Always Lost, Always Hopeful (225) Firmish in My Decisions

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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






4-202-04-01 06:09
The Mer Inn, Granite Hall, Whiterun, Skyrim


I can't avoid Mojarik satisfying himself with me one more time, and then I'm finally able to get into my clothes and hurry to have a bath with my followers. I don't think I'll want to be with him again.

I tell the girls to give me a couple of hours alone at the shrine of Dibella west of here. They can kill time in the town or something.

The I run westwards. At the shrine, I sit down and look at the glowing coals in the firebowl.

I feel very calm for the first time after several hasty and confusing weeks. I'm not sure I did the right thing by not going to Windhelm right away, but I'm not turning back now.
I ponder the question if I should have refused to have sex with Mojarik last night, but then, all things considered, I still think I made the right decision not to ruin our relationship over one little conflict like that. Um... yes, I intend to break up with him anyway, but now at least it doesn't have to happen with a fight. And I retain the option of changing my mind.
I'm also wondering if I've been acting too slutty, but I'm forbidden to worry about it, so I dismiss that thought decisively, as I've been doing every now and then during the last months.

With that weird state of non-action in Cyrodiil, does Skyrim have a realistic chance against the Aldmeri Dominion at all?
The question is too difficult. I can't be bothered to rack my brain with something like this right now. I listen to the birds and the gentle wind and eye the objects on the altar that have been brought by unknown people as offerings (I presume). At least the Empire's secret service is still working towards thwarting the Dominion, as I had the fortune of finding out. Which reminds me – I have important information to deliver to Yrsarald, so I should have gone to Windhelm first after all. Oops! Well, I'm still not going to turn back now. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Turn. Back. Now.

I'd better get going before I fall asleep in this peaceful place. I send a telepathic signal to the girls and start walking westwards to give them time to catch up with me.

At the place where one road goes to the right across the bridge towards Markarth, we turn left, uphill to the south. I ask the girls what it was like to walk around in Hviterun in those fine Cyrodiilian clothes. They all agree it was awesome and we should do it more often. As for what to do about the shoes, they don't have an answer either. There simply aren't any available. Neither seem the people in Skyrim hold it for very important, so maybe we'd just better not sweat it either.

It's nice to be in Dushnikh Yal. I feel tempted to sit down next to the chief and idle the delightful sunny day away, but I kind of feel it wouldn't be appropriate.

So we do our shopping and get some Heavy Armor training and proceed unhurriedly to Markarth which we reach a little past 11 o'clock.

We talk to some people to make sure no Silver-Bloods have been sighted since the last time we were here. Then we go to the Fortune's Tradehouse. The delivery with Dalmyn's remains has arrived all right, but Fortune refuses to tell me what the Dwemer artifact is for. So I won't give it to him. He acts indignantly, but realizes he has no way of overpowering the four of us.

Now I suppose there's nothing more for us to do in this city. It's still early enough to explore a Nord ruin Ragnvald north of here at the request of Tolfdir and comfortably reach Karthwasten for the night, to proceed to Mor Khazgur tomorrow.

Yeah, before we leave, we'd better drop by the palace so the jarl can see we're alive and free.

My friend Faleen, the jarl's housecarl, is very happy to see me. The wizard Calcelmo, however, barely takes notice. How different can people be!

Having exited the city by the main gate, we basically need to travel north. That'll be up the mountains on our left. (This picture faces east, more or less.)

They seem utterly unclimbable here, but we're still going to try. It's good exercise.

We go up the stairs onto the city fortifications first and banter some with the soldiers. There's no way getting to the mountains from here, though (or vice versa; the fortifications are very well designed). A little way further east, however, we succeed in climbing over. On the other side, we're already seeing Ragnvald. Tolfdir has asked me to retrieve a special magical tool called Kahvozein's Fang that should be there.

We sneak closer carefully, but there doesn't seem to be anybody outside this time.

It's an ancient Nordic ruin with not too many draugrs. Much of the roof is missing:

One of those birdhead statues has fallen down:

A part of the sinister walls is covered with mysterious carvings:

It's a good thing that most of Ragnvald consists of large halls. Thanks to having plenty of space, we kill the draugrs easily.

The only difficult part is locating a switch to open an important grating blocking our way. Then we find Kahvozein's Fang and I also get a dragon shout.
[series of 3 pictures you can click through; click on the first picture to make it big, then press the right arrow to see the next picture etc.; press  Esc to return to the text]

Then we return, leaving a larger part of the ruin complex unexplored.

My time planning has been right. Karthwasten where I intended to spend the night is to our east-northeast and we'll probably reach it before it's completely dark. Directly in our path is the Shrine of Peryite. We watch a nice flock of birds fly past while a Khajiit alchemist Kesh insists on telling us about repulsive diseases and such. We find a book that suggests that some magical item may be found at a shrine of Mehrunes Dagon, another daedra, up the mountains southeast of Stonehills. I couldn't care less.

We arrive in the nice peaceful village of Karthwasten at half past 7. The miners are just going inn from work. (All right, that's not entirely true. Some of them are actually going home.) I see my boyfriend Vegard, but pretend not to notice him. I'm kind of not in the mood. I check out the mines and then join my followers at the inn. Vegard is there and looks at me expectantly. I sigh with resignation. There's clearly no way for me to get out of this civilly.

I tell Vegard I don't want to go to the mine this time. Let's walk a little way uphill behind the inn. No one is walking around at this hour and it's dark anyway. I don't mention the risk of being interrupted by wild animals and the fact that I don't really mind if it should happen.

Well, what can I say? Our lovemaking is spectacular.

The sight of the wooden houses with lit windows below us (and the inhabitants whom we can't see resting peacefully behind them) and the night sounds are so calming and soothing, and Vegard takes his time making sure I'm fucked through and through. The whole world is wonderful all of a sudden. I'm so happy I didn't give in to my hesitations! (Or, actually I was reluctant, but Vegard, being a real man, didn't care. Well, you get the idea.)

We sit a little in the somewhat cramped taproom afterwards and I go to sleep at about midnight thoroughly pleased with myself.



next awakening






return to the table of contents

Always Lost, Always Hopeful (197) Shady Applicants Will Have to Wait

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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






4-202-03-04 07:21
Silver-Blood Inn, Markarth, The Reach, Skyrim

I'm beginning to wonder if he has an interest of his own in this.

Jordis turns up when the rest of us are just about done with our delightful bath. She hasn't invited Hreinn to accompany her. I mean, of course she wouldn't, at least not without asking us first.
I let Lydia and Jenassa get dressed and leave while I stay behind with Jordis. After enquiring briefly if it was good with Hreinn last night, I ask:
"Jordis, is it clear to you that I would never tie you up with force nor let anyone else do it?"
"Yes, Laura. I'm sorry I got angry yesterday."
"No, you had the right to get angry. It was my fault. I shouldn't have brought such a topic up. It's just that Lydia irritates me with her smutty jokes and sometimes I try to get even with her."
Jordis smiles. "I know. I don't actually mind letting myself go and having things done to me. It was just the situation where I couldn't be sure where the next Falmer was going to turn up." I already know Jordis doesn't share my compassion for Falmers.
"If you want to, we can tie you up with your legs spread – in a safe place, on a nice bed as I promised," I tell her. "But... When you lie there, exposed and helpless, no one will lay a finger on you, and we'll tie you loose again."
"I think I'd love that. Just please tell me about it before and give me some time to accept the thought."
"All right. So you trust me?"
"Laura, I would trust you with my life."
"Likewise. Are you wet?"
"What do you mean "wet"?" With a sudden movement, Jordis throws a handful of water into my face. I laugh and splash water at her in turn, and we end up wrestling a little bit, and then we climb out and dry each other up. (I mean, the water on our bodies.)

Lydia and Jenassa don't ask any questions. I'm sure they could guess I wanted to talk to Jordis about what happened yesterday and they're smart enough to keep their curiosity in reins. I'll tell them when Jordis is in the loo or something.

On our way to the palace, we go and see Ut-Keen to ask if he, by any chance, knows the reasons behind many traders' having gone out of business. He says he hasn't been in Markarth for very long and doesn't know anyone important, but the people say (unsurprisingly) the Silver-Bloods demanded a bigger share in their proceeds than they were ready to give up.

Right. I had expected something like that. I mean, I had expected the rumors to suggest something along the lines of a protection racket. It's not sufficient to satisfy my curiosity, but this is obviously all I'm going to get out of Ut-Keen.

Now I want to do something to help Cairine, but I'm unsure if I should talk to Jarl Igmund or the steward Raerek. I can't know what their relations with, and their attitude to, Cairine may be. So I ask Faleen for advice.

She says Cairine has slept with both of them and no one wants her around because there is no telling what she might know and whom she might tell. In fact, she's surprised Cairine is still alive.

Well, I'll go and talk to the Stormcloak garrison commander. She can't have slept with him. I'll have her sent to the temple of Kynareth in Hviterun. There she'll be safe at least, and hopefully find herself some productive activity in a new environment away from all those memories. And maybe I'll be able to coax her into sharing some of her memories with me.  ;-)

But first I talk to the steward Raerek who is on his way to his workplace just now.

He agrees I ought to be given that thane residence for free.

The house is called Vlindrel Hall and it's really nice in its robust and not-too-full-of-furniture way. It could greatly benefit from dusting, but we're not going to bother with that today. I want to go to Summerset. We really must help those people in Holly Falls to leave their miserable underground dwellings. They weren't ready with their preparations the last time, but they'll surely be ready now.

This is the view just outside Vlindrel Hall's front door.

The weather is very nice as we pay a brief visit to the Left Hand Mine suburb and run east towards Granite Hall. We'll have to get across all of Skyrim and I'm rather impatient. That's why I only briefly sit down at the shrine of Dibella that is on the roadside west of Granite Hall. I tell my girls to run ahead. I still remember very vividly the dream about my best friend from the other night. I wonder what's become of Petrille. I'm unable to recall anything about us being together in more recent years. Of course it's possible I just don't remember, but I kind of have the feeling we drifted apart somehow.

My thoughts wander back to my conversation with Faleen earlier this morning. She's suspicious of strangers and not very sociable, but basically a nice girl. Something in her reminds me of Rayya whom we so tragically lost in a roadside skirmish. Jarl Igmund is also nice, as is the old steward Raerek. I really hope I have turned a new page in the history of Markarth and all the oppression and bloodshed will be forever in the past.

Well, time to get going, I guess. Oh... I've daydreamed here for an entire hour. Got to run, lest my followers get worried.

I find them in Granite Hall, chatting with the blacksmith woman Callia. Now, my plan is to check out a place that ought to be north-northwest of Blackmoor. The author of a letter I recently received asked for my help. I'm supposed to look for a stand of pines along the south shore of River Hjaal. That should stick out. I've yet to see one pine tree in Skyrim. I really miss them. I remember there were many pine forests around Camlorn, but in Skyrim there are only spruces. And many broad-leaved trees, of course.

We could go through Granite Hall and past Fort Masser, but I fancy taking the more easterly route over the hills.

After having descended to the Western Whiterun plain, we find the Whiterun Imperial Camp. I haven't noticed it before, or it might be newly established. Northeast from there is a modest wooden house called Eagle's Knob, just like the letter said. Except that those "pines" are the same old spruces one can see all over Skyrim:

I grew up among pines, so I know exactly what they look like. These trees here are decidedly spruces.

I ask my girls if the people of Skyrim call spruces pines by any chance. Lydia and Jordis assure me they don't. A pine is a pine and a spruce is a spruce. It may be different down south, though. At least there are quite a few placenames in Falkreath that contain the word "pine", yet there are no actual pines anywhere near them. Lydia and Jordis have seen pines only on pictures.

Sorry about the gabbing. Of course it has no importance whatsoever if the writer of that letter is too stupid to tell a pine from a spruce. We'd better find out what's inside the house.

There's only one room, almost as dark as Ma' Rasa's house in Lillandril. It seems empty, but when my eyes have gotten used to the semi-darkness, I see an old man in a mage's robe slouching in a big chair in the corner. Instead of returning my hello, he says "This is not a tavern. Leave while you can." Yes, I know, it looks like a very small brothel. What about this letter I received, though?

Now the man introduces himself as Soldir and informs me his associate hasn't returned from Riverwood and he wants me to find him.

Meaning, you do have an idea.

I ask what the man is called and what he looks like, but Soldir says that information is much too secret. He promises me 200 septims for any kind of information and tells me I have no idea how important this is. I laugh. For things that really matter to them, people pay a lot more than 200 septims. Soldir keeps his calm and volunteers no more information, so we exit the house again.

Obviously there's a lot more to this quest than meets the eye. The roads in central Skyrim are relatively safe, so there's no reason why Soldir couldn't have gone looking for that missing associate himself... yeah, unless he had a very good reason not to show himself to... um, guards maybe? There doesn't seem to be much point discussing it with him, though. We'd better trace that mysterious associate and then we'll know where we stand. If he was headed this way, he can only have traveled by the Riverwood–Hviterun road, and there are guards walking back and forth all the time. Someone must have seen something.

Anyway, I'm not too fond of that old man, and since we're headed for Winterhold, I decide after some consultation with the girls to take the shorter route via Elisdriel (the blue dot on the map), Dunstad Grove, Morthal and Dånstar.

Once again I find the scenery of northwestern Whiterun breathtaking.

We discover yet another giant camp along the way. Near Elisdriel, we witness a bandit attack on a traveling horseman and shoot the bandits dead from a safe place at elevation.

We take a little rest in our lovely Bosmer-style house. It reminds me of our romantic encounters here, and that in turns brings my thoughts to the most recent time I was with Yrsarald four days ago. I remember something he said, and ask the girls: "Why do you think the Dragonborn turned up to be a woman?"

"The gods wanted to be clever," replies Jenassa.
I look at her.
"The Dragonborn would be just one person who would presumably end up facing overwhelming forces," she says.
Lydia explains: "Many a powerful man has helped a beautiful woman where he wouldn't a man."
I get it now. "And it's likely that men would, if not help a woman, then at least refrain from attacking her, or at least hesitate long enough for her to escape or for someone to interfere."
"Unless she's alone in the wilderness," adds Lydia. We laugh at this macabre joke.
"And there's one more thing," says Jordis. "A woman is able to act humbly and swallow an insult where a man would get himself in trouble."
"And she can generally appear harmless," adds Jenassa. "We keep winning battles easily because most men can't believe even four armed women could pose a serious threat."
Right. Another mystery solved. (Although I suppose I would have figured it out myself in due time.) Let's travel on.

My boots with the  Cushioned enchantment work indeed the way they're supposed to.
I can jump down from here to the riverbank without getting hurt at all.
I'd better make such boots for my followers as well, and give them some time to practise
and overcome their fear. (Quite frankly, I've got a lot of fear left to overcome myself.)
After that, our traveling ought to get a lot more comfortable.

We make it to Morthal early enough to do some shopping. I give Lami the book I brought for her from Solitud, and she teaches me some Alchemy.

I also visit Falion's magic shop and ask him if he has heard anything about soul gem mines. He says there are told to be some in Summerset, but he has no idea how much they yield or even where they are.

I decide we'll travel to Dånstar directly over the snowy hills rather than by the road.

Northeast of Morthal, past that former master vampire lair, we discover the Hjaalmarch Imperial Camp and the Hjaalmarch Stormcloak Camp right next to each other.

This is the finest example of Imperial-Stormcloak cooperation so far.

I wonder if we'll get a chance to find out something about that missing associate of Fortune's today or shall we have to wait for daylight. It won't make much difference, because we're going to spend the night in Dånstar anyway. It'll be obviously too dark for traveling to Winterhold and besides, I could use some Gregor (as in "sensationally awesome sex").

Well, turns out it's still light enough for us to notice a rowing boat beached on a sandbank or something near a group of tiny islets (or big rocks if you like) off the coast of Dånstar.

That Khajiit dude Trick was playing games with me. Instead of chunks of flesh at the ocean bottom, we find a corpse of a man named Dalmyn ar the bottom of that boat. The benches are broken, but the body is in one piece. I never believed Trick's crazy story to start with... I think. Anyway, this man could have been hurled into the boat by a giant. The boat might have then drifted here and gotten stuck. But I'm only guessing.

I dive into the sea just to have a look, and I find a small cube called Dwemer Puzzle Box at the bottom. Fortune said something about some kind of a Dwemer object, but if he wants to get this into his hands, he'll have to tell me in precise detail what it's for. Either that or I'll just keep it as a souvenir.

We go to the town now where I make arrangements to have that dead man transported to Markarth so that Fortune can bury him with proper rites as he wanted to. Then I find Gregor and tell him he can be with me tonight if he promises to do it in the right hole.

He does. (I've hired two rooms this time, so Lydia can be with her boyfriend without having to hurry.) I have to suck Gregor first, but that's all right. Soon my hungry pussy gets a thorough treatment. Honestly, I keep getting orgasms until I feel like begging Gregor to have mercy with me and put and end to it. But I don't say anything. Gregor comes finally and I just collapse on the bed.

Here is a cute bunny for you from earlier today:

next awakening






return to the table of contents

Always Lost, Always Hopeful (196) Take Me to the Chamber of Dreams

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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






4-202-03-03 05:09
Silver-Blood Inn, Morpork, The Reach, Skyrim


Without Jordis who will presumably need a few more hours of rest after her last night's happy reunion with Hreinn, we have a bath and then take a walk around town. So early in the morning, Fortune's traders will surely be still sleeping. We'd better not disturb them. I need Uthor as rested as possible, because I'm going to try and talk nicely to him first.

Strolling past the Shrine of Talos, I decide to step in to take a look, in case there are some thalmor agents preying on unsuspecting worshippers, or maybe even someone interesting to talk to.

No, there are no people in there, but we do find a folded sheet of paper someone must have dropped or maybe even left here deliberately. It contains a cryptic message. Something about the sins of the past and Peryite, a daedra. Jenassa believes to remember there's a shrine of Peryite west of Karthwasten. Maybe we'll go and take a look someday.

Back on the street, we strike up a conversation with a vagabond in rags who answers to the name Garvey. I ask him if he has any idea what happened to the Silver-Blood mafia. He says the word is they escaped to Cyrodiil. I would't be surprised. The imperial court would probably be the best place for them to try and intrigue themselves into somehow getting their city back.
No, says Garvey. The Silver-Bloods have no influence in the capital. All they've got is money. All these years, they've kept funneling as much money away from Skyrim as they could. Thongvor Silver-Blood is no fool. He knew this couldn't last forever. As soon as he got the news that Maven Black-Briar had been killed, they escaped.
Wow. This apparent dallier has turned out to be a man wise far beyond his years. I ask Garvey how come he's so well-informed. He says he's got most of it from a former prostitute Cairine who might know more about Morpork than anyone else. Former? What's she doing now, then? She's sick and can't work anymore, Garvey says. She lives down in the Warrens (a miserable underground lodging near the mine; think Haelga's Bunkhouse located in the Ratway and free of charge) just like Garvey does. She always dreamed of making it big, marrying someone important, and she was always so close, but still never succeeded and now she's 31.
So what? I understand 31 is not 21, but it's not that awfully old.
No it's not, says Garvey, but she has lost her will to shine.
Can we at least see her?
Garvey shrugs and takes us to the Warrens.

Cairine is sitting on the rough ground. She looks indeed ill, and not even a proper bedmat has she to show for her reputedly spectacular career!

I can't help asking how she ended up in this state. She says: "It no longer matters. It's all in the past." I try to tell her that's nonsense. In spite of her sickness, I can see she's gorgeous, to say nothing of young-looking for her age. A woman as beautiful as she could easily wrap men around her little finger for ten years to come at least.
"A woman is not beautiful, a woman is beauty," Cairine replies.
Sorry, this is too philosophical for me. Maybe her mind is not very clear. We walk away and I ask Garvey if there's really nothing we can do for her. I mean, I'm sure I could persuade them in the Temple of Dibella to take care of her. They owe me a favor. Garvey shrugs and says feel free to try.
Grateful as I may be, I dare not ask if there's anything we could do for him , because he might ask for something we're not ready to give.

At the Temple of Dibella, I find that nice priestess Anwen who tells me their temple is not exactly a hospital, but as a personal favor to me, they shall ask the Sybil for instructions.

Now, Jarl Igmund can hardly be expected to travel very early in the morning, so I think we can kill time by looking at those excavations of the ancient Dwemer city that used to be here and a part of which, as I've told you, is in use as the jarl's palace. We can handle it, just the three of us, can't we? Of course we can, Lydia and Jenassa assure me.

We find the locked door that connects the cleaned-up area to the excavation site. Beyond the door, there are massive stone ruins.

A passage full of rubbish where you can barely get through leads to what looks like an abandoned mine.

It actually contains some iron ore, as well as a few poison spiders. One spider is big like a horse, but I'm lucky to spot it before it has a chance to jump down on us. Thanks to that, we kill it quickly.

I make bold to test my new boots with the Cushioned  enchantment by jumping down from a height that would normally hurt me (but not kill). This time I'm indeed not taking any damage at all! This is so amazing. It's not like I intend to get into the habit of jumping down mountains all the time, but I'm going to feel a lot better having this kind of a safety cushion.

Nearby is the entrance to another Dwemer ruin. In front of it lie the horrible remains of a man named Alethius. There are some written notes the big spider evidently didn't find tasty. He seems to have been a scholar of sorts who had hammered together a group of not very competent assistants to explore this place.

It's a quarter past eight by now, so we return to the palace rather than go further into the ruins.

Fortune's Tradehouse is open. Uthor and I argue back and forth a little, but I succeed in persuading him to let the flame atronach Elle return to her world. After briefly checking out the other vendors, I go and say hello to Fortune. He says he has found out where his missing helper Dalmyn had gone, and there's supposed to be a man Trick at the inn who has come from that place and would I please to go and talk to him? Fine, why not? Maybe he's handsome.

But first I have to go and ask Morilla what happened between her and Inuril. She gives me reluctant laconic replies from which it's obvious to me they were lovers, but I'm not going to coax anything further out of her today. So I wish her well and leave. Jordis has turned up by now. The girls walk to the inn with me because they want to see that traveler whom Fortune mentioned, but I order them to let me talk to him alone.

A nice shot of Hroki and Frabbi, daughter and mother.
Actually, Hroki's brother Hreinn is on the right and a part of their father Kleppr is visible on the left.
Last but not least, Trick is the one in the background, left of Hroki.

Trick turns out to be a Khajiit man, but he doesn't tickle my fancy the slightest. He goes to great length making sure I won't be repulsed by bloody details. I insist I'm not, but I almost have to hit him before he tells me Dalmyn got into a fight with a giant on the northern coast near Dånstar and the giant gave him such a forceful blow with his club that his body broke in pieces which flew into the ocean.

I think the local garrison commander will surely have woken up by now, so instead of letting my followers make the acquaintance of Trick, I take them up to the barracks. Together with the higher officers, we walk around the city inspecting the guards and making sure everything is in order. I'm rather pleasantly surprised when Igmund and his retinue arrive as early as a few minutes before noon. By half past 12, introductions and such are completed. Jarl Igmund has been restored to power, Yrsarald's orders have been duly noted by the Stormcloak garrison, and the decision to always call the city by its historical name Markarth from now on has been officially made. At 12:24 on 3rd of First Seed, year 203 of the 4th era, I can finally say the Skyrim civil war is over for me.

A huge load having been taken off my shoulders, I go to see if the wizard-archaeologist Calcelmo is at his usual workplace near the excavation site. He is.

I show him Alethius's notes and he says he knew him. Alethius's group has been missing for some time now. Should me and my followers be curious to find out what's happened with the rest of them and venture deeper into those ruins, Calcelmo won't mind.

Yeah, we'll do just that.

Past Alethius's death body and in through a massive door nearby, we end up in a huge cavern with those small Dwemerish turrets and an elaborate system of stone walkways across deadly depths.

We end up having to kill many Falmers in this Dwemer ruin. I feel very sorry about it, but on the other hand we're seeing once again how human bandits fight alongside Falmers and I'm keen to get to the bottom of that strange phenomenon.

It was (of course) us who stripped him naked. When he attacked us, he was wearing armor.

We explore this extensive (well, not Blackreach-like extensive, but still they do have a lot of space here) location, searching for the remains of explorers. Several times my followers get in my way in combat and I snap at them. Then, when we are taking a rest in a large room after having killed everything nearby, the girls whisper something among themselves and then they approach me looking like a delegation of sorts. Jenassa says on behalf of all three of them that I must stop acting like their mother. What is the point of them running with me if they have to hide behind my back in combat? They want to have their fun, too. And, adds Jordis, to make a contribution.

They're right. I apologize to them and promise to trust in them being big girls from now on. But they'd better not come crying to me when they get killed.

We reach a torture chamber which, I presume, is the Falmers', not the Dwemers'.

Lydia, would you like to check out the rack?
She turns to me with a suspicious look on her face. I look at her playful-teasingly. "I mean, would you trust me not to harm you?"
"Um, how about we try it out on Jordis first?" she suggests.
"Not on your life!" Jordis jumps back several paces and points her Staff of Ice Storms at us.
I look her in the eye. "Jordis, if we really decided to tie you up and torture you, do you think you could run away or defend yourself?"
She lowers the staff. "I guess not. But I haven't done anything."
"We haven't done you anything either yet."
Jordis, still upset, turns around and begins to walk away. I motion to Lydia and Jenassa, and we follow her back the long way we came.
"I would, Laura," Lydia says. "Because if you turned up capable of harming me, nothing in the world would make sense to me anymore."
I nod and smile at her fondly.
"But would you let Yrsarald tie you up on that thing?" she asks.
"Hell, no!" I exclaim.
Lydia laughs and pats my butt. We have now almost caught up with Jordis. "Jordis, I'm sorry!" Lydia says. "I'll kneel down and kiss your foot if you want me to."
"Leave me alone!"
I step in front of Jordis and gently put my hands on her cheeks. "Jordis, we've been joking. I promise you: when we tie you up, it'll be on a beautiful soft warm bed."
She wants to go on being angry, but can't help smiling. I turn to go. "Come on!" I don't think we'll be tying up any of us for real. It's just silly girl banter between monster-fighting, never mind.

We explore more passages and halls, finding more dead bodies obviously from various treasure-hunting parties.

We pick up several journals, one of which suggests the Dwemer automatons here have actually been the only thing keeping Falmers from invading Markarth. To be honest, I don't think so. People in various parts of Skyrim (and, if you remember, Falskaar) are scaring each other with stories about Falmers coming onto the surface and attacking us, but when has it ever happened?

To cut the long story short, we return to the Understone Keep without having discovered anything of interest. Unfortunately, I didn't get any closer to the secret of mutual understanding with the Falmers.

After we've finished telling Calcelmo about what we found, it's time to go to sleep. I suddenly remember I was told someday there was a vacant house in this city, kept as a thane residence. I forgot all about it earlier today, but I have doubtlessly earned it. The problem is it would probably be impolite to disturb the steward at this late hour. We go and take a look at the throne room all the same, just in case. Yes, the jarl and the steward have already retired to their quarters. The jarl's housecarl Faleen is just about to go to sleep as well.

So we return to the familiar Silver-Blood Inn. I think I'll let them keep the name as an ironic reminder of the family that was once all-powerful, and is now scattered like a pack of homeless dogs. And in all likelihood living a life of luxury in Cyrodiil, adds Lydia. Well, maybe so, but they've still been defeated big time, and Markarth is free of tyranny now.



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Always Lost, Always Hopeful (180) It's Simple, I'm Afraid

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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






4-202-02-14 07:29
Canal House, Bitchen, The Rift, Skyrim


We walk around a bit. Everything is peaceful in the city. We discover that the Argonian woman who has a shop down in the canal district has a wide assortment of exotic clothes and armors. How come I've missed it until now??

We go to the inn where Lydia joins us, alive and well, at least at the first glance. I can't help myself following her into the bath. It amuses her greatly. "What are you hoping to see, whipmarks?" she asks me. I don't know really. At any rate, I'm not seeing anything. But she confesses Maul did get his way this time in regard of something that did hurt a lot. I expected as much. As far as politics is concerned, Lydia has no doubt that Maul's loyalty is with the one who is stronger. He wouldn't hesitate to join our side as soon as we've killed Maven. (Of course she's never mentioned that topic around him.)

Jenassa and Jordis come to see what we're doing just as Lydia is getting dressed. We go to Elgrim and Hafjorg's alchemy shop – to say hello and to see if Ingun Black-Briar, an eager and talented disciple of Elgrim's, is possibly there.

She isn't, but it warms my heart to think that at least this establishment can be expected to be safe under the new jarlship, thanks to Maven's daughter.

It's half past 9 when we begin our trot in a slight fog under the cloudy sky towards Fort Greenwall that is halfway between Bitchen and Shor. I want to see if that youngster who loved Bronwen (I've forgotten his name) is still in the area. Then we'll spend the rest of the day going through all the settlements between here and Windhelm, hopefully reaching the latter by tonight.

We approach Fort Greenwall slowly and carefully. Getting close, we realize we shouldn't have bothered, because it's been taken over by the imps. Don't tell me the bandits who used to be here were on Ulfric's payroll!

At any rate, that youngster Mendrell is still there. Unfortunately he has no idea where to continue our search for his sweetheart Bronwen. Now I can truthfully say I've done everything humanly possible to locate her, and can put this matter out of my mind.

On our way to Shor, we run past Ahkari's caravan. They are traveling to Dånstar.

Everything in Shor is as usual, with the exception of a large number of imps patrolling everywhere. They have really wasted no time getting here at strength while we were sleeping. I had no idea they had so many troops in Falkreath. Either that, or they left it virtually undefended. I wonder how they'll react when they hear about the war in Hammerfell which is bordering on Falkreath.

Generally headed for Windhelm, we're now going to make a detour via Darkwater to our northwest.

I decide to go west over the hills (see the blue marker on the map) rather than proceed along the highway that goes north and then turns west. I don't think we've ever been to the area west of Shor and south-southeast of Darkwater.

The terrain is comfortably travelable and soon we even reach a halfway decent road. Approaching a little pond called Clearspring Tarn, we see two cute elks.

When we are past the pond, as are the elks, a couple of hunters come running from behind us, shooting arrows at them. The male elk runs off, but the female is confused. I try to scare her away from the hunters in the direction where we are headed, but she keeps wanting to return to the pond, possibly to find her mate, so we leave her to her fate and move on towards our own destination.

We reach a horrifyingly high cliff which we need to descend, or we could take the long and winding road instead.

After a little reflection, I realize I'm too impatient to use the boring road. I'll take my chances with the cliff and then wait and enjoy the sights. The girls can follow by the safe path.

Indeed, the descent is highly dangerous, but I manage.

Walking leisurely past those breathtakingly scenic waterfalls near Darkwater, waiting for my followers to catch up, I suddenly realize why Elenwen was satisfied with the peace treaty. Undoubtedly she knew about the Aldmeri attack on Hammerfell. That's why she was pleased to be able to report that Skyrim can't possibly pose a threat anytime soon.

In fact, I'm happy in hindsight I didn't make Elenwen leave the negotiations. Had she been sent away, she would have (eventually) been informed of the terms of the treaty, the dry facts. But now she witnessed personally what kind of hatred the participants were possessed by, how little readiness for cooperation and mutual understanding there was. She will report all that to her superiors. The rulers of the Aldmeri Dominion will be convinced that the Empire will have its hands full with the explosive situation in Skyrim. Convinced that the peace can't possibly last, the real peace and the unification of Skyrim which I'll bring about will strike them like a bolt from the blue.

You may ask how I can be sure that I'll be able to unify Skyrim when there's such hatred between the two hostile camps. Well, that is because all of them hate the Dominion more. The outrageous behavior of the Dominion is why the civil war started in the first place. The two sides don't really hate each other, they are in strong disagreement about the appropriate reaction to the thalmor terror in Skyrim. I will show them a way to be free of it, and I have information about new events that make that goal attainable. That said, at the end of the day it's still the people of Skyrim who will have to prove themselves strong enough to prevail against those crazy religious fanatics. All I can do is to give them a realistic chance. And the chance I'm going to give them will be better than they would have proceeding along their current path of self-destruction.

Skyrim will need a thorough military reform, though. My half-year of traveling all over Skyrim and beyond, fighting a great variety of adversaries, has proven beyond any doubt the superiority of archers over melee fighters. It is vital that we change the Nords' habit of having at best one archer per five swordsmen. While a certain number of swordsmen is necessary, the majority of our soldiers will have to be archers (equipped with proper strong bows, of course, instead of the crap they're currently using in Skyrim). Come to think of it, why not use archers on horseback? I've never seen one, but they might well turn out even more devastating than archers on foot. I'll have to discuss it all with Yrsarald. He'll know if it's realistic and if there are even enough horses in Skyrim. At any rate, screaming berserks flapping with heavy things made of metal is a thing of the past. The Nords will have to radically alter their thinking if they want their country to ever prosper. The same, I daresay, goes for their drinking habits. But I'll have to stop my ruminations for now. The girls have completed their long run and we've reached Darkwater.

This is still stork territory and the soldiers are very respectful, maybe even awestruck.

Dovahkiin means "Dragonborn" in the dragon language.

Come to think of it, it would make sense that the simple countryfolk are more happy with the peace than the top brass.

After a short stop, we leave for Vernim Wood. Running past the Darkwater open-air bath, we look enviously at the couple of villagers basking in the sun. We must do everything in our power to never allow the turning of this idyllic peaceful village into a heap of smoldering ruins.

Well, yes, it's not all that peaceful with bears and sabercats attacking every now and then. Guess, I'm in a poetic mood today.

We give the bandit castle a wide berth, wave hello to our big friend the giant Billy, and arrive in Vernim Wood a little before three in the afternoon. We have a good chance of reaching Narzulbur within business hours and we'll spend the night in Windhelm.

However, we end up being delayed in Vernim Wood because there are not just one but two bear attacks. A shorter delay occurs on our way to Kynesgrove when a wannabe highway robber is foolish enough to attack us. With great haste, we still reach Narzulbur in time to verify that none of the traders there has bought the Staff of Magnus I'm looking for. I no longer know where to search. The staff seems to be lost for good. I wonder if there's some magical way to find out where it is. I mean, a way that doesn't require involving those bureaucrat-mages from Imperial City again.

With the sun going down and the rain making snowy slopes extremely slippery, we return to Kynesgrove and proceed to Windhelm. The shops in the city have already closed, but I have one call to make before going to the palace. It's about that book Seline of Morpork is interested about. After some asking around, I find the vendor at the Gray Quarter inn. It's a Dark Elf woman Myra with an unusually dark skin, or maybe it's the light.

Now, she is the most incompetent swindler I've ever seen in my life. She lays it on so thick with her oily praise of my wisdom not to fail to grab the chance of my lifetime, that it would likely make a 5-year-old child suspicious.

More amused than annoyed, I ask her where she found the book and why has she come all the way from Morrowind to Skyrim, when Nords are not exactly famous for their love of reading. She says she couldn't find a buyer in Morrowind – everyone stupidly assumed she was some kind of a scam artist. I ask to see the book and burst out laughing – it has a ridiculous grammatical error on the very cover.

I inform Myra that she has the choice – either she gives me the book and gets on the first ship to Morrowind, or I take her to the palace and have her interrogated in the prison.

Myra remains true to her game. She acts highly indignant for being so baselessly accused. Then she grabs the book and runs quickly to the door. I hesitate a second too long and then there are some people coming in and by the time I get past them and onto the street, I can't see Myra anywhere. Sure enough, I could ask the streetwalker Llaala which way she ran, but it's hardly worth it.

Now, even if the book hadn't been so crudely falsified and even if Myra would have had even a shred of credibility, it's still obvious that if the book had been genuine, the book traders in this very city, not to mention those in Morrowind wouldn't have failed to buy it in order to sell it to someone for a higher price. The fact that Myra was peddling in an obscure inn a book knowledgeable traders didn't want is additional proof that it was fake.

But enough of this. It's almost 10 o'clock in the evening and I have to go and see Yrsarald in order to, as it were, prepare him emotionally to be eager to agree to anything I'm going to say the next time we meet.

There is feverish war planning in progress in Yrsarald's office. Gathered around the big map are officers, several of whom I've never seen before. One would think Windhelm is under siege.

Luckily for me, the meeting ends soon. Most officers leave and Yrsarald is also excused. Only Ulfric, Galmar and a man unknown to me remain.

Yrsarald and I make love in his bedroom upstairs. Nothing fancy this time, he just can't wait to stick it in. Looks like he hasn't had any for a long time. Or maybe it's my wishful thinking.

I get very passionate. Or maybe just passionate, without "very". When Yrsarald comes, I'm very close myself. If he would go on with his movements just a little longer, I would reach an orgasm too. No, he's pulling out. Even more disappointingly, he turns his back on me and falls asleep. No, no! I have a dispute over relationship issues to pull off. I try to shake Yrsarald up, but all he does is turn around, snap at me angrily and fall asleep again.

Come to think of it, I sensed already while we were walking up the stairs how tired he was. Not down there, though. He was hard almost before he closed the door behind us. But his brain is gone for tonight. My ingenious and devious plan has failed miserably.

Well, nothing doing. I'll just have to go to him after Ulfric's death and improvise.

I return downstairs where I run into Anuriel, until recently the steward of Jarl Laila.

What is that sneaky bitch doing here? I understand the jarl of The Rift and her retinue have been given shelter on the friendly territory, but why would Maven banish her agent? She is even acting as if she hated me.

Then it dawns to me. Anuriel is continuing to work as Maven's spy! I'll have to remember to have her thoroughly interrogated and executed after Yrsarald and I have taken over here. Exposing her as an enemy agent will earn me a few points with the storks for sure.

In the last minute, I remember to go and check out the passages that lead to the prison. I'm rather appalled to find out there is no other exit! Those passages I saw near the eastern harbor are an entirely separate dungeon.

This means there is no way to sneak into the palace without being seen. I'm going to have to enter through the front door. Of course the guards won't prevent me, and I would have no difficulties getting to Ulfric's bedroom which, as you know, is right next to Yrsarald's, but I won't be able to deny having been in the palace. I guess I'll just have to confront Yrsarald with a fait accompli and put our love to the test. If he'll hate me after that, then so be it. I'm sure I'll be able to find a good man back home in High Rock.

Downcast in more than one way, I return to my house and go to sleep.



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