A Question of Fate Options

[mALX]

This has to be one of my all time favorite chapters, he has found his niche at the Bannered Mare, they don't mind a good drunk going on, lol. This had me in whoops when the patrons and even the guard was giggling behind their hands at him, LOVED this chapter !!!

[Acadian]

After two episodes devoted to Val’s enlightening interlude, it was a very nice touch that your ‘Previously –‘ summary brought us right back to where we left Val in his present time and ready to pick up the action.

It was fun to wake up with a befuzzled Val and let him try to sort out where we were. Some wonderfully chosen skeever pelt/Dunmer-eyed little touches reinforced that he is no stranger to the hangover.

Whew, he quickly solves the case of the missing weapons.

“You should see Arcadia at the apothecary. She probably has something to whip you into shape.” - - Ahah! I always suspected I might have long lost relatives in Skyrim! With whips no less!

’After so many years, I had still been running from my mother’s ghost and the atrocities I had committed in Bravil, drowning them both with alcohol when they had caught up with me.’ - - Aww, this really brings what we have learned so far about Val and his history into focus. The pain of his past and the ominous feeling that something is . . . growing or happening within him that he does not fully control.

Nit? - - ’Hulda just chuckled again as she handed me the blade, and then she wished me luck as she headed back to the kitchen. I finished my tea and toast, and then walked past the snickering patrons with my head down on my way out the door. There was a city guard at the bottom of the stairs.’ - - Perhaps it is just me, but whenever I see ‘and then’, I recommend the writer ask themselves which conjunction they want and delete one or the other depending on intent. Part of my grammar training is simply a (rather long) lifetime of reading, so I cannot objectively tell you if the use of ‘and then’ is technically incorrect. My aversion may well be simply subjective and a matter of style, so just slap and ignore me if you do not find the opinion of value.

[SubRosa]

Another morning after. I wonder if Val has worn out his welcome the way he did at Hod and Gerdur's?

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, just to double check for skeever pelts.


Oh my, Val is the master showman? That cannot be good. Was he juggling his sword and bow?

You know, I have always wondered about that upside down ship that is Jorvasskr's roof. Did they drag a ship all the way from the ocean and tip it over? Or did they just build the roof to look like a ship? Speaking of wondering, have you ever wondered where all that water that runs down through Whiterun comes from? Near as I can tell it is from Dragonsreach's toilets...

So its off to Riften for answers then? That is good. It is a sign that Val has finally decided to start facing his past, for better or worse.

[Captain Hammer]

This was good. Glad to see that there's a version of Drunk-Val that has a promising career ahead of him in the Bardic traditions. It's a shame that his Performance Skills are situation-based, but I'll take it.

Hulda's "Just wait till you here about what you did last night" dialogue was truly inspired. Especially that part where the game of "Throw the Dagger" was interrupted by another game of "Confiscate the Dagger for the Patrons' Safety." I imagine the loss of a kidney or spleen from one of the other customers wouldn't be the best for business.

I suppose that Val will soon have to Unlearn what bad habits he has learned. Shame. But for the best, it is.

[jack cloudy]

Well it could have gone worse. No alcohol poisoning, no new enemies. I'd call that a win for Val. Of course, not every detail is known yet and what isn't has a high chance of being supremely emberassing.


And adoptive daddy is a Grey-Mane? Hmm, I wonder if that may have something to do with his disappearance.


And a hip hip hooray for guards and their random dialog. Seriously, guardsmen are the most fun guys to talk to in the whole game which given their commonness and lack of names or faces is quite the achievement.

[Darkness Eternal]

Many things have happened so far but I was deeply disturbed by what happened to Val's mother. Not only because she took her own life, but in the manner and in the place. Right in front of Val. That was brutal and we now know why he has some deep-rooted scars there along with his anger issues. I am interested to see where this will take him in his new life of adventure.

[Grits]

Fun to see the events from the night before come to light as Val went through his morning after. It sounds like his shenanigans made him quite popular at the Bannered Mare!

I’m interested to see if the Jarl will get him side-tracked, or if Val will soon be on the road to Riften.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

Well gang...after a 5 month hiatus...I am back for now. Real life, including a rough bout with pneumonia, had me on my heels for a while. Now I have tons of reading to do as well as get this ball rolling again. I apologize for the dry spell, and I can't promise how long I'll be around this time, but I will hang as long as possible. I truly hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season.

So...first I want to thank haute ecole rider, mALX, Acadian, Subrosa, Captain Hammer, jack cloudy, Darkness Eternal, and Grits, for their comments after my last post back in August. With luck, Val and I will bring you back to his adventures.

What Has Gone Before – Valrimor had been captured by Imperial soldiers and was about to be executed when a dragon attacked Helgen. He escaped with the aid of Ralof and they made their way to Riverwood to lay low at the home of Ralof’s sister, Gerdur. She asked Valrimor to go see the Jarl in Whiterun to request aid for Riverwood against the possibility of a dragon attack there. With a few issues sidetracking him, including a trip into Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve a stolen artifact, Val has indeed reached Whiterun. After a drunken night in The Bannered Mare, he is about to meet with the Jarl on the following morning…

Chapter 19 - Meeting Jarl Balgruuf

24th Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

I stood and stared in awe at the grand timberwork when I entered the keep. The workmanship on the bridge was merely an appetizer for the feast my eyes beheld. The architectural style was very familiar, but the scale of this work dwarfed anything I had seen in Bruma. The main support pillars must have been the entire trunks of once towering spruce trees. These massive wood columns soared more than fifty feet and supported steep, heavy rafters that vaulted upward for another twenty. Intricate patterns were etched into the column bases. All of the woodwork had been finely crafted and fitted. One could almost imagine that the entire chamber may have been hewn from a single giant block of wood. Shafts of sunlight made their way downward from windows near the top and illuminated a flight of steps that led up into the main hall.

Screenshot

I walked up the stairs to discover that the Jarl’s throne room must also serve as the keep’s main dining hall. A large fire pit in the center provided light and warmth, and was flanked on either side by long dining tables that appeared to be set for an upcoming meal. Banners adorned the columns in this area, emblazoned with a gold horse head on a field of white, the emblem of Whiterun. My wonder at all of this was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. When I detected the source, I saw a Dunmer woman approaching me, clad in leather armor and her blade at the ready. She had hair the color of her eyes, and those eyes did not look happy to see me.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” she barked more than asked, “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.”

“Gerdur sent me. Riverwood is in danger,” I replied, never taking my eyes off of her sword. Unconsciously, my hand had found the hilt of my own blade. I caught myself and merely rested my palm on the pommel, so as not to agitate this woman further.

“As housecarl, my job is to deal with all dangers to the Jarl or his people. So, you have my attention. Now, explain yourself,” the Dunmer demanded, her demeanor unchanged.

“Gerdur asked me to speak to the Jarl directly. I owe her this favor and I intend to keep it as she requested. So, if you would please see your way fit to -”

“Whatever you have to say to the Jarl,” she interjected, “you can say to me! I am beginning to think -”

From the direction of the throne, a commanding voice cut the Dunmer off.

“Irileth, send him forward. I would hear what he has to say,” the voice insisted.

Irileth muttered something I couldn’t make out, and then sheathed her sword and instructed me to follow her. We walked past the fire pit and up a few steps onto a large dais where Jarl Balgruuf sat upon his throne. He wore a jeweled crown of gold, but other than that, his attire didn’t strike me as particularly regal. A simple tunic over leather breeches and fur lined leather boots. He also wore a fur stole connected in the front by a gold chain. A balding man stood to his right with his hands balled into fists that rested on his hips. The hilt of a greatsword stood out behind his shoulder, but he didn’t look strong enough to heft the thing. He was certainly not a Nord, and had the look of an Imperial snob dressed in the fine attire of the wealthy. Above the Jarl’s throne was a giant skull, the shape of which I had seen recently in Helgen.

“So, what’s this I hear about trouble in Riverwood?” The Jarl asked.

“Your Excellency, my name is Valrimor,” I said, not knowing how to address the man and still trying to sound official, “Gerdur of Riverwood asks for your aid. She is concerned that the settlement will be the dragon’s next target and they are defenseless.”

“Gerdur…She owns the lumber mill, if I recall correctly. A pillar of the community, she is not prone to flights of fancy,” the Jarl mused, and then asked, “Are you certain that Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? Or could it have been a Stormcloak raid gone wrong?”

“Is the skull hanging above your head that of a Stormcloak? Because the beast that attacked Helgen had one just like it. Only the bone still had flesh and was quite alive. Scales, fangs, wings, fire…yeah, I’m pretty sure it was a dragon,” I replied, probably with a touch too much sarcasm. Inwardly, however, I was rebuking the memory of those eyes staring into my soul while my head was still prone on the block.

“Watch your tongue, tree-hugger!” snapped Irileth, “Remember who you are speaking to. You would do well to show respect!”

I cringed and gritted my teeth at the term tree-hugger, balling my fists against the sudden warmth in my arms.

“Relax, Irileth, this mer has been through a tough time of it, if he has indeed escaped a dragon. I, for one, believe him,” Balgruuf stated, and then he turned to the bald man, “What do you say now Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Would they stand against a dragon?”

Irileth interjected before Proventus could speak, “My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. If that dragon is indeed lurking in the mountains, the settlement will be in the most immediate danger.”

“The Jarl of Falkreath would view that as a provocation!” objected Proventus, “He will assume we are preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him.”

“Enough!” Balgruuf yelled, “I’ll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!”
I had to suppress a grin as the Jarl barked at Proventus, and then he turned back to the Dunmer, “I agree with you, Irileth. Send a detachment at once.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, and after a slight bow, she left to do as Balgruuf commanded. Proventus scowled at her back as she walked away. He obviously didn’t like having his advice trumped by hers.

“If you will excuse me, sire, I’ll return to my duties,” said Proventus, and he stormed off in the opposite direction. The Jarl didn’t bother answering. He was looking at me, as if he were judging me or sizing up my character.

“Well done,” he said, “You sought me out on your own initiative.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true. I did it at the request of my friend’s sister. I owed it to her. Had that not been the case, I may never have come to Whiterun at all,” I said honestly.

The Jarl raised an eyebrow, and then regained his appraising look and said, “Regardless, you have done Whiterun a service, and I won’t forget it. There is something else you could do for me, suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps.”

“For someone of my talents? With all due respect, what do you know of my talents?” I inquired.

“I know you are talented enough to escape a dragon attack. I know that the only way to get out of Helgen alive would have been to go under the town and not through it. But I also sense you are not here just to repay debts owed to the siblings of friends, nor by mere happenstance for that matter. I feel that fate itself has brought you here, to me, in a time of need. Come, Valrimor, let’s go speak to Farengar, my court wizard. He’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons…and rumors of dragons,” Balgruuf said, and then he rose and bade me to follow him.

Why do I feel the sudden urge to run out of here as fast as I can?

I shook the thought away and followed the Jarl. It would do me no good at all to just run away from a man as important as Balgruuf, especially since my neck was at the mercy of a headsman only days earlier. We entered a room off to the side of the main throne hall. The aroma of alchemical workings hung in the air. There was a large map hanging on a rack near one wall. An alchemy table and another odd looking table were against the back wall. A broad topped desk or workbench dominated the center of the room. A robed man stood on the other side of it, his face shadowed into obscurity by the robe’s cowl. He was muttering to himself when the Jarl started speaking.

“Farengar, fate has brought us someone to help with your dragon project,” Balgruuf said to the robed figure.
The man looked up at the Jarl. He appeared much younger than I had assumed a wizard would be. I had pictured an old man with a long grey beard. This man was likely younger than I was. He turned to look at me and then began speaking to me as if the Jarl wasn’t here in the same room.

“So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me, and my research into the dragons?” Farengar mused, looking me over and rubbing his chin, “Hmmm…yessss…I could use someone to fetch something for me.”

“Fetch something?” I queried.

“Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there,” replied the wizard in a way that implied this was a known fact.

“What does this have to do with dragons?”

“Ahhh,” Farengar replied, his eyes going wide, “no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker…perhaps even a scholar?” he mused, and then continued, “You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors, even impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons…where had they gone all those years ago? Where were they coming from now?”

At this point, I wasn’t sure if the mage was talking to himself or to me. I tried to steer him back to matters at hand by asking, “So what is it that you need me to do?”

“I…uh…learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow…called a Dragonstone. It is said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. I need you to go to this barrow and find the tablet. It is no doubt interred in the main chamber. If you do find it, bring it back to me here. Simplicity itself,” said Farengar, ending his request with a dismissive tone.

Simplicity itself?

“I have been to Bleak Falls Barrow. To say this is a simple matter is understating the facts a bit. How do you know this tablet is there?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with that. I can assure you that my…uh…sources…are accurate,” replied the wizard. I had almost forgotten that the Jarl was still here in the room with us until he spoke to me.

“If you succeed in this, you will be well rewarded, Valrimor. Whiterun is already in your debt, and this would increase that debt. So when I say well rewarded, I do mean very well rewarded. The fate of Whiterun may rest on your decision,” Balgruuf said with frank concern.

Fate...
“Fate brought you to me…”
“The fate of Whiterun…”
It’s always a question of fate, and once again, fate was going to give me a shove toward somewhere I didn’t want to go.

“I’ll do it,” I said, “but…there is an item I am going to need. The owner of this item will not wish to part with it, so I will have to leave him a substantial deposit.”

I went on to explain about the Golden Claw. Farengar provided me with enough gold to satisfy Lucan Valerius. I hoped it would be more than enough. I promised them both I would leave for the barrow in the morning. I must admit that my main reason for doing this was the promise of a very large reward from the Jarl. But as I walked out of the keep and looked down on Whiterun, I realized that fate could have chosen a worse place for me to aid.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jan 9 2014, 06:09 AM

[haute ecole rider]

A big, hearty, ale-filled welcome back to TSG and Val! You have been missed over the last several months!

I hear you about RL - it tends to do that.

I had to laugh at Val's answer to the Jarl's musing about Gerdur's message. Dragons? Really, really dragons? Or maybe Stormcloaks? Please? Pretty pretty please?

Uhh, yeah, Stormcloaks if they had heads like that one. *points to skull above throne*

Because of another Skyrim fanfic, I would advise Val to run while he can. Ruh oh, too late now! Farengar's got him!

Well, what will Val do next? And will we ever find out what he did last night in the inn?

[Acadian]

Let me join Rider in welcoming you back, Skyguy! It is good indeed to see you continuing this. After the long break, your little ‘What has gone before’ summary was superb and just what we need to snap back into Val’s story.

You painted a richly detailed picture of the Jarl’s joint. I could hear the fire crackling and envision the intricately carved timbers throughout.

’I saw a Dunmer woman approaching me, clad in leather armor and her blade at the ready. She had hair the color of her eyes, and those eyes did not look happy to see me.’ - - Uh oh. . . an angry redhead.

“Is the skull hanging above your head that of a Stormcloak?” - -

‘It’s always a question of fate, and once again, fate was going to give me a shove toward somewhere I didn’t want to go.’ - - Isn’t that just the kick-in-the-pants truth?

Great fun catching up with Valrimor again!

[Darkness Eternal]

I was beginning to wonder if you left us completely. Glad to see you're back with us!

Val arrives to the Jarl's longhouse to a very unwelcome welcome from Irileth. Goodness, she's one with little patience. I like how when Val describes the dragon to the jarl, his voice is thick with sarcasm but deep inside he's still haunted by Alduin. Who wouldn't be?

Farengar. I do wonder if Val will even have the patience to deal with this one. He fancies intelligence over brawn any day and Val certainly has some wits to him . . . lets just hope he doesn't drink around Farengar.

At the end we're once again told of fate, and the question of it. This will certainly put Valrimor in the path he may not want to go. But ultimately it is those paths that are worth the walk, no? And sometimes yield the greatest rewards or certain death.

I am definetly looking forward for more here. Once again I'm happy to see you back.

[Grits]

It’s great to see you back, SkyrimGuy!

“Is the skull hanging above your head that of a Stormcloak?



Yikes, Lucan has the Golden Claw. Maybe he’ll rent it out for a golden purse. Hopefully he will cooperate, I’d hate to see the Riverwood Trader on fire!

[ghastley]

The positive thing about the long hiatus is that I've installed Skyrim in the interim, and can finally understand what this story is all about, and can start commenting without looking too ignorant.

I've run a few characters and so far, none of them have gone to Bleak Falls Barrow without doing it all. Fleur the Orc has done the whole MQ (and Dragonborn, Dawnguard, CoW), and some of the others have refused to start either Lucan's or Farengar's quests. Most of them just did the whole dungeon, because the part of them that's me just finishes whatever they start (at the quest level, at least). So it's interesting to see how it unfolds when you retrieve the claw first, and then go back for the stone.

Now I've played a few characters, I understand that the CoW is almost unavoidable. Too many other quest lines require you to go there, and often need you to progress in its own quest-line. It will be fun to see how you incorporate that into the story.

Just for reference, what DLC's are active in Val's game?

[SubRosa]

Welcome Back. I am glad to see you were victorious in your battle against Real Life.

Ahh Irileth. One of the more annoying characters in the game, chasing your all over Dragonsreach until you do the main quest long enough to slay Jarl Ballin's Dragon. She is one of the reasons I worked out a way to completely turn off the main quest.

My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once.
This always makes me scratch my head. A dragon just destroyed Helgen - an Imperial fortress brimming with soldiers - without taking a scratch itself. So let's send three guards to Riverwood. What are they supposed to do, serenade the beast as it eats them too?

Why do I feel the sudden urge to run out of here as fast as I can?
I would say because he has good instincts!

Fate...
“Fate brought you to me…”
“The fate of Whiterun…”
It’s always a question of fate, and once again, fate was going to give me a shove toward somewhere I didn’t want to go.
I kept thinking of this too as I was reading. The Fickle Finger of Fate seems intent upon F'ing Val over.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First of all, I want to thank all of you for the warm welcome back. It is a good feeling to receive that.

@ haute ecole rider - Glad you got a giggle from Val's sarcasm.

Well, what will Val do next? And will we ever find out what he did last night in the inn?
Stay tuned...because the answer is yes.

@ Acadian - Angry red heads should be avoided at all costs!

Fate taking us where we did not intend certainly is the kick-in-the-pants truth.

@ Darkness Eternal - Farengar is indeed a bit of an eccentric, to be as young as he seems to be. I've never played too much deeper into the game than where we are now, so I am looking forward to how he might develop in the story.

@ Grits - Glad you got a kick out of the dragon skull comment as well.

Yikes, Lucan has the Golden Claw. Maybe he’ll rent it out for a golden purse...
That's the plan...

@ ghastley - Glad you have joined the ranks of Skyrim players. Regarding DLC, I have not installed any at all yet. I am only playing modded vanilla. Lots of mods, but no DLC at all.

@ SubRosa - Couldn't agree with you more about the contingent of guards sent to Riverwood. As for my battle with Real Life, I won't call myself victorious...let's just say there is a truce in effect...

BTW - Great Laugh-In reference with the Fickle Finger of Fate

*********

Thanks again to all of you for your kind comments and the hearty WB. On with the show...

Previously – Val had fulfilled his promise to Gerdur, to get word to the Jarl about the dragon. In doing so, he had agreed to complete an errand for Farengar, the Jarl’s court wizard. He was fated to return to Bleak Falls Barrow…

Chapter 20 – A Day in Whiterun

24th Last Seed, 4E201- Continued

As I walked back down the stairway from Dragonsreach, I realized that my muzziness had faded away when my stomach growled for some nourishment. A good lunch was going to hit the spot. The day was a fine exhibit of summer showing off the fact that it could still cast warm weather this far north. The sky was brilliant blue and clear, with just a few puffy clouds floating on a gentle breeze. It was the kind of weather that inspired sojourns into the forest, for no good reason at all, just to walk among the trees. I decided that I might just have such a walk, to relax and not think of my upcoming errand into that Oblivion pit of a barrow. But first, I needed to eat.

Back down in the lower level of the city, I headed into the inn for some lunch. I was thankful that the main hall was bereft of other customers that might point and laugh. Hulda was stocking her cabinets with clean flagons in preparation for the evening. I sat at the bar and asked her what she recommended for lunch.

“Today’s lunch is a grilled salmon sandwich, with lettuce, tomato, and my own special sauce,” she replied. I ordered one and some ale. She cocked an eyebrow at the mention of ale, then grinned and went to prepare my meal. When she returned, I pressed her to fill me in on the events of the previous night.

“Well, after you landed on your backside when I confiscated your dagger, Saadia said that she hoped you danced better than you walked. You grabbed her and started trying to dance all the way around the hall with her.”

I have no memory of this…another apology may be in my future…

“When I told her to stop and tend to the customers, you twirled her away and she almost fell into the fire pit. Then you jumped up on the bar and started dancing alone, asking me to join you.”

Uh-oh…

“When I refused, you said that you were going to start removing your clothes a piece at a time until I did. And you stayed true to your word, alternating between removing an article and chugging a full tankard of ale. When you were down to just your underclothes, you sucked down another mug, leapt into the air, and did a perfect back flip off of the bar.”

In just my underclothes…ugh…

“All of the patrons cheered and asked for more while they applauded. You tried to do a deep bow with a flourish. I say ‘tried’ because instead of rising from your bow, you passed out and crumbled to the floor. Saadia and I picked you up and carried you to your room,” she finished.

I could feel heat in my cheeks and was hesitant to look up from my food. But I needed to face the music.

“I am so sorry Hulda. I shouldn’t ha-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hulda interjected, “Crazier things than that have gone on in here. Nothing broken and nothing hurt. All I ask is that you don’t make it a habit of stripping down in the bar.”

“I’ll try not to. And thanks again for looking after me and my gear,” I replied. I paid for my meal, leaving her some extra as gratuity for her troubles. She brought me my weapons and I thanked her again as I left.

It was now mid afternoon and I decided to spend what was left of it looking around town rather than having a trip into the nearby wilderness. I had to endure further whispers and chuckles as I walked. I would just lower my head a little and continue on my way. The lower level of the city, which I learned later was called The Plains District, was populated with various shops and markets. Surrounding the main plaza were the small merchant’s kiosks, the apothecary that the guard had told me about, and a general store called Belethor’s General Goods. There were a few homes along the street as I walked toward the main gate. Lastly, two more businesses were just inside the gate. A blacksmith and weapons shop called Warmaiden’s, and another building with a sign that caught my attention immediately. The placard had a picture of a mug of ale over grain and hops and proclaimed the destination to be The Drunken Huntsman. This place I just had to visit! I entered the tavern and could not help but smile when the barkeep spoke.

“Welcome kinsman! How it warms my heart to meet a brother Bosmer! My name is Elrindir, and this is The Drunken Huntsman.”

“The feeling is mutual. My name is Valrimor,” I replied with a grin, “You are the first Bosmer I have met since arriving in Skyrim. What do you have to drink, friend?”

“Well, I have my own brew, Errant Aim Stout. I also carry the local stuff, that being Honningbrew Mead and Mare’s Malt Ale. What’s your pleasure?” Elrindir asked.

“I’ll try the stout.”

“An excellent choice, kinsman. Coming right up,” he said as I pulled a stool up to the bar. As Elrindir poured my tankard of ale, I inquired about the tavern’s name.

“Sort of a funny story, that is,” he said as he placed the mug in front of me, brimming with caramel colored froth. I took a sip as he explained, “My brother Anoriath and I came up with the name one night after consuming…rather too much mead. When we finished our drinks, we went out for a moonlight hunt. We got separated, and in his drunken state, my brother mistook me for a deer. He shot an arrow that pierced my…well…let’s just say sitting on a chamber pot would have been impossible. After such a memorable adventure, we knew we had the name for our shop.”

“Now that sounds like something that would happen to me!” I said, laughing.

“That, I can believe, kinsman. My brother was at The Bannered Mare last night. He told me a story about a visiting Bosmer that put on quite the show!” said the barkeep, and we both laughed, although I’ll admit that my laughter may have sounded forced as it fought through another round of embarrassment. I finished my stout and ordered another. It was an excellent brew, with a somewhat nutty aftertaste.

“So, you had called this your ‘shop’. Do you sell other items besides food and spirits?” I asked.

“Indeed. We also sell weaponry and some armor. Mostly geared toward the discerning archer,” replied Elrindir, gesturing toward a rack on the wall. I had assumed that the items were his and not for sale. Quality steel bodkin points caught my eye. I told him I would definitely be interested in those, as I was only armed with low quality Imperial iron heads.

“They go for six Septims a piece, but for a fellow Bosmer, I’ll knock them down to three each plus even trade for your iron tips,” Elrindir offered.

“That’s a deal!” I replied.

I swapped my two dozen shoddy Imperial arrows and seventy-two Septims for a very nice quiver’s worth of the steel tips. The shafts and fletching were an archer’s dream compared to the twigs and feathers I had been carrying. I finished my stout and had one more, making small talk with my host. I told Elrindir that I would definitely be back and expressed my pleasure in meeting him. He reciprocated the sentiment and warned me to be wary of his brother when trekking in the woodlands. I was laughing at the idea of getting an arrow to my butt when I left the tavern and made my way back to The Bannered Mare. A hearty meal and an early retirement before heading out to Bleak Falls in the morning was the plan.

* * *

25th Last Seed, 4E201

Just yesterday, I was reveling in a beautiful late summer day. Today, Z’en was up to his antics because he knew I meant to travel. The morning was chilly and grey. A gusty north wind was making sure it stayed that way. I could almost smell the threat of snow in the air. Back down in Cyrodiil, I had heard that if you didn’t like the weather in Skyrim, wait a few hours. Now I know why. I was glad I had remembered to procure gloves and a scarf at Lucan’s shop. If it was this cold here, I could imagine what things were like up on the mountain.

But the barrow was not my first destination. I had to stop in Riverwood and try to obtain the Golden Claw from Lucan Valerius. On my way out of town, I noticed a carriage at the stable. The driver was perched in his seat as if he was waiting for someone. He looked my way as I approached.

“Are you for hire?” I asked.

“Always,” the driver responded.

“Great! I need to get to Riverwood. How much?”

“I can’t help you sir. I only stop in cities that have stables to rest and feed the horses,” replied the driver.

Well that kills that idea…

Disappointed, I started what I knew to be a chilly and steadily uphill walk. As I stepped back out onto the road, a contingent of Whiterun Guards marched past the stable and toward the main road. I fell in behind them, intending to follow them as long as my route allowed. Z’en had decided to reciprocate for the weather by tossing a piece of good fortune my way. The guards turned out to be the patrol that Irileth had dispatched to Riverwood. I stayed to the rear, not wanting to engage in conversation. I needed the time to think.

Well, wood-skull, you wanted to be free of commitment, so you went and volunteered for more duty instead. You’re never going to get to Riften at this pace…But do you really need to go to Riften? What do you hope to find there?

I frowned at this thought. What indeed?

Answers…but you have precious little to go on. You don’t even know his last name, and are not exactly sure of his first. You may want to consider your immediate problems. This troublesome habit of losing your temper and blasting whatever is in front of you might be a tad bit more important.

My brow furrowed deeper with this line of reasoning. The memory of my murderous use of Magicka came flooding back. I winced at the vision of a burnt Altmer and sobbing in my mother’s arms. But how does one change his temperment? Then another memory crept in. The Altmer’s companion…no…his teacher…had offered me help.

“Come to the College at Winterhold, no matter how far in the future, and ask to see Master Tolfdir,” the mage had said. Perhaps this would be a better course of action, but I loathed the idea of dealing with a mage. All Magicka had ever done for me was ill and unwanted.

You know that is not true. It came in handy up at the barrow, whether you could have succeeded without it or not…And it helped save your bark against the wolves on the way to Whiterun…But if you don’t get a handle on it, then it might be your undoing…Could the mage still be there after all these years? And even if he is, could he really teach me to control these outbursts when I get angry?

I tossed these thoughts back and forth, and this had made the time pass quickly. Before I knew it, the settlement of Riverwood was in sight.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jan 11 2014, 03:04 PM

[Acadian]

You routinely do a great job of richly setting the opening scene – and this episode was no exception, as Val shared with us the beautiful sunny day.

So, we learn more of his booze-infused antics from the night before over a delish grilled salmon sandwich (and ale of course).

Nice to see another tree sap brother and properly restock his quiver before setting out for Riverhold.

And along the way, Val wrestles with thoughts of his temper and the bad magical mojo it seems to conjure.

[haute ecole rider]

WHOO HOO Val! You can LEAVE YOUR HAT ON!!!

Oh great. Now I can't stop playing this.

Anyways, what a relief to finally know what it was Val did last night! And relax, it could have been much worse! You could have gone the full monty! Really embarrassing if you don't have the junk for it. *ducks and runs*

Then on to the local brewmaster. Good thing he's another tree-hugger, too! It's good to have someone to talk to that is about the same height as you!

And Val's musing about his dark side. I'm glad he wants to find out more about it, and how to control it. Better than hiding his head in the sand (snow?).

[SubRosa]

Lunch sounds good. I'll have some of that grilled salmon as well...

I see Val's issue with the bottle reared its ugly head once more. At least he was only dancing, clothing optional, and not doing anything to warrant burning stares the next morning, ala Hod.

And what do you know, he found the Drunken Huntsmen! Oi! I loved the story of how it got its name.

I loved the comparison of the Imperial arrows to twigs and feathers.

I had heard that if you didn’t like the weather in Skyrim, wait a few hours
Sounds like Michigan! Last week it was below zero. Not it's almost 40!

I loved the term Wood-skull. I'll have to remember that one for the next time Teresa vexes Pappy.

It is good to see that Val is putting some serious thought into his anger management/magic management problems. Now that he has finally gotten to the point of admitting that he has a problem, and that he needs help, he is that much closer to taking the next step, and doing something about it.

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

@ Acadian - Thanks for the kind words. That sandwich was almost as good as the weather was that morning.

@ haute ecole rider - I love that song too, though I am partial to the Joe Cocker version, just because I am a fan. I'll leave Val's junk to the imagination.

@ SubRosa - Hmmm...a 12 step program to deal with Magicka. Well, he has just about completed the 2nd step and is close to starting on the 3rd, "I came to a decision to turn my will over to the care of Tolfdir."

@ All of You - Val and I thank you so much for the kind words and following along. Grab your favorite beverage and we hope you enjoy the next installment...

Previously – Val had spent a nice late summer day in the city of Whiterun, and a pleasant evening in the company of a fellow Bosmer at the Drunken Huntsman tavern, before leaving on a chilly grey morning for Bleak Falls Barrow…

Chapter 21 – Back in Riverwood

25th Last Seed, 4E201 – Continued

It was after midday when we entered Riverwood. I saw Ralof and Hod walking toward the bridge leading to the mill. When they heard the sounds of the armored troops, they both turned to look for the source. Ralof smiled when he saw me among the guards.

“You see, Hod?” Ralof said, “I told you he was trustworthy. He came back with guards from Whiterun, just like he said he would.”

Hod didn’t look enthused to see me, but still managed to say, “Welcome back, Valrimor.”

“Thanks, Hod. Don’t worry, I’ll be staying at the inn,” I replied. He just looked away indifferently and continued toward the mill.

“My sister will be grateful, Val,” Ralof said, gesturing toward the guards. One of them was approaching us.

“Andros Falken, Corporal of the Whiterun Guards,” he announced in a deep, official sounding voice, “We are here at the behest of Jarl Balgruuf to aid in defense of the settlement. Who is in charge?”

“The closest we have to someone in charge would be my sister, Gerdur. You will find her at the mill,” replied Ralof, hiking a thumb toward the mill behind him.

“Thank you citizen,” said Andros, and then barked commands to his detachment, ordering them to man the bulwarks while he went to speak with Gerdur. The rest of the guards dispersed as directed. Ralof looked at me with a grin.

“He seems a bit uptight, eh? Anyway, thanks for bringing them, Val.”

“I always try to keep my word, Ralof. I have my faults, but not repaying a debt isn’t one of them,” I replied. It was a true statement, for the most part.

“So what brought you back with the guards?” he asked.

“I am on an errand for the Jarl’s court wizard, if you can believe that. Which reminds me, what can you tell me about Bleak Falls Barrow?”

Ralof’s eyes went a bit wider for a moment, and then he asked, “Why would you want to know that?”

“Why don’t we go grab a tankard of ale and I’ll fill you in on the whole story,” I suggested.

My intention was to pay for our ale at the inn, but Ralof led us to Gerdur’s house. I took a seat at Hod’s bar while Ralof filled two steins with ale. When he was also seated, I related the entire story of retrieving the claw for Lucan and my meeting with the Jarl and his court wizard. When I finished, he looked at me for a moment with a sense of appraisement. After that, he spoke.

“Perhaps it is better that you decided not go to Windhelm so soon. Fate seems to have you pointed elsewhere and apparently for the good of Whiterun…perhaps even Skyrim itself. As for the barrow, it is haunted by the ancient dead, the Draugr. They are the reanimated dead followers of the Dragon Priests. I myself am not sure what motivates them to life as a corpse, but you can rest assured that they are highly motivated to kill any trespassers on sight.”

“I encountered a few of them during my first visit,” I interjected, “They didn’t seem too tough, as long as I could keep my distance.”

“There are others that are tougher, you can count on that. You need to be at your best wit to survive this, Val. I strongly suggest you keep all of them about you,” the Nord said with intense sincerity. I knew this to be a thinly veiled reference to any possible ale, mead, or wine intake.

“Thanks, friend, and I shall indeed. Right now, I need to go see Lucan. We’ll talk again soon, I am sure,” I said, clapping Ralof on the back as I stood.

“Before you go, Valrimor, can I ask you something?” Ralof inquired.

“Sure, anything,” I replied.

“Did the Jarl, by chance, mention anything about the Stormcloak rebellion?”

I took a moment to recall our meeting, and then answered, “Not the Jarl himself, but his Steward, Proventus, seemed concerned about provoking Falkreath by sending troops to Riverwood. He was worried that their Jarl would take it as a sign of Whiterun siding with Ulfric.”

“Proventus,” Ralof said, sneering on the name, “That snake will have Whiterun in the Imperial camp before this is over. I just know it.”

“Well, if it is any consolation, I can tell you that the Jarl sided with his housecarl over his steward, much to the chagrin of Proventus. The guard’s arrival here is proof of that,” I provided.

“Still, I have an uneasy feeling about the leanings of Jarl Balgruuf. Thanks for the information, Val,” said Ralof.

“No problem. Take care, Ralof.” I replied, and left for The Riverwood Trader.

I entered the shop to find Lucan occupying his customary position behind the counter. He looked up and placed what I’m sure he thought was a genuine looking smile upon his face.

“Well, hello there! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Figured you were off to greener pastures. But since you are here, I hope you are planning on a purchase of some kind,” said Lucan, expertly managing to squeeze a plug for his shop into the salutation.

“Well, it’s interesting that you would say that, because I am actually looking to rent something from you,” I said, and leapt into the pitch immediately, “I want to rent that gold claw from you.”

Lucan’s face dropped the smile and grabbed a concerned scowl in the blink of an eye. He seemed to ponder the statement for a moment, and then simply asked, “Why?”

I was speechless for a moment while I thought about what he really needed to know. On the fly, I blurted out, “Because I want to follow through with Arvel’s plan. I think there might be something to his story.”

Lucan stayed silent for another few moments. When he finally spoke, it was with measured curiosity.

“You said rent. That means I keep the money, no matter what?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“And I get the claw back if you are successful?”

“Yes,” I further confirmed.

“How much rent are we talking about?” Lucan inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

I tossed a leather pouch with coins in it onto his counter top. It was half of what Farengar had given me. Lucan picked it up and examined the contents.

“You sir, have a deal,” he said with a smile that this time I knew to be genuine. Lucan grabbed the claw from its display stand and handed it over to me.

“I’ll need the journal as well, Lucan. They are a set, after all,” I reminded him. His smile fell to a frown, but handed me Arvel’s notebook as well.

“I appreciate it Lucan. I will do my best to live long enough to return this to you. If Arvel was right, I will have lots of money to spend here as well. Trust me…you won’t regret it. For now, I need to place some provisions on my tab,” I told the shopkeeper.

Lucan hastily grabbed a piece of parchment and began scribbling as I placed bread, cheese, apples, and a couple of full water skins into my pack, his frown growing more intense the whole time. When I finished, he made it clear that the credit line had now been used up. But he did wish me luck on my way out. When I reached the roadway, I looked to the sky. It was tough to gauge the time through the cloud cover, but it had to be late afternoon by now. Leaving at this hour would probably not be the best choice. I decided to go rent a room at The Sleeping Giant and leave for the barrow in the morning. When I entered the inn, Orgnar seemed to genuinely be as pleased to see me as Lucan had attempted to feign.

“Well, if it isn’t the newest bard in Whiterun. Hello, Valrimor,” Orgnar said with a smile from behind the bar as he wiped a flagon and placed it on a shelf.

“Hello, Orgnar,” I replied, wondering how news of my buffoonery had made it to Riverwood. Delphine barked through the kitchen door that Orgnar had better be stocking the shelves with clean flagons for the night’s business. The Nord just rolled his eyes as he placed another flagon on the shelf.

“What can I get you?” he asked as I pulled a stool up to the bar.

“A room and some early supper,” I replied.

“Delphine has prepared a Chicken Alto that is to die for,” Orgnar suggested, “Of course, you already know the room will be ten Septims.”

I paid for the room and ordered the chicken dish. The food was delicious. Roasted chicken in a rich alto wine sauce with a sautéed combination of mushrooms, onions, and garlic. It came with bread that I used to mop up every bit of the sauce. I followed Ralof’s advice and drank water with my meal. Sated and somewhat weary, I bade a good night to Orgnar and went straight to my room. After cleaning up from my travels, I climbed in my bed and lay there for a while, looking at the ceiling. My mind wandered back to its earlier musings about my course of action once this errand was completed.

You have two distinct paths to choose from. One would be the likely fruitless search for answers about your paternity. The other would be the possibly fruitful pursuit of answers regarding your propensity to unleash wild Magicka when you lose your temper. The choice seems fairly simple…

Simple…

Nothing in my entire life had been “simple”.

Stop the self pity, Val. You can’t argue with the logic of this conclusion. Answers are more likely to be found with Tolfdir in Winterhold than with persons unknown in Riften. But that means getting over your aversion to Magicka.

I sighed with resignation. There would be plenty of time to figure this out after I returned from the barrow. I leaned over and extinguished the lantern on the nightstand, and then said a quick prayer to Stendarr, asking for a dreamless sleep. That prayer went unanswered.

* * *

I stood on the roof of a stone structure. The masonry work showed its age as well as its craftsmanship. There was no apparent entrance to my location, just a circular stone pad with a crenellated parapet wall around the entire perimeter. A grey mist was all that was visible in any direction beyond the wall. I walked to the edge and leaned through a crenel to look down…nothing but more grey mist…

Now I hear the beating of wings, soft at first but building to great whooshes of air that blew my hair backward as a dragon face appeared out of the mist. Crimson hatred blazed forth from its eyes. I stepped backward toward the center of the platform as it perched on the wall with one last mighty beat of its wings. The talons of its hind feet completely engulfed the merlons of the wall.

“So the wizard has sent you for the Dragonstone. Do not dare this folly, groveler! It can only spell your doom, as inevitable as that is already. The minions of the priests of old shall rend the flesh from your lifeless carcass. But we know already that you will not heed this warning. Still, groveler, I offer it to you. It is not too late to change your fate, a fate of pain and supplication. Mirmulnir awaits my word, and I shall give it, should you follow this path. Perhaps it will be enough for you to grovel before him, for I know that Mirmulnir will relish the view of you on your knees. Here is a taste of what you have coming should you persist…”

With that, the beast blasted dragon fire that seared the very marrow of my bones. I stared in horror as the flesh burned away from my bones. I couldn’t even scream…

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jan 16 2014, 01:59 PM

[ghastley]

I have only one problem with this chapter: you've given Delphine a redeeming feature, and that just doesn't fit with reality as we know it. If only she'd stick to cooking...

I followed Ralof’s advice and drank water with my meal - he's getting serious about this quest, isn't he?

This post has been edited by ghastley: Jan 16 2014, 05:13 PM