The Companions (up to The Silver Hand)

I began writing about the Companions in an earlier post, but the full questline requires its own article. Poignant and morally complex, this quest has lasting consequences for the PC and all subsequent quests.

The opening quests of this line followed what one might expect for a group of mercenaries -- bandit raids and enforcement, all for profit. The main moral issue of the questline, however, was revealed when I agreed to act as backup for Farkas, the Companions' Heavy Armor expert, on a more important quest (Proving Honor). While hunting for the fragments of Wuuthrad, the legendary battleaxe of Ysgramor himself, I got myself trapped behind a iron gate. Before Farkas could free me, he was set upon by a group of thugs who revealed themselves to be members of the Silver Hand -- a band of warriors committed to the extermination of werewolves. The reason for this ambush became clear when Farkas transformed before my very eyes and dispatched his attackers with fang and claw.

After killing the last Silver Hand, Farkas reverted to his more familiar state and freed me from the trap. He explained that the inner circle of the Companions was, in fact, a small pack of werewolves. Some of them, like Aela the Huntress, accepted the lycanthropy as a gift from the daedric prince Hircine, while others, such as the Harbinger (as close to a leader as the Companions will admit to having) Kodlak Whitemane, viewed it as a curse that precluded their proper destiny in Sovngarde. Farkas's revelation shed light on several interesting aspects of the Companions: the tight-knit nature of the group, Aela's fascination with hunting, and the wolf-themed armor of the Companions. We completed the quest (killing several more Silver Hand and draugr in the process) and returned to Jorrvaskr, where, after becoming a full member of the companions and completing another radiant quest, I was eventually given the opportunity to join the Circle, and thereby become a werewolf myself.

The ritual in the Underforge

Some explanation of Skyrim's approach to lycanthropy is in order here. Unlike traditional werewolves, who are bitten and then involuntarily transform during the full moon (or some other external condition), Skyrim's werewolves can assume the Beast Form once a day, and can choose to extend their "beast time" by feeding on their kills. In addition, lycanthropy can only be transmitted through a voluntary ritual in which the initiate drinks the blood of another werewolf. In other words, my becoming "the monster" would be entirely voluntary -- the only negative effects would be the loss of any rest-based bonuses (Rested, Well-Rested, Lover's Comfort). While werewolf NPCs sometimes talk about how addictive the Beast Blood power is, the werewolf PC suffers no downside from refusing to transform. This condition contrasts with Skyrim's approach to vampirism, in which the PC, who typically is infected involuntarily, suffers attribute penalties for refusing to feed.

Given the level of choice available to the Skyrim werewolf, I decided to partake in the ritual. Lycanthropy seemed like an additional power that could be used for good or for ill. Furthermore, I was interested in becoming a member of the Circle, and thus part of the leadership of the Companions. I submitted to the ritual, took on my Beast Form for the first time, killed a few deer, and blacked out.

When I came to in the woods, Aela was with me to "talk me down." We immediately began an attack on the Silver Hand in their hideout at Gallows Rock. During the assault, I learned a few things about the Silver Hand that reinforced my decision to eradicate them. Not only had they been capturing and torturing werewolves, but they were in the habit of skinning them and mounting their heads as trophies. When we encountered their leader, Krev the Skinner, I transformed again and slaughtered her in a manner befitting her crimes. Unfortunately, we arrived too late; Skjor, who had been scouting ahead of us, had already been captured and killed. The quest ended with Aela in mourning, and me left to return to Jorrvaskr alone.

Several moral issues arise in these quests. After the unprovoked attack on my friend Farkas, killing the Silver Hand felt justified, and my discoveries in the later quest only served to confirm my stance. While the Silver Hand might see themselves in the same light as the Vigilants of Stendaar -- that is, righteous warriors ridding the land of an evil abomination -- I could not ignore certain key differences. Daedric cultists tend to commit random acts of violence against innocent people, whereas the Circle appears to be very selective in its use of the Beast Blood power. Given the presence of hostile werewolves in Gallows Rock, I can only conclude that lycanthropy is similar to many other powers, such as magicka or the Thu'um, in that it is a powerful tool that can wreck havoc in the wrong hands. Therefore, the Silver Hand wiping out all werewolves would be on par with killing all mages because some of them misuse their magicka. Furthermore, the obvious delight the Silver Hand takes in fashioning trophies out of their kills, who are basically human, separates them from the businesslike Vigilants. In short, the Silver Hand seems more like a band of thugs with a cause than a noble troop of monster hunters, and killing them seems in line with my character's moral profile.

Another moral dilemma concerns one of the features of the Beast Form itself; the PC can extend his time in wolf form by feeding on the bodies of those he slays. This is not the first time I have confronted the issue of cannibalism in Skyrim, but I would argue that feeding the werewolf is subtly different from the Namiric cannibalism at the center of A Taste of Death. Worshippers of Namira look at their fellow citizens as cattle to be slaughtered and consumed, which they do in their normal, human form. The werewolf, on the other hand, is a beast, and therefore feeds as a beast. The complication, from a role-playing perspective, is that the werewolf form is under the direct control of the character, as evidenced by Aela's behavior during the ritual. Despite being in Beast Form, she is completely in control of her actions. The question, then, is whether feeding on fallen victims while in Beast Form is morally equivalent to cannibalism. The two actions feel different, perhaps because of the usual dissociative implications of lycanthropy, but I cannot yet provide a well-reasoned, empirical distinction.

I can, however, say that feeding on Krev the Skinner felt right. It seemed a just end for the woman who delighted in the slaughter of werewolves and who killed my Shield-Brother Skjor.

The House of Horrors

After the Boethiah's Calling debacle, I let Uthgerd go home and traveled back to Markarth to clean up a few miscellaneous quests. Shortly after I entered the city, a Vigilant of Stendarr (a kind of militant priest who hates the Daedra and their adherents -- so, my kind of guy) named Tyranus approached me and asked for some backup in his investigation of an abandoned house.  I agreed, and in we went; it became readily apparent that there was indeed something "off" about the house:

Don't go into the light, Carol Anne!

When we reached the basement, all hell broke loose: ghostly voices, flying objects, and an aggressively funereal miasma.  Tyranus suggested that we make a break for it, and I concurred, but when we reached the front door (now unpickably locked), a ghoulish voice commanded me to kill "him," which I took to mean my companion, the Vigiliant of Stendarr.  Again, I'm not in the habit of killing NPCs with whom I have no quarrell, so I continued to look for an exit.  Tyranus, however, proved to be more amenable to the voice:

Here we go again.

Once more, I found myself in the position of having to kill someone I really would rather not.  After reluctantly defeating Vigilant Tyranus, I followed the voice down to the basement in order to confront whatever eldritch abomination was at work in this house.

What I found was a sinister-looking shrine that featured a rusty mace. When I approached the shrine, spiked iron bars sprang up around me, and I found myself a captive audience for the Daedric Prince of Domination and Enslavement, Molag Bal. The entity offered to release me if I promised to find and kill a particular priest of Boethiah named Logrolf the Willful; this priest, apparently, had desecrated Molag Bal's shrine (the one I was currently trapped in), and the Daedra wanted revenge.  The wrinkle was that Logrolf was currently imprisoned by the Forsworn, and therefore out of the Daedra's reach. My job was to "rescue" Logrolf and return him to the Shrine so that I could kill him for Molag Bal's satisfaction.

But for one factor, this would have been an easy quest for me to fail, as it runs in the same vein as the Namira and Boethiah quests.  The complication for me was that the "victim" in this case was a priest of the same cult that just a.) tried to kill me and b.) asked me to deceive and murder an innocent person for their ritual.  Normally, I don't kill non-hostiles, but I was beginning to feel as though most Daedric cultists were fair game; even if they don't attack me personally, the zeal they exhibit for their abhorrent practices means that they are a legitimate threat to the general public.  Furthermore, this was an internecine feud between two despicable entities, so I really couldn't care less what they did to each other:

Logrolf is not helping his case here.

That, however, is not the whole story.  After my experiences with Sheogorath and Sanguine, I was not eager to become a Daedra's puppet again, even if I was choosing to do so consciously this time.  Moreover, the only real difference between this quest and the previous two was the identity of the victim; did the fact that I might have executed Logrolf anyway justify sacrificing him at the behest of a malicious Daedric Prince?  Another factor to consider was the reward, as yet unknown at this point in the quest; how big of a factor in my decision was the anticipated artifact?  After all, I could have either walked away from the quest after falsely promising Molag Bal to retrieve the priest, or purposely failed it by killing Logrolf at a location other than the shrine, but I would get nothing for my troubles in both cases.  Also, I could not ignore the etymology of this particular Daedra: "Molag Bal" sounds a whole lot like a combination of Moloch and Baal.  Would cooperating with Molag Bal violate my moral profile?

Ultimately, I decided to kill Logrolf at the shrine as per Molag Bal's instructions:

• I was inclined to kill Logrolf anyway because he was a priest of Boethiah, and therefore not averse to killing me (or anyone else, for that matter).  I would not have gone out of my way to do so were it not for this quest, but I would not have lost sleep over killing him in other circumstances.
• Despite my obedience in this matter, I feel no particular allegiance to Molag Bal, and I would have no problem betraying him or his followers in the future.  These are bad people doing bad things, so I am willing to play them against each other for my good and the good of Skyrim.

That second point is the stickiest for me.  One of the traits of the Daedra that make most of them seem so diabolical is their penchant for manipulating mortals for their own gain.  Wasn't I doing the same here?  Along the same lines, one reason that I despise the Thalmor is their fondness for creating strife between two groups they dislike (i.e. the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks).  In killing a Priest of Boethiah under the orders of Molag Bal, was I now committing the very act for which I was punishing the Thalmor?

Misgivings aside, the Mace of Molag Bal is now one of my favorite weapons.  I wish I could say that the prize didn't matter, but in this case, it really did.

Boethiah's Calling

Not long after The Taste of Death, I was randomly attacked by a Boethiah cultist while in the midst of another quest.  On his body, I found a copy of Boethiah's Proving, a Daedric fable that expounds the qualities that Boethiah (Daedric Prince of deceit, conspiracy, secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority) prizes most in a worshipper:

Camus meets Conan the Barbarian

The book instructed me to find the Shrine of Boethiah; I complied because I wanted to know more about this cult whose devotee just tried to kill me. 

Not knowing what to expect, I asked Uthgerd to come with me.  To be perfectly frank, I was concerned not only about the physical dangers but also, after my experiences with the cult of Namira, about my own actions.  Uthgerd, while certainly not squeamish about bloodshed, has a very strong moral sense.  For example, during a random encounter, we assisted a Stormcloak in his fight with a group of Thalmor.  I accidentally hit the Stormcloak during the battle, so after we defeated the Thamlor Justiciars, he turned on me.  In defending myself, I killed him.  Uthgerd said nothing at the time, but apparently reported me to the Guards, because I ended up with a bounty from that encounter.  I appreciate both her willingness to follow me into deadly battle and her refusal to let me get away with anything.  Therefore, I wanted her with me on this one.

When we arrived at the Shrine, we met the Priestess, who explained the tenets of Boethiah worship while two other cultists fought to the death in the ring.  In their own, strange way, these were friendly people -- cult members kept asking in a firm but polite manner if I wanted to challenge them.  The Priestess then brought me to the Pillar of Sacrifice and instructed me to lead a follower to the site and kill him or her; apparently, this would get Boethiah's attention:

Nope.

As it was with the cult of Namira, so it was with the cult of Boethiah.  If they were just killing each other for sport, I could have walked away, but the random attack and the Priestess's words left no doubt about the cult's proclivities concerning innocent people.  And, again, there was no way for me to have them arrested.  The only viable option left was for me to draw my weapon and purposely fail the quest by wiping out the cult as I had done before.

This time, it wasn't that simple.  After Uthgerd (who did nothing to stop me this time -- I read this as approval) and I defeated everyone at the Shrine, Boethiah him/herself spoke through one of the dead bodies and reiterated the need for me sacrifice a follower.  Apparently, my slaughter of the cultists pleased the Daedric Prince (I really should have seen this coming), and I was now poised to take the next step.

The next step for me, however, was to get out of there.  I have neither the desire nor the justification to kill a trusting follower.  While it is true that acquiring more powerful artifacts might help me save Skyrim from disaster, I cannot justify that kind of utilitarian thinking in these Daedric quests.  The legacy of Boethiah's Calling for me so far is an open quest in my journal that I will not resolve.  My only option is to find a follower whom I would likely kill anyway, but I don't know if that kind of NPC exists.  Even if it did, would I be willing to purposely lead that person to his or her death under false pretenses?

As it turned out, the next quest answered that question for me a lot more quickly than I anticipated.

The Taste of Death

The third Daedric quest I performed, entitled The Taste of Death, proved to be the most disturbing quest I have undertaken so far.  Part of my discomfort comes from the focus of the quest itself -- cannibalism -- but also from a new kind of behavior that I have begun to exhibit when dealing with Daedric cultists.

The quest began when I agreed to clear out Markarth's Hall of the Dead at the request of Brother Verulus, a Priest of Arkay; apparently, some of the bodies had been partially eaten, which offends both the Divine and the loved ones of the deceased.  I suspected draugr when I entered, so I was surprised when this happened:

Nope.

Eola went on to explain that her little group of cannabalistic Namira (Daedric Prince of rot and decay) worshippers had been forced to relocate form their usual feasting spot in Reachcliff Cave when the dead started biting back (draugr, most likely).  She agreed to leave the Markarth Hall of the Dead alone if I helped her retake Reachcliff.  I thought briefly about killing her, then a few possibilities occurred to me: 1.) I like ridding the world of draugr, and 2.) if there were more people like Eola, I wanted to know about it.

Clearing out the cave was challenging, but not unduly so.  The interesting part happened after I defeated the boss draugr.  Eola thanked me, then told me that, for my initiation into the coven, I would be required to bring a fresh kill back to the cave -- Brother Verulus, specifically.  There were, of course, two obvious problems with that idea: 1.) I did not plan to become a cannibal anytime soon, and even if I did, 2.) I was not going to murder someone in order to do it.  As strange as this may sound, it was not the prospect of eating human flesh that troubled me most; after all, what is Christian Communion other than an image of cannibalism?  It was the second part -- murder -- that tore it for me.  There was no way that I was going to trick a decent man, a man who had been nothing but good to me, a man who had trusted me with the cleansing of his Hall of the Dead, into being the main dish at a cannabal pot-luck.

Nevertheless, I decided to go along with Eola's plan; I wasn't going to let anything happen to Brother Verulus, but I wanted to see who else was in this coven.  As it turned out, this Cult of Namira comprised a veritable cross-section of Markarth society, including a shopkeeper, Lisbet, for whom I was in the middle of a minor miscellaneous quest: 

Lisbet's not getting her stupid statue back.

Verulus obediently came along with me, and when we entered the "dining hall," Eola used her magic-enhanced powers of persuasion to lead him to the sacrificial altar.  When the befuddled Verulus lay down, Eola offered me the chance to make the kill. 

Throughout most of this quest, I had been considering what I should do with these cannibals.  If they were simply eating the bodies of the dead, I'm not sure what I would have done; necrophagy alone is offensive, but does it warrant extermination?  In this case, however, there was no doubt that these cultists were willing to kill innocent people in order to satisfy their twisted hunger.  Therefore, at the moment I was to sacrifice Brother Verulus, I turned my weapons on the "diners" and killed every single one of them -- including Lisbet (I'm now stuck with the statuette I had agreed to retrieve for her).

Morally speaking, this was a thorny scenario. Because there was no "go to the authorities" option for this quest, my choices were to participate in the ritual, ignore the ritual and walk away, or kill everyone at the feast.  Clearly, I wasn't going to participate, but walking away would be almost as bad; how could I turn a blind eye to this outrage?  Killing the cultists was the option most in line with my moral outlook.  The nagging misgiving I have about my actions, however, arises from the manner in which dealt with the cannibals.  First, I purposely deceived Eola and her friends in order to kill them.  Second, I used Brother Verulus in order to gain the trust of the cult; although he lives through the experience, he is a changed man afterwards.  The question that follows: even in a game like this one, in which fights to the death are common, how dark will I get in order to maintain my sense of moral justice?

I should also point out that this was the first quest I purposely failed.  Had I killed Verulus and fed on him, I would have gained another Daedric artifact.  Not only did I lose out on a powerful item, I am also now unable to unlock the "Oblivion Walker" achievement.  Sometimes, playing with attention to moral agency has a gameplay price.