After a good night's sleep, I visit the Riverwood Trader to offload the assorted goodies I have collected so far on my eventful journey from Helgen. The proprietor, Lucan, and his sister are having an argument, so I stand awkwardly in the corner, clearing my throat to let them know they have a customer. It backfires, as Lucan asks if I would be able to lend a hand in retrieving his stolen Golden Claw. I promise I will, but I’ve got tastier fish to fry at present. And I’m not talking about the unrefrigerated salmon meat that I picked up from some fisherman’s rack and crammed into my pockets.
I browse his wares and see he has some spellbooks for sale. I’ve already got two handy destruction spells at my disposal, and so something defensive would be useful. I feel I should get some defensive magic practice in early, so I buy the Lesser Ward tome, which is all I can afford. Unless he wants to buy some slightly ripe and squishy foodstuffs...? He does! I offload everything I have no use for onto him, besides the black mage robes and the raw rabbit leg. I can disenchant the robes and learn their secrets. I have grown attached to the remains of the bunny I electrocuted. His leg shall be my totem, my burden, my reminder of my first failure and my need to follow the path of Good. My selling frenzy rivals that of the Solitude Stock Exchange, which means I level up my speechcraft...and indeed myself as a whole. Huzzah! In my elation, I also buy the tomes for Oakflesh, Clairvoyance and Raise Zombie, and am promptly poor again. Lucan suggests I visit the College of Winterhold, which seems a good idea to pursue fairly soon, lest I be called up on charges of practicing unlicensed magic. For now, though, I’ve got a treasure chest to find, a mine to explore and some bandits to teach the error of their ways.
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| Hardly Fort Knox... |
Some things never change however, and as soon as I enter the mine, I bump into a handcart filled with logs. It careens down its track, clips one of the supporting beams and spills its load with a series of loud thumps. Guess I’m not going for the stealthy approach then... I am just about to descend further into the mine when another rumbling crash, much louder than the thrown logs, echoes through the tunnel. Aw, hell. What foul leviathan of the Underdark hath I awakened from its slumber now? I creep down the slope to see a large rockfall just rumbling to a stop. Curious. Further investigation reveals that one of the logs hurled from the upset cart snapped the tripwire which activated this trap. Looks like my clumsiness is actually a natural defence mechanism, which sense danger ahead and removes it for me. Ta-daaa!
Despite my best efforts, I do actually manage to catch some of the bandits by surprise, and many meet a thunderous end at my hands. Flushed with confidence, I strut around a corner and get jumped by their angry Khajiit friend. Serves me right for letting my guard down. The ex-cat was protecting a storeroom, the contents of which I liberate in the name of the law. Among the assorted weapons and armour I find a spell-tome for Clairvoyance. Damn. I wonder if Lucan does refunds? However some leather boots of lifting are much appreciated, and I happily slip them on.
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| "Don't tase me, bro!" |
Deeper into the mine I find some bandits manning their forge, who receive what is fast becoming my trademark treatment of all bandits everywhere: 1.21 gigawatts of righteous fury. I dabble in blacksmithery to improve the items I’ve found, hoping to squeeze more money out of Alvor and Lucan back in Riverwood. *DING* Welcome to level 3. This time I learn how to dual-cast destruction spells, which gives me an overcharged effect. Sounds just my cup of tea.
With the mine cleared of ruffians, I scramble out of the rear exit and find that it lets out just above Riverwood. Even with my boots of lifting, I’m running a little heavy, so I take the opportunity to return to town and sell, sell, sell. Lucan will not fully refund me for the Clairvoyance book, which is fair, as technically it’s not the same copy, and this one smells of burning brigand hair. Considerably lighter, I set out for Pinewatch farm, ready to dispatch more malevolent marauders.
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| Open... |
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| ...sesame! |
Down the hidden passage behind the cellar bookcase, I find the body of a high elf woman, dumped in a corner with a knife in her back. If the bandit infestation wasn’t incentive enough, they’ve murdered one of my people and are squatting in her home! The thugs in the first room meet a series of electrical mishaps. In my rage, I step on a beartrap and fall off a bit of scaffolding, which I trust was my clumsiness rescuing me from taking greater damage through some other means.
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| "By Grabthar's Hammer, by the Suns of Warvan, you shall be avenged!" |
Further into the lair, one bandit with especial admiration for the power of wizards experiences it first-hand, I find a strange quest-giving gem, and find some dead draugr – undead Nordic warriors who lurk in the crypts of Skyrim. It would appear I share an opinion with these heartless criminals: that the only good draugr is a dead draugr.
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| Wood into gold, no. Bandit into lightning-rod, yes. |
A sneaky shocking of a solitary sleeping bandit escatates into a bar-room brawl with five more. But Pyppi Långstøchin is mad. These poor excuses for Nords are no match for me as I dodge their every blow by bounding off tables and beds, zapping each one in turn. I finally – according to the note pinned beside the door – reach the private quarters of the bandit leader, Rigel Strong-Arm, who certainly has a lot to answer for. Inevitably, in my haste I bump my head on the bone noise-makers, which rouses the slumbering outlaw. She roars and sprints out of her bedroom, fully-clad in heavy armour.
I honestly didn’t expect the leader to be a lady. I'd commend her success in breaking through the glass ceiling, although it would have been better for her life-expectancy had she chosen a different career for herself. I suspect her parents are to blame – who names their daughter Rigel? Rigel herself isn’t too smart, and I easily outpace the rampaging berserker around her dining table, casting Flames and Sparks over my shoulder.
Once she succumbs to a final blast of electricity, I swipe her strongroom key and make my way to pilfer her ill-gotten gains, deftly dodging the traps along the way for once. I open the door and suddenly feel very much like Scrooge McDuck. SO MANY GOODIES! I scoop up all the coins, gems, candlesticks and other trinkets and shovel them into my pockets. Among the shinies is a curious silver mould which I suspect some resident of Skyrim will be looking for.
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| "Rigel angry!" |
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| "Rigel sleepy..." |
One quick trip back to Riverwood later, clinking and clanking with expensive doodads as I go, I am a (relatively) rich woman. Soon, all of Skyrim will hear of the exploits of Pyppi Långstøchin, Bandit-Bane!
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