We make our way into the village, and through a large protective stone wall with a palisade on it. The first building on my left is a blacksmith's house. To my right is a shop, the Riverwood Trader.
The house is a wooden cabin with a large forge attached to the side. Near the forge were a grindstone, a workbench, a tanning rack, and a table with several weapons and armor on it. Besides the two glaringly obvious buildings in our immediate field of view, there are hundreds of buildings I don't recognize from the game. The village, however, is still very simple in design: the village is situated on two sides of the main road, with the majority of the buildings to the right, as the River Ilinalta is on the left, and restricts the amount of buildings that can be placed there. On the left side, we have the highest-rated buildings, these are the ones considered most important, or most dangerous.
For instance, the forge to our left would be considered dangerous. For the straw, clay, daub, wood, and stone buildings, an uncontrolled fire would be the last thing anyone in this village wants. Directly behind the forge on a small island in the middle of the river, we have the main business of this town: logging. This town is named Riverwood, after all. This village exports wood all across the great Holds of Skyrim, and serves as one of, if not the, best logging companies in Skyrim.
To our right, we have farms, small stores, and mainly residential buildings. At least, that's what it's like in the game. But unlike the game, reality has much more to offer. Woodcarving services, local carpentry businesses, competing forge facilities, traveling peddlers, and more. There's even a second inn, whereas the game only had one. But good things aren't the only things this village has.
There are refugees here from the civil war. These noncombatants have very little aside from the clothes on their backs. Their ramshackle tents and misshapen huts are everywhere, along walls, in alleys between buildings, inside tree stumps, lean-to's with patched tarpaulins. There are even a couple tents on top of a building. 'How... How did they get that up there?'
My attention returns to where we're heading. We walk to the forge, where we see a man leaning on a guardrail in front of the forge. It's a middle-aged man with a scraggly golden beard and long(ish) hair that went down to his shoulders. He was wearing a dark brown blacksmith's apron, a red tunic underneath, and leather bracers.
"Uncle Alvor! Hello!" Hadvar gladly calls out to him as we approach.
"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from...?" Alvor notices that we're covered in blood and light wounds. "Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"Shhh... Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk." Hadvar glances around as he speaks. Hadvar's right. This is reality, where talking about the return of the dragons in a place like this would only serve to scare the public. The increase of the population from game to reality would only serve to endanger them further. What we need to do is to inform the people highest in charge about their return.
"What's going on? And who's this?"
"He's a friend. Saved my life, in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."
"Okay, okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."
We walk to the door. To the left of the door is a large weapons rack with an iron sword and an iron warhammer. I look around a bit more as we pass by it and see about a couple hundred more people, houses, and just... things, than there were in the games' version of Riverwood. There's a bustling populace moving about in the late-afternoon sun. There are small children running around, playing tag, it looks like. Teenagers were either working in the fields or the mill, practicing their archery in alleys, or swordfighting with wooden swords in practice arenas. Traders peddle their ways on the sides of the road in the middle of the town, sitting on small mats made out of layers of padded cotton. Pedestrians buying goods could be seen interlacing the various peddlers' goods.
I direct my attention to Alvor, as he opens the door and calls, "Sigrid! We have company!"
Hadvar passes through the door, then I do. As I go through, I shut the door. Alvor and Hadvar are sitting at a table to my left already.
I take a seat on the bench next to Hadvar. Alvor's wife, Sigrid, a Nord woman in her late-thirties, is stirring soup in a pot hanging in front of a fireplace.
"Now then, boy. What's the big mystery? What made you look like you lost an argument with a cave bear?" Alvor starts.
"I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius' guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked... by a dragon." Hadvar sighs. His hands shake as he speaks.
"A dragon? That's... ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you, boy?" Alvor expresses his confusion, fear, and almost hopeful amusement.
Sigrid interjects as she places down a bowl of potato soup in front of Hadvar. "Husband, let him tell his story."
Hadvar continues.
"Not much more to tell. This dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for my friend here. I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."
"Of course! Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can." Alvor responds with generosity. He looks over to me and repeats himself. "Like I said, I'm glad to help in any way I can. Help yourself to whatever you need, within reason. But I need your help. We need your help."
"What do you need help with?" I ask.
"The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt." I look into his blue eyes, his scared face holding fear for his home in his eyes, welling with tears. I'm not surprised at his fear. In this world, dragons enslaved humanity, with Alduin forcing people to treat him as if he were a god. For them to return at a time when a civil war was going on... Dark times are ahead.
"I'll do it." I answer. 'What will happen if I don't complete the main questline otherwise?' Whatever will happen, it cannot be good. The minimum that would happen would be the enslavement of humanity.
"Could you tell me how to get to Whiterun?" I ask. I already know, but it would probably seem suspicious if I didn't ask, not having been in Skyrim before.
"Cross the river, then head north. You'll see it, just past the falls. When you get to Whiterun just keep going up. When you're at the top of the hill, you're at Dragonsreach, the Jarl's palace."
I thank Alvor, and excuse myself. I head back outside, taking my pack with me. I stop for a second, when I both see and hear that a new quest has popped into view. The sound, apparently audible only to me as nobody reacts to the noise, is the same as the game's: the sound of swords crossing, a 'ssshiinkk' sort of noise.
Quest Added: Before The Storm |
I ignore it and move on. I walk around and get a new mental map of Riverwood. Mental imagery is going to be important in relation to questing, and for other purposes, should I choose to join the Thieve's Guild or Dark Brotherhood. It takes nearly an hour and a half to get a relative idea of what the village looks like from a bird's eye view, and even then, I'd say my new mental map of it was pretty sketchy. I wouldn't trust it until I had at least a week or two to fully memorize it.
After that, I head back to Alvor's house, and go behind it, to where a tributary of the river is split off. The riverbank is more rock and gravel than sand but despite that, I decide this will be a good area to clean myself off anyways.
I strip off my armor and pack, dumping them on the riverbank, and grab some sand. I rub at the places where blood has dried and scrape the blood off with small stones. The water is cool, but not terribly cold. I do the same with the rest of the pieces of the armor. After I make the armor look like it probably hasn't had blood on it recently, I take off my clothes leaving me in my loincloth, and set my armor to the side up on the riverbank.
I dip my tunic and roughspun pants into the water, and clean it as much as possible. When it's relatively clean and there's not an abhorrent or disgusting amount of dirt, sweat, and blood on it, I put it back aside so that it can dry. The cool 45-degree weather starts to freeze my hands.
I empty my pack, and clean it out as best I can. I take off the hides of the wolves and lay them on the riverbank. I take out the glass bottles of potions land clean them off. Blood and some of the venom from the fangs and venom sacs of the Frostbite spiders have soaked into the thin leather of the knapsack. The inside of the bag now radiates a low, almost cold temperature from the venom. Huh. 'The chemical composition of either the blood or the venom must create an aura of cold or something like that, and that must be why it feels colder inside the bag.'
I try cleaning out the bag, but the venom remains inside, refusing to come out. For a few seconds, I think about how to get it out, but then I realize: 'I'll just market it as an innovation and sell it for a higher price to the trader.'
Thankfully, most of the spider venom sacs remain unbroken, so I can still sell them as alchemical ingredients. I plan on seeing if the fangs can be used in potions, or even in weapons. The eggs can be sold to alchemists. As I reach in the bag, looking for anything else in there, I find the ring and the letter from the Torturer. At least half of the letter has been covered in blood, but what's legible reads:
"To my dearest son, Thrynn:
Father won't be able to come home for a while, so I've sent you to the Orphanage in Riften, in case the worst happens. Ever since your Mum died, I've been trying to protect you, but unfortunately, this world isn't very kind to anyone. Especially not to our family, it would seem. I didn't want to join the Imperials, but they asked me to join again after I served last time, in the Great War. If ever this letter reaches you ----"
That was where the letter cut off. There was too much blood to read the rest. What I was able to read made me shed a tear. Thankfully, I knew where Thrynn was. He's a thief working for the Thieve's Guild in Riften.
I take a moment to collect myself and put the letter in my boot, where blood won't be able to get on it, along with the notes to their families the Stormcloaks were carrying. I reach inside the bag and pull out the spellbook. I check to make sure there's no blood on it, then start putting things away.
Everything but the spellbook, my current usable weapons and armor, I put back into or onto my knapsack. My spellbook, weapons, and armor, I take inside Alvor's house, and put in the basement along a wall. I head back into the village, and look for the Riverwood Trader's shop.
When I see it, I head over to it, and go inside. The first thing I hear is two people arguing.
"Well one of us has to do something!" A woman yells out at a man. He responds by yelling back at her. Spittle flies out as he shouts.
"I said, no! No adventurers, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"
She lowers her voice, but every word is as barbed as when she was shouting. Her eyes squeeze shut as she speaks.
"Well, what are you going to do, then, huh? Let's hear it!"
"We are done talking about this!" The man firmly responds, clearly annoyed at the woman. He notices me. The woman walks over to the opposite side of the room and stands near a small table.
"Oh." He clears his throat. He tries to present a disarming smile, but it's obvious it's forced. "A customer. Sorry you had to hear that. My sister Camilla or I will be happy to help."
"It's fine." I answer, trying to sound like their squabbling doesn't bother me. "What goods do you sell?" I ask.
"Everything you might need, and a little bit more." He answers, then freezes for a second.
"A-Are you okay?" I ask. I think the same thing that happened with the Captain earlier just happened again. He then shivers as if he's shaking something off.
"Y-yes... I don't know what came over me... Felt for a second like I absolutely had to say that. How curious..." The man frowned.
"Well, if you're alright now, I've got some goods I'd like to sell to you." I continue, changing the subject. I swing my knapsack around and pull out the fangs, spider eggs, venom sacs, wolf furs, potions, the swords from Helgen's keep, and the knapsack itself. I place them all onto his desk. It doesn't matter who I go to, to sell the fangs, for two reasons: 1) there's no alchemist anywhere near here besides Whiterun, and 2) I want money, and time to grow, so I shouldn't spend extra time looking to save or to earn 20 extra septims. As long as those reasons remain the same, I'm not going to go to a specialist, unless it's clearly something I can't just sell to anyone on the street.
He grabs a few of the eggs and gives it a light squeeze. It doesn't burst in his hand as I expected, but lets him like a rubber ball gives and indents before filling out the portions that were squeezed. He does this with all of the eggs, then pulls a large, old, cloudy magnifying glass out, along with a sheet of parchment with a color chart on it. He looks through the magnifying glass at the eggs and start comparing the colors of the eggs to those of the parchments'.
He pulls out a quill and a small bottle of ink and writes something down on a second sheet of parchment, and moves onto the venom sacs. He uses the quill to poke the sacs and puts a drop of the venom that drips out onto his left hand. He rubs it around on his fingertips, before cleaning it off with a small cloth and bit of water.
He writes something else down on the same sheet of paper he wrote the other stuff on.
"These come from the same nest of spiders?" He asks.
"Pardon?" I answer, confused. I wasn't listening, paying too much attention to what he was doing.
He looks up at me. "Did these come from the same spiders' nest? I'm not going to test the venom on my skin more than once."
"Oh, yeah," I answer. When he finishes with the venom sacs, he looks over to the wolf furs.
He grabs one and picks it up. He runs his hand through the hair on it, rubbing the fur as he slides it through.
"You washed these, didn't you!? And with river water, no less." He accuses me. "Next time, don't. It'll be easier for me to get the blood off cleaning it myself, and next time you'd get a higher price. I don't actually mind the condition the furs are in, they're going to be cut apart or used as linings anyways. The softness of the fur, however, *greatly* influences who it will be sent to. Armorers, smiths, and some tailors prefer them in leathers or as they are now. Tailors who specialize in clothing, though, want the hair soft. River water removes the natural oils and leaves residues when it dries."
As he educates me on what not to do with the furs, he writes on the paper and moved onto the potions. He looks through the magnifying glass to the potions and pours a little bit of each one into a little cup he pulled out of nowhere. As he tastes each one, he makes a face. 'I guess potions don't taste too good. How unfortunate.'
He finishes with the potions and writes something down on his paper. He looks to the swords now.
"Blunted, the both them. This one's horribly dull. This one has no grip, or rather if it does have a grip, a terrible one. Why, I can't even tell! These are, in lesser terms, useless. Who even made these?!" Spittle flies from his mouth, but upon glancing back up at me, he calms down again. He pores over the swords looking for something.
Upon finding whatever he was looking for, he points it out to me. "Look here, the makers mark. Tacitus's, if I remember correctly. That no-good blacksmith from Markarth needs to actually learn how to smith for once. Ugh, I'll mark them down as to be reforged, and leave it at that." He has nothing good to say about the swords I got from the Keep. It's understandable, especially because they're Tacitus' work.
Tacitus is, as he said, a young blacksmith's apprentice from Markarth who's renowned for terrible works. In the game, Tacitus' work was never seen, so it was widely assumed amongst the player base that he wasn't as terrible as he was made out to be, he was just treated that because his master was a professional Orc blacksmith. After all, the Orcs are known across Tamriel for being exceptional when it comes to smithing, especially for those in the Imperial Legion.
As the proof is directly in front of me, Tacitus just really was that bad at smithing. I should find the book that his master asks me to get, in order to prevent crap like this from spreading across Tamriel. Standards like these must be raised.
The merchant moves onto the knapsack, picking it up and reaches around inside. He makes sure there's no holes and looks at me, then inside the bag.
"Why's inside of the bag so cold?" He asks. It's the moment I've been waiting for.
"It's a new type of knapsack that will keep potions and food cold. I'm the one who designed it."
"Hmmm..." He thinks about it, then writes on the paper.
He turns the paper to me and points to each item on it, as he names the price he'd be willing to buy it for.
"For the spider eggs and venom sacs, 159 gold. Wolf pelts, 60 gold. Potions, 188 gold. Knapsack, 250. The total is 657 gold."
"Deal. I'd like to buy a backpack, and a bedroll from you as well." I don't want to barter over slight amounts of money right now, as time may be of the essence in relaying the message to the Jarl.
"Alright, that'll be 125 Septims." He quickly does a small equation on his scrap of parchment before
He first gives me 5 gold bars. If each gold bar was worth 100 gold pieces, it was my 500 gold. I was able to figure that out fairly quickly. This is clearly significantly easier than manually counting out each coin. Then he reaches under the desk and pulls out a backpack; a large dark brown leather pack with three or four pockets on the side, with straps on the top, the bottom, and the sides.
"Please wait here." The man says, going behind me to a doorway. After a couple minutes, he comes back carrying a bedroll. He goes around and sets it on the desk. He reaches under the desk again and counts out gold pieces in sets of 10, then adds two more. After reaching 32 gold pieces, he drops them into a large pouch and hands it over to me. I put my new things inside the backpack, and start heading to the door.
"Thanks for the business," he says.
"Thank you, as well. By the way, what's your name?" I ask. 'Asking for names when I already know them is going to be a pain.'
"Ah, I forgot. I'm sorry. The name's Lucan Valerius." Lucan apologizes.
"Nice to meet you, Lucan. Goodbye, now." I answer, nodding, and leave. After walking out, I head back to Alvor's house. It's nighttime now, and the majority of the people in the village are all inside their houses, and the peddlers had packed up their goods and were heading to the inn. The only people walking about right now besides me were the town watchmen, a small militia made of the hunters in this village. They were up on the palisade, ensuring that no one suspicious was coming into town, and acting as the provisional town guard.
The moons of Nirn above me, Masser and Secunda, shine brightly in the sky, thousands of times larger and brighter than Earth's one moon. I look at the beautiful night sky for a moment before heading inside. Galaxies of stars and a plethora of colorful nebula are visible. This world has not been plagued by the pollution that my world suffered, from light, plastics, CFC's, and more. My world was in danger of its destruction by the people living on it. The worst part was that the people of my world knew what they were doing, and yet... They continued.
Remembering my world makes me think of my family and friends. Heartache for my homeworld bursts through into my chest. Nobody I knew as well as I did on Earth is here. I hold back a tear, and walk back to Alvor's. I have to think of this as a new adventure, like I'm playing a game. If I don't, I might forget what I need to do here. If I don't or can't complete the main quest, then I'm going to die, along with this world, and never get my chance to return to my family.
After I go inside, I see Hadvar and his little cousin, Dorthe¹, sitting at the table to my left. She must have been playing with the rest of the children earlier, when we got here. To my right are a couple of beds. Alvor and Sigrid were sleeping on one of them. Past the table, on the far left, was a stairway that leads downstairs, to the basement. It seems that Alvor entrusted Dorthe to Hadvar, and allowed him to make sure she went to sleep at her bedtime.
Dorthe was excitedly talking to Hadvar about the dragon when I come back in. When he sees me come back in, he tells her it's time for her to go to bed. Hadvar then gestures for me to go downstairs with him, after he tucks her in and puts some wood into the fireplace. He lights a candle, and heads downstairs.
In the basement of the house, there were smithing materials, extra food, two bedrolls already laid out, and a small plate of bread. A few barrels stood by in the corner, with the dry smell of flour, the starchy potatoes, and the distinct scent of carrots coming from them. A couple sacks of potatoes sat next to them, waiting to be used.
In another corner of the room, lies a small bucket. I presume it to be the chamber pot. Candles around us light up the area with enough lighting to be able to see around us, but also dim enough to fall asleep in.
Hadvar sits on one bedroll with his armor off. My armor's been removed for a while now. This is a relatively safe place. I take off my new backpack and set it next to one of the other bedrolls.
"We need to talk about a few things. The first. How can you be able to use a sword, and yet not be able to put on armor? I had to help you with it. It's not too difficult to work with. This was only a few hours ago." Hadvar starts.
I answer his question with a half-lie. "I learned from some blademasters, but unfortunately, they never taught me anything about armor."
Hadvar nods. "Sense enough in that. That answers my first question. The second. How did you know that the ceiling was going to fall while we were in Helgen? We survived because you stopped us earlier, but there was no sound to alert you. You simply knew. How?"
This one is much harder... I was hoping he didn't notice, but he did. I take a few seconds to come up with a lie.
"That was exactly it. It was too quiet. Something had to have been wrong. I just happened to be right about it. Call it intuition." I say, glad for my quick coverup.
"Alright. The third. The Captain didn't listen, to but you said that that roaring was a dragon, and that we needed to leave. She didn't listen, and now she's probably dead. Then the dragon appeared, just like you said. I was able to hear you, but I didn't believe you really either, to tell you the truth. But you knew. How?"
'Shit. One I can't really explain. Could I explain it with time-travel? No, because he might ask for proof. Seeing the future might work... Shit. When all else fails... No, wait. I've got something.'
"You heard the roaring yourself." I start. "That wasn't a bear, and on such a clear day like today, that couldn't be thunder. What else could it be but a dragon?"
"Ah. I thought you might say something like that. So I though about it myself. Considering humanities' past with dragons, I don't think you'd be dealing with dragons on a friendly basis. So I think I figured it out. You could have just said you can see the future." Hadvar smiles proudly, happy he was able to 'see right through me'.
"And that, combined with what you said to Lokir, 'A sword head-on is better than an arrow in the back.' It makes sense. Lokir's a coward, through and through. He'd have run away for sure, but what you said might have made him stick it out. You have to be able to see the future. Well, let's get to bed, then. We need to be up early. I have to head to Solitude to meet with my superiors and you have to get to Whiterun."
I'm both amazed and confused at this man. How... I mean, thinking about from his point of view, me being able to see the future completely makes sense, but even at my denial, he refuses to believe otherwise.
He blows out the candle closest to us. I lay out on the bedroll. I– I guess that worked out? I don't feel capable of explaining where I really came from, my suspicions of how I got to this world, and more, but... It's alright, I guess. I could probably use this to my advantage somehow.
A cool breeze from the stairwell starts to tickle my body, so I wrap up in the fur and fleece of the bedroll.
·······
A black background is all I can see. White smoke appears around me. I'm lying on the ground. It's the same place, with the Benefactor.
I stand up and look around. Behind me is a frozen Alduin on a Word Wall. A Word Wall is a special stone carved by the ancient Nords that has a series of Words in the Draconic language written on it. When you first approach a Word Wall, a specific Word will glow, and a portion of a Shout will become know to me.
[
Knowledge of the arcane arts, the manipulation of Magicka, and the skill required to use magic flowed into my head. It felt... strange. Like I'm a computer, and I've downloaded some new information.
I kind of feel like I was forced to cheat, getting magical abilities this fast. Nobody is able to just use magic as far as I know. After all, the mages in the Mages' College of Winterhold study so much, yet gain very little rewards, even after years of study. These magical abilities are a gift though, so I'm not going to refuse, but I do feel guilty over it.
"Um... Thank you. May I ask what you are? I feel as though to be able to just give me these powers means you must be at least the level of an Aedra, if not even stronger."
"What about Hadvar?" I ask. "Why doesn't he remember thinking I was a Redguard, but I'm now a Nord?"
[
The Benefactor didn't actually answer my question. Their voice sounded conscientious, as though they truly pitied me.
[
·······
My eyes slowly open. My conversation with the Benefactor obviously didn't work as well as I wished. Hadvar's already up and out of his bedroll. I can hear his voice coming from upstairs.
The golden streams of light from the windows above hit the staircase to the basement and fill my vision. I empty my backpack. I set my weapons and armor to one side and the contents of the bag I spread out.
Time to check my inventory.² For weapons, I have my iron sword and three daggers. For armor, I've got my shield, boots, Imperial light armor, a light helmet. For supplies, I have my backpack, and a bedroll. And I've got one spellbook, a bunch of letters and notes. Since I'm not exploring caves and I'll make it to Whiterun before nightfall, I won't need torches. I am missing food and water, though. As soon as I have this thought, I realized how hungry I am. I barely ate yesterday, and now, I'm extremely hungry.
I roll up my bedroll, and attach to my backpack using the leather straps attached to it.
I strap my shield to the top of the back of my backpack. I strap one of my daggers to the small of my back using a strap in place to hold it's sheath, one on my backpack, and one to my boots. I carry my backpack upstairs.
I head upstairs. Hadvar, Alvor, and Sigrid were eating at the table, while Dorthe was just shutting the door and running outside. I sat at the table, and took a slice of bread.
"Good morning," I say after taking a bite. Sigrid sets a bowl of vegetable soup in front of me, and answers me.
"Good morning. Ah, I don't believe we've caught your name just yet."
I dip the bread into the soup. "Thank you. My name's Drake." After eating some of the soup, I spat out my thoughts about it.
"This is delicious!"
"I'm glad you think so. I could barely stop Hadvar from eating it all." Hadvar simply grunts at this.
After finishing the slice of bread, I grab another and eat it in the same way, soaking it in soup, and eating it soft. Sigrid truly has a talent for cooking. After I finish with the food, I ask if they had any fruits or vegetables to spare, and Sigrid gives me a basket full of onions, apples, leeks, potatoes, a head of cabbage, a few carrots, and a couple loaves of bread.
As she gives me food, I dump them into the backpack, after wrapping them up in a cloth. Since they're all mainly vegetables, they'll remain pretty durable until they're boiled anyways. I put the backpack on my back, say goodbye, and thank them for the support. I'll be back, and see them all again. Before I leave, though, Hadvar says that I'm a strong and capable warrior, and if I ever get the chance, I should join the Imperial Legion. I give him a noncommittal response.
I head outside and start heading north.