The day is grim and moody. Our weary hero fixes his unwavering gaze upon the dark, gritty city-fortress of Solitude. Perched on a high cliff, with only one narrow route of access, Skyrim's capital is a beseiging army's nightmare. The battle looks likely to be long, gritty and bloody, with neither side willing to give an inch and rivers of blood pooling down the cracks in the cliff face to pollute the harbour below. Thicker than water.
: LOLOLOL HAD YOU GOING THERE BROS
Anders cheerfully waltzes up the path to the city with no resistance. At some point along the walk, the objective "get your orders from Ulfric" is auto-completed. I'm not sure why, or what they are, but somehow I can hazard a guess.
They could even handwave this part by saying Ulfric used his BROshout to blast the defenders asunder. Hell, in the lore, that's what they generally wheeled out the BROS
for, there's precedent. But nope. That would require a modicum of thought put into this banal dreck. They didn't even place fucking seige equipment. They did that at Whiterun! For fuck's sake.
: Though you may be my hated enemy, I can only be... amazed by your radiant perceptiveness.
Anders is not too late!
, Ulfric and... three Stormcloak soldiers charge into the heart of the city. Can such a mighty invasion force be repelled?
Ulfric falls! This quest is more difficult than it looks, as the player must simultaneously fight their way around the city to open the gate to the castle while protecting Ulfric from damage. If he falls, the rebellion collapses from within, and Solitude soon falls to a recapturing Imperial for-
: HOW SURREAL
Ulfric gets back up and continues fighting. Sighing, Anders proceeds to the castle.
Anders, Ulfric and
alone proceed into the main castle. They are met by only two foes... the hated Imperial diplomats to Skyrim, puppets of alien interests and figureheads of the multikult order.
: you're wrong. Ulfric. We need the Empire. Without it Skyrim will surely fall to the Dominion.
you were there with us. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damn treaty was the day the Empire died.
: you're a damn fool.
: he is, really.
: can't argue there.
: if I were capable of anything approaching coherency I would express rage. As it is, I am merely filled with an impotent desire to kill. Stand aside, Cherie!
: being married to a shrieking harpy she-devil will do that.
: Tony! I've stood by you thick and thin!
: You bought two flats in Riften from Wilders!
: ahem. Cherie. Go. You're free to leave. We know you're a true Nord at heart.
: It is not fair to Tony or to the Government that the entire focus of political debate at the moment is about me. I know I'm in a very special position, I'm the wife of the Prime Minister, I have an interesting job and a wonderful family, but I also know I am not Superwoman. The reality of my daily life is that I'm juggling a lot of balls in the air. Some of you must experience that.
: oh, I'll bet you are.
: this is what you wanted, Geert? Shield-brothers and sisters killing each other? This is the Skyrim you want?!
: Tony! Get up here! We're the last line of defence against this hairy viking mob! Are you just going to sit there and let me do all the work again?
: aaaaargh!
: stabbing your own spouse in the back? A good, honest Divines worshipper like you? Never thought I'd see the day, General Blair.
: Sometimes, and in particular dealing with Cherie Blair, the only chance of peace is a readiness for mariticide.
: the Jews. They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers quelling this rebellion. White-Gold Tower was a false flag, you fools. We've played... right into their hands... once again.
: heh.
No, really, he said that.
: we aren't the bad guys you know.
: maybe not, but you certainly aren't the good guys.
: perhaps you're right. But then what does that make you?
: you just said it yourself.
: it makes us right.
: I think child murder is a subtle, nuanced way of delivering a political message and this conversation is still too fucking dumb for me to bear.
: and if I surrender?
: the Empire I knew never surrendered.
: that Empire is dead. And so are you.
: me?
: isn't the fact that the Empire surrendered to the White-Gold Concordant the entire reason for this... wait... what?
: does that mean I get to go home?
Anders just wouldn't be Anders if he turned down this opportunity, would he?
: MAJESTIC TAKEDOWN BROSEIDON
: it was you who fought a dying Empire who sunk its claws into our land, trying to drag us down with it.
: it was you who fought the Thalmor and their puppets who would have us deny our gods and our heritage, except for the huge parts of our religion which have been Cyrodiilicised at some point between games, because that's different.
: it was you who fought our kin who didn't understand our cause, weren't willing to pay the price for our freedom.
: sir? What are you... staring at?
Geert's utterly, completely inexplicable slow 180 degree rotation is complete, and he spends the rest of his speech with his back to his audience. I've heard some shoegaze bands do this. That is about all I can offer by way of explanation.
: will she swear fealty to me, so all may know that we are at peace, and a new day has dawned?
: I will!
: then it is settled. The Jarl will continue to rule Solitude, I will garrison armies here to ward off Imperial attempts to retake the city.
: and in due time, the Moot will meet, and settle the claim to High King once and for all.
: a great darkness is growing, and soon we will be called to fight it, on these shores or abroad. Make no mistake; the Jills in the night are closing in. The Jew may have defeated the Empire, but it has not defeated Skyrim!
: why does everyone in my army have Down's syndrome? That felt wasted. For fuck's sake.
And so Anders sets out, Skyrim freed from the clutches of the race traitors. He still has much to do himself, but first of all... in times of peace, the heart of a strong Aryan warrior turns to thoughts of love. The only suitable lover for one with battle in his heart is another who shares his fire, and so Anders journeys forth to the hall of the Companions of Ysgramor, the noble warriors of Whiterun who keep Nordic traditions alive in their hearts and minds, bringing a little touch of Valhalla to Earth.
There, he will meet his man.