Author Topic: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser  (Read 15338 times)

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Offline MP-Ryan

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The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
This is a short story of the adventures had by my Skyrim character yesterday evening.  It was so ridiculously irritating that I had to write it down for the humour quotient.

Last night, I finally decided to go see the Greybeards.

Let me back up.  I've been wandering Skyrim for a couple months since those Imperial bastards nearly took my head off, shortly before I was nearly incinerated by a big goddamned ornery dragon, then nearly perforated by a mix of Imperial swords, axes, and arrows, and finally nearly eaten by a bear.  Riverwood was a blessed relief, right until I got suckered into retrieving a Golden Claw, nearly joined the Draugr for all eternity in Bleak Falls barrow, and then - oh yeah, nearly got eaten by another dragon in Whiterun.

I'm beginning to think I should have stayed in High Rock.

Nonetheless, there is clearly a need for Enchanting services here in Skyrim, and I make a decent living alternating between collecting items for enchanting - typically from some godforsaken place that I've been coaxed into visiting for someone (for a proud people, these Nords don't seem to be able to do a damn thing themselves) - and hunting the local wildlife for convenient souls to enchant with.  There was that ill-considered jaunt with the Companions - werewolves!  good grief! - and some brief dabbling at the College - I needed a Bound Bow, after all - but for the most part I've managed quite well on my own and was politely steering clear of the local troubles and keeping my head down, Dragonborn nonsense be damned.

And then there was last night.

I heard a rumour about another Guardian Stone, the Atronach, earlier in the month.  Despite my own dabbling with magic, I grow rather tired of being set on fire, frozen, or zapped by inconvenient mages, Thalmor (haughty upright assholes that they are), and dragons, and it seemed like a good idea.  Coupled with my Breton nature, it would quite nicely complement my abilities to absorb and resist hostile magic, all the better for me to split their heads with a sword.  I haven't been to Riften yet, so a jaunt downriver from Windhelm seemed like the best course of action. Ha!  I should have bought a horse.  Better yet, I should have bought a horse and rode directly back to High Rock and said enough to these Nords and their problems.

Anyway, I sauntered down the river past an old abandoned shack which I had visited not long before, evicting a local cave bear.  Unfortunately, it seemed a new bear took up residence shortly thereafter.  Dispatching him with a handy bound sword, I muttered about the local Nord wildlife and its outright hostility and continued on my way.

Despite the fact that I tower over the oversized crustacean bastard, wear enchanted Elven armour, and can conjure a big godamned magical sword capable of imprisoning its puny soul for all eternity, a local mudcrab apparently took offense at my passing it at a 20 foot distance and decided to try to fell me at the ankles like a tree.

Crab legs are delicious, I don't care what anyone says.  Even more so from a decidedly stupid crab.

Sighing in frustration, I continued on my way and met a pleasant woman named Gilfre at her mill - which surprised me slightly as it was close to 1 AM, but this Nirn has all sorts, I suppose.  As she made her way off into the house, I was startled by a roar, followed by a freezing blast from a nearby Frost Dragon who decided to further impede my progress after its prickly bear and crab friends failed.  Fortunately, the Divines smiled on me as it was a Frost Dragon, not a Fire Dragon, so I didn't feel the least bit guilty for hiding in Gilfre's lumber mill and perforating it's scaly hide with a collection of arrows.  Eventually, the beast was unable to fly, and after being delayed so long, I decided a sword through the skull was the most appropriate way to dispatch the beast.

...and no sooner had I pulled the blade out than my helmet rang with the telltale clang of a war axe bouncing off.  What in the ever-loving?  What in Talos' name is a Dark Elf doing here at this time of night, why is he carrying a war axe, and why is he continually trying to split my skull with it?  Look, you pointy-eared red-eyed bastard, did you not just see me down a bloody dragon?  How do you think this is going to end for you when you attack me out of nowhere?  Is nothing in this blasted frozen wasteland of a country friendly after midnight, or what?  After some backpedalling, a fancy healing spell or two, and a few whacks with my sword, the fellow slipped his footing and got a sword through his breastbone for the trouble.  I am not to be trifled with - especially when I am just trying to find a bloody rock that some jackass left in what is apparently the least hospitable country on Nirn and everything is conspiring to make this journey as long, painful, and bloody as possible.  Leave me be!

Turns out, my Elvish friend deserved what we got - he worshipped Boethia and carried a journal confessing to at least one murder.  I'm sure there were others.

Bidding a farewell to Gilfre - somewhat hurriedly as she told me to get out of her house - I continued in the direction of the stone.  Another crab, two saberetooth cats, and a dragon tried to intercept me.  I ate the crab, skinned the cats, and snuck around the dragon - if I didn't get moving, I was going to spend another night on the way to the stone and there was really no guarantee I'd survive it.

Finally arriving at the stone, I studied it and realized that I needed to continue with the Mage Stone and practice my Restoration further if I were to use it without severely impeding my magicka regeneration - which recent experience had just proven was somewhat necessary for healing.  Some people apparently manage to use potions, but I nearly blew up Breezehome last time I tried.

Having confronted a nice mix of Skyrim's wonderful friendly inhabitants, I wondered idly if perhaps it might not be time to improved my use of these Shouts to further protect myself.  When everything is out to kill you, it brings these things into perspective.  After all, it's not like I had to use them on some noble quest of destiny or something - a little boost to self-defense would not go amiss.

It was then that I found myself scaling some cliffs near Mistwatch - which I hastily avoided after discovering it was swarming with pissy bandits - and on the road to Ivarstead.

A word of advice about the road to Ivarstead:  don't use it.

I was no sooner on the road than I was skinning a pair of wolves who apparently thought a Breton in armour looked tasty.  I had no sooner put away my blade than an Argonian showed up, brandished a pair of daggers and told me to hand over my gold.  I told him to walk away.  He laughed.  I told him I didn't have time for this.  He attacked.  I plunged a bound sword through his neck.  He gurgled.  I cursed and kept walking.

Over the next rise, I met a skeever, two wolves, a sabretoothed cat, and a bear in the next few hundred feet.  All of them attacked me instead of going on their merry way.  All of them got packed away to be turned into meals, leather, or eventually gold.  I dispatched the next bear in short order, turned around, and met an Argonian in a black hood with another dagger trying to thrust it between my shoulder blades.  He got the sword treatment too.  Turns out someone really doesn't like me - SURPRISE! DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING! - and hired the Dark Brotherhood.  Turns out they're not only assholes, they're incompetent assholes.

The next bear died and I didn't even break stride.  The local fox had the good sense to take one glance at me and run.  At this point, the sun was coming up.  I realized that in the span of five hours, I had done more to decimate Skyrim's wildlife and nefarious inhabitants than a small army on the march would have.

Cresting a rise, with the sun shining over the lake, I knew Ivarstead was not far off.  I came around a corner, and found an Elf - Wood or High, who can tell, really? - hiding behind a way, moaning about bandits.  He said he needed help to get back to his camp.  Finally meeting someone who didn't try to kill me on sight, I agreed to walk with him.  No sooner did we arrive, than the little **** - perhaps he was a Wood Elf - put an arrow into my armour.  THERE ARE NO ADEQUATE WORDS FOR HOW ****TY THE INHABITANTS OF THIS COUNTRY ARE!

Unfortunately, he had friends, particularly three large green friends with Battle Axes that looked more than likely to split my skull, armour or no armour.  Fortunately, they couldn't climb worth a ****.  I found a convenient rock nook and made them all look like large porcupines.  Apparently that only pissed them off as they refused to go away, despite being unable to touch me.  After several warnings, a few Fire Shouts, some Ice Spikes, and no small amount of cursing, it became clear that I was either going to have to kill them all or sit on the rock for several hours.

Needless to say, I am no longer on the rock.

I was also done with that road.  No amount of easy walking was worth that.

I headed out of the camp - turns out, Bandit Camp - and swam across the lake, hiked over the island (now inhabited by one less bear), and then swam again to shore.  At last!  The bridge into Ivarstead.

As I wandered into Ivarstead at midday, I met a bunch of reasonably friendly locals who were happy to comment on High Hrothgar - looking forward to that climb, let me tell you - and some local guards who alternated between asking about enchanting their swords and *****ing about my apparently sneaky look.  Everyone's a critic.

Tired, bruised, and altogether fed up, I wandered by the mill.  The owner - a disgruntled woman - failed to introduce herself.  She did immediately start *****ing about the local wildlife - specifically, the bears clawing the trees.  It took an I'm-sure-visible effort on my part not to put my fist through her teeth.  Instead, she just had to listen to me muttering as I walked away:

"Lady, you have no idea."
« Last Edit: January 21, 2014, 01:28:47 pm by MP-Ryan »
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]

 

Offline An4ximandros

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
*Slow Clap* Beautiful.

Sadly my own adventures in Skyrim only revolve around sneaking into a Thalmor outpost, Dragons killing guards and a female companion that was amazed at the slight trace of the smallest piece Dwemer junk.

Can we have more?

 

Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
If people enjoy this, I may consider additional stories based on my adventures every so often when I've gotten something amusing or dramatic to happen.

Post feedback if you want more... or not :)
« Last Edit: January 15, 2014, 12:08:21 pm by MP-Ryan »
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]

 

Offline StarSlayer

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
I see MP eventually evolving into the Rorschach of Skyrim.  :P
“Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world”

 
Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
I came around a corner, and found an Elf - Wood or High, who can tell, really?

wave a carrot in front of their face and see what happens
The good Christian should beware of mathematicians, and all those who make empty prophecies. The danger already exists that the mathematicians have made a covenant with the devil to darken the spirit and to confine man in the bonds of Hell.

 

Offline Flipside

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
Anduin, he was gone and it soon came to pass
That Dovahkin was little more than a pain in the ass,
Pushing people off bridges, running round in the buff,
Killing the Guardsmen and stealing their stuff...

 

Offline NGTM-1R

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
I see MP eventually evolving into the Rorschach of Skyrim.  :P

"You don't understand! You didn't take an arrow to the knee with me! I took an arrow to the knee with you!"

...I'll let myself out now.

I actually rather like this. Now, to High Hrothgar...I expect you to fall down the mountain a half-dozen times at this rate.
"Load sabot. Target Zaku, direct front!"

A Feddie Story

 

Offline TwentyPercentCooler

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
You should try tropical Skyrim for a little variety. Velociraptors instead of wolves!

 

Offline Shivan Hunter

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Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
That's a very well done mod, but it's not for everyone. That would ruin the immersion for me, especially whenever an NPC referenced how cold Skyrim was.

 
Re: The immensely irritating nightime trek of Ryne Stormchaser
This was very good, quite funny. I could definitely enjoy more of this :lol:

Man, those bandits... I can't imagine what goes through their little brains. "Why yes, traveler, I can see your fine elven armor and sharp pointy blades. I realize that I'm clad in little more than what Arkay gave me and my mace is rusting around the edges. No, I don't really care. Cough up the septims or I'll gut you like a fish."

It's no wonder that no residents ever leave their towns to go out and do their own stuff.

 

Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser (soon to be serialized)
Next installment coming this weekend, provided wife does not go into labour before I write it up =)
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]

 

Offline StarSlayer

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser (soon to be serialized)
Next time on the Angry Skyrimer, Ryne Stormchaser fights bears on the way to the hospital mid blizzard!



god i hope not.
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Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser (soon to be serialized)
OK, so the wife did not actually go into labour, but I did... setting up the new aquarium.  Slight delay is all.

...in which Ryne discovers what all the Fus is about and doesn't like it one bit...

Having finally found a moment where someone is not trying to murder me and the local fauna are not trying to dine on my corpse to set down my thoughts in my journal, it occurs to me that some of my earlier entry could be considered ironically prophetic.  Specifically the part about it not being like I have to be dragged into a quest of destiny or something.  But I'll get to that.

It's been a few weeks since I initially dropped into Ivarstead on the way to High Hrothgar, and despite the best of intentions, dropped right back out again in the wrong direction.  I mentioned earlier how I am constantly suckered into performing various tasks ranging from the mundane to the truly life-threateningly-obnoxious for the supposedly-proud-and-hardy Nords of Skyrim, who seemed to have earned that reputation entirely by asking others to do their dirty work.  Well, I finally found someone who I genuinely felt sorry for and thought helping someone genuinely in need might improve my mood somewhat.  Hrmph.

Narfi, turns out, is a local beggar in Ivarstead who is not quite right in the head.  That is to say, he is a man for whom you can feel genuine sympathy after a brief conversation, and who was immensely distressed at the loss of his sister, whom apparently the local alcoholism-enabler told him had gone on a trip, without saying goodbye.  Her name escapes me, but apparently she was fond of gathering local alchemical ingredients near the town.  Knowing something about the various forms of animate beings that inhabit Skyrim outside of towns, I had a suspicion that she herself had been gathered, as food, ingredient, decoration or a little bit of each.  Nevertheless, I thought the poor fellow deserved to know what happened to his sister so I resolved to find out.  After giving me some cautious words of advice - a little late for that, friend - the barkeep pointed me in the direction of, AND I QUOTE: "the island in the river to the east."

For those unacquainted with Ivarstead, the island is the home of the entrance to a barrow named Geirmund's Hall, and there is BUT ONE ISLAND IN THE RIVER TO THE EAST OF IVARSTEAD.  Thankfully, reaching it involved a swim rather than the godsforsaken road mentioned in my last journal entry.

I trudged about the island, collecting butterflies and flowers (because you never know) but there was nary a sign of dear whatshername, and I began to get a bad feeling like I was about to get another taste of Skyrim's friendly inhabitants.  Into the barrow I went...

...and immediately dispatched three Skeevers that apparently didn't the memo I circulated to the bears, cats, wolves, and leaf-eating pointy-eared elvish donkeys on the Ivarstead road mere hours earlier.  Attacking a big, grouchy Breton in Elvish armour with a conjured badass sword is not going to end well for you!  For future reference to other hostiles uninterested in being separated from their heads/souls/etc, I am the one carrying large piles of fur and weapons gathered from corpses, comprenez?

There was a hole.  And I don't mean I pleasant little hole in which one might find whatsherface with a broken ankle looking for a rescuer, I mean a deep, dark hole into what appeared to be water.  Why not?  Can the hole really be worse than the wilds?  Or, Divines forbid, another trek on the road?

The answer is yes, yes it can.  I'll spare the majority of the trek through the hole, but suffice it to say that Geirmund's Hall was filled with large spiders, various kinds of Draugr (worse than inactive lazy living Nords are very active murderous undead Nords), and a couple traps for which Healing spells proved immensely useful.

Did I mention that I dabbled at the College of Winterhold a while back?  I'm sure I did.  While I was there, in addition to being turned green, then into a chicken, cow, horse, dog, then back to Breton by a lovely dark Elf woman named Berlyna, I met a supremely conniving Khajjit named J'zago.  J'zago, like everyone else who settles down to live in Skyrim, arrived in the country and immediately settled down to ask other people to do things to advance his position.  One thing about this country is the the immigrant population has really taken the idea of cultural assimilation and run with it.  I disgress; J'zago was a gigantic asscat but he wanted me to test out some scrolls for him against undead.  Relishing the opportunity to show him what an incompetant jackass he was, I happily agreed with a smile on my face.

Back to Geirmund's Hall.  Having been swarmed by Draugr more than once, and spotting to of them up ahead, I thought that perhaps I would test J'zago's scrolls and then dispatch them by hand if necessary.  I quickly cast it, stepped forward, and...

...exploded.  Literally, the spell exploded.  It killed the Dragur - both of them actually, but it nearly took me with it.  When the third, much tougher looking undead came around the corner, I decided flight was better than self-immolation and dove off the bridge back into the flooded room below.  Arrows took care of the Draugr.  A dagger may later take care of J'zago unless I come up with something more fitting.  Maybe I'll let Berlyna visit him in his sleep.

Having still encountered no sign of whatsherface, I pressed deeper into the dungeon and got a feeling much like that of a ship that split-second before it runs into rocks in a fog bank - that is to say, sinking.  I was greeted by a ledge-of-no-return, three island, and a prominently-placed coffin with a gated-door placed suspiciously behind it.  Ahem.

Sneaking down off the ledge, up the stairs, and in the direction of the door - whatsherface still nowhere to be seen - I was unsurprised to see the lid flip off the coffin and a corpse-like bow wielder rise from it, no doubt looking to murder me for no reason other than it's what the things that inhabit Skyrim do.  It's becoming rather predictable at this point.  Perhaps someone will surprise me one day and not try to murder me within 5 minutes of our meeting, but until it happens while I'm locked in prison I'm still going to depart the company of everyone else as quickly as possible.

Unperturbed, I pulled my Iceblade dagger from its sheath, snuck up behind the critter, and shoved the blade between its neck vertebrae.  In my experience, even undead tend to lay down for good when their heads are removed.  This one, however... teleported.  What in the Daedra-refuse-devouring nonsense was THAT?  And now there are three of them?  Interesting.  Ah.  Two of them had auras; one did not.  Stands to reason that he's my guy, especially since he also looked decidedly more-dead-than-undead than the others.  The others must just be illusions, I reasoned as I snuck back to my foe and planted the dagger in the same spot.

Wait a minute, I thought as I flew into the wall, Fus-ro-WHATDIDYOUSAY?!  Illusions or not, it appears at least one of these decomposing assholes can Shout.  Disgustedly, I said "enough," stood up, conjured a sword, and rushed the corporeal one... and was promptly blown into another wall.  OK, two of them can Shout - my turn.  Except its Flames from me.  BURN!... and that's the third wall.  Are you serious?  I got up, rounded the island, and peered carefully around to look where my quarry was and... yeah, I have now introduced myself to all four of the side walls in this cave.  Oh look, hello roof.  Oh, and floor, my old friend, how nice to see you again.  And again.  Look, if we keep meeting like this I'm going to have to find an Amulet of Mara and haul you off to Riften.  At one point I managed to sink my dagger into one of the illusions, but the remaining two of my tormentors teleported, and then all three were back.  So much for that theory.

Finally, I struggled into a dark corner and resumed sneaking.  Meanwhile, my quarry and his illusionary-but-force-flinging stooges looked around for their favourite plaything, no doubt trying to work on the record for who-can-make-a-Breton-fly-the-farthest.  I stuck to the shadows, conjured a bow... and immediately ducked behind the island.  I REALLY need to learn how to cast spells silently.  Let me mark that down of my list of ****-to-do-when-not-being-occupied-by-attempts-on-my-life.  The rest of the fight went fairly swiftly - fire arrow, duck in shadows, fail to duck fast enough, get blasted by Unrelenting Force into opposite shadows, wash, rinse, repeat.  Finally, one of them blasted me close to their leader's feet and it couldn't blast me away fast enough before my spare real sword took it's head off its shoulders, and the other two mercifully disappeared.

Cleaning out the cave, I found a chunk of a Galdaur amulet, which I'd read about in a book back in Whiterun, a few trinkets, and still no sign of Narfi's sister.  Unbelievable.  There is only one island in this river immediately east of Ivarstead, and I had now searched everything on it and IN it.  One begins to wonder if the inkeeper had a little too much of his own product.

Trudging through the back passage and back onto the island, I swam back toward Ivarstead - still not going near that road - and noticed something twinkling on the riverbottom not twenty paces from the Ivarstead bridge.  Diving down, I found a woman's body with various alchemical ingredients, and a necklace that prominently featured whatsherface's name on it.  Seriously, you alcoholic brothelkeeper, you guys didn't think to perhaps LOOK UNDER THE BRIDGE?  DIVINES KNOW THAT I WOULD HAVE JUMPED OFF IT TOO IF I WAS STUCK IN A TOWN FULL OF PEOPLE WITH YOUR MENTAL ACUITY!

On a more serious note, I did sadly take the amulet back to Narfi and explain to the poor fellow that his sister wasn't coming back.  It seemed kinder than letting him go on pining for a long-lost sister who just left him without saying goodbye.  I felt sorry for the man, and left a few septims in the ruins of his house in the hopes that he'd find some use for them.

Good deed done, and not unpunished, I headed up the mountain.  After being flung about by undead for half an hour, the mundane work of killing bears, wolves, and trolls was positively enjoyable.  I greeted other travelers on the road, and arrived at High Hrothgar with reasonable speed, dropping the offering from the Ivarstead citizen who was apparently unable to carry it up there himself again in the chest.  I activated the final stone, and was blessed with a power wherein animals wouldn't attack me or flee from me for 8 hours.  Oh, the irony.

Up the last few steps, I opened the door and was met by a bunch of not-far-from-undead looking fellows, only one of whom spoke.  And I swear that I was not there FIVE GODSDAMNED MINUTES BEFORE HE TOLD ME ABOUT MY QUEST OF DESTINY.

Well, Daedra****.
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]

 

Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
...in which Ryne discovers that everything is only out to get him most of the time...

It's been another few weeks since I was informed that learning from the Greybeards actually did involve a quest of destiny, and they quickly ushered me off in the direction of the Horn of Some Dead Important Nord (popularly known as Jorgen Windcaller) in typical Skyrimer fashion - that is to say, alone and unaided.  Though they did add to my vocabulary of Dragonspeak, so there's that.

No sooner did I leave than I ventured off in precisely the opposite direction of this supposed Horn.  I may have been informed of a quest of destiny, but I'll be damned if I will go along willingly, oh no.

Instead, I've spent most of the last few weeks honing my forging and enchanting abilities.  Seems like the best way to keep anything hostile - so, basically the entire population of flora, fauna, people, and dead things in Skyrim - at bay.  Well, it briefly did, until I found myself running somewhat short of septims and full soul gems simultaneously, right about the time that I discovered I'd pretty much exceeded the enchanting knowledge of anyone currently alive in the entire Empire.  Alas, while I'd recently picked a remarkable set of glass armour, boots, and gloves, I was short the grand souls I needed to enchant them.  Fortunately, I was doing all of my work in Whiterun (which, for all that its occupants tried to keep getting me to run their errands, was a lovely town in that no one tried to kill me much) and I happened to know of a local camp of giants and their mammoths.

Bound Bow, check.  Grand Soul Gems, check.  Healing spells, check.  a-Big game hunting, I go.

I found a convenient rock to crouch behind, and let loose with an arrow into the nearest mammoth.  And another.  And another.  And suddenly I found myself surrounded by three other mammoths coming to figure out just who was making their friend look like an overgrown porcupine.  And then sprinted for the hills.

The trouble with sprinting away from one danger in this country, however, is that you often sprint into another that is much worse.  In this case, an inconvenient frost dragon.  Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire... except someone just flipped the frying pan, because I was still pursued by four angry mammoths.

Except, lo and behold, the dragon looked at me, looked at the nearest mammoth, and apparently decided I could be dealt with later.  The dragon attacked the first mammoth, while the second decided that the mudcrabs that were between me and it were a much greater threat as well (which I found mildly insulting) and stomped them to death.  By now, the dragon had killed the first mammoth, the second was on its last mudcrab, and I was flinging arrows in the general direction of mammoths three and four while trying to scramble far enough up the nearby rocks to escape trampling by mammoths, but low enough to avoid being strafed by the frost dragon.

As I dispatched mammoth three - two and four now even more angry - and loosed a volley of arrows into the dragon, a cave bear decided to join in on the fun, just as the dragon was lining me up as a crunchy-yet-oh-so-satisfying snack.  Except... well, odd.  Did someone do something to the wildlife?  The bear is trying to kill the dragon.  Not me.

Standing there perplexed - and backing further up the rocks to avoid the irate mammoths - I scratched my head as I watched two mammoths rage below me, completely ignoring the cave bear and dragon across the pond, not twenty paces away, brawling for what must have been the right to eat me.  Or the mammoths.  Or maybe the dead crabs - I wasn't really sure at this point, but I was sure that more arrows were obviously the solution to my predicament.

The bear and the dragon both died with surprised looks - the dragon, looking quite stunned as an arrow took it in the right eye while the bear dealt the fatal blow, and the bear with an irate expression when the next arrow pinned its tongue to its brain.  Meanwhile, a flurry of arrows followed the departing mammoths and they both died next to mammoth number one.

The silence was absolutely deafening.

And there there was me - shocked, panting, and otherwise unscathed in the middle of four mammoth corpses, one dragon corpse, one cave bear corpse, and half-a-dozen dead mudcrabs; profit: three grand souls to the good, a few dragon bones and scales, and three mammoth tusks.

Not one to push my luck, I headed back to my house in Whiterun and promptly slept for 3 days.
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]

 

Offline General Battuta

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
Truly this is a savage land, and cruel.

 

Offline An4ximandros

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
Truly doth Skyrim be cold and scowling as Nords!

 

Offline StarSlayer

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
You sure you didn't get Cabela's Big Game Hunter?
“Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world”

 

Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
You sure you didn't get Cabela's Big Game Hunter?

Very.  That comes with a rifle.  While a bound daedric bow is nothing to sneeze at, Ryne'd happily take the largest calibre rifle he could get.

I took Ryne through the Ironbind Barrow between last night and before leaving for work this morning with some additional amusing hijinks, but I'll save that writeup for the next installment once I've gathered a few more anecdotes.  I'm taking the character off to get Azura's star repaired (by Nelacar, because who wants only white souls), so I'm sure that will be interesting.  I suspect Daedra are going to make an appearance.
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Offline Mongoose

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
Wasn't there some thingy you'd picked up that would get the wildlife to, like, not all want to viciously murder you at once?

 

Offline MP-Ryan

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Re: The immensely irritating adventures of Ryne Stormchaser
Wasn't there some thingy you'd picked up that would get the wildlife to, like, not all want to viciously murder you at once?

It was a temporary power from the stones on the way up the mountain to High Hrothgar.  You have to read ~8 stones on the way up, and you get an 8-hour reprieve from murderous wildlife.

Unfortunately, the path up the mountain is relatively far away from everything, and it's a bit of a hike up, so by the time you get the power (after slaughtering all manner of creatures on the trip up), it's pretty much worn off by the time you go anywhere else.
"In the beginning, the Universe was created.  This made a lot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move."  [Douglas Adams]