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: Gilda's preference is sneak & blade, but needs magicka for range, as she can't use a bow. But mostly, it's a case of fitting the offence to the enemy's weakness.

It was Sylgja's mention of being healed, but still unable to walk far, that prompted this part of the story. It fit well with Gilda's nose, and Clark's history. The fact that Riften has a face-sculptor is barely hinted at, but I'm assuming that's known. My take on magical healing is that you still need to understand anatomy to know what you're fixing, or you just treat symptoms, not causes. It also gives me another opportunity to link back to Clark's past in Cyrodiil.

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Previously: Clark and Gilda had stopped off at Darkwater Crossing, and Verner and Annekke had asked them to take a letter to their daughter Sylgja at Shor's Stone.

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Part 13 - Shor's Stone

At Shor's Stone,they found Sylgja and the other miners sitting around a table in front of one of the houses. It was about the time for an evening meal, so that wasn't too odd. But the conversation soon told them that the miners had been there all day.

"What's wrong with the mine?" Clark asked.

"Spiders, that's what! We went in there a couple of days ago and found the bottom of the mine infested with them. No idea where they got in, but they've been moving gradually up, and it won't be long before they're up in the village, attacking us!"

"Can't the guards deal with them?" Gilda asked.

Filnjar spat. "They're as useless as a fifth wheel on a wagon. Spend all their time looking for enemy soldiers out on the roads. It seems they're more worried about Riften than this place."

Gilda looked over at Clark. "How big do the spiders get around here? I've seen them as big as a wolf near the farm, but they don't go around in packs, so they're not bad."

"They vary," he replied. "I have seen them bigger than a bear, but those are rare. And if two that size meet each other, they'll fight. You just have to keep out of the way and finish off the victor while she's still weak."

"She?"

"The big ones are female. The smallest ones are male, and the middle sized ones could be either. All just as venomous, but the big ones bite harder."

"There aren't any cracks in the rock large enough for the giants, if that's any help," one of the miners offered.

Gilda and Clark headed for the wagon. They needed a few things if they were going to clear the mine. Potions to replenish magicka were the main ones; but they were out of those. Clark rummaged around and found a scroll. "I can use this to summon a flame atronach," he told Gilda. "Spiders hate flame, so use that in preference to your other spells. And keep your sword in the other hand, in case one gets close."

A couple of the spiders spat their venom as soon as Clark and Gilda entered the mine, but Clark already had a ward up, and it did little. While Gilda sprayed flames to keep the spiders back, Clark summoned the flame atronach to finish them. It headed down the spiral ramp, looking for more. They followed, listening to fireballs flying ahead of them. Then there was a pause, and a larger explosion signalled the end of the atronach.

"Let's hope it got most of them," Clark muttered, and readied a fireball spell of his own. He couldn't cast many of those, but they could hit a whole cluster of targets at once. "If there's one, you hit it with your flames; if there's more, then keep back and let me do it."

"There's one!" Gilda announced, and turned on the heat. Clark put up a ward briefly, as he saw the creature try and spit, but it collapsed before it could do so. He looked over the edge, and saw two more starting up the ramp.

"My turn!" he called, and sent a fireball down to meet them. "I don't have enough magicka for another, I shouldn't have used the ward."

"It doesn't look like you'll need it. I can't see anything else moving."

They crept carefully down, watching in all directions, including up. The bigger spiders were especially fond of hiding in a web above you, and dropping behind after you'd passed. But they really were all dead. There was a gap in the rocks where they'd probably come in. It was too small for them to crawl into, but enough for the spiders.

"Do you have a magicka potion?" Clark asked. "I'd like to send a fireball in there, just in case."

"No, you'll just have to be patient. Didn't you tell me that magicka regenerates faster if you relax?"

Clark waited for his fireball to recharge. He kept his sword ready in case anything emerged, but nothing did. Then he fired into the gap, and was gratified to hear the sound of falling rock as the small tunnel collapsed.

"I think we can tell Filnjar his spider problem is over."

---

"We almost forgot," Clark told Sylgja. "Your mother sent this. She was wondering why you hadn't been home to visit."

Sylgja took the letter. "I couldn't go anywhere for a time. I took a bad fall in the mine, and broke my leg, and there was nobody here that knew enough healing to fix it. I was fortunate that a priest of Mara came by and healed it, before it set crooked. It still feels sore, though, and I wouldn't want to walk all the way to Darkwater Crossing on it yet."

"I wrote a whole bunch of letters while I was laid up, though. If you're going back the same way could you take them?" She held up a satchel that was overflowing with letters.

"Why didn't you get a courier to take them?" Gilda wanted to know.

"The couriers may be able to find you when they have a delivery, but have you ever tried to find them?" Clark retorted. "You have to go to a city to send a courier, and Shor's Stone isn't a city yet. Even in a city, you can find the office, not the couriers themselves."

"I met one on the road once," he continued. "Since he wasn't looking for me, he ignored me and just kept walking. One job at a time, no exceptions."

Clark turned back to Sylgja. "We'll take the letters. It will give us an excuse for another dip in the hot springs. But I'm concerned about your leg. If it still hurts, it might not have been healed properly."

"Clark's a good healer," Gilda assured her. "He fixed my broken nose, even after it had set wrong."

Sylgja was convinced. "Come inside, and you can take a look at it. I'm not giving all the men a free show. I get enough attention with my clothes on."

Inside the house, Sylgja slipped her heavy mining pants down and stepped out of them. Clark sat on a low stool and ran his hands over both her thighs. "They feel the same, and I can't detect any trace of the break. If you still have any discomfort, it's probably not there."

"But that's where I feel it," Sylgja answered.

"Did you get any other injuries at the same time?" he persisted.

"Bruises all over, but they're gone now, too."

"Any on your back?"

"Yes, why?"

"Take your shirt off, I need to check your back, too."

Sylgja was hesitant, but did so. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, which accounted for her reluctance.

Clark managed to ignore the front view, even though Sylgja took after her mother, and turned her around to run his hands down her spine. Sylgja winced as he touched a couple of sore spots. One was low down, near her buttocks. "I think your bruises were deeper than you imagined. This should feel better." Clark sent a healing spell into the damaged tissues, that the priest had missed.

"How did you know to do that?" Sylgja wanted to know.

"Well, I read a lot, and I've been lucky enough to have access to the Mystic Archives, back at the Cyrodiil Arcane University. They had a lot of books there that you just can't find anywhere else, and an archive of research notes from the mage scholars. The College of Whispers and the Synod raided the Archives after the Mages Guild split up, so a lot of that material disappeared."

"But among what remained was material from Ulicetta gra-Kogg*. She was falsely expelled from the Guild at one point for suspected necromancy, and her notes locked away from general use. When she was reinstated, nobody thought to release it. I found it, and read it all. It appears that she was working on transplanting body parts from the recently dead to the living. She'd had problems with limbs attaching, but having no feeling, or being paralysed, and that had led her to research what made sensation and control work. I found it all fascinating, and it explained so much, such as why a spine is hollow."

"I don't have the magicka pool to be a full-time healer. I've invested more in health and stamina, because they're more useful to my lifestyle. What I do have is the skill and learning to make the most of my limited magicka. Some of it is obscure stuff like I just used."

"So that's why you needed fortifying potions to work on my nose?" Gilda asked.

"Yes, and it's why you won't see many healers that do face-sculpting, because the secrets have been lost, and it takes too much magicka. I'll tell you a story about that later."

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*See The Gweden Report for more explanation of Ulicetta gra-Kogg