Outgrowing Skyrim

"Wow."

"Yeah, I fucked up." I say.

"Is that a dragon?" 

"Yeah, I fucked up." I say again.

"This is amazing!" the young Nord to my right says.

I can feel Delphine giving me the side eye because yeah, I fucked up. I brought a baby to a war zone. Erik, the innkeeper's son, is with us because I wanted to get a head start on recruitment for the Blades. In-game he ends up as Erik the Slayer. It's mostly an ironic title since he gave it to himself, but come on, the names perfect for a future dragon-slayer. I usually recruit him to join the Blades to save him from rotting away in the inn with nothing to do. It also made great roleplay sense. Normally you'd have to wait until after unlocking Skyhaven Temple to recruit npcs to the Blades but because I wanted to save time we now have a very squishy peasant to guard, replete with no weapon and very flammable farming clothes. It sounded like a great idea. Delphine and Esbern are old and sad fuddy duddies and Erik was supposed to be the young, bright, naive breath of fresh air that gave them hope for the future. That was before I realized we would have to smuggle him past a dragon and the sizeable Forsworn camp it's currently attacking. The poor boy is a head taller than any of us with flaming red hair, basically a walking target. He's obedient though, which just might be his saving grace. That and his enthusiasm. 

"You can still head back now. Last chance. No shame in calling it quits when you know you're out of your depth." Delphine says, a hard look on her face.

"No way! This is everything I ever wanted. It's a little sooner than I expected, but… I'd much rather die here than spend another moment back on the farm." He says with a determined face.

"Alright then. Keep your head down and eyes up. If you survive today, you just might be Blade material." Delphine says. She turns to me, "So, how do you want to do this?"

I eyeball the embattled Forsworn camp below. It (was) a fishing village, more or less, nestled in the river valley that completely circles a mountain, Karthspire. They built a network of rough docks on the eastern side, out from a cave in the mountain to some old Nord ruins. It would be a nice little hamlet if it wasn't for all the gratuitous spikes and bones and bodies. Not from the dragon either, though he is working on that, the Forsworn choose to adorn their villages as barbaricly as possible. I get it; that rotting goat head with the maggot-filled eye sockets is doing something at the very least culturally important but it's not my cup of tea. I do like the feathers though. Sadly those are the first things to burn in the wake of the dragon's fury. Arrows and spells fill the skies, chasing the green-finned dragon.

"Let them fight while we sneak inside. The entrance should be just inside the cave there. It'll give us cover at the very least." I say.

"I like that idea—no reason to stop two enemies from doing our job for us. I'll take point, Esbern behind me. Erik will follow him and you'll bring up the rear to watch his back. Sound good?" Delphine asks.

"Sounds good."

We duck down into a winding path between the rocks headed below. For several minutes we can see nothing but the sky directly above us as we make our way down, but we can hear the sounds of spells and shouting and fire. My ears pick up several Fireball spells exploding in the air, a sign that there's probably at least one Hagraven down there in the camp. Eventually the rock walls lower and we can see the camp again, more on fire than before. Delphine turns to talk strategy while we're still safe behind the rocks.

"The cave is just over there." Delphine points. "It's not far but it's only accessible by the docks. More than enough space to get picked off by a dragon if we're slow. Only kill the Forsworn that are in the way. Leave the others to the dragon. Let's go!"

Delphine and Esbern take the front. Esbern summons a Frost Atronach, a pillar of ice that's twice as tall as a man and nearly three times as thick with four thick limbs that ooze chilled mist. With no apparent face, it positions itself between us and the Forsworn on the far side of the river acting as a mobile ice wall. Delphine moves forward, finding and outright executing many Forsworn with precision. Esbern flings Firebolts at any targets too far or too entrenched for Delphine to deal with, breaking their cover or convincing them to flee. Their effectiveness reminds me that I'm watching veterans of the Great War, probably some of the best. These insurgent Forsworn who are used to ambushing guardsmen and caravans simply stand no chance. Makes me wonder how foolish challenging Delphine earlier actually was when I blew that table in her face. I'm participating in the mayhem too, if only just by comparison. I've instructed my Flame Atronach to provide fire support and I've imposed my Dwarven armored self in between Erik and the rest of the action as a less effective version of what Esbern is doing with his Frost Atronach. I watch as the walking hunk of glacier brings down its solid pillar of ice for an arm down on a group of assaulting barbarians, devastating them. Erik is trying, bless him, having picked up one of the Forsworn's crude stone axes and a barrel lid. 

The dragon stops strafing the docks with fire to crash down on the far side of the river close to where I suspect the Hagraven was hiding, confirmed by a sudden uptick in explosions. We're charging up the stairs to the cave, slaughtering the few guards left defending it. Suddenly a teribile scream echos across the valley, of a kind I've never heard before, an awful mix of bird and woman with something otherworldly. The guards stop fighting us to run to her, not even acknowledging us as we wound them. Unsure of what exactly is happening we stop trying to fight them and just hurry up the steps. And then the kids come out.

Children of all ages pour out of the cave mouth screaming and running in a fury. Most are brandishing sticks or stones, while others found actual weapons, most too big for them while others are wielding their toys like bludgeons. I'm dumbfounded as to what is happening while they run but then I see some of the Forsworn from earlier, the ones we had chased off and who had abandoned the fight, come back with that same determination everyone else has. They've been mind-controlled somehow by the Hagraven. She's willing to sacrifice everyone in this village, even the children, just to save herself. Built it into the village, into everyone who's ever lived under her watch. I realize it too late.

"What are you waiting for, get inside!" Delphine shouts distantly behind me.

The dragon flings the Hagraven's body half a football field away onto some rocks before turning on the hoard assailing him. These numbers might just have a chance. But the Forsworn aren't thinking for themselves anymore. They foam and rage against the beast's impenetrable hide like mindless animals, oblivious to the light in its maw. Half of the swarm died in an instant to the flames, children included.

"C'mon, move!" Erik says, pulling me hard.

They're still attacking, gnawing and even climbing the green-finned dragon. Half burnt and crazed, the remnants feel neither pain nor fear as they pick apart the massive beast like demented ants tearing a lizard apart. I see the dragon visibly panic and take off, half a dozen Forsworn falling off as it rises. I allow myself to be taken into the cave, losing sight of the slaughter outside. The roars die down almost immediately and a deafening, ringing silence replaces it. 

My body walks on autopilot, following the rest of the group as we pass through the Forsworn den. I'm vaguely aware I've just seen something horrible and that I need to calm down. I try not to look at anything, fully aware that I might see a toy or something that would break me. Remind me of Lucia. We just have to keep walking further in to find what we're looking for, so I can afford to keep my eyes down this time. Luckily the inhabited area of the cave is relatively small, and it doesn't take long to find what we're looking for.

"This looks promising." Delphine says.

"Yes. Definitely Akaviri stonework here." Esbern notes, eyeing the stonework. It's an odd mix of oriental, fantasy with a dash of overdramatic flair. What strikes me is how the stones are carved so smooth they look wet, although that may be due to the material they used. A lighter almost white shade of grey carved into square pillars with what appears to my eyes something likev oriental carvings, though they seem different to anything I've glanced at on Earth. That and many of the things depicted here are just creatures and symbols from Nirn. My friends stop at a large upright slab blocking the path.

"We've got to get this bridge down. These pillars must have something to do with it." Delphine says, gesturing to three smaller pillars lined up with ominous braziers ever-burning behind them. It's actually fairly common technology here, just like the repair runes attached to armor. I know because we recently bought some smaller versions for Breezehome. These likely have a more ancient and powerful technique behind them, but they still remind me of home. Esbern approaches them eagerly.

"Yes. These are Akaviri symbols. Let's see... you have the symbol for 'King'... and 'Warrior'... And of course the symbol for 'Dragonborn.' That's the one that appears to have a sort of arrow shape pointing downward at the bottom."

It's one of those rotating pillar puzzles, almost exactly like the one in Bleak Falls. The answer to all of these is always Dragonborn for some reason. Kind of silly but it makes my life easier. Less thinking right now, at least. A pressure plate puzzle is next but just walking on the Dragonborn tiles is all that's needed. I pull a lever absentmindedly to disable the traps in this room and we continue on.

We arrive in what's probably one of the creepiest places in Skyrim. A central chamber carved out to house a chest and what's probably actually kept the temple safe all these years, the blood seal. But staring directly at us is the bust of a bald and nearly featureless man with empty eye sockets. Impeccably smooth just like all the rest of the rock work and bigger than a man twice over. He's adorned only with an extremely high collar, the kind you'd see on a cartoon villain but the Akaviri have done a great job making it look plenty sinister. Damn near the face of death if he wore flesh. On the floor in the center of the floor is a series of circles that wrap around themselves, with grooves that look like they'd funnel a liquid somewhere.

"Wonderful! Remarkably well preserved, too." Esbern gushes. "Ah... here's the blood seal. Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by... well, blood. Your blood, Dragonborn." he says, pausing to look at me seriously before continuing. "Look here! You see how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil. This whole place appears to be a shrine to Reman. He ended the Akaviri invasion under mysterious circumstances, you recall. After the so-called battle of Pale Pass, the Akaviri went into his service. This was the foundation stone of the Second Empire." Esbern prattles on, now not talking to anyone in particular as he examines every inch of the chamber.

Delphine lets out a sigh at her companion and turns to me. "Esbern's probably right. Try using your- wow, already on it."

I've already stabbed myself with a small dagger. A part of me died when I did, I realize. I was so used to being a normal human. To being weak and frail and afraid of a thousand little things I didn't even realize I was scared of. I used to turn my head away every time the doctor gave me a shot, even as a grown adult. Now I've run a blade straight through the middle of my hand, dripping blood everywhere, and I feel… nonplussed. Like I should be worried but at best it's a minor inconvenience. Even the pain has gone from something I need to urgently address to more of a novelty, like the staticy feeling you get when a limb falls asleep. The gigantic bust of Reman Cyrodiil scrapes along the ground pulling me out of my trance. It pulls back and up to reveal a staircase going in. A strong breeze emanates from the entrance.

"That's done it. Looks like the temple's coming to life. After you, Dragonborn. You should have the honor of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple." Delphine says. I nod and head up the stairs.

"Fascinating! Original Akaviri bas reliefs... almost entirely intact! Amazing... you can see how the Akaviri craftsmen were beginning to embrace the more flowing Nordic style..." Esbern says.

"Esbern we're here for information, remember?" Delphine chides.

Yes, of course. We'll have more time to look around later, I suppose. Let's see what's up ahead." He says.

What's up ahead is much more impressive. Three massive tunnels in the cave ceiling let in diffused light, wind and some mist. Most of it stays swirling up in the ceiling but what flows below is some of the most delicious air I've ever tasted. The central area is well lit from above. A long thin stone table sits in the middle, emerging from a higher platform. The platform has stairs on either side of the table and seems almost exclusively made to house Alduin's Wall, prominently visible from most angles in the chamber. A smaller platform emerges onto the table and looks to be a spot where one might give speeches.

"Shor's bones! Here it is!" Esbern exclaims. "Alduin's Wall... so well preserved... I've never seen a finer example of early second era Akaviri sculptural relief..."

A familiar great dragon dominates the ancient mural and its outstretched wings frame most of the carved mural. Unlike most of the stonework here, the Wall is black.

-

"Alright, so you've got us here now. I'm not saying I don't trust you, but you did say that once we made it here you'd tell us how you know so much about us among other things. Being Dragonborn is one thing-"

"It's the only thing that matters, Delphine." Esbern interrupts. "The Blades' original purpose was to serve the Dragonborn. Even if everything else was a trick the blood seal proves it beyond all doubt. She is Dragonborn and much more than that, The Last Dragonborn. The one who will decide the fate of the world. We have no right-"

"It's fine, Esbern. I'll talk but first, could you do me a favor and interpret Alduin's Wall for me?" I answer, arms crossed.

We explored the rest of the temple before circling back to the Wall. Once we got the basic layout down and were sure we'd be safe here, they sent Erik to tidy up the old barracks while we talk about the important stuff. Now that I'm getting more comfortable with who I am in this world, the questions become more about the world itself than anything else. 

"What's the Wall got to do with anything? Don't you already know what's on there?" Delphine questions, eyebrows raise.

"I need to make sure I've got my realities straight before I give my answers. I'm still not clear on everything myself. The Wall spans a massive amount of history that could contradict what I think I know. Esbern, if you would please." I say, gesturing to the wall.

"Yes, yes. Let's see what we have…" Esbern says, starting with the left. "Look, here is Alduin!" He says, pointing to a smaller Alduin lording over some humans at the beginning of the relief. "This panel goes back to the beginning of time when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim." Esbern moves to the center where the big Alduin is and continues, "Here the humans rebel against their dragon overlords -- the legendary Dragon War. Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the Wall. You see, here he is falling from the Sky. The Nord Tongues -- masters of the Voice -- are arrayed against him." The largest carving is Auldin crashing to the ground in agony as those Nord heroes breath something that looks like fire on him. They are easily the largest humanoids on the mural save for one that I recognize as the Numidium, the great dwarven automaton. 

"Does it show how they defeated him?" Delphine asks, eyeing the mural.

"Patience, my dear. The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism." Esbern says as he mulls over the Wall. "Yes, yes. This here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes -- this is the Akaviri symbol for "Shout." But... there's no way to know what Shout is meant."

"Do you already know the shout he's talking about?" Delphine asks me.

"I know of it.' I say, tilting my head. "It's called "Dragonrend". It's supposed to force a dragon to experience the concept of mortality but in practical application robs them of their ability to fly, temporarily at least. I can't use it, not until I've actually heard it, but I've already got a plan." 

"I see. That's good. Keep going, Esbern." Delphine replies and Esbern moves to the final third of the mural. 

"Hm, yes. Look here. In the third panel. The prophecy which brought the Akaviri to Tamriel in the first place, in search of the Dragonborn. Here are the Akaviri - the Blades - you see their distinctive longswords. Now they kneel, their ancient mission fulfilled, as the Last Dragonborn contends with Alduin at the end of time. Are you paying attention, Delphine? You might learn something of our own history. I know the prophecy by heart. Once all Blades knew it." Esbern says, turning to us.

'When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world'

'When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped'

'When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles'

'When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls'

'When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding'

'The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.'

There's a long pause after that. Neither Esbern or Delphine will look at me directly but it's obvious they're waiting for me to respond. I scan the Wall for anything out of the ordinary. Everything Esbern mentioned seems to be normal, and the Wall seems to depict the original prophecy from the game. Granted I never did deeply study the thing but even with its flowing symbolism I can't spot anything strange or out of place that screams 'Oh here's where the degenerate god of the world installed a big boobie giantess mod'. Still, I did promise to tell them the truth and I've got to tell somebody eventually. If anyone can keep a secret it should be these two.

"Alright, but don't blame me if this doesn't make sense."

-

Dragonbane is an Akavir sword that does what it says on the tin. Akavir is what amounts to Japan in this world from some far-off place not on any map in Tamriel, and perhaps a larger Asia analog beyond that. Tamriel is just one continent and Skyrim is just the Northernmost piece of that continent. It's strange to consider but now that the world is 'real' I can't help but wonder if there are any other places going through their own world-ending events. Do they happen just as frequently over there or does Tamriel just get more of them? Are there others like me somewhere out there? These questions are just as important as they are pointless. There's no real way for me to know. I sheath the Katana-like Dragonbane and admire my new Blade armor. The stuff is old as dirt but craftsmanship and an Akavir repair rune have allowed it to endure. A mix of European medieval and feudal Japanese, this armor mostly consists of overlapping plates giving me a dragon-scaled look. While not as fully protective as my Dwarven stuff it vastly improves mobility and is an excellent replacement. Now I can save the Dwarven set to hide my identity when I eventually master my giant spell.

My talk with the Blades went rather well, all things considered. Lots of questions but in the end I think they've accepted my story. I had to tell them that Skyrim was a book instead of a video game, but that translated pretty well. I also keep the whole 'oh yeah I maybe modded this world to be ridiculous' thing to myself. From what I can tell the mods are just their reality, plain and simple. Trying to take responsibility for literal acts of creation would have just made me look silly. That and I'm not one hundred percent it was me; testing needed. They weren't particularly unnerved by what I said, well Esbern wasn't at least. He was already aware of the many different realities that swirl around Nirn and convinced Delphine that my falling through a book wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. I've also explained the Blades's real importance in continuing the resistance should I fall. 

I find Erik on the way out of the armory. He's in his own set of armor now, thanks to his predecessor Blades' forethought. They packed away enough to supply a small group for years. Erik's real training starts tomorrow but for now he's been tasked with patrol duty inside the temple, and probably not for the last time either with how small the group will be. Still, he seems pretty happy with it.

"Oh hey. Just wanted to thank you. I'm a Blade now. I can hardly believe it." The young Nord says, beaming. "It's not exactly what I-"

His smile flees his face as we can hear strange noises from outside. The same holes that let the winds from outside now echo the unmistakable rumbles of a dragon. We hurry outside to find the finned dragon from earlier fighting Esbern and Delphine on the carved porch. Esbern is in a far corner hiding behind bricks and chunks of ice under a carved stone gazebo, while Delphine is dodging limbs trying to find purchase with her new blade. It's missing scales and is littered with Forsworn arrows. After murdering everyone down there it probably wanted to rest up here. I take a deep breath and unsheath Dragonbane.

"Fus!"

It's barely a breeze for the dragon, but the bastard hears my word and switches focus from the gazebo to me. He retches fire back at me, but I deflect it with my ward. He flicks Delphine away with a jerk of his wing and bashs his tail behind him. Erik is frozen, unsure of what to do. I breathe again and focus.

"Wuld!"

I streak forward with Dragonbane for a slash on the inside of the dragon's maw. Flying like the wind, I make contact and instantly break my wrist, dropping the sword and stumbling over some of the rocks that had crumbled on the ancient porch. The dragon moves on me like an angry dog forcing me to retreat while I find my balance. I can see one of its eyes is bleeding and shut now from my slash but the dragon seems perfectly fine as it goes for a series of bites, trying to grab me. The ground is rocky and unkempt, but I manage to dodge by abusing his lack of sight and some luck. The dragon huffs when he fails and then gives me a strange look. Then he speaks.

"Fus!"

I'm pushed off the edge. Tumbling down Karthspire I hit what feels like every tree and rock on the way down. Healing can barely keep up; my wrist stays shattered as the magic deals with fresh trauma after trauma. My hip breaks against the edge of a boulder sending me careening away from the mountain in free fall. Broken and out of magicka, my only blessing is that I can see the ground coming so that I'll know when I'll die. 

"Feim!"

I smack the ground without a sound. I feel nothing, not even my own breathing, but best of all not my own pain. Awkwardly I sit up using my good arm to look at my twisted body. The first thing to notice is that I'm transparent. That's not too concerning since I'm the one responsible for that, but what is concerning is the fact I'm sitting on my pelvis the wrong way round. I'm not super sure how long this pain-free state will last, so I awkwardly shimmy my ghost body so that everything is pointed in the right direction, at least generally. Still low on mana, I pop a health potion and watch my ghost bones slide back into my ghost flesh. I start debating how many more potions I'll need but then Fade Shout ends, and I barf instantly from the pain.

After quite a few more potions and Healings, I'm back on my feet again, with everything where it should be, I think. I can't hear or see the dragon anyway, but Karthspire isn't exactly a tiny mountain. Surveying my surroundings, I can see I landed not too far off from the smoldering Forsworn village. Following the river, I climb onto one of the docks to be greeted by black rocks. No, not rocks, burnt corpses. Melted and contracted into charcoal. Big lumps, small lumps, some are just scorch marks. I look around until my eyes meet the dead glassy-eyed gaze of a half-cooked girl, before I tear off for the cave as fast as I can go.

-

It turns out Erik ended up killing the dragon after I fell, taking Dragonbane off the ground and finishing it with a strike to the belly while the creature was distracted by Esbern and Delphine. I named him 'Erik the Slayer,' a title with which he was most pleased. I told him to keep the sword and departed the Blades shortly after. Almost dying has reset my priorities, and right now comfort isn't one of them. I've only got so much time before one of the many world-ending threats, that are somehow my responsibility reach a critical threshold. I'd love nothing more than to run home, squeeze my little girl, and crawl in bed, but I can't. I barely look at Whiterun after a night of constant marching straight from Karthspire. Maybe it's the guilt or the exhaustion, but I don't feel like I deserve to be cozy with my family right now. Fifty gold is a steep price for a carriage ride to Winterhold, but I'm too tired to care. Considering I'm the only passenge,r I should just be grateful they're taking me at all.

-

"Halt." The haughty voice proclaims. "The bridge is closed to outsiders. Be on your way."

I admit I'm a little gobsmacked. The Altmer (High Elf) looking down at me from the top of the arch is the first of her kind I think I've seen since I've come to this world. Skin about as golden as it is possible to get without looking metallic, and her hair and eyes much more so all wrapped in blue robes lined with gold, admittedly my favorite color combination. Of course, what's really got me stopped are the massive breasts she has to look past to see me, big enough that she's resting them on the battlements above.

"If you're just here to gawk, I suggest you move on before I get angry." She says, threatening.

"I'm here to join the college." I say, collecting myself.

"Is that so? Well, that changes things, doesn't it? Stay where you are. I'll be down to 'examine' you in a moment." she says, leaving the battlements of the arch.

I fiddle with my leather armor while I wait. I've massively lost weight thanks to my reckless travel habits, so I've had to readjust some things the auto-fit doesn't account for, like the looseness around my waist. I've maintained an hourglass figure thanks to the link between skills and certain body parts, but after seeing my ribs, I'm beginning to think Camilia was right about me getting dangerously thin. I prematurely finish my adjustments just as the Altmer mage appears in the archway. I realize she's a good head taller than me as she gets closer.

"Now then, let me have a look at you… yes, you appear to have the necessary characteristics, but I'll need some confirmation. May I?" She asks.

"Uh, sure." I say, unsure of what she means exactly.

"Excellent. Stand over there by the wall. I'll begin momentarily." she declares lazily.

Well, this is new. Not only is the gate guard different from who I remember but she's got a different entry test. I don't realize how much different until she pulls out some gloves. Just as I'm starting to have major second thoughts about this whole procedure she approaches, rather aggressively, I might add. She's as close to me as she can possibly get, but even then her impressive rack keeps us apart by a foot or so. I prepare myself to Shout if necessary, filling my lungs with air. Then she moves even closer, Pushing the air out with her massive chest. Then, without warning, she slips her hand under my loose armor to grope my boobs. I let out an unconscious moan to the unexpected pleasure as she manually examined my breast. By the time I register what's happening, she removes her hand but keeps me squished to the wall, my head floating just above her ocean of boob.

"Yes, I think you'll do nicely." She remarks smugly. "They're nothing compared to myself, of course, but more than enough to prove yourself as a worthy apprentice. I'm sure you know but the hallmarks of a mage are quite obvious." she says, increasing the pressure with her bust for emphasis. "Often people will come here and try to bluff their way in with all manner of props and paddling, trying to fake their way in. It's sad, really, but the College only accepts applicants with real magical talent. Not that you have to worry about that." She says, backing up and releasing me from boobie prison.

"Now that you have my approval," She continues. "you'll want to head across the bridge and find Mirabelle, the Master Wizard. Tell her I've approved of you, and she'll see to it that you're instated into the College. It's as simple as that. No need to thank me. Have fun while you're here but remember who you have to thank for being here. It's all about who you know, after all, in a place like this. And luckily, you know me. By the way, I'm Nirya. Charmed."

She doesn't even wait for my response; she just heads back up the archway, leaving me a hot, confused mess below. I did not realize how sensitive my girl were getting, perhaps another side effect of magecraft here. Yet another reason not to get too pent up in this world because apparently, you'll never know when you'll get ambushed by a titty grope. I pushed 'self-care' back in light of recent events but I really need to let off some steam. Hell, I almost exploded just now. I can't really bring myself to be upset at all for what just happened despite the lack of consent, but I know Nirya is definitely no good. Sexy no good, but no good all the same. If my room doesn't have a door I'll definitely need to spend some time finding a place for my 'self-care' routine. 

-

College life is fantastic. The wizard robes are comfy, there are books on nearly every subject I could want, and I have my own room with a door. That last part is proving to be vitally important for my survival here at the college, where boobs smaller than melons simply don't exist and are displayed prominently everywhere. Aside from the first introductory safety and expectation class I actually don't have to attend any lectures at all, although they are free and generally very informative. No homework or exams, either.

THUD

I've been spending most of my time in the Arcanium, their term for the main library, pouring through books, trying to get a baseline on the world. Right now, it's mostly about basic biology and anything else that can help explain the differences between bodies here and my old world. From what I can tell, attribute swelling has been universal since, as far as any records are concerned. An interesting to note is that male wizards experience something similar to females but are directed at their testicles instead. It's the only gender-determined expression of its kind out of the three; neither 'Warrior' nor 'Thief' skills seem to be expressed in a gendered manner. It's theorized that the enlarged sexes of mages act as magicka reserves and possibly even as extra brain space for the mage in question. 

THUD

The tissue gained this way is much lighter than normal and fairly magicka-rich; also fluids from either of these organs contain magicka. The effects are more pronounced in male organs; mages can concentrate magicka in their body, often unconsciously, and the male orgasm can drain a wizard completely in a single shot. Warriors have it much easier; they simply enjoy greater size and strength as they improve. The most debilitating thing for them is an inability to fit in smaller spaces as they grow. Thieves have the best and worst of it, becoming noticeably more attractive but gaining the 'curse' of a swollen backside. Many sources claim this is divine punishment and makes catching criminals easier, but such sources often bend over backwards to make exceptions for rulers and other necessarily charismatic individuals. Supposedly these enlarged asses have special properties, but only agree that they help with stealth and speech, somehow. 

THUD

What's just as fascinating is the adjusted nature of adipose tissue in this world. From what I've been able to glean from the tomes, while universally possessing great stamina, people in this world also possess a great ability to burn through energy. When speaking of exhaustion, most authors actually speak of hunger in almost the same way. That's why people generally prefer walking great distances, as opposed to all the running I've been doing since I've gotten here. Combat is also one of those high-energy activities, and everyone who's ever grown up here knows it, hence the constant concern for my small waistline. Even a short skirmish can cost major calories, and one field manual instructed soldiers to think of every sword swing as a sweet roll. People in this world are simply stronger by default and require more energy as a result.

THUD

By far, the most interesting topic to me now is the individual mating characteristics of the races. Apparently, growing a bigger penis is fairly normal among the races, which is good because it's gotten to the point where I can't wrap my hands around my own dick anymore, and I've started to use fruit to measure my testicle size. It's a sign and byproduct of increased fertility thanks to a variety of factors that are fairly race-dependent. For example, Orcs and Redguard become more fertile the more partners they have, although the exact semantics are a bit different for both races. Elves, very broadly speaking, become more fertile the lower their populations become. Nords literally have a lust for battle and can even gain similar effects when they relive those events, while the Khajiit have fertility determined by moon cycles. Imperials are the closest to normal humans being decently fertile all the time. 

THUD

Bretons, by and large, are almost infertile at the base level of their population. The average Breton family will almost never produce a child but may still have children in the home. Breton fertility, strangely enough, works on titles, acclaim, and fame. The average Breton never garners enough to be seriously reproductively active, while even respected members of a village might be lucky to produce a single kid in their lifetime. On the opposite end of the spectrum, kings and queens have more in common with insect colonies than normal humans, pumping out hundreds of children with each gestation. The politics of this are a little different everywhere, but most of the population in these kingdoms are directly descended from royalty. Every Breton is on this insane sliding scale of fertility, with the average knight having normal fertility levels and the High King and Queen of High Rick pumping out children by the thousands, which leaves me a little bit terrified. We aren't the only race to be potentially over-encumbered by their own sexes. Aside from the Imperials, that is but the conditions that spark our… condition usually don't change much over time. You mostly live and die as a king, but an Elvish fertility crisis will eventually sort itself out.

THUD

There is no hard quantifiable way to measure how the titles and fame are going to affect me. Even standard Breton titles seem to fluctuate with power over the fertility of my race due to the waxing or waning importance of these things over time. In one generation, everyone adores the baker, and in the next generation, the blacksmith is the new hotness. I'm famous in one hold, and I'd imagine the Dragonborn title is a pretty big one. My only hope is that the majority of the population doesn't connect it to me, as the fertility response seems to be fairly dependent on people's recognition more than anything else. The kings and queens of High Rock are described as being fairly immobile without aid and that seems very counterproductive to my goals right about now. I am having trouble comfortably fitting into pants right now, worryingly enough. It's not my dick that's the problem either; my balls are seriously getting uncomfortable in anything that's not these comfy mage robes. Apparently, my gender means I get twice the swelling orbs.

THUD

While I haven't found anything directly addressing my particular gender, I have found it mentioned quite a few times. It is, from what I can tell, exceedingly rare, with one source suggesting that fewer than a hundred of my number exist in any one province. The treatment of those similarly gendered varies from region to region, but both the Empire and Skyrim as a whole are fairly accepting. There even used to be great demand, once upon a time, to be a hermaphrodite. Legend even goes that Shalador, the founding Archmage of the College, believed that such a body was advantageous for a mage thanks to the dual swelling and used alteration magics to change his body permanently. Such magics were commonplace before the oblivion crisis but now are thought to have all but died out.

THUD

Sadly my time here is drawing to a close. I'm taking my last walk on a beach barefoot, as one should, a fair distance away from Winterhold. I stretch in the evening sun, enjoying my last night here before I have to get ready for that stupid Thalmor party. I come to visit some Horkers, Skyrim's version of Walruses, and roll one of them around under my foot like a blubbery playtoy. This time at the College has been amazing for my growth, pun intended, and I have these little guys to thank. Large and slow they have been the perfect unexpected target to practice my growth spell, and thanks to them, I have full mastery of the spell, and my size, or rather the size I've absorbed, I still have to earn every extra inch. I consider absorbing the now pitifully fleeing herd of Horkers in front of me but think better of it. I've already decimated their numbers quite enough and I want their population healthy in case I need an emergency source of size. I'm in a fantastic mood now because from up here, challenges like Auldin seem quite small.