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: Elisif's not looking for a husband, as he'd take over as Jarl. She's looking for somebody who wants her, not her job.

The Thalmor are much more careful with their invitations after the incident with the Dragonborn.

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Previously Clark has left Jordis to try out her new armour while he attends to Elisif's needs.

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Part 27 - Proudspire again

Elisif had already woken, and gone down to the kitchen for breakfast, before Clark surfaced. It made sense for him to go out the same way he came in, invisible once more. He slipped out of the main door behind a guard, and remained invisible he until was on the patio of Proudspire Manor. Then he let it dispel, and opened the door.

He noticed that someone had thought to light the fire. He wondered if they'd done so when they delivered the furniture, or if it had been Jordis. She might have used it to cook something for herself last night. Or she might have just gone to the Winking Skeever. And he'd left her in the mood for some fun, so she might just have brought someone back with her.

He crept up the stairs, considering going invisible again. He decided not to. He hadn't given her any instructions, other than to practice in her new armour.

He opened the door to his bedroom quietly. The new furniture was in, and the place looked much better than the first time he'd seen it. The bed was an opulent four-poster with a canopy rail - and a nude Jordis asleep on it.

Alone, he was pleased to note. Except, that is, for one of those carved horker tusks. Clark wondered if that came from one of his own factories.

Clark left her there, and went down to get himself some breakfast.

---

Jordis still hadn't put any clothes on when she appeared about an hour later. Since he hadn't told her what she should wear around the house, she wasn't going to just grab something from the closet without asking him first.

Put that way, it almost sounded reasonable. If it wasn't for the way she wiggled her hips as she walked over to the cookpot, and spread her legs before bending over it.

"She's trying too hard," he thought to himself. "Which really means she's not quite sure of herself."

He couldn't help comparing her to Lydia and Iona. Blonder, of course, and maybe a little rounder and softer. She was about the same age as Iona, which would be a year younger than Lydia. She was at the peak of fitness, with breasts that couldn't be larger without starting to droop just a little. She should be confident in her desirability, so why wasn't she?

Well, he had just put her off to go sleep with someone else. And there had to be some reason that she wanted him right away. Lydia and Iona had both wasted no time, maybe that was part of their training.
"Let me think about your outfit a little longer," he told her. "I quite like the one you're wearing now."
Jordis giggled, but Clark could see relief in her expression.

"Tell me about your training," he asked her. "My other housecarls had the skills to match their equipment, so I assume you know heavy armour, block and one-handed. What else did they teach you?"

"Everyone learns to heal themselves when they're little, so they don't have to run to their mother every time they fall down. And women learn a few other restoration spells at puberty. Housecarl training adds healing others, so I can protect my Thane better. I can use a bow as well, but I wouldn't call myself an archer. And I can cook, even if it's nothing fancy."

"What about the other magic schools? Do you know any conjuration, or alteration, for example?"

"No, we're taught to use potions, or scrolls, for anything like that. We'd need more magicka, and health and stamina are more important for a housecarl."

"Lockpicking, sneaking, pickpocket, speech?"

Jordis shook her head, and a few other parts jiggled in sympathy. "They didn't teach that, but most of us picked up some skill, just being students, if you know what I mean. Those are the best skills for causing a bit of mischief."

"So what were you best at?"

"Up to now, I thought I was good at persuading. Well, men at least. There's no point having all this if I don't use it, is there? And I have to make my Thane like me. I'm sworn to protect him, but he's only going to look after me if he wants to."

That made perfect sense, and Clark was certain that it wasn't her idea. Not when Lydia and Iona had both bedded him within hours of meeting him. Given their duties, it could be a matter of life and death, after all. A Thane who just didn't care about them would quickly get them killed.

On reflection, he'd done the right thing by upgrading her armour and sword. That should have told her right away that he wanted to keep her. And that reminded him, he had enchanted her sword, but maybe he should make an amulet for her as well. She needed some support, or she wouldn't stay that perky for long.

He took her down to the basement and spent the next few hours teaching her the basics of alchemy and enchanting. "There was one other skill I didn't ask you about," he suddenly thought. "Did you learn any smithing?"

"Enough to make the armour and weapons I had yesterday. They make us do that as part of our course. So not enough to improve the plate you just gave me, and certainly not anything enchanted."

"By the time you need that upgraded, you should be able to. Just improve any iron and steel you pick up, and the better leather stuff, before you sell it. You'll get a better price too, especially if you sell the piece you're wearing."

"You won't want to sell this," he continued, and put the amulet he'd just enchanted round her neck. "How does that feel?"

"Uplifting?" she ventured. "I can't really describe it, but I like it."

"Then I think we've found you the right outfit for home," Clark announced.

"Just this amulet?"

"You're only my housecarl, you don't get a ring."

---

"This is the place," Gilda thought to herself. "And it looks like I have multiple entrances to choose from. They'll typically have the same lock, so you can use the same key anywhere. So I won't go in the basement. I'll go round the back and in the floor above. I'll have more cover back there."

"No shadowmark? That must mean someone new's just moved in. I'll have to add one on the way out."

"Aah! There we go. Nice and quiet. Let's hope they've oiled the hinges already."

She cracked the door open just a little and peered through the gap. There didn't appear to be anyone on this floor; they'd probably gone up to bed already. She slipped in and closed the door quietly behind her.

There was some decent silverware on the shelves and tables, but they weren't why she was here. She had a specific piece to steal, a golden model of a ship. Anything else she picked up was hers to sell, but she had enough gold not to bother. This job was for the benefit of the Guild.

"Yes, they're definitely in bed," she thought. "And not asleep yet. But she'll sleep soundly after that, judging by the noise she's making."

There was no sign of the ship on the main floor. Gilda decided to check the basement, and give the couple a little longer to tire themselves out. Even though she just knew it would be in that bedroom. It always seemed to work out that way.

As expected, the model ship was nowhere in the basement, either. Her hunch that it was in the bedroom was getting more likely all the time. However, they didn't seem to be falling asleep as soon as she'd hoped.

She was just outside their door now, and she could hear more clearly.

"And have you ever tried this?"

"That's Clark's voice!" Gilda gasped. "I could be standing here for hours, if he's on form."

She pondered a few moments, and came to a decision. Pausing only to undo her jacket, she opened the door.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked.

"Gilda, this is Jordis, my new housecarl. Jordis, this is Gilda, my apprentice." Clark spoke without interrupting what he was doing. Jordis didn't reply, except to moan with pleasure.

"Good evening, Jordis. I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important. And do you need any help? Clark can be a bit overwhelming until you get used to him."

Gilda let her jacket fall to the floor, and bent to let Clark kiss her. As he did so, she slid off her boots and pants, and kicked them aside. Then she moved to the other end of the bed and started to play with Jordis' breasts.

"Hers are a bit bigger and softer than Lydia's, aren't they?" Gilda asked, running her tongue around the nearest one.

"So?" Clark replied. "They suit her, and they respond to a bit of attention, which is all I care about."

They certainly did, and the young Nord was getting a lot of attention. Twice as much as she bargained for. "I thought you were going to help me, not Clark," she panted. "Not that I'm complaining, yet."

At her first opportunity, she traded places with Gilda. She'd never seen breasts as big as those before, and she was sure the stranger wouldn't mind her repaying her in kind.