Beyond Skyrim:Cyrodiil/Botram the Hammer

Botram the Hammer (RefID: xx003A4E)
Home City	Bruma
House	Botram the Hammer's House
Race	Elder	Gender	Male
Level	13	Class	Warrior
RefID	xx003A4E	BaseID	xx003A19
Other Information
Health	190	Magicka	50
Stamina	90
Primary Skills	Heavy Armor, Two-handed, Archery, Block
Class Details	CombatWarrior2H
Morality	No Crime	Aggression	Unaggressive
Faction(s)	CYRBrumaBotramtheHammersHouseFaction; CYRCrimeFactionBruma; CYRTownBrumaFaction

Botram the Hammer

Botram the Hammer is an elderly retired warrior in Bruma, who now sells stories of his youth to passers-by.

After waking up at 8am and enjoying a short breakfast, at 10am Botram will head outside and sit on the chair in his veranda, overlooking the market. He will be found there for the next 8 hours, only taking a one-hour break at 12pm to go back inside to eat. At 6pm, he has dinner inside and then relaxes until his bedtime at 10pm. If it is Tirdas or Turdas, between 1pm and 4pm he will instead be found in the Jerall View Inn.

Botram wears miner's clothes and matching boots, and is armed with an iron warhammer. He also carries the key to his house, a tankard and a random selection of gold, lockpicks, gems, jewelry, food and drink.

Related Quests

• Absent Antiquity: Find some stolen Akaviri artifacts.

Dialogue

Botram revels in his past, as he will tell you when first meeting him:

"Don't judge me too harshly. I wasn't always the decrepit old horker you see before you. In my youth I was quite something."

"Yes? Come to hear of an old man's adventures?"

"Stendarr's mercy upon you, stranger. Stendarr's definitely been merciful to me... my youth taught me that a thousand times over."

If you ask for stories, he will explain:

"You bet I would, but... I'm sorry if this comes across the wrong way, traveler, but, well... I'm poor. I'm no good for jobs any more, and people ain't going to pay you for just existing. So, tell you what. You give me a couple of Septims, and I'll regale you with some stories. Sound like a fair trade, stranger?"

If you call him a beggar, he muses:

"If you think me a beggar then who am I to argue? That's not what I'd call myself, though. I'm a washed-up old warrior who's barely managing to keep a roof over his head. Does that make me a beggar? I'll defer to your judgement, stranger."

If you refuse to pay, he sighs:

"I understand. Coin's given to people who can do you some good, and I can't. Believe me, I understand. If you change your mind, though, I have plenty of stories to tell. My memory hasn't gone quite yet."

If you instead give over 2 septims, he will smile:

"Thanks, stranger. Rare to see such a generous sort in Bruma."

He will then regale you with one of three stories.

Stories

First Story

"It was a bright, sunny Turdas in Whiterun Hold. I was hanging around Dragonsreach, hoping to meet a rich noble lady and strike up a conversation. Heh, what can I say? I was young and naive. Imagine my surprise when out of the Keep, instead of a noblewoman, comes a beautiful battle-maiden, covered head-to-toe in beautifully-crafted steel. She carried a huge steel claymore on her back, and I have no doubt she'd have wielded it just as well, if not better, than any of the city guard. Paralyzed by panic, I remained silent. Dared not say anything to her, even as she was breathing in my face. She chuckled, then asked me if I was up for a challenge. Said there were some bandits in a local cave. Marked it on my map and challenged me to clear it out. Blinded by my own lust, I accepted. She handed me that glistening greatsword she carried on her back. I wasn't trained with a weapon but I was strong. I could hold it, unlike most. She said she was impressed by that.

So I took the greatsword to the cave she had described - well, it was actually a mine of sorts - Embershard, they called it. I headed inside. Down the slope I could just see, through the gloom, the red, glowing eyes of a Dunmer. I assumed he was a bandit but I wanted to be sure. Foolish and young, that was me. So, like a damned fool, I called out to him. "What're you doing down here?", I asked. He said nothing, but I saw his eyes narrow with anger in the dark. Then they got larger, and larger, and I heard footsteps. He was coming towards me. I was done for. Then, all of a sudden, I heard a "clink". The Dunmer had stepped on a pressure plate. And, just like that, a whole pile of boulders came crashing down from the rafters and crushed him under them. That was one bandit dealt with. His screams as he died, and the sound of the rocks falling, attracted the attention of the rest of the bandits in the mine.

I heard who I can only assume was their leader shout, in his typically guttural Orcish voice: "Seems like we've got company, boys. Weapons out, eyes peeled. Let's go." I hid in the darkness, once again paralyzed by fear and doubt. Then an idea struck me. What if I made a trap of my own? I took the battle-maiden's longsword and put it up in the rafters where the boulders were. I re-armed the pressure plate to the best of my abilities. Just as I was finished, the Orc rounded the corner, as did a band of five other brigands. One of them held a torch and waved it around to illuminate the whole entranceway. Soon enough, they saw me. This was it. The big moment. My life or my death. The Orc saw the boulders on the ground and, I can only assume, took that as a sign that the trap had already been triggered and safe to stand on. And so, he stood on the plate. That was his big mistake.

The greatsword came careening down from the rafters with a force the likes of which I'd never seen before. By the blessing of Stendarr, it impaled him straight through the gut. He bled what looked like lakes full of blood and no sooner had I blinked than he'd died. The rest of the bandits, very close behind him, tripped over his flailing feet as he fell. They went diving headfirst into the rocks that lay on the ground, and the blow on the head ended them too. It was then that the door opened behind me. My heart damn-near stopped. The bandits wanted their retribution, I thought. My life's reached its end. But it was the battle-maiden. She had realized I might have taken her joke seriously, and so she came to try warn me before it was too late. She saw them all there, lying dead, including the Orc who had the greatsword still sticking out of him. Her eyes widened in shock.

Let's just say I was economical with the truth when explaining what happened during the encounter. It was then she told me she was one of the Companions, an order of warriors based out of Whiterun. She said I had what it takes to be one of them, and so I joined up the next day. And that's the story of how a few happy accidents got me into a life of adventuring, I suppose. Funny the way the world works..."

Second Story

"The Companions had given me my first job, to slay a giant. Yes, to slay a giant. I had the same look on my face too. They said they had no other jobs available at the time. Hmph. When they gave me it, somehow I felt, strangely, kind of hopeful. I was on a high, you might say, from the events in Embershard. I was still afraid, but determined. That air of cockiness remained until I got near the giant's camp. Every step I took closer to the camp, the faster my heart raced. I couldn't do it, I finally thought to myself, only thirty or so paces away from the camp. I had to turn back. But what would the Companions think of me, doing that? Dishonor! I couldn't ruin this for myself. This opportunity to become a hero of legend. I had to do something. And, so... I cheated. In a way. I asked a band of traveling mercenaries to do the deed for me.

I paid them with what gold I had scrounged off of the bandits I'd killed in Embershard. They reluctantly agreed after a lot of persuasion, and so they charged in. I heard every stomp, every smash of the giant's club, echoing, bouncing off of the mountains. My heart pounded. Had I sent some men to their doom? If they are victorious, am I now an honorless coward? After about five minutes, they returned to me. Beaten. Battered. Bruised. Broken. They'd killed the giant and gotten its "distinctively fungal" toe the Companions demanded as proof. It was then they held out on me. They told me they wouldn't give me the toe. Not after all that. Not after such risk for such little reward. It was fortuitous, I suppose, that the giant's mammoth came charging out of nowhere and, with its huge tusks, killed all three men, just like that. I grabbed the toe from the ground where it landed and ran.

I ran all the way back to Jorrvaskr. I explained what had happened, and the Companions were aghast at my cowardice. They were screaming and shouting, threatening to kick me out. It was then that the Harbinger came out of his quarters. He signalled to them all and, just like that, they stopped talking out of respect. He opened his mouth and I dreaded what he was about to say. But he didn't say what I expected him to. Not at all. He told them that I deserved another chance, that this act of deception proved my ingenuity. He also told me that by my description, these "mercenaries" were actually a small party of bandits that the Companions had been hired to kill. He gave me the bounty for both them and the giant. To this day I don't think I deserved it, but he insisted. And so I remained a Companion yet longer. This is where I went on a series of adventures as a Companion completing jobs as I got them. Nothing too exciting. The next story worth telling takes place many, many years later..."

Third Story

I was a Companion, but the pay wasn't so good. As I had learned I wasn't a very good warrior, or a particularly brave one. I'd managed to get by taking on jobs to clear skeevers out of people's homes. So I ended up quitting. Dropped my sword on the ground and said enough was enough. They said farewell to me and I decided I'd try my luck as far away from Jorrvaskr as I could think to go - Bravil. See if there was much work available. Little did I realize that those stories about Bravil's criminal underworld weren't just fabrications or exaggerations. They were as real as Masser or Secunda.

I got blackmailed into joining the criminal underworld of Bravil. Helped a shady character who I never got the name of with some smuggling jobs. It wasn't nice or pleasant, but it paid better than my Companion days. It was then that I saw coming into the city through the gate that battle-maiden. She recognized me and was dismayed that I was working for the man she'd come to clean out. Apparently she was on a personal crusade against this kind of criminal filth. She was disappointed that I'd joined them. I explained my reasons and my regret, and she saw fit to take pity on me, thank Stendarr for that. We became close friends and I eventually proposed to her on a beautiful summer's sunset.

And that's how she became my wife. Sadly, she passed away a few years ago. That's the last of my interesting stories, I'm afraid, and certainly the most, err... soppy."

Conversations

While he is sat in his chair outside, you may overhear Banus Jucani pestering Botram for more stories:

Banus: "Botram! Botram!"
Botram: "Again, boy? What is it this time?"
Banus: "Tell me another story!"
Botram: "You'll never give an old man his peace, will you? Very well. How about the Big Bad Bear and the Very Good Forester?"
Banus: "No, I've heard that one already! Tell me another one!"
Botram: "All sorts of demanding, aren't you, child. Heh... ...alright. Just give me another hour and I'll come up with a whole new story for you, eh?"