This one is grateful for your kind words. Khajit has more scribblings from the Breton. Come, see what I have brought....

20th of Heartfire, 4E 201

Bannermist Tower, sunset

In Skyrim, you may not find what you’re looking for, but you’ll always find something.

I set out at dawn, heading west from the tower but following no particular path. I came to a place where the open grass became hemmed in by a mountain to the north, and a jagged escarpment that dropped off to the south. Turning back, I caught sight of smoke in a clearing to the south, its source just out of sight. I moved closer to the ledge for a better view, hoping to see a friendly camp, but saw instead a burning caravan and several corpses. The evil that befell the dead is not for these pages.

I made my way to the site of the smoldering caravan, guessing it to be the work of the bandits, then continued westward, following a vague trail up a steep slope into the mountains. At the trail’s peak, further westward travel was blocked by the sheer rock of the mountain, but the trail bent south to an oblong plateau, big enough to support several tall trees. The edges of the plateau dropped off sharply, providing excellent views to the east and south. In the midst of the trees I found a ring of whitecap mushrooms, and in the center of the mushrooms lay a staff, a book, and a pool of blood.

I circled the area, looking for traps or other adventurers, but saw nothing. Tentatively, I stepped into the circle of mushrooms. Nothing happened. The book was a well-kept copy of Father of the Niben; hidden underneath it was a single glass arrow. The staff was made from some kind of metal, with a blue gem set at the top. I recognized it as a wizard’s staff for summoning a familiar, and wondered what kind of monster it summoned, and what became of the staff’s owner. Only one way to find out.

I stepped out of the circle of mushrooms, and readied my dagger in one hand; with the other, I pointed the staff at the center of the mushrooms. Anticlimactically, a domesticated wolf appeared. Nonetheless, I kept the staff. It would fetch a fine price in Falkreath for its novelty value. I sheathed my blade and explored the edges of the plateau, the wolf tagging along behind me.

From the southern edge of the plateau I could see down into a sort of cul-de-sac in the mountain. Far below, several hundred feet down, were pairs of stone pillars leading up to the mouth of a cave that appeared to lead deep under the mountain. A site worth exploring in its own right, no doubt, but not the bandit hideout I sought. I continued east and back north along the ledge, enjoying the view. I could just make out the peak of Bannermist Tower between the trees. The tower was indeed well camouflaged against the mountain behind it.

The sun was nearing its zenith. I turned north to begin making my way back to Bannermist Tower, and then I saw it. A wooden cabin high atop the ridge to the north. It was inaccessible from where I stood. The mountain ridge that had forced me to the south was indeed Knifepoint Ridge, but I was on the wrong side. Whatever access there was to the site of the cabin, it must come from the north.

I made my way back down the trail to the site of the burned caravan, then headed north until I stood on the far side of the ridge. A faint trail led westwards along the northern side of the ridge. I ran into a pack of three wolves along the trail, and dispatched the first two easily with quick bursts of flame from each hand. The third wolf grabbed my arm in its jaws before I could get the third fire bolt off. I unleashed the flames point blank into the wolf’s body, killing it. I cast a quick healing spell with my uninjured hand and felt much better. But when I brought both hands together to refresh my fading stoneflesh spell, I felt the telltale ache of rockjoint in the arm that had been bit. I have been bitten by so many wolves in my long years it is a wonder I’m not immune. I drank the last of my disease cure-all and my arm felt better.

I continued trekking along the edge of the forest that hemmed the northwestern slope of the ridge, looking for a path to the top. I had not gone far before I saw a more clear trail zig zagging up the mountain face, terminating at a wooden watch tower. I was still far from the tower, and well concealed by the forest. I crept as close as I dared, keeping to the shadows. There was at least one archer posted in the tower, and no cover on the trail leading up to the camp at the top of the mountain. In the full light of day, I would easily be seen. In light of my previous bounty hunting experience, I resolved to get some rest and make my approach under cover of darkness. I would need to stack the odds in my favor if I was to take on a bandit camp by myself.

It was past mid-day, but there were still hours of daylight left, and there appeared to be a trail winding north along the edge of the mountain. I turned east and sighted Bannermist Tower once more. With my bearings well established and some daylight to kill, I followed the trail north. I had not gone far before a figure ran down the trail towards me, weapon drawn. I stopped and readied a firebolt in each hand, charging the fire before me in a show of force. As the armed stranger approached, I saw it was a dunmer woman in rough leather armor. She brandished her blade and barked, “Alright, hand it over, everything you’ve got!”

“Walk away. Right now,” I replied, magic fire flicking from my palms. To my surprise, she lowered her weapon and muttered something about letting me off the hook this time, then hurried past me down the trail. I watched until she was out of sight, then continued northward.

I continued until the sun began to dip behind the western mountains and I walked in shadow. The forest falling away to the east was bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, but the trail still went on. I wanted to be back at Bannermist Tower before nightfall so I could rest before my midnight approach on the bandits, so I turned back. I diverted from the trail as the terrain leveled off, cutting a more direct line to the tower by passing through the forest.

I met no other trouble, save for three Stormcloak soldiers marching loudly along a perpendicular trail in the forest. They were chatting freely amongst themselves about their reasons for joining the uprising, and seemed friendly enough. I called out to them in greeting, but they drew weapons and shouted at me to go away. I gave them a wide berth as I passed, and eventually they continued on their way as well. I reached the camp as the peaks of the tower slipped from the setting sun into shadow.

You always find something in Skyrim.