Category Archives: Ymelda Scrowles

Ymelda 24 – The Dork Tower

New day! Hunting! Foraging! Killin’ wolves and pickin’ grapes.

There really is no way to document this morning in detail that isn’t dull, so I won’t. We head South, then cross a river and double back to look in on another watermill I saw on the other side. I don’t know what is going on with Nords and mills around here. Do they have a grudge against nature, or what? It’s a wonder there are any trees left standing.

After much careful study, I can give an exhaustive description of this particular mill: It’s a mill. The owner is a Nord woman who complains that her workers all ran off to join the war, but frankly that’s probably for the best. A nation cannot live on lumber alone. She offers me money for chopping wood, but I want to keep moving, and moreover, I can’t find an axe. It’s while looking for one inside the abandoned bunkhouse that I encounter a shady figure.

With fingers resting nervously on my sword – the whole scene is just too unexpected to relax – I get talking to the kid, and check this out:

Oh HELL yes! Kid, prepare to witness the hide and seek CHAMPION in action. You have room for another player, right?

Awww, damn it. Morrigan and I get chatting, and you know what? I’m not going to spoil this one. Talking to these two is by far the most enjoyable interaction with some NPCs I’ve had in Skyrim to date. I will say though that Griffith is remarkably cool about her openly talking about him while he’s right there. He just sits there, wordlessly drinking from a flagon while Morrigan and I natter away about him. Of course, he might also just be completely mullered on ale, but who am I to judge?

Once the conversation’s over though, it’s time to move on. There’s nothing for me here, and I want to get as far away from crappy old Windhelm as possible. And here is where so the usually stellar Fraps did that thing where it arbitrarily stops recording anything without warning, and the result is that I have no footage of most of today. It’s not something I can really recreate either, however I do happen to have access to the original script.

EXT. SKYRIM – DAY

YMELDA is traversing a road South of Windhelm, near a river and tower.

DOG

I’m a dog! I’m a dog! I’m a dog! I’m a dog! I’m a dog! I’m a dog!

YMELDA

SHUT UP!

DOG

I’m a dog!

YMELDA

Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone! Jesus. I just wanted to know if you’re guarding this suspicious tower, but clearly not, so I’ma sneak around and see what it is.

YMELDA creeps around the suspicious tower, eventually finds a hole in the wall

YMELDA

Score! Looks like someone’s lurking, but they haven’t seen –

MAGE #1

YO, this is private property, mofo. Don’t make me fry you with my mind. Bounce!

YMELDA

Aight man, be cool, I’m gone.

MAGE #1

Yeah you just keep walkin’, holmes.

YMELDA leaves, and starts to follow the road away.

YMELDA

I guess that could have gone a lot worse. It’s good of them to warn me rather than just going nuts. Reasonable evil mages! Skyrim is truly a land of wonder. Oh hey, wolves.

WOLF

I’m a wolf! I’m a wolf! I’m a-GYURKKKH

UNREAL TOURNAMENT ANNOUNCER

HEAD SHOT! Double kill!

YMELDA

Somebody get our flag back! Gah, sorry, wrong button.

YMELDA continues in a vaguely Southerly direction until some STORMCLOAKS approach.

YMELDA

Hey! You want some pelts? Only the finest, freshest pelts with slight arrow damage. Anyone? Come on, I know you guys have the cash.

STORMCLOAK #1

Trouble?

YMELDA

No, I’m just selling stuff.

STORMCLOAK #2

What is it? Dragons?

YMELDA

No, no. Pelts. Wolf pelts. You buy. You buy good pelt yes. Is good. Give much money.

STORMCLOAK #1

Trouble?

YMELDA

... never mind. But if you keep on this road there’s this suspicious tower, see, and –

STORMCLOAK #3

The Stormcloaks are finding victory across the land.

YMELDA

I... yes. Look, I’ll just quietly tag along to help loot the tower, okay?

STORMCLOAK #1

Trouble?

YMELDA strolls alongside the STORMCLOAKS until they reach the SUSPICIOUS TOWER again.

MAGE #1

YO, this is private property, mofo. Don’t make me fry yoOH JESUS GOD NOT THE FACE

(dies)

STORMCLOAK #1

Hey, I can handle this alone. You guys wait here.

(runs off towards tower)

YMELDA

No no no, do not do that, that is a terrible idea.

STORMCLOAK #2

I fear the night, because the arrows and Imperials don’t.

STORMCLOAK #3

I used to be a lawless beast like werewolves, but then someone took my sweetroll.

CUT TO: TOWER

MAGE #2

A Stormcloak! Help!

STORMCLOAK #1

For Ulfric!

(kills MAGE #2)

MAGE #3

I’ve got the power!

(kills Stormcloak #1)

MAGE #4

What was that?

MAGE #3

Ask your parents.

MAGE #4

O SNAP!

CUT TO: ROAD

STORMCLOAK #2

Hey, I can handle this alone. You guys wait here.

(runs off towards tower)

YMELDA

Oh for the love of...

CUT TO: TOWER

STORMCLOAK #2

For Ulfric!

MAGE #4

Seriously Leland, we have got to find a better place to hole up. Every day they do this. Every bloody day. I’ve started basing my timetable around it, did you know that?

MAGE #3

ORRRRRRNLY LURV CAN SET YOU FREEEEEEE

(kills Stormcloak #2)

MAGE #5

I really wish he wouldn’t do that.

CUT TO: ROAD

STORMCLOAK #3

Hey, I can handle this alone. You guys wait here.

(runs off towards tower)

YMELDA

Oh fine, I’ll help this time. You don’t happen to have a brother named Valdr?

CUT TO: TOWER

MAGE #3

A lalalala long, a lalalala longlong li long long long!

(kills Stormcloak #3)

UNREAL TOURNAMENT ANNOUNCER

KILLING SPREE!

YMELDA

Oh well, I tried.

(runs away)

MAGE #4

Is that all of them?

MAGE #5

Nah, there was some Redguard with them, Hyaril is dealing with it though.

CUT TO: RIVER

YMELDA is running away, firing occasional arrows, while MAGE #3 fries half the forest with lightning, fire, etc.

YMELDA

Look, I think we may have got off on the wrong foot ...

MAGE #3

And she stands there, singing for money! La da dee la laow, la da dee la laow

(lightning)

YMELDA

ARGGH stop it stop it I loved that song

(arrow)

MAGE #3

Inforrrmer, y’knowunintelligiblepatoissomethingdidalaaame, a licky boom-boom down

(fire)

YMELDA

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod heal heal heal heal RIVER DIVE POWER ESCAPE!

MAGE #3

You know you don’t have to call your moves, right? Hey. Hey! Where’d you go? Awww man, now who’ll do the chorus for Coco Jambo?

YMELDA (O.C.)

A narrow escape indeed.

YMELDA hides in the forest, healing, while the MAGE runs off down a path

YMELDA

Police-a them-a they come and-a they blow down me door... goddamn it, I’ll have that in my head all night. Oh well, at least I’m not dead. Bloody Nords. If they’re all that stupid the Empire has nothing to worry about. I should be able to stealth this guy now that he’s alone.

YMELDA follows the path, which leads to a small settlement, where she finds STORMCLOAK #4 and a DEAD MAGE.

YMELDA

Oh, harsh. I guess there is a limit after all.

STORMCLOACK #4

If you know any true talk of dragons, the world’s gone mad in the knee.

UNREAL TOURNAMENT ANNOUNCER

Congratulations! You are the winner!

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Paper Tiger

So, I have accidentally blundered into having some pretty big plans for myself. But first things first. The crazy mage came from the forest, and I can see some kind of hut there. Let’s go a sneakin’!

Hm.

Checking the place out furnishes me with some Hargrave feathers and a book entitled “Response to Bero’s Speeech”. Judging by the creepy stakes and animal parts everywhere this is a witch’s nest, and I ought to be careful. My guess is some mage or other has upset her and she’s been exiled or fled to plot against him, and the book will explain more, but it’ll have to wait until I have somewhere safe to read. I can see the meeting now. I bet Bero was all “Witches are lame yo, I say we don’t let them mage no more”, and she’s like “wtf blood I thought you had my back”, and he’s like “Nah man, y’all are straight up punk ass losers, get outta here”, and she’s all “Aight man, dis aint ova, I’ma get me a witch hut and make it big man, next time you see me I’ll be ballin’, peace out”. I so have to read this.

No sign of anyone else, so I turn back, nodding to the mammoth, who’s still lumbering about nearby with his friends, along with another giant. I guess these guys are herders, so have no reason to maraud or interfere with my hunting.

Back to Kynesgrove, and as I still have a room rented I figure I’ll help myself to their tanning rack – it’s all inclusive if they don’t say otherwise, right? – and put my newfound tanning skills to the test. Success! I convert some hides to leather, and have enough to stitch together a nice little leather pouch for storing some goodies in.

Not bad huh? Should be handy for some potions, when I have some. It’s nicer than the satchel that I’ve just realised I have no pictures of because it’s hidden under the cloak, but oh well.

While I’m posing for this, some random dork walks over and tries to copy me. I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty distracting. Can’t a woman excercise a little vanity in peace? And what’s with the stupid helmets around here? I thought Nords were supposed to be practical people. I think he’s a Nord, anyway. He’s certainly tall enough, and looks kind of slow.

Eventually I have enough of his oddness and head inside for a lunch of cheese and some water. Living it up, yo. I still have the room, so get a few hours’ sleep before heading out again, this time to the river to the West, hoping to find some more mudcrabs.

Instead, I find a hut built right on the river, and inside it are the fresh remains of a thoroughly mutilated, possibly eaten corpse. Nearby I see movement, and am preparing a poisoned arrow when I realise with a chill what it is.

The sabre cat charges me. It’s a frickin’ sabre cat!

I don’t get many pictures, as it’s a goddamn sabre cat, and it took a poisoned arrow to the face with barely a shrug. These things are like the lions in Cyrodiil – fast, strong, and deadly. But it can’t swim as well as me, so we chase each other back and forth across the river a few times, until I wear it down by peppering it with more arrows, then finally chug the fortify one-handed potion I made at Nurelion’s, and finish it off with my sword.

It then starts to drift downriver, almost depriving me of both its pelt and my arrows, but fortunately the current leaves it beached right outside the hut. It’s then just a case of lugging it ashore and spending an hour pulling various pieces off its body. This is easily my best kill yet, and if not for the quick escape of diving into the river, it would almost certainly have killed me with ease. Close call.

I’m guessing they’re unusual around here, or the poor sap who lived here wouldn’t have built their hut without a door, or would at least have dug a moat filled with catnip. The hut is pretty nice though, with an open fire, bed, and even some furniture and barrels. A tanning rack too, and I get to work making some leather out of the dead cat.

The rest of the evening is a chore, trudging back and forth to Kynesgrove to unload the huge piles of meat, and skim-read the book I found in the witch’s shack. It’s irrelevant to witches as far as I can tell, being some mage’s response to another mage who claimed that the Destruction school of magic is for big stupid babies (it is). It’s pretty dull. I was hoping it would be all about how the witch planned to bust a witch-cap in Bero’s mage-ass, but I guess not.

Finally, I head back to the shack. It’s not ideal, sleeping in the bed of someone who was mauled to death not ten feet away, but it’s free, and I’m sick of trudging back to Kynesgrove. I pick the lock of a chest and find a meaningless treasure map, and a petty soul gem, which I take so I can destroy it somehow.

I also find some robes in the wardrobe, and I much prefer the pretty blue to my drab brown peasant garb, so swap them over. If I must travel in mufti (it’s warmer, for one), I’d like to look good doing it. Looks pretty good in fact.

Finally, and perhaps most usefully, I inherit a book called Grayfox’s Anatomy, which just happens to be the very volume recommended by the medical starter book I already have. I settle in and start reading it right away.

All in all, it’s been a pretty lucky day. I gotta start being more careful.

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The Worst Witch

“Horker loaf: You might as well just inject lard into your face!”™

Slogan may need work.

It’s a filling breakfast though, and it’s free. Today I will scope out the neighbourhood for huntin’, so I head south, towards the spot where I killed those wolves yesterday. When I get there, it’s not a wolf that appears.

What in the… is that a giant?


“Fo fum, I suppose.”

It is! It’s a giant. Giants: they’re quite big!™ When I poke my head out, it becomes clear that he’s not going to give chase. This one seems quite happy to simply wander past, quietly ignoring me. Huh.

I don’t really know much about giants. In Hammerfell they tend to be aggressive, but some will talk to people who speak their language. They’re not exactly friendly though, and I don’t think anyone’s ever lived among them or secured an alliance or trade or anything like that.

I don’t know any Giantish, so I’ll follow suit with this guy and leave him be. A red wolf, on the other hand…


The big bad wolf about to have it shoved, yesterday.

Gets an arrow up the jacksie. Showing unusual intelligence for its kind, the wolf runs away, and almost escapes before I shoot it up the anus again. Sorry wolf dude, but I need your skin.

Then I spend ages sneaking up on a rabbit, which I miss. It’s long gone before I get another chance to shoot. But what’s this?


“I’ve heard others say the etc.”

I saw a mudcrab earlier. Horrible creatures.


Troublingly, it appears to be presenting.

One arrow to the crabface later, I’m up some meat, chitin, and a big ol’ crab shell that I can’t really do anything with, since I don’t have any tools to break it down into something useful. I couldn’t see any for sale in Windhelm, and to be honest I wouldn’t have bought them anyway, I didn’t expect to see mudcrabs so far north. I kill another, even bigger one on my way downriver, which the giant notices and seems to approve of. He’d never say so though, of course. Giants are cool.

In any case, I have lots of meat and animal parts shoved in my bag, so it’s time to head back to the inn. This was a fairly productive morning. Hunting’s not bad around here. There are a lot of dragon’s tongue flowers and jazbay grapes, too, though I can’t seem to sell them.

I’m down to 56 gold, but selling the stacks of wolfmeat and rat tails (which she informs me are called ‘skeevers’ round here) to Iddra helps top that up. She also suggests I talk to a local bum, Roggi Knot-Beard, whose beard is made of knots. Or whose knots are made of beard. She does not say. He’s stuck in some kind of petty debt guilt feedback loop. He owes her money, but she wants him to forget about it and stop moping, and I guess having a hot young thing like me tell him off might do it?

Whatever. He’s right behind me, having some lunch, so I ask him to forget about it, and then tell him to stop being such a bellend.

The result is conclusive: Nord starts a fistfight with a Redguard, gets his backside handed to him on a plate. They really never do learn. Hammerfell, bitches! It’s the future.

Roggi doesn’t hold a grudge, which is fortunate as I kind of like him, and by way of thanks for beating up the guy who owed her money, Iddra hands me some stuff he pawned: a cheap mace and some armour. The three of us then chill out together at the bar along with the grumpy Alterater… Alterer… Alterationist… what the hell do you call an Alteration mage, anyway?


“Hey guys, who wants my crabs?”

No it didn’t.

“Roggi, are you okay?” “Fine, why?” “…no reason.”

I guess maybe I hit him a little too hard? I eavesdrop for a bit as they natter about Morrowind and someone’s kids. Neither is really my area, as I wasn’t in Morrowin for long, and kids are only really useful as a distraction for predators. It’s kind of nice, though. Once it gets boring, I wander off to try out Roggi’s armour, and um. Well.

I don’t think Roggi quite has the cleavage for a cut like this. Hope I’m wrong, although hey, good for you man, you work it honey.

Both the armour and mace are useless, so I sell them and head back outside for more huntin’ and killin’, and totally cut this wolf’s head off.

Okay so the game doesn’t animate beheaded wolves, but come on, look at that follow through. Clean shot straight through the head. And there’s a goat nearby, which I sneak up on and oho! Level four!

And with it, I pick a stamina boost (stamina is SO important for combat now, especially if you block a lot, as I intend to), and the first perk on a modded smithing tree, which allows me to tan hides, and make leather armour, as opposed to just tatty storage bags. Making worthwhile armour is a skill, see, and while an amateur seamstress like me can make passable fur clothes and bags, making anything that protects against more than a cold day takes some investment.

Also significant: most of my skills are still too low to qualify for the perks I need anyway. I definitely need to improve my blocking and archery skills, but need to get more practice in first.

Speaking of which, there’s that goat I was tailing. My first shot injures it, and while I’m jogging after it I hear someone shouting in the forest to my right.

Check out the ninja fireball dodge! Okay so I totally got hit in the face with her second shot, but I was busy taking a screenshot then. Whoever this woman is, she’s pissed off, and even taking an arrow to the collar doesn’t slow her down. I take a slash or two from her dagger before I can switch to my shield and crack her in the chin with it, but my counter is wasted as she runs off and is utterly creamed by a nearby mammoth. Manny totally has my back, yo.

Tusky there calms down once she’s dead, and I drag the corpse away to examine it. She was a tough lady. Granted, the arrow didn’t hit anywhere important, but most people would be proud to take a shot like that and stay standing. She’s carrying nothing useful, but is wearing an enchanted robe.

Okay, so here’s the thing. Two things. One: I don’t like stripping clothes off corpses. It’s tacky and creepy, and I won’t be doing it unless I absolutely need the money or material. But two: Enchanted clothes don’t count. I don’t mean I’ll take them and use them for myself, I mean I will take them and find a way to disenchant them. Why? Well, it’s simple really.

Enchanting is evil. Do you know how things get enchanted? Even common trinkets with a paltry +5 health enchantment? Well, your enchanter will start out with something called a soul gem, and then they’ll go out and cast a spell on some poor living creature called a Soul Trap. Then they’ll kill them, and the spell will trap the soul of the creature in the gem. They then use the trapped soul to enchant a sword or necklace or, in this case, robe.


+5 protection from bathing chillies.

They are trapping the goddamn souls of living things and using them as batteries. They even call it soul trapping, without so much as blinking. Now, I know a lot of Redguards think that Conjuration is evil, and that Illusion magic is wrong – I take some issue with that. But if you can understand what enchanting involves and not consider it absolutely, insanely wrong, there is something deeply wrong with you. And yes, I realise that most people outside Hammerfell will gladly use it without a second thought, but screw that. I’m not having it.

Hell, even most forms of Necromancy are better than that. Necromancers are cast out to live in dank caves outside the protection of the law, and all they do is animate unfeeling, useless hunks of meat and bone. Meanwhile, the guy who imprisons the very essence of a mortal’s being in some trinket to help him piss a little further is the toast of the party. It’s nuts.

So. I will be taking this woman’s robe, and I won’t be using it or selling it. I will instead find a way to free the soul of whatever poor bastard she enslaved in order to make it. And I will do the same for any other enchanted items I find, too.

Man, Ymelda’s really taking on some ambitions lately, huh? Hunter, detective, leatherworker, disenchanter, medicine woman. Maybe one day she’ll even learn to smile.


“I am smiling.”

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