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: I just couldn't see Clark trying to steal anything from those folks. The Cyrodiil story established the Dibellan/Guild relationship, so I have to stay consistent.

Destri: They'd all want to need it, anyway.

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Previously Clark learned a new enchantment from Vicuña's amulet, but couldn't use it without some extra training. Hamal, the priestess of Dibella, had a favour to ask in return. And it sounds so simple...

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Part 5 - Broken Tower

Karthwasten wasn't far, the road was safe, and you could make the round trip easily in a day. Clark invited Vicuña to join him. "We'll take my carriage, and maybe do a little trading while we're there." She agreed. Her type of trading might be a little different from Clark's, but there was a chance she'd find an opportunity, too.

They arrived a little before lunch, and were surprised to see the miners milling around outside the mines. The Orc told him they'd been kicked out by mercenaries sent by the Silver-Bloods "to protect them from the Forsworn". She sent Clark over to Enmon's house when he mentioned his quest. "He's the only one here with a daughter. But I haven't seen her for a few days, I hope she's all right."

Enmon and his wife Mena told him that he'd arrived a day too late. Their child, Fjotra, had been kidnapped just yesterday by Forsworn, and now the mercenaries had come and taken the mine, too. "I don't think that was a coincidence. either," he told them.

Ainethach, the owner of the mine, confirmed his suspicions. "The Silver-Bloods want me to sell the mine to them. I'm convinced that they have some kind of control over the Forsworn, and yesterday's raid was a set-up for today's occupation."

Clark was inclined to agree, but getting Fjotra back had to take precedence over reclaiming the mine. He could use reinforcements for that, too.

"Does anyone know where they might have taken Fjotra?" he asked.

The general consensus was that they'd have taken her to Broken Tower Redoubt. It wasn't far, just the other side of the river. If she really was the next Sybil of Dibella, the Forsworn might have known that. They had their own shrine to Dibella there, and it wasn't exactly like the one in Markarth.

Both Enmon and Vicuña wanted to come with Clark. He wasn't convinced that either of them were suitable for the task. Neither had any armor, or a decent weapon. "But I don't need them," Vicuña pointed out. "I have spells I can use instead." Enmon shrugged, and agreed that it might be better if he stayed behind. "It is my daughter they have, but I wouldn't want her to see her father getting killed. I'd rather she didn't have to see anyone die, but you'll do what you have to, to get her back."

"What about you?" the Dunmer asked Clark. "I can see a sword and shield on the wagon, but I don't notice any armor."

"Ebonyflesh enough?" he asked her.

"Really? The same as I use, but you don't look like a mage."

"Well, I don't do destruction, so I've been able to spend more of my time on restoration and alteration. And while I haven't the protection from my clothing I once did, I've enchanted my sword with both fire and soul trap, so it will feed its own charge."

"You have the skill for dual enchantments? I thought you told me you didn't."

"No, I was lucky enough to find an item that had both as a single enchantment, if that makes any sense. They were combined as one, just on the wrong weapon for me."

They left the horse and wagon in Karthwasten. Clark didn't want the horse getting killed if they ran into the Forsworn unexpectedly, as he didn't fancy walking all the way back to Markarth. The walk over the bridge to Broken Tower was a much shorter distance, and anyway, they'd want to be on foot to be ready for any hostilities.

Broken Tower was a fortress built into the cliff at the side of the road. Ranks of battlements stepped up the steep slope, giving good cover to archers. There was a single skirmisher outside, a woman dressed in skimpy furs, and paint. What she lacked in armour, she made up for in aggression, and ran screaming at them with a jagged sword in each hand. Vicuña's fireball met her half-way and sent her flying.

Clark had already cast his armour spell, and now she cast hers. Just in time, as an archer popped his head over the wall above them and let an arrow fly in their direction. Another fireball went back in return, but the archer just ducked out of its way.

"We'd better get inside, where I can use my sword," Clark said, pointing at the only door he could see. It wasn't locked, and they rounded the first couple of corners before they met anyone coming the other way. There was one archer in the corridor ahead, and another up the stairs to the right. Since she didn't have a clear shot at the latter, Clark ran that way, hoping the Dunmer would take out the other. He blocked an arrow with his shield and took out the archer with a couple of swings of his sword. Same negligible fur armour on this one, too. Nice body, such a waste.

He heard the explosion of another fireball below. He hoped that Vicuña had a spell without the area effect for closer quarters, but right now it was working well enough.

The next Forsworn they encountered was a man with an axe and a sword, and he popped out of a doorway too close for her to use her fireball. It took a second to ready a different spell and Clark had to deflect a massive blow from the man's axe with his shield. He staggered a little, preventing him from counter-striking with his sword. A bolt of lightning crackled over his shoulder and the Forsworn jerked back. Before he could swing again, Clark had recovered his balance, and the offensive. A slash from his enchanted sword set him on fire, and captured his soul.

Further in, a mage slowed Clark's advance with her frost, but that just kept him safely back from the fireball that flew past him. He cast a healing spell, and shivered off the rest. Then they were outside again, on the ledge above the road, trading fireballs for arrows. Not a fair exchange, really.

"This tower looks like the only part we haven't been in," Clark said, pointing to the door ahead. "I do hope Fjotra's in there, after all this."

They crept in as quietly as they could, and saw a man in furs, with a horned head-dress, making offerings to a statue of Dibella. A statue just like the ones in the temple, except that this one was smeared with blood. Human remains lay on an altar before it.

The wind blew the door shut behind them, and the man turned to see what had made the noise. They could see a hole in his chest where his heart should be, filled with some kind of plant material. He raised his hands to cast a spell.

The briar-heart had his own fireballs for them, so they quickly split up to approach him from opposite sides of the room. Vicuña was using her most powerful lightning spell, to try and drain his magicka, as well as damage him, and Clark was trying to get close enough to swing his sword. Both were wondering where Fjotra was, and if the fireballs were endangering her.

Clark was feeling rather warm by the time he got into sword range, and the Forsworn didn't seem to be letting up with his flame attack. But he faltered as Clark struck, and fell back. Clark didn't let him regain the initiative and continued swinging his sword as quickly as he could. The force of the blow wasn't as important as keeping his opponent off-balance and unable to fight back. But he had to keep out of the lightning coming from his companion at the same time, and that wasn't easy.

She ran out of magicka just as Clark's sword struck. The briar-heart's head rolled across the floor and stopped at the door of a cell. Clark took a key from the man's corpse, and hurried to open the cell door, pushing the severed head away before Fjotra could see it.

He couldn't stop her from seeing the headless body, though. Or the remains lying on the altar before the bloodied statue of Dibella. Or all the other dead bodies on the way down to the road.

Enmon and Mena were delighted to have their daughter back, but surprisingly, eager to let her go again. Becoming the Sybil of Dibella would be such an honour, and a much better life than she could look forward to in Karthwasten.

The three of them arrived back in Markarth around sunset, and they took Fjotra to the Temple right away.

"Have you brought me another acolyte, too?" Hamal asked Clark, nodding towards Vicuña.

"The nice lady helped rescue me from the Forsworn," Fjotra told her.

Clark had to tell Hamal the whole story, including the details of the shrine they'd found in the tower. "They'd clearly sacrificed someone on that altar. You don't think it could have been..."

"Our previous Sybil? It wouldn't surprise me. And that would mean that Fjotra was next in line."

"We found a few small statues, as well. Are you missing any from the Temple?"

"No, and they're quite common around here. The gilded ones are popular with women who've visited here, as mementos of their pilgrimage. Men seem to like them, too. You might offer them to Lisbet at Arnleif and Sons Traders, I know she deals in them when she can get them. "

Hamal led Vicuña to the altar in the middle of the temple. "Prostrate yourself, and then drink from the basin. Dibella will grant you her blessing."

Clark's reward was the Enchanting training he'd requested, free of charge. Not only was Hamal able to reveal the secret of the enchantment, but with the extra skill levels he gained, he could make the charge more powerful. Now he could make an amulet that might help more than a slender Bosmer.

"I don't know what Dibella gave me, but I do feel different," Vicuña told him.

"Most women are convinced that they have larger breasts," Hamal told her. "I don't believe she ever actually does that, but their posture improves, and so does their self-confidence. The result is probably the same."