mirocu, good to hear that Lothran's getting ready for his migration up to his winter wonderland.

Lopov, a new character and a pirate to boot! Sorry he got in trouble on his last ship, but that captain should have known better. Part of the pirate code is that you share whatever you bring on ship. . . .

Today Sentza went for a walk through the Imperial City and met two good-looking women. The first one was Dynari Amnis who told Sentza that the Nine will bless his dreams - Sentza told her that she hopes to see her in his dreams instead of The Nine. He wouldn't mind Dibella, though. The second one was Rochelle Bantien who told him that her husband likes a quiet life - Sentza told her that if she ever wanted to experience something wild instead of a quiet life, she should look for him in the Waterfront. He also met Irene Metrick but she didn't seem to be that kind of a woman that'd appreciate his humor, so he left her alone.

After winning two consectuive matches at the Arena, thus earning 200 septims, he celebrated his lucky day at The Bloated Float, but became nostalgic for open seas and his former crew. That's why, already quite drunk at that time, Sentza rented a room at The Bloated Float.

As he was sleeping soundly, four figures in dark armor boarded the ship...

Already in trouble?


Already in trouble?

I think Sentza better watch out

Still waiting for my Dunmer Spellsword to fill in the last few details, like his name, before starting, but I fired up the 360 anyway, thinking maybe I could give him a forceful nudge.

Needless to say, it didn't work. It wasn't a waste though, because there was someone waiting for me in that dank little cell in the Imperial City prison. An old friend of mine that I hadn't seen since 2010, on my old laptop. An Argonian, who uses a bow, stealth, and magick. He goes by the rather un-Argonian name of Sal.

Hello, old friend. A soundless voice echoed through the mind of the sleeping Argonian, waking him. He groaned and clutched his head, still tender from the blow. The guard had never even told him what he'd been arrested for, he'd just slugged him with the pommel of his sword as Sal had stepped off the ship he'd arrived on and hauled him off to the prison. Then he realised what it was that had woken him, a voice his ears hadn't heard, familiar somehow, but he just couldn't place it...

Then a voice more mundane, the Dunmer in the cell opposite. He had the unhealthy complexion of a long term prisoner; pale skin, hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes that had long since lost their luster. Sal paid no attention to his taunts, he'd endured far worse as a slave back in Vvardenfell. The Dunmer's voice trailed off as the sound of armoured boots approached. Three armoured figures appeared outside Sal's cell, apparently surprised the cell wasn't empty. Why have a cell you'd keep empty? Sal backed up against the wall as he was told, as the three armoured figures, a female Imperial giving orders, the other two were Redguards. None of them said a word to Sal, nor did the finely dressed elderly man they accompanied. The Imperial woman pressed a nondescipt brick in the cell wall, and a section of it swung open, much to Sal's surprise. As the figures entered the newly revealed passageway, the younger of the two Redguards glanced back at Sal "looks like this is your lucky day prisoner, just stay out of our way". Sal followed them at a distance until they passed through a door and locked it behind them, and was about to head back to his cell when the voice returned wait a moment, old friend, a way shall present itself. And sure enough, one did.

Some time later Sal staggered out of the sewers, still trying to make sense of all that had happened. Whether or not it made any sense, he had something he needed to do.

I like the name Sal. It seems plenty Argonian to me. I can imagine an Argonian mother naming her new hatchling, Salamander.

"We have to keep him damp and under these leaves. He doesn't even have scales yet to protect himself from the sun."

"Just give him time."

Sal tells me that it's actually a nickname from a childhood friend of his. It was the only part of his name she could pronounce, so that was all she used. After a while it just seemed to stick. He's not gone by the name he was born with for over a decade.

Sal's gotten a recommendation from Teekeus, a simple task given to a fellow Argonian, and has made his way to Bruma along the northern route. As it turned out it was surprisingly empty for the most part, so he took his time harvesting everything he could for alchemy. He's also found illusion to be a great school of magic for practising archery. A quick command spell and he can take three shots without having to rush.

He's looking to get his recommendation from the Bruma guildhall quickly. He's not too fond of the cold.

Sorry for not addressing your character, Callidus. But I have a thing against Argonians

Though I must say his name is very good considering his race.

What do you have against Argonians?

I just don´t like reptilians.

Yet you have a cold blooded Dunmer?

Just kidding.

Fair enough, though. Personally, I've got a thing about Orcs. Too many books and games where they're the baddies.

CT, I've never played an Argonian. I could never find a mod that gave them blond hair and pointed ears. . .

Seriously, I love the soothing speech of Argonian women. Kud-Ei and Tar-Meena are among Buffy's faves. And even the fellas have a fun manner about them. Gotta love Amusei for example.

Now, playing an Argonian, what are your thoughts about whether they are warm or cold blooded?

I don´t like Orcs either tbh and it´s for the same reason; they´re always baddies plus c´mon, they´re monsters!

------------

Nothing new about Lothran yet. He just wanders around the waterfront talking to people

Gosh, Buffy's in the minority on orcs too. She loves them and respects (and sometimes fears) them. The best explanation I can offer for that is one word: Mazoga.

In fact, there is only one group that Buffy struggles with a little: Male Khajiit. It seems like they have a penchant for trying to accost her or her precious mare and rob them. She tries to counter this by reminding herself that two of her guildmates (S'drassa in Leyawiin and J'skar in Bruma) have always been very kind to her.

Just as well really. Could you imagine the trouble you'd have trying to find an outfit for your character that goes with blond hair and scales?



What amuses me about Argonians is the way they apparently prop up the Mages Guild. By the end of the questline half the guildhalls are run by Argonians, as well as the Mystic Archives. But I do love the way Argonians talk. Like the Khajiit in Morrowind, I could just sit there listening to them.

As for warm or cold blooded? Who knows? Though I like to think that if they were cold blooded they'd suffer from weakness to frost, so I'd tend to say warm blooded.

And from an out of game perspective if they were cold blooded they'd have had to remove them from Skyrim.

I've always hated orcs, but I like the ones in Skyrim. They're not as 'plesantly rude' as the ones in Oblivion, but they're not flat-out evil and rotten likes the ones in traditional stories and games. Hard to explain.

Lopov: Am loving Sentza's tales.

-WHERE WE ARE NOW-

A year had gone by, and in that time the sun had continued to rise and set, to shine, to warm; the rain had still fallen and the wind had still blown through the grubby Bravil streets, whipping up the leaves and rubbish as it went.
She still lived in the little house, on the first floor; still trudged across to the Lonely Suitor where she worked every day now from early until late, then home to sleep and up again and off to work. The door to the house below her remained shut and locked, the key she had long since cast into the foetid waters of the stream that flowed turgidly through the channel that bisected the town.
Twice a month she took some flowers out the cemetery beyond the gates and laid them on the simple grave, sitting awhile each time, maybe talking softly or just staring out over the Niben as if lost in thought.
But all things pass.

And so it was that one morning she awoke and sat up in her bed, it was early, as it always was when she arose and the grey light of day had yet to find it's way through the dusty window panes and into the still-dark room which served as bedroom, kitchen, and living space. For a movement she was still, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip in unconscious imitation, then in one smooth moment she stood and, naked, padded lightly across the chill rough floorboards to kneel before the large chest that sat prominently again the wall on the other side of the room.
It had been her habit to wear around her neck a leather thong from which depended a large brass key. Removing the thong she placed the key in the lock and after a small amount of fumbling with the stiff tumblers unlocked the chest. Leaving the key in the lock she hefted open the heavy lid and gazed inside at the contents.
She looked up once, turned her head to one side, a far away look in her eyes. She nodded, as if finally confirming to herself a decision. Turning her attention back to the chest she reached in and began to remove various items.

---

"I'm leaving." She said as walked into the Suitor an hour or so later.
Bogrum, who had been polishing tankards at the bar, looked up and gave a short laugh. "Took ya long enough, Lucy."
She gave him a half-smile. "It didn't feel right, before."
"But it does now?" He said, placing the tankard and his cloth on the bar top.
She nodded. "Yes I think... I think I'm ready now." She walked over to the landlord. "I need to see the world, Bogrum, I need to see what she saw."

"Be careful, is what I'll say." Said Bogrum, and nodded his head emphatically at her. "You know as I do that not all that she saw, not by half, was good or noble."
"I know." Replied Lucy, and Bogrum thought he saw a steely glint in her eyes that had not been there before. "But I need to do this, Bogrum, I need break my shackles and I need to follow her, to find where she was going, what she was searching for, before..."
Bogrum gave her an anxious look. "You know where she ended up, Lucy, you were there - be sure you don't end up there too."

Luciana smiled then, placed a small gloved hand on the Orc's ham-sized fist. "Oh Bogrum, you worry too much. But, if it is to be then so be it, the world continues on and I have not." She cocked her head. "And I must, or I shall wither and die anyway."
Bogrum was silent for a moment, then; "Well go on, away Lucy, find yer rainbow an' yer destiny an' whatall, but, " he held up a meaty finger, "I would rather, when ye came back, that ye came back alive."
She laughed. "So would I."

And so without further ado, Luciana turned on a booted heel and strode from the inn, a familiar sword at her side.
Bogrum looked at her as she left, the skintight suit of black armour she was wearing, highlighted in blue, seemed to shimmer slightly as she moved.
He smiled to himself, she looked almost as good in it as Niamh had.
Almost.

Good luck out there, Luciana

Sugar's sharpening her "negotiating" axe as we speak type. No, wait, she's changed her mind. She wants it to take a few more whacks, sharpening would make it too quick.

A Niamh update - via Looch! Well, sort of.

I see Sugar is displaying the epitome of orcish logic.


After selling some scrolls, frost salts and filled soul gems gathered since Anvil, Buffy's getting ready to say farewell to her guild mates at Kvatch and continue east to Skingrad. Via Dasek Moor, Fort Istirius and Cursed Mine, of course.

Tell Buffy not to sell those frost salts to a vendor, Lothran wants them!

- Luciana's Journal -

Day 3
I'm in Pell's Gate, at The Sleeping Mare...
...I got some funny looks from the publican, Candice, when she saw me in Niamh's armour. Nothing was said though.
Room's ok but what can you expect for the price?

I've managed to stay out of trouble so far, which is just as well really, since I'm unused to swords if I am honest and beyond a little bit of sparring with Niamhy I've not really got into a serious bundle with anything - (pickpockets and daggers in Bravil don't count).
(I think that might change soon, maybe, but for now...)
I never took a horse either - I can't afford one and, I don't know, but I wanted to get out on my own, with nothing but me, just using my legs and I have the feeling a horse would slow me down...

I don't know how she coped in this Gods-damned armour though!
It's taken me an hour to get it off to bathe, it went on far easier but it seems to want to stay on somehow. The past days it's been both useful and horrible in equal measure. The few things Niamh told me about it are not enough for me to know how it works - it's either too hot or too cold and I just cannot get used to doing my business in it, even if it seems clean it up!
Still, it's kept me safe and out of sight more than once, and I do feel safe in it...
It stinks though, although it mostly stinks of her still - so it could be worse I suppose...

Well, it's late and I've had all the bread, cheese and ale I can stomach. Going to Red Rose Manor tomorrow, not looking forward to it but there are some things I need to check on there.
I'll not be liking the visit - I know.

-x-

Sitting on the hard mattress in the austere inn room she draws out the crumpled parchment from the pack on the floor at her feet.
"Inne Red Rose, top. Left Up Downe" She reads it again, and still finds no sense or even any confirmation that she's on the right track.
Shaking her head, she tucks the parchment away again, and blowing out the candle lies down and waits for sleep.

Maybe Candice thought she saw Niamh´s ghost when Lucy entered wearing her armor?

Pretty much, or maybe she just wondered about someone else wearing the same stuff...

Despite Sal's earlier activity, he got impatient, and wanted to get some archery practice in. So he started making his way towards Cheydinhal, stopping to clear out Sercen along the way. Then Vilverin. And by the time he was done with Vilverin his marksman skill had gone up by three, and his fine steel bow was so overused it was doing less damage than in iron one he grabbed off a skeleton. After that he had to go to the Imperial City for repairs and to sell off some loot. He went in dressed in his black and burgundy outfit, thinking that even if the guards still wanted to arrest him, they wouldn't be looking for a well-dressed Argonian. He's now got something like two-and-a-half thousand gold.

Since this was his first visit to the Imperial City, and he hasn't gotten to Bravil yet, he's been dungeon diving without nighteye. I never realised how fantastically atmospheric it was, sneaking through a Ayleid ruin with nothing but detect life to guide you to your targets. I'm even getting the hang of telling which way they're facing from it.

I don't think Sal will bother getting nighteye, maybe as something to use instead of a torch, but not when hunting.

CT, I really agree on just using detect life to navigate in dark dungeons! Buffy finds that traps are what she really has to watch for, but has gotten pretty good at looking for them. If she needs a bit of light, she just whacks a weak ranged frost spell into the dark area where it sticks to the wall and provides a brief period of enough light to see that area.

Looks like Sal is going to be going through those black & burgandy outfits. I hope he can stock up on some spares.

Well he's doing a tour of the mages guildhalls, so I'm sure he'll be able to "acquire" some spares.

I like Detect Life too. That would be a fun spell to have in real-life.

Phon: Beautifully written stuff, I must say, even the part about Niamh's smelly armor.

Aleswell, dusk

It calls to me... I can feel it.... Bruma calls to me again...

The Nordic Dunmer could rest no more. The time for him to head back home to his beloved Nordic town had come. Thus, early in the morning he packed his gear, went outside, and locked the door to his waterfront shack. His journey took him initially through the Temple District, up to Talos District and from there, out through the massive front gates that separated the mighty Imperial City from the Chestnut Handy Stables and Cyrodiil itself.

His goal this morning; Aleswell, where he is always a welcome guest after helping out with a problem several years ago. And this is where he is now, resting his legs and mentally embracing the thought of yet again coming home!

Imperial Sewers XD

What are you doing down there? Or rather, your character

Edit: Oh, yeah! New character, right?

mirocu - Warmest wishes to Lothie as he heads north for his wintery retreat. Buffy's pleased because now she knows where she can find the normally wandering dark elf at least for the next few months.

Liz - So tell us about who you picked up in the sewers! I hope you're turning the lemons of losing your saves into the lemonade of new adventures.


Buffy and I just repaired the A bomb for about the tenth time. Pretty predictable for us every 300 hours or so. Fortunately, Wrye Bash makes it an easy 30 second task.

Spent some time this afternoon accompanying Sal as he made his third attempt at reaching Cheydinhal. He'd just passed Aleswell, when he veered off the road a little, and something caught his eye. A brazier, burning with a pale flame, almost colourless, outside a cave. So, curious and still on the lookout for archery practice, he decided to check it out.

Fingerbowl Cave

It turned out to be filled with skeletons, with some necromancers hidden much deeper in. Sal and I snuck through the cave, relying on detect life to hunt the skeletons, picking them off from the shadows with a single arrow, most of the time. Sal found the skeletons less dangerous than the traps, twice he was hit by swinging maces, not having seen their tripwires. He did spot one trap before walking into it, and considering it was one of the ones that drops a series of logs down a slope, it was a good thing too. It took him a few shots, but he was able to trigger it at a distance by shooting the tripwire, then picking up his arrows once it was safe.

He only had trouble with enemies once, while fighting a necromancer and a skeleton with a bow, mainly because the necromancer's summoned skeleton kept getting in his way.


I've never been in Fingerbowl cave, made for a very interesting dungeon crawl, all those undead had me wondering if I was going to run into a necromancer around the next corner. Sal's going to be keeping an eye out for Ayleid ruins to explore from now on, he spoke to Umbacano earlier, and plans to take him up on his offer.

Samara. I made Samara

Race? Age? Pixie?

Asian. Dead. The last thing you ever see.

OH, GOD!!

SubRosa got it! XD

Addendum to yesterday:

Ancotar has been missing for a few years and Lothran didn´t think too much of it when he visited the fort in midday. When he climbed up on one of the edges of a collapsed eastern tower, he could see something down below. Someone was laying there!!

Upon further inspection it turned out to be the missing wizard! He´d been slain by something, or fallen off the tower and died from the fall, who knows. He got resurrected anyways and then Lothran thought he´d go back up, but he didn´t. So he cast a Command spell on him and ran away but Ancotar didn´t follow. It turned out for some reason he could no longer move his legs even if he wanted to. He could stand just fine and turn around in place, but he couldn´t walk or run anymore. So Lothran ended up pushing him all the way from down below the eastern tower, around the hill and upwards. Not an easy terrain to push an Altmer wizard up on, I can tell you that!

Eventually though he´d pushed him all the way up to his quarters where he has all his alchemical stuff, so now all is well again

Samara made Fort Homestead her home. She's got her clothes lying near her bedroll, mead and Cyrodiilic Brandy by her bed with a goblet, waiting to decorate more. She spends her days there walking the shores and napping, then heads to the city to steal from the rich.

Still waiting for a pixie, Liz A real pixie of your character this time

I gotta upload it to my Tumblr(they're used to seeing my videogame characters by now lol) and put it on here.

I'm back in the Imperial City sewers, with a new character. Didn't feel like traveling with Sal some more, so I dragged out my official game guide for Oblivion and took a look at the character creation section, the names at the end. For a while I've had a Dunmer Spellsword with a history but without a name, so I decided to see if anything jumped out at me. It did.

His name is Neven Victrix. An orphan, raised by an old Imperial mage named Serverus Victrix, who lives in Frostcrag Spire, a tower he built 50 years ago, and has lived there since, after he turned his back on the politicking of the Council of Mages and left the guild. Neven's mother came to the tower, half frozen, barely able to walk, carrying Neven, a newborn baby, in her arms. She pushed the child into Serverus' arms, said to him "His name is Neven, please..." and got no further, collapsing into a deep sleep neither magic nor alchemy could rouse her from, which deepened into death. Since then Serverus was father to Neven, and once his magical talent revealed itself, mentor also. Though Serverus tried to teach Neven to be a mage, the sword always called to him, and so his training was shared between Serverus and the members of the Bruma fighters guild, resulting in Neven being trained as a Spellsword.

Seeverus recently sent him to Summerset Isle, to purchase a rare magical tome for him, and he is returning, soon to arrive in Anvil.

Gaaahh!! That´s basically the only Oblivion-related thing I don´t own!!

I got that so long ago. Snuggles tore it up lol

Could it be? One up against the collector





Better hurry and get one Mirocu, they're apparently increasingly rare.

1900 hours

It turned out Ancotar could move, after all! He was fighting an ogre on the ground and Lothran noticed that because he got continous messages about him getting unconscious. After helping out with that, the Dunmer decided to go through the fort again. After all, it was such a long time ago since last he did.

Nothing more worth telling. He got some minor loot from the fort but that´s it.

So Ancotar just didn't want to go home?


Of Swords and Sorcery

Anvil. The sun is rising, it's warmth chasing away the last lingering hints of mist that cling to the waters. A ship makes it's way into dock, and a single figure, a Dunmer steps onto the jetty. He is clad in armour of iron and steel, with a steel longsword sheathed at his right hip. He walks with the slightly unsteady step of one who has been long enough at sea to get his sea legs, and still walks as if he were on deck. A faint smile crosses his face at the thought. It had been a pleasant journey, if unfruitful, but he was glad to be on dry land once more. It has been nearly two months since he left Cyrodiil, and he has not worn his armour from that day to this, the captain of the ship having warned against the peril of being so heavily armoured at sea. A gentle breeze blows from the south as he makes his way towards the gate to the rest of Anvil. His nearly shoulder length light brown hair dances in the wind, as much it could, bound loosely at the back with a slender braid either side, framing his face.

Neven Victrix made his way through Anvil, the town mostly still sleeping, save for the city guards, more vigilant than they had been when he was last here. He considered dropping into the fighters guild and saying hi, but decided against it. His father would be expecting him with the book, and though he wasn't looking forward to disappointing him, Neven wanted to get home soon. He couldn't help himself from breathing deeply as he exited Anvil, savouring the scents of wildflowers mixed with the too-familiar tang of salt in the air. He set out at a swift jog, using his feather spell to ease the burden of his armour, so that it barely slowed him at all. Little seemed to have changed since he'd left, which came as no surprise to Neven. Very little changed in the heart of the Empire, he thought to himself as he jogged, seeing a Legion soldier being attacked by a rabid wolf, the mad beast all but foaming at the mouth as it tried and failed to breach the Legion plate, before the soldier ran it through with his silver longsword. Neven waved cheerfully to him as he passed, he'd always had the greatest respect for the soldiers of the Imperial Legion, ever since he was a boy.

He'd not gone far when a Khajiit wielding a battleaxe leapt out at him from his hiding place just off the road. "Your money or your life" the highwayman snarled at him. Neven said nothing, drawing his sword and casting a shield spell, it's magic reinforcing his armour. The Khajiit lunged at him, teeth bared, hissing, launching his battleaxe in a mighty overhand swing, using the weight of the axe to full effect. Neven parried, even that glancing impact jarring his arm, and sidestepped, slashing at the Khajiit's flank as he tried to regain his balance. Thanks to his feather spell he was able to move just as swiftly as the Khajiit, despite his heavy armor. The Khajiit cursed and spun to face him, only to find Neven still slashing at his flank, and launched another powerful strike. This one he did not recover from. As the axe missed Neven used an absorb health spell, feeling the slight pain in his arm ease, then slashed the Khajiit across his exposed neck, virtually beheading him. Neven cleaned his sword and sheathed it, looking down at the body as his heart slowed and his hands stopped shaking. He'd seen death before, caused it before, when defending himself from bandits like the Khajiit, but everytime it showed him something new, something disturbing, something left out of the stories of heroism. It was always an ugly thing.

The rest of Neven's trip was uneventful, only a pitiful bandit hedge wizard, with no magic to speak of, charging at Neven with a bound dagger. That fight had been over before it had begun. The only other thing that caught his attention were the vast numbers of flax flowers growing alongside the roads. He had little experience with alchemy, but his father had made sure that he knew the basic combinations for healing and restoring magickal energies. Since his father was born under the sign of the Atronach Neven gathered as many of them as he could, to supplement the products of Frostcrag's alchemy garden. Besides that he took in the scenery, as he had on his way to Anvil two months previous, captivated by the landscape after having spent most of his life in the mountains of Bruma. To him the fields of green, studded with trees and clusters of flowers growing wild was an amazing sight after years of rocky, snow-covered mountains.

It was late evening when he reached Skingrad, and he made his way to an inn for the night.

mirocu - Aww, that's nice helping out the eccentric Ancotar, even as Lothran hears the wintery call of Bruma.

Liz - Welcome back to Oblivion. Fort Homestead is indeed a convenient location. I hope Samara gets on well with her fort-mates. Either that or kills them of course.

CT - Welcome to Neven as he debuts with a long journey back to Frostcrag.

Samara decided to explore her surroundings a bit more and found Fort Nikel. She's currently cursing her curiosity and has seen wizards and bandits fight over the fort.

Yes, he´s not heading up the mountains until Friday. In any case he has always time to help out his friends

@Callidus - I don´t know why he couldn´t walk before. The command spell should have forced him but he simply couldn´t.
Too bad Lothran´s Dunmer brother chose to kill the Khajiit instead of bribing him to like him

@Liz - I like Samara´s approach; taking it slow while not letting fear overcome her curiosity. Even if she curses it!