Skyrim Awaits

[CephalicMiasma]

I started a new character and i've sworn not to use the map or fast travel for as long as I can. Just look at whats in front of me and follow my "compass". It felt so awesome that I wrote down a lot of what was happening. This is only a small part of what has happened so far but there's a lot of detail, as far as what I actually did, heard, saw. I hope you all enjoy it. Oh, and i'm gonna try to make it a habit to end these with an original poem that was written for each specific passage. Since my character is also a bit of a scribe/poet/skald. Oh yeah, and i'm not allowed to set the difficulty lower than master.

What follows is the account of a Bosimer naturalist/herbalist/explorer beginning a journey into the vast mysterious land of Skyrim.

Freyr's Journey: first account. It has been two days since I began my exploration into Skyrim to document the local flora and fauna and to discover the mysteries held within the landscape. However I am only now able to write any part of my journey down. Unfortunately I was ambushed by an imperial sentry so close to the border that I could still see my homeland.

I was accused of crimes I never committed and when I protested against the accusations I received a swift pommel to the side of the head which knocked me unconscious. I awoke on a cart bound with three Nords, one of them seemed to be rather important; i’ve never heard of him.

The Imperials plan was to excecute us, but things never do go as they’re planned do they? “We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood” he told me. Ha! That impetuous bureaucratic Imperial. Even the dragon that appeared could not rival my fury. But still; the dragon was able to cause a commotion which I could not, as one would expect from a flying lizard, and I escaped with one of the men I was bound in the cart with; Ralof. We had to traverse a few caves and defend ourselves from more imperial barbarism but eventually we made it to safety, only to see the very same dragon looming over us and disappearing into the distance.

Ralof and I decided to head our separate ways. The trees are large and healthy. I noticed several different species of wildflowers growing abundantly near me, needless to say I harvest what I can. With no map I decided to cross the glistening river before me.

I came across a small shack with an old woman claiming to be named Anise standing ominously outside. “It’s tough just scraping by out here, but I make due” she mumbled. I entered her shack and spotted a book title Song of The Alchemist’s sitting near the foot of her bed. Upon reading it I learned a great deal of information and felt my knowledge increase. I also saw some parchment which in all honestly I shouldn’t have stole from the woman but I wouldn’t be writing this without it. While exiting her shack I looked around for the sun, which had just began to dissappear behind the mountain. “I'm just a poor old woman, dear. No need to trouble yourself with me." Anise said while walking into the shack. “I was just making my leave” I said to her, but in a whisper she could not hear.

I decided I must find shelter, soon, for the coming night. This land, as beautiful as it is, is a strange and cold land. Following the stream led me to a thicket of trees, which upon moving cautiously through a light began to appear. The flickering light of a fire no doubt. Warmth, shelter.

I approached hoping to see friendly faces but was met by silence and emptiness. “Better than bandits” I muttered. I entered the small shack next the fire and two hunters, a male and female Redguard, were fast asleep in their bedroll’s. I crept silently back out of the shack as not to wake them and sat on the bench near the fire, adding five thick logs to the fire pit. They crackled viciously. The wind weaved through the trees, rustling the leaves. The stars shined brightly, constantly, assuringly.

Here I sat, warm and safe
Dancing before me,
the fire’s shadow was.
And for morning I did wait,
to see the sun shine from up above.

.........................................................


If anyone out there enjoyed reading this please comment and I will put effort into making more.

 

[Lady Imp]

Love the concept! Keep writing, will read.

 

[Volanere]

Someone has skills

 

[CephalicMiasma]

SECOND ACCOUNT

19th of Last Seed, 4E 201. Freyrs Journey.
The first rays of morning light began to peek through the tree-tops. Amidst this twilight I make my leave. Upon leaving the hunter’s rest I came across a cobble-stone path which I decided to follow North; my current guiding direction. Farther down the path a female nord was walking. As I approached her she called me ‘milk drinker’, normally I would have laughed at such a casual insult but my temper still flared from almost being wrongly executed. I try to intimidate her but she immediately attacks me. Her axe is fiercely sharp and her shield arm is sturdy but eventually my mace finds a sweet spot amongst her ribs; bringing her to her knees. “Mercy!” she shouts in a pathetic attempt to salvage her life. She is only answered by a swift strike to the back of the neck. “This didn’t have to happen.” I muttered. But then again; she knew the risk of insulting a stranger on a dark road after nightfall!

The thatch of a building comes into view as I circle around a small range of mountains. To the left of it is a mine with two men guarding it, though they wore no uniforms. One of the men warns me that Darugr have overrun the mine and they are waiting for the local Jarl’s men to come along and clear it out. Against my better judgement, and with extreme caution, I enter Soljund’s Sinkhole. Upon entering I am noticed by a humanoid creature with graying flesh and sunken features; I assume these are the dreaded “Draugr”. The creature proved much to powerful; my mace seemed to connect with the force of a falling leaf. I turned and swiftly ran out of the mine where upon the two men assisted me in bringing down the monstrous thing. They both glared at me; somewhat embarrassed I turned away from the mine to where I once saw the thatch of a building.

The building appeared to be an Inn of some sort. I put away my weapon and exhaled a sigh of relief as I climbed the stairs to the door and enter ‘Old Hroldan’. Its not yet midday but the recent events and lack of sleep have caused me to grow incredibly weary and I decided to rent a room to get some much needed rest. Apparently Tiber Septim once stayed in this inn. The bed is like a cloud to me, I haven’t slept on such a soft surface since I left the comfort of Valenwood. I drift quickly off to sleep.

I awaken to a woman's screams, and upon entering the main room I see a ghost sitting casually near the roaring fire. He addresses me as if he knows me; “Hjalti is that you?”. I assure him we have never met but he will have none of it. He says I promised to bring him his sword before he was slain, and directs me to where I might find it. Maybe someday I can return the relic to this lost and forgotten spirit.

I exit the inn feeling very refreshed and follow the pathway North. I collect various native specimens on this path. A hilltop comes into view upon which many buildings sit. As I approach two groups are standing facing each other, arguing. After the arguement ends one group heads into the nearby mine and the other disperses throughout the buildings. I approach one of the townspeople who introduces himself as Ainethach, he informs me that he is the owner of this town, Karthwasten, and that the Silver-blood mercenaries are trying to forcibly persuade him to sell his mine. Feeling empathetic, I decide to go have a chat with the leader of the mercenaries.

Upon entering the mine I notice it is ripe with silver veins. All the henchmen are very threatening but no one attacks me when I mine the silver. I eventually approach the supposed leader. I suggest that he and his men leave, but the effort is futile. I attempt to persuade him with gold, but he informs me he is already well-paid. There are at least three other men; theres not much i can do. As I turn he calls me a milk drinker. I am furious, but I know when i’m outmatched so I leave, climbing up and over the rock faces nearby. I regret not helping Ainethach, but I didnt have much of a choice. On the other side of the mountainous hills another path comes into view and I decide to keep heading generally north; following the north-western path.

A bit down the path I see four people calmly walking in line. They are all armed but don’t seem to be looking for trouble. As I approach they all turn and attack; they are bandits. I’m outmatched once again so I flee to a nearby river. I let the current sweep me away and I fall down a series of small rapids and waterfalls; I am a bit bruised but I seemed to have gotten away. I trek onward through the bushes. Night has begun to fall once more. I see a pack of saber-tooth tigers in a small clearing and sneak through the nearby tree-line slowly as to not be noticed. In the distance I see a massive fence constructed entirely of pointed tree trunks. Their tips shine in moonlight.

I walk alongside the fence until I am stopped by an Orsimer named Bagrak. She tells me that since I am not blood-kin to her and her tribe I am not welcome within their stronghold. I look back at the deep and darkening woods behind me; I decide to open the gate anyway. I am immediately confronted by Bagrak. “We won’t kill you, but we don’t want you here” she states. Its mildly reassuring. I ask if there is anything I can do to gain the trust of her clan and gain safe passage into their stronghold. She answers so quickly it seem as though she was waiting for the question to be asked; maybe they’ve been waiting for help but are to proud to seek it out?

She tells me about a pair of enchanted gauntlets. If I am to return them to her, I may gain safe passage and immunity from unprovoked attacks within their stronghold. She points me in the direction of where I might find them and what may be there when I do. This is quite a tempting offer; as much can be learned from these Orcs. No doubt they have an interesting and unique perspective of this land having lived here as foreigners for so long, and can definately provide me with some tips for surviving here without being a native. Maybe they’ve even identified some plants that the locals don’t realize the benefits of. Its also possible that I will be ambushed when I return with the gauntlets. Only time will tell.

For now I am allowed refuge within their walls, but I am being watched carefully. The moon still shines high over head and the crickets chirp with vigor, so for now I will rest. Bagrak repeats that I am not of her kind, and I am not wanted here. So why am I allowed to stay? Something must be afoot. This thought makes me uneasy, but only time will reveal the answer. For now I warm myself by the glow of the blacksmith’s forge and write, preparing for the coming dawn.

Within the stronghold the longhouse does sit,
with honor, presense, and might.
With pride do the Orsimer inhabit it;
and guard it throughout the night.

........................................................................................

Yes, I know I have a problem with shifting between past and present tense.

 

[Octavia]

 

[Lady Imp]

Yes, I know I have a problem with shifting between past and present tense.

That's the beauty of creative prose - there are no hard-set rules. I honestly didn't notice.

 

[MOROKEI]

Cool journal so far - keep it up! I think that the abandoned alchemist's hut east of Helgen and across the mountain pass by Haemar's Shame would make an excellent base for your character!

 

[TheQuietCommentatorUTube]

Me as I read this

 

[CephalicMiasma]

Cool journal so far - keep it up! I think that the abandoned alchemist's hut east of Helgen and across the mountain pass by Haemar's Shame would make an excellent base for your character!

I've come across that shack with other characters so I know exactly which one you're talking about and yes, it would absolutely perfect!

 

[CephalicMiasma]

Unfortunately my prediction has come true . Keeping a detailed (sort of) account of Freyr's travels kind of detracts from the gameplay. The reason i'm playing on master without using the map or fast travel is to make it seem a bit more realistic, and it really detracts from the flow of the gameplay to stop as often as I have been to remember exactly what just happened and record it.

That being said, I will still definitely continue this story (in fact the third account is almost done) since it seems many of you enjoy the concept/encounters. But I cannot promise that it will include as many character names or quotes (which have all been accurate so far), as my brain is not a tape recorder and I do not own a gameplay recording device.

I will still include a poem though, as that is part of the character.

 

[Lady Imp]

I'm currently in the process of transposing notes of a character in a blog, and it's difficult work, especially given how long it's been since I've actually played her, so I totally dig where you're coming from. I was fortunate enough to have created a Twitter for her once, and I would occasionally blast off a quick tweet of what was going on in her mind, which is helping the creative process a bit. I usually wouldn't even pause the game - I would just send something off after an event, I can crank out 140 characters like it's my job. For you, however, maybe some form of note-taking software. I'm ADDICTED to Microsoft OneNote, I use it for EVERYTHING - it keeps everything so well-organized, you can create different tabs for different areas of research, different notebooks for different stories, or in my case, keep schoolwork easily separated from playwork...I don't know if you hand-write or type, but I'm a heck of a lot faster at typing and I can rarely read what I write to begin with. Don't get into detail, just quick notes...I'm having problems with the "OMG is that REALLY how it happened??" factor cause I'm kinda anal like that, but I find I'm enjoying the liberation of being able to creatively come up with something that may or may not have honestly taken place. A break from the scientific method, if you will (trust me, my life is governed by it). Yay, freedom! I know this is an actual-play character, but maybe relaxing your reporting rules might ease your mind and make it a more fun for you - we don't want this becoming a chore, we like reading it and wanna see more!

 

[CephalicMiasma]

THIRD ACCOUNT.

21st of Last Seed, 4E 201.
Upon leaving the stronghold I come across four stone pillars with a tree growing in the center. As I circle it the moon dances among the branches. The moonlight flickers and flashes, leaping playfully among its barren arms. I note my first sighting of a deciduous tree.

I place my hand against it’s rough bark, but only for a second as I hear a faint shuffling to my left. I see a figure looming nearby in the darkness. No movement did it exhibit. As I approach I realize it is a woman in tattered clothing and she seems frightened. She tells me shes been out here alone so long she never thought shed see another person again. I ask her whats wrong and she tells me weeks ago she was kidnapped by bandits and taken to Mistwatch Keep. She only recently picked the lock and escaped, and has been wandering around for what seemed like forever. I point her in the direction of the nearest town, as she informs me this is all she needs, and she points me in the direction of Mistwatch. Maybe when I return with Bagrak’s gauntlets she will help me reign vengeance down upon Mistwatch.

I continue in the direction the woman appeared from. Large boulders begin appearing in the darkness. The grow in size and soon I feel as though i’m amongst a narrow corridor. Suddenly i’m confronted on my right by a mountain lion. I continue forward, sprint quickly, and eventually come to a cliff. Peering over the edge I see the faint glimmer of a river and an odd white pattern. However I also notice that the face the cliff isn’t too steep to slide down. I take my chances, dig my feet in, and gently tip my weight over the edge.

I slide down swiftly and sustain minor injuries to my feet. I whip around and peer back up towards the cliff and see the beast snorting and growling, but unwilling to follow. I take a few deep breaths, regain my focus, and harvest some nearby milk thistle.

The pattern I saw from the cliff was the top of a multicolored horse. In my stupor I had not immediately noticed it. Next to it lay it’s dead owner; well, previous owner. I made sure the horse wasn’t spooked by my noisy arrival but it seemed calm enough upon my approach. I looked up at the stars and regained my direction; I must find those gauntlets for Bagrak, I know it’s not a great step for the study of herbalism but if I can gain the trust of those Orsimers I may learn a great deal about navigating this land as a foreigner; which will aid all facets of my journey.

I mount the beautiful beast and begin my ascent up a dirt road between rows of large rocks. The horses of this land are quite large and slow, but they’re stamina is unmatched. I soon come to what appears to be a clearing at the end of the road. I slow the horse’s pace to a trot, and as I look to my right I see a large stick driven into the ground next to the path with a severed goats head stuck on top, “how quaint” I mutter.

I dismount the horse, as to keep the animal safe from harm, and approach quietly. I am immediately spotted by a man dressed in archaic clothing who pronounces his attack in the name of the “forsworn”, whatever is meant by that I hope to soon find out. He charges at me but I am quicker than him; I avoid all but one of his swings and counter with a heavy overhead hammering blow with my steel mace. He stumbles a bit and receives a subsequent blow to the side of the head which sends his corpse flying down to be met only by the cold hard dirt. He will soon be part of this dirt. As will we all.

I step over his corpse and proceed once more towards the clearing which is backed by some sort of massive megolithic stone structure. But before I can get close enough to make out any detail I am struck by a heavy fireball that sets me ablaze. The pain is excruciating, I almost pass out. The flame soon dies out and I take refuge behind a large boulder. The creature shrieked viciously into the night air; a blood-curdling scream. Another fireball lands near me, singing me slightly; I cannot best this beast. As I turn around to look for my horse I realize it is nowhere to be found. Sprinting away in a zig-zag pattern, to avoid the blazing projectiles which followed my retreat, I escaped quickly down the path I came.

Surely I cannot return to Bagrak empty-handed. So I decide to once again, head ominously North. I come to a man standing around various corpses, he’s dressed in a Stormcloak cuirass but he’s wearing an imperial officers helmet. He attacks me instantly. He is obviously unskilled and untrained and I take him down with but a few swings. I check the other bodies, a few Stormcloak and Imperial soldiers, and come to the conclusion that the man was either a scavenger or had gone mad.

Light has begun peering over the hills I continue to make my way over. They are a beautiful sight. The trees here are sparse and small but have distinct character and form. Many of them are junipers that bear berries. The landscape is littered with small mountain ranges. There’s no doubt I am in northwestern Skyrim. I come across an old stump on which a perfect specimen of Mora Tapinella is thriving, I harvest what I can.

Continuing further I come to small pond with a body laying ominously still. As i come close I notice it is a female that has been stripped and layed on her stomach over a rock. She is cold dead. Near her are her clothes, folded and placed neatly on the embankment. A journal is among her affects, I read it and learn that she is a young girl who comes down here to swim, though her father warns her of the forsworn. Upon returning to the body I find an archaic arrow lodged in the sand near her. I assume her fathers warnings were well-meant. Her jewelery is also still sitting neatly near her clothes. Whomever did this must not of been a bandit after riches. This is the second time i’ve encountered this Forsworn term. It is ominous to say the least.

I continue over a range of hills and am confronted by a small pack of wolves. I sustain various bites but not enough to prevent me from silencing the beasts. It is a shame they must die for my protection; but what shall I do, let myself become a meal?

On the other side of the hills a slope makes its way steeply down to a pathway. I follow the pathway south and a windmill comes into view. As I continue I come to an intersection with a bridge and a sign. The sign that points to where I just came from says Karthwasten, good. The sign pointing down the bridge says Whiterun, alright. And the other sign that says Markarth is pointed towards what appears to be a large man-made structure in the foggy distance. Interesting. As I continue up this path a farm comes into view, explaining the windmill. The owner of the farm asks me to deliver a letter to Old Hroldan; I take it as no coincidence that I've already been there.

As I come closer strange architecture becomes apparent. The stonework appears Dwarven in nature. Approaching the main entrance to the city I am in awe of the megolithic works of art. Massive stone monument embossed with intricate designs. Its quite a sight. I am greeted at the gate by one of the guards. He informs me that if I see anything to not get involved, that the city gurad will handle it. A strange thing to begin a conversation with. I ask him if there’s a problem in the city, and he tells me thats exactly what he was talking about; asking questions is getting involved. He promptly tells me to head in and to mind myself. I open the large golden-bronze doors.

Upon entering the city I immediately see a man unsheath a weapon and slowly approach a woman from behind. He yells something about the Forsworn and readies to attack the woman. Instinctively I ready my bow and fire an arrow into the back of his left rib-cage. He staggers and turns around, hurling a continuous stream of flame at me. Great, more fire. Immediately he is swarmed by several guards who cut him down mercilessly.

A suspicious young man with prominent facial tattoos hands me a note. I attempt to explain that I have dropped nothing but he insists that it’s mine. I am no fool, he is acting innocently for public appearances. I’ll play along with his rouse for now but after what just occurred i’m rather apprehensive. The woman that the “Forsworn” man was approaching thanks me for saving her life and gives me a reward for doing so. I ask her if she knows what Forsworn means but she says she’s only here from Cyrodill to do some shopping.

I read the note : “Meet me at the shrine of Talos.” Fair enough. But I need rest. The day has just began but my night was treacherously long. I see a sign hanging outside a nearby building that reads “Silver-Blood Inn”, works for me. As I enter, the Innkeeper welcomes me. Theres is an old bard near the fire singing a song about dethroning Ulfuric Stormcloak, wasn't that the man in the cart with me at Helgen? I suddenly remember Ralof, I wonder where he ended up.

I rent a room, set my equipment down on the table, and let out a slow and heavy exhale as I lay down onto the bed. I knew I was preparing for an adventure when I journeyed into this land; but I would have never expected things to unfold as they have. I laugh softly, a laugh of hope. Surely, my adventure has only begun. Everything i've experienced up until now has convinced me that from this point on the true Skyrim awaits.

In Markarth I now lay,
among perceived enemies.
A bed for a weary traveler;
there is no better remedy.
Forsworn I have heard,
shouted with such passion.
That I question the motives of,
those who have’nt taken action.

..............................................................................................

I know that the creature hurling fireballs at me was a hagraven. But Freyr didnt know that.

 

[TheQuietCommentatorUTube]

Nice.

 

[ah3nos]

Not sure if you're on a PC or not, but one thing I find helpful for my journal is to record my gameplay and then stop after an hour or so to write while watching it, fast forwarding through the parts I remember.

Sent from my LG-P999 using Tapatalk 2

 

[CephalicMiasma]

Not sure if you're on a PC or not, but one thing I find helpful for my journal is to record my gameplay and then stop after an hour or so to write while watching it, fast forwarding through the parts I remember.

Sent from my LG-P999 using Tapatalk 2

Unfortunately I'm playing Skyrim the worst way possible; on the PS3. It would be so much easier if I were able to re-watch watch my gameplay.

 

[Squirrel_killer-]

Unfortunately I'm playing Skyrim the worst way possible; on the PS3. It would be so much easier if I were able to re-watch watch my gameplay.

I also play on PS3 and had started an adventure diary a while back, but character got deleted so I never got far with it. I might make a new one some day.

Anyways mine was posted on the blog here on the forums and I wrote it as I played. Here's some links so you can see what I mean:

Character Adventure Diary - Aldinlor - Entry 1 | Skyrim Forums
Character Adventure Diary - Aldinlor - Entry 2 | Skyrim Forums

That was written as I played the game. I found it rather enjoyable and it was fun to write, but I haven't had time to do another since. What I like about it was the way I could get in character and then only need to partially break my in character mindset while playing and writing without having to worry about what had happened while writing.

Anyways that might help if you are having issues trying to remember everything when writing.