Late the next morning, Alvor, Sigrid, and I were woken by their daughter barging through the front door.
"Mama! Papa! Get up! Do you have any idea how far up the sun is already? I'm hungry!"
Apparently, she was the only one who hadn't had trouble falling asleep last night.
Alvor groaned. "Divines help me, Dorthe… it's barely past breakfast time."
Sigrid was already sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she let out a tired chuckle. "I'm sure she gets that side from you, husband."
Well, we were all awake now. And I was still in Skyrim. That alone crushed whatever doubt—or faint hope—I'd been clinging to. This wasn't a dream. It was real.
I didn't move. Just stared at the ceiling and sighed.
Can I really get back home?
Bzzt.
The same glowing text as yesterday blinked into view before my eyes.
Quest: The Necromancer
– Defeat the necromancer.
Oh, right… that.
Yesterday, I'd barely had time to process it. I'd thought it might've been a hallucination. But no… it was still here.
Am I the only one who can see this?
"Hey Alvor," I said, pointing at the floating text, "what is that?"
Alvor followed my finger with a puzzled look—right past the hologram and straight to the mounted elk head above the hearth.
"What, you don't have elk where you come from?"
I blinked. "What?"
He chuckled and walked over, clearly thinking I'd never seen one before. "Elk's a beast of the forest. Majestic creatures, they are a supply of meat and clothing for us."
I played along. "I see. It's very beautiful."
What the hell does it even mean for me to get a quest?
I blinked twice, and the hologram vanished.
Sigrid shot Alvor a look—a silent nudge to start getting answers. Alvor cleared his throat.
"Well… I suppose we've got other things to talk about. What's your name, stranger?"
"…Robert. My name's Robert."
Alvor gestured to a stool by the table. "Come, sit. Let's eat and talk about what to do next."
I sat with them, and Alvor handed me a plate with some bread and cheese. A bowl of apples sat in the middle of the table. Everything about the scene felt rustic, but it was cozy nonetheless.
"So, Robert…" Alvor began between bites, "what'll you do now? If this necromancer's out there, we can't let him raise undead on our doorstep. You thinking of heading to Whiterun for help?"
I took a bite of apple, giving myself a moment to think.
"There's only one way I can think of to get home," I said finally. "He brought me here. Maybe he can undo the spell. Reverse it. Send me back."
Alvor grunted. "Aye… but you'd have to fight through his minions. And you'd have to defeat him without killing him."
"Exactly. And if I go to Whiterun for help, they'll probably kill him on the spot. Or lock him up. I doubt they'd let him do any kind of ritual—even if it's to send me home."
Alvor nodded grimly. "You're probably right. Nords don't trust mages. And necromancers least of all."
I sighed. "I can't fight him alone. I need help. Someone... anyone who'd be willing. I mean, no one wants a necromancer near their town, right?"
Alvor stood suddenly, slamming his hand on the table. "You're damn right about that! I'll come with you!"
"No, Alvor." Sigrid's voice was firm. "Dorthe and I need you here. What if you don't come back?"
Alvor looked torn. "But if no one—"
"I said no," she cut him off, her eyes glancing toward Dorthe, now watching in silence.
Alvor finally exhaled and sat down again. "…At least I can spare you a weapon."
"Thank you, Alvor."
He offered a soft smile. Sigrid, on the other hand, looked at me like she was watching a man walking to his death.
Trying to reassure her, I said, "Look… you've already done more than enough for me. I'll look around town. Find someone who can help."
Sigrid sighed. "You'd better. And if you're going to ask for help, you can't go around dressed like that."
She pointed at my jeans and t-shirt.
"You'll draw too much attention. A stranger in town, asking people to go into the forest to fight a necromancer? They'll doubt you just by looking at you."
Alvor grunted in agreement, stood, and pulled out a set of clothes from a chest in the corner: rough-spun wool pants, a thick linen shirt, and worn leather boots.
"She's right," he said. "These'll keep you warm. Not fancy, but they'll help you blend in."
The boots fit well. The clothes were loose, but they'd do. "Thanks! Think I'll pass as a Nord?"
Alvor scratched his beard. "Maybe. You're tall enough—what, six foot? But your beard's short. And…"
Sigrid interrupted, "And your skin's too dark. You can't pass as a full Nord. Say you're half Imperial. It'll be easier."
Dorthe giggled. "A Nord named Robert? You'd be more believable if you said you were from Elsweyr!"
Alvor chuckled. "Dorthe! Be kind. But she's not wrong. A strong Nord name would help you."
He stroked his beard again, thinking. "How about… Ragnar? That'd suit you."
I grinned. "An alias, huh? Alright… I'll be Ragnar."
Sigrid smiled at last. "Aye. Ragnar of Rorikstead. It's close enough to Riverwood to make people feel akin, but no one there however will recognize you."
"Ragnar of Rorikstead…" I repeated, liking the sound. "Yeah. That works."
Alvor nodded and fetched an iron sword. "Here. Still sharp. It'll serve you well."
I strapped it on. "Thank you, Alvor. I'll be back when this is over."
After breakfast, I left their home and headed for the one person in Riverwood I knew could fight: Delphine.
The town felt bigger in person—twenty buildings maybe, not about ten like in the game. But it still felt familiar enough that finding the Sleeping Giant Inn was easy.
Two stories, cobblestone base, wooden planks, thatched roof.
I climbed the steps and pushed the door open.
Delphine was sweeping the common room, likely cleaning up from last night. Blonde hair tied back in a tail. Early fifties, lean arms, firm shoulders.
She looked up, eyes narrowing.
"Good day, traveler," she said, cool and curt. "New in town? What can I do for you?"
I nodded politely. "Hello. Name's Ragnar. Ragnar of Rorikstead. I'm here visiting my uncle, Alvor—you might know him?"
Her eyes narrowed a little more. Testing me. Then she gave a slight nod.
"Alvor? Aye, of course. He's the only smith in town."
She leaned on her broom with one hand, the other on her hip.
"So, Ragnar of Rorikstead… here to chat, or looking for a room?"
I shook my head. "No room. I'm here about something more serious. Something that might threaten Riverwood. I figured if anyone knows the people here—locals and travelers—it'd be the innkeeper."
I wanted her help, but I couldn't exactly tell her that I knew she was a remnant of 'The Blades', I had to fish for her interest.
Delphine straightened, tone sharpening. "Troubling how? You'll have to tell me if you want help."
"I'd rather not alarm anyone," I said in a lowered voice. "Just point me to anyone capable of handling trouble. After it's handled, I'll explain the situation."
Her expression darkened. She dropped the broom and grabbed me by the collar, dragging me into a side room and slamming the door shut.
"Spill it, new guy," she snapped, crossing her arms. "Now."
Bingo. I had her attention.
"Delphine, right? Alvor told me to come to you. Said you'd know the right people."
"Not good enough. I want the truth, now."
I sighed and gave in. "Okay. But please, don't scare anyone. Last night, a necromancer attacked me outside town. He had skeletons. I barely escaped."
Her eyes widened. "A necromancer? Where?!"
"Just upriver. I want to lead a small group to deal with him."
Delphine grabbed my shirt again. "Then don't tell anyone else. Got it? Just you and me. We handle this. Right now."
"Are you sure? You're just an innkeeper…"
"You said two skeletons. That's nothing. I'll be ready in five. Wait outside."
I stepped outside and leaned against the inn's outer wall, trying to collect myself.
I hated lying to her, manipulating her like that. But it was the only way. I needed help.
Still... the way the lie came so easily? That unsettled me.
Five minutes later, Delphine emerged. But she was no longer dressed like an innkeeper.
She wore leather armor and had a steel sword strapped to her side.
"All right, Ragnar," she said, her voice clipped. "Which way?"
I pointed toward the river. "Upstream. This way."
Without another word, she started walking. Her stride was fast and purposeful. Focused. I almost felt sorry for the necromancer.
We passed through the southern gate, and the moment the town was behind us, Delphine spoke again.
"So," she asked, "how far is this disgrace?"
"Uh…" I hesitated. "I… think I'll recognize it when we get there."
She stopped in her tracks and shot me a glare. "Seriously? I thought you knew where he was!"
"I—I do! Sort of. I had to jump into the river to get away from his skeletons. I'll recognize the cliff I jumped from… I think."
Delphine folded her arms. "You think?"
I winced. "Yeah… sorry. It was dark. And I was, you know, running for my life."
She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. We'll follow the river. Let me know if you see something that jogs your memory."
We kept walking. I scanned the trees, the rocks, every bend in the path—
"There!" I pointed. "That's it! That's where I jumped!"
Delphine walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the river, then back toward the town. "Hmph… if that's the case, you probably weren't in the water for more than a minute."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Well… yeah. Guess it just felt longer."
Her gaze drifted behind me.
"You know," she said, her tone shifting, "I think you might be right."
She pointed.
I turned, following the direction of her hand—and froze.
Blood on the road. And lots of it.
"…That wasn't there last night," I said. "At least, I don't think it was…"
Delphine walked over and knelt beside it. She pressed the heel of her boot into the blood and dragged it through, leaving a red smear.
"No, it wasn't. Last night was the first night this week without rain, it would have washed away if it was older than a day."
She stood up, eyes burning with resolve.
"All right," she said. "Let's kill this freak."
My stomach twisted.
"No! Wait—Delphine… What if we captured him instead?"
She snapped her head toward me. "Captured him? Why?"
If he's the one who brought me here, he might be the only one who can send me back.
Delphine's jaw tightened. "If that blood belongs to a human, I'm killing him. Murdering people to raise the dead? That's unforgivable. He dies."
I swallowed hard. I could see it in her eyes—there was no convincing her unless I told her the truth. But would she even believe me?
"Delphine… what I told you about being from Rorikstead... that was a lie."
Her arms crossed again. Her eyes narrowed. "Really. You know, you're giving me more and more reasons to turn around and leave you out here. Talk. Now. Or you're on your own."
I looked down at the ground, took a breath, and forced the words out.
"Last night… was my first night in Skyrim. The necromancer—he didn't just raise undead. He conjured me. I don't know how, but I'm not from here, I'm not even from this world!"
Delphine's expression didn't change. Her voice went cold.
"Nope. That's a lie. Conjuration doesn't work like that. You can't summon a human. Only Daedra or undead from Oblivion."
She turned to leave.
"No—please, I swear—!"
I grabbed her shoulder.
In a flash, she twisted and slammed me to the ground, one arm locked behind my back. Her boot pinned my leg, and a blade pressed against my chin.
"Don't. Even. Try," she hissed.
"Wow…" I muttered, completely stunned. I raised both hands slowly. "Just ask him," I said. "Ask the necromancer yourself. If I'm lying, you can kill him. Please, I can't do this alone."
A long pause followed.
Finally, she let out a low grunt and sheathed her sword. "Fine. But understand this—I'm doing this for Riverwood. Not for you."
I exhaled in relief. "Even so… thank you."
I slowly stood and brushed the dirt off my clothes. "Then… you'll help me take him alive?"
Delphine gave me a look. "IF the situation let's us capture him. I'm not risking my life by holding back on him. I'll fight as best I can."
Without another word, she started moving again—into the forest, toward the place I had escaped from the night before.
She didn't exactly trust me, but hopefully we'll catch him alive...
We have to!