The Speaker 13: Right is Wrong

• Posted by Clement Bilhorn February 9, 2013 - 751 views

  As I expected, I reach Karthspire hours before Esbern and Delphine, so I make camp for the night and wait for them to show up.

  They're there when I wake, and I hope they got a bit of sleep, because it looks like we've got a real fight ahead of us. I try to take it stealthy-like, but Esbern loses his cool and starts throwing fireballs everywhere so I'm forced to close the distance.

  

  And as if the Forsworn weren't bad enough already, it turns out they have a thing for witches.

  

  But while I'm dealing with the hag and her associates, Esbern and Delphine clean up on the south side of the camp, so the entrance is all clear in a matter of minutes. I guess friends do serve a purpose, even if they can't keep quiet for more than a few seconds at a time.

  

  Karthspire proper turns out to be a pretty impressive thing, and I get plenty of time to admire it while banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how to move the bridges. 

  

  Esbern finally shows up and gives some helpful pointers, and continues to do so right up to the point where he tells me to cut myself all over the floor.

  

  My blood has kind of a purplish tint, and I wonder why I never noticed that before. But the giant stone head isn't too discriminating, so he lets us on through, and soon enough, we're at Alduin's Wall.

  

  I guess I was expecting something a bit bigger and less literal, but it's still quite impressive. Esbern explains what it all means, that it's a history of how some people a long time ago managed to defeat Alduin. They used a Shout, which is interesting. Unfortunately, it also gives me a reason to hike it all the way up High Hrothgar again. 

  But before doing that, I take a moment to see if any of this old armor fits.

  

  Surprisingly, it does, but it's not quite my style. A lot of rattling and clanking, more than I care for, so I leave it where I found it, but I do keep the sword. It looks just like mine. Maybe I'll be able to put it to good use in the future.

  There's a heavy fog setting in by the time I get outside, but I'm not complaining. I think my time as a vampire has made me appreciate the gloomier climates. 

  

  The fog hasn't lifted in the slightest when I get to Ivarstead. In fact, it looks almost inviting, a soft, cozy blanket, a far cry from the razor-like icy winds I dealt with last time. But really, the angry guards shouting at me over horse theft are motivation enough.

  

  The fog persists all the way up. Truthfully, I've never seen anything like it.

  

  I finally reach Arngeir and his fellows, but before I can even ask about the mysterious Shout that defeated Alduin, the old guy snatches Jurgen Windcaller's horn from my hands and then tells me that I'm ready to be fully inducted into the Graybeards. I protest; it's not what I'm interested in at the moment, but I don't really get a word in edgewise with all the shouting going on.

  

  So they have their fun and then listen to my question. There's a bit of awkwardness when Arngeir suggests that I'm somehow the bad guy for not wanting the world to end, but finally he relents and tells me I can go see their leader on top of the mountain. 

  So they tell me how to clear up the skies and, I must admit, it's pretty neat. For the first time, my being a Dragonborn is letting me do something that a good bit of sharpened steel can't. 

  

  Well, that I'm aware of. I don't speak for the capabilities of all good steel. 

  Anyways, the presence of some goats on the climb up is a bit perturbing. Really? This mountain can hold back me, the Dragonborn, the guy who killed Ulfric Stormcloak and makes deals with Daedra and pretty much everything else, but not a couple of mountain goats? The hierarchy of powers in this country makes no sense. I can kill dragons and mammoths, mammoths kill dragons, dragons kill goats, and goats bloody well go wherever they want. It doesn't make sense.

  

  And finding out that the Graybeards are being led by a dragon just makes it worse.