Skyrim #3: Soul Axer; Axer of Souls

We’ve returned the grocer’s mystical Golden Dragon’s Claw. ¬†Doing so was against our better judgment, but hey, seems he’s willing to pay us four times what the thing was worth (only 100 coins, I guess it was only a gold-plated family heirloom?) It’s okay. 400 coins isn’t a lot, but we have ways to supplement our income:

But petty theft can only hold your interest for so long (“so long” being “until the grocer runs out of cabbages”). We accept that there won’t be any more produce to steal for quite some time and (reluctantly) return to the road of high adventure.

Where we learn that wolves are not flame retardant.

And that Sven has a horrifying birth defect.

It’s okay. We don’t judge.

We set out fully intending to go to that Jarl’s place that people were telling us about. Whiterun? Winterrun? Or was that the place we just left? Look, it’s hard to keep the human settlements straight. They all have confusing names. Dinosaur settlements only have one name: Awesome town. Nobody is willing to name their settlement anything else. Doing so would be a sign of weakness.

So we want to go to Whitewintercoldsnowrun, but this stupid compass of ours keeps dragging us towards zombie infested caves high in the mountains. You can hardly blame us, we could hear the voice of treasure echoing in the wind.

What’s a good treasure-filled cavern without a few traps? Far from the “horrific” (read: ignorable) poison darts from our last encounter, this cave features a series of pressure plates that sets off flamethrowers. Not a problem for Super King, tales of his deftness have traveled even as far north as Skyrim, but it is an issue for our idiot manservant who lumbers onto each and every one of them and sets us ablaze while screaming “sorry boss!” through the disgusting tallow of his flame-melted lips.

We begin to wonder why someone would need such an elaborate trap in the middle of a pretty much useless cavern.

Master vampire. Pretty good reason.

Turns out we’re not quite strong enough to take out a Master vampire at level four.

This is the most damage we could do to him (even with flamethrower hands) before he killed us in one hit.

After about forty reloads we decide to give up our dream of opening a full-time vampire-murder boutique (it was also a combination bed and breakfast).

But all is not lost. We find an alternate path! It overlooks a really big pit down into which we immediately toss ourselves. A brazen disregard for the well-being of one’s leg bones is the dinosaur way!

It is not, however, the human way. Sven, whether through stupidity or self preservation, can’t figure out how to jump off the ledge. He takes the long way around (some people call it the “correct way”). This is fine. When we eventually meet up he gets to act all jealous about the sweet glowing purple axe I found in this dumb cave.

Did I mention that it literally sucks the souls out of my slain enemies?

Because that is the best power a weapon has ever had. And I’m only level 4!

Later, while still trying to find Sven (not trying that hard), we come across the master vampire’s… boot closet?

It’s a very¬†evil boot closet.

The vampires take umbrage with us insulting their footwear

Vampires labeled as ‘fledgling’ should be more careful with whom they take umbrage

The whole ‘stripping our enemies’ naked thing is already starting to wear on us. Even if they’re an evil undead creature who feasts on the innocent, there’s just something weird about it, man.

Doing our best Conan impression helps soothe our troubled mind.

We never manage to defeat the master vampire, but we do leave the cave one Soul Stealing Purple Magical Axe richer. And we are crazy-happy that the color for the soul stealing enchantment is purple. It’s the color of royalty (and pimps, who are like a more evil royalty than regular royalty) and now it’s also the color of the most perverse type of murder!

We’re able to figure out that the stolen souls go into gems in our inventory. Suddenly we regret selling all those amethysts. What’s 25 gold compared to a lifetime of eternal torment in a crystal prison for every wolf, bandit, and townsperson who gets on our bad side?

Also, I’m not going to say that our inferiority complex is spring up again, but…

…we did spend an extra long time burning that mostly-helpless crab…

The death of the crab hits us extra hard, but mostly only because we forget to use our soul-sucking axe on him. Neither of us have any idea what souls are used for. We also think it’d be a brilliant and satisfying move if they had no purpose except for as a sadistic prize. Super King wants a whole mantle arrangement of crab soul gems. Super King starts watching QVC in case they have a sale on a wrought-iron trophy case for his various murder trophies.

A strange aroma rouses us from our soul-filled stupor. Our wandering has brought us within eyeshot of a very important set of buildings.

It’s a brewery.


Don’t worry, gents. Your mead-swilling gravy train as arrived.