This will be my final journal entry from prison, as I think I heard the guard starting to doze off briefly, so I’ll need to use the opportunity to break out of here, possibly. In the meantime, I will finally be getting to how I wound up here after having heroically rescued the golden claw from the ne’er-do-wells at Bleak Falls Barrow. (Actually, I can’t back up that claim. I didn’t know them well enough to know whether they ne’er do well or not. It was just an educated guess.)
So as I headed back down the hilly trail, I took out the golden claw to get a better look at it in the moonlight. Despite the dim lighting conditions, I could readily see that this “golden” claw was not in fact a solid gold claw. In fact, I think the gold necklace I’d “gifted” myself from Alvor’s supplies was worth more than this thing. It also had some weird symbols on the bottom of it that I couldn’t make sense of. I vaguely recalled the Dunmer babbling about markings, but I disregarded it for now.
I found myself at a crossroads: do I go back to Riverwood, return the claw, be a hero, get reward money perhaps worth more than this? Or keep the claw for myself, head to Whiterun as planned, and maybe find someone who knows what the markings mean and who might find it worth more than its default value? And just so we’re clear, this was a literal crossroads. I was standing at the point where the road branched off to Whiterun and Riverwood, respectively.
Ultimately I decided that I had killed far more people on that mountain than I’d intended, so to make up for it a bit, I would go back to Riverwood and make the raspy man and his sister’s day. It wasn’t too late, so maybe they were still up. I decided to run back to their place before I changed my mind.
I went up to tell the raspy man that I had his claw, but he cut me off, saying, “Show those thieves not to steal from Lucan Valerius!” Presumably that was his name, then.
I wanted to tell him, “Look, I have your claw,” but I just couldn’t bring myself to say it for some reason. And it wasn’t that I was torn, I just… couldn’t say it, and I have no idea why. It was like fate had decided that it wasn’t time. I can’t explain it. I know it sounds strange, but it’s the truth. I don’t expect you to believe the word of a thief, but please know that I am not a particularly good liar. Instead I found myself saying, “What have you got for sale?”
He said, “Trinkets, odds and ends, that sort of thing.” He seemed unperturbed by my presence and showed no curiosity about my progress on the claw retrieval. I sold him a bunch of the items I’d taken off the thief corpses, and then thought to try again to show him the claw, but again he cut me off, saying, “Don’t let my sister do anything foolish.” This seemed like an odd demand for him to make, nor was it my job to monitor his sister. She was a grown adult.
I tried one more time to offer him the claw, but he said, “The sooner you find the claw, the sooner our lives can get back to normal.”
But that was just it, I HAD the claw! Why couldn’t I give him the claw? I did not understand. Some strange magic was at work, compelling me to not give him the claw. I even tried dropping it on the ground, foregoing a reward, but I literally could not do it. It refused to come out of my pockets. Clearly this thing was cursed.
Then I hit upon an idea. I would nonchalantly slip behind the counter, stealthily open his pockets, and slip the golden claw into his pocket without him noticing. I figured I had a 44% chance of success. And even if I failed, that would break the ice and permit an honest and open conversation about the claw, yes?
Well, I failed, and Lucan spun around, pulled out an ugly iron mace and rasped, “Think you can steal from me?!” No, sir! I was not stealing! I was gifting! Or rather, this is what I would have said, were my head not ringing from being bashed by his mace. Ow. Seeing no alternative, I ran for my life. Even as I headed for the door, Camilla whipped out a dagger and slashed my shoulder. I was bleeding quite profusely.
This was all a simple misunderstanding, one that I was sure I could clear up, provided I lived long enough to do so. “Enjoy your last breath!” sneered Camilla as she chased me from behind. This was the same woman that less than twelve hours ago had said “Mara bless you” for retrieving their claw! This seemed like an overreacting to a stealthy gifting gone wrong. It’s not my fault that nobody would ask me if I had the claw, after all. I thought all of this as I ran across the bridge, wondering how far I’d have to run before they’d give up the chase. After all, technically I had stolen nothing, which they would have known had they bothered to check.
I crouched down by the bridge, as they had stopped running briefly. It’s not that I couldn’t take them if I wanted to. I had no doubt that I could. After all, I had killed before, and could kill again if my hand were forced. But these had been nice people up until now, and I needed all the allies I could get if I ever wanted to get home. I worried that they might tell Alvor and Hadvar about this, so it would be no use seeking solace there. I decided my only option was to head for Whiterun and give them time to cool down, take stock (literally and figuratively) and then maybe we could all laugh about this.
I heard Camilla say, “You can’t hide from me forever.” That’s where you’re wrong, Camilla dear. I am an expert at hiding forever. I’m pretty sure I am the reigning champion of various hide-and-seek games in Elswyer that were cancelled due to my never being found.
As I was sprinting to Whiterun, I could hear a wolf nipping at my heels. Please, wolf, I am really not in the mood right now. I spun around, slashed it a few times with my claws, and then continued my run for alleged safety. The wolves in this region were a bit whimpy, I noticed. I didn’t hear Camilla or Lucan behind me, so I slowed down and took a stealthier pace, so as to minimize attention from passersby.
It was really quite a lovely path to Whiterun, and I would have probably enjoyed it more fully were I not fleeing for my life. I wondered if they would file a report or something. I hoped not. I still maintained innocence. My self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a fight up ahead along the path. I couldn’t make out who it was at this range in the dark, but I saw lightning bolts, so I knew someone had magic. Once the fight had ended, I walked up to see who’d been their target.
It was a mudcrab.
They had lightning-bolted a stinking mudcrab. These people had a very flippant attitude toward magic use, it would appear. Yet they have the nerve to criticize Ulfric Stormcape for using his inside voice, or whatever?
Despite my slower, stealthier pace, I was catching up with the individuals in question, who were taking their sweet time by my estimation. I figured I could pass them by without incident. One would hope.
As I started to pass the guy in the lead, he crouched down and started prepping his lightning, saying, “This doesn’t concern you, ‘citizen.’” And he was right, it didn’t, so I didn’t know what got his elven trousers in a bunch. Also, I didn’t care for the way he said “citizen.” He made it sound like a swear word. Or at least sarcastic. I made my way past as quickly as I could, without saying a word.
I decided to stop being sneaky and crouchy, in case that was what was freaking people out. I passed by a place called “Whiterun Stables,” so the big walled settlement in front of me must have been Whiterun. To my left were some fellow Khajiit, but I didn’t have time to chat with them just yet, though maybe I could stay with them later.
I walked across the drawbridge to approach the main gates of Whiterun, when a guard met me halfway. “Halt! City’s closed with dragons about! Official business only!”
Wait, so what was I even doing here, if they already knew about the dragon? I mean, didn’t Alvor send me here to warn them about the dragon? Clearly they’ve already been warned. More importantly, would Alvor still be indebted to me if I tell the Jarl what he already knows? Still, I needed some place to stay, so I decided to improvise. “Riverwood calls for the Jarl’s aid,” I said with as much authority as I could muster. Which wasn’t much. I was still shaken from the claw incident.
Amazingly, this worked. “Riverwood’s in danger, too? You’d better go on in. You’ll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill.” They have a nicely lax definition of ‘official business.’
I walked through the gates of Whiterun, which was a pleasant enough little town, from the looks of it. I saw a guy complaining to a woman who I assumed was the local blacksmith, judging by her apron. I figured I should get my ‘duty’ over with and tell the Jarl about the dragon that he presumably already knows about, and perhaps that would get me back in Riverwood’s good graces.
I was so relaxed as I walked up the stairs to Dragonsreach, that I thought nothing of it when a guard paused in front of me, so I gave him a friendly nod, and he said, “Wait, I know you.” Well, that can’t be good.
I was on a mission, so I said, “You’re making a mistake.”
The guard scowled. “There’s no mistake, you’re a wanted man, and it’s time to pay for your crimes.”
I was so annoyed that he called me a ‘man’, that I mouthed off, saying, “I don’t have the time for this, do you?”
To which he replied, “You know what? You’re not worth the hassle. Go… be some other guard’s problem.”
With a sigh of relief, I headed further up the stairs, only to bump into an identical-looking guard, who said, “Wait, I know you.” Oh please.
I sighed, and said, “You’re making a mistake.”
“Well, your bounty is low… all right, get out of my sight. but you’re known to me, scum. Remember that.”
Dodged another bolt there. Finally I made it to the front of Dragonsreach, where I encountered yet a third guard.
“Wait, I know you.”
Oh COME on. “You’re making a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake, you’re a wanted man, and it’s time to pay for your crimes.”
What crimes? I had committed no crimes. Well, apart from the killings and looting. And escaping from execution. And possibly having stolen some things from Alvor.
I had a feeling that I was going to have to do this song and dance repeatedly until I ‘paid for my crimes,’ and I didn’t know what the bounty was but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to pay it, so I said, “I submit. Take me to jail.”
The guard gruffly replied, “You’re going to rot in the Dragonsreach dungeon.”
Wait, what? Rot? I figured it was just overnight. Who rots in a dungeon over a misunderstanding about pickpocketing? It was ridiculous. I wanted to say “Wait, no, I meant I’d pay the bounty!” But it was too late.
They threw me in a cell with a dead bandit who, true to their word, was currently rotting in there. Which more or less brings us up to speed. And now, if you’ll excuse me, the guard seems distracted, so I’m going to try to make my escape. Wish me luck. - Steve
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