[RIP spirit of modding...]

Our community at TESA has a fantasitc culture that is accepting and collaborative. It's easy to see how this change could threaten that.

 

As this plays out, we'll see how the culture of the community at large comes to grips with it. If we go into this with our eyes open we may yet keep what is precious to us at TESA.

 

I think it will succeed or fail on the actions of our forum moderators. If we become frightened or politicised over this issue we may see yet another political divide in gaming culture.

 

Please remember to be compassionate. And please be wary of the damage that taking sides could do to us.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

Jack had stopped pacing and was now sitting alone at a table with a view of the door with two soldiers guarding it. Presently it opened, and the Thalmor came out with Rimat in tow. She waved to him brightly.

 

Jack frowned. “So, your friend was Thalmor. You could have mentioned that. Everything all right?â€

 

“Everything's great. I'm heading on to Solitude with them now. At first I was worried, but they turned out to be exactly as reasonable as you said.†She gave him a brittle smile.

 

“That's good to hear. I have to go rescue Jayn, I've already delayed too long.†He gave her a relaxed salute. “I guess this is goodbye then. Maybe I'll run into you again.â€

 

She shook her head. “Probably not.â€

 

“Yeah, big world I guess. Still, you never know.†And with that he was out the door.

Rimat sighed. “Idiot!â€

 

The Thalmor mage came to stand by her side. “He seemed keen to leave. He's likely a heretic.â€

 

Talrin shrugged. “Leave that to the Justiciars.†He turned to Rimat. “It's time to leave.â€

 

She smiled.

 

 

Indeed, she kept smiling all the way out of the gate and down the road towards Dragon's Bridge. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt. Through the discomfort it occurred to her that on the whole she didn't tend to smile much, but she kept up the pretence anyway.

 

She had a little experience with caring for horses as a servant, but riding them was not for people of her low caste. It was just as well really that she was seated behind the soldier and not at the reins, even though it was uncomfortable being bumped around.

 

She had no doubt that her escort planned to kill her. She supposed though that there was a chance that her execution might be delayed if she appeared oblivious. In the mean time she would keep her eyes open for an opportunity to bolt. A lot of hope had been placed on Jack, but he had been too much of a dolt to understand her hidden plea.

 

As the passed over the Dragon's Bridge, and the small accompanying village, she looked at the faces of the people and guards about the single street. Their eyes were just as hostile upon her as her escort. There was no help here. Any attempt to flee to find justice with imperial law enforcers could easily be met with an accusation from the Thalmor, and then she would be theirs again. She realised that she had only two friends in all this land. One was likely dead. The other was certainly an idiot, and far gone.




“Here's a good enough spot,†The mage said. “Dismount!â€

Rimat slid of the horse's rump, landing on her feet and stretching. “What's up?â€

 

“We're, ah, setting up camp. Get a fire going over there, will you?â€

 

Rimat looked up at the sky. It was barely past midday. Set up camp? Yeah, sure. “No, this is the part where you kill me, isn't it?â€

 

The Thalmor mage tilted her head and looked at her. “I suppose it is.†She was silent for a moment, then, “I was going to sneak up behind you and...†She placed two fingers at her temple and mimed casting a lightning spell. “You wouldn't have felt a thing.â€

 

Rimat slumped her shoulders and rubbed her forehead, as if this were an annoyance. Her heart was pounding; she wondered at how was she behaving so nonchalantly. “Why?â€

 

“Loose ends. Maenam was supposed to die before making it to Skyrim, and that's how it's going to be. Your version of events is... problematic.â€

 

Rimat groaned. “Don't you get it? I don't care! I just want to go home, I've got nothing to do with all this... ugh, I guess you don't care.†She sighed. “I request a death by fire.†It had just occurred to her that she had a chance- a tiny chance- that if she could get the mage to attack her with a spell, she might absorb it's power. And that might be enough to escape her captors. It was a slim chance but she was out of time and had no other ideas.

 

The mage's eyes narrowed. “Very traditional, for Dunmer. I have no small experience with burning people alive, and I've got to say it may be the worst way to die.†When Rimat merely shrugged, she continued. “In any case, I already promised Talrin he could eat you.â€

 

Rimat coughed. “What?â€

 

Talrin flashed her a smile that made her skin crawl, and she felt her plan of escape shrivel away.

 

“Yes... he's a traditionalist too you see. You wouldn't believe the things people get up to in Valenwood. I can't say I agree with it, but... Well, he's as much part of the Dominion as me.â€

 

Rimat nodded calmly. “Alright but first-†And without warning she bolted, and took off, sprinting hard down the road.

 

The mage glared at the soldier who had been standing next to Rimat. “Were you going to grab her? That would have been great.â€

 

The soldier shook his head to clear it. “Sorry, wasn't expecting that.†He gestured down the road towards Rimat. “I mean, there's nowhere to run. No cover save for some rocks, and we have horses.â€

 

“Well, I don't know! What would you do if I told you I was going to feed you to that creepy little bastard?â€

 

“I'm right here you know.†Talrin interjected.

 

“Quiet, you! And you-†She rounded on the soldier. “Stop the back-chat and get after her! I swear to Magnus, you'd better hope I never bother to remember your name.â€

 

 

 

Rimat's feet jarred as she pounded along the cobbled road stones. Already her muscles were burning; she was tasting bile from exertion. She wondered how far she could get before she collapsed. At this rate, not far. It was stupid, stupid! There was no way she could outrun them. But what else could she do? Run. She was powerless, but she could run.

She shifted her weight as the road wound around a large, rocky outcrop. As she desperately tried to see some possibility of survival, her flight was brought to a halt as she slammed into Jack's back.

He stumbled, and Rimat hit the ground rolling. In a moment she was up, and before she knew what she was doing she was up on his horse. “You're late! Come on, hurry up!â€

 

Jack righted himself, and indicated the rope trap he was stringing at rider height over the path. “Could you have waited? I'm not ready yet.â€

 

She shook her head. “No time-â€

 

And then with clattering hooves, the Thalmor soldier rounded the corner and was upon them.

Jack was quick though. He leaped to one side, pulling the rope taught and catching the elf in the gut with it, knocking him off the horse. Jack was yanked off his feet. Both men scrambled to their feet. The elf made to draw his sword, only to find it gone from it's sheath. Jack grinned and punched the elf on the nose. It was a lucky thing, as the soldier's helmet covered all but the face, but the blow dislodged it.

Rimat had also reacted, and was already holding the soldier's sword. “Jack!â€

 

Throwing it was stupid, she realised too late, but somehow Jack caught it by the handle, righted himself, and swung it with both hands. It lodged deep in the elf's side, biting into the golden armour and sticking fast. He let out a terrible, choking gasp, grasping at the sword. Jack let go and drew his knife.

It was not finished in any way that could be called “cleanâ€. Jack flicked his arms to get the blood off, and Rimat managed to stop herself from throwing up. She had seen some nasty things before, murder included, but that didn't make it much easier. “Come on,†She croaked. “The others will be here soon.â€

 

Jack nodded, panting slightly. But he knelt down to cut the soldier's purse from his belt.

 

“Seriously?â€

 

He winked. “Get used to it. He won't need it.â€


It was a few hours before the rest of the Thalmor caught up with them. Jack and Rimat had a head start, but having two to a horse slowed them down. The trees were less sparse here. Rocky mountainside had partially given way to the yellowed grass of the tundra, and the sun was well into it's descent.

Jack spurred Galleon on, leaning forward in the saddle to curse the the horse eloquently in it's ear. Galleon put up a brave effort but it had been a long day of hard riding. Their pursuers closed in. Rimat looked behind them to see the mage lift her hand.

 

Suddenly she and Jack were thrown forward off the horse. Galleon collapsed bonelessly to the ground, skidding to a halt in the dirt. By some miracle Jack and Rimat were unharmed. Jack scrambled over to Galleon to see what was wrong. The horse's limbs were locked up in some enchantment of paralysis, and the poor animal blinked and snorted at Jack helplessly.

 

“Jack, come on! The rocks!â€

 

Jack nodded. There was nothing to do for Galleon for now. He patted the horse's head consolingly, and ran after Rimat for the cover the boulders could afford them from a mounted attack.

 

The three Thalmor soon arrived, dismounted, and advanced. Jack had his back pressed against the boulder shielding him from their view. He saw Rimat was doing likewise nearby. He felt for his pistols, counting their odds. He had two shots, and there were three of them. He doubted Rimat would be much help. This was exactly the kind of situation he'd promised himself to stay out of.

 

Three enemies, two shots. He had been lucky with that first soldier. This one wasn't going to be taken by surprise. He'd kick Jack's arse if Jack let the bastard get close enough. Alright. The soldier dies first. After that, he would have to take what opportunities presented themselves. Maybe he could bluff his way out. After all, there weren't many people in Tamriel who had seen weapons like these before.
 

Jack exhaled. Then suddenly the pistols were in his hands, and he spun around, out of cover, raising them to shoulder height. The soldier was closer than Jack had expected. He had a second to raise his shield...

 

And suddenly, Jack's right had jerked upwards in a wreath of smoke. There was a boom of thunder, louder than any spell Rimat had heard. As one, the birds took off from the trees from miles around in a great cawing flock. And the soldier's head jerked back, and he hit the ground, dead.

 

In the stunned moment that followed Jack levelled his second pistol at the black-eyed Wood-Elf's head. The elf was unarmed, hands splayed, watching Jack intently. Jack began to squeeze the trigger, and-

 

Wait. Where was the mage? The air suddenly whooshed, and Jack only managed to leap aside just in time as an explosion of fire rocked the ground. In another instant a second followed, and it was all he could do to scramble back behind his boulder.

 

The barrage of fire was relentless. Soon the air was choked with the smell of burning grass, and chips of rock were blasted about, scoring light cuts where his skin was exposed. Any time Jack tried to get a glimpse of where his attacker was, he was met with a startlingly accurate bombardment. He turned to see how Rimat was faring. Perhaps, if she could provide some distraction, he might get a shot off-

 

Oh gods. What was she doing?

 

She was crouched, tense, waiting for the next spell to impact. She was whispering something under her breath, he couldn't catch it. Was she counting, or praying? With a boom, the next spell hit. Rimat was caught by the edge of engulfing air but she didn't seem to mind.

 

Then she stepped out from cover, and stood as if to catch the next spell in her arms.

 

The fireball struck her in the chest. She was flung off her feet to hit her back against a standing rock face. Her head was whipped backwards to strike the rock. Dazed or unconscious, her knees gave way and she slid down, but it wasn't long before her senses returned, and she cried out at flames licked along her skin.

 

There was a lull in the barrage. Knowing it was now or never, Jack vaulted onto the boulder and brought his remaining pistol to bear on the mage.

 

But not fast enough. Seeing him and his pistol drawn, the mage flung her hand forward, and the air shimmered with the haze of a magical barrier. The other hand pulled back, flames swirling around it. She threw the spell directly at Jack.

 

Once again, Jack's pistol spoke thunder. Rimat saw the ball of flames rushing toward Jack unwind and dissipate, and the fire on her skin went out. Galleon struggled to his feet, freed of the paralysis.

 

Jack trained his first pistol at Talrin, whistling for Galleon. Something about the way the Bosmer was standing told Jack that letting him get close would be very unwise. But Talrin didn't move, and simply glared at Jack unblinkingly.

 

Rimat got to her feet, and ran to get on Galleons back. Jack leaped down in front, taking the reins. Suddenly understanding, Talrin snarled. With freakish speed, he leaped at them, hands splayed to tear them down from Galleon's back. But he was met instead with Rimat's boot heel, catching him in the solar plexus and knocking him to the ground. And with that, Galleon picked up speed and they were off.

 

Talrin stood, running after them. Gone was his cool demeanour- he looked monstrous; his face pulled into a snarl, pointed teeth showing. His scarves had fallen back to show horns jutting from his brow. His black eyes were furious. “I'LL FIND YOU!†He screamed after her. “YOU CAN'T HIDE- THERE IS NOWHERE YOU CAN SLEEP -†his voice followed them, but grew fainter, and then was gone.

 

[[Misc] Tips for Texturing Clothing]

IS is right. For cloth and most fabrics the specular map should be very dark. But it's important that they are dark, because the spec map is what conveys the character of a material, and done poorly it's easy to make metal look like plastic, or cloth look like it was enchanted in Morrowind.

I just remembered something else that's important. I suppose the word might be "depth": (non-tiling) textures should have subtle variations in colour and shade, otherwise they look flat and unreal.  I see a lot of textures use the photoshop "cloud" filter for this and it tends to look fake for some reason. There's probably a better way but I found that an overlayed photo of snow can create an appropriate difference in shade.

I haven't found out how to create depth in colour, other than using a photo that already has it. If you look at, for example, the vanilla Dwarven armour textures you'll see some pretty extraordinary colours where it's oxidised. Any tips on how to get that effect IS?

That armour I made from scratch. I sort of made it up as I went along, which may actually work for you but I can't recommend as it took ages and I never finished it. I think creating concept sketches is probably a better bet than just mashing together elements I like from the royal Austrian armoury and books on middle-eastern warfare.

 

I try to make things as low-poly as I can for a few reasons; I enjoy optimising, I have a low-end system, and I prefer creating assets that aren't intended to be unique.

[[Misc] Tips for Texturing Clothing]

I tried my hand at clothes when working on this. It was a while ago, but off the top of my head...

 

• Probably the most useful technique I've found is blending photos. Here is a great tutorial on that from CG Textures.
• CG Textures is also an excellent source of high quality, free texture photos.
• Dirt and wear is very important, but it works differently with clothes than hard surface objects.
• Study vanilla outfits to see how the colour and wear change at different parts of the body
• The specular map is easily as important as the colour map. 
• Overlaying an ambient occlusion bake works wonders.

As for folds, I actually modelled high-poly folds and baked normal maps from that. But I think you probably have enough to work with using this kind of thing. For example, you could desaturate it and overlay it where you want the fold, and that'll give you a fold in the diffuse map. Getting normals would be trickier.

Good luck! if any of this was gobbledigook let me know, and if any of it is wrong also let me know because I'm also just learning.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

With a grunt, Jack threw the saddle over Galleon.

 

“I wish you'd stay for a bit more.†Rimat said. “If this is so important then why didn't you just ride off in the middle of the night like the dashing pirate you clearly wish you were?â€

 

“From here I'll be roughing it for gods know how long.†Jack replied gruffly. He grinned. “I need a hot bath before I get swept up in adventures. What about you? Tell me you're not going back into the Reach.â€

 

“No, I'll be staying here until I run out of money. I found a couple of couriers last night, they'll send any word of my friend back here.â€

 

The pretty Dunmer serving girl walked up the path to the tavern, her chin haughtily raised. She didn't spare them a glance.

 

“N'wah.†Rimat muttered.

 

Jack was busy appreciating the girl's retreating form. He snorted. “Women.â€

 

“I beg your pardon?â€

 

“You two haven't exchanged a single word and you already hate each other. Surely I'm not as good looking as that.â€

 

Now it was Rimat's turn to snort. “You're not. She won't talk to me because she's Redoran. I'm... not Redoran. Easy as that.â€

 

Jack considered this for a while. “That's just about the stupidest thing I've heard. Who cares? Morrowind's on the other edge of the world.â€

 

Rimat shrugged. “Morrowind's basically over. All we have left of it is what we take with us.â€

 

Jack looked sceptical. “So you pick on each other? Rather than, y'know, banding together in hard times?â€

 

“Yeah, see, it's traditional. I make an offering in my doorway, she kicks it over. And we all walk away with the warm fuzzy sense that the world can be normal again. Also, she's just a s'wit.â€

 

Jack snorted again and was about to reply when something behind Rimat caught his attention. His smile dropped. Rimat spun around to see a band of elves coming up the path to the tavern.

 

There were four. Two were clearly soldiers; Altmer men in golden Alinoran plate mail. There was one woman, dressed in the familiar black coat of a Thalmor mage. And the last was not a high elf. He was a Bosmer, dressed only in raw furs and wool scarves which all but covered his face. He couldn't have looked more out of place with the other three, but he kept a confident pace at the right hand of the woman.

 

As they crossed the threshold into the tavern, one of the soldiers turned and looked at Jack and Rimat, marking them to memory. As soon as they were out of sight, Jack swore. He pulled his pistols out of his travelling pack and began strapping their sheaths to his legs.

 

“Relax.†Said Rimat. “I think they're here about my friend.â€

 

“I highly doubt that.†said Jack. “Thalmor interference is on the rise. More likely to torture some Talos worship confessions out of some folks, and burn the place to the ground on their way out. You stay here, this going to get ugly.â€

 

But Rimat was already marching up to the Tavern door.

 

Inside, the atmosphere was decidedly hostile. The Thalmor were at the bar, the mage staring Balow down. The soldiers stood menacingly facing the patrons, who were all standing from their seats uneasily. The only person who looked relaxed was the Bosmer, leaning with his back against the bar looking bored.

 

“Look, I don't care if you're-†Balow stopped as Rimat entered, soon followed by Jack. There was a drawn out moment when no-one spoke.

 

“So is this about Maenam? Yes? We lost each other in the Reach, three days south of here. I have his things in-â€

 

The mage cut Rimat off. “Silence!†She glared at Rimat. “Speak no more. We will discuss this in private.†She turned back to Balow. “We require a room. And privacy.â€

 

Balow crossed his arms. “She's my guest here. You'll not harm her or there'll be trouble.â€

 

The mage's nostrils flared at this but it was clear that Balow wouldn't be intimidated. She forced a tight smile. “I'm sure it will not come to that.â€

 

Rimat felt the eyes of the patrons on her as a soldier moved by her. He didn't grab her, but lead her away..

 

The soldiers stood at attention outside the room. Rimat entered first, and sat at the small table.

 

The wood elf regarded her as he entered, his face obscured by scarves except for his eyes. They were completely black, with no whites. “She's not very pretty.†He muttered.

 

“Does it make a difference?†The mage sounded dismissive.

 

He sighed. “Some think so... Not me. Smell, though...â€

 

“Let's try and get through this without having me lose my breakfast.†She gave him a pointed look, and turned to Rimat.

 

“I'm sure you appreciate how suspicious this appears.†She said, remaining standing. “Our agent left Elsweyr with a full complement of elite soldiers. He vanishes off the face of Tamriel and suddenly now there's only you, who it seems no-one has ever heard of.â€

 

Rimat tried to get more comfortable in the hard chair. “May I speak?â€

 

“You may.â€

 

“Okay, so basically... I work for the Synod, and was ordered to accompany Maenam. You know, carry his packs and cook and wipe his chin- I mean, take care of menial things so he could focus on his work. He told me the soldiers died which is why he needed me.â€

 

“Did he mention why he went to the Synod and not to his known allies in Cyrodiil?â€

 

Rimat hadn't thought of that. “He didn't... I didn't ask him questions.â€

 

“But you know what he was doing?â€

 

“I think he mentioned something about hunting a traitor? I thought it would be best to find out as little as possible.â€

 

“I see.†The woman's frown cleared. “Well I must say that's a refreshing attitude. You said he was in the Reach? Good, well, with any luck he'll report in at Markarth. Did you want to get back to Cyrodiil? We can take you to Solitude and send you on a ship from there if you like.â€

 

Rimat was stunned by the abrupt change in attitude. “That... would be very kind indeed.â€

“So it's settled. You can cook on the way; Talrin here doesn't know a potato from a rock.â€

 

Talrin laughed. “What?â€

 

“One more thing.†The mage continued. “Do you know what this is?†She pulled something from a pocket and placed it on the table.

 

When Rimat saw it she shifted back in her seat without thinking. It was that strange object, the tusk carved with runes, her name clearly written on it's face in spidery scrimshaw. “I don't know what that is.†She said without thinking. The mage and Talrin exchanged a look. Rimat suddenly got the distinct impression of danger. “I mean, I have no idea what it is but I've seen it before. I think it might even be the same one.â€

 

The Bosmer Talrin gazed at her levelly. All relaxedness had left his demeanour. He tugged the scarf away from his face and spoke. Rimat could see his teeth were filed to sharp points. “Understand that this matter is of crucial interest to the Dominion. And that it is in your crucial interest that we have no room to doubt your... compliance.â€

 

Rimat felt her insides turn to ice. Would they think she knew too much? Jack's words came back to her, and she understood that if they decided she was an enemy, or that she was lying, she would be tortured. This was not going well.

[Steam Trading Cards]

Let's be clear on this though: You buy them from other players, not Valve. I would say that the main thing valve gets out of this isn't short term profits, it's customer loyalty: They build a meta-game around their service, and anyone invested in the meta-game will only use their service.

An what do we get out of it? A few things; obviously we get to fill up bars and gain levels. But there are more tangible things too; it seems designed to make consumers more active in the community, and to grant a user more self-expression through their steam account, and more investment in their own gaming hobby. That kind of thing is good for all gamers.

 

Ultimately all that is controlled by Valve though, and will always be circumscribed by their rules, unlike the kind of thing we have here at TESA. That seems to me like the only way they can have it though. 

[[SKY] Mesh looks dark in Creation Kit]

Looks correct in all ways I know about, except for possibly a couple of things: 1, I've found importing .obj can mess with the normals so you may want to right click on the mesh in nifskope and try mesh>Face Normals and possibly mesh > Update Tangent Space. I the past that has fixed meshes that weren't displaying normal or specular effects. 2, the problem could be in the texture you're using; check that you've used the right .dds compression type for each texture. 3, and this has probably nothing to do with this particular problem, but I was under the impression that you can't use .obj files for clothing or body parts as it doesn't work with vertex weights. If I'm wrong, PLEASE tell me because that would save me a lot of headache with importing to nifskope.

 

Good luck!

[[SKY] Nif specular problem]

Thanks Tamira! There was indeed some problem between exporting it from Blender and importing it into nifskope: the normals went crazy.

I used "face normals" and "update tangent space" on the niTriShape and it works. 

[[SKY] Nif specular problem]

I'm getting  a weird problem. I imported this item using InsanitySorrow's weapon importing tutorial, which I've used several times in the past with no problems whatsoever.

However this time for some reason the normal/specular map isn't affecting the majority of the mesh.

 

Here I'm using some testing textures to make the problem clearer. The normal map is blank with a completely white alpha channel, so everything should look horribly shiny. However only some parts of the mesh do, and the rest is completely matte. 

 

It's probably worth noting that the normals are all correct and that I used the dragon priest staff as  a base. 

 

Has anyone encountered something like this before? Any help would be greatly appreciated.

[[SKY][Solved] Making my custom worldspace square]

Interesting. Are we able to add/delete cells from the world space in order to even it out?

[[SKY] Questions on Worldspaces]

So. I'd like to build my own personal little world. The instinct to do this is something I'm sure a lot of us share; I hope that some of you who have tried may be able to point me in the right direction.

First of all, how does the area of a world space relate to the work required to make it? From the CK basics class I know that a single cell with a detailed interior takes me ~1 week the first time, and that something the size of Skyrim takes over 100 professionals several years to make. I don't have much idea of what's in-between those data points.

Second: What's a good way to create landscape? Preferably one that doesn't involve learning a whole new program. For example, I can create a displacement map using blender's landscape tools that I can be very pleased with, but are heightmaps even a good approach? 

 

Third: Can I have the game begin in my worldspace? Can it include character creation?

Fourth, and probably most important: How can I save time? What advice or tips do you think might be useful? For example, I found I could save HOURS of cluttering once I learned how to copy table settings from vanilla cells.

Cheers and cookies,
RTC.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

After three days alone on the road, the smell of cooking food and the sound of singing felt to Rimat too good to be true. She didn't know how she had heard it, tucked away from the road as it was. But walking up the track to roadside tavern almost felt like coming home.

 

Opening the door, the change in temperature stuck her, feeling almost too hot after trekking through the cold night. Inside, the air was thick with smells and conversation. It was surprisingly populated; almost every patron seemed to be the travelling sort, and every one of them seemed completely relaxed and at ease. A pretty Dunmer serving girl bustled between tables, carry plates of food and bottles of ale.

 

Rimat made her way to the bar, tapping a septim twice on the counter. A fair-haired Nord woman stepped out of the kitchen. 

 

“Hello dear, I don't think I've seen you before.†She looked Rimat up and down. “I suppose you'll be wanting meals and room?â€

 

“Just a meal, thanks. What can I get for five?â€

 

The woman frowned. “Are you sure? You look like you could stand to put your feet up. Alright, how does venison stew sound? Find yourself a table and I'll bring you a bowl.†

 

Rimat did so, finding a sturdy little round table and pulling up a chair. It seemed to be the only unoccupied table in the tavern. As she waited she looked about the room, trying to be surreptitious as she stared at the patrons.

 

Before long the door banged open. A man, an Imperial, stepped into the threshold, returning a wave from a table of mercenaries. The woman at the bar gave him a stern look. He gave her a wink, and made a show of carefully shutting the door. He seemed tall to Rimat, as all men did, but she supposed he was about average for a human. His long black hair was tied back. He looked like a pirate, dressed as he was with his high boots and vest. He had no tattoos though, at least none that she could see. But the thing that caught her eye above all were the weapons at his hips, holstered in sheaths that hung from his belt and strapped to his trouser legs. Rimat caught a brassy glint at their hilts- were they some kind of Dwemer artefacts? 

 

“What did I say, Jacko? Enough with your noisy antiques! Everything's spooked from here to Karthwasten- you'll drive off all the good hunting.†The man who called thumped his bow, which was lying on his table. 

 

Jack grinned and made a reply (something about shooting straight), but at that moment a burly man arrived at Rimat's table with a steaming bowl of stew. “Welcome! I see you've met my lovely wife. The name's Sigur. What's yours?â€

 

Unbalanced by Sigur's unexpected friendliness, Rimat stammered her name, trying to think of something to say.

 

“Well, whatever you need, just ask and I'll see what I can do about it! Take care with this, it's hot.â€

 

With that he was gone, already clapping another patron on the back. Rimat slurped down a spoonful. It was good. Really good. She took another bite. She'd had venison before but this was something else. Maybe the deer here had to be so tough because they were so delicious? Actually, probably Nords were just better at cooking them than Cyrodiils. 

 

She was broken out of her reverie by Jack, who sat himself opposite her with a thump. He grinned. “So! How long have you two been in this corner of the world? And how did I only notice you now?â€

 

Rimat regarded the empty seat next to her. “Two? There's only one of me.â€

 

“Oh? I thought you were with-â€

 

“Your wine sir?†the pretty Dunmer serving girl was at Rimat's shoulder, proffering a green bottle.

 

He flashed her a bright smile as she poured, but she was off again as soon as she was done. Rimat raised an eyebrow. “With her? Now what could give you that idea?â€

 

Jack was unabashed at the sarcasm in her voice. “Not too many dark elves this far west, and you do tend to stick together.†A certain glint appeared in his eye. “So I think maybe you could help me out with something.â€

 

“Really?†She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and smiling. “You're certainly forward.â€

 

“So I've heard. And yet, she remains oblivious to me!â€

 

Rimat paused. “I think I missed something.â€

 

“There's a certain dignity to being rebuked, but this apathy is... intolerable! Look at her, smiling at that two-septim scoundrel. I need her to notice me.â€

 

He looked back at Rimat to see her poker-faced. “You clearly know exactly what to say to girl to make her feel special. Just get up and talk to her- be bold, uncompromising. We Dunmer just love that.â€

 

“Maybe I will at that!†Jack slapped his hands on the table, standing from his seat. He strode in the serving girl's direction with a confident smile.

 

Rimat took the opportunity to enjoy her her stew undisturbed. She savoured a bite of the lean meat. It was just rare enough. Before long there was an outburst of laughter, cheers and clapping. Jack slowly lowered himself back into his seat. Rimat could see a bright red colour to his left cheek- she fancied she could even make out the shape of a hand. His eyes were narrowed at her.

 

“Dagon hath no fury... I suppose you think you're very clever.â€

 

Rimat swallowed her mouthful and smirked. “She noticed you! Well done. I hear there's dignity in being rebuked- okay, okay, sit down, I'm sorry. It's been ages since I've had a good chuckle. Here, finish your wine.â€

 

Jack took a grudging quaff.

 

“You should have known better- she's a Redoran, no doubt about it. If you want to woo someone from that house you'd better be prepared to bend over-†(Jack snorted into his goblet) “-backwards for them.â€

 

“Alright, what house are you then?â€

 

She chose not to answer that one. “Are you a mercenary?â€

 

He grimaced. “That's not a nice word, to a fighter with honour. But no, I'm not. I'm a scout. You know, a tracker?â€

 

She nodded. “Even better. I've got a job for you. I was travelling with a friend to Solitude, we got separated three days ago. South of here, in the mountains.â€

 

“The Reach.â€

 

“Right.†She said. “We were attacked by wild men-† Jack's expression suddenly went from interested to resigned. Rimat cocked her head questioningly.

 

“I'm sorry to hear that. Listen...†He looked into his wine, face solemn. “the Reachmen, they don't take prisoners. You should head on to Solitude.â€

 

She shook her head. “He's a powerful wizard! They couldn't just kill him. If he's alive, he'll need me. I have something he needs... I can't go on to Solitude without him.†Her composure cracked a little at those last words. She drew deep breath.

 

Jack poured the goblet full again, and slid it over the table to her. “Here. Three days is a while ago. Maybe he passed by before you.†He didn't seem to believe it. He swore quietly. “These are bad times, for the most part. Stick around, this isn't a bad place to stay, and the couriers always stop by. You might find something. But don't get your hopes up. I wouldn't risk the Reach for love nor money.†He stood. “Well, maybe love. Take care, I'll see you around.â€

[Getting started with textures]

If you're aspiring to make "photorealistic" textures on par with Bethesda's work (or at least visually consistent with it) There are some really helpful tutorials on blending layers in Photoshop at CGTextures.

As for creating textures that are well designed so that they read well and are well composed, I'd check out Valve's Character Art Guide for DotA 2. Obviously the Elder Scrolls games have a very different visual aesthetic, but the same principles apply even to "photorealistic" work.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

“Mr Lexington? Sir... MR LEXINGTON?â€

Raurke, who was lost in thought, gave an imperceptible jump as he noticed the barman standing to his left. He smiled winningly, making a speedy recovery; “Please, call me Derek. My father has always been the 'Mr Lexington'.â€

The barman offered him a bottle of mead and prattled on, and Raurke's mind wandered again. Solitude was without a doubt the seat of Thalmor influence in Skyrim. It was unlikely he'd run into any justiciars in the Winking Skeever, and he was sitting at a fairly dark and secluded table in case any other patrons were informants, but still... the risks were great, especially now they were expecting him. He'd have to be careful to keep his cover...

“Raurke! There y'are you grim bastard!†Manan plopped himself into another chair at the table. His wrinkly cheeks were flushed with exertion, or more likely, drink. He peered quizzically at the bottle in the barkeep's hand. “Is that... Why that's Honningbrew mead! Where'd you find it? Never mind- four bottles! One each, for me an' my friends.â€

 

“Friends?†Raurke growled.

“Yes! Friends! Come on, you cowards. He won't bite.â€

A young bearded man dressed in the garb of a noble lurched forward, supported by one arm around the shoulders of another man, clean shaven and robed, hair shaved in a monk's tonsure.

The nobleman leaned drunkenly on the back of a chair, eyeing Raurke blearily. “He looks aboot as disreputable a man as one could find†he said, rolling his 'r's slightly in a thick Camlorn accent. “Is he some sort of thoog?â€

Manan nodded brightly, and before Raurke could protest, said, “Quite right- he's my hired thug and a better thug you'll never find. My friends, meet Raur-â€

 

“-Derek.†Raurke flashed a terrifying, toothy smile at Manan. “Derek Lexington, at your service.â€

Manan looked at Raurke in surprise, and finally noticed his blinded eye. For a full second Manan was agape, then he snapped out of it. “Right! Yes. Derek. Well as I was saying, not only is Derek an unstoppable force of violence, I can also attest that he possesses impeccable moral character.â€

 

“I would have thought moral character'd be a detracting quality, were I a thug.†The young priest was seated, struggling with the cork of his bottle of mead. “Don't you reckon 'Derek Lexington' sounds like a pseudonym?â€

 

“You,†said the noble, “Have been reading far too many Rolard Nordssen novels. And ye're far too sober.†He tapped the bottle with his glass. “Come on, pour us a glass then.â€
 

Raurke considered how he might turn this near-disaster to his advantage. If he was careful, these fellows would conceal him far better than if he kept to himself. And posing as Manan's contractor would divert suspicions to Manan. He'd have to have words with him about “thug†though.

His mind made up, Raurke grinned, reached over and uncorked the bottle with a flick of his wrist. Frothy mead shot out of the bottle, splattering the priest to cheers from Manan and the young nobleman. As glasses were poured, Raurke sat back.

 

“Tell me,†He said. “Have ever heard the one about the Priest, the Noble and the Merchant who walk into a bar?â€

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

The sky was a darker blue in Skyrim than elsewhere in the world, Rimat fancied. She wondered if it was an illusion by contrast (what with how everything was so pale in colour on the ground), or whether it was actually some quality of the air. The day's travel had brought them out of the damp forest and into the shadow of sharp, craggy mountains. They walked on a road cutting along a steep valley.

 

Maenam was spooked, again. A moment ago a peal of thunder had cracked out, booming loud and low between the walls of the valley. His hands were readied for magical combat, his gaze darting about the higher reaches of the valley. Rimat sighed.

 

“Come on. It's just a bit of thunder.†she said.

 

Maenam shook his head. “No clouds. It might have been a mage. A lightning spell.â€

 

“I doubt it. Natural lightning is far more loud and energetic. It's thunder is lower, longer wavelength with more volume of compressed air or something.â€

 

Maenam looked annoyed, but lowered his hands. “So say you. I was tutored by the Master of the school of destruction in Alinor.†He resumed walking, gesturing for her to follow. “He had a lightning spell that would send the birds flocking from the trees for miles around Crystal Tower.â€

 

Rimat hauled the heavy pack up to sit more comfortably across her shoulders. “Uh huh. And you reckon you'll find him here, in the godless back-end of nowhere?â€

 

Maenam didn't seem to consider this worthy of reply. An errant snowflake landed on Rimat's lip. She looked up to see the sky above had become white. That certainly happened quickly. It seemed even the weather here had a mean streak.

 

He was silent for a while, and then, “It sounded almost like a voice, wouldn't you say?†Rimat let her sceptical right eyebrow reply for her, so he elaborated, “Folk wisdom says that the Nord wizards of long ago would cast spells by shouting thunder. The way the sound reflects around these mountains sounds almost like speech. I think I may have found the origin of the legend.†He gave tight smile. “One would think that Galerion's legacy might have been to dispel such superstitions about magic.â€

 

The snow was beginning to fall in earnest now, and Rimat's headscarf was starting to get soaked. “Shelter?â€

 

He nodded. “I think so.â€

 

It was some time later that that the storm abated; not until the sun had set and risen. Rimat was already finishing packing up camp in the dry cave they had found when Maenam woke up. He looked around and nodded, satisfied at her work, eliciting a derisive snort from her direction.

“If yer lordship is done with 'is beauty sleep,†she said, in a poor imitation of a Nibenese peasant, “I-â€

 

“Don't test me.†He cut her off irritably, rising to leave the cave and check the time. Something crunched under his boot, and he stopped. Crushed under his heel was a collection of leaves and flowers. He hunkered down to get a closer look.

It was a little square basket, woven from elves' ear leaves. Arranged inside were the crushed remains of native wild flowers, and a single septim.
Rimat shouldered the pack, and walked up behind him. “Come on, you're blocking the doorway.â€

 

“Look at this.†he said. “Someone was here... We should start taking watch at night.â€

“No-one was here.†She shouldered past him. “Come on.â€

 

Outside it was a misty morning. The sun shone weakly through a sky completely covered in white cloud. Their cave was higher up on the mountain, so from here their view was clear. Down below, the mist extended out in a vast, white ocean. Mountain peaks rose up out of it in the distance, but everything beneath was obscured. It was beautiful.

 

Rimat felt her heart lift a little. “You know, I hate this place, but sometimes it's not so bad. I reckon I could get used to living on the road.

Maenam fell in step behind her. “Did you make that? Why did you leave it in the doorway?â€

 

“You were sleeping for hours. I was bored. I even finished reading my book. And it's Saint Olm's day.â€

 

He rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, still waking up. “I thought you said you weren't religious.â€

 

“I didn't say that.†Rimat increased her pace, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. After a moment, she relented, and sighed. “No, I'm not religious. That was different. It's for my brother.†She trudged on, looking ahead over the ocean of white mist. “And my family.â€

 

“I see.â€

 

The conversation lapsed as they descended into the mist. It was eerily silent here, beyond the forest. The mountains shielded everything from the wind. The only signs of life were a few short, gnarled juniper trees clinging to the rocks by the path. Rimat could barely see beyond them through the mist. The silence stretched on between them, and she found herself wishing for their usual banter.

 

“Well, this couldn't get more awkward.†She said, right before an arrow buried itself in Maenam's midriff.

He gave a short grunt, and collapsed to his knees. Rimat turned and stared in disbelief, stunned for a few moments, until another arrow flew from the mist and hit the pack on her back, knocking her off-balance and sending her sprawling to the ground.

 

Winded, she let out a croaking gasp for air. No sooner had she done so than another arrow struck the ground by her head. She let out a terrified squeak then shut her mouth, lying as still as she could. Very slowly, she turned her head to look at Maenam.

 

He caught her eye, and raised a finger to his lips. His head was cocked, listening. One hand was grasping the arrow where it protruded from his side, blood dripping off his knuckles. She tried to see how seriously he had been hit, then did likewise, listening for any sign of their attackers.

 

She strained her ears, and gave a little jump at the low cracking of a rock tumbling down the mountain somewhere above. But aside from that, no sound was discernible beyond her blood pounding in her ears.

Without making a sound, they appeared, approaching slowly. At first they were indistinct silhouettes. The first was some beast-human: the stature of a man but a strange, shaggy, elongated head, great antlers reaching to the sky. It's legs seemed also to be covered in fur. The other seemed more human, but only the barest shadow of each of them could be seen.

 

No... it wasn't a monster. They were both human, one man and one woman, but the man was wearing some strange stag-head helmet and garments of fur. The woman was also dressed in scraps of fur, and as they came closer Rimat could see patterns of blue woad painted across her bare skin.

“Maenam?†Rimat braved making a sound. “How's your stomach?â€

 

“Painful.†He muttered. They weren't too near each other but their low voices carried in the silence. Some part of Rimat's mind considered how the mist would affect sound travel, and whether their voices would carry to the archers.

 

“You going to live?â€

“Don't insult me.†A small smile crept into his pained expression. “Do you think they just hand these robes out to anyone?â€

 

“Okay, are... you going to do something about it?â€

 

He shook his head. “Not yet.â€

 

A small breeze stole past, pushing back the mist some distance. Rimat stole another glance at the approaching pair, and stopped. The cold fear in her gut grasped, intensified. It WAS a monster- the man, bare chested, had an open wound in his chest, like a gaping hole. She could see where his heart had been torn out, and it's place was... something else, secured behind the bones of his exposed ribs.

“Maenam?â€

 

He didn't reply.

 

She could feel her body sweating in the cold. “I'm going to run.â€

 

“Don't run.†He still spoke softly, perhaps he was trying to speak firmly but his pain was evident in his voice.

 

“I'm going to run.â€

 

“Don't. There are more of them.â€

 

She knew that. These two weren't carrying bows. “I'll wait for you. North on the path. Promise you'll come find me.â€

 

She turned to look at him, imploring him to reply. He didn't. His eyes were fixed ahead, at their approaching attackers. Rain began to fall.

 

They were closer. Much closer. How did they move so quietly? How much of did they hear of the spoken exchange? For a long, drawn out time, Rimat and Maenam were perfectly still and silent. And then, too soon, the man was standing over her. She locked eyes with his, through the eye holes in his barbaric headwear. He regarded her dispassionately for a long moment. Then his hand grasped the the handle of his axe.

He was halfway through drawing it when Maenam stood up. Rimat wasn't looking in his direction, but there was a flash of light and the barbarian woman was thrown from her feet. In the next moment a rock the size of Rimat's head was flying at the man, but at a flick of his left hand the air shimmered and it was sent harmlessly spinning away before it reached him. Axe in hand, the man turned and bounded towards Maenam.

 

And for a brief moment, Rimat saw that on the braided necklace around this monster's neck hung an object of ivory, carved with black Daedric runes.

 

And before she knew it she was scrambling away from the path, slipping down the mountainside in a cascade of dirt and rocks. Arrows struck and bounced off the ground around her. There was a sudden drop- unable to slow her descent in time, she went over the cliff and for a moment she fell, completely surrounded by white fog. She splashed down into a stream, landing jarringly, her leg sinking into the soft bed. As she struggled out, she could hear shouts coming from all around. Rimat ran as hard as she could, fruitlessly trying to loosen the bindings of her pack to lose the dead weight. Her gaze distracted, she surprised herself by running into someone, bowling them both over.

Scrambling up, she saw it was another barbarian man. He looked up from the ground, seeming at least as surprised as her. She shrieked, kicked him in the stomach, then kept on running. At every step she thought she could hear him running behind her. She couldn't help it- she tried to glance behind, and immediately tripped over a rock. She got to her feet again as quickly as she could and kept on running.

It wasn't long before her path was cut off by a rushing river. She stopped, gasping for breath. She could still hear the mad shouting of the barbarian men, echoing between the mountains.

The fog was beginning to dissipate as the rain began to fall in earnest. It wouldn't protect her from being seen for long. Without hesitating further, she strode into the stream.

 

About a third of the way across she was already regretting the choice. She was moving downstream, fast, and digging her feet into the mud wasn't helping at all. Halfway across, it was too late to turn back. She was sent tumbling with the the rapids, her shoulder banging against a rock. Thankfully most of the weight absorbed by the pack. It was getting harder and harder to keep her head above the surface. Gasping for air, she felt exhaustion taking her, felt her strength failing. Her head was pushed under, she was spun upside-down by the currents, thrown down against the river bed, flung up again to desperately gasp for air, only to choke down water into her lungs. She struck another rock, and another.

In the end, she was just strong enough to outlast the rapids. She crawled up onto the muddy bank, shivering, coughing and bruised. She had never in her life felt so exhausted.

And now she was at least a little drier. In a safe place. She rested, eyes open only a crack. Red candles burned around her, countless little candles filling the room with warm light.

She squinted, scrunched her eyes and opened them properly. Not candles. Fireflies. The rain had passed, and so had the day. The clouds had disappeared completely and the full glory of the starry sky stretched above her. Her body shook as she coughed. She stumbled to her feet to look about, and couldn't see any sign of the path. She looked up at the stars, rubbing her arms for warmth.

She turned to the North, and again, before she knew it, she was putting one foot in front of the other.

[Statues]

So you'll need to import both the creature and it's skeleton into blender. 
Next, you need to move the skeleton's location so that it's joints align with the creature's joints. Ideally this should be the case if their origins are in the same place, but it hasn't always been so for me.
Next, add an "Armature" modifier to the creature mesh, and set it's skeleton as the target. Set the modifier to work with vertex weights, but not bone envelopes.
Now if you select the skeleton, and switch from object mode to pose mode, you can pose the skeleton and the creature will follow suit.
(You'll have to do it by rotating the bones in an unintuitive way. I got sick of this and made a modified human skeleton which could be posed more easily; I can upload it if you like)

Once you got the pose you like, you can click "Apply" on the armature modifier and the creature mesh will be frozen into place.
The frozen mesh can then be exported like a normal, un-weighted mesh (like a sword or a rock).
You may need to delete it's vertex weights. They're called vertex groups in Blender, and they'll have the same names as the skeleton's bones.
The creature will retain it's UV map, so you can apply some photoshop filters to it's diffuse textures to make it into a statue.

I hope this is helpful. I'd be more specific but I mostly work in Blender 2.6 and I can't remember the 2.4 interface/hotkeys. Let me know if anything requires clarification.
 

[custom nif CK and collision troubles]

Whoa-hoa! That was fast. I will try those things and get back to you. It just occurred to me that while I created a complex custom collision mesh, the template I chose used a convex collision shape; maybe that's the problem.

Edit:

Your BSLightingShaderProperty suggestion worked like a charm. Now onto collision.

[custom nif CK and collision troubles]

So since InsanitySorrow made a tutorial on exporting custom meshes with collision, I decided I'd try and finish a project from a while ago which I had to abandon due to there being no tools to create collision with.

I have run into two major problems. The first is that the CK crashes when attempting to render my custom .nif, and the second is that the collision is not working correctly.

Everything appears correct and orderly in Nifskope. However, when I try to assign the mesh to an object in the Creation Kit, the following notification appears:

Assert

File C:\_Skyrim\Code\TESV\BSShader\BSBatchRenderer.ccp

Line:1751

Render pass is being registered twice

And then the CK freezes and crashes.

To test for the source of the problem, I used the new mesh as a replacer for an existing vanilla object. It renders beautifully in-game.

So it would seem that only the CK has a problem with my .nif file. This is a big problem as it will require tedious work-arounds for me to create any non-replacer object.

The second problem is that the object appears to have the collision of a bowl. It tends to roll upright and the upper half clips through everything:

It's probably worth noting the "template" which ChunkMerge used to create the collision was the glazedbowl01 mesh.

Any help or advice on these two problems would be greatly appreciated. I feel guilty for all the screenshots I put up of projects that are never finished to good enough standards to release.

[Recommend Some Morrowind Mods!!]

Well, I have found "Morrowind Comes Alive" to be really essential. It randomly generates NPCs all over the place every few days. So towns are a lot more populated, with interesting people like bounty hunters, merchants, trainers, and citizens. They change every few days too, so returning to town is always interesting.

As for graphics, the MGE changes everything for the better, allowing you to see faaar further. I also like "Vurt's groundcover" which creates grass meshes over the landscape, which makes the place a LOT more pleasing to the eye.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

The morning was chilly, but the sun shone brightly and the rugged forest was almost pretty in this light. Maenam ploughed ahead despite the absence of a path, insistent that he had the right direction. Rimat as usual was carrying everything; A heavy pack was strapped to her back containing their sleeping gear and the bag of Maenam's effects, which he had made clear, without saying anything outright, was none of her business and she wasn't to look.

“Ah hah. I've found the path.†Maenam said from up ahead. Rimat thought it was about time and she was sick of sinking into the soft forest floor under all the weight she was carrying, but she didn't voice any of this.

Sure enough the path was there. It looked like a wide animal track, but it was hard and solid enough to give her some respite. A great tree had fallen over it, and Maenam stood on top of the trunk. He offered his hand to help her up. She ignored it, and got a good grip on the trunk with both hands, pulling herself up and over.

“Did I say something to offend?â€

Rimat had been thinking about something else, and took a moment to realise what he was talking about. “Don't worry about it. I'm just jealous of your hair.â€

“Your pardon? My hair?â€

“Yeah. Doesn't get in your way, long and sleek and silky... Any girl would want hair just like yours.â€

Maenam chuckled in a confused sort of way. “Are you... making fun of me?â€

“Oh, not at all! Gods' truth. I bet all the court ladies go green with envy whenever you walk by.â€

The harsh growling bark of a wolf sounded, over a rise in the land not far ahead. Rimat froze, and Maenam slowed his pace. “Stay close to me.â€

As they crested the hill they saw a pack of wolves harassing a lone man. Wolves? Rimat had seen wolves in Cyrodiil; people there didn't seem to consider them to be much of a problem, unless you were travelling alone far from town in the dead of night.

These were an entirely different breed of beast. Their coats were long, shaggy and matted. And they were huge. Rimat wondered why everything otherwise normal was somehow bigger and nastier in Skyrim . Maenam continued along the path toward the man, and Rimat stuck close to him.

The man was in poor shape; his shirt was ripped and he was bleeding. He was barely fending the wolves off. They were running about, encircling him. How many were there? She couldn't keep count. One would close in and get close to distract him while another attacked him from behind. He was wise to their game but still couldn't completely defend himself, and his wound was clearly slowing him down. As they approached he stumbled and fell on his back. Immediately the biggest of the wolves leaped onto him; he raised his arm to defend himself. The wolf bit down on his arm and shook it's head violently.

Maenam walked towards this scene, Rimat close in tow, as if he we on a hike, relaxed and making no movement to suggest that he was ready to defend himself. The circling wolves noticed him and began growling, stalking around to encircle them as well. Only now did Rimat notice that Maenam was completely unarmed.

“Uhh... Maenam?†She felt panic rising. This guy was a wizard, right? Why wasn't he doing anything? Some fireballs would definitely put her at ease right about now. “Maenam, I'm not comfortable with this at all!â€

Maenam turned to look at her. Perhaps his intention was to reassure her, but this apparent lapse in resolve invited the wolves to close in, fencing them closer to the struggling man. Rimat yelped, jumping closer to him, and he returned his attention ahead.

The big wolf was tearing at the wounded man. As Maenam came close it noticed him, and something strange happened.

It let go and backed away, not taking it's eyes off them. It's head was lowered and it's tail was between it's legs, and it looked for all the world like a bad dog that had been caught doing something it knows it shouldn't. The rest of the wolves were still growling at them, but they were certainly keeping their distance.

Maenam hunkered own before the wounded man. Rimat could see he was a Nord, bald-headed, badly shaved and dressed in the clothes of a commoner. “Here, let me help you.â€

The Nord's eyes had lit up with hope when he saw them, but his face clouded as he recognised Maenam's black coat. He spat. “Hands off, knife-eared bastard.â€

Maenam didn't move for a moment, then, “Suit yourself.†He stood.

Rimat looked about uncertainly. The wolves were slowly backing away, and that big one was nowhere to be seen. If Maenam left, would they attack this man again? Would he even survive with those wounds? His right arm was badly torn up, and he was bleeding a lot from somewhere on his upper body.

“Rimat.†Maenam was already on his way, gesturing impatiently.

The stranger looked up at her imploringly. “Please, kind elf-maid... I need helpâ€

Elf-maid? She felt a small part of her pity shrivel away. Nonetheless, she knelt by him and inspected his wound. How do you treat something like this without magic? Why had she never bothered to learn...

The man supplied a suggestion, “Here, you can use your scarf to bind the wound.â€

She nodded. Sure, right. She ripped his shirt off and tried ripping that into bandages instead. Instead of strips she ended up with some irregular torn pieces, but they would probably do.

He smiled. “Now don't you think you're being a little forward, miss?â€

“Shut up right now if you want to live.†She set about binding his wounds, and checked his temperature for fever, or something. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? As her hand touched his forehead, a warm light suddenly enveloped him. Golden sparks danced about his wounds, and rapidly, they began to heal.

She looked up at Maenam. He was standing, poker-faced, with his hands behind his back. The man looked down at his body in wonder.

“Are we done?†Maenam waited for a moment, then turned and continued down the path.

Rimat looked about, noticing that the wolves were gone. She scrambled to her feet to set off after Maenam. The man stood, steadying himself on her, then held her by her shoulders. “Thank you. Ye've saved my life. You're too good a sort for the likes of him.†He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder at Maenam. “Here, take my pack, it's good food. Growed it m'self. What's your name, miss?â€

Rimat accepted his pack, peeking inside. “Food? Great, I'm starving. And you can call me Knife-ears.†He looked confused. “Yeah that's what my friends call me.†She walked off after Maenam, hoisting her burden more comfortably on her back.

“Tomato?†Rimat tossed one to the Thalmor.

“He had food? Finally.â€

“Mmhmm.†Her mouth was already full of carrot. She swallowed. “So what was that act all about? Seems pretty pointless to me. If you're gonna heal him, just do it. Who cares what he thinks?â€

Maenam shrugged. “It seems that he preferred dying to getting help from me. You can hardly blame me for that. Also Nords believe they have to die in battle to go to their afterlife. But you seemed like you were going to be all day trying to patch him up. This way he got what he wanted, and we're still making good time. Call it an... honest deception.â€

“Honest deception? Ha.†Rimat rummaged around in the pack, pulling out more vegetables and potatoes to see what she could cook for dinner when they made camp. She noticed there was something else there, something solid at the bottom of the pack. What was it? She angled the pack up to get a closer look.

And suddenly Maenam pushed her violently away, knocking the pack out of her hands. She fell to the ground, her heavy backpack making her land awkwardly. The food scattered.

She struggled into a sitting position, trying to get her bearings. Maenam was standing between her and the farmer's pack. The object was on the ground not far from it, and he was glaring at it furiously. Rimat could see it better now in the sunlight. It looked like a piece of raw ivory. She got to her feet and moved closer to Maenam to get a better look.

She could see spidery writing carved into the object, which was shaped like a tusk. Most of it was too small for her to read, but a few lines stood out. It looked like a spell of some kind; it was daedric writing. Meht. Ayem. Ekem. Neht. The writing curved around the horn away from view. The line below she recognised immediately: Roht, Iya, Meht, Ayem, Tayem. RIMAT. She felt a cold weight in her stomach. There were other names than hers and Maenam's. Were these the names of the others, the soldiers who had died?

“What is it?â€

Maenam didn't answer for a moment. He seemed to be thinking hard. “Let us get away from here.†He started off down the track at a brisk pace, keeping well away from the object.

Rimat began following, looked torn for a moment, then turned back and gathered up some of the fallen food, carefully steering clear of the object. “Waste not,†she muttered to herself.

The night was quiet. As they camped she was glad of her frugality. Dinner was vegetables in broth, and although the food was about as common as you can get, Maenam accepted it without so much as wrinkling his nose. They were seated cross legged around a fire. Their camp was exposed to the sky, but it was next to a boulder outcrop which shielded them from any wind.

Maenam drank the last of the broth from his bowl, then placed it on the ground. He finally spoke, softly, “I don't understand his power. My spell was ineffective.†This was the first time he had spoken since the incident with the object. A minute of silence passed, and then he pulled the backpack over to him, pulling out the scroll he had written the other night. Breaking the seal, he read his work, frowning, then tossed it on the fire. “You very nearly died. Do you understand? If you had touched that, you surely would have died.â€

Rimat didn't respond for a while. There was something hypnotic about a good open fire. But she pondered what had happened. “The Nord, he was an agent of your enemy?â€

Maenam shook his head. “No. No, a cursed object, etched with our names, by some quirk of fate, came to us. A baffling coincidence. But I am certain, had we passed him by, that we would have encountered it some other way. And I think we will encounter it again.â€

“How? What was it?â€

“I don't know.†Did he sound... scared? “I don't know how it happens. But... Suppose, if my enemy could... Perceive, and understand the courses of fate. Perhaps with that knowledge, he could manipulate events in this way. I have been to many places and seen many things, and many have claimed the power of prophesy...â€

Rimat shuffled closer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't forget that you have some tricks of your own. And his power can't be all that great. You've made it this far.â€

The contact seemed to disturb him. He didn't move, but he said, “Feed the fire, it's getting cold.â€

She moved away, and grabbed a piece of wood from the firewood pile. She threw it on the flames. “Well I've read a lot, and I can say that fate business is nonsense.â€

Maenam looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “All of it? But your goddess made several prophecies which were fulfilled.â€

“Excuse me? My goddess? Daedra. I do not worship Azura. I've done the research- every single thing she predicted came true because she made it so.â€

Maenam frowned. “Is that right?â€

“There are a lot of fanciful legends. No historical basis. But something doesn't make sense to me: Why is your enemy attacking me? It was me that ended up with the curse thing, not you. You said he couldn't hurt you directly?â€

“Well, there is this.†He reached around his neck, pulling an amulet out from under his shirt. It was a beaten gold piece, like a little torc tied to a neck-string with complex knots. “This alone has proven effective. It is not the magic of Alinor, and it is strange to me.â€

They were silent for a while. He rolled the amulet around his palm. She reached over and placed another log on the fire.

Maenam stared into the fire. “You should have this.†He pushed his hood back, and pulled the string over his head.

“Wait, don't take it off-â€

“No. Put it on.†he offered it to her. Hesitantly she accepted it, and tied it around her neck. She sensed no trace of enchantment in it. “The time for caution is over. I must test his power if I wish to face him and live. To do this I need to expose myself for now. †He breathed deeply. “And you will be safer. But I will need that back when the time comes.â€

“When we get to Solitude, you mean.â€

“What?†He looked confused for a moment. “Oh yes, of course. When we get to Solitude.†An ambiguous silence followed, then, “I'll make sure you're provided with all you'll need to get out of Skyrim and back home safely. And comfortably.â€

Rimat nodded. “I should think so! Can you write an insistent letter to the Synod to take me back? And give me a pay rise?â€

He smiled. “I think I could do that.â€

[[Sky] Lighting & Hiding Markers]

Hey mandilorian.

You can hide any object in the render window by pressing "1" on your numpad twice. When ever you want to un-hide everything you've hidden, press "alt+1"

[[Trailer] Alduin's Fallen]

Cool. If you want help, can I make an interior or a weapon for it or something?

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

The cave was marginally warmer, but a lot drier. It was a relatively well-kept living space, for a cave at least; some furniture had been left by the previous inhabitants. It was dark, though, and Rimat hit her head on the low opening as she entered.

Maenam was seated at a rickety wooden table, writing something in a scroll. He was still wearing his black coat. A mage-light hovered about his head, his face was cast in shadow by his hood. He noticed Rimat enter, and quickly finished writing, then sealed the scroll. Finally he turned to look at her, and looked affronted on seeing her covered in mud and leaves.

“What happened? Are you alright?†He had the typical hollow cheeks and triangular jaw of a high elf. He looked to be quite young for one with his kind of authority, but maybe he was a necromancer. Rimat guessed he was around thirty. He kept his blonde hair long, at the moment it was spilling around his neck and out of his hood.

“Fine, why?†She rubbed her forehead.

“You're covered in detritus. Here, the fire's gone down. You should get warm. There's kindling and a few more dry pieces over in the corner.†He turned back to his table, and began writing on a new sheet of parchment.

Rimat fetched the firewood and knelt down by the remaining embers. She scraped the coals closer together with her grey fingers, and began to rebuild the fire.

“No luck then?†Maenam didn't look up from his work.

“Nope.†Rimat blew on the fire a few times to get it going. “It's nasty out there. Could barely see a thing. Locals were unpleasant. Wouldn't give me the time of day. There was some game, tried to kill a moose but it got away.â€

“Deer. I don't believe there are any moose in Skyrim. I should have spoken with the Nords. Perhaps there'll be another settlement on our path tomorrow.â€

Rimat rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. “Don't you get it? This is Skyrim. You're an Altmer. Everyone here hates you. You're Thalmor, so everyone double-hates you. No-one's going to bend over backwards for you here. We're more likely to get a public stoning than a free lunch.†She swore under her breath as the fire began to die. “S'wit.â€

“I beg your pardon?â€

“Not you, the fire. Wood's too wet.â€

Maenam turned to look at her. “Well, aren't you a Synod mage?†He regarded her thoughtfully. Rimat ignored him, and kept blowing on the fire. “You didn't encounter any danger out there?â€

She shook her head, only half listening.

He seemed to make up his mind about something. “When I set out on this mission from Aldmeris, I was accompanied by three elite Thalmor soldiers. You would be hard pressed to find finer soldiers anywhere in Tamriel.â€

Rimat personally couldn't give a damn about Maenam's mission, and felt that the less she knew about it the better. But he was her boss, for now, so she kept her trap shut and kept trying to get the fire going. Hopefully she'd be dry enough soon to get some sleep.

Maenam was unconcerned by her indifference. “They were good mer. Disciplined. Not the kind prone to mistakes, and not the kind to be out-foiled by any calibre of assassin. Each of them died before I was through Cyrodiil. Each in separate accidents. Innocent tragedies, on their own. Together, certainly not a coincidence. Are you listening? Do you understand what this means?â€

“Yeah. It means that you had to come and pluck me out of my comfortable life to carry all your junk for you halfway across Tamriel.â€

Maenam's eyes narrowed. “It means your life may be in danger. Listen: my enemy has a subtle but terrible power. It seems he cannot attack me directly, but he is prepared to hinder me by murdering those around me. You must be cautious. Unless-†He abruptly stopped, looking thoughtful.

“Well?â€

“Unless he thinks keeping you alive will hinder me more.â€

Suddenly the firewood burst into flame. The fire roared and crackled merrily.

Maenam smiled thinly. “Ah, well done.â€

Rimat wasn't fooled. “How did you do that?â€

Maenam raised is eyebrows, as if to say “Do what?â€

“You cast without gesture or incantation.â€

Maenam nodded. “So you're not a complete novice then. I don't know what the Synod expected to gain by sending you with me, but I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. There are no treasures or state secrets on this mission. I'm merely eliminating a conspirator and enemy of the territories.†He stood. “However, if you've been sent to undermine me, you can expect- what?â€

Rimat was laughing silently. She wiped a tear from her eye. “You think I'm a spy? Ah dear... I don't think you quite get the Synod. They're required by law to assist you, but the don't like you. You wanted a horse to travel with, but horses are valuable. So they sent me instead. That's all.â€

Maenam seemed by surprised by this. He was about to say something when Rimat continued:

“And I'm not a Synod mage. I'm a porter. As soon as we get to Solitude, I'm gone. I don't want to be here.â€

“I see.†Maenam sat down again, and steepled his fingers. “My apologies. Perhaps I've been absorbed in politics too long. And-†He chuckled “Perhaps I give the Synod too much credit. Though I thought I gave them little enough. I suppose this explains a lot. Your attitude for example; I didn't know you were sent against your will.â€

“No, I'm just like that. You'll find it endearing eventually.â€

Maenam smiled, this time genuinely. “Is that so? Well, we can expect the journey to be more comfortable once we gain contact with imperial forces. If we run into rebels though, well, they won't be much of a problem, but I hope you'll trust me to “do the talking†then?â€

“Don't forget that killing magicians is a favourite Nord pastime. Daresay they're good at it.â€

“...I'll keep that in mind. Are you dry yet? Then you should get some sleep. I need to finish this spell if we're going to travel safely. The storm should pass before dawn. We'll get an early start.†He turned back to his parchment.

Rimat pulled her straw mattress closer to the fire. She thought to herself that Maenam's reaction to the news that she was a commoner was unusual. Most nobles (and with his annunciation, there was no way he wasn't a noble) certainly wouldn't respond with an apology. Or, as in this case, a sentence with “my apologies†in it. At least he seemed a lot friendlier now.

------------------------------------------

The road along the Karth river was better maintained than many in Skyrim, and the rickety wooden cart trundled along without much protest. There wasn't much room inside, but Manan had rearranged the junk he apparently meant to sell and somehow Raurke and Malori were able to squeeze in together comfortably, looking out the open back of the cart at the road behind them.

Manan was driving, gruffly singing what sounded like a hymn, but with dirty lyrics. Malori would snort with suppressed laughter occasionally, avoiding Raurke's gaze in embarrassment. Raurke considered idly how much blasphemy he'd put up with for a comfortable free ride.

The song ended. Manan leaned around to talk. “So, I see you reunited with your wife. Did Duncan make it okay?â€

“Aye, he's well. We met up with Jayn and Malori shortly after he left you.â€

“What, Jayn, the girl? She's alive? And free? And who's Malori?†He saw their expressions. “Right, right, sorry, terrible with names. Well, that's great news. And that reminds me. There's a tin box somewhere around your left ear, should be some bandages too.â€

Raurke noticed then that Manan's wrist was bound with bandages.

“This is for the slave-mark?â€

“S'right. There's a little spoon in the tin; don't use more than half of that unless you want a nasty rash.â€

“Can't you just change the runes like you did for yours?â€

“Could, but it's a bad idea. I'm still under a spell now; just a different one. I can't change it to just go away. I don't know how much you know about magic, but there's always a price for these things, and spells have a way of exacting the cost.â€

Raurke screwed the lid open, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “Nasty. What about you? You stayed behind for something, did you find it?â€

Manan nodded, sitting forward in the driver's seat again. “Aye, I found a little. Staying in Solitude long?â€

Raurke waved his hand. “A while, maybe a short while. We'll see.â€

Manan raised his eyebrows at the vague answer, but let it slide. “This is just me making assumptions about folks who wear black armour everywhere, but you wouldn't happen to be qualified for the kind of job that requires... infiltration?â€

Raurke chuckled. “You might say it comes naturally to me. You have a job for me?â€

“Oh yes.†Manan smiled, his eyes on the road. “Lucky thing I ran into you.â€

Raurke shifted to get more comfortable. “Anyway, Duncan made back to the Tavern fine. He's doing some legwork for the proprietor now, I think he's had enough adventures for the moment.â€

“Well, he's certainly earned some respite. I'm sure he's enjoying it.â€

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim, Volume One (Legend)]

Rimat was soaked. She was cold, alone and hungry. They had passed the imperial border patrol three days ago, and now as the sun set a storm rolled in from the north that made you want to be anywhere in Tamriel other than some gods-awful forest in the south of Skyrim.

Maenam had sent her to find food while he stayed in the warm, dry cave they had stumbled across. She had no idea which plants here were edible, and could barely see through the dark and the rain. Really she knew she had no chance of finding anything, but she was still hungry enough to try.

She stumbled on blindly, pushing through damp foliage. With each step her shoes sunk to ankle depth in a layer of rotting leaves and mud.

Lightning flashed. With the sudden illumination Rimat saw the silhouette of an animal; some big, shaggy thing with antlers. A moose or something. As her eyes readjusted to the dark, she found she could still barely make out where it was. Thunder boomed, following the lightning loudly and aggressively. The animal seemed unperturbed, merely flicking it's ear and not lifting it's head from whatever on the ground was occupying it's attention.

This seemed like the best chance at dinner she was going to get. She didn't have a bow, just a cheap hunter's knife. She wouldn't know how to begin going about killing an animal of that size with it. She'd have to use magic.

She didn't want to. She could sense that she was down to the last dregs of her magical reserves, and who knew how long it would be before any came back to her? She'd be ready to qualify this situation as an emergency, but by all accounts “emergency†was business as usual in Skyrim.

Another flash of lightning let her survey her surroundings. She was making too much noise in this muck. If she got much closer the beast would probably hear her and bolt. There was a great fallen tree jutting out over a dip in the ground, pointing right at the animal. She could get onto that and crawl closer in relative silence.

She stood still, and then when the thunder came, she moved quickly, scrambling to the trunk and climbing onto it. Perhaps she was being overcautious; after all she could barely hear herself think over the sound of the rain and wind. The moose was probably no better off. She straddled the trunk and shuffled forward toward her prey, blessing her own foresight to wear a decent pair of trousers under her robe. Progress was slow and slippery. Lightning frequently lit the forest, and the thunder was deafening. The animal didn't seem to care. “I like this moose,†Rimat muttered. “Moose doesn't give a damn.â€

Soon she was close enough to see it clearly. By this point she was at the end of the trunk. Cautiously, she slowly stood. She took a deep breath.

Perhaps her prey had finally detected her movement, or maybe something else had caught it's attention. To Rimat it looked like it had just suddenly remembered something important, because it raised it's head, standing very still and staring into the middle distance.

Rimat realised she didn't want to kill it. Most of the meat she ate, when she could afford meat, came from the hawker's food-carts. You generally didn't want to ask where it came from before that. Delicious, of course, but.... dubious. In any case, this big, dumb animal probably didn't deserve to die. Look at it- cocking it's head like it's trying to do a hard maths problem.

On the other hand, this country had offered her no mercy at all since she crossed the border. Wouldn't it be great to just let loose some fireballs and give it some payback... Also, she was hungry, cold, and somewhere nearby there was a warm, dry cave with an insufferable Altmer where she'd rather be. “Sorry, big guy.†she muttered.

And with that her arm whipped out to point at the animal's head. Lightning lit the forest again, brighter than ever, this time arcing blindingly from her index finger. Rimat felt the hairs on her arms and neck rising, felt the flow of magic shifting and burning. She was filled momentarily with exhilaration. Gods, it felt good to cast.

And then emptiness. A sinking feeling, and loss- it was gone. All gone. That was the last of her magicka. From birth, she had been stunted; she could not regenerate it naturally, nor alchemically. She could only absorb it from spells, and then only rarely. And since Skyrim so far seemed only to hold trees, mud, xenophobic farmers, and vaguely adorably elk, it seemed that it would be a long time before she would cast a spell again.

Coming down was always hard. She stood in the rain with her shoulders slumped as she waited for her eyes to readjust to the dark.

After a moment, she could see that off in the distance a tree had ignited and split. Even now there was a cracking noise, and it collapsed with a crash. The moose didn't bother to look up.

She had missed. Or maybe it had looked down again as she had fired, or... Damn it. Damn it, Damn it-

A slight shift of her weight, and suddenly her shoe lost it's grip on the trunk. Her leg slipped outward, and she fell, first banging her shin on the trunk, then crashing down and sinking into the rotting leaves and mud.

At least it was soft and deep enough to safely catch her fall. And slimy. And surprisingly warm. She closed her eyes. Maybe she'd lie there for a bit...

She shrieked as something wet and warm brushed her face. She scrambled backwards, there was something huge standing over her...

The moose licked her face again. Oh.

It's tongue was kind of coarse. Tentatively she reached up and stroked it's muzzle. “So, now we're friends then? You bastard?†She sat up.

“Let me tell you something. You're still alive and not dinner because I'm cursed. They call it the curse of ash, and that it stains my skin grey, but it's more than that. It means everything I try will blow up in my face, everything goes to ash.â€

She'd like to think the moose was listening, but really it seemed more interested in sniffing and biting at her shawl.

“And the moment you think things can only get better, you can-â€

The moose abruptly lost interest, stepping back from her an trotting off, sneezing and shaking it's head.

“Yeah, good point. Better hoof it.†She got up and brushed herself off, picked a leaf out of her hair, and got her bearings. Then she headed off, back in the direction that seemed most familiar.

[Tavern Tales: Skyrim Out of Play Character Thread]

Rimat

Character Name: Rimat (Pronounced Ree-matt)

Character Age: 22.

Character Class: Commoner.

Character Race: Dark Elf.

Character Birth sign: The Atronach.

Character Description: Rimat is shorter and less thin than most Dunmer women, her poor posture makes her seem very small. She has the characteristic ash-grey skin, angular face, high cheekbones and red irises of her race. She has a straight nose and a slight underbite which endears her to surly expressions. Her hair is worn in a braided ponytail, mostly to keep it out of her eyes and out of her way.

Recently she has gotten into the habit of wearing mages' robes over her usual tunic and trousers, mostly due to her association with the Synod. She has a secret love for textiles, and always wears a shawl about her shoulders and at least one colourful scarf. When the weather is cold, she wears a headscarf rather than a hood.

She has a magpie-like tendency to collect pretty or interesting things she finds. This is amplified by her years spent scavenging to stay alive. A hoarder by nature, any place she inhabits quickly becomes a treasure trove of vaguely interesting but worthless items. While far from a stranger to domestic work, she prefers to keep her private living space messy.

Rimat carries a knife for practical purposes, in the same way she carries twine and a handkerchief. She has no martial training or experience whatsoever, other than some knowledge of where to kick before running away, which she learned through hard trial and error.

With magic, however, she is something of a prodigy. This is almost entirely blunted by her stunted magicka. Most of the time she is without any magicka at all. She tends to be introverted, cynical and sarcastic for the most part, and has built emotional walls to protect her from her life's hardships. Despite her trials, she keeps a tough exterior and a sense of humour, rarely descending into despair or self pity. She brightens up noticeably when she regains her arcane powers. This emotional change makes her far more impulsive and bold, usually leading her to be wasteful with her power.

Weaknesses:

Extraordinarily unlucky

Cannot regenerate magicka, even through alchemy

Useless in armed combat

Not great at parties either

Abilities:

Extensive theoretical knowledge of magic

Well read, multilingual

Will, on occasion, absorb the magicka of a spell or magical phenomenon

Racial affinities to fire and snarkiness

Nice singing voice

Background: Rimat was born in Argonian occupied Morrowind, in Firewatch, an Imperial castle town on the western coast of Inner Sea. As natives, her family were impoverished, and struggled to raise Rimat and her older brother in the Dunmer tradition.

Rimat was orphaned while still a young girl. After a short spiel as an urchin, she was put to work and taken under the care of the great library of Firewatch, along with her brother. In this time she developed a love for reading and magical theory.

In her late teens her brother was arrested and executed for crimes against an Argonian. Fearing persecution from the authorities, she fled to the west, leaving Morrowind and finding work wherever she could. In Cyrodiil she found treatment no better than her occupied homeland, and was unable to hold onto any job for long. Much of the time she was homeless and penniless.

Finally, in a rare stroke of luck, she gained unpaid employment with the Synod mages' order as a porter, washerwoman, and odd-job servant. The job came with meals and accommodation, as well as a very useful benefit: live volunteer magical testing. In this way she had access to a reliable source of magicka, and was therefore able to tutor herself properly in the magical arts. This was assisted by her cleaning duties, which gave her access to the innermost rooms of the Synod library.

Recently her innate spell-absorbing ability, which had thrown off and invalidated countless experiments, was discovered by the mages of the Synod. This did not work out well for her; while they did not terminate her employment, she lost many of her liberties and comforts. When a Thalmor agent came to their door demanding assistance on his mission, The Synod gleefully passed Rimat onto him; fulfilling their legal requirement to assist him, getting rid of a problem servant, and probably giving him a wellspring of misfortune and inconvenience.

Rimat had no particular love for the Synod, but she had settled comfortably into her life and was sad to leave the friends she had made. While she felt no obligation to the Thalmor agent, she knew that abandoning him would ensure a permanent expulsion from the Synod, and it was likely they would not accept her back regardless. She had heard that there were many of her people in Skyrim, and while the place sounded awful to her, she was cautiously optimistic that it may hold opportunities for her to find a better life.