Three soldiers, one mage, one . . . Tarn and one archer-ambassador. Should be a reasonably effective party.

When Laprima attempted to engage her party with smalltalk, I thought she might dust off the old ‘I saw a mudcrab the other day.’ line.

So it seems Sixpenny may have washed out of Thalmor school. That could make him bitter toward the Thalmor and a valuable ally. Or more likely, it could make him eager to impress his masters with some sort of plot or scheme to benefit the Thalmor.

An unexpected turn of events. Doesn't sound good for the company at the moment. There is still time, the worm may turn again.

Posting early this week. Yesterday I had the day off and did the gaming necessary to continue today's chapter, while April drizzled outside. I had to do yesterday's encounter over and over again, for screenshots but also for 'balance'. It was actually not entirely fun, not like usual gaming. More like being on a movie set. The scene begins, something goes wrong. "CUT!" Urgh. Jump into the CK. Fix latest unforeseeable issue, etc. But I think the chapter itself is going to portray well.


'Rosa: Jennifer Love Hewitt. I know the name, probably seen her in all these roles. Okay, here she is. Hhm, yeah, she could do it. Need some gothy makeup, but possible. Got the aristocratic nose and chin combination, especially. Her brow's not quite right. Jennifer doesn't have Laprima's 'heaviness' of expression.

Need to see if she's got a more serious picture, and not in modern clothes. Especially, has Jennifer done any medieval fantasy roles? WHOA check her out. A little too cutesy, but that's due to the scene she's in. Yeah, I could see JLH being a candidate.

Thank you. Sixxy's got some stuff coming up, mm hmm, that's true. *nods* I'm gonna be like Beth and say "it's something we're working on at the moment, not ready to talk about just yet."


macole: See, that's what I'm saying. It's not so much that it's COLD during winter, it's that it's DIFFERENT. ❄ Different from fall, different from spring, different from summer. What seems to be happening is there are now three seasons (in Maryland, at least) rather than 4. Fall blends into spring, basically.

Tårn is awesome. Indeed she's got a tower-like presence about her; even in the game this comes through. I get this real confident feeling when Laprima & Tårn are side-by-side.


'Cadian: It's fun having just the right party to travel with! Laprima's ambassadorial party is pretty unique compared to the parties of other characters.

Lady Saga and Joan of Arkay often travel with guards & soldiers, but their companions are generic NPCs, mostly. Which means they sometimes get lost ("Leave" the party in RP terms) or get killed. When this happens I don't fret. There's always some other Imperial Forester or Legionnaire to recruit.

Renee Gade III's party is always a Girl Gang. She has a Nord gal who's also a drink-loving warrior named Felrika, added by a David Brasher mod. RG3 and Fel have traveled side by side for many years. Gabrielle also, although Gabby often gets left behind somewhere, just like on the Xena show. The rest of her party often fluctuates (sort of like Jandaga's Field Hippies) but mostly they are a variety of CM Partners. Usually an archer, usually a magic-user, and so on. But Laprima's party is unique compared to these others.

Ohhh no, no talk about mudcrabs!

(Okay, maybe a little!)

I mean, the mudcrabs of Skyrim are way different from the crabs of Cyrodiil. That's something which could come up in conversation. Because I especially like how Skyrim crabs look like ordinary rocks before they move. They really blend in. She hasn't seen one of Skyrim's crabs yet, though. 🦀.

.
__________________

.Robber’s Gorge

__________________


Tirdas, 23rd of Sun’s Dusk


The next morning was a typical scene, everyone rough and groaning. Each of them wondering who'd be the first to rouse the others. Laprima had slept in the same bed as the previous week, while the soldiers were on bedrolls, randomly strewn across Four Shields Tavern's floor. Sixpenny had rented his own room, yet going by his nonplussed expression upon waking seemed to have fared no better than the others. Good thing the inn's coffee and teas were hot and strong.

Time to break the fast. Laprima ate an apple and half a loaf of bread. Time to hit the road. Upon leaving the inn, this time her party turned left instead of right. Which meant she was now able to view the other half of Dragon Bridge, the half she’d missed last visit due to the copious amount of snow which’d been falling, along with the rush to get the evacuees up to Solitude in due time. Now able to take in the rest of town, she found herself truly impressed by the actual bridge the village had been named after.






Such fastidious stonework! A true masterpiece of architecture, structured over the river which roared below. The bridge’s construction had been accomplished by using the Xavier-Axis Compression method she’d learned about in architecture classes; basically, the series of cobbles and cromlech stones which’d been used from each end of the bridge toward its center (with massive keystones placed in the bridge’s center) had been arranged in such a way that they supported each other. Though there were several bridges in Cyrodiil which were similar, some much larger than the one they were crossing now, none of Cyrodiiil’s bridges seemed as ancient as this one. None of them were as iconic! - Because none of them had that formidable granite dragon’s head arranged in their centers, or anything so uniquely decorative.

“OY! You coming?” Van Haggar called.

She’d been daydreaming! Already, the others were many paces down the road. “Many apologies, squire! Got distracted!” She began running toward them, her horse clopping along from behind. “The ancient Nords, or perhaps the Atmorans?” she explained after catching up, “they surely knew how to perform some excellent masonry.”

“Hey, wouldn't know. What I do know is we got to keep shuffling!”






The weather was as usual: light snow from the sky, and overcast. Magnus nowhere to be seen, not even as a vague disc above clouds. How could there be so many shades of gray? Though the road they walked upon angled and curved on occasion, the entourage was headed generally south. Laprima could tell by observing the direction their shadows fell. Since it was morning and their shadows generally pointed right, this meant south. But it was hard to tell sometimes. Because light from the sky equated to countless shades of gray.

After an hour or so, the three male soldiers began muttering. Draper, Mansonn, and Van Haggar mumbled in lowered tones, before including Laprima into their conversation. The party came to a halt. "Need to let you know about Robber's Gorge," Mansonn started.

"Alright."

Draper spoke next. “Once upon a time, all the forts of Skyrim yore were inhabited by Nords who were allied against common enemies, usually the Dwemer, I think. Back then and perhaps up until the Third Era, forts were focal points of safety, not just for soldiers but also for travelers such as ourselves, as long as you were welcome inside, of course.

“Thing is, nowadays the lot of such places ‘ave fallen into decay and decrepitude,” he finished. “Inhabited mostly by bandits and such," he said, face scowled. "It's well known that they block the road with a falling-stone trap at Robber's Gorge, then try to ambush anyone who don’t pay their fine.”

“Yah, and even sometimes if coin is given, they’ll begin a brawl anyway,” Van Haggar added. “What I’ve heard, anyhow.”

By now the mage and the Nordic’s interests were piqued. They halted as well. Sixpenny approached. “Is there a problem?”

“Robber’s Gorge, straight ahead,” Draper informed. “Sometimes inhabited by bandits, sometimes not. It’s a gamble,” he stated flatly. “We can go ‘round the entire fort from the other side of the river. Thing is we’d have to backtrack, which would slow us half a day at the very least. And there are probably adversaries on that side as well, though wolves and other hostile creatures rather than bandits. There’s also no road on that side, meaning we’d be stepping through puddles and across glades and such.”

“So. Problem?” the mage asked a second time, raising a brow. “Hope you aren’t too frightful of a rumble with some rancorish ruffians? You, so-called soldiers, strapping, young, fit, and all equipped for battle on Skyrim's roads, hmm?”

“Not saying that at all…” Draper replied. “Don’t be so insufferable, elf.”

“Ya know, for once I am with the Thalmor agent, here,” Van Haggar chimed, removing the giant warhammer from his back. “What I’ve heard, they’re mostly trash mobs, these bandits and outlaws of Skyrim. Often underfed, often underdeveloped. Because usually only their leader might be tough. Usually it’s their chieftain or their warlock or whoever that’s taking the lion’s share of food, hoarding all the good potions, wearing the best armor pieces and so on. They get to where they’re at after pushing others aside who aren't as tough… Who’re mostly trash mobs, like I said.”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

“I’m saying we should give it a try,” he added casually. The Red Rokkr could’ve been attempting to persuade the group to taste a new flavor of ale, his voice was so laid-back. “IF there are any scumbags residing within the fort at all, that is.” He swung his hammer around half-circle, mocking battle. “As for me? I’m just itching for a fight!" He pounded his hammer's head straight into the ground, *whump!* "We’ll show them how it’s done here in Haafingar!”

“Well, technically we’re now in Hjaalmarch, Red…”

“I agree to continue onwards,” Mansonn chimed in. “So does she,” Mansonn nodded toward Tårn, who’d brandished her greatsword. The effect here was astonishing: gone was the shy warrior who’d originally joined them the previous day. Tårn appeared to be practicing her fighting stance by now. Was practically growling like an animal.

But also there was Draper, the party’s quasi-leader, the voice of rationality. “I understand everyone's ideals here, but let us not forget Laprima. She's still new to all this," he patted Lady Donnaugh's shoulder. “Otherwise, I don’t foresee Robber’s Gorge being much of a roadblock, literally, for the rest of us.”

“So let’s place a vote,” Sixpenny offered, his voice practically dripping with condescension. “Aye, or nay. I vote we forge straight ahead, so obviously I say ‘aye’. Anyone voicing ‘nay’ can just stay right here. And get left out at suppertime, by those of us who are actually adept at combat.”

Perhaps it was the challenge inherent within Sixpenny’s tease, perhaps nobody wanted to be upstaged by the blithely-arrogant wizard. All successive votes were ‘ayes’ rather than ‘nays’, including the vote of Lady Donnaugh (though her cast was a little less enthusiastic). Even Laprima's horse made what sounded like a neigh to the affirmative!

“My ladyship, you don’t have to join us as we descend into mayhem," Draper, the voice of reason once again. "Don’t be swayed into things you aren’t ready for.”

Van Haggar: “However, if you do choose to follow us, my advice is to use your marksman skills against other archers, or possible spellcasters. Robber’s Gorge has a platform which has been constructed right over the road, from what we’ve heard. For sure there’ll be someone tryin’ to pick us off from a distance with some arrows. Or perhaps some dafty hedge wizard’ll be up there, throwing spells. Take even one of them out, and that saves trouble for the rest of us.”

"Nonsense," Sixpenny scoffed, hands on hips. "Arrest thy words toward virtual incarceration, Nord. We can do this on our own. It is reprehensible to think she should be amoungst us at'all as we storm the fort. Our job is to protect the lady," he pontificated. "Not lose her before our escapade to Rorikstead is even half-over."

"For once, an appropriate idea from the elf," Van Haggar's laugh breezed across the grasses. "So as soldiers we're not brave enough in your inflated opinion, but how dare we offer advice which might just save someone's life."

"Alright, enough," Draper's temper, rising a notch. "Laprima, we cannot tell you how to handle your own, but these fellows do speak sense. IF you decide to support us, it should be just that. Support. Do not engage. Do not follow us into the fort, especially, until we're done and calling for you, right?"

Feeling pressured by her peers both ways, Laprima did not entirely know what to say, do, or think. How did the journey come to this? -- Elisif and her court had not made any mention of entire settlements full of hostile bandits! Hopefully, an option to pay a toll (mentioned by Van Haggar earlier in the conversation) might present itself, instead. She’d gladly fork the money over herself, if it came to that.

But what should she do? Stand behind lamely or provide 'support'?

The next set of words spoken by Draper edged her decision. “We’ll be making a contribution to keep Skyrim’s roads free of rabble,” he said to the party. “As soldiers –and this includes you Sixpenny, at least for the moment– it’s actually our duty to make as much of a difference as we can. These ‘trash mobs’, as Rokkr so eloquently calls them, do nothing but cause panic and grief amongst innocent travelers. It’s our calling to make Skyrim a safer place overall. So let us do so.”

Everyone agreed. They continued onward. An air of extended confidence was now unspokenly prevalent as the stone walls and wooden ramps of Robber’s Gorge were soon sighted ahead.

“Rumpa deres er gress,” Tårn said aloud. Loosely translated: Their ass is grass.

Laprima instructed her horse to stay behind while she tentatively fondled her shortbow, wondering if she'd actually need to use it.





Indeed, Robber's Gorge was full of hostiles. She'd been hoping she could just pay some coin to whatever tollkeeper strolled out and demanded it, but things didn't happen that way.

"I'm warning you, BACK OFF!" a man's voice called as they neared the fort's outer walls. The man then presented himself. He had a thick Nord's accent. He raised a large shield with his left hand while pointing a broadsword with his right, essentially blocking their path. No option for payment was offered.

The body of a recently-fallen traveler lay, right there in the road. Yeah, and what're ya gonna do about her, huh? the implication seemed.

"By representation of the Empire and its people. We demand that yourself, and all residents of Robber's Gorge, are to step aside peacefully," Draper commanded, voice raised loud and clear. "For you have no legal regard to be dwelling within one of Skyrim's fortresses in the first place, let alone causing the death of innocents. You shall allow us to continue through, a'right? If so, all of you current non-legal inhabitants of Robber's Gorge, shalt have no trouble."

...To the dwellers of Robber's Gorge, the Imperial's words were nothing but a taunt, and everyone knew it. Things happened then, and they happened fast!








From Laprima's perspective time once again stood still, but it also moved incredibly swift. Because several things happened at once.

...Sixpenny, zinging a bolt of lightning through the air to zap a ruffian standing up high!

... The husky bandit who'd blocked their path with sword and shield, quickly getting overwhelmed, pummelled by the flurry of swings and bashes dealt by the four Solitudian soldiers nearest to him... This outlaw, he did not last more than three seconds before succumbing...

... Laprima, angling her bow upwards and then loosing toward an opposing archer standing on the Gorge's over-road platform... Surprised to see the scumbag react as her projectile connected... For a split moment she found herself somehow able to focus, sight the same bandit (while trying to keep aware of potential enemies stepping from behind), *twip!*... and next thing she knew the fetcher STUMBLED off the platform, footfalls toppled! ... bouncing sideways upon the rock face ahead and to her left before plunging to the ground...

An odd...creature?... which seemed made of fire, drifting sideways across the path, throwing fiery spheres... Was this one of Sixpenny's casts?

...some commotion from behind. The Heartlander pivoted quickly, already a third arrow had been nocked. A couple marauders wearing unpolished gear were coming from around a corner, but Tårn and Draper, already placed to greet them! ... Split-second decision; Laprima waited until the path was clear and then shot another arrow toward one of the ruffians ... but there was such a flurry of action in the moment, swords and weapons flinging everywhere, she wasn't sure if she'd actually pierced either of them...

Didn't matter, Both the marauders, already fallen.



Laprima, adrenaline zooming... focused now to the right, aiming...aiming... aiming... for anyone else willing to step into the path of her next cheap, two-coin-costing arrow of iron... But suddenly it seemed a lull had presented itself. Nobody was moving; all four soldiers plus the mage, standing still and alert with their armaments.

"JUST GIVE UP!" a man called from somewhere unseen.

Everyone from Solitude glanced to the right. Where is he? Hard to tell. Because the fort's walls were tall enough to completely block their view beyond. But there appeared to be a gate made of stained pine set into the wall, which was closed. Was it also locked?

Tårn was the first to find out. Strode a few paces and tried the door (un-locked), while the rest of the soldiers followed.

...Support. Do not engage, Draper had told her a thousand years ago, it seemed. Do not follow us into the fort, especially, until we're done and calling for you, right?

Oh no, the archer, she ignored this advice! Stepped right up beside the soldiers in fact, shortbow aimed and ready.

"There you are!"

An orc came bounding toward them; Laprima's path was clear. She zipped her next missile, definitely causing impact, while Tårn swung a wild arc with her massive greatsword...blood and unmentionables flying everywhere. The rest of the soldiers joined, all of them crowding into the gate at once... while Laprima kept her next arrow ready. But she had no chance for succession with shots; too many others were in her way... weapons swinging, shields crashing!!! ---- The orc was quickly outnumbered, then outmatched. Fell to the floor, as the saying goes.

"You think you stand a chance?" a female voice from up above. This was another rudimentary mage, throwing ice spikes with her right hand while maintaining some sort of magical, glimmering (aura?) with her left.

Lady Donnaugh dimly noted Mansonn at her side, getting struck by one of the witch's spikes, before one of the cheap arrows-of-iron Laprima'd bought at Solitude's Fletcher targeted the woman's hip. But this time it was the Thalmor who took her, zapping the fur-wearing wench with one of his spells.. *Pksssh!!!* - Caster versus caster. - Immediately, she flung to the side like a ragdoll, slamming into the tent made of hide she'd emerged from.

After this, only one villain left; the chieftain, a second orc, who they found hiding in the Gorge's sole ceiling'd structure. Van Haggar's words had been right, then; whoever was at the top of these nefarious organizations surrounded themselves with the best. In this case, a roof over his head. The orc came thrusting toward them once his spot had been found, wielding a gigantic pole weapon (a pike, Laprima later learned). As stated by the soldiers, this final bandit was certainly tougher than all the others. Perhaps if faced by a sole opponent he might've lasted quite a while, and been able to strew some enormous damage upon whoever was unlucky enough to face him.

But as it was, the orc was dueling four to one by then. Five, if Laprima's only piercing arrow is to be counted. But she was not the one to fell the fort's remaining danger; in fact it was hard to tell who was the one to do so, the chieftain was offended by so many injuries at once.

After the battle, total relief! - Everyone breathed a sigh before sauntering about, collecting whatever they scored.
"Place is ours now," Van Haggar stated with a mild smile. "Winners take it all. Grab whatever loot you can find, Laprima Donnaugh. Give to live, I always say."

"Oh... my. Seems though only five minutes have passed since it all began, does it not?"

"You get used to the flurry," he answered, taking a swig from an uncorked bottle. "Best thing of all, this feeling, this 'afterglow', I suppose to call it."

Laprima helped herself to a jewel-encrusted tiara she found inside the chieftain's chest, which appeared to be made of silver. "Suppose I could get used to this part," she joked before realizing she'd done so. She placed the tiara upon her head. Couldn't help but take a moment to prance and preen about.

The sky was getting dark, but with a hint of color. Looks as though there'd be auroras tonight. Ironic how Skyrim's nights were often gaudier than its days. Tårn threw a slab of meat she'd found into the fire, while everyone else gathered around.

It was several minutes later, after heads were counted, that they realized Mansonn was no longer with them.


—----------------------------------------------------

Tårn, dealing some damage

Sixpenny, zapping some pwnage

Laprima, loosing mutilation -- (I was particularly proud at this, she two-shotted an RGorge archer all on her own).

Aurora'd Laprima

----------------------------------------------------

Notes:
1). As stated, I had a bunch of 'balancing' to do, because I wanted to fight to be fair, not a walkover for the enemies. Though her party is several levels above Laprima, LPD herself is only Level 4, so I assumed the fight would be too hard. So first, I nerfed the boss and some of the random enemies, just to keep LPD and her party from getting slaughtered! So for instance I changed the boss's Difficulty from Very Hard to just Hard in the CK, and I also changed all the surrounding bandits from Medium to Easy, and so on. But this made the fight way too easy. Brawl was over before I could even get some decent screenshots! So I actually made them all tougher in the end.

Still, I had to do Robber's Gorge several times for your all's reading pleasure.

2). Laprima leveled up to 5 during today's chapter. This occurred after reading The Black Arrow, Volume II, which can be found lying on the boss's table. I put another point into Archery > Overdraw.
Incidentally, Missun Akin is mentioned several times The Black Arrow. Missun is the elf archer Joan of Arkay met in the Ashlands last season, while doing the Main Quest.

3). I found a magic Ability in the CK which trickles health to the NPCs (similar to the autohealing our characters have). Needed to add this ability to all of them because for some reason they weren't using potions. 🍾

Well-done, Renee! This was a really good fight scene. Nice build up, good pacing, great sense of danger/uncertainty and all clear to understand.

Laprima earned her keep with that bow. And no friendly fire!

Uh-oh. What happened to Mansonn? Last we saw, he was engaged with that mage and got hit by an ice spell.

Beautiful ‘Skyrim at night’ screenshot.

You’ll be pleased to know that iconic dragon bridge graces Skyrim even back in the Second Era.

Some of that fancy schoolin' that Lady Donnaugh had back in the Imperial City rears its head as she considers how the ironic iconic Dragon Bridge was built.

Looks like both the Red Rocker and the Sixpence None The Richer are spoiling for a music battle against the bandits.

Well, the negotiations were swift. Straight to the honorable art of smiting evil-doers!

It looks like VanHaggar won the battle of the bands. That was quite an exciting action scene!

Uh oh, it seems there are casualties however. Mansonn got spiked by the ice mage. I thought he was only wounded. It looks like it might have been worse than that...

Sorry to hear about Mansonn.

After conversing with Acadian a bit we've determined the last LPD chapter was 2,971 words. I had no idea how that relates to other stories until he told me the typical Buffy chapter was 1,600. Because what I've been wondering is are LPD chapters too long? I kinda think maybe they are.

So this week's chapter is gonna be cut in half, unless there's some sort of mass protest for longer chapters. What this'll do is two things: it'll allow me to continue posting stories throughout May without feeling like I'm 'cramming' these stories before the BIG moment. It'll also allow the story to step further ahead. Right now it's about 1.2 to 1, story to gaming, respectively. Actually the quest-writing must also be considered. Quest-wise it's about 2 to 1.2 to 1. 🖥 Riverwood's quest stuff has been written, the story has been started, but right now she's in Rorikstead.

It'd be cool to be an entire chapter ahead with the gaming, at least until summer. Of course, those of you who are months and months ahead with your writing are probably thinking "how can she live?"

-----------

Well-done, Renee! This was a really good fight scene. Nice build up, good pacing, great sense of danger/uncertainty and all clear to understand.

Hey thanks a bunch. I have no idea if action is something I do well or not, so it's nice to get feedback. A co-worker got me hooked on Jack Reacher books about a decade ago; I get some influence from Lee Child.

I did Robber's Gorge several times, btw, maybe 4 or 5 walkups to the place, each time led to different results. So there could've been an incident of friendly fire here and there. If so, it wasn't obvious enough to write.

Yeah, that actually happened with Mansonn during the 'canon' version of the attack. Laprima was aiming at that hedge wizard and I (Me) just happened to pay attention to Mansonn, who was standing right beside Laprima. He got hit by one of those huge ice spikes. Not sure if he perished at that exact moment, but I think he at least went into bleedout mode. Because when the party crowded around the boss's cabin, Mansonn was definitely not there.

Whoa, so Dragon Bridge is in ESO!

------------

Some of that fancy schoolin' that Lady Donnaugh had back in the Imperial City rears its head as she considers how the ironic iconic Dragon Bridge was built.

Absolutely. She was an architecture student. Even though LPD is a fictional character I get insights into what's on her mind. I suppose we all do in our various stories. I know very little about architecture and buildings and such, so any time she starts thinking about this sort of stuff it leads to internet searches and such.

Thanks (in regards to the action parts). I used italics a lot, which might be annoying. But the effect is it's supposed to be read quicker than usual. Cameras are being panned around, crazy Game of Thrones editing on the screen, etc.

------------------

Sorry to hear about Mansonn

Yeah, I know.

Story wise, Mansonn (and Peters) couldn't heal themselves, and I wanted this to stay true. Wouldn't make sense if all the sudden he's got a Restoration spell after not training magic at all in his life. I like to think magical training takes a while to accomplish, at least if it's someone's first learned spell. Like, when Laprima learned Calm and Candlelight I actually used the Wait button, 6 hours or so, to simulate a learning period.


New story should be up in a few. And hey, it'll be shorter!

.
_____________

.Rorikstead

_____________


Middas, 24nd of Sun’s Dusk


Early morning wasn’t one of the party’s finer moments. Though they did locate Mansonn amongst the plethora of fallen the night before, it was only after daybreak they were able to properly mourn the fallen soldier. With a large injury of reddish-black skin (what looked to be frostbite) affected upon his side, Laprima was able to inform the others that it probably was the ice spike-throwing witch who’d gotten him. But she kept this part to herself: his death could’ve possibly been avoided if he’d learned how to heal himself during battle, as her current posse were all adept at.

“He always wanted to die a hero,” Draper muttered as they dragged Mansonn’s corpse away from the camp, and buried him under a cairn of loose rocks.

"In life I see you, det neste livet," said Tårn, blending the common tongue with her own.

"S-So sorry I was not able to save at your darkest moment," Lady Donnaugh blurted, crying openly.

There wasn’t much time to grieve, unfortunately. They said their goodbyes, then began sharing stories about their memories of him as they continued onwards. Though Laprima didn’t know the man as well as Draper and Van Haggar, she could certainly relate to losing someone close.

Only hostile encounter during their journey was another set of bandits, this time arranged in ambush at an intersection of roads. Before anything at all occurred Laprima spied one of them, a female archer wearing fur, standing slyly off to the side, half-hidden behind a boulder. Once again, the Heartlander had been picking the flowers and lavender which grew here and there, which means her eyes were focusing laterally as well as directly ahead. She almost grabbed for her bow right then; an actual instinct by now. But the fur-wearing femme didn't move. Nor did Draper or any of others make sudden reactions, they kept plodding on.

The offense came several seconds later, after the party was centered near the middle of the intersection.

"Let's see you put up a fight!" a man taunted, certainly not one of the soldiers.
"No one bests an orc!" a second man (uh, an orc) called out.

Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn began screaming battle cries, Sixpenny zapped a spell! However, these four were focused on a ruckus up ahead. Perhaps they hadn't even seen the archer.

So here's what she did: Lady Donnaugh spun on her heels, readied her bow, then nocked an arrow, all with one fluid motion, like a fancy dance move. This archer was hers! She would take care of the shrew she'd spied on her own.

"Now you're mine..." shrew/archer insisted.

But Laprima was too quick. Remembering to stafe, she sidestepped the arrow which came flying toward, aimed, then managed to slam the woman with an arrow of her own. Immediately the shrew hunched to the side, obviously in pain. "Arrh!" Dimly aware of the soldiers carrying their own side of the battle several meters away, Laprima hesitated for just a moment. Felt empathy for the woman, who suddenly resembled Sirdasa.

But this was no time for pity! The Sirdasa lookalike was motioning toward her quiver for a second arrow, but Laprima got her first... *twup!* ... shrew-lady went down, slumping upon the rugged ground below her, and then rolling slowly down the hill. At this sight, Laprima felt another pang of guilt, which she allowed for just a second or two.

But the others were still dealing with their own set of onslaughts...

So she turned. Rushed up the hill, where a sole, remaining archer was perched behind a rock high above (all other ruffians had been dealt with by then).

....Tårn was struggling to gain footing up the slippery slope...
....Laprima loosed a third arrow toward the offender (which missed)...
...Sixpenny zinged another extremely loud, abrupt bolt of lightning...

...but it was the Draper/Rokkr dual-soldier team which finally got there, pounding the fetcher with a warhammer/longsword combination! - The attempt at ambush, however successful it could've been against a party of lesser travelers, had just come to conclusion.

After the fight was over the Solitudians found yet another innocent traveler, killed right there on the road. Which only affirmed Draper's epic, impromptu speech from the day before, in which he'd explained how taking care of outlaws was necessary for the greater good of Skyrim.






Early Evening



Like Dragon Bridge, Rorikstead is also an unwalled locale largely unprotected from immediate siege or onslaught. Main difference: Rorikstead is more agrarian-based. Several residents were growing what look to be seasonally-sustaining crops, rather than relying on imported food. (Dragon Bridge apparently received deliveries from Solitude’s docks, Laprima concluded, since the nearby land was probably too petrous to farm.) Missing from Rorikstead? Any sort of obvious protective bottlenecking point, such as Dragon Bridge’s actual bridge, which could be used to block potential hordes from conquest, assuming an invasion occured from the south side.

Supposedly, they were now in Stormcloak territory. - Yet this time, one of Elisif and her court's promises was actually true. They'd predicted the place wouldn't be swarming with blue-suited rebels, and for once they were right. Which was good! -- Meant there was not going to be an out-and-out Imperial versus Stormcloak brawl right in front of the village's farmers and children. But still, the first question in the ambassador’s mind: had Rorik, the village’s founder who’d supposedly forged the place which bore his namesake, ever been confronted by Stormcloaks? Or had he merely given in to the fact Whiterun Hold is now under Ulfric's fist without any charters drawn up?

“Welcome to the Frostfruit Inn. My name is Mralki,” the inn’s proprietor greeted as the Solitudians moseyed in. “If you need a meal or room, I’ve got both. Furthermore, I only take real coin here. No handouts and no bart'ring.”

“Greetings,” Laprima began. “Do not fret, we've got real coin,” paying the ten required gold for a bed.

"Sure thing. It's yours for a day."

"My name is Laprima, and I hail from Solitude. Need to speak with Rorik."

The innkeeper informed that Rorik could be found right here in Frostfruit Inn. He then gave Laprima a free bottle of local mead. Not being fond of such brews (ecch, too sweet!) she later passed the bottle over to Tårn.

And indeed, she found Rorik sitting by the fire. Before conversing with him she made sure to remove her headwrap, gauntlets, and weapons. Wouldn't want to appear as a roughened-looking sort, or anything such after all.

"Evening traveler," Rorik said. Another Blue Palace Court promise come true: the man definitely appeared to regard himself as a member of nobility. He wore a rather regal-looking outfit of what looked to be fine lavender silk and linens, with a stole of groomed fur over his shoulders. Around his neck was an amulet of gold and turquoise.

"Greetings milord, I am Laprima Anne Donnaugh, and am here on behalf of Lady Elisif...."

But the man cut her off, mid-sentence. "Sorry," he said, "but I'm enjoying a quiet evening at the moment. Perhaps you should come by my manor in the morning. Good night to you."

And with that, Rorik got up and left. Before he did so, Laprima noted the man looked rather sad. Rather defeated. Could this have anything to do with the war's outcome so far? Either way, the ambassador was glad she'd been instructed to meet at his apparent home. This would be the proper way to conduct business, after all.

By then the hour was late, the party settled in. On the morrow, Laprima the Archer/Land-Strider would need to become Laprima the Ambassador/Persuader. So she gathered her journal and scribbled some notes. Studied the Imperial-based contract she’d need to present to Rorik when the time was right, while Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn shared a multi-portioned supper, happily oblivious to political concerns.

Just before heading toward slumber Laprima decided to step outside, to say goodnight to her unnamed horse. While doing so, she glanced Sixpenny walking down the road. The mage’s back was turned (his silly, enormous hood blocking any chance of peripheral vision), so he did not notice the Heartlander as she witnessed him stop at the south edge of the village, and then speak to what looked to be a second elf, a second Thalmor elf. - Aye, definitely Thalmor. And this was easy for her to deduce. The second man was wearing an entire suit of armor which gleamed golden in the day’s dying light.

----------------------------------------

Head Shot

Bzzt!

Jarl Sidggeir's Note (see notes below)

Warmed by the Fire

Lopov'd at Dinner - (Yikes, she looks exhausted!)

----------------------------------------------------

Notes: Just after the bandit intersection attack, a Courier rushed up to deliver a note to Laprima (as seen in the picture above). This is the vanilla offer from Siddgeir of Falkreath to become Thane.

I didn't feel like adding it into the story, but I'm roleplaying it as Jarl Siddgeir somehow knows the Ambassador of Solitude is on her way. So just pretend (for now) the actual words on that note are different. "We, the peoples of Falkreath, anticipate your sodden approach to our humble town, regarding the possible influence of Lady Elisif..." etc.

Good thinking on Laprima’s part to try and eliminate the archer. Great job as she takes down her fellow archer 1 vs 1. Her bow practice and tips from Sirdrasa and the Solitude guards really paid off as she put it all into practice. That she feels guilty for killing the woman speaks well of her kind nature. I hope she remembers, however, that her foe was indeed a bandit whose allies attacked first. And there is plenty of honest work available for those skilled at arms enough to be bandits – such as joining the Companions or even the Legion.

Our suspicion of Sixpenny’s motives continue to find fertile soil as he partakes in what appears to be a private meeting with another Thalmor. He has acquitted himself well on the road though. Too early to tell what this suspicious meeting means.

I hope Ambassador Donnough's meeting with Rorik in the morning goes well.

At least they were able to find Mansonn and give him a proper send off.

Lady Donnaugh's flower picking paid off, giving her the opportunity to spot the hidden sniper. Now I suspect the ambusher will become the ambushee. Yep, another one down, even as Laprima feels the guilt of ending another person's life.

Thankfully they made to Rorikstead without any further trouble, or losses. Good thing there weren't any blue-bellies waiting there.

I was about to say time for some diplomacy. But it seems that Rorik is having none of it. Maybe tomorrow morning then.

Uh oh, Sixpenny is clearly up to no good, reporting to another spy. Skullduggery is afoot...

@Acadian: See, that's an example of the way I game, traveling with other people. Sometimes there'll be that one archer or spellcaster, standing off to the side. I'll go for that one guy or gal, rather than try swinging weapons, or firing a bow into the crowd. But in this case, the brawl happened exactly as written. Laprima was picking plants, and lo, there's a bandit archer standing off to the side.

Oh yeah, she's still got feelings when combating others. She's got more compassion than I do! But yeah, she's putting herself in situations she's not 100% comfortable with when combat occurs. But we can also liken this to real-life soldiers, right?

Glad you picked up on the Sixpenny part at the end! See, maybe this wouldn't have the same impact as if the entire chapter was posted as one, right?


@SubRosa: Mansonn's body was found, yes. Robber's Gorge was a mess of corpses, so it was tricky dragging the fellow off to the side, but that was done as well.

I've read about complaints how archery was "too easy" when Skyrim was new, and it indeed does feel like she's taken down the two bandits she directly caused injury to so far. But I don't care. I'm not changing difficulty away from Adept. Maybe this is due to so many players saying Oblivion archery was too hard.

Later on in life she'll get to the point where she's becoming jaded.


@No one in particular: I noticed something about Robber's Gorge and the intersection of roads; two places baddies congregate. The bandits didn't attack until the party made it deep into bandit territory. They usually attack before we get into the intersection, for instance, and the archers of RG also begin firing their arrows well before we make it to their boulder trap. But maybe this is because gamers are typically nearing these locations from the other direction. In effect, the game starts in Helgen, most times folks are going to be headed to Riverwood + Whiterun first, and then at some point travel north toward Solitude. Laprima's party is headed from the other direction, heading mostly south.

.
___________

.Sir Rorik

___________


Tordas, 25nd of Sun’s Dusk






The next morning it was sunny, which was absolutely stunning after several days of blah-weather. Laprima ate a sweet roll and drank a flask of tea. Fussed her raven-colored hair a bit, and selected one of the two finer outfits she’d brought. Sir Rorik appeared to consider himself as upscale, so she believed her chances at convincing him would be better enhanced by a prettier set of clothing. Also, Rorik probably took his status as the village’s leader more seriously than Dragon Bridge’s current drunken substitute. …Which means there was no way Laprima would be wearing the same tunic and skirt she’d worn while traveling the roads, participating in combat and such.

She strode up the hill, found Rorik’s ‘manor’ (which has been placed into quotes because the place looked merely similar to all the other homes in the village: ordinary, common stonework mortared randomly together, with a thick roof of thatch). She knocked on the door, and waited to be invited inside, saying a quick prayer to Dibella, to Zenithar, whoever was willing to accept her wishes.

Though she considered herself to be a neophyte when it came to combat, she thought she might stand on better turf when it came to verbal cajoling. Let’s see if all those Bard’s College Speechcraft lessons would now pay off!

Once inside, she noted the place was rather dark. Asked Rorik if it'd be okay if she could cast a spell of Candlelight, to which he seemed delighted. Wonderful. Off to a good start, it seemed.






“Greetings, milord,” she began. As she did so, she tried her best to appear more delightful than she was actually feeling (which wasn’t entirely peachy). Especially after losing a comrade. Especially after three solid days of wariness while traveling in cold weather.

The previous night as she lay in bed, she recalled a few court engagements she’d witnessed down in Cyrodiil. She reviewed what'd gone right and what had gone wrong with these engagements, so she could possibly emulate some of their better aspects now. For instance, entering court with a grimace or a frown straight away would often lead to an instant downturn of events, from what she’d seen. Did not matter how badly those crops were failing, did not matter how angry a peasant was about the latest increase in taxes, starting presentation with a hard face could immediately be taken the wrong way. -- Because members of nobility weren’t often as 'connected' with the concerns of other classes, guilds, or factions.

Oftentimes, they had never experienced the plights of everyday commoners, everyday payment of tariffs in the everyday world, and so on. Rarely were they as personable as Elisif (who hadn’t been nicknamed ‘the Fair’ without reason). What they often responded best to had little to do with reality.

“My name is Laprima Anne Donnaugh,” she started, inserting some down-home Cyrodiilic charm into her voice, lightly drawling those Rs, for instance. “And I am here on behalf of Lady Elisif of Solitude. And, well… how are we this fine morning, sire?”

"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude but Jouane's the one who deals with people,” Rorik began, his eyes reluctant to engage. “I'm afraid I lost my charm years ago.”

“Oh! But why discredit thyself?” was the ambassador’s upbeat reply. Note: she was making sure to stick with an older vernacular method of speech while navigating Second Person pronouns: ‘ye’ and ‘thyself’ rather than ‘you’ and ‘yourself’. Apparently, such ways of speaking had been popular during previous eras in Tamriel, and were sometimes better appreciated amongst the upper classes.

“We’ve got sunshine," she continued, "glorious and warm just outside the door!” As she spoke she made grand gestures with her hands and arms, gestures which wouldn't seem out of place during Headmaster’s Trial, the college’s currently-canceled play. “We’ve got our lives and our loves and possibly libations, forsooth,” she added, her flowery, poetic gabbing the result of some stream-of-consciousness intellect.

Good grief... If Sixousie, Sirdasa, and Chamany could only see me now…

Now to change the subject toward the actual, intended subject. Very important to keep the conversation going, now giving Sir Rorik a chance to possibly flatter himself. "So, from what I understand, this village has been nameth straight from thy efforts,” she said with a curtsy. “Rorik of Rorikstead, forged from thy very own namesake.”

“Yes, that's right,” the man’s unenthusiastic demeanor lifted just a tad, like a crowbar prying under a rock. “Look around you. Most of the lands you see are mine.” Rorik explained that long ago, while his comrades were helping the Empire fight the Aldmeri Dominion to the south, he was able purchase most of the property they were standing on. The ground hadn’t originally been as ready for agriculture back then, but after months and years of seeding, plowing, and rotating they’d ultimately been successful with crops. Local population grew, travelers attracted, the Frostfruit Inn began to thrive, and so on. Perhaps a merchant shop could open if things kept improving.

Splendid. Feeling encouraged, Laprima next made sure to subtly direct Rorik to relive a moment of bravery, asking about his war-efforts as a younger man. At this very moment her shimmering light spell fizzled. And maybe it'd be rude to replenish it. The room became dimmer.

“I commanded a force of several dozen troops,” he stated with a measure of pride. He further described that he’d almost lost his life after a particularly nasty bout against the Aldmeri. “Jouane saved my life. He’s been my closest confidante since.”

Ah, so that explains it.

Laprima made a quick mental calculation, evaluating progress so far. Opinion? Well, she hadn’t been kicked out of the elder's manor yet! Which meant she was (so far) performing this presentation with perhaps some measure of success. She still had Rorik’s attention. Hadn’t been directed away from him and toward his confidante, ‘Jouane’. Perhaps it was time to sweeten the honey, to make an attempt at Jarl Elisif’s pitch.

Her countenance changed from embarrassingly sunny to mildly serious.

“So, as mentioned, I am from Solitude, with a delivery from Jarl Elisif herself.”

“Ah-hah,” Rorik’s brow furrowed.

“As can be seen, here is the official writ I’ve been tasked to deliver,” she said, handing the scroll which'd been wax-stamped by the palace's scribe. Rorik took the scroll, broke the stamp, unfurled it, took a minute to read.

“A request for re-alliance with the Empire?” his brow knitted, apparently confused. “But Whiterun Hold has already been taken.”

Uh oh.

“And that is where Our Lady’s request becomes pertinent." Don't break stride, Laprima, thought she. "For thy supporting of the Imperials was once quite fervent, quite absolute, from what’s been stated upon record, correct?”

“Yes I was firmly sided with the Empire, but….”

Laprima’s face changed again. Now attempting to portray some sort of gravity and the actual situation at hand, her expression went from mildly serious to grim and determined. Her affect was subtle. If she’d walked in the door with such heavy expression, chances are she’d now be speaking to Squire Jouane instead of Sir Rorik. So went her opinion, anyhow.

“General Tullius, and Jarl Elisif beside him, have need for more of a declarative decision now that things have turneth for the worst, your eminence,” she said, slipping away from the previous olden way of Second Person referrals. “A certain and definite fording of voice toward regardance of territory.”

Rorik looked back down at the scroll in his hands. Said nothing.

“Should it be that you decide to reaffirm sides with the Empire, allocations can be made, money, is what I speak of. Coin, to support whatever 'tis you shalt percept to require in times to come, especially during this current, lamentable period of war.”

“Hmm.”

“Troops, as well. For instance, I do notice that though you’ve got a couple guards marching up and down Rorikstead’s avenue, they don’t necessarily appear to be Stormcloaks. Tullius and Elisif, they offer a very secure promise they can provide, if need be. Aye, Whiterun itself has been captured, but this does not mean outlying portions of Whiterun Hold are to remain under Ulfric’s grimy hands.”

“I see. Looks as though I've got a decision to make.”

“Ah. So what might this decision be?" the ambassador asked, her tone of voice attempting befuddlement, as though she herself did not have an answer. --Important to let the man believe he's the one thinking this through...-- But after a minute or so without reply, Laprima couldn't help a bit of urgency. Make it sound as though the rebels are headed right this way... "I apologize for being abrupt, but time is of the essence, sire!”

“Well as you know, I have been allied with the Empire in the past," he began somberly. "Elisif's charter is quite convincing. Which I mean to say, my mind remains affixed. Seems to me Ulfric cannot possibly allow the likes of Rorikstead to exist without some drastic change. Dunmer and beastfolk, for instance. From what I hear, Ulfric Stormcloak looks down upon their kind; would BANISH these inhabitants from Windhelm if he could." Gaining a bit of angst, he pumped his fist weakly in the air. "Ennis, one of Rorikstead's farmers, is Redguard. Suppose Ulfric someday wishes to oust those of Hammerfell descent? Or place additional tariffs upon outsiders?"

Laprima remained silent, her expression puzzled.

"Well, if those are truly his ways," he continued, "I cannot abide and support such policies.”

For a moment neither of them said anything. And Laprima was having trouble trying to decipher Rorik's rambling reply. Was that a yes?

"To clarify, I shall sign the charter," he said. He searched a nearby desk for a moment, found a quill. Inked his signature where the Blue Palace's scribe had left an empty box.

Goodness. "Many thanks!" the ambassador said, a little too enthusiastically perhaps.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I must attend to many important matters, posthaste!"

And with that, the noble vacated his manor, leaving Laprima wondering what important matters there could be? Once both of them were outside, she observed the village's leader, as he began gazing over the latest crop of cabbage and rhubarb.

-----------------------------------------

Persuasion Success!

------------------------------------------

Notes:
1). The actual persuasion moment was when she says “So what might your decision be….” and I admit I made this into a Very Easy attempt rather than anything tough. Rorik seems rather indifferent either way, but his past siding with the Empire does give a rather forceful clue.

When she gets to Falkreath though that attempt will be tougher.

I love how you shared Ambassador Laprima’s careful thinking over each move she made. What to wear, how to present herself, manner of speech and her carefully chosen words. I think she acquitted herself well as Elisef’s envoy. That Rorik feared some of Ulfric’s possible policies and that Laprima voiced Elisef’s promise of gold and troops seems to have convinced the town’s namesake to pitch his lot with the Empire.

Nicely done!

It is neat to see Rorik's place, his stead if you will, blanketed in snow.

Laprima is getting fancied up and shedding some light on matters. Time to get down to some diplomacy. I like how she is considering what manner of speech to employ in order to improve her chances of success.

When Rorik was describing the founding of his stead, and how it slowly grew over time, it reminded me of those city building games.

I enjoyed Laprima's sales speech to Rorik, as she steadily worked him over to her favor. Success!

There is much to like about this chapter. How Laprima changes expression and manner of speech to convey her feelings was especially good.

This shall be the final Saga of Laprima chapter for spring of 2024. I wanted to get a bit further, maybe up to the Riverwood parts especially. But it's already becoming summer here in Maryland. I can't play Skyrim if.... well, I'm sure you all know my weird seasonal gaming habits by now.

Thanks to everyone who's commented and supported throughout winter into spring. That last chapter in particular, I've been dying to write it up for ages. Ever since the whole ambassador/delegate idea *POPPED* into consciousness. Heh, just wait until Riverwood.

SubRosa reminds me of the snow on the ground, oh yeah, gotta play Weather God and change that for this final chapter. (Opens Wrye, go into Installers tab, locates 'Climates of Tamriel - Winter Edition', right-click > uninstall, voilà.) Supposed to be an overnight warmth bubble which melts it all.

Chances are I'll return to Joan's story at some point, we'll see. I've toyed with the idea of trying something new, but truth is I wanna get MW's Main Quest done and written up. It's a Scorpio thing. 🦂

Is that it? I feel like I had something else to say. Well, if I do, I'll just edit it into this post. Take care! ☕

Yup, put LPD in the fridge so she doesn't melt during the summer and I look forward to you continuing her story this Autumn once the weather gets a little more Skyrimesque.

.
___________________

.Sixpenny’s Siege
___________________

Fredas, 26nd of Sun’s Dusk







They’d been traveling for less than an hour, and already she knew something was wrong.

“Alright, I got one…”

The sun was wan, the atmosphere was fair. One thing nice about Hjaalmarch so far: it wasn’t so bleedin’ cold here. This was partially due to an overnight weather formation which caused a bubble of warmth to pocket its way into the region, melting most of the snow which'd previously coated the ground even just a few hours ago.

“Why do pirates take a long time to learn the alphabet?”

The party had arranged themselves into their usual formation: Sixpenny striding up front, the two male soldiers in the middle, Laprima and her horse taking the rear, Tårn varying her position. Sometimes the Nordic was alongside the elf, sometimes she was following the horse, sometimes she’d be somewhere in between.

Again though, something odd. Laprima noticed some figures. Individuals, on the distant horizon. Hard to tell, but it looked as though there were three of them. All three were walking the road with obvious purpose, getting closer. Laprima couldn’t see yet who they were, but the glint of their apparel was unmistakable.

“Ahhhhhhhh.” Draper pondered the question. “Why do pirates take a long time to learn the alphabet? Hmm. Something to do with troll’s bane?” he guessed. “Nah, I give up. Why do pirates take a long time to learn the alphabet?”

The glint of their armor…. The unmistakably golden glint of their armor....

“Because they spend lots of years at C!” Rokkr Van Haggar’s laughter wheezed across the tundra. “Get it? At C?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Pierre Draper shook his head. “Hurr hrr harr.”

“...Like the letter C instead of the word sea…”

“YEA, I get it, Red.”

Sixpenny… went Laprima’s sudden thought, he is up to something. I can feel it. I KNOW it.

“That's nothing," Van Haggar replied with a smirk. "Be prepared to truly be stumped, Pierre, when I tell my next one. Stumped, just like a fallen oak tree.”

Something about the way the elf’d been eyeing her the day before, after she’d returned from conferring with Rorik, carrying the glow of success. – The party had begun to celebrate after they’d learned of Rorik’s acceptance, but quietly so. Too loud, and their revelry might be perceived as inappropriate gloating. So they’d kept their celebration low-key. Bought a round of drinks after her successful return and began toasting each other. They’d also bought food: sweetrolls and raisin bread, feasted around the table, and later an entire roasted boar. Because here was confirmation, confirmation that their toil and hardship upon the road so far might just be worth it in the long run. Lady Donnaugh was making some sort of difference, they agreed.

“Right, stumped, what-ever.” Draper was speaking now. “So here’s one.”

“Go ahead!”

“Which room, in a house, do zombies spend the least time in?”

There were also the things Sixpenny had mumbled three nights ago in Dragon Bridge, after Laprima had pretended to fall asleep. Something about ‘the first step being taken’, or some such. Aye, the man was up to something. To increase her suspicion, all the previous day in Rorikstead (and into the night) he’d been gloomy and evasive; his usual verbal swagger noticeably absent. The lack of sarcastic comments he’d normally utter left an obvious series of voids, moments which would've been typically filled by Sixpenny-style taunts and thinly-veiled insults.

”Nords, they just do not understand the benefits of proper magic…”

or

”Womenfolk, performing the roughneck duties of men…”

“Aww, that one’s so old,” Van Haggar shook his head. “So old, it's damn-near rusted out. Heard that one as a lad, Pierre. Which room do zombies spend the least time in? Answer: the living room.”

“Drats. Got me!”

As of now, Sixpenny the elf was standing off to the side of the road a bit. His hood had been turned at a peculiar angle.

“Draper. Rokkr. Tårn!” Laprima’s voice, urgent yet hushed behind the soldiers. Without realizing, she made the gesture which caused her unnamed horse to halt. "Attend! Toward the road ahead!"

Actually, Tårn was already aware. She’d already come to a cautious halt. “Kan bli fiender,” she woman-growled in her language. “Are to fight?” she then followed in the common tongue. No answer was necessary. Her giant blade already seemed a pre-motioned answer.

The figures approached nearer, until they were a few meters away. Thalmor! Two wearing the golden armor issued by the Aldmeri Dominion, the third dressed in a similar dark robe as Sixpenny.

"And so, we come to the end of the road,” Sixpenny announced with a smirk. “Well, the end for your party at the very least," he said directly to Laprima. "I'd introduce everyone to my cohorts...."

"Looks more like goons," Rokkr muttered.

"...but I'm afraid there shall not be any need for pleasantries. We'll all get acquainted in a few minutes either way, but be forewarned. Chances are not all of you shall have a chance to vacate this soirée, and continue onwards."

The ambassador said nothing. Suddenly, she was glad she was wearing armor, purchased from Rorikstead’s smith the day before. At Draper’s suggestion, she’d bought a set: cuirass and leggings of hide, after he explained how necessary armor could be along the road.

“What exactly have you in mind, Sixpenny?” Pierre Draper asked. “Not that I need to ask. I can tell an attempt at military blockade when I see one.”

“Very astute,” answered the elf. “I must say, though we’ve had our differences Sargent Draper, I will admit I admire your cognitive abilities.”

Draper said nothing.

“Indeed, we are here to relieve Lady Donnaugh of her current detail,” the elf replied, pointing at each soldier one by one. “This can be done in either of two ways: by relent or by force.”

Tårn made a soft noise, almost like an animal’s snarl. "Rggllllsshhh…." hard to tell whether this was an actual word or not.

Which Sixpenny ignored. ”In effect, should it not be obvious to you, Lady Donnaugh, it is our aim to now separate Your Ladyship from these … inept, undisciplined 'guards' you've been assigned.”

To which Laprima shook her head sadly. “Knew something was amiss. Ever since I overheard you muttering about attaining the first step in your plan, or whatever some-such diabolical nonsense. Knew you were up to no good,” she said, angry and grinding her teeth.

“Up to no good?” the elf scoffed. “Bite thy tongue, woman! We are here to exalt your current position within proper society!”

Though she was not entirely interested in hearing exactly what this meant, she couldn't help but ask. “Exalt my current position?”

“Affirmative. We, us Thalmor this is, are now going to take you back to Solitude. Ultimately, we shall both return to our embassy. There, we shall introduce your eminence to the sort of life you SHOULD be enjoying!” the Altmer’s voice rose, his hands and arms gesturing with passion. “Which is to say, not out here traveling the roads! Shivering and sniveling! Risking thy very life with these ninnies…”

Sixpenny was grandstanding now, lifting his voice across the tundra (which, at that odd moment, Laprima noticed was more colorful than the landscape of Haafingar). Obviously, the elf was proud to have duped everyone so far.

"...there you shall live the life of a princess," he promised, actually smiling. As if she’d suddenly consider such a thing. “A queen of thy domain, a baroness titled with proper land ownership,” he explained. “Whatever you desire. No more scrubbling along the roads, hoping to change the outcome of a war which shall never be won by their kind,” he pointed again. “For it shall be us, US! The mighty Thalmor, who shalt decidedly reign supreme across this land!”

"Not if we can help it," muttered Van Haggar, readying his warhammer. “You all are going down,” he warned, his usual mild voice gaining an edge. “You fooled us, I’ll admit. You’ve also blocked the road, look at this! But most of all, you interrupted our joke session. And for that, you shall pay.”

“So, you are choosing to take us on rather than relent, ignoring the possible initiative of your party’s smarmy leader?” Sixpenny pointed to Draper. “Very well. It shall be you who’s left deceased on the side of the road Red Rokkr, for the wolves and the vultures to feast upon.”

Everyone by now was prepared for battle, but Sixpenny’s soapbox moment was not over just yet. “Jarl Elisif, she already knows of our plans,” he explained to Laprima. “She knows, and has fully approved of this outcome.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Laprima replied, fingers edging toward her shortbow.

"Please, do not bother for that," Sixpenny warned, his expression almost apologetic. “I do understand your logic, Lady Donnaugh. This is quite abrupt for you, I do understand.” He steepled his hands, readying whatever magical spell was to come. “Let me just repeat, we have no desire to harm you, Lady Donnaugh.”

“Do not call me that, ‘Lady Donnaugh’.”

“Fine. Laprima, then. We have no desire to harm you at all, Laprima Donnaugh. You can simply walk away from these… brutes, and the matter is resolved. In fact, I shall gain higher compensation if you are to walk into our embassy unscathed, but that is beside the matter.

“Us goldenrods, as we're so fondly referred to by your kind,” he continued, “we could use a pretty face to represent the Nedeic side of our organization,” he added, another snide smile right there upon the lower half of his V-shaped face. "We do accept other races, you see. And what better way to welcome the Nords, the Imperials, the Bretons to feel more welcome, than an actual member of royalty representing their kind."

He faced the soldiers: Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn. "And after we disperse this... so-called guard detail, we shall have full credence to do as we wish." He turned to Laprima again. "Lady Donnaugh, now is the time for you to stand aside and allow destiny to take its course."

"Told you once, do not call me that!"

"Ah, apologies," the elf replied. "Heat of the moment, my manners have gone by the wayside,” he raised his hands again. “What can ya do? But otherwise, you shall see, Laprima Donnaugh. Our dominion shall treat you with the utmost respect and grace you deserve."

Finally his sermon was over. Sixpenny turned to the three Thalmor. "And now, it is time. HUZZAH!" he called. Apparently this was their cue for combat.

"Somebody help!" a woman called, one of the random travelers who'd walked by just then (there were several). Laprima barely noticed as the woman put her hands above her head, then scurried off.

"I'll see you BURN!"




The rest of the moment was a blur. Laprima stepped back and drank one of the regenerative potions she'd brewed back in Solitude, while the Solitudians and Thalmor commenced attack! -- Sixpenny threw one of his extremely loud shock-attacks *BKSSH!!!* while Laprima readied her bow. Aimed. Then released straight toward one of the amber-suited Thalmor. One thing for sure; Sixpenny's promise was true; nobody attacked the ambassador. Which gave her an opportunity. She grabbed for another arrow, this time making sure to poison it.

"You cannot conceive of the power I wield!" one of the Thalmor warned Tårn, while the giant swung her enormous greatsword at the bastard. Laprima (again) took the time to aim carefully before loosing straight into the golden Thalmor's side.

"I'll paint the snow with your blood!" Van Haggar roared, even though the ground had been completely bare of white for hours.
"BEHOLD the Mighty THALMOR!" cried one of the elves.

Other than this, it was difficult to quantify whether the archer made much of a difference during the battle, as weapons swung, spells were cast. One of the Thalmor was also a dedicated archer, shooting arrows into the fray. This lowlife became another obvious target for Laprima, standing off to the side with his cheap hunting bow. "Arrgh!" he called as she poisoned the man from afar. Blood and fetters, gauntlets, boots, taunts and warnings... once again it all happened so fast, and was all over before she knew it. Draper sliced upon the Thalmor who'd shown up swinging a mace of iron, while Van Haggar took on an additional Thalmor wizard, one of the goons, bashing the fellow with his enormous warhammer!

Sixpenny himself lasted the longest; his years of magical training and mastery much more dedicated than whatever background his goons had received. And because of this, the mage who'd joined their party four days ago, surreptitiously plotting to force Lady Donnaugh to come along with him once the ambush was over, force her to follow him, locked within ropes and chains if necessary, was suddenly surrounded by Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn. The years he'd spent since the age of twelve, since his youth in Summerset, practicing and utilizing his covert attempts at wizardry, they were no good as all three soldiers clambered upon his person at once! Slicing and dicing and bashing!! -- The final moments of the elf's life were gruesome, not that they should've been anything other than such. Laprima danced and glanced around this way and that, her bow pointed as she circled, making sure none of the goons were left standing.

...Sixpenny, being surrounded at that moment; there was no way the archer could even hope to cause the elf injury, not with all Laprima's allies slamming in the way.

"No!! NO!!!!"

The fight was over. Amazingly, it was done. And none of her party had been downed, except for Sixpenny. Arguably, he'd forfeited his position long ago, of course. Didn't truly count, then! After everything had concluded, Laprima could not help but scream a battle cry over the mage's fallen corpse. In past days she'd been upset; hesitant to gloat after viewing the results of the enemies she'd caused direct harm to. But this time she was proud! This time, she felt she'd truly made some sort of a difference. She called and she cried and she let it all out, her normally pleasant downhome Cyrodiilic voice now the shriek of a banshee!

"Yah, that's it!" Rokkr Van Haggar approved while Tårn joined in. Suddenly, all four of them were shouting and yelling over the fallen!

Upon looting the Aldmeri, a real score for Lady Donnaugh: one of Sixpenny's goons had been carrying a magical staff. The soldiers explained that here was a powerful weapon, a weapon which could be wielded and utilized by anybody, thereby causing the staff's carrier to become as adept as any mage of destruction, as long as they properly aimed. Laprima thought at first she might just sell the dreadful thing, surely it'd fetch some pretty nice coin in Riverwood. But after holding it a moment, and then willing the magic within the staff to release, my goodness such a rush! The resulting ball of fire which raced across the plains zoomed over its grasses, before smashing into a faraway boulder!

Nay, this staff of destruction would not be sold to Riverwood's trader.

And now that all loot had been collected and they were back on their feet, it was the noble's turn to try for a joke.

"So, what did the number 8 say to the number 0?" Laprima quizzed the soldiers.

"You're halfway to 4?" asked Draper.
"Hmm, I dun-know," replied Van Haggar.
Tårn made a sort of squeal, perhaps frustrated at being unable to understand.

"Do you think this belt is too tight on me?"

Huur hrr harr harr the soldiers laughed, as the sun continued to shine across snowless meadows.

~The End (Season Three)~

---------------------------------------

Laprima and Tårn

Sinister Sixpenny

Sixpenny's Sermon

Sixpenny goons approach

Mulling Melee - (Love the guy just standing to the side, watching it all.)

Sixpenny zaps Tårn

Shocks and Swings!

"Crying" over Sixpenny

Lady Donnaugh's New Destruction Toy

--------------------------------

Thanks again to all.

Wow, Tarn is a biggun! She reminds me of Karlach from Baldur's Gate 3.

Sixpenny keeps reminding me of the band Sixpence None The Richer.

I was thinking the pirates got stuck on Arrrrrrrrrrr...

Uh oh, it looks like Sixpence Much The Thalmor set up an ambush!

As I expected, they are after Laprima. My guess is to use her as a hostage against Elisif. Ah, it is to use as a figurehead to recruit non-elf lackeys.

And he and the other Thalmor got the smiting they had coming to them! Leaving Laprima a destruction staff richer.

Ah, my thought of Sixpenny being a double agent did not come to pass. Thankfully, Thalmor mentality led Sixpenny into making a critical mistake. Mages in a close quarters melee are severely disadvantaged. Unless they are highly trained and disciplined, they are too busy dodging to focus their thoughts on attack magic.

Picking up your first staff of power, what a feeling that is. My favorite bow has been hanging above the mantel eversince.

“Belts too tight”

Very neat how you wove Laprima’s thoughts through the ongoing joke-telling contest. Fun to read while displaying the rather poor situational awareness and lack of wariness of her two ‘bodyguard’ soldiers.

So Sixpenny lives up to the timeless truism that the only good Thalmor is a dead Thalmor.

I’ll be interested to see how LPD integrates this new fire staff into her combat, as I’ll hazard a guess that there is more fighting ahead for her.

Congrats on a great LPD season. I look forward to rejoining her when coolness once again nips the Maryland air.

Soon begins Season Four of the Saga of Laprima Donnaugh. Since it's been many months, let me remind us (me included!) about the four immediate actors within the upcoming season, and then some facets of the plot to come. Perhaps I will also include a recap of past seasons, all three of them so far, for anyone who wishes to catch up.

Laprima Donnaugh: Noble from Cyrodiil, niece of Jarl Elisif the Fair. In season three, Laprima decided to take up the mantle of ambassadorship for Elisif, hoping to persuade as many hold leaders to remain on the Imperials' side. That is her "main quest" at the moment. She's also become an archer to aid the group she travels with. Reason: She's a hands-on type of lady who refuses to remain "just a member of nobility" while traveling the roads of Skyrim.

Peter Draper: Imperial soldier assigned to travel the roads of Skyrim with Laprima.

Rokkr Van Hagar: Imperial soldier, Draper's best friend, also traveling with Laprima.

Tårn: Nordic warrior, formerly an inhabitant of Skyrim's countryside, recently recruited by the Imperials. In this fiction, I imagine there are Nords (called Nordics) who dwell far outside common society. These folks speak their own language, and have little contact with the outside world, such as Solitude and Dragon Bridge. Therefore, Tårn barely knows the common Tamrielic tongue shared between Cyrodiil and Skyrim.

These four individuals are currently coming from Rorikstead, where Laprima was able to successfully convince Rorik, the village's leader, to remain on the Imperials' side. And this is despite the fact that Whiterun has already been taken by the Stormcloaks. That done, Laprima is currently on her way to Riverwood and then Falkreath, where she'll also try to convince Jarl Dengeir. In-game speech checks can be passed or failed at these moments, by the way. Dengeir will be tougher than Rorik.


Other important characters...

Chamany: Laprima's fiancé, who was responsible for the largest import of skooma into Skyrim during seasons one and two, and is now locked in Solitude's jail for this crime. Cham's got a bit of mystery to him. People suspect he's originally from High Rock (others say Solstheim) yet nobody in the story knows for sure, not even Laprima. Laprima and Chamany originally met in Cyrodiil; she was mostly taking Architecture classes while he was studying Commerce and Merchandise.


Sirdasa Noskal: Also known as "the Shrew", "Woodsy Woman", and maybe a half-dozen other monikers. Sirdasa is a former skooma addict who robbed then tried to kill Laprima. She lives almost entirely outdoors along the river leading past Solitude. Sirdasa has become a friend of my noble, jokingly calling her "princess" and "posh lady".

Finally, there is Elija, Laprima's brother, who hasn't got a pic because he hasn't appeared in the story. Elija disappeared when both siblings were children, causing sis years of worry and depression and finally petty crimes down in Cyrodiil. All of that's in the past, thankfully. Her "darkness" finally ended after moving to Solitude.


Any Civil War advances, whether the Stormies take some location or the Impies do, are fiction. My character is not actually doing Civil War quests, and Laprima is not Dragonborn. Cannot absorb dragon souls or use Shouts, due to mods, of course.

My actual Dragonborn, Sir Vyvoor, eventually led the Stormcloaks to ultimate victory sometime in the Year 202, so this story shall include mostly Stormcloak victories. What this means from Laprima's perspective is: is in my imagination, an assortment of extra soldiers shall be sent to Rorikstead by Jarl Elisif, from Solitude. If she is able to also convince Dengeir, Falkreath shall gain additional enforcements as well.

Ciao. 🍵

Recap accomplished; I am ready to proceed.

With the PC fixed and SKSE obeying orders again... Let's get going!

I am ready too, macole.

As Lena indicates, I had all sorts of probs behind the scenes, mostly technical stuff. Like my hard drive crashed last summer. Which is fine, just rebuild the game and all its patches and mods, right? I've been in the habit of backing up saves and my homemade mods for at least three years, so this should take a few hours. Problem was: I had never backed up Skyrim's scripts folders!!!

Skyrim and Fallout 4 put all their scripts into separate folders; so they're not permaconnected to the actual .esp itself. I think they do this with the intent of better efficiency. Morrowind & Oblivion are constantly processing scripts, thousands of them, which have nothing to do with the actual moment our character is in. These earlier games process and process and process until something makes sense (such as, our character is in Silverhome-on-the-Water and Gilgonderon bumps a quest stage via dialog). In Skyrim, everything is truly conditioned to the area and moment we are a part of, and ONLY that area/moment. It's not constantly reading all the other scripts.

So like I said, I had backed up Laprima's World.esp dozens of times, but had neglected to back up the scripts Skyrim folder. Which caused all sorts of problems: error messages, and I could not write anything new. Sister Wolf here is the one who discovered the magical solution. A couple folks at Nexus's Creation Kit forum also helped a lot.

Enough tech talk, time for the story.

.
_________________

.The Mead Hall

_________________


It is with some foreboding and trepidation that the saga of Laprima Donnaugh is wont to continue.

For some, aspiring to leap beyond one's humble upbringings and expectations could mean exchanging a sword from a hoe, or a heavy tome from a series of vital missives. For our protagonist, her quest goes beyond such probable deviations. Perhaps the warrior had previously honed his accomplished skills of swordplay after years of farming and drudgery, his forefathers already comrades of service. Perhaps the scribe had perfected her chronicling and penmanship to moments of true imagination and inspiration, eventually attaining true authorship.

That our protagonist should choose to traipse beyond even those levels of prospective potentiality would perplex no one more than herself. For if she is to truly heed her desired calling, and further the causes within her area of influence, she must also transform. She must revise all she'd been reared to believe and pertain during youth, and into adulthood.







The party of Imperials traveled east, deeper into Whiterun Hold. Dangerous for them, since they'd crossed firmly into Stormcloak territory two days ago. And indeed, there were Stormcloaks about.

It was Laprima herself who first noticed the commotion. "Draper! Red! Attend, please!"

A colossal dust storm was astir, about a quarter-mile down the road, and she was the first to realize it wasn't just a winter gale blowing grit across the tundra.

"Halt thy progress." She gave the order which probably saved their lives.

Pierre Draper, Rokkr "Red" Van Hagar, and Tårn halted and peered into the dust cloud. They too then saw the scuffle ahead with their own eyes. Not a scuffle, a battle, a very large battle, roughly a quarter-mile down the road.

"Too far away," Draper said.

"Aye. Can't make out the opponents," Van Hagar replied. "Could be bandits!" he added, a little too enthusiastically. "Could be someone who might need our help..." Already, his axe was unholstered.

"We remain right here," Laprima Donnaugh affirmed. "Nobody move, please. We do not know who they are. Whoever, whatever are the opposing sides, I am adamant we not get involved."

"Oh, I agree," Draper concurred. "Could be bandits, but could also be two warring factions of bandits, fighting for territory. Or bandits warring draugr....nothing we need to engage."

"Drats."

"Sorry, Red."

The Solitudians remained were they were, standing still upon the road. After a minute or so, the battle finally stopped. Somebody had lost, somebody else had won. Eventually, whoever had won began moving again. They were headed east toward Whiterun, same direction as the party from Solitude, but they were too far away to be a threat. But certainly Laprima's command, a command based upon assumption, had been correct. Stormcloak .... Imperial .... Imperial ... Stormcloak ... dozens of fallen soldiers, all across the fields and warrens. As the party from Solitude walked by them all, Pierre Draper realized.

"Our quest is to assist our ladyship make contact with the remaining jarls on our side..." he stated to Red and Tårn, making it official to his two fellow soldiers. "Not clobber directly into battle...where we, ourselves, might wind up like this lot."

They continued eastward: Laprima, Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn. By then, they were able to get some good glimpses at the victors, and discerned the winners were (unfortunately) Stormcloaks. Ulfric's "Sons", at the helm.

An hour passed, the sun went down, the sky was getting dark. Both groups continued to move forward, a quarter-mile apart. A large fortification was soon on their left, and the Sons were already rushing toward it.

Greymoor, a fortress originally built by the Nords of the Second Era, had been inhabited by many during ages to come; some inhabitants were famous, most were not. An example: during the time when Fort Greymoor was known as Black Moor Keep, the place had been occupied by an "Arkasis the Mad Alchemist". During his stay, Arkasis had chosen to experiment on captured citizens of Whiterun, transforming them into werewolves by using complex alchemical concoctions! This apparently went on for some time. By the Year 577, (Second Era) his actions were eventually discovered, after which he'd been chased back to Black Moor by an angry mob. Arkasis was then forced to flee!

But here in the Fourth Era, Fort Greymoor and lots of other older establishments in Skyrim are no longer inhabited by premier evils of such influence; they are mostly occupied by commoner menaces such as bandits, by charlatans, or by wizards far less talented than Arkasis. Greymoor, at this time, had bandits. And it was these bandits of Greymoor who the Sons invaded next.

Laprima's bow remained gripped in one hand, an arrow in the other; everyone alert. As the Solitudians made their way near the fort, roars and clashing echoed from within. Though Lady Donnaugh was not their official leader, or associated with their military chain-of-command in any way, it was (again) she who gave the Legionnaires what essentially was an order, coursing them far to the side. Strafing through husks of winter grass to avoid the conflict. Laprima was not their leader, but she represented Jarl Elisif by proxy. Was related to the jarl, even. So they listened and obeyed. Greymoor was surpassed entirely, until they felt it was safe to return to the road.

They soon passed the Western Watchtower (site of a recent dragon attack!). The Stormcloaks did not follow. Perhaps their goal was to take Greymoor for the night, or perhaps they'd lost to the bandits. Either way, no longer did they seem a worry.

The Solitudians approached Whiterun, where citizens and guards populated the road, without incident. Though Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn were donned within the Empire's armor, nobody seemed to care.






By then it was getting dark. Everyone was tired. They'd walked nearly four dozen miles since leaving Rorikstead two days before. Whiterun surely had its own inns and taverns, and places to stay! But this now being Stormcloak territory, Whiterun seemed not an ideal place for a band of empiricists to spend the night. Best if they'd continue to Riverwood.

But, egads!







.... "Honningbrew Meadery!" Draper enthused.
.... "Brewhouse, to the right!" Rokkr grinned.

.... Even Tårn, the tall, strong Nordic woman they'd recruited back in Solitude, the warrior who remained mostly silent (due to not knowing the common Tamrielic language), managed the word "mead!" as she pointed to Honningbrew.

"Hmm? I do not understand." Laprima Donnaugh, raised a sheltered noble within the walls of the Imperial City's Aristocratic District during her youth, was still quite inexperienced to the ways of most soldiers and adventurers and, well, anyone who found themselves traveling the roads as midnight approached. "A mead house, and what does this mean?"

"It means we stop," Draper said seriously. "For the night, if possible."

"I see," she resigned, too exhausted to argue. "But do you not think we shall encounter any of Ulfric's sons or daughters within?"

"Guess we shall find out. You thirsty, Red? Come on, let's go."

Riverwood was only a couple hours south of Whiterun, she'd been told; they could still make the trip if they persisted their hustle. But maybe stopping for the night would be the better idea, or so she told herself.



------------------------------------

The Solitudians

Laprima and Tårn

Milk before bedtime..

Walking into sunset (that is actually my Altmer healer, not Laprima, but it's just such a spectacular sun. Deserves to be shared!)


----------------------------------

That massive group of Stormcloaks actually occurred! They battled the Imperials, and then they battled Fort Greymoor. Immersive Patrols, it's called. There were easily forty Stormies in the distance.

Wish I had gotten pictures, but I was focusing on the game itself, trying not to screw up In roleplay terms, Laprima's order is what saved her party from massive onslaught!

Laprima is back! I see she is still out on the road with Sammy Hagar.

It was prudent of her to hold her party back from engaging in the unknown battle. As she pointed out afterward, their mission is not to take and hold territory, or inflict casualties on the enemy. It is a diplomatic one, aimed at bringing more Jarls to their side. As such, getting involved in battles is not going to help, and might just end their mission entirely if Laprima gets killed.

Some neat background on Fort Werewolf!

Uh oh, Laprima might want to press on to Riverwood. But when Mead does the talking, soldier's do the listening.

Welcome back for another season of Laprima! I see she is continuing Jarl Elisef’s task of seeking Imperial support from outlying holds.

She was indeed wise to hold up her band and keep them out of the bloody battle ahead. Her escorts, thankfully, realize that their task is too convey their diplomatic charge to where she needs to be – not hunt bandits or fight Stormcloaks. Well, at least until coming upon the Honningbrew Meadery.

I’m glad Laprima missed being up close to that battle. During Buffy’s time in the Fourth Era, she encountered similar tragedies in progress. Since you did not capture it, I think this vid does pretty good justice to the heartbreaking trauma of man's inhumanity to man. Blood on the Snow.

I'm glad that you didn't return to Laprima sooner, so I had a chance to catch up on all the stories.

So Red and Draper are still with her - nice!

Laprima might not be their leader as such but her orders are well-placed.

I love Laprima's hairstyle. She might still be a noblewoman but I'd say that she fits besser (my German kicking in) better outside the city walls. Her not so elegent hairstyle and her clothing suit her simply better as do the bow and the quiver.

Well, Tarn is definitely huge. A true tower.

So, if Fort Greymoor used to be Black Moor in the past, I wonder why the name was changed? "Reduced intensity" comes to mind... currently occupied by wizards far less talented than Arkasis...

3:15 in the morning. Can't sleep, so might as well get the next LPD story up.

@SubRosa: Why thank you, it's good to be back. Indeed, Red Rokkr's back as well. Best of Both Worlds.

That's what we're all thinking: bad idea to just run toward every battle. See, what would've happened if that battle spawned within running distance of the party? There are ways to make NPCs stay out of trouble (Skyrim has better AI technology in this regard than earlier games), there is literally an "Ignore Combat" flag available for travel-type AI packages. But what fun would that be?

Fighting generally overrides any "Follow" or "Lead" AI in most cases, assuming the party gets near some enemies; which is why you prefer not to gather followers in the first place. Anyway, I listened to my character, and my character's followers listened to her, thank the Gods. It felt pretty epic not getting involved for once. And watching the entire drama unfold from a safe distance.

In a way it's good they stopped at Honningbrew. It's been months since I've played this game, and I'm not totally aware of what goes on at night. LPD is Level 5, which means vampires could be about (pretty sure DG kicks in somewhere near 5). Not that we can't kick some vampire @$$, but fighting in the dark can get way too chaotic.


@Acadian: Graci, have some coffee. ☕

She was indeed wise to hold up her band and keep them out of the bloody battle ahead

I'll tell y'all a little secret. I began writing the opening chapter way back in December, but I didn't actually game until last Saturday. Originally in that chapter, nothing exciting happened. It was just them walking along, telling silly jokes and etc. I figured I'd write in any encounters, a sabre cat, a group of bandits, whatever.

But I Didn't expect that epic battling! I was actually torn whether to include those scuffles, but in the end decided they had to go in. Which means I had to rewrite about 80% of what was on paper last Sunday, which took about 4 hours. Ditched it all, except the Greymoor history part and when they actually get near Honningbrew. Better this way! The rewrite is much more tense.

Oh yeah, that video shows it all. That's what we wanted to avoid last week!

Hey, Arkasis the Mad Alchemist seems to appear in ESO, has Buffy ever done any quests associated with him?


@Lopov: But I'm still two or three episodes behind! But yeah, was able to keep the entire party intact, thankfully because I was able to find that backup .esp.

Have you ever been looking for something, maybe your wallet or keys, and you look in some spot where they should be, yet they're not there? You freak out. Double-check, triple-check. Maybe ask your wife "Have you seen my keys?" and she says "They're right where you usually put them." You look again, and *Bam* they're right where they should be. They were not there 5 minutes ago, now they are. That's exactly what happened (minus the wife) with the Laprima's World.esp backup.

Yah I love her hair, too. Pretty sure that's Apachii.


@Lena Wolf: Probably Black Moor Keep was what Arkasis preferred to call it. Sounds much more sinister!


I think I'm going back to bed, so the story should be up in a few hours.

.
____________

.Whiterun

____________

. Loredas, 27th of Sun’s Dusk, near midnight


No Stormcloaks in the brewhouse, thank the Gods.

A couple minutes of milk and mead (milk for Laprima, the "best mead in Skyrim!" for her travelling mates), and everyone was doomed to fall into the Honningbrew's warm bedrolls. Sabjorn, the owner, did not charge them room and board, which was blessed because money was getting tight. He also did not make a fuss about their Imperial gear. Business is coin, that is all.

Despite the late hour, Laprima had wanted to press onwards to Riverwood...

But since they were not doing so, since they were now tucked in a tavern instead of making time toward their next destination, now would be as good as ever to take a few moments to confer with the soldiers on the subject of attire. Her suggestion: Draper and Red and Tårn should consider swapping their Legion outfits for armors nonspecific, once everyone is in Riverwood. Coin was getting tight, but new pieces could surely be crafted in a few hours from whatever materials; certainly Riverwood has its own smithy?

"We need to discuss this now?" Red's eyes rolled.

"Right now," was their lady's answer. "Walking the roads as you are, we shall become targets of besiegement by the rebels."

Surely this was true, the guards acknowledged their danger with zero doubt. But Draper and Red otherwise disagreed, regarding her solution.

"I am perplexed." Laprima sipped some milk. Every few seconds she'd take a cautious glance at Honningbrew's entry door, as though it was about to burst open at any moment, Stormcloaks flooding the place. "Is it absolutely necessary, your militant garb?"

"As soldiers of the Empire, we duly represent its cause at all times," Draper explained. "As such, we embody Emperor Titus Mead's position with every step we take; that Skyrim should remain under the Empire's control. Even as things get rough, we cannot just step out of rank."

"In short, we know what we signed up for," Red halfway-grinned.

Laprima said nothing. Not much one can say, amongst such fearless fellows.

"Plus," Draper continued in his Heartlander's accent, an accent which reminded of her so much of home, "when we get to Falkreath and you're explaining Elisif's directive in front of his court, they might laugh us right out of there if they don't know of your heritage. Falkreath is not Solitude," he wagged his finger. "They haven't a clue whether you're Elisif's delegate or not, see?"

"But the missive I am to deliver is wax-stamped with Solitude's seal, and has been inked by a half-dozen crests. Those crests cannot be forged; they have magical properties. Falkreath's court wizard can legitimize those, assuming they have a wizard. The court of Falkreath shall then have no choice but to respond to Elisif's requests. Whether they agree to sign our charter or not, they'll have no recourse but to at least consider Solitude's offer."

Tårn the Nordic remained watchful and silent.

"Still, it'll help if the lot of us are standing by your side," Red countered, his voice a soft-spoken wheeze, "wearing the Empire's armor. Picture the moment, Lady Donnaugh. There's a regalness to that moment, isn't there?"

"Regality..." Draper corrected.

"Regality, what-ever. There's a regality to the moment. There we are, standing at your side, making it obvious from where we hail, since we're donned in the expected attire."

Lady Donnaugh swallowed the dregs of warm milk. "Alright." Red had a point.

"Now picture it again, this time we're wearing a mishmash, like some common travellers you'd picked up. --- From Siddgeir's perspective, and the perspective of Falkreath's court..." he gulped a mouthful of mead. Didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to, really.

Laprima nodded, too ready for bed to continue the fuss. She had spoken her piece, they had spoken theirs.

Men and women separated: Pierre Draper and Rokkr Van Haggar chose a room in the cellar, Tårn and Laprima found a couple bedrolls tucked in the upstairs loft. A large metal boiler was directly below their floor, which still emitted warmth despite its fires being extinguished hours ago.





Sundas, 28th of Sun’s Dusk, early morning


The traveling ambassador slept like a stone a few hours, awoke with a jolt near dawn. A sudden idea (the remnants of a dream) overwhelming her mind. She decided to wake her statuesque mate.

"Tårn!" she scream-whispered.

"Laprima?" the Nordic responded, bleary-eyed. "What is?" Laprima noticed Tårn had slept by her giant sword. Her hands were already grabbing the weapon's hilt.

"I..." Laprima pointed at herself, "have a thought." She pointed at her head.

"A thought?"

"Aye."

Laprima did her best to explain. She'd been having some dream, one of those sorts which become inspiration upon awaking. Using both hands, (as well as a few words the Nordic woman could understand), she communicated that Tårn should remain in the loft, while Laprima would head into Whiterun. Chances are, Draper and Red would sleep a grand portion of the morning away.

"You," Laprima said, pointing at Tårn, "need different clothings," she used hand-motions to indicate apparel. "Different armor. Is not safe....on the road."

The Nordic nodded. "Jeg vet det... I know."

Thing is, even though she'd been unable understand the entirety of their argument the night before, Tårn certainly caught the gist of it. Was Laprima's sudden, developing idea, an idea Tårn now seemed to intuit, bordering on manipulation?

"You find for me, armor?"

"Aye, I shall try to find armor," Laprima thought for a moment. "And if no armor, clothing." -- Armor might be difficult to locate for a semi-giant on such short notice, let us be honest.

Laprima used tiptoe motions with her fingers to indicate heading into Whiterun and back.

"Måtte Gudene lede din vei," the warrior replied. May the Gods guide thy path. Tårn slapped palms with the Imperial. Seventeen seconds later, she was already asleep.






"Need goods and supplies, go see Belethor at his shop," one of the guards suggested as Laprima dismounted her horse outside of Whiterun. "Sleazy little man, but he has good stock."

"Many thanks."

Whiterun's homes and businesses were a mixture of sturdy timber and rugged shingles, the former architecture student noted. A-frame designs a common theme. A lot more lumber, a bit less stone than seen up north (not including the town's walls). Whiterun's smithy was located just inside the town's gate, but as expected: your ladyfriend is very tall, you say, taller than most. How tall, exactly? Oh, she ain't here? How're we to measure for materials if she ain't here, miss?

She was told to head up the street to where the town's equivalent of a market district is, and make a right. Belethor's General Goods is the place to go. But isn't this the shop owned by that 'sleazy little man'?

"Everything's for sale my friend, everything!" the dark-haired merchant behind the counter of Whiterun's main trading shop, Belethor's General Goods, hawked as she walked in.

Sleazy or not, Laprima's first impression: the man's eagerness is infectious. Immediately, she felt a lift of her overcautious spirit. She'd been worried about Ulfric's side (that entire contingent from the day before) suddenly crowding into the Whiterun area for the past ten hours, dozens of bluesuits suddenly everywhere. So it was nice to drop this concern, if only for the moment.

"Well, splendid. So I am here in regards of--"

"If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second!" Belethor interrupted. "Ah-ha-ha hrr... Um, that there's a little joke."

Huh? "Mmm. Am glad am not thy sister, then."

"Um...just a joke," Belethor backpedaled.

"Right." Sleazy little man. "As was saying, I am new in town, and am wondering, if I might be so fortunate to purchase clothings, or perhaps armor, for a woman who is of taller stature than most?"

Belethor pointed to his right where racks of garments were on display. Hmm. No armor here at all, only common farm and townclothes, she quickly realized. Which might be okay.

"I'll give ya the best deeeals, or die trying..."

Chances are, Tårn would be able to fashion her own armor from cheaply-bought leather and ingots once they were in Riverwood. She just has that sort of look to her; like she'd grown up working with forges and tanning racks.

"You just let me know what you need. I am at your beck and call," Belethor elaborated, eager for coinage.

"Superb." Does this vulgar oaf ever cease with the jawing?

She spent several quick seconds browsing through articles hanging from the rack, clack, clak, click! like a psychopathic bargain-hunter. Mauve topcoat ... taupe trousers... dirty beige corset... pink dress...goodness, someone dares to wear pink in this land... Found an outfit with a skirt so long, its lower hem touched the floor. "I shall purchase this." She paid for the frock, seventeen gold, hoping it would fit her herculean comrade.

"Goodness, your friend must be the size of an ogre!"

Sigh.

"I'd even buy one of your relatives, if you're looking to sell, a-ha ha!"

Oh no. No, no, no. Did the man really just...?

No.

"Well that's a ghastly thing to say!"

Despite the situation with Tårn (Laprima's goal was to return to Honningbrew before Draper and Red awoke), she could now not help herself. "Sir. Are these the manners purported to patrons other than myself? All day long, ye ramble with these insults..."

"But it was just a..."

"No, not a joke. An offense is more like it." Her eyes were like daggars into the sleaze's skull. "A lady should never find herself enduring such crassness from a fellow. And a merchant-fellow, at that!"

Laprima's voice was rising. She became conscious of the scene she was making; conscious of the fact that she was about to draw attention, just as a couple new customers dawdled in. "Of this I can promise, merchant: I shalt not ever return to this shop of yours."

"You tell 'im, lady," one of the customers, a svelte blonde with sad eyes and a wicked bow upon her back, goaded. "Man deserves an arrow."

"But..."

"Back home," Laprima continued, "within the city's Market District that is, we've got our Society of Concerned Merchants to complain to, for subordinate proprietors as thyself. Due to such measures, OUR shop owners have no choice but to conduct their commerce while providing exemplary service, without crass language."

"Um, hey now...that's not necess--"

"If any such organization exists in Whiterun, you can be sure I'll be lodging my complaint."

Belethor deflated like a leaking betty netch. Whiterun did not have anything close to a 'Concerned Society' within its walls, but simple word-of-mouth could be such a powerful thing!

As she stomped away, Lady Donnaugh noticed the low table in the middle of the shop's lobby, which supported a small selection of vases and knickknacks. She made sure to walk right through this collection of miscellaneous junk, knocking and scattering its items all over the floor.

"Be CAREFUL!"

Quest accomplished. Laprima strode quickly out of Whiterun, down the hill, past a couple of small farms. Back to Honningbrew Meadery.

"For you," she presented the garment to Tårn. "I do hope it fits."

She allowed Tårn some privacy as the woman swapped armor for clothes. After two minutes, the Nordic rounded the corner, seemed pleased: the frock/skirt combination actually fit. "Is good!"

"Splendid. Let us go to Riverwood, then."

But hmm, a surprise. Tårn rounded the corner a second time, returned to the bedroll, and changed out of her new clothes. Stuffed the outfit into her rucksack. After two minutes she revealed herself again, "to Riverwood," redressed within the Empire's armor.

"But ... ehm.... so Tårn...." Laprima stammered, befuddled.

"We go Riverwood," the tall Nordic repeated with a dour expression. "I, for Empire," she pointed at herself, drawing the line, making it clear. And for whatever reason, Lady Donnaugh had no recourse but to honor her mate's decision.


-------------------------------------------------------------

Glugging mead

Sleazy little man who has Good Stock

"Watch what you're doing!" -- (all my characters walk through the items on that low table! It's not even me roleplaying, more like an Easter egg moment. A passive-aggressive attempt, since none of mine (so far) have ever gone as far as to ultimately shut the man up.

Really, I just love hearing him get all pissed! Man deserves some angst.

So much work to get proper clothing, even in size, for Tårn and then she swaps her outfit immediately. This was probably an unexpected event in the game, right?

It was wise that Laprima went 'shopping' alone instead of with her entire party.

Laprima uses hands a lot when talking to Tårn, nicely written.

Well, one of my characters did ultimately shut Belethor up, and I guess you're referencing her when you wrote about the blonde woman with sad eyes - Sybil.

Laprima’s a milk drinker!

It’s too bad the two soldiers didn’t listen to Laprima. Subtle traveling attire in hostile lands when on a diplomatic escort mission is simply wise. That is, assuming the group has someplace (like a bag of holding?) to store their redcoats until needed. Had the soldiers cooperated, I expect Tårn might have as well. Should the band be confronted by a force of bluecoats, the best Laprima can do now is to claim to be a prisoner and gush her appreciation to the Stormcloaks for rescuing her. Of course, our Laprima Donnaugh would consider no such thing so the risks while traveling remain high. Oh well, she tried.

Nice how LPD reviewed her ability to verify her credentials if/when required as she travels for court to court.

Finding clothing to fit odd sized women – a challenge we know well but at the other end of the size spectrum.

Though it’s been many years, I do recall the slimy skeever Belethor. I’ve no doubt if he a had sister for sale, LPD would have bought said sister just to set her free.

Funny thing, Lena actually liked Belethor... The first thing he told her when she entered his shop (after that famous phrase about selling his sister) was this: "Among all these people, you and I are the only ones who aren't complete fools..." (Bretons among themselves. )

Emperor Titus Mead
I think the emperor might have drank too much Mead himself, given that his name changed from Mede to Mead!

Uh oh, the soldiers assigned to their stealthy diplomatic mission don't seem to understand the importance of stealth. They want to plainly identify themselves for every Stormcloak to see, and fight. That is only going to end one way.

They do have a point that appearing in front of the Jarl of Falls Church Falkreath dressed as common travelers would be less than resplendent. But they seem to forget that it is possible to change clothes before doing so.

I see Belethor continues to live up to his reputation. Never stop being sleazy...

I see they have Miss Vicious' pink dress!

Oh boy, Laprima is losing her cool. Diplomatic mission Miss Donnaugh, remember your diplomatic mission. She's gone full Karen! She is definitely not going to be leaving a positive Yelp review! I love that she walked through the table when she left!

I'm so sorry. Yeah, that's embarrassing. I just was watching The Rifleman at my ma's place (she loves Westerns for some reason) and out of the blue I'm like ... wait....

Maybe next time Laprima would have more luck finding appropriate clothing for Tarn in one of the giant camps.

Don't be embarrassed. Remember what Bob Ross said: "Mistakes are just happy accidents." Just enjoy the humor. I love the idea that there is in fact a guy out there calling himself Titus Mead. Maybe he is a comedian. Maybe he is a spokesperson for a liquor company. Maybe he is a bard. Maybe all three!

Hey, maybe that's how Van Hagar thinks Mede spells his name. Nah, still embarrassing. Ten hours or so of writing + editing... ah well, worse stuff can happen. Bob Ross rules though! Him and his happy fro.

The whole idea of changing uniforms is a theme in some of my stories, and goes back to Miss Carey, my middle school history teacher, a lovely redheaded non-nun at the Catholic school my parents forced us kids into. (Well, it was called Social Studies by the '80s, not History.) Carey was such an awesome teacher, actually sort of a mentor; I got As in her class, competing with Michelle Bishop for Teacher's Pet. I remember her teaching us about the Revolutionary War, during which the Colonists began adopting Native American policies in regards to attire. Americans began ditching their assigned blue uniforms, using subterfuge and ambush techniques while the Imperials continued as redcoats, which became mighty obvious on battlefields. Silent bows & arrows which could be quickly notched rather than loud + messy muskets which took a while to clean & reload.

So yeah, think of Vicious changing into raider armor, and Buck Norris following suit. Difference is, Laprima's team isn't on board. They'd rather die for the cause. Hmm, Falls Church? Does that mean I'm remembering Carey's teaching correctly?

The pink dress is more a reference to another story on this forum. “Certainly, after all, my partner needs something more practical than a prissy pink dress or even a tailored robe.”


Some of my characters don't mind Belethor, Lena. An insight I had this week is perhaps Belethor's attitude has flourished in Whiterun because nobody local minds his comments and antics. They all just sort of know, sometimes tolerate him, like that dude (sometimes lady, even) we've all known at some point. Maybe a coworker, maybe our brother, etc. If this story was about my Dovahkiin Sir Vyvoor for instance, Belethor would barely be mentioned. But clearly, the man seems almost placed into Whiterun to draw a certain reaction from us roleplayers.

Whether or not they get offended by the man, all my characters walk through his low table. "WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING!" ..... never gets old.


We shall see what'll happen Acadian, in regards to their continuation as obvious Imperialists. As mentioned, I've got a Civil War mod in my Skyrim called Immersive Patrols which comes in three flavors: No Battles / Unaggressive (Impies & Stormies don't fight, and don't interfere with our character), Battles / Aggressive (they fight each other, but don't care about us until we've picked a side), and the third, which in LPD's game, Aggressive. Though she herself is not aligned with either side, her party definitely is. However, a 'solution' to this problem shall occur during these next couple chapters, as we'll see.

Nope, no Bags of Holding in Renee Roleplays! Appreciate your taking the time to spell Tårn. Whether that's your keyboard or a copy/paste (I can't make an å without copy-pasting), appreciated.


Lopov, the entire end of chapter II, like the pilot episode with the battles going on, had to be mostly rewritten again. Originally, Tårn decided to wear the dress, ditching her armor, which was an actual Creation Kit moment with a script and so on (me and my scripting, right?). This initially worked in game but Tårn kept changing back into armor every time she walked out of Honningbrew.

So why not go with the flow? My opinion is sometimes surprises are better than original writeups. I like the rewrite better. Her hand-gestures are partially inspired by Silence, your mute Redguard fellow.

Correct: that is Sybil being referenced: the "svelte blonde with sad eyes and a wicked bow", that is one of Lopov's past characters, everyone. *PIC*

It's 3:22 AM once again, this late-night final editing is becoming a habit.

.
___________________

. Elisif's Directive

___________________







Location: Solitude's Blue Palace

"Steward, have we received the latest account, regarding our delegate's location?"

"Aye, milady." Falk Firebeard unfurled the parchment which had just been delivered. He cleared his throat. "Our ambassador, as you know, was able to convince Lord Rorik to remain on our side, and a roster of standby troops has been sent to Rorikstead, despite Tullius's objections."

"As expected," Elisif replied impatiently. Old news. "Go on."

"As for Laprima's detail itself, there's been some confusion, concerning their location."

"Confusion?"

Firebeard nodded grimly. Best to be laconic, yeah? He'd been fated to be the deliverer of bad news plenty times before, yet it never got any easier. "They was expected to appear within Falkreath, on the late afternoon of Loredas the twenty-seventh, err, so yesterday at the very latest, yet they have not shown. A watchful sentry at Half-Moons Mill also confirms our ambassador's troupe has not passed by."

Nobody replied at first, as the unexpected update sank in. Only the palace's magical music devices kept the moment from becoming utterly silent. "Well what are we to make of this sodden turn of events?" Elisif stated, eager to press blame, yet unable to point fingers since she, herself, had been the originator of the whole 'ambassador' idea.

Nobody said anything, nobody wanted their head on the block. Yet it was at this very minute when an unexpected voice spoke abruptly.

"Although my input has not been sought," Sybille Stentor, the court's dedicated wizard spoke with a bit of edge, "I have been performing my very own scrying from within my chambers at night. For it is my concern, you see, that Lady Donnaugh, performing such delicate tasks while traveling Skyrim's dangerous roads, have eyes watching with omnipresence and from afar."

The wizard, as usual, hadn't been a part of the initial discussion, which was partially her fault, and partially the court's. As was typical, she'd 'slept' most of the morning away. Truthfully though, her words, her supposed intuitions, had usually been ignored up until lately. Up until one of her predictions had recently come true.

A pause followed Sybille's preamble. Everyone's attention now turned.

"Please, by all means," Elisif allowed.

"I can tell you exactly where they are, or were," the wizard stated smartly. "Lady Donnaugh and her posse were last within a meadhouse just outside Whiterun..."

"Ah, Honningbrew Meadery," Bolgeir Bearclaw spoke fondly, a bit out of turn. "Very best mead in all Skyrim."

"Nay," Firebeard disagreed. "That honor goes to Black Briar Mead of Rift--"

"Silence!" the jarl quelled their expected argument. The palace's housecarl and its steward knew this was coming, of course. Gravity of moment almost didn't matter; such interruptive insertions were to be expected from the pair. On and on went their comparisons of 'Best Mead', 'Best Tavern', and so on; perhaps to lighten moments like these. And according to their recently-esteemed court mage, Laprima and her guard were still alive. Why not have a little fun?

"Sybille?" Elisif continued gently. "As you were?"

"Many thanks, jarl," the wizard replied. "So, here is what I gathered as I gazed within my crystal and focused assiduity: our ambassador Laprima, lodged within Honningbrew with a party of three..."

"Party of three? Those are all who accompany niece Laprima, just three?"

"Just three," Stentor confirmed. "Two male soldiers and a third, a very tall shieldmaiden of sorts."

"Well, this is unprecedented," the jarl fidgeted upon her throne, a sure sign of her dismay. "I thought they would've picked up additional recruits along their path. Anything else?"

Oooh, how the tables have turned! the wizard suppressed a smirk. In the past, as mentioned, Stentor had mostly been ignored. This had recently changed after a couple adventurers had discovered that the frightened words of a few Dragon Bridge peasants about a series of unusual lights near the Shrine of Meridia were indeed something to fret about. Place had become infested with undead, due to the invasion of a necromancer named Malkoran! And if the adventuring pair (a Mages College Altmer and a royal heir to the Caro name, who'd recently moved from Cyrodiil to Skyrim) hadn't proactively followed through on Stentor's insights, as well as the demands of those peasants, there could've been more than the war to worry about.

"Although I cannot predict of which way they shall ultimately course, not until I am able to set aside the necessary amount of fortitude to perform another scry, it seems they are indeed headed toward Falkreath, although taking a longer way there. For whatever reason, I cannot say. But it does seem their next likely destination shall be Riverwood, which is the next village south of Whiterun."

After another silence, the Blue Palace court burst into applause for several sweet moments: Firebeard, Bearclaw, several appointed guards and even a servant, clapping with deference. Solitude's court wizard, finally gaining proper recognition for her efforts.

"Riverwood does seem likely," Elisif agreed. "Firebeard!" She grabbed her ornamental sceptre and raised it from the throne, the way a judge wields a gavel. "Send a redirective for as many troops as can be spared, from Rorikstead to Riverwood; Tullius can feast upon my garters if he disagrees."

"Aye, milady."

"Use one of the birds," she ordered (referring to our Earthly equivalent of a homing pigeon, though the Tamriellic version was imbued with magical properties). "We need to get word to our delegate of our concerns. That she is not alone upon her endeavors, for bloody sakes!"

"It shall be done."

"It's an abomination, that our representative is traveling dangerous countryside with just three guards. Their numbers shall increase."

"So it shall be done!" Falk repeated.

"And Sybille!"

"Yes, my jarl?"

"You shall keep us posted upon any newly-perceived observations you are able to glean, concerning the travels and travails of my niece and her detachment."

"As you wish," the court wizard performed a rare curtsy. Though nobody in the palace knew the true source of her oddities, her yellowish eyes, and her habit of sleeping most days, even years after Torygg had appointed her, Sybille Stentor did rise to occasion at times. And such times were to be regarded.

Solitude's court adjourned. Jarl Elisif had become flustered yet again. She retired to her chamber with a lass, who applied fresh cosmetics.

A most welcome update from a remote perspective as Elisif tries to glean the status of her ambassador niece – last known to be at a meadhouse.

The jarl decides to boost Laprima’s security detail and:
”Tullius can feast upon my garters if he disagrees."

Elisif and Sybille both shine here. You really bring both to life as Elisef frets and Sybille uses her abilities to increase her sway within the Solitude court.

It will be interesting to see if a larger contingency helps or hinders Laprima's efforts to travel.

Wow! I didn't realise that Jarl Elisif preferred the company of ladies... Although Skyrim does not discriminate.

That's a brilliant episode, Renee!

So it is a council of the bosses back in Solitude. I loved how the bros got sidetracked arguing about who makes the best mead!

I must confess that I do not recognize the Altmer and Caro who appear to have saved the day at Meridia's Temple. Were they characters of yours? They don't register in my brain cells.

In any case, Sybille seems quite smug and full of herself. Which is of course how she always behaves whenever my characters meet her in the game.

I know the reason for Sybille's yellowish eyes, and why perhaps she prefers the night time hours to the sunlit ones...

So Laprima will have more guards. Is that good or bad though? The more swords she has traipsing around at her back, the more notice she will receive. Especially if they are all wearing Imperial uniforms.

It's a unique episode because Laprima is a mentioned-only character.

A nice touch, how thanks to her "night scyring" Sybille divulged Laprima's whereabouts to Elisif.

I loved the short-lasting change of opinions between Firebeard and Bearclaw. For a few seconds it felt, like the matter of the best mead would get more urgency than Laprima.

A noble from the Caro family can only be Lucius.

Just one question; how often does Tullius object?

I am three weeks ahead of the story so far as writing goes, and this includes most of the quest stuff as well. It's nice to get this stuff done and everything's moving along.

@Acadian: Last week's entire chapter was based on a series of late thoughts, me trying to plug some plot holes for once. But yah, it just makes sense that Solitude is worried. Elisif hasn't got contact with her guest family member, who was originally brought to Solitude partially because she was getting in trouble down in Cyrodiil, partially because she followed her fiance. So Elisif's got all sorts of worries on her mind. I can't write it all up (impact, ya know?), but at least some of that got addressed.

Elisif and Sybille do shine, I hope. They're portrayed as buffoons mostly in the base game, from what I recall. So I am glad they 'come to life" as you say. They aren't just figureheads.



It'll also be interesting to see if my computer can keep up with all the extra processing! Knock on plastic.


@Lena: Aw, why thank you. I'd say last chapter was closer to clever; the more brilliant stuff is coming, ye shall see.

Oops, no cake! My fault. Such a bad habit...


@Florens:

The Altmer was Crystal Beth, my fourth character from 2012, and Lucius Caro (one of Lopov's) was the other. Both of them definitely did the Meridia quest, that's why I selected those two.

I've thought about her increased guard detail too; and I'm not sure what'll happen in the long run. But sure, less people means easier maneuverability, evading any Stormies.

Maybe I should go back to a previous save from 3 weeks ago, and take some pictures from those massive battles. ⚔ Then the greater numbers will maybe make more sense. I was actually frightened as I was gaming. Because if LPD's party happens to come across one of those battles.... So it could become a safety in numbers thing.

In any event, YOU are going to be surprised... hee hee hee hee!!!


@Lopov: Thanks, man! Last week was me filling in plot holes, it's a good thing I even thought of those glaring lacks.

I really don't know fully what the male perspective is like, I just gather what I've seen IRL.

Oh yes, Lucius gets his due. 🍷




Mm, see, another plot hole. I can't fill 'em all, unfortunately; this story is about Laprima most of all, and I've only got until May to get a bunch of chapters done. As usual, there's going to be a lot of content coming, and I have to focus on what's most ... intense & to-the-point, I guess.

But in my imagination there is frequent feuding between Solitude's dual leaders, most of it is passive-aggressive. They communicate by sending pages and servants back and forth, and so on. Neither of them can get rid of the other, see?


Cool, comments are done! Gonna have dessert and get some sleep. Hopefully next chapter will be up before daybreak.

.
______________

. Riverwood

______________



The band of travellers vacates Honningbrew and treks towards Riverwood: wary, dour, and watchful. The day could evolve to their very last, these are the stakes which each of them fosters, of which they wite and taketh.

Droplets and snowflakes. Discs in the sky, obscured by cirrus and cumulus.

Furthermore, for Laprima Anne Donnaugh there are forces unseen to consider, forces portending from the otherworld. Forces which beckon, and in no way could she ever perceive she is forsooth being drawn toward Riverwood, called toward its locale by essences which cannot be sensed, or discerned by middling means. Our lady a facet, our lady a pawn, hath wandering about, colossal hands which choose her coming fate, it doth seem.

Arrangements, portending, portending, becoming.

Pierre and Rokkr are also affected, also oblivious. Heedless of their previous day's misdirection, unwittingly they have prolonged the journey toward Falkreath. Soon they shall uncover their blunder, a blunder which only the most novice of excursionists might be wont to contrive as they travel the roads.

Let us glean.






Location: Honningbrew Meadery, Whiterun

Sundas, 28th of Sun’s Dusk, mid-afternoon


Such a mystery, this decision of Tårn's.

It's something which intrigued Laprima as the Solitudians left Honningbrew, and began walking east. She started to dwell on the matter; that a countryside dweller from Skyrim itself would choose to side with the faction which wanted to keep the province from seceding. Displaying her position to the Sons all the while, just as Draper and Red were doing. Like them, she does not wish for Ulfric to prevail. Why could this be?

If only there wasn't a language barrier between them, perhaps this topic could be discussed.... On the other hand, now was not time for chatter!

It'd been a long, fruitless morning, all that running to Whiterun and back. After what seemed a too-lazy breakfast (lunch, really) the afternoon was already halfpast. The sky was cloudy, the sun its typical Skyrim silvery, half-hidden self, when their trek finally began. Laprima lagged somewhat behind Draper and Van Hagar as they walked; idea being that she'd be able to aim her bow from the flanks if enemies appeared.

Tårn, as usual, varied her position. Being so long-legged, she could easily walk twice as fast as everyone else, find herself dozens of yards ahead. Abruptly, she'd then reverse position. Eyes forward, and then eyes behind; a rather unique strategy.

The road started to climb and the sky was getting dark. Then it began getting really dark. Rokkr gazed upwards. "Ow blast. Is it gonna bloody rain?"

"You know something?" Draper mumbled, striding closer to Rokkr, voice hushed. He took a quick glance behind, making sure Lady Donnaugh would not be able to overhear. Alright, she's distracted at the moment, fetching something from her still-unnamed horse.

"Uh-oh. I know this tone of voice of yours, Draper..."

"We could've halved our trip to Falkreath if we'd heeded the other direction at that fork in the road yesterday."

"Halved our trip?!"

"Shh," Pierre Draper shushed. "Don't want her to overhear. But yea, there was that fork in the road, remember? If we'd made the right up the hill, pretty sure we would've been in Falkreath by now, or close enough to it. Instead we forged straight."

"Because---" Red started putting it together.

"Because we was all watchful of those battles in the foreground. Keepin' to ourselves, yah, but also we was distracted by the tussles up ahead. Yet still. There are signposts everywhere on these roads. We even looked at the one which would've steered us right, remember?"

Rokkr scoffed, bumping Draper's arm a little too forcefully. "You sure about this?" --- But then, he took a moment to visualize a map of Skyrim in his head. And came to the same conclusion. "Yep, there was that turn...and right goes south."

"Thing is, ach!" Draper spat. Because there was no 'thing is'. Distracted or not, they'd made an error, a rather foolish one.

"Nothing we can do now," Rokkr shrugged. "Cannot just backtrek without adding an extra day or two. But I wouldn't--"

"Oh no..."

"Bring it up with--"

"Oh no. We're not going to bring the matter up with her." Draper glanced behind again. Their lady was now done her fussing. "But for sure, let us take the time to study our maps with greater care once we're in Riverwood. We must make haste toward Falkreath on the morrow, eh?"

"That we shall."

Little did either of them know the real cause of their frivolous mistake.





They strode past a group of travelers wearing robes, and continued roughly south. The road threaded its way between a low-lying mountain on the right and a much taller mountain to their left (this taller mountain was purported to contain seven-thousand steps, carved into the mountain itself. Laprima was pretty sure she'd read that in some textbook). Also on their left was a roaring river. Large fish were somehow swimming against the river's current, leaping occasionally up the waterfalls.

"Salmon," Draper informed Laprima. "Persistent, strong swimmers, and their meat is rather tasty."

The road bent gently upwards past a series of tall trees, then twisted sharply left. Switchbacks sent them from one side of the valley to the other a couple times before Tårn suddenly grabbed her giant sword. -- -"Jeg skal beseire deg!" -- Draper and Red had also brandished, and were running toward whatever's ahead like maniacs! "The Legion's always looking for strong, capable, AGH!!!" the sounds of weaponry up ahead... Laprima nocked an arrow of iron. Though she'd looted a staff which blasted balls of fire after the fight with Sixpenny's goons, she felt more comfortable with the bow.

She peered ahead, straining to see...straining to aim...

But the fight was over seconds after it began!

"Just a pair of wolves, Lady Donnaugh," the soldiers were already cleaning their weapons by the time she caught up. And yep, two furry monstrous canines lay bleeding into some grass, already eradicated.

"A'right." The pinewood longbow returned to her back. Unexpected adrenaline rushed within her veins. Despite the fact she hadn't been able to get involved it took several long seconds for her to catch her breath. "A'right, well, they are gone, then," she blurted, unsure of what to say.

"Mm hmm, they are."

The three of them began loitering a bit. Always, there's that series of moments after a fight when awkwardness prevails (if mistakes were made), or congratulations are in order, or some final speech gets made over the deceased about how we're the victors; how we've prevailed while others have fallen. But this time, there was none of that. The three of them became surprised when--

"C'mon!" Tårn bellowed from the road above, apparently impatient. "Wolf. Kill. We walk!"

"We walk," the men agreed, laughing a bit. Everyone began walking.

"Ehm, many thanks!" Laprima called after them, grateful of her protectors. She hadn't been thanking them enough, she realized.

"'Tis a bother of naught."

The road's ascent soon leveled off; the valley now deeper between the two mountains. To the left, the river ran flat. To the right, a series of trees. The party moved forward four-dozen paces, everyone striding along, when Laprima noticed her hooved beast had come to a halt.

"You... um, horse! Come hither, horse!" she called. Really need to think of a name for him, thought she. But the animal seemed hesitant, all the sudden. Was just standing there, staring at her defiantly. As if happy to finally disobey his master, after an entire week of compliance. So she turned more fully, shoulders squared. Attempted to put more command in her voice. "Oi! Lad! Canter towards!" she shouted half-merrily, half-sharply. Gotta let 'im know when I'm serious. Though nowhere close to being an expert equestrian, she'd been riding ever since she was seven down in Cyrodiil. It was important for riders to be in command, yet also maintain friendship with their mounts. Worst thing was when horses began to mistrust their riders, after too many harsh words.

"Horse! Neigh-he-he-he-he!" she tried to whinny, but the animal continued to ignore. It then trampled a bit on the ground. Made sort of a sideways motion with its head, its mane shirking a bit.

And that was when Laprima happened to glance up the hill to her left.

There (half-hidden at the top of a briar-filled hillock) was a residence; was what looked to be an oddly-placed, foreboding manor... A path which wandered and wound.... the phrase 'oddly-placed' being used only because the abode happened to be standing at a location all its own. No pleasantries nearby, no mums or daffodils, no sense of welcome (not in a neighborly way), which was fine, of course. Not everybody in the world wants to dwell within pleasant, welcoming places. And yet, Laprima did feel something which seemed like welcome. Almost like a beckoning.

Pfft! Come now.

There was a definite sense of seclusion; of being away, yet also not so far away. "Loom" is another way to put it. The place loomed over her in an inanimate way, and yet was there also a sense of sentience? It was as though the house sensed that she was somewhere below, standing upon the well-tamped road in well-crafted minkskin boots. ...Far away, distance high upon rockface... And she somehow was able to sense the house's awareness.

But all of that was beside the point. No lights blazed from within the home, no smoke sifted from its chimney. There was what looked to be a gathering of birds upon its roofs and gables... but the feel of the place, the contrariety of its locale, the sense of eerie attraction which--

Bah! Being a former apprentice of architecture, Laprima turned away from these silly thoughts; her architect's mind taking over, gaining rationality. Hmm, a definite attempt at reclusiveness. Here stands a home which was constructed away from the common path down below, away from its travellers, as if the home's draftsmen and carpenters had been given instructions to erect its position hidden from the eyes of typical road-walkers, yet overlooking them as well. And wasn't there also....


"Laprima! C'mon!"

It was Tårn, experimenting with the newest word she'd picked up from the soldiers (two words mashed into one, really): 'C'mon!'

"Apologies!" she responded. "I am here."

She began catching up to the others, clip clop clip clop, shifting attention back to the travel at hand. Within seconds she was forgetting about the house. -- A bridge crossed the river ahead and to their left, and the party turned toward it. Laprima glimpsed a series of low-lying shapes across the water, the sounds of a sawmill, the low-lying haze of chimney smoke.

"Looks like Riverwood."

"Aye, we've made it."

Again, she reverted back to the person she'd been several months ago: just another architectural student from the Imperial City's Aristocratic District: taking notice, forming opinions. Sturdy timber, probably a steady local supply of metal from nearby mines and ore veins. The village itself contained and kempt, all nicely nestled into the woods. They hadn't clearcut the entire forest nearby (like some negligent burgs down in Cyrodiil) instead, Riverwood's residents were living in closer harmony with their land. Taking full advantage of both wood and river, hence the place's name.

The sawmill was going full-blast, even at this later hour; sign of a thriving economy. Unlike Rorikstead or Dragon Bridge, Laprima noticed Riverwood also possessed a more suitable attempt at protection: a one-storey overpass made from local timber, staffed by guards, had been erected exactly over the road which led into the hamlet. She'd later learn a second overpass stood at the south side as well.

Their journey had lasted maybe three hours. Other than the wolves and the group of robed walkers, there hadn't been anyone else on the road; thankfully not any Stormcloaks.

"Looks like there's an inn to the left," Van Hagar wheezed.

"And a smith to the right," Draper added. "We'll be headed there. Feel free to join us, Donnaugh."

"Nay. Shall head within the... Sleeping Giant Inn," she replied. "I shall pay our stay for the night."

"Wonderful. We sha'n't be long."

The group split in two: Pierre, Rokkr, and Tårn strode to the smith, eager to adjust their armor and fastenings, Laprima entered the inn. The Sleeping Giant's interior was dominated by a massive central hearth similar to the middle of Dragon Bridge's Four Shields Tavern, and Rorikstead's Frostfruit Inn, which was surrounded by chairs and benches.

A dark-haired man stood behind the counter to her left. Ah, here we are. Laprima began striding toward him, coinpurse in hand...
... but then came to a sudden halt. Nearly dropped her purse. Because standing right across the inn's fiery pit....

"Laprima?... By glory, is that really you?"

----------------------------------------------

"Is that really you?"

An ominous opening involving unseen forces.

Nice description of their travel. I recall the river on the way to Riverwood with the salmon jumping upstream. A mysterious house you say.

They do indeed make it to Riverwood unmolested.

A woman who clearly seems to know Laprima within the tavern? The only woman that comes to mind is perhaps Posh Lady’s pal Sirdasa? Or perhaps someone not yet introduced to us.