Home Editorials The Adventures of Torvaar Stornson, As Recorded In His Journal – Part 3

The Adventures of Torvaar Stornson, As Recorded In His Journal – Part 3

by Kat Haas

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—First Seed, 11th, 4E 202—

The Rift has finally fallen. I can’t imagine what kind of resistance Winterhold and Windhelm are going to put up compared to this. I have a feeling that the Stormcloaks resolve is broken somewhat. They’re surrounded now, pinned in between the Legion to the West and South and mountains and sea to the East. It’s only a matter of time.

It’s been a month of fighting and marching. I lost my journal during a Stormcloak raid on our camp, and my pack as well. My supplies were easily replaced, but I wanted this back. Now that Riften is under Legion control, Inigo and I had time to track down my things. Turns out they weren’t carried off by a soldier but by a bear who was interested in my rations. The pack was shredded, but my journal survived, if a bit chewed up.

It’ll be a bit before there’s another full-scale attack, I think. That’s good. I could use a breather. I have a few days in Riften before I must head back to Solitude and report to General Tullius. I’m glad Inigo is with me. I don’t think this is something that I could do alone. Any of it.

The pain of Kodlak’s death has eased somewhat. I miss Jorrvaskr. Hopefully I’ll be able to visit soon, but now with the war at its height I don’t have the liberty of a holiday. Besides, the Companions are supposed to be neutral. It’s a good thing Vilkas is in charge, not me. I wonder if he’ll keep the mantle if I ever manage to go back.

—First Seed, 14th, 4E 202—

The Legion finally has a firm upper hand. There isn’t a single Stormcloak stronghold left save for Eastmarch. The general needs a couple weeks to gather enough troops to attack the hold. Until then, I’ll stay in Solitude with Inigo. We haven’t heard anything from Langley. Maybe this Doom Strider is nothing but a normal nightmare.

I feel… better I guess about Kodlak’s death. There was nothing I could have done. Vilkas has forgiven me for speaking harshly so I need to forgive myself, too. When the war is over, I think I’ll be able to return to Whiterun with my head held high and resume my place at Jorrvaskr, whatever that is. Maybe I’ll even think about courting someone. A few women in the town have caught my eye, and there’s a small girl still begging in the streets that I can’t ignore.

But there is so much more for me to see and do. I don’t know if I’m ready to settle down quite yet. Time will tell.

—Rain’s Hand, 1st, 4E 202—

Today we attack Windhelm. Any other man would have surrendered by now, but even though I only met Ulfric once I know he’s too stubborn for that. Fort Amol was a tough battle, as they all have been, but I could sense the demoralization in the Stormcloaks. They know they’ve lost. Only Ulfric’s most fanatic supporters will remain to defend him now.

Still, I don’t expect the city to fall easily. It’s the oldest city in Skyrim and built for a siege. The Legion has been putting pressure on it for a while, though, and all its supply lines are cut off. There’s a large population to feed. Even a short siege will be devastating. Not that I would put it past Ulfric to sacrifice his own people to keep the Empire from taking his city.

I wonder what will happen now. I’m nervous, but the gods have protected me so far. Hopefully they will again.

—Rain’s Hand, 1st, 4E 202—

Ulfric Stormcloack is dead. The war is over.

I’ve returned to Whiterun.

It’s good to be home.

—Rain’s Hand, 2nd, 4E 202—

I’ve bought a house in the city. I know I’m always welcome in Jorrvaskr, but there a couple new recruits and I’ve collected enough things in my travels to need a place of my own. I checked in with the Circle. Not much has changed, but the twins have expressed a desire to cure themselves of beast blood and have asked me to take them back to Ysgramor’s Tomb. I won’t say no to them. Hopefully it will be an easy and uneventful trip and both will be happier for it.

After that, Inigo and I will return to Solitude. Falk Firebeard has requested my presence.

—Rain’s Hand, 8th, 4E 202—

Jarl Elisif has asked a personal favour of me. When Torryg died she gave offerings to all the gods except Talos. In secret, she asked me to take his war horn and lay it to rest at Talos’ shrine near Whiterun. She risks a lot asking me to do this, but I won’t betray her faith in me. Her confidence was boosted after I kept a cult from bringing the Wolf Queen Potema back to life. Her remains have now been properly laid to rest and hopefully she’ll cease to be a problem.

Elisif is a lovely woman. It’s a shame what happened to her. She’s young, and beautiful and has every right to be High Queen. With the Stormcloak rebellion put down I see no reason why the Jarls wouldn’t agree to this. There is yet to be a moot, and it might still be a while before the next one is called with the cleanup from the war to tend to, but I see no reason why anything would change in the meantime.

There is still no word from Langley. Inigo hopes we’ll hear from him soon. I don’t. I still don’t trust him.

I’ve seen no signs of any dragon crisis on my travels. There have only been two since I absorbed that first soul, both of which were defeated. A greater threat seems to be vampires. Perhaps that old orc I see in the cities sometimes has a point. Maybe they’re something to be wary of.

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