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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| A tale of Skyrim; Basically, I rp out Skyrim from an IC perspective | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 23 2012, 03:19 PM (1,281 Views) | |
| Jonny | Jul 23 2012, 03:19 PM Post #1 |
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Warning, pictures are LARGE ![]() I awaken knowing two things: That I am awake, and that my head hurts. Thats probably why my vision is blurry for a bit, though no Nord was ever kept down by a single blow – my sight returns quickly. ![]() There is a man before me. Young, strong, and already bringing back memories as I try to pin down where I once saw him... I believe it was before my first tour of duty, as I passed through the small settlement of Helgen, though he couldn't have been anymore than a boy. His armour however, confuses me... seems like that of a Hold, but I can’t remember where... ![]() Looking around, I see two other men. One is well dressed in fine fur, and the other... not. Really, <i>really</i> not. In fact, smelling him, I’m not aware that he’s even had a bath for quite some time. Reminds me of when my patrol and I ventured a tad too close to the Black Marsh border in southern Cyrodiil. Couldn’t get the stink out for weeks. ![]() Looking forward, I see we are not alone... And that this is an Imperial convoy. Strange... ![]() The man before me speaks, and gets to asking a question. I blink a couple of times, before nodding. ![]() The man in need of a bath also speaks. The name Stormcloaks rings a bell to me... something about rebels up in Skyrim... Either way, he goes on for a bit, revealing the fact he was trying to steal a horse. I roll my eyes, having no sympathy. ![]() I then chuckle slightly. Well, at least rebel or not, this man has a sense of humour. I can appreciate that. ![]() The thief had been wondering about the man with the gag, though was certainly more vocal about it than I had ever been. Whilst I would have appreciated a less snappy response, I instead focus on the words and what they must mean... The last I had ever heard, Torygg was High King. Ulfric was Jarl of Windhelm, not Solitude... but that meant... No, it couldn’t be. My King is... My head proceeds to hang slightly. I was a Solitude lad, born, raised and intended to die there – hence my desire to head home once I retired. I was amongst the first to march out through its gates when the Aldmeri Dominion brought war to our doorstep. The Jarl was much younger then – I can’t even remember if he or his papa still held the throne – but I respected his skill with a blade. And to know he’s now gone... No, perhaps I’m overthinking it. No Jarl would kill another in this day and age... surely. ![]() Leader of the rebellion as well... Figures. You take the High King’s throne, what good is that without his whole Kingdom? ![]() I care little for the thief’s concerns now, though I have some of it figured out. The ambush meant for the rebels... what point is there in catching them if nothing is to be done? I know already. We’re either heading to prison, or to an execution. I might be able to get out of it due to my history with the Empire... but if you know who is in charge, I find it unlikely, however many Imperials I’ve served and saved. ![]() I look ahead as the thief and Stormcloak begin to talk on homes, and I recognise the gate. ![]() Drat. There go any chances of getting out of this alive. Tullius, a pragmatic fellow but overbearingly so. He could have one of the Divines in this cart and he’d still deliver them the same sentence as everyone else – just to make the execution seem complete. And yes, it’s an execution – why else for a Headsman? ![]() I focus less on Tullius himself and more who is with him. My eyes narrow. ![]() Evidently I was not the only one to notice, and I briefly agree with the Stormcloak. If the Thalmor go anywhere, it’s because they have something to do there – and only one thing was about to happen. ![]() I knew it was Helgen before the man ever said it. Suppose he’s reminiscing because he knows that in a few moments, he’ll never know the answer. ![]() They made everyone feel safe, from a world that was continuing to break down all around them since the Oblivion Crisis. Morrowind devastated, the secession of provinces, Black Marsh invading what remained of Vvardenfell, and then of course the Great War... Sad really. The Greatest Empire in Tamriel’s history broken down in a fraction of the time. From there, we pass through the settlement a bit, seeing broken walls, and houses still inhabited in spite of that. I see a boy and his father, and smile in envy. I wonder... I wonder how he has grown without me. ![]() But then the cart comes to a close, and I realise that just like the Stormclock, I shall never know the answer. My boy... I hope you grew up strong without your Papa. ![]() Thanks, no need to remind me. ![]() I wouldn’t mind really... but I’ve resigned myself to this. At least hopefully I shall be right and see Nine instead of Eight when I pass on. ![]() I shake my head and sigh. The poor fool should know they won’t listen. ![]() At least the other fool does. ![]() Slow and formal as to be expected. ![]() And I admittedly can’t fault the man on that one – had to take them all the time myself. ![]() Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm, Rolaf of Riverwood, and Lokir of Rorikstead – names are called one by one. Lokir is the one in the rags who can’t accept whats coming, insisting they ‘can’t’ do this. I’m almost tempted to remind him the difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘shouldn’t’. ![]() ...In hindsight, I’m not sure on whether or not I should have, given that he is soon struck down by the archers for attempting to run. What did he expect? ![]() Their gaze turns upon me next. Though the fact they say ‘You there’ intrigues me. They knew of Lokir... and not me? How does that work? ![]() ...They actually don’t know. Stunning. I wonder what I should tell them. Of how I fought to retake the White Gold Tower. Or of the time I chased some Falmer into the depths of their lair for daring to harm a member of my patrol. Of my years of service in the worst conditions, and every title and name I earnt for myself over thirty five long years of being part of the Empire’s army. ...I settle on saying that I am Korval, and nothing more. ![]() An understatement if there ever was one, and I sadly wonder why this man is not in charge as opposed to Tullius. ![]() The man tries, however indirectly, to earn me my freedom. He is simply told ‘forget the list’, and my hopes are dashed yet again. ![]() At least I have some sympathy, though it would seem my time in Cyrodiil means nothing up here. ![]() And so I walk forward, the edge of the Headsman axe just viewable over someone’s shoulder. ![]() And then I see Tullius... and the grim truth is revealed. So Torygg IS dead... but I find it curious that the term ‘murder’ is used. Does he mean that Ulfric didn’t take the High King on in the Old Nord Way? And what is this nonsense of the Voice... Am I meant to seriously believe that anyone still goes up to High Hrothgar to learn it, in this day and age? ...Then again, this is a day and age where Jarls murder each other, apparently. I sigh a little. ![]() I honestly doubt that such along would restore peace... but I suppose him dying here avoids him becoming a martyr. ![]() ...Something seems to scream through the mountains, drawing all eyes upwards. Even in all my years, I’ve never quite heard anything like it. Certainly not a bear, and couldn’t be a troll... it would have to be high up, and yet no creature in Skyrim is that loud. Strange... ![]() The execution begins regardless, though the Priestess is interrupted by one of the Stormcloaks. Honestly, can’t even respect the faith a little... though that its Eight is certainly an annoyance. ![]() The very same Stormcloak who walks up to the blocks actually... which means... ![]() Yep, he’s gone. May Talos be waiting for him, I suppose. ![]() I step forward slightly, though I look upwards as the heavens seem to scream yet again. Honestly, just what is going on? ![]() Whatever it is, I suppose it doesn’t matter, as I’m again called to the block. I take a moment or two to think on the things I missed... just because I couldn’t be patient for the borders to open again. I'm shoved down to the block, my head turning slowly to look upon my end. ![]() So Skyrim... got any last surprises for this old man? |
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| Macadamia_Nut | Jul 24 2012, 09:40 AM Post #2 |
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鏡秋羅
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OOooooooh~ I like where this is going~
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| Jonny | Jul 24 2012, 09:56 AM Post #3 |
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Large Pictures and Spoilers ![]() No... ![]() No... ![]() Nonono... ![]() THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT! ![]() Still in shock... trying to breathe through my lungs... I don’t want to believe what I have seen. It is a sight that no Nord, however brave, would ever wish to behold. The Dragons... the Dragons are back... ![]() I vehemently agree. We are, or at least I am, without weapons or armour. And my hands are bound, so no using what spells I know. I briefly ponder how they managed to escape their bindings, but I suspect that, as they don’t offer it me either, either they don’t care or don’t have it with them now. Drat. ![]() I climb the stairs of the tower. The front door is all that keeps the Dragon from simply pushing in his head and devouring us inside. If there is a way out, it has to be up... ![]() ...Nevermind, the door would not have protected us. Though I reel back as the creature breathes hot flame from its mouth – also sounding as if it speaks in doing so – once it draws back its head, I realise a way is now open to me. ![]() I may be old, but I’m not dead weight, and I recall a brief thrill as I leap from the tower into a broken building. The hardened wood is no friend to my body as I land, but it is an ache I will brush off, should I survive to the next morning. ![]() The next drop to the floor below is a little less painful, though no easier as I cannot use my arms to support me. My knees quickly go straight again as I bolt for a hole where I assume the door used to be. ![]() Scrambling out, I witness the boy from earlier, no doubt scared and confused by the madness around him. As I see the Legionnaire try to coax him to safety, I continue to find myself impressed. In the face of this disaster, taking time to protect even the smallest of citizens is the sign of a good man, and soldier. ![]() It is effort well spent as I witness the dragon land, and everyone present scrambles for cover as it spews out another barrage of flames. Listening, I am almost certain that what it does is no mere roar... it seems like a tongue of some sort. Familiar, but I cannot pin it down. ![]() As the Dragon flies off to continue its rampage, the man spots me, and is almost immediately concerned for my welfare. ![]() Though his next remark makes me uncertain, I realise I have little course of action otherwise. I follow after him, hands still bound together, and I am helpless as I head continual wing beats overhead. Another had called him Hadvar, and it is a name I soon put to memory. ![]() The wing beats draw close, and following up upon the man’s orders, I press my body against the cold stone, looking up to see where the beast might appear. ![]() I draw a short breath and hold it, the wings of the creature no more than mere feet away as it lands with a heavy thud, shaking the stone of the wall. I could reach out and touch its skin were I to wish so, but something about it beyond its mere, foul appearance, is so offputting that I daren’t approach. ![]() But as I watch in horror from the beast spewing its red hot flame, I am now so close that there is no doubt in my mind. The beast speaks... but why am I so aware of this? And what does it matter? ![]() Regardless, it soon flies off, and I continue to follow Hadvar, taking carefully yet quick paced steps up the... well, steps. We soon find General Tullius, surrounded by mages and soldiers doing their best to fight the Dragon, but it is so readily apparent that they can’t hope to defeat it. Arrows do nothing to deter it, at least where they are aimed, and it brushes off their fireballs before responding with its own. Soon, even the great General Tullius resigns to the inevitable, and orders a retreat – he has some men make their way into the Keep. Presumably, the Empire had an escape route in case such a thing was called for. ![]() The sad thing I suppose is that whilst I now know his name, he refuses to call me by my own. Though this weighs little on the fact I must still continue to follow him. Quick on our feet, we soon draw close to the Keep, but are met by a familiar face. ![]() Ralof has somehow managed to procure a weapon – no doubt from the dead – and declares his intent, which is presumably that of all the Stormcloaks, to get as far away as they can. A brief bout of history between the two men seems to be raised, before they head off towards different ends of the keep, giving me a choice. ![]() I look towards Ralof. No doubt a man who loves his country... but servant to the cause that killed my King, and were he so concerned, I doubt he'd have failed to follow a man at least ten years older than him through a hole in a tower. ![]() Then there is Hadvar. Part of the Empire that was about to execute me, sure, but he has shown the courage and valour, and at times the wisdom, that should be present in any man worth his mead. He is simply in the wrong position to fully realise it... but that shall hopefully change with time. I make up my mind, and charge into the keep with Hadvar, the door closing shut behind us as the Dragon makes another sweep. I breathe a small sigh of relief. |
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| Jonny | Jul 26 2012, 09:48 AM Post #4 |
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Part 3 ![]() Having entered into the Keep with Hadvar, I take a moment to look around at my surroundings. Some beds, chests, and tables... likely living quarters. I find myself concerned by the brief assessment the man makes, knowing that should we make it out of her, and the dragon still follow us, we will likely not survive with just the two of us. Though unlike him, I have little doubt it’s a dragon – I make, what else could it be? It fits the old tales. Let us merely hope that the art of oral transmission has added unnecessary details, such as the whole end of the world thing. ![]() I step forward, holding out my arms to him. He draws a small knife and cuts away the bindings, and I rub my hands where the ropes had chafed. ![]() I knew I was right in my choice. If he doubted he, then by no means would he let me freely take from the Imperial storage. He need not worry about me stabbing him in the back. ![]() Spotting a nearby sword on the wall, I seize it in hand, before moving to a nearby chest. ![]() Fortunately, there is no lock, and I pull open the chest to reveal inside a full set of armour, and another blade. I outfit myself quickly, briefly reminiscing on when I last wore such armour. ![]() I’m old, there is no denying it... but I will do my best to survive, with this opportunity before me. I slip on the Imperial Helmet, before chasing after Hadvar as he heads deeper into the keep. ![]() We arrive at a locked gate, hearing the mutterings of voices on the other side. As Hadvar’s brow furrows, I realise the same as he, recognising one of the voices from the execution. ![]() Though reason would be hopeful, I keep my hands on the two sheathed blades I now wear, just in case. There is sadly no chance for reason however, as the moment we are spotted, wearing our Imperial armour, the Stormcloaks draw their weapons, and we do the same. Out of practice, I almost worry as one proves capable of wielding a full greatsword, a weapon I always found simply too unwieldy. However, as they charge forward for their strike, I realise how ill trained some of them can be. Were their skills as great as their passion, then they might just stand a chance. As it is, I sidestep the greatsword handily, pushing it down with one hand. I then swing my hand back into their face, and they visibly recoil as their chin is struck. Seizing opportunity, I bring my other hand and its blade across their neck, a small stream of blood being strewn through the air as my sword cuts them open. They collapse to the floor, struggling for simple breath a few moments, before dying. My attention turns to Hadvar, who does well to hold off two opponents at once, using his shield to his advantage – defending with one hand whilst countering with the other. As he strikes one of his foes, I come up from behind the other, throwing my arm around his neck as I thrust one sword through his body. Whilst I would not stab Hadvar in the back, the same was clearly not true for this man. That done, I slip off one set off gauntlets, believing I could use the extra protection. Other than that, I simply move on with Hadvar, heading in deeper. ![]() We make our way to a flight of stairs, though I keep my blades drawn. The Stormcloaks are inside the building, and I know we may have yet another fight on our hands. ![]() Though as we come to the bottom of the stairs and begin heading down a corridor, the dragon’s roar echoes around us. Shortly after, the ceiling above comes crashing down, and the way is blocked. ![]() That it is even able to bother us this deep down is what’s most infuriating – what, can the damned thing see through walls? Though, with that done, we soon hear voices nearby, mutterings of finding potions the Imperials may possess – undoubtedly more Stormcloaks. ![]() Hadvar goes in first, and I follow shortly after. ![]() Damn boy is quick on his feet, and I charge in soon enough to help him. I swing one sword at the man wielding a hammer, interrupting his own swing as he is forced to block. The hasty nature of it leaves him open however, as I raised a leg and kick him back. He goes reeling back into the barrels, and as he is still dazed, I stab both blades through his chest. I hear the other Stormcloak fall dead behind me, Hadvar’s blade increasingly bloody. ![]() Hadvar tells me to look around for potions, and that is just what I do. Going through barrels and checking shelves, I find a fair few of the small bottles, pocketing them in a pouch. ![]() The man opens up the next door, and I am met by a horrific stench, even worse than Lokir and his lack of baths. It is the smell of rotting flesh, and I take a guess as to what it might be... ![]() Hadvar confirms it, and I agree. To break a man on the field of battle was one thing, but to break his mind and soul through such inhumane efforts? May the divines forgive us for such transgressions. We enter the chamber to find another fight in progress, though it becomes four on two with the numbers in our favour. The battle ends quickly, and I find myself discarding the blades for a pair of maces I find. ![]() I make a small grumble at the Torturer’s attitude, if not apparent enjoyment, towards his line of work. Though as to be expected, he disregards the idea of a dragon attack – though a loud roar makes him realise that the ‘odd noises’ he had been hearing was in fact the attack in question. I wonder to myself on what he thought it actually was. ![]() Hadvar’s eyes however take notice of the contents of one of the cages, noting that we might be able to use them. Whilst the Torturer gives his snide remark, Hadvar hands me a couple of lockpicks, and I quickly prove him wrong as, with a little work, the lock pops clean open. I take the items inside, and the Torturer gives me a simply exhausted look. ![]() We make another trip down a corridor, even as the Torturer yells in the distance that there’s no way out through here... ![]() I suspect that were this yesterday, he would have been correct. |
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| Jonny | Jul 28 2012, 10:43 AM Post #5 |
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Part 4 ![]() We descend into the caverns, and I am admittedly briefly curious on whether or not the Imperials would have known about these beforehand. ![]() Well, the Stormcloaks have certainly found them, as we hear. As Hadvar charges in, I notice an odd smell, but ignore it as I draw my maces. The first Stormcloak I find wields a shield, but after knocking the shield aside with one mace, I bash out their brains with another. ![]() Continuing onward, I discover two more Stormcloaks, and the source of the odd smell – its oil, scattered across the floor. I take note to avoid it as I charge, ducking under arrows that the nearest Stormcloak attempts to shoot me with. ![]() But as I draw close, he tosses aside his weapon in favour of something more suited to close range, and far heavier than my own – a warhammer. I have barely a moment to register it before he swings, hitting the side of my helmet. I feel my skin split open somewhat as blood splatters across my face, though thanks to my helmet, it’s not a lethal wound. Still, I begin to wonder about my odds... till one small step makes me realise that both I and the Stormcloak have stepped into the oil. Whilst I briefly worry about what might happen should any of us should somehow cause a spark, I soon realise that such is an advantage, and put away my other mace. My left hand now free, I channel the magic within my hand before rushing back. Neither Stormcloak seems to realise my deception as they advance, and I simply proceed to throw out flames towards the floor. The next moment, all I see is a wall of fire spring up, burning both Stormcloaks without any sign of remorse. As Hadvar joins me, the flames finally die down, and we are free to advance as nothing still lives to impede us. ![]() I pick up the tossed aside bow just in case I might need it, and am thankful that the more distant Stormcloak was only set ablaze on her front, saving her arrows. I take them for myself, before moving on with Hadvar. ![]() Well, someone definitely knew about these caverns, otherwise why the draw bridge? ![]() Hadvar goes over and throws the switch, and I briefly hear the dragon roar above us. By the Nine, how persistent is that thing?! ![]() ...Apparently that much. What’s next, will it bring down the whole mountain?! ... ... I hope the Dragon hasn’t decided to take that as a personal challenge. ![]() As we move, I come across a skeleton, and as Hadvar curses one path leading nowhere, I look upon the contents. Not much, but the coin purse is of interest, and for more than just the value of its shiny contents. The make of the coin is the old Septims, dating back to the Third Era... shows how long ago someone was last down here – though the way the bones have been moved about suggests that something disturbed its rest... ![]() And seeing the eggsacs in the distance, I suspect I know what it is. Frostbite Spiders – horrible, oversized creatures with a terrible poison and gruesome fangs. I draw the bow and ready an arrow, not wanting to get in too close if possible. A wise move, as soon the creatures emerge, and fling their spit at us – as silly as that sounds, it’s actually quite dangerous, and I duck my head. As Hadvar charges in with sword and shield, possibly wanting to divert their attention from me, I release my first arrow, and slay one instantly as the shaft lands right between the eyes. I deliver a small volley in turn, causing creature after creature to fall. A particularly nasty and large one approaches Hadvar, ready to crash down on him, before one of my arrows pierces its backside. ![]() It rears up, screeches, and then falls down dead as I move in to retrieve my arrows. Some are covered in the frostbite venom the creatures are noted for, and I figure it might be of use later. ![]() Travelling further in, we spot ourselves a bear, and Hadvar is naturally uneasy. Bears are, as quite befitting creatures of their size, powerful and devastating in a close quarters fight, and just generally ferocious. Compared to the spiders, Hadvar doesn’t even want to consider tackling this beast, and I would prefer we not fight it either after what we’ve been through. ![]() So, crouching down and moving slowly, we make our way around the creature, briefly having to freeze as one loose stone causes it to stir. However, it soon goes right back to sleep, and we breathe a light sigh of relief as we move on. ![]() Yet again more caverns, though outside of the flame’s reach, it is noticeably growing more chilly. It is a sign, and one we both appreciate, as turning the corner we find... ![]() Indeed, the way out. I soon saddle my bow, and begin the climb out. ![]() ...Though once out, we see the creature move on past us, flying to elsewhere... Gods, the thought of a Dragon loose in Skyrim... ![]() Certainly not... but the question remains of what happens to wherever else he's going. That Dragon laid waste to Helgen as if it were nothing at all - imagine what it could do to a number of the villages and cities across Skyrim. ![]() Though whatever our plan, it’ll have to come second to food, shelter and water. At Hadvar’s suggestion, we begin the path to Riverwood... and I suspect I know who this Blacksmith is. |
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| Jonny | Aug 1 2012, 12:42 PM Post #6 |
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Part 5 Hadvar and I have gone our separate ways as we travel to Riverwood. We agreed that it’d be easier to travel with us attracting less attention apart, though in truth, I partly wanted to take some time to see my homeland again for bit. The journey would take a day or two on foot anyway, so it’s not as if it would be strange for me to be a little late.
![]() I hunt for my dinner with my bow and arrow, and though slaughterfish meat isn’t the best, the scales could also be of use to me at some point. Setting myself up near the river, I keep a fire lit only as I’m awake, leaving me able to see my enemies should they approach. As I eat, I stare out at the tall, snow draped mountains, and recall the days when I had, as many a foolish youth did, braved the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. Not to train with the Greybeards, but simply for the challenge... my pitiful dagger found itself stuck into a troll’s head, and I found myself knock back over the side of the mountain. Fortunately, a fresh and still soft layer of snow made the fall easier on me, though my leg was still broken when I was found. Thankfully, a mage healed me fairly well, and gave me an appreciation for magic that not every Nord shares. I sadly never proved too good at it, so I didn’t train much... Once I find myself sufficiently lacking in assaults, and with a belly full, I hide myself in the bushes, before drifting to sleep. My maces stay close, just in case. Thankfully, I awake without incident, and continue on my way to Riverwood, having to best some wolves that thought I might make a giant snack. Along with the spiders, and the slaughterfish, I remember that the typical reaction of Skyrim’s wildlife to a man’s presence, is to try and kill it. Truly, it’s good to be home. ![]() Finally, after further travel, I arrive on the stone path before Riverwood’s gate, spotting the seal of Whiterun Hold on the shield of a passing guard. My entrance is met by a few people asking questions and offering potential employment, but I simply spot Hadvar. He tells me that he’s been waiting for my arrival, before gesturing to a man in the distance, which he identifies as his Uncle. My face lights up slightly as I realise who it is, recalling some of the finest blades I’ve ever seen... and I follow, hoping to catch up on old times, on top of breaking the bad news. ![]() After a quick reacquaintance in the street, and jogging forth memories of when I used to buy Alvor’s wares on my patrols, we make the way to the man’s house, to discuss matters in private. ![]() Once inside, we’re greeted by what I presume is Alvor’s wife, and his daughter. As the man’s wife speaks, in what is rather a cheery tone, I suddenly realise that there may have been one part to this excursion that Hadvar did not want to endure. I wonder what he’s so annoyed about with her. ![]() And thus begins the explanation of events, Alvor gazing around with curious and confused eyes. ![]() The line eventually comes out, and I look towards Alvor as I await his reaction... chances are... ![]() Typical. Normally, the only way a Nord would claim to facing such a fearsome beast is they’ve been at the mead a bit... but neither of us have had a bloody drop for quite a while, I imagine. I back up Hadvar’s claims, describing the creature and its abilities in detail. Resignation takes over Alvor’s face briefly, and its apparent he’s realised we’re not lying. ![]() Hadvar gives the summation of the incident itself, before addressing why we’re here. ![]() Indeed, I’m not exactly running with a full quiver here, and the only food I’d had so far is slaughterfish. I don’t want that to be a regular feature of my time back in Skyrim. Though a place to stay... I’m not sure. ![]() And Alvor has picked up on why. As much as I enjoyed the detour to rediscover bits of Skyrim, it’s probably not best to afford much more of a delay in warning higher authorities about a Dragon, of all things. ![]() He need not ask really, as I plan to head out after all things are prepared. Whilst Balgruuf is one of the Jarls I haven’t met over my lifetime, Alvor refers to him as a good man, if trying to remain neutral in the war. Perhaps a wise course of action, though irrelevant for now. After providing me with some wares, including better armour to protect myself, and satchel to carry food and water with, I thank Alvor and head out, deciding to see what else I might find around the town. Spotting a trader across the road, I step inside, hoping they might have a few additional items for me to buy with the coin I now possess. ![]() Instead I feel as if I’ve walked in on something... ![]() Theatrics? Thief-chasing? Was there a break in of some kind? The place doesn’t look like it was just wiped clean by robbers... ![]() Stepping forward, I hear the woman retort to the man, and whilst he has no real answer for her, he reiterates the simple fact she is going to do nothing either. Huh. ![]() The man hastily apologises, introducing himself as Lucan Valerius, the proprietor of the store. Whilst I explain I’m not bothered much by it, I do end up turning the question towards what exactly the argument was about. I soon learn that whilst yes, there apparently was a break in, the only thing stolen was some golden claw. Lucan’s sister however wants to teach the thieves a lesson so that they don’t get any ideas... And I decide to offer my services. I know I shouldn’t delay too much – Dragon and all that – but given that the break in seems recent, the thieves likely couldn’t have gotten too far. With the right set of directions, I should be able to retrieve the claw in no time. ![]() Though the mention of Barrows gets an eyebrow raised by me. ![]() Lucan’s sister offers to at least guide me, though her brother notes for her not to step foot outside of the town itself. Probably to keep me from simply taking such a passionate young woman out to get revenge for herself. ![]() As we make our way towards the Northern gate, the situation becomes further curious as Camilla notes the oddity in the location for the thieves to hole themselves up in. Unless they’re planning to make it convenient for whoever comes to kill them, it doesn’t make much sense. Or are wrong doers much more desperate these days that they can’t just set up camp in, well, a camp? ![]() And she brings me to the bridge, where I offer my thanks. She gestures to the path that will take me up to the barrows, before giving her annoyed remark on her sibling’s concern. I tell her it’s to be expected of an elder brother, mine often showing similar concerns... I also then tell her to treasure the man whilst he’s still around, which gets me a quizzical look as I pass her on by... Taking the steps up the path, and with snow beginning to crunch beneath my feet again, my mind drifts back to High Hrothgar... Never before that day had I learnt how much I could appreciate my brother’s care. And its only now that I realise how much I miss him... I hope that Skyrim might be kind and make this a simple, quick endeavour. |
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10:32 AM Jul 11