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SPOILER INFO
This fanfic novel is largely based on the events that occurred in an actual game of Skyrim I played. Therefore, it's inevitably a spoiler.
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previous day
4-202-03-11 05:31
Sunguard Inn, Sunguard City, The Rift, Skyrim
The taproom is empty. Even the proprietor is sleeping. We can just help ourselves to all the food and drink. Naturally, I leave money on the bar counter, including a generous tip. I don't steal where I'm completely trusted. And should a stranger appear in the town, I have no doubt the guards won't fail to keep an eye on him. So the innkeeper can sleep peacefully.
We run southwest, to the Rift Imperial Camp. It's raining a little. On our way from the camp to the mountain pass, we say hello to a traveler who is having a rest on the roadside with his horse. As we approach the forbidding high and grim mountains, it's still raining:
Halfway through the pass is, as I've told you, a location called Haemar's Shame. The Imperial army has a permanent guard post of sorts there. Nearby is a cave called Haemar's Cavern. We've never been inside. Today we're taking a look. There are some wooden platforms, and men walking around. They look like bandits to me, but I decide to leave them alone for the time being, which I, strictly speaking, mustn't, but I just can't stand the thought of wasting time on this right now when I'm eager to explore the unknown in southern Falkreath.
Just past the mountain pass, near the Falkreath Stormcloak Camp, we find a path up the mountains. We have never ventured south of the road in this area. At Helgen, there would have been a proper southward road, but here the terrain is also manageable.
We cross the first mountain range, behind which there are a small lake and a fortress.
The fortress is called Fort Neugrad. It's manned by Imperial soldiers.
Yeah, those are practice dummies, I know. But there are soldiers elsewhere in this fortress, I swear.
In fact, there is one in this very picture. Can you find him?
In fact, there is one in this very picture. Can you find him?
They are somewhat grumpy here and give to understand they'd prefer us not to bother them and for that matter choose a safer region for traveling. The Cyrodiil border crossing is not far and all kinds of bad people can be met along the road that leads from there past Fort Neugrad to Helgen.
To be honest, I'm having the feeling the soldiers are on the edge because of some specific trouble around here, they're just not telling us what it is. At any rate, they make no secret that this is the least preferred posting in all of Skyrim.
The mountains around Fort Neugrad are really very beautiful, though – especially now that the snowfall has ceased and the sky is clearing up.
However, for the aforementioned reasons, we can't stay too long.
We have now exited the fortress by the main gate that faces the direction of the destroyed village of Helgen [H].
We came here via the Rift Imperial Camp [I] and Haemar's Cavern [C] and passed by the Falkreath Stormcloak Camp [S].
To our west are Ancient's Ascent [A] where dragons live and Eye of Cyrodiil [E] from the Gray Cowl of Nocturnal quest.
Our next destination is the green dot where a Cyrodiil border crossing ought to be.
We came here via the Rift Imperial Camp [I] and Haemar's Cavern [C] and passed by the Falkreath Stormcloak Camp [S].
To our west are Ancient's Ascent [A] where dragons live and Eye of Cyrodiil [E] from the Gray Cowl of Nocturnal quest.
Our next destination is the green dot where a Cyrodiil border crossing ought to be.
Rather than take the road, we look for a direct route across the mountains. I mean, a road is a little boring, and we wouldn't get to see what interesting places there might be off the road.
The route straight to the south is too difficult, but southwest of the fort we discover a yet another Dragon Burial Mound, and then soon see the road again. It runs at the foot of a rocky hill. A little further, there's a tent camp. A few hundred meters ahead is a gate that looks like the border crossing.
Occasionally, I can see a person or two walking between those tents, but they're too far for my Sense of Smell power. Jenassa, however, can recognize with her physical eyes that two men are wearing armors typical of the thalmors.
We begin shooting and kill three or four people. A part of the enemies is somewhere out of our sight. Can I maneuver to a better position? No, this rock is too slippery, I'm beginning to slide down. I'd better try to circle around the next hill from the left.
Yes, this is a better angle. I now have the tents in my sight again, as well as three more enemies, and I'm hit hard with fire magic. Once again I'm reminded that spells don't care if they have to fly upwards. No problem, we still kill the three thalmors. We descend the hill to go and loot the bodies.
As we slowly and cautiously approach the road, the world becomes strangely shaky. For a moment, I believe to have a connection to Paarthurnax in his unknown hiding place. He seems to warn me this place is not what my eyes tell me it is. Then everything disappears. We come to in a rather dark snowy passage. My time instinct suggests that approximately 10–20 minutes have passed, but I'm not sure. I can sense humanoid hostiles beyond nearby rock walls.
We proceed very cautiously.
It's a quite large system of smallish caves and passages with wooden platforms and furniture here and there, as well as an occasional stone staircase. It's sparsely inhabited by bandits on whom we sneak up without effort. The place is in a very bad state of repair (or has possibly suffered a small earthquake) and the lighting is ghastly, as are some design elements.
Passages go in various directions and I've no idea where we should go. We are surely leaving more than half of the enemies behind in this unnavigable maze. Almost three hours later, we find an upward stone staircase. Could it lead to the surface?
Yes, it does:
Somehow we know the dungeon we just came out of is called Serpent's Trail. We are now on a not awfully steep slope in a snowy spruce forest. The sky is partially cloudy, yet the sun is shining brightly, and the air is brisk but not bitingly cold. There's no sign of (animal) life.
We start walking away from the cave entrance. Having passed through some nearby bushes, we see a paved road beyond some rocks:
On that road, a big brown bear saunters towards us and growls a little. It's evidently thanks to the Spriggan Soap that it's not attacking.
I greet back in the human language and then address my followers, opening a discussion on the question if we should follow the road uphill or downhill. FYI, the former would be north and the latter would be south. Our map is of no help. We must be outside of Skyrim.
After some clueless shrugging of shoulders, we go south. By and large, human settlements occur more frequently at smaller elevation than on mountaintops.
Of course, it looks very likely that we have crossed over the border to Cyrodiil, in which case home would be in the north. But naturally I have no interest in returning to Skyrim without exploring this area first.
So we trot downhill, rather cautiously.
Now, this... I don't even know how to put it in words – the beauty of this place is breathtaking. Rocky mountains and silvery spruces, sun glistening back from the snow but never so brightly it would hurt your eyes – this looks like some kind of a fairytale. Literally a few minutes ago I was feeling annoyed and dismayed in Serpent's Trail, one of the most joyless shitholes I've ever seen, and now I'm in ecstasy just from looking around me. I don't care we're in a foreign land in the midst of mountains without the foggiest idea where we can find things like humans and houses and for how long we're even going to have a road to walk on. I could stay here forever, or at least until I ran out of food, drink and warmth.
We reach a crossing that has roadsigns pointing at two locations. The name on the left one means nothing to us, but the other one pointing further downhill says "Bruma". And Bruma is, as I already know, one of the major cities in Cyrodiil. So we have indeed reached the part of Cyrodiil closest to Skyrim. That would mean, just as I said earlier, that home is in the direction we just came from. But naturally we'll proceed towards Bruma. The girls and I have been keen to see Cyrodiil and now we're having the chance.
The road goes pretty steeply downhill much of the time. We must be at great elevation. After yet another bend, two bandits attack us. They are easy to kill. Nearby is a horsecart and two dead people, an Imperial man and a Nord woman, whom it seems those bandits had robbed.
Having verified that nothing can be done for those unfortunate people anymore, we continue our journey, not very fast, because I'm just reveling in the scenery and the girls are immensely relieved that my mood has improved and do all they can not to disturb my bliss. (Not that they aren't enjoying this as much as I do.)
We stop to take pictures near some huge overhanging icicles,
We reach the same elevation with it, yet the road keeps descending. Well, I'm sure there are roads going up somewhere, and as long as we reach the city before the nightfall, I don't care if I have to travel by a little longer way.
There are more roadsigns which pleases me greatly, because on those winding mountain roads one could easily lose one's way.
We pass by a camp with two bandits whom we kill and then make a stop to treat us to some Elsweyr Fondue. It contains a little moon sugar, so strictly speaking it's a somewhat bad thing, but inside of food it doesn't do any real harm and I don't really care to start with. I'm just so thrilled to be here.
We are seeing a citadel nearby.
Just short of it, we meet a Khajiit man on the road. He's a skooma seller. I ask him if it's not against the law. He says a little sneeringly that I shouldn't take the letter of the law so seriously. I feel like pushing his buttons just a little more, so I reply that maybe I should report him to the guards. He doesn't appreciate the joke and attacks me and we promptly kill him. Good riddance. And now we know skooma is indeed illegal around here.
The citadel turns out to be called Bruma Eastern Watchtower. At first it seems there are no guards there at all.
Then we see one who is sleeping, and then one who is awake. It's a woman ironically named Ereia Snow-Fist. Sounds like she'd better hold on to that shield she's carrying. I suppress the impulse to ask her if she comes from Sand-Castle. I say instead that this seems like a peaceful area. That's all she needs to begin rambling about someone named Garceus she evidently hates. It's an officer of the guards or something who looks down upon the ones posted at this Eastern Watchtower. Ereia goes on telling us about a bandit gang that emerged in this area recently. First she insists they can easily handle riff-raff like that, but then she agrees that maybe she wouldn't mind if we destroyed them. Their base is supposed to be up north, actually not too far off the road by which we came here.
The sun is going down by now, but the city of Bruma is but a short (yet steep) uphill climb away.
It seems big and it's beautiful. The streets are strangely empty at 7 o'clock in the evening, though.
We talk a little to a beggar who is warming himself at some kind of a public hearth near the city gate, and then we turn into an alley to see if it has more life than the desolate main street.
We enter the house of a man Harald Burdsson. He has a beautiful living room with a sword hanging over a fireplace.
He tells us about a glorious ancestor known as Captain Burd. Looks like his family has kept the patronym Burdsson as a family name.
Harald offers to guide us to a tavern nearby. It's called The Restful Watchman. On the street in front of it, a drunken ruffian prattles something about a book of killing he needs to find so that his weapon can resume the killing it yearns for. He has to support himself on my shoulder to avoid falling over. Harald pushes him away from me and we enter the inn.
It's smallish, yet full of people. We allow Harald to treat us to local drinks and I tell the girls to sit down in quiet corners and keep an eye on everything. I bump accidentally into a huge Orc. He introduces himself as Dumrag and after a little persuasion shares with me the story about his wife Atul who got kidnapped during one of their less successful raids against bandits. It's been a year now and he's been hearing that someone among the nobles of Bruma might know something about her whereabouts, but he has no access to the higher circles in this city. I promise I'll try and ask around. He's a nice man, a brutal fighter as he may be.
I notice a shady-looking Argonian in a hooded robe. Not very far from Dumrag and me, he is watching us attentively.
I've little doubt he's heard Dumrag's story more than once, but he's evidently trying to place me. However, he's not interested in hearing anything from me personally. His name Crouches-In-Crevices is all I succeed in finding out.
I now turn my attention to two women sitting at the bar counter and chatting with the barman. They must be local residents and frequent guests here as none of the men pays any special attention to them, which is more than I can say about my followers.
The first one, Galarynn, is somewhat older than me with her dark hair tied up in two ponytails. She's a Breton from High Rock, by profession a mage striving to become a member of the official mages' guild called the Synod. While she's telling me how she tragically lost her parents, I suddenly remember Auntie Virene from back home.
Auntie Virene was not my real aunt. She was a middle-aged woman who had an alchemy shop in the house next door. My parents knew her from somewhere before we settled down in Camlorn. I remember now how I and my best friend Petrille used to hang out in her shop. We often took my little sister Elanna along, although then one of us had to always keep an eye on her lest she'd unwittingly break or spill something and Auntie Virene would get cross. In fact, she was never cross with us, which is probably why we adored her so. Petrille and I were often allowed to help her with the preparation of ingredients, and occasionally she entrusted us with errands about town. Once we even served a customer when Auntie Virene was away. A woman we didn't know wanted a medium-strength Restoration potion. She was a little skeptical about us knowing exactly where the right potion was and how much it cost, but we assured her we were live-in students of the proprietress, and she bought the thing. When Auntie Virene checked the money, she said it was the correct amount and we had grown into really big and smart girls. We were so proud. Yet, it somehow happened that she never left us alone in the shop again. ;-)
Auntie Virene was in fact the one who taught me to cook. Thanks to her I could be of real help to Mother. It was Petrille who was more into alchemy, although I surely learned a thing or two as well that proved helpful to me later in life. However, let us now return to The Restful Watchman inn in Bruma. The woman sitting next to Galarynn has light skin for a Bosmer and looks pretty young to me, although you can never really tell with the elves.
I realize I haven't noticed many Bosmer women so far. Guess I've been paying closer attention to the men. Ananril is an alchemist originally from the city of Chorrol, and when she settled down in Bruma, she turned out much better than the locals, so even though some people keep frequenting the human alchemists they're familiar with, Ananril is doing pretty good business and is content with her life in Bruma.
The barman Bentior is not to be had for a chat. He seems to mistrust strangers and particularly dislike inquisitive strangers such as myself. However, he has rooms for hire. Very small rooms.
These will do for tonight, but I hope very much there's another inn in this city that is less cramped and has a proprietor with a better attitude.
next awakening
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