Skyrim: Became Dovahkiin

The Main Character in Rorikstead

Skyrim. There was so much hype around that game. Anyway, I'm currently stuck surviving in the game's world. Right now, I'm in a carriage heading to Whiterun, and from there, to Rorikstead.

Staring at the sky and doing nothing is tiring. John sometimes chatted with the coachman to kill time.

"Listen, Kiebell."

"What is it?" the bald Nord coachman asked.

"Have you ever been to Ivarstead?"

"Of course, I have. It's very beautiful there. On top of that, they always have a good harvest. It's truly a blessing from the gods."

"Ah, I see." John looked away and started gazing at the mountains.

These stone giants were simply enormous. They seemed to reach up to the very sky. The mountains were capped with snow. Quite beautiful.

---

Several Hours Later

The day was drawing to a close. The sun was already on the horizon and would soon set. The warmth from its rays heated all of Skyrim and Tamriel. This same light carried magic into Nirn itself, enriching the world.

"Fhuh." John exhaled.

A puff of steam escaped the young man's mouth. A second later, the steam dissolved into the surrounding air. By night, the temperature would drop by a dozen degrees. It was autumn, after all. Winter and snow would come soon. Winter, with its biting cold, arrives faster in Skyrim. It's quite sad. John preferred summer.

The coachman approached John.

"Hey John. I suggest you stop at the inn."

"Why?" John was intrigued. Why say that? It was already obvious he'd stop at a tavern.

"You see." The bald Nord hesitated, wondering whether to speak. He thought about it.

"What's the matter, Kiebell?" John asked again. Suspicion was reflected in John's eyes.

The Nord remained silent for a while but finally clarified the situation.

"You see, John. In this settlement, for some reason, several women went missing a long time ago. And it's mostly men here," Kiebell said.

"Oh, so that's what you mean." John exhaled with relief. He'd been thinking something else entirely.

"Yeah. Anyway, several residents recently disappeared here."

"I understand. What else?" John began to scratch his chin. He usually had a habit of stroking his beard, but he didn't have one now.

"So. There were also rare cases where travelers went missing. Mostly women, but some men too. All of this happened at night. The guards say it's strange. They couldn't find any bodies or anything like that."

"Now that's interesting." John stopped scratching his chin. He listened intently to the coachman.

"Well, you understand what I'm getting at. You shouldn't walk around here at night. Alright. I'm going to drink some Honningbrew Mead."

"Uh-huh." John nodded.

"Are you drinking?"

"I'm not in the mood. Go alone."

"As you wish," the Nord said indifferently.

Creak

Kiebell entered the tavern, the door creaking. John turned away from the entrance and leaned against the wooden railing. His gaze fell upon the surrounding area.

This settlement had quite a few cultivated fields. Many residents toiled on them from morning till evening. But now, no one was in the fields.

"Interesting. Why do they have such a rich harvest? Hmm. And these disappearances. Very strange."

John let a few thoughts pass through his mind and headed into the tavern. The sun had already dipped below the horizon. Darkness had fallen outside. Drunken brawls, shouts, and people's conversations in the tavern diluted the atmosphere. But something bothered the young Dovahkiin. Whether it was Kiebell's story or the town itself, he didn't know. But for now, the young man was talking to people. He was improving his speechcraft skill. Over all these days, speechcraft had become his most advanced skill.

John often talked with his companions, acquaintances, and strangers. He always found a way to connect with everyone. The Dragonborn had become quite adept at this skill.

---

Closer to 11:00 PM

Not many people remained in the tavern compared to a few hours earlier. Many men had gone home. The remaining ones stayed here, drinking themselves into oblivion. An unpleasant smell of stale alcohol hung in the air. John decided to go to his room and sleep.

His friend Kiebell had fallen asleep at a table full of Honningbrew Mead.

The young Dovahkiin sat on the bed. He tried to meditate. His Dragonborn nature gave him the ability to absorb dragon souls. Furthermore, he could suppress their souls and memories, and they would dissolve into his body. But there were times when dragon memories assaulted John's mind. More than that, this certain draconic will for power and domination influenced John. He sometimes caught himself thinking that he wanted more power. That he needed more dragon souls to absorb.

But no. He tried to suppress this craving for power, and he was having a hard time doing it. Perhaps the Greybeards would help him solve this problem. It was a mistake to start the drinking quest with Sam. It took up a lot of time. He needed to focus on the main task: to become many times stronger. Otherwise, this world, along with John, might sink into oblivion (possibly).

---

Distant Screams

"What?" John became serious. His senses had already heightened beyond human capabilities. John quickly left the room. He grabbed his swords and put several potions in his pocket. John quickly pulled out his necklace. Quickly putting on the necklace, he rushed outside.

Outside, John focused on the screams. His hearing barely picked up these cries. After a few seconds, the Dovahkiin ran towards the noise.

After a few minutes, he arrived at a house. With a single kick, he broke down the door.

"What's going on!?" John shouted loudly.

But John only saw a woman giving birth, with a man, presumably her husband, assisting. Next to them stood an old man. He seemed to be in control of the situation.

"Why did you break into our house!" the middle-aged man exclaimed.

"I thought someone was dying," the Dovahkiin replied.

"No. She's just giving birth. You should leave."

"I apologize. Alright, I'll go." The Dovahkiin waved his hands and was about to leave.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the old man acting strangely. Even though John had appeared suddenly, such a reaction was too odd. The Dragonborn decided to wait in a nearby room. He kept an eye on the old man.

The woman's screams echoed throughout the area. After 15 minutes, she managed to give birth to a daughter with difficulty. The father looked at his daughter with joy. He wiped the baby with a towel and wrapped her in swaddling clothes.

"Finally," the old man whispered. He quietly activated a spell and sent a small, dark-purple beam towards the woman.

"What the?"

As a special black-colored spell formed in the old man's hands, John shouted:

"Turn around!"

The baby's father turned and saw the old man's spell hit his wife. The black spell wrapped around the woman. Her life force drained away. Her skin grew pale.

John immediately lunged at the old man. He swung his hand, his punch landing squarely on the old man's jaw.

"What's wrong?" the man asked. His wife was losing strength.

"This old man cast several spells on your wife! That black spell is draining her life force."

"What should I do?" The man was distraught. His wife looked worse with each passing second.

"You keep an eye on the old man, and I'll try to heal her for now."

He immediately nodded and went to watch the old Breton. John placed his fingers on her carotid artery. Her pulse was weak.

In an instant, two healing spells appeared in John's hands.