" Of course not! A thief has no affiliation but that of his fellow criminals! A thief needs no motive aside from profit! Your wealth itself is evidence of your thievery! Furthermore, we've got evidence that proves your involvement with the Thieves' Guild here in the city of Riften! " The prosecutor spoke clearly and with confidence, and her case against the Dark Elf was more than convincing to the people gathered in the court room, who anxiously awaited the evidence against her. The judge allowed a man inside of the room, a Nord in bindings just like the Elf. This man was, like many in the courtroom, part of the entire falsely fabricated case against Edrusu.
The prosecutor continued.
" I'm sure you recognize this man. One of your fellow Thieves' Guild associates, no? "
The audience gasped and chatter filled the room.
" Silence! ", the judge ordered, and the chatter stopped immediately.
" What have you to say in your defense, Elf? ", the prosecutor continued.
Edrusu was left speechless, of course they'd go as far as fabricating the entire case, just to rid the city of Elves. She opened her mouth to speak up, but before she could deny her affiliation with the man and the Thieves' Guild, the man spoke up, " Tell her the truth, Edrusu. We were in it together. We stole the crown. "
The crowd went wild once more, and Edrusu was left with her mouth open.
" SILENCE! ", the judge ordered once more. " I see no reason to go on with this case. The evidence is clear. You are a thief and a plague upon society. I hereby sentence you to 20 years in prison! Guards, take her away, now! I want her behind bars by tomorrow! "
Right then, the case was over, and Edrusu had been falsely accused of Theft. The guards grabbed a hold of her and escorted her out of the courtroom. She was to be escorted to a Stormcloak prison camp Northwest of Riften, where Imperial soldiers and suspected spies, as well as anyone they didn't like was sent to serve their time. She wouldn't be the only one on the prison carriages, however, others who had also been falsely accused would accompany her to their destination, without coincidence, all were non-nords.
(( I chose to have her imprisoned outside of Riften so there's possibility of you escaping somehow, if you wish to do so. Make it realistic if you do. ))
((DrnightKOT, we should probably wait for Snerfalagus to reach us.))
Milos used the afternoon to clean and dress his wounds and to properly close up the large gashes and burns with the help of more experienced magi around the camp. After this, he got something to eat and went hunting for something to trade for repair supplies. These soldiers had been through enough today without Milos picking more of their pockets.
Milos came back with a mountain goat over his shoulder a couple of hours later. The surrounding area was crawling with them. Stepping back into the remains of the camp, Milos spotted M'Nari and J'Zargo ahead of him, with their back to him. Milos quietly walked up behind them to take them by surprise and clearly said to M'Nari "How's the weather in Oblivion?". Milos' head was tilted to one side and a half-smile crept up his right cheek.
Milos may not be an expert in magic but he knew that no one could simply step into Oblivion whenever they pleased.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
(( Just to clear something up; I forgot to mention that the legates in Solitude acted against the dragons ( Sending out the patrol that found Milos ) before informing the Jarl for several reasons. One, the possibility of it being false information, and two, the fact that everyone knows it's the legion military that has the real power in Skyrim, not Jarl Elisif. They felt it wasn't necessary to inform her until now ( Especially since it can be confirmed as truth now ).
Anyway, I'm waiting for Snerus, who's soul has probably been devoured by Skyrim. ))
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
M'nari was quite surprised. Well. Not that much. She didn't expect a blacksmith to know about it...
"The sands are warm there" said M'nari with a little smile. "But I can't figure out how can I get there. Good job."
That blacksmith wasn't an idiot that didn't know anything about magic. She never actually considered Skyrim a place where people are smart. That was of course a stereotype, but actually it's as stupid as thinking of every khajiit as a sneaky one.
"Did that dragon hurt you well?" M'nari was responding with a little tone of amusement. Not everyone is dummy. But let's hope the rest won't get the trick. "Because if you aren't, we need to get out of there faster. Revenge is evil force..."
"I will be fine," Milos said "But I need to repair my armour before we go, the leather has been burnt in some places. It shouldn't take too long". Milos readjusted the goat that was over his shoulders "First I need to trade this for some leather and rivets," he said "I will see you soon, then we can find that Dwemer metal".
Milos walked to the quarter master's tent, luckily it hadn't been too damaged by the attack. The quartermaster, sharpening a sword on a grindstone, was a burly nord woman with a large hammer on her back that Milos certainly did not want to be struck by. She shot a scowl at Milos' direction as he approached, probably the same reaction to anyone she saw with the amount of work she had to do. Milos dropped the lifeless goat onto the ground in front of her "Do you have an amount of leather and rivets I can trade for this animal's meat and hide?" Milos asked. The quartermaster stepped up from the grindstone and inspected the carcass to see if it was still fresh. Satisfied, she and Milos discussed and haggled the trade until both parties were satisfied, at which point the quartermaster stepped into the tent and gathered the required supplies from a chest inside the tent and brought them out to Milos.
"Do you mind if I use your workbench?" Milos asked the quartermaster. "Make it quick!" She replied with frustration in her voice. Milos nodded and stripped the damaged parts of his leather armour off before taking the armour to the workbench by the tent. Milos began to work the leather into new armour, hammering in rivets to secure it and recycling his old armour where he could. Milos worked at a faster pace so as to not take up too much of the quartermaster's time. After a short while Milos had succeeded in fabricating an exquisite leather cuirass, shoulder pads and bracers. Milos' boots and leggings had been undamaged and didn't need to be replaced.
Eager to get away from the quartermaster who had been breathing down his neck the whole time. Milos fitted his new armour and walked off to find M'Nari and J'Zargo again.
((I guess in the time that Milos took to make the armour, M'Nari could find something else to do, like review notes or something. I'm wondering whether we should wait for Snerus before going to the Dwemer ruin. Hug is trying to get us into a single group.))
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
((I was going to say proof read this if you want a better chance, but this isn't a server! Its a forum thread roleplay, find servers in the servers topic, not in off-topic.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
(( Edited the OP with a note saying this isn't a server. I should have expected confusion.
Anyway, I'm still waiting for Snerus but I'll wait a bit more before bothering him with a PM. Poor soul is probably locked in his room playing Skyrim all day. ))
After a short journey across the round, cobblestone road, hiding in city alleyways, behind buildings and shops, from the bustle to a grim silence. The Empire was crumbling, slowly, even Snerfalgus couldn't deny that. The alleys took him on a detour, a few ways away from the gates where he entered. It reeked of ****, feces, many more things he dared not think about, and felt bile starting to rise up to his throat. Choking it back, he went forward, at a quicker pace, almost stumbling upon a sleeping beggar as he went.
"Oy! Watch it ye-" The beggar looked up at Snerfalgus and bowed his head. "M-my apologies sir, I should've slept elsewhere." The beggar bowed and quickly scampered off.
Proud men of the Empire, now reduced to kissing others feet to make even one coin. He sighed to himself, and threw the man a gold piece.
"O-oh thank you s-so much sir! May your journeys bring you and the Empire fortune!" The Beggar took the money, again bowing before scampering off, a large grin on his face. Unable to look at the pitiful man for much longer, Snerfalgus left as soon as he could, and ventured out of the alley.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
Finding one man in a crowded city was no easy task, that was for sure. Gaurus had one thing to go on, and that was the fact that most people in the city lived there, and saw no need to wear armor or carry weapons like swords and bows. Adventures like Snerfalgus, however, did. Though it took him for ever, and he must have asked a dozen men for their names, eventually he did come across the Breton he was looking for. A strange looking man, he was. Wearing a leather cloak with a brimmed hat, adorned with a skull.. It had to be him, and Gaurus swore that if it wasn't he'd take on the quest by himself.
Gaurus moved through the crowded streets, gently pushing a few men and women out of his way. Upon reaching the Breton, he asked a question he was growing sick of at this point.
"My name? My name is Snerfalgus Mcalastar, The Imperial Hunter, as some say." Snerfalgus looked to the man addressing him. One who dared look upon him, as if they were equals. Snerfalgus, of course, was not offended by this. In fact, it was refreshing, to find somebody such as... Gaurus? He believed? Yes, the Emperor's blade, an elite swordsman of the Empire, keeper of the Imperial Order. It brought a smile to his face, though he let it appear as only as a slight grin. "Ah, I believe I recognize you. Gaurus, correct? The elite blades-man of the Emperor?" Snerfalgus asked, though he already knew the answer.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
Gaurus nodded, smiling slightly in an affirmative manner. He was surprised someone recognized him. It happened regularly when he traveled within the Empire, but no one ever addressed him by his name. Though he didn't exactly consider himself the Emperor's blade as much he considered himself the Empire's. As a descendant of the Blades, he was sworn to protect the Emperor, but that didn't mean he agreed with everything the Emperor had done. Regardless, speaking foully of the Emperor was a good way to ruin your reputation within the Empire, especially then, with a civil war raging across Skyrim. It was safe to assume he'd keep his feelings about the current Emperor to himself.
" Correct. Gaurus Valerian at your service. " he held his hand out for a handshake before continuing, " I've been sent from the Blue Palace. They tell me you're a capable fighter, and I wouldn't mind some assistance. "
(( Just in case you don't know; The Blue Palace is the castle where the Jarl of Solitude lives. The Jarl of Solitude, Elisif, is the closest person to High Queen of Skyrim. ))
"The Blue Palace, hm? Well, I haven't tended affairs there for a while... I have no other affairs that need attending to, so, I suppose I will join you in your quest. Be aware that when the first call for me arises, I will leave you to tend to my own calling." Snerfalgus explained, and met his handshake, holding his other out, signalling for Gaurus to lead the way, before following his lead.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."
-Sun Tzu
Just wasted WAY too much of my life readin the Elder Scrolls Wiki and realising what a good game it is.
...I want an XBox 360 and a copy now. Curse you, Hug.
Name: Ormin Darradr (Nord names seem a lot like old Norse and Viking... So, Orm-Snake and Darradr-Spear in old Norse. BEHOLD THE SNAKE SPEAR GUY.)
Age: 47, starting to lose his strength and agility, but still rather formidable.
Race: Nord.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Ormin is a strong, thick, if only average-height, man, with a rather bear-like build. His face seems to be constantly frowning even when he isn't, and he is the proud owner of thick moustaches and a huge, rough beard. His hair is long and held in two thick warrior braids-Although this is only traditional hairstyle where he comes from and has nothing to do with his current occupation. Ormin wears what we on Earth may call a Viking getup, with tough leather shoes, warm, thick cold-climate clothes and 'kirtle'-Knee length shirt(Thing, getting most of this from Viking lore), thick cloak and fur cap, which hides the fact that he is beginning to start going grey.
Items: A basic, unenchanted, steel-tipped spear-like harpoon from his days of whaling, with two downwards sloping barbs on its tip, a large knife, and some simple supplies including food and some money. Interestingly, he always carries a few fishooks and line, even when he is inland.
Strengths/Weaknesses: Ormin's main trait is strength and long practice with a harpoon, his signature weapon, which he uses a little like a quaterstaff. He is almost unmatched when it comes to two-handed fighting, because of a life spent in and around wolf, bear, sabre cat and frostbite spider infested woods, strength gained from years at a ships oars, and what appears to be inborn talent. He is also a rather good shot with a bow, due to having to hunt for a meal in hard times on his home island, although he prefers melee combat. He knows how to fish with a net or a line.
Skills: One-handed, two-handed, archery.
Personality: Ormin is a very gruff sort of fellow, not caring much, if at all, for politeness and courtesy. He is never afraid to speak his mind, and sometimes offends by doing so. He will help those in need, if the need is grave, and there are no others to give aid. He does not see stealing to stay alive when hunted as a crime. He makes few friends, and slowly, and although he can be a difficult man at times, he is loyal to them.
Biography: Ormin was born and grew up in a small, snowy forest island, north of the border between Morrowind and Skyrim, unseen on most maps except as a tiny, unlabled dot, which held only one tiny village. This village thrived on the sea and forest, and had almost no contact with the outside world. It was a peaceful, if slightly harsh, place, apart from occasional attacks by the animals in the forest. Ormin lived as a whaler and sealer (and TURTLE hunter :wink.gif: ) there, at first pulling an oar on a boat, then going up in the whaling world until he himself was an expert at the hunt.
Of course, something had to go wrong eventually. One rather fateful day, Ormin was alone, whaler pulled up onto the shore for repairs after a meeting with a some submerged rocks, fishing on his own little one-man boat. As the tide was rising and the sun beginning to set, the wind started to pick up. Slowly. Then faster, faster, until Ormin found himself in the grip of an out-of-season storm. It was all he could do to try and hold onto a beam of wood when the tiny boat eventually broke apart, to survive. After a long night at cruel sea, waves dumped a barely alive, let alone conscious, Ormin onto a cold beach in the north of mountainous Skyrim.
The story continues. Ormin eventually awakened and began to observe his surroundings, cold, hungry, and exhausted. He had floated to a tundra in summer, snow still a long way off, and civilisation more so. For a while he trekked along the coast, until finally coming within sight of a city, which he later discovered was called Winterhold. Before he could enter it, however, he was set upon by a pair of bandits, and forced to fight them off with nothing but his harpoon, washed up not far from where he himself had been and carried all the time as a weapon and a staff. To his own surprise, he won. But entering a city wounded with two bodies behind you and clutching a bloodstained weapon is not a good idea, anywhere.
Before long, Ormin was the bandit in the story, at least as far as everyone believed, and was forced to flee and fight for a living, running away from that dread city, until he could find a place of sanctuary.
Other: I'm still a bit of a Skyrim n00b in some areas, so... Yeah. Help me out a bit if I have a stupidity fit.
One-liner: Ormin, fishy bandit.
I've left a load of adaptation room in this character, so he may yet become a werewolf or Voice person, depending on where the RP takes him.
((Drnight, do you want to fill in the time that Milos was away with a post? Or should he just find you so we can set off for the dwemer ruin?))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
Milos spent at least another quarter of an hour looking for M'Nari. He eventually found her hunched over a table covered in glassware, probably brewing up a potion of something.
Milos walked up to her. "I'm all done here. We can leave whenever you and J'Zargo are ready." Milos said "On the way, maybe you can tell me a thing or two about the place we are going. You see, the most complete looking piece of Dwemer metal I ever melted down was what looked like a drinking flagon, so I can't say I know much about them".
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The moral of these stories? Play God, and there is a 100% chance you will be mauled to death by leopard men.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
" Of course not! A thief has no affiliation but that of his fellow criminals! A thief needs no motive aside from profit! Your wealth itself is evidence of your thievery! Furthermore, we've got evidence that proves your involvement with the Thieves' Guild here in the city of Riften! " The prosecutor spoke clearly and with confidence, and her case against the Dark Elf was more than convincing to the people gathered in the court room, who anxiously awaited the evidence against her. The judge allowed a man inside of the room, a Nord in bindings just like the Elf. This man was, like many in the courtroom, part of the entire falsely fabricated case against Edrusu.
The prosecutor continued.
" I'm sure you recognize this man. One of your fellow Thieves' Guild associates, no? "
The audience gasped and chatter filled the room.
" Silence! ", the judge ordered, and the chatter stopped immediately.
" What have you to say in your defense, Elf? ", the prosecutor continued.
Edrusu was left speechless, of course they'd go as far as fabricating the entire case, just to rid the city of Elves. She opened her mouth to speak up, but before she could deny her affiliation with the man and the Thieves' Guild, the man spoke up, " Tell her the truth, Edrusu. We were in it together. We stole the crown. "
The crowd went wild once more, and Edrusu was left with her mouth open.
" SILENCE! ", the judge ordered once more. " I see no reason to go on with this case. The evidence is clear. You are a thief and a plague upon society. I hereby sentence you to 20 years in prison! Guards, take her away, now! I want her behind bars by tomorrow! "
Right then, the case was over, and Edrusu had been falsely accused of Theft. The guards grabbed a hold of her and escorted her out of the courtroom. She was to be escorted to a Stormcloak prison camp Northwest of Riften, where Imperial soldiers and suspected spies, as well as anyone they didn't like was sent to serve their time. She wouldn't be the only one on the prison carriages, however, others who had also been falsely accused would accompany her to their destination, without coincidence, all were non-nords.
(( I chose to have her imprisoned outside of Riften so there's possibility of you escaping somehow, if you wish to do so. Make it realistic if you do. ))
Milos used the afternoon to clean and dress his wounds and to properly close up the large gashes and burns with the help of more experienced magi around the camp. After this, he got something to eat and went hunting for something to trade for repair supplies. These soldiers had been through enough today without Milos picking more of their pockets.
Milos came back with a mountain goat over his shoulder a couple of hours later. The surrounding area was crawling with them. Stepping back into the remains of the camp, Milos spotted M'Nari and J'Zargo ahead of him, with their back to him. Milos quietly walked up behind them to take them by surprise and clearly said to M'Nari "How's the weather in Oblivion?". Milos' head was tilted to one side and a half-smile crept up his right cheek.
Milos may not be an expert in magic but he knew that no one could simply step into Oblivion whenever they pleased.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
Anyway, I'm waiting for Snerus, who's soul has probably been devoured by Skyrim. ))
...Heck, joining anyaway.
Gimme a few seconds while I read the wiki.))
((EDIT: Is there a skyrimish way to make my character as n00bish and unknowning of skyrimplace as I am?))
Just make a character who has come in from another province, Skyrim is only a fraction of the continent its on.
Btw. Drnight, the dragon flew away, it wasn't killed.))
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
"The sands are warm there" said M'nari with a little smile. "But I can't figure out how can I get there. Good job."
That blacksmith wasn't an idiot that didn't know anything about magic. She never actually considered Skyrim a place where people are smart. That was of course a stereotype, but actually it's as stupid as thinking of every khajiit as a sneaky one.
"Did that dragon hurt you well?" M'nari was responding with a little tone of amusement. Not everyone is dummy. But let's hope the rest won't get the trick. "Because if you aren't, we need to get out of there faster. Revenge is evil force..."
Milos walked to the quarter master's tent, luckily it hadn't been too damaged by the attack. The quartermaster, sharpening a sword on a grindstone, was a burly nord woman with a large hammer on her back that Milos certainly did not want to be struck by. She shot a scowl at Milos' direction as he approached, probably the same reaction to anyone she saw with the amount of work she had to do. Milos dropped the lifeless goat onto the ground in front of her "Do you have an amount of leather and rivets I can trade for this animal's meat and hide?" Milos asked. The quartermaster stepped up from the grindstone and inspected the carcass to see if it was still fresh. Satisfied, she and Milos discussed and haggled the trade until both parties were satisfied, at which point the quartermaster stepped into the tent and gathered the required supplies from a chest inside the tent and brought them out to Milos.
"Do you mind if I use your workbench?" Milos asked the quartermaster. "Make it quick!" She replied with frustration in her voice. Milos nodded and stripped the damaged parts of his leather armour off before taking the armour to the workbench by the tent. Milos began to work the leather into new armour, hammering in rivets to secure it and recycling his old armour where he could. Milos worked at a faster pace so as to not take up too much of the quartermaster's time. After a short while Milos had succeeded in fabricating an exquisite leather cuirass, shoulder pads and bracers. Milos' boots and leggings had been undamaged and didn't need to be replaced.
Eager to get away from the quartermaster who had been breathing down his neck the whole time. Milos fitted his new armour and walked off to find M'Nari and J'Zargo again.
((I guess in the time that Milos took to make the armour, M'Nari could find something else to do, like review notes or something. I'm wondering whether we should wait for Snerus before going to the Dwemer ruin. Hug is trying to get us into a single group.))
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
((I was going to say proof read this if you want a better chance, but this isn't a server! Its a forum thread roleplay, find servers in the servers topic, not in off-topic.))
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
Anyway, I'm still waiting for Snerus but I'll wait a bit more before bothering him with a PM. Poor soul is probably locked in his room playing Skyrim all day. ))
"Oy! Watch it ye-" The beggar looked up at Snerfalgus and bowed his head. "M-my apologies sir, I should've slept elsewhere." The beggar bowed and quickly scampered off.
Proud men of the Empire, now reduced to kissing others feet to make even one coin. He sighed to himself, and threw the man a gold piece.
"O-oh thank you s-so much sir! May your journeys bring you and the Empire fortune!" The Beggar took the money, again bowing before scampering off, a large grin on his face. Unable to look at the pitiful man for much longer, Snerfalgus left as soon as he could, and ventured out of the alley.
-Sun Tzu
Gaurus moved through the crowded streets, gently pushing a few men and women out of his way. Upon reaching the Breton, he asked a question he was growing sick of at this point.
" Traveler, may I have your name..? "
-Sun Tzu
" Correct. Gaurus Valerian at your service. " he held his hand out for a handshake before continuing, " I've been sent from the Blue Palace. They tell me you're a capable fighter, and I wouldn't mind some assistance. "
(( Just in case you don't know; The Blue Palace is the castle where the Jarl of Solitude lives. The Jarl of Solitude, Elisif, is the closest person to High Queen of Skyrim. ))
(( EDIT: Have to go to sleep now. ))
-Sun Tzu
...I want an XBox 360 and a copy now. Curse you, Hug.
Name: Ormin Darradr (Nord names seem a lot like old Norse and Viking... So, Orm-Snake and Darradr-Spear in old Norse. BEHOLD THE SNAKE SPEAR GUY.)
Age: 47, starting to lose his strength and agility, but still rather formidable.
Race: Nord.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Ormin is a strong, thick, if only average-height, man, with a rather bear-like build. His face seems to be constantly frowning even when he isn't, and he is the proud owner of thick moustaches and a huge, rough beard. His hair is long and held in two thick warrior braids-Although this is only traditional hairstyle where he comes from and has nothing to do with his current occupation. Ormin wears what we on Earth may call a Viking getup, with tough leather shoes, warm, thick cold-climate clothes and 'kirtle'-Knee length shirt(Thing, getting most of this from Viking lore), thick cloak and fur cap, which hides the fact that he is beginning to start going grey.
Items: A basic, unenchanted, steel-tipped spear-like harpoon from his days of whaling, with two downwards sloping barbs on its tip, a large knife, and some simple supplies including food and some money. Interestingly, he always carries a few fishooks and line, even when he is inland.
Strengths/Weaknesses: Ormin's main trait is strength and long practice with a harpoon, his signature weapon, which he uses a little like a quaterstaff. He is almost unmatched when it comes to two-handed fighting, because of a life spent in and around wolf, bear, sabre cat and frostbite spider infested woods, strength gained from years at a ships oars, and what appears to be inborn talent. He is also a rather good shot with a bow, due to having to hunt for a meal in hard times on his home island, although he prefers melee combat. He knows how to fish with a net or a line.
Skills: One-handed, two-handed, archery.
Personality: Ormin is a very gruff sort of fellow, not caring much, if at all, for politeness and courtesy. He is never afraid to speak his mind, and sometimes offends by doing so. He will help those in need, if the need is grave, and there are no others to give aid. He does not see stealing to stay alive when hunted as a crime. He makes few friends, and slowly, and although he can be a difficult man at times, he is loyal to them.
Biography: Ormin was born and grew up in a small, snowy forest island, north of the border between Morrowind and Skyrim, unseen on most maps except as a tiny, unlabled dot, which held only one tiny village. This village thrived on the sea and forest, and had almost no contact with the outside world. It was a peaceful, if slightly harsh, place, apart from occasional attacks by the animals in the forest. Ormin lived as a whaler and sealer (and TURTLE hunter :wink.gif: ) there, at first pulling an oar on a boat, then going up in the whaling world until he himself was an expert at the hunt.
Of course, something had to go wrong eventually. One rather fateful day, Ormin was alone, whaler pulled up onto the shore for repairs after a meeting with a some submerged rocks, fishing on his own little one-man boat. As the tide was rising and the sun beginning to set, the wind started to pick up. Slowly. Then faster, faster, until Ormin found himself in the grip of an out-of-season storm. It was all he could do to try and hold onto a beam of wood when the tiny boat eventually broke apart, to survive. After a long night at cruel sea, waves dumped a barely alive, let alone conscious, Ormin onto a cold beach in the north of mountainous Skyrim.
The story continues. Ormin eventually awakened and began to observe his surroundings, cold, hungry, and exhausted. He had floated to a tundra in summer, snow still a long way off, and civilisation more so. For a while he trekked along the coast, until finally coming within sight of a city, which he later discovered was called Winterhold. Before he could enter it, however, he was set upon by a pair of bandits, and forced to fight them off with nothing but his harpoon, washed up not far from where he himself had been and carried all the time as a weapon and a staff. To his own surprise, he won. But entering a city wounded with two bodies behind you and clutching a bloodstained weapon is not a good idea, anywhere.
Before long, Ormin was the bandit in the story, at least as far as everyone believed, and was forced to flee and fight for a living, running away from that dread city, until he could find a place of sanctuary.
Other: I'm still a bit of a Skyrim n00b in some areas, so... Yeah. Help me out a bit if I have a stupidity fit.
One-liner: Ormin, fishy bandit.
I've left a load of adaptation room in this character, so he may yet become a werewolf or Voice person, depending on where the RP takes him.
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz
((It's a PC game too!))
((Nothing else except alchemy comes into mind. So I assume we shoukd just set off.))
Milos spent at least another quarter of an hour looking for M'Nari. He eventually found her hunched over a table covered in glassware, probably brewing up a potion of something.
Milos walked up to her. "I'm all done here. We can leave whenever you and J'Zargo are ready." Milos said "On the way, maybe you can tell me a thing or two about the place we are going. You see, the most complete looking piece of Dwemer metal I ever melted down was what looked like a drinking flagon, so I can't say I know much about them".
Useful tidbits: Da Roolz - Da Off Topic Specific Roolz