The Elder Strolls, Part 3: "Against the Storm"

\[post\]The Elder Strolls, Part 1: "Just Off the Boat"\[/post\]

[post]The Elder Strolls, Part 2: "This Elusive Feeling"[/post]

After a long black streak associated with bandits and trolls, I’m ready to enjoy a long white streak, strolling along a long white beach. And this morning, everything is going as it should: it’s still early, the sun hasn’t risen, and the whole Skyrim seems to be asleep. And as I walk my way, I feel as if the game has completely forgotten about me. Enemies don’t jump out from the pre-dawn darkness to fill the air with the whistling of arrows flying at me. Monsters aren’t chasing me with their huge hairy fists. Thieves aren’t trying to stuff stolen magical weapons into my inventory. It’s just me, the calm music in my head, and the sound of my own footsteps. And suddenly – suddenly! – nothing happens.

It can't get better than this.

And not a single creature nearby, not even a rambling draugr commander.

Today, I’m not just hunting for pelts: I’m traveling. I decided to leave Dawnstar for several reasons. First, I want to get serious about the blacksmithing trade, and while I can forge weapons and armor in Dawnstar, the local forge lacks a grindstone and workbench to improve them, which limits my capabilities. Furthermore, there’s no shop in town to sell things: the only such place was the camp of the Khajiit travelers, but since they are nomads, they’ve packed up and moved on. The iron and mercury veins are depleted, and it will take ages before they can be mined again. And perhaps most importantly – any troll could easily enter the city and start beating the crap out of everyone.

I decided that Nordrik should live in a real city. With real shops, a full-fledged forge, and big stone walls with a thick oak door to keep the riffraff away. I’m tired of being a big guy in a small town. I want to be a big guy in a big city.

Moreover, I came up with a plan so bold in its caution and so audacious in its modesty that it just might work. My goal is the city of Windhelm, located far to the southeast. I’ll have to make my way there on foot, but instead of cutting straight through the fort-laden mountains of Skyrim, filled with tombs, bears, giants, and God knows what else, I’ll walk along the shore, at the very edge of the map. The walk is set to be long, but to my left, I’ll have the sea, and to my right, the cliffs, so if something wants to eat me, it will have to attack from the front. Skyrim is full of adventures, but my plan is to sneak by its edge, unnoticed.

My secret path. Just shhh! Don’t tell Skyrim!

And so far, it’s working. The morning passes without incident: I kill a couple of foxes with my bow, catch a few salmon with my bare hands, harvest meat from a couple of nasty mollusks, and continue my way in silence and serenity. I get so used to this calm, unsullied stroll that when I see a charred corpse kneeling beside a spellbook on a small island surrounded by flames, I just walk closer to take a look. And immediately catch fire.

Kids, if you catch fire, remember: drop and roll!

Okay, that was incredibly stupid and quite painful. Note to self: stay away from strange corpses.

Later in the evening, I manage to find a battered awning on a cliff. I decide to stay here for the night, ignoring the wrecked ship nearby (that’s enough for me!) and trying not to think about the human bones lying in my sleeping spot. I set my perfectly working internal alarm for 4 AM, hoping to get up early enough so that Skyrim’s adventure radar doesn’t notice me.

All I ask for is a warm bed and something for my head. A ribcage will do.

The next morning, leisurely snowflakes give way to a real storm. The wind howls, the world darkens, and there’s so much snow that I can’t even see my giant nose. I move forward until I notice that I’m not getting anywhere because I’ve blindly bumped into an angry hawker. It starts roaring, flailing, and slapping its flippers, offended that I stepped on it, but it’s fat, slow, and easy to outrun. I consider whether to kill it for meat and tusks, but it’s such a charmer when it’s angry, so I just leave it be.

Have you ever seen a swimming hawker? An impressively graceful creature. No joke, this is a result of observing wildlife.

The storm doesn’t subside. Wolves start attacking more frequently, first signaling their presence with pathetic howls, and then stuffing my inventory with their bloody, furry hides. I stumble across two human skeletons and a bear trap. It seems someone got caught in the trap and died, while another sat nearby, sympathetically watching the previous someone die, and then died as well. The skeletons lie at the bottom of a narrow gorge, and I climb up slowly and carefully to survey the area from above. The storm subsides, and a beautiful view opens up before me.

Someday a simple Nord like me will walk towards that moon without any purpose.

Up high, I spot a dark cliff nearby and some ruins, and I head there, thinking it’s another camp or hideout I could use. As I get closer, it looks less like a camp and more like some altar. And on it lies something… something… that seems like a dead body, as if frozen in a block of ice or something… shimmering. I start to sneak closer as quietly as possible, but as soon as I get nearer… BAM! A flash of light, noise, magic, and it all hits me in the face.

AAAH THE TERRIFYING BLUE LIGHT IS ATTACKING ME OH GOD WHAT TO DO

I just run away. I sprint back down like the last coward. Once I catch my breath, I realize that just now something akin to yesterday’s incident with the corpse happened. Some idiot was trying to learn a spell, some ice spell in this case, and killed himself. And I just happened to walk by and thought to get a closer look, despite having made the same mistake the day before. Didn’t I tell myself: "Note to self: stay away from strange corpses"? Is there any point in leaving notes for the future if I never read them? It’s no wonder that Skyrim didn’t try to get me involved in anything during this stroll. It doesn’t have to try. I’ll stumble upon a dead body of someone who needed adventures and unwittingly follow in their footsteps.

By the end of the day, trudging through the newly-started snowstorm, I stumble upon a small camp. There are a few sleeping bags, a hawker’s corpse, tables with meat and hawker tusks, and a cart. No inhabitants of the camp in sight, just a lone horse standing nearby. I recall the two skeletons from yesterday. Maybe they were hawker hunters? They went hunting and died, getting caught in their own trap? The horse gives no response.

I sleep in the camp and wake up early. Though I’m sure the camp was set up by those dead people I just stumbled upon, taking anything valuable from it doesn’t seem like a very honorable idea. However, after long internal debates, I decide to take the horse since it’s not marked as anyone’s property, and if it is, the owner is probably already dead. Besides, whoever kills cute, plump hawkers definitely doesn’t deserve their own horse.

If a person decomposes in a bear trap, taking their property isn’t considered theft. That’s the law.

I don’t make the horse gallop, so my travel isn’t exactly speeding up, but it's been quite a few days since I've seen another living NPC, and overall, it’s nice to have a companion to ride on. I decide to name him Breezy. Unfortunately, I seem unable to keep him to myself: every time I dismount to fight wolves, Breezy starts trudging back to the hawker hunters’ camp, and I have to run after him. I realize that running back for the horse every five minutes means taking a twice as long path, so eventually, I have to just let him go. Farewell, Breezy.

Now this is a decent troll deterrent.

By the end of the third day, the massive stone walls of Windhelm finally appear in the distance. I’m there! Windhelm! My cunning plan to avoid adventures has worked out entirely, apart from a couple of magical traps I foolishly stumbled into. Still, I’ve made a long journey without once encountering horrific monsters or wicked armed people. Moreover, not a single new icon has appeared on my map, which means I found absolutely nothing.

Three full days wandering Skyrim and not discovering a single new location? It’s hard to imagine a more hardcore NPC. I feel as though I’ve accomplished something by achieving absolutely nothing.

*Original. *