I tucked the tomato into my inventory, hesitating for a moment before leaving the knapsack on the ground. I didn’t have that much space, and I couldn’t fill it with whatever I wanted.

With a groan, I hauled myself to my feet, muscles protesting after my impromptu reading session. The path beckoned eastward, and I set off once more, the gentle murmur of the river a soothing companion. The air felt fresher here, tinged with the crisp scent of pine and rushing water.

The forest seemed to have settled into a peaceful lull – no howls or rustling to set my nerves on edge. For the first time since waking up in Skyrim, I felt a little bit at peace.

About half an hour into my trek, something caught my eye. Wooden steps, weathered and mossy, climbed away from the path, disappearing into the shadowy woods that cloaked a nearby hillside. My heart skipped a beat. Embershard Mine. I didn’t know for sure whether this was that mine, but I had a strong inkling that it was. That, along with a clear memory of the bandits who usually called it home, told me what to do next.

"Yeah, no thanks," I muttered, putting away my torch. No need to advertise my presence to any ne'er-do-wells lurking about. I gave the mine a wide berth, only retrieving my torch once I was well past and the forest had swallowed any sign of those telltale steps.

The peace was short-lived. Not long after, a flicker of movement to my left had me putting the torch away once more. I crouched low, straining my ears. Voices drifted on the night air, accompanied by the rhythmic scrape of metal on earth.

Heart pounding, I inched forward. Through a gap in the foliage, I caught sight of an odd trio about 60 meters away. An older man shoveled clay with single-minded focus. Nearby, a Nord woman in leather armor, a bow slung across her back, conversed in low tones with a heavily-armored Orc. The flickering light from the Orc's torch cast shadows across their faces.

Part of me itched to creep closer, to eavesdrop on their hushed conversation. But the memory of my recent, painful deaths was still too fresh. I slunk back onto the path, giving the mysterious group a wide berth.

"Nope," I breathed, once I was safely past. "Not today, Skyrim. Not getting mixed up in whatever that was."

I pressed on, the weight of my sword a comforting presence at my hip. Riverwood couldn't be too far now. Just a little further, and maybe – just maybe – I'd find a safe place to rest.

Twenty minutes later, the night air suddenly filled with multiple howls, causing me to flinch violently when I recalled my encounter with that werewolf. They were close. Too close. Eyes dilating, I quickly put away my torch and fumbled for my shield, nearly dropping it in my haste. The familiar weight of my sword found its way into my sweaty palm just as a dark shape burst from the shadows.

I barely had time to raise my shield before the wolf slammed into it, the impact rattling my teeth. Adrenaline surged through me, and without thinking, I brought my sword down in a long arc. There was a sickening crunch as steel met flesh and bone. The wolf yelped, a high-pitched sound of pain that made my stomach lurch. It collapsed, twitching, and I forced myself to finish the job with another blow.

Before I could even catch my breath, movement caught my eye. Another wolf, eyes gleaming in the moonlight, launched itself from a nearby hill. This time, I was ready. My shield arm moved on instinct, deflecting razor-sharp teeth. I countered with all of my power into a hard chop, feeling the blade connect. The wolf whimpered and bolted into the underbrush, leaving a trail of dark droplets in its wake.

I spun, searching the shadows, when a third wolf blindsided me. Claws scrabbled against my chestplate with a sound like nails on a chalkboard. Hot breath ghosted across my face as jaws snapped inches from my throat, held at bay only by my armor. Panic gave me strength, and I hacked downwards with all my might. The wolf let out a strangled cry and, to my utter shock, flung itself into the nearby river. I watched, dumbfounded, as it paddled away into the darkness.

For several long moments, I stood frozen, ears straining for any sign of further attacks. Only the gentle lapping of the river and my own ragged breathing broke the silence. Slowly, the tension began to ebb from my muscles, leaving me feeling weak and shaky.

My gaze fell to the wolf carcass at my feet. In the moonlight, its fur looked almost velvety. A pang of guilt hit me, quickly chased away by the memory of those snapping jaws.

I crouched beside the fallen wolf, its fur still warm beneath my trembling fingers. For a moment, I considered skinning it - waste not, want not, right? But as I extended my sword, reality crashed back in. I didn't have the faintest clue how to properly skin an animal, and the thought of hacking away at the carcass made my stomach churn.

"Fuck it," I muttered, glancing nervously at the night sky. Riverwood had to be close, and I wasn't about to waste time in the middle of wolf territory.

On a whim, I tried shoving the whole damn wolf into my magical inventory. To my utter shock, it worked - the carcass vanishing in a blink. My triumph was short-lived, though. The moment it disappeared, I felt like I'd strapped a boulder to my back. I tried to take a step and nearly face-planted into the dirt.

"Oh, come on," I wheezed, struggling to stay upright. A quick check of my inventory made me groan. 153 out of 98 - way over my weight limit. The wolf alone weighed a damn 80 units. "Right, because that makes sense," I grumbled, picturing me trying to lug around a full-grown wolf at level 1.

With a sigh of defeat, I dumped the carcass back onto the forest floor. It reappeared with a dull thud, looking no worse for its brief stint in hammerspace.

"Sorry, buddy," I said, giving the wolf a final pat. "Guess you're staying put."

The thought of harvesting meat crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. The last thing I needed was to smell like a walking buffet for every predator in a five-mile radius. Besides, my pockets were lined with a small fortune in septims. Surely that'd be enough for a warm bed and a hot meal in Riverwood.

I continued along the road for another ten minutes, and my legs ached, reminding me just how long I'd been walking. But then, through the gloom, something caught my eye – a splash of color against the inky darkness.

I squinted, picking up my pace a bit. As I drew closer, the torchlight illuminated the fabric, revealing a flag fluttering gently in the breeze. Black and yellow, with the silhouette of a horse head emblazoned proudly in the center.

"Well, I'll be damned," I said, a grin spreading across my face. The flag looked familiar, tickling at some half-remembered bit of lore in the back of my mind. Whiterun Hold, right?

I pulled up my map panel, and sure enough, there it was – the Whiterun Hold icon, a perfect match for the flag before me. A chuckle escaped my lips, equal parts relief and excitement bubbling up inside me.

"Looks like I made it after all," I said to no one in particular, giving the flag a little salute. "Riverwood, here I come."

I walked past the Whiterun Hold flag, the weight of my armor feeling heavier with each step. The path stretched on, going through the darkened forest. I almost collapsed as my entire body relaxed when I rounded a bend and saw a cluster of lights twinkling in the distance.

Riverwood. It had to be.

As I drew closer, the village came into focus. It was larger than I'd expected, a sprawl of wooden buildings nestled against the White River. The rushing of the mill's water wheel mingled with the gentle babble of the river. A lump formed in my throat as a familiar notification appeared:

Riverwood Discovered

I blinked back tears of relief. After everything I'd been through, it felt surreal to finally reach safety.

The village gates stood open, unguarded. I hesitated for a moment before stepping through, the crunch of gravel under my boots unnaturally loud in the stillness.

"Ho there, traveler!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Two guards emerged from the shadows, torchlight glinting off their helmets.

"What brings you to Riverwood at this late hour?" the taller one asked, his tone more curious than suspicious.

I cleared my throat. "Just looking to rest my head. Ran into some trouble with wolves on the road. Slowed me down more than I'd like."

The guard's eyes flicked over my iron armor and bloodied sword. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Aye, the beasts have been bold of late. I'm Fjorgeir the Scribe, and this is Hoki."

His companion grunted a greeting.

"The Sleeping Giant Inn's just down the way," Fjorgeir continued, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Orgnar and Delphine, the innkeeps, should still be up. Though I'd hurry if I were you – they'll be turning in soon."

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"Thanks," I said, genuinely grateful for the information. "I appreciate the help."

Fjorgeir smiled, the expression softening his hardened features. "Safe travels, friend."

I headed towards the inn, but I caught a snippet of Fjorgeir's mutterings. "Just a few more hours and I can crawl under some furs..."

I chuckled, knowing exactly how he felt. The promise of a warm bed had never sounded so appealing.

The Sleeping Giant's sign creaked gently in the night breeze as I approached. Just as I reached for the door, my torch sputtered and went out, plunging me into darkness.

"Seriously?" I grumbled, giving the useless stick a shake. With a sigh, I tossed it into my inventory. No matter. If the innkeepers were still awake, a roaring fire and a warm bed were just moments away.

I pushed the door open, and I was enveloped by a wave of blessed warmth. The contrast with the chilly night air was so total, I found myself frozen on the threshold for a heartbeat, enjoying the heat that caressed my face.

A crackling fire dominated the center of the room, its dancing flames casting long shadows across wooden beams. The scent of woodsmoke combined with hints of ale and roasted meat, created an aroma that screamed "sanctuary" to my weary bones.

I eased the door shut behind me, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the lit-up interior. The common room was nearly deserted, save for a lone figure hunched over a table. A young man, fingers stained with ink, scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment. A lute rested at his elbow, and I found myself wondering if this was the bard Sven I was familiar with from the game.

At the sound of my entrance, he glanced up, our gazes meeting briefly. There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes before he returned to his writing.

I shook off my distracted thoughts and made my way towards the bar, my armor creaking softly with each step. Behind the counter stood a man with salt-and-pepper hair, nose buried in a book adorned with herb illustrations. As I approached, he looked up from his book.

"Welcome," he said. "Name's Orgnar. We've got rooms, food, and drink. I handle the cooking. That about covers it."

I managed a tired smile. "Alex," I offered in return. "And a room sounds like hea- Sovngarde right about now."

Orgnar nodded, setting his book aside. "You're in luck. Delphine – she's the other innkeep – has already turned in. I was about to do the same. A night'll cost you 50 septims."

I barely suppressed a wince. Fifty septims? The price felt steep, especially considering my limited funds. A quick mental calculation told me I'd burn through my entire coin purse in just ten nights at this rate, and that was before factoring in food or drink.

Still, the promise of a real bed was too tempting to pass up. I reached for the small, empty pouch at my hip – a convenient discreet access point for my inventory. With a bit of concentration, I summoned my coin purse and counted out the required amount.

The septims clinked softly as I placed them on the counter. Orgnar swept them up with ease, tucking them away before gesturing towards a nearby door. "Your room for the night," he said. "Sleep well."

I murmured my thanks and made my way over. The door opened with a soft groan, revealing a cozy space that seemed to beckon me inside. I stepped in, drinking in the details as I closed the door behind me.

It wasn't large by any means, but after dying multiple times and trekking through the wilderness, it felt positively luxurious. A small bed dominated one corner, its furs and blankets promising a comfort I'd been sorely missing. A simple wardrobe stood against one wall, while a small table and chair occupied another corner. High up, three narrow windows let in slivers of moonlight. My gaze was drawn to an impressive elk head mounted near the ceiling, its glass eyes seeming to watch me with quiet dignity.

Exhaustion hit me like a physical force. I barely managed to remove my armor before collapsing onto the bed. I drew the thin blanket and animal furs over my body, and closed my eyes. My last coherent thought was a burning hope that tomorrow would bring better fortunes.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Sunlight peeked through the narrow windows, coaxing me reluctantly from sleep. I groaned, burrowing deeper into the furs. The straw mattress crinkled beneath me, a far cry from memory foam, but infinitely better than wooden boards.

Eventually, I dragged myself upright, bare feet hitting the cool wooden floor. Blinking away the last cobwebs of sleep, I took stock of my new body. Defined muscles rippled beneath my skin as I flexed experimentally. A low whistle escaped my lips as I glanced lower. Even soft, I was... impressively endowed. A cocky grin tugged at my lips. If I had to guess, fully aroused I'd be pushing a foot long. Not too shabby for a guy who used to consider himself decidedly average.

My stomach growled, reminding me of more pressing concerns. I debated between the linen tunic and iron armor. The tunic would be a lot more comfortable, but explaining its mysterious appearance seemed risky. Well, there was no real choice, was there? I equipped the armor through my inventory, and its familiar weight settled instantly on my frame.

I pushed open the creaky door, the scent of woodsmoke and cooking food hitting me like a wall. The common room buzzed with quiet conversation. A bleary-eyed drunk swayed at the bar, slurring pleas for "jus' one more" while Orgnar firmly refused.

Sliding onto a vacant stool, I caught Orgnar's eye. "What've you got for breakfast?"

He grunted, wiping down the counter. "Cabbage soup. Water to wash it down. Twenty septims."

I almost balked at the price but fished out the coins anyway. My purse was feeling alarmingly light. Orgnar ladled steaming soup into a rough wooden bowl from one of the cooking pots near the massive fire, then filled a tankard from a nearby barrel. The soup was... well, soup. Bland, but filling. I wolfed it down, chasing each spoonful with gulps of water.

While I scraped the last bits of cabbage from my bowl, a thought struck me. I closed my eyes, focusing inward, and suddenly a display appeared in my mind's eye. My lips quirked into a grin as I scanned the effects panel:

Exhaustion (Well Rested): Magicka regenerates 10% faster.

Exposure (Warm): Time spent by the fire has left you feeling warm and soothed. 10 point improvement to maximum health, magicka and stamina.

Hunger (Well Fed): Stamina regenerates 10% faster.

Thirst (Quenched): Stamina is increased by 10 points.

I let out a contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of being genuinely comfortable for the first time since arriving in this world. I looked deeper, examining my vital stats.

Health: 131.

Magicka: 90.

Stamina: 140.

"Huh," I muttered, earning a quizzical look from Orgnar. That extra point of health was a mystery, but I wasn't about to complain. Maybe it was some quirk of the system, or a hidden bonus.

I set my empty bowl aside and caught Orgnar's eye. "Say, you hear of any work going around these parts? I'm a bit light in the coin purse, if you catch my meaning."

Orgnar grunted, wiping down the bar with a rag that had seen better days. "Might want to check with Alvor, the blacksmith. He's always needing an extra pair of hands. Gerdur and Hod at the Riverwood Lumber Mill will also accept anyone willing to do hard labour." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "Or try Lucan at the Riverwood Trader. Heard he's got some... troubles that need sorting."

I nodded my thanks and pushed away from the bar, my armor creaking softly as I stood. The inn's heavy door groaned as I shouldered it open, and I squinted against the sudden burst of sunlight.

Riverwood sprawled before me, bathed in the warm glow of morning. The air was crisp, and chickens pecked at the dusty ground while a pair of dogs chased each other through the streets, darting between the legs of villagers.

I made my way towards the Riverwood Trader, its sign creaking gently in the breeze. As I reached for the door handle, raised voices drifted through the door.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" A woman's voice, sharp with frustration.

A man's weary sigh followed. "I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"

"Well, what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

"We are done talking about this."

I pushed the door open, wincing as it let out a traitorous squeak. Two pairs of eyes snapped towards me – a middle-aged man behind the counter and a young woman whose beauty had me blush slightly.

The man's face smoothed into a practiced smile. "Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that."

The woman huffed, shooting me a look before stalking off to sulk at a small table.

I approached the counter, offering what I hoped was a disarming grin. "Couldn't help but overhear. Sounds like you've got some trouble?"

The man's smile faltered. "We, ah... had a bit of a break-in. But we still have plenty to sell! Robbers were only after one thing."

I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Wouldn't happen to be a golden claw, would it? Overheard some gossip in the village."

His eyes widened. "How did you–" He caught himself, shoulders slumping. "Yes, it was an ornament, shaped like a dragon's claw. Solid gold."

I let out a low whistle. "Nasty business. Any leads on getting it back?"

Hope flickered in his eyes. "Well, now that you mention it..."

I held up my hands, chuckling. "Whoa there, friend. I'm not exactly the adventuring type. At least, not yet. Just looking to do some trading."

The hope died as quickly as it had appeared. "Ah, of course. Well, I'm Lucan Valerius. What can I interest you in today?"

I leaned against the counter, eyeing the shop's wares with barely concealed interest. "The name’s Alex. So, what've you got around here? I'm in the market for a cloak, something to keep the chill off."

Lucan's eyes lit up. "Oh, you're in luck! I've got some beautiful wolfskin cloaks. Warm as a mother's embrace and soft as a newborn pup." He ran his fingers over a folded pile of furs. "Only 144 septims each!"

I couldn't help but wince. "Ouch. That's... a bit steep for my coin purse right now." My gaze wandered, landing on a well-worn hunting knife displayed nearby. "What about that blade? Looks like it's seen some use."

Lucan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, good eye. That's a reliable piece, that is. How about... 26 septims?"

I chewed my lip, weighing the decision. A knife would come in handy for more than just combat. Skinning, whittling, general survival... "You know what? I'll take it."

Lucan went to retrieve the knife, but something else caught my eye. Three ornate books, their spines etched with strange symbols. "Hold up," I said, pointing. "Are those spell tomes?"

"Indeed they are!" Lucan's voice held a hint of pride. "Two illusion spells and one destruction. The destruction spell, Icewind, that'll set you back 876 septims. For illusion, we've got Soothe at 156 septims, and Enraging Orb – that's the pricey one – 1500 septims."

I let out a low whistle. "Damn. Magic doesn't come cheap, huh? What's Soothe do, exactly?"

Lucan shrugged. "Can't cast it myself, mind you, but from what I hear, it tricks your body into thinking you're warmer than you are. Helps ward off the cold a bit. This version's just novice-level, so it won't work miracles, but it'll take the edge off a chilly night."

"Tempting," I said, "but I'd better hold off for now. Gotta keep some coin for food and lodging, you know?" My eyes landed on a sturdy-looking fishing pole propped in the corner. "How much for that rod?"

"The fishing pole? That'll be 29 septims."

I grinned. "Now we're talking. I'll take that too."

My fingers reached into my ‘pouch’ to fish out the coins, and I gave the shop one last sweep. Plenty of interesting items, but nothing else I could justify spending my dwindling funds on. Not yet, anyway.

"Here you go," I said, sliding 55 septims across the counter. "Thanks for the gear."

Lucan beamed, handing over the knife and fishing rod. "Pleasure doing business! Come back anytime."

I gave a little wave to both Lucan and his sullen gorgeous sister as I headed for the door. "Take care, you two. And, uh... good luck with that claw situation."

I stepped out of the Riverwood Trader, squinting as the bright sunlight hit my eyes. My eyes wandered down the street, landing on the lumber mill in the distance. The rhythmic sound of sawing drifted on the breeze, mixing with the rush of the river. I could make out figures moving about, hauling logs and planks.

"Well," I whispered to myself, "might as well see how much hard labor pays."