A Question of Fate Options

[SubRosa]

I love the idea of using an old Black Horse Courier for coloring paper! How perfect!

I see Val's mother is not ready to tell him the truth yet. I suspect that story will be a long time coming.

Tolfdir! Yay, how nice to meet my favorite absent-minded wizard from Skyrim.

Well things did not go well with Varnel. Looks like Val has had issues with controlling his emotions for a long time. Not that anyone is sorry for seeing an Altmer being killed after all. I suspect most of the Bruma guard simply said good riddance...



nits:
You have fallen into the trap of head-hopping, which many people not used to writing third person tend to do. What I mean is that you are showing us the inner dialogue of multiple characters in the same scene. For example, near the beginning of the Second Part we are privy to Varnel's inner thoughts about his brother being slain by Bosmer rebels. Then later in the same piece we are privy to Valrimor's thoughts as he sees Varnel hit his mother.

Now there are basically two different perspectives you can use when writing Third Person. There is Third Person Omniscient Perspective, where the audience knows what every character is thinking. Then there is Third Person Limited, where the reader only knows what a single character is thinking. Basically try to imagine your story as a movie. With Limited Perspective, you only have one camera and microphone, and they are mounted in the head of your narrative character. So the readers see, hear, think, feel, et... whatever that character alone does. But they do not know these things about anyone else. Omniscient is like Monday Night Football, where there are cameras and microphones everywhere, covering every angle of the action from everyone in the stadium. I suggest steering clear of Omniscient, as it just does not read well for many reasons, not in the least because in real life no one knows what everyone is thinking and feeling. We can only guess these things.

Now you can use more than one viewpoint character when writing Third Person Limited. However you need to end the scene completely before you switch viewpoint characters. The reason is that every time you switch viewpoints, it jars the reader. When a scene ends that is less of an issue than when you are in the middle of a scene. In the middle of a scene it is called head-hopping, and it is confusing to the reader.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 21 2013, 10:03 PM

[jack cloudy]

More flashbacky goodness! It's a shame Val takes after his father I suppose. That's gotta be unpleasant when they get the 'talk'. Although, I don't remember if they had the 'talk' before Val went to Skyrim.


The best part for me wasn't the emotional heartache however, or even the trauma Val got. The best part was how this flashback serves as a setup for another tool in Val's arsenal. Now if he uses magic in the future it won't feel like something pulled out of thin air. (granted, it had been mentioned before already, but actually seeing is better than just being told about it.)


And I too like Tolfdir. Maybe we'll get to see more of him at some point?

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

There is now an author's note at the beginning of the latest post. This is due to the nit that SubRosa pointed out to me. My apologies to Jack for the corrections coming after his reading. And I'll take this opportunity to thank SubRosa again for her wonderful assistance.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jun 23 2013, 01:25 PM

[Grits]

Embershard:

The door antics had me laughing. If the bandits put a “Push” sign up they might not need a guard.

It was good to see Val settle his nerves in the old Nord way and then carefully proceed in the Bosmer manner. I like how he used the poison on the guard who could have alerted the other.

Ugh, and now he has to ransack the whole place. Hopefully he will find something to make the trip worth his while (and not too much more ale or he might need another nap).

Interlude 2:

I particularly liked Elli’s guilt over her thoughts about young Val’s appearance. While her heart aches for Erik her beloved son reminds her of her attacker.

Oh, and now we see that Val’s temper has always been a part of him. Yikes. And he has an open invitation to the College, but he hasn’t really considered going there. I wonder if he’ll change his mind.

[mALX]

Val making the squirrels do tricks - absolutely had to love this scene, what a huge idea to show other uses for the magic that a child might think up to entertain themselves! Real worldbuilding there, I love it!

Your description of Varnel's electrocution was AWESOME !!! It doesn't get better than that, LOVED how you wrote how the shock spell worked - and explained Val's not wanting that book in the dungeon!

Val's burnt toys was a touch of humor in perspective of his out of control anger - loved that, it reminded me of my own son's XBox controller getting thrown a few times, lol.

Whoa, a temper like his father - very powerful ending line !!!

Awesome Write, I loved this chapter!

[Darkness Eternal]

Time to officially catch up.

Chapter 6:

Out in the open, and on a path to Riverwood. Good to know Val made a real friend out of Ralov of Riverwood. I enjoyed the description of the flora and fauna here, and how our protagonist can relate somewhat to it. To him, its all natural.

We also get a glimpse of the barrow and the creatures within. I have a feeling our protagonist may just pay a visit to this lair and find himself under its shadow, too.

The Huntsman Creed. I'll have to remember that.

Chapter 7: We get some Nord warmth at last in a cozy home.

I must applaud your writing her. You certainly are no amateur when it comes to detailed writing and the young Stomcloak boy who's well on his way on almost becoming a little soldier

You did well to add and expand upon that part of the tale, and once again I clap in the good prose and style of writing. Simple yet detailed and great enough to keep us entertained. With Valrimor, this certainly is made possible!

Chapter 8: This made me hungry.

Nord/Mer Hangover! You should have a mini side plot for that

After that near death experience at the Headsman's axe and a rough and perilous escape, some mead is good right about now( I know he had some wine back at Helgen, though, but not to this degree). Doesn't matter where in Nirn you go, heavy drinking almost certainly always leads to brawls. Don't call Val a tree hugger!

Chapter 9: Ah. The inner workings of turmoil in a character's mind. This I like! You did well here. Characters with flaws and problems of their own makes us sympathize more with them. He did good to apologize. And I have a creeping feeling he's going to get into more trouble with his drinking problem. We're in Skyrim, Val, drinking ale and wine to Nords is as normal and regular as breathing. Ale is Skyrim's water!

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...

@ SubRosa - I love the idea of using an old Black Horse Courier for coloring paper! How perfect! -- What else are they good for? I actualy got the idea watching my step-son color on a kiddie placemat when we went out for dinner a while back.

I've already said it a couple times, but I have to thank you again for your help with "head-hopping". You ROCK!

@ jack cloudy - More flashbacky goodness! -- Thanks! I find that I am really enjoying writing the Interludes. It makes me think outside the box.

@ Grits - If the bandits put a “Push” sign up they might not need a guard. -- To borrow a mALX-ism, there was a near Mt. Dew SPEW when I read that! Glad you enjoyed the door fiasco, and thanks!

@ mALX - LOVED how you wrote how the shock spell worked - and explained Val's not wanting that book in the dungeon! -- Thanks so much! That dungeon flashback was actually the inspiration for this whole chapter.

@ Darkness Eternal - Time to officially catch up. -- And you're almost there! Thanks for sticking with it and for your most kind comments.

Thanks again everyone! Now, back to the story...

Previously: Valrimor had cleared Embershard Mine of bandits, leaving none alive, and was getting a well deserved nap after his sneaking and sniping…

Chapter 12 – Up to the Barrow

20th Last Seed, 4E 201

After my rest, it took me several hours to search Embershard Mine for Lucan’s claw. Unfortunately, the artifact still eluded me, but the search itself proved to be quite lucrative. I was able to leave the mine with considerably more coin than I entered with, along with several gems that I was sure would bring a nice price. It was impossible to haul out every saleable item in one trip. But if necessary, I could return for more.

I returned to Riverwood almost a full twenty-four hours from the time I had left Lucan’s shop, and The Riverwood Trader was my first destination now that I was back. I wanted to give my employer an update, as well as turn the gems I had found into coins. He was standing behind the counter when I entered, and seemed eager to hear what I had to say.

“I’m glad to see you back in one piece. So tell me, did you find those damned thieves?” he inquired.

“Well, I did find thieves. But apparently they were not the ones responsible for stealing your artifact. I searched every nook and cranny in Embershard Mine. There was no claw to be found. However, I did find these,” I said as I placed several gemstones on his counter.

“Nice! Very nice indeed!” he said, holding one up to a lantern and peering through it.

“Would you care to buy them? I need more cash to better equip myself before I head out for Bleak Falls Barrow and continue the search for your claw,” I asked, emphasizing the incentive for him to purchase the stones.

“Certainly, I’ll give you two hundred Septims for the lot,” Lucan offered.

It was less than I had hoped for, but I agreed to Lucan’s price. He paid me, and after telling him that I would be making a fresh start in the morning for the barrow, I bade him a good day and left the shop. I went straight to Alvor’s to purchase the hunting bow that I had been coveting. Between the gold that Lucan had paid for the gems, and the additional coin I garnered for selling a few pieces of fur armor to Alvor, I now had plenty of cash for the bow and additional arrows to restock my quiver. The hunting bow was nothing close to the quality of my own Elven bow, which was undoubtedly now part of the ruins of Helgen. However, it was substantially better than the long bow I had been using. First of all, the limbs had recurves. Also, the nocks for the bowstring were clad in steel. The long bow had been one single piece of wood, but this bow had separate limbs connected at a riser, with an arrow rest and a leather clad grip. Alvor even threw in a couple spare bowstrings and let me test the bow first behind his shop. I shot three arrows in rapid succession. All three flew true and hit within an inch of each other, clustered in the bulls-eye of the target. Extremely pleased with my new acquisition, I left the shop.

It was another gorgeous day and I suddenly had the urge for a walk in the woods. I could use the rest of the afternoon to harvest for an evening alchemy session, and perhaps even bag a deer. Few things in life are better than an afternoon stroll through a forest. The abundance of life, the aroma of wildflowers and pine, and the thrill of a hunt all have a quickening effect on my heart and will invariably bring a smile to my lips. I was already grinning with a spring in my step when I left the settlement.

* * *

Later that evening I was seated at a table in The Sleeping Giant. I mopped up the last of my stew from my bowl with a piece of bread, ate it, and chased it down with the last of my wine. The bard was singing an ode to someone named Ragnar the Red. Orgnar passed by and I requisitioned another goblet of wine. Minutes later, he returned with it and took my dishes back with him. The wine was a dry white with a slight smokey undertone. It was delicious indeed.

The day had been a good one. I had elevated my status from destitute to nearly solvent. My sojourn into the woods had led to a deer kill and a fine harvest of various fungi and flora. I was able to barter the deer hide and some coin into a full set of camping gear. I also had made good use of the inn’s alchemy table, concocting some healing potions and some poisons to replace the spider venom I had used in the mine. I sat back in my chair with a smile as the bard concluded his song with a line about Ragnar’s red head rolling on a floor. Gulping down the rest of the goblet, I rose and headed to my room for a good night’s sleep. There was no telling what tomorrow’s trek might bring, so rest seemed the wise choice regardless of how good the wine tasted.

* * *

21st Last Seed, 4E 201

The morning was grey and chilly. Low hanging clouds obscured the summits of the nearby mountains. The damp air threatened rain as I left the inn and headed north along the main road. It was such a complete difference from the day before, but I had heard that the weather was quick to change in Skyrim. Still, this felt more like the verge of winter than a late summer day in Last Seed.

I had checked all of my provisions and was satisfied that I had everything I would need. After crossing the river, I stayed to the left and followed the crude path that started upward toward my next task. Lucan had told me that there would be an old abandoned tower just a few hundred yards before the barrow. The first drops of rain began to fall well before I had located the landmark. By the time the tower was in sight, I had passed the snow line on the mountain and the rain had turned to mostly sleet. It was coming down at a much steadier pace. The wind was coming in cold gusts down the mountainside, occasionally causing the ice pellets to sting my cheeks.

The tower was in disrepair and looked as if it might topple at any moment. But what truly caught my attention was the glow of a lantern near its base. If the barrow was indeed a thieves’ den, it would only make sense that they would have an outpost here. Crouching and creeping slowly, I approached with an arrow at the ready on my bowstring. I managed to get very close without detection. A guard, for lack of a better term, was pacing a stone bridge that led to the entrance of the tower. He would disappear through the doorway and return at regular intervals. A woman with red war paint on her face was standing with her back to a spruce tree, undoubtedly seeking shelter from the precipitation beneath its boughs. Both sides of her head were shaved bald, leaving a shock of hair that stood straight up in a row that ran along the center of her scalp. After timing the guard’s trip, I added more red to the paint on her face with an arrow shot through her head and into the spruce trunk.

I’m getting good at tacking bandits to trees…

The guard evidently didn’t hear the arrow hit the tree, but immediately noticed something amiss upon his return and drew his sword. It was the last thing he would ever notice in his lifetime, thanks to an arrow through his breastbone. His sword clattered on the bridge deck as he fell off the stone arch, landing with a muffled thud on the snow below.

I looked at the old keep and debated whether or not to enter. The odds were slim that the claw would be in the tower, but I could not risk it. I was crossing the stone archway toward the entrance just in time to see it filled by what may have been the largest man I had ever seen. He had biceps as big as my thighs and thighs as big as my waist. I tried to stop myself, but a film of sleet had collected on the bridge. Instead of stopping and retreating, I lost my footing and sat down hard, biting on my tongue as my backside met the stone. Searing pain and blood filled my mouth instantly. My bow skittered away from me on the same carpet of ice pellets that had robbed me of my footing.

The huge Nord gave a yell and charged, raising an enormous war hammer as he did so. I tried to get up, but kept slipping, unable to get a foothold. I scrambled backward, looking and feeling akin to a mudcrab on a frozen pond. By chance, my hand found the sword of my earlier victim. Without hesitating, I grabbed it and launched it toward my attacker as hard as I could. It spun through the air, end over end. Because the Nord had both arms raised to deal a blow with the hammer, he was exposed and vulnerable. The point of the twirling sword found the bandit’s throat in an amazing stroke of luck. He stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, and then toppled over the side of the bridge. I stared for a second, equally dumbfounded, and then laid back, looking at the sky and sighing with relief. The sleet had started mixing with snow. Ice pellets and snowflakes were hitting me in the face as I took a moment to catch my breath.

I need a drink!

That thought motivated me to investigate the building. Not just for the claw, but for some ale or mead to numb my bleeding tongue. I spat a crimson stain on the bridge to try and get rid of some of the coppery taste that filled my mouth. I didn’t want to waste a healing potion on something as petty as a bleeding tongue. I gathered my bow and continued toward the entrance. Inside the tower, I did not find the claw during my search. However, I did find a couple bottles of ale and just over fifty Septims in a leather pouch. Even better, I found a healing potion, so I could heal my tongue after all. After doing so, I chugged down one bottle of ale, and then leisurely drank the other on my way out. I raised the bottle in a mock toast to my fallen attackers as I passed.

“Here’s to ya,” I quipped, and made my way toward the barrow in what had become a full blown snow storm.

[Captain Hammer]

I have added this to my reading list, making it my first official Skyrim-fic posted here (though I suppose I have to add others, now).

This is a well and truly impressive start, from the snippets in Valrimor's past that detail his origins and upbringing to the drunken flight through the caves beneath Helgen and then to Val's misadventures in Riverwood. It is a good start and I'm interested to see how this Nordic Wood Elf proceeds in the lands of Old Skyrim.

[mALX]

Your descriptions in this chapter (and in particular describing the weather the first two paragraphs of the 21st Last Seed) are outstanding!

That Nord must be absolutely enormous for Val to find him huge, ROFL !!! (I can say that now that I've seen Val's screenshot, lol).

I LOVED that Val slid on the ice here, really great idea to make him vulnerable at times (especially given his size and muscle mass!)

Also LOVED that he toasted the fallen enemy on the way out, nice touch! (But GAAAAH! He didn't search them! Lol).

Awesome Write !!!

[Acadian]

An interesting interlude with fun and squirrel games that turned deadly. The decision not to go to the College of Winterhold flowed quite naturally from the events and reactions in the scene. We glimpse some possible history of why Val seems to perhaps eschew spell casting. A chilling thought at the end as Elli laments that Val seems to carry the dark temper of his rapacious father.

And back from Embershard Mine with gems but no claw. A new bow and evening of white wine, then off to Bleak Falls Barrow.

Tacking more bandits to trees!

’My bow skittered away from me on the same carpet of ice pellets that had robbed me of my footing.’ - - Uh oh. This does not bode well – although it was fabulously worded by the writer. Whew! You did a nice job of incorporating the fortuitous sword tossing while using Val’s own incredulity at his success to temper the feat. This was especially effective since it was preceded by his slipping, falling and back-skittling like a mud crab.

[jack cloudy]

Overconfidence comes before the fall. And the slapstick comedy battle. Val's shock at having it actually work was the punchline.

I also like how he takes a methodical approach to his search for the claw instead of psychically knowing where to go. That includes looking into sidespots on the offchance it is there. (One of the things I dislike about Skyrim. I literally got a quest recently where the NPC went "so bring me the staff." Without telling where the staff was, what it looked like etc. I had to go in the journal to find the location. )


And finally, I really appreciate all the breaks he takes to upgrade his gear, eat, drink and just do some other stuff than quest. It helps sell that he's searching the claw as a means to an end (money) rather than an all-important goal in itself.

PS: I just saw one of Val's screenshots. He is one handsome pointy-eared Nord.

[SubRosa]

Selling off loot, a new bow, and then a nice stroll through the forest. Sounds like Wood Elf paradise!

Things were going so well until that icy bridge. Eeep! That was a close call.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 29 2013, 09:51 PM

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...

@ Captain Hammer - Thanks for joining in and thanks even more for your very kind words. I hope you will enjoy Val's further exploits.

@ mALX - Also LOVED that he toasted the fallen enemy on the way out, nice touch! (But GAAAAH! He didn't search them! Lol). -- Thanks mALX! The weather was too nasty to search the bodies, plus two had fallen off the bridge. Hopefully, none of them had the claw!

@ Acadian - Welcome back from your sojourn to Montana.

You did a nice job of incorporating the fortuitous sword tossing while using Val’s own incredulity at his success to temper the feat. This was especially effective since it was preceded by his slipping, falling and back-skittling like a mud crab. -- Thank you so much! I have tried hard to show that Val reaching 51 years of age entailed skill in combat, but I don't want him to seem like a super hero, because he SO is not!

@ jack cloudy - One of the things I dislike about Skyrim. I literally got a quest recently where the NPC went "so bring me the staff." Without telling where the staff was, what it looked like etc. I had to go in the journal to find the location. -- Same here! How could Lucan have possibly known that the claw would be in Bleak Falls Barrow when he didn't know what the claw was for? Thanks for the comments.

@ SubRosa - Things were going so well until that icy bridge. Eeep! -- Having spent several years north of the Mason-Dixon Line, I well remember icy conditions on bridges. Thanks for the comments.

******
All of you rock!

******
Previously: Val was on his way up the mountain in worsening weather conditions when he encountered bandits at an outpost near the summit. Having disposed of them, he continued on to Bleak Falls Barrow…

Chapter 13 – Into Bleak Falls Barrow

21st Last Seed, 4E201 - Continued

When I left Riverwood, I had prided myself in being prepared for the journey. I had double checked my equipment and provisions and patted myself on the back for thinking of everything. How quickly things change, for now I cursed myself for not bringing a scarf and gloves. The snow storm was nothing short of a blizzard. The howling wind, blowing snow, and freezing temperatures were wreaking havoc on every square inch of exposed skin. I was actually looking forward to entering the barrow just to get out of this weather.

The structure loomed large ahead of me. Massive stone arches topped with some type of stylized animal head were its main feature, but the blinding snow made seeing details impossible. A wide set of stone stairs led upward to where I presumed the entrance to be. I had reached the base of the steps when something stung the side of my face. I spun to see what had done it, but nothing was there. Looking down, I saw an arrow lying in the snow, and then I saw a second arrow ricochet off the stone wall next to the stairs. Someone was shooting at me! I retreated to the nearest cover, the corner of the same stone wall at the base of the steps.

I nocked an arrow and peered around the corner. Visibility was hindered greatly by the blowing snow, but I could just make out a shadowy figure coming down the stairs. He appeared to have another arrow of his own nocked and ready. I drew back my bowstring, then leaned out, took quick aim, and shot. I immediately understood why my attacker had missed me with his first two attempts. The howling wind played with the arrow like a toy. I could not be sure where it struck, but it certainly was not in my approaching antagonist. I cursed the snowstorm under my breath as I ducked back behind my cover.

Enough of this!

I slung my bow and drew my sword, waiting for the bandit to get closer. When I guessed that he was close enough, I jumped out and charged my enemy while letting out a scream at the top of my lungs. The initial surprise was enough to catch the bandit off guard. He did manage to fend off my first swing with his bow, but that blow had knocked him off balance and finishing him off was quick and easy after that.

“WHAT IN THE GODS NAMES ARE YOU DOING OUT IN THIS WEATHER!” I raged into the dead man’s face, while withdrawing my sword from his rib cage.

Unbridled fury seized me and ran through my veins like molten metal. Reason and caution had fled me in its wake. I charged up the steps and encountered another bandit guard. I could feel the explosive heat building down my arms as I dropped my sword. The guard was amazed to see me, for a moment. I raised my arms and blasted the thief with intense fire that did not stop until I was no longer able to sustain it. His screams had gone silent well before his charred corpse collapsed into the snow with a hiss and a cloud of steam. Still raging with anger, my fury and I continued to charge toward the barrow entrance. Suddenly, I noticed there was less snow and wind. This caught my attention enough to prevent me from rushing headlong through the doors. I had stepped under an overhang that offered a minimal respite from the elements. I took a moment to catch my breath, while cursing myself for losing my temper so completely. At that moment, I realized that I had not retrieved my sword.

For Y’ffre’s sake Val! Where did THAT come from? You swore that would never happen again…

After collecting my sword and returning to the limited shelter of the overhang, I examined the entrance. It was a pair of heavy double doors that appeared ancient in the extreme. Opening them quietly might prove difficult. But I certainly couldn’t stand out here in the freezing cold and wait for someone to come by to grease the hinges. With my sword at the ready, I gently pulled on the large iron ring. I was pleasantly surprised at how easily and quietly the door opened, and I was even more pleased to find no one on the other side guarding it. Pulling the door only enough to allow for my passage, I stepped through cautiously so as not to alert nearby foes. It closed just as easily and silently as it had opened. I stood there for a moment, watching and listening.

I had entered a large chamber. It had the look of being a temple in days past. But now, holes in the roof were letting daylight and snowflakes in. The floor was littered with rubble. An acrid, sickly sweet odor occasionally accosted my nostrils, like meat that had started to turn. At the far end, I could see light and movement. Voices reverberated off the stone walls, but not clear enough for me to make out what was being said. I sheathed my sword and readied my bow. Staying close to the walls and in the shadows of the rubble piles, I crept slowly and silently toward the source of light and sound. There was a dead man and several dead skeevers lying in the middle of the floor, but it wasn’t safe to investigate yet.

That explains the smell…

I stopped when I was close enough to hear what was being said. Two bandits were standing near a fire, a fairly large man and a female mer, but what race I could not tell. She was very concerned about getting her fair share, and he was trying to allay her concerns.

You’re about to have more to worry about, sister…

Indeed she did when she saw her comrade fall with an arrow in the back of his skull. Her worries were short lived though, as was she. I waited a bit to allow for more bandits to appear. When none did, I slung my bow and approached the fire. I stood in its warmth for a few minutes, holding out my hands and thawing the rest of the cold from my bones. While standing there, I contemplated what had occurred outside. A shudder ran through me, as much from shedding the cold as well as trepidation over losing control of myself the way I had. A knot of fear that I had not felt since I was a child gnawed at my belly.

Stop thinking about that! This was a fluke…an anomaly…it won’t happen again…relax…

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The odors that permeated the chamber snapped me right back to reality and the present. Since there was no sign of any immediate danger, and the worst of the chill had left my body, the first thing I did was open my pack and grab my wine bottle. I started chugging and had a third of the bottle gone before I lowered it from my lips. Replacing the cork, I set the bottle next to my pack and decided to investigate the chamber. First, I walked back to the dead man I had seen earlier. Upon closer examination, I wished I hadn’t. What I had thought to be a man was recognizable as humanoid in shape only. The skeevers had been at him…her…it…with a vengeance. As I looked around, I realized that there were many dead skeevers. Over a dozen of the dead rodents were scattered about the chamber, but there were no signs of wounds on the vermin. It was as if they had dropped in their tracks. I looked back again at the miserable excuse for a corpse and noticed a pouch on its belt. When I leaned down to grab it, I caught the unmistakable odor of spider venom. This poor soul had been poisoned, and then the skeevers died from feasting on tainted flesh. The amount of venom must have been extreme for the body to reek of it so heavily. I used my dagger to cut the pouch loose, and then used it again on each of the dead skeevers to harvest their tails.

I returned to the fire, figuring there must be some food and drink around somewhere. While searching for provisions the bandits would no longer require, I saw a chest. A grin came to my lips as I walked toward it. I could already feel the claw in my hands. The chest was locked, but not for long. The lock popped with minimal effort, causing my smile to grow as I opened the chest, and then it fell away from my face when I viewed the contents. There was no claw to be had, but I did gain some coin and a green vial with the simple label of “Boost”.

Looks like I’m going deeper into the barrow…

I shuddered at the thought of what I was sure would be tight, confined spaces. My search for food and drink was fruitless, which meant I would have to dig into my own provisions. I couldn’t believe these bandits didn’t have some ale lying around somewhere. After a snack of bread and cheese, chased with more healthy swigs of wine, I eyed the bedrolls arranged around the fire. It couldn’t be later than early afternoon, but there was no telling when I might get a chance to rest once I entered the tunnels of the barrow. As I had done in Embershard mine, I decided to lie down on top of one of the bedrolls for a short nap. I kept my sword out of its scabbard and within quick reach, just in case. Before I slept, I mused with a furrowed brow about my earlier outburst. It nagged at me like a bothersome insect that wouldn’t go away until I killed it. I decided to do just that, and opened my backpack to get the wine bottle. I finished of the last of it and reclined again. Thoughts of childhood and uncontrolled power swirled through my head as I dozed off…

* * *

Black space stretches for as far as I can see, or not see, in every direction. I am not falling or floating. I am not paralyzed, but I can’t go anywhere, because there is nowhere to go. I am simply existing somewhere in space and time with no indication as to the passing of either. Now I can make out two red points of light that seem to be approaching me. No…not points of light…eyes, with pupils that are elongated to the vertical…serpent’s eyes. I have seen these eyes before, but cannot recall where or when. Fear begins to rise in me as a scaly head comes into focus around the eyes. The sound of massive wings beating the air accompanies a low hissing growl that is coming from its mouth. Then it begins to speak in a strange language that I have never heard before, but I understand it fully…

“Come as I know you must. Come and grovel before me. We shall tear you asunder with the voices of mayhem, my minions and I. The others shall soften you and make you regret your inevitable fate, our fate, the fate of all. Perhaps if you grovel sufficiently, I shall spare your life. But do not hope for such, for your life spared will be a life of supplicating misery, as an example to all human kind. It shall be a life of bowing to my every whim and begging for me to spare you no longer. The days of men and mer have come to an end. Come as I know you must.”

Suddenly, fire, frost, and concussive force alternately burn, freeze, and pound me, over and over again in rapid succession. The agony seems endless with no hope of ever ending…I can do nothing but scream…

[Acadian]

Frying his foe certainly did seem to come out of the blue. But then not really, considering your recent and revealing interlude glimpse into Val’s past. I smiled as his fire rampage conjured an ominous admonishment from the ancient Incredible Hulk TV show: ‘Don’t make me angry; you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.’

’Since there was no sign of any immediate danger, and the worst of the chill had left my body, the first thing I did...’ - - As soon as I got this far into the sentence, I already knew what the next clause would reveal: - - ’...was open my pack and grab my wine bottle.’ - - You have clearly trained us to understand this aspect of Val well!

Uh oh. The mixture of dead bandits and skeevers that Val describes sounds like there be spiders. . . .

More wine to wash down some bread and cheese. Then on top of a bedroll for some rest – and a troubling dream.

[mALX]

“WHAT IN THE GODS NAMES ARE YOU DOING OUT IN THIS WEATHER!” I raged into the dead man’s face, while withdrawing my sword from his rib cage.

ROFL! I’ll bet the bandit/guard was thinking the same thing, lol.

Val’s temper may stand him in good stead to handle enemies others can’t if he can just get mad at the right times, lol. Very impressive write on the tantrum that toasted the second guard, I loved that scene!

Val was like a detective figuring out the clues as to the dead skeever and corpse, I love the way his mind works! Also, Val really knows his poison ingredients. He is a tremendously well rounded person one would want to have along on any survival mission (as long as you never made him mad and alcohol was in limited supply, lol).

Ooh, Val’s nightmare was amazing and intriguing! Fantastic Write!

[Darkness Eternal]

Chapter 10: "Yarh Ha! Yarh ha! The Nord's life for me."

Drinking, hunting, and alchemy. Quite the dream he has. There is some coin to be had to brew one's own ale. Especially in a province like Skyrim, the income would be great. Val strikes me as a smart individual here, too. I agree with Acadian on the quiver amount.

Two of the arrows were warped and useless. Three more needed some adjustment to the fletching. That left me nineteen acceptable shots.

Ah. This I like. One of my archer characters has a habit of always checking her arrows. Whenever and wherever possible she inspected each and every one of her arrows for straightness, for a single arrow with even the slightest amount of warp would bounce off target or fail to penetrate as deeply as it should—and this defect would increase as the range grew. One had to make sure their arrows were as stiff as possible, for the fact that an arrow that would flex in mid-flight would have the same defects as an arrow already warped. Glad Valrimor knows this just as well as any other archer! Besides, bows and arrows to him are like arms and legs.

Chapter 11: We start this chapter off with a bang with our fellow Bosmeri Nord getting attacked by an Orc!

He was effectively pinned to the tree like a notice on a bulletin board.

I can picture the image in my head! Excellent! The intense confrontation must be scary but a bottle of wine will drown all fears. Most of em anyway. His skills with archery and sneaky tactics shows here. He dispatched those guards with grace! Props to him! He'll live another day to drink more wine!

Interlude, II:Fast forward a few years and we see a young Valrimor with the precious inquiries of his father's location. His childike innocence is both lovable and yet heartbreaking. I am interested in hearing more about his father and a reunion somehow, perhaps.

Those mages. I wonder what they want Val for. He certainly is skilled with his racia abilities, much to their amazement. Of course, it doesn't end up going good with the robes Altmer asking questions about Val.

Ah, and so he's had a temper since youth!

Chapter 12: When a Bosmer loses his bow, he has to replace it right away! Good thing does gems came in handy! 200 septims came in fine here. Good to see him take a break. He deserves it after a run in with those bandits and the mohawed one. Hilarious to see him toast to the dead . . . that he killed. He'll find the gesture one-sided, I'm afraid


Chapter 13: My favorite number! And a good chapter!

A warrior or a person in combat knows that feelings such as anger does indeed help. There's a whole science behind it, but none of that now.

Unbridled fury seized me and ran through my veins like molten metal. Reason and caution had fled me in its wake. I charged up the steps and encountered another bandit guard. I could feel the explosive heat building down my arms as I dropped my sword.

"Use your anger! It gives you focus, makes you stronger!"

Heh. Quite the mad fellow here. No bandit stands a chance against his fury!

I gotta say the descriptions and Val's continuous drinking is both wonderful and amusing to read. And before heading off to what I assume is a spider's domain after all the dead skeever's, he has a frightning nightmare. One that just might mean something significant. Good read!

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Jul 2 2013, 12:33 AM

[SubRosa]

Uh oh, Val was almost caught napping in the snowstorm by the archers outside the barrow.

The howling wind played with the arrow like a toy.
This was a wonderful description of the issues with shooting in a storm.

I see Teresa is not the only one with anger management issues. Vals seem to be far worse though!

But I certainly couldn’t stand out here in the freezing cold and wait for someone to come by to grease the hinges.
I loved this thought!

I couldn’t believe these bandits didn’t have some ale lying around somewhere.
There is Val's Nord blood talking!

I can guess who that scaly and winged dream visitor was! After that, I think I would need more wine!

[ThatSkyrimGuy]

First things first...A Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans, and a fine Saturday to everyone else!

@ Acadian - @ the David Banner reference! Think how well that would apply if Val was an Orc!

@ mALX - Inspector Valrimor is on the case! "Move along...nothing to see here...move along..."

@ Darkness Eternal - You're all caught up now! Me thinks I should have been clearer about Val recovering his bow before he moved on...oops...

@ SubRosa - I see Teresa is not the only one with anger management issues. -- I haven't come across that in my reading yet, but I'll take your word for it.
*****
@ Everyone - Thank you all so much for the kind comments. As always, it means a lot to me. On to the next installment...
*****
Previously - After fighting his way through a tower, a blizzard, and the bandit base camp inside the barrow, Valrimor had decided to get some rest before continuing his quest for the claw…rest that was shortened by a harrowing dream…

Chapter 14 – Encountering Arvel

21st Last Seed, 4E201 – Continued

I awoke not knowing how long I had slept, with the nightmare still fresh in my head. It was the same recurring dream that I had experienced over and over, ever since being a child. The details varied a little from time to time, but the message was always the same, and always terrifying. The hair on my arms was still bristling from the imagery.

“Your inevitable fate, our fate, the fate of all” the beast had said. Is fate truly drawing me toward an inevitable destiny like some sort of mystic lodestone? I had always considered dragons to be the stuff of my nightmares, until Helgen…

I shook my head to get rid of these thoughts and looked around. There was no longer light coming in through the holes in the ceiling, so I guessed that it was likely dusk or later. I looked at the empty wine bottle next to the bedroll with a frown, disappointed that it couldn’t prevent a nightmare. With a sigh, I decided I better get moving. I rose and gathered my belongings, then looked with trepidation at the opening that led deeper into the barrow.

Gods, I hate this…

The passage was narrow, but not excessively so, and started sloping downward immediately. I shook off a momentary bout with claustrophobia and followed the tunnel. Strategically placed braziers allowed just enough light to not trip on the vines and roots that claimed much of the floor. Occasionally I would come across what looked like tombs made of black stone with small urns on top of them. Not wanting to leave any leaf unturned, I checked each vessel for the claw. Finding the artifact that easily would be far too much to hope for, but I had to be sure.

As the passage made a left turn, I quickly halted and crouched when I saw a man with a torch traversing the same route as I was. He was entering a chamber a short distance ahead of me. I remained in the shadows and watched him as he examined the room. After a moment, he approached a lever in front of a closed iron portcullis. When he pulled on it, I heard hissing sounds, followed by the dull thuds of impact. The man groaned and fell. I waited for what I thought to be a prudent amount of time before approaching the prostrate figure. When I reached him, I discovered the cause of his fall. Protruding from several locations on his body were small wooden pegs with rudimentary fletching, the back halves of darts that had spelled his demise. Looking up above the gate, I discerned several holes that must have been the source of the projectiles.

So…don’t pull the lever….yet…

A quick search of the lifeless dart target garnered a few Septims and some lock picks to add to my stock. Examining the room, I noticed three small pylons of stone. Each was on a slightly raised circular dais. There were stylized animal symbols inlaid on the faces of the stones. Two had eagles and one had a whale. There were also images of animals on the wall high above the gate, etched in bas relief on what looked like stone tablets. One of these had fallen to the floor, but was basically intact. Two of them had snakes and a third had the same whale as on one of the pylons. I walked over and examined the three miniature monoliths more closely. When I reached out to touch one, I discovered that it would spin easily on its dais, and that when I spun it, another side had the same snake as one of the etched tablets.

Could it be that simple?

I rotated all of the stones so that there were two snakes and a whale facing outward. Nothing happened. I looked over at the dead man and the lever. The conclusion I reached was inevitable.

You know you have to try it…

I walked over to the lever, took a deep breath and prepared to dive at the first hiss of an airborne dart. When I pulled it, the gate shot upward, granting access to the chamber beyond. With a sigh of relief, I looked down at the dart riddled corpse and said, “Brains before brawn, my good man,” and walked through the gateway. Just past the raised portcullis, there was a chest that yielded another fruitless search for the claw, but it provided more loot to add to my collection. To the left, a spiraling staircase led downward. A sound, not unlike a dog scratching at a door to get in, came up from below. I doubted there were any pets in here, so I readied an arrow before starting down. About halfway, I met the would-be pets as several skeevers bounded up the stairs toward their deaths. I harvested the tails and continued onward.

The stairwell ended at the entrance to a fairly large room. Cobwebs festooned every corner and surface. Dust covered benches and shelves dotted the perimeter of the room and a large table was featured at its center. There was a dark green ceramic vial on the table labeled, “A Touch of Stillness”.

Perfume?

I uncorked the vial and waved my hand over the top to get a whiff of the contents. The unmistakable odor of canis root and briar heart told me this was no perfume. It was a paralysis poison, although a weak one. With a smirk of approval, I added it to my pack and then noticed a scroll that was also on the table. When I picked it up, I glimpsed a stylized eye stamped into the wax seal. I dropped the rolled parchment as though it had burned me.

The Mage’s Guild? That organization has been dissolved for at least two hundred years…

Though I loathed the prospect of carrying anything to do with Magicka, I realized that something this old must be worth some hefty coin. Gingerly, I retrieved the scroll and placed in my pack, and then set my attention back to the task at hand. As I proceeded onward, I heard a voice coming from up ahead.

“Is…Is someone coming? Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?” the voice inquired.

I nocked an arrow and continued. Perhaps the voice was referring to the two thieves I had dispatched and the third that became a dartboard. I noticed that some all too familiar instances of web work were becoming distinguishable from the random cobwebs. As I wound my way through the tunnel, the voice spoke again.

“I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help.”

Hearing a reference to the claw spurred me forward until I reached an opening that was completely walled off by spider silk. The voice pleaded for help from the chamber beyond. I searched for another entrance to the chamber, but found none. Sighing with frustration, I thought over what would be the best way to proceed. Undoubtedly, there would be at least one spider in the next room. I dosed an arrow with the paralysis poison and nocked it, holding the shaft to the riser with my left hand. With my right, I drew my dagger and began cutting away the webbing that blocked the opening.

I had no sooner finished and stepped into the chamber beyond when an immense spider dropped from the ceiling about a dozen paces away from me. The disembodied voice screamed with terror and panic. I tossed the dagger, and then drew the bowstring back and shot. The spider instantly froze in mid stride and before the effects of the poison wore off, I had pumped three more arrows into its face. It never moved again. The voice shifted from panic to gratitude.

“Oh Gods, thank you!” it said, “Now get me down!”

I looked in the direction of the voice and discerned a wiggling mass entangled in the webbing. The chamber itself was fairly large, its walls coated with intricate silk patterns designed to keep the weaver fed. I walked over to the giant arachnid and milked its fangs into the now empty vial of paralysis poison for future use.

“Don’t leave me here, for Arkay’s sake!” begged the voice, “Help me!”

“Shut up!” I barked back at him.

Looking around the chamber, I noticed several bundles of spider silk that were not wriggling and complaining as much as the one at the other side of the room. Some were skeevers; others were human, or at least human-ish. I recovered my dagger and harvested the tails from the sticky rodent corpses. I couldn’t bring myself to search the desiccated human forms.

“Get me down…GET ME DOWN!” demanded the whining voice from the other side of the room.

“Oh, for the love of Mara, SHUT…UP!” I yelled with growing irritation.

I also noted that there were several spider egg sacs scattered about the chamber. The eggs were an ingredient of one of my favorite potions, and fairly expensive when purchased at an alchemy shop. When combined with elves ear or juniper berries, it made an elixir I called “Sure Shot” that fortifies a marksman’s abilities. I harvested as many spider eggs as I could find. Finally, I walked toward the plaintive voice of what would have joined the dried up bundles on the floor, had I not intervened. The whiner was a Dunmer of average build, still wiggling and trying to get free of his binds. I paused a moment to consider his predicament, and how I could use it to my advantage.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Arvel Nalwyn, Arvel the Swift to my associates. Now get me down before something else comes!” the elf replied.

“You are Arvel the Stuck, right now. You’re also kind of demanding for someone that needs my help,” I pointed out to the Dunmer, “and not to mention that were whining like a child just a few moments ago. Let’s talk about this claw a bit first.”

“Yes, yes…the claw. I know how it works. The claw…the markings…the door to the Hall of Stories…I know how it all fits together. If you help me down, I’ll show you. You won’t believe the power that the Nords have left here!”

“You have it then?” I asked.

“Have what?” Arvel replied.

“The Golden Claw, you idiot!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Arvel assured me.

“Then give it to me first,” I demanded.

“Give what to you?”

“The blessed claw, you exasperating fetcher!” I raged.

“Now how do you propose I do that while I am all trussed up like this, hmmm?”

He had a point. Of course, I could have just slit the Dunmer’s throat while he was defenseless like this and taken the claw. But I have never been prone to murder, except in defense from a known enemy. If he charged me after I cut him down, that would be different. I took a moment to think on how to best be prepared for Arvel’s actions once he was free. Of course, this delay brought forth another round of complaints from the Dunmer, fueling my ire. I tried to cut him loose in such a way that he would be off balance when he was finally free of the webbing. This proved fruitless, as Arvel performed a feat of acrobatics that assured he would land feet first.

“You fool!” the Dunmer said as soon as his feet hit the floor, “Why should I share the treasure with anyone?”

And with that, Arvel turned and gave a superb example of why he had his nickname.

*****

EDIT - Nit picked.

This post has been edited by ThatSkyrimGuy: Jul 24 2013, 01:13 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

Happy Muricah day to you, too!

So Val awakens from the nightmare, and the hours seemed to go by. Some wine would be nice, no? Too bad it ran out! I enjoyed his journey deeper into the depths of the barrow. Somehow I think the darts killing the stranger saved his life, but he's still a smart fellow regardless.

“Brains before brawn, my good man,”

A lesson many Nord men need to learn . . .


The fight with the spider. For some reason I thought I would've been longer, but squashing a giant bug shouldn't seem so trivial. Four arrows is sufficient enough. Have a taste of your own medicine, Frostbite?

The hanging thief was just another shout-for-help away from being shot with an arrow. If I were Val, I would've been peeved too. His irritation showed brilliantly with his snide comment! I had a kick out of this one.

“You are Arvel the Stuck, right now. You’re also kind of demanding for someone that needs my help.

What a dumb man, that thief? His stupidity knew no bounds , but his swiftness sure was his advantage, or perhaps his downside as Val(who we know has a temper) might not take betrayal or trickery too lightly. Maybe Arvel the Swift just might be named Arvel The Stuck if Val is tempted to stick him like a piggy!

Good chapter! As always, amusing and interesting to read!

[Acadian]

Once again, thanks for the invaluable little ‘Previously...’ summary that precedes your updates.

Val did a great job of sharing his observations and solution to that dart trapped portcullis.

Ugh, spider. Complete with wiggling and noisy Dunmeri prey.

’When combined with elves ear...’ - - Oh noes!

I guess Arvel the Swift was kind of a lose-lose proposition. Nevertheless, it was good to hear Val’s internal deliberations. Oh well. Deeper into the dungeon it’ll be I gather.