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Diary of a Dragonborn Chapter 2: Of Jesters and Snow


Content Consumer

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CHAPTER 2: OF JESTERS AND SNOW
Wherein our hero finds a funny man unfunny.
Previous: Chapter 1, To Helgen and Beyond

 


Out of the city, I can see that there are basically three routes to get to Winterhold. There's the overland route, over mountains and down canyons, and probably full of monsters. And there are two roads. One passes through Windhelm, hometown of my execution-cart-buddies Ralof and Ulfric the Muffled, bastion of a bunch of racist bastards who are trying to shatter the empire, the only thing that stands between the Thalmor and an eternity of human enslavement. Or there's the other road that looks like it passes through... nothing much in particular. I know instinctively that it's too much to hope for that either way won't be dangerous, but I decide to pick the northern route through the Pale, as it avoids Windhelm. I briefly consider asking the carriage driver to take me, but I decide that he's got enough problems working for Nazeem or Balgruuf or whoever he works for.

 

On my way up the road, I pass a watchtower. I decide to investigate, just for kicks. Standing around outside are a few guys dressed in hides and fur, alongside a couple of Whiterun guardsmen. They're all just standing there, watching me cow-like, not even speaking to each other. One of the fur-clad guys mutters something about mead and how he prefers wine. I hear ya, buddy. As I turn to head back along my path, everyone galvanizes into action. Apparently it's a deadly insult to turn your back on these people. A brief, violent fight ensues, with one guard and three bandits dead, and myself nearly spent. I decide to get in a little magic practice and pull out the good old healing spell and MAN I suck at magic. Maybe this whole wizard thing is a bad choice. No, I must stick to my convictions that almost ANYTHING is better than going back to Riverwood. Winterhold it is.

 

Doo de doo doo, hum de da da, just walking my way along the road, picking daisies and cotton balls. I try to catch a pretty butterfly, accidentally tear its wings off, and decide that I'm NEVER going to be an alchemist. It's too cruel. There's a cart here in the middle of the road, busted up pretty bad. And a horse, just standing there, bored out of its mind. Or maybe just catatonic. If I had to sit there, listening to the fool in motley and his shrill voice for any length of time, I'd eventually shut down too. The jester asks me for help repairing his wagon. Except he doesn't want me to help, he wants the local farmer to help. Fine, asshole. Flag down a passing traveler and ask him to get somebody more competent. Maybe I'm not a professional cart-fixer, but you really can hurt a guy's feelings, you know? Up the path to the quaint little farmhouse. The farmer's kind of a dick, but I manage to convince him to help out old scaramouche. The clown then rewards me with some gold, and I'm back on my way, a new lightness in my steps as I've enriched two people's lives - the farmer, for getting the damn mummer out of his hair, and mine, with gold. The buffoon himself, I fear, cannot be helped save by an arrow to the skull. Or maybe the knee - then he can go get a job as a city guardsman. It seems to be a prerequisite.

 

The weather's getting nasty. The ground is covered in snow, and wind whistles up - it's a cold wind that blows no warmth (see what I did there?). My journey onward is enlivened by a troll attack. We trade blows for a couple of seconds, and then I realize that even though I'm fighting as hard as I can, and well-armored in thick iron plates, I'm almost dead and the damn troll is fine. I look at its face and it's SMILING at me. I make a break for it and continue along the path. I pass some building, probably a little village or maybe a wayward inn, on my right, but I'm running from a troll that could have taken down the dragon that attacked Helgen, here. This fucker is nasty. Lucky for me he's slow as shit, and I soon outdistance him. My journey onward is again enlivened, this time by a couple of wolves. I salve my wounded pride by taking them out with one hit each, and start to wonder about the predator-prey relationships around here. The food chain seems to go Rabbit - Fox - Wolf - Giant - Man/Mer/Khajiit/Argonian - Dragon - Daedric Prince - Troll.

 

There's a big fort on my right. I instinctively know that it's called Fort Kastav. I also instinctively know that it's manned by raiders, because when I enter the walls I'm set upon by, at my estimation, eight thousand fur-covered idiots screaming at me. I kill off a few, take cover from arrows, heal up a bit, and whack a few more. They just keep coming, though, and I'm getting irritated. I briefly consider going back for the troll and leading him in here. Maybe he'll be grateful for the meal and we'll become friends. Or maybe he'll just treat me as a dessert. I sprint off, leaving the remaining bandits still on the walls, shouting imprecations at my retreating back. I honestly could take them all, eventually, but I'm bored with this, and maybe I'll be back someday with my wizardly training and charbroil some marauder asses.

 

My path continues mostly northeast, then north. I pass a few caves, kill a couple of wolves, see a troll in the distance, curl up into a little huddled ball and whimper for a while, then decide to sneak my way around the troll. I also see a couple of warriors there. I think they're bandits at first, but then realize that one of them is the same woman from the giant attack outside Whiterun (not the one who was pissed at me for drinking milk - the other one). These "companions" must have fucking SPRINTED to get here ahead of me. Just for giggles, I go press the troll's hunger button and lead him into the middle of the pair of them. They take him down in like thirty seconds flat. I simply stand there, jaw dropped, staring mawkishly at the three of them. I've revised my food chain: Rabbit - Fox - Wolf - Giant - Man/Mer/Khajiit/Argonian - Dragon - Daedric Prince - Troll - Companion. I'm almost tempted to turn back around and head to Whiterun to join their gang - with guys like this around me, I'll ever be safe from here on. Then again, they might have some sort of initiation trial like "go kill ten trolls" and I don't even want to THINK about someone asking me to do that. I continue on my path, and eventually arrive in the great city of Winterhold.

 

What a dump.

 

Next: Chapter 3, College Guys Gone Wild
Start at chapter 1

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