Some phrases from the intro sound familiar, were they already mentioned in one of Laprima's dreams in her early stories?

Uh oh, it looks like a house actually led Laprima in her direction. I bet we haven't read the last of this house yet.

Now who could this mysterious person be? Maybe it's Siouxie, her childhood friend from Cyrodiil?

That was certainly a foreboding prologue to today's episode.

And once we get into the meat of the tale, it seems that Drapes and Rokks made a simple error, that may not have been so simple at all, nor even their error. It seems hidden forces are arranging events to insure Laprima travels this particular path.

My guess is we will be seeing more of that mystery house, that the others in the party could not.

After all their traveling, they made it to Riverwood safe and sound. But who is this in the Inn? At first I wondered if it might have been Chamanay. But I see from the picture that the mystery newcomer is a woman. So maybe Sirdrasa?

A frivolous mistake that’s not so frivolous, hmm? Could it be sorcery or witchcraft?

All caught up with this, Renee - I love reading this from her perspective. It's also interesting to view the Civil War from the lens of what appears to be the losing side (so far). Going back a few chapters (and months), I have to say there was a small part of me wishing Laprima would dump Chamanay's butt and not look back, but I suppose the heart wants what the heart wants. And she is rather young.

I love the niece/aunt dynamic with Elisif, too, and enjoy reading her flip between Jarl and family during their conversations. Tårn has my interest piqued. I'm hoping to see her and Laprima start to understand one another and really click.

Alright folks, time for comments. Really am curious what people thought of that last chapter. Because a lot went on and some of it showed up spontaneously during editing. I'm going to use the Quote-a-rama.



Those opening segments are written in a much different style, you may notice. Those are inspired by Stephen King's Jerusalem's Lot (not 'Salem's Lot... the vampire story), in which King writes in three completely separate styles: 1800s, 1700s, and finally it's the 1970s at the end of that short story. During the 1800s there are some words used (such as wainscotting) that I didn't know when I read it originally because they are archaic. Then it switches to the 1700s; the language becomes almost bizarre it's so different. And finally it's the 1970s and some guy buys (or inherits) the old house from the story's beginning. The language becomes exactly like the way we are familiar with from our time.

It's up to the reader whom they "hear" (if anyone) speaking in those opening snippets. I like to think of those snippets as being said by an old librarian woman with some sort of thick accent. But others might read that in a man's voice, whatever you'd like to imagine.

Hmm, Sirdasa you say....




Those are from one of her dreams, yes. The dream she had during real-life Halloween of 2022 in our terms. 🎃

Here, I might as well link that post. Save me from having to find it again.

Lopov thinks the mystery lady is Siouxie, okay.




Indeed.

The mystery house, okay. Gosh darn I'm nervous!

Sirdasa again. Sirdasa x2. Definitely not Chamany, he's still in the clink. But (small spoiler) his life will improve as LPD is far away.




Ah, witchcraft. 🧙🏿 Now we're in the ballpark.

Nervous, nervous...




WHAT??? Oh gosh, you didn't have to read all that so fast! I mean I'm glad you did. Appreciate it.

The Civil War is going on, yes. I hope to have the time to write some of that up from Sir Vyvoor's perspective, sometime this spring. Vyvoor is my Dragonborn, see. Plus it might become necessary to take a break from Laprima's side of things, just in case I run into Creation Kit troubles or whatever.



Me too. From my perspective that's probably my favorite facet of the story, not the combat scenes or the more action-y stuff. Everyone expects this properly-groomed member of nobility to show up. She's not exactly a Rebel Without a Cause, she's here in Skyrim to do the right thing, yet Elisif has all these 'problems' with her niece.


All my favorite online people are packed into this forum. These are good times here at Chorrol. Lena, Acadian, haute, macole, Kane, and myself, all writing week-to-week. Good times.

.
__________

. Siouxie

__________






. Sundas, 28th of Sun’s Dusk, early evening


"Suh--"

How can this be? Standing across the room with a typical dose of amused ambivalence upon her face, how could she be here?

"Suh, Siouxie...?"

Siouxie "Banshee" Balion struck a pose, arms up high, face painted in contrasts of white and dark, standing in the middle of Riverwood's inn like a gothic statue. For a moment, Laprima thought that maybe she was now hallucinating; it'd been a long day! But then the statue spoke.

"The one, the peculiar, the 'she who has trekked and tracked and travelled across the border, from the city to Bruma, from Pale Pass to Helgen!', which, by the way, has become quite the town of ghosts." The arms came down, her face now contrary. "Dragon attack, everyone's been saying, poof, dragons! Such a peculiar blend of legends and pig's fodder."

"Siouxie! Balion!"

Again: How? How could she be here, in Skyrim? Siouxie, the mischievous yet charismatic chum who'd joined Laprima on any number of after-class escapades over the past decade or so, originator of the term "Gothic" (a reference to their painted faces and stoic attitudes {especially when caught during moments of mischief}, which shocked the adults) had been the last person Laprima had ever expected to see at this time. A massive dragon itself, lifting across the sky and darkening the land, frightening all who cowered under its belly seemed more likely! --- She'd gained the nickname "Banshee" at some point due to the cackling shriek she'd sometimes emit, especially later at night.

For a moment the former schoolmates stood and stared. They then rushed and crashed into each other: hugging, kisses on cheeks, holding shoulders at arm's length, fondling of sleeves, as though each was checking to see if the other really, actually existed.

"Well" "So" "what're ya--""So what's all th--"

Their words collided, and the pair separated.

"You" "So" "fir--""how about--"

Finally a truce, as Siouxie took the conversational lead. The Sleeping Giant's two innkeepers, Delphine and Orgnar, became quickly amused by this obvious reunion. Because the two estranged/now reunited, raven-haired gentlewomen were speaking loudly. It was impossible for the inn's publicans to not overhear the entire conversation to come. Let's also consider that entertainment of any kind was rare here in Riverwood. Time to pay attention!

"Alright dearie, what is with th' garb?" Siouxie waved her hand distractedly. "Furry-type hide armor? What've you become, a bear?"

"Aye, I am now a bear, rawr!" Laprima beamed. "What else?"

"You've got yerself some arrows..."

"Aye! Got a longbow and arrows," she nodded furiously. Laprima felt as though her face might just split in two if she grinned any harder. "Anything else?"

"'Got a longbow and arrows', says she. Uhm. Uh-uh, halt right there, Donnaugh. For things such as this demand explanation!" Siouxie's tone became mockingly-low and haughty, suddenly a voice unlike her own. "Come now, what of this, then? She's wearing the carcass of a bear, and she's become a markswoman," then it changed to a lighter soprano's register. -- "Last I saw, she was hefting stacks of books round the college while donning russet felt, hee hee!" Siouxie's chin was then gripped by her hand, this time her voice became the studious monotone of one of their class-instructors back home: "So what has happened? -- Oh! It was she who hunted the furry bear-carcass she's got on! Used her fancy longbow. Cheers." Finally, she gestured her arms dramatically, not unlike one of the hammier Bard's College actors up in Solitude. "Like some matron schoolmarm of the frontier! Doft it, blime, Laprima Donnaugh's become a homesteader, like some defiant agonist in an adventure book! SHE shall save us all from the bears and lions and monsters with her bow...!"

As was typical of their past, Laprima was losing it by then (laughing) while Siouxie continued her spontaneous playact. Though this might seem like a customary occurrence between a couple of past-twenty bezzies (one of them unable to control her felicity while the other took advantage with jabs of humor), truth is this disparity had come from heavier contexts. Siouxie had often been the one attempting to cheer Laprima up during those darker days. Though she hadn't known Laprima's brother -- who'd gone missing years ago -- Siouxie had often borne the aftermath of Elija's disappearance, especially when her friend really plunged to the depths.

Jokes and foolery, indeed whatever worked to uplift her mate, had become a facet of their relationship in the past, and was working again now.

Within seconds, the bow-toting archer/ambassador had forgotten the grim-faced realities of road travel; forgot about striding into treacherous territory with a group of soldiers she literally hadn't known a week ago, attempting to change the face of Skyrim's Civil War at the behest of her ever-commanding aunt. Suddenly, it all seemed too much!

-- Lady Donnaugh, back with her schoolmate again. Almost seemed as if tomorrow would just be another day. They'd leave this comfy tavern, only to emerge within the city. Then they'd head to class to study all day, planning to goof after class.

From across the room Delphine and Orgnar leaned upon the inn's counter, taking in the banter between the pair of Heartlanders like attendees of a sideshow.

"Let's have us a cozy natter then," Laprima continued, perhaps an inside joke. "My turn. So what are these... these... these..." she noticed the glyphlike design on Siouxie's apparel. "By the Gods, she's wearing robes?! Banshee's become a wizard, then?"

"Banshee has," Siouxie replied proudly. "She's gone beyond the apprentice stages of magic, in fact." Siouxie then lowered her voice a bit, attempting to keep the innkeepers from continuing their obvious eavesdropping. "I can conjure dead things," she winked cheekily. "I can blast fire like a wicked lady shaman on the warpath to Clavicus, and more. Wanta see?" the Nord raised her arms.

"Nay...NAY!!" Laprima's eyes went wide, her hands began swatting at Siouxie. Because she knew the potentialities of her friend's words, knew that her mate often did exactly what she warned she would do: whether this was carrying out some jokey words, or befouling the city's Lucky Lady recreation with some rotten fruit, or even following through on a threat against the bullying of some other schoolmate; Siouxie would become Banshee. And Banshee could be an entirely different person: someone who was not docile, and not very well disciplined either, damn the consequences!

"Aye, what she says," Orgnar bellowed across the room. "No magic-casting in here, ladies. Not unless you're fixing to brighten up this place with a candlelight spell."

"Place could use some brightening..." Delphine mumbled.

"Rats!" Siouxie scream-whispered. Her arms lowered.

Phew, Laprima breathed a sigh.

"You're welcome to practice outside of course, just be wary of the guards," Delphine added. "Now, are ya gonna rent a room or what?"

Aye, let's get those rooms. Laprima spent some coin for herself and party, forty gold for the night. The pair of friends then rushed outdoors. "Oh, I've also got a horse.... a chestnut-colored palomino, just wait'll ya..." ---- SLAM -- went the door behind them. And the silence which followed was absolutely golden.

"By the Gods, they're gone!" Delphine moaned to her partner.

"But they're coming back," Orgnar dove behind the counter, looking for something stiff to drink.

Delphine decided now would be a good time to break one of her steadfast rules, filled herself a mug of ale right there on the spot.

"Wonder if we got any skooma round here," she joked to her partner.






Mid-evening
Siouxie always had an air of something about her.

Outside, darkness had fallen. The area beyond Riverwood's northern guard overpass was pitch. Laprima and Siouxsie, Imperial and Nord respectively, walked underneath the overpass, strode a few paces, and stopped just short of the bridge. Siouxie began preparing her mind, ready to show off her newly-honed abilities. "Been training down in the city, see."

Oftentimes, Laprima had been surprised by her friend's ability to skeeve her way into places and situations normally exclusive and guarded, but also out of them when trouble occurred. For instance: Laprima had gotten caught breaking into the city's Red Diamond Jewelry after hours, Siouxie had not. Laprima had spent a night in the city's lockup for 'Attempts at Thievery', gaining freedom only after her father set aside his anger, and spent some vast sum of gold to bail daughter out. Siouxie's name never came up.

And now here she is, claiming to be more than a mere apprentice.

In a few months she had somehow become a member of the Imperial City's Synod, one of the two very exclusive institutions of wizardry which had resulted after the dissolution of the Third Era's Mages College. Let us sidestep the question "how?" for the moment. During this short time, from Second Seed until today's date in Sun's Dusk (five months in all), Siouxie claimed to have surpassed the institution's Apprentice stages, gaining knowledge of several magical disciplines with the ease a scaffolder uses to monoprint a wall.

"I cannot believe this," Laprima smirked, unsure if her friend was being entirely serious. She decided to cast a spell of her own: candlelight magic from the School of Alteration. Now they could at least see the path they'd walked upon. "Banshee Balion, Tamriel's latest sorcerer," she chuckled. "Could it be?"

"It could be! It IS! It shall be! So set aside thy doubts, Donnaugh. Stand back, and watch.. THIS!"






She waved her arms to the fore, arched her back, then shrieked aloud into the night! And voilà, before them stood (floated, actually...) what looked to be a fiery being. "It's a seraph!" Banshee cried, a look of half-madness within her eyes. She then waved her arms again, casting a second spell which forced a series of flames from her fingertips at the flaming being, which seemed to delight in the extra heat.

Laprima uttered a noise halfway between a sigh and a squeak, speechless for once!

The magician raised her arms again and..

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!" called one of Riverwood's guards, who'd gotten curious at all the flashes of light and crazed screams going on just outside the village. "Watch the magic!"

"Rats!"

"Better do what he says," Laprima regained her voice. "Customs are different here. We're not in the city anymore. Each hold here in Skyrim tracks its own crime, unlike Cyrodiil. And we don't want to wind up within Whiterun's lockup, eh?"

"Rats and more rats!" Banshee's arms went down, her back straightened, her face seemed disappointed. She had returned to being Siouxie Balion.

"No worries; there's always tomorrow."

Display over, it was time for Laprima to blab more details of her life, as they returned to the Sleeping Giant. She described her move from Bravil to Solitude upon that freighter ship, several weeks after her fiancé had arrived. For now, she skipped the whole skooma debacle, but told Siouxie of the arguments with her aunt about employment, her final decision to take a job in Solitude's most prominent tavern, and also her practicing to become a Bard's College actress.

Then the war began.

..."An ambassador? You've become an ambassador in representation for aunt Elisif, not to mention the Empire itself?"

Laprima nodded. "Seems difficult to believe, especially as I aim to impart these matters while keeping my face straight." She also explained about learning alchemy from Solitude's Court Wizard. But kept silent about the part when Chamany convinced her to steal the skooma cure hoarded by Angeline in her aromatics shop.

"I really am in awe, Laprima. She's an ambassador! With guards at her side, bloomin' GUARDS, she's got guards!"

"Mm hmm, I do."

"She's a guarded ambassador! She's an actress! An alchemist! An archer. Yet she does all these things while performing the lowly duties of serving wench during her offtime..."

And I haven't even gotten to the fate of Chamany, nor the whole Sirdasa shrew dilemma!

This could be a long night, with one heck of a gabfest on its way. Would she ever get any much-needed sleep?
On top of this, Laprima's biggest question hadn't even been brought up yet: How on Nirn had Siouxie managed to find Laprima here? In Riverwood? On the exact day she'd arrived?

"Well actually, been here a couple days, actually three," was the answer. "And I've done some roaming about the local forests here. Got something to show you, fact of matter."

"Something to show me?" Uh-oh. "Well come on then, out with it!"

"Ha, can't tell ya now, 'prima, other than it's more of a place than a thing!" Siouxie said sort of fiercely. "We must arise to-morrow early, before your guards, if possible. B'cause I think the place has something to do with why we've both arrived here at nearly the same date."

More of a place than a thing.

"Hmm, if you say so. Now, how are we going to arrange this scrawny bed for two, eh?"


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

"Stand back and watch... this!" (alternate view)


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

Notes: Siouxie Balion is actually Alex's Betnja, a Conjurer Companion by AngryKarakuri, with hair from Apachii. Soon as I saw her at THE Nexus... whoa, it's HER! That's Siouxie!

Ahah! So Siouxie wins the contest of the mysterious lady in the tavern. Goth Girl has quite the bardic talent it seems. Oh my, and potent magery as well. On the other hand though, Siouxie’s long lost friend is now a bow-wielding, bear-wearing ambassador. With guards even!

The banter between Banshee and ‘Prima was a joy to read.

So many questions! Might we achieve an answer about the mysterious house? Might Siouxie join the ‘Prima band as its mage?

I find it ironically amusing that Delphine in Skyland does not trust magicks. . . yet Delphine of Oblivion was a mistress of destruction and known for her spell ‘Enemies Explode’.

Oh dear, oh dear, Siouxie better know what she is doing. Summoning an angel of the first rank, servant of the Magna-ge, can be very dangerous.

So it is Siouxie and the Banshees. That is cool. I see Siouxie is as happy to reunite with Laprima as the Lady Donnaugh is with her.

It looks like Siouxie will be a welcome addition to the team. Much more so than their previous magician.

Granted, her Chaotic Neutral nature might require some supervision. Though things are bound to be exciting with her around.

So I was right that it's Siouxie! Now where's my cake?

A meeting of two friends that haven't seen each other for so long, that they don't know what theme should they discuss first.

Banshee is a fitting nickname for Siouxie.

Looks like that some dark forces or some unknown entity isn't responsible just for bringing Siouxie to Skyrim but it has been orchestrating even Laprima's arrival to Skyrim. I wonder if the place in question is the mysterious house that the party saw on their way to Riverwood...

Ooh, I think I'm going to like Siouxie. Curious to see what those two will get up to together!

Gosh, March is half-over already. 🍀

@Kane: Funny thing about Siouxie is I had no idea what the heck she's supposed to speak. What does she say? How does she structure words? I knew she'd be extroverted, but how is she extroverted?

I began wondering if the real Siouxsie made any movies. Or maybe I could find some old interviews with her on YouTube. I would study how Siouxsie speaks, and try to get some inspiration that way.

In the end I did none of this (I haven't got time..) so she surprised me more than probably anyone. Her words fell into place with hardly any edits.


@Lopov: Oh yeah, you sure did guess correctly. That is usually what it's like when we haven't seen someone for a long time that we love, right? You don't know where to begin as you catch up.

Banshee is a reference to the real Siouxsie's band name: the Banshees. Dang, I get the feeling you don't know Siouxsie! Maybe she's before your time as we all get older.

Kane, do you know Siouxsie and the Banshees?


@SubRosa seems to know them. Thanks hon that was a fun chapter to write. Wow, you think she's CN? I haven't thought about it, really. I don't really know her that well yet.

Exactly, it'll be nice to have another magic user again. Unlike the previous one who tried to sabotage the party and kidnap my t00n. (DIE Sixpenny you lameoid wretch!) Overall some upcoming chapters when the party gets moving again are going to be interesting.

I had an idea for Vicious, that she would travel with this huge gang rather than just two others at a time. So this is what's going to happen in LPD's game. Probably better in Skyrim, with its lack of CTDs in comparison to Fallout 3.


@macole: She does know what she's doing, but there are ... well, you'll see.

Hmm, who or what is Magna-ge? - They fled Nirn just after it was created, holy [censored]. "The Magna Ge are now synonymous with the stars, which they created." That's so deep.


@Acadian: It's okay, you have cake too. "Bardic talent!" Yeah, she's a loudmouth, ain't she?

The banter between Banshee and ‘Prima was a joy to read.

Nice. Was worried she'd be too much. Was telling Lopov maybe I should curtail her enthusiasm a bit, but now I'm glad I didn't. My experience with real goths from real-life is a lot are surprisingly extroverted; probably because if you go for that look you're gonna garner a lot of stares. At least, this was true way back. When my sister became goth way back in the MTV era when it all started (for us in the States, anyway) she was all doom and gloom. This was her rebel teen phase. She hated everyone! She carried a rat on her shoulder when she went to the mall, etc. But almost every goth I've met from latter life were way more enthusiastic, etc. Fun to be around, even.



Soon to come.

.
_______________________

.The House of Crows

_______________________


Of our dreams, volatile imagery becomes the mainstay. Fixtures common amongst waking lives trade for the unfettered, bizarre prevails above commonplace, sights and scenes exchange abruptly, unheeded circumstances wrack expectations. The dreamer might be standing upon some platform of posies one moment, contently immersed within sweetness and merryment, only to be drowning rough eddies the next.

Our dreams might last ten seconds yet profoundly inspire the rest of our day. Our dreams might last for hours, yet any elucidations contained within escape our meager grasp; snow melting upon a sloped roof as sudden warm fronts and sunbeams dissolve. Affirmations, unbecoming. Symbology, rather than tangibility, prevails and persists.

Let us immerse.



She assumed they'd be too abuzz to sleep that night. Especially after Siouxie was introduced to the soldiers, who marveled over this overly-loquacious, startling specimen from the city. Then, after learning of her magical abilities, they eagerly accepted her into the party. "We lost our previous mage," Draper said vaguely, choosing not to elaborate.

After an hour or so of chatter and supper, Laprima feared a night of insomnia was ahead. Truth is, they both slept like stones, spooned against one another in one of the inn's rented beds.

Morndas, 29th of Sun’s Dusk


The next morning they made sure to rise before the soldiers awoke; a remarkable feat for Siouxie, who was fond of sleeping in. But this also meant two days in a row of interrupted morning rest for Laprima! -- Not so good, since everyone was supposed to trek towards Falkreath on this day. But whatever Siouxie had found in the nearby woods had to be shown; that diabolical look in her eyes the night before said it all.

But first, time for a bath. Siouxie had brought a bar of lavender-stone soap with her from down south, as well as some sort of rosy-smelling, gooey concoction for their hair. It'd been four days since Laprima had bathed, definitely a milestone of grunginess for her after years of near-daily visits to the Market City's Bathhouse, or their own tub at home. Oh what a relief this'll be.





They both feared the water would be too cold. They'd take a dip, rub some soap and lather their hair with haste, dive fully into the water to rinse (all the while being surrounded by slimy fish swimming upstream) but the water wasn't too chilly! And the salmon run had apparently ceased.

"Alright," Laprima said to Siouxie as they waded out of Riverwood's river, shivering a bit. "W-what is this you have to s-show me?" -- As is typical of Skyrim, the sun was nowhere to be seen. And now that they were out, that slight breeze in the air felt much chillier than it had two minutes ago. "Whatever it is, g-got to take us there quickly. Draper and Red are making a fuss we must hustle today, to reach Falkreath in due time."

But before Siouxie could answer, a sleek, multicolored bird, perhaps a dove, came floating downward from the sky above. The way the animal angled itself as it neared the river, and then settled upon a nearby perch, caught Laprima's attention. There was an obviously manmade pouch tethered under the bird's feathery breast.

"Siouxie!"

"Hmm?" The conjurer was already dressed. Much easier for her, since all she had to don were underclothes, her robes and breeches, finally her boots.

"That is one of the Blue Palace birds! They breed them up in Solitude for delivery of missives and such. They enchant them somehow, so the bird can locate its destination or person. In this case, this person must be I."

Best way to tell for sure was to simply approach it. So she walked toward the bird, which began bobbing its head a bit; a sure sign of domestication. It didn't just fly away.

"Have you found me, love?"

Laprima nimbled her fingers about the bird's scruff, and untied the knot tethered there. Removed the pouch it'd been carrying. The bird lingered a bit on the branch, perhaps expecting some sort of treat for flying so many dozens of miles. "Here!" Siouxie called, grabbing something from her rucksack, then threw what looked to be seeds on the ground while Laprima stared inquisitively. "What? The Synod also breeds avian carriers!" she explained.

With the dove gorging itself, Laprima opened the pouch, her hide armor coat only half-fastened, while Siouxie clambered near. "What is it?" Inside the pouch was a note, which Laprima unfolded and read aloud.

To the Ambassadorial Assemblage of Lady Laprima Donnaugh and Sargeant Pierre Draper,

Heed these words!
A contingent of additional soldiers has been dispatched to join and assist thy brigade.
Ye are to dwell or return to Riverwood until the contingent arrives, thereby increasing
thy partition by whatever numbers have been delegated.

These are the orders given by Jarl Elisif the Fair. Please adhere and ably comply.
The contingent should arrive within a day of receiving this missive.

~ Regards, Our Jarl's Benevolence and Magesty ~

"Well, seems this takes care of our need then, for haste," Laprima stated.

"Like we've got the entire day to now dawdle and explore..." Siouxie said with a smart smirk. "So let us begin with what I've found in the local woods."





Mid-morning

Laprima returned to the inn so she could inform the soldiers of Solitude's order: nobody goes anywhere until reinforcements arrive. She then visited her horse to gather some things: her weapons, some arrows and potions. Then they embarked, Siouxie leading the way. And Laprima was not entirely surprised when her longtime pal began directing them south.

One woman followed the other woman.

"Not too far," Siouxie explained. "We 'aven't got too far to go."

She's repeated herself in short order, as if affirming the notion. Hmm. Apprehensive?

"I had a particular sort of dream about this locale we're heading towards, before coming to Skyrim. Couple weeks ago. Several dreams, actually. About this locale."

Laprima said nothing. But she already knew. For no reason at all, she began thinking about that messenger bird. Looked over to where it'd been perched, but the animal was now gone.

Despite what seemed to be a struggle with confidence in her words, Siouxie didn't show it as she walked; she led with a confident stride; typical Lady Balion, while Laprima tagged and kept wary. Glad she'd grabbed her bow, glad she'd grabbed some arrows, glad she was bringing the magic staff she'd looted from one of Sixpenny's goons.

"Had yourself a dream...?" She's been brought here as well....or whatever is occurring.

Oh, stop this nonsense, Laprima! Get a hold upon thyself.

"Aye." They were crossing the bridge. Siouxie's usually boisterous tone became abruptly quiet. "A sort of dream, though am not sure I was asleep." She glanced at her friend, slowing her pace. "Keep a face dear, and listen."

Siouxie stopped, so Laprima stopped.

"This place, it led me here."

"Led you here?"

The mage nodded. "It wants me here. It wants us here. And the matronly woman. She wants us here."

"Matronly woman? Us?"

"Uch. Don't be contrary, Donnaugh, your efforts at nonchalance are pathetic. Yes, 'us'," Siouxie glared a bit. "You know this already, I can see it within thy face. You have seen this matron too within thy dreams, out with it."

Laprima's fingers twiddled a bit upon her sleeve, straightening a crease which wasn't there. Fine. "Big old manor house at the top of an unkempt hill? But I never saw no woman. Never had no dreams."

Siouxie didn't reply immediately. Began striding forward again. They crossed the bridge, came to the road's intersection (left, right, or straight...) and to Laprima's un-surprise, Siouxie ploughed straight.

"So listen," she continued, almost whispering. "I ....ee .... ell ou-"

"What? Cannot hear you--" Laprima realized her eyes were adhered up the path which now bent up the hill to their right, glimpsing, glancing, gleaning... are there birds?

Suddenly Siouxie stopped. Folded her arms firmly, as if committing to some hidden decision. Her eyes averted. "Said, I need to tell you something."

"Alright. 'Tis alright, my darling. Say it." Laprima encouraged her mate, wondering if her voice wavered. She placed a gloved hand on the Nord's sleeve. "We haven't need for hurry to-day, so take all manner of time."

"I shall. And I imagine you shalt be rather outraged about this, but." Siouxie paused, looking bashfully toward the ground. "But I wasn't being entirely honest last night. Concerning my enlistment with the Synod."

Hoy then, what of this? Laprima's eyes broke their fixation with the path ahead with so she could fully study her friend. To her surprise, Siouxie was shedding tears. The house had not yet come into view.

"'Tis alright, Siouxie!" Laprima exhaled, relieved. Relieved that the subject to come had nothing to do with the place they were (apparently) trekking towards. "We can discuss this matter now, if you'd prefer," anything to delay our destination. "What occurred, exactly? You were dismissed after burning a classmate like some Wild Mage? Or you were caught cheating in some way?" she asked, immediately wishing she hadn't! -- "Erm, hey, I did not mean to say that--"

"'S'alright, Laprima."

"Apologies, Balion!" she grabbed her precious ladyfriend as though suddenly drowning. "I did not mean..."

"Let us press forward, Laprima," Siouxie Balion decided, taking the unintended insult stoically, her face impassive. Gothic to the core. "Perhaps let us persist our walk, for now."

"Siouxie! It was not my intention..."

"Shhh...!" Her friend shushed a little too loudly. "Let us persist."

Laprima sighed, resigned. Again, a random stray thought about birds. "Apologies. Many and many and even more."

But her friend was already moving. They plodded forward more slowly; literally a step, then another; the path crunching beneath their boots. Rather dreamlike, their stroll had seemingly become, the air so sweet, the sounds of nature so persistent. Pretty soon, the manor came into view: first the very top of its roof peeking above tangled foliage, then the manor's apex shingles, then the roof's A-frame support beams... place does not look so shabby Laprima's inner architect spoke up, surprising her. As if she'd been in a daze. Not so actually decrepit... In fact, she realized she was now feeling none of the trepidation from the day before. None of the foreboding she'd experienced while dealing with her reluctant horse, no looming. What's to fear? Place is nothing but a house!

A second path branched from the upward trail and to the right. Ancient cobbled (stones?) became a rather well-worn surface. Another detail Lady Donnaugh noticed: apparently, others must've recently walked here. For not a sapling nor a patch of weeds interrupted the path's sandy top. And hadn't there been thatches of briars up here the day before?

"Walked by here just a day ago," Laprima revealed, her voice not cracking or showing emotion. Rather dreamlike, rather merry. "Down upon the road below. My horse was ... Hey! D'ya see the birds?"

Siouxie glanced at the house, her mind half-muddled in its own sort of reverie. "Birds?" She glanced at the trees.

"Look at them, all over the rafters and shingles. Crows and ravens and blackbirds!" Laprima cried aloud, completely unlike herself, Siouxie could see this. "They are all over," Laprima Anne Donnaugh, stunned and dazed. Structural cruxes, cedars and pines. Fastened and sound. "Don'cha ... Hey, what is it?"

"There are birds?"

Laprima's gaze returned to the manor. Where there suddenly were no blackbirds, no crows, no ravens, not an avian creature in sight. "I...."

"That lady though, she is waving at us," Siouxie interrupted. "Beckoning us to come forward."

"Beckoning?"

"Ha! It's the matron from my dreams. See her? In the window?" Her voice had become rather colorless. Rather unlike Siouxie "Banshee" Balion.

Four windows faced the two of them. Laprima peered at one window, then tried to peer into it. Nobody she could see. She peered at and into the next, the next, and the next. Tried to see whom her friend described. And could glimpse no woman, matronly or otherwise, in any of them.







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

A night of revelry, and catching up!

Goofing off

Elisif's Redirective -- (learned a lesson about posting illegible notes in the story itself!)

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


Notes: The House of Crows is inspired by Crow Home, by SubRosa Florens. 🦉

A surprisingly good night of sleep followed by an early and chilly bath. Yay for lavender soap!

A missive from Auntie Elisef via courier dove, harkening reinforcements and to hold in Riverwood until their arrival. Fortunately, that provides a respite with which to investigate the mysterious house that seems to have somehow magically affected both ladies.

The trek there was positively dripping with mystery and suspense. It seems we will have to wait until next episode to learn more, however.

Ok, now I'm really starting to get spooked. Last week it was Siouxie Banshee. The song Cities in Dust has been going through my head all week. Is that a premonition of things to come. Now there's 'dreams', an old woman, and a dilapidated house. Visions of a shower scene has invaded my psyche. And black birds everywhere! Holy Alfred Hitchcock, what is going on?

Uh oh, so there's a woman (a matron) that only Siouxsie the Banshee sees? It is really getting spooky, this tale.

Just like macole, I also thought of Hitchcock with all those birds around.

Looks like we need to wait some more to get some answers...

A long night's sleep, a cleansing bath, and products for her hair, that all sounds like paradise after days of schlepping about Skyrim's roads.

I loved the magic-ed up carrier bird delivering messages. They had something similar in Baldur's Gate 3, but a winged cat (a Tressym) was killing all the postage birds (there is a quest to stop the cat - with or without killing it).

So now they have time for a Souxie's side quest. Time to go exploring!

As I expected, the two women are off to find the source of the mystery that has drawn both of them hither: the totally not creepy house on the hill.

It is really intriguing how each of them is seeing something different. Corvids for one, a matron for the other.

That certainly is one foreboding manor!

@Acadian: Oh yeah, now that their calendar is free, several activities commenced on this day! From my perspective there's also an 'explanation' why they're not shuffling off to Falkreath immediately, which means more time for bug testing stuff. I'm setting a few things up.


@Macole, Vampire Hunter: Spooky! But you played Daggerfall in your literally dungeon basement!

Cities in Dust, there she is. Spellbound & Happy House are a couple other faves from way back.


@Lopov: Hee hee not anything to do with Hitchcock! 🦅 (I just put your name in Sleak color!)

In The Stormcrow there's a house which the main character inherits from her great, great, great, great, great (etc.) grandmother, who is a vampire, and once lived in the days near when America was just a bunch of colonies. In the house is a special room which.... ah... hmm, don't want to spoil. But I hope to do the actual Crow House some sort of respect in this next chapter.


@SubRosa: I installed Bathing in Skyrim, so there's a literal reason for their river-dive, and an immersion reason for me. Apparently we also can buy soaps from some merchants, though Lucan doesn't sell any, that worrywort.

Thanks! I was going to do a whole segment on the bird landing in some farm so it could eat & rest. Other animals somehow knowing what the carrier is, and giving it leeway at their feeder.

the totally not creepy house on the hill.

It's not, you're right! The story's embellishing the place a bit, but then maybe not. It's not necessarily the house itself, see.

Originally began thinking of these Crow Home chapters way back a year ago, when I knew the party would be heading to Riverwood. Was thinking I should ask permission first, but then you'd be spoiled. As I said to Lopov, I hope to do the place respect.




All credit goes to Miss Florens.

.
____________

.Becoming

____________


Morndas, 29th of Sun’s Dusk, Fourth Era, late morning


They'd been ordered to remain within Riverwood, which meant everyone could structure the day to suit their needs. With no particular schedule to follow, Draper, Rokkr, and Tårn also dove into the river at their leisure. Tårn earned some extra coin chopping and stacking wood. The three of them also spent more time at the forge, (a great place to learn local gossip in any burg or hamlet) where Tårn continued expanding her vocabulary.

Though Riverwood was part of Whiterun Hold, and Whiterun itself was full of Stormcloaks, there hadn't been any rebel activity in this outlying village for days. Still, the mood was occasionally tense as concerns were whispered about their presence. Otherwise, their time in Riverwood passed without incident. Because of this, the events of their day were unplanned, but otherwise ordinary.

...Yet they had not a clue what was going on two miles to the north, where the noblewoman they were supposed to protect (swayed by her unpredictable chum) was being captivated into vector-like currents of mind perhaps familiar to those with greater understanding of realities. Perhaps a vampire, a soothsayer, or even a practitioner of theoretical calculus might be able to explain their extraordinary situation.








Whether it was the manor itself, or some entity surrounding or within the manor, who's to say? By the time Laprima and Siouxie found themselves leaving the tamped path and approaching the residence's lawn their better judgement had mostly evaporated. Siouxie was adamant about the matronly woman she was seeing in one of the manor's windows, while Laprima remained unable to see her. Because of this, she refused to continue.

"But she's come all this way!" the Gothic whined, flailing her arms a bit. "And now she's become disinclined to traipse within? Please. Laprima, come with. For I detest the thought of entering alone."

They argued a bit, each misconsidering the others' opinion on the matter, each entirely naïve. "But if she appears within this abode, as you affirm, why does she not literally open her door, and invite the both of us?"

"Perhaps those are not the usual customs, where she is from," Siouxie hypothesized lamely.

"Usual customs?" Laprima scoffed. "In any region of Tamriel, we cannot just barge in like a pair of malefactorists, Siouxie; we cannot just invade this [supposed] woman's privacy!" Laprima shouted, thinking the word 'supposed' without saying it.

"She stands in the upper chambers, right above our eyes!" Siouxie insisted, somehow picking up on her mate's disbelief. "Jovial face, grayish strands of hair. And you cannot see?" Her voice was nearly accusatory.

Sigh. Laprima relented, just as she'd done numerous times down in the city, after Siouxie explained that maybe the old woman couldn't file downwards to the lower floor. "Perhaps it may be that she is weak, or disfigured in some way. And needs assistance."

"Fine. I shall step forward to accompany, but," she pointed, "you enter first, Balion."

"With glee, sister." Siouxie nodded impatiently. "Now come with."

The matter had been settled. Because of this, something in the air, the ground, the foundation of the home's exanimate psyche shifted imperceptibly. Forces portending, now becoming. (Ironically it was at this moment when the sun finally began to shine.) Seldom utilized senses of mind which had caused warnings to toll and chime within Lady's cognition the day before were now off to slumber.

Yet wasn't it her own curiosity which prodded, as well? She would follow Siouxie, alright surely she would, but only to satisfy her usual intellectual quest to examine any home's interior, if only to gain her usual opinions on build and decor.

Or so she told herself.

The pathway became a lawn, patches of mixed ground foliage: grasses and shamrocks and clovers. No weeds. No overgrowth. Somebody indeed must be living here.

Laprima stepped with caution onto the lawn. In contrast, Siouxie strafed sideways one moment, pranced forward the next like a spooked mare; even the way she moved at this moment could only be described as 'chaotic'. Or even disrespectful. On their left was the home's southern anterior wall, constructed of sturdy but uneven mortar-affixed granite stones, similar to the dwellings of Solitude. The lawn continued to merge a bit to the left, where the wall presented an arched entryway which they glimpsed into. Turns out, this contained a quaint little courtyard. The grasses and clovers abruptly became a short series of paving stones, a walkway which led forward a few paces then bent to the left, where the home's wooden porch awaited.

Laprima began hoping the front door would be locked. This would only be a temporary barrier of course (Siouxie knew Laprima could break in) but if Laprima lied and claimed she didn't currently have any lockpicks, perhaps she could convince this mad woman it's time to turn tail. -- But no such luck! -- The front door swung open without a word.

Inside the house was a stillness; a literal feeling of presence which is difficult to put into words. The place was well-decorated, yes. Not barren, nor dim or dismal. Not exactly what most would picture when the words "haunted house" are spoken. So what apprehension was Laprima feeling, exactly?

It's as though everything's been put into place recently, went her thinking. As though arranged.

Siouxie called into the initial room they'd entered: "Greetings! We have arrived!" only to be answered by silence.

...And there it is; there's that certain look in her eyes, the look of Banshee! Unable to temper herself, Siouxie's alter-ego's exploration began: dashing and tromping from room to room, bootfalls echoing throughout the house, until she found the stairs. Banshee just needs to see for herself perhaps, damn the consequences.

Laprima, on the other hand, moused into the place with prudence and respect: listening and sensing rather than pouncing. But it wasn't as though anybody or anything, a warlock or a monster, jumped out at them right away... so she relaxed a bit. Place is nothing but a home. (And there had not been any birds outside.)

But this was madness! What is it we are accomplishing here, exactly? Laprima put her head in her hands.

Attempting some form of logic, she began the usual scholarly habits she'd employed whenever entering an unfamiliar room in the past, but even this became sidetracked. - Her first impression now that she was in architecture mode was not an observation of angular wall bracings or which method of stonework the floor had been patterned with, it was: everything's in its place, and perhaps even disuse. No rack of dirty rags or refuse by the hearth or within the dining area, no errant dust bunnies under the cabinets, not a spot of grease by the cooking cauldron or near its fire pit. Candles lit, tarts and pastries and perfectly-ripe fruits arranged on plates and trays (for whom?), potions and phials and books on shelves. Yet she could not help but wonder: does anyone actually dwell here?

Banshee's sussing had come to a halt it seemed, catching her Laprima's attention. She focused her ears. Initially, she heard nothing. Then from somewhere upstairs came the sound of a voice; but was it Banshee/Siouxie's voice?

Laprima edged through a couple rooms at a dreamlike pace until locating the stairs, then up the banister she went. She arrived at a landing with several directions to go including two doors, one to her left (door closed) and the other behind (door open). She looked into the open door. And there was Banshee Balion, speaking deliberately. Almost discreetly. A master of voice manipulations, her pitch had lowered to almost baritone, definitely not a way of enunciating Laprima had ever witnessed in the past. This was not any manner a gentlewoman might find common amongst Tamriel's Fourth Era when greeting a supposed stranger (especially after barging into her home!), and certainly not the typical eloquence of Siouxie.








"An bhfuil tú faoi deara mo ghnóthachain bealaigh a chur i gcrích..." she queried the air in front of her, gesturing with intensity. "Caithfidh tú dul isteach sa brogue agus fáilte a chur roimh do chara."

Silence. No one replied. Because the presence of anyone else inside this wayward residence is for naught. Nobody here, yet her friend was entirely convinced that there was. The essence of static which went down Laprima Donnaugh's spine just then, as she realized the implication that she, or her friend, is currently going mad caused goosebumps upon her arms which bordered upon painful.

She backed slowly down the stairs, hoping not to disturb or dismay.





Late afternoon


Moments later, Laprima had returned outside. Shivering on the porch despite the sun's warmth, rattled, breathing too hard, staring into the day's pleasant air, vision palpitating. Torn between just leaving the loon behind so she could retreat to the village. ---- Back to some semblance of normalcy.

Should I wait for that lovely black-haired maniac to emerge? she mentally asked the sky. She began pacing off the porch.

Either way, Lady Donnaugh wanted no part of whatever twisted séance or intangible causality was occurring inside. Let Banshee lose her wits, she's always been half-way there, anyway.

Still, her thoughts twisted like a skeever trapped in a barrel for several seconds or so.
...And then somehow, in some way, she suddenly understood.

"This manor of crows..."

Siouxie Balion. Claimed to have some dreams about an old woman. Became obsessed about the images from her dreams, and is now...

"She's directly holding court alongside her vision."

Laprima began thinking about the birds again. Closed her eyes, concentrated her thoughts. And opened her eyes. And the birds were back. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds! Blackbirds, ravens, and crows, all over the roof, its ridges, its gutters, abutments, and eaves! Gathered in the trees, on the quaint little fences and...

She closed her eyes again. Shuddered a bit, wondering could this really be so? Focused this time on something much more personal: Elija Donnaugh, missing since the age of seven. If she concentrated upon her long lost brother, would he also appear? Because isn't this what the house seemed to be doing? Mirroring one's thoughts into some sort of fleeting reality? - Hence, the looming, the birds, and the matronly woman existing for one and not the other. Perhaps the determining factor, whether one's thought was reflected into one's personal reality at all, had something to do with the intensity of rumination.

She opened her eyes. Her brother didn't appear but one of his prized possessions, a flute he often carried around the city, did.

"Lo!"

The flute was made of some sort of gold-colored metal; perhaps it was even Dwemer. Therefore, not a commonly-crafted instrument made of cheaper materials, such as wood or ivory. The flute had been made to last the ages; perhaps only a smelter could destroy it. Elija often played the flute in public places, or within their Aristocratic District home. He wasn't so good at being a flautist yet, but of course he was only seven....

And this time, Siouxie, who had emerged from the house, shared what Laprima was seeing.

"What is...?"

They both stopped in their tracks, Laprima too surprised. Because that instrument had to be his, yes?

Against her better judgement (yet who could be rational at such a point?) she grabbed for the musical instrument as though it were about to disappear like the birds. But in this case, the vision continued persistence.

"It's his flute!" she cried to Siouxie, her face displaying an entire catalog of emotions: wonder, amazement, even fear, over the course of twelve seconds. "This was HIS. My brother, he owned this pipe." Her fingers clambered over device.

And that was when Siouxie began to get a grasp. "This manor. Or perhaps the hallowed grounds it was constructed on," she said, her voice no longer that of some demonic entity. "It is like--"

"--'Tis like the reflecting surface of a pond," Laprima finished.

"What we glimpse and what-ever we fancy--"

"--portends and becomes--"

"--as paints upon a canvas--"

"--as rays illume from the sky--"

"Alright?"

"S'alright, dear!"

"Hold me," Siouxie, still halfway between herself and her 'other' self, said. "My hand. Hold my hand."

Their fingers intertwined. They then returned to the village of Riverwood. Without saying so, each decided that no discussion about their experience would occur, at least not now. Each was eager to return to her usual self.



Mid afternoon

"Ah, was beginning to wonder'f we should commisshion a search party," Rokkr Van Hagar slurred half-drunk upon their arrival.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Lady Balion managed to convince Lady Donnaugh into one final bout of roguery. As the pair of Heartlanders finally treated themselves to lunch, and the subject of money came up, and how the party was just beginning to realize their budget would soon wane thin, Siouxie snapped her fingers.

"I know us a way we c'n earn us some coin," she whispered conspiratorially. "Time to go for a delve, 'prima."

Oh goodness, what now? "A delve?"

"The locals, they want some brave souls to take care of a... little embarrassing problem," Siouxie said slyly, showing her gullible mate the pamphlet Delphine the innkeeper had passed along the day before. "They're rabbles, they're scum, and the good peoples of Riverwood wish their eradication."

Which was how Laprima Anne Donnaugh found herself tagging along with Siouxie "Banshee" Balion into the nearby depths of Embershard Mine. What a bizarre day.

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

"You enter first, Balion!"

"With glee."

"We have arrived!"

Phantasmic Viewing

Her brother's flute?

Quest Update

I'm not going to write it up, but here are a few pictures of Laprima's first dungeon dive. Really I've been itching to do some delving with my archer for ages! Turns out, she's OP. Most of the NPCs she successfully shot became instakills as long as she was sneaking. Perhaps it's because she's Level 5 in Embershard Mine, which is one of the easier lairs.

Sneaky Laprima (I lost count of how many Sneak level-ups she gained in Embershard.)

"What was that?"

Loosing an arrow

Banshee bedazzles!

Sure Shot -- (notice the magical effect. Siouxie always hits my t00n with a bit of magic when combat occurs, perhaps it's a Rally spell...)

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

So ‘Prima and the Banshee discover how Mysterious Manor reads one’s thoughts and conjures appropriately. Where dreams come true it seems. Sort of. This was wonderfully written as you revealed things. I wonder if we’ve seen the last of that house?

Uh-oh. Adventuresses with light coin purses? We know the cure for that – accept a local delve-diving quest!

I hope Elisef’s reinforcements arrive before Laprima’s current guards drink the tavern dry!

Nice screenshots at the end there.

I am delighted that you chose to use my Crow Home mod as the physical prop for this part of the story, as well as the sanctum in January's Witch House as inspiration for its reality-bending properties. Reading this is like finding an unexpected preset.

So Siouxie is the chaotic one, giving in to her impulses, while Laprima is clearly lawful, as she counsels caution in entering a clearly strange and ensorcelled abode. If this was a horror story, I would not expect to see either of them emerge alive. But your stories are usually more hopeful than that.

I am almost disappointed that there was not a tall, blond zombie who opened the door and said "You rang?".

I like that there is nothing overtly frightening or even disturbing about the house, at least on the surface. But Laprima's astute observation that it is all too neat and perfect is creepy in its own right. It is like the house is a showpiece that was prepared for them, rather than a place someone actually lives in.

her thoughts twisted like a skeever trapped in a barrel for several seconds or so
That is a wonderful turn of phrase.

So after that Lovecraftian Dreamlands expedition into the Crow Home, reality sets in once more. The reality of paying for the bill that is. But one thing you can always count on in Tamriel, is that an empty coin purse can always be filled by a visit to a nearby bandit lair. Time to go digging for bad guys!

This story is getting better and better with each sequel.

So the house makes one see / relive experiences that one wants to experience. It's almost like granting a wish in a way. A medium of sort. Very interesting.

Is that a frost atronach outside the manor?

Nice screenies - the blur effect adds to the mood.

What a delightfully spooky experience! I can't wait to see what happens next with that manor!

Such a lovely house when it decides to show itself as such. A living house, I wouldn’t call it haunted just yet, this is intriguing.

[quote name='Acadian' post='360689']

Thanks much. It's loosely based on the room in the Crow House in Michigan, the magical room where all those bends of reality take place.

Those last three chapters took a lot of extra effort. Not Creation Kit stuff necessarily, just four or five drafts each, trying to get all the details. I feel they're a bit rushed, but otherwise am pleased.

I also feel like the delve into Embershard broke some sort of personal creed LPD has held for many years, in the sense that she wasn't raised a fighter, and it's not really explained well what changed her mind to become one. "Siouxie convinces her", that's all. The reader can fill some blanks if there are any, I guess.

Alright (deep breath...)


[quote name='SubRosa' post='360703' date='Mar 24 2025, 03:39 PM']


Awesome! What a relief. *pours a drink of cola*


So Siouxie is the chaotic one, giving in to her impulses, while Laprima is clearly lawful, as she counsels caution in entering a clearly strange and ensorcelled abode. If this was a horror story, I would not expect to see either of them emerge alive. But your stories are usually more hopeful than that.

I'm not thinking of those last three chapters as horror stories, unless the person entering the property is thinking horrifying things. As you're seeing, the house in this situation is in some sort of warp of reality.

It's like Vegas: whatever's on the other side, stays on the other side!


I like that there is nothing overtly frightening or even disturbing about the house, at least on the surface. But Laprima's astute observation that it is all too neat and perfect is creepy in its own right. It is like the house is a showpiece that was prepared for them, rather than a place someone actually lives in.

Yes exactly. Those were my impressions from my gal as she walked in, that everything seems "arranged". As I said to Acadian, I tried to base some of the above on Jan's home in Michigan, specifically that one room.. Can't remember its name, but you know the one.

Now... Where's that Stormcrow? And Branwyn? And Gadget and Silverlight and Calypso and Lighthammer! And even Hannah, that backstabbing .... brioche.


[quote name='Lopov' post='360708' date='Mar 25 2025, 02:57 AM']

So the house makes one see / relive experiences that one wants to experience. It's almost like granting a wish in a way. A medium of sort. Very interesting.[/quote]

Yes, there's some sort of mirroring effect. We all have our own personal realities in life, we create everything which happens to us, some say, even bad the stuff, as lessons and challenges. Problem is, we can't really see what's on the other side. Everything we do in life, we're just guessing. Nobody really freaking knows what's really going on.

Yes, there was a rabid elk on the property (which I didn't write up) which Siouxie pwned. She went overkill as you can see, summoning that huge Frost Atronach.

Graci.


[quote name='Kane' post='360756' date='Mar 27 2025, 12:37 PM']

@Kane: Ooh, you'll probably see more of it in the future, thanks Kane. This story's gonna get sort of even more crazy. And as usual, I hope to be able to portray all that I can through Creation Kit madness.


[quote name='macole' post='360772' date='Mar 28 2025, 03:53 PM']
Such a lovely house when it decides to show itself as such. A living house, I wouldn’t call it haunted just yet, this is intriguing.
[/quote]

Aw, thanks macole. Indeed, I wouldn't call it haunted either. Are you familiar with Seth? As in Seth Speaks? That's where I'm at..

I've got a couple new readers who aren't here at Chorrol and so this RECAP is mostly for them.


RECAP: The Civil War is happening. Whiterun has been captured by Stormlcloaks. Jarl Elisif (and reluctantly, General Tullius) are trying to reclaim Whiterun Hold, which is where Laprima Donnaugh (LPD) came into the picture. She became Elisif's traveling ambassador. Because LPD has witnessed courtside action many times while growing up down in Cyrodiil, so she knows how things are done.

Last season: Laprima and her party traveled from Solitude to Rorikstead, where they were able to convince Rorik himself to accept a contingent of Imperial troops to stay in Rorikstead, possibly deflecting the rebels from just taking the place in the future. In the game this means I've added a few soldiers in Rorikstead (in the CK), and given them tents to stay in, etc. Thing is, even though this story is somewhat fictional; I'm not actually doing the CW with Laprima, there's still the possibility that Stormies could show up near Rorikstead (and in large numbers) due to Immersive Patrols.

Current season: Her next task shall be to convince Falkreath's Jarl Siddgeir to allow extra troops as well, rather than fold under Ulfric's umbrella. Laprima's party was on their way to Falkreath, but became sidetracked. Due to forces unseen, LPD and the soldiers she's traveling with unknowingly found themselves taking the longer route to Riverwood first. Because of this, they're now behind schedule!

In real-time terms however, when I did Civil War with my Dovahkiin Sir Vyvoor on the Stormies side, and Claire Voyance on the Imperial's side, both of these characters were in no hurry to get the battles done. I'm a slow gamer. I like taking my time, exploring the world, etc. Vyvoor and Voyance were doing plenty other quests along the way, including the Main Quest for Vyvoor. Wars in real life can last years. So, LPD doesn't know it, but she's got plenty of time to get to Falkreath and attempt to perform her persuasions on Siddgeir.

At this point in the Civil War, the battle of Fort Dunstad (Dawnstar's hold) is going on now, and after this comes Fort Sungard (Markath). Nowhere near Falkreath.

.
________________

.Helgen, Razed

________________


Tirdas, 30th of Sun's Dusk, late morning

By the time they exited Embershard Mine, Laprima and Siouxie were surprised to learn an entire new day had started, and in fact it was nearly noon! Overnight, the recruitments had shown up; four extra guards, which caused the Sleeping Giant to feel actually crowded. But nobody wanted to go anywhere just yet. Instead they spent the rest of Tirdas preparing for the journey ahead.

The Sleeping Giant just happened to have an alchemy table. Laprima and her virtual sister spent several hours brewing foul- and pretty-smelling potions and poisons. Funny how spell-casting was frowned upon by Delphine and Orgnar, but anyone trained at the table could publicly concoct whatever deadly or draining infusions they wanted, alongside healing or fortifying buffs. Some of their brews were sold to the Riverwood Trader, adding several hundred gold to the party. What a relief!

Middas, it was time to go.







The party now consisted of the three initial warriors: Pierre Draper, Rokkr "Red" Van Hagar, and Tårn. One conjurer, who also specialized in Illusion and Destruction magic (Siouxie Balion), an apprentice archer (Laprima herself), and the four additional troopers: three men and one woman. Like the party's original soldiers, all four reinforcements were garbed in Empire's armor. Boiled leather mostly, exactly the uniform Tårn was wearing. All four carried some combination of hand weapons and sometimes shields.

The party broke the night's fast in the Sleeping Giant for a few minutes: bread, cheese, meat, milk... Laprima barely had time to introduce herself to the newcomers before everyone shoved off, walking at a brisk pace. They left the inn, made a sharp left, and strode to the east, past a couple small farms.

"You're new around here," an ornery lad taunted the soldiers, "so I'll go easy on ya, but don't get on my bad side."

"Don't listen to him!" the kid's sister spoke. "Little punk needs a good whoopin!"

Now that she was literally surrounded by a larger entourage, Laprima realized it'd be prudent to not be getting involved when combat occurs. Elisif's idea, no doubt. Which seemed straight from a noble's textbook on the rules of sojourning: IF you've got to travel, stay within the pack! The roads are not always safe. Ye shalt witness sightings, you see: the Daedra. And the bandits. And the draugr. And wisps and wolves. Stay within the pack, traveller. Your protection is what they're being paid for, Lady Donnaugh imagined this book would suggest.

But there were more reasons to avoid combat than those dictated by classism. Solitude's message must be broadcast! - The Empire's message needs to be heard, and the first step is for her to arrive alive in the first place but...

-- But there's no way she's giving up her bow. Or her magical Staff of Fireballs. She'll use these weapons in more of a defensive manner perhaps, but only if she has to. No more 'honing of archery skills' along the way, firing into the fray, especially. Only if some enemy singles her out as they head to Falkreath, and all seven guards are already engaged should she finally resort to weaponry.

But let's also consider: the worst thing would be if her neophyte self aims at some marauder perhaps, looses an arrow, only to later learn she'd shot one of the soldiers.


Mid-morning






The sky was clear, the sun cooperating for once. A little chilly, but as they marched any coolness was displaced by their own vigor.

They climbed the path through foothills of the Throat of the World mountain, which twisted several times this way and that, but wasn't too steep. Pierre gave Laprima and Siouxie some taffy, which, he suggested, could help ward off lightheadedness caused by the higher altitudes they'd eventually attain. But the climb wasn't so bad. Both women had ascended the Cyrodiil road from Sercen to Bruma at points in the past, which had a much steeper grade.

The ambassador tried to 'ambassadorize' her way into her new guards' graces as they walked, gabbing a bit about this and that, 'from where do you hail?' and so on, but they didn't have much to say. All four had seen hardship and war already; all four had survived a few skirmishes against the Stormcloaks, or had beaten down some bandits, or they'd become more battle-hardened than usual in some ways. They'd been looking forward to settling into Rorikstead perhaps, where they might've been able to recuperate in peaceful territory, but instead they'd been called to assist this "relative of Jarl Elisif". Back on the road, back on their feet. Whether they were individually accepting or begrudged about this, Laprima couldn't tell.

So she chatted instead with Siouxie and the original guards a bit, attempting to keep everyone's spirits high with banal topics until finally...

"Laprima! Dear. Why do we not discuss our foray into Embershard?" Siouxie broke the story.

"Embershard?!" The soldiers had no idea! "As in Embershard Mine?"

Indeed, there was plenty to say on this subject! All seven guards (Tårn included, picking up words here and there) wanted to hear about Lady Donnaugh's first lair-delving experience.

"Oh, the way she stalked those menacing ruffians!" Siouxie enthused, her voice a sort of snarl. "Grasping her bow, selecting a missile from her quiver, all the while..."

"Uch. Do not be so dramatic, Balion!" Laprima rolled her eyes, but was unable to hide a grin. "This woman embellishes, she does. 'Twasn't as dramatic as she's making..."

Siouxie ignored her, of course. And everyone was ready for a good tale. "Down she hunched upon her haunches, step-toed from one rafter to the next! Our Lady Donnaugh, so familiar with beauteous things and raised by servants..."

"Was NOT 'raised' by servants! Oh goodness, how this woman lies!"

"...which involved NO miscreant-hunting forged forward within subterranean dwellings! Our lady, unknowingly a natural at the hunt, keeping to the sidelines and edges! Picking her targets with deft maneuvers until TWIP! went her bowstring!"

Laprima sighed.

"And the first knave went down! -- WOOMPH!-- As did several others, the impact of each arrow causing them to fall to the wayside like ragdolls!"

"Stop this tall storytelling," Lady Donnaugh murmured, embarrassed, while all seven attendants looked toward their protectee with a bit of pride. "She embellishes, she does. I was frightened as a mouse."

"Frightened, huh?" Red laughed. "Yet you're fixing to collect that bounty once we arrive in Falkreath!" Then everyone laughed.

"Aye, the zealousness of this dame!" Siouxie continued. "I tell ya, if it weren't for my urging to leave some adversaries for me, she would've taken them all down herself!"

"Goodness! We've got a regular markswoman in our midst!" Draper raved, causing everyone to cheer and applaud as they walked. So therefore, Laprima's original goal of boosted morale amongst the troops became true. Due to Siouxie's spilling a somewhat-fabricated tale of novice bravery, the entire party became more focused.







Eight hours later and many miles traveled, they arrived in Helgen, which is where they would stay for the night. The day's westernward shadows were getting long.

Helgen indeed had been razed by a dragon it seemed, or at least, something very massive had attacked the place, but from above, not upon land. Even though the whole talk of "dragon attacks!" was still entirely rumors amongst the party (none of them had witnessed one yet) the evidence that something huge had burned the town's wooden walls and roofs was evident. Buildings made partially of timber so sturdy they could've lasted a hundred more years, blasted apart like matchsticks; yet in most cases their stone walls and foundations survived.

But now there was a new threat here: Helgen had been taken over by bandits! Rogues and ruffians, similar to the sorts Laprima and Siouxie had encountered in Embershard: undernourished weaklings trying to establish a location to thrive, and a place they could use to ambush. Because of this, they did not stand a chance against the properly-trained, better-armored squadron which rushed against them.

After Laprima picked the cheaply-fastened lock holding Helgen's north gate, and a couple hooligans in ratty armor came running to see what's the fuss, they didn't last long when faced by the company of Laprima's guard detail. Truthfully it was their own fault. Sargent Pierre Draper had given them fair warning...

"Halt!" Draper called. "We come in peace, and are not here to attack. We only wish to--" spend the night within these walls, we can even provide some coin... he meant to say, but didn't get the chance. Which was unfortunate for Helgen's aggressive residents.

"Thought I heard something...."
"Well ain't this a surprise!" one of them grinned maliciously.
"I AM CHIEF HUNTER!"

They said these things before realizing how outnumbered they were.

"I'll lay flowers on your mothers' graves!" Banshee shrieked.

These initial bandits were cut down in mere seconds by multiple swords and axes, as well one of Siouxie's ice spells. Laprima, despite her previous reluctance to engage, couldn't help but nock an arrow into her longbow's shelf just in case.

Several minutes later, after a couple waves of additional bandits and highwaymen residing deeper in the town's half-destroyed buildings heard the ruckus and made their own attempts to subdue the newcomers, Helgen's ownership swapped hands. Victory, once again! The soldiers mostly entered Helgen Keep itself, a stone fortification which had survived the supposed dragon attack entirely. In here were multiple unused beds for the night; ah, the spoils of the battle.

Everyone feasted and picked their places of rest. Conversations caught and died amongst the soldiers.

Siouxie and Laprima went deeper into the keep, where they finally had some time to discuss the events from two days ago. One facet of interest occurred when Laprima described the house they'd traipsed into as being "filled with tarts, fruit, and pastries, as well as books and potions." Siouxie had seen no such items.

And what of this flute? Unlike all the other things one had witnessed but not the other, the golden flute was still within Laprima's rucksack. Err, in her hands, actually.

"Could it really be this instrument belonged to Elija?"

Neither of them seemed entirely sure. Now that the excitement of the flute's discovery had passed, the fact it'd really once been his seemed, well... hmm.

Laprima also wanted to know what happened to Siouxie at the Synod. "You mentioned enlistment, or some such until I rudely interrupted."

"I was not entirely honest," Siouxie reiterated, her face a bit stony.

"And what were you saying to the old matron in the house?"

Siouxie sighed. Then she told her friend everything. Most of it, anyhow. "I became involved within a sort of deal," she began...



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

Gothic Sisters

Shoving off in Riverwood

Lopov'd between Draper (left) and Van Hagar (right) -- These guys wear random outfits; sometimes they've got helmets on, sometimes they're bare-headed.

Party of Nine

Dragons?

Laprima's one shot


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

Notes: I didn't write it up, but during gameplay the Madwoman showed up and began following Laprima. She began rambling a bunch of nonsense: "Don't go to the Blue Palace. The master is on vacation! Don't listen to Dervenin. Don't do it," and so on. I have never ever seen the Madwoman before and had to confirm she's vanilla by visiting UESP. Apparently, she's part of some quest LPD is not involved with. *shrug*

I have a feeling that Laprima quite enjoyed the compliments she got from Siouxie about their adventure in the Embershard mine.

Helgen might have been take over by self-proclaimed chief hunters but they were no match for the ambassador and her party.

Siouxie the florist!

The party of Nine as the Nine Divines? A mere coincidence...or not?

Well, there's one chief hunter in the air above Helgen.

The horse in the last pic has a nice color.

EDIT: I've encountered the Madwoman frequently in my travels. She hints at a quest in Solitude indeed.

Filling up those coin purses via alchemy was a wise move.

With four more guards and a Banshee, Ambassador Laprima’s party has grown!

I chuckled at Laprima’s sound reasoning about more prudence in combat with her larger group. Yup, her survival is Job #1 and a larger party makes it harder to avoid friendly fire. The reason I chuckled is I knew her more prudent course would not survive the first battle.

Siouxie the bard-mage broke the ice with the new guards when Ambassador posh lady could not.

Aww, the Helgen aftermath. A sad story. Happily, the bloodthirsty bandits within were no match for the crew with Laprima. Fortunate for the next travelers to approach Helgen I should think. And they are rewarded by real beds!

Uh-oh, Siouxie reveals she has made some sort of a deal. . . . Let us hope it is not with a Daedric Prince. Or if so, at least with one of the more benign ones such as Azura. Hopefully it is a less ominous revelation such as being booted from the Synod for being. . . well, a banshee.

Oh, boy. So miss Siouxie has been holding back! Something tells me Laprima will not be happy about that!

It is a good observation that while Nords have an aversion to sorcery, they have no qualms about alchemy. In the real world some societies had similar aversions. For example, the real world Norse felt magic was cowardly, because you could use it to slay from a distance, where one's enemy could not strike back. Similar beliefs often extended to archery, and often European knights disparaged archers because any simple low-born peasant could likewise strike down an aristocratic knight (i.e. a special boy - his rich mommy and daddy told him so) from a distance. It is like guns are today. You don't need to have been born big and muscular, or spent years training in a forbidden Shaolin temple, to kill someone. All you have to do is squeeze a trigger. It is democratized violence, by the people and for the people, something the upper classes always loathe.

So Laprima now has a small army with her as she tromps through Skyrim's countryside. I don't think wolves are going to be a problem now! Not that they were much of one before.

If only the NPC companions possessed the same trigger discipline that Laprima does, and hesitated before firing into a melee. My characters would find a lot fewer arrows in their backsides.

Siouxie embellishes the story like a bard. You would think that she was the lead singer in a goth band! In any case, it looks like her Bardic Song had the desired effect, and imparted a +1d6 bonus to all the party member's die rolls in the near future.

So Laprima of Angmar led her Nine Ring Wraiths into Helgen and laid its defenders in the dust. Oh wait, Laprima of Rivendell led her Fellowship of the Flute into Helgen and liberated it from the clutches of its evil overlords.

Uh oh, what kind of deal? I'll just have to wait until next time.

Yes, it's been over fifty years but while trying to get a glimpse of infinity in those days I became familiar with Jane Roberts' books.

Hola amigas y amigos, today's story's gonna be a shortie. I estimate there are four chapters left.

Yes?

I have a feeling that Laprima quite enjoyed the compliments she got from Siouxie about their adventure in the Embershard mine.

Me too. There's that 'aw shucks' feeling going on. Even self-proclaimed CHIEF HUNTERS are on her list, suddenly.

Party of Nine not a coincidence. Although LPD isn't religious, she was raised in Cyrodiil. She'd be hearing about "The Eight" during portions of her life. On the subject of Talos she hasn't got an opinion one way of the other. Still, that's something I didn't notice.

Well, there's one chief hunter in the air above Helgen

Oh yes! I should've maybe worked the opening dragon into the story, but am too busy. So the dragon flew over LPD's party without a word. FOR A MOMENT there, I was mentally like "oh s***", you know... I thought that dragon was random, and all the sudden was preparing for this huge, epic battle, casualties occurring perhaps...

But that's merely the opening-game dragon, which still exists due to Live Another Life. If we use this alternate start it won't cancel some of the opening events. So the dragon flew out of Helgen, flew north over BFB, etc.


Hello sir, got a question?

Filling up those coin purses via alchemy was a wise move.

Oh yeah, Alchemy to the monetary rescue. 🍾 They made more money (way more) from brewing up useless crap than raiding Embershard Mine! Fortify Pickpocket?? Well, useless to my gal anyway.

Funny thing. Now that she's got more of an entourage, there were hardly any encounters at all.

The reason I chuckled is I knew her more prudent course would not survive the first battle.



"Rewarded by real beds...." I've tried and tried. Toggled the "Can't Rest" flag for Helgen Keep OFF in the Creation Kit. Still it says "You cannot rest at this time" in the game whenever they try to sleep. So their rest is roleplay-pretend material. Instead, I put several bedrolls into the exterior portions of Helgen.

Uh-oh, Siouxie reveals she has made some sort of a deal. . . . Let us hope it is not with a Daedric Prince.




Yes, you sir, with the Homestar Runner icon on your shirt (Well not Homestar himself, maybe someone from that series?).

So miss Siouxie has been holding back! Something tells me Laprima will not be happy about that!

Indeed, seems her answer to my character's question ain't going anywhere wonderful. Then again, it's hard to say. Laprima's still very curious about why she's here in Skyrim in the first place. This entire story started due to a dream she had, for instance. So in a way, it's like she'll take any answer she'll get from those who are in contact with unseen forces, or the "spirit world", and so on.

Sorry if I've asked this before but IS that a character from Homestar Runner?


Yes, you, in the Nehru jacket? Think I've seen you before.

Yes, it's been over fifty years but while trying to get a glimpse of infinity in those days I became familiar with Jane Roberts' books.

Yes, yes yes! Whether we believe in that sort of thing or not (and for most people, the answer is "not"), the material from her trances are the closest thing to what I believe actually occurs. Basically, not just one reality, but as many as can be fathomed. And the very first reality beyond ours is quite pliable. Hence, why some folks see Jesus or St. Stephens or Buddha, others see a devil on the other side. It explains why our dreams are so messed up.

I need a drink. Too early. A smoke? Nah, not yet. Oooh, coffee!


Yes? You in the now-authenticized Stormcrow shirt?

It is a good observation that while Nords have an aversion to sorcery, they have no qualms about alchemy. In the real world some societies had similar aversions.

Probably because alchemy (or attempts at alchemy) is derived from sources which grew from the ground. Whereas sorcery comes from who knows what or whom?

Indeed, the Norse method is how I view guns. Sort of cowardly. Someone can just stand across a room and aim a gun (not even a real gun, or a loaded gun) and all the sudden they're in control. Didn't know that about archery, but it makes sense. Especially if there's an entire group of archers (peasants or otherwise) firing at an upward angle, not even aiming.

"It is like guns today!" Yes!

o Laprima now has a small army with her as she tromps through Skyrim's countryside. I don't think wolves are going to be a problem now

They aren't. 🐺 In fact they did encounter a group of wolves as well as a couple of spriggan. Wasn't even worth writing up, as I'm trying to remain focused on main events of the story. C'mon, where are you Stormies?

Indeed, seems you've noticed the two arrows nearly fired into Laprima's hips! Yeah, that's another reason for her to hold back....

In any case, it looks like her Bardic Song had the desired effect, and imparted a +1d6 bonus to all the party member's die rolls in the near future.

.
____________

.The Pact

____________


Last week: "You mentioned enlistment, or some such until I rudely interrupted."

"I was not entirely honest," Siouxie replied, her face a bit stony.

"And what were you saying to the old matron in the house?"

Siouxie sighed. Then she told her friend everything. Most of it, anyhow. "I became involved within a sort of deal," she began...



Tirdas, 30th of Sun’s Dusk, late evening


"What sort of deal?"

Laprima asked the questions, but it would be close to an hour before she got some answers. And the answers themselves only raised more questions. Because one thing about Siouxie "Banshee" Balion? The woman loved her talkative tangents.

"I do suspect we both have knowledge regarding the terms upon which this deal has come to fruition, hmm?" she countered Laprima's question with a question of her own.

When Laprima seemed puzzled, Siouxie clarified: "You have had the dreams too, Donnaugh. Directives laid before you. And have found thyself heeding these directives, thusly. Let us not romp into capers regarding this topic, this is so. Is why we both forged to Skyrim," she said softly. "And why the both of us arrived so closely in days, within Riverwood."

Laprima and Siouxie were sitting in a scullery of sorts, an underground room deep in Helgen Keep where food was prepared and consumed. Garlic braids and elves ear leaves hanging from walls, the hearth already burning with embers. Really a nice, warm place to spend the night, but they'd had to ambush a second group of bandits to claim it! Which they'd done without the help of the soldiers. Finally settled, the conversation, the things they'd been independently mulling these past two days within their heads, were addressed. Sort of.

"Regard this, dear," Siouxie said, tapping the table she was sitting upon three times. "Regard the dreams you have been having at night. Regard the fact that you've also been culled to Skyrim by facts beyond your intendance."

Laprima's first thought was to protest: No! I came to Skyrim at the request of Chamany! As he had just accepted the very first merchant's employment of his career, an enormous shipment of [tea!] from Bravil to Skyrim, and who was I to dissuade him? We'd planned to soon commence our courtship toward marriage, anyhow! -- But had that been the absolute truth, in light of everything which had occurred these past weeks and months? Couldn't their wedding have been postponed to occur under Cyrodiil's sunnier weather, especially after Chamany was done dealing in the northern province and returned to the city?

Laprima knew her friend very well. Laprima knew the reasons that she, herself, had moved to Solitude, never questioned in her mind so far (other than; had these reasons caused the right decision?), would probably be labeled excuses in front of Siouxie Balion's steady gaze. So she said nothing at first.

Laprima's second thought had to do with her crimes. -- Reily, her stodgy father, had laid his foot down regarding the Attempts at Burglary charge she'd incurred from breaking into the Red Diamond after hours. Any more arrests, and she'd be legally disowned. Blight of the family. Her eventual response had been to flee the city, more or less, chasing after her beau. But had all that been a bit too convenient, considering her situation now?

Let's also include Sybille Stentor's efforts at scrying. And the list of things the Blue Palace's court wizard had known about Laprima from the very first day they'd met. She'd known Laprima had been in charge of overwatching the smuggling operation, getting it safely to Solitude's dock for instance, and the enormous amount of money she and Chamany had earned! The wizard also, somehow, knew details about her brother, details Laprima had kept secret for over a decade. Most of all, Stentor claimed Elija is alive, somewhere right here in Skyrim. How could the vampiric wizard even know Elija's name?

My how all these notions and evidences keep piling up.

They began sharing a bottle of wine which'd been found unopened upon a table. Popped the cork and passed it back and forth, just like the old days. The wine was smooth, probably aged by some top vintner, but also incredibly spiked. Before long, Laprima realized she was halfway drunk! Siouxie seemed so as well. Siouxie laid on her back, right on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling, sconces of fire shifting shadows every which way. Laprima sat cross-legged on a rug near her friend, feeling woozier with every gulp.






She glanced at the stark-faced woman lying next to her and struggled to admit Siouxie was right. Laprima and her fiancé were due to be wed when Chamany got sidetracked by employment which led him to another province. She was ashamed about the crimes she'd committed, and needed a fresh start. Both of these were good reasons for relocation, but her ultimate decision to come to Skyrim had been inspired by a dream!

...And that's when she noticed the man with the dog.
...He stood off to the side of the meadow, nearer to the woods.
...He stood in shadow. He wore a jerkin of white and black. He beckoned to her.

How long could she keep this a secret?

Gain thyself a grasp! she found herself thinking. This conversation is supposed to be about Lady Balion!

"Let us return to my original questions," she said, voice not slurring quite yet. "In regards to your exit from the Synod that is. And what was spoken to the matron within the manor."

"And my questions to you about the dreams shall lead to that," Siouxie countered. "Shall I need to be more specific when revealing these matters to her?" she queried, referring to Laprima in Third Person. "That I shall lead her hand toward what she already knows as truth?"

Laprima was on the verge of finally admitting her dreams (as always, the Gothic lying on the floor always won these diatribes), but Siouxie spoke first.

"Oh fuddles. 'What sort of deal?'" she mimicked Laprima's opening question. "Well here it is.

"I was offered knowledge of a great many magical talents at once, months if not years of apprenticeship, if I were to heed the simple request to join you here in Skyrim, however," she paused. "To make this happen, I needed to abandon my studies at The Synod, the way you abandoned the architectural studies of which you were so fond."

"Rghhh..." Laprima responded nervously, her windpipe a bit garbled. Cleared her throat and tried again. "Right. Carry on."

But once again, Lady Balion sidestepped. "The matter at hand requires our immediate attention, lest dire consequences befall us," she replied, yet another tangent. When Laprima could think of nothing to say to this bizarre statement Siouxie elaborated: "The woman, the matron, she disclosed what shall occur."

"And what did she say?" Laprima asked carefully, hoping her voice wouldn't betray, reluctant to admit she'd already witnessed Siouxie speaking in a tongue, perhaps an actual language, into the air where the supposed matron had been standing.

"That is, the things in life of which Laprima yearns for shall be attained. The things of which Siouxie once grasped for, have already been attained. Most of them, anyhow. Fundamental truths, sprouted from yore. To gain them however, one must engage a pact. A sort of deal."

"She said these things?" Laprima shivered.

"And this includes Laprima Anne Donnaugh..."

Siouxie stood. Arranged herself on the floor, feet planted in an obvious stance. Produced something from an unseen pocket in her robe, apparently a tiny daggar or a shiv, and cut into her wrist.

"Beidh gach rud le feiceáil i Falkreath!" Siouxie's voice rose, ('All shall be revealed!'). She did not wince as the trickle of blood began to drip from her fingers, spattering on the floor. "The notions in life she hast yearned shalt become attained. Might it be that she prepares to attain these notions?"

Siouxie's eyes became icy and distant, lost in another world. Staring right through the woman before her, the woman who she'd attended classes with and who'd been her premier mate for many years, as if she wasn't entirely there. Were the words she'd spoken (her supposed 'answer' to Laprima's questions) a matter of deviance, of aberrance, of the grotesque? Laprima found herself wanting to protest what Siouxie Balion was saying and the actions she was performing. For these things were not true answers! Had nothing to do with dreams or the Synod or matrons in old houses. A pact?

She wanted to object, wanted to laugh it off, allowing the alcohol they'd both consumed to be the reason for this mad behavior. Little did she realize she was already too far involved.

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

"All shall be revealed in Falkreath..."

What a creepy pic at the end.

Another cliff-hanger, this story is, and I don't believe anymore that everything will be revealed in Falkreath.

It seems like Laprima and Siouxie are merely figurines on a chess board...

Very spooky and foreboding stuff as the two ladies word dance. It seems their paths are linked but we don’t know yet what that means.

A pact, but with whom (or what)? Siouxie spilling her own blood on the floor hardly conjures benevolent images.

Siouxie reminds me of Grandpa Simpson, in the way he wanders off topic "First I tied an onion around my belt, as was the style at the time... Then..."

Ah yes, that enormous shipment of {tea} that Chamany brought in with Laprima.

A man with at dog? That sounds ominous, given what I know about a certain Daedric Lord who is known to have a canine sidekick/alter ego.

This is all ominous. A hidden hand has been playing Laprima and Siouxie like puppets, and to what end?

Lopov: Yes, creepy picture in the link. The animation mod I use has a "slit wrist" option, which works but only provides the animation, not the final result. Anyway, that's where the idea came from.

Ha! That's a good way to put it, figurines on a chess board, especially my character. Siouxie has more free will in all this I guess.


Acadian: I also don't know what the pact is, not quite yet. As before in other stories, I get insights about this stuff as the story goes along. For instance, I didn't know why Chamany wanted her to steal from Angeline's alchemy shop until maybe a chapter before. Maybe Siouxie will reveal her side, or maybe her motivations shall be shrouded in mystery.

Thanks, paladin.


SubRosa: The Simpsons, such a fun show. All due to a side show on Tracey Ullman. Grandma Simpson sounds like my mom these days.

The Daedric Lord commonly associated with dogs, very astute. Frequently you've got a finger on the pulse of stories, as far as foreshadowing goes.

It is ominous. That's a good adjective. Creepy, ominous. I'm glad I'm not in my character's shoes.


All: There's been a problem in my game all the sudden (wouldn't ya know it? Hey, this is Skyrim). Worldspace won't load on cell exit. The menu shows up, and I can twirl whatever object appears on screen. No idea how to solve this, but I suspect it has something to do with Live Another Life, which messes around with starting game events and such. Anyway, what this means is no pictures this week. They're still stuck in Helgen Keep, dangit.

I had this bug too and it wasn't related to any mod. Try loading up a save of another character (that works) and THEN load the latest Laprima's save directly from the game (not from the main /opening menu). I think that's how it was resolved in my game.

I mean, maybe it was mod-related but that's what solved it for me. I had it happen randomly in some game (don't recall anymore, from which character it was). The issue kicked in at random times.

.
____________

.Falkreath

____________


The eccentric escapade between Laprima and Banshee could've continued many minutes more, but was interrupted by Tårn and a couple of the reinforcement soldiers, who'd apparently decided to explore the keep as well.

"Oh, hullo!"
"Cheers to find ya here..."
Tårn said nothing, but performed a completely unnecessary bow.

The three came bustling into the room, surprised at the sight of the two Heartlanders. Upon viewing the soldiers, Banshee was quickly gone! :: Siouxie returned, looking a bit bashful and morose, as though unsure and ashamed. As though caught. -- She gave Laprima a rather apologetic look, then twisted away from the newcomers, hiding her bloodied wrist. Grabbed a linen from a nearby table and wrapped it tightly around her lower arm. Cast a healing spell (perhaps) to restore torn flesh. Though there was a prodigious amount of blood on the floor next to her, this didn't draw much attention. Plenty of red in other spots around the room as well, due to recently fallen bandits here and there.

Laprima excused herself.

"Laprima, please! Might I beg forgiveness?!" Siouxie pleaded. She seemed surprised, as whatever thoughts within her mind slipped away. Surprised her wrist was bleeding, although obviously it seemed she knew what she'd just done, Banshee or not.

"On the morrow, perhaps," Laprima replied coolly, relieved the conversation with the raven-haired maniac would further no more. "I must attend now to respite."

Tårn and the soldiers exchanged puzzled glances as Lady Donnaugh swiftly strode toward the scullery's entryway, walking past without addressing them. Lady Balion appeared distraught. Something distressing had occurred between the two aristocrats, and the soldiers apparently just missed it.

Laprima herself was glad for the intrusion. Draper and Red determined the party would make it to Falkreath the very next day. As the official ambassador, this meant she would need plenty of rest, not any more nonsense. But how was she to fall asleep, with disturbing images and thoughts now roiling within her mind? Maybe the wine she'd consumed might aid in her sleep. If not, a night of insomnia was surely ahead.

"Thanks to you, Banshee," she muttered as she climbed the stairs and entered the initial room where everyone would stay for the night. She flopped upon an unused bed, hoping nobody would try to cajole her with drink or whatever. But everyone else was either asleep, or headed that way. "Imagine, stumbling and bumbling by my own hand it'll seem, before the court of Falkreath, all due to thy words of wickedness. Banshee!"

Fortunately, the maniac knew her friend would need the rest of her night distraction-free so she could plan and focus for the upcoming meeting with the jarl, and so did the three soldiers still milling about. Everyone allowed Laprima space. The things Banshee had said were also so ludicrous, they became surprisingly easy for Laprima to compartmentalize and temporarily forget. Laprima fell asleep rather quickly, and her sleep was divine.


. Middas, 1st of Evening Star, Fourth Era Year 201


The next morning as the party marched to town, all seven soldiers were in good spirits. The maniac mage was unusually quiet, staying at the rear of the pack. Which was grand. This meant Lady Donnaugh had more time for herself. She began ruminating on what was to come.

Upon approaching Falkreath's outer boundary, Laprima spotted a dog standing a couple dozen yards by the side of the road. Which caught her eye. She stopped, gazing at the animal. A couple of the soldiers called to it, but the dog remained where it was. "Ach, just a mangy mutt," Draper decided, before moving on. Everyone in the party moved along with him. Laprima stayed where she was a moment thinking that dog... until Tårn literally pushed her from behind.

"Move, lady!" the Nordic said, a bit of joke in her voice. Indeed, maybe it would be best to just keep moving. And ruminating upon what was to come.

The world of the Tamrielic leaders was a small one, in terms of overall population. Whether we are discussing the jarls of Skyrim, the counts and countesses of Cyrodiil, or the kings, queens, and emperors of both provinces, we're talking of less than fifty people involved in top leadership at any one time during the Fourth Era. An exclusive bunch, yet quite a diverse set of personalities.

Let's discuss authoritative styles.

Not everyone ruled their courts and citizens in a "fair" way (Jarl Elisif) allowing the opinions of every courtside member, or in a laconic manner (Rorik), leaving over half the decision-making to a trusted someone else. Some rulers considered the opinions of their entire tribune or justiciary or congress if such extra institutions had been added over time (Skyrim's rulers did not use additional bodies of government, for instance, as far as Laprima knew). Other rulers wanted a virtual monocracy, in which only one person (himself or herself) determined every call without input. These others were running a dictatorship, of course.

-- When 'dictator' types surrounded themselves with housecarls, stewards, wizards, mediaries, sages, scribes, and so on, this was mostly for show. Mostly for the added support these 'extras' performed while courtside. The leader makes a joke, all his subordinates laugh in response. Such support could have a rather intimidating effect if the querent before the court, a disgruntled merchant trying to influence a countess or jarl for instance, is at the opposing end of a request the leader doesn't wish to grant.

So Laprima's ears were alert from the moment she and her entourage arrived in Dead Man's Drink, Falkreath's tavern. She's the emissary. What could she learn about Jarl Siddgeir and his court, from the peoples of Falkreath Hold, themselves?

Well firstly, she decided to continue wearing her "bear" armor (as Siouxie called it), rather than changing into the finer threads she would don while engaging court. Most of the folks in the tavern were commoners, just like one would find in Solitude's Winking Skeever. There's always that chance a farmer, a peasant, a metalworker might not be as open to a lady wearing some pretty outfit from Radiant Raiment.

"Excuse me, sir. Am new in town!" she would say brightly, making sure to only speak to those who weren't too inebriated. "Am needing to address the court on a couple concerns soonly," she'd begin, keeping her reasons vague. "Might you take a moment lend your thoughts upon the leadership of Falkreath Hold?"

Hmm, maybe I should also speak more commonly, she thought after starting this first interview, fearing she might be sounding a bit too noble. But nobody seemed to mind.

The first man she spoke to was from another hold, and could not offer anything of value. But she soon picked up information from an old duffer sipping gruel, who informed that the jarl was "diverting more taxes toward his own personal gain than he should be, fer Dagon's sake!" -- Laprima dismissed the man's topic, at first. Because this was the sort of sentiment which could be heard anywhere, in any province, in any city, hamlet, village, town, county or hold. But then she heard it again (in so many words) a few minutes later from a robe-wearing priestess. And from an unkempt couple of warrior-looking fellows in heavy armor. Most of Dead Man's tavernites who knew anything about the jarl echoed the duffer's rant. Usually this was the very first topic of mention.

But there were other viewpoints offered.

"Siddgeir leaves all actual work to his steward Nenya and his housecarl Helvard," growled a hard-looking fellow who smelled like sawdust. "Yet does not give them credit." Another local quietly revealed that Siddgeir was rumored to "have a working relationship with some nearby bandits, tho you didn't hear it from me...."

Hmm. Overall, what she was more interested in was the jarl's actual courtside manners and habits. But after an hour or so of discreet questionings, she was getting the picture of Jarl Siddgeir and those who surrounded him.

-- Some leaders she had witnessed down south ruled their courts the way she was hearing Siddgeir ruled his. First of all, let's consider that Siddgeir actually had a court, an actual longhouse in which he also lived, unlike the leaders of Rorikstead and Dragon Bridge. And this meant he did not need to interact much with outsiders if he chose not to. A staff of servants would keep the man fed, his longhouse clean, and his housecarl would be the man's face to the outside world. Perhaps. More to the point, though. From what she gathered, Siddgeir himself was mostly quite lazy. Quite the loafer, who seemed to enjoy the benefits of his position a little too obviously. A man who'd attained his position through family. Dengeir, his uncle (who also lived in town) was Falkreath's previous jarl.

When asked about Siddgeir's governing style, whether he was overly regulatory or cruel or wishy-washy, nobody in the tavern had much to say. Matters arose, matters which, let's say, occasionally became serious, and were then brought to the Jarl's Longhouse for resolution. Maybe a dispute down at the mill, or the watch captain at the barracks wanted better pay, or the Hunter's Guild had a complaint about tariffs between other holds. These matters sometimes got addressed, sometimes were resolved, and sometimes not. Siddgeir himself did not seem much interested it seemed, unless there was some benefit for him. -- What's in it for me? a young customer of Grave Concoctions, the town's alchemy shop, claimed the jarl literally spouted, after the customer claimed he'd gotten a raw deal on a peck of mushrooms.

On the subject of legislation, Siddgeir was not in the habit of drafting new laws, an elderly man in regal clothing apprised. The jarl's uncle had already paved the way during the many years of his term, so nephew didn't see much need for change.

-- The only topic of consternation she heard (from the same regally-clothed man) was that Dengeir was on the side of the Stormcloaks. Yet oddly, his nephew supported the Empire. A-ha! Whether Siddgeir was on the Empire's side because there was something 'in it for him', this was a bit of information she could possibly use.

Settling down for supper, Laprima was greeted by a Blue Palace courier who'd gotten to town a day before Laprima's entourage with his own set of bodyguards. He had already spoken to the jarl's housecarl. Once again, the hand of Elisif, arranging events from afar.

"Jarl Siddgeir expects a delegate from Jarl Elisif is to arrive soon," the courier stated with a flat Colovian accent. Which was also good. She wouldn't just be cold-pitching the jarl and his court tomorrow, or whenever they'd be ready for her address. Hopefully, her presentation would not therefore begin with a question like "who be this woman?" even though the scrolls she carried from Elisif bore the magical crests of Solitude itself.

The rest of her day was spent exploring the town of Falkreath. Visting the general goods store, brewing a small batch of potions at Grave Concoctions, and bathing in the town's river with lavender soap from the city. Wouldn't want to appear before the jarl smelling even remotely like an oaf.

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Notes: I have no idea if Cyrodiil still uses counts and countesses in the Fourth Era, couldn't find any answers to this while researching.

Lopov, so you're saying: have both saves from two different characters ready to go in the same roster of saves? Hey, it's worth a shot.

Siouxie the Banshee and any mysterious dogs will just have to wait as Laprima dons her ambassadorial persona.

Laprima is taking her duties seriously and putting plenty of effort into learning everything she can about the jarl of Falkreath. Her line of thought is exactly what I’d imagine from a diplomat and I’m glad you spent the time to share how she is going about learning whom she’ll be dealing with. And what to wear, be properly bathed, rested, etc.

The presence of that dog on the edge of Falkreath does not bode well, after the Banshee's tale of the man with the dog.

I see that like King Henry V, Laprima has decided to go among the commoners disguised as one of them, in order to hear what they really think about things. What they have to say does not do Jarl Sid much credit. However, as Laprima so astutely discerned, the division between Sid and Den over the Stormcloak/Imperial situation might indeed prove to be important. If she can convince him that his continual rule over Falkreath depended upon his support of Ellie and the Empire, that might be the leverage she needs.

Laprima setting aside the prior shenanigans to suss out Falkreath's politics is a fun break from the macabre. However, the lack of Banshee during their day in the city has me suspicious, especially after the encounter with who I assume was Barbas.

I have a feeling that Siouxie (or her deeds) are already possessed by some unknown force...

...which may have something to do with the dog. The dog was in Laprima's dreams as well. Something vile is in the air.

But what I enjoyed in this story the most, was Laprima's "analyze" of Jarl Siddgeir.

This is gonna be the final chapter of season four. Yeah, I know. I wanted to write up at least two more chapters but I've lost inspiration. Which is fine. Time to move on.


Acadian: Yes, she's taking her duties seriously, mm hmm. Thanks. I also enjoyed the sublime switch from Siouxie's demanding personality back to focusing on Laprima herself, and her plans.

SubRosa: Wow, King Henry V would go amongst the commoners, oh my gosh! I had no idea.

I bookmarked all those cool armor sets, btw. Ready to go.

Kane: That's a good way to put it. "A fun break from the macabre." She's become so consumed with her "job" all the sudden, she hasn't got time to deal with her silly goth friend.

Barbas! 🐕🐕 Woof woof!

Lopov: Sure, could be that Siouxie is possessed, that thought has occurred to me as well.

Everyone noticed the dog, even though there wasn't much emphasis on it during the moment.

Me too. I love writing up the noble/royal stuff. Getting into my gal's head, trying to see what her concerns shall be.

All: This upcoming chapter has been written after only two drafts, not the usual four or five, and it's not the best. But maybe it'll be fun to see what an earlier LPD draft looks like. Saga of Laprima shall return hopefully in December, hopefully without all those technical problems. bleah.

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.Dead Man's Drink

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. Middas, 1st of Evening Star, Fourth Era Year 201

At some point during her day, mostly which was spent keeping away from the others somewhat, Siouxie realized they were now closer than ever to the truth. They, not just she, herself. But they. Them.

It had been a long venture, seeking the words of the others she'd been in deep contact with for months now. She had begun this venture by herself, had at some point begun joining Laprima at night during their dreams (which her stubborn friend still refused to admit) and now they were both nearing the truth. Standing at the precipice of knowledge which would change everything and all.

"Let us resolve this matter with the jarl, and with haste," she muttered while standing deep within a thicket.





The day was getting long, the sky dark. Laprima was getting sleepy. Even so, she wanted to peruse the Jarl's Longhouse before returning to the others, just to get a further feel of the court of Falkreath, its leader and his minions.





But maybe best to wait upon such measures. Dead Man's Drink, the town's inn, was calling. Maybe it's time to heed that call. Surely by now, one of the folks she interviewed earlier in the day could also be ensconced within the longhouse at this very moment, describing 'some black-haired lady wearing armors of hide' asking too many questions about the jarl and his policies. Wouldn't be prudent to then just appear within the court before she's thought everything through, and with a good night's rest bolstering her assuredness.

"What can I get ya?" asked Valga Vinicia, the inn's bronze-skinned keeper.

Laprima went for her usual: soup and bread with some Surilies to drink it down. Erm, yes. Surilies. Premium wine with a year and a label, imported straight from Skingrad, was a luxury of course. But it would help boost confidence, she figured, to treat herself beforehand. An hour ago, she'd sold a second batch of useless potions to the town's general goods store, and now had some money to splurge.

Dead Man's Drink was crowded: seven soldiers and one mage spent the night along with the inn's works, the pretty blonde bard, an assortment of other folks passing through for the night. Really it was remarkable how easy it was for her to fall asleep, considering the fact she'd mostly slept in just two beds during her upbringing. Two beds, the first one smaller than the bed she'd been given during teenage years. Two beds, in a home which was so insulated with varieties of stone walls and wooden fixtures, it was like a tomb.

My how things had changed. Every night before heading to whatever bed or roll she'd rented during this new life of hers on the road, she wondered how she'd be able to gain respite so publicly. And now here she was, bedding for the night in yet another open room, because most inns in Skyrim did not even have doors!

Her slumber came as the raucous sounds of some sort of drinking game filled the tavern. Tomorrow would be another day perhaps, or it could be the very day which changed the very direction of the war itself.

So arrives the end of another season of Laprima Donnough.

Siouxie is deep within a mystery still unraveled and unsussed.

Ambassador Laprima is focused like a firebolt on the task that awaits her in the morning – bringing diplomatic tidings and proposals to Falkreath’s jarl.

I shall try to patiently await next season.

I don't think Henry V did the dress as a peasant trick in real life. It was something he did in Shakespeare's play about him. The night before the battle of Agincourt he did it in order to go among his troops to find out what they really felt about him, and the coming battle. He wanted to get a good understanding of their morale, and how willing they were to fight.

Siouxie is clearly up to something. But what is anyone's guess.

We know what Laprima is up to however, preparing for her meeting with the Jarl the next day. I appreciated her bed time reflections on how her life has changed so much from when she was younger. I am sure she never imagined that her life would take her to where she is now, on the road and acting as an ambassador.

Take your time getting to next season. If your zeal has dried up, then it has dried up. Don't try to force it. Write when you want to. Not because you feel like you have to.

Laprima's sleeping habits remind me of my own. I'll crash anywhere at day's end, even on the floor. Though I'm probably going to age out of floor kips soon.

A nice and short ending for the season that actually serves as an intro for the upcoming one.

Lots of questions remain unanswered, lots of mysteries unsolved, the scheming forces haven't yet been revealed, so I'm looking forward to the next season already.



It's because we're all such dog lovers.