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Content Consumer

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  1. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 36: DIMFALL OR DARKHOLLOW OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT
    Wherein our hero pads out the length with pictures, because he can't be arsed to do any writing.
    Previous: Chapter 35, Some Old Parchment
     

    Well, it turns out I have some talent at prediction. Darkfall Cave is, indeed, a dark cave that you can fall down in. It's pretty obvious what's going to happen, judging by this rickety, falling-apart bridge.

    Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
    1. Assuming this was built by the ancient Falmer, why the hell wouldn't they, you know, build a set of steps down? Or at least a ladder? Hell, even a sign that says "enlightenment found down this pit" would be better than absolutely nothing.
    2. Assuming this was not built by the ancient Falmer, and instead by some intrepid miner who was looking to get at the Moonstone on the other side, it does seem to be a hell of a lot of work for very little return. Three pieces of moonstone ore probably wouldn't pay for the wood, rope, and casually discarded tools that are scattered about. This is the work of a miner or group of miners who have no idea how economics work, i.e. you're supposed to get more money out than you put in.
    3. Can I just turn around and leave, go back to Elinhir, maybe open up a little coffee shop and forget that I was ever an adventurer?
     
    Serana, in her continuing efforts to make me despair at her intellect, seems to be of the same mindset as the aforementioned theoretical miners. After telling me that something doesn't seem right here, and that we should be very careful because there's trouble nearby, she sprints across the obviously-broken bridge and starts whacking on the rocks. Yep, that's my girl.

     
    No matter. Serana and I fall down the hole (surprise!) and drop into a swiftly moving river. Actually kind of interesting, this river. The fastest whitewater river in Skyrim has a pace best described as "meandering" but this, I can't even make headway against the current. Serana and I, and a couple of spiders, pop out the other side and commence a-fighting. The cave is actually pretty heavily populated with giant spiders, you wonder what the hell they've been eating down here considering that there appear to be no prey for the predators to live on. I start gearing up for a rant about the stupidity of devs who populate their remote caves with bloodthirsty beasts who never actually manage to find any food, but I then remember that I just jumped down the goddamn hole, so who's the idiot now? Sheepishly, I rein it in, and we keep walking. At least, for a little while, until we run into a fresh batch of spiders. I easily dispatch most of them, and Serana spectacularly fails in her battle against another. Gods know why, she's killed plenty of spiders since we've been wandering around together, they're not exactly the toughest beasts around, but this one she can't deal with? I just sit back and watch as she proceeds to get the stuffing knocked out of her by a big arthropod.
     
    Um, and then the stuffing is put right back in, thanks to Defeat.

    Ewww... not just Defeat, but SD+ is on the case, and she's full of... full of yuck. Spider eggs up the jacksie. I don't even want to touch that. Put your armor back on, woman, let's keep moving.
     
    Attempting to stay a minimum of three meters away from Serana at all times, I sprint through the caverns, and find another victim down here. This one died of Trolls, apparently. I guess this place really must be a main thoroughfare or something. I mean, just how many people end up wandering in accidentally? How many times do people break the bridge, fall down the hole, then other people come in and rebuild the damn bridge again? Sheesh.
     
    Anyway, I slaughter a couple of trolls, all by myself, deliberately Unrelenting Force-ing Serana away just in case she comes down with another attack of the "Can't-Kill-Shit" disease. I mean, I don't love the woman, but I don't exactly want to see her raped by every damn creature in the world, either.
     
    We eventually come across a shrine to Auri-El, apparently Falmer in construction, but damned if it doesn't look Aylied to me. If you ever get to Cyrodiil, stop in at any one of the dozens of Aylied ruins, and you'll see what I mean. At the shrine, we also encounter a Snow Elf guy.

    His name is Gelebor, a name that comes from two words of the ancient Snow Elf language, Gele and Bor - Gele, which means "Man," and Bor, meaning "who apparently cannot be pickpocketed." He proceeds to toss a bit of exposition my way, which is fielded by Serana, and the two then continue to bat exposition back and forth for a while. Gelebor does seem to be smarter than the average Skyrim inhabitant, I'll give him that... he is well aware that he's not powerful enough to waltz through the coming areas without dying, so he's found a couple of catspaws (and apparently we aren't the first sacrificial lambs he's shoved through the door either) to do his dirty work - killing his brother. Family squabbles are so tiresome, aren't they?
     
    He also seems to be one of the few people who recognize that they are characters in a game. He is fully aware that NPCs are just that - NPCs - and not fully fleshed out people. His description of the Spectral Prelates fits the bill of a "scripted actor" completely. Well done, Gelebor, for seeing through the ruse.

     
    Impressed, I ask him if I can leave Serana here and take him with me instead, but he insists that he must keep watch over the shrine, ostensibly because it's his sworn duty but actually because he, as I have said, is aware that shit gets dangerous up ahead and he'd rather stay here with the murderous trolls and rapist spiders. Gee, I feel really confident about my future chances now.
     
    Anyway, I've got to lug this ewer of water around with me, filling it periodically, in order to end up dumping it out again. Which perfectly sums up the state of Skyrim's Radiant AI quests - innkeeper gives you a quest to clear out a bandit hole, wait a couple of days, bandits move back in, innkeeper gives you a quest to clear it out again. I can't complain too much, though... it is good job security. Let's pop through this portal, shall we? Hopefully there's something interesting on the other side.

     
    NEXT: Chapter 37, Something Interesting On The Other Side
    Start at Chapter 1
  2. Content Consumer
    Previous: Chapter 27, I'll Take Option D
     
    POLL:



     

     
    DIARY OF A DRAGONBORN: INTERMISSION 3
     
    Hey, uh... I actually don't have a journal entry written yet. I haven't actually played Mace Raiden's game for a couple of weeks now. I'm sort of half-assed working on a mod, and I've got some vague, disconnected ideas about how I'm going to keep writing Mace Raiden, but... as it stands, I gots nothin' fer ya'll.
    So... I suppose I'll just post this crap. I wrote it up just after finishing writing Chapter 19 as sort of a method of venting to myself, but never actually intended to post it at all, because there's nothing funny in it... it's just one big wall of text, filled to the brim with petty grievances.
    I guess it kind of makes sense to put it here actually, because the first intermission was just after Chapter 9, and the second was just after Chapter 18, so putting the third after Chapter 27... hey, wait a minute... I can say that I'm maintaining continuity! Yeah, this was all planned out, people! Please ignore anything said previously about not having stuff to post here, because this is what I always intended to put here.

    Yeah.
     

     

     

     

     


    !!!WARNING WARNING WARNING!!!



    WALL OF RAMBLING, VAGUELY-CONNECTED BITS OF TEXT WITH AN EMPHASIS ON SNARK VERGING INTO ASSHOLE TERRITORY INCOMING!



    !!!WARNING WARNING WARNING!!!

    I will now post about something near and dear to my heart, or maybe near my spleen, or colon. Some random internal organ, anyway. Probably not a splanch, though. Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference.
     
    One last note before I get to what I originally wrote - this was originally written in a single sitting, and then shoved into a directory and semi-forgotten. I just reread it now, before posting, and added a few additions, differently colored, but I didn't bother to actually correct anything, so there are probably spelling and grammar mistakes in here.
    EDIT: Shit. Somehow the entire thing turned green, I lost all my edits, and all the links disappeared. Then it truncated halfway through.
    I don't know why... but I just ran out of steam. You guys are getting a poor version. I'll see if I can go through and redo that stuff later.
     
    EDIT: Okay, fuck it all... seems that this blog doesn't support 13,000 words for some reason. Hell if I know why.
    So here. Microsoft Word should open it up fine.
    a.rtf
     
    NB: 8 (10)
     
    Next: Chapter 28, Heard They're Reforming the Dawnguard
     
    Some helpful links:
    College of Winterhold Entry Requirements
    Example of Other Critiques
    College Days: Winterhold
    Cutting Room Floor
    Vaarsuvius
  3. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 35: SOME OLD PARCHMENT
    Wherein our hero gets a headache.
    Previous: Chapter 34, The Seventh Sign and the Implied Tentacle Rape
     

    Over the river (at least, I'm almost certain there was a river somewhere between Winterhold and Riverwood) and through the woods (there's bound to be a tree or two twixt the twain) to Fort Dawnguard we go. Has a certain ring to it, yes? We (and by "we" I mean "me, followed by a puppy-dog in human form named Serana") arrive back at the Fort, scrolls in tow, so as to have Dexion perform a reading of same. Unfortunately for us, Dexion, silly ass that he is, forgot to prepare himself properly before his last reading, and has gone blind. To emphasize this fact, he's now wearing a blindfold, because if you're blind you obviously must wear a blindfold. I briefly consider the possibility that he didn't actually go blind at all, he's just senile and put his underwear on his head this morning and it slipped down, but I figure this is pretty damn dumb even for the average Skyrim inhabitant, so I forget about it.
     
    Well, hell. What am I supposed to do now, I ask him? He gives me some story about how I can read the scrolls if I go to a magical place (not T.A.H.I.T.I. if you're curious) and get myself covered in moth dust first. I suppose I can understand Dexion's not preparing himself if this is what it entails. Blindness may well be sheer joy in comparison. Still, a job is a job, and I never turn down a job, except when I do, which is rarely. Mace Raiden, Job Taker, is my new profession. Has a certain ring to it, no?
     
    So we're off to Ancestor Glade, an aptly-named place, considering that it does loosely fit the definition of a Glade and contains moths called Ancestor Moths. I must admit, the place does make me want to keep practicing my alchemy, if only to find out what all the new ingredients do. Scarfing down yellow flowers and whole, winged insects gives me a hint, but the best way to train the skill is to mash everything to a pulp and gulp it down, you see. I pick every piece of vegetation and animal life I can find and shove them into my pack for later.
     
    But that's not my purpose here. I have to find a Draw Knife - which I'm sure will come in handy later and not just be the equivalent of a key under the doormat - and use it to gather bark, which apparently is a moth aphrodisiacal pheromone emitter, judging by the way they start flocking around me. Once I have the requisite minimum number of bugs flapping about my head trying to mate with each other, I am to stand in a beam of light and read the scrolls. Which I proceed to do. I unroll the scroll, and a powerful magic force beams a message right into my head: "This man's transformation will shock you! Make $$$ in your spare time with this one simple trick! Doctors hate her! Tax secrets the government doesn't want you to know!"
     
    Ah, wait, wrong paper. Here's the right one. Reading the three scrolls emits a loud, piercing noise and my vision simultaneously darkens and brightens with a picture of some sort. Gods know what it is, looks like a spider web stretched over a piece of granite or something. There may be symbols on it, or it may just be the blood beating in my temples making me see things. After a couple of agonizing seconds staring at this apparition, it fades away and I am left with a pounding headache.
     
    Serana tells me I looked funny, which may be her brain-damaged idea of a sympathy pat for all I know. She then asks me where we can find Auriel's Bow. I tell her it's in Darkfall cave. Don't ask me how I know that. When I read the damn scrolls, all I saw was a bunch of vague lines that, when looked at in a certain light, may have been a valley of sorts, but don't quote me on that. Darkfall cave? I could swear to Tuwhacca I didn't read that anywhere. So how the hell did I come to learn the name? I must've heard it instead. Maybe the scroll told me, I do picture them having a voice of sorts. I unrolled it, and it clearly said to me: "Here, old chap, what you'll need to do is nip up Markarth way, pop 'round Darkfall Cave, and Bob's your uncle, or any other member of your immediate family, should you desire to pad out the old stable, what!" For some reason, Elder Scrolls have a decidedly HRP accent. Maybe they're all from Chelsea.
     
    On our way out the cave, we're attacked by vampires. What the hell are vampires doing here, now? There is absolutely no reason for them to be here! They don't have the scrolls, so they don't need a moth priest, who may happen to be blind, so they don't need a draw knife and moths and the beam of light to read said scrolls, so why the hell are they here? Don't tell me it's just because they spotted me entering, gathered up a band, and came in to kill me. They should've sent more guys. A lot more. But I wonder if they even have more guys to send at all. I know that Castle Volkihar is fairly large and all, possibly holding dozens of the blighters, but considering the sheer number of vampires I've killed since I started this bloody (hah!) questline, they've got to be getting a little thin on the ground, eh?
     
    After wiping vampiric blood off my clothes and cleaning my hammer in the water, I down a couple of bottles of ale just to help me drown out the memory of the goddamn scroll reading, and then we're off to Darkfall Cave. By past experience, I can tell right away that with a name like that, it'll probably be dark, and there will be a hole in the ground you can fall in. Because that's the idea of a good naming scheme to the inhabitants of Skyrim. Got a gloomy cave? Call it Gloomreach. Got a town next to a big dragon bridge? Call it Dragon Bridge. Got a hold permanently locked in wintry conditions? Call it Winterhold. I'm sure I don't need to go on, but I will continue to do so in the privacy of my own head, for that is my occupation. Mace Raiden, Permanently Unenthralled Explorer. Has a certain ring to it, what?
     

    NEXT: Chapter 36, Dimfall or Darkhollow or Something Like That
    Start at Chapter 1
  4. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 41: X MARKS THE SPOT
    In which our hero goes on a treasure hunt!
    Previous: Chapter 40: Mushrooms... again?
     

    Heading east, the first place I find is a bandit camp. Like the "reavers," these guys decided that "bandit" was a bad name for their little group, and decided to re-brand. Also like the reavers, they got some really bad advice, and picked "pirate" instead. As we approach, they're arguing, something about a map and a curse. I didn't catch much after that, because we were instantly attacked, and they didn't seem to want to discuss the situation further, no matter how much I interrogated their corpses. Ah, well. One of the pirates had a map of sorts on his body, and in the chest nearby there's an utterly ridiculous looking helm with an utterly pathetic enchantment. On the other hand, said enchantment does look like the armor must come straight out of the Diablo franchise, because it appears to be a multipart one - apparently there is more to this suit of armor. I just hope the rest of it isn't quite so dumb looking. Intrigued, I notice that according to the map the three remaining pieces are on the edges of the island, which is perfect, considering that that's where I'm going.
     
    There's not much else to the island's outer edge, though. A couple of caves I deliberately avoid, a bunch of blue goblinoids I slaughter unmercifully, and another pillar being constructed by workforce so dedicated to their task that they refuse to engage in conversation with random wanderers. On the one hand, I'm not used to being completely ignored like that - most people I talk to seem obsessed with introducing themselves and giving me little biographical summaries when I first meet them, and on all subsequent encounters, whether or not I want to talk to them or even when I pass within ten feet of them, turn to me as if I am the most important thing in the world. Having a bunch of NPCs just completely ignore me is a new and, to be honest, quite refreshing experience. On the other hand, they may be dedicated to building these... whatever they are, but they're not really competent at it. I've been gone for two days and when we arrive back at the Earth Stone it doesn't look like any progress has been made. So maybe they're just dedicated to getting a steady paycheck. I'm down with that.
     
    Anyway, once again we circumnavigate the island a bit, in order to find the other pieces of this Deathbrand armor. After retrieving the last piece, I find a key and my quest journal magically updates itself, pointing me to Gyldenhul Barrow. Inside I find a pretty impressive treasure room, though honestly I haven't seen any gold piles look like that. Mostly gold seems to be found in little leather pouches, not lying on the ground in suspiciously smooth piles. Deeper in the ruin a whole bunch of angry ghosts pop out. It isn't a particularly difficult fight, but it is annoying, because the ghosts seem to spawn as far from me as possible, necessitating a whole bunch of running back and forth putting them down. In the end, I recover the chief ghost's two swords. All told, the Deathbrand armor and swords aren't bad. I could honestly see giving this bunch to a light-armored dual-wielding warrior, someone like Jenassa. I'd do it too, except I hate her and I never want to see her face again. So into the hock it'll go.
     
    Well, island circumnavigation complete. I guess it's time to get on with things. Why the hell did I come to Solstheim again? Oh, yeah, the cultists. Well, the only tip I've got so far is the temple in the middle of the island, so I guess that's where we're heading.
     
    Once at the temple, we find a bunch more of the brain-damaged builders standing around, idly whacking on things with hammers, and it occurs to me that maybe they're not trying to build whatever this stuff is, but destroy it. I mean, hey, when I whack on things with my hammer they usually die, so obviously these folks want to be just like their dear ol' Mace Raiden. Bless their little, stunted minds. They're pretty good at using those hammers too, judging by the field of dragon skeletons lying about. These guys are actually pretty fucking dangerous in combat, and I'm glad they've decided to stick to hammering on rocks. Nervously edging around them so as not to give offense, Stenvar and I move on into the ruin, and we're immediately attacked by a bunch of cultists. I get it, I really do - you've got the builders, who stand there mindlessly whacking on rocks, and the guards, who attack by launching themselves at our weapons face-first. Remember what I said about incompetent masterminds? Yeah, this guy, whoever he is, put his badass warriors on construction duty and his chambermaids on guard duty. Go team!
     
    Oh, and one non-team member, a Nord woman in heavy armor. At last, we meet someone who isn't either obsessed with hammering stones or obsessed with killing me! Happy day! She seems intent on getting the attention of the oblivious builders, and is meeting with little success. She tells me that the mastermind's name is Miraak, which makes sense considering that this temple is dedicated to him. She offers to lead us through the temple and kill him. Wow, really? That is... a very short main questline, all right. But whatever, let's do this.
     
    Inside is some pretty nifty architecture done in the standard Nord "ancient-ruin" style that was popular way back when. We fight a whole bunch of cultists on the way down, followed up by some Draugr. Frea seems slightly more intelligent than the average Nord, in that she refuses to charge headlong into swinging blades or other traps, preferring to let me solve the problem. A chanting word wall, a dragon trophy, and a boss Draugr called a "gatekeeper" who was apparently supposed to be a tough fight but went down crying like a little girl as the three of us tear him limb from limb, and that's about it for the temple. No Miraak. Some different kinds of architecture that I haven't seen since Saarthaal, kind of neat. And a big, black book. Fool that I am, I decline to actually think before opening it up and reading it, and whoosh I'm teleported to a magical realm full of fauns and talking animals and an evil white queen and... wait, wrong story. I'm actually teleported to a profoundly ugly place, complete with a dragon, a guy dressed in a darker version of the cultist gear, and a quartet of truly odd-looking... tentacle... things. Along with the Netch, this Solstheim place is starting to look like a Japanese schoolgirl's worst nightmare.
     
    Anyway, the dude is (duh) Miraak, and he smarms at me for a bit... wait, check that. He actually doesn't smarm. Huh, a mastermind who doesn't insult me. Go figure. He commends me for killing a whole bunch of dragons, and says that he is in the process of conquering the world by enslaving the minds of its inhabitants.
     
    Really, dude? This is your evil plan? You want to conquer the world with mind control? Have you talked to these people? In order to control someone's mind, they have to have a mind in the first place. Sheesh. And conquering the world? Yeah, I've been down that road before. So sorry to burst your bubble, but you don't have what it takes. Ulfric Stormcloak has a rebel army, and you've got... no army. Alduin has dozens of dragons, and you have... what, two? Three? And judging by the skeletons surrounding your temple, you keep killing them off. You don't have a macguffin like Ancano, and although you're trying your very best to meet the so-ugly-you're-scary qualification with that outfit and squid mask, you can't really beat out Harkon with his "Behold the Power" transformation into a mutant man-slash-plucked-turkey thing. You can't say you've got an edge on magic, because, let's face it, impressive as shouting can sometimes be, even the strongest shout doesn't hold a candle to a series of rapidly-launched Fireball spells.
     
    So... who do you think you are kidding, Mr. Miraak, if you think old Solstheim's done? Stenvar and I, we are the boys who will stop your little game. We are the boys who will make you think. Not think again, mind you, just think. You know, once. Look, dude, I'm honestly okay with you taking over the world. I mean, you can't have fucked it up any more than anyone else. You do use mind control powers to force people to do your bidding, but after watching them work for a bit, you're not forcing them to work themselves to the bone. And they do seem somewhat happy doing it. Your stated goal is to bring peace to the world under your rule, and that's a damn sight better than the "kill everyone including myself" goal that every other would-be ruler has. And when you had me at your mercy, you decided to... be merciful. You're the best supervillain I've ever encountered, bar none. So you wanna rule the world? Fine. Go to it, my boy, and gods bless you. But you could at least come up with a better plan than mind control.
     
    Anyway, Miraak's tentacled freaks send me back to Solstheim. Frea insists that I go with her to her home and talk to her father, and I insist that I'm already happily married and do not need to go home with her to meet her parents. But whatever, I guess that's the next quest hook, so off we go.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 42, The Fate Of The Skaal
    Start at Chapter 1
  5. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 34: THE SEVENTH SIGN AND THE IMPLIED TENTACLE RAPE
    In which our hero gets uncomfortably close to Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Greenish Ooze.
    Previous: Chapter 33, Lost and Found
     

    So I've noticed that I often begin these journal entries with the word "so," and I've decided not to do that this time. Wait... crap.
     
    Anyway (another favorite paragraph starter), after my recent sojourn in the Soul Cairn, I feel that I may actually be skilled enough at killing undead to join the Ash'abah someday. I've got to say, the clatter-and-tinkle of a skeleton falling to bits is actually kind of fun. Too bad we don't have any of that for a while. Right now I've got to go find the next Elder Scroll, to complete a set so I can send it in for a prize. Or something like that. As is my custom here in Skyrim, I'm just kind of running on autopilot right now, waiting for the next NPC to give me instructions, which will invariably include killing monsters and delving dungeons, with the occasional fetch quest thrown in for variety's sake. My life is pretty damn bleak, yeah.
     
    Serana mentions that maybe the people at the College of Winterhold might know where to find an Elder Scroll. I'm not sanguine about that - as Archmage, I am well placed to have certain inside information about the IQ of the average college wizard, and there's nothing that leads me to believe they'll be of any use. I mean, hell, when I was looking for a magical monk it was a bartender who led me in the right direction. Sadly, the local barkeeps have no info for me, so I am forced to return to the magic castle with the implausible bridge.
     
    As it turns out, the curmudgeonly Orc who runs the library actually does have some decent information. After deliberately misleading me into thinking that the only person who knows about these scrolls is dead, he finally breaks down and admits that he's holed up in a... well, holed up in a hole, actually, a bit north of here. Serana and I trudge up there, if you take a fairly liberal meaning of the word "trudge" that includes "hopping like a madman across ice patches" and "occasionally falling into frigid water." At last we arrive at the outpost of Septimus Signus.
     
    He's an odd bird, this guy. He's locked himself into an ice cave with a dwemer box, and he's determined to bust his way in. He tells me that the best way to do it is to go to a different dwemer ruin, conveniently located in Skyrim, and hands me a metal ball and a metal cube. Says they'll help me get the information he needs. Yep, that's right, a ball and a cube. I did say he's a kooky one.
     
    Ding ding ding! "Congratulations!" says a disembodied voice, "You've reached Level 7 of a Nested Problem!" To kill Harkon to stop endless night we've had to hunt down three elder scrolls without our local monk scroll 'expert' having any useful information, and find Serana's mommy and get her scroll, which required us to travel to an extremely boring and drab afterlife, and subsequently find a different expert, and which meant tracking down Septimus at the ass-end of nowhere via the College of Winterhold, and now we must take a metal ball and a metal cube to a different dwemer ruin to uncover the secret of how to open the big box in the hopes that Septimus will then tell us how to find the third scroll so we can read it and learn how to stop Harkon from enacting his evil plan... ugh. Hang on.
     
    Sorry, but I'm a tad confused... can't we just go stab Harkon in the face? Why all the running about? I'm the Dragonborn, a man out of legend, the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, and my powers of vampire-killing just aren't enough yet? Why the hell not? I'm backed up by his daughter, who is no slouch in the murder-department either, and I'm part of a group of people who are well motivated, and well equipped with vampire-slaying weapons, who would gladly JUMP at the chance to slaughter a bunch of vampires. Why can't we just go do that, I whine at Serana, but she just tosses a blank look my way and starts talking about the weather again. Why can't I just go kill Harkon myself? I'm tough enough! What, in short, is wrong with me?
     
    Breathe deeply, Mace. You made a pact with yourself to take whatever job comes along, and this is, in fact, a job that has come along. So what if it's a completely snarled ball of yarn? So what if the story doesn't make any goddamn sense? It's still a job!
     
    Okay... fine. Once at Alftand, we wind our way through the ruin, killing a poor, drugged-up Khajiit on the way, not to mention about ten thousand Falmer and dwemer constructs. The previous expedition to come through here met with an unfortunate fate, and that happened to be at the end of my hammer, because the last two surviving members proceeded to attack me for getting involved in their little internal dispute. Hey, guys, I just wanted to use this metal ball on that metal... revolving... thing over there. You shouldn't have attacked me. Nice shield, though... I could mount it on my wall if I ever want a bunch of spikes sticking out of my wall. I can use it as a coat hook!
     
    So I use the metal ball on the metal revolving thing, and it turns into a staircase. Pretty cool, one nifty thing in this whole place, I'm sure the rest of this quest is going to be bland again. Down the stairs we go, and through a door into...
     
    Holy cow.
     
    Okay, this Blackreach place is pretty damn cool. It's full of falmer and dwemer and chaurus, but there's also a giant walking along, and some trolls, lots of waterfalls, an old laboratory with a dead elf inside who was studying a new type of plant, a big ball of light that erupts in dragons when shouted at, and there's a lot of nifty places and cool architecture. The whole spot is lit by an otherworldly light, there are pretty, giant mushrooms scattered about, and all in all I'm really glad I came down here. A whole new world exists under Skyrim. This just about made my day.
     
    I could actually go on about Blackreach for pages, but no words of mine can do the place justice. If ever, gentle reader, you get the chance to visit (preferably well armed, armored, and backed up by a squadron of soldiers), you should definitely do so. I've spent days exploring the spot, and I'm not totally certain I've seen it all. I gotta say, I don't really miss the sun at all, so if Harkon wants to bring endless night down on the surface world, he can go right ahead, and more power to him. I'm staying right here.
     
    But no, it is not to be, because of that damnable journal full of quests. Such as the one I am, ostensibly, on. So Serana and I make our way to the Tower of Mzark, which is an old Oculory, which has something to do with randomly pressing buttons until random beams of light randomly converge in a random fashion on the center crystal, which opens up, and... hey, there's an Elder Scroll. It wasn't in the dwemer box after all! Don't I feel a silly goose! Yoink!
     
    I sort of feel bad for Septimus, though. He's going to all that trouble to open the big box to find a scroll, and it's not in there. Normally I'd just say "screw him" and wander off to do the next thing on my list, but I feel I need to go tell him he's barking up the wrong tree, or rather prodding at the wrong metal box. So I take the his newly transformed cube and toddle my way back out of there.
     
    Back at the outpost, Septimus is still trying to figure out how to get into the box. I show him the lexicon and he gets all excited, saying something about how the dwemer box will only open for a dwemer. At this point, I would recommend hiring a couple of peons and grabbing a largish drill and just boring my way in, but he's decided to trick the box into thinking he's a dwemer, instead, because of course the dwemer, a race who barely managed to invent steam-powered machinery before disappearing, were also capable of advanced biometric scanners that read a person's DNA. I've got to get a sample of elf blood from all the elven races present in the world today, and somehow mixing them all up and injecting them into his own bloodstream will somehow fool the box into thinking he's a dwemer. I turn to my wicker basket and start enumerating the sheer number of problems with this whole damnable scenario, but it interrupts me and mentions the "archmage" thing and says that if you can make a magic-powered staff of wood that can steal a person's soul, reading genetic markers accurately enough to determine a person's ancestry but still being fooled by mixing blood should be easy-peasy. Didn't I say I was running on autopilot, just doing what people tell me to? Yes, yes I did. So off we go.
     
    Or, at least, we try... the way is blocked by a giant cloud of mucous. With writhing tentacles. That speaks to me. You know, I'm getting pretty blasé about the whole weird-things-talking-to-me bit... stone walls, magical rocks, and now what appears to be a festering compost heap. Sure, why not. The heap tells me that he is Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Interrupting Quest Progress, and he wants me to kill Septimus as soon as I've gotten the required blood. Normally I'd say no, but it looks like the bugger won't get out of the way until I agree, so... sure, you old pile of green goop! I'd just like to say that on behalf of all sane people everywhere, I'm only too happy to do the bidding of random tentacled sludge monsters!
     
    Onward. We find and kill a bunch of elves, which would make the Stormcloaks proud of me, which only serves to depress me further. Some of the elves were easy enough to track down and slaughter, others less so. An Altmer patrol, a Falmer ruin, an Old Orc wandering the roads and killing sabrecats, looking for a good end... it all added up, eventually. Finally we finish slaughtering elves, and we make it back to Septimus. He takes the blood and injects himself with it I PROMISED MYSELF I WOULDN'T NITPICK DAMMIT and the box opens into a nifty-looking tunnel. Once inside, Septimus gets all weepy, and I have to put him down... partly out of pity, but mostly because the Daedric Prince of Tentacle Rape told me to. The ball of oozing glop appears again and thanks me, and now I've got a strange book bound in human skin cluttering up my inventory.
     
    Okay, moving on. Now we've got all three scrolls... and it's time to get back to Dexion and have him read them.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 35, Some Old Parchment
    Start at Chapter 1
  6. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 40: MUSHROOMS... AGAIN?
    In which our hero visits a giant magic mushroom.
    Previous: Chapter 39: Tentacle Monsters Ahoy!
     
    The first thing I see out of the gate is a guard fighting a couple more of these ash monsters. After quickly dispatching the beasts, the dude introduces himself as Veleth, the guard captain at Raven Rock. He is either a real dumbass who decided to investigate the attacks on the town personally, OR there is so little for him to do back in Raven Rock that he was bored out of his gourd and decided to investigate the attacks on the town personally, OR he's just that cocky and confident in his abilities that he decided to investigate the attacks on the town personally, OR he's just a wandering brigand who decided to help himself to a dead guard's armor and call himself "captain" and who's going to be the wiser? Actually, scratch that last one, because I know for a fact he's a guard captain and not just a normal guard who got accelerated promotion due to the death of his predecessor or something, because he has a unique voice.
     
    Mr. Unique-with-actually-pretty-damn-good-VA tells me to search for clues, because he can't be arsed to take a few steps thataway and find a convenient note on the cone-shaped stationary ash pile that was once a human-shaped mobile ash pile. He asks me to investigate further, and I agree that this is really something that should be taken care of by someone competent, i.e. someone with an actual military force backing him up and not just an itinerant Dragonborn. But since his idea of "proper military force" includes just himself and one mook, I guess it's up to me after all. But later, eh? I'm still circumnavigating the island.
     
    The local wildlife is interesting. There are some insects that hide under the dirt and jump out, but they're not much more of a threat than your average frostbite spider. I found a Spriggan who apparently tried to emulate John Allerdyce with semi-disastrous consequences, and a bunch of bandits who are trying to shrug off the negative connotations of the word "bandit" and get some positive PR by calling themselves "reavers" instead. As a plan to increase their rep, it's about on par with pretty much every other plan of any kind that the average Skyrim inhabitant makes. I approach them, and we engage in a brisk debate about their choice of identification term. They argue that the word "reaver" implies the personality of an individual who roams around looking for a bit of fun, and not someone who, for example, attacks innocent travelers on sight. My argument is primarily etymological in nature, with references to various dictionaries. After hearing my persuasive speech, they are so overcome with the rightness of my reasoning that they remain lying down on the ground, some of them headless. Let's continue on, shall we?
     
    A whole bunch of dirt, some burned trees, and a... meteor? I guess? Maybe something volcanic? I have been under the impression that the eruption of Red Mountain happened quite some time ago, but apparently it's still going on? That would explain the ashy ground and burned trees, I suppose. And the volcanic bomb, if that's what it is. Normally tephra like this cools before it hits the ground, but I'm willing to cut the devs gods some slack. Anyway, for the most part the southern coastline isn't much to look at, or wander through either. There's a fort, but I decided to keep away from it because I'm just sure it's full of bandits reavers too.
     
    Eventually we reach a big-ass mushroom. Big enough that people are actually living inside. I hunt high and low in vain searching for Smurfs, but all I found were some Dunmer. Some dev god who made the world really had a hard-on for big mushrooms, I tell you. The master of this place is called, appropriately enough, Master Neloth, and aside from him there are a couple of other folks living here, including the arguing couple outside. Rather than get involved in a family squabble, I head on inside. The inside of the main mushroom consists of a vertical shaft that blows you up to the top (insert your own blow-job joke here), which is pretty damn nifty, I can tell you. I'd like some of this magic back in Skyrim so I don't have to walk around mountains. Neloth himself is a bit of a burke, but he's also so self-absorbed and supercilious that he's easy to just blow off (insert another blow-job joke here too). Back down the tower and out the door, and apparently the one guy's summon spell actually worked. Kinda. It's a Storm Atronach, and it's pissed off because he let it get all muddy. Talvas inveigles me to help him, and then buggers off back into the tower. After dispatching the thing, I head back inside and he gives me his staff (insert yet another blow-job joke here), and Stenvar and I decide to get out of this place before this giant Psilocybin affects us the same way it's apparently been affecting everyone else.
     
    Heading north now, we encounter a Sun Stone, around which some more people appear to be either building something or possibly just randomly moving rocks about and whacking things with hammers. Just like the last batch, they seem disinclined to talk to me, and even the bandits reavers among them aren't hostile, just completely disinterested. So we keep moving. There's a dwemer ruin here, but apparently it is quest locked inaccessible. Further on up the coast we run into a group of Nords doing what Nords do best - camping out in the freezing wastes and drinking a bunch of booze. I briefly entertain a sense of superiority, but then Stenvar reminds me that I too am a Nord, I'm in the frozen wastes, and have I looked at my inventory lately? 30 stone of alcohol? Sheepishly, I trudge on.
     
    We find a cave called Frossel, which must be a portmanteau of "frozen" and "fossil" and fits the name perfectly. It's full of little blue goblin dudes, some of whom are riding wild pigs. I turn to Stenvar and say that the place is very boar-ing, hoping to get a chuckle, but all he does is look at me sadly and shake his head. Chastened, I decide to explore the place, and Stenvar and I rip through it like a hot sharp thing through a soft melty thing. Aside from interrupting what appears to be a religious ceremony worshipping a horse and wagon (insert your own "cargo cult" reference here), the place is mostly filled with the mother fuckload of junk. I mean, it looks like these little guys bought out the entire stock of a dozen pawnshops back on the mainland and decided to accessorize their frozen caves with the lot. All in all, the picture painted of these Reiklings is that of a group of giggling lunatics who worship clutter. So, pretty much like everyone else, I suppose.
     
    Back outside, we breathe the fresh air and I vow to never enter another one of these damn caves again. It wasn't a hard fight or anything, but for heaven's sake, I just slaughtered a bunch of otherwise innocent trash venerators! I can't even give the excuse that they attacked me first, like bandits and reavers and spriggans and wolves and rats and every fucking thing in the entire world outside of cities do - I invaded their home and proceeded to wipe them all out!
     
    Suddenly very depressed, I trudge onward. East this time, since we've moved up to the top of the island now.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 41, X Marks The Spot
    Start at Chapter 1
  7. Content Consumer
    I've decided to post a sort of playthrough journal that I started writing a few years ago, then stopped writing due to a profound lack of interest. Hopefully someone will get a kick out of it besides me.
    It's divided up into "chapters," some of which are longer, some are much shorter than others. The short ones generally go for about 600 words or so, the long ones upwards of five times that many. EDIT: Nope, I cut them into bite-sized chunks.
    No sexlab content is included, because there are a lot of other people writing here that do a great job with that. This is pure vanilla Skyrim (well, not vanilla, it's heavily modded, but readers probably won't notice the mods I'm using).
    I've currently got 9 chapters written, and I think I'm going to include one chapter per week. It won't end after 9 weeks, because I just started writing again, but I have no idea when it'll be finished...
    The story is from the perspective of a guy newly arrived in Skyrim, and his reactions to the events that happen.
    Note that in the playthrough, I'm doing a lot of stuff I'm not recording, because there would be no point to record everything. There also may be a few little gaps in time, that make for a better story... for example, in chapter 1, I'm attacked by the crazy dunmer with boethia's proving book at level 1, which cannot happen. That's the most egregious of my errors, the rest of my deliberate alterations are pretty minor and shouldn't make anyone intimately familiar with the game do more than raise the occasional eyebrow.
     
    Anyway, here is chapter 1, which happens to be the longest chapter to date, I think.
     
    TABLE OF CONTENTS
    Chapter 1: You're reading it now. Just scroll down a bit after the TOC.
    Chapter 2: Of Jesters And Snow
    Chapter 3: College Guys Gone Wild
    Chapter 4: How Did They Move That Big Blue Ball?
    Chapter 5: Winner Of The Smartest Mage In The World Contest
    Chapter 6: Dropout
    Chapter 7: Yes, I Am A Dragonslayer
    Chapter 8: Mace Raiden, Statue Fondler
    Chapter 9: I Am A Dragonborn
    Chapter 10: A Strange Dress Code
    Chapter 11: Oath Of Celibacy... I Mean Fealty
    Chapter 12: I'm Feeling Horny
    Chapter 13: Plot Armor
    Chapter 14: Possibly Some Ice Hockey Reference
    Chapter 15: Imperials In The Stormcloak Capitol
    Chapter 16: Lovely Party, Pity I Wasn't Invited
    Chapter 17: The Daedric Princes
    Chapter 18: It Was An Accident!
    Chapter 19: Back To Winterhold
    Chapter 20: Forth From Winterhold
    Chapter 21: There's A Dragon, Everybody Follow!
    Chapter 22: The Non-Thieves Guild
    Chapter 23: No Shit!
    Chapter 24: The Case of the Empty Vault
    Chapter 25: Pretty Spry for an Old Guy
    Chapter 26: This Place Has Really Gone To The Dogs
    Chapter 27: I'll Take Option D
    Chapter 28: Heard They're Reforming The Dawnguard
    Chapter 29: Once You Go Black...
    Chapter 30: A Prophetable Venture
    Chapter 31: Vampires and Death Hounds and Gargoyles, Oh My!
    Chapter 32: Chasing Reflected Soundwaves
    Chapter 33: Lost and Found
    Chapter 34: The Seventh Sign, and the Implied Tentacle Rape
    Chapter 35: Some Old Parchment
    Chapter 36: Dimfall or Darkhollow or Something Like That
    Chapter 37: Something Interesting on the Other Side
    Chapter 38: Assault on Vampire Central
    Chapter 39: Tentacle Monsters Ahoy!
    Chapter 40: Mushrooms... Again?
    Chapter 41: X Marks The Spot
    Chapter 42: The Fate Of The Skaal
     
    Intermission 1
    Intermission 2
    Intermission 3 and poll
    Intermission 4 and poll
     
    My Precious
    CSI: Skyrim
     
    A side venture into Fallout 3:
    Diary of a Water Purifier, EP1
    Diary of a Water Purifier, EP2
    Diary of a Water Purifier, EP3
    Diary of a Water Purifier, EP4
     
    And the start of the story:
     

     
    CHAPTER 1: TO HELGEN AND BEYOND
    In which our hero begins his journey.
     
    Hi, everyone. My name is Mace Raiden. I'm a Nord by birth, but was raised Redguard. See, my parents were originally from Skyrim, and they moved to Hammerfell, to a little town called Elinhir. They were hunters by trade. One day, they went out to hunt, and died. Just like that, of natural causes. See, a band of shady-looking ruffians brought in their stripped corpses, and said that they took off their clothes and all their valuables and decided to go swimming, only to trip and fall onto several dozen arrows apiece. Naturally, this ended in death, so there was no reason for any inquiry. Accidents will happen.
    When I became old enough to venture on my own, I decided to head back to my ancestral homeland of Skyrim. I'd follow in my parent's footsteps and become a professional hunter and furrier.
    I picked up some sturdy leather all-weather gear, packed my bags with lots of food, said my goodbyes to my adoptive family, and headed southeast, into Cyrodiil. I was going to skirt the mountains to get to Bruma, then north through a narrow pass into Skyrim. I'd heard there was some sort of minor rebellion going on in the eastern part of the province, but I'd also heard that Whiterun was the jewel of Skyrim, a nice place to live, so I wanted to arrive close to Whiterun but farther away from any potential conflicts.
     
    So here's me, an innocent hunter, just crossing the border, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the back of a moving cart and my head REALLY FUCKING HURTS. I must have been knocked on the noggin. Apparently, I got swept up in a military-police border patrol, and they think I'm some sort of bandit or thief or something. Because I was trying to cross the border. I must be an evil SOB for doing something as nasty as that. Welcome to Skyrim, where trespassers will be shot, ground up, and fed to the dogs.
     
    I'm in the back of the cart with this Stormcloak guy and a thief in dirty rags. Oh, and another Stormcloak guy, apparently the leader of the rebellion himself. Ulfric Stormcloak. I decide to call him Ulfric the Mute, because he doesn't say much. Can't, really, what with that rag on his face. We quickly become fast friends, lifelong buddies. I can say this with complete conviction because I tend to think that his life isn't going to be all that long. The leader of the rebellion? Here? Why? And how in the HELL did I get picked up with him? I'm not a Stormcloak, but I don't think the soldiers even care.
     
    We're in Helgen. The carts are coming to a stop, and my cart buddies can only talk about how they're about to die and how miserable everything is. Don't they see that the sun is shining, birds are singing, flowers blooming and OH MY GOD MY LIFE IS OVER AND I JUST GOT HERE! No, suck it up. Executions happen every day. I'll just explain to the nice people that I'm not a Stormcloak rebel traitor bastard, and they'll let me go. It's just a misunderstanding. Everything will be nice and hunky-dory and... Lokir? What are you doing? Are you trying to run away? Past the armed guards and through the middle of town? Ooh, two arrows to the back, that's gotta hurt.
     
    The guard captain asks: anyone else feel like running? Yep, me. I could have made a break for it while all you guys were staring at Lokir. Dumbass, run through the middle of town to escape? There's a door in the city wall just behind me here. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough, and the guy with the book calls me over. He was riding a horse RIGHT BEHIND the cart the whole way in. Presumably he was also there when they captured me, my memory's kind of foggy on that one. And he doesn't know who I am.
     
    Listen, shitheel. I'm a peaceful traveler, visiting the homeland of my biological parents, maybe looking for work. I'm not a Stormcloak. Am I dressed like one? No, I am not. I'm dressed like a poor beggar. By the way, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY CLOTHES? My good leather all-weather gear? You people suck.
     
    So here we are, all lined up for the guy with the big axe. There's a headsman's block on the ground, looks like it gets its fair share of use. And a basket to catch the heads. Or head, really. It's a tiny basket. I guess it's ceremonial - they fill it up one at a time, empty the basket, and replace it for the next head. Welcome home.
     
    So the priestess starts her funereal blessing, and this Stormcloak guy gets all pissy about something she says. He interrupted right after she said "blessings of the eight divines" so that must have been the trigger, somehow. Sounds legit to me, though. Ruptga, Zeht, Morwha, Tava, HoonDing, Leki, Onsi, Diagna. That Stormcloak seemed pissed about it, though. Probably didn't like including HoonDing. I guess that's understandable, really. HoonDing's always been a bit of a bastard to outsiders.
     
    So the Stormcloak gets his extreme makeover, and I'm next. Because the guard captain likes to fuck with people. Whelp, that's it for me. Goodbye, cruel world. Best of luck to you. I'd sing a sad song or say some last words but I'm not given a choice. I kneel down on the block and could you PLEASE take the other guy's head away? That's just gross. There's no need to be mean about this, you know. I'm going to die, the least you could do is give me a LITTLE dignity. Sharing a tiny box with someone else's head is not how I pictured my afterlife.
     
    As the headsman winds up for the coup, I see a big fucking black dragon land on the tower roof. Wow. Nice timing. I am the LUCKIEST man who's ever lived. EVER. The dragon is accompanied by a rain of fiery rocks, and he belches the biggest burp ever recorded, pushing back the headsman and knocking me to the ground. I get to my feet and there's one of my cart-buddies there, telling me to get inside a tower. Good idea! Wish I'd thought of heading for cover!
     
    Inside is my other cart buddy, Ulfric the Voiceless, who seems to have found his voice. "Legends don't burn down villages." No, dipshit, fire does. And dragons breathe fire. Your point is? Anyway, Ralof tells me to head up the stairs. I do so, and the dragon busts his way in the wall. Why? I don't know. I can think of no reason whatsoever for the dragon to want to punch a hole in the tower wall. Could he, like, sense that people were behind it? Why not downstairs, where MORE people are? And while we're at it, why did Ralof tell me to head up the stairs? What's up there? A trap door to the roof, and back into the dragon's sphere of influence? Maybe the dragon cast a spell of stupidity over the town, and accidentally hit himself with it. "Duh, let's go outside!" (for the humans) and "Duh, I'm gonna fly straight into this tower with my head!" (for the dragon).
     
    Anyway, the dragon (surprise!) breathes fire at us, but I'm too smart for him. The instant I saw his face, I took cover... behind Ralof. I'm not proud of it, but I'm still alive. Anyway, Ralof tells me to jump through the hole and he'll be along shortly. Wait, what? Really? Go outside, where the maneating firebreathing beast can see me, jump through midair, into a burning building, and you're right behind me? Yeah, I believe you. Be honest, jackass. You wanna see if I get eaten or cooked before you chance it, right? I'm no dummy. Or maybe I am, because sure enough I jump through the hole into the burning building. Singed but not badly injured, my hands still tied together, I race through the building and out the other side, where my savior awaits. The book-holding Imperial guard guy.
     
    "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." Really, dude? Statistically speaking, 100% of the time I've been close to you I've been close to death. Besides, you couldn't be bothered correcting your paperwork so you sent me to have my head cut off! I'm just lucky that dragon attacked right there! Screw you and the horse you rode in on, and the horse that pulled the wagon for good measure.
     
    But I stick with the guy with the sword. It's my new rule in my life. Never argue with edged weapons. The people who hold the weapon are incidental - the main thing is the edged weapon itself. Don't argue, just say yes. So I follow the jerkwad through MORE burning buildings, and see General Tullius, the guy who just couldn't be bothered to save an innocent man's life. Fucking Imperials. They can all go suck it.
     
    Racing through the remains of the once idyllic little town, who do I see but Ralof, who apparently took the safer route that did NOT include a long jump into a burning building. He and Hadvar face off for a few seconds, and then head for two different doors. They both exhort me to follow them, and it's down to what's behind door number 1 and door number 2. On the one hand, here's a rebel who's trying to overthrow the peace-loving empire, and on the other hand is a representative of an uncaring bureaucracy that tried to have me killed. A guy who used me as his catspaw, and a guy who couldn't be arsed to cut through red tape to save my life. I'd flip a coin, but I don't have a coin anymore, because the Imperials stole all my stuff and that decides it, Stormcloaks here I come.
     
    Inside, Ralof and I see the corpse of a dead Stormcloak soldier. I have no idea how he got here. Maybe he was another of Ralof's catspaws. Ralof cuts my bonds and instructs me to strip the dead guy and get into his clothes. I'm starting to think that maybe Ralof is a little unscrewed upstairs. Maybe he just misses his friend SO MUCH that he wants to pretend that I'm him. Maybe he's just randy and wants to see me naked for a bit while I dress up in Stormcloak gear. I get it, some people are attracted to men in uniform. That doesn't mean I'm going to just do it, though. I'm about to refuse, but he says something about borrowing his friend's axe, or something like that, which I take as a threat, so here goes the wardrobe change!
     
    So we're trapped in this little room. Not safe from the dragon, if his previous behavior of slamming into walls and busting through is any indicator. I can still hear roars. Down one corridor, I hear voices, and Ralof says that Imperials are coming. Shit, just what I need. Hadvar and Ralof facing off again. It must be Hadvar, of course, since he was the only other person who went in the other door. And here I am, now wearing Stormcloak gear. If he wasn't pissed before, he will be now. Wait... who is it? My old friend, the guard captain! This will be a pleasure. I grab the dead guy's axe. The Imperials open the gate, and Ralof and I tear right through them. Nice armor, dude. I'd wear it - it's better than the blue rags I'm wearing now - but it's all imperialized, you know? And heavy. I'm going to leave it here. Anyway, got a key to the next door, because, obviously, with only one way forward and locked, there HAS to be a key readily available. Otherwise the world makes no sense anymore.
     
    So we head through the fort's dungeons, killing Imperials. One of them shot lightning from his hands. His. Hands. Lightning. Yeah, I stayed away from him. We're joined by two more Stormcloaks who are also escaping. Ralof tells me to unlock a cage door and strip another guy of his outfit. Maybe Ralof is just a necrophiliac and doesn't want to admit it to himself. He likes watching other people undress dead people. I resolve to stay behind him from now on.
     
    Marching through the tunnels, we eventually run into a group of Imperial soldiers, and take them out easily. Ralof and I continue on, while the two Stormcloaks stay behind to wait for Ulfric the Gagged. Just as we cross a little wooden bridge, a rock falls from the ceiling and knocks the bridge out. Nice timing. That seems to happen a lot around me. Almost like the entire world is following a script or something. Ha! What a dumb notion. Just luck, that's all.
     
    Anyway, we keep going. Ralof kills some spiders, and then tells me to take the lead again. I figure that something more dangerous than spiders is up ahead, and sure enough, here's a cave bear. Of COURSE I'll take the lead, Ralof old buddy old pal! Who wouldn't JUMP at the chance to be your point man again? We sneakily skirt the bear, and head out of the damn dungeon. As we exit, the dragon flies off overhead. More nice timing.
     
    Ralof tells me that we should split up, and then tells me that we should continue on together. He must have taken a knock to the head. We run down the road... or should I say, I run and he gently jogs. Slowest goddamn runner ever. No wonder he couldn't escape an Imperial ambush. They probably just sent their crack Sauntering division after him. Anyway, Ralof stops several times too. Once to point out an ancient ruin on a mountain, and once to point out three phallic symbols on the path. Calls them the "guardian stones." He tells me to touch them. He's not a necrophiliac, he's just a pervert. Or a perverted necrophiliac. If he starts sniffing my hair I'm gonna belt him one. I look at the stones, and suddenly, magically, I know that if I touch one of them I'll learn magic, fighting, or thieving skills better.
     
    I touch the thief stone, and Ralof smarms at me. Never too late to take charge of my own fate? You're right. You move too slow, you treat me like some disposable trap detector, and you're a sexual deviant, so I'm going to take charge of my own fate and go to Riverwood on my own.
     
    The path to Riverwood is pretty, and peaceful, broken only by a pair of wolves. Wolves that think a big, tough-looking human wielding an axe is food. Must be starving, or insane... maybe rabid. Lucky for me they both went down with one hit each, and I didn't even get nipped. I should probably avoid touching the corpses for fear of disease and who am I kidding? I rip the skins off BOTH of them. Teach them to try to chew on me.
     
    So here I am, in Riverwood. Nice little burg. Pretty place. Old women rambling about mythical dragons, as if such things actually exist OH WAIT. This will make a nice home here in Skyrim. I need a job to keep myself fed - I'm tired of hunting. Not that I ever got to do any, really - a couple of wolves on the road to Riverwood don't count. Maybe I'll take up mining.
    Somehow, magically, I can sense a mine some distance away... just up the road a bit.
    Passed Ralof on the way, threw a jaunty wave his direction.
     
    So I get to the mine, and I spot the door guard. I'll go ask him if they're in need of any assistance here. I have no skills in mining, but I'm willing to learn. Just as I was about to enter the mine, I was attacked by a crazy dunmer dude, shouting that he had at last found a worthy opponent. The mine's door guard got in on the action and tried to defend me. One hit from the Dunmer's axe, and he goes down.
     
    That blasted dark elf was a really tough goddamn fight. I had to chug all the potions I got from Helgen just to stay alive. Looted the corpse, and found a book about Beothiah. Some crazy cult thing. Should be good for a few coins. I head into the mine to tell the people inside their door guard had died, and to inform them that in the future they should assign the position of door guard to someone NOT made of glass. Everyone starts attacking me! Sneaking about, dropping these insane miners one after another, each with a single arrow from the shadows (and an average of 3-5 sword thrusts), I come to pity them. They don't even have flush toilets here. Just buckets! No wonder they're insane.
     
    I sweep through the place, and find a nice set of Iron armor, and shuck the nasty blue Stormcloak rags. I've gotten a nice haul of gold and gems out of this mess, and a couple of iron weapons. Found a nice warhammer - better than the axe. I've decided that I don't want to be a miner. It looks like hard work, getting slaughtered by wandering Dunmer and savagely attacking anyone who enters the mine. I've no idea who they sell the ore to - they probably kill every merchant who gets close, then sit around all day scratching their heads and asking themselves "Why no-one ever come here? Derp derp derp."
     
    I'm going to go back to Riverwood and see if Ralof's sister is hiring at the lumber mill.
    O...K... after an interminable conversation with Ralof, Gerder, and Hod, about dragons and Stormcloaks, I've got two distinct goals set before me.
    1) Go to Windhelm and join the Stormcloaks, and take back the land for the loyal Sons of Skyrim!
    2) Go to Whiterun and inform the Jarl about the dragon menace!
    So, to reiterate my two options, I have:
    1) Travel all the way across this dangerous landscape, dodging bandits, wolves, bears, and possibly dragons on the way, to a frozen city half the world away, to join a bunch of sexist (SONS of Skyrim?), racist blowhards who claim my gods are false (I may be a Nord, but I was raised as a Redguard, dammit), and help them disrupt a peaceful, principally agrarian country with a civil war in the hopes that they can kill enough innocent soldiers that they can make their regime change stick and put in their chosen leader who, by all accounts, is a murderer.
    2) Take a quick jaunt down a friendly road to a nearby city in beautiful, warm Whiterun Hold, and make sure a reasonable, level-headed guy gets pertinent information about a menace that threatens the entirety of existence.
     
    After a heavy internal debate that lasted approximately 0.003 seconds, I take off running to Whiterun, singing a jaunty tune. Actually, no, wait... I've got a backpack full of crap that I need to sell. I'll just stop in at the local merchant, listen to a conversation in medias res, sell some crap, and THEN on to Whiter... erm, the local tavern for a quick drink and a meal, talk to the barkeep about some rumors, and THEN on to Whit... the tavern's troubadour named Sven interrupts me telling me to stay away from some guy named Faendal, and gives me a letter to give to some lady named Camilla, and THEN on to Wh... on my way out of town, bump into an elf named Faendal who tells me to stay away from Sven, and THEN on to Whiterun! I swear, if I never come back to this craphole it'll be too soon.
     
    Over the river and through the woods, to Jarl Balgruuf's house we go! I'm tempted to call him Jarl Billy-Goats-Gruff but I manfully resist. Gleefully skipping down the road, I pass some pretty flowers, a nice peaceful stream, a pleasant farm, some butterflies, a meadery, a hostile giant attacking the city and being peppered with arrows from three warriors, all of the stuff you'd expect to see in a peaceful, pastoral paradise. I prudently stand off from the fight, and a good thing, too. The three of them take down the giant with no real effort. I've heard that giants are tough fights, but this is apparently NOT the case! When they're done with their exercise, I run up to congratulate them, and get berated by the leader for... drinking milk. Or something. I wasn't really paying attention, I was staring at her face. I get the impression that these people don't know how to put on makeup here. Eye shadow is supposed to be subtle, lady, not swabbed across the face with a trowel. I don't say anything though, because she's got a sword, and I've made it a policy not to insult edged weapons.
     
    So I head on up to the main gate, passing by some rich bastard's carriage and driver. The poor guy has to sit out here, day in and out, rain or shine, waiting for his master to come along. I briefly entertain the notion of starting up a discussion about inalienable rights, but I remember the bit about the dragon and decide to head on up to the castle. This whole town has seen better days, for sure. Half of the walls are crumbling and the defensive towers are made of wood. And they say that Whiterun is the jewel of Skyrim. It's paste, people.
     
    The guard at the gate tells me that the city's closed because dragons are flying around. Whew! I don't have to tell the Jarl after all. They already know here. Although how closing the city helps, I don't know. Maybe they're hoping the dragon will see the closed door and not fly over the wall. Maybe that's just the guard's standing orders in case of emergency. Bandit attack? Close the city. Dragons on the loose? Close the city. Thunderstorms? Close the do I really need to go on, here? The guard, knowing about the dragons and under express orders NOT to open the doors for any reason, takes my news that there are dragons around in shock, and ushers me in. These guys are highly trained professionals. His friend tells me that he has a knee problem. I'm not sure if he's asking for help or coming on to me, so I avert my gaze and head on in.
     
    Ah, Whiterun! As I wander the streets of the beautiful city, I point out to myself the various features of this wonderful place. There's an open sewage canal, and over here is an old dead tree. A zealous proselytizer sermonizes at me on my right and some asshole on my left argues with his wife about how he's taking their life savings to hire mercenaries rather than buy food. As I pass by another guard, he tells me that there's a cave nearby with nasty creatures in it and I should stay clear. Some rich guy in the marketplace (probably the owner/employer of the carriage driver out front) starts yammering on about how his food is better than anyone else's food, and a homeless beggar walks by asking for money. I give him a gold piece and he asks me to steal some booze for him from the local tavern. Way to reinforce the stereotype, dude.
     
    But I'm not here to criticize. I'm here to warn the Jarl about the dragon attack. I know he's already aware of the problem, but I have to warn him anyway. I already made a note of it in my journal/date book. In ink. So I have no choice. Up the stairs, over the stagnant pond with a dead body floating in it, into the beautiful (wooden, flammable) Dragonsreach castle-hall-thing. Once inside, a dark elf draws her sword on me. I swear, these Dunmer are all totally batshit. I tell her that there's a dragon about and she sheathes her sword and points me toward the guy lounging indolently on the big chair. Maybe THIS bastard is the guy who employs/owns the carriage driver.
     
    Anyway, I get to talk to the guy with the crown. He thanks me for telling him about a dragon he already knew about, and rewards me with a pair of iron boots. As a gift, I'm kind of torn about this. Iron boots are nice and all, and they go nicely with my new breastplate I... ahem... FOUND in a mine, but I can't help being a little affronted at the parsimony. I guess I shouldn't be; I just told him a fact he already knew. He imperiously tells me to follow him because he's assigning me a new job. I follow him, because, as I said, I prefer not to argue with edged weapons, and this guy's got a housecarl with an itchy sword hand. She threatened me with death for walking in the building. What would she do if I said "no" right to the guy's face?
     
    The court wizard is an arrogant little dude whom I could break in half with one hand were it not for the fact that he can shoot lightning bolts out of his hands. I amend my "no arguing with edged weapons" rule to include finger-based electricity. Maybe he's supercilious because he's compensating for the fact that he can't masturbate without electrocuting himself. Whatever. Anyway, he tells me to go to some old ruin and recover a mystical magical rock, a Dragonstone. Bleak Falls Barrow. Ralof told me that he was scared of that place, and there's a guy who was facing his imminent execution with aplomb. Farengar tells me to head to Riverwood (shit) and ask around about how to get there. I cheerfully tell him yes, listen to Balgruuf expostulate about the necessity of my "quest" (which basically amounts to a suicidal treasure-hunting job), and get the hell out of the palace, and Whiterun entirely. If he, the other he, they, or anyone thinks I'm heading into an ancient, crumbling ruin on the top of a mountain to face a horde of undead so that I can get some wizard guy's rocks off, they can think again. (I may have mixed up the requirements of the quest in my fear and loathing, but the principle is the thing). Screw you guys, I'm gone. I don't want to be a hunter, miner, or woodcutter. That whole lightning bolt thing sounds pretty cool, after all - maybe I'll head to Whiterun... I mean Windhelm... I mean Winterhold. The college there. Yeah, I'm gonna be a wizard!
     
    As I'm almost out of the city, the captain of the guard stops me in the street to tell me that he's the captain of the guard. How nice for him.
     
    Next: Chapter 2, Of Jesters And Snow
  8. Content Consumer
    Previous: Chapter 38, Assault on Vampire Central
     
    POLL:



     
    In the meantime, here are some pics just for fun.
     
    1. I was going to post this as the entirety of Chapter 37, just to be a troll. But I figured that Supercow would probably kick my ass if I tried.

     
    2.These are Mace's two main weapons.
    An Ebony Battleaxe with my second favorite enchantment of all time: Chaos. I gotta say, if you want some good DPS, it's worth buying the Dragonborn DLC JUST for that enchantment. It also has my FIRST favorite enchantment of all time: Fire Damage Lingering. Go pick up the Wintermyst mod right now, I beg you!
    And a Dawnguard Warhammer. It has Chaos, which is very nice, but this one is primarily a one-shot vampire killer. Pretty good against Dragon Priests and Draugr Death Overlords.
    Hopefully I'll be able to put the hammer aside now that we're done with Vampires. For the most part.

     
    3. I've seen other people post screenshots like this, but this was the first time it ever happened to me.
    When I saw this, I thought for sure that if that wolf could speak he'd be one of those annoyingly chipper small children. "Hey, whatcha doing? What's that? That looks interesting! Do you have a favorite spoon? I like cats! Is that Daedric armor? I have a pet bug! Did you ever see a brown bunny? I saw a brown bunny once. It was cute!" This is reinforced by his very prominent buck front teeth.
    Either that or I forgot to put on my clothes that morning and he's just shocked at what he sees. "Whoa... what are THOSE called? I want some!"
    EDIT: That's what he reminds me of - the Curiosity Core from Portal.

     
    4. And a somewhat unfortunate turn of phrase by a spectral prelate. Dude, you keep away from my vessel. I already have someone to fill it, I don't need no ghostly ectoplasm on me.

     
    5. These four pics are from Fallout 3. I took these during the first few minutes of the game, when you're a child. I grabbed a bear from my toybox and just held it out in front of me, not moving at all. The bear proceeded to act like Superman on amphetamenes, zooming endlessly around in a circle at high speed.
    This has nothing to do with Skyrim, except to note how much better the physics is. I wish I'd captured video of it... it was actually kind of funny.




     
    Next: CSI: Skyrim
  9. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 39: TENTACLE MONSTERS AHOY
    Wherein our hero begins exploring a new land.
    Previous: CSI: Skyrim
     
    Recent events have made me really wish for a real villain, a foe worthy of my caliber. Holmes had his Moriarty, Xavier had his Magneto, Toothpaste had Mr. Tooth Decay... and what do I have? A vampire who wants to kill himself off by blotting out the sun, an Elf who wants to conquer the world by playing with a big blue ball, and a master thief who goes about stealing stuff in the most ludicrous way possible. Not to say that the good guys are any great minds either, but really... where have all the bad men gone, and where are all the demons?
     
    Not around here, I can tell you that. Take, for instance, these Cultists. They've been popping up every so often, under a contract to kill me. Because I am Dragonborn. See what I mean? They've targeted me for assassination because I'm as powerful as a mighty fire-breathing lizard. That's like refusing to walk out your front door unless you're forced to do a fifty-mile hike, or starting a drinking game where you have to down a pint of 181-proof rum every time someone says a word with a vowel in it. You're setting yourself up for failure, heartbreak, and possibly death by alcohol poisoning. Some idiot decided that his master would be pleased by my demise, and has been sending these three-man hit squads after me from time to time. This is what I'm talking about, with the stupidity of villains. I can just see the guy sending these hit squads saying to himself: "The last dozen attempts failed, but I'm sure that this time it'll work!" This mastermind is a dude who seriously needs to rethink his strategy, and his minions are no better, because they're saying "I know that the last thirty assassins died, but I'm going to win! Derpy derpy derp!"
     
    Additionally, I'm sick of fighting people who work without any fleshed-out plan. These are folks who, when they take a step forward with their right foot, have no clear idea what the left foot is supposed to do next. Just... send assassins out after me? That's it? Why not try to make up an ambush, maybe? More than three assassins at a time, perhaps? Train them in some decent magic or arm them with good weapons and armor? And speaking of attire, these cultist assassins are topheavy. I mean that literally. Boots and robes of cloth, gloves of leather, and a heavy facemask apparently made of... bone? Resin? Unusually sturdy whitewashed dead squid? Your guess is as good as mine. They can't even coordinate their outfits. I'm not complaining because I want to wear this ugly crap - the "helmet" looks as though somebody strapped a bucket of plaster to his forehead and rammed his face into a wall - I'm just complaining because it's either that or go mad.
     
    But, in the absence of a good villain, or even a mediocre one, I might as well take a shot at the third string, eh? Let's go. To Windhelm, apparently. Yippee skippy, I get to go to the frozen ass-end of nowhere again.
     
    There's a ship captain here who initially refuses to take me to Solstheim, which if I'm not mistaken means "home of the sun." I point out the raging blizzard, snow-covered stone, and freezing water full of ice floes, and he has a change of heart. Off we go to someplace that, if you believe the nomenclature, must be warmer. Please, Gods, let it be so.
     
    And apparently it is, if a bit dusty. Not since Point Lookout has there been a look-upon-ye-landmass-and-despair boatride cinematic of such quality. The initial overview doesn't make the place look attractive, I can tell you that. It looks like somebody took the Clochán na bhFomhórach and covered it in dirt, then dug a hole and plopped down a couple of rickety houses. Not, if you get my drift, particularly inviting. Warmer than Windhelm, though, so I guess I'll take what I can get.
     
    Once we arrive at the dock, the ship captain and the dockmaster engage in some witty banter about how prices have gone up and supplies are missing or something. I honestly didn't catch much of it, because I was off the pier like a shot and exploring this new place. My inspection does not prove encouraging. This town, although it looks more like a desert tossed over a bucket of gravel, reminds me a lot of Riften. Poor, destitute people being bullied by rich bastards, Thieves Guild members masquerading as merchants, corrupt guards, venal priests... The only difference is in the racial demographic, which has been reversed - instead of mostly Nords and a few Dunmer, it's mostly Dunmer and a few Nords. With an Orc thrown in for good measure, just in case that stereotype had been running a little thin. I am tempted to beat a little sense into this asshole's head, but I don't particularly want to examine the local gulag from the inside, so I restrain myself. Later, Mr. Green-And-Toothy.
     
    Let' see, what else is here? A temple of sorts, worshipping Daedra of all things. I get it, it's your religion and all, and we're not supposed to be disdainful of other people's beliefs, but... really? You worship the Daedra? A group of extraplanar entities who delight in tormenting those who worship them? Why not Sithrak, the God who Hates You Unconditionally? The head priest tells me that "dangers lurk beyond the light" and "They [the Daedra] will not abandon us again" which seems overly optimistic, if you ask me. His choirboy seems to be even worse, a real asshole who may be involved in a plot to do... something... with the tombs. I'm not sure what, to be honest, it's all very confusing. A quick quest to kill a bunch of ash ghouls later, and this house is clear.
     
    Anyway, other services in town include an underground (literally) bar that sells some nifty new alcoholic drinks that, upon closer inspection, turn out to be identical to all other alcoholic drinks back in Skyrim, so you wonder why the hell they bother putting them in different jars and labeling them with different names. Just call them all "booze" and get on with your day, okay? The local blacksmith is a thief, the local food vendors sell food that is apparently grown in the ashes of the dead, and the local mine is all mined out, except for one old guy who wants me to steal someone's pickaxe. Yep, this is sure a better place to live than anywhere else. The Dunmer in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm at least have decently constructed houses to live in! Sheesh, sell your place and take the next boat to the mainland, invest in a farm, and pay some wandering schlubs to do your produce harvesting for you!
     
    But it is not for me to tell these people how to get along. I mean, look at me, I came here to this crap heap voluntarily because I wanted to fight some people who got their fashion ideas out of "Cephalopod Monthly" magazine. In other words, I am not the go-to guy for advice on how to live your life.
     
    After enriching the local economy substantially by buying up every bit of booze the local barkeep would sell, I decide to check out other nearby attractions. Like that phallic symbol over there with people all 'round it. Stenvar seems intimidated, but I reassure him that he's the only "Earth Stone" for me. The workers consist of local guardsmen and a couple of civilians. They are disinclined to engage in speech with me, content instead to mumble broken phrases periodically. I stand around for a bit, twiddling my thumbs, whistling a few tuneless bars of something or other, and then I toddle off, with a couple of backward glances. They seem like nice folk, I guess, if a bit single-minded.
     
    That's about it for the town. What else is around here? Let's take a look at the map. Hmm... it appears that I can easily circumnavigate the entire island in, say, two days? Three, tops, if I take my time and explore carefully. Might as well get to it. I'm sure a quest or two will just drop into my lap. And by "quest" I don't mean stealing someone's pickaxe... I'm actually hoping I'll sort of trip over the main plotline if I wander about a bit. It's as good a guess as any. I think I'll start my search traveling counterclockwise.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 40, Mushrooms... again?
    Start at Chapter 1
  10. Content Consumer
    Previous: Intermission 4
     
    There's a Cops: Skyrim series, why not CSI: Skyrim?
     
    10:54, Loredas, 29th of Sun's Dusk.
    Call came in about a "suspicious noise" at the home of Nepos the Nose, a local resident on the upper tier.
    Caller reported something that sounded like "some kinda dragon sneezin' or somethin' an' hootin' an' hollerin' an' makin' a ruckus."
     
    When we arrived on-scene, everything appeared normal.

     
    No signs of any struggle. These people live like pigs, but that's down to them.

     
    One unfortunate fellow was sleeping on the floor! Aside from what looks like a botched facial piercing job, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We decided to let him sleep.

     
    Another resident appeared to be practicing his yoga. Numerous attempts to rouse him from his meditation were unsuccessful. The Medical Examiner said it was the deepest trance he'd ever seen anyone in before.

     
    An elderly fellow apparently has some trouble keeping warm, as the elderly so often do, and had cuddled up close to the fire before falling asleep. Rather than disturb the poor old man, we let him stay asleep.

     
    The only remaining resident appeared to be nearly unconscious after a night of debauchery. There were no signs of foul play, so we left her draped over her chest. Probably guarding some sentimental knicknacks or something.

     
    After a thorough search of the house, we determined that no crime had taken place. All of the residents valuables were still in the house, nothing had been stolen.

     
    We put it down to another prank call. If Ogmund keeps making these things up, we'll contact the Thalmor division and have him arrested for wasting police time.
     
    Next: Chapter 39, Tentacle Monsters Ahoy!
  11. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 38: ASSAULT ON VAMPIRE CENTRAL
    In which our hero just kind of sits back and lets stuff happen.
    Previous: Chapter 37, Something Interesting on the Other Side
     

    We return to the Bastille-inspired architectural wonder known as Fort Dawnguard to enlist the aid of the Vampire Hunters Local in the coming struggle against the forces of apathy. Darkness, I mean. Forces of darkness. Yeah.
     
    Back wayyyyy across the province, back south of Riften, to Fort Dawnguard. Isran seems pleased that we have Auriel's Bow... wait, scratch that. I mean to say that Isran should be pleased that we have the bow. He seems more... stoic. I get the vague feeling that he's somewhat disappointed that he wasn't the one to recover it. Dude's got some issues with needing to be the center of attention. He proves this by gathering all the Dawnguard together and making a boring, but blessedly short, speech about how we're going to kill all the vampires. Then it's off to Castle Volkihar to massacre a bunch of vampires. I'm down with that. They deserve it.
     
    Hmm... I have, in the past, repeatedly considered the best way to assault Fort Dawnguard. Mostly because I feel somewhat insulted that the Dawnguard's idea of a good front-line defense is a short wooden palisade, just in front of the great big stone walls, and I am always itching to prove to them just how ineffective that is. But now I am forced to consider how best to assault Volkihar Keep.
     
    Volkihar Keep stands on an isolated island in the middle of the water with the occasional rock poking up through the surface, like some remote star, orbited by a few lonely planets, which it greatly resembles. Except for the fact that stars are very hot, and this area is cold. And planets are usually bigger. And space isn't full of water like the ocean. Come to think of it, it doesn't resemble a solar system at all. Forget the whole thing.
     
    The point is it's a tough nut to crack. There are any number of potential assault points, each of which has pros and cons. We could perform the assault perhaps two or three ways in order to achieve the maximum of surprise and suffer the minimum of casualties. There's only one major problem with each of them - Isran's in charge, not me. Which means he gets to make up the battle plan. The rest of the Dawnguard agree - an obsessive megalomaniac bent on proving just how tough and strong and mean he is to everyone around him is the absolute best person to come up with a battle plan. I mean, if you can't trust someone who is suffering from a massive inferiority complex combined with a near-crippling lack of self-awareness, who can you trust?
     
    So Isran comes up with a fiendishly diabolical and complicated plan for assault. We will attack the castle...
     
    Through the front door.
     
    It's a crazy notion, but it just might work! The ol' hit-them-where-they're-strongest ploy. We'll show them we mean business by slamming up against their defenses headfirst! Genius! We'll only lose, what, 80% of our army that way? Suits me! I mean, all Isran really needs is maybe one or two people around him when this is all over so they can see him covered in glory. Then he will truly, truly know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, who has the biggest penis.
     
    Serana and I take a vote, and the two of us unanimously decide to hang back and watch the Dawnguard beat themselves to ribbons against the Vampires. Because sure enough, we're attacking at midnight, when the bloodsuckers are strongest. I blame myself, here... I thought for sure that you'd have to be a complete idiot to do that. I figured, we'd arrive at the island and wait for daylight. But I failed to remember one very important point - Isran is, in fact, a complete idiot.
     
    Serana and I mount the steps of the little watchtower that stands just outside the castle bridge, and watch as the Dawnguard... huh. Actually, they do pretty good, considering their many disadvantages. I gotta hand it to Isran... he may be a real moron, but he's got a couple brain cells up on Harkon, who failed to do the most obvious thing - lower the castle gate. We'd have been stuck out there banging on the walls with our axes and hammers, and the vampires inside could have just sat there, laughing and hurling insults (and possibly a giant wooden rabbit for good measure).
     
    But no, Harkon once heard the aphorism "the best defense is a good offense" and took it a bit too much to heart, so instead of remaining in his nigh-impregnable fortress, he decided to send his minions outside to do battle. You know... why did we wait so long to do this? I grant you, nobody could have predicted the stupid insanity on the part of the Dawnguard, much less the even stupider insanity on the part of the vampires, but... it strikes me that this assault could have been launched at any time in the last couple of weeks. I get that everyone thinks we need to have Auriel's Bow to defeat Harkon, but by all accounts his daughter is just about as strong as he, and she goes down from spiders. The memory still makes me nauseous.
     
    Anyway, we rampage through the castle, killing vampires left and right. They really suck at fighting. And they suck. Blood. They suck blood. And they suck. Like, are not nice. See? I can make jokes too! Sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night.
     
    Anyway... once all the vampires inside are dead, Serana and I head in to the Inner Sanctum. Isran inexplicably fails to follow us. As we pass through the door, I could swear I hear him say "solidarity, brother" which is just sad.
     
    ANYWAY... Once inside, Harkon proceeds to smarm at us for a bit, which I completely expected. I mean, really now. If he didn't smarm and tell us how foolish we were and how our defeat was inevitable, I'd probably have a heart attack on the spot. He just wouldn't be a proper villain. After insulting me and then insulting Serana, then telling us that he was going to kill us both, he turns to me and asks me to give him the bow.
     
    Yep. You read that right. He demanded the bow from me. As I write this now, looking back on the moment, I honestly don't know how long I just sat there, staring at him, flabbergasted, before saying no. I mean, really now. I know he's the dumbest fuck this side of anywhere in the world, but... really? Really? Not even your stereotypical villain who fails to follow every recommendation in "if I were an evil overlord" and fits every line from TV Tropes to the letter would be that dumb, would he?
     
    As I moodily shoot sunhallowed arrows at him over and over again, seemingly to no effect, while he continually summons gargoyles and skeletons and what-have-you to attack me and Serana, the whole time I'm just sort of mentally stunned. I haven't felt like this since becoming Archmage. Only this time, it's not anger at the stupidity of the world, it's sheer dumbfoundedness. I honestly am having some serious trouble coming to grips with what was supposed to go on here. I get the feeling like I must have missed a good ten minutes of dialogue somewhere.
     
    Eventually the dude goes down, apparently dissolving into a pile of red... blood... ash... stuff. Isran magically appears (well after the fight is over, I must point out), and commiserates with Serana about killing her father. At least, that's what I guess it's supposed to sound like. It actually sounds more like he is having trouble coming to terms with the concept of "emotion" and doesn't honestly know whether someone killing their father would be an emotional event or not. I honestly don't give a fat flying fuck, though. I immediately divest myself of Serana, Isran, the Dawnguard, and the whole fucking mess. I just can't give a good goddamn any more. I'm gonna get tanked and sleep for a week.
     

    Next: Intermission 4
    Start at Chapter 1
  12. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 37: SOMETHING INTERESTING ON THE OTHER SIDE
    In which our hero bitterly, and probably ignorantly, complains about blindness.
    Previous: Chapter 36, Dimfall or Darkhollow or Something Like That
     

    Spoiler alert: Serana and I walk through the portal together.
     
    It's an interesting portal, too - the static image behind it is slightly larger than the aperture, so it actually looks like a real magical gateway rather than a flat pic. Pretty nifty. It also tells me that we're safe for a minute or two, no ambushes on the other side, because you can't animate NPCs in one of those things. Through the magic door we go!
     
    And... everything is glowing. I mean that, seriously. I've been to Blackreach, so I'm no stranger to glowing mushrooms and crap, but freaking everything is glowing through here. You barely walk five feet without encountering a rock so bright it hurts to look at it, and the place is filled with glowing flowers of all descriptions. I'd complain that any race such as the Falmer evolving in these conditions wouldn't lose their eyesight because there's plenty to see, but then I remember that we're supposed to be accepting the admittedly better excuse that they were magicked this way. Fine. Nice for me, though, since I don't need to use a torch or those annoying light spells just to see in here. Pretty, too - I really like the purple flowers that cover some spots. I want to plant a garden with something like that.
     
    The place may be full of glowing stuff, but it's also full of Falmer and Chaurus. Some mod I've downloaded recently seems to have made the Chaurus spit paralytic, and I'm a melee character, meaning I can't just keep well back and dodge whilst firing off arrows. Good thing I'm full of vim and vigor and covered in thick armor, or this might actually be irritating. As it is, I keep getting knocked over, but summoned Wrathmen and Serana do help out, and we make it deeper into the caves, past the totems, and... totems? Why would the Falmer, a race of blind creatures, pose a skeleton in the middle of a room? For what possible reason? Do they wander by every now and then to feel up the skeleton? I mean, if you can see, then you have a reason to put up a fenced-off statue in the middle of a room, but if you're blind, then why do it?
     
    Anyway, eventually we make it outside, and it's actually pretty cool out here. Looks like what Riften would look like if winter ever hit the place. I'm a big fan of new architecture and vegetation, and this place has it in abundance. Plus Falmer and giant spiders, of course, because we can't have it all good, nope. Serana and I travel the place, dipping ewers in water and popping up wayshrine teleporters here and there. Other nice sights to see include frost giants that are apparently the result of a disastrous troll-giant crossbreeding program, each one having something called a Paragon in its possession, though a paragon of what I am at a loss to understand. I'm tempted to put the word "paragon" into the box containing the word "nightingale" and slap a label on it that says "words the devs liked the sound of without knowing their actual meaning." There are some books written in strange writings that I fully intend to decipher later, maybe take them to Calcelmo because he's the apparent expert on Falmer language. A bit later on we encounter a pair of dragons that insist on playing hide-and-seek underwater, which is also pretty damn cool. I'm used to dragon fights where they circle a while, then land, presenting themselves to my axe, then take off and circle again, rinse and repeat until dead... but these guys like to dive through the ice and come up in random spots, and it's actually a pretty intense fight. I really like this place, this Forgotten Vale. Of course, the way things have gone for my whole time here in Skyrim, if I really like a place there's bound to be something coming up that is absolutely awful. I am not disappointed.
     
    These bridges, that the Falmer put up. Goddamn it. Serana and I get separated multiple times, and I keep. Falling. Off. Oops, I fell off the bridge. TGM before hitting the ground, TCL back up. Onward... and I fall off the cliff, TGM before hitting the ground, TCL back up. Kill a couple of Falmer, and I fall off the bridge again. How did these goddamn Falmer build these bridges when they can't freaking SEE? For that matter, WHY would they build these bridges? They don't connect anything to anything else important! There is no reason for these damned blind elf-degenerates to WANT to engage in an engineering nightmare of this magnitude! STICK TO YOUR CAVES, ASSHOLES! Backing up in mortal combat with a Falmer, I fell off a damn bridge again. TGM before I hit the ground, TCL back up, yeah yeah. Honestly, I'm not normally this clumsy, it's just this place is getting to me. And why the totem or shrine here again? This troll skull on top of a big rock with gemstones all round it? Returning to my question about why a blind race would put up statues like this, I must say that putting garnets and rubies around a troll skull on a makeshift altar is pretty dumb. You can't give me the argument that they knew the gems were shiny rocks, because they're blind. Don't tell me they liked the feel of the gemstones, because I'm pretty sure there are plenty of just plain rocks hanging about too with that same feel. Now I'm not saying a blind race can't make shrines or anything, but it makes no sense for a blind race to build shrines that are primarily visual in nature. If you're deaf, you don't care about the vocals, tone, pitch, and so on... you care primarily about the rhythm and volume, right? If you don't have legs you don't build stairs, if you're anosmic you don't give a damn about bad smells, and if you're blind then you don't build neat-looking but impossible-to-feel shrines. While I'm complaining to myself, Serana disappears again and I fall off a bridge again. Fuck this place, the prettiness and dragons of the past aren't worth it.
     
    Quick question to anyone who wants to listen: why does Serana get lost so often in this place?
    I have been around the world, looking for that woman girl, who knows exasperation can endure, and you know it will. I just have to make the assumption that she's off fighting something, and hopefully not getting raped by said something. Of course, knowing her AI, she's probably just stuck running against a rock or tree, or she fell over a waterfall, or got fed up and decided to head back into Skyrim and take up flower arranging as a hobby. Gods know I want to.
     
    But no, I've got to finish this damn quest. Over the bridges, through an underground ice chasm, back up onto the surface and yet more Falmer bridges. Ooh, I've about had it. Luckily for me, we reach the last wayshrine and dip the ewer to get the last bit of water, and once across one final bridge, there's the Temple of Auri-El. The phantom priest said it was a difficult climb to the inner sanctum. Gelebor said that initiates would haul the ewer of water around as a symbol of their dedication to the cause. I gotta say, it's not that hard. I've been hauling this jug about with me, while fighting off dragons, sprinting across rickety bridges, and shouting Falmer off the cliffs, and I haven't spilled a damn drop. Once we solve the painfully pathetic "puzzle" lock (at least, I am assuming it's an attempt at a puzzle, because it's very similar to other nordic and dwemer "puzzles" in Skyrim), we're in the temple.
     
    The walls are caving in, and there are fallen bits of masonry everywhere. My guess is, it looked like that before the place was overrun - the requirement of hauling water from shrine to shrine across a whole valley, pouring the water into the basin, emitting a beam of light, and a drawn-out rotating door lock just to get inside the door were too much for the average janitor or stonemason, so they let the place fall to pieces rather than go through that whole rigmarole every time the floor needed to be swept or a piece of cracked wall needed to be fixed. Note to future temple-building architects: if your doorway is too complicated for the custodial staff to get through, you should re-think your security measures.
     
    Serana and I whip through the place, killing frozen Falmer, which is actually kind of neat - they're all statues, you see, but some of them come to life if you try to steal the items they're holding out. So we kill a load of Frozen Falmer and Chilled Chaurus, all the while looking for the head honcho Vyrthur, to kill him and hopefully we'll be able to grab Auri-El's Bow so we can proceed to Castle Volkihar to kill Serana's father to stop the prophecy that says that either Serana or her mother will bring about eternal night. Got all that? Good.
     
    And there's a dude on the throne. Vyrthur, in the flesh. He asks us if we came here expecting to claim Auri-El's Bow, and I shout "yes" back at him, which seems to stump him for a bit. Direct answers do tend to confuse these people, you see. He rallies 'round and then says that I've done as he predicted and brought my companion to him, then says my usefulness is at an end. Then the ice statues of Falmer vampires begin to explode once again and attack, along with some frozen Chaurus, which does fuck-all to reduce my health, although Serana takes a knee. Vyrthur shouts out to us "An impressive display, but a wasted effort." I want to console him and say that he can do better next time, but apparently he was talking to me, not just talking to himself out loud. Oh. "You delay nothing but your own deaths!" Well, yeah, that's what living is, dude. Way to go, you figured out the secret. After a bit more fighting, he says that it's gone on long enough, to which I can only respond in the affirmative, but then he proceeds to summon yet more things for me to crunch into ice cubes suitable for putting in your drink, should your evening plans include drinking liquids cooled with Frosty Falmer Flesh (tm). Vyrthur refuses to surrender, instead choosing to shoot icicles at me and Serana and then collapse his temple on us. Although I am, obviously, way WAY tougher than Serana, it's me that gets knocked on my ass, because reasons. Serana hauls me to my feet and we run out after Vyrthur, who is sitting on the upper balcony outside, his hand to his stomach in the universal gesture of "NPC in pain" made popular by the Resident Evil games.
     
    She tells him to give her the bow, and he goes a bit off topic, saying that he had the ears of a god. I'm not sure if he was bragging about his collection of deific body parts or talking about the pair on the sides of his head, but either way this is a creepy dude I don't particularly want to socialize with. I try to fus-ro-dah him off the balcony, but the devs Gods are set on my hearing their oh-so-clever dialogue and have locked my combat abilities, because, like always, gods forbid I skip any of this brilliant, scintillating conversation.
     
    Vyrthur then asks her to "look into my eyes, Serana, you tell me what I am." A prat? I could have told you that without looking in your eyes, dude.
    But no, she seems surprised to notice that he's a vampire, as if the "feral falmer" and vampiric frozen falmer with vestigial or cutoff wings sticking out their backs, fangs prominent, and blood dripping down their faces, wasn't a clue. There are vampires here? Outrageous! Who would have ever considered that? This whole damn thing, from start to finish, has revolved around vampires, and she's surprised that he is one too? I knew he was a vampire as soon as I saw the bastard sitting indolently on his throne.
     
    I have to admit, though, I was surprised at the race of one individual in this whole mess - Gelebor. I thought for sure that he was a vampire as soon as I saw him. Pale skin, stays out of the sunlight in his underground lair, lived for a very long time apparently without eating, and his face is a bit reminiscent of the bifurcated look common to the uglier specimens. Whatever.
     
    Anyway, Vyrthur proceeds to weave a threadbare web of barely-connected bits of what could laughably be called 'logic' after a three-day bender, and wraps it all up in a neat little package called a "prophecy." Apparently he was the one who created the prophecy. You know what a prophecy is? If you answered "a prediction, forecast, or divination predicting unique or special events such as war, death, birth, or other major events" you would be completely wrong. A prophecy, according to the makers of this stupid damn game Gods, is apparently "whatever I say it is." Vyrthur got vexed at Auri-El and decided to make a "prophecy" all on his own that predicted that someday a vampire would come and try to take Auri-El's bow and dip arrows in vampiric blood to blot out the sun. As vague, revenge-motivated wishing goes, it's fine, if a bit clichéd and thin, but as a prophecy it is utterly ridiculous. A wish does not a prophecy make. A daydream is not a prediction, and just wanting something to happen doesn't make it so. I guess the word "prophecy" goes into my new box along with "paragon" and "nightingale."
     
    While we're on the subject... how the heck did this "prophecy" make it to Harkon? If Vyrthur made it up while he was ensconced on his throne, and his influence is and has been for thousands of years limited to the confines of the Forgotten Vale, how the fuck did it get to Skyrim? Message in a bottle? Or is this another of those "wish upon a star and it will be so?" I resolve to try my hand at it too. When I get back to Skyrim, I'm going to wish really hard that Alduin just drops dead and the civil war ends and they name me High King of Skyrim so I can institute a stupidity tax. Then again, such a tax would immediately bankrupt the entire population, so maybe I'd better just wish for a fast horse out of the province.
     
    Hell, it doesn't matter anyway. Serana and I proceed to wipe the ground with Vyrthur, and then the shrine pops up and out strolls Gelebor, the ass, who apparently could have done this at any time he wished just by popping through a teleporter, but no, he had to send us to do it. Fuck you, dude. If I didn't need you to make a bunch of arrows to shoot at Harkon, I'd throw you over the balcony. Seething with barely suppressed rage leavened with a generous helping of disgust, I turn all the elven arrows I'm carrying into Sunhallowed arrows, and Serana and I skedaddle out of there. Next stop - somewhere warmer, please.
     
    Next: Chapter 38, Assault on Vampire Central
    Start at Chapter 1
     



  13. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 32: CHASING REFLECTED SOUNDWAVES
    In which our hero refuses to get bitten. Again.
    Previous: Chapter 31, Vampires and Death Hounds and Gargoyles, Oh My!
     
    So, here we are again at Castle Volkihar. After a shortish interlude where Serana talks about her childhood yet again, we walk around the castle's left side to the old docks. Apparently not unguarded, as I had thought... there are some skeletons here. These are the "tough" versions, too - none of that wussy held-together-with-string-and-gum kind you find in most places in Skyrim. It's nice to see my expectations thwarted. Let's hope this quest doesn't devolve into a trap-laden treck through some narrow corridors or anything while Serana continually blurts out stuff about her childhood.
     
    Once inside - and I have no idea where we actually are, maybe sewers, I'm going to just call it the castle's basement - once inside, I get another healthy dose of exposition and reminiscences from Serana and we begin the (sigh) tunnel crawling. You know, I'd be fine with the constant tunnel crawling and exposition-slash-reminiscences, if only... uh, if only... huh. Nope, guess I wouldn't be fine with it no matter what. Oh well.
     
    After killing off a couple of demon dogs, a big spider, and a feral vampire, and making our way past a diabolically clever constructed set of traps and progress blockers (not one, but two pressure plates that lower bridges! Genius!), we make it to the courtyard. Ack! Serana, what the hell happened to the tempered and enchanted glass armor I gave you? Why are you wearing that old vampire crap? I mean, nice cleavage and all, but the protection level is shit.
     
    Immediate wardrobe changes and poor fashion choices aside, Serana begins another bout of expositional rambling. She's just so damn eager to tell her story, I really hope she saves some for later, so she doesn't run through the whole batch, and later on we're forced to journey around in complete silence while we kill a bunch of Falmer in a snowy wasteland or something.
     
    Anydangway, there's a moondial here, that's... hang on, moondial? Moondial? Oh, yes. Vampires, anti-day, pro-night, uh-huh. Very clever. My sides are splitting. I don't really care about that, because I'm busy caring about why in the hell Harkon destroyed the entire place because Valerica loved it, but didn't bother to touch the damn moondial. Like, he thought to himself "I am going to destroy what Valerica loved, but not that piece, because it's just so awesome." I hereby rescind my opinion of Harkon as being the dumbest dumbass in the world. He's the dumbest dumbass in all the worlds because, in his destructive rampage, he didn't bother to even look at the damn thing.
     
    The game dev contractor who built the thing seems to have momentarily forgotten that Nirn has more than one moon. Oops... like Hiemskr calling this place "Earth," (*) it's a simple accident that any continuity director should have caught. The contractor also obviously took inspiration from Nord puzzle traps, because apparently removing three of the sigils causes the moondial to spin around and block the stairs going down. What an ingenious way to block progress! Le sigh.
     
    Down again, and through another secret passage. Serana (who inexplicably has chosen to wear the glass armor again) and I wend our way through this castle's super-secret places. Gods know why Harkon or, really, anyone else never bothered to search an entire half of their home for Valerica. It's not important. We travel through the place, undoing secret walls, killing skeletons and gargoyles. Are these Valerica's skeletons? If so, why are they here? Gods know they're tough for skeletons, but not that tough... Harkon, from whom she is ostensibly hiding, could rip right through them in vampire lord form, I'm sure. The gargoyles put up a tougher fight, but after Dimhollow Crypt, it's not exactly a surprise when one bursts out. Just lay down a couple of fire runes, and the thing is halfway dead as soon as it emerges. Oh, yes, there are several more gargoyle statues here. It's like traps in a draugr ruin - on the one hand, it's painfully obvious, but on the other, it's goddamn stupid. I can't decide which I dislike more - the painfully obvious, or the GODDAMN STUPID.
     
    Serana says her mother likes gargoyles, and proceeds to hand me a double entendre... actually, it's more of a single entendre, and unhappy with its existence as such. Her dialog with me so far has been laced with the occasional innuendo, and I just feel sorry for those poor innuendos, all sad and alone amidst a sea of otherwise fairly stock dialog. I fear that next she's going to say something like: "Yeah, I like swords. Because you can stick them into people. Like penises into vaginas. You know, sex! Get it? Should I say it again? You're not responding!" It's just so painfully obvious and contrived it's kind of embarrassing. Her recently reanimated thrall and I share a glance, and then we do our best to ignore her.
     
    Thinly veiled sexual references aside, Serana isn't that bad a companion through here. She's absolutely shit on the offensive, but she does tend to distract enemies, allowing me to get in a few free shots while they proceed a-thwacking on her. I wish Stenvar was here, he's better at this whole killing-shit thing than Serana, but honestly, I'm sort of worried that the same thing will happen to him that happened to Belrand, considering the dangerous waters I'm entering now.
     
    Because apparently we're about to enter another dimension. The devs are really hitting the "many and varied planes of Oblivion" pretty hard. This place we're going into is full of the souls of people who've been trapped in black soul gems. This makes me nervous. I've trapped a lot of people in black soulgems over the last few months, and I'm not looking forward to meeting them again. Not because I feel they're a threat, or anything like that, but because the meeting would just be so damn awkward. "Oh, hey there, Estormo. Nice to see you again. Too bad the author didn't have Do You Know Who I Am installed, you might've gotten through this in better shape, hey?" Blatant self-plugs that break the fourth wall in a story are comedy gold, says my agent.
     
    Anyway, the other dimension thing. After "we" search the place, and "we" read Valerica's journal, and "we" gather up the necessary ingredients, "we" open the portal by slicing Serana's wrist and dumping blood into the bowl. Or at least, that's what's supposed to happen. Nothing actually does. The bowl looks like it just has a bit of powder in it, not soul gems or blood. I wander around a bit, and prod at Serana, going through all the dialogue options again, and nothing happens. Finally I break down and use the "dlc1vq04 75" dragon shout because stupid Serana won't advance the damn quest.
     
    Finally the portal opens, and we make Dante proud. We try, anyway. I guess Valerica forgot to put up a "you must be this soulless to enter the underworld" sign next to the portal, because it burns us, precious. Apparently I need to be either soultrapped, which would weaken me, or turned into a vampire, which would strengthen me, in order to go inside. I'm honestly liking the whole "become stronger" thing, but there are two reasons I wouldn't want to do that. One is that the Dawnguard might be slightly irritated at me. It wouldn't change their letting me, a newly-minted vampire lord, into their super-defended stronghold, because fucking Isran's idea of security is a little wooden fence and not, you know, keeping vampires like me or Serana out... but it might hurt my chances of getting some more sweet retrieve-the-fancy-loot quests from Florentius. That's not the major concern, though, because the second reason is that the screen whiteout and sound effect that plays whenever a vampire enters the sun is a hell of a lot more irritating than, oh, say, actual sun damage would be. Sometimes I really miss TES 4.
     
    Anyway, I opt for the soul trap, because even weakened I'm still a badass warrior, and I'm backed by the raw unholy power of a little girl with daddy issues. She soultraps me and we head down the weird staircase again.
     
    As we emerge into the eldritch violet-tinted twilight of the Soul Cairn, I can't help but wonder how the hell Valerica got into this place at all. Yes, yes, I know, the blood, soul gems, bone powder, etcetera, but I'm talking more prosaically than that. I mean, how did she trigger those two bridges to go up again after she went through? If removing the moondial sigils makes the stairs spin 'round and hide the passage, then how the hell did she remove them and still manage to get inside? And then, how did she manage to get the fireplace secret passages to lock behind her? Can she reach through stone? Did she trip the lever and then do a quick dive through the closing aperture? Did she hire, and then subsequently erase the memory of, that feral vampire? How the hell did she close this portal behind her? I didn't see any W. Heath Robinson contraptions in the study that would have emptied the bowl and put the ingredients back on the shelves. How, in short, did she fucking get into this place without leaving all the doors opened behind her? I'd have to say that it's fairly obvious that this whole place was the devs were going for some demonic version of a Rube Goldberg-esque castle. Spoiler alert: They failed.
     
    Bah. Irrelevant. Let's go find mommy, shall we?
     
    NEXT: Chapter 33, Lost and Found
    Start at Chapter 1
     
    (*) - Apparently he isn't actually talking about Earth, just... the dirt they're all standing on. So it's okay after all. My bad.
  14. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 33: LOST AND FOUND
    Wherein our hero explores the long-neglected attic of the Gods.
    Previous: Chapter 32, Chasing Reflected Soundwaves
     
    So here we are, in the Soul Cairn. First impressions: not impressive. It seems to be a ruined wreck of a place populated by ghosts, spirits, and inexplicably ghostly-and-spiritlike effects. The color scheme, while spooky and otherworldly at first, begins to pall after about twelve seconds. Somewhat reminiscent of playing a CGA game on a VGA monitor, actually. A normal color palette translated all wrong.
     
    Our journey through the place is enlivened by constant surprise attacks, with black skeletons popping up from the ground at regular intervals. An astute reader will contrast the word "surprise" with the word "regular" and come to the conclusion that one of those words is wrong. The astute reader is correct - the first word is wrong. Ho-hum, another ambush. Haven't had one of those since about three minutes ago. At least the enemies here aren't anything problematic. I'd have thought that the whole "weakened because of being partially soultrapped" thing would have reduced my combat prowess somewhat, but these skeletons all seem to go down with just a couple of hits. Hardly needed to heal myself at all. Who knows - maybe I am weaker, and these are just really that pathetic.
     
    So Serana and I jog on up the path, whacking bones and talking to dead people. Not that they're much of conversationalists... the dead are pretty boring, in point of fact. Stiff, if you will. (see what I did there?) And apparently confused as well, because one guy who was apparently a ship captain who died at sea turned out to be a warrior who died in battle. Of course, it could be me who is confused, as these spirits are all pretty identical in appearance and it's tough to tell one from the other. I looked around the whole place for Estormo, but he never showed. Probably embarrassed at his performance the last time we met.
     
    Other than that, the place is endeadened (see what I did there?) by a couple of actual NPCs. Exhibit A is a dead merchant who offers to sell me things for bits of the vegetation (at least, I assume those are plants) that inexplicably grows around here. I don't know why he wants them, and actually neither does he... he's essentially being an ass just to be an ass. "I cannot use, have no way to store, and have no reason to desire these things you're bringing to me, but I'll be damned if I give you any of my trinkets I'm somehow able to hand over despite my ethereal nature without you giving me something in exchange." My guess is, after I leave his immediate area, he takes the plants and scurries about placing them back into the landscape, giggling to himself. I can't bear to fault him for this - it's got to be pretty boring just sitting around all day waiting for random adventurers to show up. His soul entertainment (see what I did there?) consists of a treasure hunt he makes random people do, and I feel sorry for the poor guy, so every time I pass I go ahead and trade in some plants for a book or something.
     
    Let's see... what else is here? There's Jiub, a guy who sends me out to collect a bunch of pages that are scattered about... hmm, you know, I'm beginning to see a pattern. The longer I stay here the more depressing it gets, mostly because of the color scheme but partly because the only sentient folks around here get their jollies by asking me to engage in pointless egg hunts. Oh, Gods no. Is this to be my new profession? Mace Raiden, Professional Lost-And-Found Artist? No! I refuse to get involved any more in this drab and dreary place! I walk away from Jiub, shaking my head slowly.
     
    The only other deadforms (see what I did there?) around are ghostly people, ghostly cows for some damn reason (probably some poor sap back in the world accidentally used a bunch of black soul gems on cows instead of people), and big floating gemstones that may or may not be the sentient godlike beings that rule the plane or possibly merely antennae for said beings. Serana is a little vague on that. What else do we have here? Bonemen, Mistmen, Wrathmen. Given the asexual nature of the creatures - it's hard to discern skeletal dimorphic traits when the skeleton in question is trying to eat you - it's an easy solution to stick with the "man" appendix. Aside from what I assume is a minor spelling error (Wrathman could mean a man of wrath, or it could be a misspelling of Wraithman), they fit the bog-standard roles of Rogue, Mage, and Fighter pretty well. And of course they continue the extant color scheme of depressing black highlighted with depressing violet, always a plus.
     
    Oh, and a dead horse, regarding which I struggle manfully to try not to make a joke about purple horse boners, but fail. Serana looks at me in blank incomprehension, and my depression deepens. After chasing the damn thing around a bit, I finally find his skull, kill the enemies who pop up to dispute my claim on said skull, and then Arvak's previous owner comes around to congratulate me and ask me to take care of his pony. Got it, dude. I'm just sure it can't do my reputation any harm to be seen riding around Skyrim on a demonic black skeleton horse surrounded in an unholy nimbus of violet flame. I think Arvak will just remain in my spellbook where he belongs.
     
    So that's the Soul Cairn. I wouldn't be caught dead here (see what I did there?), but unfortunately we've got to slog through, because Serana's mommy is in here somewhere. Or at least, I really hope she is... it would actually make more much sense for her to have come up with this whole elaborate ruse to lure Harkon in here to trap him, and to hide out somewhere else, like, say, somewhere south, maybe Thras. Too bad her scheme was foiled by Harkon being too damn stupid to explore his own house to find her.
     
    But alas, Valerica isn't any smarter either, because sure enough here she is. Trapped, apparently. Apparently when you make a deal with entities that have a well-earned reputation for exercising their abilities with fine print, you should really read the fine print. Who would have thought? Not her. After Serana's talking about how stupid necromancers are stupid because they stupidly go and make deals with the Ideal Masters, you'd think she'd have something to say to her stupid mother about stupidly going and doing the same stupid thing. But no. I actually blame Valerica's hair. I suppose the devs wanted it to be reminiscent of something Bram Stoker would dream up because VAMPIRE, but it looks more like a cranial parasite, so I blame it for draining her intellect to the point where she's even dumber than her husband, which is actually kind of an impressive feat, when you think about it.
     
    A conversation ensues between the two vampire women about how they hate Harkon. You'd think that after thousands of years of separation, the newly reunited mother and daughter would have something to talk about other than the husband/father, but I guess not. Bechdel Test: Failed. Serana does berate her mother for being all selfish and stuff, which is pretty ripe coming from a woman who can't shut up about herself and her past. Valerica proceeds to show just a glimmer of intelligence when she questions my allegiance, which is quickly quashed by Serana, who knows a good man when she sees one, she's known me for all of five minutes and apparently I'm the bee's knees to her. But whatever, I really don't care anymore. I just want out of this damned place. Let's get Valerica loose so she can give me the Elder Scroll I came here for, shall we?
     
    The two quickly reconcile, which given their apparent mutual mistrust, mild animosity, and lack of any sort of interpersonal dynamic seems a little odd, but there you go. Valerica says that she's trapped by three Keepers, and we must kill them to let her loose. Defeat the three boss monsters to open the barrier? What's next, find the blue keycard to get past the blue gate? Red barrels go boom? Sorry Mace, your Elder Scroll is in another plane of Oblivion? This may well represent the nadir of originality for this particular game. At least, I hope to Gods it does, because if it gets any lower I may well have to commit myself to an asylum. If I don't get OUT of this place soon, I'm gonna go spare.
     
    After whacking the keepers, we return to Valerica, who lets us in to her sanctuary, wherein we fight a dragon who takes two hits and goes down like a sack of potatoes. The battle took about twelve hours. See, the dragon is a weakling, but he persists on summoning all these damn bonemen all the time, so I keep getting distracted fighting off his minions. I honestly don't know what Serana and Valerica are doing, but it doesn't seem to involve helping me kill anything, so fuck 'em.
     
    After the dragon dies and I don't absorb its soul, because SOUL CAIRN DRAGONS HAVE NO SOULS apparently, Valerica s.l.o.w.l.y. walks over to the case and unlocks it, presenting me with the Elder Scroll. She then tells me how to get my soul back (I actually forgot it was missing), and Serana and I skeedaddle.
     
    Just outside, the dragon - who is called Dur-neh-viir, which in the dragon language translates as "Ugly-Goddamn-Dragon," or so I am led to believe by his physical appearance, of which the main feature appears to be dissolving skin - tells me that I can summon him by calling his name, and asks me to do so as soon as I get back to the real world. Sh'yeah, right, buddy. I'm sure there's nothing sinister about this whatsoever. I learned my lesson about trusting people way back when I trusted Mercer Fray to wait until we were out of the dungeon before stabbing me in the back, and look where it got me - stabbed in the front instead. But hey, I'm a sucker for punishment, so I guess if I ever need a dragon who appears to be slowly melting to come to my aid, I'll give you a ring, shall I?
     
    On our way out the staircase and up through the wormhole, I cannot help but reflect back on my time spent here. Fortunately for me, there may be medication for that.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 34, The Seventh Sign, and the Implied Tentacle Rape
    Start at Chapter 1
     

    To be fair, Serana's isn't that bad. But Valerica looks like she's trying to cosplay Princess Leia, without the benefit of a mirror, or having ever seen Star Wars for that matter.
     
    Also, here's a reference:
    Here's a game in VGA on the left, CGA on the right. The Soul Cairn looks like a darker version of the one on the right.

  15. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 31: VAMPIRES AND DEATH HOUNDS AND GARGOYLES, OH MY!
    In which our hero gets back into the swing of things.
    Previous: Chapter 30, A Prophetable Venture (skipped Diary of a Water Purifier episodes 1-4)
     

    Whew! That trip to Whiterun sure took a long damn time.
     
    Anyway, I've decided that I've been spending too much time traveling from shop to shop, selling stuff off. I'm sitting on a pile of gold larger than... larger than... larger than something very large, and I can buy almost anything that I want, like... like... like anything interesting I might want to buy. Sorry, my imagination seems to be broken right now, please call again later. My point is, too many trips to the shops. I've dumped enough cheap weapons and bloodied armor pulled off the still-warm corpses of bandits and vampires into the local economy to sink a battleship, and enough is enough. I grab all the rest of my stashed stuff, excluding the few bits of pretty I want to keep forever, and sell them all off right now for the low-low price of zero gold, to the local food vendor. Poor Carlotta staggers off home under a load of loot, beaming a great big smile at her good fortune, only to inevitably find out that it's all priceless (in the sense of being utterly without value) because of the aforementioned market flooding. I feel sort of bad for her, now she has to rent a large storage locker to hold several tons of animal hides and scrap iron she can't possibly hope to sell to anyone else, but I don't feel bad enough to actually do anything about it. I'm off.
     
    But off to where, exactly? What the hell was I doing, anyway? Lemme take a look at my previous journal entry... hmm, hmm, yes, yes... aha. Serana, Dawnguard, Dexion, Elder Scroll, yadda yadda yadda. Right, I'm off to Fort Dawnguard.
     
    Back at the fort, safely tucked away behind the impenetrable wooden picket fence, Dexion and Isran are waiting for me, just like everyone else in the entire world always waits for me, because I'm the protagonist of this story a very important figure in their lives. Dexion complains about the hospitality - which is understandable, there aren't even any decent beds here, just cots - and tells me that my man Isran has "seen to his needs" which is an unfortunate turn of phrase. I want to make some comment about religious sex scandals, but I resist the urge, and instead just tell him that Isran isn't my man, Stenvar is my man. And he sees to my needs well enough.
     
    Anyway, Dexion whips out the scroll and starts reading. Turns out, darkness will mingle with light, which is another unfortunate turn of phrase, and the night and day will be as one, which is yet another yadda yadda yadda. So I need to find Auriel's Bow. Cool. Too bad I don't actually use bows much. If it was Auriel's Greataxe, that would be a different story.
     
    Apparently, though, the all-powerful repository of great knowledge that details the intricacies of an ancient prophecy is... incomplete. This particular scroll is only the first part of a series. Sorry, Dragonborn, your prophecy is in another scroll. I need a scroll about dragons, and a scroll about blood to complete the trilogy. And guess what? He doesn't have the other two scrolls. Because that would be too damn easy.
     
    Dude, your entire organization is dedicated to finding and protecting these bits of paper, and you tell me that now there's not one, or even two, but THREE of the fuckers hanging around Skyrim? You've been scouring the world for the last two hundred years, since the scrolls disappeared mysteriously, and you're still missing three of the world-altering maguffins?
     
    Now I don't mean to tell you your business, but maybe you should consider instructing your initiates NOT to read the scrolls they have and go blind. Blindness seems to be interfering with your new-scroll-detection powers. Weird how that works, huh? Like, you need to be able to see in order to look for things. Amazing how the world works sometimes.
     
    Actually, it might not be their fault... it could be the same nefarious band of tricksters that stole the Jewels of Barenziah's Crown and scattered them around Skyrim like some demented Easter Bunny gone mad.
     
    Anyway, we (Serana and I) need the other two scrolls before we can continue. Serana thinks that one of them is in the hands of her mother, who is probably hidden away somewhere. And since the designers didn't want to add in too many new worldspaces for such a small DLC her mother is a crafty one, she hid herself in the last place that Harkon would look - in his own castle. Now I don't know about anyone else, but when I lose something, like my keys or money pouch or something, the first place I look is at home. I scour the whole damn house if necessary. But no, apparently Harkon just derps around, not looking in the most obvious spot in the entire damn world.
     
    Since we can't actually talk to Harkon about this, because little-miss-daddy-issues doesn't like him (which, I am forced to admit, is completely understandable), we must sneak around through the side entrance to the castle. Because of course there's an unguarded side entrance. If Harkon can't be bothered to look in his backyard for his missing wife and a powerful artifact of ancient knowledge that contains the keys to ruling the world, why should he bother to guard the goddamn side door? Shaking my head in combined wonderment and bafflement, I gesture onward to Serana and we head on out the door.
     
    NEXT: Chasing Reflected Soundwaves
    Start at Chapter 1
  16. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 25: PRETTY SPRY FOR AN OLD GUY
    In which our hero rescues one old person and kills another old person.
    Previous: Chapter 24, The Case of the Empty Vault
     
    You'd think that, as head of not one but two major factions in Skyrim, I'd want to settle down and just run one of them. Shame I've picked the two dumbest factions to head, so no, I'm gonna go ahead and keep delivering mail and killing rats for anyone who asks me. And the last rat I was asked to kill was an old lady in the local orphanage.
     
    Normally I'd go into a short sarcastic rant about this, but really she deserves it. I'm doing all these kids a favor. What I don't get is how nobody outside the walls heard her loud, quavering scream as my axe cleaved her head from her shoulders. The only people who heard it were the kids and the boss lady's assistant, and only the assistant seemed mildly perturbed. The kids just seemed to take it in stride, cheering and laughing for a bit then going back to burning bugs with magnifying glasses or skinning their knees or walking on my lawn or other things young whippersnappers do these days. A quick jaunt to Windhelm and I've got a snazzy new platter for my table, which I am gonna sell at the earliest opportunity, it's probably had, I dunno, human bodyparts on it or something. That Aventus kid is messed up.
     
    So... next I guess is to find Esbern for Delphine. He's living in (sigh) the sewers. As if I haven't had enough of that lately. There's just something about living in Riften that makes people want to dive underground and cover themselves in shit. I'm getting Esbern and then getting out of this place permanently, just in case it starts happening to me.
     
    Underground, I fight my way through some inexplicably-present Thalmor, kill a cannibal chef, and knock on Esbern's door. He opens a little shutter in the door, and I manfully resist the urge to throw a smoke bomb in and then slam the shutter closed again. He actually lets me in without question as soon as I tell him the Thalmor are after him... apparently Delphine's secret code phrase was unnecessary. And this makes total sense. I mean, if you're being hunted by a shadowy cabal of evil elves, why wouldn't you open your door to the first bastard who knocks on it without requesting some sort of ID? If you can't trust heavily-armed wandering strangers, who can you trust?
     
    He tosses some exposition my way, and I bat some right back at him. He gets flustered when I tell him that I'm the Dragonborn... in much the same way that Delphine only grudgingly accepted my authority as head of the order (I guess that's how this works?), Esbern likewise seems hesitant to accept me as his new boss. But after wandering around aimlessly for a minute muttering about how he needs to take his books with him, he proceeds to leave all his books on the shelves, desks, and floor, and just walk right out with me. Cool.
     
    We're assaulted by Thalmor again, and Esbern actually turns out to be pretty handy in a fight. Well, not Esbern himself, actually, but the big mobile wall of ice he summons seems to have a fun time knocking Thalmor about. I think I'll keep ol' Esbern around, if he can consistently summon Frost Atronachs to aid me... I mean us... in battle. Maybe I'll just keep wandering Skyrim for a bit, and take him back to Riverwood later, after I'm done using his magical talents to aid in the pursuit of my own goals.
     
    Just outside the sewers, Esbern's Atronach decides to take a break and sit in the doorway, unmoving, and it takes a very long damn time for the thing to melt before I can get through myself. You know what? Nevermind, fuck Esbern if that's how he's going to play it. I don't want him around if all he's going to do is kill a few of my enemies then proceed to block my way. Two steps forward and two steps back is not progress. We're going to Riverwood.
     
    Here in Riverwood, Esbern walks into the inn, and I follow. Inside, he starts talking to thin air, saying how it's 'good to see you again.' At first, I think he might be addressing me, and considering how he just saw me outside I start to wonder whether or not he's getting senile on me, and then off in the distance I hear somebody's voice murmuring back. Apparently Delphine is down in her "open-secret" cellar again, and the two of them are talking to each other through the floor. These people...
     
    Esbern trots downstairs to Delphine, and I follow. He spends some quality time pumping more exposition into the air, but really, to call it exposition is an insult to exposition everywhere. He's apparently been taking lessons from some Psijic monks, because everything he says is sort of cryptic bullshit, and the only thing that I get out of it is that there's a secret written on a wall somewhere and we need to go find something that was lost but not lost, just forgotten... at this point I stuff a few wads of Tundra Cotton in my ears to avoid having to listen to any more of this crap. In the blissful silence, I take the time to make some potions at Delphine's alchemy table, and when I turn around Delphine is sitting there staring at me. I reluctantly pull the cotton out of my ears, and she says we've got to go to Sky Haven Temple and find Alduin's Wall.
     
    Delphine and Esbern head on upstairs, whereupon Delphine bequeaths the entire inn to the barman, who responds with overwhelming happiness cleverly concealed beneath a veneer of boredom. You'd think going from a position of low-level peon up to corporate owner in the blink of an eye would affect him just a tiny bit, but no. Maybe the inn has termites or is heavily mortgaged or something. I don't know, and I don't care, and considering that Delphine just dropped this place, that means... yes, it means I WON'T HAVE TO COME BACK HERE ANYMORE! Happy day!
     
    Outside, Delphine and Esbern take off for Sky Haven Temple. I'd tag along, but I really don't want to at the moment. I've been eying an entry in my journal that says to talk to the leader of the Companions for a while now, so I figure now's a good time. I'm off to Whiterun. Me and my Wicker Basket. Bet you'd forgotten about that, didn't you!
     
    Next: Chapter 26, This Place Has Really Gone To The Dogs
    Start at Chapter 1
  17. Content Consumer
    DIARY OF A WATER PURIFIER: EP4, THE CITY OF RIVETS

    Recent events have made me question my previous stance on things like capital punishment. I'm warming to the idea that pissing me off is a major crime, and that justice should come swiftly to anyone who does so. And that justice should involve pieces of lead expelled from a steel tube at high velocity by the force of expanding gas emitted by a chemical reaction created by setting fire to a swiftly burning powder. In other words, I'm gonna shoot the next person who gets in my way. Killing Three Dog was... liberating. I feel like a new woman.

    Unfortunately, this new woman has no idea where to go next. Dad's off somewhere, and Three Dog didn't actually tell me anything useful before I aerated his internal organs for him. I guess I'm off to Rivet City, it's the closest town. Hopefully it won't be anything like Megaton, all full of sharp bits of rusty metal and people who are either extremely friendly or extremely unfriendly.

    About an hour later, I've seen more subway tunnels than ever wanted to, or even ever believed might exist in a sane world. Really, I'm getting sick of crawling through tubes filled with rubble. Judging by the sheer number of destroyed subway cars, I'd say that the population of Washington DC before the war was somewhere in the double-digit billions. Either that, or ostentatious displays of wealth got the better of everyone, and everyone had to have their own personal subway car. Whatever, I don't care, and from now on I'm staying OUT of the ghoul-and-bandit infested subways.

    When I finally reach Rivet City, I realize that my hope for decent, or at least normal, people was a vain one. The city is a busted-ass aircraft carrier floating in the radioactive water, rusty and gunky in every way. It's protected by (1) a rusty bridge that some moron thought was a good idea to swing in and out for every person who approaches the ship, and (2) one asshole with a plasma rifle. Dude, a single super mutant could rip right through this place, and your little pew-pew gun would only make him angry. The bridge guard directs me to the local doctor in the belly of the ship.

    Whaddya know? It turns out that this Doctor Li was a colleague of dad's, and he came to see her before he took off again! I'm honestly getting fed up with this asshole, he can't stay in one place for more than five minutes before running off. Sure, go and see your old Irish drinking buddy, an idiotic radio DJ, and then an old colleague, but don't bother to tell your only daughter you were leaving home. I'm seriously considering dropping my quest to go find him, but what the fuck else is there to do in this godsforsaken wasteland? Scavenging the rusted hulks of prewar office buildings? Professional ghoul-killing? Mirelurk hunting for fun and profit?

    No, I'm a lone wanderer, and I'm off to seek my father. My goal hasn't changed, even if my reasons for pursuing it have. Before, I wanted to find dad because I missed him and felt lost without him. Now I just want to punch the guy in the face for being such a dick. Not just to me, but to everyone he meets.

    So, it's off to some old vault, apparently good ol' number 101 just wasn't good enough for him. I'm sure it's going to be a safe journey. Ha! Nah, not really, I just said that for comedic effect - I'm actually pretty sure I'm going to die.

    NEXT: TEENAGE WASTELAND
    That is, it's possible there might be a next chapter, but... probably not for a while, if at all.
    And Mace Raiden's saved game got fucked up all the way back to the Dark Brotherhood shack in the swamps, so it'll be a while before I do anything with him either.
    Basically, this is the last thing I'm posting here... until I get up the desire to re-do everything I've already done with Mace and get back on track.
  18. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 26: THIS PLACE HAS REALLY GONE TO THE DOGS
    In which our hero goes and joins the Companions.
    Previous: Chapter 25, Pretty Spry for an Old Guy
     
    Well, Whiterun hasn't changed much since the last time I was here. Commander Caius is still a right burke, Nazeem is his understudy, and Heimskr is giving them both a run for their money. I've been to every town in this goddamn province except Morthal, and none of them are populated with decent people. I'm deliberately staying away from Morthal, too, because... well, because I want to continue to treasure the illusion that there are some nice, reasonable people there, and I just know if I actually go there I'll be disappointed. Ignorance is bliss.
     
    Anyway, a quick jaunt around the shops to sell off some miscellaneous gear, and it's off to Jorrvaskr, where there's a fistfight going on. Right off the bat I can tell that even if the two fighters are both completely equal in stats, the woman will win, because she's smart enough to wear head protection and the dark elf isn't. I briefly try to remember if I've ever met a Dunmer in Skyrim who hasn't been both homicidal and a dumbass, but right at the moment I'm drawing a blank, so I just head on downstairs.
     
    So downstairs there's vuKodlak, a real white-haired wolf of a man (get it? get it? huh? no? okay...), and Wlkwos Vilkas, who apparently got makeup tips from Aela. I briefly consider telling him that yes, there actually is such a thing as too much eye shadow, but I don't want to interrupt their conversation. It sounds semiserious, almost like there's a power struggle going on or something. Ooh! Maybe I'll be embroiled in an internal squabble! Politics! Intrigue! Shoot me now!
     
    So Kodlak seems okay with my joining the Companions, but Vilkas is being a dick. "I've never heard of this person" he says. Have you been living under a rock, bro? I'm the freaking DRAGONBORN, ass. You know, savior of the city? Archmage of the College of Winterhold? Slayer of damsels and rescuer of dragons? Or something like that? You people are basically glorified thugs, and you have the sheer gall to look down on ME? I'm tempted to Fus-Ro-Dah him through a wall, but then I remember that thin wooden walls are completely indestructible in this world, plus he looks like one of those guys with plot armor, which means that even though he's a real pushover he'll still fuck me up in the long term. Boy, I wish I could just take a swing at him, though, you know? I mean... what... what did you just say to me? Test my arm? Dude, you're pretty enough, I guess, but I'm just not into guys who use that much eye shadow, alright? You want somebody to "test my arm" you'd better call your brother. He's more my style.
     
    Anyway, outside I get my wish, I get to take a swing at the dumbass, who proceeds to cry like a little girl after one hit. What a whiner. I thought you guys were tough. I remember idolizing you people for taking down a troll not that long ago. Truly, the scales have fallen from my eyes. He tries to regain some of his lost manhood by ordering me to have his sword sharpened. I walk on up to the forge, wearing a smirk, because I know damn well that his pathetic attempt to demean me won't work, and also because I'm daydreaming about taking the newly sharpened sword and sticking it in one of his orifices.
     
    The smith, with whom I've had dealings before, is just as grouchy and cantankerous as always. Or maybe not quite as much... it seems that now I'm a Companion, I'm entitled to a bit of respect from him. I briefly consider mentioning that I'm the Dragonborn and thus already worthy of respect, but I don't, because I'm scared he'll just stare at me and say "Yeah? So what?" and I'd have absolutely no response. So I drop off the sword and pick up a shield to give to Aela... it seems as though my primary responsibilities as a Companion will be ferrying weapons and armor back and forth. I'm okay with that, actually... it makes a nice break from assassination. Still, this is ostensibly an organization of warriors, and I'd like to get out and do some fighting.
     
    And Kutya Farkas grants my wish. Finally, I get to do something decent, something worthy! I will use my combat prowess in a noble and moral quest, I will protect the weak against the evil strong and bring glory and honor to my new brothers. I will... ah, shit, you want me to what? To go out and intimidate some guy, beat him into submission? Fuck that, dude, I'm not some hired thug, not just a pair of fists for you to... wait, who do you want me to beat? Umm... hmm.
     
    Crap... I'm really torn here. On the one hand, I find this sort of intimidation morally reprehensible. On the other hand, it's Sven, the tremendous dickhead, I'll get to kick around some. On the other other hand, he's still in Riverwood, and I really want to avoid going back there again. On the fifth hand (I never was very good at counting), it's fucking Sven.
     
    After a hefty internal debate, I decide I might as well go through with it. Maybe this is just an initiation thing, a one-off job and afterward I'll get back on the straight and narrow. Quick trip to Riverwood, one beatdown later, and back to Whiterun. One would almost think this Companions business is just another generic bunch of dudes who hand out standard fetch or kill quests in a bland, all-purpose way, but I'm sure that's not the case. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? I get sent to explore another Nord ruin or have to find another Macguffin or something? Ha ha! I laugh with scorn!
     
    I've decided that since I'm a Companion now, I need companions of my own. Aah, the good old days in Oblivion, when every companion was called a companion, but you can't do that in Skyrim because it gets confusing with the Companions, of which several can become companions... so you have to call the companions followers. I mean not the Companions, you call the Companions Companions, not companions, because that would be confusing, even though some of the Companions are also companions in the sense that they're followers, and not all Companions can become followers. But non-Companion followers are just supposed to be called followers. Or hirelings, but those are only followers that you hire, not followers who follow you without being hired. Everybody get all that? Good.
     
    ANYway, I've got to go get a compa... I mean a follower. To help me out in combat. The best place to find a follower is the local inn, which, according to the narrative laws of the universe and the TV Tropes page, is the best and often only place to hire adventurers for your party. So... it's off to one of the two taverns in Whiterun. I'm pretty sure there's a big Nord warrior woman waiting in the Prancing Pony Bannered Mare, so that's a good start, but I'll go check out this other tavern first, the Drunken Huntsman.
     
    Well hell, it's not a tavern, it's a shop. I didn't even realize! I've been ignoring a place where I can sell shit for months now. I feel like a right dope. Still, there is a hireling in here. She's a Dark Elf, and we all know what that means... batshit crazy with a side order of homicidal maniac. Which is actually exactly what I want right now.
     
    Jenassa is an artist who paints with blood. Okay, I've met some kooky people, I'm not even fazed any more. She probably went to the same art school that taught those Mythic Dawn idiots how to dye their clothes. Whatever. I'm fine with it, really. If she asks me to buy some of her art I'll lop her head off, but until then I'll just roll with it.
     
    She's an archer, a skill in which I sorely lack, and she has nothing to do with magic, for which I hire her on the spot. Funny how she charges exactly the same amount of money to follow me around killing my enemies as Belrand did. Hmm... better not mention my follower to her. She might get jealous. Honestly, baby, he meant nothing to me! It was just a quick fling! Really quick, because he died in the middle of a dungeon when I smacked him and... hmm... better not mention my previous follower to her, she might want to know what killed him. Honestly, baby, it was an accident! My weapon slipped out of my hand!
     
    This may not be the best way to begin a new relationship. Still, she seems eager enough. Let's go murder something.
     
    Next: My Precious
    Start at Chapter 1
  19. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 19: BACK TO WINTERHOLD
    In which our hero decides to finish a damn questline for once in his life, and gets rewarded by becoming a magical archway. Or something like that.
    Previous: Intermission 2
     
    Let's see, where was I? Went to Saarthal, found big blue ball, fought renegade wizards, that was fun, found dwemer map thingie, Savos Aren is dead, Ancano is doing evil things, yep, here I am. What's this? Another note? Oh, this one says Hammer 8, Magic 7. I remember this. Screw it, though. I'm not keeping track any more. In fact, I'm going to deliberately try to avoid using magic at all, just to see if it's possible to continue advancing in rank with novice-level mage skills. Sort of a sleep-your-way-to-the-top gig, but in my case it's a cut-your-way-to-the-top-with-a-big-axe.
     
    But before I can get back into the college, apparently I need to destroy some floating glowy things terrorizing the town. Well, I say terrorizing, but since there's nobody outside they're mostly terrorizing innocent snowflakes and the occasional snowberry bush. Still, it's our job to defend the poor snowberry bushes of this land, so we proceed to... kill them? Dissipate them? I don't even know what they are, so I don't know what exactly we're doing to them.
     
    My axe doesn't seem to be doing much to them at all, so I am forced to pull out my magic. Figures. As soon as I make a vow to use magic, my magic is useless, and as soon as I make a vow NOT to use magic, it turns out to be necessary.
     
    Well, mostly necessary. Really, the wizards from the college do most of the work. I tend to think I could have just sat this whole thing out and let them take care of it, but whatever.
     
    After an intense ten-hour battle that consists primarily of me waiting while my mana slowly recharges and Faralda and Arniel run around shooting exploding fireballs that occasionally actually hit the target, all of the floaty balls are dead and I run back across the bridge to the college.
     
    Mirabelle tells me that, in order to contain the power of the Maguffin, I need the Maguffin v2.0. The Staff of Magnus is hidden in Labyrinthian, and she gives me a torc that the arch-mage gave to her, along with another generous helping of cryptic bullshit, which makes me remember exactly why I left the goddamn college in the first place, but I've decided to see this quest through to the end, no matter where it leads or how many of my poor brain cells will die heroic deaths to get there.
     
    As I leave for Labyrinthian, wherein lies the Staff of Magnus, I reflect on how nobody I ever meet seems interested in the knowledge that Ulfric Stormcloak is a Thalmor sleeper agent. I mean, that's kind of a big deal in Skyrim right now. I understand why they don't care at the college, they've got bigger fish to fry, and why Delphine doesn't care either, she's got bigger dragons to bury, but I've met and talked to several other people who just don't give a goddamn about it. I'm starting to get discouraged again, so I take a few swigs of my trusty hip flask and continue on.
     
    I make it to Labyrinthian, slaughter a few trolls, listen to some ghosts, and somehow the torc in my inventory ends up being a door knocker. Convenient that the hiding place for an item I need for this questline is locked up and can only be unlocked by an item carried by someone associated with this questline. Before I start questioning any more, though, I remember about the booze and take a few more swigs. It might take me a few gallons of brandy to get through this, but I'm going to give it a shot.
     
    Inside, I fight some skeletons, some more trolls, draugr, a dragon skeleton ostensibly animated with unholy power but was actually obviously just strung together with some cheap twine, because a couple whacks with my axe and it goes down. I mean, this cavern room is impressive, and when the dragon emerged from the ground I thought it was going to be a tough fight, but... skeletons? Really? Anyway, a few doors locked with elemental magic later (that Shalador, he was another Nord genius, the only way past elemental doors is with elemental magic, nobody would EVER have figured that out!), the ghosts of past explorers are being whittled down one by one. Their magic wasn't enough, which makes perfect sense, because I'd pit my axe against their magic any day of the week.
     
    And there's a voice speaking to me in strange tongues, apparently sourceless, and it's kind of irritating. I say "irritating" because I don't want to actually relate that the first time I heard it I screamed like a small child in a haunted house and spun around slashing my axe at the air, but you won't find me writing that down in print, nosir.
     
    So this sourceless voice is also draining my mana. As I easily cleave another draugr in two with my axe, and as Jenassa fills a troll with so many arrows he's beginning to look like a trollcupine, I reflect on just how much trouble this mana-draining thing is causing me. Which is, in short, absolutely none.
     
    I mean, I guess it might be a slight impediment to the average mage, but considering even the weakest wizard could just, you know, sit down and let his mana recharge, I'm not quite sure what the point is. Has the voice never heard of mana potions? The equilibrium spell? The "wait" function?
     
    Labyrinthian is actually pretty cool, some decent new architecture I've never seen before. And some new enemies... ghostly apparitions of draugr. So they're ghosts of dead guys. I mean, people who died, and then became undead, and then turned into ghosts or something. I have no idea what's going on right now, but it's all very cool and exciting, or it would be if there was anything like a challenge or, you know, an eponymous LABYRINTH, instead of a linear walk down undead-infested corridors, which I've had a bit too much of, to tell the truth.
    At the end of the trip, I see three ghosts feeding magical energy into a Dragon Priest named Morokai, who is actually sort of a tough fight. I mean, if he just stood still and let me whack at him he'd go down easy, but he insists on moving around and casting nasty spells. I'm all set to start complaining when I realize that a better AI more intelligent enemies were what I was actually wanting, so I just shut up and try to take this on the chin.
     
    After killing the priest, I grab his mask and staff, and hightail it out of the dungeon. A Thalmor agent greets me and says he's going to kill me and there's no way I can stop his or Ancano's evil plans...
     
    Uh.
     
    So, I just wiped out a dungeon full of guys you couldn't get through because you're not tough enough, I killed a dragon priest you couldn't hope to beat, I grabbed a magical staff that, let's be honest here, is actually pretty good against mages, I just gained a level, I am essentially a god of war compared to you, and you're going to kill me? Let's keep the threats realistic, buddy. I mean, if you'd said you were going to dirty my boots with ash from your burned corpse, then I'd say yep, that's true... honestly, I could fart at you and take you out.
     
    Which I proceed to do, and then I leave. So that torc-that-could-not-be-duplicated-for-some-reason apparently wasn't the only way into the dungeon, it was just the longest possible way around. Standing outside, breathing the fresh Skyrim air, I debate once again whether to just leave it all behind and open up a shop somewhere back in Wayrest, but no, I've made a commitment here to the tune of 59.99 USD for this damn game, I'm going to finish it if it kills me, which it probably will.
     
    Back in Winterhold, there are some more magical floaty balls, and most of the college's members are stuck outside by another magical force field, and nobody can get in... except for those people who are still inside the force field but apparently can't be arsed to actually do anything. I wipe out the barrier with the staff, walk into the hall of the elements, and an absolutely ridiculous fight begins, where I never know exactly at who I am supposed to be shooting at any given time. I mean, sometimes I have to shoot floaty balls, sometimes the eye, and sometimes Ancano, and still don't know exactly how I won that fight, or what I did to win it, or if it was just timed, or what...
     
    And when it's all done, three of the goddamn stupid fucking asshole bastard smarmy idiot moron asshat fluga bruahen murglegurgle...
     
    (pause for a few minutes of breathing exercises)
     
    Three elves teleport in and teleport the big blue ball out, and smarmily tell me that I've met their expectations in bfrualasdsltt piew...
     
    (pause for eight solid hours of breathing exercises)
     
    Okay, enough of this shit. I really can't be bothered going through all the many different ways this is stupid. Tolfdir names me Archmage, which I wonder is anything like a Fire Mage, as in I am a wizard of doorways or something. As a final reward I get... a set of clothes recently pulled off a dead guy.
     
    I just can't explain just how much I'm hating this college right now.
     
    NEXT: FORTH FROM WINTERHOLD
     

     
    DIARY OF A DRAGONBORN
    CHAPTER 20: FORTH FROM WINTERHOLD
    In which our hero writes the shortest entry in his diary ever because he's just too damn irritated at recent events to do anything much.
     
    So, they made me Archmage. I know the truth, though. It's just because anyone with any qualifications for the position is dead, and the rest of them looked around, and decided that being on top of the heap is a dangerous proposition, considering recent events particularly. So they held a quick meeting, got the Psijics to drum up some mumbo-jumbo, and voted me in while I wasn't there to participate in the election.
     
    Well, I foxed 'em. I may be archmage, but I'll be damned if I ever come back to this shithole again. I'm headed to Riften. I hear the autumn foliage is nice this time of year. Or any time of year, since the seasons never change here.
     
    Let's go. It's 14 hours to Riften (by fast travel), we've got a horse full of hay, half an inventory full of potions, it's snowing... and we're wearing ebony. Or, rather, I'm wearing ebony. Because there's only one of me. And I don't have a horse, now that I come to think about it, so it can't be full of hay. And my inventory isn't full of potions, but it does have potions in it, so I figure I'm still mostly good here.
     
    Next: Chapter 21, There's A Dragon, Everybody Follow!
    Start at Chapter 1
  20. Content Consumer
    DIARY OF A WATER PURIFIER:
    EP3, WE GET SIGNAL

    So I'm off to GNR. It's a radio station. I've heard the dude talking, and he's okay, his news is okay, and his music is pretty good, for the most part. Moriarty tells me, or more accurately his computer tells me, that dad's gone off to the station to get the skinny on the haps. I set off into the city, killing raiders, cockroaches, ants, and ROUS's as I go.

    As I'm passing a grocery store, this kid runs up to me and tells me the monsters are gonna get him, and asks if I'll help him. Sure, kid. I'll follow you. Let me just get my gear together... you go run and hide, I'll be right behind you! As the kid runs off, I snicker to myself. Sucker. There are no real monsters in the world. What, am I gonna hide under the bed from some, like, I dunno, a giant scorpion, or a huge green guy wielding a fire hydrant? Get real, kid. Strength to weight ratios would clearly prohibit such a creature from existing. Not to mention that as you increase mass, you increase the strain on the internal calcareous structure, or even a chitinous exoskeleton, to the point that the creature would collapse on itself. Galileo wrote about this in the 16th century, for god's sake! I laugh with scorn. Huge monstrosities don't exist, kid, and never will. Grow a backbone.

    Through the wilderness, into the city, down through subway tunnels, and I wonder, if dad just came through here, why is it still full of bad guys? He must be the sneakiest sonofabitch ever in the history of the world. I thought he was just a doctor. I've killed more raiders and feral ghouls than... uh, something else that killed a lot of things. Look, I've killed a lot, okay? Enough with the metaphors and similes. They're like... these things... that are metaphorical. And simililical? Enough.

    Up the other side, and there are some big green guys. I... uh, Bruce Banner? Hello? No? They're carrying sledgehammers and rifles, and they are mad at me for some reason. Lucky for me there are these big robots here with bigger guns. After a moment of examination, they turn out not to be robots, but instead people in suits of powered armor. I want one! This metal-encrusted vault suit suddenly seems so goddamn inadequate! With a suit of power armor, I could survive a point-blank nuclear blast, I'm sure! These guys are called the Brotherhood of Steel, and they're lead by a woman, which means that they should probably be called the Siblinghood of Steel, but I'm not complaining. Don't complain to people covered in three inches of tool steel and wielding big guns, that's my motto.

    There's a dead Brotherhood guy lying on the ground here, and next to him, on the ground, not being guarded by anyone, in plain sight, ready for the taking, just let me sidle on over here and grab it, is... a free suit of power armor. Yay! I'm just gonna slip this on and huh? Training? Crap. Will... will you guys train me? No? I can't even ask for that right now? Okay, I'll just... hold on to this. For a while.

    So these Brotherhood guys help me wipe out the green monster guys, apparently called Super Mutants, as opposed to Regular Mutants, who use their powers to guard a world that hates and fears them... or something. Anyway, these Super Mutants die pretty easy when they're up against power armor and big guns, and we make it through an abandoned elementary school to Galaxy News Radio. Everything seems quiet, nothing's wrong. Just a few more mutants to kill, and I can go inside.

    Hmm. That super mutant seems to be a tad larger than normal.
    ...
    ...
    ...
    Holy fucking shit, batman.

    That's a big mutant. If the others are super mutants, this one is a mega-mondo-hulk-mutant. Galileo was full of shit, the evidence is right before my eyes. I'm thinking I'm going to head back in the school building and take potshots at him with my trusty BB gun from a distance. The only other option is to go stand our ground, go full-bore, toe to toe, throw all the lead we got... and maybe we'll get a lucky hit. A brain shot. I think I'm gonna let the brotherhood handle this one. I certainly can't do it. It would take a direct nuclear strike to scratch his hide. No, actually, considering that he just BLEW UP TWO BUSSES WITH HIS FIST and it didn't even faze him, I'm pretty sure a tactical nuke wouldn't do the job.

    After a few minutes, the guys in power armor finish off the big green dude, and I can head on inside. The DJ, Three Dog, is a friendly sort of guy, who wants only to help out the poor and unfortunate people of the wasteland, of which I am ostensibly one. He is sympathetic to my quest, and offers straight away to tell me where my dad went. All I have to do for him is repair his radio equipment by finding a satellite dish in a super-mutant infested museum clear across town, then take the dish to the Washington Monument and install it on the roof. Simple, right.

    One question nags at me, Three Dog. How come you didn't get my dad to go after the dish? Or, you know, anyone else in the entire world? Or did you, and did they die? Is that why you won't tell me where dad went, did you send him after your precious bauble and he's now lying in a shallow grave? Even if no, do I look like I belong to a courier service? Is "rube" written on my forehead? Go fuck yourself, I'm not doing your dirty work. You want it so bad, YOU go get it. What's that? Can't leave the radio station because people wouldn't hear your voice? Dude, I've listened to your broadcast. You just keep playing music, and your "news" consists of the same six stories, over and over. I'm not falling for that one, try again. What do you MEAN, it's too dangerous for you to go? Is that argument supposed to convince me? Gee whillikers, Mr. Dog, if you, the guy who has a vested interest in getting the dish and saving his own livelihood won't go, I guess I'll head right on out there! No. I'm not playing fetch for you. I'll make you a deal - you tell me where Dad is, and later on I'll come back here and get your dish. No? NO?!?!?

    Look, doggy. I'm short on time, I'm angry, and I'm armed. Tell. Me. Where. My. Dad. Went.

    He didn't tell me where my dad went.

    Standing outside GNR, wondering where Dad went, I turn on my radio for a while. The music still plays, but now there's a new DJ on the station! Fancy that, Three Dog must have retired or something. She doesn't give any news, just the music. The calm, soothing music. For some reason, it reminds me of the staccato burst of fully automatic weapon, and the feeling of happiness as an entire clip of bullets ends a source of frustration. I smile, at peace with myself and the world. Maybe I'd be happier if I had actually blown up Megaton.

    Well, I guess I'll head on to the next big town around here. Rivet City. I'd judge that I'm catching up to my dad, now. Unless he took up Three Dog on his quest to get the satellite dish, in which case I may find his corpse somewhere. Still, it'll at least bring some closure to the whole deal. Rivet City, here I come.

    NEXT EPISODE: THE CITY OF RIVETS
  21. Content Consumer
    DIARY OF A WATER PURIFIER:
    EP2, SOMEONE SET UP US THE BOMB

    First thing out of the vault, and I receive a radio message. It's from someone named John Henry Eden, who calls himself the President of the United States. He says that he's working tirelessly around the clock to rebuild this great nation, and if we all pull together we can bring back the good times. I look to my left and see a rocky, dusty wasteland apparently populated by giant cockroaches. I look to my right and see a ragged road extending into the distance, but I can't see too far because a cloud of radiation so thick it's visibly blocking the light lies over the land. Ahead of me is the burnt-out husk of a town where the wind blows forlornly over the corpses of old cars. Ol' Eden has his work cut out for him.

    So, where to go? The overseer's computer mentioned something about a town nearby, but I've got no idea which way to travel to get there. Maybe the dead town in front of me is the thriving metropolis mentioned, but it seems to be populated only by a single floating spherical robot that, by the way, makes a satisfying explosion when hit with a 10mm bullet. I like explosions. Which is good, because a few of my stray bullets enter a car, which emits a little explosion of its own and gets lit on fire. I wander over to see what's happening and FUCK ME I guess I'm glad reincarnation is a thing.

    Get born, hi dad, pick name, pick appearance, bye mom, bible quote, birthday party, shoot roach, take test, kill guards, kill bugs, escape vault, and do NOT shoot at the robot. Use a baseball bat instead. Jeez, let's hope something like that doesn't happen again. I understand that I just went through sixteen years of life and all, but it seems like a lot longer. If only there was some way to rewind time to a previous point where I hadn't done something stupid. Like, saving my game life periodically so I can go back if I fuck up. Oh well.

    Anyway, over there I can see a sign saying Megaton, and that's the name of the closest town. I'm pretty sure dad went there. It's the only place around here with people. That is, people who don't want to kill you on sight. The local elementary school off to my left is full of that kind of person. It's also full of raiders (rim shot), so I head off to Megaton.

    Megaton is a trash heap made up of corrugated tin and steel posts. There are also parts of an airplane in there. If this is someone's idea of a bustling metropolis, I'll pass. Especially considering that the whole town is built on top of an unexploded nuclear bomb. Apparently the bomb leaks brain-damaging radiation, because the few people who do live in this sty exhibit signs of long-term neural degradation. For example, the first person I meet thinks he's a cowboy, and has appointed himself sheriff. He doesn't know anything about dad, asks me to disarm the bomb, suddenly remembers dad, and then tells me that I should stay away from the bomb. Aside from the slight bipolar problem and the aforementioned cowboy issue, he's a nice enough guy. The next guy I meet is worshipping the bomb as a god. He's entertaining to listen to for a while, in a sort of "this is your brain on drugs" way.

    The next person I stop and see is a lady named Moira Brown. She's kooky. I mean, real kooky. She wants to write a survival guide about living in the wasteland, and she thinks I'm the best person to help her out. Because I've been in the wasteland for so long. Dude, I've been here for ten minutes. Fifteen, if you count the time I went and exploded a nuclear-powered car (who the hell thought up that gem of an idea?) and got resurrected. But whatever, she promises rich rewards, and it's not like the book will ever be published, considering that there are no printers, publishing companies, bookbinders, and the like. She does give me one interesting piece of news, though. Apparently dad wasn't the first person to escape the vault. In addition to the overseer's scouting mission, dad left, I left, and several other people have escaped the vault at various times, one of them leaving behind a vault suit that Moira whimsically decided to put armor plating on. It's better than what I'm wearing now, so I exchange it for some vault security armor. I also am beginning to wonder about my dad - he wasn't the only person to escape, but apparently he was the only person to invite radroaches in first and cause mass hysteria in his absence. I always liked him, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that he's a royal asshole. Leaving me in the lurch, creating an insect infestation, and causing peaceful citizens to murder each other. Way to go, dad.

    I head to the local saloon, and the barman is an older gentleman with a wrinkled face. Really old. Really wrinkled. Like, holy shit, this guy needs some skin cream FAST. And a wig. And some cologne. And a makeover. Maybe the famous "Mary's Makeover" that includes standing next to a flaming automobile and waiting for resurrection. Not that I wish him dead, because as far as I can tell he already is dead. He really can't get any worse. I assiduously avoid eye contact.

    The owner of the bar is an Irish expatriate, and kind of a dick too. He offers to tell me where my dad went if I go kill one of his old hookers. I decline, opting instead to sneak into his back room and hack his computer terminal and get the information from there. On my way out the door, I notice a guy waving at me from the back room. I wander over there to tell him that the hooker is the redhead over by the toilet, not me, but he actually has a proposition for me. Business proposition, not sexual proposition. Just thought I should make that clear.

    He represents certain people who think of the town as a blight on the landscape. I can't agree more, dude. Through the conversation, it becomes apparent that he wants me to detonate the bomb in the middle of town. I can't warn people, I can't evacuate the town, he wants everyone to die as well. I just have to press the button that goes boom. Because it's a blight on the landscape. Essentially, he wants me to blow up a city of people because it's not pretty enough.

    Megaton is apparently one of the largest, most cosmopolitan towns in the wasteland. There are dozens of people living here, in a relatively organized fashion. Burke doesn't want to conquer the town, steal from it, or enslave the people. He wants it gone because it's ugly. It's a town in the middle of a place called the capital wasteland, dude. Everything here is ugly. Ugly is this whole area's stock in trade. So you want to blow it up, replacing it with a smoking crater that will, somehow, be prettier? Not to mention that nuking your neighbors seems counterproductive to survival. Burke wants to create a radioactive hole where was once a peaceful, thriving (relatively) metropolis. Because he doesn't like the way it looks. I can't even give him the honor of saying he's evil. He's just stupid.

    I'm about to get up and run out to tell the sheriff that there's a crazy guy here, but then I remember that the "sheriff" is also a crazy guy, so no hope there. The only thing left to do is disarm the bomb. I have to, it's a moral imperative. I'd just leave well enough alone, but given the intellect of the average Megaton citizen, one of them is bound to take up Burke on his offer some day, and I just can't have that on my conscience.

    I quickly disarm the bomb, and then head on out of town. I've got to get to a radio station, where dad was last headed. All of these delays mean I've fallen a little behind him, it might take me a couple of hours to catch up.

    NEXT EPISODE: WE GET SIGNAL
  22. Content Consumer
    Okay...
    I didn't update last week. Or the previous week.
    I was sick for a while there, and didn't even play Mace Raiden... well, that's not entirely true. I had a high-ish fever and was somewhat delerious, I played Mace Raiden, went to Solstheim, and didn't figure out that Dawnguard != Solstheim for several hours of play. So that was one day wasted.
    Then... I just haven't written anything. I've been sort of concentrating on making a mod, not playing the game.
    Then I skipped playing Skyrim for a while and went to Starcraft, XCom, and Fallout 3.
    Then I kept on playing Fallout 3.

    So... no Mace Raiden.
    But I wrote up a little bit about Fallout 3, so... for the next four weeks, this is what you'll be getting.
    Then back to Mace Raiden.



    DIARY OF A WATER PURIFIER:
    EP1, TRIPPY BIRTH DAY

    So here I am, shoved out of my mother's vagina in a sterile medical room. My first view is the nurse, my second is a dark blur with insanely bright piercing high-beam style eyes. There he is, my father, right in front of me. And I can see him pretty well, actually... my vision clears up and everything in the room comes in crystal clear. I'm pretty advanced for a newborn baby. Apparently my daddy knows it too, because after a few seconds when he starts talking to me, and expecting answers.

    He starts out by asking if I am a boy or a girl. At least, I think he's asking me - with the way his head is bobbing around, he could be asking the nurse, or possibly my mother, but I should hope he's at least somewhat familiar with her gender. He then goes on to ask what my name is, which I thought was HIS job, and what I'm going to look like when I grow up. This is kind of a lot to demand of a newborn, but I throw out some quick answers (I'm a boy, my name is Roberto, and I'm going to look like a mohawk-wearing mexican badass with a big muttonchop moustache). He's about to ask me what I want to do with my life when my mother starts, I don't know, having a heart attack or something. I sympathize, lady. Judging by his questions, this dude jumps the gun a bit, doesn't he? One wonders how the wedding went. Was he cutting the cake five minutes after the proposal? I'll bet sex was nice. "Hey baby foreplay BAM goodnight honey" all within a four-second timespan.

    So mom's over there dying, dad starts chest compressions, and the nurse wheels me out. Everything goes dark, and the next thing I remember is dad motioning me toward him, demanding that his newborn son walk. But wait, I'm not newborn any more... apparently we entered a time warp, and now I'm in a nursery. I'm a year old and I can crawl, walk, handle various objects, jump on top of chairs and tables, read with complete comprehension, operate heavy machinery, and apparently pick locks like a pro. Dad puts me in a playpen, but I can organize prison breaks, buddy. I rattle a few toys around, clamber around on the furniture, and read a scintillating, stimulating novel. The plot is gripping, the characters are deep and complex, and it's a book called S.P.E.C.I.A.L. with a grand total of eight cardboard pages, guaranteed waterproof and chewable. Apparently the book is also a magic spellbook, because by poking my finger at it I get stronger, smarter, more agile, etcetera.

    As soon as I'm done reading the book, dad comes back into the room and starts reading bible quotes at me. Apparently it was my mother's favorite book and, judging from how he acts about it, only book. Not a big reader, I guess. He finishes his spiel, and we walk out the door together, and apparently he knocks me on the head, because everything goes white and...

    Suddenly I'm ten years old, and it's my birthday party! There's dad, and all my friends I've known for years, except I don't know any of them. The overseer (which is apparently an important position around here) comes over and clamps a wrist computer on my arm, surgically bonding to the bone, judging by the way I can't get the damn thing off. Bathing may be a problem. Masturbation should be okay. My only real problem with it is that it doesn't play pong.

    So I walk around and talk to people, all of whom are wearing glazed expressions, and some of whom are real assholes. The girl Amata is apparently my best friend, and she gives me a comic book. Stanley the mechanic gives me a hat, old lady Palmer gives me a sweetroll, and a kind named Butch smarms at me. That's a good name, there. Your parents said to themselves "we want our son to be a bully when he grows up. Should his name be Alan? No, Marvin? No, what about Butch?" and it stuck. With a name like Butch, you're bound for prison.

    So the robot with a buzzsaw mertilizes my birthday cake, and Butch comes over and demands my sweetroll. I refuse, and he starts to hit me. I try to hit back, but apparently I'm suffering from a chronic case of arms-with-no-strength-disease, because I can't raise my hands above my waist. Or maybe it's the goddamn wrist computer, weighing me down. Anyway, I take a few licks, and then a security guard comes over and stops the "fight." The intercom beeps, and dad tells me that my other good friend Jonas has a surprise for me in the reactor. I head out the door, and a lady named Beatrice gives me a birthday poem full of light and happiness (not really). I head down the stairs into the dark and scary reactor, and a pedophile jumps out at me, but I'm rescued in the nick of time by dad, who gives me a gun. I'm not allowed to head back up and shoot Butch, so I settle for shooting Jonas, but he doesn't care. So I have to do some target practice, then kill a giant cockroach, and Jonas takes out a camera and snaps a picture. Apparently something really traumatic happens next, because I black out and when I wake up I'm in a medical clinic.

    Dad's giving me an eye exam, and tells me I have to go eat a goat or something. I'm kind of operating on autopilot, now, wondering when the next time warp is going to happen, so I don't really pay attention to his words. I head out the door and there's Amata, Butch, and my other childhood friends and playmates, all grown up. I walk into a classroom, and the teacher says it's time to take a test, the final exam. He's either the nicest teacher in the world or the dumbest, because he lets me off without taking the test, saying I can just give myself a grade. I do, specializing in peaceful skills like Big Guns, Explosives, and Lockpicking, walk out of the room, and goddamn I must have a brain tumor or something, because all of these blackouts and lost time are getting commonplace. I can understand losing some time before I even turn one year old, but to lose nine years? Then another six? Then, I dunno, a few more? It's as if my life has been a few short episodes stitched together with blackouts.

    I wake up in bed, with Amata shouting at me and an alarm blaring. Dad's gone and the vault is infested with giant cockroaches. I suddenly realize that the best thing for me to do is not aid in defense of the vault, or talk to people, or find out what happened to dad, no... apparently I NEED TO FLEE THE VAULT BECAUSE REASONS. So I grab my baseball bat, a gun, a few changes of clothes, and I skedaddle on out of there. A security guard tries to stop me, but I whomp him a few times with my bat and steal his clothes. Thus begins my life of crime. Honestly, I'm given no option here - some people choose crime, some are driven to it by circumstances, and some are given a linear corridor to go down with only one possible option. It was him or me, so here I am starting my adventure with a murder and theft.

    As I wander the corridors, looking for the exit to leave everything I've ever known and everyone I've ever cared about to venture into a radioactive hellhole to find my dad who apparently cares jack shit about any other human beings, his son included, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, there's Butch. He wants help, his mother is being eaten alive by cockroaches. Dude, you are like the king asshole here, and apparently a really tough guy, so just go step on the damn things. They aren't that hard to kill. He curses at me and runs off, but fuck him. The security guards on the front door have orders to shoot to kill, and they do kill two innocent civilians who were running for the front door for god-only-knows-why. It's like everyone in the entire vault was just waiting for dad to leave so they could go either homicidal or suicidal. "Hey, James is gone! Party time! You swallow this live hand grenade and I'll shoot that guy in the face!"

    I wander the corridors some more, whomping roaches and the occasional security guard, and there's the overseer and another guard, smacking Amata around. So I head in, Amata runs out, and I murder yet another security guard. The overseer smarms at me for a bit and then starts yelling for help, so I run to his office (stepping over the corpse of the pedophile, good riddance I suppose), hack his computer, get the vault door password, and open up the secret exit tunnel. Down the tunnel and through a hole in the wall, and I press a control panel and suddenly the vault starts to open. Amata teleports in, somehow, and seems very surprised that this has happened, despite the fact that dad apparently just did it. She refuses to come with me, choosing to stay here and be beaten by her father's mooks instead. She heads out the door, a couple more security guards come in, and I've got some more security guard uniforms off their corpses.

    As I head up the tunnel, the vault door closes behind me, forever sealing me out of the vault, and I honestly can't say I'm sad about that. Those people are nutcases, all of them. I'm sure everyone in the wide outer world will be a lot more sane and sensible.

    The outer door is a magical portal, because as soon as I touch it I am transformed from a tough mexican hombre into a petite black woman named Mary with a completely different personality, but I'm sure dad will still recognize me. Because that's why I'm out here, and that's where I'm going, to track him down. He left about ten minutes ago, but due to all the delays it'll probably take me about an hour to find him, and that's my goal in life, because fuck if I know, I just don't have anything better to do.

    NEXT EPISODE: SOMEONE SET US UP THE BOMB
  23. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 30: A PROPHETABLE VENTURE
    Wherein our hero (surprise!) despairs at other people's apparent lack of brainpower.
    Previous: Chapter 29, Once You Go Black...
     
    So the first person I need to recruit is a woman named Sorine Jurard, who's been studying the Dwemer, because every academic in the entire goddamn world studies the Dwemer, you'd think after thousands of years of people studying the Dwemer someone would have figured something out, but no, they're still a complete mystery. My guess is that the Dwemer disappeared back in the day deliberately because they were fed up with being studied all the time.
     
    Anyway, Sorine's easy enough to find. She's stuck out in the middle of nowhere, studying the Dwemer by standing in one place staring at the ground. There's a Dwemer "ruin" nearby that's about ten feet square, so I guess that counts? I mean, if she were really studying the Dwemer, you'd think she'd be in Blackreach, but no. To be fair, I honestly can't really blame her... she'd get killed going down there. I mean, she lost her research materials to a bunch of mudcrabs. Pathetic, really. I retrieve her Dwemer gyro, which is not a sex toy, so get that thought out of your head. I briefly wonder why the hell a mudcrab made off with it, but this thought is eclipsed by my wondering why she didn't just get the damn thing herself, her bag was like five feet away, and it's not exactly inconspicuous, being an overlarge apothecary's satchel. She's probably afraid of getting killed by the mudcrabs. Ruptga preserve us, if this is the kind of help Isran needs to fight off the vampire menace, we're all doomed.
     
    Gunmar, on the other hand, isn't studying the Dwemer, thank gods. No, he's a stereotypical Nord warrior dressed in animal skins carrying an axe and out to kill bears. He's chased this particular bear for two weeks. I decline to consider how exactly it took him two freaking weeks to hunt down a bear, considering that they aren't exactly cowardly or anything, nor are they particularly difficult to kill. I mean, a vampire could do it, so logically if you are weaker than a bear and a bear is weaker than a vampire then once again, we're all doomed. After killing the bears in the cave for him, I head back to Fort Dawnguard.
     
    The Fort's undergoing some renovations out front. They're building up the defenses here. See, the huge stone building with impenetrably thick walls and big, sturdy gates located in a hidden valley with only easily-guarded entrance isn't enough, so they're putting up a flimsy wooden stockade. That'll keep those damn vampires out! I don't know, maybe the plan is for the vampires to see the wood and think "Oh no, they're stockpiling wooden stakes! Run!" Once inside the foyer, a couple of gates pop up, locking the three of us (me, Gunmar, and Sorine) inside, and Isran up on the balcony says he's making sure we're not vampires, hell if I know how. I'm more troubled about how he closed and then opened the jail-cell doors at all, considering that there's no lever or anything anywhere. Telekinesis, I suppose. He tells Sorine to start tinkering with crossbows and Gunmar to start putting armor on trolls, because if there's anything dumber than putting up a 6-foot wooden palisade in front of a 200-foot stone wall, it's making trolls even more dangerous, and Isran's bound and determined to be the dumbest fuck there is. I should've taken Harkons offer.
     
    Maybe the offer is still open, though. Turns out, Serana's here and she wants to talk to me. Now you may be wondering why Isran, the guy who's totally obsessed with killing vampires and was pissed off at me for not killing Serana before, would have welcomed her into his fortress so recently made impregnable by the addition of a balsa-wood fence. You'd be right to wonder. I do.
     
    Serana tells me that her father isn't a good person, a shocking revelation indeed. I do not deign to respond. Apparently Harkon wants to destroy the sun, plunging the world into a freezing darkness that would kill off everything including vampires, so I guess he belongs to the same "blow up the world" club that counts as its members Urag, Ancano, Alduin, and honestly, about 75% of Skyrim's population. I really have to question Serana's intellect. I mean, she knew about the prophecy, she knew he wanted the Elder Scroll, she knew he was planning on conquering or destroying the world, she knew she didn't actually want that to happen so she shouldn't give him the scroll, she knew that the Dawnguard wants to destroy vampires so coming here put her life in danger... and yet, she did all of that shit anyway. Dipshit. I'd say to hell with it and just walk away, but I've only got two real tasks before me - killing a vampire who wants to rule the world through pain and death in darkness, and killing a dragon who wants to rule the world through pain and death in daylight. So I guess I'll stick with it.
     
    Isran decides that the best method to ensure Serana's cooperation is by threatening me, telling her that if she goes off the rails he's going to make me pay for it. You know what? Fuck you, dude. He tells us that there's a moth priest somewhere in Skyrim, and suggests that innkeepers or carriage drivers may know where he is, because if anyone knows how to find a single individual in the whole fucking province, it's an innkeeper. Why not? Serana, on the other hand, wants us to go check out the College of Winterhold for information on the moth priest. Trust me, lady, they don't know anything. About ANYTHING. Least of all an insectoid cleric. I'd think that local temples would be a better place, but as it turns out, the innkeeper in Whiterun directs me right to him... I guess priests need to unwind with a refreshing beverage now and then too. The problem is, Serana won't come with me to find the moth priest unless Stenvar is not my companion.
     
    You can't trust my friend? Lady, he's not just my friend, he's my husband. If you can trust me, you can trust him. Ah, shit... well, Stenvar, looks like you should head on home. I'm heading off on an adventure with a vampire lady. I'll be back soon, I promise.
     
    Stenvar gives me a wounded look and slinks off. I feel like a heel.
     
    The guards at Dragon Bridge (where the innkeeper told us to go) say they already left, and I begin to wonder if this isn't going to be a quest that makes us travel to every goddamn town in the world looking for this elusive priest, but thankfully that doesn't happen. Just across the eponymous bridge, there's an overturned cart with a couple of corpses, one of which is a vampire, so we're on the right track. The vampire has a note on him that points us in the direction of Forebear's Holdout, because obviously there's got to be a note pointing the hero in the right direction, or telling him about the evil mastermind's one true weakness, or at the very least detailing the villain's grandiose plans at length, preferably with an addendum at the bottom saying "burn this note so as not to let it fall into the hands of the hero!" I mean, without something like that, the world's very foundations would crumble.
     
    Once at the dungeon, I kill a few vampire dogs and then a few vampires, and sneak my way up top. Malkus (the vampire boss) is trying to break Dexion (the moth priest) and subvert his will. This process takes approximately four seconds. I kill off Malkus and the other vampires, and then put the magical gem into the magical pillar and the magical barrier drops. Before I can give any actual thought to this wonderful barrier or its unfortunate status as a one-trick pony, I'm forced to attack Dexion because of the aforementioned breakage of his will. He takes a knee and then suddenly he's all right again. I guess getting smacked with an axe is the ultimate cure for vampiric domination. I'll have to remember that one.
     
    Dexion heads off to Fort Dawnguard all on his lonesome, despite abundant evidence that he can't fight worth a damn and the road there is full of bandits and wild beasts. Here's hoping he actually makes it. Me, I've gotta go to Whiterun once again to sell off some crap.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 31, Vampires and Death Hounds and Gargoyles, Oh My! (skipping Diary of a Water Purifier episodes 1-4)
    Start at Chapter 1
  24. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 29: ONCE YOU GO BLACK...
    In which our hero narrowly escapes sexual assault by Batman
    Previous: Chapter 28, Heard They're Reforming the Dawnguard
     

    So, we head off to where Serana says there's a boat waiting for us. We kill a Thalmor patrol along the way who were (surprise!) escorting a poor nord prisoner whom I free and he subsequently runs off into the snow clad only in sackcloth. After that, we are attacked by a Thalmor hit squad who (surprise!) have a kill order out on me, probably for breaking up Elenwen's party.
     
    Near where her boat is stashed is Northwatch Keep, which is full of Thalmor who are (surprise!) being dicks to passers-by, we reach a small boat that Serana says should be there. How long have you been locked underground, lady? You know this boat is still there? What if someone's made off with it?
     
    Unsurprisingly, because the world would make no sense for anything else, the boat is there, and we hop in, and BAM we're at the castle. I tell Stenvar to wait on the shore, because I have the sneaky suspicion (probably from a past life or something) that if he comes in with me, when we get out again he'll be stuck behind the gate permanently.
     
    Serana and I walk up the ramp, and she stops me and throws some exposition my way, and asks me to let her take the lead. I agree, and she proceeds to do... nothing. Swell. I guess you mean take the lead once we're inside the castle? Still can't walk ten feet without me holding your hand? Grow a backbone, kid.
     
    The elderly gatekeeper, who I'm sure is a permanent resident of the castle and not someone who's just going to disappear forever in a moment, opens the gate and we walk on in. Inside is an Altmer who (surprise!) acts all condescending... but only for a moment. The instant he realizes who is with me, he gets all flustered and shouts to everyone that Serana has returned. Everyone proceeds a-murmering.
     
    Everyone, in this case, being a bunch of vampires in a filthy dining room. For a group of people who pride themselves on their sophistication and class, they keep a pretty disgustingly-laid table. Bones, bloody dishes, and live people are strewn across the table, it's really quite gruesome. If I were a vampire lord, I'd have one of the thralls pick up once in a while.
     
    Serana's daddy seems more interested in the scroll she's carrying than in Serana herself, for which I cannot fault him... I mean, there are vampires all over the place, but only one Elder Scroll. Still, you'd think he'd at least be a tiny bit grateful to me for retrieving his daughter from the ancient nord pez dispenser where she stuffed herself.
     
    But I guess he actually is grateful after all. He introduces himself and tells me he's offering a reward for finding his daughter... I can become a vampire. Gee, thanks... fear of sunlight, threat of living with constant Dawnguard attacks, and a predilection for red-splattered decor aside, I'm just not interested in having my face transform like that. Looks like some of these vampires can split right down the middle. Amoebas ahoy!
     
    I indicate my hesitation, and he tells me that I still need convincing. Behold the power, he says... and then explodes. Whoa. Dude... I, uh, I think you may have overdone "the power" just a bit. They'll be scraping bits of Batman off the walls for months!
     
    But no, he's actually just transformed. Oh, wait, I get it... you're talking about the power to transform into a bat-winged monstrosity. Uh... nah. I'll pass. That power kind of (wait for it)... sucks. See, I thought that fear was the path to the dark side. Apparently all it really takes is an aggressively-delivered hickey. And that guy's just not quite as pretty as Stenvar... don't get me wrong, I'm sure he's got a nice personality, but I prefer my men with to have both feet on the ground, and this guy appears to be hovering just above it on a cloud of evil energy. I'll pass on the bite.
     
    So... no thank you sir, I'm trying to limit the number of deific and demonic entities that hold claim over my soul on my death. Right now there's Shor and Nocturnal, I've narrowly slipped through Hircine's grasp, and I've no intention on worshipping Molag Bal. Harkon is so broken up about my refusal of his offer to nuzzle my neck that he summarily kicks me out into the snow. Some men just can't handle rejection. I guess I'll head back to Isran now. I do so, then smack my head and fast-travel back to the castle to pick up poor Stenvar, who was left alone and shivering in the cold. Sorry, dude. My bad.
     
    Once we arrive (for reals, this time!) at Fort Dawnguard, we find out that it's under attack by a trio of vampires, who you'd think would have more sense than to assault a strong fortress full of heavily-armed vampire killers, but at this point I'm not surprised at vampiric idiocy any more. Isran starts speaking to me, but it's kind of hard to hear him because he's surrounded in a numbus of light that's making an awful racket. He seems irked that his hidden fortress was discovered so soon. I briefly reflect on how I was recruited (by a guy openly walking up to me and asking me to join in a loud voice that could be heard by anyone nearby), and then take my time looking over the fortress, examining the extremely visible high walls, and wonder how exactly he thinks this fortress is "hidden."
     
    I give him the news, which was that I didn't kill a vampire and instead delivered an elder scroll, an object of apparently immense power, to a clan of vampires. He rightly expresses his exasperation at my refusal to kill a vampire and deliver the powerful thing to the vampires, at which I can only hang my head in shame. Sorry, dude. My bad.
     
    Isran decides the best way to combat the vampires is to get some more recruits, so he sends me out after two of his old buddies, because nepotism is universal.
     
    NEXT: Chapter 30, A Prophetable Venture
    Start at Chapter 1
  25. Content Consumer
    CHAPTER 28: HEARD THEY'RE REFORMING THE DAWNGUARD
    Wherein our hero begins buying cure disease potions in bulk.
    Previous: Intermission 3
     
    Before I can begin my assassin-assassination assignation, I've got to drop some of this crap in my backpack off back home. A quick fast-travel to the Whiterun gate and BAM I'm attacked by a vampire and his loyal dogs.
     
    Normally this sort of battle might take me around thirty seconds to finish, but what with Stenvar, a pair of city guardsmen, the blacksmith, the town drunk, and some orc guy jumping in, it takes nearly two minutes. I mean, there's no freaking way I'm going to wade in there... the first swing I make, my axe is bound to connect with a guardsman or something, and I'll be under arrest for assault. I learned my lesson in Falkreath - if someone is attacking a town, just let everyone kill each other and pick up the pieces afterward.
     
    After the battle, the orc walks up to me and tells me that the Dawnguard is looking for people to fight against the growing vampire menace. Glancing around at the recently killed vampire and death hounds, I look him straight in the eye and tell him that I am unaware of any vampire menace, just to see what he does. He, too, takes his time looking around at the carnage, and says "You're not paying attention then." I've been out-snarked by an orc! This guy Durak is now my personal hero.
     
    He tells me about how the hall of the Vigilants was destroyed, and to head to Fort Dawnguard, southeast of Riften, to sign up. He says someone named "Isran" is going to like me. So... if I join your club, I'll make new friends? Well, okay then.
     
    Durak walks off, and one of the guards nearby tells me that he heard they're reforming the Dawnguard. Really? You heard they're reforming the Dawnguard? You were standing like two feet away from me and Durak when he told me about it, listening in, and now you're informing me of that which I was just told? Uh, gee, thanks for the info. His fellow guardsman then walks up to me and asks where these vampires are coming from, and how someone needs to wipe them out. SHEESH! Okay, okay, I get it! I'm headed to Fort Dawnguard to join up to kill vampires! Just stop pestering me!
     
    After a round of the shops, Stenvar and I head to Riften to begin our journey south. It's an arduous trek. Bandits, wolves, and spiders hound us on every side. Worse still, halfway down the road the booze runs out, and we seriously consider turning back. See, it's my new defense mechanism... I figure that if vampires are going to try to drink my blood, I'll get 'em good and drunk on the alcohol in my bloodstream and they won't be able to fight back. It's a genius plan, says the equally-drunken Stenvar.
     
    Anyway, we finally reach a place called Dayspring Canyon. Down the path, there's a farmer guy named Agmaer, who wants to join the Dawnguard too, but he's too nervous. As soon as he asks me to hold his widdle hand down the path, I am suddenly teleported back to the entrance to the canyon. I blame the wine. Sprinting down the path, barely noticing the impressive castle, I try to catch up again, only to teleport back to the entrance AGAIN. I'm beginning to wonder if coming here was a mistake, it's obvious the Gods don't actually want me to enter the castle.
     
    But I press on anyway. Durak hands me a crossbow outside, and I've got to say, if this is what the Dawnguard are fighting with, it's no wonder the vampires are winning. The damn thing takes an hour to load and fire a single bolt! I don't care how much more damage it may do than a bow, I don't want it. Maybe Stenvar can make some good use of it.
     
    So we head on inside, my new buddy Agmaer and me, to interrupt a conversation in medias res. Something about the vigilants being wiped out and vampires overrunning everything. I wasn't actually paying attention... I was seeing just how big this castle is inside and out, and incidentally looting about ten thousand pounds of food from the various barrels scattered around.
     
    When I finally wend my way back to the entrance, Isran is showing Agmaer how to use the crossbow, which he does with appalling inaccuracy. Half the bolts ricochet off the stone wall and land at his feet! Well, everyone's got to start somewhere.
     
    Isran, I come to find out, is an obsessive megalomaniac personality... just the right kind of person you want as a boss. He sends me off after Tolan to a place called Dim Hollow Crypt, which normally I'd say is going to be packed with Draugr, but considering that I'm deep in the Dawnguard questline now, I'm sure it'll be packed with Vampires instead.
     
    Oooooohhh-kay. You're sending me, someone you've never met before, someone whose prowess in battle you are unsure of, who could even be a vampire in disguise, along with an old friend, to a nest of horrible vampires that wiped out a bunch of Vigilants of Stendarr? I mean, I know you've got nothing but scorn for the Vigilants, but you must admit that any force big enough to kill a dozen warriors is probably big enough to kill a raw recruit and an old man, right? Why is it that people keep sending me into deathtraps?
     
    But I am bound and determined to end the vampire menace forever, even though the asshat isn't giving any assistance beyond "you can loot this old abandoned castle for some crappy armor and crappier weapons." Except that warhammer there, it looks pretty cool. Stenvar likes it, anyway... he swaps out his sword for the hammer. Now begins the tale of Mace Raiden, Vampire Hunter, and his trusty sidekick Stenvar, Vampire Prodder!
     
    Once at Dim Hollow, Stenvar and I rampage through the ruin, slaughtering skeletons, vampires, and death hounds left and right. We finally get to a big empty room with a lake in it, pretty impressive really. After killing Lokil, who was apparently meant to be a mid-boss battle but ended up being merely a moment's inconvenience, the two of us search the room for anything interesting.
     
    Nothing pops out, and the place is starting to seem a dead end, when I decide to push the button in the middle of the room and YEOUCH! What sadistic bastard designed that? I don't want any stigmata!
     
    After pushing braziers around in the world's dumbest puzzle, the floor sinks in, and there in the middle of the room is a big stone column. With a woman inside. Yippee, Stenvar, we opened the box and found a prize!
     
    Not much of a prize, though. Either the lady is old enough to predate the empire, or she's just brain-damaged and can't remember. She says she wasn't expecting me, and I ask her what she was expecting, manfully resisting the temptation to say "NOBODY EXPECTS THE NORDISH INQUISITION!"
     
    She wants me to escort her home, because as a powerful immortal vampire whose veins run with dark unholy energy, she's afraid the dark or something, and needs someone to hold her hand. The three of us continue our march through the ruin, killing more skeletons, draugr, and a draugr priest who actually puts up something of a fight, and there's another chanting word wall. Neither Serana nor Stenvar comment on the fact that I absorb mystical energy from stone walls with writing on, which I'm okay with... in Stenvar's case, I blame the alcohol, and in Serana's case, I blame the centuries of burial leading to extensive brain cell degradation.
     
    Anyway, once outside, she tells me to head north to a castle off the coast. This lady is really bossy, but I figure, why the hell not? I mean, it's not as if I'm a member of the Dawnguard, sworn to slaughter vampires wherever I find them or anything. Why wouldn't I play tour guide?
     
    As we set off for Solitude, I remark to Stenvar that this may be the start of a beautiful friendship, but I can't keep a straight face and break down sobbing in the middle of the path. Yep, this is gonna be fun.
     
    Next: Chapter 28, Once You Go Black...
    Start at Chapter 1