Hidden in the Midden

Whilst frolicking about in some ruins with the students and staff of the College of Winterhold, Amalthea stumbled upon the mysterious sphere called The Eye of Magnus. Our dear Dragonborn – uninterested in anything she can’t torture, sell, or use to kill things – left the Eye in Professor Tolfdir‘s somewhat-capable hands.

Apparently Tolfdir immediately rolled the thing like a big mystical beach ball straight to the College.
“But we’ve got the biggest ball of them all!”

Amalthea hoped that might be the end of that, but of course it wasn’t. I don’t know how the people of Skyrim survived without a Dragonborn running their errands, solving their mysteries, recovering their shit, and fighting their battles for them. Seriously, did anything ever get done in this fucking place? No wonder the Empire is falling apart.

Just as Amalthea was wrapping up with Tolfdir, they were interrupted by Ancano. Any hope Amalthea had of being done with the un-sellable, un-torturable orb ended when Ancano informed her that Quaranir, a member of the Psijic Order, had come a-calling. Of course he was insistent on meeting with the Dragonborn, because obviously no one else in the whole of Nirn is competent or intelligent enough to deal with a floating ball.

But if Amalthea had been expecting answers from Quaranir, she was grievously disappointed. After some vague, prophetic-type mutterings that explained nothing, Quaranir finally told the Dragonborn to go discuss matters with the Augur of Dunlain. Because the advice given by mystical sources of divination is always super-helpful.

And so our grumbling heroine made her way to The Midden, where the incorporeal source of wisdom called Augur of Dunlain lives – er, exists. Or something.

Almost immediately, she began to see evidence of the College’s darker proclivities.
She’s down with it, for the record.

During her travels, she discovered the Atronach Forge. Fortunately it came with an operator manual.
“Experimenting wildly with the Forge is dangerous.” Also, do not operate Atronach Forge while under the influence of medication, ale, or Skooma.

Seriously, though, this place is fucking weird. Which doesn’t exactly set it apart from most places in Skyrim.

After gleaning some interesting home decorating ideas, Amalthea found her way to The Midden Dark. There, she came upon a large clutter of skeletons.

This incident report provided an explanation. When, oh when, will our nation’s youth finally realize the dangers of attempting to summon powerful, dark supernatural entities?
Conjurer’s burn is not, as I had previously thought, a particularly nasty type of STD prevalent among the mage population.

Apparently the late overambitious students were practicing their hoodoo on this impressive Daedric Relic.

Always a shining example of respect and decorum, Amalthea examined the relic without a single childish thought in her pretty little head.

Finally, after a hundred forevers, she found the right door.  It usually does.

After convincing the voice that she was goddamn dead and determined to visit with it, she was allowed into the sanctuary/prison of the shining ball of energy that was once a student. (Students of magic everywhere – being too ambitious is not good.) The conversation was about as enlightening as Amalthea had expected it would be.

Really, for a mystical source of endless wisdom, the Augur certainly can’t read people very well. If he could, he’d know that Amalthea could literally not care less about knowledge of the Eye – unless, perhaps, it was knowledge that the Eye did, in fact, have a high retail value.

He’d also know that she was already consumed with corruption.

But just as the Dragonborn was rolling her eyes and thinking fucking divination to herself, the Augur laid down some actual help. He could do with a few lessons in phrasing, however.
I’m truly overwhelmed by the amount of jejune jokes running about and tripping over each other inside my head right now.

Like a well-trained terrier, Amalthea trotted back to the College to file her after-action report with Savos Aren. He wasn’t too keen on the Augur’s advice to find the The Staff of Magnus. I think there might be some deep-seated insecurities there.

I’m sure you would love to be the proud owner of a mighty staff, Arch-Mage. But just because you can’t handle one doesn’t mean you should deprive the rest of the world.

Because Amalthea needs it. Oh yes, she does.

Winterhold – random locations with disturbing implications

East of Winterhold, near the sea, two skeletons, an apothecary’s satchel, and a bear trap make up the tableau known as Trapped for Eternity (alternately Friends Forever). Loyalty, while admirable and touching, is not necessarily conducive to survival.

On the road to Mount Anthor is an unmarked location called Avalanche Pass, where three unfortunate refugees met their cold, untimely end.

On top of a mountain above the Sightless Pit is the Altar of Xrib. Whoever this Xrib cat was, he (or she) apparently demanded a lot of human (or Dwemer) sacrifice.