p id="docs-internal-guid-dba4966f-073a-448a-a29d-8a50ea6c2943" dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They exit the cave, eyes on the sky. The dragon is nowhere in sight./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Must've flown off," Ralof remarks. Hadvar makes a noise of agreement. Iora nods, even though they cannot see it, and follows them as they make their way down the path to the road. "That road down there leads to Riverwood, where Hadvar and I grew up together," the blonde tells Iora, gesturing to a glorified footpath down the hill. "My sister lives there, as does his uncle. He can rest there before leaving for Solitude."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Will you be coming with us?" Hadvar turns his head to look at Iora. She shrugs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Perhaps. I would like to get to a city as soon as possible to find a proper healer, though," she replies quietly. Ralof sends her a questioning look and she explains that she believed she had fractured her hand when punching a wall in the keep. He laughs loudly./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You — You punched a wall, lass? Why in Talos' name would you do that?" /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I lost control of my temper, believe it or not, son of Skyrim. It was either that, or electrocute this one over here," she jerks her head towards Hadvar. The man in question gives her a wry look./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, I can understand that, at least. He usually needs a few kicks to the head before he makes any sort of decision. Or, at least, he used to. Maybe time has softened his stubborn skull."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They reach the road, and Hadvar turns to Iora fully, shrugging out of Ralof's grip. "The fork in the road here will either lead you to Falkreath," he points towards the south-east, "or Whiterun," he gestures in a north-west direction. "Riverwood is on the way to Whiterun, so Ralof and I could at least accompany you that far. There's a temple dedicated to Kynareth in the center of Whiterun, headed by a healer-priestess, so I'd recommend going there, rather than Falkreath. All that's there is an alchemist."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... What kind of a city doesn't have a healer?" Iora is astounded at the apparent deficiency. In Morrowind, any city worthy of being called a city has at least one qualified healer in residence. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Falkreath is more of a glorified town," Ralof chips in, leaning against a boulder. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora runs a hand over her face. "I suppose you both are going to insist on having me come with you both to Riverwood, then?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two men have enough presence of mind to look sheepish. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, yes," Hadvar starts. Ralof interrupts him./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""There are occupied bandit camps between here and both Falkreath and Riverwood, no matter what you decide. I think I speak for both Hadvar and myself when I say that I'd feel much better about it all if we could at least see you safely to Riverwood." Hadvar nods in agreement. Iora sighs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Fine, I'll go to Riverwood with you. I imagine you'll want me to go on to inform the local lord of what happened, too, yes?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Local jarl," Hadvar corrects her with a smile. "But yes, it would be best to inform Balgruuf of what happened here today as soon as possible."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"With that said, the three of them make their way down to the main road. Hadvar and Ralof walked on either side of her. She is quiet, cradling her hand against her chest as the two men escorting her banter back and forth. A hawk cries mournfully overhead. A branch snaps in the woods to their right. Hadvar stops midstep. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wolf," Ralof whispers. He pauses, cocking his head. "Two wolves."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"As if speaking the name summons the creatures, two enormous wolves rush out of the underbrush, snarling at the humans. The sunlight catches on their fur as it ripples in the air, turning the russet strands a burnished red-gold. Ralof brings his warhammer down with a yell. One wolf is downed, spine cracked in two. The other helps once as Hadvar brings his shield up and smashes its nose inwards. Viscera explodes onto the earth, turning the dirt into a slush of blood and brain./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora clicks her tongue at the mess. Wolf eyes are excellent night-eye ingredients, and it seems a waste for them to be smashed into paste. But two are better than none and she kneels next to the corpse with the intact head, summoning her dagger to her hand and pops the wolf's eyes cleanly out of the sockets. She looks up, feeling eyes on her back. Hadvar is staring at her, looking a bit green./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Why do you do that?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Why not?" She shrugs nonchalantly. "They are good in potions, and were not exactly common in Morrowind."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You put them in potions? To drink?" Hadvar looks terribly disgusted at the thought. A small smile curves Iora's mouth, and she nods./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes. One of their more beneficial effects is limited night vision, not unlike what the Khajiit and Bosmer have naturally."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Huh." Hadvar is less green, now, and seems thoughtful. "I guess that would be useful…"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora nods again. "Yes, it really is, especially when exploring old ruins and caves." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They walk in silence after that, before coming to a stop at the crest of a hill. Ralof holds a hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the noonday sun as he points across the lake to a mountaintop draped in mists like a lace curtain. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That ruin over there is called Bleak Falls Barrow. Old Nordic tomb, from the days of the Dragon Priests. This one," the blonde jerks his head at Hadvar, "used to think that the draugr would crawl down the mountain at night and snatch us from our beds."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar scowls at Ralof, cheeks tinted pink. "We were children, Ralof. What else was I supposed to do but believe my uncle?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Ralof just shrugs, an easy grin on his face. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Dragon Priests? What are those?" Iora looks between the two men, head cocked to the side. It is the first she has ever heard of 'dragon priests'. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""They were an order of Men who worshipped the dragons and did their bidding. There were eight in Skyrim, if I remember the right of it. Legend says that they became powerful draugr to serve their scaly masters, even in death." Hadvar shudders. "I've heard tell of one in Volskygge, a tomb between Solitude and Markarth, but that could just be a rumor."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Are draugr like the liches of Cyrodiil, Quaestor?" Hadvar looks pensive at Iora's question. He is silent as he thinks./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes and no," he finally says. "I can't claim to know how draugr are made, but I do know that liches were most often powerful sorcerers that wished to extend their lifespan unnaturally. Draugr are more like undead servants, I think. They can range from weak enough to down with a well-placed arrow to ones that can Shout like the Tongues of old."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wait, what are 'tongues of old'? And what is so extraordinary about shouting?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"This time, Ralof answers her. "The Tongues were Nords, or maybe Atmorans, who could speak the dragon tongue. Not much is known about them now. A lot of Skyrim's history has been lost."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Hm." Iora picks her way over a fallen tree, tiptoeing across the length of the log. "So Tongues had the ability to speak as the dragons did. Was it magic?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Ralof blinks and says, "No."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar nods and says, "Yes."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora stops and stares at them both. "Well, which is it? It can't not be magic; dragons are inherently magical creatures, so it follows that a Shout would be a form of magic, no?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two men look at each other as though the other has the answer. Neither speaks. Iora crosses her arms, wincing as she jostles her hand. A hawk circles above them to the southwest. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... So nobody really knows what Shouting is, then?" The corners of Iora's mouth turn down as the Nords shrug and nod. "That is… unfortunate. Maybe the College has some books on it." She hops down from her perch, looking for all the world like some great brown bird. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""They will at least have historical texts on Skyrim's history," Hadvar consoles her. Iora's lips curve into a half-smile./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I hope that is true."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The trio makes good time on the road, pausing at a triad of upright stones that remind Iora of the Doomstones of Cyrodiil. Hadvar explains their purpose and names them Guardian Stones, saying that they have stood across the wilds of Skyrim since before history was recorded. Iora is inexplicably drawn to the stone engraved with the portrait of a wizard mid-cast. Her fingers connect with it, and the carving begins to glow with a bright cerulean light. A beam of something — Light? Magic? Magical light? Iora cannot tell — shoots up into the sky, or maybe comes down from the heavens. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I thought you might pick that one," Ralof says after she steps back. Both he and Hadvar brush their hands over the carving of a warrior, and they both seem to stand straighter, taller, after doing so./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, of course she did. She is a sorceress," Hadvar gently teases him. Ralof takes the ribbing with a good-natured smile./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They continue onwards, now with Hadvar in the lead. His color is nearly completely restored, and Iora feels confident that he can go about without she or Ralof shadowing him. The air is fresh down by the river that flows into Lake Illinata. Birds chirp in the branches above the road, and occasionally Iora can spot deer and elk through the trees on the right-hand side of the road. In the calm spots of the river between the rapids, silvery scales of tiny fish catch the light of the sun's rays. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar and Ralof are surprisingly patient when she stops to pluck the petals off of the wild mountain flowers on the side of the road. Iora names the more common uses for them as she goes, not really caring if her escorts pay her any mind. Blue petals restore and fortify health. Red petals restore and fortify magicka pools. Purple restores energy and fortifies agility./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They stop briefly as the buildings that make up Riverwood come into view. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It would not be safe for me to be seen in Hadvar's presence," Ralof explains after Iora asks why they have stopped. "I will wait for the sun to set, or even the moon to rise, before I make my way in." Hadvar acknowledges this with a nod and turns towards the outskirts of Riverwood. The blonde Nord looks to Iora. "Tell Gerdur — that's my sister — at the mill that I am alive and well, thanks to you. She will doubtless help you, if Alvor — Hadvar's uncle — proves to be difficult. Even if he is helpful, Gerdur will want to assist you."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora's smile is a timid thing and she sincerely thanks him, promising to deliver Ralof's message to his sister and her family before moving to join Hadvar at the town's edge. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"She is not overly impressed by her first view of the village that claims the title of town. There is a single road leading towards what can only be Whiterun. Along either side of it is hut-homes, sturdily built but small. Hadvar, ignoring the curious looks of the other inhabitants, makes a beeline for the first building on the left where a heavily-muscled blonde Nord pounds away on an anvil./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Uncle Alvor!" The man turns, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. His face lights up and he rushes to meet Hadvar, his hammer falling to the ground, forgotten. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Hadvar! What are you doing here, boy? Why aren't you with General -" The brunette shakes his head./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not here. We need to get inside." He lowers his voice, looking around cautiously. His uncle nods once, then spots Iora. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Who is this, then? You haven't dishonored the girl, have you?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar looks alarmed. "What? No! She saved my life, actually."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor accepts Hadvar's words, but still looks suspicious. "All right, then. Come inside, and I'll have Sigrid fix you something to eat. Then you can tell me why you look like you were on the business end of a mountain troll."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Actually, it was a bear," Iora chimes in as she follows the two men into the house. She seems to be doing that a lot, lately./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor raises an eyebrow. "A bear?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... and several Stormcloaks, and a dragon." Iora finishes, collapsing in an undignified heap beside the hearth. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""A dragon?! She isn't drunk, is she?" The question is directed at Hadvar, who shakes his head./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, it's true, Uncle. A dragon has attacked Helgen. Burned the place to the ground. It was… horrific. Be glad you weren't there."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"A woman comes up a staircase to the far left of the house as Hadvar speaks. "Hadvar! What do you mean, a dragon attacked Helgen?" The firelight catches on her face, illuminating the fine lines in her brow. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Exactly that, Aunt Sigrid. A big, black scaly monster right out of the stories you read to me as a child." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""A dragon, in Helgen? Then it could be here at any moment!" The woman looks at her husband, worry marring her face. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Sigrid, if there really is a dragon, wouldn't it have attacked Riverwood by now?" Alvor's words do much to calm his wife. Her expression smooths, but her eyes are still bright with fear./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That's just the thing, Uncle," Hadvar cuts in. "The dragon flew over Helgen, set it aflame, and then flew off. It went in this direction, but we would know by now if it had stopped here or near here." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That much is true," Iora drawls, standing from where she'd been sitting. Sigrid lets out a tiny gasp as she spots the Breton, and Alvor watches her with eyes like chips of ice. Iora bows to the two, her injured hand kept against her heart and the other held out from her side. "Iora Allegra of House Telvanni of Morrowind, at your service. Your nephew saved me from both being executed and being burned alive in Helgen."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That's not — You're not —" Sigrid seems to be at a loss for words./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not a Dunmeri name? My mother's father was an Imperial. He liked the name, and so when I was born, he gave it to me." She gives a watery half-laugh, suddenly missing her home, her father. "My father is a Telvanni wizard. He raised me in Morrowind alongside my paternal cousins after my mother and my grandfather's family was slaughtered by Justiciars of the Aldmeri Dominion." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The mention of the Thalmor has even Hadvar's hackles rising. It is clear to see, for Iora, that though this family may be loyal to the Empire (Mede's Empire, not the Septim's, not any longer), they still harbor a deep mistrust of the Altmer supremacists. This knowledge makes being so far from what is familiar slightly more bearable. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"It is Sigrid, bless her heart, who speaks first after the long silence following Iora's words. "I am sorry for your loss, Iora of Telvanni. Losing a family member to the Dominion is never easy. And I apologize if my words offended you. I was only surprised."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora waves it off, giving Sigrid a genuine smile. "I am used to it." Her smile fades, though, as she remembers exactly how and why she came to be in this tiny house in a tiny town. "I… the dragon. It flew off this way, like Hadvar said, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how nobody saw it."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor speaks up, saying, "I did hear Hilde yelling about seeing a dragon earlier." He looks like he has just eaten a lemon in the admitting of it, even so. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sigrid rests a hand on his shoulder. "No one believes that woman, anyhow, husband. No-one can blame you for not doing so now."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor seems bolstered by his wife's assurances. He turns to Iora now. "I would ask of you one thing, Iora of Telvanni: go to the Jarl, and tell him of this danger. Have him send soldiers to protect his people."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I was already planning on doing that," she quips sardonically before sobering. "But having a subject call for aid will add more credence to my news. I will do this, Alvor of Riverwood, and have men here to protect you by the end of the week."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Something in the blacksmith's bearing untenses, and he looks at the Breton with something — if not outright admiration — similar to respect. "Thank you," he says. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora inclines her head. "It is no trouble, truly. I actually have business in Whiterun. I, uh, got injured in the escape from Helgen." She gestures to the hand held close to her breast. I was hoping to see the priestess of Kynareth before I traveled on to my original destination."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""And where might that be, friend?" Alvor raises his voice as Sigrid begins fussing over Iora, rummaging in the drawers of a wardrobe for something to splint the hand with./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I was headed to the College of Winterhold, initially. That changed," she grimaces as Sigrid tightly binds her ring and little fingers together, "That changed when General Marcus Tullius invoked carnificum on those few crossing the Pale Pass into Skyrim."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar winces and his aunt and uncle look at her with blank expressions at the Imperial term. Iora sighs and begins to explain, "Carnificum is essentially when a military or political leader says, 'All of you are guilty, it does not matter if you are innocent, all people within a certain radius are sentenced to death.'"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sigrid and Alvor look suitably unsettled./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""So, you're saying that General Tullius sentenced innocent people to die?" Alvor's voice is low and has a dangerous edge. Sigrid finishes tending to Iora's injury, and sets bowls of stew and a plate of bread in front of both Hadvar and the Breton./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, there were several Stormcloaks and a horse thief and your country's hero, Ulfric," Iora elaborates, dipping a chunk of bread in the broth. "I suppose to the general's mind that so long as Ulfric and his men were captured and brought to Imperial justice it did not matter who got caught in the crossfire./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""To be fair, a few lives in exchange for many is a logical trade," she continues, chewing thoughtfully. "But I am still deeply unhappy that I was caught up in it. I was meant to be meeting with my cousin at the College. I hate being late."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""At least rest here for the night," Sigrid says, gently running a hand over Iora's shoulder. "It is the least we can do for you for bringing Hadvar back home safe."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thank you," the Breton says, swallowing thickly. Clearing her throat, she also twists to look out the window, not forgetting the promise she made to Ralof. It is nearly sundown. "I think, after I finish this - it is delicious, Sigrid, thank you - I will go for a stroll and familiarize myself with the area. I have not been somewhere so green in what seems a lifetime." Sigrid flushes, pleased with the praise, and Alvor laughs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I would imagine that it's a distinct change. Across the road is Lucan's shop, and next to it is the inn. Orgnar is usually manning the bar at this hour, and they have excellent mead there." He gives the information freely, but Iora cannot help but feel that she has not earned it. She thanks her hosts again ("It's not a problem, dear, now eat!" Sigrid orders her), and finishes her food quietly./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When she steps outside, Hadvar follows Iora as far as the doorway. "Gerdur and her family live in the house at the end of the road between Lucan's and the Sleeping Giant."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thank you, Hadvar. Truly. Your family is very kind." He waves her off with an eye-roll and a grin. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Go speak with them, and maybe you'll catch me at the inn when you're done."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes, da." Iora grins right back at the Nord and waves as she makes her way towards the home of Ralof's sister./span/strong/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Must've flown off," Ralof remarks. Hadvar makes a noise of agreement. Iora nods, even though they cannot see it, and follows them as they make their way down the path to the road. "That road down there leads to Riverwood, where Hadvar and I grew up together," the blonde tells Iora, gesturing to a glorified footpath down the hill. "My sister lives there, as does his uncle. He can rest there before leaving for Solitude."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Will you be coming with us?" Hadvar turns his head to look at Iora. She shrugs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Perhaps. I would like to get to a city as soon as possible to find a proper healer, though," she replies quietly. Ralof sends her a questioning look and she explains that she believed she had fractured her hand when punching a wall in the keep. He laughs loudly./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You — You punched a wall, lass? Why in Talos' name would you do that?" /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I lost control of my temper, believe it or not, son of Skyrim. It was either that, or electrocute this one over here," she jerks her head towards Hadvar. The man in question gives her a wry look./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, I can understand that, at least. He usually needs a few kicks to the head before he makes any sort of decision. Or, at least, he used to. Maybe time has softened his stubborn skull."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They reach the road, and Hadvar turns to Iora fully, shrugging out of Ralof's grip. "The fork in the road here will either lead you to Falkreath," he points towards the south-east, "or Whiterun," he gestures in a north-west direction. "Riverwood is on the way to Whiterun, so Ralof and I could at least accompany you that far. There's a temple dedicated to Kynareth in the center of Whiterun, headed by a healer-priestess, so I'd recommend going there, rather than Falkreath. All that's there is an alchemist."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... What kind of a city doesn't have a healer?" Iora is astounded at the apparent deficiency. In Morrowind, any city worthy of being called a city has at least one qualified healer in residence. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Falkreath is more of a glorified town," Ralof chips in, leaning against a boulder. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora runs a hand over her face. "I suppose you both are going to insist on having me come with you both to Riverwood, then?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two men have enough presence of mind to look sheepish. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, yes," Hadvar starts. Ralof interrupts him./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""There are occupied bandit camps between here and both Falkreath and Riverwood, no matter what you decide. I think I speak for both Hadvar and myself when I say that I'd feel much better about it all if we could at least see you safely to Riverwood." Hadvar nods in agreement. Iora sighs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Fine, I'll go to Riverwood with you. I imagine you'll want me to go on to inform the local lord of what happened, too, yes?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Local jarl," Hadvar corrects her with a smile. "But yes, it would be best to inform Balgruuf of what happened here today as soon as possible."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"With that said, the three of them make their way down to the main road. Hadvar and Ralof walked on either side of her. She is quiet, cradling her hand against her chest as the two men escorting her banter back and forth. A hawk cries mournfully overhead. A branch snaps in the woods to their right. Hadvar stops midstep. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wolf," Ralof whispers. He pauses, cocking his head. "Two wolves."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"As if speaking the name summons the creatures, two enormous wolves rush out of the underbrush, snarling at the humans. The sunlight catches on their fur as it ripples in the air, turning the russet strands a burnished red-gold. Ralof brings his warhammer down with a yell. One wolf is downed, spine cracked in two. The other helps once as Hadvar brings his shield up and smashes its nose inwards. Viscera explodes onto the earth, turning the dirt into a slush of blood and brain./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora clicks her tongue at the mess. Wolf eyes are excellent night-eye ingredients, and it seems a waste for them to be smashed into paste. But two are better than none and she kneels next to the corpse with the intact head, summoning her dagger to her hand and pops the wolf's eyes cleanly out of the sockets. She looks up, feeling eyes on her back. Hadvar is staring at her, looking a bit green./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Why do you do that?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Why not?" She shrugs nonchalantly. "They are good in potions, and were not exactly common in Morrowind."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You put them in potions? To drink?" Hadvar looks terribly disgusted at the thought. A small smile curves Iora's mouth, and she nods./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes. One of their more beneficial effects is limited night vision, not unlike what the Khajiit and Bosmer have naturally."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Huh." Hadvar is less green, now, and seems thoughtful. "I guess that would be useful…"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora nods again. "Yes, it really is, especially when exploring old ruins and caves." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They walk in silence after that, before coming to a stop at the crest of a hill. Ralof holds a hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the noonday sun as he points across the lake to a mountaintop draped in mists like a lace curtain. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That ruin over there is called Bleak Falls Barrow. Old Nordic tomb, from the days of the Dragon Priests. This one," the blonde jerks his head at Hadvar, "used to think that the draugr would crawl down the mountain at night and snatch us from our beds."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar scowls at Ralof, cheeks tinted pink. "We were children, Ralof. What else was I supposed to do but believe my uncle?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Ralof just shrugs, an easy grin on his face. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Dragon Priests? What are those?" Iora looks between the two men, head cocked to the side. It is the first she has ever heard of 'dragon priests'. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""They were an order of Men who worshipped the dragons and did their bidding. There were eight in Skyrim, if I remember the right of it. Legend says that they became powerful draugr to serve their scaly masters, even in death." Hadvar shudders. "I've heard tell of one in Volskygge, a tomb between Solitude and Markarth, but that could just be a rumor."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Are draugr like the liches of Cyrodiil, Quaestor?" Hadvar looks pensive at Iora's question. He is silent as he thinks./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes and no," he finally says. "I can't claim to know how draugr are made, but I do know that liches were most often powerful sorcerers that wished to extend their lifespan unnaturally. Draugr are more like undead servants, I think. They can range from weak enough to down with a well-placed arrow to ones that can Shout like the Tongues of old."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wait, what are 'tongues of old'? And what is so extraordinary about shouting?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"This time, Ralof answers her. "The Tongues were Nords, or maybe Atmorans, who could speak the dragon tongue. Not much is known about them now. A lot of Skyrim's history has been lost."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Hm." Iora picks her way over a fallen tree, tiptoeing across the length of the log. "So Tongues had the ability to speak as the dragons did. Was it magic?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Ralof blinks and says, "No."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar nods and says, "Yes."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora stops and stares at them both. "Well, which is it? It can't not be magic; dragons are inherently magical creatures, so it follows that a Shout would be a form of magic, no?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two men look at each other as though the other has the answer. Neither speaks. Iora crosses her arms, wincing as she jostles her hand. A hawk circles above them to the southwest. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... So nobody really knows what Shouting is, then?" The corners of Iora's mouth turn down as the Nords shrug and nod. "That is… unfortunate. Maybe the College has some books on it." She hops down from her perch, looking for all the world like some great brown bird. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""They will at least have historical texts on Skyrim's history," Hadvar consoles her. Iora's lips curve into a half-smile./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I hope that is true."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The trio makes good time on the road, pausing at a triad of upright stones that remind Iora of the Doomstones of Cyrodiil. Hadvar explains their purpose and names them Guardian Stones, saying that they have stood across the wilds of Skyrim since before history was recorded. Iora is inexplicably drawn to the stone engraved with the portrait of a wizard mid-cast. Her fingers connect with it, and the carving begins to glow with a bright cerulean light. A beam of something — Light? Magic? Magical light? Iora cannot tell — shoots up into the sky, or maybe comes down from the heavens. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I thought you might pick that one," Ralof says after she steps back. Both he and Hadvar brush their hands over the carving of a warrior, and they both seem to stand straighter, taller, after doing so./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, of course she did. She is a sorceress," Hadvar gently teases him. Ralof takes the ribbing with a good-natured smile./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They continue onwards, now with Hadvar in the lead. His color is nearly completely restored, and Iora feels confident that he can go about without she or Ralof shadowing him. The air is fresh down by the river that flows into Lake Illinata. Birds chirp in the branches above the road, and occasionally Iora can spot deer and elk through the trees on the right-hand side of the road. In the calm spots of the river between the rapids, silvery scales of tiny fish catch the light of the sun's rays. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar and Ralof are surprisingly patient when she stops to pluck the petals off of the wild mountain flowers on the side of the road. Iora names the more common uses for them as she goes, not really caring if her escorts pay her any mind. Blue petals restore and fortify health. Red petals restore and fortify magicka pools. Purple restores energy and fortifies agility./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They stop briefly as the buildings that make up Riverwood come into view. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It would not be safe for me to be seen in Hadvar's presence," Ralof explains after Iora asks why they have stopped. "I will wait for the sun to set, or even the moon to rise, before I make my way in." Hadvar acknowledges this with a nod and turns towards the outskirts of Riverwood. The blonde Nord looks to Iora. "Tell Gerdur — that's my sister — at the mill that I am alive and well, thanks to you. She will doubtless help you, if Alvor — Hadvar's uncle — proves to be difficult. Even if he is helpful, Gerdur will want to assist you."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora's smile is a timid thing and she sincerely thanks him, promising to deliver Ralof's message to his sister and her family before moving to join Hadvar at the town's edge. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"She is not overly impressed by her first view of the village that claims the title of town. There is a single road leading towards what can only be Whiterun. Along either side of it is hut-homes, sturdily built but small. Hadvar, ignoring the curious looks of the other inhabitants, makes a beeline for the first building on the left where a heavily-muscled blonde Nord pounds away on an anvil./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Uncle Alvor!" The man turns, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. His face lights up and he rushes to meet Hadvar, his hammer falling to the ground, forgotten. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Hadvar! What are you doing here, boy? Why aren't you with General -" The brunette shakes his head./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not here. We need to get inside." He lowers his voice, looking around cautiously. His uncle nods once, then spots Iora. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Who is this, then? You haven't dishonored the girl, have you?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar looks alarmed. "What? No! She saved my life, actually."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor accepts Hadvar's words, but still looks suspicious. "All right, then. Come inside, and I'll have Sigrid fix you something to eat. Then you can tell me why you look like you were on the business end of a mountain troll."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Actually, it was a bear," Iora chimes in as she follows the two men into the house. She seems to be doing that a lot, lately./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor raises an eyebrow. "A bear?"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""... and several Stormcloaks, and a dragon." Iora finishes, collapsing in an undignified heap beside the hearth. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""A dragon?! She isn't drunk, is she?" The question is directed at Hadvar, who shakes his head./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, it's true, Uncle. A dragon has attacked Helgen. Burned the place to the ground. It was… horrific. Be glad you weren't there."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"A woman comes up a staircase to the far left of the house as Hadvar speaks. "Hadvar! What do you mean, a dragon attacked Helgen?" The firelight catches on her face, illuminating the fine lines in her brow. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Exactly that, Aunt Sigrid. A big, black scaly monster right out of the stories you read to me as a child." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""A dragon, in Helgen? Then it could be here at any moment!" The woman looks at her husband, worry marring her face. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Sigrid, if there really is a dragon, wouldn't it have attacked Riverwood by now?" Alvor's words do much to calm his wife. Her expression smooths, but her eyes are still bright with fear./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That's just the thing, Uncle," Hadvar cuts in. "The dragon flew over Helgen, set it aflame, and then flew off. It went in this direction, but we would know by now if it had stopped here or near here." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That much is true," Iora drawls, standing from where she'd been sitting. Sigrid lets out a tiny gasp as she spots the Breton, and Alvor watches her with eyes like chips of ice. Iora bows to the two, her injured hand kept against her heart and the other held out from her side. "Iora Allegra of House Telvanni of Morrowind, at your service. Your nephew saved me from both being executed and being burned alive in Helgen."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That's not — You're not —" Sigrid seems to be at a loss for words./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not a Dunmeri name? My mother's father was an Imperial. He liked the name, and so when I was born, he gave it to me." She gives a watery half-laugh, suddenly missing her home, her father. "My father is a Telvanni wizard. He raised me in Morrowind alongside my paternal cousins after my mother and my grandfather's family was slaughtered by Justiciars of the Aldmeri Dominion." /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The mention of the Thalmor has even Hadvar's hackles rising. It is clear to see, for Iora, that though this family may be loyal to the Empire (Mede's Empire, not the Septim's, not any longer), they still harbor a deep mistrust of the Altmer supremacists. This knowledge makes being so far from what is familiar slightly more bearable. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"It is Sigrid, bless her heart, who speaks first after the long silence following Iora's words. "I am sorry for your loss, Iora of Telvanni. Losing a family member to the Dominion is never easy. And I apologize if my words offended you. I was only surprised."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora waves it off, giving Sigrid a genuine smile. "I am used to it." Her smile fades, though, as she remembers exactly how and why she came to be in this tiny house in a tiny town. "I… the dragon. It flew off this way, like Hadvar said, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how nobody saw it."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor speaks up, saying, "I did hear Hilde yelling about seeing a dragon earlier." He looks like he has just eaten a lemon in the admitting of it, even so. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sigrid rests a hand on his shoulder. "No one believes that woman, anyhow, husband. No-one can blame you for not doing so now."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alvor seems bolstered by his wife's assurances. He turns to Iora now. "I would ask of you one thing, Iora of Telvanni: go to the Jarl, and tell him of this danger. Have him send soldiers to protect his people."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I was already planning on doing that," she quips sardonically before sobering. "But having a subject call for aid will add more credence to my news. I will do this, Alvor of Riverwood, and have men here to protect you by the end of the week."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Something in the blacksmith's bearing untenses, and he looks at the Breton with something — if not outright admiration — similar to respect. "Thank you," he says. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Iora inclines her head. "It is no trouble, truly. I actually have business in Whiterun. I, uh, got injured in the escape from Helgen." She gestures to the hand held close to her breast. I was hoping to see the priestess of Kynareth before I traveled on to my original destination."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""And where might that be, friend?" Alvor raises his voice as Sigrid begins fussing over Iora, rummaging in the drawers of a wardrobe for something to splint the hand with./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I was headed to the College of Winterhold, initially. That changed," she grimaces as Sigrid tightly binds her ring and little fingers together, "That changed when General Marcus Tullius invoked carnificum on those few crossing the Pale Pass into Skyrim."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hadvar winces and his aunt and uncle look at her with blank expressions at the Imperial term. Iora sighs and begins to explain, "Carnificum is essentially when a military or political leader says, 'All of you are guilty, it does not matter if you are innocent, all people within a certain radius are sentenced to death.'"/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sigrid and Alvor look suitably unsettled./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""So, you're saying that General Tullius sentenced innocent people to die?" Alvor's voice is low and has a dangerous edge. Sigrid finishes tending to Iora's injury, and sets bowls of stew and a plate of bread in front of both Hadvar and the Breton./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, there were several Stormcloaks and a horse thief and your country's hero, Ulfric," Iora elaborates, dipping a chunk of bread in the broth. "I suppose to the general's mind that so long as Ulfric and his men were captured and brought to Imperial justice it did not matter who got caught in the crossfire./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""To be fair, a few lives in exchange for many is a logical trade," she continues, chewing thoughtfully. "But I am still deeply unhappy that I was caught up in it. I was meant to be meeting with my cousin at the College. I hate being late."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""At least rest here for the night," Sigrid says, gently running a hand over Iora's shoulder. "It is the least we can do for you for bringing Hadvar back home safe."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thank you," the Breton says, swallowing thickly. Clearing her throat, she also twists to look out the window, not forgetting the promise she made to Ralof. It is nearly sundown. "I think, after I finish this - it is delicious, Sigrid, thank you - I will go for a stroll and familiarize myself with the area. I have not been somewhere so green in what seems a lifetime." Sigrid flushes, pleased with the praise, and Alvor laughs./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I would imagine that it's a distinct change. Across the road is Lucan's shop, and next to it is the inn. Orgnar is usually manning the bar at this hour, and they have excellent mead there." He gives the information freely, but Iora cannot help but feel that she has not earned it. She thanks her hosts again ("It's not a problem, dear, now eat!" Sigrid orders her), and finishes her food quietly./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When she steps outside, Hadvar follows Iora as far as the doorway. "Gerdur and her family live in the house at the end of the road between Lucan's and the Sleeping Giant."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thank you, Hadvar. Truly. Your family is very kind." He waves her off with an eye-roll and a grin. /span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Go speak with them, and maybe you'll catch me at the inn when you're done."/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strong style="font-weight: normal;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes, da." Iora grins right back at the Nord and waves as she makes her way towards the home of Ralof's sister./span/strong/p