281 replies to this topic

[euclidianlaser]

DRAUGR! DRAUGR EVERYWHERE!


So Farkas and I went to Dustman's Caern to retrieve the fragment of Wuuthrad waiting there. We got past the first few draugr easily enough, then made short work of the Silver Hand members in our way. We went through into a room with a caged bridge suspended over a hallway, and my sixth sense (read; compass) goes berserk; red dots EVERYWHERE. I look down and there are scores of draugr streaming through this hallway. That scene in the Fellowship of the Ring where all the goblins are chasing them through Moria? It was kinda like that.
So Farkas, courageous oaf that he is, charges ahead, eager for...whatever they have instead of blood. Being the loyal comrade I am, I follow him. The hallway in front of us is so choaked with draugr we cant see the floor anymore. I look over at my erstwhile companion and he simply smirks and says "This should be good..." before drawing his sword and charging into battle. I quaff...pretty much eevery buff potion I have (Ably Block, Ably Berserking, Rigidity, Ably Defending, you name it) and follow him. It takes about twenty minutes of real time to deal with the last one. Thats not accounting for five or six reloads.

Finally we make it to the Word Wall and the fragment. When I pick it up, not sure if this is a Requiem feature or a bug, ALL of the surrounding burial stones open at the same time. And this time Im out of buff potions.

These are easily the most enjoyable fights I've ever experienced. Individually the draugr were dangerous but no overwhelming, but in a horde it was the biggest rush I've ever gotten from a video game. It also taught me what an amazing tank Farkas is: I may drag him with me when I try Bleakfalls again.

[CFISEternal]

When I was first getting started with Requiem, I didn't really know what to expect in terms of difficulty and I got my ass handed to me with alarming regularity. In time, after I bound quicksave to mouse button 1, I started having more fun with it and a little more success. Eventually I got to level 4 and I was feeling like hot stuff after clearing my first dungeon without a reload. Not looking where I was going, I fell off a cliff and landed near a pond which was filled with mudcrabs. I tried to run away but lost all my stamina jumping up the cliffs and dodging crabs. I tried to hit one and dropped my weapon instead. Then, a wolf came and killed me.

Moral of the story: do not be arrogant with Requiem, because you're really pretty weak.

[stormchaser6]

Draygar. Nordic merchant and alchemist - much to the chagrin of his father. Sons of smiths for the imperial army are usually expected to follow in their father’s footsteps, not waste their time trading mushrooms and flowers with peddlers from abroad. Post war Cyrodiil was so depressing too... time for a journey north! If you believe the tales, then the flora and fauna of Skyrim have incredible alchemical potential, and any Nord should be welcome in their homeland right? Well apparently not. How was he supposed to know about immigration tax? Now he was bound on a wagon with some very dangerous looking men. He was sure there'd been some kind of mix up in a prisoner transfer and he didn’t like the look of where they were headed one bit...

To be continued.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709.

By the nine, these men were traitors on their way to the block! No chance of escape either, everyone around was watching the man beside him like hawks. An important man from the looks of how he was dressed. Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm, according to the warrior across from him. A traitor Jarl? Gods, what had he got himself caught up in? It seemed the wagons were coming to a halt in a small fortress town. Helgen they called it, and an executioner was waiting. This couldn't be happening.

More important names and faces, a general, a Thalmor emissary, it all went past him in a blur as he was hauled from the wagon. A strangled choke dragged him from he thoughts as he saw one of the men from his wagon try to run, only to be felled by an arrow from an imperial soldier. Lockir or Loki or something had been his name, he'd also claimed to have been on the wrong wagon. So much for the slow imperial process and bureaucracy he'd grown up with. Something didn't fit here. They were rushing things, nervous, scared of something larger than a few rebels. His name was rushed over too. They didn't care who else was caught up in this, they were all going to the block.

A distant echo shook the air, something between thunder and an eagle's shreak. The general ignored it and began to accuse the traitor Jarl of his crimes. It seemed to be mostly for show, there was no trial here. It was an execution plain and simple. The first of the rebels, Stormcloaks they'd been calling them, was led forward and unceremoniously beheaded. Draygar vomited at his feet. He was next, the realisation of which brought on another heave, but his stomach was already empty.

The imperial captain who'd ordered his execution forced his neck down onto the rough stone headsman's block. It was still slick with the blood of the man before. It soaked into his beard colouring it a darker crimson than its natural auburn. His life flashed before his eyes and for a moment it seemed that this would truly be the end... and then the impossible happened.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189 is also a reply to the same post.

Draygar squatted inside the shelter of the stone tower panting, wrists still bound behind his back. Across from him the rebel warrior Ralof and the traitor Jarl were discussing the dragon outside. Yes. A dragon. Well this was undeniably better than beeing decapitated, but if he ended up burning to death he might have been better off on the block. One thing was certain he had to get away from these rebels. If he did manage to escape he didn’t want to be hunted by the Empire.

Forcing himself to stand, Draygar staggered up to stone steps of the tower recoiling just in time as dragon's head burst through the wall in front of him and spewed a gout of fire inside. It was mere feet from him, so close that he could have almost sworn he'd heard words in that inferno.

As quickly as it had come it was gone, leaving only one way forwards. Knowing that this was do or die Draygar took a running leap through the hole the monster had left in the thick stone wall. A burst of adrenaline carried him forwards and he tumbled off of the burning thatch of what looked like it had been an inn, landing awkwardly in the first floor of the now delapidated building. Right now all he could do was run and run he did, as fast as he could while still bound.

Hopping down through the ruins of the inn and heading outside he found the imperial soldier who had been reading the list helping some of the villagers find shelter. Hadvar they called him. He seemed more interested in escaping the dragon (he still couldn't quite believe that the thing could be real) than recapturing Stormcloaks, and Draygar quickly followed his instructions, running behind him through the old fort, half of which had been by now reduced to rubble.

As they approached the fort itself they found Ralof coming the other way, axe in hand. He'd obviously been able to free himself in the chaos. He called to Draygar to follow him, but keen to prove his loyalty to the Empire the nord stuck with Hadvar and headed into the fort.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189, #18713554 are all replies on the same post.

Finally unbound! Draygar shod his shoddy prisoner garb and slipped into a leather uniform. Now he wouldn't run the risk of beeing taken for a criminal, not in the armour of an imperial soldier. Gathering bow, blade and shield he stuck behind the heavily armoured warrior, knowing that this was the key to his survival. As a nord he'd been taught some basics of how to use them as a child, but he was no warrior and had no real training. Fortunately any nord knows a little of weapons and armour. He was better with a two hander, but frankly he wasn't sure he'd live through the first swing of a real fight without a shield.

Soon enough they came across a pair of stormcloaks looting imperial soldiers they had slain. Draygar slunk off to the side with his bow as Hadvar opened the gate ahead, and loosing an arrow at one. It wasn't a very good shot, but he would learn and standing he followed Hadvar into the frey. He blocked the first swing of the stormcloak and while the impact shook him, he could feel the rhythm of it coming back to him. He took a quick swing as the rebel recovered and began the careful process of circle, block, strike. Trying to get them between him and Hadvar in order to hit them in the back. Soon they were both dead, more thanks to Hadvar than himself, and Draygar went pale as he realised that he had just killed a man. In the heat of the fight it had seemed to easy, but suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. There was no time to think though the entire fort was rumbling from the dragon, which could still be heard outside. They had to keep moving.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189, #18713554, #18713829 are all replies on the same post.

The fort was really starting to crumble around them. Draygar had found a crossbow on a stormcloak corpse, which was much easier to use than normal bow. He'd been able to put it to good use against the next group of stormcloaks they'd encountered, after which they'd found a stash of potions. Finally something he understood! The red healing fluid soon had him feeling much better and he even spotted and old smiths manual that his father had once tried to teach him from on top of a high shelf. This could be handy later. It seemed Skyrim was a dangerous place and he was going to need some better weapons and armour. He was still uncomfortable with the killing, but the adrenaline and having no other choice was pulling him through. He dared not think of the blood on his hands today. Was putting a bolt in a man from the shadows really self defence? In Cyrodiil he'd always preferred to talk problems out, it was the imperial way, but here he was, a Nord in Skyrim. As violent as the stereotype. Had this always been waiting in his blood?

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189, #18713554, #18713829, #18714124 are all replies on the same post.

The dungeons of Helgen were a gruesome place. Draygar couldn't really blame the stormcloaks who'd tried to take their revenge here. It was hard to imagine how anyone could deserve this. Hadvar also seemed keen to be gone from the place, it bore some valuable treasures though, including some practice at picking locks. In the end it turned out there was a key though, and in the depths of the cells Draygar happened upon a rare ebony dagger, its blade sharper than anything he had ever seen. This would serve him well.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189, #18713554, #18713829, #18714124, #18714229 are all replies on the same post.

Draygar's hands shook and shuddered as he deftly sliced open the spider corpses with his precious dagger to extract the useful parts within. The fight with the beasts had been a gruesome, terrifying horror. He'd stayed back and done his best to help with his bow while dodging their poison, but eventually some had also made their way around Hadvar to him and he'd been incredibly lucky to survive at all. (Read: many deaths and reloads.) Without the antitoxin potions he had found he would surely be dead. Their eggs and poison were valuable to him though. With those he could mix many useful concoctions.

[stormchaser6]

In response to post #18712709. #18713189, #18713554, #18713829, #18714124, #18714229, #18714299 are all replies on the same post.

Helgen's final cave had been home to a bear. Fortunately a sneak attack with the crossbow had made that a much easier fight than otherwise. Still, without Hadvar in his heavy armour it too would likely have been the last of him. As they emerged into the sun they could see the terrible black dragon flying away over the mountains. It seemed to have no interest in them, but Draygar shuddered nevertheless as its shadow passed over, knowing that he would be jumping at hawks for days to come. Helgen had taught him much, and he had a feeling he would need these skills in wild old Skyrim.

Hadvar had much to tell about the rebellion, which finally put things in perspective. Draygar resolved to join the army... eventually. In his current state he'd be going to his death, he needed to improve. Still, it seeemed he'd escaped execution as a criminal. No wonder this had the legion so scared. A united Empire was the only hope against the Thalmor. Couldn't the stormcloaks see that? He suspected that many could and that this was more Ulfric's hunger for power than anything else.

Hadvar's family at least seemed to be loyalists, and Draygar began to head south with Hadvar to the nearby village of Riverwood where he said they lived. A smith apparently. There was something comfortingly familiar about that. As they went he picked what flower he could find to see what Skyrim had to offer him. He was likely to need every edge he could squeeze out of his potions.