After a waking up to a wonderful sober feeling, I left Kharjo and Lydia in Breezehome, and went about selling my wares that I had gained in my recent travels. Sanguine's Rose would stay with me however, until such a time that I could figure out the extent of its power. What I hadn't told Kharjo is that I intended to meet the mysterious horn snatcher that made off with the Graybeards treasure, and left me a cryptic note instructing me to return to the very first town I encountered in my Skyrim travels.
By early afternoon I had made my way back to Riverwood, to the tavern of the Sleeping Giant. I was confused to see no new faces in the tavern. With nothing else to do, I relayed the odd message to the tavern owner, Delphine, asking to rent the attic room. She stared at me hard for a moment, almost as if sizing me up, before telling me no such room existed, but offered a room on the left instead. Upon showing me the room, she promptly closed and locked it behind her. Alarm bells fired off in my head as my fingers twitched toward my daggers. Delphine guessed I was the Dragonborn, and told me it was she who had taken the horn. She began questioning me about my experiences, and upon finding my answers to her liking, turned and unlocked a cupboard which opened to reveal a secret basement. Inside it appeared to be a mini war room - many weapons and armor were laid out around the room, and a map of Skyrim with several markings was displayed on a table in the center. Delphine kept her intentions a secret, telling me I would have all the answers I desired as soon as I could prove I was the Dragonborn. I felt a stone drop into my stomach as I asked how I could prove such a thing - knowing full well the answer. "Gather your things Khajiit, we're going to go kill a dragon."
We left at once, Delphine suiting up surpringsly fast into a set of leather armor, armed with a thin curved sword. She had been keeping track of dragon sightings, and had realized these dragons were being reanimated from their ancient burial mounds, originating from the South East. By her predictions the next dragon to be reanimated would be located at Kynesgrove, not far from where I had my wonderful hangover encounter. I expressed surprise at her secret identity and she laughed, saying she wasn't cut out for a tavern owner. We passed by Windhelm some time during the night, and I noted its location. By the time we had reached Kynesgrove the sun was about to rise. A scream greeted us, as a woman ran past, shrieking of dragons attacking. We readied our weapons and climbed the hill. I followed Delphine's lead and stayed low. She was determined to discover the source of these dragons returning. Nothing could have prepared me for what we saw.
It was him. The big black dragon. The one who attacked Helgen and burned it to the ground. Though it was this dragon that spared me the executioner's axe, I hadn't forgotten how easily it's roar lifted me off the ground. It began to speak in its native tongue, and just as my dragon shouts had a magic of their own - so to did his. With a burst of energy, the old bones of a long dead dragon began to rise from its burial mound and become whole again. The spoke to one another - the smaller one adressing the big black one as "Alduin". It was then that the fur down my spine tingled and stood straight up. I knew at once what they knew - that I was there. The dragon Alduin spoke something in a rough tone, and I was only able to make out Dovakiin - which meant Dragonborne. After a moment he repeated himself... in the common tongue. He was clearly disgusted at me, that I who carried the name dragonborne could not even understand his language. With a final snort of disdain, he commanded the other dragon to destroy me, and took off into the morning light.
I wasted no time readying a posion arrow and launching it straight at the dragon. I hoped that his bones were still a bit rusty. This proved not true as the dragon quickly took to the skies and began peppering us with fire. Jumping out from behind a rock I shouted unrelenting force at him, sending him crashing to the ground. Delphine was upon him as soon as his wings hit the dirt, hacking at them in an effort to keep him grounded. The dragon turned to cover her in flames, only to find me leaping at his face. I planted both poison daggers straight into his face, and held on for dear life as he shook his head wildly, roaring in pain. Between the two of us, the dragon could not focus his attention to save his life. As I stood back to survery the mighty corpse, I felt the power of his soul leave the body and enter mine, and heard a gasp from Delphine. She was a believer now.
Walking back down the hill she told me many things that I'm still trying to understand. She is part of an old order - The Blades - sworn to protect the Dragonborn and kill every and any dragon that threatened the land. Their last duty had been to protect the Septim line, until the Oblivion crisis ended - and with it - all the heirs to that bloodline. Apparently the Thalmor wasted no time hunting down and destroying most of the Blades, and only few still survive. Their goal now is to fight these dragons, and the Thalmor as well. Considering my last encounter with the Thalmor, I didn't find myself all opposed to this idea. She promised to speak more upon my return to Riverwood, though I gave no promises on when that might be. As she left, I decided instead to inspect Windhelm, and see the heart of the Stormcloak for myself.
As it turns out, Windhelm isn't big on people who aren't Nords. Tolerate would be.... a kind word. They allow the Dark Elves to live there, but only in the slums, and many Nords make a point to remind the Dark Elves at every opportunity. The guards at the gate seemed opposed to letting me in, until I shouted a bird out of the sky. I can't be sure what the guards discussed after, but I'm sure I heard the phrase "a voice like Jarl Ulfric!" and I was promptly allowed to enter. Inside I was met with more racism, though not directed at me. A Nord was in the middle of bullying some Dark Elves, before storming off to get even more drunk and angry. I followed him into a nearby tavern and demanded an explinaion for his abusive demeanor. He answererd with a swing at my face. Betting a hundred gold he could take me on, he came at me swinging. I suppose it's not his fault nobody told him about a Khajiit's claws...well, maybe if he wasn's so racist he'd know better. a hundred gold and a sobbing apology later I found myself a room for the night, with the intention to speak to the Jarl come morning. I can't say if I approve of this place, but perhaps a meeting with Ulfric will help.
No comments:
Post a Comment