The Dockworker 6: Friend and Foe

• Posted by Clement Bilhorn June 19, 2012 - 455 views

  With my butt freshly healed with the balm of inordinate quantities of praise, I head to the carriage, ready to take off for Riften. But I'm distracted by the nearby stable this time--looks like the stablehand's clever placement is a good advertising.

  

  We haggle briefly over the prices, but the guy won't budge from his disconcertingly round price label. I cave, and buy a horse.

  I name him Assfalloff after our initially rough ride, but we quickly come to understand each other. So much, in fact, that when a thief accosts us on the road up to Riverwood, Assfalloff does all the talking while I do all the threatening.

  

  The thief doesn't back down, though, so I ride back a ways and let fly a few arrows. The kitty takes a good hit, but catches up with me anyways and I'm forced to finish him off on foot. 

  

  As we fight, I can't help but see a bit of myself in this lone stranger. Was he, like me, once mistreated and beaten down by the Nose-itocracy ruling from Windhelm? Driven to murder and robbery, driven to voyeuristic clothes-swapping in his neighbor's bedroom? Dragonborn? 

  Actually, I hope the Dragonborn isn't anyone important, because if it's this guy, Skyrim's in trouble. I finish him off, turn him over for any valuables, and Assfalloff and I continue our ride.

  We run into more trouble in the ruins of Helgen.

  

  With a bit more practice and maneuverability, my horsey and I are able to rough them up, although I'm soon on my feet again after we get surrounded. To my surprise, Assfalloff is quite the warbeast himself, handling himself admirably while I pick the bandits off from afar.

  Further up the road, I see a path off the main road and remember what the tree lady in Whiterun was talking about--this is where those witches she mentioned are. I take the cautious approach and dismount early this time, hoping to get in a free kill before the witches notice I'm there.

  It turns out they've seen me, but Assfalloff charges in like a hero, bellowing like a troll and wrecking like one too.

  

  I worry for his safety as the foul witches converge on us from all directions, but he just keeps going, plowing through them like nothing else. I help him out, but the fireballs coming from the rocky bluff in the middle of the vale draw my attention. I advance up the hill alone to confront the hagraven--this is my fight.

  

  The monster is brutally hard to kill, however. Never mind that my arrows are severely outmatched by the hagraven's magic, my knife barely seems to scratch her. I cut and cut and cut, and finally, she goes down. I should have brought Assfalloff with me after all. 

  I go back down to tell him the good--

  

  --news. 

  ...no...

  I'm dead inside. While I played the hero and fought the hagraven alone, Assfalloff fell prey to the monster's foul traps below.

  "Real men cry," I tell myself. "You're a lizard." I stand in silence, dry-eyed. Assfalloff will understand.

  I handle the hagraven's knife as I head through the mountain pass to the east. It seems so small, so pointless now. Assfalloff died for a tree? I don't know if he would've done that. Died for a grassy knoll, now that's a possibility.

  I stop by a signpost to make sure I'm still heading the right direction.

  

  There's something in the air.

  I hear the dragon before I see it--it touches down over the rise and sets to torching the place, indiscriminately attacking deer, spiders, wolves, me... I'm happy to let the forest critters take some of the hits while I snipe the dragon, but this one, like the last, has brought friends.

  

  The fireladies make my life difficult. I can't stand still for more than a second before another blob of fire comes hurtling my way. Meanwhile, I have to wonder why another dragon's found me already. The last didn't want to make friends, so I know this isn't a social call. Of course, I did kill the last one. They may not be my family, but they could know each other. Maybe I've started some kind of blood feud.

  

  I still don't really want to do it, but I'm less conflicted than when I tried killing the first one. Besides, the forest critters need my help. 

  

  The dragon doesn't make it easy, though--he rarely stays down for long, flying from one part of the forest to another, lobbing fireballs in mid-flight and scorching the earth where he lands. I sprint from place to place, trying to find cover amidst the trees. There isn't much to begin with, and none when the thing attacks from the sky.

  

  About a hundred arrows and twenty forest critters later--most of them were spiders; I'm not sad--the dragon finally lets out its last, defiant roar, and dies. The same ghostly thing happens again. I guess I am the Dragonborn after all. Good thing it wasn't the kitty. 

  

  I keep heading to Riften, emotionally and physically exhausted. It seems my taxing journey isn't over yet, though--I meet an old orc on the way looking to die an honorable death. He thinks I'm just a pushover, mostly because I don't tell him that, by the way, I killed a dragon on the way over. 

  His evaluation of my status as "pushover" isn't that far off, though--he's a brute, pushing me to my limits as much as either dragon. Without the benefit of my bow or the shadows, I'm just a guy with a knife. I'm quick, but squishy. 

  Desperate but not ready to run away from the fight, I poison my blade. I guess I'm not an honorable guy after all.

  

  The orc succumbs quickly to the spider's venom and dies his death. I'm too dispirited to pick him over for loot, so I leave him on the ground and arrive at Riften.

  The gate guards make themselves difficult, demanding a hefty bribe unless I go around to the north gate. They can't have known what I've been through, so I decide to tell them.

  "Look," I say. "My best friend died today and I am biologically incapable of crying about it. Do you really want to test me right now?"

  

  The guard stares at me, uncomprehending. Hmph. I'll bet he doesn't have any friends. 

  I decide to use the north gate.