Stormcrown Rising - A Rough Welcome (I)

• Posted by Seeker Marik December 11, 2012 - 944 views

  I'm writing this by firelight in the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. In Skyrim.

  I'd like to start by saying that I never should have taken that last bounty, the one that led me right into the Imperial ambush. It nearly cost me my life, more than once. All of my belongings, if they aren't left buried in the snow back in Cyrodiil over the border, were probably lost in Helgen, when the dragon attacked.

  

  Helgen... when I hear the name, all I see is fire, and that great black dragon. An entire village, gone in the blink of an eye. If it weren't for Ralof, I don't think I would have made it out.

  Ralof was one of the other prisoners. A Stormcloak, a member of the anti-Imperial rebellion in Skyrim, he was the one who snapped me out of my shock when the dragon first landed. I followed him into the keep, he was the one who cut my hands free. We fought our way out of that keep, through the Imperial guards. I hope my choices don't come back to haunt me... I was unjustly imprisoned, and they drew first. I only fought because I had to.

  
  Or so I tell myself.

  Even when we escaped, and the dragon flew off to the east somewhere, Ralof continued his railing against the Empire. He kept going on about how "I'd seen the true face of the Empire," but I'm not sure what he means. All I saw there were soldiers, doing their jobs. The captain who sentenced me to death for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time fell on the axe I'd borrowed from a fallen Stormcloak, so I consider my vengeance taken.

  

  For Ralof, though, it's all a part of something bigger. Maybe over time, I'll see what it is he does. I hope I do not.

  Ralof and I walked through the forest to Riverwood, where he said his sister would give us a place to recover. My head still aches even now, days later, but I've taken several potions and feel that I will be capable of traveling to Whiterun to speak to the Jarl, as the people have asked of me. Then, hopefully, I can spend the coin I've collected and figure out where to go from there.

  The first thing I did in Riverwood, after speaking with Ralof's sister, Gerdur, and eating a hearty meal was to pay a visit to the local general goods store. I apparently interrupted an argument between the shopkeeper and his sister, a severe-looking Imperial woman. They were robbed recently, and the thieves took an artificial dragon's claw (if I never hear that word again, it'll be too soon... the heat and smoke and screams all come back). I sold off the armor I'd collected from fallen Imperial and Stormcloak soldiers. I don't want to appear as though I am taking sides in this conflict.

  With the coin that brought me, I was excited to learn that the merchant carried spell tomes. Apparently, the Synod and College of Whispers don't have any kind of monopoly this far north. I may have gone a little overboard, but I bought every tome he had, and still had a little left over for drinks at the inn. The next morning, I spent helping the town's smith in exchange for some armor. I wasn't sure if it was the best idea for me to leave the town so soon, but I'd promised the merchant and his sister that I would recover the claw. It was a hard climb up the mountain, where I almost marched right into a bandit ambush, but I used one of the new spells I had spent some time studying to turn them against each other while I took care of any survivors.

  Bleakfalls Barrow was a bandit's nest. The leader, Arvel the Swift, had left a few men behind, which I managed to handle without too much difficulty. The real challenge came when I found Arvel himself. The thief had managed to get himself caught in the web of a massive spider.

  That was one of the hardest fights I've seen in a while. Its exoskeleton turned aside half of my strikes, and its poison made short work of my familiar, but I found out that if you chop off a few legs on one side, these giant spiders have a hard time keeping their balance. Just watch out if they try to spit their poison. A quick frost spell ended up being enough to make the carapace brittle enough for a final thrust.

  And, true to form, once I cut Arvel down, he took off running deeper into the ruins. I tried to keep up, but lost him around a bend. His screams were the only warning I had. The dead walk in Bleakfalls Barrow.

  Dessicated corpses and traps had killed the Bosmer. The corpses all turned to look at me, all tattered rags and rusted swords. They attacked in groups, and I had a few very close calls. I only survived because of the healing spell I'd managed to brush up on. I was lucky a few times, too; the stiffs all walked right through their own traps, if I planned things out right.

  After a while, I made it to a giant stone door at the end of a hallway with strange carvings. I only spent a moment looking at the carvings, the thrill of combat making me impatient, but they appeared to be of priests or kings, venerating some kind of animal-totem and carrying the bodies of the fallen. I might have to return to take down a sketch of two, some day, and see what information I can gather on them.

  The door at the end of the hallway was a puzzle of some kind, but I was able to figure out the key using the thief's journal. The key to it was carved into the palm of the dragon's claw. I shoved the circular pieces around until they matched the pattern, tried the claw in the door, and it slid down. I was the first person in centuries to have made it this far, I do believe.

  One or two more of the corpses had to be put back down before I entered a massive cavern. At its heart was a raised sepulcher in front of a wall made of dark stone and next to a massive chest. As I approached the wall, I felt my pulse quicken, my blood pounding in my ears. On the lower half were bizarre markings, clearly some form of writing, but unlike anything I've ever seen before. For some odd reason, one of the words, right in the middle of the second or third line, seems to stand out in my mind more than any of the others. A series of three long vertical line, with shorter half-lines and dots interspersed between:

  

  

  

  Why these glyphs stand out so much is a mystery. Something else I might have to look into once I've finished my business with the Jarl.

  As soon as I turned around from the wall and approached the chest, the lid flew off of the sepulcher and the meanest looking undead I've ever seen rose from it. His sword had the glimmer of enchantment on it, so I backed away quickly and summoned my familiar to help me defeat the creature. The spirit managed to get his attention, and I hacked away at it while its back was turned. Not a difficult fight, but if that sword had cut me, I might not have survived. It did use some kind of magic I'm not at all familiar with, before it fell. It seemed to yell, but when it shouted it was like the crack of thunder and the ground seemed to shake. I'll ask around in Whiterun, see if anybody has heard of something similar. It could come in handy.

  The cavern led to a back exit, and I spent an hour or two a little disoriented, trying to find which direction I should go in to get back to Riverwood. I'll have to be more careful about that in the future; it started getting a little chilly, and I didn't think ahead to bring any camping supplies with me. I found a path that looked like it was going in the right direction, right near an old cottage. I stopped by the cottage, to see if anybody was home and if they would be willing to part with a little food in exchange for some of the coin I'd taken off the bandits.

  The cottage was home to a little old lady, who I found sitting on a chair out front. She seemed kind and softspoken, until I questioned her about a soul gem I caught a glimpse of on the book shelf just beyond her doorway. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. She jumped up surprisingly quickly and geysers of frost slammed into me, staggering me backwards and threatening to freeze my blood. I did my trick then, where I kind of just envision myself as an empty vessel slowly being filled. Most of her spell refilled my own reserves, which I used to cast a spell that thickened my flesh as she drew her dagger. Despite her magic, she was no match for me up close. A quick search of her house revealed a hidden trapdoor down to a cellar, where she kept an enchanting altar and an alchemy worktable, which I took the liberty of using to learn a few new enchantments (once again, it is nice to see that there doesn't seem to be a monopoly on magic, although I do think I'd best keep my conjuration down to a minimum, if I don't want to lose the trust of the locals... they look at me oddly enough when I use destruction-school spells). I also found a letter she'd written, asking somebody to leave a man and come out and join her and her sister, to form a witches' coven.

  I hope I don't have to sleep with one eye open in the near future. I never saw any sign of anybody else, let alone her sister. I wish I'd had a way to bury her, at least, but I had no shovel and the permafrost would've made any kind of digging a painful endeavor. I left the shack, and made my way back to Riverwood, where I dumped the gear I'd taken off of the bandits (save for an iron helmet, which I've decided to keep for a while... no more whacks to the head for me, thanks). I used a little of it to buy this journal, since my last one is lost and gone forever.

  And now the inn is filling, as all the people come in from their day's labors. I think I'll finish up here, eat a filling meal and sample some more of the mead before I make my way back to Gerdur's house for the night. The potions and healing spells have paid off, and I think I'll be ready for some traveling in the morning. Whiterun awaits.