It's quite amazing how even life threatening situations seem less eventful when compared to slaying a dragon. It has been several days since last I wrote. In that time no other dragons have been seen in the skies...at least, when I look up. Perhaps they see the bones of the dragon I killed as a warning and have stayed clear of Whiterun. Or perhaps they are merely waiting for a moment to strike me, silently preparing for when I am at my weakest.
In my time as Thane of Whiterun, several things have occurred to me. I need a house of my own. Though the tavern is more than happy to lodge a Dragonborn, and even the Companions Guild has opened up to me, I feel that I need to survive on my own, without having to rely on others. Which brings me to my next realization. When first I entered this place, my thoughts were only of surviving and how I could achieve those means. At that time, survival meant making use of what I did best. So far that was keeping out of sight and being as unnoticed as possible. I will admit thievery was a very possible route for me. From what I have learned, my kind regularly devolves into the stereotype and deals in theft and murder - and I've already killed more people than I ever thought I would. However something changed after that dragon attack. The people of this place regard me as something else, not a traveler, adventurer...or even a Khajiit. I am a Dragonborn, a Thane of Whiterun, and a hero to the people. They let me into their homes, even the Jarl himself has offered much of his inventory to me. Not only can I not bring myself to steal from these people.. I can barely take what is offered freely. I could probably pocket every book in Dragonreach, sell every weapon in Jorrvaskr, and no one would bat an eyelash...and yet I feel something for these people that stays my hand. Rather than abuse their trust, I vow to stand with them, and prove myself.
And so, with a few thousand gold away from owning my very own home, I left Whiterun to adventure to my heart's content. I had remembered passing by a mine on my way to Riverwood, where I killed my first bandit. And where there's one bandit, there's a dozen more - probably hoarding something. Sure enough they had a pretty smooth operation going on (Note to self - remove torches from walls for ultimate predator mode). Sadly it was there I faced my first Khajiit in combat. Even knowing so little about my own kind, it pained me to have to dispatch of one of the few I met. After collecting everything in the mine that wasn't nailed down, and mining everything shiny, I sold everything that wasn't interesting to the local trader. Lucan was so happy I was trading with him again, he gave me a free sword as a....er...'token of his affection'. I sold the rest of my stuff at the blacksmith.
As I played hide-and-go-seek with the local children, my mind wandered to my near death experience at Helgen, I became curious as to the fate of the place, and began a trek back to where it all started. The place was, understandably, a wreck. Burned bodies greeted me, still stuck with their arms over their face in a disturbing reminder of what I had narrowly avoided. And then I saw the brigands. Strutting about the ruined keep as if they were somehow responsible for the atrocities. My blood boiled at the thought of them mocking these poor souls, and my Frost Whisper rained death upon them.
One exploration and several dead bandits later, I found myself with enough money to finally have a place to call home - and to dump all of my trinkets, It feels good to get those dragon bones off my back. Also my Housecarl Lydia accompanied me...much to my surprise. I think we'll have to work out sleeping arrangements before night falls. But for now, I am Esias, Homeowner!
No comments:
Post a Comment