Brief World Idea

A number of large islands stretch from one end to the other breaking the seas up. Large mountains dot the landscape and forests cover the world. A few cultures exist both on land and under the sea, trade exists and alliances, the world is young and metal is uncommon. Lands are mostly ruled by kings and others who can take power by force, but magic is also strong with mages using trinkets to channel the powerful energies. In the shadows lurks the Watcher, a being of unknown origin and goals who works to sow corruption throughout the land.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 12

The Butcher

Nightly pondering outside of Windhelm

Back in the Candlehearth Hall I was shocked to hear that Susanna was dead. The folks told me that she was murdered by a stranger just moments ago – and to make it worse: this murder wasn't the first! Several young women were already killed by “the butcher”, as they call the murderer, in the very same fashion. Everyone in the city I met was shocked. Most of course the young women, who were all afraid they might be next. I went to the scene of the crime and talked with the guard what they were going to do about this series of murders. The guard was just as clueless as I was. He actually seemed pretty embarrassed they weren't able to stop the butcher yet. But he explained me that the war with the imperials drained their numbers heavily, so they just didn't had the men to investigate. What a sad confession of inability.

I offered the guard my help in investigating the murders. Even though I had absolutely no idea what to do to find the butcher, I thought my help could at least do no harm.

I did ask the spectators which had gathered around the body if anyone has seen something. A guy called Calixto, who runs a little museum, said he saw a stranger running away. A beggar who was around too didn't see anything – how frustrating: I bet she must have been in earshot when it happened. If she were just a little bit closer, she might have seen all – or even alarm the guards to prevent the murder.

It started to snow and I aimlessly wandered through the city, looking suspiciously at everyone passing by. One of them could have been the butcher. Yet he was in total safety in his anonymity. How could I catch him if he just could have walked past me without me even knowing!

I wondered if the priest who was preparing Susanna's body for her burial has observed anything which could help. So I went to the Hall of Dead to talk with her. She was in the middle of her preparations already and told me she discovered very unusual wounds on the dead. It seems they were made with and old nordic enbalming tool – something she didn't expect anyone in the city to own or even know about.

Deep in thought I left the hall. When I returned to the place where they found Susanna, the guard pointed me at the traces of blood leading away. As if something was dragged from there. I followed the traces – I had the impression they were leading through half of the city! - until I came to an abandoned manor called Hjerim where they ended.

My next move was to head over to the Palace of Kings and ask steward Jorleif for access there. The key to the murders must be inside these walls.

Jorleif told me that the house in question is owned by Tova Shatter-Shield and is empty since her daughter was murdered. I found Tova at the marketplace. She was still devastated by the loss or her daughter, but I could convince her investigating Hjerim could solve the mystery.

I admit how surprised I was about myself finding me in the role of an investigator and when I entered the manor I was ready to kill the murderer on sight. It was empty though, expect a bit of furniture from its previous owner. When inspecting a closet though I noticed something special: its back wall could be moved to the side and suddenly I stood in blood and gore. Before me was a stone table soaked in blood, with body parts laying all over the place. How sick I felt seeing this horror! I barely didn't dared to inspect the scene, but in hindsight I'm glad I did. I found the butcher's journal and a kind of amulet between its pages. I don't want to get into details here, but it seemed that the murderer was attempting to perform a necromancy ritual in order to bring his sister back to life. It wasn't signed though, so I could only guess who might be that.

Shock and full of disgust I packed the book away and cleansed it with as many fireballs I could cast before I was exhausted. Its a wonder that not the whole building caught fire. Then I headed outside. I just needed some fresh air now.

Soon after I left Hjerim I ran into Viola Giordano who I showed the journal, hoping she would know anyone who might be able to perform such ritual. She immediately pointed me at Wuuferth.

I decided to go and question him about the murders on my own, despite her telling me that I should talk to the Steward first. I needed some kind of proof at least.

On the look-out for the butcher.

Against my concerns Wuufherth didn't start to send zombies after me or tried to shock me to death. To the contrary: he was appalled but my findings just as I was. I also showed him the amulet which he identified as a necromancer's talisman. Since necromancy was involved, he told me, he could determine when the next murder was due to happen. It was tonight!

Part of me was wondering if he just sent me on a false track as I snug myself into a dark corner in the Stone Quarter and waited for the nightfall.

Sneaking through the Stone-Quarter

A long time nothing at all did happen. Guards were passing by, the occasional local, but no-one was even getting close to Hjerim. After waiting a few hours I started to wonder if I'm really at the right place. I left my hideout to warm up my stiff muscles, stretched myself and began to walk around towards the marketplace. Suddenly I heard the scream of a woman and then saw that guy Calixto running away from her. I followed him and hit him with an ice-spike in order to slow him down. He eventually turned around and tried to attack me with his dagger but I nailed him to the ground with my ice-magic. It was over – the butcher was dead. I found the key to his house in his pockets, went there and indeed uncovered another part of his journal. That was my proof.

The next morning I headed to Jorleif and explained him the case.

After this was solved I stayed in Windhelm a little longer, but I felt I needed to see something new. At least I needed to get my thoughts away from these gruesome murders. I bought a magic amulet which was both very useful but also very expensive, so I had a good excuse to get out into the wild again and collect some herbs and perhaps discover a few caves too.

I left the city to the south into the warmer and geologically active south of the Eastmarch. I was wandering between sulphur ponds and overgrown rocks before the search for creep clusters lead me to a mammoth cadaver covered with spider webs laying before the entrance of a cave. I think even without my fresh experience as crime investigator I would been able to guess that frost spiders lived there.

I entered carefully, ready to burn everything which dared to move. The fireballs turned out to be very effective against these critters. I detonated them right between them and the blast threw them in all directions like eight-legged torches.

Just the mother-spider – as I called her – proved to be a more difficult challenge, but I was able to defeat her too eventually. I was almost outside again, as I spotted a button next to a stone-panel. I examined it and after I convinced myself that no rocks would fall on my head when triggering it, I pushed the button. The stone panel slid aside and revealed a secret chamber. A campfire was burning there and at a raised platform I could also spot a small house – what a strange sight: a house inside a cave. Before I finished wondering though, a group of vampires attacked me. I gained distance and defeated them with my fire magic. Now I was even more careful. I send a number of Fireballs into the house, to poke the rest of the vampires to show themselves. A house simply was too large for just two of them. The blast of their explosions echoed from the cave's walls like thunder and indeed: two more vampires, partially burning, ran outside the house. I hit them with more precise shots and could take them out.

The inside of the house was like a reflection of the butcher's hideout. Blood and bones everywhere! I picked up some useful items and set the rest of the place on fire.

Outside again I set path back home. I got a good number of items together and collected enough ingredients to keep me going for a while and pay my training sessions at the college.

When reaching the White River though I found a remote shack on the shore, with the remnants of its former inhabitant. Again it wasn't hard to guess who its murderer was: it was still there. A massive cave-bear leaped towards me and gave me quite the tough fight! I have to say I like my bears roasted from a nice distance. These close-range fights are just nasty.

The rest of my journey back to Windhelm was rather uneventful and I was really happy to back in its safe walls again, even though they were cold and dark and oppressive. How much a near-death-experiences can change your perception!

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 11

Out In The Wilderness II

The next day saw me exploring the area around the college. On my practise-sessions on the rooftops I saw a Nordic burial mount just to the north. It actually seemed pretty close. Close enough to do some target practise on the creatures wandering around it. I wondered if I hit anything.

I climbed down the cliffs it is resting upon and eventually stood on the shore in inhospitable wilderness, many meters beyond the college's safe grounds. I gathered some barnacles and spiky grass and walked through some ruins from the time of the the great collapse.

I made my way carefully along the shore and over ice-sheets. A quite peaceful scenery if there weren't the wild beasts. One of them, a giant snow-bear attacked me after I reached a small island not far from the beach. The bear was a tough opponent. I ran for my life, zigzagged and used up quite an amount of healing and stamina potions before I was eventually able to kill it.

I was more than a bit proud of my victory. First the bandit-chief, now a snow-bear. You really have to use the environment to you favour. Open space is great when you are faster or at least more agile than you enemy. You can always dodge the attacks then. I also understood that my defeats at the fort north of Riften and at Bleak Falls Barrow were due to the confined space they happened at. I simply couldn't avoid getting hit! I had to be careful at such places. Its nice to have an advantage outdoors, but I also needed protection for indoor fights.

Wandering further north I finally found the burial mound and indeed it was populated: two Skeletons attacked me, but I could take them out pretty easily. A further investigation of the area told me that I really did hit something firing down from the college: burned bones from at least two more skeletons where scattered all over the place – not bad shooting!

The tomb itself proved to be more dangerous. A pretty tough draugr did raise from its grave as soon I entered it. As soon it fell burning into the snow I searched the place and made a really nice find: a amulet of waterbreathing! This might be handy some day.

A Nordic burial mount, covered in snow.

Leaving the tomb I could see a boat laying on the shore of and island north of it. I went there, prepared to run into anything from a pack of bandits to some insane necromancer. It turned out I was wrong. Well mostly. I found cave not far from the boat and as I climbed down it, I saw the strangest thing I ever did in my life. It was a large cube made of golden metal like the Dwemer used, with several crystals or gems stuck in some kind of panel. It must have been some kind of mechanism, so much I could tell. But nothing alike anything I've seen before.

Before the strange apparatus was a mage, inspecting this, tinkering there. He was perfectly peaceful, but also perfectly nuts as it soon turned out.

It wasn't an easy task to detect any coherence in his words, but so much I gathered: His name was Septimus Signus and he was studying the secrets of the Dwemer. Obviously for far too long already... Anyway he told me about the technology of the Dwemer and that they were even able to read an Elder Scroll with their machines – without getting insane or blind that is. Usually every mortal who tries to read them, inevitably loses either their mind or their sight. Septimus told me he had a short glance once too. His eyes still work perfectly.

Even though we just met he seemed to have great trust in me. He told me where I could can find the entrance to the legendary “Blackreach”, an underground dwemer city. In order to open the strange mechanism he needs the knowledge of one of these Elder Scrolls and he suspected I could find one there.

He gave me two mechanisms he was able to uncover: a cube the Dwemer used to store their knowledge in and an orb he called “Attunement Sphere”, which acts as a kind of key to unlock various dwemer mechanisms. The cube, which he called “Lexicon”, was to store the information of the scroll.

Still overwhelmed from his story I wondered: If only half of the things he told me were true, this might be an incredible discovery! If that was just the ramblings of a madman and the Dwemer artefacts he gave me weren't working – or not in the way he promised me they would – I would likely die a death somewhere where noone would find my bones for a long time...

I found it wasn't a bad idea to postpone my decision whether I should trust the old man's words and search for the Elder Scroll or not. I was honing my skills and began to gain confidence, but that wasn't a reason to become careless or too bold.

It was already dusk when I left the cave. I headed west and after a while discovered the silhouette of a man standing on top of a cliff looking out to the sea. As I came closer I realized it was a shrine of Talos and had a rest there, enjoying a gorgeous starlit night.

Heading further west I had a few close calls with snow-bears. They could still get pretty dangerous to me if I made a mistake, but I handled myself pretty well. I even finally got a hang on the fireball spell. That made it much easier for me to attack them at longer distances already. While a firebolt only causes damage at a very limited spot, a fireball sets a whole area on fire. Usually enough to hurt a group if they are standing close enough togeher. Very handy!

I also found a nordic ruin with the statue of a warrior inside. His empty hands were looking like holding a weapon. A greatsword or an axe perhaps. I wondered what happened to it. I also found three alcoves which may been blocked passages further down the tomb. I wasn't able to find any mechanism though which could open them. Later I found out that this was the tomb of the legendary warrior Ysgramor, founder of a group of warrior called the Companions, which is still active. Small world!

Travelling further inland.

I felt pretty confident and headed further away from the college and the shoreline, went past the statue of Azura, crossed some mountains and found an abandoned fort on their foothold, just near a road. At least I thought it was abandoned but I could spot several skeletons and people with robes. I must have found a fort full of renegade necromancers!

I pondered my chances. I was standing on a narrow ridge high up on a rock wall. The fort down below me. So height was to my advantage: I had a clear line of fire while they would perhaps only see a part of me – if they could spot me at all. I took out the skeletons pretty quickly, but the two mages turned out to be significantly tougher. It was in fact the longest and most difficult fight I had yet: Both were able to absorb a lot of the damage I inflicted to them. And after they did spot me, they did land some very precise hits on me. I was able to cure myself and restore my magical powers – but so did they! I knew I couldn't relay on potions to win this fight. I had only a limited number of them and used them up pretty quickly. I ran zigzag on the ridge and dodged quite a lot of their attacks while returning fire as much as my magical reserves allowed. Finally I took out one of them, but the other hid himself in the blind spot just below me on the foot of the rock wall. I knew where he was, but as soon I came closer to the edge he sent his ice-spikes against me. With terrible effectiveness. One time he almost got me, and I collapsed to the ground for a moment. I was lucky though that I was out of his line of sight or he could have ended the fight pretty easily. I waited till my reserves were filled again and then carefully I sneaked to the edge of my ridge again and sent a hailstorm of fireballs at him. I knew I did hurt him, but not enough. He returned with lightning bolts and I had to retreat again. I was stuck. There was no way back: the rocks above me were way too steep to climb and if I tried to somehow get down the rock-wall, the mage would have an easy target.

I began to wonder how long I could endure this fight before I made a mistake or just collapse in exhaustion as I suddenly saw lightning bolts flashing below me. But not heading to my direction! Something must have distracted him. I took this chance and mobilized all energy I had against him. And indeed: he eventually fell into the snow and never got up again.

I climbed down the rockwall and looked what have might have distracted him. An argonian woman was running off the scene. She looked more or less unharmed but certainly scared to death. I think she had no idea she just saved my life. And I most likely hers too.

Next I searched the bodies. The mage had an impressive staff of Lightning bolts. A weapon which could became very useful. Then I had a look over the fort. There were buildings on its far side, but I decided not to test my luck too much. The fight was difficult enough and I likely wont have survived it if it that Argonian didn't came by.

I did consulte my map and identified the fort as fort Kastav, not far from Windhelm. Since I was closer to Winhelm than to Winterhold already I decided to visit Ulfric's stronghold again.

East of the city I discovered a large circle of stones. Perhaps the ruins of another burial mound? It sometimes seems that half is Skyrim is graves! I was already on my way back to the safetly of Winterholds walls as two Spriggans suddenly appeared. Within moments they drained the life out of me. I ran as fast as I could – and I think that saved me. I had the advantage on long range and killed them both with fireballs before they could get close again.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 10

Out In The Wilderness

The next day I spent at the College talking a bit with my peers and practising some magic. I worked out a very handy training routine: I go up on the college's roof (a great place if you want to be alone), summon a flame atronarch and then hit it with my frost-spells. This way I train both my conjuration skills and hone my skills in destruction too. I also find time to improve my abilities in restoration-magic with - curing my burns.

Later Onmund showed up and asked me to get a family heirloom back from Enthir. It seems he got somehow in debt and had to sell it to him. Really annoying that he asked me to solve this issue! So I went to Enthir and tried to persuade him, but he wasn't too cooperative. Perhaps I try again when he is in better mood.

Quite a different view: The college as seen from the shore.

Having worked on my magical skills (and spent a fortune on conjuration-lessons) I found it a good idea to have a walk out of the college and test what I have learned.

I followed the steep cliff just east of Winterhold – with carefully watching for clefts – until I found a safe passage leading further down to the shore. I came past some iron ore veins until I spotted something strange in all of this nowhere: an altar!

Carefully I sneaked closer. Not careful enough though: An ice-run went off and hurt me pretty badly. After I recovered, I send a fireball to the ground in case I could trigger another one which might be hidden under the snow. Then I inspected the altar. It looked pretty freshly used, with flowers and alchemy ingredients arranged around a book called “Mannimarco, King of Worms”. Quite a peculiar, lengthy poem.

Just when I was about to head on, I stepped into another rune-trap! Really great.

As I continued my exploration I ran into a number of wolves and bears. Their northern variant is significantly tougher and more dangerous. Also I learned – on the hard way – that I can't use fireballs yet efficiently enough. Several times I ran out of magical energy when fighting with these beasts. Its a tedious thing: you put so much effort and concentration into a spell, and then it gets miss and just burns a hole in the ground. And your target is totally unimpressed and goes on trying to kill you!

While practising spells up at the college, a shipwreck I saw far out on rocky island woke my curiosity. A storm must have ran it against the shore and smashed against the rocks. Now I saw it again in the distance, somewhere north-east of me and decided to pay it a visit. It looked strangely graceful, despite being torn in halves.

It was already getting evening and the dusk comes pretty quickly in these latitudes. Still I could see a thin line of smoke rising near the wreck – a campfire!

As I got closer I saw that bandits have turned the remnants of the ship into their hideout. They haven't spotted me yet. Still my heart was beating up my throat. I counted two of them. Pretty well armed, but I had the advantage of mobility. You just can't move as fast when you wear armor.

I pondered my chances and sent a bolt of fire against one of them. They returned their fire, but I was pretty well covered behind some rocks. I sent them a hail of firebolts and after a short, but intense fight both were laying smoldering on the frozen sand.

I followed the improvised gangway up the ship's cabin and got greeted by a hefty-looking silhouette, drawing a two-handed sword, which was definitely too large for my linking.

This guy was much tougher than the two others. He must been their leader. I tried to stay in safe distance and sent my fire-magic against him, while he did his massive swings with his greatsword. It wasn't looking too good for me, to be honest. He knew how to use his weapon and could endure quite the beating, while I hectically tried to outrun him. I think what tipped the scales to my favor was summoning an atronarch, which kept him occupied, while I could catch some breath and take him into crossfire. He was able to smash the atronarch to pieces, but the following explosion (flame atronarchs don't die silently) weakened him, so I could finish with with my last bit I had in reserve. Triumphant I stood over my dead opponent and inspected him.

His sword was indeed impressive. A rugged, orcish greatsword with very lethal looking serrations on its blade.

When examining the shipwreck I found a strange, glowing crystal. As soon I picked it up a voice suddenly began to talk. It seemed to come from everywhere. It identified itself as the Daedric Prince Meridia and told me that I just picked an artefact of her which she me to use to restore the glory of her shrine. Its quite scary when a voice suddenly starts to talk to you and I don't know what I prefer. That this was a hallucination or that a Daedric Prince really talked to me...

I also found the diary of a Telvanni refugee. It seems the ship was “The Pride of Tell Vos”, which was full of Dark Elves trying to escape Morrowind after the Red Mountain broke out. I pity them for their faith that did await them on Skyrim's shores.

Somewhere at Skyrims coast: A shrine of Talos.

Having had enough adventures for now I headed back to the shore to return to Winterhold. While looking for the road I found however a vast Nordic ruin, half-buried in snow. I could later identify it as Snow Veil Sanctum. I tried to gain access to it, but I couldn't even figure out how the locks at the two entrances I found, work. While wandering through the ruins I ran in two ice-wraiths which were levitating over a sheer bottomless pit. They didn't stand a chance against my fire-magic. But I decided not to get too close to that pit, despite the massive iron grid covering it. It just looked too scary.

I found the road again and also spotted to my delight the tower of the Mage's College on the horizon: I couldn't been too far away from Winterhold!

The rest of my walk back - yes I almost wrote the word “home” already - I met a group of stormcloak Soldiers gathering near the road under a ancient looking stone-arch. They looked alert, as if waiting to ambush an imperial patrol. I didn't wanted to mess with their business really, so I greeted them friendly and gained distance.

Back in Winterhold, the local pawnbroker, Birna sold me an odd looking artifact: a sculpture in the shape of a claw. It must be something ancient. It is made of corals and has mysterious animal carvings on it. Very mysterious. I wonder what it was used for.

After this I went to the College and visited the Arcanaeum (as the library of the college is officially called) again. That suspicious note and the key were still on Urag's desk... I really wonder if that's some kind of bait to test novice students if they would cause trouble or not.

Then I also had a rather odd conversation with the college's enchanter Sergius Turrianus, about innovative ways to charge soulgems – or something. I got a bad feeling about it and quickly changed topic before he could get into details.

As I was coming down the stairs from the Arcanaeum, the college's “advisor”, Ancano stepped into my way and started to question me about Saarthal. Well, not actually question me. It was more that he told me that he knows that we discovered something special there. And that I shouldn't insult his intelligence, by denying that, because he knows that I know what his position here is and therefore also should know that he knows about the artefact we found – or something like that. The college can be a strange place sometimes.

Back in the Hall of Attainment, I was happy to see Brelyna again. She told me she did improve her spell and was sure it would work now. I had no idea what it was supposed to do, but agreed in trying anyway. She is just too cute to reject her!

The spell went... wrong. Utterly wrong actually. I don't want to get into details though. Just that much: it wasn't a pleasant experience.

She was just as embarrassed as I was and together we agreed that this never happened. So please excuse me for not getting into detail.

Anyway I'm glad the spell was reversible. What a day again! I really need a strong drink now...

Lets do a Review - of The Lord of the Rings (Part 3)

In the last part of my review I will deal with the things I found simply unacceptable and appaling. I know there might be quite the dissent with my critizism, but I review the book as it presented it to me. Including the nice and the not so nice sides. What annoys me most about the bad things is that they are quite often simply overlooked by the readers. I admit, I didn't remembered it that explicit and drastic either. But views change and so does perception, so I simply might have become more sensitive towards certain things - but best look for yourself:

The bad things:

While the points above were about some weak spots in Tolkien's writing and the way he treats the story, they were all rather petty really. Some made the Lord of the Rings a bit difficult to read at times, but nothing really was terrible. It is still a well-written book, with its quality above its contemporaries. Sadly there are also aspects in his book I can't let pass as petty flaws so easily.

Sexism

A very obvious aspect of his books is, when women appear - which isn't terribly often, I should add - they are pretty one-dimensional. They is the otherworldly being of ethereal beauty, Galadriel, a number of good housewifes. like the wifes of Tom Bombadil and Farmer Maggot (I'm not even sure if Tolkien even gave them names!), the shield-maiden Eowyn who just in time before the story ends gets the turn and marries and become a healer – or were simply wiped from earth, like the Ent-Women.

One might argue that this just reflect Tolkien's conservative traditionalism, which might not been that uncommon for it's time. But I rather get the impression he didn't even try to show women as developed characters. They are way too extreme and one-dimensional for this: They are either divine creatures, adored like a sacred statue or good housewifes, and the few who didn't fit in like Eowyn or the Ent-Women either give in to their weakness or disappear. In Tolkien's world, women have their clearly defined, limited role and purpose. Its a world looking backwards towards the sexism of former centuries, and no-one can tell me that gender-equality would have broken his fantasy-world. There are enough examples of modern fantasy which proof the opposite.

Racism and Xenophobia

Another big point of criticism, which I admit got totally lost at me when first reading, is the blunt xenophobia in the books. I showed earlier that the Shire is Tolkien's ideal world – or at least something very close to that. It's the place of all the good things in life: Good food and drink, friends, love, family, parties, good weather, rich harvests – the list goes on and on. But the further away from home Tolkien goes, the less nice things become.

Yes, there are humans living outside the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan, but in opposition to these proud and pretty Nordic “races”, the humans living further in the East or in the South are just vaguely described and pretty one-dimensional: They are by default the enemy and allies of Sauron's army of monsters (the Orcs as Tolkien describes them aren't anything else really). They are all dirty and aggressive, were never on good terms with the “civilized” kingdoms and simply appear as brutal primitives, which have nothing else to do but wage war, raid and enslave their western opponents.

This is not only stereoptypical and unnecessary (enemies with a certain depth are arguably the more fascinating ones), the way Tolkien elevates “noble” Nordic humans into something so much better than the other “races” opposing them, gives the whole story - yet his whole universe - a pretty blunt, racist smell.

So What to do with it? Bin or Pedestal?

Let's not underrate the significance of the Lord of the Rings or Tolkiens efforts in world-making. He shaped almost single-handed modern fantasy and helped it establishing a place in today's public conscience. It is a well-written book, which still entertains, even if the story good vs. evil has been told a few times before.

On the other hand the book does have its issues and the world he created, as well-made and rich it is, is flawed.

Ironically the films by Peter Jackson made a lot right what Tolkien did wrong. So I like to see them as a conclusion of the Lord of the Rings-Universe in general: It's indeed been time to move on. And many authors did. I am pleased to see more variety and innovations in fantasy than Tolkien could ever imagine. Countless new fantasy-universes have been created since. More diverse, more vivid, some picked up ideas from him, some invented something completely new – a great development. Fantasy doesn't means only Tolkien-style-fantasy after all.

Lets do a Review - of The Lord of the Rings! (Part 1)

After reading the Lord of the Rings a second time these days (the first time I did read the books was about a year before the first of the Peter-Jackson-films was released), my impression was indeed very, very mixed. Since the movies took such a massive part of the way how the story is set in the public consciousness, I didn't quite knew what would expect me and it became rather discovering the book anew instead of recapitulating a familiar text. Some aspects of it were surprisingly good, others were frankly quite shocking.

But lets start with...

The good things

Plot and Storydeveloping

You simply can't take for granted that a 1000-pages book will keep you entertained throughout its entire length. The Lord of the Rings really does. You can clearly see how well composed it is in its outlines and how well planned the development of the story is. There are no loose threads and even every minor protagonist is thoroughly carried through the plot. A well-rounded story really. Of course this is clearly the result of the long time it took for Tolkien to write it (and the vast amount of background resources he put together in all the years). It was certainly not an easy task writing the story down but that doesn't really shows to the reader.

Depth

I will come back to Tolkien's world-building later in the text, but I can say already here that: when he decides to elaborate a culture, region or event, he does it with great depth and a richness in detail hard to match. The book offers the reader a plethora of sub-stories to unfold and to get background information from further sources online or offline. I found it also quite interesting researching about the real-world mythology he based much of his book on. The author certainly knew his trade.

Emotion

Another big feat of Tolkien is that his story really touches you. The very likeable Shire and its clumsy, peculiar inhabitants for example. It simply gives you such nice feelings of rural childhood cosiness that I can't help but call it with the nice German term Gemütlichkeit.

And it is a pretty clever move starting the novel there, as it is in general to focus on the Hobbit's perspective than of the Human's: The author welcomes you with open arms, seats you at a warm fireplace with a good cup of hot chocolate (or the middle-earth counterpart of it) and serves you a plate of sweets before sending you out on your trip to terrible Mordor, through a supersized world chased by undead riders, Orks and other nasty critters!

I think its also not a too big stretch to view his depictions of the Shire and Mordor in relation to the First World War. While the Shire can be seen as metaphor for his early years in secluded and peaceful rural England, Mordor shows clear traces of rampaging industrialization, trench warfare and devastated, burned landscapes typical for the First World War.

I think this clearly left an imprint on him him, as it did on millions of other young men, who were thrown into the greatest slaughter mankind ever experienced to that date. The only difference really is that Tolkien had the talent and ambition to express his feelings – and clear disdain of what he experienced – into a highly popular narrative.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 9

More Lessons To Learn

Unsolved business: The view at Bleak Falls Barrow form a safe distance

Following the White River up to its origin, I reached Lake Ilinalta and continued wandering along its shore. I even found a half-sunken fortress, which would fit to the description the old Dark Elf at the Shrine of Azura gave me, but after my recent defeat I found its a better idea to stay out of trouble for now and to get better before trying something silly again.

There is a short chain of mountains north of the lake. I followed them to the west and then turned north, finding myself on the road to Whiterun again. I didn't wanted to return there with empty hands. So I decided to take the road to the city of Morthal, north-west of Whiterun instead.

When passing fort Greymoor, a large stronghold occupied by bandits, I met two imperial battlemages which seemed rather friendly. They were both not too happy with the presence of bandits so close at a frequented road, so we attacked them together.

The battlemages were bold. They stormed into the castle, while I was still busy with dodging arrows. The resulting fight though didn't took too long and soon the two wizards were laying dead in the courtyard. I was next. The bandits stormed out of the fort and I did the best I could do in that moment: I ran for my life!

I knew if I wanted to survive this my only chance was to reach the Western Watchtower where a number of Whiterun's guards was posted to defend the city from dragons. But it was so terribly far away! I lost my breath and turned around if they were still following me. They did! And they were way too close! Quickly I sent an atronarch against them and took one of my scarce stamina potions to be able to continue running. While desperately trying to reach the tower I ran past three Redguards, two of them men in their traditional clothing. They were busy with discussing something and as I tried to warn them from the bandits running after me they totally ignored me!

Finally I reached the tower and alarmed the guards. They rushed off to attack the bandits, while I took shelter in the watchtower to heal my wounds. As soon I felt able to fight again rushed to the top of tower to assist the guards. Together we took them down without further loss of life. Their arrows though were well aimed and pretty effective.

This really wasn't my most glorious hour: Two imperial battlemages dead, the two Redguards too, and me again just barely able to save my own life!

At least the Redguard woman was unarmed, though looking pretty disturbed. I searched the bandits for their belongings and then left this embarrassment behind me. I'm sure the guards weren't too impressed of that silly novice-mage who tried to play hero.

The rest of my journey to Morthal went rather uneventful at least. As the city itself is. Its at a rather peculiar location though: To the west and north lies a great swamp which expands almost till Skyrim's capitol Solitude and in the west nothing but snow and mountains. I found Morthal isn't a too cozy place to stay. Also the recent events did shake my self-confidence quite a bit. Time to return to the College and get more seriously into magic. No carriage or boat was departing from Morthal so I had to do the journey back to Winterhold by myself again. I did inquire for the best way and got pointed towards Dawnstar in the north-east and then just follow the shoreline.

After a stop at the local alchemy store, the Thaumaturgist's Hut, where I did my usual mix and trade, I went to the local Inn (with the name Moorside Inn, suiting, isn't it?) and stayed there over night. The next morning I departed towards Dawnstar.

The road leading out of Morthal soon became very inhospitable. It was slippery from the freshly fallen snow and the temperature did drop the nearer I came to the mountains it was leading along.

After a while I saw smoke rising up in the distance and soon a thatched roof too. As I came closer I identified the place as miner's colony. A talk with the locals identified the Colony as Stonehills and the mine as Rockwallow Mine. Suiting names I guess.

There wasn't much an aspiring mage could do. No spiders in this mine, as its leader Gestur assured me. But I could deliver a message for them to their owner, Thane Bryling in Solitiude. Pactur, who seemed to be responsible for the mine's paperwork was quite frightened of her and didn't stop warning me of her bad temper!

Not far east from the mine I got attacked by a group of bandits. Again pretty resistant guys who made me quite some trouble. With the assistance of the mine's guard I got rid of them though.

After this event I did only encounter some occasional spider, but nothing serious anymore, till I arrived at Dawnstar.

My first impression of Dawnstar was that it looked like a horseshoe with its houses cluttered around the small bay of its harbor. Apart from this my first impression the city wasn't too remarkable either. Like Morthal it didn't even had city walls!

I had a walk around town, talked with some locals, got orientation and visited the stores before heading to Windpeak inn, to warm myself and get a bed for the night.

The final leg of my Journey to Winterhold did lead me to at least halfway familiar terrain. This time I was better prepared for the climate way up in the north though. So it wasn't as disastrous as the first time I went to the College.

Well, not disastrous, but not without its perils too. Especially when travelling along the shore. I will have to “thank” that guy in Dawnstar who gave me that advice next time I go there.

I've never seen a snow bear before and it just turned at me after it finished killing one of these giant semi-aquatic beasts the locals call horker. And again Skyrim saw me running for my life. Luckily I had enough stamina potions and after a few risky leaps from ice-sheet to ice-sheet, I found myself in safety again.

A familar view - the college can't be far away.

My dear reader might sense some sarcasm in my report. I can assure you your impression isn't wrong. At this point I was quite upset about myself running into one disaster after the other.

When finally arriving at the College I made up my mind: I had so much to learn still before I could call myself an at least acceptable mage.

I entered my room the Hall of Attainment and fell on my bed, instantly drifting off into sleep.

The next day I found my fellow students busily practising magic. I felt a bit bad just having ran off to play the great adventurer while they stayed here hitting the spellbooks. At least, I guess, my journey falls under the category “practical experience”. And hey – after all I found the legendary White Phial! Well, it was broken – but that wasn't my fault! And well, I admit, its not like I ever heard of this artifact before Nurelion pointed my nose at it, but still: I found the White Phial! That sounds nevertheless pretty good, doesn't it?

I wanted to tell Brelyna about my adventures. She is after all the one in the College I get along best, but I found her pretty occupied with her magical experiments. Also I didn't wanted to boast too much. After all it was me who found that magical orb at Saarthal, where she found nothing but dust.

To do her a favor I agreed in helping her with her latest experiment: a new spell she developed. I had no idea what was supposed to do, but I was sure it wasn't something harmful.

And indeed. The magical effect wasn't harmful. Just very annoying. It made me turn green!

I spent the rest of the day in my room waiting for the effect to wear off, which took way too long. At least it did entertain the people who walked by and gave them a nice and funny story about novice students, which I'm sure would make them laugh for weeks to come...

Later J'zargo approached me with helping him testing a spell he created too – which I more or less politely refused.

I'm sitting now at my desk in the College and look through the write-up of my adventures in Skyrim so far. It became already quite a story! I will try to keep my diary up-to-date and write it as my time allows me. I also want it to be a report of my progress in becoming a mage. I hope one day when I mastered the arcane arts, I will look at these lines with a smile and remember the good old times.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 8

Bleak Falls Barrow

Passing the Watchtower.

I followed the road back to Riverwood, then took the path up the mountains and followed it until I came to its snowy top. In the distance I spotted a pretty derelict watchtower and as I came closer two bandits guarding it. I took them out pretty easily with my fire-bolts and continued my journey.

Rolof showed me Bleak Falls Barrow the day we esecaped from Helgen. It was a pretty large and scary looking ruin complex looking down at us while we were on the road to Riverwood. My first impression proved to be quite right. It was also a pretty large and scary looking place when standing right before it. Massive stone stairs were leading up a platform, surrounded by massive arches and pillars pointing high in the sky.

Just before I did set a foot on the first step I realized I wasn't alone. Arrows were darting left and right and I rushed to take cover.

My opponents weren't too hard to defeat actually, just being outnumbered and not seeing where the arrows came from they did shoot at me made it all a bit pesky but eventually I gained safely access to the ruin.

There were two more bandits in the wide entrance hall, then I headed down a corridor leading deeper into the ruins. I did pretty well and progressed nicely until I ran into an opponent who seemed have some kind of protection against my spells. Or was just more resistant than the others. Anyway. My spells didnt do him much harm, contrary to his sword which almost broke through my protection spell. I realized quickly that I don't stand a chance against him, turned away and ran off before it could become really nasty.

Bleak Falls Barrow.

Outside again I collapsed into the snow, thanking the heavens that he didn't follow me outside. Weary and hurt I made my way down the mountain again. With empty hands, but at least alive.

After I recovered I began to stroll along the White River, harvesting herbs and the occasional mudcrab, while I did scold myself for not being able to overcome that bandit. I hated to disappoint the Jarl and Farengar after they put so much trust into me with giving me this obviously pretty important task they won't give any random adventurer who happens to stumble into the Jarls throne room looking for fame.

Actually I wasn't looking for fame at all. Well, perhaps for adventure. And a bit wealth won't hurt too. But mostly I wanted and still want to get better. I want to learn and be a good mage. And this means to be competent enough to fight off some bandits if I have to. And obviously I wasn't.

So the mudcrabs had to suffer. They are perhaps not the best target for training magic at, but at least I felt a bit better after roasting some of them.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 7

The Long Road Back To Whiterun

The woods west of Riften are as beautiful as they are dangerous. I came by a heavily guarded farm south of Lake Honrich, in sight of the city, just as a troll attacked the farmers. I hit it with my flame spells and the guards took it down with bow and arrows. This little episode should be a warning of what was waiting for me deeper in the forest.

I strayed a bit south off the road, looking for herbs to collect and deer to hunt, as suddenly the earth began to shake and the sound of a nearby battle did alarm me. Before I could realize what was going on, a Orc mage did land right before my feet. She was unconscious and just getting her senses back. But before I was able to help her I saw a giant running towards me, wielding its massive club. I turned and started to run, back to the road and towards the farm where I saw the guards just before.

I guess the giant spared the Orc's life because I seemed to have his full attention now. Every few steps I made on my run, I felt the earth shaking from the leaps the giant made to catch me. Almost out of breath I started to conjure flame atronarchs, just to see each getting smashed into bits by one hit with the giant's club. Somehow I made it alive to the guards and they ran to my help, or to defend the farm, but just lets assume it was their priority to rescue me!

I think conjuring the many atronarchs did weaken the giant more than I did expect since the giant did fall only after a comparably short fight. Curiously I started to examine the huge creature and looted what was useful to me. Amongst other things I found a Mammoth Tusk, which I picked up to bring it to Ysolda in Whiterun.

Despite their monstrous size, giants are surprisingly human-like in their appearance. They actually look like perversely overgrown humans with wiry and bony limbs and torso and a pale and distorted face. From my studies I knew that giant's toe was a pretty common alchemy ingredient, so I cut them off with my dwemer army knife. Giant's toe – unlike dragon's tongue, which is actually a flower – really is giant's toe and tastes a bit like goat cheese.

After this episode I went back to the place where the mage landed. I suspect she had an encounter with the giant's club or got somehow thrown away by it, so I expected her to have suffered quite a trauma. The spot she hit the ground was pretty easy to identify, since a shallow pond was just nearby, but no trace of the mage. She must have survived her fall. Quite an impressive display of orcish robustness.

A few minutes walk away I spotted a wooden stronghold. As I carefully approached it I saw my Orc mage again! She must have remembered me, because she was pretty friendly towards me, unlike her companion who clearly wanted me to bugger off as soon as possible.

It's really strange. An Orc mage seems to be one of the biggest oxymoron you could think of, but she was already the second I did encounter in Skyrim already! She actually looked more like a necromancer to me, according to her robe. But who am I to judge foreign cultures.

She told me the story of her clan. The Orcs in Skyrim – as far as they didn't live in the Nord settlements – were organized in clans living in remote forts out in the wild and usually don't tolerate outsiders.

As she told me why she made an exception with me, things began to get really weird: Her clan lost the favour of their god Malacath because of their weak chief, who wasn't able to defend their stronghold against the giants in the region. They lost already many men to the giants but their leader stayed away from the fights. So she asked me to help her clan getting its honour back and please Malacath by helping her performing a ritual. She just needed some troll fat and a daedra heart from me...

I promised them to keep their matter in mind and left, feeling the hopes and expectations of the Orc mage weighing quite heavily on me. How the hell do they all get the strange idea I might be the answer to their problems? I just barely survived a fight with an ordinary bandit leader and didn't at all feel like being some kind of tough adventurer, or even a hero.

Following the road further west I had a few encounters with bears and trolls before reaching the outskirts of the mountains which divide the south of Skyrim into the Falkreath and the Rift hold. I decided to leave Ivarstead aside and go directly into the mountains. I knew it was quite a risky decision, but I just wanted to return to a region more familiar to me. Ironic, isn't it? Helgen, the place where I almost got beheaded not long ago, suddenly became a symbol of hope for me.

The climate became colder the closer I came to the mountains and an icy wind from the Throat of the World blew snow into my face that it hurt like a thousand needles.

The sun began to set and I cursed myself for the decision not going to Ivarstead and instead following this damn mountain pass. It became very quickly dark and the wind became a nasty snow-storm. I had difficulties to see the path winding up between the cliffs. I prepared myself to fight off ice wolves or bears or trolls or whatever creatures might lurk behind each corner in this hell. Suddenly I saw a shack snug against the rocks. I must have cried in joy! I ran towards the shack as a pack of wolves came out of the dark, but they couldn't stop me.

I stepped into the shack where a Nord was sitting. After I made him clear I'm not representing a threat to him, he seemed rather peacefully. Except for rambling paranoid and suspecting me of being an imperial spy. But I think that simply happens to you when you are a hermit, living out in the mountains for too long.

After all though in a place like this neither of us could be picky about their company. I was worn and tired, and a terrible storm was going on outside. I think we both were simply glad not to be out in the wild that night.

I can't say I had a great sleep that night but the next morning the storm was gone and the pass looked so peaceful. As if it was a completely different place! I wanted to make use of the good weather and bid the hermit farewell.

A few corners further I hear the noises of a battle somewhere ahead of me. I carefully continued my path, ready to take cover any moment. I was lucky though. Lots of dead bodies of imperial legionnaires appeared ahead of me. Some Stormcloak soldiers were amongst them too, but by far the most were legionnaires. The road was actually scattered with dead imperial soldiers! I followed the trail of dead bodies and figured the battle must have dragged on over a pretty long distance. Were the imperials spread thin and therefore an easy target for the Stormcloaks? It appeared so. I eventually ran into the victorious Stormcloak soldiers. They weren't terribly many of them left and they mostly ignored me. I guess they were busy with treating their wounds and mourn the loss of their companions.

I arrived a the ruins of Helgen without further incident. Strangely The city's gates were intact and closed shut. This smelled dangerous. Did the imperials reoccupy the place? Or bandits? I decided not to try my luck and avoid the place. I made my way around the ruins until I could return on the road to Riverwood.

Coming back there was a bit like seeing an old friend again. The little, peaceful Riverwood! I said hello to Gerdur and Hod and did some trading before heading to Whiterun. I gathered a lot of herbs and other ingredients and I could really need some money and my stock of potions was pretty depleted too.

How good it was to see Whiterun again! The friendly and peaceful land, the warm climate of its hold. If you ever tried to cross a mountain pass in a snow-storm or got almost beaten to mash by a giant you really appreciate a place like this.

I spent a pretty good time there. My purse got filled nicely, I got a few useful things and simply enjoyed myself!

Oh and I got rid of that Mammoth Tusk I was carrying since my encounter with that giant. Ysolda was delighted to see it and told me a few tricks for bartering with shop-keepers. But next time I will think twice before I carry something unwieldy over a mountain pass.

I also went up to Whiterun's Castle, Dragons Reach, where I saw the Jarl's wizard, Farengar, again for some trading. He was surprised to see me return with empty hands and did remind me of getting them this Dragon-Stone thing from Bleak Falls Barrow. Ah well.

It wasn't too far away. You could see the mountain it was resting at from Dragon's Reach after all. And perhaps stepping down into a Nord ruin again would be interesting. Saarthal went pretty well too after all, so I decided to do him this favor.

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 6

A Journey To Riften – And Barely Surviving

As soon as I crossed the mountains I left the snow and grim cold of Eastmarch behind me. The landscape became welcoming and instead of the ever-present snowberries there were actually flowers blowing on the Roadside. After a short stop at Kynesgrove I continued my way south. The land changed yet again. Sheer endless rock formations, spotted with hot springs and the smell of sulphur everywhere dominated my first impressions of the Rift. I had no clear idea how the hold would actually look like, nor its capital, but somehow I expected a more hospitable place. I've must been spoiled by the placid Whiterun.

Nevertheless I began collecting herbs. Without walking away too far from the road of course.

My senses began to become more alert the deeper I went into this unknown land and soon I spotted a giant's camp just besides the road - I never came so close to them! It was quite a surreal view to see these huge humanoid creatures stroll between this alien landscape, tending their mammoths. I did my best to pass them as quickly as I could. This wasn't the worst idea to have: a smashed carriage with the corpses of several travellers showed me clearly that the danger of this place was very, very real.

They totally ignored me though and after a while the road became pretty steep again and mountains began to build up in the distance. I realized I must enter the region the Rift actually became its name from. The road started to wind its way upwards and it became pretty hard to spot what might wait for you around the next corner.

Suddenly I heard a deep and hoarse roar. A bear! It must been very close, but I wasn't unable to spot it yet. Then it suddenly appeared right before me in the middle of the road. I sent away my firebolts and tried to gain as much distance to is as possible and dodging the strikes of his claws. The oakflesh spell I have learned shortly before helped me a lot too. It just does what its name tells. Well not quite. It hardens your skin to protect yourself from physical attacks. Some master mages are said to be able to make their skins as hard and impenetrable as dragon scales.

I finally landed the fatal blow on the bear, but my victory came for a price. Despite my protection spell it was able to wound me quite a bit. At least that gave me the opportunity to practice restoration magic.

This episode shouldn't be the last encounter with the dangers of the Rift, soon after more fights followed. Mostly spiders and bears but also one or two trolls. My confidence grew and I began to develop pretty good strategies to fight them.

A little setback was the discovery of a roadside watchtower which must been ran over by some enemies just before I arrived. Dead bodies and blood everywhere. I found a letter in there with a warning of a Stormcloak attack which was expected to happen soon. It seems that the tower crew just opened the letter when the attack happened.

Eventually I came to a settlement. It looked so peacefully! Smoking chimneys, a campfire with some people sitting around cooking a meal and chicken walking around the place picking for food. A chat with the locals told me I was in the village Shor's Stone, a small mining settlement.

One person there I found quite remarkable: A young nord woman, Sylgja, who had a bad fall lately when she was working in the mine. She came from a miner's family and her parents were living west of Shor's Stone in another mining village. I promised her to send her mail to them, since she obviously wasn't able to do the journey by herself. I also learned that the mine was temporary closed because some frost spiders which began to nest in it. Being pretty confident from my first few adventures I told them I would take care of the matter.

Ironically Shore's Stone was pretty well protected with guards patrolling outside the mine. Why no-one of them bothered to put and end to the spiders was beyond my grasp. Perhaps the proud soldiers were afraid of spiders?

Anyway, Inside the mine was quite a mess. Immediately after I entered it a group of spiders attacked me, and I barely had time to conjure a flame atronarch to distract their attention from me. Thanks to a generous use of healing and magical potions, and to an anti-venom I made at the Mages College, I was able to turn the tide. The miners, and especially the local blacksmith, who is kind of spokesman and de-facto leader of village, were quite cheerful about my success.

After a bit of trading and equipping myself I continued my journey towards Riften. The landscape was now looking much more friendly. A pretty misleading impression as I soon found out.

Just as the village behind me came out if sight I spotted a fort in the distance, blocking the road right before me. I saw a number of people standing on its walls but flags or banners. So I assumed they were bandits, got myself ready to fight and pondered my chances against them. Still caught in the moment I almost didn't realize a second group of bandits to my right, storming down the slope straight towards me!

I turned back and sprinted back to Shor's Stone. No point in getting into such a mess, outnumbered four or five to one!

The guards came to my assistance and within moments a fight broke out. I did my best to support them with firebolts and a summoned flame atronarch, but as quickly the fighting started, as quickly did the guards end it and all bandits laying dead on the ground.

My second approach to the fort proved me right: it was indeed occupied with bandits. They started shooting arrows at me from a surprisingly long distance and I countered attacking them on the walls and as they stormed out of the fort by running zigzag and keeping distance to them while fireing spell after spell. It was quite a long, tiring fight with a lot of shots exchanged, but many going miss too. As my concentration started to fade I switched to the Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson, one of the artifacts I found at Saarthal, which proved to be very effective against my opponents.

After the last bandit was dead, I set my foot into the now quiet courtyard. I was loaded with adrenaline and very euphoric about my victory, so I ran up the stairs to the leader's quarters challenging her for a fight too.

I was very, very lucky I got out of this alive.

Upon entering the room I was attacked by two opponents. My atronarch and I took out the first pretty easily but the second did land some serious blows on me before I even realized what was going on. I turned to the door in panic, ran for my life but suddenly the world blacked out around me.

It all happened so fast... When I came to me I was barely able to move from pain. I was freezing to the bones and feeling every part of my body aching. My tunic was crusted with blood. I almost blacked out again when I tried to get at my feet. I tried to focus on a healing spell. I knew I needed immediate treatment.

After I was able to stabilize myself I cleaned my clothes as good as I could. Only then I realized they robbed most of my belongings – and over four thousand septims!. All they left me was the clothes I was wearing and the herbs I collected. Quite ironic: the things with the least value for them would prove to be most useful for me to restock my items.

The rest of my way to Riften was uneventful but nevertheless tough. My healing magic helped me a lot but I still felt sore and terribly exhaustet. I must have lost quite an amount of blood.

Riften itself was rather disappointing: a filthy, run down city gathered above a smelly canal. To make things worse the city guard tried to cheat some money from me by inventing a “visitor tax”. I really wasn't amused by that at all.

In the city itself I got almost instantly approached by some shady figures. One trying to intimidate me, the other trying to make me steal from a local store owner. A really awesome welcome.

One of the few bright spots was a warrior lady called Mjoll the Lioness who told me about her oath to cleanse the city from thieves and corruption. Bold lady. I hope she watches herself. Her friend Aerin seemed rather concerned about her.

I got myself in order again and took a bed at the Bee and the Barb. As I closed my eyes I promised myself I wont spent too much time in this damn city.

The next day I did investigate if any of the merchants bought items the bandits did steal from me and indeed the Dunmer at the marketplace had quite a number, which he bought this morning without having an idea where they came from. He wasn't too cooperative though and I couldn't afford the price he named to get them back. And frankly, I didn't even wanted to pay for what actually belongs to me, even if I had the money. Quite upset I rushed off.

I had more luck at the local alchemist though even if it was pretty hard to find his store. Unlike everyone else, he put his store down at the lower level near the canal. He must not really be much interested in customers. Anyway. He had some good stock and after I bought a few ingredients from him with the little money I had left, he allowed me to use his alchemy-lab.

It didn't took long and my purse was recovering again.

Riften wasn't going to be the love of my life, so much I could say already. Actually I had the strong urge to leave that cursed place as soon as possible. Still I headed to the local Castle to connect with the court wizard. That lady was a total mess too. I don't think she is able to think coherent enough to get anything done. She asked me to return some of her items she lost - all across Skyrim! I agreed. Hoping I would at least get a decent reward for the errand.

Leaving the Riften Castle I really had enough of the city and went outside of its walls to gather some herbs and to inquire where to go next.

I discovered a road leading to the west, to the city of Ivarstead and over the mountains to Helgen. I knew though that Helgen – or what was left from it - was most likely was still smouldering ruins. But Helgen is not far from Riverwood and Riverwood not far from Whiterun – familiar grounds!

The Adventures of a Mage in Skyrim - Part 5

Windhelm

A look at the map told me that the next larger city in the area is the stronghold of the Stormcloak rebellion, Windhelm. It seemed to me being a pretty interesting destination, where I could learn more about the whole stormcloak-thing, perhaps even see their leader Ulfric again - after all we were at the same carriage bound to our executions! Also I wanted to make some coin with selling the potions I mixed.

The way from Winterhold to Windhelm was more or less uneventful, apart from the cold and wild beasts trying to kill me. Nothing new really! I tried to get access to one of these mysterious dwarven ruins (unsuccessful), had a stay at the Nightingale Inn (successful: earned myself a bed with playing the lute) and found a remote sawmill west of Windhelm.

Windhelm at night - at least the sky is colourful.

The city itself is already well visible from afar: A imposing block of massive and almost black stones. The whole place looks less like a capital but a giant, storm-battered ancient fortress. Not very welcoming really.

Inside the welcome wasn't too cheerful either. First thing I saw (apart from huge, crumbled stairs leading up from the entrance gate) was a group of locals taunting and ranting against the Dark Elves living in the city.

Wondering if that situation was typical for the city I went to the marketplace, talked with the locals and did trade a bit. People seem indeed mixed. Some did openly show pure hate against quite everything that isn't nord, others were more moderate and just want to live their lifes. Hermir, a woman working at the local forge, seemed to be quite enthusiastic to work so close to Ulfric. A life between being beheaded by his foes and enthusiastically adored by his follower: Quite a polarizing person!

I made a pretty decent sum from selling some of the things I found at Saarthal. I really felt life started to to turn to the better for me and making a living as mage was the way to go for me.

When visiting the local alchemist, a frail looking, old High Elf, he told me a story about a “White Phial” which magically replenish every fluid you put inside it. He said he also discovered already its most likely location, but his assistant wont let him go there. I guess he was right to do so since the old man looked far to weak to search for it by himself.

I offered to search for the phial for him, which he accepted. You should have seen the relief in his assistant's face when I left the shop instead of his proprietor!

The sun began to set slowly and I started looking for some accomodation. The Candlehearth Hall looked pretty welcoming when having a look inside I met a interesting you woman there called Susanna. We had a pretty pleasant, but rather short chat (she had to serve the guests) where she pointed me at the “New Gnisis Cornerclub” instead of taking a room here. Quite ironic, isn't it? Seems she doesn't shares the prejudices many Nord have about the Dark Elves. Bolt and impressive girl!

So I went there after a short stop at the local Dunmer pawnbroker, Revyn Sadri, who discretely asked me to return a stolen ring he found in his stock back to its legal owner Viola Giordano. I initially refused but what can I say? He did asked me to bring it back, not to steal it. So I agreed to break in her house and plant the ring where she can find it.

After playing some tunes for a bed at the Cornerclub I practised some magic and eventually dozed off to sleep.

The next morning saw me heading to the Palace of Kings where Ulfric resides. I was still pretty much put off from the sheer aggression towards the Dark Elves I saw the day before, but curiosity simply dragged me there. Being to Windhelm without visiting the Palace of Kings – no way! Also every Jarl who has at least a bit of self-respect does have a court wizard. So perhaps I could learn something new there.

The palace itself doesn't betrays its significance from outside. Its just as bleak and battered as the rest of the city, inside the throne-room however is as imposing as its suiting for a king.

Ulfric was busy as I entered. I overheard a conversation about the ongoing war. It seems that no side took the initiative yet.

Discretely I slipped through a door leading to the palace's chambers where I expected to find the wizard somewhere. Following narrow and barely lit corridors I felt like descending into a dungeon rather than making my way through the center of one of Skyrim's greatest powers.

Eventually a golden glow from the end of a corridor caught my attraction. It was the gloriously lit enchanting altar of Wuunferth the Unliving, as its owner introduced himself. And he was indeed a sinister person: a gaunt seemingly stone-old face, half covered with a untended grey beard. He greeted me reluctantly. It must have been quite obvious to him that I was a very, very green mage compared to him.

I did some trading with him, along some smalltalk. He didn't seemed to have a particularly high opinion on Ulfric. According to Wuunferth they both tolerated each other but also stayed out of each others way.

After this quite remarkable encounter I decided to do Nurelion his favour and went out of the city towards the west, where I expected to find the mysterious cave the White Phial was hidden.

The entrance of the cave looked totally unremarkable. No surprise the place laid untouched for so long time. Carefully I made my way through the icy burrows until I found stone stairs leading me to the destination of search.

Since Saarthal I got already a pretty good impression of what would await me in a nordic tomb and I proudly tell you that I handled myself pretty well. I watched every step I made, expecting traps around every corner and at every spot the light of the torches can't reach. In the recent time I developed quite the affinity for fire spells and they did serve me very well. The Draugrs were dangerous of course, especially in groups, but with my wits, a flame atronarch and firebolt magic I was able to deal with them.

As I reached the center chamber I found the casket of of the White Phial's creator, Curalmil put to eternal rest below a mysterious wall, which looked just like the one I did discover in Saarthal. And again I felt the strange tingle, I forgot about the Phial and headed up the stairs to the word-wall. But before my mind did turn totally to the writing waiting for me, the casket cracked open and Curalmil raised from the dead, attacking me. I dodged his attacks, hasted down the stairs and wrapped him in fire with all power my mind could mobilize. I burned his desiccated corpse till he collapsed before my feet.

Just when I came to my senses again after reading the magic word. I discovered a passage leading out. There must be the Phial! I thought and followed it into a room with a stony basin. I hesitated a few moments, then took out the mixture Nurelion gave me and poured it into the basin. Immediately another passage opened for me, granting access to the sought-after Phial.

My glorious return to Windhelm however wasn't at all as I did expect it. The Phial was cracked! I didn't even notice this in my excitement but indeed: it was clearly damaged. Nurelion was devastated, but at least ensured me that it couldn't been me. With my limited powers I couldn't even have scratched it. Nevertheless my reward wasn't too generous. The old Elf sent me away with five septims. I made more with selling the items I found in the ruins, so the adventure wasn't a total failure at least.

Next I went to Viola Giordano's house, to bring the stolen ring back in her possession. I saw her walking around the marketplace before, so it seemed to be the perfect moment for a discrete return consignment. Her house was in the Stone-Quarter, where the more affluent citizens of the city live. Since it was around midday and everyone was busy with doing their errands, the quarter was nicely empty. To my dissatisfaction I found the lock to her house pretty difficult to open. I broke quite a number of picks till I found the sweet spot and the door clicked open. I slipped in, planted the ring in a drawer and slipped out again in just a few seconds. Moments later I casually strolled down the streets, to tell Revyn the good news. I was feeling pretty satisfied and was enjoying myself and the surprisingly sunny day – how unusual for Windhelm!

I realized I made – despite the unsatisfying search for the White Phial – a good amount of money lately. Especially the alchemy really paid off. Being quite affluent – at least for my modest standards – I found I have earned myself a change in climate. The College of Winterhold was a great place – no doubt, but I wanted to see some more sunlight before returning there. So my next destination became the city of Riften, way down in the south of Skyrim.