Skyrim Day 008 - To Falkreath

24 Last Seed, 4E201

Falkreath

~~~

Danica was rather less than pleased to receive a small tree instead of the sap she had been expecting. She pointed out that pilgrims would be less than impressed by a tiny tree in place of the towering, though dead, 'Gildergreen'. I told her that Maurice felt that gathering the sap was not respectful of Kynareth and that devotion should come in the form of renewal, rather than maintenance. After a moment she agreed and thanked me for bringing her the sapling and leaving Maurice behind. She allowed me to keep 'Nettlebane', but I left it in the Temple, having no further use for it.

As I exited the Temple a man came running up to me, looking for the "adventurer-Khajiit" which he correctly assumed was me, in this case. He had a letter for me from the Jarl of Falkreath who wrote to invite me to come to his city so that we could discuss the possibility of work. The thought of traveling appealed to me and I felt that my business at Whiterun, for now, was finished. My descent into Bleak Falls Barrow will have to wait until I am more skilled, preferably in magic as well as in combat.

I had never been to Falkreath before, it was always too remote and small for much of the work I used to do in Skyrim. I knew it to be a town primarily known for its lumber and its graveyard for some reason. It was directly west of Helgen, but I decided to forego another trip through Riverwood and take the longer trip over the plain and through a mountain pass farther west.

My little journey began around ten in the morning and my first encounter of interest was with a ruined watchtower.

Much like the walls of the city, Whiterun's tower was more ruin than fortification, another example of the decay resulting from the Empire's decline and Skyrim's own civil war. The tower did appear to be manned by Whiterun guards anyway, so it was at least still capable of serving some sort of purpose.

Further down the road I passed a burned-out farmstead near to an almost equally-ruined fortress. The wooden palisade looked new and the collection of individuals patrolling the battlements were dressed in leathers or hides, likely another group of bandits.

I kept to the road and they ignored me. I did notice that they had erected dummies along the battlements to make it appear they were more numerous, a clever idea for a group of bandits, though I wonder who they believe they are scaring off. It is obvious Whiterun does not have the resources to dedicate towards their eradication.

Along the road I came upon an Orc standing next to the bodies of two freshly-slain Sabre Cats, Skyrim's rather nastier version of Cyrodiil's common bear. He appeared uninterested in the corpses and I asked him why he was simply standing next to the road. The Orc refused to name himself, stating that he was simply an old warrior waiting for the "good death" that was promised to him. By who, he did not say. I was certainly not about to challenge a warrior capable of slaying two such beasts at once and wished him luck before continuing on.

Near a road-side farm I noticed a collection of stones that seemed to have been placed there purposely. There was no one tending to the farm that I could see, so I quietly walked through the farmstead and to the stones. Each one had a pedestal upon which a stone embedded with pictures of an animal spun. Nearby there was a lever and I soon deduced that spinning the pedestals to the correct animal would allow the lever to open the grate in front of the stones, underneath which lay a skeleton and a chest.

My experimentation with the pedestals proved frustrating and was cut short by a rhythmic thudding occurring behind me. I was admittedly frightened to see that the sound was from the approach of two Giants!

Perhaps the site was of some significance to them, perhaps it was merely a coincidence, but I was not interested in finding out. I immediately ran away from them further into the plain and away from the road. Other than a hunter attempting to train his dog I found little of interest as I worked my way back to the road and Falkreath.

The road turned through the mountains towards Falkreath and I came upon my own possibility of a "good death" right at the signpost. There was no way of me knowing that a Sabre Cat was just up the hill chasing a fox and when I turned to walk through the pass the cat suddenly spun around and charged right towards me: an unarmored Khajiit with a light wooden shield, a sword, and spells she could not yet cast.

Battling the Sabre Cat was a brutal experience. It was far stronger and possessed a predatory sort of cunning in its tactics. After circling me for several moments it charged, biting at my shield and attempting to rake its claws across my chest and face before disengaging and returning to circling. This cycle was repeated several times to its advantage, but finally I caught the timing of its attack and managed to kick it in the head before driving my blade between its eyes, splitting its skull in half.

The fight was far more difficult than any bandit I have encountered and the Orc must be quite a warrior indeed to be able to slay two of these Sabre Cats at once! As for me I fared far more poorly, my clothing in tatters and blood streaking my fur. I was forced to sit alongside the cat's cooling corpse for a few minutes to let Dagoth Ur's special blessing do its helpful work after which I turned towards my foe and claimed its pelt for later sale. Clearly I have far to go in combat abilities as yet.

Fortunately that was my last fight for the day and the walk to Falkreath was peaceful after I almost died. I passed a lumber mill along a lake and spoke with the owner for a little bit. Her name is 'Hert', a rather un-Nordic name and though she was pleasant and talkative there was just something about her that did not seem right to me. She did not know anything about the sunken fortress opposite her mill and I left quickly despite her invitation to stay longer.

The pass between the mountains where I fought the Sabre Cat separates the plain from the heavily wooded area around Falkreath. Soon after the mill the road became much narrower as trees and grasses encroached upon it from both sides and the cobblestones gave way to simple dirt.

Falkreath was hardly the "city" the Jarl's letter had described. It look more like a large settlement that somehow grew within a massive forest. Despite it's humble appearance the town's trading post had some powerfully enchanted items, one of them a circlet the shopkeeper said would aid me in archery, an aid I could surely use if I could have afforded the jewelry. Instead I sold him what little I had collected between Whiterun and Falkreath and purchased some healing potions and a spell tome called 'Oakflesh' that would make my skin resistant to damage for a short period of time. It remains to be seen if I can cast it now.

The local alchemist had more healing potions to sell, as well as ingredients for me to create more with. When I fought the Sabre Cat I had none on me at all, a mistake I will be sure not to make from now on.

My last order of business for the day was the reason for the trip: to visit the Jarl about this work he claimed needed doing. His wood-and-straw Hall was much less impressive than Dragonsreach and the man inside reflected that lack of grandeur.

The man was young, brash, and utterly disinterested in his position other than that it afforded him the finest foods, drinks, and hunts. Any tasks other than eating, drinking, or hunting fell upon Falkreath's steward, an Altmer named 'Nenya'. The Jarl's important task he wrote to me about turned out to be the elimination of a group of bandits nearby, exactly the sort of task I was not eager to accept. But I had walked nearly all day to get here, so I accepted. He never said when he wanted them eliminated, after all and he will likely forget he asked me as soon as I leave the Hall.

Falkreath's inn, as well as every other place of business, is named with a nod towards the town's famous graveyard (which I have yet to see), making the inn the 'Dead Man's Drink'. Charming. Ten coins bought me a room without a door for the night, prompting me to write this entry as long as possible so that the rest of the guests will have left when I finally settle down to sleep. I hope to visit this famous graveyard of Skyrim tomorrow and will scout the approach to the Jarl's bandit group as well. If I can kill one or two of them before melee combat then I feel I shall have a good chance, especially if my 'Oakflesh' spell is something I can comfortably cast.

Oblivion Day 8 - The Unseen Defender of the Imperial City

4 Heartfire, 3E433

Wawnet Inn, outside the Imperial City

~~~

The problem is getting worse, not better.

I had figured my new status as a member of the Blades would protect me against arrest for having "escaped" the Imperial prison and wanted to visit what is nearly the place of my birth, the Imperial City. While I do know I was not born there, my earliest memories certainly begin there and I thought it nice to be able to walk around and see the familiar sights once again.

But before I could do that I had another Oblivion gate to demolish. I had ridden back to Bruma to rest for the night before tackling this latest surprise and rode back out early in the morning to confront it.

The sight that greeted me after I stepped into the gate was an imposing one, but still I only faced Scamps and two Dremora sorcerers of hesitant, uncertain skill. Despite looking at first like a challenge, I had no difficulty in fighting my way through to the stone that kept the gate open.

Closing the gate remains just as satisfying as it was the first time.

I could clearly see the Imperial City from the remains of the gate, so I can only assume the gate was just as visible from the higher points of the city, especially at night, yet the Legion had not been dispatched. This entire crisis is becoming more worrisome.

Continuing south towards the City, I encountered nothing worse than two hopeful bandits, one of which my horse dispatched with a kick to his head before I could do anything.

As I passed the ruin of fort Caractacus and the seemingly abandoned village of Aleswell the sky began to take on a red glow and lightning started to flash between the clouds. Another gate, this time one I would have walked by had it not been for the change in weather. The road was lower than the surrounding forest and it took a bit of searching until I came across the gate.

This gate sent me right back to the same place the small gate near Bruma had: a larger tower surrounded by several smaller towers linked by sky bridges and whose ground entrances were sealed by massive metal gates. Only by venturing into each of the smaller towers could I unlock a metal gate, eventually giving myself access to the ground floor of the main tower, atop where the gate's stone spun merrily within a column of fire.

My familiarity with this particular pocket of Oblivion served me well and I was able to complete it quite quickly compared to the others. Nevertheless, it was night when I returned triumphant to Cyrodiil and the City's gates were closed until the morning.

Anticipating this, someone had opened an inn right outside the City's bridge and I was able to get a bed for the night, though the inn lacked a stable, so I can only hope my horse decides to wait for me come the next morning. I have no doubt that tomorrow shall be an interesting day.

Morrowind Day 8 - Murder in Vivec

23 Last Seed

~~~

I woke up and went to the Hall of Justice to inquire about the murderer. The office I was directed to was a dual office shared by the Officer of the Watch and his second-in-command. The junior officer, Tarer Braryn, asked if I knew where the Mages Guild was as soon as I stepped in the door. Surprised, I answered that I had just left from there and he asked that I have a word with the Archmage about rescinding the curse of a rash he had bestowed upon Tarer when the latter had insulted him while drunk. I agreed and he handed me a book as a gift to smooth things over with the Archmage.

The Officer of the Watch, Elam Andas, was interested in my offer of assistance, but warned that nothing could be done for me officially, but he would be willing to reward me personally, off the books so to speak, should I be able to either capture or kill the murderer. There were no witnesses to any of the murders, but an outlander in the Hlaalu canton had been threatened by a Dunmer woman with a dagger and netch leather armor. The description seemed a bit generic to me, but I started my investigation at the Hlaalu canton.

No one in the Hlaalu canton could remember seeing a Dunmer woman that fit the murderer's description, but since all the successfully murdered victims seemed to have died without a fight, I gathered that the woman was some sort of rogue assassin perhaps and quite adept at not being seen. The Hlaalu sewers could certainly hide someone, but exploring it revealed no clues and one madman who babbled incoherently about Dagoth Ur's revival, stating that it was the Hour of Wakening for the Sixth House. He was crazy and spoke longingly of the day when Dagoth Ur would drive the foreigners out of Morrowind, but his actions seemed limited to speech, so I left him muttering in the sewers.

My investigation continued in the Foreign Quarter canton and bore fruit quickly. One of the residents recalled overhearing a sewer cleaner at a local cornerclub, talking about a young Dunmer woman slinking about the sewers. He had also complained about a gang that had set up there, but I was not nearly as interested in that, though that turned out to have bigger consequences than the murderer.

The Foreign Quarter's sewers are built much as the Hlaalu canton's are, with the exception of additional storage chambers. I found the body of a fully armored Orc laying in front of one of these chambers, his throat slit. I guessed that the Orc had been searching for the murderer as well, so when I cautiously stepped into the chamber I expected to be dealing with the woman. Instead, evidence suggested that the Orc was probably guarding the chamber and became a victim of opportunity. The chamber has been transformed into a Daedric shrine, complete with a giant statue of some sort of humanoid creature. I found the bodies of two more Orcs dead in their bedrolls, their throats having been slit unceremoniously while they slept.

This would not be a very noteworthy thing, other than the evidence of my drawing closer to the murderer, were it not for the fact that one of the sleepy Orcs had been in posession of a full suit of rare Orcish armor, which was laying next to him, polished and ready for the morning that never came. The armor is comprised of a thick soft leather backing, to which is attached expertly designed metal plates. The standards of the Orcish armorers is so high that most people mistake Orcish armor for plate armor, rather than the scale armor that it technically is. I could wear the armor comfortably, but I was carrying so much that I couldn't manage to sling the armor along as well. Hopefully it will remain there until tomorrow, when I can reclaim it.

I was a lot more nervous after encountering the murderer's latest victims. To kill two Orcs while they slept is a difficult thing itself, but the shrine's guard had been awake, but died without defending himself. Uneasy, I tried casting the few defensive spells I had, but they predictably failed until I could not draw any more energy. As it was, I had an entire minute of warning before she attacked me. I had just exited one of the giant canals that run between the sewers when I heard a shout. Incredulously, the murderer was charging at me with a dagger at least forty yards away from the far end of the sewer. I had time enough to fire two arrows, both of which missed, before she was close enough to stab me.

Every blow from the dagger, no matter how slight, made my armor feel heavier and my limbs more exhausted, while she gained vigor and strength with each strike. The dagger itself was only chitin and was not doing any damage to my armor. Trusting this, I bodily hurled myself at her, using the weight of my armored body to knock her off balance. Her dagger drove straight into my chest as I lunged, but skidded along the Imperial chain as she was hurled into the foul, drifting sewage. I'm sure that would have ultimately been fatal, as she swallowed a great deal of it in her effort to climb out, but I wasn't feeling patient at that point. A quick gulp of restorative had me feeling far more energetic and I have no shame in admitting I stabbed her to death while she clambered up the small staircase leading out of the water. Her body sank back into the muck of Vivec and I did not have the energy to pull the body out.

Elam Andas accepted my assurances and told me he'd dispatch Ordinators to fish the body out. He offered me either the helm and cuirass of the Ordinators, which I would not have been able to wear in Vivec, or a magical belt he called the "Belt of the Armor of God". Unwieldy name aside, the belt was legal to wear anywhere and far lighter, so I chose that. I'm not sure yet of its exact magical properties, but it does have some strong signatures on it.

Seeking to relax after the morning's ordeals, I wandered about Vivec for a few hours and stumbled into the Glassworker's Hall on the top floor of the Saint Delyn Canton after misinterpreting the symbol on the sign outside the door as being related to alchemy. All the employees turned to stare at me as I walked in and I was just about to apologize for intruding when one of the workers asked if I was interested in making some money. It seems I cannot walk around in peace without someone offloading a business proposition to me!

Alaryne Indalas is her full name and she handles the import/export side of the Glassworker's Guild. Her previous (illegal) source of Dwarven limewire had dried up and she asked that I "acquire" some simple cups and bowls out of an Imperial trading vessel docked nearby at Ebonheart. She offered me what seems like the massive sum of 1,500 Septims for five cup and five bowls and I told her I would see what I could do. Fifteen hundred Septims would go a long way towards paying for magical training and her proposition is definitely more attractive after reviewing my successful casting rate. I'll prowl around Ebonheart tomorrow and see if I can't manage to get inside the ship.

Before turning in for the night at the Mages Guild, I spoke briefly with the Archmage. He appreciated the "gift" Tarer had provided and gave me a potion for Tarer that would clear up his rash. He also handed me a potion of levitation, which will be useful in the broken terrian of the foyadas.

Tomorrow I'll deliver Tarer from his suffering and make a brief visit to Ebonheart. I also need to find a place to call my own, I am quickly outpacing my limited ability to carry my possessions everywhere.