrimor. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Will your comrades be joining us?”

Ingrid pointed to the string of fish and said, “They are already here. I didn’t want you to know I was all alone here.”

It didn’t bother me that I had been duped. In her position, I would have likely tried the same ruse. Ingrid presented a plate with flame broiled fish and a slice of bread. As we ate, she explained that she lived off the land, hunting and fishing for only what she needed. With some concern that I might consider her a poacher, she defended her actions by saying that the Jarl couldn’t possibly require all of the deer and fish within the hold. I asked her if she had any ale or mead to accompany our meal.

“I gave up libations when I left the city life behind me. All I can offer is boiled river water,” she replied, tossing me a water skin. I returned it to her, thanking her and saying that water was something I already had, and I retrieved a water bottle of my own from my pack. When I finished my meal, I asked Ingrid to point me towards Whiterun. She told me to follow the river northward past Riverwood. Knowing exactly where I was at that point, I thanked her for the food and said farewell. With the knowledge that the river flowed north, I now knew from the sun’s position that it was mid morning. I reached Riverwood around midday and entered Lucan’s shop. The shopkeeper was eating a sandwich behind the counter. A grin, that actually looked genuine this time, came to his face and allowed crumbs to fall from his mouth.

“You are back and alive!” Lucan said around a mouthful of food, and then added, “Happy Harvest’s End!” This sprayed even more crumbs onto his counter top.

Harvest’s End...the 27th of Last Seed…six days in Skyrim and it feels like six months…

Down in Cyrodiil, Harvest’s End used to be a major holiday in days of old, or so I had heard. These days it wasn’t recognized with as much revelry as it once had been. This was due to the fact that the 27th of Last Seed marked the anniversary of Uriel Septim VII’s assassination, which had started the Oblivion Crisis. There has been little celebration of anything in Cyrodiil since that day. Perhaps the holiday is not quite so tainted here in Skyrim.

“And a happy Harvest’s End to you as well. I have come to return your claw,” I replied, fishing the artifact out of my pack. The proprietor wiped his face and hands on a napkin before taking the claw from me. He quickly returned it to its display stand as I placed Arvel’s journal amidst the crumbs on Lucan’s counter.

“Thank you for keeping your word,” Lucan said, and then asked “Did you find what that thief was looking for?”

“Regrettably, I did not,” I lied.

“What a shame,” he replied with obviously feigned empathy, “but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh? Surely you will be requiring items to resupply your wares today, yes? Everything is marked down for the holiday.”

“No thanks, but thank you again for providing me with the claw. Have a nice holiday Lucan,” I said as I left the shopkeeper to finish his lunch.

“Everything is marked down for the holiday”…Maybe Harvest’s End was indeed a happier occasion up here, since even Lucan was discounting his merchandise. Could the taverns be offering specials as well?

That thought caused me to quicken my pace toward Whiterun.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jan 27 2014, 02:50 PM

[Grits]

Whew, caught up again! What fun to have several updates to read at once.

I just love the expression ‘saved your bark.’

But something caught my attention in the process. Before the Draugr had moved, I noticed that the corpse’s armor appeared to have less dust coating it than the armor of those that remained motionless. This proved to be valuable information, because now I knew what to look for.

This is a great game detail with a story explanation that made me grin. You evoked that feeling of creeping through the crypt so well!

FWIW I thought cave swallow was a good description for the surprised birds. The cavern is open to the sky and is just the kind of natural place where chimney swifts or barn swallows would be found.

With your luck, it is cursed with a spell of burdening that will leave you motionless here until you die of thirst and starvation…

That thought prevented me from trying it on, but I knew it could have great value, so I stowed it in my pack.

I love this! It could be cursed! Very sensible not to just try it on.

That was an excellent where-the-heck-am-I moment on the way out of the barrow.

Ingrid pointed to the string of fish and said, “They are already here. I didn’t want you to know I was all alone here.”

How fun! I guessed that the game’s lone hunter was bluffing, and she was. Nicely done.

With the changing dreams and the Word of Power Val is getting the pieces of the puzzle. I’m enjoying the journey as well as anticipating the moment that he sees it as a picture.

[haute ecole rider]

TSG, do not take my questioning about the cave swallows/bats as criticism. I was just wondering if they were really cave swallows in the game. I don't have Skyrim, so all of this is only available to me through stories like yours. TBH, seeing the flying animals described as cave swallows was a breath of fresh air for me. I've worked with cliff swallows (a very closely related species) back when I volunteered in wildlife rehab and always thought them fascinating creatures. Beautiful, too, especially with their wings and forked tails. If you say in game they are more like cave swallows than bats, then I'll take your word for it!

Yes, I would like more names to add to my list! I will keep an eye out for them!

I was tickled by Val's thought processes as he evaluated the loot. The part quoted by Grits was a standout in a piece that was overall pretty much a standout.

I did not relish the idea of retracing my journey back through the catacombs of the barrow, especially those sets of pendulum blades.

This brings me back to all the Ayleid ruins I explored in Cyrodiil. I hated those pendulums too, though I prefer them to the drop blades.

I liked his encounter with Ingrid the huntress. She is savvy and smart and a tough cookie to beat. My kind of woman!

Of course,

“Everything is marked down for the holiday”…Maybe Harvest’s End was indeed a happier occasion up here, since even Lucan was discounting his merchandise. Could the taverns be offering specials as well?

is true-blue Val as we have come to know him!

[Acadian]

‘When I examined my surroundings, memory replaced my disorientation.’ - - I admire the phrasing you used here.

‘With your luck, it is cursed with a spell of burdening...’ - - Ah yes, the need for a scroll of identify.

Whew, found that pesky Dragonstone.

Woot! Chow time! Ingrid was clever to initially be suspicious and imply she was not alone.

Nice little tribute/mention of Uriel VII’s assassination and its lingering effects in Cyrodiil.

‘Could the taverns be offering specials as well?’ - - There’s the Val we know. Hmm, I wonder if ‘tavern specials’ will once again spell trouble for the brew-fancying Bosmer.

[SubRosa]

Old News: On the big paragraph. The entire fight is a subject, but it need not be the subject of a single paragraph. You can break the fight up into multiple paragraphs, with the subject of each being one facet/set of moves. For example, I would take that paragraph and break it like so:

Reality came bursting back as a now familiar sound came from behind me. I spun around and saw a very large Draugr climb out of the sarcophagus that sat on the platform. It was armed with an axe that glowed with the same cerulean evil as its eyes. Its armor appeared somehow more…complete…than that of my previous foes. Its size was daunting, nearly a foot taller than the others I had encountered.

I quickly shot two arrows into the walking corpse, with little effect. The Draugr suddenly barked an odd sound at me and concussive force knocked me backward, as though I had been shoved by a large Orc. The beast took advantage of my lack of balance and charged toward me. I was not able to get another arrow nocked before I had to roll out of the way of its descending blade. The axe clanged on the stone with a shower of sparks that were contradicted by shards of ice that ricocheted off my armor.

I got up and ran as fast as I could down the stairs while getting another arrow nocked. Then I spun and shot, hitting the Draugr again. This shot had stunned it and that was my chance, or so I thought. I charged toward it while drawing my sword. It had just about recovered, kneeling on one knee. The thing glared at me with blue hatred and uttered the sound again. The force of this next concussion knocked me backward, down the stairs head first.

Excruciating pain filled my head as quickly as stars filled my vision. Ringing roared through my ears as though I was in a temple belfry when services were being called. As my vision began to clear, the Draugr had almost reached me. He was raising his axe and charging at me full speed. By sheer reflex, I kicked my legs upward while still lying on my back, managing to plant a foot firmly into its chest. The Draugr’s momentum caused its body to catapult completely over me as its axe blade grazed my shoulder. Instant numbing cold ran down my left arm. I heard a loud “crack” when the creature landed behind me.

I got up and turned to discover that the beast had also risen, but its neck had broken. The creature’s head was dangling sideways above its shoulders, its eyes still shining with azure vehemence. Leaping and raising my sword with my good arm, I brought it down with all my might on the thing’s crooked neck. This neatly separated its head from the rest of it. The walking corpse fell to the stone as I fell to my knees, panting for air.

A sudden rush of nausea caused my head to start swimming. I dropped my sword and fumbled with my right hand to open my pack. I dumped the contents trying to find a healing potion. Flashes of light refilled my vision as I searched, and then I pitched forward. Blackness prevented me from feeling anything as my face met the stone floor.

Basically the new first paragraph is just a description of the Draugr. Note that I moved the sentence about Val firing his first shots into the second paragraph, to keep the first just about the Draugr. Then we have the first passage of arms, followed by distinctive phases of the battle, such as Val having to roll aside to dodge, changing to his sword, being knocked to the ground and dealing with being stunned, getting back up to fight again, etc...

New News:
With your luck, it is cursed with a spell of burdening that will leave you motionless here until you die of thirst and starvation…
I like the sound of that! Back in my days of P&P Roleplaying we used to joke that the best way to kill a part of adventurers was to put a big sign on a door saying "Danger, Do not Open or you will Die!", with a lethal trap beyond, like a lake of lava that comes rushing out of the doorway. No adventurer in the world could resist opening a door with a sign like that!

Val is taking stock and licking his wounds. If he is going to keep this up, I think he needs to get a helper. Or learn to summon one.

Ahh, and a local fisherwoman. I bet she has been hunting and fishing in these parts for years, and that her poaching doesn't hurt anyone. Her distrust of a stranger is understandable. OTOH, she was very hospitable nonetheless.

Oh goodness, I was right about her poaching!

Harvest’s End...the 27th of Last Seed…six days in Skyrim and it feels like six months…
No kidding, with all he has been through already!

And with thoughts of taverns it is back to Whiterun, and possibly at stop at the Honningbrew Meadery on the way? But perhaps Val ought to take a cue from the fisherwoman, and give up on the honey-juice?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 28 2014, 04:57 PM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Well, I didn't get as much reading as I would have liked while I was home during "snowmaggedon", but I shall endeavor to do better.

@ Grits - So glad to see you get caught up. Val and I have missed your comments. Thank you for the kind ones you just left.

I'm glad you liked the insertion of that game detail. Sniping Draugr before they rise is a tactic I am sure gets used by all who play the game.

I love this! It could be cursed! Very sensible not to just try it on.

As lesson I remembered from encountering a dead novice and a certain ring in another ES game.

@ haute ecole rider - Oh, my dearest Ms. Rider, I did not take your comment about bats vs. swallows as criticism at all! Quite to the contrary, I found it to be quite sensible since you do not play the game. I was just wishing I could show you footage so you could get the feel for the moment. So, no harm, no foul, no worries.

I had a feeling you would enjoy Ingrid...another calm moment with food in a world that tends toward violence.

@ Acadian - I'm glad you liked the reference to the importance of 27th Last Seed to a resident of Cyrodiil.

There’s the Val we know. Hmm, I wonder if ‘tavern specials’ will once again spell trouble for the brew-fancying Bosmer.

Val doesn't always get in trouble when he drinks...

@ SubRosa - Old News: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Your example of how to turn a "wall of text" into the building blocks of better writing is very greatly appreciated.

New News:

Back in my days of P&P Roleplaying we used to joke that the best way to kill a part of adventurers was to put a big sign on a door saying "Danger, Do not Open or you will Die!", with a lethal trap beyond, like a lake of lava that comes rushing out of the doorway. No adventurer in the world could resist opening a door with a sign like that!

Funny that you should mention that. My nephew, who knows his uncle to be as geeky as he is, is a DM in a D&D group. He asked me to join when he started their latest quest, and I accepted. I will be going over there tonight to level up my character and play the next session. But the funny part is that he did the exact ploy you described, with the same results!

I doubt Val will stop at the meadery...he has already been accused of being a spy for the competition by the owner...but I don't see him joining a twelve step group anytime soon either.

**********

@ Everyone - As always, thanks so much for your critique and comments. Here's the next installment...

Previously – Val had survived his second trip to Bleak Falls Barrow and, after a riverside lunch with a friendly hunter, returned the Golden Claw to Lucan Valerius. He is on his way back to Whiterun to give the Dragonstone to Farengar…

Chapter 24 – Evening Celebration and Morning Revelation

27th Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

It was near dusk when I reached the main gates to the city of Whiterun. Additional troops atop the city walls gave testament to Balgruuf’s concern over a potential threat from the skies. The two guards at the gate were commiserating with each other by complaining about dragons causing them to miss out on celebrations. When I entered, I could understand why they were disgruntled.

I could not believe the transformation that had taken place in my absence. Strings of small lanterns hung along the eaves and awnings of every building. Some had colored lenses, giving them a magical look. Bundles of wheat and corn stalks, trussed with colored ribbon and decorated with wild flowers, were standing near every porch and stoop. Wreaths made of painted gourds and more wild flowers adorned all of the doorways. Lit candles sat on the sill inside every window. Laughter and music seemed to fill the air, as if it were impossible for the buildings to contain them. It was just as impossible to keep a huge smile from my lips.

I made a beeline for the tavern, as my thirst had become great during the trek from Riverwood. I entered the pub and found it filled to near capacity with revelers. Elrindir greeted me with a hearty holiday salutation, saying he was glad to once again have the company of a kinsman. I responded in kind and ordered a tankard of his Errant Aim Stout. While he was away, I looked around the tavern. Holiday decorations hung from every rafter and beam. A rather rotund woman with an amazing voice was singing on a small stage in the corner. She had far too much exposed cleavage for my taste.

If she leans forward the slightest bit, she’s going to spill out everywhere…

A skinny young man sat on a short stool in front of her, accenting her song by deftly hammering notes on a dulcimer. The contrast in size between the two was striking. He would glance up from time to time, as if in fear of a fleshy avalanche. The performance was quite pleasing, if not comical to observe. Elrindir returned with my beverage and I placed a pile of coins on the bar, since I planned on having more than one. He looked at me as though I were daft.

“The drinks are free kinsman,” said Elrindir, “it's Harvest’s End. Do they not celebrate this holiday where you come from?”

“Actually, they don’t. At least not like this, and certainly not with free drinks,” I replied. “Thank you, Elrindir. By the way, do you know if Dragonsreach will be receiving visitors this evening?”

“They don’t like visitors after dusk, unless it is an emergency. Add the holiday and I would assume not,” Elrindir stated, and then asked, “Do you have business with the Jarl?”

“I have completed a task for his court wizard and wanted to inform him of that,” I replied, “but I guess it can wait until morning.”

“Ah, so perhaps you’ll perform again tonight?” asked the Bosmer barkeep in obvious jest, “I am sure my patrons would love it!” Then he laughed and I could not help but join in.

“No, I only do private shows these days,” I added through our laughter.

“I would pay for that,” announced a female voice from behind me.

I turned to look for the source of the comment and was greeted by the smile of a Dunmer as she stepped up to the bar. She vaguely resembled what Irileth might look like if the housecarl ever decided to don a friendly face. Her hair was much darker than Irileth’s and tied back with wind braids. Thin streaks of amber colored war paint decorated her cheeks and chin, giving that smile an undertone of severity without detracting from its beauty. She wore leathers that were similar to my own, but fit much more attractively than mine ever could. An iron sword hung at her waist and a dagger rode her right hip. The she-elf seemed to be looking me over with the same appraising eye that I was affording her.

“Valrimor, meet Jenassa,” Elrindir said, “She is a mercenary ranger that stays in a room here when she is not out killing those with lesser talents.”

“I like your use of the word ‘talent’, Elrindir,” she stated while keeping her eyes focused on me, “for I am an artist, and death is my art. Like any artist, my talents seek a patron. For a mere handful of gold, I will follow you into any danger.”

“How about I just buy you a drink for now?” I asked, gesturing to the stool next to mine.

Jenassa laughed as she sat next to me and replied with humorous sarcasm, “Big spender when the drinks are free, I see. But that would be a nice start, Valrimor.”

Elrindir, Jenassa, and I were the only three mer in the tavern, so we sat to the side and conversed. We shared humorous anecdotes about past adventures, laughing at each other’s follies over numerous tankards of ale. Jenassa even convinced me to dance once when a trio of men took the stage and played an upbeat tune. I kept all of my clothing on this time. The party lasted for hours, and it was well past midnight when Jenassa and I stumbled up the stairs.

* * *

28th Last Seed, 4E201

I awoke with the feeling of warm skin against my back and a grey colored arm added to my anatomy. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jenassa’s face, smeared with the yellow war paint she had been wearing, sleeping soundly. Flashes of memory from the night before brought a grin to my lips. However, the throbbing in my head was trying to chase that grin away.

Wow, do these people know how to celebrate! One day I shall have to return to Bruma and show Cyrodiilic Nords how Harvest’s End is supposed to be…

I gently moved her arm and she rolled over to face the other way. I intended to leave as quietly as possible, before Jenassa woke and expected me to stay with her. A cursory glance around the room indicated that this might be easier said than done. My attire was scattered all about the floor, comingled with hers. As I attempted to extricate myself from the bed, a sultry voice made it clear that I would no longer need to be stealthy.

“Going somewhere?” Jenassa asked.

“Um…yeah…I was…uh…just going to get some herbal tea for this head of mine. Would you care for some?” I replied while standing and donning my underclothes.

The Dunmer chuckled while casting a knowing look that confirmed my ruse was not to be believed. She asked me to toss her chemise to her as I continued dressing. I did so and when she stood, part of me wanted to get undressed again and pull her back to bed. A few random battle scars did not take anything away from her lithe beauty as the chemise slid down her raised arms and cascaded into place over her form. I shook my head and continued to dress. Jenassa had been watching me as well with a small grin and continued dressing in silence. We left the room together and went down to the main hall where Elrindir and his brother were busily cleaning the detritus of Harvest’s End. I ordered some tea for both of us. After the publican gave us our beverages and took our orders for breakfast, I turned to face the Dunmer mercenary.

“Listen…Jenassa,” I began, but she cut me off, laying her index finger across my lips.

“You don’t need to say anything, Valrimor. Last night was last night. I’m not ready to go house hunting,” Jenassa said with a smile. She removed her finger and continued, “We were good together, and perhaps we shall repeat this encounter one day, but you need not get all flustered with our parting. To be honest, I could look forward to that day. But until then, let’s just keep this as a good memory, especially when memories of this quality are so hard to come by in these times.”

Relief flooded through me. It must have shown on my face because Jenassa made a sardonic comment about me not needing to seem so glad about it. She feigned an angry face that she couldn’t hold for long before bursting out with laughter that brought a smile back to my face. Elrindir returned with our food and then resumed his cleaning. While we ate, I asked her about Whiterun and her stay here.

“There is always plenty of work for me here. That is why I have chosen to make this city my home. Elrindir is most accommodating, as he should be considering how much I pay him. And the work is usually fairly simple, as mercenary work goes. I had considered joining the Companions, but there is something about that outfit that seems a little odd. Instead, I often play the middle in the Grey-Mane’s endless feud with the Battle-Borns-” she stopped and stared at me.

I had frozen in the middle of raising my fork and was staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“What is it?” she asked, “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”

“Did you say ‘Grey-Mane’?” I asked her.

“Yes. They are a clan with holdings here in Whiterun. The Grey-Manes and the Battle-Borns, another clan here in town, have an ongoing feud that has lasted for years,” Jenassa replied.

“Have you ever heard of an Erik Grey-Mane?” I inquired further, a knot of apprehension forming in the pit of my stomach.

“I can’t say as I have. But I have not met everyone in Clan Grey-Mane. You should talk to Fralia, the matriarch of the clan. She owns one of the vendor kiosks in the plaza,” the Dunmer informed me.

“I will,” I said as I rose and started toward the door. I stopped and returned to the bar to leave enough coin for both breakfasts, then kissed Jenassa and thanked her for the information. With that, I turned and left the Drunken Huntsman.

*****

EDIT: Nit picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Feb 2 2014, 05:49 PM

[SubRosa]

Ah, so perhaps you’ll perform again tonight?” asked the Bosmer barkeep in obvious jest, “I am sure my patrons would love it!”
Oh let's hope not!

I remember the first time one of my characters talked to Jenassa, they thought she was an assassin because of her speech about being an artist.

Hopefully Jenassa won't make any works of art with Val that night...

And now the awkward morning after. Looks like Val had no luck slinking off quietly.

And a clue about Val's foster father Erik. I wonder if he might get dragged into the Greymane/Battleborn feud himself soon.

[Acadian]

’... ordered a tankard of his Errant Aim Stout.’ - - I still chuckle over this brew’s name. Unfortunately, it has the effect of obscuring much of what was probably a quite enjoyable night with the Dunmeri she-elf mer-maid.

Happily, both mer seemed to be of similar mind in the morning.


Nit: “The drinks are free kinsman,” said Elrindir, “its Harvest’s End.” - - Its = possessive. It’s = it is. Naturally, you want the latter here.

[haute ecole rider]

“The drinks are free kinsman,” said Elrindir, “it's Harvest’s End.

So there's the tavern discount! Yay Valrimor!

I agree that he isn't doing the twelve step program anytime soon either. And I don't think it would do this story justice if he did. Let's face it, the 12 Steps are no walk in the park, and people usually don't retain their sense of humor doing it. Sure he can think about doing it, just not now!

And a lovely encounter with a lovely Dunmer lass! Loved seeing the morning after - no need to tell us how the night went. And she is my kind of woman, too! Smart, sensible, and practical in the matters of the heart and otherwise.

[Grits]

Oh, I love the description of Whiterun decorated for Harvest’s End! Free drinks, it’s Valrimor Day!!

I enjoyed Jenassa’s morning after remarks. I like her slightly formal manner of speaking. Nicely done!