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: Clark's uncertainty reflects mine. UESP tells me that Hrolfdir turned Ulfric over to the Thalmor, and also that it was Igmund. And much the same for who asked Ulfric to help in the first place. Cedran tells the player it was the father that arrested Ulfric, so I'm going with that version.

Grits: Unfortunately, it's a really small quest(line) and I haven't added to it significantly - just a bit of Clark's thinking as it unfolds. He's actually doing it himself because it fits his interests in Markarth - one of which being Vicuña. Now I have to move on to connecting him with the Dragonborn.

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Previously: Clark was arrested at Markarth stables, trying to hitch up his wagon.

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Part 8 - Cidhna Mine

Down in Cidhna Mine, it took Clark several days of toil, digging at the silver veins, before he got any contact that might lead him to Madanach. He figured that only the King in Rags would be any help to him now.

He'd noticed that there was an iron gate at the back of the mine area which was always locked. A large Orc was standing guard over it, too, although he was a prisoner, like the others. Clark had never seen him digging, only standing guard there.

The jailers never came down into the mine itself. They were mercenaries, working for the Silver-Bloods, rather than city guards, and they stayed on their side of the main gate at the top. That was where everyone went to collect their food, and hand over the silver ore they'd dug. No silver, no food, so all the prisoners had an incentive to work.

It wasn't clear where the Orc's food came from, as he didn't seem to be doing any of the digging. He was large enough to just take it from the others if he wanted, but Clark hadn't seen that happen.

One of the other prisoners saw him looking towards the iron gate. "If you want to speak to Madanach, you've got to get past Borkul the Beast first." That told Clark that Madanach was indeed back there, and gave him a name for the Orc. Clark decided that was enough of an introduction, so he'd approach the Orc and see what happened.

Borkul demanded a shiv as toll. "I don't have one, and Madanach's expecting me." Clark replied.

Surprisingly, the Orc believed him and let him through. Clark was equally surprised when Madanach actually was expecting him.

Madanach was planning to escape the mine soon, and Clark was welcome to join him, but first he needed to go back and talk to Braig, so he'd understand their cause.

Braig told Clark how his young daughter, Aethra, had begged the Jarl to take her to prison instead of her father. The Jarl took the daughter, but not just to imprison her. Braig was forced to watch his daughter being executed. As her head rolled off the block, they hauled Braig away to Cidhna Mine anyway.

He called the Jarl Ulfric, however, not Igmund. So this had been quite a few years back, just after Madanach was deposed, when Windhelm's Jarl had control of Markarth, and Igmund was not yet on his father's throne. According to Cedran, the hostler at the Markarth stables, Hrolfdir, Igmund's father, had turned over Ulfric to the Thalmor as soon as he'd got control of his city back. Igmund had inherited a city that was firmly in the Imperial camp, and not much he could do about it.

It also wasn't clear to Clark whether Madanach's survival was due to Hrolfdir's intervention or someone lower down the chain of command. Obviously Thonar, and presumably the rest of the Silver-Blood clan, had something to do with it. But had they kept it from the Jarl, or was he aware of his city's prisoner?

Madanach still had a test for Clark. Grisvar the Unlucky, the only Nord prisoner, wasn't coming with them. He had to die first. Madanach handed Clark a shiv, a crude blade made from a rusty piece of iron railing. Several of the prisoners had one, but they usually only threatened each other with them.

Clark found Grisvar working in one of the tunnels. "Madanach says hello." Clark said, and had to duck as the man's pickaxe swung at his head. That was all that was needed to provoke the others. Grisvar found himself under attack from all sides. He didn't seem to be popular among his peers, and he was quickly dead, without any help from Clark.

Madanach seemed satisfied. He led Clark further into the tunnels. "We'll leave as soon as it gets dark. Then we'll only have the guards to deal with. Many of the Nords in the city will oppose us, if we're seen."

The tunnels led into the Dwemer ruins, where they encountered frostbite spiders, and a couple of dwarven automata. The prisoners were poorly equipped, but they had the superior numbers, and several of them could use spells. By stopping frequently to heal and recharge, everyone survived to reach the door out into the city.

A young woman in Forsworn "armour" was there to meet them. Her name was Kaie, and Clark thought she'd have been quite attractive, if it wasn't for the severe hairstyle and the war-paint. She handed out armour and weapons to everyone, including returning the equipment confiscated from Clark when he was arrested. She gave him some Forsworn things, too, in case he wanted to fit in with the group. It was all enchanted, which perhaps explained how they got away with wearing so little. Clark had noticed a bias towards magic among the Reachmen, so this wasn't unexpected.

Kaie told him that he'd be welcome at Druadach Redoubt, which was apparently their headquarters, and hinted that she'd personally see to that.

They still had to get out of the city. They hadn't gone far before they ran into a city guard, and Thonar Silver-Blood was with him. Thonar confronted Madanach and the two soon came to blows. Thonar and his guard were heavily outnumbered, and both were quickly killed. The Forsworn continued to the city gates.
Clark went along with them, but they parted at the stables. While the Forsworn prisoners headed off towards Druadach Redoubt, Clark collected his horse and carriage and set off back towards Whiterun.

---

As ever, the horse's pace was slow and steady, and Clark was unable to persuade him otherwise. Clark was constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting a contingent of guards to be on his trail, but nothing happened. Either they'd chased Madanach in the other direction, or the death of Thonar had removed his bounty.

There was only the one road down the valley, and the cliffs were high on either side. This was prime bandit country, but Clark was surprised not to encounter any. Were the Forsworn keeping them in check? There didn't seem to be many aggressive wild animals either, and the few he saw were more interested in chasing goats.

Clark stopped around dawn at Old Hroldan. He hadn't eaten, and the horse needed water. He declined the use of Tiber Septim's room, and just bought some food for the journey. He'd stop again later, and sleep in the back of the wagon, but right now, he didn't want to waste the daylight.

He needed to stop every few hours to feed and water the horse. When it got dark, he pulled off the road and set up camp. The horse was tethered to a tree, and he slept in the carriage, under a bear pelt. This was his routine for the next few days, until he reached the Western Watchtower outside Whiterun.

Something had happened here since he headed for Markarth, a few months ago. The tower had obviously been attacked, and much of it was now rubble. There were signs of fire, more than just the wood from the buildings burning. Someone or something had been using flame spells.

He continued to the stables, and left his horse and carriage with Skulvar. "Did you see what happened at the watchtower?" he asked. You could just about see the tower from here, and any war-parties might have passed close to the stables.

"Aye, it was a dragon that attacked. Flew right over here and blasted it with flames. Irileth and some of the guards went down there and fought it. Killed it, too, from what I hear."