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: Laila's just lazy, she lets Maven run the town for her. If Maven becomes Jarl because of the Civil War, she's a much better match for Terentius.

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Previously Clark had given Wujeeta, an Argonian worker at the fishery, a healing potion, and she'd given him a clue to the skooma trade in Riften. He'd gone to the Jarl, who'd asked him to do the dirty work of investigating. So while Gilda was away on guild business, he made a trip out of town.

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Part 16 - Thaned again

Cragslane Cavern was an invisibility job, if ever there was one. But just to make it harder, the place was full of captive wolves, who could smell Clark, even if they couldn't see him. Fortunately, they were all caged, being used for pit-fighting contests that people would bet on. And nobody paid any attention to their agitation, except maybe to raise their bets.

The ringleader of the bandits running the place, however, detected Clark as soon as he entered the room at the back where he was making the skooma. With most of the others between him and the exit, Clark decided he needed a distraction. He pulled the lever that released the pit wolves, and mayhem began.

Clark resumed his invisibility, and dodged back into the crowd of gamblers. The wolves were biting at anyone they could, and the bandits were swinging wildly at an enemy they couldn't see. Only the boss bandit had any idea where Clark was, and there always seemed to be someone else in between them. After a couple of blows from his warhammer hit the wrong targets, he was fighting his own men.

All the action was now happening down in the pit area, with everybody fighting everybody else. Clark crept up to the entrance, overlooking the battle, and waited for it to thin a bit. He didn't expect it to be long before the boss bandit, the man he heard someone call "the butcher", had the chance to come looking for him again. When he did, he was severely weakened by all the fighting, and Clark was waiting with a fireball. He still needed his sword to finish the man off, but he was down to his knees at that point.

Clark had picked up a few wolf bites, and cuts from a gambler's dagger, so he stopped to heal himself before searching the cave.

There wasn't much, except for skooma and moon sugar, but he did find a copy of a book on lockpicking. "Gilda could use this," he thought, and put it in his backpack.

---

The Jarl was delighted with his success, especially as it hadn't needed any help from her guards. She rewarded Clark with the privilege of buying property in Riften, and the title of Thane was available if he did.

It appeared that his dealings with the merchants of the city had already brought him to her attention. The fire salts for Balimund, the gem materials for Madesi, the Ice Wraith teeth for Marise, had all helped trade, (and increased the tax base, or she wouldn't have cared). He put in a good word for Brand-Shei while he had the chance, and got him released from jail.

Clark wanted a base in Riften, so he talked to the steward. "Honeyside is available, if you have the coin. It has access to the docks, and its own garden. Quite a nice little property. And as Thane, you'll get a housecarl to guard it, too."

It was worth the 5500 septims he paid for it. She'd asked for 8000, but settled for less, as he didn't have any more gold on him, and he might have changed his mind. Clark could quickly raise more, as his wagon was still full of weapons and armor from Valtheim that he hadn't yet sold. Balimund had bought some, but couldn't afford to buy them all. He'd told Clark to come back the next day, when he'd have done some deals and got more cash. Bersi would probably buy some of it, too.

He looked in at the house, on his way to the wagon. A young Nord woman, dressed in the same basic steel armour Lydia had been wearing when they first met, was waiting inside. Standard housecarl uniform, he presumed.

"I'm Iona, your housecarl. Sworn to protect you and your property, carry your burdens, but not to sleep with you, unless I'm in the mood for it."

That was pretty much the same little speech that Lydia had given him, too. He'd bought the furnishings for Breezehome at the same time as the house, so she'd moved into a well-furnished place with a comfortable bed. That might have been what put Lydia in the mood right away.

"Then come and carry some burdens right now. I need to bring some things from my wagon to sell in the market. Then this place needs cleaning up, and refurnishing, before I move in."

"And don't worry too much about protecting me. I'd prefer not to have any pain, but it won't kill me. I'm immortal, so save your own skin first."

Of course, Iona wanted to know how he became immortal, but that explanation could wait. It was a long story, and they needed to get busy on the shopping, and housework.

---

Clark collapsed onto the bed. He and Iona had hauled weapons and armour from the wagon to Balimund's and Bersi's shops and gone to purchase furnishings at Mistveil Keep. They had tidied up the cellar, ready for adding the Alchemy and Enchanting facilities. Clark still needed more cash for those, but he'd cleaned out the merchants. They did have the essentials - bedroom, kitchen, garden, balcony. The last wasn't really essential, but it was relatively cheap, and it did add to the comfort.

Iona came and flopped exhaustedly onto the bed next to Clark. She had her own bed, down in the basement, so this was probably an invitation. "Help me out of my armour, I don't think I have the strength left to do it all myself." Yes, definitely an invitation.

Clark had to be very careful not to call her Lydia. The similarities were so many between the two of them. Same fit body, same youthful enthusiasm. Lydia now knew a few things that Iona still had to learn, but this was just like putting the clock back a year.

---

The next morning there was a knock on the door, and Clark found Gilda standing outside.

"You've been busy while I was away," she accused, looking pointedly at Iona. "They told me you'd bought this place when I asked around the Ragged Flagon."

Of course the Thieves Guild would know everything. Clark hadn't looked for new shadowmarks by his door, but he knew they'd have already been updated.

"I assume you've been busy, too," he countered. "Tell me about it."

"After putting Honningbrew out of business for Maven," Gilda began. Clark's eyebrow went up, but he didn't interrupt. "They asked me to go to Solitude and talk to someone called Gulum-Ei. It appears that the Guild's activities have been closely entwined with Maven's for some time, and someone's trying to stop that. The Goldenglow and Honningbrew jobs were primarily to investigate the interference, and everything pointed to the Argonian. But it turned out that he was just acting as an agent. For your daughter, Karliah."

"Mercer Frey told me that she'd killed Gallus, and then disappeared. That she was apparently waging war on the Guild and had to be stopped. I just don't know what to believe any more."

"Let him think you believe him, and go along with whatever they decide. Just let me know what's happening before you take any action yourself," Clark replied.

"Then I'm telling you now. Mercer has asked me to meet him at Snow Veil Sanctum, up near Winterhold. He thinks Karliah may be hiding out there, and he wants to kill her."

"Do you need my help?" Iona asked.

"Gilda will have to go with Mercer on her own, but the two of us should be in the area in case we can do anything. We can't let Mercer know we're following, and I don't know how to contact Karliah. This one could get messy very easily."

---

Clark and Iona stood by the road, staring intently down towards the entrance to Snow Veil Sanctum. They'd seen Mercer and Gilda go inside a couple of hours ago, but nobody had emerged yet.

The ruin was just about as far as they could see, and flurries of snow had obscured their view a couple of times. It was possible that someone had left during those, but surely they'd have seen them as soon as it cleared.

"Is that someone coming out now?" Iona asked. Her younger eyes had detected something Clark's couldn't. But yes, that did look like someone, dragging something out of the ruin. They decided to go and investigate.

The someone turned out to be Karliah, and the something was Gilda's unconscious body.

"What happened?" Clark asked.

"I shot her, Father, to save her life. Now help me revive her. I have the andidote to the poison I used, but I could use some help healing her."

Karliah was talking in riddles, but Clark was sure she'd explain before too long. He cast a healing spell over the unconscious Gilda, as Kalrliah poured the contents of a small vial down her throat. Gilda coughed, and opened her eyes. "Did you just shoot me?" she asked Karliah.

"Yes, and it saved your life. It slowed your heart, and stopped you bleeding to death when Mercer stabbed you in the back. I was intending to use that poison on Mercer, to paralyze him, so I could capture him alive, but it didn't work out that way."

"So he got away? After all that?"

"We didn't see anyone else leave, but there were times we couldn't see properly. He may have slipped out then," Clark offered.

"That doesn't matter too much," returned Karliah. "He's played his hand now, trying to kill the two of us. Maybe this is the time to go back to the Thieves Guild and let them know the truth. Then we'll have a better basis for hunting him down."

"Do you have any tangible proof?" Clark asked. "It will still be your word, and that of a recent recruit, against the Guildmaster's."

"I think we do," Gilda said. "There's this journal I picked up. The cover says it belonged to Gallus, but I can't read anything written in it."

Karliah took a look. "I recognise Gallus' writing, but this is in a language I don't know. Enthir in Winterhold is a scholar of ancient writings. He's a member of the Guild, and he knew Gallus from before I met him. There's a chance this is in a language he knows."

This post has been edited by ghastley: Jan 1 2015, 10:08 PM