Outgrowing Skyrim

I lose my mind thrashing the door now in full panic, Imperial goo now running down my back. My fists and shoulders are bloody and splintered.  I lean my full weight on the middle of the door exhausted and to my surprise I fall in. I earn a new bump my head as I land.

 

 I shoot up and close the door. I look at the door and realize that the handle on the outside of this door is in the wrong place. For some godforsaken reason. The thought of locking it crossed my mind but after the panic attack I gave myself I just can’t bring myself to do it. 

 

The noises outside are deafened quite a bit and it's eerily calm inside. My body involuntarily breaks down from the relief and I slump against the stone wall. There's a ringing in my ear now. It's so much quieter in here I guess my body needed to compensate. Stumbling along the wall of what I know to be the  barracks, I push myself to start looking for equipment to defend myself. 

 

Several dozen beds line the interior here but it's surprisingly bare. Going to where I remember there being equipment I find an old iron sword on a weapon rack and use it to cut my bindings.The process is a lot harder than I anticipated, the blade is nowhere as sharp as I’d hoped. After I find the right angle to cut the leather cuffs I take the iron sword and examine it properly.  Yeah, looks like crap. It's also really heavy, although that could just be because I’m a skinny girl now. I’m guessing the equipment here is just leftovers to use in case of emergency. 

 

Seeing as how this is an emergency I take it. I realize I’ll probably have to find a sheath for it somewhere in here. Just as I start looking around I notice something on my previously unadorned hip. It's a belt and sheath already buckled around me. It looks like it's a perfect fit for the blade too. I stab the sword down on the table and let go to examine my new passenger. The belt disappears almost immediately. Confused I pick the sword back up and the sheath reappears as if it had always been there. That’s stupid convenient but also all kinds of overkill for one of the most common weapons in the game, so maybe this is still just a game.

 

Gazing over the barracks I start the hunt for more equipment. I find another old iron sword and set it aside for now. What I’m really looking for is armor, or at least respectable clothing. Even pajamas would be better than what I’ve got on right now, although perhaps not as stiff. Ew.

 

 I actually find several pieces of Imperial armor and a handful of gold coins. Sadly it's all the  lighter leather armor but I didn’t expect to find any of the good stuff yet. I want heavy armor because it's more protective for less investment. Light armor is better the more you get to wear it and I’m not sure I have that kind of time. Considering I’ve already almost died and can’t see the skill tree to make the upgrade that would improve it, heavy armor is just better right now. Still Imperial armor is pretty high up on the list of light armors immediately available to the player so I’ll wear it with no complaints.

 

The rags I’m currently wearing come in two pieces, surprisingly. Taking the top off revealed peachy skin and a skinny ribbed frame. Two small breasts, maybe A cup at most, adorn the top of my ribcage. That's fine by me. I’m already worried about dealing with periods in a medieval fantasy world, I didn’t want to have to care about bras too. They might grow if I get a few good meals so I might have to revisit that. I take off my ragged pants now and examine myself further. Skinny chicken legs, check. Penis, check. Wiat wat?

 

I still have a penis, although it's definitely not the same one I had on earth. It matches this body but for some reason it's comically tiny. I sit on one of the nearby beds to get a closer look, for science, and examine my genitals fully. My penis is about the size of my pinky toe. I thought it might be my clit at first but I also have a set of tiny nuts to match. I still have a vagina and it looks like my micro penis is growing out from where my clitoris would have been, so it just might not be a normal penis. That's neat. It doesn’t make sense and I can’t fathom why a woman would have a…

 

Shit. 

 

Shit shit shit. 

 

I’m not in Skyrim. I’m in my Skyrim. A modded Skyrim. A version of Skyrim I carefully crafted with modifications to… enhance my gameplay. Every detail from the weather to werewolf genitals were modded to my preferences. 

 

It now makes sense why I’m so skinny. I had a mod that adjusts humanoid proportions based on their skills and resource pools and another mod that sets those skills to zero instead of the standard fifteen for a level one player. It’s probably the only reason I have boobs right now at all. Bretons start with bonuses to several magical skills and magical skills directly correlated to boob size. Warrior type skills gave you more muscles and a larger overall body. Thief skills gave you larger legs and posterior. The mod mostly worked for females but I think it gave men muscles or made them fat if they ate too much. That explains the strange padding on some of the battle mages, they had enormous ti- 

 

“Get that door open, soldier!” came an unwelcome bitchy shriek from just outside. I drag all the equipment off the bed and curl under the bed as fast as possible, still naked. Two Imperial soldiers rush in and Bitch Captain with them. 

 

“Take a minute to breathe and find something for those burns. Once I find the key we move again, ready or not.” she says.

 

Six pairs of feet hurry about in different directions. One set beelines to a very specific bed and starts to rummage. Another meanders along the far wall, browsing the shelves. The Bitch is the only one wearing heavy armor so it's easy to tell that she goes to the equipment corner of these barracks for the key out of here. I didn’t think to grab it. I don't have a bottomless hole for keys like in the game. 

 

“Looks like someones already been here. Watch out for rebels on our way out.”

 

 Looks like my looting has been noticed. 

 

“Come on soldiers, this way!” 

 

They open the gate and leave. After a moment I start pulling out the armor to see what can cover me. Except it's gone. All gone. Even the rags I was wearing are gone. Funkin’ disappeared. I'm just a naked weirdo hiding under a bed while the world ends. I look around wildly  and try to think about wear they could have possibly gone. I stand up and pat my naked boney flanks, wishing I at least had a sword so I could charge people naked.

 

As I think this my hand grips a handle from nowhere and I pull out one of the iron swords I found earlier seemingly from nothing. More game logic so I guess maybe my brain has been downloaded into a simulation after all. Maybe I cantry to summon some sort of way out, like maybe a logout button or main menu... 

 

Nope. Nothing. I wished it into existence as hard as I could but nothing happened. Either there’s a trick to it or it doesn’t exist and now I’m a prisoner in the Matrix

 

What I do see and now innately know is that I have an inventory, if a pocket dimension can be called that. Pulling items out actually acts like some form of conjuration, similar (at least I feel) to summoning my familiar. The process is a lot less flashy, no noise or magicka is expended in using it. I can feel it in a certain way, like a person noticing their breath when they concentrate. Almost feels like an extra limb, natural even. I wonder if the Dedric princes feel similar sensations with their personal planes of Oblivion. 

 

With a little focus I understand that I can even get stuff to auto equip in the appropriate places. It's a little awkward and doesn’t do finer details like straps or buttons. The armor just appears around my body in the correct location. Adjusting said straps I’m surprised that all the pieces of Imperial light armor fit me. They don’t fit well, but that's probably due to my half starved frame more than anything else. There might be a resize mechanic on clothes in this world. Even if this is a feature of the world I would guess clothes and armor would fit better if they are properly tailored to the individual's shape. Hadvars armor looked like it fit but it still made it look one size too small on his muscular frame. I probably look like I found my dads old suit but it’ll work. Time to move on. 

 

On my way out I spot a couple of books on the shelves and chuck them into my new void. I have a fairly decent knowledge of the lore but more doesn’t hurt, especially since I don’t have to carry them by hand. Moving into the hallway I begin hear shouting, like two people are having an argument. Sounds like that Bitch and… Hadvar? I move deeper into the tunnel tha Imperials just used.

 

“...who’s side are you on!?!” yells the Bitch.

 

“Captain please, this man saved my life. Can’t we just leave them here and move on?” Hadvar says pleadingly. 

 

“You’re a soldier and soldiers follow orders. Now turn around and execute those rebels or I’ll see you hanged like one yourself.” The Bitch demands. 

 

I’ve turned the corner and can see them now. Two male Imperial soldiers flank her. Directly in front of her is Hadvar. Behind him are two unknown Stormcloaks and a badly burnt Ralof seated on the only chair by a small table in this circular entrance hall. Everyone here looks pretty rough, one of the Imperials has a blackened arm, but the Stormcloaks look plain exhausted. Everyone but Hadvar and Ralof have their weapons out. The Stormcloaks, male and female Nords with dirty chestnut and blond hair respectively, are visibly wobbling. At Ralofs side by the chair is a dead Stormcloak. The dead man's purpose in-game was to give the new player some Stormcloak starting gear before fighting this Captain and one of her soldiers with Ralof. 

 

“Leave them alone!  Just walk away and you’ll get to see your families again.” I say with all the determination I can muster, iron sword in my left hand. I try to walk confidently down the corridor as the natural acoustics of the hallway amplify my voice. I’m fighting exhaustion myself, dust still plagues my lungs. I just want these guys to just leave. I’ll always hold a grudge against the Imperials for what happened today but that doesn’t mean I want them all dead. Hadvar alone proves that there’s good people in the Legion, although I might not be able to stop myself if that Bitch does something stupid.

 

“Eyes front! I’ll handle this. Make sure they don’t try anything while I take care of this scum.” The Bitch commands entering the hallway. The two soldiers guard the entrance to the hallway, swords drawn blocking the Stormcloaks.

 

“Think that stolen armor will save you, Breton? It belongs on a real soldier.  I’ll give you just one chance to kneel for a quick death.” The Bitch says seething with contempt. 

 

I tried. My being demands that I bonk the stupid or die trying. I rush her without warning but she's already on her guard. 

 

“Bad move!” She shouts, clearly planning on blocking my sword swing. 

 

I attack her guard with all I have. I’m worried my small frame won’t have the power to shake her, even if she is a desk jockey. My sword hits hers and the old iron sparks on the Imperial steel. It’s enough to pull her guard and her hand downward. I drop my sword and grab her wrist holding the sword. She’s probably strong enough to break free but I only need a second. As she's about to say something but I slap the open palm of my hand on her face.

 

I discovered pretty early on that magic’s pretty innate. You don’t actually need words or fancy hand gestures to cast anything, it just helps. Which is how a torrent of flame is now shooting out of my hand directly into the Bitch’s face.

 

It’s not pretty. She struggles immediately but can get away. The flames have a pretty long reach and I still have her wrist. Her sword clatters to the ground. She thrashes violently but I don’t need to hold her for very long. She slips from my grasp  but it’s too late, she passes out without air. I follow her down and keep frying her face. Her eyes go milky and start to swell just as I run out of magicka. I pull out my spare sword and finish her there. It’s what I should have done when she went down but I’m a little angry.  

 

I stand victorious with a burnt hand to face the remaining soldiers. Apparently you can hurt yourself with your own spells by doing stupid things, who knew?

 

“By the eight she’s killed the captain!” the unburnt, taller Imperial soldier shouts. The two soldiers glance at each other and immediately they plug the hallway with the injured one facing me in the hallway. “What do we do now?” he asks nervously.

 

“Put away your weapons, and let's be reasonable.” I say, putting away my sword. “You two can go on ahead like nothing happened and leave us be. Go live to see your families.”

 

The whole room shakes and we hear a mighty roar from outside. It’s worse than anything I’ve felt before, save for when Alduin launched me into the air. The ground stops shaking and everyone looks at each other in shock. No one says anything for a few moments.

 

“Please that dragons killed enough this day” says Hadvar, breaking the silence.

 

There's a tense moment as the Imperials weigh their options. They’re outnumbered and their captain is still smoldering a little bit. I may want to switch to a less gruesome spell later. 

 

“Fine, but we go first. Don’t try anything funny or you’ll regret it.” concedes the taller Imperial.

 

“And make no mistake Hadvar, we will inform the General of everything that's happened here. Count on it!” chides the burnt soldier.

 

“That's fine by me.” 

 

The two Imperials rush for the unguarded gate, finding it locked. The taller one struggles with the locked gate. I can’t find any truly defining features on him and he’s still shorter than the Nords here so maybe he’s a native of Cyrodiil. The other one is slightly shorter with some tattoos that make me think he might be Breton.

 

 “Open damn you!”

 

They don’t have the key, I do. I looted it off the dead captain and was about to hand it to the soldiers when I stop. I’ve noticed one of the Stormcloaks getting fidgety. He’s the one with the chestnut hair and he’s the one closest to the gate, besides the Imperials. I see it in his eyes, two easy targets are too tempting. 

 

He raises his warhammer and with a big step brings it down on the tall Imperial with a crack. The man falls over, dazed but still conscious. The burnt Breton steps up immediately to defend his comrade blade in hand. The blond Nord Stormcloak woman on the far side moves with her great ax on the distracted Hadvar. 

 

I’ve since moved to the center of the room. I had the key in hand ready for the Imperials. It clinks on the floor. I point my newly acquired Imperial blade at the blond rebel. I stare down the wild desperate rebel, almost a foot taller than me. I can see her feral thoughts through those tired blue eyes. 

 

“Don’t” I say, almost whispering. Don’t make me kill you too…

 

There’s a yelp from the chestnut rebel as he’s rushed down now by Hadvar, oblivious as he was to the threat behind him. That's all it took for this nearly feral rebel to swing on me. 

 

“Victory or Sovngarde!” She cries as she goes to chop me in half. 

 

Her reach is longer but I am faster. I was already set on killing her in my heart, I just hoped I was wrong. I lunge at her neck using my faster smaller blade but I’m too shallow and only graze the giant. Her ax swirls around to follow me. The iron blade smashes into my ribcage and flings me sideways. She isn’t a pencil pusher like the captain. She's a Nord warrior and her strength is no joke. I try to stand up but I’m too woozy and only fumble around awkwardly. My vision is blurry but I can still hear the battle. A crunch echoes through the hall as that hammer must have landed another blow.

 

I can make out the shape of the blond goddess moving in to finish me off. I try to heal myself but she’s already on me, ax raised just like an executioner. With a great roar she brings it down and the ax thuds onto me. It slipped from her grasp as her ribcage birthed a steel blade. The ax hurt when it fell on me but the rebel is in far worse shape. She coughs blood and falls off the blade. Hadvar is standing behind her with a blooded blade. Sheathing the wet blade he rushes to help me. 

 

“I’m alright, help them.” I choke. It’s technically the truth. My armor did its job, the ax only broke the skin, but it's the impact and broken ribs that has me reeling. There's probably a nasty bruise where the ax fell on me but it's better than getting shaved. Once my magicka is back I should be able to fix everything anyway. 

 

The fighting is long over on the other side of the room, only Hadvar and the unburnt Imperial are standing. I limp up and over. The Stormcloak rebel is missing his head, his chestnut dome rolled away from his body next to some fallen rubble. The burnt soldier has a similar problem, his skull is concave now. The taller Imperial stands over him.

 

“Damn rebels,” he mutters, swaying slightly. 

 

“Nothing we can do for him now,” Handvar tells us.

 

 “I can heal myself, but we’ll need potions for Ralof.” I say nodding. The remaining Imperial looks offended at my remarks.

 

“You still want to help a Stormcloak after that?” he argues, steadying himself against the wall. “You’ve gone mad.”

 

“You guys tried to execute me this morning and five minutes ago. I can do what I want. You can stay with us and behave or you can leave and fend for yourself. Just shut up.” I say as I grab the key and open the door. 

 

Ralof hasn’t moved throughout that entire scuffle. He’s still breathing but half his body is a different color now. He’ll definitely be leaving skin on that chair if he lives.

 

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with him,” Hadvar worries.

 

“If we don’t find something soon it won’t matter what happens to him.” I say.

 

We are so far off the rails now anything could happen. I don’t even know if healing potions will work or if they are still even here. 

 

“I’m going. Do we know where any potions are?” I feign ignorance.

 

“There might be some in the old store room if we’re lucky. Most potions and supplies got moved outside when the garrison got too big for just the keep,” remarks Hadvar.

The three of us make our way past a kart of conspicuous cabbages down the stone stairs. The hallway at the bottom has already collapsed, which means we are behind on the original game timeline. The potions might already be gone. Opening the door we hurry inside to find no one there. 

 

Originally there were supposed to be two enemies down here trying to grab the potions for themselves but you the player would interrupt them and take the potions for yourself. Beelining it for where I think I know the potion stash is my fears are all but confirmed. After a few minutes of searching it's clear the barrel that probably held the most potions is empty. I immediately snap my gaze to my right over to the far table illuminated by an ox horn candle. There was a healing potion on that table in the game but now it's bare, save for a dirty rag next to the candle. I nearly sprint back to the front of the room, and scan the shelves of the kitchen. They weren't as thorough as I feared. Amongst the cups, crumbs and wine bottles I find a small health potion and a larger magicka potion. 

 

“Did you find anything?” the Imperial asks, sensing my excitement. He seated himself at the mess table nursing his back. 

 

“Not enough,” I reply. “I only found a minor health potion. Here.” I take one of the wine bottles, Alto, and place it on the table. “That should take the edge off until we can find something better”. 

 

He regards me for a moment and then nods half heartedly grabbing the bottle 

 

“I’m going back up, Hadvar. This potion could stabilize him if he’s still alive.” I say. The magicka potion I found is worthless in this situation but it is a vital clue i’ll need later.

 

“Whatever works. Honestly it's the only chance we’ve got.” 

 

We make it back to the large circular room again, filled now with fresh corpses and hopefully a still breathing Ralof. Hadvar puts his ear to Ralofs mouth and nods.

 

 “He’s still breathing, but only just. Hand me that potion would ya?”

 

I give him the potion and watch as Hadvar pours it over Ralofs body. I’m a little surprised it works without drinking but I guess potions are supposed to be bottled magic. The same healing light that wraps me when I use the healing spell washes over Ralof for a few moments. His eyes flutter and open.

 

“Hadvar? What are you doing here? You should have left by now,” Ralof says, with an encouragingly strong voice.

 

“I couldn’t just leave you here after what happened. Even if you are a Stormcloak, you still saved my life. A real Nord pays his debts. I’ll face whatever punishment the Legion has for me afterwards.”

 

“Thats-”

 

“That's wonderful and all but there’s still a dragon outside. You two can get married later.” I curtly interject. I don’t have the stamina for this right now, even if it is touching. We may not have the time either.

 

“Come on, let's make sure our new friend isn’t drinking himself stupid,” I say without giving the boys a chance to reply. I start to head down again and beckon them to do the same.

 

We move to head back to the store room. Ralof seems to be able to move a decent amount, which is a relief. We find our Imperial man back in the store room kitchen munching on some bread.

 

“Oh heyyy, your back. And your friends are still alive, damn traitor. Want some wine?” 

 

“Come on, I can still hear that dragon. If we hurry we might even find the guys who took those healing potions and fix your back” I say, hoping he’s a cooperative drunk. Cute as this is time is running out.

 

“Sure thing… just someone help me up and we’ll get going!” he replies happily. Hadvar helps him up and he stands with a groan. I guess he can still feel his back after all that wine.

 

We move out through the back of the storeroom onto the other side of the collapsed hallway. We move down into a torture room were there has clearly been a fight. Two dead Imperials and one Stormcloak lie dead here amongst the cages and manacles. There's a lot more blood in the keep than outside, I realize. No dragon fire to burn it up. It just coats the floors and walls like someone had just spilled buckets of the stuff accidentally. But it's not. Every spray is a wound, every puddle a last stand, and every pool is a grave.

 

My loot brain turns on and I head behind the counter where a torturer lies dead. He was tall, thuggish, with balding greasy hair, his eyes staring into space. I pick up a circular wooden shield, reinforced with iron at its center. Along the counter are some books, a few lockpicks and a dagger I scoop up. An iron mace hangs on a weapon rack and I take it as well. I never cared for maces in the game but now who knows?

 

The other three are looking into one of the cages. Walking over I spy a knapsack on a small table with a book next to it. It’s the book of the Dragonborn, which might be relevant if I survive Helgen. The sack has a few more lockpicks and one minor healing potion. I hide it away while it's still in the bag to my inventory. I might throw it at the hurt Imperial if we don’t need it later. 

 

“Looks like there’s a dead wizard in this cage, but we can’t find the key. His robes at least are valuable as well as anything else he might have. You can try and pick at it if you want but we keep moving.” Hadvar says. “Place gives me the willies.”.

 

 He moves over by the exit with Ralof and they head deeper in. The Imperial follows a moment later, limping slightly, leaving me alone.

 

Not wanting to waste time I go to pick this lock. It should be the easiest lock in the game. Off all Skyrim. I then proceed to break nearly every lockpick I found trying. Finally, on the last one, I almost have it. Just a little more and  ‘clink’. The pick breaks. Fuck. 

 

Looking at the cage in despair I realize the bars are easily far enough apart in certain places  that I can just take what I want. The inventory system seems to work just like in the game. By touching another body I’m able to grab things in their inventory and chuck them into mine. I already did this with that bitch captain, her body is lying naked now on the floor above us. I plan on equipping her heavy armor when I get a chance to breathe. For now I get a set of robes, a minor magicka potion, a few gold pieces, and a spell tome of sparks from this poor mage. He was originally just an excuse in-game to give players access to wizard gear but I can’t help but feel bad he had to die for it now.  I open the spell tome up to see if I learn the spell instantly, as it would be in game, but it appears I need to take the time to actually read this. Oh well, at least I won’t get bored at that home I don’t have now.

 

The others have gone ahead by now and I don’t want to keep them waiting. I follow after them with the loot. The torture chamber is morphing into a proper dungeon now, with spacious jail cells built into the stonework. Spacious compared to the cages in the torture room at least. I know that one of these cells has a sizable gold stash but I can’t pick a lock to save my life so coins get to stay there. 

 

Down another hall, lit by metal braiser, I make it round another corner to what might be the old torture room. Oversized birdcages filled with skeletons and cobwebs litter the room. One of them has a fresher corpse by the entrance, died of who knows what a while ago, and that's the only sign of recent activity here. There are recently lit torches and a huge amount of foot traffic in the dust. At the back of the room the wall has been busted through to what looks like an even older part of the keep. I think that smuggling inside the fort was involved but that's just a guess from what I remember. There should still be a few goodies still left down there.

 

My companions stand waiting for me in this room, awkwardly spaced though they may be. This morning me were all trying to kill each other, so I get it, but where's the team spirit? Each man regards me grimly in their own way and I can’t believe my face is much happier. On top of everything else that's happened today I’m starving now. The storeroom didn’t have much at all and there's no point in risking going back now. At least I slept on the kart.

 

“Done then? Let's get moving.” Ralof says. Hadvar turns and nods, following behind. I bring up the rear, down a much more natural looking tunnel, behind the Imperial who’s name I should probably think to ask soon.

 

 Moving further in we hear a now familiar sound of metal on flesh, grunts and then what is presumably the thud of a fresh corpse. The tunnel turns and we see a Stormcloak lass with dull red hair using a bloodied great iron sword to stand, clutching her side on the opposite side of this room. This room is a mix of construction and natural cave built around a small stream that cuts through the center, lit by sunlight though openings in the ceiling. Hopefully we can convince her to be reasonable. She stands breathing and bleeding on an elevated platform. If she can stand up she could easily defend the only bridge that connects it. I will cheese her with magic if she decides to be difficult and I’m not above killing Ralof if he tries to defend her.

 

“You Imperial bastards! I’ll not surrender again, white take you!” She spits blood, clearly teetering defante. 

 

 “Easily Lilia, it’s me. We’ve come to an understanding with these Imperials until we get out of here.” Ralof says, trying to calm her.

 

 Lilias knees buckle at this and she slides to the floor, still leaning on her sword.

 

 “Ralof? Is it really you? Are you sure we can trust them? They brought us here to execute us, remember?” she says, pulling her head up to regard us. 

 

“They’ve kept their word so far. They saved my life in fact.” Ralof explains. “Come on, let's get you patched up.” 

 

She relents and we move through the room filled with more corpses. Imperial and Stormcloak alike litter the cave, all now equal in death. It seems this is where the survivors eventually bottleneck if the Dragonborn doesn’t move in a timely manner. I gaze at where the exit bridge should be and sure enough it's collapsed, not waiting for us dramatically like it would have in the game. 

 

Her wounds turn out to not be fatal but she won’t be moving for a while. I wanted to search the corpses for my missing potions but there’s too many and these cave-ins are freaking me out. I have a potion to get her moving anyway. Surprisingly, the unnamed Imperial seems unusually invested in the girl and even tried to bandage her. 

 

He’s laying next to her against the wall now, his back wracked with shooting pain from bending. She actually seems a little amused by this, although she could just be enjoying his suffering. I think they are actually bantering but I’m too far away to hear.

 

I continue to examine the collapsed exit. If memory serves there should be a culvert that the debris doesn’t obstruct that we can use to go further in. Lucky enough I see that while the bridge is destroyed there is still plenty of room to hop down and continue further. Climbing back up might be a challenge but we could stand on Hadvars shoulders to do it.

 

Returning to the group I find the Imperial standing up and acting tough. The bandages are finished, rough as they are. Ralof and Liliana are catching up now. She’s surprised that Ralof can move with how blackened he is, and he explains his journey so far.

 

“It's mostly just ash on top of my skin now, nothing to concern yourself with.” 

 

“Why did you come this way anyway? I don’t remember seeing you run with us when the dragon attacked.”

 

“I was originally with Jarl Ulfric, my new friend over there, and a few others. We couldn’t stay in the tower so we sent our friend here ahead while we helped out the wounded. Once we sorted them out, Jarl Ulfric asked me if I was up for a special assignment and so here I am.”

 

“What kind of assignment?” asks Hadvar, unable to contain himself.

 

 “I was asked to look after our mutual friend and make sure she survived Helgen. We should have known that she didn’t need any help. If anything, she's saved our lives twice more than once today!”

 

I don’t really know how to take that. It doesn’t feel like I’ve saved anyone. Even if I deserved the praise that might be worse. I don’t respond well to positive affirmation. 

 

“Alright that's enough. We need to get moving. The bridge out of here collapsed but I found a way around it if you're ready” I say changing the subject.

 

“I’m staying here.” Lilia says flatly.” I’m useless right now, I’d just slow you down. Plus I can watch for Ulfric if he comes this way.” 

 

Lilia and Ralof share a look and a nod.

 

“I’m staying too.” says the Imperial suddenly. “I need to be here in case the General comes through here. And I need to watch this prisoner to keep her out of trouble.”

 

“Prisoner? You better watch yourself. I’m nobody's prisoner and if Ulfric comes through that door you’ll be my prisoner, little man.”

 

I’m gonna puke. I think I’d rather watch them kill each other than this. Ralof goes over to Liliana and knells beside her .

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Yes, I'm sure-.”

 

.I approach the Imperial as they are having this conversation and when I’m sure no ones looking I hand him the minor healing potion.

 

“I never got your name and I don’t want it now. We’ll probably never see each other again so this is goodbye,” I say and walk away before he can reply. I head to the exit and pass Hadvar.

 

“That was very kind of you.”

 

“I am not kind,” I say not stopping. 

 

Leaving it at that I wait by the exit for whoever's coming. Ralof gets up a moment later and together with Hadvar they follow me. Silently I lead them down to the large culvert. Hopping down I move into the culvert space. While Hadvar is helping Ralof I spy a skeleton. Surprisingly there's a small amount of gold and another minor healing potion. Whatever this person died of must have been sudden. Or cruel.

 

“Ralof, here I just found this.” I hand him the potion. 

 

“Good eye,” says Hadvar.

 

“That might be enough to make my arm usable. Let's see here.”

 

 Ralof rips the cork off with his teeth and drinks the potion. That familiar warm light surrounds him and flecks of charred skin start to fall off. The potion can’t restore burnt hair apparently but his skin looks better . 

 

“That's better. I should be just fine now, just need some food and sleep.”

 

“That's good to hear. Come on, let's keep moving.” says Hadvar. 

 

We move out into a more open area of this well lit cave area. Natural light peaks through creaks in the ceiling as the stream runs downhill here. 

 

“Give me a minute to change. We’ve got a second and this armor has a big hole in it from earlier.” I say, thinking about the creatures ahead. 

 

Hadvar looks at me curiously but I might do something stupid or the creatures up ahead might do something smart. Not taking chances with spiders. I use the inventory magic to change into the heavy Imperial armor I took from Captain Bitch, minus the blackened helmet. I start to tighten the straps when Hadvar speaks up.

 

“Did those Stormcloaks somehow damage the repair rune? That shouldn’t be possible with a normal ax,” Hadvar remarks. “Of course if you just wanted an excuse to get into some good Imperial armor I understand.”

 

“Repair rune? What's that?” I ask.

 

“It's a magic rune placed on objects to keep them in working condition,” Ralof explains. “I'm surprised you didn’t know since you're a mage.”

 

“It’s so common nowadays most people don’t think about it anymore. Just etching the rune is good enough for most things” Hadvar replies.” Here let me show you where it is on that armor.” 

 

Hadvar takes the light armor from me and just on the inside where a modern tag would be at the back of the neck is a small marking. 

 

“The way I understand it, the rune just soaks up small amounts of magicka from the air to do its job. Pretty neat, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” I say, stunned. 

 

The leather armor looks as good as new. It’s a stupid mechanic but I won't complain. I’m sure there's some nerd out there who in my shoes would be disappointed that they don’t get to fix every chip or scratch on their equipment.

 

“One more thing,” says Hadvar. “It can’t repair catastrophic damage or if the rune itself gets damaged by something powerful enough.” 

 

“Best not to rely on it too much. Mage craft can let you down when you need it most.” says Ralof. “Trust in your sword arm and you’ll do alright

 

I look at my noodly arms with doubt. Putting away the light armor we head deeper into the cave. Ralof now leads us deeper in and the cave starts to narrow. The new armor turns out to be a little bit heavyyy. I'm not out of breath yet but the boys are starting to pull away from me. The stream goes underground and we turn away from it. Another skeleton and another gold pouch sit on a waist high ledge by the stream. Mine now. We come across another open chamber of sorts, filled with Frostbite spiders. 

 

Nope.

 

The battle is blessedly short, Ralof is in good form which is good for me as I can hang back away from the orange dog sized arachnids. I summon my familiar to do most of my heavy lifting from a safe distance, the Flame spell just requires me to be too close. Thankfully these spiders are true to the game and pose very little challenge. We leave the nest almost as soon as we entered it, backs shivering.

 

We almost immediately enter another large cavern opening. There should be a bear at the other end of it, but there’s goodies to be had at the rear where we are. The stream is back again and right where it emerges should be a skeleton with a potion of health. Sure enough it’s there but it's actually a larger potion than I expected. This further confirms my fears.

 

Hadvar and Ralof have moved up ahead, looking at the bear and whispering to each other. It looks like they just noticed I was missing.

 

 “Hold up, there's a bear just ahead, see her?” cautioned Ralof.

 

“We’d rather not tangle with her right now,” says Hadvar. “We might be able to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step.”

 

“Or if you're feeling lucky, you can take this bow,” Ralof offers. “Might take her by surprise. Go ahead. We'll follow your lead and watch your back."

 

I have mixed feelings about fighting a full grown bear. On one hand it's a bear. On the other hand, it should be the weakest bear in all of Skyrim currently. On the other other hand these potion sizes are telling me that this world isn’t leveled to me anymore. It's a more organic world now, which probably means most everything can kill me. I tricked that Bitch back in the keep but even I could tell she was a pushover. Had I fought her fairly I probably would have died. The ax wielding Stormcloak humbled me pretty good and showed me just how much of a difference there is between me and a real warrior.

 

Something else is bothering me though. Somewhere in the back of my mind I feel like I’m on the cusp of something. It’s as if I don’t take this shot,  I’ll be missing something important. If I am Dragonborn, like I would be in the game, then there should be a whole extra dimension to my being. The Dragonborn are beings with absurd potential and unique connections to the Gods that formed this land. Right now my instincts are telling me that to get stronger I have to fight this bear.

 

“If you’ve got bows, get ready. We’ll shoot on my mark, together.” I whisper. To my relief they both pull out longbows. I wasn’t sure if they had any.

 

“Three… two… one… fire” I whisper.

 

They loose and hit the bear in the flank. It yelped in pain or possibly just surprise. It immediately catches our scent and barrels towards our position. Hadvar and Ralof have already reloaded to fire again. The boy fire again but I’m holding back. I know I suck. This is the first arrow I’ve ever shot and I’d be lucky if the arrow flew in the general direction of the bear. The boys disappear their bows and equip their weapons. 

 

My first time using a bow and it’ll be point blank in an angry bear's face. The bear has tried to take the fastest path to us, but the cave is rocky and it has to slow down. I fire and the arrow actually flies toward the beast, past Hadvar and Ralof. I hoped the arrow would have been a direct hit but the arrow just bounces off the bear's face, perhaps shaving some of the fur on its head as it passed. I don’t know what happened next as suddenly my mind is ripped away from the cavern right after. 

 

Heavensward my mind flies, unwillingly and unperturbed. I finally float to what seems like a cosmos of cloudy stars. All manner of twinkling lights and nebulous storms swirl about in this seemingly endless space. Directly surrounding me are familiar constellations; the warrior, the mage, and the thief. Once I understood these as a game mechanic. Now I feel I am asked to choose. Where my favor lies inside my own being. It is not so much the stars giving me their favor as much as it is me giving favor to a part of myself, which also exists within the stars. 

 

I consider the options with a clear mind in this space. Conjuration, the skill that aids in summoning, is noticeably the most developed along with a few more arcane skills and the speech skill. All my other skills are nonexistent.  As much as I love my summoned wolf spirit I need to expand my physical skills before a skeever rat knocks me over. I won’t always have the boys to save me and the college is a long way off now. I place my favor on the skill for one handed weapons and fortify my health. The warrior in the celestial clouds seems to give me their approval and I’m shunted down back into the cave with the bear. 

 

No time seems to have passed at all here in the cave. The boys were already moving in front of me anyway and I would have been mauled without them. My bow falls in the small stream as I acclimate to reality. Hadvar bashes its face with his shield while Ralof, dual wielding axes like a badass right now, tears into the beast's side. The bear starts to overwhelm Hadvar, it stands on two legs to try and get over the Imperials shield . A mass of angry furred muscle crashes down on the shield of the brave Nord, pushing him back against the cave wall. 

 

Gathering my wits I summon the wolf familiar right behind the bear to start eating its ass. I struggle to get my footing, having fallen into a loose pebble patch by the stream. Ralof is on the other side of this great bear but he might be too weak to do any real damage. Hadvar is pinned and can’t take swings at the beast. My wolven familiar latches onto the right leg of the bear and starts pulling and tearing. The bear doesn’t seem to care. It’s now at Hadvars throat, almost over the shield. 

 

Suddenly the beast gets pulled back by just a half inch. As if someone had popped a hole in a bear balloon. The wounds must have caught up to it. It now lacks the strength to resist my summon, which is less than half the bear's size. Another moment and the sluggish bear is unceremoniously put down by the boys, a blade to the neck and ax to the head, all the while my summon rends the bastard's back leg like a chew toy. 

 

Heavy breathing fills the cavern over the sounds of the gentle stream. The boys slump down. Thankful gestures are shared. Putting away my sword I go find the bow I fumbled. It takes a few moments before anyone says anything

 

“Nice work” Hadvar says to Ralof, finally catching his breath. “For a rebel”

 

“Not so bad yourself, for an Imperial.” Ralof replies “Don’t think this changes anything once we get outside though.”

 

“And what? As soon as we see the sun again you'll start swinging? We both know the best bet from here is Riverwood. It’s neutral territory. We can at least be civilized until we make it there and then we don’t have to see each other again.”

 

“Civilized?” seethes Ralof.” What was civilized about executing our friend here after she begged Stendarr for mercy? What's civilized about letting the Thalmor drag innocent people from their homes!?! Imperial-”

 

“That's enough boys!” I yell, irritated. “If you want to yell at each other, do it somewhere I can get away from both of you. There’ll be plenty of time to debate if we make it to Riverwood. You can chat at the inn if you two still want to flirt later.”

 

I stare them down to make my point. I don’t want anything to happen to these two while I’m with them. The truth is both sides of this civil war have both good and bad reasons for fighting. In my opinion they’ve both gone about it the wrong way. Ulfric should have never killed High King Torygg. The Empire desperately needs reforms and a new covenant with the Divines after the Oblivion Crisis. The anger and apathy both sides are wielding can’t build anything productive.

 

I shouldn’t let my anger overpower good sense. I stop and kneel to see if I can loot the bear like I did the captain. Looks like I can get meat, fat, claws and a pelt from it. There are a couple of items here that weren’t in the game but I guess this is a more realistic Skyrim. I take everything and nearly jump out of my skin.

 

The bear is flayed and butchered almost instantly, leaving behind a gooey skeleton that rolls to its new center of gravity. The guts spill out everywhere with nothing to hold them in, like fat worms they slither outwards and dip into the stream.

 

“Good idea. It's probably better if we do have some meat on hand in case we need to hide long  from that dragon,” says Ralof. I guess he’s not mad at me for scolding him.

 

Hadvars already gone on ahead. I thought that maybe he was going to leave us but he turns around.

 

“ The path continues this way. I’m glad you’ve got it but I’d rather make it to Riverwood today than have to eat bear meat.” Hadvar says. “Come on.”

 

We follow and I still have to put in extra effort to keep up with this heavy armor. This is definitely not sustainable with my weak noodly body. The cave narrows again and twists left climbing up towards a bright snow white light.

 

“That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!”, exclaims Ralof.

 

“I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it," admits Hadvar, relieved.

 

It’s literally the light at the end of the tunnel. I did it. I’ve finally reached Skyrim free and unbound.