Ephemerality

In Part 1, I detailed how I, the ever-inquisitive and aging gamer, wandered County Anvil, looking for a non-committal adventure with which to waste a few minutes of time while I sought a distraction from life.

And readers of low expectations were not disappointed!  The gradual mystery of whether or not in-game paintings were impressionistic recreations of in-game vistas was revealed (spoiler: they were).  I then imposed drama upon the NPC whom I concluded was the artist.  But, there are many in-game paintings, and I ended the post on a cliffhanger.  Well fear not, reader of obviously low expectations, for I alluded to a continuation, and I will not disappoint.

Anvil, being at the end of the road, made the choice easy: I would go east.  The artist to which I alluded at the end of the last post, Rythe Lythandas, lives in Cheydinhal, also to the east.  But this isn’t some willy-nilly quest of purpose, no, ’tis a quest of vague direction.  I would therefore amble in Cheydinhal’s general direction, viewing the sights along the way.  And it would be a long way indeed, for Cheydinhal and Anvil are at the opposite ends of Cyrodiil.  But if there’s anything I’ve learned from classical fantasy, it’s that accomplished wizards wander unpredictably in accordance with their own whims, so in the spirit of role-playing, this quest felt right.  Objective defined, I finally stepped off the doorstep of the Inventius’ home.

And I walked, jogged maybe.  I dunno, true walking in Oblivion would exhaust about any gamer’s patience.  It might be unrealistic, but I’ll just say I have magical wizard powers of endurance.

In short order, I had made it back to Gottshaw Inn.  I thought to ignore it, but surely there must be more paintings inside.  And after all, if I’m embarking on this trek to visit a painter, I should be a little more versed in the art, beyond the single work of a painter that isn’t him.  If nothing else, that might come off as a little rude.  So I entered the Inn, much to the indifference of its proprietor, and examined the paintings.  I quickly realized, however, that those of natural landscapes would be near impossible to find.  I needed a painting with an identifiable landmark–an edifice of some sort.  None of the other paintings within bore such distinctions though, so I left.

It is at this time that I should mention the Jemane brothers.  Their quest, which had me pointlessly unraveling their family’s past, ordinarily concludes with reuniting and returning them to their reclaimed family estate.  However, in an act of cruelty, I refrained from the last step–walking them down the hill outside Chorrol and to their home.  Why?  Because, until I do so, they remain trapped in indentured servitude.  Actually, they just follow me indefinitely, but while doing so, I effectively have two unkillable bodyguards.  This means that I don’t necessarily have to fight things that I deem unworthy of my time.  So the Jemanes throw themselves eternally upon hostiles, getting incapacitated repeatedly, until their opponent is eventually vanquished through sheer perseverance.  Is this wrong?  Probably.

No matter.  As we travel east, they kill a wolf.  I pick mushrooms.  They kill some bandits.  I look at the giant Nirnroot growing on the bank of a small pond.  They kill some more bandits.  A bandit chooses to attack me first and I deftly kill him instantly with a lightening bolt, then pick flax seed.  In short-an uneventful and typical cross-country walkabout.

At last, I reach Skingrad.  I pick some grapes and mush them up, making grape juice I would presume, which restores fatigue.  Sugar rush.  Feeling energized, I enter the town proper and make for the first inn, because from experience, inns have a lot of paintings.  I enter the West Weald Inn–where I remember defending myself against a certain Else God-Hater–someone who apparently  hated gods but had no problem worshiping an elf who used profane rituals to ascend to demigoddom.  Some people have many layers I guess.  In hindsight, I don’t think I actually fought her.  I just turned invisible while the town guard wailed on her, because I’m the archmage and I don’t brawl with common street rabble (sneer of condescension).

Anyway, I work my way around the Inn, examining paintings for one which contained a landmark.  Ultimately, I find this:

A church isn’t exactly a rare item in Cyrodiil, but there’s still a finite number.  This, at least, lies within the realm of possibility.

I pop downstairs to greet Sinderion, because I remember I have a batch of nirnroot for him, then needlessly buy and drink a bottle of wine from the barkeep to celebrate my evolving quest.

–Simon