#aunt agna

[helgiafterdark]

ancestral worship

[aardvark-123]

I've decided to make a spirited attempt at video game blogging. (It was getting tricky to find time to record Orolinwethil's lines, now that she's living in New Zealand.) Without further ado, I present to you the Silver-Heart Chronicles.

~The Silver-Heart Chronicles Part 1: A Barrow for Golldir~

Yngvar Silver-Heart had joined the Stormcloak rebellion as a young man, and during his time at war he'd seen Windhelm and the eastern holds grow colder towards anyone who wasn't a Nord while Tamriel's political situation stayed exactly the same.

Yngvar gradually grew disillusioned with Ulfric and the whole "Skyrim belongs to the Nords" ethos, and so, after two long weeks, he quit the rebellion and moved back to his home village of Kynesgrove. Some might argue that Yngvar had "deserted", in response to which he argued that they could "get stuffed".

Yngvar's family had left Kynesgrove and their house had been repossessed by spriggans, so he became a semi-permanent resident in the Braidwood Inn. He made his living as an odd-job man, picking crops, mending houses and fetching frost salts for Dravynea, until one day Dotira the miner asked him for help.

Dotira's friend was missing, feared kidnapped by draugr near the ancient Hillgrund's Tomb. "This is it," Yngvar cried, leaping into action. "The perfect pretext to buy that crossbow I've had my eye on!"

The crossbow was an expensive piece of kit, but one that would surely be worth it. Yngvar left Kynesgrove with his pockets empty and his heart full of determination to find Doriselyn, then claim the favour Dotira would owe him.

Yngvar headed southwest across Eastmarch's famous volcanic tundra, the cold breeze ruffling his hair and carrying a faint smell of sulphur. The wind died down as he approached the river and wandered along the rocky bank, looking for a place to cross. All too soon a friend came out to meet him.

"Hmm... Tastes like salmon. I could probably make a potion of stamina from those," muttered Yngvar, nibbling on the bear's claws.

He carried on west past Mixwater Mill, finding only a few wild skeevers and a feral necromancer on the road. The necromancer was politely turned down when she offered to teach Yngvar how to make skeever slippers. Hillgrund's Tomb soon loomed in front of him, and inside the lobby waited an unexpected man.

"Offered to teach you the art of slipper-crafting as well, did she? I've never heard of anything so disgusting," Yngvar bantered. "Skeevers are obviously better as leg-warmers, opera gloves at a pinch, but never slippers! They don't have the durability for it."

Golldir explained politely that it was a different necromancer he meant. This was his (Golldir's) family tomb, but one Vals Veran had decided to help himself to the free dead people inside, and he (Golldir) had stayed behind while his aunt Agna (Agna) went to stop him (Vals).

Terrific, Yngvar thought. Still, I'll have a better chance of getting Doriselyn out of here with a partner... "Why, Golldir, I'd be delighted to help you! Lead the way."

Golldir led the way. His honoured ancestors were out in droves, driven into a frenzy by Vals's machinations, not that it takes much to drive a draugr into a frenzy on the best of days. Yngvar and Golldir cut their way through dozens of extended family members before they found a prisoner dressed in rags.

"Don't look now, Doriselyn, but I think there's someone behind you. Stay very, very still..."

"Problem solved!"

Doriselyn was more than a little annoyed at his treatment, and the thought of taking revenge on Vals was very tempting, so he joined Yngvar's fast-growing boy band as they descended further into the tomb. Yngvar scrounged up a set of draugr armour for Doriselyn, but he refused to wear it, saying it would clash with his beard.

Yngvar at least had the presence of mind to put some armour on. He wasn't sure his furry merchant's hat actually offered any protection, but it might keep any water from dripping on his head.

Further on, it seemed that Agna had sadly perished.

"Because you were scared? I know how that feels," Yngvar confided in Golldir. "The first time I ever faced a sabre cat, I nearly ruined a fine pair of breeches. Next time, though, I saw her coming for my axe-brother Ralof, so I ran her through without a moment's thought. Perhaps you'll save your other aunt from the next necromancer defiling one of your clan's old holdings."

"Is that how you try and help people feel better?!" sobbed Golldir, weeping over his aunt's motionless body.

"Er..." Yngvar looked at his feet. "It might be."

The ancient halls went deeper and further, past more enemies than just draugr. Watched by an aghast Golldir and a dispassionate Doriselyn, Yngvar took a moment to harvest the spider's venom before they carried on.

Vals was waiting in the deepest chamber of Hillgrund's Tomb, where the legendary Thane Hillgrund had been interred a thousand years ago with his pet spider in a cute little terrarium. Scoffing at the notion that dead people should be allowed some time to relax, he (Vals) called forth all the draugr in the chamber.

The fight was on. Fearsome mummified warriors attacked our heroes from all sides while Vals pelted them with sorcerous blasts, but Yngvar, his blade dripping with hastily-applied spider venom, beat a path through the enemy hordes to face him.

Sword met staff in a desperate duel, but when Yngvar drank his potion of vigorous healing Vals knew he had met his match. His head thumped down onto the floor, and as one the draugr sheathed their weapons and settled back down in their tombs.

The day was won, but at a terrible cost. Doriselyn had leapt in front of an arrow to protect Golldir, and without any armour to stop it, the arrow had pierced his courageous heart. Yngvar and Golldir wept for Doriselyn as they stuffed him into an unoccupied tomb.

It was dark when they got back to the lobby. Golldir was happy for Yngvar to stay for the night, especially since he'd brought a bottle of Honningbrew mead, and Yngvar was happy to oblige. They drank beside the fire and slept six feet apart because, while they were both gay, they weren't each other's types.

There were some glimmers of light. Golldir had the family tomb back, even if it had cost him an aunt, and Yngvar had helped himself to a new sword. Although it was dented and probably thousands of years old, it held an edge as sharp as his steel blade which burned with deadly cold.

After sharing breakfast and saying goodbye, Yngvar set off back to Kynesgrove. He didn't know what he was going to tell Dotira; nor, he realised, was there much chance of her giving him a reward. You won some and you lost some as an adventurer.

Kynesgrove was much as Yngvar remembered it, probably because he'd only been gone for a day. However, while he was selling a bunch of ancient weaponry to Throk the smith, a courier ran up to Yngvar and handed him a letter.

"In the name of Jarl Ulfric?" Yngvar bit his lip. "They know I'm here. Well, time to dye my hair and put on a strong Colovian accent. Dotira! Dotira, I need to borrow some of your war paint...!"

[imperialmilf]

Lynariel’s journal - Journey to Ivarstead, Part II

(Part I can be found here.)

The second day of our journey was not so pleasant. It seemed to start off well enough, as we left Valtheim Towers after an excellent night’s rest and a decent breakfast. Soon after our departure, we found an old Nordic tomb, as well as a  Nord fellow named Golldir. He told us that a necromancer had taken over his family’s tomb and was practicing dark magics on his ancestors. It seems his aunt had already gone in alone, but she hadn’t been heard from in some time. As it was still early morning, and we were still in good spirits, Uthgerd and I decided to help the poor fellow. After some time spent laying Golldir’s ancestors back to rest, we found the corpse of his aunt, Agna. Poor, brave woman. I pray she died well. I felt I was honor-bound to assist Golldir in avenging his aunt, and so we delved onwards into the depths of the tomb. Eventually we found the necromancer, and laid him to rest as well.

After ensuring that there weren’t any more of Golldir’s ancestors crawling around, we left him alone to mourn his aunt. It was beginning to get late at this point, and so we planned to stop at Fort Amol to rest for the night. I was rather concerned at the thought of staying the night in a Stormcloak camp, but Uthgerd assured me that I would be under her protection. Such bravado usually has little effect on me... but I must admit, I’m quite pleased to have someone else I can rely upon. Unfortunately, we soon found the fort to be overrun with apprentice conjurers. It was quite dark by now, but even after clearing the fort of its new inhabitants, I could not imagine staying there. The entire place reeked of death and singed flesh. We traveled onward for many hours, hoping to find a decent shelter to rest in. It soon began to rain.

We marched onward in the cold Skyrim rains until we encountered a man who claimed to have been attacked by bandits and separated from his caravan. He asked us to escort him a short ways off the trail back to his camp. We obliged, in hopes that we could perhaps find shelter and good company with his group, but I was naive in my exhaustion. The man himself was a bandit, and we were ambushed by the rest of his camp the moment we set foot into the light of the campfire. By this point in our journey it was nearly three in the morning, and I had little patience for such pesky encounters. All I wanted was a bedroll to lie upon, and some shelter above my head. After fighting off each of the bandits, we quickly took shelter in the old stone tower they had been camped outside of. It was drafty and wet and not a very good shelter at all. Uthgerd and I were forced to huddle together for warmth in the only semi-dry spot of floor. If not for the miserable conditions, I could’ve thoroughly enjoyed her company, but we were both too exhausted and frozen to enjoy much of anything. All things considered, it was a rather terrible day. Praise be to the Divines that we managed to survive it all.

Thankfully, the rest of the journey went quite smoothly, despite the rainy conditions. After a few hours of midmorning travel we arrived in Ivarstead, where I am now gratefully curled up next to a warm hearth at the Vilemyr Inn. Good food, good company, and a real bed to sleep in tonight. After we’ve recuperated a bit, Uthgerd and I have evening plans to scare off a ghost at the nearby Shroud Hearth Barrow. We intend to begin our journey up the Seven Thousand Steps early tomorrow morning. Praise be.

[pim-leepet]

Skyrim sure is fun and functioning well

Poor Agna...

[theowritesfiction]

'The Waterbending Master'

Finally the finale is in sight and we are getting to the Northern Water Tribe. This means some characters will get the chance to earn some major Jerk Points and hopefully overtake Aang because let's face it, it's ridiculous that he'd be leading this competition.

Agna Qel'a is just breathtaking and majestic, that can't be denied even if I take some issues with their isolationist approach. Aang and Katara being so excited to be there and learn waterbending, Sokka's crush from the first glance at Yue, it's so cute. Sokka's attempts at flirting with Yue during the feast are so precious. I mean - if you are going to fail spectacularly, then do it in a way that makes a girl laugh and think you're hilarious. :)

Pakku's first introduction immediately reveals him as an asshole. Katara being so excited to learn and then having her hopes instantly dashed by this misogynist. That's 100 Jerk Points right out of the gate.

Maybe I should have done some kind of Badass Points contest as well, and Katara would get several hundred for this episode. Her entering the healing tent and seeing all those bright eyed young girls being forced to suppress their potential immediately triggers her sense of grave injustice.

Zhao's plan to assassinate Zuko is a fucking bold one. This guy is playing a high stakes game. I doubt even Ozai would look kindly upon this. It's an assassination attempt, though. 100 Jerk Points.

Pakku refusing to teach Aang because he showed the moves to Katara is grounds for more Jerk Points. Pakku is simply being a dick on purpose here - he knows that Aang can just teach Katara after they leave NWT. 50 more JP. Katara challenging Pakku to a fight is a crazy badass moment. I love that she just straight up attacks him after he acts like a dismissive little bitch. This fight encompasses everything I love about Katara because she fights with so much passion. And I am not going to go easy on Pakku for agreeing to teach her in the end - it is clear that he hasn't had some kind of epiphany about girls being taught waterbending, he has not unlearned anything, he just became a tad sentimental because he saw the necklace. Extra 50 for a total of 200 Jerk Points for one episode, nice going Pakku.

I'm enjoying Iroh and Zuko's infiltration of Zhao's fleet. It's interesting that for the first time Iroh says something supportive about Zuko's plan to capture the Avatar. And I'm still quite surprised about the influence that Zhao appears to be wielding at this point. It really makes me wonder - how much of this is done with Ozai's approval, and how much is his own initiative?

Yue and Sokka's failed date and Yue breaking down when Pakku speaks about the arranged marriage with Kanna was just such a tearjerking moment. I hate to admit it, but I teared up when Yue ran away crying :(

Jerk Points after this one:

Aang - 350 Ozai - 300 Zhao - 230 Bumi, Aunt Wu, Iroh, Pakku - 200 Jet, Zuko - 100 Momo - 30