I woke in Dawnstar, a familiar town, not one I fancied, and not one to look upon. I’m a Khajiit, a thief, a member of the Thieves guild, Dark Brotherhood, the Harbinger of the Companions, and a house owner and Jarl in all the cities. I’m also a member of the Dawnguard and I’m the Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim and a war hero in the Civil War against the Skyrim tyrant, Ulfric Stormcloak. Since Dawnstar isn’t one to look at, I decided to leave, following the only road in and out of the stupid small town.
The Khajiit caravan that usually set up camp outside the cities had their tents along the road as usual, except no Khajiits, they were all fighting some undead or conjured bandits, I guess? I really don’t know what these things were, but whatever they were, the Khajiits somehow felt threatened by them.
Not wanting to get tangled in the mess, I enjoyed the short show and then continued on my way when I ran into the usual camp where Giants could be seen herding mammoths around like pets. Ugly, hairy, and smelly, I hated Giants, but the sport of taking them down was a rush.
I had a crossbow from the Dawnguard club and though it was virtually useless when trying to take down fast enemies, I figured that only increased the pleasure and adrenaline rush of the sport of hunting mammoths. I braced myself for the impending attack: I readied my familiar in my left hand, my Mehrune’s Razor in my right, I had the shout to call my homeboy Odahviing, and my feet were tingling with the urge to run. I conjured my wolf familiar and shouted, “ODAHVIING!” afterwards, reaching for my crossbow and firing a shot into the mammoth’s snout, which, by the way, they hate when you shoot their snout.
He immediately went for my familiar, which was part of the plan, a diversion, I could hear Odahviing in the distance coming to my aid, and as I sprinted behind a rock, I reloaded my crossbow, reemerged from hiding and fired another shot into the mammoth’s rear end. Odahviing swooped in to save my hide and as I fired two more shots, it gave the dragon plenty of time to land and blast the mammoth with fire. Oh, and believe me, the smell of mammoth fur burning…worst than the smell of a giant’s vulgar stench. However, after luring the mammoth away from the giant itself, we were able to corner him onto a ledge near a bandit hideout.
Odahviing was able to blast the mammoth’s face with a flamethrower of fire, and through the blinding light of the heat, I couldn’t tell, but I’m pretty sure the mammoth was cast to Oblivion by the sheer power of the flames. Well, we jumped out of the pan and into the fire itself because now bandits were after us for intruding on “their” land. I say that because they think their entitled to everything…they need to be wiped off the planet.
I focused on one bandit highwayman and then jumped to the roof that made a bridge across the top of the hideout. I was able to stakeout for a little while…until another baboon started firing arrows at me.
I was able to take him down with my crossbow, but then I had to make a leap to the next roof over and help Odahviing, who was oddly having more trouble with a bandit than he did with the mammoth. One bolt and the bandit went down and I jumped to level ground where I rounded up to the top to the dead archer, and found myself face-to-face with an Orc who tried to decapitate me with his greatsword. One bolt and he went down…all the way down, the ice made him slide off the edge of the bridge.
I turned to face a Redguard bandit who thought it would be funny to jump around like a rabbit and make me lose at least 3 bolts, when she came right up to my face, she charged in with a battle cry, “HEYAAAA—” which I killed when I forced a bolt in between her breasts, and her cry faded to a groaning, “Uggghhh…..” That was it for the bandits and it was already getting late in the day. I decided to whip up some food on the nearby cooking spit, only to find I had no salt piles, so I’m going hungry for the night. Skyrim, I love you so much. However, it’s not like I planned this, my 80-something salt piles were in my house, tucked away in Solitude, deep in the confinements of…a barrel…in my basement.
So, I searched for a bedroll, only to find a chest, which just so happened to contain a Dragonscale Helmet! What are the odds, right? I had zero smithing skills, so it’s lucky I found one at all. Some bandit must have made it, so I’ll be seeking out a river to wash this filthy, germy thing off in the morning.
Skyrim, you and me are going to get along just fine…