*Author's note* Hey everybody, Lolindir here, this is my new humorous in-game blog. I highly suggest reading my announcement about the blog before jumping into it just so you're not completely lost as to what's going on. You can find that page here. Now, sit back and enjoy!
I'm new to Skyrim. I am a nord named Maxworth and I hail from Bruma. After my Ma and Pa passed I decided to get out of Cyrodiil and head north, into Skyrim. This is my tale. I am not a hero or a warrior; I do not wield a two-handed greatsword or ax. I do not fancy war paint nor do any scars tell my stories of glorious battles fought. I've come to Skyrim to live, not to save it. I come with nothing to my name. All I possess is an Iron short-sword, one meal of Ale and beef, and 50 septims.
I've been walking for days now. I never thought I'd make it to Skyrim but alas, I have arrived. The first town on my telepathic and never-failing radar is Falkreath.
The day is young when I first arrive in Falkreath but the sky is still dark and it's raining. Somehow, I get the feeling that this place is not going to hold much for me.
Hey look, I think I can see my future house from here.
I mosey on down to the town and immediately make my way to the inn. Before I can even get into the door, I'm met by a pretty young nord named Narri. She swears by Shor's bones that a handsome man is in Falkreath. I'm not really sure who's she's talking about because I've always been told I'm as ugly as a troll's backside.
A face only a mother could love. Or a blind, desperate, cleavage-happy tavern wench.
I'm ready to tie the knot but apparently marriage isn't that simple in Skyrim. For some reason people seem to think that you have to get to know each other first. But I suppose that dates and solid proof of affection could be easily bypassed if one were to take on a moronic suicide task such as delving deep into a dwemer ruin in search of some long lost heirloom of sorts. *Sigh* I suppose I'm destined to be forever alone.
Despite my sudden depression I head on into the inn for a little R&R. The tavern isn't much to talk about. There's a few travelers inside and a local or two. As far as I know this could be the only town for hundreds of miles, so I cough up 10 septims and buy a bed for the night. It's too early to sleep, though, so I head on outside to snoop around the town. My snooping is short lived because it's still so dark and not to mention pouring down rain. After getting the basic layout of the town I scurry back to the inn to dry off by the fire.
There's not much to do today because of the weather, so I spend the day as any good nord would, drinking away my problems by a warm fire and singing hearty songs of glory and battle - glory and battle that I have never seen the likes of. But still, a nord can dream can't he?
Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red something someting something from old Rorikstead.
After a nice long sleep in a cozy bed, I wake ready to take on the day. After instantaneously scarfing my breakfast down I head on outside to see if I can't find a job.
Much to my surprise it's actually sunny outside and the birds are chirping. I walk around a bit further surveying the land and meeting locals. One big burly guy in iron armor tells me that strangers like me bring war. I'm not sure why he thinks that I'd bring war. I mean, I'm so weak that I don't even think I could bring him a pail of water even if he asked for it.
After being told that I'm a war-bringer and bearing several insults from the overly condescending guards, I find the mill. Finally, the one good thing in this town! Maybe the owner will allow me to work here. That way, I could get some money while also perhaps building some muscle so I can start standing up to those bully guards!
KA-POW! Yeah, how you like that fool?! Steal my sweet roll will you? No one steals from Maxworth War-bringer!
After fantasizing about being an executioner and chopping off the heads of all who oppose me, I sell the wood that I chopped to the mill owner who apparently thinks I'm a pretty good guy just for being a nord.
After taking after carrying two backbreaking loads of wood up the ramp of the mill, I take a break and head back to the Inn for some lunch. After I eat, I spot an old man in the back of the inn who I haven't met yet. Trying to be a good neighbor, I head over to talk to him. He rambled on about his time as the Jarl, and mentions something about a burial. He asks if I could deliver the ashes of his fallen comrade to the priest here in town. I guess my rippling muscles and rugged good looks made me appear a strong and trustworthy stranger. Although the task was repulsive, I didn't want to find myself making enemies, so I obliged him.
My psychic powers tell me that the priest I seek is down around the Hall of the Dead, so I set out to meet him. When I arrive, I can see that there is some sort of funeral procession and the same guy that accused me of being a war-bringer, told me that Falkreath was a place of constant death. I find this really disturbing considering the fact that I don't want to die! In that moment it dawns on me that I have got to get the hell out of Falkreath! I don't really care where I go or what I will do when I get there but one things for certain; I'm not going to spend my short life here in this death-hole of a town.
I think there are more dead people in Falkreath than there are living.
After slightly soiling myself out of sheer terror of the sight of the graveyard, I wait for the priest and give him the ashes as I was asked. Then he does something completely remarkable; THE MAN PAID ME! No lie, I was paid 250 septims for walking fifty yards from the inn to the graveyard! Perhaps Falkreath isn't that bad. Eh, who am I kidding? This place is terrible.
I devise a plan to gather some supplies and make my get-away from this depressing place. I take my "hard" earned money and head over to the general goods store. When I get there I buy some hides for a bag to carry gear, a cast iron pot and wooden ladle so I may cook food over an open fire for myself while traveling, and some torches, then walk over to the smith. After asking his permission to use his forge (because all good nord gentlemen ask before using others' amenities) I use it to craft myself a bag out of the hides that I bought so that I can easily carry food, water and other supplies comfortably on my back instead of lugging them around in my seemingly endless pockets.
Not really sure why I needed to use the forge. I could have just used a needle and thread. But a forge looks way manly-er!
Now I've got nearly everything I need to head out to the next town. It's pretty late now and I'm tired so I head back to the inn for some shut eye.
I eat dinner and pay for another night with my precious gold. I'll be sure to enjoy the warmth of the inn because it may be the last bed i sleep in for a while. I sit by the fire a while and then head off to my room. I find a book on my bedside table called 'Nords Arise!'. My Ma always said that an intelligent man will always find love before the barbaric (which hasn't proven true yet but I'm sure it will) so I decide to stay sharp and take some time to read.
Wonderful, of all the books in Skyrim I picked up the one book that seemed to be written by barbarians.
After reading the long and rather disappointing book, lie down in the bed to sleep and regain my strength. Tomorrow is a big day and it will come quickly. Hopefully I will soon find a place to call home instead of these cheap and grimy taverns
I wonder if Narri actually likes me, or just has STD's? Probably not what you call "marriage materiel".
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