No sooner have I left the city the next morning than I discover two of the black hounds the vampires use are trying their best to rip the throats out of the gate guards and a Khajiit caravan that has just finished packing up. Drawing my crossbow, it only takes two shots to kill both of the already weakened beasts. Continuing down the road, I don't meet anything or anyone else until I pass through the quiet Dragon Bridge. It's still early, so only the guards are out and about and barely even glance my way as I jog past.
After crossing both the bridges out of the little hamlet, I turn east along the road towards Morthal and Dawnstar. I've barely passed the treeline when an angry mudcrab scuttles up the slope from the marshes and snaps at me with its pincers. Stupid creature didn't stand even the slightest chance.
I turn down the road into Morthal to visit the Thaumaturgist's Hut to sell off all the excess potions and ingredients that are merely weighing me down, then return to the road and continue my journey. A little beyond the turn-off to Morthal, a pair of spiders scuttle away from their recent catch to try to add me as a side-dish; instead they end up decorating my blade with their entrails. I wipe my sword on the elk they'd started wrapping in spider silk then follow the cobbles – to be attacked by a rogue skeleton. Sigh.
Leaving the scattered bones behind my steel-clad back, I pass a man walking a painted cow along the road and cut my way through a trio of wolves before turning south near Dawnstar. This time, instead of running through the stupid squadron of Imperial soldiers, I run around Fort Dunstad and re-join the road on the other side. Past the snowline, another pair of wolves leaps out at me, and are quickly left for buzzard-food.
It seems Loreius still hasn't got around to fixing the jester's cart, as the broken cart is still standing on the side of the road. I wonder if he ever will.
At the crossroads at the Meadery, I detour to Riverwood to visit the Trader. I might take the south road this time, for a change of scenery.
As I leave the shop though, a few pounds lighter and a large purse richer, I change my mind and head off back to the crossroads. Taking the south road means passing through what's left of Helgen, and I'm not ready to go back there yet.
I use the shortcut over the arm of the great mountain and reach the river near Ivarstead with the sun only halfway back down to the horizon in the west. Across the rapids, I spot a troll that has moved into the little cave with the dead Stormcloaks in, so I sneak across the river and try to stay hidden as I approach the ugly beast – to no avail.
The troll spins around with an angry roar, and swipes at me with its enormous arms. Dodging, I lash out with my sword and hack at the thick, matted fur until the monster is dead. Gazing around the cave, I notice that the troll's scratching around has unveiled more orichalcum in the vein at the back, so I mine it out then head up to the village.
Not far into the trees on the other side, a large pack of wolves are hanging around, a pair of them chasing a deer that stumbled into their group – and the other three targeting me instead. It doesn't take much effort to kill them, but in the time it took, the other two had finished off the deer, and so now they attempt to get at me too, and fail as badly as their pack-mates.
Turning east at the junction, I pass a wandering bard and, a little further on, a man who calls out about joining the Stormcloaks as I run past. I wave a hand in acknowledgement, then return my attention to the road – just in time, as a rather drunk Dunmer leaps out of the nearby bushes and casts a flame spell at me before attempting to smash my head in with his elven-made mace.
"Yol!" Bathing him in fire in return, I swing my Dwemer blade towards his body, and manage to open a gash in his armour. I use the tear in the iron to my advantage, and as the drunkard charges towards me, I hold my sword in both hands, pointed at the gap, and the poor idiot drives himself onto my sword.
I clean my blade on the grass, then take the Dark Elf's coinpurse, adding the contents to my own and tucking the empty little sack into my bag. As I straighten, a thief ignores the fact I'm standing next to a corpse and attempts to rob me.
"All right, hand over your valuables, or I'll gut you like a fish!" She cries.
I'm feeling rather confident, and also quite pissed off by now. "I'd rather die!"
"Then I guess that's your last request, fool!" Did this woman not see my fight against her drunken brethren? Oh well, someone to keep him company in death, I suppose.
I leave both the corpses behind me and continue along the road and through the back gate into Riften. The walls block out the last light of the setting sun, and the city is as quiet as it is dark. Renting a room in the Bee and Barb, I trot up the stairs, relieve my body of the heavier pieces of armour, and settle down on the thick straw mattress.