Welcome to another fantastic edition of Geeking out in Skyrim. Its been a week with no updates, as the real world has kept me very occupied with my mundane job of making sure gambling addicts always have a place to spend away their hard-earned money. Its a dirty job, and I love it.
Now then! On to better things!
Retrieving the Horn of Jorgen Stormcaller, for the Greybeards.
After ascending High Hrothgar and meeting with the Greybeards, they presented me with a task; to fetch some ancient artifact known as the Horn of Jorgen Stormcaller, the first of the Greybeards. Such an item of course would be within the sepulcher of said owner, because he's been dead for thousands of years. So y'know, I better be careful with whatever I find down there.
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| Thousand-year-old-cheese? WINNING. |
Before you even ask; yes I ate it. I had left High Hrothgar without raiding their supplies, so after hauling ass accross half of Skyrim to get to Jorgen's tomb, I needed a little pick-me-up. In no way was eating a millenium old wheel of goat cheese a bad idea that made me hallucinate giant spiders trying to eat me.
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| Honey, I shrunk the Dragonpuncher |
Because those spiders were quite real. I mean what other reason could be the cause to have such nightmarish visions of such nature? Food poisoning? Really? That's insane. You're insane. I drank enough alcohol after that cheese that I should've been in an alcoholic coma, awaiting Death's timely arrival. But no; Dragonborn metabolisms are too strong for such mortal woes, and I powered on after fisticuffs were made with the totally-real-and-not-made-up spiders.
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| Naptime of the Living Dead |
Halfway through the tomb, I found a pair of Orcish plate gloves, which explain the change of style; also they allow me to punch harder or something. I wasn't aware that Jorgen Stormcaller was a fan of Orcish Couture, but whadayaknow. So of course, I get to this main room filled with sarcophagii; or sarcophaguses, sarcophages, snuffalupagus. Coffins, and a lot of them. "Oh cool. I'm pretty safe here, everything's dead, and I can stop tripping out on cheese." NOPE. The resting Draugr decide to pop out and say Hi! With their teeth, and boney sharp limbs. I return the favor, with my two meaty ham-sized fists.
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| You got: Dragon Word! It makes you translucent. Boo. |
After giving the undead a good exorcizin', I'm saddened to see that Jorgen's Dais is Hornless. Not only that, instead of the horn, there's a note! Someone came in here before me, left everything that wanted to eat me with their giant teeth alive, stole the horn, AND left a note to sass me about it. I punched the shit out of that note. Whatever. Maybe Jorgen has some other instruments lying around, like a trombone, or a percussion harp, or a kazoo or something.
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| Jorgen's got a lot of junk in his trunk. |
While there were no other instruments, I did strike it rich! Lots of wonderful ancient treasures to pawn the hell out of, to make up for my reckless property purchasing in Whiterun! Staff of Flames? More like Staff of Paying off my Mortgage! With the place thoroughly looted, my attention turns back to the note from that sneaky thief; "Meet me in Riverwood if you want the Horn." Damn right I do!
So I go ALL the way back to Riverwood; and meet up with the owner of the note; Delphine. Delphine is a Blade. Not an actual blade, but a person with the title of. They used to be the Emperor's personal Guard back in Cyrodiil, and were pretty badass. They wear splintmail and use katanas, so think of them as the awesome Samurai caste within the Emperor's entourage, even though the Emperor is more of a Westernized King-figure than say, an Eastern Emperor. Anyways, Delphine is one of those, and its been 200 years or so since the events in Oblivion (Elder Scrolls 4), and the Blades are kind of in a bind. There's 2 of them left, and she's one of them. Also, she doesn't know where her other Blade friend is. So she needs help.
Back when I got that Dragonstone for the Jarl? Yeah, that was her doing. She convinced him to make me do it, so she could suss out just who I was, and then, if I was trustworthy. Lady, I'd gladly help you out, but you went the wrong-ass way of asking me. Give me the Horn.
Oh she will, she says, first she needs to test out a theory of hers, and I'm gonna help. It'll be win-win for me she says, because that Dragonstone? Actually a map. Of all the dragon burial sites, but the dragons they're not staying dead.
Basically she wants me to kill a dragon dead, to prove her theory that they're not staying dead, and that she knows where they'll show up next. Ok lady, fine. I'm the Dragonpuncher. One punched dragon, coming up.
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| Dragon souls taste like strawberries. |
There. See? Dead dragon, as promised. Surely after all the good word-of-mouth you've heard previously in the Jarl's court, this wasn't so much a test as it was a community service I did for the people of Kynoreth; what with there being a dragon in these here parts. There's no way you needed proof of who I wa..
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| Delphine the Blade; kinda like Mack the Knife, but more lame. |
Goddamnit. Everyone's a critic. Is it SO HARD to beleive that yes, I can absorb dragon souls into myself and use their essence to form powerful vocal magic shouts? Also I punch things? Thoroughly impressed with me, she gives me Jorgen's horn, and tells me to lay low for a while, as she's got to think some things over. Hopefully she'll ponder her trust issues with me.
Next time on Geeking Out! in Skyrim: I decide to join the fighter's guild: The Companions!
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