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| Home Sweet Home |
The character builder screen pops up, and now my first important decisions need to be made. First, my race. In my previous Oblivion and Skyrim playthroughs, I've tended toward choosing to be an Imperial; something in my subconscious is hardwired to read 'Empire' as 'Good', synonymous with law, order and justice for all. But another reason I was excited to write this blog as I saw it as an opportunity to force myself out of my comfort zone and not simply retread old ground. With this in mind, I've already decided I want to be a magic-user, and so the logical racial choice would be High Elf, or Altmer, with their very nice natural bonuses to Magicka and most of the magical spheres. Bretons too have a nice trait of being able to resist spells cast against them... But they’re far too 'normal'. Even elves are a bit too humanoid, and so I toy with the idea of being a Khajiit or Argonian, the two most distinct playable races in the Elder Scrolls series. The feline Khajiit look the shiznit, but are best used as rogues, and I fear the temptation to slip back into playing the same old stealthy-snipey game would be too great. And while Argonians are similarly tempting, with the possibilities offered by they often triple-barrelled hyphenated names, their waterbreathing ability amounts to a nice gimmick rather than a true game-changer. Unless of course I resolved to travel around the map solely via stream, river or lake...? Perhaps not. Swims-Like-Phelps will have to wait for another playthrough. Altmer it is.
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| Angry, angry Altmer |
Now comes the fine-tuning of my avatar, with gender, skin-tone, weight, hair style, jaw height, foot size... Life's too short for the minor tweaks, which inevitably result in creating some hideous malformed Quasimodo. Of course if you, dear reader, are a fan of saving the world as The Elephant Man, I have no doubt that my esteemed colleague will scratch that itch in his half of this blog. I’ll stick close to the presets. Two aspects are already a given. Whatever RPG I play, my character will always, if I am given the choice, be female and have green eyes. As with the ‘permanently paragon’ deal, these are non-negotiable. I like to think that I’m creating an enormous family tree, that across time and space this one clan has been a constant source of justice and law. Which sounds very smug now that it’s written, so let’s forget it, ok? There certainly are some interesting options for female High Elves, with each one appearing angrier than the last. Eventually I settle on one with a forehead tattoo and what look like pigtails, as if she were some sort of badass Pippi Longstocking. Which suddenly strikes me as the best idea I've ever had, especially since that series' author was Scandinavian, and most of Skyrim's inhabitants speak like the Swedish chef from the Muppets. With the hair-colour promptly corrected, Pyppi Långstøchin is ready to merk some dragons.
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| Pyppi Långstøchin |
Despite not appearing on the list, the overzealous soldiers decide to execute me anyway. Fortunately I am saved by the timely intervention of a big black dragon. In the ensuing confusion I run, avoiding firey death as best I can, and arrive at Helgen’s fortress, where I am offered the first 'choice' of the game: to flee with Rolaf, my former wagon-companion, or with Hadvar, one of my would-be executioners. I imagine how tedious the ride would have been with Rolaf yapping the whole way, and sprint with Hadvar to the door. He was just following orders after all.
Inside, Hadvar cuts my bindings and provides me with some gear to wear besides our ragged sackcloth. I begrudgingly put on the armour for now – we scholarly mages typically shun such military garb – but rejoice finding the spell-tome Flames in a chest. We skim the pages and get the gist of how to cast scorching fire from our hands, which comes in very handy when we round the corner and encounter two Stormcloak soldiers. With them swiftly singed, we proceed downstairs and deal with more of their buddies attempting a jail-break in the dungeon. In the clash, I do accidentally catch a few allies alight... Need to watch out for that in future. In one of the cages I spy a dead wizard wearing some very nice robes. Since he won’t be needing them any more, I acquire them, along with another spell tome, this time for Sparks. I'm well on my way to becoming an all-powerful spell-caster, now that I look the part and have two whole incantations at my disposal.
Hadvar and I proceed deeper into the cellars and cave-system as the dragon collapses the fortress above us. Along the way we battle more Stromcloaks, some large spiders and a rather cranky bear, whose hibernation I disturbed by clumsily kicking over a handcart full of cabbages. Eventually we emerge blinking into the bright light and fresh air again, finding ourselves on one of Skyrim’s many snowy mountainsides. My adventure begins!
Hadvar suggests it’s best if we split up and head for the nearby village of Riverwood, and I agree. Eager to try out my new spells, I sprint off ahead, ready to hurl teeny-tiny thunderbolts at whatever ferocious beast should dare cross my path. A flash of movement catches my eye and I react on instinct.
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| "PIIIIKAAACHUUUUUU!" |
The happy rabbit lolloping across the road is blasted with electricity and skids to a halt. I already feel horrible. I take its meat, as it’s what Ray Mears would have done - that is, if he could summon lightning from his fingertips; otherwise, I am just a cruel beast. I turn around and Hadvar is watching me. So much for splitting up. I can feel him judging me for zapping Bugs. No need for the guilt trip, Had, I already hate myself for it. I veer left onto another road while he’s not looking and run into a travelling bard, whom I give 25 gold to sing a song. Unfortunately, while he takes requests, he doesn’t know ‘Bright Eyes’ by Art Garfunkel. Even more unfortunately, his not-so dulcet tones attract the attention of another member of the animal kingdom, a wolf, who proceeds to attack me and not the tone-deaf minstrel. No problem. This is no defenceless bunny. ZAP.
Of course, then the wolf’s three mates show up, and I am forced to retreat to a handy rock outcropping so that I can take them one-by-one. Even so, my mana swiftly drains, and I begin to fear that my notions of über-wizardry may have been rather presumptive. I decide to find some form of civilisation as quickly as possible, and soon spot a small farmhouse, called Pinewatch, through the trees. It is locked, but I’m sure the owner wouldn't mind me holing up here, just for the night, for it is already growing dark. Regrettably, the occupant appears to be a bandit, who hears my entry from downstairs and attacks. Since she appears unwilling to submit to a citizen’s arrest, I am forced to incinerate her. In searching the house, I discover two notes which reveal the dead bandit has a whole gang of friends who use Pinewatch as their hideout, and a secret door behind a bookcase. Deciding that staying here tonight would not be advisable, I beat a hasty retreat back to the road.
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| Pinewatch |
I cross paths with some more travellers on the road, a nobleman and his bodyguard. I try to strike up a conversation with the man, but he rather haughtily informs me that he is travelling to Solitude for a wedding and that I should not bother him. After my own long wagon-ride with the ever-chatty Rolaf, I understand his irritation and leave him be, instead opting to investigate the campfire just off the road in the hope of finding a bed for the night. Of course, this is the rest-stop of three bandits who immediately draw their swords. With the thugs dispatched, I rifle through their belongings. Jackpot! Alongside the standard handful of coins and assorted armour, I find some more mage robes (although these are black, and I decide that wearing them might give out the wrong impression regarding my intentions), and a treasure map. However such prolific bandit activity implies it’s probably best not to linger here either. Skyrim’s lawmen are certainly in need of some assistance, that much is clear.
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| Directions to One-Eyed Willie's long-lost fortune |
Riverwood isn't too much further along the road, and so I resolve to head there, without further distractions. As I pass by three mystical standing stones, I activate the one with the sign of the Mage constellation in order to boost my arcane understanding, and carefully skirt the entrance to Embershard Mine, lest more robbers be lying in ambush. There will be time to explore these more fully in the morning.
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| Riverwood |
Finally I reach the safety of the village, and enter the house of Alvor and Sigrid. Hadvar’s there too, and we discuss the dragon attack at Helgen over a wonderful dinner provided by Sigrid. Alvor instructs me to head to Whiterun to inform the Jarl there of what happened, and offers me the use of his house to eat and sleep. I gladly accept his kind offer. Sigrid is less impressed, and warns me against making eyes at her husband. Feeling a lot less welcome than before, I retire for the night. There’s lots of adventuring to do tomorrow, after all.
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| Sigrid was suspicious of Pyppi's reasons for visiting her home at midnight |
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