Raina of the West

Later the same day, 8:35 PM

I ache. At first, I didn’t know what the hell happened between the time I went to sleep this morning and the time I woke up, but it felt as if my very joints were locked tight. I surely hoped that I was in enough shape to take on a few dead men and still be able to walk afterwards, but I honestly felt like I’ve been hit with a runaway cart. Still do.

I somehow managed to walk all the way back to Whiterun. Apparently I look just about as horrible as I feel, because I swear if one more person asks how I’m feeling, or if I’m contagious… 

Last night I dreamed of blood. I dreamed of fighting again, beating down my enemies one by one and feeling the power of the magic tingle in my fingers. This dream is the reason I did not go to back to Dragonsreach immediately upon my return to the city… I went to Jorrvaskr instead. 

And then I joined them. The Companions.

As for first impressions:

• Kodlak - He seemed wise. And everything about the way he spoke to make made me feel like I was in the right place. It’s just the way he looks at me that confuses me… Like he knows me somehow, but doesn’t want to say it.
• Aela - Came across as a bitch when I first encountered her in that field. But once she realized I was serious in joining, and could actually be of some use, she lightened up.
• Farkas - Apparently not a half-beast. Seemed just as eager for me to join as he had the first time I met him. Along with Kodlak and Ria, he made me feel the most welcome. I can see him possibly becoming a good friend.
• Skjor - He’s harsh, but he’s honest. There’s not much else to say about him.
• Ria - She was the newbie before I came around. I can practically smell her inexperience, especially when she brags about killing that bear. Everyone has to start somewhere, though, and I admire her dedication.
• Njada Stonearm - Rude.
• Torvar - I wonder if he even knows where he is. How can he expect to be any good in a battle when he practically inhales mead as he would air?
• Athis - I haven’t spoken to him much. All I know is that he’s very fond of his daggers.
• Tilma - As soon as she met me, she took it upon herself to make sure I got healthy again. She’s like the grandmother I never had. Compared to most of the other buildings I have found myself in so far, she keeps Jorrvaskr spotless.
• Vilkas - “Great. Another ambitious visitor. You think you can just wander in here and join us?” Rude. Brooding. Very low tolerance for anything that breathes, it seems. Apparently, he can’t give a compliment to save his life, either. I know I hit him hard when I was out in the training yard to “prove myself” to him. Even Aela said it. I just look forward to future chances to prove how wrong he is about my worth. 

After Farkas showed me to the living quarters, he gave me my first “assignment”, if that’s what you’d call something like that. I needed to shake up the owner of the general goods store, Belethor, a bit. Just to make sure he’d learned his lesson. 

When I neared his store, I just happened to glance over at the shop next to his. Arcadia’s Cauldron. Perfect, I thought. That was just what I needed! False. Sure, she sold every kind of potion I could think of, including a potion of cure disease that I so desperately needed to rid myself of this Rockjoint. But the price she asked for it was ridiculous. Of course, it won’t be ridiculous a few months from now, when I have done enough for the Companions to have amassed some small fortune. As for right now, however, I’m broke.

Belethor is a pig. Even after I beat him up in the name of the Companions, he still refused to give me a better price for the cure disease potion that he happened to have on his shelf. 

So now I’m back at Jorrvaskr, in the bed that I decided I would claim for myself, with an extra pillow that Tilma gave me as well as some hot herbal tea that is making me so sleepy. I would slide down into the covers and go straight to sleep right now, but it’s a little hard to get comfortable with this Rockjoint making me—

Vilkas just walked in. He didn’t say a word, or look at me for that matter. He just tossed a potion of cure disease onto my bed and then left. I would’ve thanked him, but he was just so… I don’t know, stiff? 

Middas, 2:00 AM, 19 of Last Seed, 4E 201

It would seem that I horribly misjudged Bleak Falls Barrow… And it nearly cost me my life. Sure, what better place for a bandit camp than some abandoned ruins? I’d been expecting to have to deal with that. Sneaking past them was easy—and I was proud of myself for the lack of bloodshed. Even if they did probably deserve it.

What I wasn’t expecting was the draugr. You know, those dead things that seem to randomly sprout from the walls when you least expect them and attack you? Yeah, those things. I must’ve sent at least twenty of them up in flames—one of them, some kind of dead-man overlord—to get that stupid Dragonstone. 

At first, there wasn’t much of any kind of feeling at all. It was like remembering all that I had given up the moment I decided to leave for Skyrim to start over. I don’t think anyone would be surprised to hear about how anger managing it is to set things on fire. Especially things that are running at you with their rusted, ancient weapons raised at your face. 

When I got to the last room of the place, I passed a curved wall with some writing on it that resembled more of claw scratches than actual letters. Upon my approach, a particular word glowed a bright blue, and then my eyes went fuzzy to black, and everything went back to normal again.

What the hell was it? I have no idea. But if the barrow itself wasn’t bad enough, as soon as I left it and made my way for Riverwood, I was attacked by a pack of wolves. Just thought I would add to my list of complaints.

I love starting off my days on a bright note. 

I finally managed to make it to the inn in Riverwood, covered in ash, bone meal, and my own blood, and now here I am. 

And here I go, off take a bath and try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

Tirdas, 12:05 PM, 18th of Last Seed, 4E 201

True to my word, I went to Whiterun.

Before I even got to the city gates, I heard what seemed to be the end of a very violent altercation. When I rounded the corner, coming to a farm, three people—two women, and I trusted the big hairy one was a man and not, in fact, some kind of half-beast—were standing over a now dead giant.

The red haired woman stepped forward. “Well, that’s taken care of. No thanks to you.”

I realized she was talking to me. “Didn’t look like you needed any help”, I replied just as sharply, walking towards them to glance down at the giant. Yep. It looked dead to me.

She then proceeded to lecture me about how a true warrior seeks out the opportunity for battle and blah blah blah. Who cared? If I were looking for a battle I would’ve gone to Solitude or Windhelm or into the depths of some forboding cave. Who looks for a battle at the side of the road or on some farm? Obviously seeing my intense interest in the subject, she told me that she and the others belonged to a band of warriors, the Companions of Jorrvaskr.

“You can keep your battles,” I told her. “I don’t fight anymore.”

“Once a warrior, always a warrior,” I heard her mumble behind me.

As I was stalking back to the road, arms crossed at my chest, the large one called out to me. It would seem the previous conversation was lost on him.

“You look strong. Come to Jorrvaskr and be a Companion.” At least he was brief and direct. Long speeches were useless.

“Not interested,” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Suit yourself, then.” Would it be weird if he sounded disappointed somehow? Whatever.

It didn’t take long to find the cloud district. I just followed the well-dressed, self-important-looking redguard and he led me right to it.

As I neared the throne, I was cut off by a dark elf who looked to be rather ill-tempered. Or perhaps she was simply mirroring my own expression. She drew her weapon, and demanded that I state my business, for apparently the Jarl had more important things to do than lend his ear to one of the few survivors of a dragon attack.

When I did state that as my business, however, she moved aside.

So I told the Jarl about the stupid dragon, and he seemed to think I could be of more use to him, and asked for my help. His idea of help? Running errands for his court mage. Well, I was looking for something non-violent to busy myself with.

Fetching some Dragonstone in an old ruin sounds easy. I’ll be back before the end of the day.

Morndas, Roughly 7:00 PM, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Helgen.

I would expect that not much of the town is left now, after that dragon attack earlier today.

To that, however, I say: Good riddance.

I traveled to Skyrim to flee my past in High Rock and to start my life over while I am still young. But what happens just as I pass over the border? I am arrested, and sent to Helgen for execution. Why? Well, that part was never exactly made clear to me. Something about a rebellion and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Such is my life.

Anyway, just as I was being thrown down at the block, a dragon came out of nowhere and, well, it saved my ass is what it did. I escaped Helgen with an Imperial soldier named Hadvar, and followed him to his uncles home in a quiet town called Riverwood. Their hospitality is slowly making up for their mistake of nearly executing me; as is Hadvar’s repeated insistence that I am a “friend” and that he wouldn’t be alive without me.

It was probably the other way around, but if that’s how he insists on seeing it, who am I to disagree? 

Perhaps I will look into this civil war business, as Hadvar requests. I know I shouldn’t; I should just mind my own business and try to live a quiet life as a… I don’t know, a shopkeeper in some quiet town, or something. If I go snooping around in complicated affairs such as this one, I’m just begging for my bloody history to repeat itself. But I can’t help my curiosity…

Then there’s the problem of the dragon. Last I checked, they no longer existed. So why did one swoop down out of the mountain side and save my ass from the chopping block?

I suppose it doesn’t matter.

Hadvar’s uncle, Alvor, has kindly asked me to travel to Whiterun to inform the Jarl of the dragon so that much-needed preparations could be made to keep Riverwood from meeting the same end as Helgen. I agreed, and will be riding out first thing in the morning…

Just after I sleep off these near-death jitters.