A Long Way From Home - A Skyrim AAR [updated 20th May 2018]

[Merchant of Venice]

MAGIC TIME!!!!!

Yannick will get one hell of a shock when fire starts coming out of his hands!

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

He probably will, yes. I would!

He does have a little job to do for Farengar first, though.

(Shouldn't take him too long, right? Bit of a stroll through the gorgeous scenery of Skyrim to some kind of ruin - probably a fallen down old one-roomed cottage with pretty wild flowers growing inside it. The worst that could possibly happen is a few nettle stings. Back to Whiterun in time for tea and magic lessons, no problem. That's my prediction. )

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Nice to seen an update.

as though he were bored by all the jarling he was obliged to do

Great line.

And as Merchant said, magic time.

+rep

[luck_ponte]

Very nice update, can't wait to see Yannick's reaction to the barrow's...surprises =p On a side note, did you consider using any magic mods (like Apocalypse)?

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Nice to seen an update.

as though he were bored by all the jarling he was obliged to do

Great line.

Thank you! Funnily enough, my other half always sniggers at that line, too.

Very nice update, can't wait to see Yannick's reaction to the barrow's...surprises =p On a side note, did you consider using any magic mods (like Apocalypse)?

Barrow? Surprises? What can you possibly mean?

So far I haven't tried any of the magic mods. Would you recommend Apocalypse (or any of the others)? I'm not opposed to trying them out - especially if it'll add to Yannick's story...

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Chapter Thirteen: Riverwood

I slept in a room in the Bannered Mare – an inn with rooms for paying guests. I didn't have enough money, but the landlady let me pay by chopping wood. No doubt that hadn't helped my ribs heal. Getting out of bed still made vivid streaks of pain shoot across my chest, so I asked for directions to the temple. Even if they just gave me some kind of primitive aspirin, that would be an improvement.

It turned out I'd walked more or less past the temple on my way to the inn from Dragonsreach, the Jarl's hall. It's in a nice part of Whiterun; there's a huge tree in a kind of circular courtyard, with benches around the tree anyone can sit on. There are little streams running down from the top of the hill, where Dragonsreach sits. They run around the edge of the courtyard, and then flow down beside the stairs to the lowest level of the town. I found the rippling, shooshing sound of the streams calming; I'd happily have relaxed on one of the benches for a while. I decided I should visit the temple first, though. Sitting on a bench would be nice; sitting on a bench after taking painkillers would be nicer.

The inside of the temple surprised me. Perhaps it shouldn't have – even from the outside I could tell the temple had been built in the same style as Whiterun's other buildings, rather than in the Gothic style of Bruma's chapel. Well, what would have been the Gothic style in my world. Still, I hadn't expected tranquil pools of water indoors.

Nor had I expected ill people to be lying on benches in the temple itself. People in brown robes moved around, obviously caring for the sick people, and as far as I could tell, the patients seemed to think the temple was a good place to be if you needed care.

A brown-robed woman came towards me as I hesitated near the main door, and asked if she could help me. I doubted she could, but I explained to her that my chest hurt when I moved, and I thought I'd damaged my ribs in a fall. I should have guessed there would be a catch – she wanted a 'donation' to the temple before she'd do anything. I didn't have enough money for a bed in an inn, never mind a 'donation' for a cure that probably wouldn't work. Just as I pushed the door open on my way out, I felt a hand on my arm. When I turned, I saw another one of the temple staff.

“You need healing?”

I grimaced bitterly. “I have no money.”

“You brought the news about the dragon attack, didn't you? And asked the Jarl to send soldiers to Riverwood?”

I nodded.

He hesitated. “I shouldn't heal you without payment. But I will. I grew up in Riverwood.”

He smiled, and – as I'd feared – held out his hands toward me. As in Bruma, a golden-white light spiralled around me. It was pretty, but I expected that. To my astonishment, however, once the light was gone, so had the ache in my ribs. Baffled, I thanked the man, who seemed happy to have helped, and headed for one of the benches by the huge tree.

As I walked to the bench, I moved my arm around as much as I could without drawing too much attention to myself. I bent over, as if to tie my shoelaces, although the boots I'd stolen from the dead Stormcloak didn't have laces. I sat on the bench and stretched as if I were yawning. No pain at all.

Magic can't possibly be real, though, so maybe my blackout was longer than I thought, and I've recovered naturally – and the pain I felt while I was in Dragonsreach was just because I expected my ribs to ache. No, that doesn't explain the pain getting out of bed this morning. Well, maybe the temple staff can do some kind of hypnotism. That would mean my ribs aren't any better, but now I just don't notice the pain. I suppose that's all right, since it's my ribs I've damaged – as long as I don't need to lift too many heavy stones from ruined walls. I wouldn't want to rely on hypnotism with a broken arm, though...


I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the sunshine and the gentle sound of the streams. I knew I couldn't stay for long, but I couldn't resist the chance to just do nothing in a safe place for a little while.

Eventually, I sighed, stretched again, and stood up. I had ruins to find. Farengar had no idea whether his stone was there, so I reckoned if I found the place, and looked around for a couple of hours in the remains of whatever looked like the important rooms – if I could tell which ones those were – then I'd have done plenty. I could come back, and Farengar could teach me his tricks, and I'd be that much closer to talking to someone who might know some science, or medicine, or geography, or whatever it actually is I really need. Fortunately, Farengar had told me roughly how to find the ruin – Bleak Falls Barrow, he'd called it. Well, he'd said “It's near Riverwood. Filthy little place down by the river. I'm sure one of its inhabitants can give you directions to the ruins.” I was tempted to tell him to get his own damn stone tablet. I rather like Riverwood. It has real beds, and people who've let me sleep in one of them, and that probably affects my view of the place. But so far, Farengar's the only person I've met in Skyrim who can help me get to see the wizards in Winterhold, so I kept my mouth shut.


In Riverwood, I was pleased to see Balgruuf's guards patrolling, marked with their badge of yellow cloth. Not that it would save Riverwood if the thing from Helgen struck, but it did mean the Jarl had kept his word. I decided to start by going to the inn. I was sure someone there would be able to give me directions.

The inn, which called itself “The Sleeping Giant”, was mostly one big rectangular room with a huge firepit in the middle. At one end was a man singing while he accompanied himself on a weird string instrument that looked a bit like a cross between a guitar and the lyres you see in old Greek pictures. At the other end was the bar. Long tables with benches beside them ran down either side of the room. I walked down to the bar to chat to the barman, but as I got there, a woman came out of a side-room and sent him off to sort out the ale barrels. Then she turned and looked hard at me.

“I'm Delphine. I'm the innkeeper here. It's my job to keep track of strangers.”

That worried me. If she meant someone paid her to keep track of strangers, I didn't want to take the chance the people she worked for were the Imperial Army. Armies don't tend to be happy when they lose prisoners, so they'd probably quite like to have me back.

“I'm just passing through,” I said. “Is there a shop nearby?”

“Down the road.” She indicated the direction with a wave of her arm.

No doubt Delphine would ask the shopkeeper all about my visit later on, but I needed directions. And if the ruins were any distance away, it would be a good idea to buy some food. Or perhaps some rope, in case I had to scramble about over large chunks of fallen building.

When I went in, the shopkeeper was arguing with a woman about some stolen item. He was only too happy to give me directions to Farengar's ruin; not least because he thought that was where the thieves had taken the item (a golden claw! I don't know where my subconscious gets this stuff...) he'd been discussing with his sister when I walked in. I gather he's rather hoping I'll bring back his claw as well as Farengar's stone.

Which I suppose I might, if I come across it.

The downside of the shopkeeper's story is that he thinks the bandits who stole the claw are still in the ruin. So I think I'll only be bringing the claw back if the bandits decided they didn't want it, and they couldn't sell it, and I come across it lying, dusty and discarded, in a corner somewhere. And I'll have to try and sneak past the bandits, or somehow persuade them to let me look for interesting bits of rock – and hope they haven't found Farengar's stone and decided to keep that.

I was starting to see why Farengar hadn't been leaping at the chance to look for his ancient lump of rock himself. I'd already been planning to visit Gerdur and her family, just to say hello and thank them for all their help, but after speaking to the shopkeeper I decided it was also worth asking them if they had any advice about bandits, or this Bleak Falls place, and made my way to the lumber mill.

Gerdur seemed pleased to see me, although it struck me as ominous that her cheerful greeting expressed a wish that I should die with a sword in my hand. I'm assuming it's some kind of cultural thing – honourable heroic death in battle is good, or something. Kind of Klingon.

Anyway, Gerdur was convinced there were bandits up at Bleak Falls Barrow. She insisted on looking at everything I was carrying, and decided my new armour would do, but the axe I'd taken from the dead Stormcloak in Helgen wasn't enough. She said there were bound to be several bandits – “they hunt in packs, like the wild dogs they are,” was the way she put it – so I'd need to kill or disable at least one of them from a distance. Gerdur obviously isn't convinced of my powers of persuasion, or my ability to be sneaky. She's probably right, although I'm still planning to avoid the bandits if I can. I'm just looking for Farengar's stone; I don't want to start a fight.

One of the few things I actually remember about my life – my real life – is that I used to be competent with a bow. I can't remember where I was involved in archery, or what kind of bow I used; I just know it's a familiar thing for me. That made me feel slightly better when Gerdur handed me her husband's bow and a quiver of arrows, saying “He never uses them any more. You need them. Take them.”

I can't afford to pay Gerdur for the bow and arrows at the moment. I think once I've gone and looked at this ruin, I'll see if I can do some hunting, like Ma'Jhan, and make some money that way. Then I can come back and repay Gerdur. And make enough money for me to live on until I get to the wizard college in Winterhold.

[luck_ponte]

Nice update, as usual =) About Apocalypse, I'm quite biased because I mod all my games to Oblivion. I suggested it because it expands the spell pool A LOT and as such gives a much better experience for magic users. For the story, I don't know how much it would add up, since most people would recognize the "classic" RPG spells better, like healing and fireball. But I'll leave the link with the description of the spells here and let you be the judge of that, there are spells that might be interesting, like levitation, tornado, summon, pale shadow and necroplague just to name a few (I suggested one per school here btw).

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Thanks, luck_ponte!

Apocalypse looks interesting - I'll try and find the time to set up a new character and give it a try before I decide whether to use it for Yannick.

In the meantime, I apologise for the delay in posting chapter 14. I'd hoped to do it last weekend, but things have been very busy. Still, here it is...

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Chapter Fourteen: The Ruin

The ruin, when I got there, wasn't quite what I'd expected. From what Farengar had said, I'd assumed he was sending me to somewhere like West Kennet Long Barrow, but with bits of roof in danger of falling in, to make it count as 'dangerous'. Or maybe somewhere like Urquhart Castle – somewhere that used to be a grand building, but had mostly fallen down. After all, I had no idea whether a 'barrow' here was the same thing as a 'barrow' back home, and even if it was, it might just be part of a place-name.

Either way, I'd been wrong. Admittedly, there was a bit of damage, but Farengar's 'ruin' looked a lot less ruined than I'd thought it would. There was a series of dramatic arches leading to several broad flights of stairs. At the far end of the stairs stood a stone building that looked as if it had been built right into the rock of the hill behind it. And it had an intimidatingly large, and intact, door. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see something – someone – moving between the arches. I had to decide whether I was going to walk openly towards that door and hope any bandits were the type to ask questions before gutting visitors, or whether I was going to assume Bandit Standard Operating Procedure was the same here as it had seemed to be in Cyrodiil – kill passers-by, loot their bodies, don't bother with questions at all.

On the whole, I wasn't convinced I wanted to take the risk of trusting in the good nature of bandits. If I was wrong, I'd have no chance of surviving. So instead of walking directly towards the steps, I went a bit further down the hill, and then made my way round the side of the building. If I approached the main entrance from an unexpected direction, there was at least a chance I might see or hear something that would tell me whether the movement I'd seen was a bandit, or a wolf, or a perfectly innocent hunter.

I should have guessed that wouldn't work. When have I ever succeeded at being sneaky? Still, when the first bandit started to shoot at me, at least she seemed to be the only person who'd spotted me. Amazingly, I had enough presence of mind to shoot back – and I hit her. I had to drop my bow and grab my axe as she ran towards me, but, weakened by the arrow in her shoulder, she was unable to do me much damage. I felled her with two blows, and a surge of adrenaline filled me as the second bandit, carrying an enormous greatsword, charged at me.

I don't remember that fight so well, strangely. I remember the snarl on his face as he came for me; the shuddering impact as I blocked a blow; the slicing pain of the shallow wound in my arm when I couldn't stop him; the sound of my axe splitting his skull. Then there was an arrow quivering in a pile of snow next to me, and another bandit. And I remember the cold of the wind across the snow afterwards, as I looked at the bodies of the three people I'd killed. I remember shivering, and being unable to look away from the blood, and the wounds, and the staring eyes.

Yes, they'd done everything they could to kill me. But even so, they were people, and I'd killed them. I'd deliberately killed them. With an axe. I have become a murderer.


I think there's a gap in my memory there. Just a short one, because it was still daylight afterwards, but the next time I remember anything I was standing at the side of the building, gazing towards Whiterun without really seeing it, feeling colder than I liked. I really didn't want to go back to the front of the building, where the bodies were, but I knew I had to. I fought to ignore my horror and disgust as I took all the arrows the two archers had. If there were any more bandits nearby, I was bound to need them. One of the archers had a better bow than the one Gerdur had given me, and I took that, too, as well as all the gold they were carrying.


When I'd finished, the wind was growing colder, and it was beginning to get dark. I still had a box of matches in my rucksack, but I had no wood to make a fire. If I stayed outside, I'd freeze to death. I had to try to get inside, even if there were more bandits in there. I had to hope I could find somewhere safe to hide, or come to some sort of arrangement with the remaining bandits.

As it turned out, I came to the same arrangement with them as I had done with the bandits outdoors. They tried to kill me; I killed another two human beings.

Once the fight was over, I stood for a while, shaking and feeling sick. Somehow this was different from the bandits in Cyrodiil. Those bandits had attacked someone else – someone who had just been walking along a road, as anyone might. These bandits had been minding their own business when I arrived. It's true that 'their own business' reportedly involved stealing from villagers, but I'm not sure that gave me any right to kill them. OK, they could have talked to me instead of just attacking. But they outnumbered me in both fights, so maybe they expected me to run. Really, I have no idea how I survived. Except I do, of course. The evidence of how I survived was lying scattered around me in pools of blood and gore, reminding me of what I'd done. I stumbled to the nearest wall and threw up.

When there was nothing left in my stomach to bring up, and I'd sat long enough to realise there might be more bandits nearby, I found myself standing in an enormous room supported by massive stone pillars. Well, mostly supported. In a couple of places, large sections of the roof and walls had collapsed and scattered fallen stone blocks across the floor. Maybe Farengar's right to call it a ruin, after all. The bandits had made a campfire at the end of the room furthest from the huge entrance door, and laid out sleeping bags made of fur around it. Beyond the campfire was a kind of round doorway, like the entrance to a tunnel. It seemed to lead into the hillside – perhaps the original barrow was through there and the rest of the building had been added later.

I was tired, and cold, and the sleeping bags looked very appealing, but I wanted to look round the place before I slept. There was a piece of rock I had to find for Farengar – and a 'golden claw' I was supposed to be trying to find for the shopkeeper. And I thought I should try to do something to protect myself against intruders. I went back to the great main door and propped some of the bits of stone from the floor against it. If anyone came through there, the noise of the rocks scraping across the floor should wake me up. There was no way I could block the tunnel entrance; I was just going to have to hope any bandit coming in that way would be noisy.

There was a chest by the campfire. It was locked, which made me hope the bandits might have stashed all their valuables – including old stone tablets and weird metal claws – in there. No. Just some bread and some coins. I took all of the bread; this expedition had already taken longer than I'd expected, and I might need the food. After some thought I took the money, too.

Once I'd emptied the chest, I checked the bodies of the two bandits I'd killed. I relieved one of them of more arrows, and the other of a shield. If I keep meeting bandits, having a shield could easily save my life.

Unexpectedly, I discovered other bodies in the room; a large number of oversized rat-things, and two more people. The two human bodies were rather disturbing. They had obviously died violently, and they were both dressed the same way as the bandits. One of them was just sprawled on the floor, but the other had obviously been taken to a great stone altar and deliberately killed there. Presumably there had been some serious disagreement between the bandits. Or else they were members of a particularly unsavoury cult.

I wasn't sure I really wanted to sleep in a place where people might arrive and decide to use me as a ritual sacrifice. But the alternatives were worse – and at least I'd get to sleep in a warm sleeping bag, indoors, by a fire.


Either nobody came and found me during the night, or I snore so terrifyingly they ran away without bothering to kill me. Whatever the reason, I was the only person here this morning, and all my stuff was exactly where I left it last night. I wondered yesterday whether I should just turn round and go back to Whiterun without even opening the door leading further in to the building, but I suspect very strongly that if I did that, Farengar would refuse to help me. Anyway, it's probably just more fallen-down rooms. And maybe some of those huge rats, but they're just big rats. I can cope with that. I hope. So, here goes...




Notes:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urquhart_Castle

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Kennet_Long_Barrow

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Great work on the last couple of updates, nice to him get into some more action - and his very human reaction to killing was good to read, goes along way to keep reminding us that he isn't from this world.

[Aikanár]

^Absolutely agree, loving your AAR and enjoying every update. Keep up the great work

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Great work on the last couple of updates, nice to him get into some more action - and his very human reaction to killing was good to read, goes along way to keep reminding us that he isn't from this world.

Thanks, Shankbot. Yes, I was quite pleased Yannick was going to get to do some more fighting - it seems he's been much better at avoiding fights than most Skyrim characters so far! (I like writing the chapters without fighting, too, but a bit of variety keeps me interested.)

^Absolutely agree, loving your AAR and enjoying every update. Keep up the great work

Thank you, Aik. I'll try!

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Chapter Fifteen: The Elf

Clutching my wind-up torch in one hand, and my axe in the other, I set off cautiously into the tunnel. It looked as if noone had used this part of the building for a good long while. Either that, or the owners had a liking for tree roots growing through their living areas. As I went further, it started to seem more and more likely that Tree Root Decor was all the rage in Skyrim; someone must have come along this tunnel fairly recently to light all the braziers I was passing. I switched off my torch and put it in a pocket of my rucksack, where I could get to it easily if I needed it.

The tunnel I was following twisted and turned. It passed a staircase blocked by a rockfall. It passed broken old shelves – some of them still with items sitting on them. It passed heavy stone tables set with ornate urns I imagined to contain the ashes of people long dead. And everywhere, there were cobwebs.

But no people. Nobody who could have kept all the braziers alight.

I turned a corner and saw a man ahead of me. I froze, momentarily, and then started to creep backwards, but he was paying no attention to me; he was facing away from me, looking at a small portcullis that blocked the way out of the room he was in. Intrigued, I kept watching, and as he moved I saw he was standing by a lever set into the floor. He bent and pulled the lever, and then stood upright, watching the portcullis. And collapsed to the ground and lay motionless.

I wasn't at all sure going into the room where the man was lying was a good idea. First, if things were as they seemed, something in there had just killed a man in moments, and I hadn't even seen the killer. I could be killed just as easily. Second, what if things weren't the way they looked? The man was dressed the same way as all the bandits, so he was probably a bandit too. What if he'd heard me clomping down the tunnel, and decided to lure me in to the room by playing dead? Maybe he thought I was a friend of his, and he was playing a practical joke – but there was no way that would stop him killing me as soon as he saw I was a stranger.

On the other hand, none of the other bandits I'd met so far had had either a stone tablet or a golden claw, and I was running out of places to look. If I wanted to find Farengar's stone or the shopkeeper's claw, I had to go into that room, and I had to try and open the portcullis.

I crept into the room as quietly as I could. I know I'm not naturally sneaky, but if I could just make it slightly harder to tell where I was, it would help. The bandit didn't move, even when I was right next to him, so I took a deep breath and turned the body over. And “body” is definitely what it was.

As I'd expected, the bandit was carrying neither the stone nor the claw, which meant I needed to find a way past the portcullis. Without moving, I looked at the walls and the floor near the portcullis. I was sure noone else had been in the room when the bandit died, so I reasoned he must have been killed by some kind of trap, like in Indiana Jones films. After several minutes of careful examination, I saw them – several holes above the portcullis. Dart holes. And the portcullis hadn't opened when the bandit pulled the lever. So there must be something else I needed to do, to unlock the portcullis, and disarm the dart guns. Of course, they might all be set somewhere else, in a room on the other side of the portcullis, but in that case, I was never going to be able to ask the wizards for help, so I had to look around before I gave up.

The only strange things I could find were three pillars on one side of the room.

They were mounted somehow so that they could be turned. Each one had three sides, each side showing a different picture – a whale, an eagle or a snake. Maybe if I turned each pillar to show the correct side, the portcullis would open? It was worth trying. I rotated the pillars at random a few times, but the portcullis didn't do anything. Maybe I needed to pull the lever. But if I guessed the wrong sequence of pictures, I'd be killed by the darts. I didn't like that idea. As I sat and wondered if I should just go back to Whiterun and tell Farengar there was no way into the depths of this place, I suddenly noticed I was looking at another snake carving. This one had obviously fallen from a row of pictures up near the roof – where there were still two other pictures clearly visible. The snake had fallen from the middle, so the three pictures had originally been snake, snake, whale. That looked like a hint to me. I rearranged the pillars to that sequence, and went quickly to the lever, to pull it before I had time to think about how reckless that way – but then I remembered the rope I'd bought. I tied the rope around the handle of the lever, and went back out of the room and up the slope to the place I'd watched the bandit from. From here, any darts shouldn't hit me – they'd hit the wall inside the room, or the floor of the tunnel below where I was. I pulled the rope.



...and slowly let out a breath, relieved that I was still alive to do that.

It was only after that I noticed – the portcullis had been raised! I collected my rope, and headed through the – now open – doorway.

Beyond the doorway there was a wooden staircase spiralling downwards. I crouched at the top and peered into the opening, but I couldn't see where it led to. A skittering, scraping noise from beneath me made me back away from the ramp just in time to avoid being bitten by one of those huge rats. It was followed by a couple of its friends. They weren't difficult to kill, but they moved quickly, so I danced around the room for several minutes while the damn things did their best to chew my ankles.

At the bottom of the ramp was a room with old, black shelves carved in strange patterns, and a huge table. There was a rolled up paper on the table. I opened it, thinking it might tell me something useful if it was a note from one bandit to another. It wasn't – the heading on the page said it was a “Fireball Spell”. I suppose at least the people in this world are consistent; they really do believe magic exists. Nothing more than superstition, of course, but still, I took the scroll before I moved on. Perhaps Farengar might like it.

The tunnel and the cobwebs seemed never-ending. When it reached midday, I sat on the cold stone floor to eat some bread and an apple, and decided to go back. This place could stretch for miles, and although I'd taken the bandits' food, so I wouldn't starve for a few days, it didn't seem like a good idea to be wandering about in tunnels on my own. I stood, and as I stretched before setting off again, I thought I heard a faint noise echoing down the tunnel. I stayed as still as I could, and I heard it again. It sounded some way off, but it was definitely a voice, shouting. I knew it was probably a bandit, but I headed towards it anyway. The utter silence in that place was unnerving; I think I was so irrationally glad to hear another human voice that I'd have headed towards it even if I'd known it was that Imperial soldier who wanted to execute me.

Except, of course, it wasn't another human voice. When I found him, he was hanging, stuck, in what looked like an enormous spider web. Maybe it was. Maybe thousands of spiders had built it together. Regardless, the occupant of the web, the person who'd been shouting, was very offended when I told him how pleased I was to hear a human voice in that lifeless place.

“Can't you see I'm a Dunmer, you idiot? A Dark Elf?”

He was an elf. All that time ago in Bruma, the guard really had been talking about elves. And he really did have pointy ears! If it hadn't been for the fact that he had ash-grey skin, just like Irileth, I'd have been absolutely certain I was hallucinating, but I've never in my life imagined dark grey elves. Does this mean Irileth's an elf, too? I was too busy being scared of her to notice her ears...

“Cut me down, then!” snapped the man – no, the elf – in the web. “What are you waiting for?”

I took out my dagger and carefully chopped away bits of web so the elf could pull himself away from it without falling flat on his face. I'd hoped I might be able to talk to him – ask him if he knew where the tunnel went, or whether he'd seen any ancient stones with writing on – but the moment he was free, he ran away from me, shouting, “You fool! Why should I share the treasure with anyone?”

Well, at least that suggested there was something of value down here. And if this elf already thought he had it, I guessed it was probably the shopkeeper's golden claw. People don't usually call pieces of stone with writing on them 'treasure'. Or at least, if they do, they're probably professional archaeologists or historians, and I'd guess they don't mind sharing quite so much as the elf. I was less interested in the golden claw than I was in Farengar's stone tablet, but I couldn't ignore the possibility the ungrateful elf had both things, so I followed him.

[Scottish King]

Nice AAR! Ive just read through the whole thing and its great. I really liked how you started in Cyrodill with screenshots from Oblivion and transitioned into Skyrim. I just started playing Skyrim again and just passed the part our hero has found himself at I want more!!!!

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Thanks, Scottish King!

And since you wanted more, here, just for you (OK, and anybody else who's interested) is a little bit more...

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Chapter Sixteen: The Golden Claw

I set off quite quickly in my desire to catch up with the elf, but the tunnel twisted so much I was forced to slow down. As there was never a choice of direction – just the one tunnel that twisted and turned – the elf might be going quickly enough to get further ahead of me, but I could be sure I was still following him.

Holes had been carved out of the walls of the tunnel in this section of the building. Long, horizontal holes, usually stacked in groups of three. I wondered what they were for. Then I noticed that some of them further down the corridor had bodies in them. Ancient, desiccated bodies, filling the air with the scent of dust and age. So it is a barrow after all. Walking past so many corpses, so many empty memories of people who had once lived, should have been strange, but they were so old, and so mummified, and somehow so calm, that it seemed almost friendly to have them there.

When I heard a creaking noise ahead of me, I assumed

it was the elf I'd freed. He hadn't seemed keen on being caught, so perhaps he was moving rocks to try and block the route he was taking, or trying to set some kind of trap for me. I slowed down still further and tried to walk quietly, to hear what he was doing. To my astonishment, instead of the elf, I saw one of the bodies unfold itself from a wall-shelf and walk unsteadily towards me, brandishing a sword. Without thinking, I raised my own axe and shield, and readied myself for a fight. I wasn't expecting any kind of fight at all from the dead, so I don't imagine I was at my most effective trying to parry blows from a long-dead corpse with glowing blue lights instead of eyes. Still, eventually the thing lay dead – even more dead – on the ground. I poked at it, bewildered. How could it have been moving? Just beyond it, I found the body of the elf. Presumably he hadn't expected the dead to get up and fight him either.

I rummaged through the elf's pockets and bag, and was pleased

to find he'd been telling the truth – he did have the golden claw. It really was a claw-shaped thing made out of some golden metal, too. It might even have been gold, from the weight of the thing. Disappointingly, he didn't have Farengar's stone. He did have a book, which turned out to be his journal. I sat against the wall and started reading. In it, he'd written about taking the golden claw from the shop in Riverwood, and how pleased he was with himself. He seemed to think the claw was the key to something within Bleak Falls Barrow – something important. He talked about going to the 'Hall of Stories' and unlocking the door. He also said something about a test 'to keep the unworthy away', but given that people round here believe in magic, I doubt I should worry about that too much. Certainly the elf thought having the golden claw would be enough for him to pass the test. Apparently there's a legend that says, “When you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands”.


Although...

Maybe I should worry more about magic – and mystic tests of worthiness. I was attacked by a corpse...

There's no way that's possible. No way at all.

I mean, I can kind of almost believe that someone could be buried alive by mistake, and then the buried person might be really annoyed when they regained consciousness and attack the first person they saw, but the thing that attacked me wasn't alive. It didn't – it wasn't – it didn't have enough flesh to be alive.

And it didn't bleed when I cut it. People bleed. Those bandits bled so much. I don't want to think about that. I don't want to be in a world where I kill living people, and dead bodies try to kill me.

A hero – the kind of person who would fit in in this violent hallucination of a world – would either have decided to carry on because it's The Right Thing To Do (I don't suppose this is the right thing to do, particularly, but the things heroes do always are), or he'd have bellowed his defiance at the gods. I sat with my head in my hands and whimpered.

I want to go home.

[luck_ponte]

Marvelous chapter indeed. This is without doubt the most unique Skyrim AAR/playthrough I've ever seen, not only because of the original concept, but because of the humanization of the main character. His breakdown in the barrow (both here and with the bandits) shows that perfectly, as well as his adaptability to the world (he didn't freak out all that much with the draugr, he does have some iron guts =p). Great job, and I second @Scottish King: I want more =)

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

You're always enormously generous, luck_ponte. Thank you!

Myself, I can't quite decide whether Yannick has "iron guts" (great phrase!), or whether it's something else. He isn't sure if anything around him is real, after all - and even if he can manage to believe in it, he could still be in shock at this point. Maybe the real test of his guts will come later, the next time he meets draugr...

(I have no idea what the plural of 'draugr' should be. I want it to be 'draugar', but I'm not convinced Bethesda agree with me, so I've decided it's still 'draugr'. Hmm. I feel an internet search coming on.)

[waveman]

"Even more dead"
I thought that was pretty funny. I like how you mix the humor and seriousness, like there are those jokes but then also Yannick feels out of place and disturbed the the killing and so on

[Merchant of Venice]

I just finished reading through all the stuff I missed and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. I love the protagonist's little notes about everything in the world, about him coming to terms with killing those bandits and just sometimes his moment's of ingenuity. Brilliant stuff, really, I love it a lot.