After we leave the Jarl’s hall, Jenassa and I try to find the Pit — the local name of a jail cell currently holding a psychotic murderer who viciously ripped apart a child. Try as I might, I cannot conceive of a reason why anyone would do such a horrible thing. I want to look this evil in the face, the better to recognize it — although I hope never to encounter it again.
One of the town guards points us toward the Falkreath barracks, telling us to go down into the prison basement where, in his words, we “can’t miss that filthy piece of skeever dung”. The guard goes on to say that we might as well see the murderer while we still can, as it seems they’re still deciding on the most appropriate method of execution.
Continue reading “Chapter 41: Nature of the Beast”
The blizzard rages throughout the night and into the next day. Jenassa and I awaken to a frozen world that’s nearly unchanged since last night. Our fire has gone out and the chill threatens to settle into our bones, so we strike camp and set off on our horses in an effort to find our way back to the town of Falkreath.
Unfortunately, within minutes it’s clear that we won’t make it back in this weather. The blinding snow is being thrown in our faces by the icy wind, and our horses continually flounder and plunge in the deepening drifts. Our progression is far too slow, and soon we’re in real danger of freezing. Eventually we reach the main road, but by now we’ve lost all sense of direction, and even the horses start milling around in confusion.
Continue reading “Chapter 42: Household Clearance”
As Jenassa and I ride through the gates of Falkreath, the falling snow changes into rain. Despite the milder temperature, however, the weather is still quite chilly and it’s just as unpleasant, perhaps even worse now that we’re getting soaked. Even though it’s only mid-afternoon, the rain showers have turned the sky gloomy and dark, and the lights of the town shine almost as brightly as if it were nightfall.
We guide our horses toward the middle of town, coming to a halt just outside the Jarl’s hall and out of the wind. Falkreath doesn’t seem to have stables anywhere in town, or any other place that would be an appropriate shelter, but fortunately the horses of Skyrim are a hardy lot.
Continue reading “Chapter 43: Building Expectations”
Waking early the next day, we emerge from the tent into a clear and sunny morning. After Jenassa and I strike camp, we grab a quick breakfast and mount up to take a tour of our new homestead. In the daylight it looks even better — the Jarl’s steward wasn’t kidding when she called it a fine piece of property.
Most of the land is high on a ridge, bordered on one side by a stony cliff. Atop the ridge it’s relatively level, with a beautiful and secluded forest clearing. Facing south, we can see the clear waters of Lake Ilinalta glimmering through the trees, with the ancient structure of Bleak Falls Barrow visible from the opposite shore. In every way it’s the ideal site for our home.
Continue reading “Chapter 44: Bunch of Stiffs”
Under the sinister light of the Blood Moon, the shadows deepen and a chilling howl echoes through the trees. That sounded far too close. Evidently Sinding is still in wolf form, and after seeing what he did to the other hunters, I can only hope he’s exhausted from all the fighting. I swallow and try to ignore my rising panic.
Exchanging wary glances, Jenassa and I reach for our weapons and cautiously move deeper into the grove. Just past the bloody remains of the hunter camp, we reach a natural alley bordered on each side by high, stony cliffs. I’m not too enthusiastic about heading in there with a werewolf on the loose, but it’s apparent we don’t have much choice.
Continue reading “Chapter 45: Bad Moon Rising”
Take it from the Dragonborn — fighting a dragon in the dead of night isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Attempting to track a dark shape against the night sky is bad enough, but when the best view you have of that dark shape happens to coincide with it incinerating your face — well, let’s just say that it’s not an ideal combat situation.
It’s fortunate that I didn’t have to dip into my stock of healing potions during our encounter with the werewolf, because after the dragon sets me on fire multiple times, I’m guzzling down several vials. In the meantime, Jenassa keeps a steady eye on its flight against the starry sky, but for such a massive creature, it’s annoyingly difficult to hit. Between the two of us we loose a veritable volley in its direction, but only a couple of our arrows manage to find their mark. At this rate it’s going to take all night to down this damned lizard — if it doesn’t cremate us first.
Continue reading “Chapter 46: Sacrifices Were Made”
After Jenassa and I have a few hours of rest at the Bannered Mare, we awaken in time to partake of a hearty lunch downstairs. We only have a vague idea of how far we’ll have to travel to reach the Eldergleam, and so we make sure we have reasonably full bellies and a decent store of provisions.
Our new companion Maurice is eager to start, saying that he’s wanted to see the Eldergleam for years, but he’s been reluctant to make the journey on his own. Understandable, especially now that there’s a war on. The roads are far from safe for an unarmed traveler.
But after we exit the main gates, it’s apparent that there’s going to be a minor problem with our travel arrangements.
Continue reading “Chapter 47: Taking a Toll”