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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
4-201-12-13 06:20
Indoril's Rest, Shor, The Rift, Skyrim
We're going to Bitchen today. Along the way, we'll check out the Echo Deep Mine that the old man Jalamar has been rambling about.
The weather is lovely. We leave Shor, rejoicing at the nature waking up in the coolness of the early morning. A south-southeastward road that runs parallelly to the Windhelm–Bitchen highway leads almost straight to the Echo Deep Mine. The latter is, unfortunately, dim as well as very wet. To say nothing of infested with bandits. But on the bright side, it's got ore veins of iron and even silver.
As we proceed, we can observe our surroundings turning increasingly Dwemerish. Eventually the mine has completely given way to massive stone walls. A long descent along stone walkways takes us to the entrance of a place called Mzubthand.
We are very much alert, especially Borgakh to whom this is a whole new kind of experience. She seems rather freaked out by the sight of the remains of several nonfunctional Dwemer automatons lying about on the floor here and there. I'm glad she's getting the chance to see them dead first. She's more than familiar with underground mines, but Dwemer dungeons are visibly getting to her.
The corridors lead into a hall. There are several dead men. One of them carries notes about some strange "gate" to somewhere. We also pick up an item called
Ancient Lexicon. And there's a pedestal in front of a grating of metal bars without a door or a handle or anything.
Just to avoid a possible confusion – the "Lexicon" mentioned in this diary looks nothing like a book.
It's a metal object of more or less cubic shape.
I place the lexicon onto the pedestal. The grating opens. A section of solid stone wall behind it begins to glow. That must be a portal to somewhere.
I wonder what killed those men at the last moment, before they had the chance to use the Ancient Lexicon. Must be very disappointing to meet your death literally a few steps before the finish line. (Gosh, what am I saying? Getting killed is always horrible.)
Of course, the men could have been killed by that giant Dwemer machine, but what killed it?
By the way, the glowing thing on Lydia's back is an enchanted bow.
The smaller glowing thing behind her is the Lexicon on the pedestal. Just in case you wanted to know.
I step up to the portal. My instinct tells me very strongly that it's safe. It's one of those Bardslayer things, obviously. Lydia and Jenassa are used to trusting me and think nothing of it. Borgakh is very skeptical, but she won't stay behind here alone. So we hold hands and walk into the pale greenish-blue glow.
Falskaar. Suddenly that word jumps up in each one of us's thoughts, even before we can see anything. Is that the name of the place where we're going?
We are now in near-darkness. Our progress is blocked by thick metal bars similar to the ones we had on the other side. Beyond the bars, there's a Dwemerish-looking hall with high stone walls and a massive column quite near us.
Now we can see something move at the other end. It approaches. It's a man. He's got a sword in his hand.
Our eyes are getting accustomed to the more than poor light as the man steps up to the bars and asks if we just came through that portal. Then he prattles something about some legend that predicts that something evil is supposed to happen when
the Traveler arrives through that portal. I succeed in catching a moment when he's breathing in, and ask his name. It's Olvir. He says he's supposed to arrest us, but he's prepared to let us go free after we've helped him. In order to make our decision as easy as possible, he kindly informs us the switch for lowering these bars is on his side, so he's the only one who can release us. (As our luck would have it, the portal won't work the opposite way.)
Obviously, we have no choice but to agree to Olvir's proposal. I waste no time expressing our willingness to give him all the help we can before it'll occur to him to demand a blowjob or something. Come to think of it, the spaces between the bars are wide enough to do a lot more, and let's not think of it.
Olvir lowers the bars and we step down to him and thank him. He looks like a perfectly common Nord to me, even though his pronunciation is very unusual. I find the sound of it really cool.
He tells us a man named Mecaius has gotten lost, and he wants to go looking for him in a nearby bandit cave, and he'd feel more confident if the four of us came along, and he's very worried about him and can we please hurry.
Yes, absolutely. Lead the way.
I'm stunned by the sunlight and the blue sky and beautiful trees outside. To tell you the truth, it's not much different from The Rift, but after those semi-dark tunnels, I feel like reborn. (Well, I'm slightly exaggerating, never mind. Just thrilled by this new adventure.)
We have difficulties keeping pace with Olvir who runs towards the nearby Brittlerun Cave. Certainly not a coward, that man. Far from trying to hide behind our backs, he actually kills more than half of the bandits and we're left to do the cleaning up while he rushes towards the cage in the last cave.
That bandit mage has no chance of catching up with Olvir.
There's indeed a man in the cage who looks badly battered. He introduces himself to us as Mecaius, the blacksmith's apprentice from Amber Creek. That is after he's informed Olvir with great agitation that the bandits are working for Yngvarr and are looking for some kind of a key and they locked him up because they thought he knew something about it. Sounds like something evil has already happened here
before the arrival of Me The Traveler. But I'm keeping my mouth shut.
Olvir asks us to run to nearby Amber Creek and tell Jarl Agnar that the bandits who kidnapped Mecaius are working for Yngvarr. He says he'd go himself, but he has to discuss some things with Mecaius first, yet the jarl has to be informed as quickly as possible.
I suspect Olvir really needs to attend to Mecaius's injuries and doesn't want us to witness it, but I don't say anything. Instead I reply, trying to sound as light-hearted as possible, that we're certainly not going to settle down in this cave, and that Amber Creek sounds as good a settlement as any for starters.
I don't bother asking who Yngvarr is. If it's someone important, someone'll tell me sooner or later.
This area around the Dwemer ruin that is called Mzubthand Courtyard is shielded off by a stone wall with a locked gate in it. Olvir unlocks it, points at the direction of Amber Creek, and wishes us luck.
We run through the forest and have to kill a bear and a wolf who attack us. Soon we can see houses on the opposite bank of the river. No bridge, though.
Farther on this riverbank, there's a mine with a smelter, and a canopy nearby with tables in the shade and a fireplace. There are a couple of men sitting. We approach and greet politely, but they have no time for conversation. A short break and back to work. We check out the mine as well. It's got iron and corundum ore.
And lo, there's a bridge nearby for us to get to the village:
Before we go to look for the jarl, I figure this is a good time for me to get a new hairstyle. I bought a hair-changing charm several days ago and I've been watching sample pictures together with my girls. Now we've finally come to the decision which hairdo I like best. I'm making a rather radical style change this time:
A charm, in case you didn't know, is a device for casting a spell that vanishes after one use. A non-paper scroll, essentially. Quality hairdressers are very rare in Skyrim, so hairstyle-changing charms are really the most convenient way for people like me.
The jarl's house is easy to find. Having told my followers to take a look around the village, I enter the house and see indeed a man called Jarl Agnar. I wait until he has finished talking to his son, and approach him to give him Mecaius and Olvin's message. He looks shocked.
Agnar doesn't bother to tell me who Yngvarr is and I'm not sure I want to know. He does briefly mention a family of Unnvaldrs, though, apparently enemies of his own family. Then he asks me to go to a place called Bailun Priory which he says is the residence of a group of wiseguys (I'm joking! He said "wisemen") and talk to a certain Brother Thorlogh. Yeah, why not.
Earlier when I entered this house, I saw a woman walk around. When my conversation with the jarl is finished, I walk from room to room looking for her. I hope she has something actually interesting to tell me.
Her name is Jalma. She has a gentle voice and is very friendly. She's the jarl's wife and runs the administrative affairs around here. So, basically, she functions as the jarl's steward.
I kind of imagine that many people would be happier if she didn't collect the taxes.
Naturally, I'm keeping this brilliant idea to myself.
I ask Jalma if it's possible to get to Skyrim from here. She says a certain Wulf used to travel by boat between Falskaar and Dånstar and maybe he still does. I'm amazed it's as simple as that. Sure enough, Wulf lives in the southeastern end of Falskaar (which Jalma told me is an island; we're in the northwest) and many surprises may lie in wait for us on our way there, but still I hadn't expected to get so valuable information so soon and so easily.
I enquire if there's any way I can make myself useful in return. Jalma replies there's a peasant family called Reinaldur who used to visit Amber Creek regularly, but they haven't been seen for some time now. She would be grateful if I could find the time and go check up on them. She gives me a map of Falskaar which works exactly like the other magic maps I've used – the terrain features are already on it, but settlements and other locations appear only after the owner (me) has physically visited them.
After Jalma has told me I can buy a house in this village for 8000 septims and I promise to give it a thought, we say goodbye affably.
Sun is going down. The weather is still lovely.
The marketplace has already emptied, but the Amber Creek General Store across the street is open. The shopkeeper Svea mentions among other things that a man came to the village recently looking for information about an unusual amber ring which in fact had belonged to Svea's father but he had to sell it at the time of extreme poverty.
Svea would like to get the ring back, because she thinks it belongs rightfully to her. She has no idea where the ring may be, but she dreads the thought that that adventurer (Harold is his name) could somehow get it into his hands.
I find this ridiculous. If her family sold the ring, she has no right whatsoever to suggest it belongs to her. The ring belongs to the person it was sold to, or whomever he passed it on to. Yes, I can believe Svea's father had no choice – he had to sell the ring in order to avoid starvation. But the simple truth is, once he had sold it, it was no longer his ring. Or does Svea imagine she can demand it back, sell it again when she urgently needs money, and them claim it again as a valuable family heirloom? How childish can you get?
Of course, there's no point spoiling my relations with Svea, so I just nod to everything she says, keep my opinion to myself and leave the shop as soon as I politely can. Svea says she hopes she'll see me at the inn later.
Back on the street where a drizzle has started, I witness Mecaius being cordially welcomed back by the blacksmith Rangarr, a real bear of a man.
They notice me and thank me again for helping Mecaius get free. We begin talking about this and that, and Rangarr tells me how Amber Creek got its name from a valuable mineral called
amber that was found in the area. Since the rain is getting heavier by the minute, we walk together to the inn that is right across the street from the sawmill.
The big taproom is welcomingly noisy and lively. The bard Rurik tries to sing, but gives it up soon and joins the predominantly male company that has gathered around my followers who seem to be quite familiar with this place already. I prefer to walk around and listen in to people's conversations.
I notice a man sitting alone. He looks a little sad and I feel sorry for him.
I find Svea and ask her who that man is. Harold, she says. Oh. Of course. It's difficult for him to socialize, because he's not from here, and up to something some people dislike. I approach casually, sit on the bench next to him and ask how's it going. Soon we're discussing the legendary amber ring. Harold has heard from someone that it was on a ship that sunk, and there's supposed to be a seaman named Wulf somewhere on this island who knows something about it.
I don't deem it necessary to inform him that I've heard about Wulf too. In order not to come across as suspiciously inquisitive, I ask Harold innocent questions women ask: where's he from, does he have a family. He says his home in Helgen was destroyed, and he desperately needs money to feed his wife and children after they lost everything. I listen apparently with great interest and compassion. In fact I have the distinct feeling he's just made up a sob story to get people to help him. There are ways of making a living much closer to Helgen. I mean, how did he even get to Falskaar? Apart from which, I notice he has a demanding and insistent streak that occasionally sickles through his general mien of a grief-stricken provider. It doesn't even matter much whether his story is true or false. I dislike him, because he lacks modesty just like Svea does.
I wish Harold luck and leave him to his drink. A minute later, I notice a man who looks kind of rough, yet there's something curious in his eyes. He introduces himself as Oudin. He's a native of this village. I ask him what he does and how he finds life around here, and he ends up telling me about his friend Jonulv who heard rumors about bandits planning a massive-scale attack to overrun Amber Creek. Oudin who apparently operates the local sawmill, the same one I saw outside earlier, has been carefully asking his customers about bandits in this region and he has reasons to believe that there may be some in the southeast from here. Seeing I lead a group of adventurers, Oudin wonders if we could take a look around in that area. He has heard of an old citadel called Stoneridge Watch near the coast, but he's never been there.
Then, after a little mead-supported reflection, he looks me in the eye and urges me to be very careful, should I go into that region. Yeah, I suddenly feel I'd be really sad too if Oudin had a log fall upon his head or something.
Oudin tells me about the Borvaldur clan their jarl belongs to, and how his own family built the sawmill many years ago. It seems he's just reluctant to see me go. To be honest, I enjoy listening to him, but eventually I still excuse myself with the call of nature. I'm feeling myself sucked into something I'm not sure how comfortable I'm with, and I don't mean that bandit thing.
On my way back, I see the barmaid Klara is having one of her less busy moments, so I step up to the counter to have a chat with her. I let her fill me in at length on nothing special about the villagers' work and pleasure. You know, talk that would look very lame when written down, but somehow brings you to the same wavelength with the people around you.
When Klara mentions a hot spring upriver that used to be popular but isn't anymore, I ask her why, and she says something is creating a dreadful atmosphere there. This sounds like worth investigating. The place is just a little way to the west on the northern bank of the river, meaning in the general direction of where we arrived from earlier today.
I'm not all that tired, but I feel I'm getting drunk, so I'd better go to sleep before I do something stupid. Lydia has been telling me I'm too afraid of letting myself go, and I even agree with her, in general. But this is different. It's our first evening on a completely unknown island, and it's crucial that I make a good first impression. Maybe this doesn't sound too convincing, but I'm going to sleep anyway. Much as there may be to explore and many as there may be people I haven't talked to yet, I'll better do it tomorrow with a clear head.
Klara says the rooms have to be rented from her sister Njola, currently sleeping downstairs. She's a bit bossy, Klara tells me, so it'll serve her right if I go and wake her up. It seems a good idea to me and besides I do need to rent a room.
Njola is a formidable woman. I wouldn't call her fat, but she looks like completely reliable, as well as able to handle any ruffian unfortunate enough to have one too many at her bar. Postponing a pleasant conversation until tomorrow, I just pay her for the room for myself and my followers, and turn in.
next awakening
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