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 That Fiery Soul Trap has become my fave enchantment, and it will go onto a bunch of his associates' weapons in future episodes. There aren't many dual-effect enchantments available, with the others being on mage robes to fortify a skill and boost magicka regeneration. The notion that multiple enchantments require a higher level of skill is a handy clue as to who made a weapon, for example. Two major ones likely indicates a unique / Daedric artifact.

D. E. Alchemy is one of the skills that just about any class can make use of. There's a fortifying potion for just about everything, so it can fill in the weaknesses of any build. Clark needs Stamina more than he does Magicka, so he uses alchemy when he does heavy-duty spells. He'll make the point several times that he has the skill, but not the reserves.

Grits: It's amazing how adventures just seem to happen to you in this game when you're least expecting them! It might happen again really soon...

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Previously Clark and Vicuña had brought Fjotra back to the Temple of Dibella in Markarth. Hamal had pointed them towards Arnleif and Sons to sell the statues they found.

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Part 6 - Forsworn

They went back through the market district and visited Arnleif and Sons. Lisbet told them that yes, she had been looking for Dibella statues. She'd even ordered one specially for a customer, but it had been stolen on its way to her, and she'd paid for it in advance. "I'd reward you if you found it for me," she told Clark.

"Maybe I already have," he replied. "I have a couple out on my wagon that we got from a Forsworn hideout. How will I know if it's the right one?"

"The makers mark them on the base, and number them. Bring them in and I'll be able to check the numbers against my order."

Clark left Vicuña chatting with Lisbet and went out to fetch the statues. As he closed the door behind him, he noticed a man drawing a knife from his belt and stepping behind a woman at the meat stall. He stepped forward and grabbed the man's arm before he could use the knife, twisting it behind his back, and forcing him to drop the weapon.

The market guard had drawn his sword, and thrust it through the would-be assassin, narrowly missing Clark. He hadn't needed to do that, as Clark had already removed the threat. Unless he was trying to make sure the man didn't talk.

Clark made no attempt to heal the man's wound, although he probably could have saved his life. He suspected it would be futile anyway. The guard was telling everyone "No Forsworn here. We'll deal with this, so just leave it to us."

Instead, he approached the woman who was the intended victim. She told him her name was Margret, but she was reluctant to talk much in public. She told Clark to ask for her at the Silver-Blood Inn later. As he turned away, a man came up to him and handed him a note. "I think you dropped this while you were struggling with that man." Clark put the note in his pocket. The guard was still watching, and he felt uneasy.

He went out to the wagon, and fetched the statues of Dibella they'd found in Broken Tower Redoubt, bringing them back to Lisbet.

"This is it!" she exclaimed. "The same one I ordered. You say the Forsworn had taken it?"

"Do you want to tell her the whole story, or shall I?" Clark asked.

"I already told her most of it before you got back," was the reponse. "I'd just got to the part where we entered the last tower."

"You don't need a full-sized statue, do you?" Clark asked Lisbet. "If you do, I know where you can get one. It just needs a bit of cleaning up."

---

When they left the store, the guards had had a shift-change, and the one who'd been watching him before was gone. Perhaps this was a safe time to go see Margret, and to read that note.

"I'll be expecting my next lesson tonight," Vicuña reminded him, before setting off back to the brothel. "Volume two awaits."

The note just asked him to meet at the Shrine of Talos tonight. It was signed by an Eltrys, which was more a Breton name than a Nord one. Perhaps that was a clue as to which side he was on. Margret could be on either. If the Forsworn were trying to kill her, probably not theirs.

She turned out to be a Nord, but from Cyrodiil, rather than a local. She was using the cover of purchasing silver jewelry for her sister to spy on Thonar Silver-Blood for the Imperial Legion. There was something suspicious about the Cidhna Mine operation, and General Tullius had asked her to find out what she could.

"I'm not staying around to give them a second chance to kill me. This would be a good time to report back with the little I know." She gave Clark a necklace she'd bought, as a reward for saving her life, and showed him her notes on everything she'd already discovered about the mine, and Thonar.

Leaving the inn, Clark was threatened by another guard. "We don't like outsiders snooping around. Back off. You don't want to find out what happens to trouble-makers here."

Clark insisted that he wasn't trying to cause trouble, but the guard told him he'd found it anyway. "We're the ones who keep the peace here. Stay out of our business."

Of course, that just made Clark more curious. There was a situation here that the guards were getting very anxious about, and it had something to do with the Silver-Bloods and the Forsworn. Since those were the blockage to expanding his interests in Markarth, Clark would like this to come to a quick conclusion. He'd already been told by the people at Karthwasten that the Forsworn attack there was much too well-timed to be a coincidence.

However, none of that fit well with recent history. When Ulfric Stormcloak has siezed Markarth back from the Reachmen, he'd done it in the most brutal way possible. It didn't make sense that they'd be working together now.

He decided to go meet with Eltrys, the man who'd given him the note, before he headed back to the brothel.

The Shrine of Talos was a public enough place for a meeting, but there was only one other person there when Clark entered. Eltrys was indeed a Breton, and it turned out that his wife was the scribe at the Treasury House who'd just written up the agreement for the new brothel. She'd have a good idea what was going on in the city's business, from what passed her desk.

Eltrys had seen patterns in what his wife had told him. Things that made him think that the Forsworn were doing Thonar's bidding. He wasn't certain that Weylin, the would-be assassin was one of the Forsworn, but Clark had heard him say something as he drew his dagger. The information Clark had obtained from Margret fit in perfectly. Of course Thonar would set the Forsworn on her if he suspected anything. "What we don't know is how orders get to them," Eltrys said.

"I'll see what I can find out," Clark told him. "But I'll have to move slowly and carefully. The guards are already watching me, and I don't want to put anyone else in danger."

For that reason, Clark decided to avoid the Treasury House. Eltrys had told him that his wife, Rhiada, was pregnant, and he didn't want any of the trouble to start there. Perhaps he'd do better investigating where the would-be assassin, Weylin, lived, down in the Warrens. That could wait until tomorrow, as the place should be deserted when they were all at work.

Tonight he had Vicuña's next lesson to occupy his time.