A Question of Fate Options

[SubRosa]

I cannot imagine Jarl Ballin' any other way after seeing that vid!

I love it, Ralof goes straight to the stew, and Val straight to the bar!

I see Hod and Gerdur stock quite a bar. Honningbrew!

And there is another tell-tale sign of a temper in Val. Booze and a temper, always a good combination. I bet that is going to get him into trouble in the future.

“Hey Ralof, look who joined the living,” Hod said, giving me a stern scowl.
I can see Val has worn out his welcome.

[mALX]

Finally Val is going to have a chance to drink all of Gerdur and Hod's mead!

Now that Val is finally out of immediate danger, I wonder what he might do next? Go to Whiterun to tell Jarl Ballin' about the dragon? Or strike out on his own? I suspect that nothing is going to happen until the mead start flowing though...

OMG, that's what I get for reading the chapter out of my email - I missed this post! What a vid, although they could have cut it off after the third verse, lol. Loved this!

[McBadgere]

Excellent stuff!!!...

All caught up again...Sorry about that...Miss me?... ... ...

Absolutely loved the journey down from Helgen...The bit with the wolves (very Assassin's Creed III with the Huntsman's Creed™ thing.) I absolutely love the - admittedly slightly grim - rationale for looking in the stomachs...Also, explains why you find jewlery when you kill the wolves and "loot" them...

And the stone-scene was cool...I was usually The Warrior to start with...This is not a shock...Simple man, simple goal...Rob Smaaash!!... ...

OOoh yeah, the Bosmer thing, being soothed by the wildlife and the bow work were cool touches too...

Riverwood was a brilliantly done chapter...Still loving the way you weave the in-game stuff with yer own...Fantastic stuff, truly...*Applauds*...

The Mead chapter™ was also excellent...From the description of the room (something I also loved in the previous chapter about the titular town) to the meal and the drink...While it's actually very detailed, it's also so brief, and I am in absolute envy of your ability...I know damned well that it would take me half a chapter to do the same... ...

It's sad that Val managed to slightly lose his temper, but understandably so...Host or not, casual racism - even if it was without true malice - is never good...

Such good writing, loving it...

Apologies for getting so far behind...Definitely enjoyed reading so much in one go though...Brilliant stuff!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Well, it only took 8 chapters, but the calendar finally clicked over to the next day. I am truly pleased that you all are enjoying the level of detail. I was a little concerned that it might be dragging the story out too much (8 chapters to tell of events that all happened the same day), so if it does get too boggy, let me know.

@ Everyone - A very gracious thanks for all of your very kind comments. They mean a lot an inspire me to keep going.

@ Grits - Val definitely wrestles with his temper, regardless of where it came from (I'm glad you are content to wait and see).

Oh no! Val has a Nord’s thirst and a Bosmer’s capacity. -- Great observation! You nailed it.

@ Acadian - The pleasure is all mine to provide the nostalgic joy you referred to. The stories are really fun to read.

I do not venture north of Cyrodiil, so what I see and learn of the northern province comes from fics/screens and vids right here at chorrol. -- This touches on why I write in so much detail. I shouldn't assume that all of the readers have played the game, although I do know that many have. This also gives me the idea of adding screenies, like SubRosa does in her story. Perhaps I will in upcoming chapters.

@ mALX - I am so glad that you got a kick out of Val's disappointment that water would be served with dinner. I wanted to balance the dark segment that was coming with some humor.

@ SubRosa - My wife does not play the game (probably because it isn't a Facebook App ). So I showed her the Jarl in game, then showed her the Jarl Ballin' video. She was rolling! Thanks again for sharing that.

And there is another tell-tale sign of a temper in Val. Booze and a temper, always a good combination. I bet that is going to get him into trouble in the future. -- Probably a good bet...

@ McBadgere - Welcome back! Glad to see you got a break from silage harvesting to have some quiet time reading.

All caught up again...Sorry about that...Miss me? and Apologies for getting so far behind... -- Never have to apologize for RL events. Trust me, I know how it is to have a heavy work schedule. Of course we all missed you m8.

***

Once again, thanks for following Valrimor. Now here is some weekend reading for you all. I hope you enjoy...

Previously - After a nice hot meal and what turned out to be too much mead, Val faced the following day with a hangover and scowls from Hod, whom he had offended the previous night. He was about to cure his hangover and make some plans at The Sleeping Giant Inn…

Chapter 9 – The Plans of a Sleeping Giant

18th Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

The main hall of the inn was dominated by a huge fire pit running down the center of the room. Tables and benches were lined against the walls, which were decorated with various animal pelts. The floor also had pelts serving as throw rugs here and there. Candles, set deep in hollowed cattle horns, were in sconces on every pillar, and also in chandeliers high among the rafters. Each table also had its own candle in a horn. All in all, it made for a cozy atmosphere. A bard at one end of the room was lightly tapping out a beat on a tight skinned drum. The serving bar was at the other end. A man, presumably the barkeep, was cleaning the bar top and a woman had just entered the hall from another doorway that may have led to the kitchen. As I approached the bar, the woman seemed to be demanding the barkeep’s attention.

“Orgnar, are you listening to me?” she asked.

“Hard not to,” the barkeep, who I now knew to be Orgnar, replied.

“The ale is going bad. We need a new batch,” the woman proclaimed.

Ale is going bad? How does someone let that happen?

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Sure did. Ale’s goin’ bad,” Orgnar said as he continued to wipe down the bar.

“I guess you don’t have potatoes in your ears after all. Just make sure you get another batch in soon,” the woman demanded. With that she turned and walked away. I pulled up a stool and sat at the bar, and then asked Orgnar how much a cup of herbal tea cost.

“Thirty-one Septims,” he replied.

Half of my gold. I am poorer than I realized.

My head made the decision without me and ordered one. While he was away, I tried to concentrate. It was no use until this headache was gone. Orgnar returned with my tea and I laid the coins on the bar. Thirty-one Septims paid for a large flagon of the tea.

“Drink it all down, if you want that muzziness to go away fast,” he advised. He seemed to be a less than happy fellow, which was just as well, for I was not in a chatting mood. I rose and took my beverage to one of the tables. The tea did indeed have an amazing effect. By the time it was gone, I felt as though my late breakfast might stay put, and my headache had eased considerably. The bard had switched from his drum to a fife, but I was too deep in thought by then to appreciate his talent.

Ok, first things first. As usual, I have to fix whatever happened last night. Ugh! Then, before I do any favors for sisters, I need some coin. Let’s try not to resort to thievery. Remember the jail in Kvatch? Let’s get it honestly for a change. Ralof’s revolution has to wait too. Get the whole story first. That means lose the Stormcloak garb. I have the wolf pelts and there is a smith in town. I could get some decent leathers.

Suddenly, the bard began singing a song that interrupted my thinking and froze my breath. I had never heard the words until now, but the tune could not have been more familiar if I had composed it myself.

We drink to our youth, to days come and gone.
For the age of aggression, is just about done.

My mother used to hum that tune to me as a child. As the lyrics went on, I thought that maybe I was mistaken. Surely this revolution hadn’t been going on for fifty years. She never sang the song, but the tune was unmistakable. A dark depression began to wrap its black arms around my heart. I shook my head to fend it off.

Stop thinking about it. The song will be finished soon. There is too much ale and mead here for you to start thinking about your mother. Focus. Let’s review. Fix mess. Get coin. Lose Stormcloak label. See the blacksmith. Not necessarily in that order. That’s the plan.

I stood and returned Orgnar’s flagon to him, thanked him, and left the inn. I planned my speech during the walk back to Gerdur’s house.

Oh how I hate this…

By the time I got to the door, I had it well rehearsed and knew exactly what I would say to them. I walked in the door and they were at the dining table.

“Ok. Hod, Ralof, have a seat,” I said. They looked up at me from their chairs, puzzled.

“Good,” I continued, “listen, here’s the deal. I drink. I like to drink. It is my…never mind…I like to drink and that’s that. When I do, I don’t always behave as I should, or would normally if I were sober. Am I making sense? Anyway, I am going to stay at the inn so I don’t cause you any more trouble. It’s better that way.”

The two looked at each other, then Hod said, “No hard feelings Valrimor, but perhaps you are right. For aiding Ralof, Gerdur has made it clear that you are welcome to anything within reason. What you did last night was not within reason, especially after I had shown you my hospitality and shared my mead.”

Ouch. It’s always like this. I made the bed, so I have to sleep in it. This would be easier if I could remember what I did.

“I know, Hod. I am truly sorry,” I said, and then I turned to Ralof, “About your rebellion, perhaps I will go to Windhelm one day. But it won’t be today, or tomorrow. This armor belonged to your former comrade,” I gestured to what I was wearing, “I will leave it with you if you wish. Otherwise, I am going to sell it and purchase something that doesn’t label me with either side.”

“Gunjar would want its owner to use it as he or she saw fit. It is yours to sell if you chose to do so. Hopefully I will see you in Windhelm. The rebellion could use a man like you, if you can stay clear headed enough,” Ralof said with conviction.

“Ok, there is one last thing I need. If I don’t get to tell her myself, please thank Gerdur for me and tell her I will make it to the Jarl as soon as I am able,” I told them, and then I saluted Ralof in the manner I had seen his nephew use, and left the house.

There. As apologies go, that was pretty mild. Remember the house mother at that brothel in Leyawiin?

My next destination was the blacksmith. I could hear the clanking of hammer on steel, so I walked to the forge at the side of the building. A very muscular Nord was there, pounding the sparks out of a rod of red hot iron. He introduced himself as Alvor, and bragged that he could make a war hammer that would crack a giant’s skull like a walnut. I had spent many a day working for blacksmiths all over Cyrodiil, so I knew my way around a forge. Of course, that day’s wages often went to a night of merry-making. Then I would be too worn out and muzzy the next day and would get sacked by the smith.

I asked Alvor if he had any work that needed to be done around the shop. He needed some daggers and helmets made and said I could keep one of each as payment. I told him I would prefer coins over goods. He was fine with that, so I spent the rest of that afternoon working at the anvil, grindstone, and fitting bench. When I had finished the work he needed, Alvor allowed me to use the forge and bench for personal use. He traded tanned leather for my wolf pelts and some gold. I made myself a good set of leathers and was finished about an hour after sunset.

Since much of our business was based on trade and barter, I didn’t leave Alvor’s shop with much more coin than I had arrived with. I went back to the inn hoping that I had enough for a room. Orgnar instructed me to see Delphine, the woman that was brow-beating him during my first visit. She was at an alchemy table mixing up powdered ingredients for some type of potion. I apologized for interrupting and inquired about a room. She said a room would cost ten gold pieces for a day and a night. I paid her and she showed me to my room. It didn’t leave me any drinking money, but that was probably a good thing because I was exhausted. I hadn’t put in an afternoon at a smith’s shop in a long time. Muscles that I forgot I had were reminding me of their presence. I undressed and cleaned up at the wash basin. Looking at my bed, I realized that this wasn’t much of a room for the price.

You’ve slept in much worse many times.

I retired for the night with my plans rolling over in my thoughts, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

EDIT: Nit picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 8 2013, 11:10 PM

[SubRosa]

He seemed to be a less than happy fellow
If you had to put with Delphine, you would not be either!

I liked how the tune to the song was familiar to Val from decades before, even though the words had been changed. That is how folk songs stay in a culture, like Over The Hills and Far Away, which I have seen several different sets of lyrics for.

Well at least Val manned up and said he was sorry for whatever it was he did the last night. Looks like he has experience at that. He certainly has his share of character flaws! That is a good thing mind you. Perfect characters are boring. The ones with issues are the ones people can connect with, because they are as imperfect as those of us reading. Plus it is always inspiring to watch them grow and (hopefully) overcome their problems.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 8 2013, 05:37 PM

[Grits]

Ale is going bad? How does someone let that happen?

I’ve thought the same thing. How is ale left to go bad? This is Skyrim!

Sounds like Val has a lot of experience with apologies. I like the natural way you are revealing Val’s character, the negatives along with the more endearing aspects. As SubRosa said it’s often the flaws that make a character really connect with readers.

I particularly enjoyed the way Val handled getting out from under the Stormcloak label. Despite his troubled heart and drunken behavior (and history of thievery) he does not seem to be an anti-social person.

Fix mess. Get coin. Lose Stormcloak label. See the blacksmith. Not necessarily in that order. That’s the plan.

Done and done. I can’t find fault with Val’s work ethic!

[Acadian]

No worries on your level of detail. I think my record was nine episodes to cover one particularly busy day during the Tournament of Archers. I expect I’m not alone in endorsing that the journey is more important than the destination.


Another wonderfully descriptive, scene-setting opening paragraph that pops us right into the tavern.

A very clever way of revealing Val’s age! Merely a young elf in his fifties it seems. I’m with Grits in liking and chuckling over his sound plan of action.

“Ok. Hod, Ralof, have a seat,” I said. They looked up at me from their chairs, puzzled.’ - - Heh, here you elegantly display the problem with over rehearsing a ‘speech’ to the point of losing the ability to adjust when the venue would so dictate. Nicely done!

’There. As apologies go, that was pretty mild. Remember the house mother at that brothel in Leyawiin?’ - - What a delightfully teasing hint at another misadventure where alcohol was undoubtedly involved!

And an afternoon of hard, honest work at the forge to garner some leathers and a bit of gold. All in all, a good day!


Nit: ‘I didn’t leave the Alvor’s shop with much more coin than I had arrived with.’ - - You don’t want ‘the’ preceding ‘Alvor’s shop’ I’m sure.

[mALX]

On how long it takes in chapters to cover one day - I know exactly what you mean. 3 weeks can take three months of reading sometimes, and I've had to keep writing the time that has passed, afraid someone might think it was years, lol.

I like the way Val cleans up his messes as he goes so there are no burnt bridges left behind. Also liked his references to troubles he'd gotten into in Cyrodiil!

His skills are tremendous, he is def an asset to whichever side he gets on if he ever does choose. I think my favorite part of this chapter was his aching muscles after working at the Smithy's - that little detail added in brings the reality home perfectly! Awesome Write!

PS - if you are about to read chapter 5 on my story, if you can hold off a few days I have been re-writing it - just had a few things happen in RL since I started, and didn't get the re-write finished. Sorry about that, I'll try to hurry myself.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Let me start by apologizing for not getting to post in The Commentasaurus thread this week. RL prevented me from doing so, but I will get back at it on Sunday.

@ SubRosa - I am glad you can appreciate Valrimor's short-comings. I agree that perfectly behaved characters can be perfectly boring.

...like Over The Hills and Far Away, which I have seen several different sets of lyrics for. -- One of my favorite Led Zeppelin tunes!

@ Grits - I agree! Ale should never go bad in Skyrim!

Despite his troubled heart and drunken behavior (and history of thievery) he does not seem to be an anti-social person. -- Indeed, as long as he is sober...

@ Acadian - Good catch on the nit and appreciated. It has been picked.

A very clever way of revealing Val’s age! Merely a young elf in his fifties it seems. -- Actually, the math had already been given in the Interlude when he was born, but I'm glad you liked that.

@ mALX - Val does try to clean up before moving on...or sometimes he just gets out of Dodge!

...Also liked his references to troubles he'd gotten into in Cyrodiil! -- Mostly a result of the author having loved the other game too.

*****

Thanks again to all of you for your great comments, compliments, and continued following. Here is the next installment...

*****

Previously - Valrimor had cured his hangover and devised a set of plans to get started with his new life in Skyrim. He had made a “to do” list and was well on his way to completing it…

Chapter 10 – From Straight and Narrow to Crooked for a Cause

19th Last Seed, 4E 201

My room at The Sleeping Giant only had a few small windows set high on the wall above the head of my bed. When I awoke, scant light was coming in through them, and I was unable to discern whether or not the sun had fully risen yet. So I just lay there, reflecting on my plans. I had accomplished three of my four goals. I was down to the last one…get coin. Normally, this would require less than a full day’s “work”. But I had promised myself yesterday that I would try to gain the funds I needed honestly…legally. How to do that?

Hunt…

Hunting was probably my best bet. It played to my strengths, as I have had to stay keen with my bow skills. More often than not, it provided my food when I traveled. After bagging some deer, I could tan the hides of my kills and sell the leather, or even better, make armor and sell that instead. It seemed like a lot of work.

Concoct...

Alchemy was another option. I had certainly seen plenty of alchemical reagents during my walk from Helgen’s back door to Riverwood. And where one mushroom grows, so do more. I would have to ask Orgnar about using the inn’s alchemy table. This was certainly less strenuous than hunting and working at the forge, assuming there was a local demand for potions.

Time’s-a-wastin’…

With that thought, I rose, splashed some water from the basin on my face, and got dressed. The main hall was deserted, except for Orgnar behind the bar. The unmistakable aroma of bacon hung on the air, whetting my appetite. Delphine was talking to Orgnar from the kitchen. All I caught of it was something about the Riverwood Trader being robbed. Taking a seat, I ordered some bacon, cheese, and toasted bread with a glass of milk. There were breadsticks in a ceramic crock on the bar, so I helped myself to one and waited for my food. Orgnar soon returned with my order.

“I heard you talking to Delphine yesterday about some ale going bad,” I said to kick off a conversation while I ate.

“Yep, it’s turned alright. I already have a batch that I started a few weeks ago. Should be ready to serve in a couple days,” he replied, in his usual monotone and to-the-point style.

“So you brew your own ale then?” I asked.

“All of the inns in Skyrim brew their own ale. It doesn’t have the shelf life that wine and mead do. So having it shipped in is dodgy,” Orgnar explained, “The ales that are shipped over distance are quite hoppy and tend to the bitter side. An acquired taste for sure.”

“That’s interesting. So the selection of ales must be widely varied here in Skyrim,” I said, reaching for my milk to wash down some toast.

“Indeed. In the larger cities, the variety of ales, wines, and meads available to the palate of the discerning drinker is immense,” Orgnar said, “Right now, all I have on hand is my own brew, Sleeping Giant Ale. Up north, where temperatures stay much colder year round, they brew lagers and pilsners as well. It doesn’t stay cold enough in my cellar, so I only brew ale.”

There are lagers and pilsners in the cities to the north?

My mouth was watering. I had heard tell of these beers, but never tasted either one. Brewing ale could possibly be another source of income, or at least save me from spending as much money in taverns. Not for the immediate future, but certainly a consideration once I had a foothold here. For now, I needed to change the subject so I could get moving.

“So, Orgnar, is anyone around here looking for some hired help?”

“As a matter of fact, some of the Jarl’s men were passing through and left this notice with me,” he replied while rummaging under the bar. Then he handed me a wrinkled sheet of paper and said, “Here, check this out.”

The note stated that there was a reward for taking care of a bandit problem at a place called Valtheim Keep. I could ask the Jarl about it when I go to see him about the dragon, but that didn’t help my immediate situation.

“Do you need this back?” I asked.

“Keep it. No one around here is going that far down river.”

I folded the note and put it in my breast pocket, and then stood and asked, “What do I owe you for breakfast?”

“It comes with the room,” he replied.

As I turned to leave, the alchemy table caught my eye.

“One more thing,” I said, “can anyone use that alchemy table?”

“It works like this. You pay a two Septim fee per elixir. That covers the cost of the vials and lets me have a little pocket money. Clean up after yourself when you are done. Of course, you pay for any damage caused by explosions,” Orgnar replied. I bade him thanks and went out into the morning sun.

It occurred to me that, even though I had used it several times, I had never thoroughly examined my weaponry. I sat on the bench outside the inn and spun my quiver around to inspect my arrows. They were of low quality with iron heads.

The Empire sure did skimp when it came to outfitting their archers.

Two of the arrows were warped and useless. Three more needed some adjustment to the fletching. That left me nineteen acceptable shots. I turned my attention to the bow. It was just a simple long bow. Again, low quality, but serviceable. Either way, it would have to do until I could afford better. I stood and started toward the south entrance of the settlement. I was starting to get into a hunting frame of mind when the sign for The Riverwood Trader squeaked on its chain and caught my attention. Then I remembered what Delphine had said. Out of curiosity, I stepped into the shop, and apparently at a bad time.

“Well one of us has to do something!” a woman yelled at a man behind the counter, presumably the shopkeeper.

“I said no!” the man railed back at her, “No adventures! No theatrics! No thief-chasing!”

“Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let’s hear it!”

“We are done talking about this!” he yelled, and then noticed I had walked into the shop, “Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that.”

The woman turned toward me, her face still full of fury, and then stomped off to a table near the fireplace and sat without saying anything else. I walked up to the counter and said, “No worries.”

“Welcome to the Riverwood Trader. I’m Lucan Valerius, proprietor and ever the target of my sister’s ire. I don’t know what you may have heard, but we are still open. Feel free to shop.”

“Well sir, it is about what I have heard that brought me in. Delphine was telling Orgnar this morning that the Riverwood Trader had been robbed,” I told him.

“Yes, it’s true. Damn thieves! They must have picked the door lock. Only one item was stolen. They left behind all of these treasures as if they were mere trinkets,” he said, spreading his arms as if to present his wares, “As I said, feel free to shop.”

I looked around the shop from where I stood. It was small by most standards, but there were several shelves filled with all manner of bric-a-brac. Some of it was useful, some of it not so much. I did notice some traveling gear.

“What was it they stole?” I asked, turning back to face Lucan.

“It was an ornament, a golden ornament in the shape of a dragon’s claw,” he replied.

“Was it worth a lot?” I pressed, while my mind turned this into a possible business venture.

“I have never had it appraised, but I would think so.”

“Would it be worth a lot to have someone retrieve it for you?” I queried, making my pitch.

“I do have some extra coin,” he mused, and then asked, “Would you be willing to try?”

“I would at that. But I can’t leave today. Alas, I am strapped for cash and will need to build my assets over the next week or so, to allow for the purchase of provisions…” I bemoaned, letting the words trail off and dropping a hint at the same time.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay half up front if you will leave today. I’ll even throw in a bedroll,” he offered, taking the bait.

“You, my good man, have a deal,” I said with a smile, “Now, what can you tell me about these thieves? Any detail can help.”

“I can tell you where you will most likely find them. They will be in one of two places, either Embershard Mine or Bleak Falls Barrow.”

Bleak Falls Barrow was the place Ralof had showed to me, up on the mountain.

What was it he had said? Naught but evil…haunted by draugr…

“I know where the barrow is. Where is this mine?” I asked.

“If you head out of Riverwood to the south, you will eventually see some steps going up a hill to your left. Follow them and it will take you straight to the mine,” Lucan directed as he tossed a small sack of coins on the counter, “Here’s half. You can have that bedroll over there on the shelf.”

I took the money and bedroll, said a farewell to the two of them, and left the shop. I stopped at Alvor’s, hoping to purchase a better bow and a few more arrows. Unfortunately, I was still short of cash for the fine hunting bow that he had for sale. So I resigned to make do with what I had, adding five more arrows to my quiver to make my arsenal an even two dozen.

This was going to work out perfectly. I had promised myself that I would not steal to gain cash, but now I was going to steal anyway. Now I was going to rob some thieves.

****

EDIT - Nits picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 13 2013, 12:50 AM

[Acadian]

My knowledge of ales, beers and meads is embarrassingly limited to the ability to properly spell ‘Budweiser Clydesdales’. Therefore, I found the lesson on ales very interesting. And, no doubt of great interest to Val as he daydreams of retiring to brew his own ale!

Val was very smooth as he parlayed the trader’s theft into a bedroll, small bag of gold and a paying task.

I like that you seem to limit his quiver capacity, and think that the quantity you use is sound. Quite some time ago, I adopted 25 as a max quiver capacity.

So, it looks like Val is off for a dungeon crawl. Hopefully, he’ll survive and even find that missing dragon claw. I'm anxious to see the tactics he'll use without dragons in his face or Nords to babysit at his side (assuming that he's going solo).


Nit? Not sure if it’s intentional or not that the last two letter of this episode’s title are of a smaller font than the rest of the title.

Nit: ’So I just laid there, reflecting on my plans.’ - - Here you want lay vs laid. The verbs lay vs lie are quite confusing. To lay is to place something and requires an object. To lie is to recline. To make things much more confusing, the past of lay is laid, while the past tense of lie is lay. Googling ‘lay vs lie’ can generate some clarity on sorting out the differences of this complex little brain twister. One such site that can explain this better than I, and includes a little chart is here: http://www.writersdigest.com/online-editor/lay-vs-lie

[mALX]

I've been unable to get over here to read till today - first the electrical storm knocking down our power, then the tornado warning yesterday - what free time I've had I've been working on that mod all week finding the issue with the water not showing up and fixing it numerous times (just to have the issue still there, lol) - fixed now.

Over the weekend I'm going to be catching up my reading, so won't be able to do the re-write on chapter 5 of my story. I hate to ask, but can you give me another week before reading my story? I am so sorry for the delay, and will send you a PM as soon as it is up so you can get to it in your leisure - I apologize, and so appreciate your patience in both my delays in reading your latest chapter and keeping up with my updates on mine for you. Thank you. <3

[jack cloudy]

Hohoho, looks like Hod didn't need to help with drinking all the mead. But what happened that got them all so upset with drunk Val? I doubt it was the kitchenware.


It's nice to see him try a 'legal' way of making money and even more nice to see some planning and preparation. Like Acadian, I like the low number of arrows and how some were tossed out for being lousy. Ingame I end up hoarding the things (seriously, it's too much effort to remove them from my inventory) I remember not having that much of a problem in the day archery was nearly impossible to use and the arrows weighed a ton. But now? Why bother?

But for Val, less arrows is better. It keeps him light on his feet. Besides, he's Bosmer. He'll make every shot count.

[SubRosa]

here are lagers and pilsners in the cities to the north?
And probably Nords and Imperials, and other races too! Seriously, you gave us a nice discussion about the realities of brewing in Skyrim, something I never really thought about before.

Of course, you pay for any damage caused by explosions,”


Interesting thing about the iron arrowheads. The famous bodkin arrowheads that the Welsh/English Longbowmen used which have been recovered have had iron heads. The only steel heads found have been broad-bladed ones, more for hunting than war.

Well, at least Val found an honest way to make some coin, and less strenuous than chopping wood or digging up ore. Though a mite bit more dangerous than picking flowers and shooting deer either. Still, if he lives through Embershard and Bleak Falls, he'll likely be set for cash for some time!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 16 2013, 10:23 PM

[Grits]

I enjoyed Orgnar’s brewing discussion. I’m not such a fan of IPA, so I’d be ordering a pint of the Giant.

I love how Lucan presented the likely bandit hideouts. You’ve given this scene the comfortably familiar feeling but brought it to life with no trace of zero-weight arrows or quest markers. Very fun to read.

This was going to work out perfectly.

Uh oh. I know what happens whenever I say something like that!

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...Thanks to everyone for commenting and following along. I appreciate it very much.

@ Acadian - Thank you so much for the lay vs. lie vs. laid vs. lay stuff! Very helpful indeed! And good catch as well on the font in the title...it was an oops. Both nits fixed.

I like that you seem to limit his quiver capacity...
This is one thing about the game mechanics that I have always disliked. The fact that arrows and coins have no weight makes no sense.

@ mALX - I am glad that you have regained that sparkly juice that we all take for granted (electricity) and that the tornadoes missed BFE TN. No apologies needed and I'll look forward to your PM. Just good to hear that you and yours made it through the weather safe and sound.

@ jack cloudy - Yes indeed, Val is quite the capable drinker...just needs to control his temper.

Ingame I end up hoarding the things (seriously, it's too much effort to remove them from my inventory)
I am just the opposite. I RP rather diligently, so I make it a point to limit myself to two dozen. I would gladly add mods that give weight to arrows and coins, but I haven't bothered to look for them yet. I am sure there are some out there.

@ SubRosa - I have not researched arrow types, and perhaps I should, since I did go to the trouble to research bows. I have merely been going by the damage value in-game to gauge quality.

Seriously, you gave us a nice discussion about the realities of brewing in Skyrim, something I never really thought about before.
This is a direct by-product of my Bro-In-Law brewing his own beer. I have learned a lot about different types of beers by helping him out. Being a taste tester has its perks too!

@ Grits - Nor am I a fan of IPA, and I'm pleased that you know what it is! I couldn't use the term IPA in the discussion because there is no India in Tamriel. So I just had to call it "hoppy".

Uh oh. I know what happens whenever I say something like that!
Same here!

**********
On to today's installment...

Previously - After overhearing Delphine tell Orgnar about a robbery at The Riverwood Trader, Val had decided to investigate. This in turn led to an agreement with Lucan Valerius to bring the stolen Golden Claw back to its owner…
**********

Chapter 11 – Embershard Mine

19th Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

I paused for a moment on my way out of Riverwood. It had become a beautiful late summer day. There are those down in Cyrodiil that would consider this weather autumnal, but cooler weather has never bothered me that much. A light breeze was whispering through the spruce boughs. Seeds with white feathery sails rode the air currents. I inhaled deeply and relished the fresh air scented with pine. I continued south on the road until I reached the steps that Lucan had directed me toward. I was enjoying the day so much that I made the turn off the road as casually as anyone taking an afternoon stroll. The steps wound up the hill, bending to my right. When I topped the rise, I heard a deep voice yell, “Hey!”

I barely had time to unsling my bow and get an arrow nocked before a rather large orc had closed half the distance between us. I shot while back pedaling down the stairs, so my aim was not true. The arrow clanked off of an iron pauldron covering his left shoulder and did nothing to slow my attacker. Fortune was with me however, as the bandit lost his balance on the top step while preparing to swing his mace. I side-stepped and watched the orc tumble past while I nocked a second arrow. He came to rest with his back against a tree, and I let the arrow fly. The iron head found his center mass, penetrating a weak spot in his armor. The orc let out a brief cry before my next shot shattered the bridge of his nose, silencing any chance for further calls of alarm. He was effectively pinned to the tree like a notice on a bulletin board.

Val, you idiot! Were you going to knock on the door with your bow on your back as well?

Thankful for not losing my life to carelessness, I continued toward the mine entrance more slowly with an arrow nocked to my bowstring. Fortunately, there were no other guards standing watch outside. The entrance itself was a set of double doors with a small window in each one. I peeked through one, hoping to see what was on the other side, but all I could make out was the glow of a torch. Gingerly, I pushed one of the doors. It didn’t move, so I pushed harder. It was still frozen in place. Pushing on the other door ended with the same result. Neither would budge no matter how hard I pushed. I reached toward my breast pocket for a lock pick, and then stopped when I noticed there was no keyhole.

A locked door with no lock? It must latch on the inside…

I stared at the unyielding entrance, perplexed. I considered knocking, but dismissed that as foolish because more than one person might answer. After a moment of further thought on the matter, I decided to try and pry my way in with my dagger, hopefully by lifting the latch with the blade. I held one door handle with my left hand and used my right to apply pressure between doors with the point of the dagger. The blade wouldn’t penetrate the crack. I released the door handle so I could use both hands on the hilt of the dagger, but my bracer strap caught on the knob…and pulled the door open.

Are you kidding me?

I looked over my shoulder, unconsciously checking for witnesses to my stupidity, and then entered the mine. As soon as I did so, an all too familiar claustrophobia set in.

Gods, I hate being underground…

I pulled my wine bottle from my backpack and took a healthy pull to calm my nerves. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, so I had another swig and put it away. The only light was coming from a torch, set in a sconce near a cart, and some meager daylight from the doorway windows. The mineshaft sloped downward almost immediately. The cart was sitting at the top of a wooden track that paralleled the walkway. I listened carefully for sounds of activity. Not hearing any, I crept forward, doing my best to ignore the feeling that the walls were closing in on me.

If this was indeed a bandit lair, as the assailant tacked to the tree outside proposed, then there would be traps. Lighting was provided by torches set in sconces spaced far enough apart that seeing the ground between them was not easy. That would make spotting any traps just as difficult. Bandits tended to place trip lines or pressure plates near the entrance to their lairs. These particular thieves proved to be no different, but also showed ineptness at setting them, as a poorly placed trip line was plainly visible in the torchlight from a nearby sconce. It traversed the walkway, but not the cart track, so I merely walked around the end of the thing. The shaft turned left and appeared to lead into a larger chamber almost immediately. The echoes of trickling water danced off the walls. I froze when I heard voices.

“Aren’t you worried that someone will wander in here? This place isn’t exactly hidden, you know,” said a seemingly concerned denizen.

"Are we going over this again? I told you we have someone standing guard out there, and don’t forget about the rock trap. So don’t worry, and get some rest. Your shift is coming up and I don’t want you dozing off like last time!”

Little did the second voice realize that the guard was now decorating a tree trunk and his rock trap had been avoided with ease. I crept in a little closer. Directly in front of me, there was a wooden catwalk leading into the cavern. In the dim light, I could make out the silhouette of someone that had come up some stairs at the other end. He had turned away from me, heading into another passage on the other side of the chamber. Looking around, I could see the water below the catwalk. There was a fire down in the area that the bandit had come from. A couple bedrolls lay near it, and one appeared occupied. Suddenly, movement caught my eye. There was another silhouette, standing backlit in an opening that was higher and to the left of where the first had disappeared into the shadows.

Is this the same man? I wish I could see better!

The man turned around and walked away. A few seconds later, a bandit reappeared at the end of the catwalk. He was coming across! I drew my bowstring back and waited. But then he stopped, waited a few seconds, and returned the way he came. I let off on the bow, exhaling as quietly as I could.

It has to be the same guy. He is making his rounds…guard duty.

I acted quickly. I got the bottle of spider venom from my backpack and anointed the head of the arrow. I had it nocked and ready when the bandit guard reappeared in the other opening. I drew back and shot. I could not follow the flight in the dim lighting, but grinned as I heard the bandit grunt. A second later, he fell and did not move again.

One down…

Creeping out onto the catwalk, I kept an arrow nocked and tensed against my bowstring. Using every bit of my skill, I made it all the way to the stairs that led down to the camp area.

“What was that?” inquired a voice from below, and I saw a man rise from a bedroll. He reclined again, permanently, with some assistance from my bow. I looked and listened intently for any indication of other bandits in the area. Satisfied there were none, I continued deeper into the mine.

Discipline Val…keep going until you have them all…

I continued using this strategy, classic sneak and snipe, with perfect success. The drawback was that it was very time consuming and very tiring. By the time I had dispatched the remaining thieves and reached the opening at the other end of the mine, I was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. Darkness had fallen outside the mine, and I still had to search corpses, cabinets, sacks, and barrels, to find that claw. If I had my tent, I would camp outside the rear entrance of the mine, but such was not the case. All I had was the bedroll and I was too tired to build a lean-to.

I went back into the mine, grabbed the first torch I came to, and retraced my steps back to what had been the obvious hub of activity in this lair. This was in the main cavern, where there was a well banked forge and other smith’s equipment. Up some stairs and across some catwalks were storage areas and a sleeping area. I went to a storeroom and found some bread and apples. I ate a quick meal, washed down by a couple of ales.

Gotta hand it to thieves, they always have some ale around…

I returned to the sleeping area and looked at the bedrolls. As a rule, bandits were a notoriously unhygienic lot. I decided to sleep on top of a bedroll rather than in it. This way I could leave my bedroll bundled for a quick escape if need be. I would search for the claw after a nap. With the aid of the ales that I had found and consumed, sleep came quickly.

**********
EDIT - Picked some self-discovered nits.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 17 2013, 02:03 PM

[mALX]

Chapter 10 - Val has a lot of skills to tap for resources, very impressive guy!

The details on the making of beers/ales - very interesting details there, also Val's musings on his equipment. Geez, I hate to see him tackle Bleak Falls Barrow with only a bow and 24 arrows! Urk!


Chapter 11 -

I especially liked Val's early bumbling on going in, first not being prepared - but the door had me in stitches!

LOVE Val's sneak and strike methods with the bow, very well written so it could be visually imagined as he went through! I liked his musings on the lack of hygiene among bandits, lol. Always thought the same myself. Really enjoyed this chapter, Val's way of going through the bandit lair quietly striking was so interesting and intriguing, I loved it !!
He and Buffy both fight from a vantage point and stay out of sight, very cool imagery !!

Awesome Write, both chapters - and I so apologize for getting behind, between the storms and that mod I have really gotten behind on everyone and feel terrible about it!

[Acadian]

Another wonderfully captivating opening paragraph that teases all the senses. With a twist – Val was so entranced by the day he wandered right up to the cave! After his near miss with the orc and difficulty opening the door, I was getting worried that perhaps he was getting in over his head (easy for a Bosmer to do). Fortunately, his Bosmeri bow and stealth abilities helped him safely clear out the bandits. Val needs a ‘dispel cooties’ spell to cast on strange bedrolls – very handy.

[SubRosa]

Arrowheads actually tend to be pretty simple. They fall into two basic categories. There are broad-heads, which are best for unarmored targets like peasants or game. Then narrow-points like bodkins, which are made for piercing armor. Or at least have the right design to pierce armor. The aforementioned English bodkins were not really great for armored targets because they were made of iron instead of tempered steel. It should be noted that modern re creationists using English Longbows and bodkin arrows always use steel tipped arrows, which naturally work quite well against steel armor, but of course are historically inaccurate. The English Longbowman had to get really close to an armored opponent to get a successful arrow shot. For example at Agincourt the French had to advance on foot, uphill, through the mud, and the English archery still failed to stop them. The archers only turned the tide of the battle when they dropped their bows and joined in the melee with axes.

Of course the ES universe has a much wider scope of materials available for an archer. Where RL tends to just have iron or steel (and in a few cases bone or stone). I can imagine a broad-headed ebony arrow going through a steel breastplate like tissue paper. Or likewise a steel bodkin shattering on a glass breastplate.

There are a lot of different specific designs to the two types of heads of course. This pic gives some ideas, with armor-piercers at the top, broad-heads the bottom, and a sort of middle of the road head in between. Do some googling and you will find a lot more. Teresa used those middle leaf-shaped points early in her career, then later when she upgraded to elven steel moved to swallowtails (the very bottom).

Another interesting thing about the arrow shafts themselves, is that while many cultures used the standard three straight lines of fletching, some folks actually put the fletching on in a spiral pattern. That caused the arrow to spin just like rifling in a gun barrel, and made it more accurate.

In the TF I have the Imperials doing their fletching the standard way, and the Bosmer using the spiral pattern. I really did not use the regular bows from the game, like steel, silver, dwarven, etc... I only used two types. The longbow for the standard Imperial bow, and the composite bow (the Hunnish Bow to be more accurate) for the Bosmer design. In Morrowind they have chitin bows, but the story never went there. Other provinces would likely have their own special materials in the TF as well. I just never explored them.

*Phew*, on to the story now!

“Hey!”
Oops, Val's idyllic stroll through the countryside has led him right into a viper's nest! I had to laugh at the poor orc though, losing his footing on the steps and falling! Easy enough to believe though.

Then of course I was smiling at poor Val as the dastardly door stymied him. At least until his bracer intervened!

Perhaps Val should learn a low yield shock spell for bedroll bugs?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 15 2013, 09:38 PM

[Darkness Eternal]

Right. I have some catching up to do! Shame on me!

Chapter Four: Odd twist of fate alright. Looks like someone ate a nice dose of payback as Ralof took care of her! You know, I have to confess that I am starting to like Valrimor. He's just one of those characters that stick to you and is fun to read about. His sarcasm, as an example, is wonderful!

“No, I would rather stay here and finish this wine,” I replied, “but lead on sir.” I replied with a flourishing gesture toward the door.

The name of the chapter . . . I can only read it with a sexy deep voice. Yes . . . closer . . . into the bowels.

Chapter five: Imperials, and spiders, and bears. I can see where this is going.

A relief that he found some arrows, and an Imperial bow from the archer. He won't be needing that any longer

"More for me."

Damn right!

The battle was well-written and I loved Valrimor's self monologue and the bear scene. Shot the thing in her hind quarters with spider venom. It is potent stuff, indeed!

Interlude: My writing style of often like this. I personally enjoy it that way. I just find the use of first person narration difficult, but it certainly gives us a tale through the eyes of the character.

Now, what I love about this chapter here was a good description of what the world was like after the fall of the septims. War is out there and the world is left a nastier place than it was before. Though going by lore, corruption of guards and authorities have always been in the ES. Especially in the Waterfront District in the Imperial City, and I am quite sure everywhere else would have the fare shares of dirty guards. But you're spot on that war creates chaos, and breeds thievery and murder and bandits!

Here we see tavern brawls, broken lutes and Cyrodiilic brandy! Ah . . . a tavern is a tavern, isn't it? No matter where you go! Hehe!

So we get a glimpse of his mother, eh? Awesome. More backstory on his character and history that I've been dying to see. I will return to continue and catch up on him! Enjoying read so far!

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...

@ mALX - You needn't apologize for getting behind. RL has a terrible habit of biting our backsides when we would rather it didn't. I'm just glad that normalcy has returned to your neck of the woods. Thanks so much for continuing to follow the story.

Geez, I hate to see him tackle Bleak Falls Barrow with only a bow and 24 arrows! Urk! -- Fear not...Of course, Val has no idea yet, but there will be plenty of ancient Nordic arrows for him to pick up in Bleak Falls Barrow.

@ Acadian - Val did indeed have his senses teased as well, almost to a fault! I loved the quip about being in over his head being easy for a Bosmer. Thank you for the compliment on the opening.

Val needs a ‘dispel cooties’ spell to cast on strange bedrolls – very handy. -- A potion would be more Val's speed (Tamrielic Rid-A-Bug?)

@ SubRosa - Wow Ms. Rosa! You have given a wealth of arrowhead information, and it has pointed me to some very interesting articles on the history of such. Thanks so much!

I had to laugh at the poor orc though, losing his footing on the steps and falling! Easy enough to believe though. -- I know...I have always pictured orc bandits as big bumbling buffoons. Strong in the extreme, but not very coordinated or intelligent.

@ Darkness Eternal - Welcome back and thank you for rejoining!

Interlude: My writing style of often like this. I personally enjoy it that way. I just find the use of first person narration difficult, but it certainly gives us a tale through the eyes of the character. -- The main reason I write in first person is exactly that. I find it easier to relate the protagonist’s feelings in first person. But I wanted the Interludes to be third person because Val is not relating the story. And speaking of Interludes...

**********

Thanks again to all of you for your kind words. This next installment will be another Interlude. To save you from having to go back and look at the dates on the first one, I'll tell you that Val is 3 in the first part and 7 in the second part...so here goes...I hope you enjoy it.

AUTHORS NOTE - This post has been edited from its original issue. I need to thank SubRosa for her invaluable help in resolving a "head-hopping" POV in the narrative. I have edited this to reflect the changes that she so helpfully pointed out. You rock SubRosa!

**********

Interlude 2

16th Last Seed, 4E153

Valrimor sat at the table, scribbling with a piece of charcoal on the back side of an old copy of The Black Horse Courier. Elli was doing some cleaning around the house, and dusting was the task at hand.

“Ma?” he said to his mother, in the way that young children do before they pose a question.

“Yes, son?”

“Where’s my da?”

The question came when Ellinar was utterly unprepared for it, and completely defenseless. Her heart suddenly ached again, as it had every night for the past year and a half. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she had to turn away, feigning that she had gotten some dust in them.

“He’s away on a job,” she replied.

“What’s a job?” Val asked.

Elli sighed, pausing a moment to ponder explaining a job in terms that Val could understand, and then said, “It’s what people do to earn money, so they can buy food and clothes.”

“Oh,” he said, and returned to his masterpiece, adding a swirl here and a jagged line there. Without looking up from his work, the boy asked another question.

“When is he coming home?”

Now tears trickled down Elli’s cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered and her voice broke a bit when she answered him, “Soon, son. Very soon, I hope.”

“Good,” said Val, then held up his work of art with a proud smile, “Look ma!”

Elli wiped her eyes and turned toward her son. She wished that the boy looked like Erik, and then felt that familiar pang of guilt she got every time she had such thoughts. She did her best to put on a prideful smile and told Val that it was beautiful.

* * *

21st First Seed, 4E157

The mage watched the boy with keen interest. The child was playing with a squirrel. No, playing wasn’t accurate. He was having the squirrel play for him. Of course the mage was aware of the Bosmer ability to command animals, but he had never seen a display like this. The boy was making the squirrel perform tricks and then rewarding it with pine nuts.

“Are you watching this, Varnel?” the mage asked his apprentice.

“Yes indeed, Master. I have never seen the ability used that way before,” Varnel replied, and then asked, “Shall we locate the parents?”

“I do believe so. I would be curious to see if his command of other forms of Magicka is equally as keen,” replied the mage.

Varnel stopped a passing woman and inquired as to where they might find the child’s parents. The woman pointed to a house just a few doors down. The mage directed Varnel to go and get the parents while he stayed and watched the boy further. The Altmer did as the mage requested, while the squirrel completed a double back flip.

“That is truly impressive, young mer,” said the mage, clapping his hands softly.

*****

Valrimor had decided to go outside and play. His mother was in one of her sad moods and she wasn’t much fun when she was like that. He walked up the street to see if his friend could play, but Lang was busy with chores. So Val went to his favorite alone place. It was a rock outcropping behind Hammer & Axe. He sat on the rock and waited for Bushy. It was a squirrel that he had taken to playing with when no one else could play, named for its big bushy tail. Some time back, Val had figured out that he was able to control animals with some sort of thinking trick. It wasn’t long before the squirrel showed up and Val tossed it a pine nut. Then he concentrated real hard and made Bushy do a flip, tossing another nut to it as a reward. After a few more flips and somersaults, Val was smiling and feeling better. Suddenly, he heard clapping. He looked up and saw a hooded man applauding the squirrel.

“That is truly impressive, young mer,” said the man.

“Who are you?” asked Val. The man had a kindly look, with a crooked smile and a light in his eyes.

“My name is Tolfdir,” the man replied, then continued, “It is amazing, what you can get that squirrel to do. Can you do other things with Magicka?”

“I made Bushy run up Miss Armelia’s skirt once, but I got in trouble for that,” said Val.

“No, I meant other Magicka, besides playing with animals.”

*****

Meanwhile, Varnel arrived at the house that the woman had indicated. He was about to knock on the door, secretly hoping that no one would be home. He was not fond of Bosmeri folk. His uncle had been killed by a rebellious tree-hugger when The Dominion had taken over Valenwood. But the Altmer apprentice would not jeopardize his standing by refusing a task from Master Tolfdir, so he dutifully knocked. A Bosmer lady answered the door. She looked as if she may have been crying, but her eyes widened when she saw who had knocked.

“What do the Thalmor want at this house?” she asked contemptuously, sneering on the word “Thalmor”.

“I am not here as a representative of The Dominion, ma’am. I am here at the behest of Master Tolfdir. He would like to speak with you about your boy,” Varnel replied, doing his best to keep a civil tongue after her snide salutation.

“What about him?” Elli asked, and stepped past the Altmer to look for Val. She saw him talking to a man in a hooded robe. “Who is that?”

“That is Master Tolf-”

“Val! Get over here, son,” Elli yelled.

Valrimor started toward his mother with Tolfdir on his heels, and Elli started to move toward Val. The Altmer apprentice grabbed Elli’s arm and said, “Ma’am, we just-”

“Get your hands off me you piece of Aldmeri dung!” raged Ellinar.

Varnel’s hand shot out and slapped Elli’s face hard enough to knock her down. He looked over toward Tolfdir to apologize, but noticed the boy instead. The child was staring at him with daggers for eyes, and blue-white balls of sparks were dancing in his palms.

*****

Valrimor was about to answer Tolfdir’s question about using Magicka when he heard the unmistakable voice of his mother.

“Val, get over here son,” she yelled from near their house.

There was a tall golden skinned elf in a robe similar to Tolfdir’s standing near her. Val stood and excused himself politely as he started walking toward his mother. The tall elf grabbed his mother’s arm and she pulled away abruptly, saying something to the elf. Suddenly, he saw the elf hit his mother and all reason left him. He was enraged in a way that he had never known in his young life. He let out a feral howl as he raised his arms. Lightning shot from both hands in undulating ribbons of blue-white fire. Sparkling tendrils had formed at the ends of the bolts. They had completely wrapped the Altmer’s head, dancing in and out of his eyes and ears. Varnel’s mouth opened in a scream of pain while sparks arced between his teeth. The rest of his body stood rigid as a post.

*****

Tolfdir had asked the boy if he could do other things with Magicka. The young mer responded that he had made the squirrel run up a lady’s skirt once. Chuckling a bit at the thought of it, Tolfdir told the boy that he meant other types of Magicka besides using his Command Animal ability. The boy was about to answer when a woman called out.

“Val, get over here son,” the woman yelled, undoubtedly the boy’s mother.

The boy, whom he now knew to be Val, excused himself politely and started walking toward the woman and Varnel. The mage followed him, looking forward to meeting his mother. Suddenly, the mage saw Varnel strike the woman, knocking her down. Everything else happened so fast that Tolfdir was caught completely by surprise. The boy had let out a yell and raised his arms. Before he knew it, his Altmer apprentice was being shocked to death by an astonishing display of concentrated lightning coming from Val’s outstretched hands. Tolfdir watched in horror for a moment and then gathered his wits enough to cast a Drain Magicka spell at the boy, but he was too late. When the lightning finally stopped, Varnel fell as a puppet whose strings had been severed. He lay with his scorched, eyeless skull gazing toward the sky. The boy seemed to come back to himself and looked at what he had done. He started crying hysterically. When his mother reached him, he jumped into her arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

“I didn’t mean to ma!” he cried into her shoulder.

* * *

22nd First Seed, 4E157

Elli’s heart jumped when she heard the knock at the door. It would be the City Guards, come to take the two of them before the magistrate. Because the boy was so young, she would have to answer for his acts. She turned to her son and told him to just sit still and stay quiet, no matter what happened. Valrimor just nodded, with a look of fear and uncertainty. She opened the door, but was surprised to see that it was Tolfdir instead of the Bruma guards.

“Go away! You’ve caused enough harm,” Elli said, and started to close the door. Tolfdir stopped it with a firm hand. Val tensed in his chair.

“Please miss, allow me to enter. I mean no harm to you or the boy. We need to talk,” said Tolfdir.

Reluctantly, Elli gave way, but she admonished the mage against any ill intent and finished by saying, “Remember your friend.”

“He was not my friend,” Tolfdir said as he looked for a seat, “he was my student. I am an instructor at the College of Winterhold.”

“What is it you want with my son?” Elli asked.

“I did not travel all this way just for your son, miss…”

“Ellinar,” she said.

“Ellinar, we came in search of possible candidates for the College. Enrollment is way down ever since the unfortunate disaster in Winterhold. As a matter of fact, going all the way back to the Oblivion Crisis, practice of the arcane arts has fallen off all across Tamriel. This is of great concern to the Arch-Mage at the College. He fears that Tamriel is at risk of not being able to defend herself against daedra or some new arcane threat. So he sent me and my apprentice to recruit likely students. Your son fits that bill, especially after his display yesterday.”

Elli took a moment to absorb all that she had just heard, and then asked, “How much will it cost?”

“Only applicants pay tuition. There is no charge for candidates that we actively recruit. Your only cost would be emotional, as you would not be able to accompany him,” Tolfdir replied.

This held weight with Elli, on both sides of the scale. On the one hand, she would miss Val terribly, even if the boy was looking more and more like her rapist. She wasn’t sure if she could bear the loss of her one remaining true love. On the other hand, money was very tight. She was working as a serving girl and maid at Olav’s Tap and Tack, barely making enough to feed them both. She had gone without on some nights just so her son could eat. He would be well provided for at the College.

Valrimor had been listening to all of this, and when he sensed that his mother was seriously considering it, he spoke up, “You want me to go to a school and learn how to do what I did yesterday?” Panic was creeping into his voice. He turned to his mother then and begged, “Don’t make me go, ma. I made that man burnt and dead. I don’t ever want to do that again. I don’t want to learn how. Please don’t make me go!”

Elli went to her son and held him. Tolfdir looked at them both and tried to further his case.

“I don’t want to teach you how, boy. I want to teach you control. You seem to already have a grasp on the how part,” said the mage.

“It only happens when he is angry,” said Elli, “He doesn’t even realize he is doing it.” She related instances of burned toys and flying dishes that occurred in Val’s early years, and then finished with, “Yesterday was the first time it has happened in several years. I thought he was past it, or had learned to control it. It was definitely the first time it has ever been directed at a person.”

Tolfdir continued to press, speaking directly to Val, “I can teach you control. I can help you make sure that you never repeat what happened yesterday.”

“NO!” Val yelled, “I won’t do it. I won’t ever use that again, not even to learn how not to!”

Tolfdir rested his elbow in one hand and stroked his beard with the other for a minute, and then stood and gave a slight bow to the two of them. He went to the door, and then turned to face them again.

“Valrimor, I’ll not force you. Should you ever change your mind, you come to the College of Winterhold and request an audience with Master Tolfdir. Regardless of how far in the future that may be, I can help you, but only if and when you want that help.” said the mage. He turned to Elli and said, “You need not worry about the magistrate. I have spoken to him and informed him that I would not be pressing charges. I placed all of the blame solely on Varnel’s shoulders. Good day.”

With that, Tolfdir left. Val looked at his mother and promised that he would never do it again. Elli just hugged him and said, “I know, son.”

But she knew better. He had his father’s temper.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 23 2013, 01:55 AM