The Vianto Diaries - Entry 13

• Posted by Andrew Shepherd July 14, 2015 - 742 views

  Entry number 13 - About 2 days after the last entry

  I'm sitting in the Bee in Barb in Riften, nursing a strong Argonian cocktail, two black eyes and a broken nose. And I think my right big toe is broken too. One of these days I'll learn how to fight, keep my mouth shut or control my temper. Fat chance of any of those things happening I reckon.

  So since I last wrote a few things have happened. I had woken in the dragonborn's camp the following morning with the women preparing food and the dragonborn in discussion with Serana, the vampire. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. Gods she was beautiful, I would happily let her suck me anytime. The dragonborn approached the campfire and announced that they could no longer wait for Durak and they needed to make for Fort Dawnguard. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an accident, but I wasn't about to explain myself to this lot, so I kept it to myself.

  After breaking camp we headed up the road through the Rift. It was during this trip where I really noticed some idiosyncrasies within the five heroes. Aela walked at the front, but constantly stopped to sniff at bushes, occasionally gnawed at the hair on her arm with her teeth, and at one point I caught sight of her further up the trail on the ground and scratching behind her ear with her foot! Serana traveled at the rear and kept complaining about the weather. It was too sunny and was murder on her skin. It was cold and rainy so maybe we should find a cave. We sheltered in a cave and then she complained that she'd spent a long time in a cave and would rather be outside! Sheesh! Lydia constantly whined about carrying all of the dragonborn's crap, Vilja talked constantly about anything whether anyone was listening or not, and the dragonborn would occasionally let loose these incredible screams which would make me nearly soil myself each time he did it. I swear, he must have Tourette's syndrome or something, that's just not normal!

  We finally reached the forts on the way up to Riften and the group took their leave of me. Thankfully, no one was interested in my story, which I didn't volunteer. I couldn't see some of my previous antics going down too well with the dragonborn and really didn't want to see his bad side. I said my goodbyes and, when his back was turned flipped him the finger. Dickhead. 

  I reached the Riften gate and the guards stopped me, demanding I pay a tax for the privilege of entering the city. None of the other holds ask for taxes, I said. Well. the Rift is different, the guard said. But I'm not registered for tax in Skyrim, I exclaimed. That's ok said the guard. No it isn't, I'm keeping all of my receipts for travel expenses for my tax agent back in High Rock. I don't have a receipt book, said the guard. Just pay the damn tax! Well I want to talk to your supervisor, I said. I'm entitled to claim a certain amount on work trips, and I registered as a witch hunter before I left High Rock and I think I should at least be able to claim a portion of this tax!

  Just get out of my face, idiot! the guard eventually yelled at me and let me in through the gate. Then I was stopped by another guy once I was inside. I don't know you, he said. You in Riften looking for trouble? No. I said, I try my best to avoid trouble, but it always finds me. Are you trying to be a smart ass? he growled. No sir, its the truth. I just want to sit down in the pub and have a drink. He went on to say that I wasn't to cause any trouble for the Blackbriars who owned the local meadery and I said no I would probably be their best customer, yah-dah, yah-dah and he let me past.
  
  No sooner had I stepped into the market place when I was accosted by ANOTHER guy who told me I was light on in the pockets. I retorted with "Is it that obvious?" and looked down at my very tattered and stained college robes. He asked me if I was interested in making some coin. " Is Mehrunes Dagon a daedra?" was my comeback. He offered my a fat lip instead and I pulled my head in. He introduced himself as Brynjolf. For a hundred septims all I had to do was steal and plant some guys ring on another guy whilst he created a distraction. Sounded easy enough.

  So, Brynjolf starts yelling about the benefits of snake oil or something and I crept around the back of this Argonian's stall. No one had seen me. So far, so good. I broke out my little bag of lockpicks.

  The lock looked pretty easy.

  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  Dammit.

  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  Shit!

  
  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  For Arkay's sake!!

  
  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  F**k F**kF**k F**K!!

  
  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  You bitch!!!

  
  Click-click-click-click - SNAP!

  ARRRGHH!!! You F**cking son-of-a-whore, douche-bag...

  I kicked the safe and nearly broke my toe.

  I looked up. The whole square was staring at me, Brynjolf had his hand over his face and this enraged Argonian was charging across the square at me, claws raised, yelling what-the-f**k are you doing?

  In my haste to put something between him and me I conjured my familiar. Now I will digress here for just a few seconds. Anyone reading this diary will know by now that magic is a bit different for me when I use it. Sometimes it doesn't work at all or poorly, or the spell has some entirely different outcome altogether. Most people's familiars are spirit wolves. Mine is a black labrador retriever named Arthur. So when Arthur appeared he did what he usually does and leaped up on the surprised Argonian, knocked him to the ground and began to lustily lick the lizard's leathery face. As the Argonian struggled and spluttered I made my escape.

  I spied a set of steps leading down to the canals that surrounded Riften and sprinted for them. As I reached them, swinging on the railing to keep my balance, an elderly lady stepped out of a nearby door way, followed by a row of forlorn looking children. My shoulder smacked into her chest and with a strangled cry she was flipped over the railing, hit the water and sank without a trace. The children cheered: "Hooray, Grelod is dead! Grelod is dead!"

  In shock I continued my plunge down the stairs, through a nearby gate and into the door to Riften's sewers.

  Now I'm going to digress again. I have a bee in my bonnet about sanitation in Skyrim. I understand that they are a little backwards and just use a bucket beside the bed. So why the HELL does Riften have such a complex sewer system and not one fucking toilet. It is completely lacking in logic. It defies belief. Who ever designed the place should be fed to a pit of hungry skeevers...

  Anyway, I went barreling down a damp passageway and smack bang into two thugs who were having an argument. Looky what we have here one of them leered. The first spell that came to mind was a calm spell.

   I want to digress a third and final time here, going back to my first digression earlier. My calm spells don't work properly. Its one of the reasons I decided to leave High Rock. Instead of calming down an attacker... Gods this is embarrassing... my calm spells make the attacker fall immediately and madly in love with me. The first (and last) time I did it was to try and calm one of my customers in High Rock, who had paid me to enchant a broom so it would sweep faster. As soon as she got it home and started sweeping, the thing took off into the air and threw her around the room and wrecked her house. She came back screaming like a banshee, yelling that who had heard anything as ridiculous as a flying broom stick and how would I like to ride it with it sticking out of my arse.

  So I cast calm on her and a second later she was showering me with hugs and kisses and asking me to marry her! Then about two minutes later it wore off and I got the broom ride. After that I packed my bags and decided to become a witch hunter...

  So anyway, the spell had the same effect on these thugs. They both started fighting over me and I was obliged to kiss both of them on grimy, filthy cheeks with a promise of more later as I tried to make my way through the sewer to the Gods knew where. I encountered another one, some pyscho wearing boxing gloves and I calmed him too, having to oblige another kiss. This happened a few more times until I reached a stair way. I cast calm one more time on a thug in the room. At this point I was being plastered with kisses, cuddles and the occasional butt-grab. One of the delirious thugs told me that the door led to the Ragged Flagon, an underground pub. If I could just make it there...

  Suddenly, the spell wore off the first two thugs and they both drew daggers, swearing in rage and coming at me. Fortunately, the other half dozen men and women were still under the spell and came to my defense. He's mine, leave him alone, I love him, don't you dare touch him! came a string of threats. Then all hell broke loose as a bloody brawl erupted and I escaped down the stairs and into the pub.

  It was full of more thugs, but they just eyed me warily as I bought a pint. The next thing I know, Brynjolf was sitting next to me at the bar saying , colour me impressed! I thought you were a complete jack-ass but how you handled all those thugs on your own was amazing. I had step over a pile of bodies to get down here!

  He offered me some more work intimidating some shop keepers into handing over protection money so I thought what the hell, after what I've been through it couldn't be too hard...

  ... after being severely beaten by two women shop-keepers I decided to call it quits and order a drink at the bee and barb. I think I will lay up here for a day and then get the hell out of here - there must be a town somewhere in Skyrim that agrees with me. I've just ordered another cocktail so hopefully I will sleep well tonight...