Outgrowing Skyrim

"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

 

The Greybeards in question are all indeed varying states of grey, save for the monk speaking to me who looks to have flecks of blond or red running through his mostly white beard. Only their faces and hands are visible, the rest is blanketed under thick canvas robes lined with fur and the color of dusted licorice. They patiently wait for my response, like predators quietly considering their prey.

 

“Fus!” I shout, filling the monastery with my Voice. It doesn't reverberate as strongly as I expected. Despite directly shouting at these old monks they hardly move at all. They look excited, if that's the word.

 

"Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar." the white bearded monk says, "I am master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now, tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

 

I could answer this a hundred different ways. For now I’ll use the same approach I used with Jarl Balgruuf; keep it as standard as possible and then later branch out with my stranger thoughts. The Greybeards should be even more receptive to the needs of the Dragonborn than the Nords below, so long as I don’t break their trust. Most of the questions they would readily answer for me are known to me anyway. I also need to restrain myself for Lydia, watching from behind. She was practically bouncing to come here but the minute we passed through the great iron doors she stiffened up like a corpse. Hrongar didn’t join us, opting to meditate for a while before heading back to Whiterun. He said the monastery wasn’t a place he could enter.

 

“I’m here to learn, master Arngeir.” I reply.

 

"We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

 

“I’m ready when you are.”

 

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen." Arngeir says, moving back in the entrance chamber.

 

"Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you "Ro," the second Word in Unrelenting Force. Ro means "Balance" in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus - "Force" - to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

 

"Ro..." whispers Einarth, the oldest looking monk of the group. He has the most Disney villainesque beard of the bunch but despite that he smiles warmly as his Voice embeds itself into the stone. His word practically jumps off the stone at me and I understand intuitively that this means balance in the dragon language.

 

"You learn a new word like a master... you truly do have the gift. But learning a Word of Power is only the first step... you must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of "Ro." master Arngeir says.

 

Einarth opens his arms to the sky and lets loose a similar kind of aura to the dragon when it died but much less brilliant. I’m gifted with an understanding of Ro, of Balance, I can’t quite describe with words. It’s like I’m tapping into a higher level of thought. Einarth finishes and puts his hands together, his robe sleeves perfectly lining up in a seal. 

 

“Now let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um. Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear." master Arngeir instructs offering no time to contemplate what just happened. Another monk steps forward, much younger than the others with a rounder darker beard that might just be only half grey.

 

"Fiik Lo Sah!"

 

A spectral clone of the monk appears in the center of the room. Ghostly but it's an exact copy of the monk who spoke. This is also the first time I’ve heard a new shout, or really anyone else beside that draugr shout. It’s regrettable but like I expected I can’t understand what was just shouted without some sort of intermediary step. 

 

“Fus Ro!” I shout blowing the clone away. I notice that several pots also blow away, where they had been stationary before. Large earthenware, I figured they were just too heavy and not meant to be moved. Yet when some of them shatter the Greybeards pay them no mind.

 

"Well done. Again."

 

"Fiik Lo Sah!"

 

“Fus Ro!” 

 

"You learn quickly. Once more."

 

"Fiik Lo Sah!" 

 

“Fus Ro!”

 

Shattered pottery lay everywhere and this time my voice echoes properly in the monastery. I can’t deny my shout has gotten stronger but I doubt this kind of training is strictly necessary from a Dragonborn. At least not a Dragonborn who's theoretically going to have access to a literal buffet of dragon souls. I imagine this kind of thing stems from their own training and is all they really know how to do.

 

"Impressive. Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn. We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri."

 

Master Borri turns out to be the youngest monk and he leads me up the stairs. Looking around at more of the interior I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a shout for building stuff. Most of these stones are enormous and laid out like bricks. I don’t see how you could build this place otherwise this far up the mountain.

 

The courtyard is more like a snow yard and much colder than inside. Or rather there is much more wind outside. Most of the stone of the yard is covered in anything from a light dusting to small piles of snow but surprisingly there are a few trees at the edges. The back of the monastery isn’t much to look at, only a long stone wall with the occasional window. The front where we left Hrongar was much more imposing and reminded me of a fortified wall meant to stop people from reaching the top. Lydia is still with and behind me, trying not to bounce on her heels as the Greybeards all set up around a rather pointless looking gate that leads clean off the cliff.

 

"We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout. Master Borri will teach you "Wuld," which means "Whirlwind." Arngeir says.

 

"Wuld..." Borri whispers, slamming an innocent snow patch with the word, imprinting its mark on the ice.

 

"You must hear the word within yourself before you can project it into a Thu'um.” Arngeir instructs.

 

It happens again. Somehow this chicken scratch on the snow means Whirlwind. Don’t ask me how I know but I do. 

 

“Approach Master Borri and he will gift you his knowledge of "Wuld." 

 

I do so and master Borri imbues me with the same amber aura that Einarth did. It's like downloading a deeper, more profound version of a word, like learning the color green is made by mixing yellow and blue. Well not exactly but it's the closest thing to it I can think of. 

 

“Now we will see how quickly you can master a new Shout. Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn. Master Borri."

 

"Bex!" Borri shouts, opening the gate.

 

Wulfgar, the last monk, steps up. He has the most voluminous beard of the four and it hides most of his face well. "Wuld... Nah...Kest!" he shouts, dashing like a bullet past the gate. He accelerated like a rail gun and came to a complete and harmless stop at the other end of the gate several yards away. The strange thing is he didn’t need to use all three words to reach the gate, it's totally optional and it actually would have been faster to use just the one. I wonder if this is their way of showing off or trying to impress me.

 

"Now it is your turn.” Arngeir says to me. “Stand next to me. Master Borri will open the gate. Use your Whirlwind Sprint to pass through before it closes."

 

"Bex!"

 

“Wuld!” I shout, dashing almost instantly to just past the gates threshold. It's rather involuntary once the word has left my lips.

 

"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself..." Arngeir says in amazement.

 

“Sorry about that.” I respond.  “You guys spend your whole lives doing this so I know it might be frustrating to watch me just do it almost effortlessly.”

 

"There is no need to be sorry. You were given this gift by the gods for reasons beyond our understanding. It is up to you to figure out how to best use it.” Arngeir replies. “You are now ready for your last trial." Arngeir says. "Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Voice, and you will return."

 

“Right…”

“There should be a lever here somewhere… ah there it is!”

 

I pull a lever that was hidden by debris to open a hidden door back to the beginning of the Barrow. Not Bleak Falls, this one is called Shroud Hearth Barrow, built just next to Ivarstead at the base of High Hrothgar. Lydia and I re-enter a small room with a dead dark elf, formerly the ghost of the Barrow. He terrorized the townsfolk to keep people away from the treasure supposedly contained within. Or at least that was his original aim, he started to succumb to madness after spending years here unable to find the Dragon Claw key to open the door. That and over exposure to his own potions that turned him ghost-like may have fried his brain. Drink responsibly. In spite of his madness he was a clearly powerful mage and if it were just me I would have probably retreated. But I have a Lydia. Actually that about sums up all my adventures here in this Barrow. Did the final room contain a small army of undead? Yes. But I have a Lydia. She's not entirely bulletproof, however. She seems to be illiterate at navigating these old ruins, or at least my in-game knowledge has translated so well as to make her seem inexperienced. Traps and stealth in particular seem to be her weakness but she listens to me much better than her in-game counterpart. 

 

“We really are back at the beginning. My Lady is amazing. I would have walked back the whole way without even realizing.” Lydia compliments me, making my cheeks burn.

 

“It's not that amazing. Tunnels like this should be common practice in case of cave ins. I saw it in a mov… read it in a book…. The builders are the amazing ones.” I reply. 

 

“If you say so.”

 

We're leaving after just having looted the whole Barrow. The Claw key was with the local innkeeper in a cruel twist of fate to the poor elf we left behind, although it had only just arrived to his credit. The treasure was there but it was never substantial enough to justify wasting years of a finite life waiting. The biggest thing of value there was the word wall which I’m sure would have been useless to him. It taught me the dragon word for Kyne, also known as Kynareth the goddess of the wind that Hrongar now thinks he serves. The shout itself pacifies animals of all kinds, provided they are actually animals and not horrible abominations. With only one word learned of the three it'll only work on skeevers and such like so its use is limited for now. That and I don’t have that deeper understanding of Kyne that a dragon soul or a Greybeard could give me.

The Barrow was a nice distraction after the Greybeards but it's over now. Back at the inn I'm confronted by the weight of freedom I now have before me. I could just run. Alduin could end this world if he wanted to but I know pretty reliably that he’s not going to. His divine duty is to eat time itself and restart the world and I doubt I could stop him if he actually started to do that. The widely accepted theory from the fanbase was that the last Dragonborn (aka me) was sent more or less to punish the World Eater for failing to world eat as it were, having instead chosen to rule over this timeline instead. Upon his defeat at the end of the game Alduin's soul returns presumably to Akatosh, the Dragon God of time (and maybe my daddy?), instead of being absorbed by the last Dragonborn. Its a possibility that Akatosh could try and properly end time once more. By running and letting Alduin rule in full I would be at least delaying the end of time. He also wouldn’t kill everybody so there's that.

 

But… it would only be delaying the inevitable. I have no data for how Alduin actually eats the timeline or kalpa as it's known here. My best guess is that it can’t be done on a dime since he never threatens it even when he was losing in the game. The leader of the Greybeards, who knew Alduin personally, also never considered it a possibility when plotting against him. I would likely die of old age before the world eater ever thought about returning to his original duty. No, the bigger threat comes from the fact that I am not actually the only Dragonborn that could slay Alduin. There’s one in particular that comes to mind but I doubt we are the only two in some form of existence here or in Oblivion. Akatosh could also simply make another Dragonborn to do what I wouldn’t, just as he did after the first Dragonborn failed to fight Alduin. No, one way or another, whether Alduin eats the world or is slain by a Dragonborn, Akatosh will regain control over the timeline and this world will end. That's the real threat as far as I’m concerned.

 

Sure, its implied that everyone here will eventually be reincarnated to varying degrees depending on the various myths but fuck all that noise. My soul has been yonked around enough already and if there’s any good reason to restart the timeline I certainly don’t remember it from my time on earth. The next world can eat a dick, I’ve already poured too much of myself to just let this one go. My goal, I realize as I stare into the firepit of the Vilemyr Inn, is to prevent the end of time and gain some measure of control over my own existence so that I can’t be yanked around again like before. That means that my goal is to not only slay Alduin but to overpower Akatosh in some way so that he can’t retake Alduin back into himself effectively and this kalpa can continue.

 

Fuck.

The following day comes and I'm not happy with myself. Not only have I chosen one of the hardest paths I could think of but I still can't figure out how I want to go about it. Lydia is quite cheerful by contrast and believes that whatever I choose to do will be the best. She might not think so after hearing what I eventually decide to do.

 

I've come to the conclusion that all the skills in the tree will be necessary for what I've eventually got planned. Of the three skills sets so far I've only neglected the Thief skills. Thus I've decided it's time to show up at the Thieves Guild for educational purposes. I'm not a fan myself but that shit is broken and the only way to be somewhat safe from assassins and thieves is to be one yourself. 

 

“I've made up my mind Lydia. We'll head back to Riverwood and Whiterun to pick up Camilla and some Companion work and then we'll return to the Rift to visit Riften to make some necessary connections.” I explain to her.

 

“As you wish.”.

Two Weeks Later—---------------

After our visit to Riften neither of my companions are talking to me. They’re furious with me and the city. I don't blame them. After what happened in Riften I'm surprised either of them are still traveling with me. Camilla especially. I did what I came to do though, even if I didn’t like it. Frame and bully innocent civilians and oh while you’re at it infiltrate this highly guarded island that no one else can touch because the guildmaster is secretly a massive cunt. Jokes on them, I can brew invisibility potions so now despite being a novice I’m one of Skyrim's rising stars in the criminal underworld. Yay. The kart hits a bump and pulls me out of my thoughts. We’re traveling through the western part of Whiterun hold. Ahead of us is a farming hamlet in the hills dominated mostly by fields. This must be Rorikstead, a town famous for farming.

 

“Since we got such a late start we'll have to stop here and pick up in the morning.” the driver explains. “We should be ready to go at first light.”

 

“Thanks.” I reply, heading for the door.

 

The inn is in the same style as the rest but this one smells strongly of fresh hay and has more rooms than the other rustic inns I've visited. A room for three is hastily thrown together and I awkwardly turn in early on one of the single beds to try and avoid the tension. 

 

“Are you awake?” Camilla's voice asks from the doorway, just a few moments later.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Can we talk?”

 

“About?...”

 

“I wanted to go over the plan for tomorrow. I still don't understand why we're racing to the other side of Skyrim all of a sudden.” Camilla asks, taking a somewhat softer tone than what she was giving me earlier.

 

“I need to visit the temple of Dibella and the Lover Stone.” I explain rolling over to face her. “After that we'll head to Morthal so I can finish my task from the Greybeards.” 

 

“You said as much but I still don't understand why so suddenly. It's just so out of the blue, even for you. Except the part about the Greybeards.” she says.

 

“The Lover’s Stone is really important for my future plans and I’ve heard that the temple is having some trouble that I might be able to solve so I might as well help them while we’re here. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I’ll pay for the ride back and I’ll make do with just Lydia.

 

“I didn’t say that.” Camilla snaps “It’s that you haven’t really...

 

“Haven’t what?”

 

“Ah, nevermind. Since it's you it makes perfect sense. Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Weird. At least she's not mad anymore.

She's still mad. 

 

She won't even face me the entire ride. Instead Lydia seems happier for some reason. She's still not talking to me but she's not looking at me like a bug anymore. It's probably better this way anyway. I am so fucking horny I don't trust myself to look at them for too long. Ever since we killed the dragon at Whiterun my libido has skyrocketed along with my genital size. It's still fairly average, as far as I can tell, but I'm nearly always swollen and throbbing at intervals throughout the day. I've only been able to relieve myself once in the past few weeks when I was in Riften and desperate. I was crawling through the sewer and happened to find a very quiet and secluded place to rub one out after getting yet another random boner. I was useless for five minutes after the deed.

 

This is becoming a serious problem. I'm already pent up again and there's no relief in sight. The kart shakes and bounces constantly and I look anywhere but my companions' chests. I can't even look at my own chest now without getting aroused. My breasts are starting to seriously grow out and my body is thickening up from food and warrior training. Apparently getting fat is considered a good thing here in Skyrim since you burn it just as fast as you gain it during strenuous activity. So that's not a problem anymore, except maybe limiting myself to not swell up like a tick in my off time. What is a problem is that I don't understand why I'm becoming so horny so fast. There's no game or mod explanation I can think of for it. 

 

Dwarven architecture is starting to grow like large metal weeds in the mountain sides. The sheer jagged cliffs start sprouting bronze looking pipes and smooth concrete structures here and there. A full fortress of the stuff looms closer, long repurposed for the Nords to inhabit. Like stains on a shirt the less advanced inhabitants of Markarth adorn a city in decorations that by comparison look like dung. Banners that would have looked resplendent in Whiterun or Riften just look tacky here as do the guards clad in their green sashes and  Nord steel's. Wooden structures clash with the Dwarven buildings and brown dirty stains decorate the bottom of the city.

 

“This is Markarth traveler. Safest city in the Reach.” a guard says to us. After confirming our intentions we are allowed to pass.

 

The gates open to a relatively tiny marketplace, at least compared to the other cities we’ve visited so far. Part of the reason for that is there just isn't open space in this concrete jungle. This is the only space in the city remotely large enough and it was never meant for this. Another is that this city really only  trades in two things. Blood and silver. Everything else just serves the machine. The small market is fairly busy today but I don't see a murder about to happen so I move on to where I think the temple is. Camilla, to my surprise, keeps following me.

 

“Camilla, didn't you maybe wanna check out the market? I can’t promise we’ll be able to stay here for more than a day or so.” I say.

 

“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easily this time. I’ve got my eye on you this time. Besides I have nothing to trade, remember?” she says, hands on her ample hips.

 

“I offered to pay you back.”

 

“I don’t want you to pay me back. I want what those thieves you call friends took from me!” Camilla retorts.

 

“Shhh! They’re not my friends and they could have ears anywhere. It isn’t safe to talk about that here.” I explain pleadingly. 

 

“What’s the point of being Dragonborn then? I thought you guys were supposed to be really powerful but it turns out you're afraid of some pickpocket?” she complains. 

 

I don’t answer, choosing instead to climb higher up the city, towards the literal center of the city. It’s shaped like a rectangular lego but at one end is the temple. Camilla huffs with a “Fine, be that way.” but still follows regardless. It's all a mess of stone and concrete but after a while I find the correct and secluded path to the top where the Temple of Dibella rests. After checking  my surroundings with a Detect Life spell I turn to respond.

 

“He’s not just a pickpocket.” I say turning to the girls, “He’s the guildmaster. He’s the thief. He has powers straight from oblivion that make it impossible to just beat him up. Even if we could get him in a fair fight he’s likely to kill all of us with ease. Even Lydia is no match..”

 

Lydia, who had been wearing a neutral expression up till this point scowls at my comment. Camilla is undeterred however.

 

“But what about all those stories about the Dragonborn? Couldn’t you just shout him apart, like Ulfric did to the High King?” 

 

“Not how that works. Ulfric's shout only stunned the High King at best. I guarantee you Ulfric stabbed Torygg like any other man. Torygg was a princeling with just the bare minimum combat training. Ulfric actually fought in the Great War and the guy you want me to shout at could handle both of them with his hands tied.” I explain, firing off another Detect Life spell to be safe.

 

“Okay fine. I’ll drop it. For now.” Camilla says.  

 

“Thank you. And be careful about bringing it up again, anyone could be listening.” I say and head up the last few steps to the temple.

 

The outside of the temple looks like any other entrance here in Markarth with it's cookie cutter door molds but the location gives it the perfect view of the back half of Markarth. Decidedly less jungle gym and more epic stairs this section is dominated by the entrance to the keep, a grand set of double stairs divided by huge bronze looking braziers down the middle and broken at the sides by odd branching paths. There are no rails anywhere in the city, especially here, so I carefully climb the last few steps to enter the temple.

 

Inside the drab concrete and stone that makes up everything here almost seems sensual somehow. A large hexagonal basin sits in the center with a shallow pool of water. The walls and tables are lined with herbs and flowers and other questionable things like leather straps and honey.. The herbs give off a unique calming scent and there's another smell mixed in I can't quite place. Statues of a young naked woman with ample curves and flowing hair rest at the corners of the room reaching towards the ten foot ceiling. To the right is the recognizable small shrine of Dibella that all the Divines have in some form. Appearing as a purple flower with sharp petals and holding a shallow cup at its center it stands at about two feet tall. Before all of this is a woman wearing dark purple robe's of what looks like some kind of velvet. Most of her face is shrouded by her hood but her complexion is a ruddy tan. She, like the statues, wears ample curves with her breasts easily as big as her head. She spots us immediately and speaks.

 

"I'm sorry, the Temple of Dibella is closed.” she says. Somehow even that simple phrase is seductive and I can feel a stirring in my nether region. “You can still pray at the shrine if you wish, but the other sisters are in seclusion.”

 

“Tell them I have come to retrieve the Sibil and deliver her here.” I say as confidentiality as I can while ignoring my growing erection.

 

“How do you… what are… wait here a moment.” She says flustered and confused before turning to another set of doors identical to the ones we first came in through that lead to the inner sanctum. I can't tell if she's free balling it or if her boobs are just too massive to be contained by ordinary clothes because she jiggles outrageously as she leaves.

 

Alone for a moment I take the opportunity to pray at Dibella's shrine. I shouldn't need it but being a little more alluring never hurts. The blessing should make my speech skills a little better at least. Camilla break's the silence as I pray.

 

“I didn't know their Sibil was missing. The people of Markarth must be heartbroken.” she says. 

 

“It's not common knowledge but the old Sibil died recently and her replacement has been hard to get.” I explain. “Since we’re here I figured we could try and help them.”

 

“What exactly is a Sibil? I've heard that she's the head of the temple here and can communicate with Dibella but that's all I’ve ever heard.” Camilla asks.

 

Before I can answer, another voice answers.

 

"The Sybil of Dibella spends her entire life in direct communion with the goddess. From the time she's a little girl to the moment she expires, she is a direct connection with the heavenly mother. From her reverie, we know the mind of our god.” 

 

The speaker is an older Nord woman in similar robe's to the first woman but the hood is missing and instead a velvet scarf of sorts circles her neck. Shock white hair and angular features make look like a terrifyingly beautiful ice queen. To add to her commanding presence her chest juts  out ahead of her with breasts easily twice the size of her head. She is flanked by three other priestesses, including the one we talked to earlier, all with breasts roughly the size of their heads. The first woman whispers something and the ice queen turns to me.

 

“Normally strangers who come to the temple to spout nonsense are swiftly punished but… it seems in this case you are exactly who we need, thank Dibella.” she says crossing her arms as best she can. “We have had a vision of the next Sybil, living in a village to the north. She must be brought to the temple for her reverie to begin.”

 

“It shall be so.” I reply, eager to leave the temple before the moisture in my pants gets any worse. I’m beyond aroused by the sights and whatever power this temple has over me. Any longer and I’ll cream my pants.

 

“Go. And bring our Sibil back to us.”

The next morning I'm still throbbing in both genitals though I'm no longer painfully erect. The temple has only exacerbated my libido problems and I can't seem to get away to relieve myself. Hopefully this quest will distract me long enough to find a quiet moment to myself. 

 

The Lover's Stone in-game wasn't very far from Markarth but I still use Clairvoyance anyway. Out of the three spells I learned specifically for the Thieves Guild Clairvoyance is by far the most useful. It shows the path to your current objective and in a world without quest markers is a godsend. Up a very steep mountain hill later we come by a stream that leads straight to the stone at the edge of a waterfall.

 

The stone itself is exactly like the other three I've seen previously, except it has the Lover constellation carved into it, but otherwise couldn't be more different in setting. Larger stones, like long flower petals, frame the Lover like petals framing a pistil. They slow and comb the water before it leaves as if demanding even the stream admire their beauty for just a little longer. It's pretty, if a tad dramatic. Wading through the shallow stream I reach the stone and pray my intent. The constellation on the face of the stone illuminates in the shade of the mountain side and sends a beam of pure starlight to the heavens.

 

When I open my eyes I realize that I'm flanked by Camilla to my left and Lydia on my right, eyes closed just as I had a moment ago touching the stone in prayer. I guess everyone knows what a boon this stone is. Although I might have to convince them that the Atronach Stone is better, especially for Lydia who's probably about as strong as she'll ever be.

 

“It's done now…” Lydia says.

 

“Yeah…” Camilla says breathlessly.

 

“Is this your first time at a standing stone?” I ask, judging their reactions.

 

“Yes.” Camilla says happy. “It's such an exotic betrothal. Very different to what we have in Cyrodiil but I like this better. I feel connected to the wider world, like even the stars approve of our union.”

 

“Huh.” is all I can muster. The hell is she talking about?

 

“I always wanted to get married but marriages are usually so quick in Skyrim. When I came to Skyrim and heard of the Lovers Stone I fantasized about going with my love but the Reach is dangerous even for Skyrim so I thought I'd never get to see it. I just wish I wasn't mad at you but this makes up for it.” Camilla explains dreamily.

 

“Lydia. Explain.”

 

“Certainly my Lady. The Lovers Stone is a place where lovers declare their intent to everyone, even the stars. Simply coming together is seen as a betrothal or even counts marriage in Skyrim.” Lydia explains with nary a trace of irony or regret.

 

“Then…why didn't you say anything!?” I ask stunned.

 

“Because you did not ask.” she replies, with a trace of smug. “And because visiting the Lover's Stone alone specifically is considered bad luck. It's my job to protect my Thane however I can, no matter the sacrifice.”

 

“Great. Thanks I guess.” I have a headache now. I don't have brain space for this. “But there are two of you. How does that work?”

 

“How does what work?” Lydia asks.

 

“I forgot Bretons prefer monogamy. Oh I hope you're alright with this. I didn't even think about that.” Camilla responds worriedly. “It's even enforced by law in some kingdoms, right?”

 

Why did you two think this was alright in the first place? What is this? Why have I been bamboozled? This is ridiculous.

 

“How many partners can one person have in Skyrim?” I ask, trying to remain logical.

 

“I don't know about other places but in Skyrim a husband can have as many partners as they wish, provided they are worthy in the eyes of Mara. Her amulet reveals good couplings to those wearing it and the temple of Mara won’t marry couples without her blessing.” Lydia explains. “Mara favors a four wife limit  but certain races and persons cant have more than others.”

 

“Like Orcs or Redguards.” Camilla adds. “Even in Cyrodiil it's pretty common. I know it is not a good excuse but I hope you can forgive us. You don't have to marry either of us. We can carry on like normal and pretend this never happened.”

 

I'm too horny for this. I've been thoroughly ambushed and I don't see a way out. I should have known something was up earlier but I keep relying on my game knowledge rather than my common sense. Every other question or objection I could have had has already been answered by the body language of these two predators. The girls seem to think this is perfectly normal and that the Lover's Stone is powerful enough to pull us together or something. I wanted to be careful about marriage and go slowly but if they want to do all the thinking on this then fine. Once we're married this might just be the thing I need to sate my lust.

 

“It's fine. Just don't expect me to worry about the particulars. I'm out of my depth here.” I reply, only slightly agitated.

 

“Really? Oh thank the Divines. I thought you would be more stubborn about this.” Camilla says, bouncing on her heels. She turns to my housecarl, “I guess this makes us sister's now. Thank you so much Lydia. This is all thanks to you!”

 

“Was it now?” I growl, balls throbbing at the sight of Camilla's prancing, her thighs lightly jiggling under that Imperial battle skirt.

 

“I only work for your happiness, my Lady.” Lydia responds without a trace of shame. 

 

“I'm sure. Come on. We can talk about this later.”

Following Clairvoyance we turn away from the Lover's Stone and head north. The spell, to my eyes, forms a line of mist up and down the rocky hills. Not five minutes into the trek we come across pillars made similar to the Standing Stones only larger and much less ornate, lacking the characteristic hole at the top that makes them look a little like a spaceship. They circle a large dirt mound, devoid of most vegetation. So much so that from a distance it would appear recently disturbed. At a closer look the soil is pretty old and hard packed. 

 

“This is a dragon burial mound.” I explain. “The ancients buried dragons like this I think so they could be revived later. We should be fine as long as a big black dragon doesn't show up.” I say, the walk having calmed down my loins a bit.

 

“How do you know that but not marriage?” Lydia asks incredulously, with Camilla nodding furiously.

 

“It wasn't important in Dragonborn school.” I reply.

 

“Oh ha ha…. You're not serious, right?” Camilla says.

It's a true mining town on the face of these unending mountains. Sparse vegetation is the only color in this dull settlement, even the wood is bleached. All the buildings face the mines and there's hardly anything else here at all. A little girl would stick out like a sore thumb here and I only have to ask one worker before I get the right house. The camp's only married couple are a pair of Reachfolk, Bretons who’ve naturalized to this mountainous region with ruddy skin and tribal tattoos, but these aren't living in caves waiting to commit acts of terror like their brethren the Forsworn. They are just simple folk who try to make a living. We find the father tending the smelter right outside the mine. Dirty but with an interesting eagle tattoo that spreads it's wing's like a domino mask over his face.

 

“Excuse me, we are looking for a little girl.” I say, ignoring how badly that sounds.

 

"Damn it, woman, are you trying to taunt us!?!" the father responds angrily.

 

“The sisters have shown us that a little girl in this village is to be the next Sibil for Dibella. We are here to escort her.” I reply.

 

"She... really? That's... I wouldn't have dreamed. Of course, we need her in Markarth, then. Our daughter, her name is Fjotra, was taken from here. The Forsworn descended and... they didn't touch anything else. Just our little girl. It all makes sense now.” he explains bewildered.

 

“Enmon, who are these people? Why are you telling strangers our business?” a Reachwoman in a light blue tunic and hood asks upset.

 

“They're from the Temple in Markarth. Our daughter is going to be the new Sibil. She's going to be safe, Mena.” Enmon says embracing his wife as they both start to cry. "It was the Forsworn from Broken Tower. That's where they've taken her. Never been much trouble before. Please get her back.”

 

“Sure.”

 

As I turn around the girls are scowling at me for some reason.

 

“You suck at this.” Camillas accuses as Lydia nods in agreement.

 

“Suck at what?”

 

“Nevermind. I'm going to stay here and try to console the family while you two save the girl. I've had my fill of abandoned forts filled with madmen.” Camilla says.

 

“I don't blame you.” I say. After what happened at Trevors Watch I wouldn't want to keep adventuring. “But since you'll be on your own I have something for you.” 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“It's my steel armor. I'm gonna test out my new dwarven stuff at the tower and I don't want anything to happen to you. Take the shield as well so you have the complete set.” I say, transferring everything to her inventory. 

 

“Wow. Are you sure? Heavy armor isn't cheap you know.” Camilla says.

 

“Consider it an investment in one of the most important things in my life.” I say. “Let's go Lydia.”

 

“Of course.”

Broken Tower is built into one of the last mountain sides before you get to the plains of Whiterun. It straddles the road for a fair distance making walking past it without approval from the occupants nearly impossible. Three layers high each section has its own tower but one of them is, unsurprisingly, broken. The fort has had the Markarth treatment only one level of civilization lower. Unnecessary spikes, tusk's and animal parts adorn the fort in a primal display of savage idiocy. 

 

Once we're in sight of it I slap on my dwarven armor. It is the heaviest thing I've ever had on my body but I can still move decently in it. With near total body coverage I feel like a walking fortress. Which is good because that will be the look I'm going for when I'm several stories tall. 

 

We dispatch two gate guards with ease. The Forsworn with their stone and bone weapons don't stand a chance. Not against me but Lydia. Attacking is a lot more difficult than before but I can't feel a thing. Even the arrows from the archers above bounce off like rain drops. The archers quickly give up and retreat inside. 

 

Fun fact; if you attack a fort, and the garrison knows your coming, everyone will try and kill you all at once. Who knew? Rather than evenly space themselves in the bowels of the fort so I can kill them one by one we have an immediate battle Royale in the very first chamber. My choice of armor was more important than I realized as I continue to take no damage from their crudely fashioned weapons. Lydia is having a field day, painting the walls red with her new orcish sword against the throng of enemies.

 

The battle only lasted a few minutes but the silence is deafening when it's over. Bodies of half naked women are everywhere, bleeding or mangled. Not a man among them. Lydia looks just fine, although I did give her some health potions beforehand. Her armor isn't all encompassing like mine but I also can hardly see out of this helm so I have no idea if she took any damage or not. Some stragglers ran further into the keep but my armor is too heavy to chase them. 

 

Scouring the tower for all important loot we find all kinds of goodies but the most noteworthy were a gold statue of Dibella and her amulet, which I promptly wear. My charisma needs all the help it can get. Away from the blood and violence I can see that this is some kind of tribal cult of Dibella. Similar herbs, straps and icon's litter these halls. It also reeks of pussy in here, so this is a Dibellian sex cult if I’ve ever seen one. We comb through all of this until we reach the top of the first tower.

 

A relatively small platform waits at the top. At the other end is the second tower. Really it's just the commander's chambers but it looks like a whole tower because it sits at the top of the fort. From here I can see inside the third and broken tower. There's not much, only a crumbling outer shell. There's blood on the door to the second tower from the wounded Forsworn women. Which leaves me in an unexpected pickle.

 

I know from the game that inside that tower is a single separate chamber and small side bedroom containing the girl and one Forsworn enemy. That enemy is a Briarheart, the most powerful warriors the Reach folk have, revived by Hagraven magic with a single Briarheart bud replacing their heart. It makes them even more powerful and effectively immortal. Alone I was confident that Lydia and I could win. The Briarheart inside is a powerful mage but I was confident in my ability to deliver a Lydia straight to the face. That was until he got several desperate meat shields cornered in a last stand. Lydia probably still wins in a head on assault but why take the risk?

 

Let's see if I can't steal his heart.