csb

Thanks so much for your efforts and the confirmation, Trojan. :)

It just occurred to me it might be a .swf thing with HUD positioning, etc. Can any of you SWFers out there confirm that? :) Thanks

So far I've located the Game Setting Strings for HIDDEN, CAUTION, DETECTED etc. but I can't seem to find the setting to remove the brackets ( { and ] ) from the HUD. Any help with this is greatly appreciated. - C

BOSS can help you get a good handle on where to start with load order. BOSS, however, isn't perfect - but it'll get you close. Once you've gotten as close as you can get with BOSS and/or Nexus Mod Manager, you'll need a program like Wrye to create merge patches for those mods that stil do conflict in more subtle ways. There are times where it doesn't have to be even that: high poly meshes and HD textures can overwhelm Skyrim too, depending on what is going on in-memory at the moment. Remember, just because your PC is beefy and has greater than 4GB RAM, Skyrim as a 32-bit program has that 4GB limit ... if you cross that threshold, even for a second, CTD ... it runs out of room (within itself) to process all the resources a cell is trying to load. The reason it is more prevalent in the open world is because of the number of cells and sheer number of resources involved. If you know your mods are getting along pretty well, but you also know you're using hi-poly meshes and textures (all those "pretty" mods come with a price!) that come with some mods, entering the console periodically and typing pcb (purge cell buffer) can help free up some of that memory usage. That comes at a price too, as previously-cached cell resources have to be reloaded ... but it can help.

These sorts of crashes usually indicate a conflict between mods. You can use BOSS to help optimize your load order, along with using Nexus Mod Manager (NMM) to fine-tune it. For those more technically proficient, you can use programs like Wrye Bash to create merge patches to help with the perhaps more subtle conflicts. Lastly, don't forget to talk to mod authors on their discussion pages if you can narrow down the conflict to a few mods; mod authors generally will assist with (or create) compatibility patches if you go about asking nicely :).

It is Nexus Mod Manager that is using/adding to plugins.txt. So if you use NMM to launch SKSE or Skyrim, NMM will auto-update plugins.txt. Here's the sure-fire way around having NMM auto-update: 1. Once you have used BOSS and NMM (or just NMM) to order your mods, launch Skyrim (regular or SKSE). 2. If you get the WETrigger warning, exit out of Skyrim (odds are you'll be hung, so either CTRL-ALT_DEL and select Task Manager to close Skyrim that way, or ALT-TAB to your desktop and in the Task Bar, right click and select Close Window). 3. Open plugins.txt (in any text editor) and correct the duplicate skyrim.esm (by deleteing one of them) and the update.esm (by deleting that line*) entries. 4. Save the file and exit the text editor of your choice. 5. In the appdata/local/skyrim folder, right click on plugins.txt and select Properties. 6. In the General tab, check the Read Only option. Apply and then close the dialog box. 7. Start NMM, it will prompt you that the file is Read Only, click on the No button and TMM won't undo the Read Only status or update the file. If you add mods, you will have to repeat these steps (select Yes when running NMM, then repeat the steps above). A pain, I know, but until Nexus fixes NMM, you're stuck with this when adding mods * You may not need to delete this line; as long the update.esm is checked in NMM or the Launcher, it shouldn't matter if it is in the txt file, the game will load the plug-ins based on what is checked in the Launcher/NMM. Once your load order is set, if you are using SKSE, just create a shortcut to skse_loader.exe (in your steam\steamapps\common\skyrim folder) and launch Skyrim with that. If you don't use SKSE, just launch the game normally (without going through Nexus Mod Manager). (edit) Just a reminder: Once your load order is set and if you prefer starting Skyrim using Nexus Mod Manager, remember to click No when NMM prompts you for access to plugins.txt. Unless you are adding/removing mods, in which case, you'll have to re-do steps 1-7.

(deleted duplicate post)

According to Nexus experts like Duskdweller, you need the update.esm, not any skyrim.esms in your ini plugin file. If you run the most updated version of BOSS with NMM, it will set your plugin ini file in order. Update.esm being in the <user>/appdata/local/skyrim folder's plugin.txt (or .ini for those that created it) doesn't seem to matter; what seems to be more important (insofar as mods that list update.esm as a master) is that it is checked in NMM (or the Skyrim Launcher) as an active plug-in. In fact, because of whatever son-of-a-glitch Bethesda introduced with the Dawnguard DLC, having update.esm listed in the plugin.txt file does cause the error indicated. As far as what is causing the duplicate skyrim.esm insertion ... as mentioned in a post here, likely a script not doing what it is supposed to. I agree, though, that it is a good idea to use BOSS to get a good rough starting point for load order, especially for those not familiar with load order issues and how to resolve them. see my post above for my revised "solution" to this problem.

According to Nexus experts like Duskdweller, you need the update.esm, not any skyrim.esms in your ini plugin file. If you run the most updated version of BOSS with NMM, it will set your plugin ini file in order. Update.esm being in the <user>/appdata/local/skyrim folder's plugin.txt (or .ini for those that created it) doesn't seem to matter; what seems to be more important (insofar as mods that list update.esm as a master) is that it is checked in NMM (or the Skyrim Launcher) as an active plug-in. In fact, because of whatever son-of-a-glitch Bethesda introduced with the Dawnguard DLC, having update.esm listed in the plugin.txt file does cause the error indicated. As far as what is causing the duplicate skyrim.esm insertion ... as mentioned in a post here, likely a script not doing what it is supposed to. I agree, though, that it is a good idea to use BOSS to get a good rough starting point for load order, especially for those not familiar with load order issues and how to resolve them.

I was having the same issue. Go to the appdata/local/skyrim folder as previously explained and select the plugins.txt (and plugins.ini if it exists) and right click. Select Properties. Select Read Only. This is only a temporary fix, but after setting the file(s) to be read-only, I didn't have that updating problem that re-inserted skyrim.esm and update.esm. If you need to re-run BOSS, go back and uncheck Read Only. Run BOSS, then repeat removing the duplicate skyrim.esm and update.esm and re-setting the files to be Read Only. Also, I went to my steam/steamapps/skyrim/data/scripts/source folder and deleted the wayward WETrigger source script - this forced the file to be re-extracted from skyrim.esm. I'm not sure if that helped in my case, but it was an additional step that I took. (edit) ps: It is Nexus Mod Manager that is using/adding to plugins.txt. So my revised "solution" - 1. Once you have used BOSS and NMM (or just NMM) to order your mods, launch Skyrim (regular or SKSE). 2. If you get the WETrigger warning, exit out of Skyrim (odds are you'll be hung, so either CTRL-ALT_DEL and select Task Manager to close Skyrim that way, or ALT-TAB to your desktop and in the Task Bar, right click and select Close Window). 3. Open plugins.txt (in any text editor) and correct the duplicate skyrim.esm (by deleteing one of them) and the update.esm (by deleting that line*) entries. 4. Save the file and exit the text editor of your choice. 5. In the appdata/local/skyrim folder, right click on plugins.txt and select Properties. 6. In the General tab, check the Read Only option. Apply and then close the dialog box. 7. Start NMM, it will prompt you that the file is Read Only, click on the No button and TMM won't undo the Read Only status or update the file. If you add mods, you will have to repeat these steps (select Yes when running NMM, then repeat the steps above). A pain, I know, but until Nexus fixes NMM, you're stuck with this when adding mods * You may not need to delete this line; as long the update.esm is checked in NMM or the Launcher, it shouldn't matter if it is in the txt file, the game will load the plug-ins based on what is checked in the Launcher/NMM. pps: Once your load order is set, if you are using SKSE, just create a shortcut to skse_loader.exe and launch Skyrim with that. If you don't use SKSE, just launch the game normally (without going through Nexus Mod Manager).

It seems the editor to format the text of III.2 didn't work, so for the moment it is unformatted as a regular post ... hmmm.

2. Meeting on Monahven Despite my fervent and frequent prayers, Akatosh had yet to impart enlightenment. Was I on the right path? Was this my destiny? Why had I been chosen? All my questions and self-doubts went unanswered by the head of the Aedra. The Daedra, conversely, were all too frequent in their meddling on the mortal plane, reaching out from the bit of Oblivion in which they held sway. I have contemplated this frequently and at some length. Julianos' insight avoids me still. That is to say, I am as baffled now as I was when first asking such questions. I wonder if by their seeming absence at times, the gods tell us that by their gifts they give us free rein to use them. The Daedra, on the other hand, are more specific in the use of their gifts and the conditions of their use. In my travels I had encountered several of the Daedric gods: Meridia, Hircine, Boethiah and Sheogorath. Each had laid their quest upon me; each had set the conditions of their boon or lifting of curses. Each encounter had come with a price. This is not to say that bearing Akatosh's gift did not have its price. It most certainly did. But it left me wondering about the Aedra's purposes, terms and conditions. I make mention of this because as I reached Monahven's top with the Kel, I paused to pray to the Divines — or at least Akatosh and Talos — for strength and guidance. If their silence were a test of my faith, I readily admit that my faith was being sorely tested. At so crucial a juncture, I had hoped that some vision would appear to me and affirm that my path was the right one. But there was only the soft sigh of Kyne's breath upon the ice and rock and the swirl of drifting snow left in its wake. Rising from my knees, I made my way to Paarthurnax's perch. "Drem Nok Yol," he rumbled at my approach, "Greetings." I bowed deeply and said nothing, lifting the weight of the Kel from where it hung on my hip for his inspection. "I sense something different in you, Dovahkiin," he remarked. I sighed and replied pensively, "The Blades wish you dead." "The Blades are wise not to trust me. Orikaan ni ov. I would not trust another Dovah," Paarthurnax allowed, stretching his long neck to observe me closely. "Why shouldn't they?" I asked, eyes fixed on the unfathomable black of his. "Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it yourself, do you not?" he admitted. I nodded, "I do and it scares me." "Hinu onik kos wah zofaas. I can be trusted. I know this. But they do not. Orikaan ni ov dovah. It is always wise to mistrust a dovah. I have overcome my nature only through meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice. No day goes by where I am not tempted to return to my inborn nature. Zin krif horvut se suleyk. Which is better — to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?" There was no anger or bitterness in his voice as he asked. I studied him a long while before answering Paarthurnax as I had answered Delphine, "As with the Altmer, not all are Thalmor. We all face our inner temptations, and sometimes we are fortunate enough to overcome them." "Even you, Dovahkiin?" he prodded gently. "Yes, even me. If I had forced the issue, I could have been Queen. That was the dovah in me rising, I suspect," I answered with a slow nod. A low amused snort rumbled forth from his snout as he commented, "As it is, you became Kulaas." "As we ought not to kill every Altmer for fear they are Thalmor; so, too, should we not kill every dov because we fear they may be aligned with Alduin. That you struggle and achieve goodness is sufficient cause to let you live," I chewed at my lip as I said this, trying not to arouse Paarthurnax's ire. "Such an enlightened view for a joor," his rumble was full of his humor. His tone turned serious then, "Krosis. Los tiid, Dovahkiin. It is time." "I believe it is," trying to keep my misgivings from inflecting in my voice. "Lahvra mulaag, little one." he offered as encouragement. "Komeyt mu dreh daar." I mustered what I could, stepping purposefully to the rend in Time. My stomach tied in knots, I lifted the Elder Scroll and began to read. The power of the Kel swirled around the top of Monahven. Even in retrospect, I have no words to describe it. Like the power of a Word Wall, it suffused me. But unlike that experience, I was left feeling disjointed from time — part of me was there upon Monahven and part was hurled back to the other ageless reach of the Tiid-Ahraan. Full of fear of the consequences, I dared not let my mind wander forward — such is the power of Elder Scrolls. There before my eyes, as if I had some omniscient view — which I suppose through the Scroll I did — I heard the heroes of yore discussing facing Alduin. They voiced every fear I was feeling, but seemed steadfast and confident that their Thu'um would bring an end to the dragon. They argued the use of the Elder Scroll. Then it was too late, for Alduin was among them. Long the battle raged, with the Heroes of the Nords faring the worst of it. It seemed for a moment as if they would fail; that as if by using the Kel in my day, I had changed the history of theirs. Fortunately, it was not so. The Thu'um of Dragonrend issued from their Voice and Alduin was brought down in their midst, finally assailable. Yes, I do not use the actual words of the Thu'um here — I am uncertain if I should ever reveal it; or if I should, that it should be in some place more secure than the leaves of a tome. Despite bringing Alduin down from the sky, the battle was still dire, and was on the verge of being lost. The Scroll was read in that distant day and Alduin was hurled from Tamriel with an outraged screech. They thought him defeated; but they did not account for the vagaries of Elder Scrolls nor of Time itself. I mulled the Thu'um revealed. Would it be enough? The doubt rang loud through the corridors of my mind. The Tiid-Ahraan closed and the glimpse of that distant day vanished. I felt drained, staggered by the immensity of the experience. I had no time to gather my wits or strength; for as in that distant day, seemingly from nowhere — and similar to that day in Helgen — one moment the sky was clear and calm, and the next it was filled with the scaled fury that was Alduin. Even now, I can scarcely remember the details. Most battles last mere seconds, or at most a few minutes. On a battlefield, there are many such smaller individual battles that may last longer; but each individual skirmish follows that rule of seconds or minutes. Even in so short a span, the exertion and danger leaves you exhausted, drained and aware of your mortal frailty as you exult in the simple fact of having survived. The fight with Alduin lasted hours. Spell and Thu'um and blade rang upon Monahven's battered crown. Lightning flashed, from spell and Thu'um and the electric smell of it surrounded me. Time and again, Dragonrend reached out to bring Alduin in his full fury to ground. Through it all, Paarthurnax was busy harassing Akatosh's first-born's flank. For all our fury, Alduin seemed invulnerable. Though Dragonrend repeatedly brought him down into my reach and Krii Lun Aus left him weakened to an extent, the dragon was more resilient than any I had faced previously. I have heard accounts from those dwelling in the Rift and Riverwood valleys, and from those across the rolling tundra of the White River, of the storm that raged from their distant view. The Throat of the World obscured in clouds, lightning and pummeled by the fall of meteors summoned by Alduin's Thu'um. Thankfully, Lok Vah Koor was sufficient to ward the worst of the meteor storms' impact. I had long lost sense of time, except in some distant way realizing that the sun had sunk from its midday perch to poise itself above the far western peaks. Every fiber of my being ached, my mind felt numbed and sluggish, and my arms were leaden. I was faltering and knew it. Just when I thought I could go on no further, Alduin let loose an angry and frustrated roar, cursing me as I had cursed him through our fight. Mighty beats of dragon wings bore him aloft and Paarthurnax was sufficiently wearied to forgo pursuit. Dragonbane fell from my numbed fingers and I sank to my knees, body quivering with exhaustion. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks and try as I might; I could not still the sobs that wracked themselves from my throat. "Briinah, kos ahraan?" Paarthurnax lit beside me, what passed for concern was etched onto his eye ridges. I was too spent and hurt to reply. Yes, I am injured. I vaguely thought it but the words could not escape through my sobbing gasps. "Har-hummm," the Master of the Voice uttered, his eyes scanning my injuries. Those there were in abundance, either fresh or the remnants of the rents, tears and scorches suffered in the battle. My armor hung in disarray and my sweat and blood flowed freely from it. "What ails you, Dovahkiin?" "I …" the words escaped between my gasps for air and the heaving of my sobs, "I … have … failed." "Ni, Dovahkiini kroniid. Alduin nivahriin bovulaan." Paarthurnax uttered, his words were full of weariness, and possibly hurt. "Why would he flee?" I managed while wrestling to stop my weeping and gain control of my wayward emotions. "Alduin was close to falling, Dovahkiin. He was beaten. More, he was being beaten by a joor — a mortal." His immense bulk came to rest next to my kneeling form and the weight of him pressed wearily into the snow. "But… he lives, and now there is no Kel and Dragonrend itself is not enough. I have failed," I wiped angrily at my tears with a blood-streaked and shaking hand. "Ahhhh." The sound was full of more meaning than Paarthurnax's utterance of it. "To fight Alduin to a draw was not a thing he expected, Kulaas. Alduin now knows that if he is to ultimately win, that the path to that victory lies through defeating you. Now he must wonder if he can do that. Drem. Patience. First we must both praan'haas ... heal." I looked down, finally the sight of the wounds that I bore sunk in; the battered condition of my armor seeping with my blood, the bleeding claw gashes on my arms and legs, and various burns and other injuries. The severity of my hurt finally announced itself past my previous shock. Each hurt screamed for attention that I had not the strength to give them. Dimly aware that Arngeir and the other Greybeards were approaching, I slipped into the embrace of darkness giving prayer to Akatosh. To be continued.

Part III is now underway. Enjoy!

Part III. Comes Dovahkiin 1. Merging Paths i. Dark Destinations I have alluded to Riften more than once and to the boy in Windhelm who sought out the Dark Brotherhood. Both led me to darker paths that may paint my portrait darker in your day. Be that as it may, it was not with dark intent that I walked those paths. Riften, at the time, was rife with corruption and thievery, and despite the best efforts of the Jarl and an itinerant knight, Mjoll the Lioness, Raven Black-Briar sat behind the scenes and spun her larcenous webs, untouchable and remote. Or so she thought. While the tribes of the Reachmen provided me with ample eyes and ears across the western wilds of the Reach, gaining watchful eyes in the towns and villages required another approach. The Forsworn were not welcome in any settlement save their own. So it was that I set about a two-fold path: to recruit those with the talents to gain information, people who were either completely unseen, or who blended into their surrounds. In Riften's Ratway was a dank and drear haunt, the Ragged Flagon, frequented by thugs and lowlifes in the main. It was also the province of Vex, a Cyrodiilac woman of the opinion that her feces was less odorous than the sewers that surrounded her. It was she that was the intermediary for Raven. Before setting about finding Esbern, I had already largely secured the loyalties — however tenuously — of the Guild's "associates." Once the reins were in my hands, in a manner of speaking, it was not overly difficult to steer them into raiding Imperial stores, spying on Imperial movements and the like. The Dark Brotherhood was another matter entirely. I confess that I was torn in how to approach the assassins. On one hand was the choice to eliminate them entirely and on the other was the dark — but often necessary — need to use subtle but lethal solutions in matters of politics. No matter what legends or myths of me may say, the choice was one of pragmatism. I could not afford at the time the white or black of the moral high or low roads. In avenging the poor young waif of Windhelm, I struck down the mistress of the orphanage that had wronged him and the other children in her charge. At the time, I gave the deed little thought, other than to commend her soul to Arkay's keeping. Not long after, the dilemma of what to do about the assassins became moot. I did not need to find them, they found me. I thought little of it when a courier approached and delivered a note, for already I had received several such that pointed me toward various Word Walls. But this one was different. We know. I went to sleep that night, my head filled largely with other matters and gave the mysterious note scarce thought. Like many a night, sleep proved elusive as my wearied mind struggled with the problems of the war and the dragons. Eventually, however, troubled sleep came to my over-taxed mind. I awoke in a sparsely furnished shack, my head aching in the aftermath of some incapacitating poison. I chided myself for my carelessness. When my vision cleared sufficiently, I noted a dark-clad woman perched upon a shelf watching me quietly. "Your killing of Grelod has pleased us," the woman remarked quietly. She did not pause for my answer, but continued, "However, you have interceded in a contract with the Dark Brotherhood. The Night Mother is displeased." "Did I?" I grumbled, still trying to clear my head of the poison's effects. Astrid — for that was the name she later gave me — inclined her head, dipping her chin briefly. Again she spoke in a quiet, almost casual tone, "Yes, Gerlod the Headmistress. But the Night Mother is willing to let you atone. A life for a life." I realized then that I was bound. It also became clear by Astrid's gesture that we were not alone; three others shared my bound state. "One of these poor sods has a contract out on their life. Which one is it?" she posed in a musing tone. "What is it you expect of me?" I asked, futilely working to free my bound hands. "Why, kill the guilty one, of course," Astrid replied. "And if I do not?" I replied, a hint of anger coming at last. "Why then I shall have to kill you," came the chilling but calmly and matter-of-factly given answer. My mind raced. With my hands bound as they were, there was no spell I could cast and no Thu'um that came to mind was suited to freeing myself and disarming Astrid simultaneously. As neat a trap as I could fall into, I admitted to myself with some grudging respect. "Hmm." I pondered, "How am I to tell which is the guilty one?" "Feel free to talk to them, Dragonborn, I shall abide your decision," she answered casually. Were it not for the topic and circumstance, the manner of our converse was civil and pleasant. "I do not bear any of them malice," I fixed her with a stare. "Malice?" she replied in mock surprise, "We bear no malice, it is simply business. The only malice that may exist is in the hearts of those who contract with us." I had no ready answer so gave a low snort instead, finally replying, "It is murder nonetheless." "Some deserve killing, do they not, Dragonborn?" Astrid answered calmly. Debating the semantics, it seemed, would get me nowhere and could I chance the assassin losing her patience? I stood and made my way over to the others. A Nord, a warrior by the look of him; a woman who bore the garb of a commoner; and last, a Khajiit, who of the three seemed least put out by the situation. Reluctantly, then, I questioned each of them. "Who would want you dead?" I asked the first after learning he was Fultheim the Fearless, a sword-sell. He shrugged, "In my line of work? There could be many who hold a grudge." "Maybe there were … times I got carried away? But war is war," he answered on my pressing him further. I did not press him on what he meant by "carried away." The woman, Alea Quintus, was an irritating mother of a half-dozen. She was adamant in demanding to be freed at once. As with the Nord, I pressed her why anyone would wish to hire her death. "Bah, do some people look down on me? Have I made enemies? You're damn right!" As deserving as her acerbic tongue made her, she was guilty at most of being a bitter wretch of a woman without the common sense to keep her tongue still in her head. "Vasha," the Khajiit said before I could ask, "obtainer of goods, taker of lives and defiler of daughters." He said it as casually as Astrid and I had conversed. Alea again demanded to be released at once. I was beginning to see why someone, most likely a bedraggled husband, would wish her dead. "If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult," Vasha answered when I asked who would wish him dead. So there it was. Which to choose? Of the three, Vasha certainly had less to commend himself to continued life. I began to empathize to an extent with the headsman at Helgen. Here I was to be judge, jury and, it seemed, executioner. My fevered brain still had not discerned a way to confront Astrid directly. I will admit, I had no desire to die in their stead; nor was I sure Astrid would not kill the three regardless. I took a deep breath and turned to the watching assassin. "Yes?" her brow crept up fractionally. "The Khajiit," I said simply. "The conniving Khajiit," she remarked with a nod as she freed my bindings, "Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him." As the bonds came free, she pressed the dagger into my tingling hand. Commending Vasha's soul to Stendarr's mercy and Arkay's keeping; I slashed the Khajiit's throat. It was the first time I had murdered someone in so cold-blooded a fashion. It would not be the last. May the gods grant mercy to my soul. ii. Miracles and Magic Between Word Walls, Jarl jaunts and the multitude of tasks others wanted the Dragonborn's help with, I found myself early on in Winterhold. First, to meet the Jarl there — Korir — secondly, on a massive outcrop of rock at Skyrim's bleak northeastern coast stood the College, the only formal school of magic in the north; indeed, one of the few in all Tamriel. Even though the season was early in the fall, blizzards and snowfall were common and the eves were bitter cold. The winds howled in often from the ice-floe-dotted expanse of the Sea of Ghosts. Like High Hrothgar on Monahven's peak, Winterhold had little to commend it other than the College. Once the city had been a mighty center of commerce; but now it stood as a ruin of its former glory, the college rising to its north standing vigil on Winterhold's long decline into deterioration. Snow swirled about me as I made my way through what remained of the town and approached the arched causeway that led to the College beyond. Before telling of the events at the College, I should explain my application of the Arts Arcane. Superficially at least, there would be no way to discern my use of the Art. My hands follow the same somatic patterns and my voice utters the same mnemonic chants that any mage practitioner would. However, in my case, I have never evoked a spell without praying to one of the Nine. I argued my method with both Tolfdir, the wizard that primarily oversaw new students and Savos Aren, then-Arch Mage. Tolfdir, for his part, took my approach in his usual doting and grandfatherly way. The Arch Mage, on the other hand, on the occasion I broached it to him, was skeptical and aloofly distant. I know from my studies that anyone sufficiently gifted and who applies themselves can learn some basic magic. Magicka, as you may know, is that pool of magic that flows into us from Aetherius — the Immortal Plane — into Mundus by way of the sun and stars. Like everything else that distinguishes one being from another that pool we have varies between individuals. Perhaps it was my upbringing in Stendarr's temple near our home, but it has always struck me that this well-spring of magic power within us is a Divine blessing. Thus, over the years, my foci in the use of magic has not been some cold, dry device of science, but rather a vibrant reception and use of a gift granted by the gods. Perhaps in your future day you may know more of the aspects of this gift bequeathed us. If so, I envy you that knowledge. I had not intended so, but I remained at the College for some time. It was there I met the Altmer Ancano — a Thalmor agent and "advisor." By and large, the mages there, including the Arch Mage, suffered his presence, but not gladly. And it was by Ancano's doing that I went from being a content student adding to my store of restorative and conjuring magic to becoming the College's Arch Mage. As with becoming Dovahkiin, I never intended to become Arch Mage. I shan't recount the entirety of the path that I trod from skilled acolyte to master of the Arts. But as it plays a salient part on my path toward confronting Alduin, it is necessary that you know the pertinent parts. In many ways being Arch Mage was as much a hindrance — given the general distaste and distrust of mages among Nords — as it was a help. Through the finding of the Eye of Magnus, in which I played no small part to acquiring the Staff of Magnus to counter Ancano's treachery — which resulted in Savos' passing — I was set on a path of discovery of an all-important artifact: an Elder Scroll. Perhaps in your future Age you do not know or have scant knowledge of such things. Gods only know, the collective knowledge we now hold is scant enough. Or perhaps in your Age your knowledge of the Scrolls is full and complete. More so than with any greater understanding of the workings and origins of magic; I would envy you that. Regardless, there is no simple and short answer to what an Elder Scroll is. Perhaps Septimus Signus — a more than partially mad member of the College living a hermit-like life amid the ice floes — described it best in his work Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls. "Imagine living beneath the waves with a strong-sighted blessing of most excellent fabric. Holding the fabric over your gills, you would begin to breathe-drink its warp and weft. Though the plantmatter fibers imbue your soul, the wretched plankton would pollute the cloth until it stank to heavens of prophecy. This is one manner in which the Scrolls first came to pass, but are we the sea, or the breather, or the fabric? Or are we the breath itself? Can we flow through the Scrolls as knowledge flows through, being the water, or are we the stuck morass of sea-filth that gathers on the edge?" From Paarthurnax I learned a bit more, that such Kel — to use its name in the tongue of Dragons — exist both within and outside of time, and are a prophesy — perhaps of our very vision's inclinations — of all our futures linked to all our possible pasts. Intellectually and philosophically the thought of this still brings a throbbing ache to my head. I shall leave fuller knowing of Elder Scrolls to those willing to chance madness, blindness or both to gain the merest glimmers. So in following this path did I come across a Kel — an Elder Scroll — that I saw, after consulting with Esbern, Arngeir and Paarthurnax — as the only means to defeat Alduin World-Eater and the coming of the End of Days. iii. Trials and Tribulations There are times that I think that the many side trails I trod were an escape, really, from the burdens of being Dragonborn. At other times, I wonder if Fate — that manifestation of Divine providence — did not steer me on those paths to steel me for what was to come. Gods only know I weary of wearing this mantle. But what am I to do? If I could foist it upon someone more suited to defeating Alduin, I would. But despite my wishing it so, it is not so. So wear this mantle I must. Is that destiny or curse? I do not know, but I have that thought often. Mayhap there is truth in the saw that we are our own harshest critic. I would not argue against it. I do know that barely three-quarters of a year past that day in Helgen, barely past my twenty-first birthday, I was not the woman I had been. But that did not mean I was the woman that others thought they saw. I also do not argue that my skill with blade, spell and Thu'um had grown. Enough so that others paid heed out of respect or fear and my deeds — distorted as they may be — were spread across the width and breadth of Skyrim. However reluctantly, I had become someone of note in these lands and one whose words carried weight. It did not mean I was worthy of it all. Did all those others, from Queen Elisif to the common freeholder know my fears? I think if they did, perhaps I would not seem ten feet tall or able to smite dragons with a single blow. Or seem as epic as in any of the other plentiful and fanciful tales making the rounds in taverns, inns or wherever the folk gathered to spread news or rumor. Am I that insecure in my worth that I can still doubt myself? I certainly fear that I am. Events have proved Master Arngeir right. My unexplained ability to absorb various Thu'um without effort and to subsume the souls of dragons supports the assertion that I am Dovahkiin. But being Dragonborn does not make me Talos. My skill with the blade is not my doing, but that of the patience of skilled warriors in their teaching. Being skilled in battle and fortunate enough to survive them does not make me Talos. So too with my skill in the Arcane being the result of the patience of more knowing mages at the College. That my pool of magicka is deeper and broader than that of most does not make me Talos. The evidence and the accolades and deference of others tell me that they find me worthy. So why is it I fear it? Why did I not feel worthy? Why, despite all that has happened, do I still not feel worthy? Is it that I feel that I struggle against Fate and destiny in vain? That no matter my desires, wants or needs, I have no ultimate say? Or is it because that we all feel small when comparing ourselves to monumental tasks? Somewhere I have read that heroes are ordinary folk who rise to meet extraordinary circumstance. While I do not feel heroic, I suppose that amid the tumultuous events of war and the coming of dragons, others see me in that light. But it does not make me so in my eyes. Or perhaps that is the curse of being human and seeming small under the watchful eyes of eternity. Still, Elisif saw me off, hope glinting in her eyes. I am not Talos! I yearned to shout. I fear I sighed; I was no Divine, but they all expected the same sort of deliverance. iv. Dragons and Destinies As all the previous trails came together, converging at Solitude, I felt the weight of Dovahkiin in full. Until the battle's aftermath, I had had only fleeting and unworthy thoughts of the responsibility associated with Akatosh's bestowal. I had mustered what knowledge of Thu'um I could. I had trained relentlessly with blade and spell. With the help of many, I had played some role in bringing civil war in Skyrim to an end and taken strides to address the wrongs done by Nords to peoples of other races living within Skyrim's reach. I could delay no further. Scant few grains remained in the hourglass and it was time to bear the Kel to Monahven's heights and there, read it at the Time Wound — that rend in Time created by the ancient forebears when first casting Alduin out with Scroll and a new Thu'um, one of their invention — Dragonrend. It was this Thu'um that gave us all a glimmer of hope in avoiding the End Times foretold in the Sagas. I bid my solemn farewells and departed Solitude alone, bound for High Hrothgar. It was time to call again on Paarthurnax, the leader of the Greybeards. Unlike my first meeting, this one I dreaded for it meant coming face to face with Alduin. On my first meeting, Arngeir had been particularly upset with my association with the Blades. I did my best to try and placate him but his words grew ever-more terse. Finally it was Einarth's rebuke that assuaged the elder Greybeard's umbrage. "Arngeir. Rokaas los Dovahkiin, Strundu'ul. Rokaas fen tinvaak Paarthurnax." Other than his teaching, it was the first I had ever heard him speak and glad I am that he quietly pointed out, "Arngeir. She is Dragonborn, Stormcrown. She will speak with Paarthurnax." For all his dislike of the Blades, Arngeir is a reasonable and peaceful man and yielded graciously to Einarth's logic. I followed the four Greybeards once again to the inner courtyard of the Temple of the Sky. There I was instructed in a new Thu'um, Lok Vah Koor … or Clear Skies loosely, but literally Sky Spring Summer. This proved to open the way upward and I used it several more times to dispel the mystical mist that impeded progress further up Monahven. From the hints of others, chance readings of my own and from the graven Akaviri bas relief in the temple at Sky Haven, I had my suspicions about the nature of Paarthurnax. But having suspicions and being confronted with the reality are two different things. Paarthurnax, you see, is a dragon. By this time I had killed well over a score of them. But never had I approached one to speak. I was unsure what I would encounter and approached warily and nervously as he swooped from the clear blue sky and alit before me. "Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah … my mountain?" "I have come, Master Paarthurnax, because it is said you may have knowledge of a Thu'um that is direly needed," I explained quietly and politely. "Drem. Patience. There are formalities that must be observed at the first meeting of two of the dov," he rumbled. "By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones! Match it if you are Dovahkiin!" Upon roaring the last, his maw opened and he spewed flame upon the Word Wall there upon Monahven's crown. Did I say that Paarthurnax represents three words in the Dragon tongue: Ambition Overlord Cruelty? Perhaps you can understand my initial trepidation and caution. "Come, give me your tinvaak," the dragon urged, unfathomable ebon eyes fixed on mine. I was at a loss for a moment, for tinvaak means talk or conversation in Dragonish. He gave a flick of his head upon his sinewy length and there I saw the second aspect of Yol … and upon reading that rune, felt the dragon's power rush into me, much as it had with Borri and Wulfgar when they had imparted Ro and Wuld. As the power of Toor swirled and entered into me, Paarthurnax said, "A gift, Dovahkiin. Yol. Understand Fire as the dov do. Now show me what you can do. Greet me now not as mortal, but as dovah!" Yol … Toor! Flame rushed from me, engulfing the dragon's head. "Ah," he rumbled, "the dragon blood runs strong in you! For a joor. Come, ask me your questions." So I asked him of the Thu'um that had defeated Alduin, telling Paarthurnax of Esbern's interpretation of the panel in the Akaviri temple. "I expected such a question, Dovahkiin," he admitted with a snake-like bob of his head upon his neck, "Alduin and Dovahkiin return together." He allowed that he did not know this Shout, that Dragonrend had been the invention of Man, the ancient Nords who rebelled against the rule of Dragonkind. Upon my rush of questions, Paarthurnax patiently told me of the Dragon War and his role in it and of his belief that using a Kel should allow me to travel to the beginning of the Tiid-Ahraan — Time-Wound — that faintly shimmered there atop the Throat of the World. Thus would I hear the Thu'um and see it used as it had been. We spoke at length on many things. Truth be told, I began to like the timeless dragon more and more as we shared tinvaak. And for the first time, I voiced my fears and doubts to another. "Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin. Your blood will show you the way," he rumbled with conviction. I felt my feelings of my inadequacies abate somewhat. I realized with a start that the day had slipped away during our tinvaak and the sun was embracing the peaks far to the west. "Darkness comes, Master Paarthurnax, literal and figurative," I said. His head bobbed and he rumbled, "Before you go, I would wish to grant you greater knowledge. Upon which aspect would you desire to mediate: Fus, Feim or Yol?" I indicated that Fus would be my choice and he nodded, explaining, "It is called Force in your tongue. But as you push the world, so does the world push back. Think of the way force may be applied effortlessly. Imagine but a whisper pushing aside all in its path. That is Fus. Let its meaning fill you. Su'um ahrk morah. You will push the world harder than it pushes back." So we meditated there for a time as dark engulfed the eastern side of Monahven and the snow sparkled with rose and golden hues on its western face. In sun's setting, there was insight. I stretched to ease the numbing ache of sitting so long upon frozen ground and stifled a moan. Paarthurnax queried why I seemed so eager to go. "In truth, Master Paarthurnax, I am not sure I can. My arse seems frozen to the ground, so long have we spoken." My reply was given as half-grouse, half-jest. What I think passed for laughter rumbled deep in his draconic throat. I fear that far below the dark-shrouded heights of Monahven, the people of Skyrim heard the crashing roll of ominous thunder. "Ah, yes," he allowed, "Forgive me, but I forget that time passes differently for joor and for dov." "Far more forgiven if you warm my backside." I hoped that within their being dragons knew levity when they heard it. Evidently they did, for again Paarthurnax's laughing thunder exploded out into the world. This time accompanied by flickers of flame from his snout. I smiled at the ancient reptilian, bowing as well, "Sky above, friend and Master, and Voice within." What passed for an amused grunt met my ears. "So be it, Dovahkiin." He paused a moment and then surprised me with, "I know Arngeir has named you as the assumption of Ysmir, Dragon of the North. But you would honor me if you would permit me to give you your own name." I blinked my surprise, "In Dragonish?" His scaly head dipped briefly on his sinewy neck and I smiled wider still and replied filled with wonder and remnants of my humor, "But of course! Such a thing would be an honor. Ahem. Presuming it isn't Arse on Fire." He rumbled a chuckle and lifted his head then, neck fully outstretched and the Voice of Paarthurnax was heard in its full in Skyrim for the first time in countless years. The sound of it echoed from peak to peak and rolled across the plains and valleys. "Kulaas Zul Nahlaas!" My mind worked to translate it. My mouth fell agape as the meaning struck me. I was stunned by the honor this off-spring of Akatosh had just laid upon me. I was utterly speechless. His eyes fixed on mine, another laugh rumbling in his throat, "By Akatosh! That felt pruzah!" "But..." It was all I could stammer. "Let Alduin wonder, Dovahkiin." My smile widened and I bowed my head to him, "I suppose he shall, Master." Another rumble of amusement followed, "Do not keep him wondering too long, Kulass'Zulnahlass." "But that means..." "Yes. Lok Thu'um, little one." He fluttered his wings and launched himself skyward. My mind reeling, I had made my way back down to the Temple of the Sky. Though I could see the question in Arngeir's eyes, he did not ask nor did I say. So here I was returning, Kel figuratively in hand. My trek up Monahven went unimpeded by weather or beast. The lack of the later was due to use of Kaan Drem Ov as I soothed bear and wolf. The fairness of the former was due to the coming of spring and Lok Vah Koor. So ended the eleventh step of a long and trying journey. [To be continued.]

I went back and made some edits to Parts I and II. For the most part this involved punctuation, adding/removing a word here and there to clean up some changes made by Word before being ported here. I also increased the font size for readability. Now on to Part III, right? - C