It's hard to believe it's been almost a year since Mother and I sailed for Northpoint. The time we spent there, if not especially exciting, was important to me. Not only could I show Mother where I'd spent the last twenty-odd years of my life, but we settled a lot of unfinished business during our time there. We even bought back Father's house, and arranged tenants to maintain it in our absence. A wise move, as it happened, because the longer I stayed there the more acutely I felt the the call to return to Skyrim. 

 

Visions haunted my dreams. Not of Dibella and her sweet voice, but of beasts, spiders, and the smell of blood. There was never a clear command or goal, just a desire... to return. To inhabit the world that was meant to contain me. I spoke often with Mother about the dreams, and at length we decided that my answers were not to be found in High Rock. I'd have to return to Skyrim and confront the source of these visions. It was that need to confront the powers who laid claim to me dreams that led me to the foot of the College of Winterhold, to a ramshackle inn called the Frozen Hearth.

 

Night was already fast falling, and the northern chill quickly convinced me to delay my visit to the College under morning. I was getting ready to sit down for a warm meal when someone roughly bumped into me. Turning, I saw a High Elf dressed in wizard's robes, quite literally looking down his nose at me. 

 

"Watch where you're going, wen--" he started to sneer before coming up short.

 

"You're no Bosmer," he said, "so why do you have antlers?"

 

 

I considered providing disrespect for disrespect and matching his snide tone, but I had a feeling that this might be an opportunity. 

 

"That," I said, "is a long story. Join me for a drink?"

 

He groaned slightly, but acceded. "If that's the price I have to pay to get an answer," he said, "I suppose I can endure."

 

As we climbed a pair of empty stools by the bar he amended, "but I'm not taking on students. So don't even ask."

 

That caught my interest, and I pressed, "you're with the College, then?"

 

The elf rolled his eyes, "Oh, no. Gods, no! I haven't been with the College for years. But you lured me to this bench promising me a story. So pay up!"

 

I ordered a pair of ales and, after I'd taken a moment to satisfy my thirst, recounted the broad strokes of my misadventures in Markarth the year before. I mostly glossed over my investigation of the Forsworn murders in the city and my subsequent enforced disappearance at the hands of the Silver-Blood Family, really picking up the tale with my escape into the dwarven ruins beneath Cidhna Mine. I left out the part about the spiders that inhabit my body to this day, instead focusing on the Forsworn agent's account of their wise womens' prophecies, and the gifts I was subsequently granted. I was still wearing the bands that Flora had given me, and indeed I'd remained barefoot ever since that day, even treading on the snow of Northpoint and Winterhold. 

 

"Magic items, I understand," the elf said, "but those antlers are clearly growing from your head. That is what I want to know about."

 

I drained the last little bit of stew out of my trencher before I answered him. "The truth is," I said, "that's what I'm here to find out as well." I related how they'd sprung from my head in the moments before our final battle for freedom, and the strange visions that had haunted my dreams ever since. I concluded, "I need to know whence this power comes, and how to... well, if not to control it, then to coexist with it."

 

My erstwhile companion nodded gravely. "I've read accounts of conditions like yours. Several, in fact, and all from the same author. I'll tell you what: you help me with a... small matter, and I'll tell you where this scholar lives. Then you can be his problem."

 

"That sounds like a fair exchange," I said, "how can I help you?"

 

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he continued. "It's an experiment I'm working on. I need a... voluntary subject." 

 

The barkeeper perked up at that. "Oh, no, Nelacar, I'm still cleaning up the mess from your last experiment. If you're going to be playing with magic, do it outside."

 

"It's not that spell," he sneered. "I assure you this is perfectly harmless."

 

"You say that, but the smell... it was like some horrible monster turned inside out and exploded."

 

I confess that gave me some pause. "Nelacar," I said, using the name I'd just learnt, "what kind of experiment are we talking about?"

 

"Oh," he cooed, "it's a little spell I call irresistable charm. Here, let me show you."

 

My senses blurred then and I felt his magical influence reaching over me. I have a vague recollection of telling him everything - the voices in the coals, my studies in the Temple of Dibella, the quest for the Sybil, all of it. At length, I came back to my senses as if I was rousing from a waking dream. I realized I was lying on my back on a bed, and I tried to sit up. A strong hand held me fast and... suddenly I became intensely aware of the slimy cock sliding its way in and out of my mouth.

 

 

"Mmmlhhmmmrrrr" I tried to protest, as the elf thrust deeper yet, making me sputter and gag. I waited a moment and then, as he reached the backstroke of his motion, slipped my head free and hissed at him. "Nelacar! What are you doing?!"

 

"Just testing exactly how irresistible my charms are, my dear. And from what you've told me, you're quite a naughty girl. Surely you don't mind helping me with this?

 

To punctuate his point, Nelacar pushed his cock against my face, driving a slimy trail down my cheek and against my neck.

 

 

"How much... Divines," I growled, "Did I really tell you everything?"

 

With another slap of his member against my cheek he said. "You did. Everything. After this I think I'd like a sample of your magical... beverage."

 

I squirmed free of him again, this time rolling to my knees. The elf approached again and this time I pushed back on his chest, hard.

 

"Stop it!" I shouted. 

 

"Or what? You promised to help me with my research. So help." I could feel the power of his compulsion spell starting to gather again.

 

"Stop it," I repeated, "or you'll get to experience first-hand the spiders you tricked me into telling you about." As if to punctuate the threat, two of the litter creatures pushed their way past my lips before crawling down to rest on my shoulders. The lion's share were pushing their way out of my guts and taking their positions from the opposite direction.

 

 

Nelacar stopped then, and I felt the power of his spell waver, then fail. After starting at me for a moment, he relented with a huff.

 

"Fine, fine. I thought you Dibellan sisters liked being taken advantage of. But I learned enough. Now get lost."

 

I crept closer to him, not breaking eye contact. "You owe me some information."

 

"Really? You expect me to help you after you threaten me?"

 

It only took a few more inches of closing the gap between us to prompt him to reconsider his stance. "Very well. You're looking for Forrien Hlaalu. He lives on Hlaalu Farm outside Windhelm. Now leave me alone."

 

I left Nelacar to brood in his room then, considering my next steps. Certainly I'd need to rest until morning - leaving now that the sun had set would be foolish - but I resolved to set off at first light. I'd rented a room of my own earlier, and I retreated there to get some rest. Soon enough, dawn had broken and I took my leave of the inn. It was a sunny morning in Winterhold, and a brisk wind blew against me as soon as I passed through the door. Well-packed snow met my feet, all its texture but none of its chill transmitting into my soles. I mentally thanks Flora once more for her magic bands.

 

 

Following the road south, I tried to make the best time I could to Windhelm. Just out of town I met up with a pair of adventurers - mercenary wizards - also bound for Windhelm. A Khajiit and a High Elf, they made no secret that they despised Ulfric Stormcloak, but Septims were Septims, and the call of well-paying mercenary work had drawn them south. We made small talk for a while, and I probed if they knew of Forrien Hlaalu; neither did, but the conversation helped pass the time and distract us from the biting wind. 

 

 

We parted ways at Audnhold - the two wizards pressed on south while I stopped in the little settlement to warm myself and enjoy a brief lunch. I'd purchased a jar of thick stew, packed with beans and meat chunks, and with the permission of the local smith I dangled it over the first of his smelter until a pleasant aroma started to issue forth. I sipped at the broth carefully until I was certain it wouldn't burn my mouth, then slurped up the rest of the meal with abandon. Chasing it with a few pulls on my wineskin, I could feel the warmth of the stew radiating out of my belly and into the rest of my both.

 

 

I could see that it was still far from sunset, so once I was finished with lunch I continued south. The route was clear and I could see well into the distance - no snow flurries today. At length, I came up short. I could see in the distance the remains of an old Imperial fort, and figures prowled its battlements. Not men, though. Animate skeletons. Fortunately, I knew that these kind of monsters were nearly mindless, and I resolved to sneak past the fort. Still, I readied my bow in case I needed to silence a too-attentive sentinel. 

 

 

Unlike Mother, I had no special hatred for the undead. I've always regarded them with something more like pity. Still, I recognized that not only are they dangerous, but the living who create them are more dangerous yet. Surveying the area, the main road didn't offer any good cover to use for sneaking past the fort, so instead I turned east and made my way through the nearby forest until I'd nearly the fort. I was certain I was going to get away cleanly until I heart a distant howl.

 

Spinning, I could see a ghostly wolf stalking towards my position, sniffing at the air. Quickly, I loosed an arrow from my bow, disrupting the spell that had conjured the apparation, and it vanished in a puff of blue smoke. From the shouts I heard in the direction of the fort however, it was clear my presence was now known. I abandoned my efforts at stealth and dashed towards the south of the woods. Clearing the treeline, I rushed across a rocky outcropping, hearing the whistle and clatter of arrows as the struck the stone near me. As I reached the end of the cliff, I could see that it actually overlooked the easternmost tower of the fort. 

 

With a quick prayer to Dibella, I leapt down onto the roof of the fort and pushed forward in a flat-out dash. I barely kept my balance as I scrabbled down the rocks on the far side, and then my feel were on level ground again and I sprinted away from the fort, weaving as best I could to throw off the aim of the archers.

 

 

After what seemed like an eternity - but was probably just a matter of a few seconds - I was around the curve of the hill and out of sight from the skeletal archers. I took a momen to catch my breath, but only long enough to steady myself. Then I pressed on at a jog, trying to get distance between the fort and myself before any search parties could run me down. 

 

Then the significant of what I'd seen struck me: that was Fort Kastav. It was one of the main garrison forts north of Windhelm. How was this not under the control of the Stormcloaks? I wondered if the political situation in Skyrim was more tenuous than I'd believed. I know when I'd left before that the Empire and the Stormcloaks had essentially been locked in a stalemate. It seemed that things had changed during my year back in Northpoint.  I thought on this as I followed the road south, and I resolved to correct my ignorance of the political situation before it brought me to harm.

 

I continued south for a time more, starting to encounter occasional patrols of Stormcloak soldiers. Beyond confirming that I'd entered Eastmarch Hold, however, they had no time for conversation. Imperial spies, they explained, had been seen in these borderlands, and they had to keep a close watch. From there, I followed the road until it met an better-maintained east-west road. If I hadn't lost my bearings, this road would take me to Windhelm if I continued east, or Whiterun if I went west. Either direction would be challenging, however, as the bite of the cold was starting to penetrate through my fur cloak. 

 

Fortunately, I caught sight of a small building not far off the road, strung with festive lights. Approaching, I could see that a large boiler adjoining the building. I'd suspected at first that this was a small inn or tavern, but perhaps it was a distillery. Cautiously, I knocked on the door. I heard no answer, but a light jiggle of the handle revealed the building to be unlocked. 

 

"Hello?" I called, "is anyone home?"

 

I got no answer beyond the crackling of a fire pit. Closing the door behind me, I held out my hands to warm as I surveyed the contents of the room. 

 

 

On one side of the main room I could see metalworking tools and a variety of fine crafts - shoes, armlets, and brasiers, it seemed, all made from finely wrought gold or copper wire. On the other side, I saw alchemist's tools and a large number of small potions. Evidently the boiler wasn't there for distilling liquor, but for more esoteric pursuits. I considered examining the wares closer, but wariness and a desire not to test the owner's hospitality staid my hand.

 

Again I called out, "I'm sorry for intruding. I saw your boiler and thought this might be a tavern. I'll just warm myself for a moment and then depart."

 

 

Suitably warmed, I resumed my journey, following the road east all the way to the bridge over the White River. Stormcloak soldiers held the north bank, but paid me no heed as I continued on my way. Looking east further yet as I crossed, I could begin to see the smoke of Windhelm's foundries in the distance and, shrouded by clouds, the great tower at the city's center. I wondered what reception I'd receive if I introduced myself as the daughter of the Black Thane. Would I be set upon? Imprisoned? Or just ignored? Did anyone outside the Reach still care about Madanach's rebellion? I have to admit, I was sorely curious - but on consideration, I decided to leave those questions for another day. I had a scholar to find, not a blood feud to rekindle.

 

 

The light was starting to fail when I finally reached the gates of Windhelm. Once again the Stormcloak guards paid me little heed, and I toyed with entering the city proper, if only to rent a room until the coming of the next day. However, I caught the eyes of a farmer leading a reluctant ox, laden with baskets of vegetables, across the bridge into the city. She gave a little wave of greeting, and I stepped towards her.

 

"Good evening," I said, "I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who's cold here."

 

 

The woman laughed, pointing to my feet. "Try wearing shoes next time, it helps."

 

I shrugged, "I can imagine. Can you tell me how to get to Hlaalu Farm?"

 

"You're not one for small talk, are you?"

 

"Well," I said honestly, "the sun's setting and the chill's setting in. I mostly wanted to get inside before nightfall."

 

She nodded at that, "a fair point." Gesturing back towards the road she added, "follow the south bank of the river another mile or so east. It's the second big farmhouse you'll see down that way. Better hurry up, or you won't get there by sundown."

 

"Thanks," I said, "I'll do that." I waved as I turned on my heels returned to the road. After passing through a ramshackle refugee camp just past the city stables, I could see that the riverbank was mostly open country for a ways. I also saw a rather gruesome spectacle - the remains of an Imperial soldier who the Stormcloaks seemed to have used for archery practice. The sight stood to reinforce my desire to avoid stirring up trouble while I was in Eastmarch.

 

 

As I approached what I believed was Hlaalu Farm, I looked north across the river and took a moment to appreciate the sprawling might of Windhelm. I could imagine the forges and smelters at the bottom of each column of smoke, creating new weapons and armor for Ulfric's armies. With such a well-defended and -developed city at the heart of his realm, I could understand why the Empire was struggling to unseat him. 

 

 

From there, it wasn't much longer to reach the farm itself. It was a sturdily built A-frame structure, and I could see the warm glow of firelight through the windows. After a moment's hesitation, I knocked on the door... but heard no response. I gave it another futile knock before the sound of an axe striking wood caught to my ears. I circled around the back of the farmhouse and found three women tending to a small flock of chickens and cutting wood. 

 

 

With a wave, I made my greetings. 

 

"Good evening," I said, "is this Hlaalu Farm?"

 

An older woman, who seemed to be in charge of the farmhands, answered warily. "Aye, it is. And what's got you snooping around at this hour?"

 

Doing my best to not mirror her distrustful tone, I explained, "I'm trying to find Forrien Hlaalu. Is he here?"

 

She shook her head dismissively, "no, Master Belyn threw out that layabout last week, told him to not come back until he can pay his fair share. Should have done it a year ago, if you ask me."

 

"Master Belyn?" I asked.

 

"Belyn Hlaalu, he owns this farm. Forrien's his brother, and definitely the runt of the litter."

 

"Hmm, I see. Do you know where Forrien went? Is he in the city now?"

 

She shrugged. "You'd have to ask Belyn, though he's in town right now, heading in tonight so he can get to the market first thing tomorrow. You can probably find him down at the Cornerclub."

 

With the evening chill really starting to settle in, I didn't hesitate in taking the old woman's advice. I retraced my steps to gates and this time entered into the great city. Despite the deep snow that blanketed everything, the city's architecture radiated age and power, while the scaffolding and new construction overhead attested to its modern rebirth. Still, as I reached the Gray Quarter that housed the Dark Elves and their Cornerclub, I could see the surroundings falling into greater and greater disrepair. 

 

 

As I crossed the threshold of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, I could feel the warmth of the hearth immediately start washing the heavy cold from my limbs. I could also feel the gaze of eyes upon me. Almost entirely Dark Elf eyes. 

 

"Oh splendid, another Nord," the bartender drawled, "If you're here for a drink, come up to the bar. Otherwise leave us in peace." 

 

I did as he said, doing my best to not bump or shove as I wended through the crowd. 

 

"What's on the menu?" I asked.

 

 

"A gob of my spittle, if you're in with Ulfric's boys!" one of the patrons helpfully volunteered. 

 

"Wine and tea, if you need to keep the cold off. Milk if you need to relax." He paused and then conceded, "and Ale too, if you don't like our drinks."

 

I considered the milk, though I doubt it would have had the same special quality of Edippa's. Rather than be disappointed, instead I said, "tea, I think. Got something to eat with it? I've been travelling all day and I've got a powerful hunger."

 

"Planning to stay the night, then? Why not Candlehearth Hall? That's where your folk normally stay."

 

I shrugged. "Truth be told, my family has some history with Ulfric Stormcloak. I'd rather not share a roof with his people."

 

"Oh, is that so?" he asked, seemingly incredulous. "So I'm supposed to be believe you're one of the 'good ones', then?"

 

"Believe what you want," I said, "but my father faced him on the battlefield during the Reach Rebellion. I've got no love for him and his friends."

 

 

The bartender shook his head cautiously. "I don't know what to believe these days, but you've got something about you that makes me want to trust you. Fine, I'll do you two favors. First, I won't give you that tea. Take this instead," he slid a shallow cup over to me. "That won't keep you awake for half the night."

 

I took a cautious sip and discovered the purple liquid inside was sweet like fruit, but with none of the alcoholic bite of wine. "It's good," I said.

 

"Jazbay grape juice," he said, "fresh pressed at the vineyard. It'll keep your eyes open through your dinner, but you'll still be able to sleep once the sweet wears off."

 

"Thank you," I said, sipping at the cup again. "And the second thing?"

 

"I'll get a proper meal in your belly, and make sure the cook doesn't flavor it with his spit - or anything else. Take a seat, it'll be a little while."

 

I slid onto an open stool and took another sip of the juice.

 

"So if you're not here to sign up with Ulfric, what brings you to Windhelm?" he asked.

 

"I'm looking for a scholar, actually. Forrien Hlaalu. Know him?"

 

He shook his head at that. "Is he that no-good brother of Belyn and Minara? I'd heard he left town."

 

"As had I, but I'd been told Master Belyn was staying here and I hoped perhaps he could tell me where his brother had decamped to."

 

At that, the bartender gestured to someone behind me and called out. "Belyn!" he said, "there's someone here looking for you. Hey, wait!" His last words were answered with the thump of the front door closing.

 

"Well," the bartender said to me, "you better follow him. Who knows where he's off to. I'll keep your dinner warm for you."

 

I found him waiting just outside the door, in the company of a few rough-looking Dunmer clad in leather armor.

 

"What do you want, Nord?" he asked pointedly, "I don't have all night."

 

 

Following his cue, I got right to the point. "I'm looking for your brother," I said.

 

"Forrien?" he asked, "what do you want with him?"

 

"A mage at Winterhold told me that his research might help me solve... a problem I've been contending with. I'd like to speak with him."

 

Belyn laughed, "well, you chose a bad time. I finally got sick of him leeching off the farm and told him to get lost. Last I heard, he was headed for Falkreath hold, had it in his mind to set up shop there."

 

"Falkreath's a big territory," I observed, "did he give any hint of where he was going?"

 

"All of them and none of them. He changed his plan almost on the hour while he was packing. But if you ask me, you actually want to head to Riverwood, right on the Whiterun side of the border. I expect he'll be stuck there getting permits and jumping through whatever other hoops he need to do to open a business. He probably imagines he can just stroll in and hang a shingle... won't he be surprised."

 

"Thank you," I said, "that... actually, that really helps." 

 

He dismissed my thanks with a wave of his hand, "whatever, I'm not doing you a favor pointing you to that freeloader. Make sure you don't loan him any Septims."

 

Belyn turned from me then, resuming a hushed conversation with the armored men. Sensing that it was my time to leave, I withdrew to the cornerclub. Ambarys - the bartender - had kept his promise and had my food warm and ready when I returned. Venison with a sweet cream sauce and stewed tomatoes on the side. The spices were unfamiliar, but the flavor was deeply satisfying. I took my time and enjoyed the meal before retiring to my 'room.' And by room, I mean a spot of clear floor where I could throw my bedroll. Still, it was comfortable enough, and the heat from the bar below rose to warm the floor nicely.

 

Strange dreams came again as I slept. I was held fast at the center of a wooden wheel, unable to move or escape as cold metal rubbed between my legs.

 

 

As I struggled fruitlessly, shapes and faces surrounded me, watching me but making no move to help. I could feel my nethers heating and moistening under unrelenting, buzzing massage of my captor, and all my watchers did was silently observe. I realized after a time that the faces I saw were the patrons from the bar.

 

 

I tried to call out, to beg for help, but I was greeted only with jeers and applause. I could feel myself fast rising towards orgasm under the relentless touch of the machine, and I realized now that some of my watchers were undressing and touching themselves, evidently to excited to resist at the sight of my distress.

 

 

As the crowd began to swell, the closes to me began to reach out towards me. Warm hands cupped and squeezed by breasts as the pleasure in my body continued to build. I should have reached my climax by now, but instead all I felt was a constantly building arousal. It went from pleasant, then to urgent, and soon to painful as came to stop struggling to escape and instead turned to grinding my hips against the machine, desperate for release.

 

 

Finally, a moment before I was sure my heart would explode, I awoke with a shout. Sunlight trickled through gaps in the wooden slats and I realized morning had come. As if carried by the wind, a voice whispered to me... the voice I knew as The Teacher.

 

This awaits you on the path you have chosen...

 

 

Behind the Scenes

The original plan was actually to start the story at the Resting Pilgrim in Helgen, with only a brief flashback section to the Frozen Hearth to help establish the backstory. However, after some discussions on the Toys Discord, I decided to include a visit to Hlaalu Farm in the lead-in, and so I ended up walking from Winterhold to Windhelm as you saw in this chapter. As you can probably tell from some of the early screen shots, I ran into some technical difficulties with clearing overlays that Kirsti had left over from saving her previous game progress. This was fixed by the time Kirsti got to the skeleton fort.

 

Kirsti herself got a very small makeover going into this game. I advanced her age slider by about 0.5 and I grew out her hair a bit. I also removed her body paint from the previous adventure (though she might end up getting some new paint over the course of this adventure. We'll see...). 

 

If you recall the previous adventure, one of the big deficiencies I ran into was not being able to see all my MCMs. Thanks to SkyUI Resort this is no longer a problem, which went a long way to smoothing out the early game experience. Since this will be a shorter adventure, I did leave some features at defaults that I don't expect to use, and that sped up the process of getting started. 

 

So far, deficiencies have been minimal. I had a little bit of trouble posing the first sex scene because the bed needs to be spun around 180 degrees. That's a pretty easy one to accomplish - I just had to load up a working file with the Frozen Hearth beds and spin around the one that had problems. At the same time, I spotted some broken landscape, albeit off the beaten path and in a position the player is unlikely to observe. This I'll also fix in the CK.

 

 

 

We'll just sink that rock a bit into the snow. That way we won't have to mess with the actual Landscape record at all to fix the issue. Both of these changes were edits to temporary references, so they'll take effect immediately for our game. You can see the fixed boulder below:

 

 

While I was writing today's chapter, I poked into the Nexus to check my messages and I saw that a new texture mod had released, covering an item that I don't currently have a replacer for (vampire dust). Since this is a straight replacer with no plugin, I went ahead and grabbed it and then hot-loaded it into the game. This kind of mod is safe to integrate on the fly because it doesn't edit any data that directly impacts the records in the save file.

 

 

I also noticed some visual discrepancies related to my Armor of the Old Gods mod. Specifically, the ARMA for the feet had an inappropriate reference to the calves slot (which I removed) and the first person mesh for the bands was causing visual irregularities. I initially tried just removing the female arm mesh, but that didn't meet expectations since the game reverted to the male (generic forsworn armor) mesh. Ultimately I made a custom first person mesh in Bodyslide and that fixed the problem. At some point in the near future I'll roll these into an update for the redistributable version as well.