The Dockworker 16: Legging It

• Posted by Clement Bilhorn July 2, 2012 - 593 views

  I drop off the crown and get my new orders--head to Whiterun with an important-looking sealed envelope. I fiddle with it on my way down to the carriage, but the seal's really, really strong. Clearly General Tullius doesn't trust an Argonian from the Thieves' Guild.

  

  In Whiterun, I'm surprised to see the tree is all healthy again. Well, now if I had any doubts remaining that that whole quest was pointless, they can rest easy.

  I meet up with the Jarl and give him my information. There's a lot of talk and stuff--as usual, I'm not too interested.

  

  So I head over to the wizard's room and do some enchanting while I wait for the Jarl to get back to me.

  He gives me an axe. I'm thinking, "We've done this before," but apparently I'm supposed to deliver it to Ulfric Stormcloak. I don't get the underlying Nose traditions at play here, but I'm just thrilled for an excuse to go gatecrash my king's throne room. Sweet.

  I pay a brief visit to Heimskr on my way out.

  

  No, I just don't see the point in it. Oh, if he only knew my thoughts for him.

  I'm tired from all the recent carriage-riding, so I cut out from Whiterun, figuring I'll drop down to Falkreath and check in with Pajama-Girl--it's been a while. A heavy fog descends as I pass through Riverwood, muffling everything around me. It's quite peaceful.

  

  Of course, it's also completely impenetrable and I have no idea where Falkreath is. 

  

  Seeing a nearby tower, I climb up for a better view.

  

  Ah, there it is!

  Once I'm in the town, a courier catches up with me and tells me the Jarl in Solitude needs me again.

  

  I'm so stunned that this courier tracked me here I kind of miss the gist of the message. I tell the courier his skills as a tracker are nothing short of legendary--he should consider joining the Thieves' Guild. Or maybe the Dark Brotherhood. He just gets awkward and runs away.

  I guess not everyone's cut out to be a special operations mercenary.

  I head west of Falkreath and find Pajama-Girl's secret lair. The Dark Brotherhood are an eclectic bunch, to be sure. I stand around and study them while trying on some of the armor they give me.

  

  There's another marshfriend--a shady type, of course--and a bunch of grumpy old men. And a 400-year-old vampire. That's actually kind of cool, but I wish she'd drop the little girl act. I've had enough experience with psychotic children to last me a lifetime. No need to add one more to the mix.

  I pass through Helgen on my way up. To my surprise, there's one bandit left from the group that Assfalloff and I killed weeks ago. I finish what horsey and I started.

  

  On my way to Windhelm, I come across a small tower overlooking the highway. I spot the silhouettes of bandits on the parapets, and suppose I should take the sneaky approach.

  

  Why not do the sneaky thing? I'm just that kind of guy.

  

  The sun goes down as I follow the river down into the valley, and the fog returns. It's so thick that when a dragon shows up--of course--I can't even place it. It's like the entire sky is roaring at me. 

  I finally catch a glimpse of the dragon as it breaks from the treeline and passes over the waterfall.

  

  The fog must be denser than I thought, though, because the dragon doesn't seem to notice me. Several times it passes by so close I can hear its wings, but it never actually attacks. After a few minutes, it simply drifts away.

  With dragons on my mind, I take a brief detour up north to the mill from earlier, where the fiery dragon had killed everybody. The fact that it had killed everybody is of some concern to me, since one of my first targets for the Brotherhood lived there. 

  I hope Nazir will understand--these things just happen to me.

  

  A bit disappointed, I continue on my way to Windhelm. I switch back to my Guild hood--didn't like the cut of the Brotherhood one as much--and pull it close over my face as I pass through the front gate.

  That's right, Windhelm--I'm back.

  

  But I take the hood down when I go in to see Ulfric. He's been a dark shadow over my head for as long as I can remember, presiding over the dark and wet--and cold--stain on Skyrim known as Windhelm. And now I'm back, delivering a completely confusing message from an enemy Jarl, marching right into his throne room like I belong there.

  It's so cool I can barely stand it.

  

  Ulfric does not impress. A lot of bluster and grandstanding, about "fighting for the people" and some such nonsense. Racist.

  Like I've said before, I'm not a guy for speeches.