My spirit suddenly trembled, and for just a moment I thought my hold on the owl body would break. Nearby, the harpy eagle body that was Eleri let out a mournful wail that even the wind could not swallow. Though the dragon below me did not falter, I knew Mama had felt it as well; her sprit shivered loud enough for me to hear it, to feel it within myself.
I recovered, head spinning. What was that?
The dragon screamed, and Mama answered, I don’t know. Stay close to Eleri, just in—
Then it came again, before she had a chance to finish.
The pain struck first.
It was pain that I could never have imagined—pain that stabbed my heart and burned my bones. My vision blackened; I no longer felt the glacial wind ruffling through my feathers.
And then it happened.
With as much warning as a hiccup in time, I was thrown from my false body.
For just a moment, we were suspended in time, and I could see everything with such perfect clarity.
Eleri had been pushed back into her body; her long hair streamed behind her as she fell like the licking tendrils of a fire’s shadow. Mama still wore her dragon skin, but her wings had gone limp; Morwenna was little more than a blotch of polished copper amidst bronze scales and a flat grey sky.
In the moment before time resumed, the whole world was quiet, and realization slowly crushed me—
Everyone who has ever played a Bethesda game knows this: they are so vast, they are bound to have glitches. It is such an expansive game, including everything an RPG gamer would want and some. However, as with any game of such magnitude, there are going to be bugs. And for Bethesda games, these are sometimes severe, but the game itself is so enjoyable that one can overlook all but the worst, and brush them off with a chuckle.
An example: While I was playing Fallout 3, a red dot appeared on my compass. I was in an area majorly populated by death claws, so I figured since there was only one I could take it. I start heading toward it, and almost as soon as I come within sight, it turns toward me, then launches high-speed into the sky. Red dot vanishes, and so does my prey.
This is one of those minor Bethesda glitches that is more hysterical than anything else.
Today, I experienced one of these in Skyrim for the first time not including giants knocking you 400 feet into the air, which is apparently meant to be.
So I’m at the Sleeping Tree giant camp for a bounty to kill a giant. As I’m going, followed by my wife/companion Mjoll the Lionness, looking boss in the Ebony Mail, I hear roaring and see a dragon circling in the distance. I shrug, paying it no mind, and figure it means us no harm.
I reach the camp and start attacking the giants and naturally the mammoths want in on this hot action. Then a blast of fire explodes nearby, and lo and behold, one of Alduin’s named dragons – Vuljotnaak – the aforementioned fellow peaceably circling us, decided to attack. The giants and one of the mammoths are busy with me and Mjoll, but one of the mammoths is hellbent on fighting this dragon alone.
After the others are dispatched, and Mjoll is hunkered down in the corner to recover, I sit back with my popcorn and 3D specs, and watch the show unfold.
The two stand toe-to-toe. The mammoth does a lot of head-swinging and stamping, but the dragon lands quite often and breathes fire all over him. On a side note, fiery mammoths are funny to watch. Then, it happens.
The dragon swoops in for a glorious airborne attack. It appears to overshoot, and it would have been a glorious airborne attack except for one thing: dragons and mammoths are of a like size.
The dragon noses the mammoth, and sends it flying several dozen metres away, right beside me. I have my bow ready, but the mammoth has eyes only for the dragon, and not in a neat interspecies sexual way.
The dragons comes around, does the same attack, and suddenly –
Vuljotnaak flies away, with a burning mammoth on his back.
Here I am, laughing hysterically, with Mjoll shouting insults at my side and looking incredibly ferocious in black smoky Ebony Mail, while the dragon flies around with a mammoth on its back.
Then it banks, and the mammoth flies off without warning, soars with incredible speed a good few hundred metres, and lands near me. Again, it is only concerned about the dragon.
And is miraculously unharmed from this adventure.
Vuljotnaak lands again, finally burns the mammoth to a fantastic hairy crisp. Movie-watching time is over, so I send a few arrows his way and go loot the remains.
I’m feeling much better after the exciting Friday I had. I still get bouts of headachey nausea, but not nearly as bad. I also went to the doctor last night so ICBC can have some evidence to my hurtz, and I’m to take 400mg of ibuprofen four times a day, as well as do back and neck muscle exercises at least three times a day, and I have a referral for physiotherapy.
How can being rear-ended be so destructive?
If I hadn’t been in the back seat when it happened, I doubt I’d be as hurt. I wouldn’t have hit my head, I imagine, and just got whiplash.
Back seats are dangerous, man.
In other news, I think I got an idea for my next tattoo. I have what I lovingly refer to as a quarter sleeve – I have a tattoo covering the underside of one arm – and I want it to one day be a full sleeve. This new tattoo idea (well, I actually had a tattoo idea a few months ago, but I’m putting off getting it because it’d be a rib tattoo, and I want kids and non-stretched ink) is inspired by my family. A while ago, my mother showed me a coaster we have of the Welsh red dragon surrounded by Celtic knots, with the words Y Ddraig Goch Ddyry Cychwyn (fuck Welsh, amirite? so many consonants) and using the most magnificent Google translator, I found out what it means. (I knew ddraig meant dragon, bragging rights here)
The red dragon roars
OHMYGOD MY FAMILY IS SO COOL. OR JUST WALES IN GENERAL.
So apparently this is my family crest, according to my mother (though I’m pretty sure it’s just a general Welsh thing). I’m a quarter Welsh, but that quarter counts a fair bit, being that it’s the paternal. I’m going to confirm this with my grandmother, and if it really is the Marshman crest, this is going on my skin, for permanent.
My God, though. I hope we were knights in the past. Celtic archers. With a motto like that, how could we not be?
This feels Game of Thronesy. Excuse me while I fangirl over that.