Chapter 26: Problem Solved — Ver. 1.0
Something hits my head, and my eyes twitch open. It's a drop of water, sliding down my cheek, directly into a large pool of water I'm in.
There's something growing about a foot above my head, sticking out of the wall. I think it's a glowing mushroom, based on the light reflecting off of the low-hanging cloud of mist I'm sitting against the wall in. The mushroom's soft greenish light illuminates the narrow passage I'm in, and while the light is soft, the water refracting it back up makes my head hurt, annoying me. I close my eyes and try to think about anything. Where I am, how I got here, most of all.
5 W's and H. The basics of any information getting.
Who is involved? Me and... Just me, I guess. I can't really move. Hurts like a bitch even thinking of it.
What is happening? Not a whole lot. I'm sort of just chilling in a cave, I guess. I hurt, though. A lot, and everywhere, like I did a workout with David Goggins.
Where is this taking place? I'm in a half-flooded passageway, in a cave. I dunno where, specifically.
When is this taking place? No clue. Can't tell the time, or even if it's day or night. All I've got to help me is some glowing shrooms.
Why is this happening? Zilch on that, as well.
And finally, the 'H'. How? I have no clue. I wouldn't go into any cave, unless I wanted to, and I *really* don't think I wanted to.
Another drop of water smacks against my head. This is bullshit.
I didn't get very far with the 5W's, probably cause that's more of a journalism thing that we had to do in school. Gonna have to take the L on that. What else can I do to identify where I am?
That thought keeps echoing in my head, until I notice the muffled roaring of a waterfall. It feels like one of the first things I should've noticed, but somehow I didn't. Then there's the dripping sound of water falling to the pool I'm in.
There's the fog, floating above the surface of water and lit by the glowing mushrooms. The smell of sweat and dirt hangs heavy in the moisture-ridden air.
More information, but not much better. I need to get out of this cave.
I open my eyes, and stretch. Or try to, before seeing that my ankle is practically black in the dim light and my left arm is more square-shaped than it should be. My left wrist specifically, is... Well, it's round in places it should be flat.
And just like that, as if I were in a cartoon, the pain set in. Fire courses up my arm.
I hyperventilate, trying to control my reaction to the sudden spike in pain throughout my arm. To say it stings doesn't come close. No. It more... rips through your body. It could be likened to when you take a shower that's so hot, it feels cold. Completely shocks your system.
I panic, and race to find a solution to my pain. I need to breathe slower, and control the level of pain I feel.
Inoutinoutinoutinout. Too fast. I need to slow down. Inout, inout, inout, inout. Better, but even slower.
My breath shakes as I slow it down. 'Come on. I can do it.'
In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out.
'And now, we smother the pain like we do our feelings.' I take in one last shaky breath and exhale not only my breath, but the pain I was accepting to feel as well. With a new breath being inhaled, I decide to disregard my pain.
*Pain no longer exists*. Deciding that, I stretch out my left arm and brace for the decision I'm about to take.
I grit my teeth, and jerk my arm back into it's normal position.
"FU-! Hoo, hee, hoo. Mother of God, save my soul." I curse quietly. A single tear falls from one of my eyes, and I sigh.
I lied. That's what I was doing. Lying to myself. Pain is definitely real, and it definitely hurts more than I would prefer. Why does pain have to hurt so much?
It's probably good that I was quiet, though. I don't know who - or what - is in this cave with me.
A few minutes pass, and the pain disappears. I try moving my fingers, and it... Well, it's better than completely useless. I probably can't, and shouldn't pick anything up with it, though.
Now, I need to check how bad my ankle is.
I gingerly touch it, and it's hot to the touch, my blood welling in it. It's swelling, and an unhealthy yellowish color.
I won't be able to walk on it, but as long as I careful, I should be fine. Now, I've gotta figure out where I am.
First part of that is to stand up.
I roll over on my good side, and push myself to my knees with my right arm, keeping my bad ankle off the ground. I raise up into a kneel, and push off the ground with my left ankle, the good one. I let my bad ankle drag behind, and limp near a wall.
Using the wall to support me, I lean against it, looking up to the brazier.
Now, it's time to make a decision. Deeper into the cave, or out the cave. Whichever direction I go, it can only get better. Probably. I hope.
I limp along the wall, heading towards the sound of the waterfall. I put some extra effort into it, as my right ankle is weighed down by the water.
I round a bend in the passage, and see a black iron door ahead of me, along with a small staircase leading up to it. It's designed in a style I don't recognize at first, but then see the motifs and characters of Dovahzul, the Dragon language combined with designs of the Nord god Talos.
Right... Skyrim. I'm in Skyrim. I'm in Skyrim? There's no way that's possible, right? I think back as far as I can, and meet a wall, a blank space where my memories should be. It feels like I'm pushing my eyes in a direction they're not supposed to go.
'Shit... What happened? How am I here? This doesn't make any sense.'
My vision pulses and darkens. I'm hyperventilating. I need to calm down. I need to calm down.
'I can't find out where I am, if I fall unconscious.'
With that thought in mind, I take deeper and deeper breaths.
I clamber up the steps gingerly, and reach for the handle on the door.
I pull open the door and am sprayed with water from the waterfall in front of me. I limp out and blessed with the sight of a nighttime sky with two moons shining brightly.
'Yup. This is definitely Skyrim.' My memory is gone. I'm sure of that.
How do I know that this place is Skyrim, then? And if I know where I am, why don't I know other things, like what I was doing before being in that cave, however I got there?
My forehead starts pounding, and something drips from my nose. I reach up to my lips, and see something so obviously clichéd, I thought I was hallucinating for a moment - it was blood, of course.
I stagger to the water to wash it off in the stream, and struggle to lower myself. Fumbling to my knees, I get close to the water's edge, and dip my hands in. The sticky blood on my hand washes smoothly away as the cool water shocks my system. It darkens the otherwise clear water with a thin line.
The soft silt encompassing the embankment flurries up in the water as I pull my hands to my face, only to be carried swiftly away by the flow.
Only after rinsing my face with the water do I realize how thirsty I am, and so I lower my head to the water's surface.
Wrong decision.
A fish snaps up from the water, scaring the everliving fuck out of me. It's large, fat, and spiny, with a long crocodilian snout. A slaughterfish.
I jump backwards, hurting my broken ankle even more. I curse out a "Fuck!" and crawl backwards, away from the fish.
I pull my leg close, trying to cradle my injury, and can only watch as it springs out of the water, attempting to get to me. It lands on the dry ground, and flops around helplessly.
I watch it die as it suffocates in it's own stupidity.
I let out a raspy laugh at it's end, and struggle to stand up. (It takes a solid minute, but I manage).
When I finally manage to get upright, I look into the water, and see the dark shadows of more slaughterfish waiting for me to make the same mistake as before.
I nudge the corpse of the slaughterfish with my foot. (The injured foot, of course. It's not like it can get a whole lot worse than before, besides if the damn thing is still alive, I don't want my good foot to get hurt, too.)
It doesn't move.
I look around for a stick nearby, finding one that's about the length of my arm. It's oak, that much I can tell, and about as thick as my thumb all the way down. It's young, and still slightly bendy. All in all, a good stick. A strong stick.
I poke the fish with the stick, and it still doesn't move, so I move close to the corpse of the fish, no more than two feet away. I take aim with the stick, and nod when I've confirmed the corpse's destination: a boulder in the middle of the waterfall, just behind the school of slaughterfish waiting for me to get into the water.
I do a couple practice swings, and get ready to smash the living shit outta this fish. Or what's left of it, anyways.
'Let this be a lesson to all slaughterfish. You may be a monster to behold in the water, but the second you come onto the land, *my* territory, you can choose only death.'
That being said, (or rather, thought), I let loose, and silently nod while the fish promptly disappears temporarily, before exploding with a red spray against the rock.
What little remains there still are, are eaten to bone within seconds by the rest of the slaughterfish, so quick for food that they easily eat one of their own.
I'm both appalled and disgusted by this display of raw brutality, as if I didn't contribute in any way.
"Mm... Wow." I swallow the urge to vomit.
I shake it off, though. "Right, I should have better things to do, like find out where I am exactly."
I turn around, to find a worn trail on a hill behind me.
"Well," I groan, "That's a place to start."
I limp up the trail, and finally reach the top of the hill, where it meets a road, stretching to my left and right.
Without hesitation, I start limping down the path to my left, where it heads to a bridge.
The cave I was in went into the hill, the direction that would become my right at the top of the hill. Nobody would walk to a cave that goes behind them, unless it was for a specific purpose. And I was on the ground and left there, as if I were a toy or something. Wherever I came from, whoever put me there, (if it even was a person), came from this path, the left.
Besides there's a trail of dark spots on the trail that obviously must have come from me. If I just follow it, I should be able to find a town or city, or something.
However, what if I was brought out of there for a reason, like my captor(s) were saving me? Well, the best I can do is hope I didn't commit a crime or something.
I continue walking.
• • •
The shouting's lasted for at least three hours now, with the same argument being argued over. It started off fine, as a normal meeting, but soon evolved to the arguing match it is now.
Lydia was tired of their bullshit, (she wasn't really listening, but they were loud and annoying), and she was about to snap. So she did.
"Stop!" She screamed out.
Everyone quieted down, as her tear-stricken face began to heat up.
"This is shite. We're not getting anywhere. You want a funeral, and I want some damn assistance. How hard is it to simply have the funeral *after* we find who we're missing?"
The man who was trying to bring order back to the town, the guardsman... Johann! (Lydia finally remembered!) held his hand up.
"Look," He started, "It's not that simple. Our guard captain wasn't simply the guard captain. He might as well have been the village chief, since the Thanes aren't doing their jobs."
"You mean to tell me that one of the Thanes are supposed to be the proxy between this village and the Jarl here?" Lydia asks.
"Talos' hands, hold me back." Johann looks to the sky and curses. "Yes. That's what we've been arguing about this entire time. Have you seriously not been listening? Thane Erlind was supposed to be in charge here. Since he's not, and thank Talos he isn't, Captain Mitch has been in charge here. The problem is, Mitch is missing. He and Jon, another missing man, are both gone, probably in the same place that troll took your Thane. Thing is, that troll is damn smart. A Learning Troll, we call 'em. Bet 'e figured out your Thane's attacks or style or wha'ever, and beat him using that."
"What do you mean, a Learning Troll? How strong could one be?" Lydia asks, genuinely confused as to how smart or 'learning' this troll could be.
Johann snorts. "Well, the dumbest Learning Troll we've ever seen out here could easily handle three men at once, and that's without whatever enchanted gear your Thane had on 'im. Problem is, Learning Trolls quickly figure out how to slap some armor onto themselves, mostly helmets or whatever, because those types of armor're built for a wide array of sizes and are simple to wear. Good thing trolls ain't got much of a grip to use a sword, otherwise we'll be in for a real doozy. Smart trolls can copy actions and figure things out for themselves, like how he figured out how to use your Thane as a hostage. Quickly learned that, didn't 'e? Didn't have to teach 'im that, now did ya?"
"Okay, well, can we track my Thane down?" Lydia asks.
"I can help with that." Ja'Rado inputs.
"The troll smells..." Ja made a visibly disgusted face. "Well, let's just say you'd rather not know. Anyways, I can track it down, but if it gets a bath of any kind, we might be in for some trouble."
"Why?" Lydia asks.
"It's smell is strong, but thin, like it could go away quickly. Storms would also not be good, so we are on a bit of a schedule." Ja was clear on that.
"See!" Lydia smiles at Johann.
"Well, if we're gonna hunt down my men, that troll, and your Thane, we're gonna need my guardsmen. Thing is, town funds are low, and payments are due. Funds are a major problem in this town because of the Thane. See, he likes to gamble, except he does it with Ivarstead's coffers instead of his own."
"However much it costs, we'll pay." Lydia was firm. She was absolute in the fact that she would be willing to pay with whatever money she could if it meant seeing her Thane alive, healthy, and happy.
"Are you sure? This is going to get expensive real quick and hazard pay will be high, so if you want to back out of this deal...?"
Lydia swallows, before nodding. "I'm sure."
Johann's voice was smooth as he explains further. "We'll need 3000 gold. If you can't pay within the next two weeks, interest will start rising, and we'll come to you personally. Current rate is at 15% interest, and your next payment will need to be within the next week. If you happen to find our men before we do, though, we'll cancel the debt. Call it a little wager."
"Done. I'll pay as much as I can for now. Here's 950 gold." Lydia passes the gold bars and bag of Septims over.
Johann takes the bars and bag and tosses it to a subordinate.
"Take that to the guard tower." He tells them, and they promptly leave with the gold.
'Any price was worth it if it was for her Thane.' She told herself. But 3000 gold... That's a carriageload of gold. A huge amount.
Johann places his hand on Lydia's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I'm sure you understand."
Johann walks back to the center of the room, and gathers the attention of everyone sitting there.
"All right, guardsmen, come with me!"
A group of lightly armored men and women follow Johann as he leads them outside the inn and to the road.
"Stand still for a moment, and I'll get a headcount!" He shouts out, before tallying them up.
Johann mentally starts to produce a plan to run by. 'There's 5, 10... 20, of them total? Okay. We'll do what we did when we split up for finding the troll, because the road splits several times. There's a bunch of caves that the troll might take a liking to out around the spot that Thane was taken, and if that troll took Mitch and Jon as well, then they should probably all be in the same place.'
Confirming that the plan was sensible, he spoke out to his group.
"Right, we'll be splitting into two groups as we did before. Greg and I will be leading the two groups. Greg, take third and fourth squads. I will be taking second, as per the usual."
Johann turns to Lydia, Ja'Rado, and Emeric.
"You all can either come with me, or go on ahead. If you go on ahead, make sure to leave a trail behind you so we can follow. Time is sensitive on this, and the trail can run cold fast, right?"
Lydia nods. "We'll be going ahead."
"Good. I'll finish relaying orders, then."
He turns back to his militia, and Lydia goes to her horse.
"Now that that's settled, here's the situation. Greg, we'll be searching the eastern road. You and yours will search along the north road. If you find the men, or end up seeing a beast, just return to town before dawn. *Focus on the safety of your people*. We don't need any more missing hands, feet, or people. I've got a hunch that things will be both easier and harder than they look. Oh, and Greg. Don't forget to check your maps once in a while. Everyone here knows you don't like pulling 'em out. Especially when you need to, and... Yes, you'll be doing a search and rescue, northside. That's what we're literally talking about."
A couple of the guardsmen snicker, before the entire group breaks up into their squads and starts preparing torches and their weapons.
As the guardsmen were preparing themselves to get on the move, Lydia was finished readying her horse and nods to Emeric and Ja nearby.
They start to guide Lydia down the cobbled road, but make to the area where Drake fought the troll, and she stops. Ja slows down, before slinking his way back to her.
"You alright?" Emeric calls out to her.
"Yeah, just... Scared." She answers. Her heart was pounding, and her hands and jaw were clenching before unclenching.
The guilt. It's killing her.
"I need to find him." She whispers to herself, before shaking her head and sighing, trying to clear her thoughts.
It works, giving her a relieving reprieve, and she looks around, spotting a shining dark light glimmering on the ground.
It's an ebony sword. Thane Drake's ebony sword, to be precise. The symbol of his station, and the badge of honor he was given by Jarl Balgruuf.
It must've gone previously unnoticed because of what went on right after the troll's escape. Maybe it was dropped.
Lydia dismounts and walks to the sword, wrapping her hands around the cool handle and lifting it from the grass surrounding it.
Moonlight glints against it, and the reflection of her face shined into her eyes. What she saw only made her grit her teeth.
She saw her face, wrapped in anger and worry. And guilt. Her face, the bearer of guilt for her actions. The weight of her actions could have killed her Thane. It was her mistake, her failure to complete her job. Because her emotions clouded her judgement.
Her duty was to be Drake's sword, and his shield. And not only has she failed to be either, but she even got him injured. Because her emotions took too strong of a hold on her, and she didn't know the right way to deal with them.
Her current relationship with her Thane is a mistake. It has to be. A Housecarl, and her Thane? Who did she think she was? Some character in one of her many books, acting as if she was in a fanciful dream, or on some kind of a romantic adventure?
No, the real world comes back to bite, as hard and as cold as it usually does. This is no dream. This is no book. What she needs to do is shut up, and do her job - protecting and serving her Thane. Relationships like the one she had need to be cut out of the equation.
'No matter... No matter how much it hurts.' Lydia told herself. 'I can't, no. I *won't* make that same mistake again.'
Lydia straps the sword to her pack, knowing that after she saves her Thane... No. She knows what she'll have to do when the time comes. Besides, if she thinks of it now, it's only going to hurt even more when she sees him.
She mounts Daryon and gestures to Emeric and Ja to move on, before hiding her face and sending Daryon into a trot.
Emeric sees her face, and whispers to Ja to not talk about it. She clearly needs some space.
The clopping of Daryon's hooves fill the air, but after a few minutes the wind starts to blow, and Ja breaks the silence by sniffing loudly.
"That can't be right...? It smells like the Thane is ahead of us?"
Lydia's head perks up.
"Please clarify yourself."
Everyone stops, and Ja'Rado elaborates.
"Yes, it definitely smells like him, but... He is without the troll... The troll's scent is much weaker than his. However... It smells like blood. A *lot* of it. He is most definitely injured."
"Then we need to hurry. Guide us!" Lydia was emphatic.
"Understood." Ja nods, and bounds away, nearly jerking Emeric off from his seat on the leather saddle.
Lydia prods Daryon into a gallop, and they soon catch up.
They travel at this pace for no more than 30 minutes, and they come upon an armored person collapsed on the road. However, the steel armor he wore wasn't in it's best condition, and nor was the man inside.
Lydia's eyes pass over his injuries, and... There were quite a few. His skull, to start. His forehead has blood dripping down and his nose was smashed. His cheeks were marred by dirt and mud, and had three large cuts from the hit he took from the troll. Then there were his ankles. If he wasn't wearing steel-encased boots... Well, they're contained well enough for now, but he needs healing. And his wrist is a violent shade of purple.
The enchantment of the armor he wore flickers a thin red outline over his wounds in an attempt to heal them, but it wasn't working nearly as strong as it should've, had it been enchanted by a good trained mage.
Lydia flies to the side of the body, picking him up as gently as possible, and cradling his head in her lap.
Emeric hops off Ja's back, and hands a small glass vial with a red liquid inside to Lydia. She takes it, confused, and tries to hand it back, but after Emeric nods to her, confirming his permission to use it on Drake, she feeds him the contents.
His cracked, bloodied lips take in the liquid and he greedily swallows, as if he were dehydrated. He probably was, given his time in... Gods know where, Lydia doesn't much care, she's got Drake back and that's all that matters to her.
Over the next few minutes, his wrist lightens in color to a soft greenish-blue, his ankle shrinks in size, his nose slowly realigns, and his skull, although still bloody, heals where it was once injured.
Lydia's eyes widen with a mixture of emotions: awe, relief, happiness. The potion she had given him, although clearly one of the weaker ones, was still much stronger than even the enhanced healing rate provides by the armor. It certainly impressed her given that she rarely got to see the incredible effects of a healing potion.
With each passing moment, her Thane's features appeared less battered and more reminiscent of the person she remembered. The scars given to him by the troll, the marks on his cheeks begin to smooth out and clear up, and through the dirt and mud, a faint resemblance of life returned to his cheeks.
Lydia's focus remains on his face, pointed on her Thane's eyes.
As the healing process reaches its final stages, Drake's eyelids flutter open, and he slowly regained some semblance of consciousness. He blinks a few times, his gaze weak, loose, disoriented. He winces, and Lydia leans closer, her heart pounding with anticipation.
"Hey, can you hear me?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.
The man's eyes darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Eventually, they settled on Lydia, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Lydia..." he murmured, his voice weak but filled with gratitude, happiness, and... confusion?
Relief washes over Lydia as she realizes that he recognizes her, although his confused voice still worries her. Drake's voice, though feeble, held a familiarity that tugged at her heartstrings. But there was something else in his eyes - he lost something, and Lydia starts to fear what it might have been.
"You're... You're safe now," Lydia reassures him, her voice shaking. "You can... You can rest."
Drake manages a small smile, his gratitude shining through his remaining pain. "Thanks," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
Lydia sits him up, propping him against a nearby tree for support. She hands him a waterskin filled with clean water, allowing him to rinse away the remnants of his unconsciousness. As he drinks, his strength seems to return, and he looks at Lydia with a solid look of confusion.
"Something's wrong," he said, his voice gaining clarity. "I know who you are... But this isn't... This isn't right...? I shouldn't be here. I should be at home."
Lydia listens intently to him. His confusion isn't right, she knows, but something tells her that whatever he's about to say will be important - very important. She senses a story, a tale, a *history* buried in his words.
"Tell me," Lydia urges, her eyes filled with a quiet fear of what he's going to say. "Tell me what's wrong."
• • •
"Lieutenant Johann! Lieutenant!"
Bjorn runs, a torch in hand, catching up to Johann, who was stalking his way at the head of the line of men and women in his town guard.
"Yeah?" Johann turns back to Bjorn, slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"Sir, all due respect. The hell was that? Why'd that Housecarl give you a sack of gold and a bunch of bars? We're not some damn mercenaries! We don't take gold for a job! We're a town guard. We don't have the right to order *anyone* to give us gold to make their needs above our own! Especially not when they need it."
Johann sighs, and glares at Bjorn, before pulling him aside.
He checks the area for anyone who might be onlooking, and leans in to whisper.
"D'you want to save Mitch and Jon? Because they're our best damn shot at it! That giant talking lion of theirs is a big ol' manhunter and can detect people miles away. You know what a saber cat is? It's like that, but smarter. It can strategize and communicate with people. Even worse, we don't know their intentions. That Breton and the Thane might trust 'em, but we don't. We can't! Think about the last time Khajiit went through here. They took Klemmy's family jewels! Literally, he had a beautiful emerald, and an amethyst, and a ruby, and he was plannin' on makin' a crown for his sweet lil daughter! Besides being our only shot at saving those two, they're rich as shit! I just got the town 900 gold, plus a damn bag of Septim heads. Remember Old Arnsten? About how 'is roof got turned to shit because of those damn bandits a year and a 'alf ago? Now we can pay for it. Or what about Melody's little shop she was planning on settin' up, right there in town? Perfect new attraction, somethin' else to bring money to this godforsaken pile of huts. There we go, new funds for her! Or what about the fact that half of our guard is dead and we'll need some... motivation to get some more men and women? Or that the Thane that's s'posed to be in charge here likes to do Talos knows what, off in the damn city where he constantly gets ROBBED AND SCAMMED?!"
Johann got a bit too loud, and the others are starting to notice. He clears his throat, and they get back to work. He leans back in.
"Look mate, the point is at best, we get our missing men back. At worst, we have to give the money back. But you know what we'll do? We'll give the money back, and make 'em take pity on us, so that they let us keep some. If worse comes to worst, we'll have to rob 'em. Their main man is injured, so they'll have to listen to us. We outnumber them about four to one, too, if not greater, so we'll easily win. But look, man, tell you what. I'm going to try and make them take pity on us as much as possible. They're headed to Riften, anyways. They're gonna get robbed just tryin' to walk through the gates. Not as much gold, not as big a target. That's the way these things happen to run. 'Kay, man? It's unfortunate, but... Hey. Lad. Buck up. Don't think of it as doing them a disservice. Just think of it as serving the town."
As Johann continued, Bjorn only looked more and more conflicted. Every point that Johann made, he could have beaten down. The only reason Klemmy's family jewels were taken was because it was as payment for services rendered by the Khajiit prostitute when she went through town with the caravan. She just happened to catch Klemmy's eye, and the rest became history. (Bjorn doesn't know what it was exactly that Klemmy saw worth having sex with, but to each his own). And his "sweet lil daughter" was more than twenty summers old, and happened to be... well, a lover of Johann's when they were younger. (That's very clearly biased).
And Melody got addicted to skooma when the caravan went through, and spent just about her life savings on that, as well. "But what about her shop?" an unknowing person might ask. She was planning on selling other addictive plants the Khajiit had a large stock of, too, which became *very* public after a guard investigation went through her house. It's pretty much her fault that she has no money now.
Ol' Arnsten might have a viable excuse, except for the fact that there were no bandit attacks the previous year, or a year and a half ago. His roof was seventy years old. Of course it was going to fall apart. And up to two years ago were the quietest times the town guard's experienced in a long while, and was one of the reasons Bjorn joined. He wanted to make more quiet years, and it's already going to shite.
But what about the most recent town guard deaths? Isn't that a problem? Yeah, Bjorn would answer, if it actually mattered, but it clearly doesn't, as nobody's read the book 'Troll Slaying', by Finn. If anyone actually paid attention to it and cared about the meaning behind the deaths, it said that trolls have a massive weakness to flames and that you just have to go all-in and make the killing violent, short, and sweet using shield and flame, instead of long and arduous using spears. (Bjorn is of the type to study up on the beasts he might be facing later on, and trolls, while strong and fast, are also incredibly stupid and comparatively easy to kill than a spriggan of any kind, (except for the rare Learning Troll, of course)).
The Thane that's supposed to be in charge is an actual legitimate problem, but it wouldn't be nearly as bad if the people of this town literally just... didn't do anything. Most of these problems are because of their own stupidity, and they're blaming it on others and even falling to crimes to cover it up.
And if those weren't bad enough, he built what could be a half-decent plan, that is, if the other half weren't a big, stinking pile of shit. 'You just called one of their members a strategizing sabre cat', Bjorn thought, 'and you're going to try and rob them?' Are you stupid? Does your brain simply not work? I know Sheogorath must have a hold on your head, because that's one damn crazy plan.
And half of it is due to this one, Johann's, complacency.
Bjorn shakes his head. How has he missed all of these signs? None of them clearly take their jobs, or their lives, seriously. They resort to crime when they make their own failings, and excuse shitty behavior with excuses that fall flat at the first attempt to remove them.
Bjorn's tone was apologetic and disappointed.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I can't. I can't do this. This is wrong on so many levels. I won't stop you from trying, but I... I can't help you. I won't involve myself in this anymore. I'd like for Mitch and Jon to be saved, but not like this. Yes, it was my fault that they had to be... Wherever they are now, and it'd be great if I could save them myself and absolve myself of my guilt, but you've already got that Senche-Raht on your side, even if you don't personally like it, and they'll help you. They've already shown themselves to be quite kind. I... I really wish that you'll see the error in your ways, but as much as I hope that, I know you won't. This is it for me. I'm resigning, sir."
Bjorn hands him his spear, his cloak, and reaches to give Johann his sword, his last symbol of being a member of the town guard.
Johann turns away and faces the deep of the forest. He crosses his arms behind him, and sighs.
"You're lucky you're new, mate. You're a good kid. Kind. Honest. True. Stay that way, lad. Too many fall to be like me. Take your sword with you. You're still a member of us, if you ever want to come back. You'll need some way to defend yourself, from the beasts that're out there. Go ahead back to town, clear your bunk, and pack your things."
Johann turns around.
"Word came through yesterday about a fort, east of Riften. A group of people are forming there, to fight vampires or some such. The Dawnguard is their name, if I remember correctly. All good people, I imagine. I'll write them a letter later, recommending they take you on. I'm sure they would, anyways. Not many like to hunt the beasts of the dark and the night, and I'd bet you'd make a fine fit there. The beasts of the day, monsters of men, such as me... No. You're too kind for that. You have the right spirit for the wrong mission here. Go there. See if they have the right mission for you. Watch out for bears, lad. They can sneak up on ya."
Johann nods once, and Bjorn heads back to town. Johann looks the sky, quickly turning to day. If Bjorn was any older, he'd have simply killed him where he stood. It's not a betrayal yet, at his age. He's still trustworthy. If he was any older, if he had been there even a year longer... Bjorn would have done much worse things.
There's no such thing as a quiet year. Never.
Especially not to the guardsmen. There's a reason the bandits and raiders were silent the last two years, and if all kept as usual, they'd stay quiet. But the way things are looking... Today's not a bad day to die. Not many are, these days.
Soon, dawn breaks open the blue early morning sky.
Johann chuckles slightly. 'Dawn breaks. We were just talking about the Dawnguard, and now the dawn's breaking. Let's just hope things aren't like the songs.'
• • •
"No, no, nonono." Drake's voice was crystal-clear. He raised his arms in a nonthreatening way, his back against the tree still. "Lemme figure some shit out before I say anything I don't want to. Ah!"
He winces, grasping his head.
Lydia jumps forward. "Drake!" She says, and grabs his hands.
His eyes turn bloodshot, and bloody tears start to fall from them, and she lets go of his hands. She's never seen him like this. She can tell something is wrong, but what?
"I want to say it's his memory that's missing, but it might be something else..." Emeric starts, before turning his head. "But... I've never seen this happen to an amnesiac. I can tell you for sure that Drake's brain is being forced to reconnect the things that happened over the last couple of weeks, that much is clear. It would definitely hurt quite a bit, to have memories that were dying be reignited nigh immediately, but something else is happening - to his eyes."
The tears continue to fall until he's a crying mess, curled up on the ground, no longer in pain, but still crying.
A voice rang out in Drake's head.
[
"What... What is.... The voice...?" He shakily groans, before starting to rock back and forth, and then witnessing everything he did once more.
He grabs at his hair, and starts to rip it out, going through every decision he's made up until this point once again. Every decision. Every thought he had. Every action he took. Every danger he's been in.
"Lokir... I saved him... No! That Nord! It could have been me! It *should* have been me! The meteors... Run, you damn idiots! Don't just stand... There... No! There's only a dozen of you, stop attacking Alduin! Don't draw his attention! The bodies, oh my God, the bodies... That's right, I need to follow Hadvar! Hadvar, we need to go!"
Drake crawled to his knees and started to puke his guts out on the ground.
Meanwhile, Emeric, Ja, and Lydia are trying to catch what he's been saying, but every time they think they've figured it out, he says something else that throws them for a spin.
Drake continues spluttering in between pukes.
"No! We don't have to.... HURHGH!!! Kill the Storm... HURGHHGH!!! Cloaks! No! All you... Hurghhg! All you had to do was leave. Leave!"
As he wore out of things to puke up, he then began to cry helplessly and beat the ground.
"Torturer! Spider! Behind you! No! Fine. Yes. I will! I promise! He didn't deserve to die like that! None of them... None of them did!"
Drake rips off his left boot to reveal a stack of letters, tied up with a ring on top.
"I'll return the letters. It's the last thing their families will probably ever hear from them. Yes! Go on, Hadvar, you lead the way. The bear won't kill us if it we don't wake it. We're not strong enough to fight it. Stay down, stay low, stay quiet... Stay down, stay low, stay quiet, staydown, staylow, stay QUIET!!"
He staggered to his knees, despite his injured foot, and yelled the last one out, before falling flat on his back, and sighing.
"No more hiding from the bear. Hadvar, why are we running so damn fast, Hadvar we need to slow down... Ha- Hadvar... I think we got a problem... One, two, three,... seven wolves. Not good. Noooot good. What do I do? I don't know what to do, I've never killed a wolf before, how do I kill a wolf? Fuck it, I'll just have to do it myself...! No! NO!Get off me! Get the wolf off me!"
He writhed on the ground, and started kicking the air, as though his throat were being ripped out by phantom wolves.
Finally he laid still, as though he were dead, or dying, and repeated his last thoughts.
"Haa... Who's that? Three wolves at once?! That's cool as fuck... That's way cooler than two...."
He staggered to his feet again and turned to a large tree.
"Back again! How am I back? Who brought me back? No, I'm somewhere else. Dark. Quiet. Black. Everything's... Everything's black."
He spins in a circle before jumping back, scared by both... nothing and something?
"Where's the voice? Who's the voice? What's the voice? Did the voice come from that? Phew, okay, I thought I was crazy. Crazy as Sheo. Not New Sheoth, though. No, not... Not... Not that crazy. Kill? I don't wanna kill? Fine, if I won't die, if this won't be my last, I'll kill for you. I'll die *better* for you. You want a damn glorious death? Fuck you. But you know what? Fine. I'll play this dead man's hand. It's all I've got anyways."
He laughs at his own joke, before continuing.
"Wolves. Again? Fuck you. Not this time, you barking bastards."
He kicks wildly, and makes weird slashing and throwing motions, before staggering his way back.
"Riverwood?! The hell happened? A war?" He blandly laughs, like he knows something's up. "Refugees, how... How did he get up there? I bet it hurts to sleep up there... But you gotta make do with what you got, I guess. Both sides are stupid... Imperial, Stormcloak... Don't matter which you join. Cool titles on one end, but a Daedric sword on the other. Obviously, you gotta go for the better gear."
He said it like it was something obvious.
"Whiterun... Right, gotta ask where it is... Would be suspicious if I came here already knowing things. Now I got me some ✨magical✨ steel armor."
He laughs again, but this time, like he uncovered a secret.
"Gotta get the Dragonstone. Brr... Bleak Falls Sanctum is cold... The golden claw... giant spider, ew... Arvel the Swift, too slow for a flying axe, dumbass. What the fuck, why'd I do that? What am I, some kinda third-rate axe murderer? Jesus Christ, if I'm gonna kill bandits, I should have done it like a goddamn normal person."
The axe throwing motion was near comical, because by no means should that axe have ended up anywhere near his target. His stance, his grip. Everything Lydia just saw was wrong. Besides that, she took note of the deity he referred to, Jesus Christ... She doesn't recognize that name.
"Now we can celebrate at the inn!! Yeah, teamwork! Hadvar, I owe you a few! Jenassa, don't puke on me. You should be back inside. Uthgerd, don't puke on me, you should also be back inside."
Drake made a couple different disgusted faces, and pouted.
"I don't want to sleep with you. Let go. Both of you. Please. I'd really rather not. You two just puked on me. Please stop. It's disgusting. I just watched you projectile vomit all over my shirt, and now you want have sex? No. Besides, I don't do it with drunk people."
He shook his head and grew angry, but quickly deflated, realizing something else.
"Why did I act like that after? I look like a stuck-up child that didn't get his way and decided to stop playing with my friends. What the fuck? I need to apologize..."
He bit his lips and sighed.
"Return the stone, get the shield, kill the dragon, Now I'm Thane. Go to Dragonsreach, talk to Jarl, and now I got sword. What?! Why... It's ebony! I guess that makes sense. He is a Jarl. Then there's Lydia."
Lydia stiffens upon hearing her name.
"Why is she so cute? She's so beautiful. Holy shit, she's got such a perfect form riding a horse. Why didn't I say anything to her that day? Ugh... She's so curious. She learns fast, too. She's able to actually get the gist of what I'm talking about, even if she only hears part of it. Why couldn't my friends back home have that? But what the hell was up with those 'bandits'? They don't know how to rob, and they think Balgruuf won't help 'em? Nah, Jarl Ballin's got it. He chill."
Lydia, Em, and Ja were confused at the Jarl Ballin, but the way he mentally refers to the Jarl ain't their business, so they leave it alone. She starts to blush, and looks away from the others.
"Damn, this mountain's huge. We've been riding for the last two days. Temperature's dropping with every step... There's gonna be a frost troll up here, damn hate this part... Better get Lydia back so I can see how bad it is without her rushing in and ending up killing herself... She used to do that a lot... "
Now he's talking about the Throat of the World. That much Lydia can surmise, but...
'He hated this part? He'd only say that if he had to come through here and had to fight a troll every time he did, but as far as I know he's only been here once... Yeah, we had to buy winter weather and mountain climbing gear, so this had to have been his first time here... He could have sold it if he already had some, but he wouldn't do that if he knew he had to go up there a lot... And I probably would have rushed into it early, not knowing that there was a troll there, or even if I knew in advance, I might've out of wanting to impress him... The way he refers to the Jarl, and that deity I don't know of... Then, there's the fact that he knows what he'd get no matter which side of this war he'd join, wait, a Daedric Sword?! I suppose the Legion would have the funds to give him one... Hold on, when he mentioned Riverwood, he acted like it was smaller, or there were less people whenever he'd make his way through, but he would, no he *should* have known about the war... And he makes it sound as if he knew he would become a Thane if killed that dragon... And what about the "voice" he mentioned earlier, in a black space? There's not a place on this world that's that dark, because glowing mushrooms live practically everywhere... Then the way he acted about the wolves, and what about Helgen, when he made his escape? He made the dragon attack on Helgen sound as if he knew what would happen when they attacked Alduin...'
Thoughts ran through her head about everything he said, and the more he spoke, the more it sounded like he was either from the future, a different world, or an alternate dimension entirely.
As well-read as Lydia was, the deity he mentioned doesn't match up with anything she's ever read about, the profanities he spoke don't match any curses used by the races, and his apparent communications with a being from beyond... wherever he came from, made it sound like he made dealings with one of the Daedric Princes.
Emeric and Ja reach the same conclusion she did, and reach for their weapons. She stops them, and as the next minute passes in a tense confusion, Drake slowly falls out of the delirious state the potion put him in and into a straight slumber.
Eventually, he face-plants into a pile of leaves, and Lydia rolls him over, and puts him against a tree. Emeric pulls out his sword and points it at her.
"Oi. We're all thinking the same thing. He was talking about that group only a few hours ago, what was their name? The, the damn, Mythic Dawn. I don't like what this is looking like, but I'm thinking he's made a deal with a demon prince, and if we don't deal with him quick, we'll be the ones to suffer. I thought we could trust him because he's the Dragonborn, or whatever you Nords call him, and because the witches think he's something special, but he definitely said some shite about dark places, voices, and him thinking he's insane. One thing usually leads to another, and I'm not liking where this is going."
"Stop. You've seen him. His... His kindness. His ability to lead. You've seen what he's like. You *know* what he's like. He wouldn't make a deal with a Daedric Prince." Lydia tries to defend Drake but she knows it's near futile.
"Lydia, you can't do this. You know what this looks like." Ja softly attempts to persuade her.
"Stop!" She tries to ignore them, but she knows what it looks like as well. "He wouldn't do that."
"We all heard him," Emeric accuses Drake once again. "He obviously made some kind of dealing, and I won't be the one to get stabbed in the back after living this long. You can, but I'm not."
"He won't stab us in the back." Lydia held steadfast in her opinion.
Ja speaks out. "You might as well stop arguing. We're not going to get anywhere. We should just ask him in the morning. If he turns out to be some kind of Daedra worshipper, we'll turn him to the Vigil. If not, we'll apologize."
"The Vigil?!" Lydia screeches. "Are you mad? Do you know what they'll do to him?"
"They'll try to make him see the error of his ways, and end his dealings with whatever Daedra he's under the control of, and if he does not, they'll execute him." Emeric spoke plainly. "I've seen the effects of what some dealings with Daedra result in. One life does not outweigh that of a dozen, a hundred, or even a thousand. I've seen an entire town razed to the earth because of what one man's greed has done. I know all too well what temptations the Princes hold."
Emeric looks away and began to explain.
------------------
Funds:
Weapons:
💠 - Orcish Sword of Paralysis
💠 - Blade of Whiterun (Ebony longsword, 3rd Era, 10 points Frost damage/5 to Stamina/ slow)
💠 - Quicksilver Throwing Knives {x5}
💠 - Nordic Daggers {x2}
- Elven Bow, Unstrung {x12 Elven Arrows, 1x Ayleid Arrow}
- Orcish Sword
Apparel:
💠 - Refurbished Steel Helm (15% more armor)
💠 - Steel Armor (HP Regen. Injury Heal Rate 25%↑, Light Wound Heal 50%↑)
💠 - Spiked Steel Gauntlets (+20 extra H2H damage)
💠 - Refitted Steel Boots (15% more armor)
💠 - Custom Quicksilver buckler (18% more armor)
💠 - Winter Cloak (20% Cold Resistance)
💠 - Snow Bear Greatcloak (50% Cold Resistance)
- Shield of the Dragonslayer (Kite, 40% Fire Resistance)
Potions:
- Mysterious Potion {x3}
Food:
- Basket of Fruits and Vegetables; {onions x3, apples x5, leeks x2, potatoes x6, head of cabbage x3, carrots x4, loaves of bread x3}
- Salted Fish Fillets (Salmon x5, River Betty x3, Silverside Perch x4, Histcarp x3, Slaughterfish x20)
Books:
- Stack of Stormcloak notes and letters to family {x15}
- Letter to Thrynn & Torturer's Ring
- Spell Tome: Sparks
- Spell Tome: Oakflesh
Scrolls:
- Scroll of Blizzard
Supplies:
- Backpack
- Bedroll / Mountain Bedroll
- Cooking pan
- Waterskin
- Metal Bowl
- Torches {x3}
- Tent
- Pitons
- Climbing harness
- Rope (200 ft.)
- Hiking Staves {x2}
- Ice Picks {x2}
- Bar of Soap
Miscellaneous:
- Lockpicks {x1}
- Vial for Mysterious Potion
- Golden Claw
- Potion bottle remains