Friday, March 30, 2012

Skyrim: the character, a quickie

"Can't believe my luck.  Tied up on a cart bound for a fort.  Judgement?  I can't believe it...what'd I do other than survive?  My mother and father are dead from conflicts with other mer, and all I was...a hunter surviving on game.  I did nothing against others.  Not human, mer, or beastfolk..."

"That bitch!  She ordered my execution even though I was not on the list of condemned prisoners!  I had learned from my people of process of law, that to end a life on a judgement of law was a task to be taken not lightly!  She wanted my head removed on a technicality?"

"They say the wood elves are uneducated, but we are learned in letter and lore.  So I recognized that a dragon hit this keep.  I'm outta here."

"I kept close to the imperial until I ran into the stormcloak...they debated for seconds.  I followed the Stormcloak.  At least the Stormcloaks aren't after my head on a whim."

"Clear of that death camp.  At least, if I have to face justice, it shall be for laws I actually broke.  I hope to stay clean.  However...this region appears to be in civil war.  My home was hit in a purge by other elves.  I dare not go back.  I am alone.  But my fellow offered me shelter, work, food.  Even if I come and go.  The town even has an elven resident.  He seems more pragmatic...although his facial structure does not suggest wood elf.  Still, he is a decent character."

"General goods storekeeper has a bit of a problem...seems someone stole an ornament, a golden 'dragon claw.'  Well, he offers good coin for its return."

"Hunted the 'dragon claw' to a barrow.  Found the thief, tried to give amnesty for information.  He bolted.  Ended up at the business end of a mechanized deathtrap.  Ow.  Still, I recovered the claw.  However, I investigate..."

"Curiosity killed the cat.  But some cats avoid the deathtrap.  I managed to clear traps and undead...until I find a wall of an ancient script.  One set of markings seems so, almost known.  It burns itself into me...that word.  To translate into the lingua franca, it is 'Force.'  but there is more meaning under do I know that?"

"Returned the artifact to the shopkeep.  Gained some gold and some information.  I met my friend at his home...and his fellow 'rebels.'  Yes, rebels.  It seemed that I had embroiled myself in a civil war by association.  Well, I might not be a politician but I do know who tried to cut my head off.  He told me to bring a plea of aid to Whiterun owing to the dragons.  I know at least one dragon is a threat, and it tore up a fortified keep.  Time to move."

"Moved on to Whiterun.  A long trip, but a decent town...people here are varied.  While the homes are of artifice, even the humans bear the look of the people I know, tested in adversity.  I even met a couple of my fellow bosmer.  But, I needed to plead a case."

"The dark elves, dunmer, are more honorable than one might think.  I met one who was housecarl to the Jarl himself.  There are differences...but we are all people.  The Jarl hears my plea."

"We have a call to investigate at a watchpost near Whiterun.  Things have gone seriously wrong."

"Okay, worse than seriously wrong.  The main tower is all that's left.  What did this...okay, never mind...INCOMING DRAGON!!!"

"We managed to pin the dragon with sustained fire and kill it.  It took all of us, concerted fire from archers.  We were lucky.  I investigated the corpse and..."


"After I regurgitate my lunch, I look up at a skeleton of a dragon.  Unless I was out of it for a decade or two, that dragon had been fleshed...I was told that only a 'dragonborn' could have absorbed the dragon soul.  Was that the rush I felt?  I take stock of my faculties...and there's a bit more of me there.  What I saw before now has new meaning.  One of our number suggests I should 'shout.'  But I have a feeling it dangerous.  So...I pick a clear spot."

"I never knew my voice could tear the skin off a local fox.  Ow.  That had to hurt.  I have to go back to the Jarl.  I seem to be on good terms with the locals...I should at least get some information."

"HOLY CRAP!  What in all the divines was that?!  A word...'dovahkiin.'  But it just...exploded through everything!  I'm surprised the holds still stand!"

"The people here believe in a legend of a 'dragonborn,' one born with the soul of a dragon.  They's me.  Apparently, that thunderous word came from a place in the mountains called 'High Hrothgar,' a monestary where monks learn the way of the voice, whatever that is.  And that I have been summoned.  One dragon wiped out a fortified keep.  Another hit a watchtower and took a company's worth of soldiers to dispatch.  There is a threat, and if I've got a weapon in me...I need to know about it..."

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