Since I may or may not've created a character with the exact name, I think it fitting to revive The Traveller's Logs, Skyrim style (For those unaware, it's a gimmick I did for Warlock Hunt mafia, where my personal posts was an overdramatic, and awesome, retelling in the form The Traveller's logs). Some liberties for the sake of it, but yeah, this happened. Good times.

So yeah. Wood Elf, limiting myself to food as healing items, a bow and arrow and a dagger as weapons, and just dicking around while Nord Stark goes off and swings his greatsword. Best game ever. And more logs to come if you like 'em.

 

A short story:
FUS'd a bandit off a cliff. Was funny. Would definitely shout again 5/5.

 

as soon as I have my skyrim, I'm writing one of these as a Dresden crossover, so we're clear, fucking DIBS

 

Stole a single iron ore. Now guards everywhere attack me on sight. Have no saves or anything I can load. Q__Q

 

From the log of the mage, Kor Macros.

~Need to practice control of the Voice. Sneezed at the advisor to the Jarl of Whiterun, and accidently set the man on fire. Completely unintentional. Apologised profusely to the Jarl. Was let off with a warning. The man seemed a little thankful.

~Keep getting accosted by guards for the bounty on my head. No earthly idea what I could have done to earn it, as it was the first time I had ever set foot in that particular town.

~Killed a dragon attacking Dawnstar today, in addition to those slain in defense of Riften and Whiterun. People gawked, and then I was arrested. Haven't the foggiest.

 

I have two Traveller Logs to share, but I'll share one now and have the other ready later - it'll be pretty big, so yeah. This one's entitled: Why The Traveller Doesn't Use Staffs.

Staffs are vindictive, I get lost a lot, and bears are mean. The moral of the story. Those staffs are very shiny, though. Worth 2000 gold apiece.

And join me next time for an adventure that will be a lot longer than this one, and involves The Traveller's breaking of that first rule... and a hunt for a werewolf. I love this game.

 

MattSilver persuaded me to write one of these about my Orc, Arran.



For comedic purposes, he: suffers from amnesia, is a hopeless romantic, is somewhat narcissistic, and is articulate (at least for an orc).

Hopefully, the images won't stretch the page (max width should be 800pixels). I'll shrink'em down if there's any problem with them.

Without further ado, the chronicles of

===DovahkiinOrc/Lydia, OTP===
​

Here, several pages are missing, torn out as if by angry female hands for writing down in exquisite detail private sexual exploits...

More stuff involving hordes of bears and more Orcish amnesia to come later (maybe).

 

Hopefully, this won't automerge.

 

I think I shall write some shorts about Sigyn and her troubles dealing with her Dark Brotherhood minions... Err initiates. Leading a secret society of assassins is hard work.

 

- The Dresden Files Volume 12: Changes

Darkness filled my vision as I heard a rumbling sound and was shaken around. I could feel cold air on my skin, too cold for Chicago at the end of summer, and the air was breezy. The gentle scent of pine circled around my face and I shook my head to clear it. Immediately I regretted that, I must have had a hell of a night at Mac’s. That couldn’t be right! Last thing I knew I was about to finally get laid with Murphy and then… I was shot. Some asshole had shot me in the fucking chest, you can’t just shoot wizards in the chest! There have to be rules against it.

I opened my eyes and found myself making contact with a big Viking of a Norwegian man, a grim look on his face. Then I looked past Mr. Erikson and blinked, I was on a mountain, somehow I went from a dock in Chicago waiting to get laid to riding in … was that a fucking horse-cart? I shook my head more vigorously ignoring the pain and gave a look at the big man.

“Minnesota, where the hell are we?” I asked him, who says wizards can’t follow sports?

A deep basso rumble came from deep in his belly, “My name Imperial is Ralof, and I shant be insulted with some rural slang. I am a Stormcloak, a warrior for the freedom of this realm, of Skyrim!” The man’s chest was heaving, but his hands hadn’t moved. That was about when I realized my hands were tied behind my back. It says something about you when you’ve been tied up enough with coarse rope that you don’t even notice waking up that way.

I thought about what Ralof had said, and the last few minutes of … my first life. My body felt strange, I wasn’t quite as tall as I just was, and it felt like my freshly shaven cheeks had suddenly sprouted a week’s worth of beard. I looked at the back of the cart I was in and started, there was a man in a dirty tattered tunic, and one in rich clothes like Ralof. The raggedy man was muttering feverishly about riding into happiness, and something about being swallowed by oblivion. I hoped oblivion wasn’t the name of some prostitute, poor guy probably had ever disease in the book.

I looked down and shifted around a little, I was wearing coarse rags much like the crazy guy, and I could sort of see a large patch of faint red on my …tunic, but it was flickering in and out of sight as if it were hidden by a really shoddy veil.

For the next half an hour we rode down the hill and I acquainted myself with Rolaf, or whatever the hell his name was, and learned about the region I was in. After an off-hand comment by him about mages, I realized magic was normal here, something known about. Of course with the medieval looks of things, that didn’t shock me.

Eventually we pulled in to a small town and to my shock, they decided we were all to be executed, Hell’s Bells I didn’t even know my crime!

Finally I piped up as they called me up after killing the Stormcloak leader, “What the hell did I do to you all?” The captain of the guard (a woman) looked at me levelly and was about to open her mouth when a loud, deep cry sounded.

She whirled toward one of the young guards as quick as a Warden of the Council would have, and snapped “Ask the sentries what exactly is going on out there. I’m trying to execute this minor riff-raff, and someone is fooling around with some sort of stone.” She looked back at me and asked in a monotone “What is your name prisoner? Why were you crossing the border to Skyrim”

I felt anger, the I-want-Hellfire kind, course through me and looked at her chest pointedly “Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire, and lady I have no clue where the border is, let alone why I might have crossed it, now if you could point me to the nearest way from the Never Never back to Chicago, that that would be fucking wonderful.” I didn’t look at her face once. If she and her goons were going to kill me, I’d go with boobs on the mind, and rebellion in my heart.

As they walked me over, kicked me in the back and placed my neck on the block, I started laughing, deep shaking belly laughs, my eyes filled with tears of humor. I realized I was about to die for the second time in an hour, let alone a day and for the second time as far as I knew, in my existence. Looking back, if I hadn’t shocked the executioner with my laugh, the ax would have been in my neck before the second, much closer, deep loud roaring sounded.

Everyone looked in shock toward the tower in the direction the noise had come from, then all hell broke loose as a fucking dragon jumped on top of the tower. Then it blew a huge plume of flame right at my damn face.

If I survived, I’d kill that dragon and every single damn one I could find after it…. Unless I could domesticate one.


A/N: thoughts?

EDIT: great post 250 in my opinion!

 

Much potential. I demand a WbA thread.

 

Damn, I'm jealous. My comp can't even handle Minecraft without lagging so much it's not even funny.

 

since 1.8 I've had frequent lag as well, but skyrim runs fine

Tomato thanks, I can't believe it but all of a sudden I have 3 WIPs, this To Reach for the Stars, and a Romance piece for the Contest.

 

Sometimes sneak can be powerful, or the enemies are just blind:

I was sneaking around one of the ruins near Whiterun, and I saw an argonian ahead of me. He came up towards me, then he just went on, ignoring me. I turned after him, reached up, and slit his throat.

 

So yeah, I had a huge Traveller Log planned about a very tense and neat hour of my gameplay life, which would have far-reaching consequences for the character of The Traveller, and explore him a bit, but I'm going to push that back a bit - it'll still be told, and soon, but right now, I had a whole other bunch of mini adventures to tell, and I'll tell them here. I won't ever have the awesome funny of Arran's Adventures, but I'll still have fun, and I hope y'all do too.

So yeah, just some lulzy snippets and stuff. The nose shot was particularly awesome at the time, and the boot chamber... Ye gods, I still don't know what to make of that. But yeah, next time, we'll go over The Traveller's werewolf adventure, and I left it because it's serious and long and big and fun, and yeah, probably up by tomorrow, unless another lulzier adventure occurs. So, hope you enjoyed.

 

"'Go visit the old country,' she said, 'you need to learn your roots,' she said," Glory mumbled under her breath as the harsh Skyrim winds cut into her, as if she wasn't wearing Talos knows how many layers of fur and armor. Being resistant to cold is not the same as not being cold.

Glory was not a happy camper. What had started out as a trip to find herself, learn about her Nord ancestry, and to "get your Oblivion forsaken ass out of the house and make something of yourself, ya lazy layabout!" had quickly gone downhill. Inbetween unwarranted lynchings, Dragons, dozens of bandits, way to many people asking her for favors, and Theif Guild shenanigans (that quite frankly a tall heavily armoured Nord woman had no business being involved with) Glory hardly had any time to herself.

"What was that my dear, I can't hear very well out my right ear you know"

And now she was stuck escorting some paranoid geriatric mage to River Run, podunc capital of the world.

"I'm sure it was nothing Esbern, just like it was nothing before that and nothing before that. The only time it was something was when you threw a fireball into the woods for no reason and hit a wolf that I'm pretty sure was sleeping and wasn't gonna bother us," She let out exasperatedly.

When they rounded the corner her heart sank into her stomach. Up in the night sky there was a dragon shaped silhouette against the moon. It was late at night, she was tired and she had spent Divines knew how many hours in the Ratway of Riften killing Talmors and homeless people; she did not need this shit.

"Hey Esbern, how about we avoid-" "Dragon!"

And suddenly the air was alight with fireballs.

"You stupid whoreson bas-" anything else she was about to say was cut off by a gout of dragon fire.

The battle that followed involved a lot of screaming, running in circles, Shouting, and arrows. Lots of arrows. With a final lucky shot the dragon was knocked right out of the sky. Glory rushed forward to take it's soul and collect any shinies that the dragon may have mysteriously gathered. It was when she was pullingout a particularly stuborn dragon bone that she realized that she was in the middle of a giant camp, with giant looking at her like she was quite possibly the most stupid thing in the world. An opinion that Glory couldn't quite find it inherself to disagree with, see-ing as how she failed to notice something as big as a giant right next to her. She began to back away slowly.

Of course that was when Esbern appeared and yelled "Giant!"

And that is the story of how Glory was field goal kicked across Skyrim.

 

Dyrim's Log - 27 of Frostfall.

Today I learned three things. The first is the spell, Thunderbolt. Not the first Expert destruction spell I've learnt, but definitely the coolest. Incinirate and Ice Spear just don't have the same oomph, and Thunderbolt has the plus of both looking the coolest and killing those dirty apostate mages all the quicker. But it takes a lot of magicka to cast. So much magicka.

The second thing I learnt is to always be aware of the blessings that have been conferred upon you, and how long they last.

While exploring, I happened upon a white dragon, who quite rudely tried to murder me. I gave almost as good as I got, but had to take cover to regenerate magicka. The dragon was tiring and a bit battered, so I decided to use my brand new shiny Thunderbolt to blast it away in one shot. I prepared a charged dual shot to do the most damage possible (quite a bit), sure that this bolt would strike the dragon hard enough to kill it.

I unleashed the thunderbolt, and it flew true, straight at the dragon, who began to flap it wings as soon as the bolt left my fingers. The aweing voltage passed just under the dragon as it timed it's rise perfectly to avoid my blow. As it prepared to roast me to death, I quickly quaffed a potion of Ultimate Magicka. Try, try again as they say. Except unbeknownst to me, the blessing of Julianos I had received several days ago wore off at exactly that second, leaving me with just enough magicka that I couldn't use the charged bolt.

I tried to cast, futilely. My confusion was palpable. I could cast it before, what had changed? Why was the spell failing? As soon as I realised that even individual Thunderbolts would not be enough to kill the dragon, I began to despair. It seemed death was the only end to this battle. But then, she striked.

My horse, that most brave of beast, had taken some licks of the dragon's fire and wanted some revenge. While the dragon settled on the ground and prepared to finish me, my horse kicked the dragon right in the side of it's skull. To my complete astonishment, the dragon promptly forgot all about the mage it wanted to eat and attacked the poor mare right back. Taking quick advantage of the situation, I cast my lesser Firebolts at the dragon and forced it into retreat.

Still, the dragon went for my horse. The horse summarily melted against the dragon's onslaught, but gave me enough time to regenerate my magicka and finish the overgrown lizard off.

The third thing I learned today is that horses are fucking awesome.

 

So yeah, no idea what that was about. I'm going to find out though - for reference, it showed up around 2.30 in the morning, just above Riverwood.