Dunmer Refugee Journal - Orthalo

[Orthalo]

I just thought it might be fun to keep a character Journal, i'll try to keep it updated, and hopefully make my adventure more epic! No spoilers please, i haven't played all the questlines.



Thanks to BigWooly for some of his restriction ideas, they make the game alot more immersive.













Summary:

Play a Dunmer refugee with an interest in the Ancient Dwemer/Dragon Cult. Start with nothing, and rise to become the hero of Skyrim. Planning a spellsword character, but who knows what'll happen.




I - THE BACKSTORY

When Orthalo left Morrowind for the supposed sanctuary of Skyrim, he had no idea how brutal the province could be. Robbed, beaten and left for dead he made his way to Windhelm; his dreams of starting a new life shattered. From the humblest beginnings, Orthalo fights to survive in Skyrim.

II - IMPORTANT MODS
- Skyrim Redone
- Realistic Needs (So must eat, sleep, drink etc)
- Frostfall Hardcore (Cold is deadly! On the plus side, camping.)


III - PLAY RESTRICTIONS

- Start the game with nothing but rags
- Difficulty set to Expert
- HUD disabled
- Brightness dropped 2 notches
- Only carry 30% if what the game allows
- Only carry 30 arrows
- Must have a free hand to use a potion/pick something up
- May not sneak for unreasonable amounts of time
- May not use in-game map unless at known location
- May not fast travel (except by cart)
- May not use exploits
- May only use manual saves after sleeping
- When character dies reload from most recent save
- A mercenary's fee is for 1 x 24 Hour Period
- A companion adds 10% to your carry ability
- When a companion/Mercenary dies they are dead, no save loading

IIII - CHARACTER SPECIFIC RESTRICTIONS

- Not allowed to use smithing
- Must apply level points to Magicka/Health/Stamina in a 2-1-2 fashion

 

[Orthalo]

Morndas 18th of Last Seed

Beaten, robbed and penniless. Skyrim is a harsh land, and its natives are harsher still.

I knew the risks involved in the journey from Morrowind, yet i had not expected to lose all but my life, this journal and the rags i'm clothed in. Windhelm is bitter cold, and the Nords are unwelcoming.

I spent the night in a warehouse on the docks to avoid the bitter cold, but i slept little. I'll need to find a way to make some coin lest i starve or freeze to death here. Perhaps the rising sun will herald a change in my fortunes.


Tirdas 19th of Last Seed

Another bone-chilling night was spent in the dock warehouse, but I can't go on like this. I'm exhausted. The only skill i possess is my use of destruction Magicks, but they serve no purpose in the city. I wouldn't survive the journey to anywhere else, the land is too inhospitable, and i lack the coin for supplies. I've heard of a Mage's college in a city named Winterhold where i might develop my skills, but its too far to travel in my current state.

While searching for stale food in Windhelm's streets I came across a great commotion in the cities graveyard, a Nord girl had been murdered. The guard thought i might have seen something and asked me to speak to the other stander-by's. One mentioned the girl still had her coin purse, and Divines forgive me, I took it.

The girl was dead, and I was not, but soon to be without good food and shelter. Her purse and silver ring represented life. I wasn't noticed as i relieved the dead girl of her valuables.
I feel some guilt, but Windhelm is harsh. I must become harsher still to survive.

 

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

This is awesome man! Good choice of picking the most racist city in Skyrim btw

 

[Orthalo]

Thanks bud! Hopefully this is the right place for it.

 

[Orthalo]

Middas 20th of Last Seed

With money in my pouch I've slept in a warm bed, and eaten my fill of fresh fruit and bread. The dead girl's accusing eyes no longer haunt my thoughts, with a full belly and warm limbs to offset my guilt.

I spent some time with the Argonians at the docks, who seem to live as harsh an existence as I. One, Stands-In-Shallows, asked me to steal a bottle of skooma for him from the New Gnisis Corner Club. I don't like the idea of stealing from another Dunmer, but I need friends in Windhelm. If I'm to escape this grinding poverty, I'll do what I must.

It was simple enough to find and take it, despite the gloom. Obviously the guards don't visit the Corner Club, if they leave skooma out on the shelf for all to see. The Argonian was well pleased with my work and taught me how to move unseen with more skill. No doubt this will come in handy in Windhelm.

The chill air was deadly tonight, and I almost froze to death on the streets. I need to get out of these rags and into some warm furs as soon as possible.

 

[AS88]

This looks good, I'm glad that someone's following BIGwooly's style with actual mods and stuff in place to enforce it. Good luck!

 

[Orthalo]

Thanks for the support dude. Ive been RP-ing my characters since reading Wooly's Hrisskar journal, but this is the first time ive done anything other than think about it in my head... If that makes sense, lol.

Thought it'd be cool to get a written log i can look back on when im riding dragons and shouting people off of cliffs.

 

[AS88]

Yeah I did something similar. I even started off a journal of my own, and I've still got faith in the character, I just didn't have the time to carry on with it. Maybe soon I'll be able to try again, maybe even revive this one.

http://skyrimforum.com/threads/steel-fire-and-fame-acilios-journal.15800/

 

[Orthalo]

Turdas 21st of Last Seed

I slept in Candle-Hearth hall, and broke my fast with stolen bread and river water. My funds are low, and i no longer care about stealing from the hall. The owner, Rolf Stone-Fist is a prejudiced brute, and the food i stole from him tasted fine indeed. I must be careful though, no doubt the dungeon is most unkind to Dunmer.

Whilst looking for better clothes to ward off the chill air, the merchant Sadri approached me and offered a reward if i were to break into a Nord woman's house to replace a golden ring he had stolen. This backwards thievery makes little sense to me, but i suppose fear of the castle dungeons might drive a man to foolishness. I'll make the attempt, I need a set of furs to survive, and perhaps he'll pay in coin.

The task proved simple enough, I simply waited until the woman left in the morning before picking the lock and entering. I replaced the ring, and made off with a bag full of silver-ware, some animal hides, and enough food for a few days. Oh, how the rich live in Windhelm!


Sadri was over-joyed to hear of my success, he gave me 400 gold pieces, and now counts me amongst his friends. This means i can stay in his shop at night, and help myself to his food. Finally my struggle for life and death within the city is over. With the money I intend to buy myself some furs to protect myself from the cold. Even the streets of the city can be deadly in Skyrim.

I also managed to sell my stolen silver-ware to a shifty labourer at the Corner Club, who turned out to be a fence. With the extra gold I might afford a sword and feel more comfortable leaving the city. But for now I'll eat, sleep and bask in my good fortune!

 

[Orthalo]

Fredas 22nd of Last Seed

None of the traders stocked fur clothes! Do the Nords have ice for blood? I settled for some thick leather boots and gloves, stuffed with fox fur, which while not as arm as I'd like will prove more use in a fight. The thick leather might serve to turn a blade.

I spent some more time at the docks with the Argonians, and agreed to talk to their employer about gaining a fairer wage. It seems like the Argonians have it worst in all the city, and if I can help I will.

I shared a drink with their employer, Tjorborn Shatter-Shield, and commiserated with him about his daughter's death. He warmed to me immediately, and in his sotted state he agreed to raise the Argonian's wages. The Argonians were indebted to me for my help, and supplied me with a cache of stamina potions.

I've survived poverty, and helped others with their plight, i've made friends in Windhelm and secured myself a place in Skyrim. It may be time to venture forth and visit new lands. Somewhere less cold, somewhere friendlier to my kind.

 

[Orthalo]

Fredas 22nd of Last Seed

I left Windhelm this morning. I do not yet know where I plan to travel, but there is much to see and learn. The cold remains a constant danger, but i should be able to gather enough wood for a fire if the need arises.

I read many of the books in Sadri's shop, and was intrigued by tales of the Dwemer ruins. The disappearance of the Dwemer has always fascinated me, and it is my ardent desire to learn more. I've stopped in Kynesgrove, a small mining settlement south of Windhelm. Away from that oppressive city the future seems bright.

I decided to continue heading south from Kynesgrove, for no other reason than the land looks warmer the farther south you get from Windhelm! I followed the road mostly, hoping to avoid the worst of Skyrim's ferocious inhabitants, man and beast alike.

Despite my precautions, my journey was plagued by attacks from wolves, which seem both fearless and prolific in Skyrim. I saw them off with fire, and skinned most of the beasts with my iron dagger that I took from Sadri's shop. I'm not the most proficient hunter, but hopefully the rough cut furs will provide some gold from the right buyer.

The land is surprisingly warm, no doubt thanks to the great geysers of steam rumbling their way free of the nearby hills. Imagine my terror when one of the hills turned and lumbered my way! A Mammoth! The earth itself shuddered at its approach, and I scrambled back to keep out of its way. Though it seemed docile enough, I wasn't willing to risk having it crush me into the Tundra.

I fell back into the lush green pines and found myself before an an intricately carved stone archway, was it Dwemer? My excitement rose as I followed the path and came across an old Dwemer store room. With trepidation, I opened the great bronze doors and entered. The room stank of dust and sulphur, but was thankfully unoccupied. There was a host of Dwemer treasure behind a locked door, but the lock was fiendishly designed, and i broke all four of my picks attempting to open it. Despite this setback, I stuffed my pack with all the Dwemer urns, pots and plates that I could carry; sure that they'd be worth a good deal to a city merchant.

I left the store room and continued on my way to the ruins, which I could hear before I could see. The hissing, clanking Dwemer machines were still working. Despite my curiosity, I warned myself that the Dwemer guardians were likely still active too. Further warning lay just outside the entrance, a dread Khajitt lay sprawled, his hands clasping a hideous wound in his side. I had struggled with wolves, I certainly wasn't ready to venture into the ruins just yet. I took the dead adventurer's steel war axe and studded armour, to replace my own iron dagger and cloth shirt, and moved on. Perhaps I will return one day.

For now, the road beckons once more...

 

[Crazykidconnor]

I've been playing Skyrim since day one, and your story is a great new way to look at the game. I actually want to thank you for writing this Journal of yours.

 

[Orthalo]

Cheers dude! I do find myself having alot more fun playing this way. Its more immersive, and you dont just run around swinging swords and selling fat loots.

Plus its cool how the story changes.. Like my guy was set to be a mage, but was forced into stealing, now hes more set up to be a thief. Its cool.

 

[Orthalo]

Fredas 22nd of Last Seed

I have arrived in Riften! A large wood-built city sited on the shores of a lake. It seems idyllic enough, but the townsfolk seem nervous. Perhaps its just the threat of war. A guard tried to extort money from me at the city gates, but I called him out on the obvious shake-down, and he let me inside without fuss. I may not be ready for exploring Dwemer ruins, but Windhelm has certainly sharpened my street-smarts.

Though the local people seem more welcoming, they also seem determined to part me from my gold. Just inside the gates a brutish Nord who names himself Maul warned me not to stick my nose in anyone's business, then demanded a bribe to know who to watch out for. After parting with my coin, he opened up about the Black Briars who ruled Riften, and the Thieves Guild who made their home beneath the streets. Their presence definitely explains the towns atmosphere...

I headed to the market place to sell the wolf skins and Dwemer artifacts I'd collected on my journey, and managed to offload them to a fellow Dunmer named Brand-Shai. As I was browsing his wares, a pock-marked Nord with red hair approached. He introduced himself as Brynjolf, and he claimed to know that the money I owned had been earned dishonestly. How could he know about Windhelm? He also complimented me on the way I handled the guard at the gate, saying I'd handled it like a professional thief. I wasn't sure whether to be complimented or insulted... He offered me a job, helping him to set someone up for some time in the castle dungeon. But I told him I'd need time to think about it. I stole to survive in Windhelm, but do I want to be a criminal?

I rented a room in the Bee and Barb, which seems a little run down. The Innkeep didn't seem to like the look of me until she saw my coin. It seems the whole of Riften runs on it. After a drink I got talking to another Dunmer named Romlyn, who asked me to deliver a keg of mead to Ivarstead. It seemed like smuggling to me, but I agreed. To be honest the open road appeals more than the city, and I could use the coin... It seems a better way to make money than having an innocent trader flung in the castle dungeon. I ate a meal of fish and bread, washed down with Ale before heading to my room to sleep. I leave for Ivarstead in the morning.

 

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

It's a shame that theres no mods for xbox, because this sounds so damn fun, I'm getting jealous haha

 

[Orthalo]

Loredas 23rd of Last Seed


I set off at dawn, feeling well rested, after breaking my fast with river-water and some boiled eggs. The journey was uneventful, apart from a run-in with a pack of wolves which caused me little trouble.

I arrived in Ivarstead in the early morning, relieved that I would soon be free of this damnably heavy keg. The Innkeep confirmed my suspicion that the trade wasn't exactly legal by telling me to keep my voice down. He gave me a silver ring for my troubles, which I put on. I can sell it later if I run out of coin. He also told me of a spirit haunting the barrow in the centre of town, which I agreed to investigate. Though the thought of vengeful spirits unnerves me, I'm too curious to see the ancient Nord ruins to hold back. I only hope the dead prove as easy to dispatch as the wolves which plague the roads.

The barrow was much as I expected, cold and dark. But the stonework is masterful, as are the chiselled inscriptions and black iron facings. The dead stand sentinel over me, incredibly well preserved corpses who stand with arms folded in cobweb covered alcoves. At least they're resting, I'd heard tales of the undead Draugr, said to rise and defend their tombs.

That was when I saw it, the cold grey spectre beyond the bars, staring right at me! It spoke then, warning me to leave this place. It's malevolent hissing unnerved me, and I raised my hands to defend myself, and it retreated. I followed, avoiding traps and holding my torch to light the way. As I pushed open an iron door the spectre came howling out, throwing fireballs at me and slashing with a spectral dagger. Despite my fear, I let loose with a blast of lightning that crackled against the ghost's skin whilst swinging my axe over hand. After a few glancing blows, it connected with my opponent's head and smashed his skull, the ghostly mist fading; revealing a dark elf.

It turns out he had been alive, before I killed him, the wraith like appearance the product of a potion. This Dunmer had been fooling the townsfolk while ransacking the tomb! Despite the strange circumstances, I was elated. I'd braved the tomb and vanquished my foe, like one of the heroes from the stories my mother told as a child. No longer a beggar, I was an adventurer, and suddenly Skyrim didn't seem so daunting.

 

[Orthalo]

Loredas 23rd of Last Seed

The Innkeeper Wilhelm was furious about being tricked by the adventurer Wyndelius, but also grateful to me for exposing his scheme. He insisted I take an ornamental dragons claw as payment. The craftsmanship was incredible, and it seemed worth a fair amount of coin, but Wyndelius journal revealed that it was a key to the deeper recesses of the tomb. No doubt there is great danger, but also great fortune to be had.

The key was more than just a key, it also solved a puzzle. Inside the barrow, a great stone door formed of concentric circles barred the way. Upon each was a symbol, and by turning the circles to match the symbol and placing the claw in the lock did the doors open. As dust rained from the ceiling, the doors shuddered and rumbled as they slid into a recess in the floor. I was gripped by a wave of excitement and fear. I had come so far, and was about to risk it all.