Chapter 6: Before The Storm — Ver. 2.0
I've been walking on the road for a while now with the gurgling and rushing river to my left, and the forested foothills to a mountain to my right, and I've finally come up upon a scene I remember fondly in-game. It's a scene where the Companions, a group of heroic adventurers that take on requests, are fighting a giant that's been assaulting Pelagia Farm.
The giants here in Skyrim are unlike the common image of giants, as they're relatively small in comparison to most other types of giants in other forms of media. These giants are only about a dozen feet tall, so while they're still massive compared to humans, they're not super imposing. The giants here are all gangly and skinny, probably because of the fact that these giants are generally peaceful and nomadic, so they don't usually grow their muscles on purpose. Despite that, they're born extremely strong, and since most giants don't speak Tamrielic, the most common language on Nirn, they can't really communicate with humans or elves, and so become a nuisance to humans sometimes, like here at Pelagia Farm.
Pelagia Farm isn't far from Whiterun, but it's far enough away that the giants wandering the plains to the east come up upon it, and try to take the food farmed by the farmers. As far as I know, it hadn't really evolved to actual combat until now, which is just before the Dragonborn comes up upon the fighting. Now that I'm here, I can see them fighting.
The Companions are damn good fighters, as I see a female warrior with two swords sprinting around, dodging the giants' clumsy blows. That warrior would be Ria, the newest member of the Companions, at least, until I join. Another warrior, this time a man named Farkas, is swinging a massive steel greatsword, letting Ria take the attention of the giant, and hitting the giant whenever it shows an opening. The last, Aela, is firing arrows at him several dozen feet away, hitting him precisely at the chest, in his sides, anywhere the other Companions aren't in the way.
I pull out one of my daggers and get ready to throw it. I take aim at the giant. By no means was I even remotely good at throwing a dagger - at least, in my old body, but I feel like the new body I'd been given might be capable for it.
The giant gets ready to smash his huge club down to the ground at Ria, so as he brings it up, I throw the dagger. The dagger flies into the air, spinning. It glances off of his left arm, striking a bloody cut. The second the dagger hit, he looked over to my direction. With his attention stolen, Farkas steals a chance to chop at his waist, while Ria takes the chance to jump back. The giant ignores. Farkas' hit and stomps at Ria. Aela, also using this chance, begins to move forward, pulling a sword out.
Since I'm still quite a distance away, he tries to walk over to me but is blocked by the Companions. His attention returns to them and I grab another dagger.
Since he's facing me now, I take aim at his head. I wait for him to swing his club, and when he uses the momentum to swing up and around his head, ready for a downward slam, I throw my dagger. This time, it pierces his chest, right about where his heart should be. Not what I was aiming for, but good enough, I guess. The giant stops, stunned. His arms weaken, which is made obvious by the club whacking his head, almost comically so. It visibly breaks his skull, even at the 20 or so feet I was away from him.
The second the giant stops, one of the Companions, Aela, uses the chance to whip around him and slice his legs out from under him. Once he's on his knees, the Companion slices the giant's throat open with her sword. It's Aela, a huntress from the Companions. She specializes in archery and, despite her beautiful visage, will readily kill you without a seconds' thought, should you provoke her.
I almost feel bad for the giant. The giant was definitely dead by now. When the Companion finishes, she makes her way to me, and says, "Thanks for the assistance. If you'd like to join the Companions, talk to Kodlak. Tell him Aela gives him my recommendation."
The group turns around to head back up to Whiterun. I first search the giant, collecting 37 gold in a small sack tied at the giants waist with quite the unfriendly odor, the giant's toes (they're alchemical ingredients), my two daggers, and a steel war axe someone left in his side. I know not where the axe came from, just that it was left there. I toss the daggers in my bag, slide the axe into my belt, and jog up to them, taking advantage of the moment.
I know that when I reach up to the gates of Whiterun I'll be stopped by guards, and that's pretty annoying, so I'll see if I can skip it for now by using the Companions as escorts. And considering the major differences Riverwood has, Whiterun might be different as well, perhaps even more so.
"Wait!" I say. "You all are going to Jorrvaskr, right? That's near Dragonsreach. Could you all guide me there? I have to reach the Jarl as quickly as possible, and it's my first time to Whiterun."
"Sure?" They didn't sound especially happy about the request, but they didn't sound disheartened by it, either.
Now, I won't be stopped by the guards with the Companions by my side. (It got annoying in the game.) Not only that, if the city's different in any major way, I'll be fine because I've got guides now, too.
As we approach Whiterun, I notice that Whiterun is massive. Much, much, much bigger in person. A lot more populated, too. I can hear the hubbub of the city already. Smoke from chimneys all across the city color the bright blue sky with light tones of grey clouds.
We pass a Khajiit caravan outside the gates. They seem to be much more numerous than I remembered. A set of five carriages stood by the road close to the outermost walls in the shape of a Greek omega (Ω). Three large, curved, pelt-covered tents dominated the centermost area of the inside of the omega.
Sitting inside the entrance to the middle one, I could see Ri'saad, the merchant of this trade route, dominating the market with goods from Markarth. He's sitting cross-legged on an ornate circular mat made of thatched reeds and thin, wiry strands of cotton. The way it appears is much sleeker and looks much softer than the one Ri'saad sat on ingame.
Being the first Khajiit I've seen in real life, he looks upon me with a curious, yet uncaring gaze. The fur above his skin looked both soft and oily at the same time. I guess... being a humanoid cat-like creature meant that you also secrete the same kind of sweat and oils that both humans and normal cats secrete? I imagine having a furry coat in this breezy, roughly 50 degree weather would feel great, though. Today's definitely colder than yesterday, but it strangely doesn't feel much different, as if my skin has an invisible layer of warm air exuding from it, or I'm generating more heat.
I quickly take notice of something else that wasn't in the game. Besides the changes with the caravan, there are a multitude of bedrolls, fire pits, and simple tents that dotted the roadside. Inside the tents, and sitting near the fire pits and on the bedrolls are people of all kinds of races. I see Nords, Imperials, Redguards, Bretons. Elves, Orcs. Khajiit that weren't part of the caravan. They're clearly all refugees from the war.
I suppose this is just yet another reminder that the civil war plaguing Skyrim affects all people living here. On our way up to the gates, I see a line of refugees trying to make their way into the city, but the city guard is refusing them entry, as the population is already high enough in the city, and that they (the guardsmen) have their orders.
Instead of allowing them to enter Whiterun, the guard captain is telling them to instead head to Solitude. There, the refugees can find jobs and living space with the Legion army
there.
As the Companions escort me past hastily built palisades and several sketchy guardwalls, I watch dozens of guards exchange posts in the middle of the day. We walk up to the gates of Whiterun, and the guards try to stop me from entering, but the Companions say that I'm with them and to let me pass.
Something different about these guards is that carry tall spears with oval-shaped heads, along with swords at their waist, and their shields on their backs. They also have belts with pockets, like a bandolier, that they wear at their waist. Besides the difference in weaponry, they also have a change in armor: they no longer wear their usual padded leather armor with a yellow scarf, but instead wear an iron chestplate, with a black cape that has a yellow horse symbol in the center trailing behind. The tail of the cape is cut short enough that it won't get caught on their heels or weapons.
They also wear a small kilt made of chainmail that has leather straps, and yellow-colored cloth hangs from their belt like a flag in flag football. Iron greaves that stretch from their kilt to their ankles cover up their legs. Their fur boots though, hold daggers right on their calves.
They allow me through, and I gasp when I walk inside.
"Beautiful, right?" Aela says proudly. I nod, anxious and slightly scared. I mean, yeah it's beautiful, but the density of the people is more than I'm used to. I don't exactly get out much, besides hanging out with the friends I made a long time ago. Since it's big enough to hold the people with a lot of extra space, it's great, but my problem is the guaranteed new variables (the people that weren't in the game). I don't know how they might influence the way my new life going to play out.
The Companions guide me through the crowd of people. As we go through, I spot people and buildings I've seen in the game before, but a lot of things I see are new completely different from the game.
For instance, when we pass by Breezehome, the house you'd buy after becoming a Thane¹, it wasn't just a house, but a mansion, with a limited area of property surrounding it. Granted, with this world's increased space and population, that's understandable. Then where I'd usually see Arcadia's Cauldron, I see next to it a small chapter building for a witch-hunting crew, a building by the name of Ravenbane Hall. I also see multiple warehouses for all sorts of companies, for masons, carpenters, and more. There are even open-air restaurants in the marketplace.
I see a lot more things like those and more, but soon we reach Jorrvaskr, the massive home of the Companions. I thank the Companions, before crossing the city square to the long staircase that led to Dragonsreach.
I climb up the stairs, looking out on the city every few dozen steps, until I reach a platform where the stairs changed angles. Whiterun's expansive reach from this hilltop outwards, stretches far, going out miles in every direction, but most especially to the east. I see thousands of residents, but despite all these people, there was very little smoke in the air, besides coming from tanneries and the like. There are thousands of houses that are brightly painted, others are painted darker, and some have been left alone bearing no paint whatsoever. Jorrvaskr, the massive mead hall it was, looked exactly how it was in the game: a giant ship upturned made it's roof, the doors were large, and the shields decorating the side of the ship were covered in blood...
What? Were- were those...? Those weren't covered in blood originally or, at least, they weren't in the game. They were painted in the game... 'I think the Companions got a bit more violent than they used to be.'
I decide to ignore it, turn around, and come face-to-face to a Whiterun guard, who walking with his patrol, a group of four guards. The guard is standing on the steps in front me, so either him or me has to scoot to the side before continuing up the stairs. The guard stares from his helmeted face directly at me, deep with my eyes into my soul, as he says in a deep, gravelly voice:
"I used to be an adventurer like you, until I took an arrow in the knee."
After he says that, he just stands still, confused. He looks up to the sky and goes, "Why. In Oblivion. Did I just say that?"
He smacks himself in the face, or rather helmet, then goes around me and continues on.
As he walks away, I hear him mutter, "I've never really even left this city, besides going out to defend Riverwood once in a while. I've never even taken an injury to the knee, 'cept maybe old age. Stupid-..." That was all I could hear before he went out of earshot, catching up to the rest of his patrol.
I continue climbing up the stairs, trying extremely hard not to laugh. That was very NPC-like of him to say. That was one of the most random things I've seen in a long time. As I make it up the last few steps, I look upwards, at Dragonsreach.
It stands more than a hundred feet tall, easily the tallest structure I've seen so far. Dragonsreach is a finely built castle, but unlike the relatively small, wooden version in the game, this real life version is much larger and far more imposing, being made of worked sandstone and granite, alongside the wood. The gardens along the sides of the building make it more spectacular, along with the pools of water surrounding the walkway to the vast doors.
I walk to the doors and push it open. As I enter the building, I notice the multitude of servants. There's at least ten, all carrying things to the kitchens, cleaning decorations, or sweeping the floors. The guards standing around also influence the atmosphere here.
I walk through the foyer, to the staircase leading to the court of the castle. The court here is designed in the style of an ancient Nordic meadhall. A rectangular hearth dominates the middle of the room, with two lengthy tables on the longer sides. The hearth provides the most light out of all the things in the room, including the windows.
The Jarl's throne is on a dais, above the tables. I recognize his bodyguard and housecarl¹, Irileth, who always stands by his side. Irileth is a Dunmer woman who physically appears as though she's in her early 50's, but she's likely older than that, given that she's an elf. Such information isn't explicitly given within the game. Irileth has with her, a tired but constantly wary look, which combined with her high cheekbones and red eyes makes her slightly intimidating. Her auburn hair shines against the firelight of the hearth.
Two more guards stand at the ready on the sides of the dais, wearing a yellow tabard marked with violet borders. They both hold massive halberds, and are tall. At least a foot taller than me, which is unbelievable, because I'm at least 6 feet tall, give or take a few inches. So for them to be a foot taller...
They are extremely well-built, too, made obvious by the fact that the pauldrons on their shoulders are almost excessively wide, and the fact that they don't have any armor covering their arms, besides a simple wristguard. These guys have to be like half-giant or something, because they're almost stupidly large. I would be intimidated by them were it not for the man talking the Jarl.
Talking to the Jarl is a balding man, standing slightly off center from the Jarl, to his left. I can't remember his name at all, mainly because he doesn't have too much of an effect on the plot. Characters that don't have an effect on the story get mentally thrown away, after all.
"My lord, please. You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these. If the news from Helgen is true... Wel, there's no telling what it means."
He continues speaking, and as he does so, I approach the dais where Jarl Balgruuf is seated in his throne. Irileth steps between me and the Jarl. She pulls her sword out as she gets in my way, and asks, "What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."
"I have news from Helgen, about the dragon attack. I was also sent here by Alvor, from Riverwood. He thinks Riverwood is in danger." I answer, nervously, raising my hands.
"Well that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak to you personally." She sheathes her sword and nods her head to the Jarl. She returns back where she was standing originally, next to the Jarls' throne.
The Jarl and the man have stopped speaking.
"Who's this, then?" The Jarl gestures towards me. The Jarl, a male Nord with golden hair, upon which sits a gold and ruby circlet. He's weary a fancy suit that has a sleeveless blue overcoat with a gilded red chestpiece that extends to his knees. He has a beard down to his collarbone and a light brown fur cape. His defined muscles speak highly of his trained body and skill with a weapon.
"My name is Drake, Jarl Balgruuf. A dragon attacked Helgen, and Alvor fears Riverwood is next."
"Alvor? The smith, isn't he? Reliable, solid fellow. Not prone to flights of fancy... And you're sure Helgen was destroyed by a dragon? This wasn't some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?"
"I was there. The dragon decimated Helgen, from a fort to ruins." I nod as I say it, remembering how easily people were burned alive, or crushed under meteors from Dragon Storm Call. I shiver as I remember my thoughts and reactions to Alduin.
"By Ysmir, Irileth was right! What say you now, Proventus?" Balgruuf is almost proud. He leans forward in his throne, looking at Proventus with his right hand under his chin.
'That was the man's name!' Proventus doesn't have too much of an effect on the plot of the game, so I forget his name fairly easily. Irileth starts speaking, talking about sending troops to Riverwood.
"My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."
Proventus argues back. "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him." Proventus isn't exactly wrong, given the politics of this world, but when it comes down to an attack by a dragon...
Balgruuf silences both of them.
"Enough! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."
Irileth answers promptly, with a very slight smirk on her face. "Yes, my Jarl."
Proventus clearly feels otherwise, as he says, "We should not..," but Jarl Balgruuf shouts out, "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" As he shouts that, he stands up from his throne and begins to pace the dais.
His Nordic accent combined with the statement make it sound straight out of a movie. Almost... storybook.²
"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus says respectfully, but coldly. He fumes, bowing slightly, then walks away. He's a proud man, but not a stupid one. He knows when the time to back down is.
"That would be best." Balgruuf's voice sounds much calmer now. All the while, I've been standing here almost caught in the crossfire. Balgruuf turns to me and I almost jump. He carries himself like a king, as a Jarl should. That was pretty much what they are, after all.
Balgruuf sits back down on his throne and resumes his position when he's at peace.
"Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. You, take him to the armory and give him some actual armor." He points to a guard and gestures away.
The guard he points at steps forward, bows, and says, "Follow me." As I walk behind him to the armory, I hear the Jarl mutter to Irileth, "It feels almost like I've had that argument with Proventus a countless number of times before."
Irileth answers, "It feels that way for me, as well, Jarl."
I can't hear any more of it, as the guard and I are too far to hear it. But the guard agrees with the Jarl, and I know, because he whispers, "Deja vu?" as we hear them talk about it.
When we make it to the armory, I take a look around, and find that there's more armor and weapons than I could ever have thought would be here. Most of the armor are of modern designs, but I'm able to spot Cyrodiilic armor from 200 years ago, during the Oblivion Crisis. That armor I only recognize because the game before Skyrim, Oblivion, is set in Cyrodiil during the Oblivion Crisis. Oblivion was a good game, but it simply didn't have the graphics nor mod-processing power Skyrim did. Granted, it did have far more diverse quests, enemies, and a much more engaging plot than Skyrim, so it beat Skyrim in those capacities. In the end though, I prefer Skyrim not because of it's story, but because of the fact that no matter what you did with it, it remains as one of, if not the, most adaptive games out there. I remember hearing once that Skyrim was bad in a lot of aspects I kind of agree with, but the biggest pro it had in it's favor was that it's like a canvas for art: whatever you wanted in it, you could have. Whatever desires you hold for it, it could fulfill. And that means a lot to me, because there were so many mods for it out there that all I had to do download one more, and it'd be like playing a new game.
After looking around the room for a bit, I see a cuirass of steel armor with intricately forged pauldrons that looks roughly around my size. I put it on, and check how it fits. It doesn't fit perfectly, but it's okay. The size doesn't matter as much as the fact that it's slightly glowing red. Now, players of other games might think that it might be cursed, but this is Skyrim. Armor that glows red is indicative of something that affects the health of its wearer, usually by increasing the amount of health a player had, or by increasing the regeneration speed.
I cast Flames in my right hand, testing out the magic I gained overnight, literally. I just learned this magic, but according to the knowledge from the Benefactor, the high majority of casting spells is mainly visualizing the spells and understanding the concepts. All of magic spells is just visualizing your will and manipulating Magicka to actualize it. To cast this spell, all one must do is imagine a candle's flame in their hand. The heat, the light. All of it must be similar. And that's it. With other spells, there are more parameters and the precision required is higher, but for a simple flame? All it takes is the imagination.
A soft *whoosh* sounds out as a lone flame bursts into existence several inches away from my hand. It waves to and fro, splitting and reforming in the light filtering through the small translucent windows. This flame looks strange without a source, but it burns just the same. The heat radiating from it heats my hand, warming my face. The light from it shines on the armor in front of me.
I can *feel* the Magicka drain out from my body as I cast Flames. I put my left hand close to the Flames I casted, testing to see if the enchantment of the armor was health regeneration or health increasing. As part of my hand starts to redden then blister, I stop casting Flames and watch as my hand cools, the blisters healing away in a matter of seconds, and it heals completely. Yes! A smile breaks out on my face.
Health regeneration was the best deal out of health-related armor enchantments. Obviously, the effects of such gear is fairly obvious. Being able to heal wounds in fights is clearly superior to simply being more durable.
I look around for some more steel gear. I spot a pair of boots, and a helmet. The boots are slightly too big around my feet, unfortunately, and the helmet's rusty and the aventail, (the chainmail hanging from it), is a bit broken, besides the fact that the helm itself needs some padding on the inside. There are no steel gauntlets, either, so I grab some iron ones that happen to be spiked. These will be handy in a pinch. As soon as I equip the (relatively) new armor I get, I return to the dais, where the Jarl is sitting.
He looks at me, and exclaims, "Ah, there you are! There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons."
He stands up, and walks to my right. On the right side of the room, is the area and main workplace reserved for Farengar Secret-Fire, the court mage. His name is the most memorable thing about him, besides his occasional condescending attitude.³
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💠 = Equipped
Weapons:
💠 - Steel War Axe
💠 - Iron Daggers (x3)
💠 - Iron Sword
Apparel:
💠 - Rusty Unpadded Steel Helm (25% less armor)
💠 - Steel Armor (HP Regen. Injury Heal Rate 25%↑, Light Wound Heal 50%↑)
💠 - Spiked Iron Gauntlets (+25% Hand to Hand Damage)
💠 - Unfitted Steel Boots (25% less armor)
💠 - Iron shield
- Hide shield
- Imperial light boots
- Imperial light armor
- Imperial light helmet
Food:
- Basket of Fruits and Vegetables; (onions x3, apples x6, leeks x3, potatoes x5, head of cabbage, carrots x4, loaves of bread x2)
Ingredients:
- Giant's Toes (x10)
Books:
- Stack of Stormcloak notes and letters to family (x15)
- Letter to Thrynn & Torturer's Ring
- Spell Tome: Sparks
Supplies:
- Backpack
- Bedroll
Miscellaneous:
- Lockpicks
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¹A Thane is like a feudalistic knight. It's slightly different, as one cannot be a knight of multiple places, but a Thane can.
²That's a reference for later. People who've played the game before will know just who that's a reference to.
³Sorry, I didn't really have a good "end the chapter here" moment.