A hard but warm hand is felt on the shoulder, as a voice whispers into his ear.
"Discover for me, the stars."
The fire dies almost as quickly as the conversation from the other inhabitants, enveloping Ma'Jakrah into a thick, lonely darkness.
Thursday 17 November 2011
The Dream
Warmth flicks across Ma'Jakrah's whiskers. Lifting his heavy eyelids, he finds himself sat at an old wooden table next to a freshly stoked fire. The flames lap gently around the fireplace, dancing their eye-catching dance into the cold air, creating many shapes and faces within, each just out of memory's grasp. There are people around him, sitting at their own tables. M'Jakrah tries to rise, but falls back down - he can move, but doesn't want to. Why?
Saturday 12 November 2011
Hello, Skyrim
Today has been a very, very bad day.
I lost my diary! I lost my weapons, my clothes, my coin, I even lost all three rings! I say lost, they must have been taken from me. Only the gods know what I'll do now! I am, however, in Skyrim. But... things here are very bad. Let's start from the beginning.
I had just reached the border when I came across the camp site I had spent the last three days searching for. I was to meet my contact here, and after waiting for a few hours into the night he finally decided to show his ugly face. We got right down to business and closed the first half of our deal - 300 gold to get me into Skyrim, and then decided we had better get right to sleep - We had to be up early to actually cross the border, if this taffer could find it.
During the night I was awoken by the loud bantering of seven or so others who had decided to set up camp in the valley below us. My contact was up too, and was panicking, saying we had to move camp right away, that these people were dangerous. If they're dangerous, I thought, they might have something worth stealing...
I sneakily made my way down the old, overgrown path to their camp site, with the nervous wreck of a thief-slash-smuggler behind me. What kind of a thief OR smuggler suffers from nerves that badly?
By the time I had got there, all but one were asleep, the last just sat, looking out over the land, perhaps contemplating the next move in their war against the civilised people of Skyrim. At the time, I did not know how close this thought probably was to the truth. I reached the very lip of the flickering light from their camp fire when I heard rustling from behind me, and from the other side of their camp site. Very suddenly, over 12 armed guards surrounded us, calling out for for those in the camp, which now unfortunately included me, to lower our weapons and surrender. The sleeping group all rose to their feet, most reaching for their swords and axes, none getting to them in time. One managed to pull a concealed dagger from his inside breast pocket (Is he a fool?! I could never sleep with a dagger so close to my organs!) and drunkenly slash at two guards, one of whom quickly released the life from this fools body with but a scratch on his limb. He slumped to the cold, hard ground with a loud THUMP.
From behind me came another guard, with a sword in one hand and my nervous friend in the other, who was calling out proclaiming that he was no Stormcloak, he was just a thief! As turned to scowl at him, I was charged from behind, and fell flat on my face. Dirty snow was kicked up my nose as I lay there, waiting to be picked up and dragged away, as was now happening to the other drunks and my spineless smuggler companion.
Eventually, I was picked up by an unknown guard, and felt a sudden sharp pain on the back of my head, then darkness... My next memory is being half frozen on a cart. My head hurt, my sight was blurring everything around me, and my hands were tied. People were talking, but I don't remember about what. It is only now that I realise that the entire experience from here on in was a blur. I was not in my right mind at all. And who could blame me, considering what was to come?
We arrived at small outpost, named Helgan, and we were pulled from the cart and taken to be beheaded for crimes against the empire. Of course, there was no way they could know who I was, but I was still highly confused and disoriented. My contact was even less sane than I, and louder still than he was the night before (Two nights before? How long have I been unconscious?), and made a feeble attempt to escape. Even in my broken state of mind I knew it was a bad idea, yet still he ran, and of course was quickly shot down by an archer. I remember thinking that this was a good thing, as now I didn't have to try and come up with the extra 300 gold to pay him for delivering me to Skyrim. Not that he did actually do as we agreed of course, I should instead be paying these guards for the ride. Perhaps the horse, as it did more work than the recently deceased.
I was pulled forward - the guards did not know who I was. I somehow managed to speak something that sounded like my name, but only after imagining myself looking into a bowl of water, and seeing myself look back...
Regardless, they had a list of rebels, and I wasn't on it. I guess they couldn't be bothered looking after an outsider. Or perhaps they just hate Khajiit... Either way, I was sent to my death.
I lay my head down, trying to formulate some kind of sensible plan, but my head was spinning too much. My thoughts were falling into and out of my conciousness randomly. Very suddenly, a loud roar surrounds us - it pierces the ears and stabs at the mind. I was thankful, because in the deafening noise, my mind was silent. I could not hear the pounding of my heartbeat or my blabbering inner voice that had plagued me in the last few minutes of my life. If I thought anything, it was that this is what death is. Impossibly loud silence. Soon I would be released from this torrent of sound, and released my mortal body.
Nope.
A huge shape landed on the building in front of me, raining down rock and stone from above. It was in this moment that my mind silenced itself completely. Where before it became quiet, now it was silent. All seeing. Everything was clear, I remember seeing and hearing a fellow captive scream at me to get moving. Now, of course, it is all a blur, but at the time I could have recalled the number of trees surrounding the outpost of accurately drawn the face of any guard.
I followed him into a building, and quickly leapt across to another, trying to not burn my fur on the fires set by this huge creature that was swirling in the sky above us. I made my way outside and came across a guard calling for a child, just as the beast fell from the sky in front of us and roared it's flames toward me. I realised then what it was - a Dragon. Stories of old speak of such creatures, but I had never thought I'd see the day where I stared down the throat of one. The guard, who's name turned out to be Hadvar, claimed me as his able assistant, and demanded I followed him to stay alive. I did. I would have stood there frozen in place and probably died if it wasn't for him. So, it was either stay here and burn with these Nords, or follow Hadvar. It wasn't long before we came across the other captives, both the guards and the captives demanded that I follow them. At first, I didn't know which was to go. I've always hated the thought of obeying authority, but I did owe Hadvar for bringing me back to reality mere minutes ago.
I decided to use logic to determine my choice - I remember thinking that this was an outpost, there is no way the few surviving weak, defenceless Stormcloaks could escape an outpost filled with legion soldiers. I chose to follow the guard.
We made our way through the buildings, meeting occasional resistance from the Stormcloaks, who Hadvar swiftly disposed of. I managed to acquire a sword and a bow, along with a handful of Iron arrows from some fallen Stormcloaks. Eventually we made it into some caverns filled with spiders and a bear. We disposed of the spiders with ease, but in my state, there was no way I could fight a bear, so Hadvar and I both elected to sneak around it. Just as we passed it, it awoke. My heart stopped. Luckily however, it quickly settled again after we froze and made no sound. Hadvar would make a good thief... Any sound would have alerted that bear to our presence - Hadvar knew this, and made no sound at all. As silent as a Khajiit.
We found our way out of the cavern and Hadvar escorted me to Riverwood, where his uncle - Alvor - would provide us some much needed nourishment. Just as we got in view of the village we were set upon by two hungry wolves! I quickly drew my longbow and fired a few arrows into them, killing one and wounding the second. Hadvar unsheathed his sword and slipped it between the ribs of the second wolf, which collapsed into a heap on the side of the path.
We arrived in Riverwood and made our way to Hadvar's uncles home, where his wife quickly presented us with some delicious food. It had no fish in it, but the meal still made my tail curl. I could've eaten that all over again. Perhaps with a helping of Honey Nut Treat, anyway.
I spoke with Alvor and thanked him and his wife for their hospitality. Alvor asked me to seek out a man named Balgruuf, the Jarl of Whiterun, warn to him about the Dragon incident, and proceeded to mark his location on a map he had, and handed the map to me. I agreed. This is not like me at all, but my head was returning to it's fuzzy state of not quite knowing what in Oblivion it's doing. As I write this, I do feel obliged to find this Balgruuf. The people I have met have done nothing but help me... well, with the exception of the people I met prior to the Dragon. Those people failed me, tried to kill me or became my enemies. Perhaps after I have slept I will seek out Balgruuf, to return the favour. After that, though, I'll see about returning to my own journey, less the three rings. It's why I came to Skyrim in the first place after all.
Anyway, back to the days events: Hadvar and Alvor delved into conversation about the Dragon and the Empire. I wondered if they knew that I didn't care in the slightest? I didn't receive any acknowledgement during the time I was in the room, so I made my way out the door as they were both in a heated discussion. I decided that I needed to find an Inn to rest in for the night. I didn't find an Inn right away, but I found myself behind Alvor's home, over a bridge, and saw a fantastic construction for cutting logs. Back in Cyrodiil, this was done by hand. How clever of the Skyrim people to use the power of flowing water to cut logs! It is so much quicker and easier to do! I crossed back over the bridge over the river and finally came upon an Inn, which is where I am now. I can hear someone entertaining the locals in the hall, and next door the barkeep and the woman I rented the room from are complaining about the Ale. Dragons have appeared, but Life Must Go On.
My head is spinning, my hands are shaking, my tail and ears are restless. I think I was hit in the back too, by a falling rock or the friendlier side of an axe... I don't remember.
As I said, I lost my diary and gear. Probably stolen by the guards who surrounded us and the Stormcloaks, so I have taken this book and am writing in it. A fresh diary for a Fresh Province.
I need to rest.
I lost my diary! I lost my weapons, my clothes, my coin, I even lost all three rings! I say lost, they must have been taken from me. Only the gods know what I'll do now! I am, however, in Skyrim. But... things here are very bad. Let's start from the beginning.
I had just reached the border when I came across the camp site I had spent the last three days searching for. I was to meet my contact here, and after waiting for a few hours into the night he finally decided to show his ugly face. We got right down to business and closed the first half of our deal - 300 gold to get me into Skyrim, and then decided we had better get right to sleep - We had to be up early to actually cross the border, if this taffer could find it.
During the night I was awoken by the loud bantering of seven or so others who had decided to set up camp in the valley below us. My contact was up too, and was panicking, saying we had to move camp right away, that these people were dangerous. If they're dangerous, I thought, they might have something worth stealing...
I sneakily made my way down the old, overgrown path to their camp site, with the nervous wreck of a thief-slash-smuggler behind me. What kind of a thief OR smuggler suffers from nerves that badly?
By the time I had got there, all but one were asleep, the last just sat, looking out over the land, perhaps contemplating the next move in their war against the civilised people of Skyrim. At the time, I did not know how close this thought probably was to the truth. I reached the very lip of the flickering light from their camp fire when I heard rustling from behind me, and from the other side of their camp site. Very suddenly, over 12 armed guards surrounded us, calling out for for those in the camp, which now unfortunately included me, to lower our weapons and surrender. The sleeping group all rose to their feet, most reaching for their swords and axes, none getting to them in time. One managed to pull a concealed dagger from his inside breast pocket (Is he a fool?! I could never sleep with a dagger so close to my organs!) and drunkenly slash at two guards, one of whom quickly released the life from this fools body with but a scratch on his limb. He slumped to the cold, hard ground with a loud THUMP.
From behind me came another guard, with a sword in one hand and my nervous friend in the other, who was calling out proclaiming that he was no Stormcloak, he was just a thief! As turned to scowl at him, I was charged from behind, and fell flat on my face. Dirty snow was kicked up my nose as I lay there, waiting to be picked up and dragged away, as was now happening to the other drunks and my spineless smuggler companion.
Eventually, I was picked up by an unknown guard, and felt a sudden sharp pain on the back of my head, then darkness... My next memory is being half frozen on a cart. My head hurt, my sight was blurring everything around me, and my hands were tied. People were talking, but I don't remember about what. It is only now that I realise that the entire experience from here on in was a blur. I was not in my right mind at all. And who could blame me, considering what was to come?
We arrived at small outpost, named Helgan, and we were pulled from the cart and taken to be beheaded for crimes against the empire. Of course, there was no way they could know who I was, but I was still highly confused and disoriented. My contact was even less sane than I, and louder still than he was the night before (Two nights before? How long have I been unconscious?), and made a feeble attempt to escape. Even in my broken state of mind I knew it was a bad idea, yet still he ran, and of course was quickly shot down by an archer. I remember thinking that this was a good thing, as now I didn't have to try and come up with the extra 300 gold to pay him for delivering me to Skyrim. Not that he did actually do as we agreed of course, I should instead be paying these guards for the ride. Perhaps the horse, as it did more work than the recently deceased.
I was pulled forward - the guards did not know who I was. I somehow managed to speak something that sounded like my name, but only after imagining myself looking into a bowl of water, and seeing myself look back...
Regardless, they had a list of rebels, and I wasn't on it. I guess they couldn't be bothered looking after an outsider. Or perhaps they just hate Khajiit... Either way, I was sent to my death.
I lay my head down, trying to formulate some kind of sensible plan, but my head was spinning too much. My thoughts were falling into and out of my conciousness randomly. Very suddenly, a loud roar surrounds us - it pierces the ears and stabs at the mind. I was thankful, because in the deafening noise, my mind was silent. I could not hear the pounding of my heartbeat or my blabbering inner voice that had plagued me in the last few minutes of my life. If I thought anything, it was that this is what death is. Impossibly loud silence. Soon I would be released from this torrent of sound, and released my mortal body.
Nope.
A huge shape landed on the building in front of me, raining down rock and stone from above. It was in this moment that my mind silenced itself completely. Where before it became quiet, now it was silent. All seeing. Everything was clear, I remember seeing and hearing a fellow captive scream at me to get moving. Now, of course, it is all a blur, but at the time I could have recalled the number of trees surrounding the outpost of accurately drawn the face of any guard.
I followed him into a building, and quickly leapt across to another, trying to not burn my fur on the fires set by this huge creature that was swirling in the sky above us. I made my way outside and came across a guard calling for a child, just as the beast fell from the sky in front of us and roared it's flames toward me. I realised then what it was - a Dragon. Stories of old speak of such creatures, but I had never thought I'd see the day where I stared down the throat of one. The guard, who's name turned out to be Hadvar, claimed me as his able assistant, and demanded I followed him to stay alive. I did. I would have stood there frozen in place and probably died if it wasn't for him. So, it was either stay here and burn with these Nords, or follow Hadvar. It wasn't long before we came across the other captives, both the guards and the captives demanded that I follow them. At first, I didn't know which was to go. I've always hated the thought of obeying authority, but I did owe Hadvar for bringing me back to reality mere minutes ago.
I decided to use logic to determine my choice - I remember thinking that this was an outpost, there is no way the few surviving weak, defenceless Stormcloaks could escape an outpost filled with legion soldiers. I chose to follow the guard.
We made our way through the buildings, meeting occasional resistance from the Stormcloaks, who Hadvar swiftly disposed of. I managed to acquire a sword and a bow, along with a handful of Iron arrows from some fallen Stormcloaks. Eventually we made it into some caverns filled with spiders and a bear. We disposed of the spiders with ease, but in my state, there was no way I could fight a bear, so Hadvar and I both elected to sneak around it. Just as we passed it, it awoke. My heart stopped. Luckily however, it quickly settled again after we froze and made no sound. Hadvar would make a good thief... Any sound would have alerted that bear to our presence - Hadvar knew this, and made no sound at all. As silent as a Khajiit.
We found our way out of the cavern and Hadvar escorted me to Riverwood, where his uncle - Alvor - would provide us some much needed nourishment. Just as we got in view of the village we were set upon by two hungry wolves! I quickly drew my longbow and fired a few arrows into them, killing one and wounding the second. Hadvar unsheathed his sword and slipped it between the ribs of the second wolf, which collapsed into a heap on the side of the path.
We arrived in Riverwood and made our way to Hadvar's uncles home, where his wife quickly presented us with some delicious food. It had no fish in it, but the meal still made my tail curl. I could've eaten that all over again. Perhaps with a helping of Honey Nut Treat, anyway.
I spoke with Alvor and thanked him and his wife for their hospitality. Alvor asked me to seek out a man named Balgruuf, the Jarl of Whiterun, warn to him about the Dragon incident, and proceeded to mark his location on a map he had, and handed the map to me. I agreed. This is not like me at all, but my head was returning to it's fuzzy state of not quite knowing what in Oblivion it's doing. As I write this, I do feel obliged to find this Balgruuf. The people I have met have done nothing but help me... well, with the exception of the people I met prior to the Dragon. Those people failed me, tried to kill me or became my enemies. Perhaps after I have slept I will seek out Balgruuf, to return the favour. After that, though, I'll see about returning to my own journey, less the three rings. It's why I came to Skyrim in the first place after all.
Anyway, back to the days events: Hadvar and Alvor delved into conversation about the Dragon and the Empire. I wondered if they knew that I didn't care in the slightest? I didn't receive any acknowledgement during the time I was in the room, so I made my way out the door as they were both in a heated discussion. I decided that I needed to find an Inn to rest in for the night. I didn't find an Inn right away, but I found myself behind Alvor's home, over a bridge, and saw a fantastic construction for cutting logs. Back in Cyrodiil, this was done by hand. How clever of the Skyrim people to use the power of flowing water to cut logs! It is so much quicker and easier to do! I crossed back over the bridge over the river and finally came upon an Inn, which is where I am now. I can hear someone entertaining the locals in the hall, and next door the barkeep and the woman I rented the room from are complaining about the Ale. Dragons have appeared, but Life Must Go On.
My head is spinning, my hands are shaking, my tail and ears are restless. I think I was hit in the back too, by a falling rock or the friendlier side of an axe... I don't remember.
As I said, I lost my diary and gear. Probably stolen by the guards who surrounded us and the Stormcloaks, so I have taken this book and am writing in it. A fresh diary for a Fresh Province.
I need to rest.
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