I decide to head to Riften next. That’s where Hagravi’s from, and he’s the most likable fellow I’ve met so far. The weather is fine as I leave Ivarstead, but it soon starts to rain, although not heavily. I meet a farmer on his way to Windhelm, followed not long after by two Vigilants of Stendarr. One of them, glowing with magic, warns me sternly against “cavorting” with daedra. I’m not sure why there should be a specific objection to dancing with them, but some religions can be awfully conservative. I don’t want to argue, though, because she’s kind of scary.
Soon after, I meet another farmer, this one on his way to join the Imperial Legion. (Each to his own.) After a quick lunch of salmon steak, I come across group of Stormcloaks heading my way, and I am relieved to be able to continue on in relative safety (they either don’t notice or don’t care that Nona’s an Imperial). They complain about the Imperials and ask each other why they joined up; one says that his cousin disappeared one night, probably taken by the Thalmor. Then, a few minutes later, another says her cousin disappeared one night, probably taken by the Thalmor. The coincidence doesn’t seem to strike any of them as worthy of comment. (Maybe there’s a standard form that you fill in when you join the Stormcloaks: “Question 1: How many of your relatives are currently missing? Please specify the nature of each relationship in the space provided, entering “cousin” if unsure. Question 2: For each missing relative, rate your level of certainty that he or she was kidnapped by the Thalmor on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 indicating that you are highly uncertain, and 5 indicating that you are utterly convinced.”)
We walk on for some time in this cheerful way, picking flowers, bandying jokes about the Imperials, and slaughtering wolves, and finally arrive at the south gate of Riften, where a guard tells me that “riff-raff” are supposed to enter by the north gate. I try to persuade him to let me in, but he isn’t having any of it, so I walk around to the north. Once I arrive, another guard attempts to charge me an exorbitant “visitor’s tax.” I’m now pretty annoyed; I start to raise a fuss. He abruptly relents and lets me in for free.
I’ve arrived in a real city--there are people and market stalls all over the place. First I meet Mjoll the Lioness, who mistakes me for some sort of heroic type but otherwise seems very nice; she tells me that Riften is pretty much run by the corrupt Black-Briar family and the Thieves’ Guild, which doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Hagravi never mentioned that his home city was a crime-ridden cesspit; maybe he didn’t like me so much after all. After I part from Mjoll, a fellow named Brynjolf spots me, comments on my obvious poverty, and takes it as an indication that I’d be willing to do something criminal. Furious, I turn and walk away, but he won’t take angry silence for an answer, and thrusts his quest update forcibly into my journal.
Humiliated, I pass by a woman shaking someone down in the street and head to Elgrim’s Elixirs--Mjoll mentioned that one of the Black-Briars studies alchemy there--and chat with Elgrim and his wife, Hafjorg. They ask me to pick up some ore from Shor’s Stone, which sounds easy enough, as Shor’s Stone is quite close. I use their alchemy table to experiment with the ingredients I’ve been gathering and munching. I make a Restore Stamina potion that is worth almost nothing, and discover a Resist Frost and Restore Stamina potion that they pay me 26 septims for. Not bad! Sadly, I don’t have the ingredients to make more of those.
I’m now very hungry. I head back to the market and, having a mind to make soup, buy some raw food from Marise Aravel. But when I get to the Bee and Barb and find a cookpot, I realize that all the food recipes have changed--Realistic Needs and Diseases has made them much more elaborate, which is to say much more expensive. I can’t make anything with the stuff I have. I buy some pheasant stew, but it’s not enough to satisfy me. I buy a boiled egg and a carrot, and my stomach finally stops rumbling.
The Bee and Barb is full: Aegir and Vulwulf Snow-Shod complain about the Imperials. Keerava, the Argonian proprietor, complains about the Thieves’ Guild and mentions the Shrine of Azura. Haelga tells me about the bunkhouse she runs and suggests that I not stay there. (I’m not sure how to take that.) I avoid the Black-Briars; after what Mjoll said, I’d probably get flustered talking to them. There are lots more, but I’m too depressed to socialize much. I’m spending way too much money--keeping myself from starving is ridiculously expensive. I wish I’d installed a mod called Reasonably Priced Needs and Diseases.
After spending the night in a cramped, cheerless room, I’m down to just 11 septims. And I’m hungry again. I buy a carrot. Still hungry. Well, I do have something that will make a little coin--wolf pelts. I head to the blacksmith’s station and tan the pelts, cutting one into strips. What to make?
After some thought, I make a pair of boots and a helmet, using up all my leather. The boots are for wearing, the helmet for selling. Poor Nona walked all the way to Riften with her feet in cloth wraps; her new boots feel great! The helmet sells for 20 septims and I immediately think of my stomach. But after another trip to the Bee and Barb to get some grub I’m down to just 4 septims--and I’m still not full!
Heading out again, I meet Snilf, who declares that of COURSE I’m not going to give a beggar like HIM anything. Great Gods of Nirn, even the beggars in Riften are sarcastic pricks. What a town! And then comes the final touch--you can’t have a scummy shithole without shitty scumbags to threaten you, can you? The particular scumbag who accosts me as I’m leaving is named Maul, and he tells me not to cross the Black-Briars, or else. I’m about ready to cry. It starts to rain.
On my way to Shor’s Stone, I pass by a fortress. There are no guards in the vicinity, so I give it a wide berth. It’s a peaceful trip, fortunately. I have no problem getting the ore sample from the smith, who tells me that the mine is full of spiders. (I make polite noises in response.) A woman named Sylgja asks me to deliver some letters to Darkwater Crossing. I decline, as I need to go back to Riften and I’m not sure where Darkwater Crossing is. I meet some miners who also complain about the spiders. There’s nothing else to talk about here, apparently. Time to head back.
Hungry again, I eat a gourd I gathered earlier, which is better than nothing. Then I get attacked by the omnipresent psychotic wolves, which is something of a blessing, actually, as I can profit from the pelts and they aren’t hard to kill. As I’m circling around the nasty-looking fort again, I find a dead stag. Venison and a hide! Could my luck be improving? I also find a dingy hole in the ground called Greenwall Cave, which seems to go under the fort. I’m not even slightly tempted to explore.
It’s about 4pm when I get back to Riften, so I decide to go fishing, which I do in the traditional Skyrim fashion by splashing noisily into the lake and grabbing at fish with my hands. My efforts are surprisingly successful: I get perch, histcarp, a river betty or two, and a lot of salmon.
Time for some leatherworking! At the forge, I make some actual leather armor. I haven’t been doing much fighting, but I can always sell it if I’m desperate. Mjoll’s friend Aerin stands by the whole time I’m working and blathers on and on about how great Mjoll is, how deeply she cares--it’s a wonder that the woman can stand him.
Next, I deliver the ore sample to Elgrim’s. Sadly, they pay me in potions rather than money. After selling those back along with a few of my own, though, I have a fair amount of coin, and I also have enough venison and salmon that I don’t need to pay much for my dinner (I have to buy salt to make salmon steaks, but the cost is a pittance compared to my previous expenditures). I wolf down meat and fish straight from the cookpot.
After dinner, I visit the bunkhouse and chat with a Skyrim-born wood elf named Peragorn who claims to be of no interest to someone like me (like everyone else, he thinks I’m an adventurer). Actually, he is a little dull, a little long-winded on the subject of dullness, although I enjoy his story about traveling to Valenwood to explore his roots and discovering that he’s really a Nord at heart. The conversation takes so long that I don’t have time to talk to anyone else, which is a shame, as they seem like a more amiable lot than the Bee and Barb regulars. It’s midnight by the time I get back to my dismal accommodations.