Always Lost, Always Hopeful (226) Remember to Long

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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






4-202-04-02 07:02
The Grinning Goblin Inn, Karthwasten, The Reach, Skyrim

Without waiting for the shops to open, we run north-northwest. On the other side of the mountains, we find a river where we can wash. Then we continue our journey.

No one attacks us and soon we are seeing the Orc village of Mor Khazgur.

Yeah, not in this picture. It's to our right, a hundred meters away.
Sabercats seem to enjoy themselves in this area.

In the village, we get some training in Blocking . To be honest, I don't block in real combat (I don't think I've ever carried a shield), but even the skills you don't directly need help you become a better all-round warrior. Parts of the brain that are normally idle begin to work, like my father used to say... er... as I suddenly remember.

Then I buy some ingredients from a very impressive-looking alchemist Sharamph.

Curiously enough, they have some of those large brown stones with strange yellow patterns in the village. I used to think they have been created by giants. Well, maybe the Orcs have taken them from the giants.

After admiring the nice view from near the mine, we leave for Dragonbridge. After a while, we get attacked by the forns and I actually succeed in chopping one's head off. That was awesome!

Then we arrive at a massive stone structure.

Up a stone staircase is a man who shouts to us to leave. Very well. At least he's civil enough to warn rather than just attack. We turn around and continue our journey to the east.

We won't stay long in Dragonbridge. Just quick visits to the shops and the inn. We're actually headed for Folgunthur (the green dot on the map below). It's got to do with the legend of Gauldur. I can't remember if I've told you: Gauldur was someone very important in the distant past. He had three sons who turned evil. One of them rose up from the dead and attacked us when we were in Saarthal. Folgunthur is where another one is supposed to be buried. I've gotten curious to find out more about this story.

We're about to leave the marketplace east of the river when Lydia suggests that we ought to visit Solitud as well.

She's right. Being so close to the capital of Skyrim, it would be somewhat inappropriate to fail to visit Elisif and Sybille. And now I remember one more thing. When we were returning from Doltania, we saw from up in the air that there was quite a large island northeast of Solitud (the orange dot on the map). Even Jordis didn't know about its existence. I've been wanting to check it out and today is a perfect opportunity to do it after we've shown ourselves in the palace and made sure there's nothing urgent requiring our help.

<A> – Abandoned Shack where I was Astrid's prisoner briefly.
<U> – Ustengrav where we went to look for that ancient horn for the Gaybores.
Geographically, Folgunthur is very close to the Blue Palace, but they're actually not connected.
You can only get from one to the other by a detour through the harbor.

We hang around in Solitud's southwestern suburb for a while and then enter the city proper. The inn is full of people and we, presumed tragically lost, are greeted with staggering enthusiasm. I'd like to tell my followers something I remembered on our way here, but this is hopeless. In fact, I'm having a tough time getting us out of the inn again, but I want to explore that island before it gets dark. It's a quarter to 2 now, so we should have plenty of time.

It begins to rain just as we exit by the eastern gate. Can't be helped. Fortunately, the island is not far. It looks smaller than I had assumed. From the mainland, we can see no signs of anything interesting. It seems to be just a piece of rock. Before taking a closer look, though, we're going to check out a ship a little way farther north.

The ship turns out nothing special. Just bandits. Corsairs, sorry. That means seagoing bandits.

Nearby is the Solitude Lighthouse (which you can also see in the picture above). It's kept by a Khajiit man Ma'zaka, old by his own words, but quite vital-looking.

Further northeast, more islands can be faintly seen through the fog. They look completely lifeless and uninviting. Maybe we'll visit them some other time. But now we head back, pass the corsair ship and check out that mysterious island (on the left):

There is absolutely nothing to see on it apart from horkers. I find a place somewhat higher where we won't disturb the amusing animals, and invite the girls to sit down.
"I remembered how I lost my virginity," I inform them.
They're all ears. I think they're even holding their breaths. You may be thinking that this is not a very comfortable place for sitting and talking, but the rain has ceased and I'm feeling like I'm glowing with warmth.
I tell them all about it. I was 17. His name was Quiston. I had sucked him off, like, twenty times, but I wouldn't let him even touch me down there – firstly because I was afraid of pain and secondly because my mother thought a girl ought get married a virgin. It was a custom in the part of Morrowind where she was from. She didn't tell me anything about oral sex being allowed or not, and I considered it wiser not to ask. Petrille thought my mom was weirdly conservative.
Mind you, I still cast Contraception  every time before meeting Quiston, just in case. (BTW, I was baffled when I learned that Breton mothers actually taught that spell to their daughters. In case you didn't know, practically all Bretons have some magical abilities.)
Petrille had done it with seven boys by the time she was 17. Or actually five with whom she had proper sex, and just handjobs with two. I too had satisfied two boys with my hand and sucked one, but not all the way. It got hard and became uncomfortable in my mouth and I didn't know what to do, and in fact I was afraid he might pee into my mouth. I didn't tell him that, I just said I can't suck with my mouth so wide open. We finally settled for me dancing naked in front of him while he finished with his own hand.
Quiston was easier to suck. I suppose his was thinner than the last boy's. I can't really remember at this moment. Neither can I remember those at least ten boys I had been in love with without doing anything.
Anyway, one beautiful day when I was almost feeling like 18 already, Quiston said: "Yes, Laura, it will hurt, but you must endure it sooner or later like every woman has." And he forced my legs apart. Then he didn't do anything, just stood there on his knees, holding my legs apart, easily overpowering me, and watched me. He didn't look at my pubes which I had covered with my hands, he just looked into my eyes. And then I gave up trying to press my legs back together, and raised my arms above my head. He continued looking me in the eyes for a second as I lied before him, open and limp, waiting. Then he nodded ever so slightly and looked down onto my openness. And he caressed my thighs and pubic mound and everything with his hands. And then he bent forward and put his hands down on both sides of my shoulders... and broke me. It went effortlessly. I guess I was wet. But it did hurt. I didn't move, just watched the expression on his face with utter fascination. Most of the time, he looked at my breasts bouncing in the rhythm of his thrusts, and I observed the vague tiny reflections of my naked body in his eyes.
He didn't kiss me until he had gone all limp on me. Now I touched him. I hugged him with all my strength and thought how weird it is to have something of him remain inside of me. I mean I realized it would probably flow out or something, but still I felt he was now irrevokably a part of me. I thought we'll be together for the rest of our lives – because how can I ever do something like this with another man?
Later when we were getting dressed, his bloody penis looked so strange and I was afraid to touch it for some time to come. Don't ask me why. But we still did it frequently and in many positions during the next year or so. I believe to remember that, apart from that first time, he always did it two or three times in a row, except when we were disturbed or something.
Quiston was two years older than me. I don't remember what he did for a living. I just remember the feeling we weren't seeing each other as often as I would have wanted to. Every meeting seemed kind of special and I always made time for him.

One summer day when we were out in the woods at our favorite spot, he put me face down and forced his way into my butthole. He probably didn't think anything of it. I had always done what he wanted when I didn't have any ideas of my own. So he must have thought why not consecrate, as it were, the last hole as well – "has to be done someday," as he probably would have said. Had we talked about it first, things might have been different. But now he caught me unawares.
I didn't freak out immediately. I believe I was thinking something like: all right, why not try it. But it was incredibly painful and disgustingly weird, and I screamed demanding he leave me alone, and he got scared and pulled out after a few thrusts. I jumped up and ran away. Luckily it was a very secluded place. When I eventually stopped and realized I was naked and began thinking what to do, I saw him following me cautiosly, fully dressed and carrying my clothes. I wouldn't let him get close to me. I must have looked to him like a scared animal. So he just put my clothes down and walked the other way.
I returned to the city where I went to my father's workplace and told him I was going to Cortoran's and probably stay the night. And then I sat with Cortoran at his home and asked him a million questions (without telling him about that incident with Quiston, though). We had never talked about those  things before. My mother had told me everything... well, everything she had told me. But now my brother told me really everything I was able to think of asking about. He actually skipped a day at work because we sat and talked through the night and till the next evening, more than 24 hours in a row, with an occasional break for having a snack or such. I was immensely grateful to him for not asking what this was all about.
I can't remember right now why Cortoran lived separately from our parents, yet didn't have a wife at his home. Maybe he was married and his wife was visiting her parents of something. Maybe he wasn't married yet. I don't remember.
I never met Quiston after that. He left the town a few months later and I never saw him again. I can't remember anything about his parents right now.

"What luck to have had a guy at 17 who would tell you everything and with whom you couldn't have anything sexual!" says Lydia pensively. "As long as a man sees you as as woman, he'll want to bang you and then he'll want to sleep."
"And then he wakes up with a hard-on," adds Jordis. We laugh.
I already know Lydia lost her cherry at 13. When I was a teenager, I couldn't understand how my best friend Petrille could be so carefree about being intimate with boys. I no longer knew how to talk to her or how to behave around her. And later I felt I had abandoned her, my best friend, and I felt guilty, but I didn't know what to do about it. In case you're interested, Petrille got married happily. In fact, she realized at one point that she had gone too far and developed a reputation, so she was greatly relieved to find that someone still wanted her for a bride. It was a guy out of town, and in fact he was very happy with her, because she knew how to do everything, and she would do everything. Of course she played innocent at first. And from what I gather, he was too innocent to realize she wasn't.
"Did you tell your mother when you were made a woman?" Jordis asks.
"I did. I mean, I'm sure I did, but I can't remember it at this time."
"What about that... misfortune?"
I shake my head. "No, I don't think so."
"So how did you explain to her why you weren't seeing Quiston anymore?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
"At least we know now why you are so panicked about anal sex," says Lydia.
"I'm not panicked! I just don't like it. Why do men feel they have to do it if the gods have given us a hole that is meant specifically for that purpose?"
"Yeah, we've been over that."
"No, seriously, is it really so much better for the man that it justifies putting the woman through such suffering?"
No one tries to argue that point with me. We have really been over this several times. Realizing that, I can't help laughing. "All right, girls. Let's return to the city." The sun is going down. My time planning has been perfect.
There is something I've never yet told even to Lydia. After that last time with Quiston, it wasn't just shock and fear and the feeling of having been abused that tormented me. I also felt terribly guilty for having ruined his pleasure. I have never been able to tell a man to pull out of me, and now I realize why – it would always subconsciously remind me of my unbearable grief for my first relationship I had believed would last forever. That and the unanswerable question if I could have done something differently to avoid that disaster.

We reach the outskirts of Solitud at 6 when the sun is beginning to set. There is still time to comfortably do some shopping.

Then we go and present ourselves at the palace. I ask Sybille what's happened to Una, that palace maid who was a thalmor spy. Sybille informs me they decided to release her, yet she is strictly forbidden to leave the city or set foot in the palace. I'm very glad to hear that. She has surely suffered a lot, but she will hopefully be able to make a new start.

When I enquire about that Argonian bandit Jaree-Ra, Sybille says the ship on which he lived left the harbor the next morning after my conversation with Vittoria. He hasn't been heard of since.

Oh well. Maybe it's better that way.

I wish she had chosen a different wording. From the mouth of a vampire, this sounds somewhat... er... blood-chilling.

I ask Elisif if she can organize me a ship for traveling to High Rock. She says she's sure it can be done – not overnight, but she'll spare no effort to be able to help me return home. However...
However what?
The ocean is very stormy northwest of Haafingar, she tells me. That's the very reason why they have practically no trading with High Rock here. She strongly advises me to try and find out if a land route via Hammerfell wouldn't be less dangerous. But if I decide to go by ship, she'll get one for me, one way or another.
Yeah, I was going to discuss this with Yrsarald anyway, so she doesn't need to worry about it just yet.

The girls and I say goodbye to the jarl and stroll back to the inn. We see Una on the street. I don't care to go and say hello, and I can see Jordis and Jenassa look at her with obvious hostility. I don't even know why I've been feeling sorry for her. Magnanimosity of the victor, I suppose. [Grin]

We spend the rest of the evening and the best part of the night having a great time at the Winking Skeever inn:

Jordis introduces us to a group of her old colleagues from the time she worked at the prison. I must say their stories are a little too gruesome and their jokes a little too crass, but they're generally nice people and we are thoroughly entertained.
The men try to persuade us to go upstairs with them, but Jordis looks reluctant and I am not too enthusiastic, and so Lydia and Jenassa keep refusing as well, until the guys find themselves some easier women and leave.
The hardest part is walking all the way to our house.



next awakening






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Always Lost, Always Hopeful (115) The Rubicon Has Been Crossed

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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






4-201-12-09 12:18
Wiljar's Farm, outside Dragonbridge, Haafingar, Skyrim


We get to make the acquaintance of Jordis's nice parents Wiljar and Ysrudde. Her brothers Gudling and Aesling live separately and should currently be on a journey with a caravan somewhere down south.

Thoroughly rested, bathed and sated, we return to Dragonbridge where I walk up to the Khajiit man who has forever been consummately deflecting my questions about that missing girl Bronwen. This time I grab the cat by the scruff, so to speak, by informing Dar'Jidarr I'm going to kill him. He suggests that maybe there are other ways of satisfying my bloodlust. I wish he hadn't used such a word. It sounds so obscene in my current state.

Dar'Jidarr senses my momentary insecurity, even though he can't know its reason. What he does know is my subject of interest – Bronwen. He tells me the girl was bought by a man named Juvenal the Innocent who is hiding in a place called Secret Enclave... yes, Dar'Jidarr, I know where it is. Thank you. Next time, don't be so damned stubborn.

Juvenal... That's the man from that nightmare I had where Rayya was killed in Secret Enclave southwest of Windhelm, a few days before she got killed for real in the other end of Skyrim. But that's neither here nor there. We would have to enter that sinister building in order to find Bronwen. Should we? Maybe the place is nothing like it was in my nightmare? I don't know. I'll give it some thought, but today we'll be going in the (almost) opposite direction, towards the Orc village Mor Khazgur.

The Dragonbridge smithy is in an unusual place – upstairs of the military outpost. It's still freely accessible, though.

I quickly sell some things. Athragar whom I visit alone, just in case, kisses me hello, but doesn't make any suggestions. I don't stick around either. It's better when it ends between us. As Eydis said: he is a little strange. Although this man is a Breton, I can't make any sense of him.

The girls and I set out for Mor Khazgur. It's in the west, but there are high mountains in our path, which is why we will have to make a little detour, heading southwest first.

Southwest means traveling along the western bank of the river a part of the way. Currently, however, we are on the eastern bank and hor some reason I'm curious to explore this side of the river. So we proceed southwest along the eastern riverbank. We're going to cross the river somewhere farther.

Not far from Dragonbridge, we discover a door leading to something called Karth River Outpost. More precisely, it leads into the mountain. There's no way of telling what might be inside. The door has the kind of lock I'm unable to pick. In front of the door lies a dead man in a stork armor. He's not carrying any written information as to his identity or a possible connection to this place. So we just have to move on none the wiser.

Nearby is a tree trunk conveniently across the river. I say "conveniently", but that's only if you disregard the fact that one wrong step would mean a drop of tens of meters. Well, maybe not quite 20 meters, but it's very scary nonetheless. Fortunately, we get across without slipping.

Now we travel between hills looking for a convenient route.

I don't know why it suddenly occurs to me to ask the girls if there aren't any Nord men at all who can do it twice in a row.
"Probably not," snorts Lydia.
"Is it because of all that alcohol?" I ask.
She shrugs.
"I mean, they even use the phrase "milk drinker" as an insult," I continue.
"Jordis, you have been really lucky to live in Solitud," says Lydia. "There are plenty of Imperial men there."
"Yes, quite many." Jordis doesn't sound too enthusiastic about this line of discussion.
I'm about to enquire about the Breton men, but Jenassa gives us a sign to shut up. Of course. We're approaching Bruca's Leap Redoubt.

We sneak past quietly. No one notices us and we don't bother to find out if there's anyone inside. Soon after that, having crossed yet another small hill, we're attacked by a group of thalmors.

This is what the use of the Healing spell looks like.
It's me healing myself next to a thalmor corpse.

A document we loot from their dead bodies states that I am now officially an enemy of the thalmors and am to be killed "with extreme hatred". I hope imps haven't been given a similar order. Fortunately, my followers' names aren't listed as targets.

Mor Khazgur (see picture above) leads its peaceful life far away from all the world's troubles. Borgakh is there and I hire her in the stead of Jordis. There is no horse cart routes going through Mor Khazgur, but they are (of course) still trading with other settlements, so the Orcs will help Jordis get safely to nearby Karthwasten one of these days. In the meantime, she'll be helping to guard and defend the village.

I have no intention of keeping Borgakh permanently. She's way too ugly for that. I mean, Jordis isn't a striking beauty either and we're not going to participate in beauty contests anyway, but... yeah, I know I don't have to explain everything in such detail. I'm sorry. What I meant to say is I took pity on Borgakh the first time I was here. I want to give her a chance to make her own choices in life. So I'm going to let her build up her confidence a bit by fighting battles with us, and then I'll introduce her in the Hviterun palace and let her take it from there. Who knows, she might fit in with The Companions. Or maybe she'll find a soulmate in Lerguk, that Orc blacksmith in the eastern suburb. Or whatever. She'll have plenty of opportunities in and around Hviterun.

It remains to be seen how well she can fall in with our combat tactics. At any rate, if she gets killed, it won't be a great loss.

There are some restless storks near Volskygge, but nobody is attacking anybody while we pass by.

We reach Solitud at half past seven in the evening, kill a skeever who has been bothering the innkeeper Jana and stretch our legs a little among the bustle at the other inn, The Winking Skeever, inside the city walls. I decide to make use of the excellent crafting facilities in Solitud. So I inform the girls I'll go home now to get some sleep, but they won't have to worry about waking up early, because I'll be working in the morning.

Lydia walks with me and asks how it went with Athragar.
"He acted like we... He didn't even suggest anything. I guess he's already preparing for his next conquest."
"You sound like you were the one who fancied him."
"Yeah, I probably do." We walk for a while in silence. "But I never fancied him. Although it was an interesting experience. Or I don't know. I wish I could make him tell me how he really felt about me, but that seems impossible."
"Something like that happened to me once," Lydia says after another period of pensive silence.
"Who?"
"I'll tell you next time."
I stop and put my hand on her arm. "No, you'll tell me now!"
"You don't know him."
"Oh. Okay. You can tell me some other time." We start walking again.

An Argonian man emerges from the shadows, making me start. Then she notices Lydia, mumbles "Sorry!" and walks away quickly.
I look at her, raising an eyebrow.
"That was Jaree-Ra," she explains. "A pointless crook."
We hug in front of our house and I go to sleep.



next awakening






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Always Lost, Always Hopeful (105) Paid Dearly

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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.
———————————————




previous day






4-201-11-30 06:27
Frostfruit Inn, Roriksted, Whiterun, Skyrim


I open my eyes feeling wonderfully rested and happy. After our bath, the girls and I have an unhurried breakfast in the taproom and revel in the friendly atmosphere.

Lydia knows why Erik wouldn't sleep with me last night: he was embarrassed of his father noticing he wasn't sleeping in his room. She's probably right. Such things are always awkward when parents are around.

The sky is almost entirely covered with clouds, but it's not raining. Several children are already up, running around the village in pursuit of their important childish undertakings. We too feel energetic and can't be bothered to wait for the shops to open.

As for our plans, I suddenly think of a relatively big forn camp (which may even qualify as a village) I have seen several times very vividly in my dreams.

Jenassa says it could be Karthspire and it's supposed to be on an island in the Karth river. It runs from south to north between here and Karthwasten, but she doesn't know where the island may be.

Funny we haven't discovered it yet, having run back and forth all over The Reach, as I feel we have. Anyway, my map shows that directly to the west from Roriksted is a large island in the river and that area is practically unknown to us yet.

But for the island, we would take the road north from Roriksted that leads to the bridge east of Karthwasten.

I decide I want to check out that island today, since we're so close to it. Afterwards, if we cross the river somewhere, we'll be able to reach the Morpork–Karthwasten road and will have made only a small detour.

Apart from general curiosity, I'm also eager to achieve my goal of slaying 100 forns to avenge the death of Rayya. We've killed 86 so far.

There's a small mountain range west of Roriksted. We run to the northwest in order to bypass it from the north.

On the other side of the mountains, we see a lonely country house and are attacked by skeevers. We go in and encounter more skeevers who are dead before my brain has even the chance to propely notice them. Well done, girls.

In one corner is a bed with a dead man on it. His name is Lund, but we can't find any clue as to what might have happened to him. Maybe he was simply overwhelmed by the skeevers and there was nothing mysterious about his death.

We exit Lund's Hut and head west. A path leads through between two mountain ranges, past Soljund's Sinkhole and onto a rocky slope descending towards the river. We sneak down with utmost caution. I notice some structures. Yess!! That's the place: a system of wooden platforms and walkways above the river surface.

Somewhat away from the actual camp is a tent with a hagraven. (At the foot of the slope in the above picture.) She sees me as soon as I stick my sneaking nose out from behind our cover. From that distance, however, she poses no threat to us while we can shoot arrows into her easily.

By the time we've descended all the way to the ground, the camp is stirring. With their acute senses, the children of nature have noticed something's wrong, but they haven't spotted our killing of the hagraven, so they don't know in which direction we are. (Shouldn't we have stayed on the high slope, shot a few random arrows into the camp and let the forns attempt a near-hopeless uphill attack? This thought occurs to me only the next day.)

We sneak closer. The forns detect us not only from nearby, but also from great distances way out of range of my Sense of Smell  power.

Note the man coming from the left, about to descend the staircase. He'll be in the next picture too.

We can barely see them, but that doesn't prevent them from hitting us – with arrows as well as magic. Only thanks to health potions do we survive the onslaught and eventually kill them.

We have been entertained to the fullest, and if the 11 forns who fought the 4 of us had kept more into cover and attacked all at the same time, they might have even won.

This must be the tough mage we killed last.

As always, we loot the camp, including all the dead.

Now we cross over to that large river island. Exploring it, we eventually find a cave entrance. In the caves, we kill three more forns.

It's rare to get to see from such a close range a mage defending himself with a ward.

Exploring passages, we end up in an open space without a way forward and three pillar-switches which apparently need to be in correct positions. I adjust them until a stone bridge is lowered to our left. We cross it and reach a room where I, ahead of my followers, suddenly find myself engulfed in bursts of fire. Must have stepped on a pressure plate. We quickly run through the room and find ourselves on the edge of a cliff. It would seem that another bridge needs to be lowered here, and it looks like it should have been done by placing those three switches into a combination different from the current.

The only thing we can do is to go back – through that very same room, and once again we find ourselves attacked by flame beams from every direction. Running through, I lose almost all my health within seconds. Miraculously, all my followers survive. We could have easily gotten killed here, the lot of us. I'm convinced this is a warning from the gods: I mustn't hold myself for a god. I have no right to sentence the forn nation to 100 deaths.

I'll keep that in mind and try to be less high-handed from now on.

We heal ourselves and rush out of this horrible place. We have killed exactly 14 forns today, so my goal of 100 is reached. Except that I don't feel too triumphant, not after the recent close encounter with my and my followers' own death.

Back on the island, we find a way to the western riverbank and reach a northward road. Less than an hour later, we're in Karthwasten where we help the village guards kill an attacking dragon. After quick shopping, we proceed northwest. The weather has been fine all the time.

We cross some hills and find a place called Harmugstahl – moderate-sized constructions with a door (picture above, left). What do we think, girls?

They agree with me that there's no reason to waste time going into what looks like a draugr dungeon. We have our destination. Let's stick to the plan.

As the evening approaches, we continue to run over the hills. We see a mage fighting two skeletons. I feel he's not hostile. He turns out to be a virr. A quite handsome man, in fact.

Over the next hilltop, we see the fence of what seems to be the Orc village Mor Khazgur we haven't visited yet.

"Mr. Sabercat, can we just pass here?" I ask under my breath. I don't think he'd understand human language. I feel so reluctant to kill that magnificent animal. We're a few hundred meters away from the village. Are we good enough at sneaking to get there unnoticed by the sabercat?

Yes, we are. We reach the fence and the majestic feline walks unhurriedly the other way.

You're right – I have the dragon shout that makes animals friendly. It didn't occur to me until later.  :-) 

Unable to yell to the people inside because the sabercat would hear us and might attack, we spend considerable time looking for the gate. Once inside, we greet the chief Larak and then walk around. The villagers seem to be leading their normal peaceful lives.

That's a charred skeever.

Unfortunately, the traders won't trade anymore. Apparently they quit working at 6 in the evening. However, I am most happy to find they have an orichalcum mine instead of the usual iron.

Our most interesting find, though, is back in the village. A woman named Borgakh confesses to us she dreams secretly of leaving her community and becoming an adventurer, but instead she has to wait for the day when she's going to be married to a man from another Orc settlement.

When I suggest that maybe leaving is not such a big crime after all, she agrees that maybe it isn't.

I ask Mikki if she's had enough yet. Does she want to return home after what happened to us in Karthspire?

No, she doesn't. That's the spirit! I inform Borgakh I'm giving her some time to think things over. I'll come and visit her again someday.

It's past 8 when we depart for the north, but it's not too dark, because there are few clouds and the two moons give plenty of light.

The moons are called Masser and Secunda, in case you didn't know yet.

On our way is a Forsworn Camp. I think it's the same place where we slept once in the past. There are two new forns who have made this place their home after we killed the previous occupants. They spot us in spite of the poor light, but they're no match for us. There's a tent nearby. Sure enough, it's the same place.

I call a meeting. Should we sleep here, which would mean starting out at something like 4 in the morning, or proceed now and hope there'll be a place to sleep in Rimerock Burrow? I know Mikki would prefer a soft bed over these hay piles, but what do the others think?

Mikki is offended. She says I shouldn't hold her for such a softie. I hurry to assure her I was just joking and in fact she's been the toughest warrior among us this first full day of her service. Lydia and Jenassa rush to agree.

We'll spend the night here then.



next awakening






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