DAMMIT ....heads up, I'm gonna advocate for murder a lot that said, I think London should try and find clothing and a weapon of some form.
Oh, that reminds me: I think one of the mods in the giant modpile takes Essential status off of children. I'm actually kind of surprised Hamming didn't bite it during the opening, he and Hadvar loitered a bit too long in front of Alduin at one point.
Sadly, yes. (Well, I find that he's OK For a Separatist, my first ever char went Stormcloak because he helped her and she felt she couldn't betray him and I didn't know I could go neutral for a certain part of main quest even though it's a pita to do so. Regretted it immensely but it was in character, especially because she was a Green Pact daedra-worshipping Bosmer and religious freedom is Important to her.)
Inside was better, though that was an entirely relative term. Dead animals on the walls, moss on the floors, and a moldering rug doing nothing in particular for anyone. Also, there was a dead body. Thank the Ancestors, I could probably find something on it to cut my bonds. Then I realized I’d been followed. By Ralof Beardbrain, no less. And the dead body belonged to one of his fellows. Damn it. People always got so upset about these things. I took the moment to breathe in air that wasn’t on fire, and skulk until the man left. He was taking his sweet time. Good gods man, yes, I know! We have things called books down south, they’re lovely! They’re quiet! They’re incapable of cutting leather cords unless under very special circumstances, so admittedly at that moment he was slightly more useful than a book. Also, slightly less squeamish than expected. And he had an axe. I had only the faintest idea of how to use one, not having had much need for it before. Knives with high silver content were the pointy things of choice at home. But even with the concussion sustained earlier in the day I still had a little magic I could manage too. Gunjar had a shoulder-to-waist ratio that left me swimming in his chainmail, but it was better than the underclothes the Imperials had left me wearing, and he’d been nice enough to not soil anything post mortem. Good job, Gunjar. You were a very obliging dead person. The gate that had the sound of running, clanking footsteps on the other side of it. Because of course it did.
I would like to vote for murder especially that one kid who's like "i'll fight anyone" also, my favorite thing to do in skyrim at all times is to find a bajillion pots and pans and useless shit, and then store those things inside a dead body. it's fun to imagine other people in universe showing up after i've been there and going "oh, look, a dead body, i wonder what he's go- what the fuck"
only commenting so you see my icon, as that pose is exactly what i'm doing & what i anticipate doing as you work through your checklist
Thank you for reminding me. No joke, I tend to alter my path through Skyrim to avoid children most of the time, so I only rarely trigger dialog and thus forget which ones are really annoying until I hear a high-pitched voice behind me all of a sudden.
honestly same which is why I looked up every single child in Skyrim until I found the specific one I really want dead. c: if there's one thing I can do well it's hold a grudge that will end in murder against a fictional child
This is what The List is good for. I'll need to integrate it more to the entries as they go along, now that I realize how long some of these might be. Basically, at the end of every day, London tallies up the people that have sufficiently offended, along with any special considerations on what must be done with them, proper Mad Scientist grudge-holding stuff. At present, The List stands: Nordman, Helgen: Gave London a frighten, inadvertently started the plot. This must not be tolerated. Addendum: find bits of man, kick him. Imperial Captain, Helgen: Doesn't respect Lists. Unacceptable. Braith, Whiterun: Haven't met her yet, but we have a premonition of great irritation.
Yes, they’d have no idea where he was, given how discretely he’d been openly staring at them a moment prior. They weren’t any more likely to be friendly to me, however, seeing that I was in a pre-owned Stormcloak uniform. Stuck between a dragon outside and the sonorous barking of the captain who’d gotten herself Listed not ten minutes prior, I was willing to try letting Ralof go first. Which of course meant she spotted me first. [Whoops left the tutorial text on. Will turn those off by the next capture session.] I don’t have the clearest recollection of events that followed but I think her leg came off. Thoroughly crossed off the List. He of course left me to loot the bodies. I’m not sure whether I’m happy about that or not. Still, it put me in possession of pointy objects I’m more familiar with, some bloodstained and better-fitting bits of clothing, and the means to wander further into this crumbling, algae-encrusted place. How was all that moss growing in there, anyway? There was barely any sunlight at all. Did it feed on vermin? Was it a mistake to leave all those corpses on it? Oh well. The dragon would probably burn it up anyway. Spurred on to move much faster by that thought, I set about unlocking the door, ready to give anything standing between me and an escape route a very clear idea what level of distress today had caused me.
As if I needed to be told that. I was already accelerating away down the nearby stairs, deeper into the fort. Underground, in fact. Thank the Ancestors (who probably hate me now for setting incendiary frogs on a family member), I thought. The dragon can’t get me here. Which of course means it made a spirited attempt anyway. Unsure whether the people on the other side were crushed, or whether I set them on fire thirty seconds later on a detour. No one can blame me at this point: I was innocent of whatever it was they were going to execute me for, and I’m wasn’t actually with the Nord separatist, he just happened to be in my vicinity, and thus kept attacking me. Which required killing a lot of them, because they wouldn’t stop. And taking their supplies, because killing them resulted in some injuries and I’ve never been brilliant with restoration magic. And then killing some more of them, because if I didn’t, they’d probably tell someone about the other ones that I’d killed. The lockpicking wasn’t strictly necessary, though. I’ll own that one as my fault.
I was starting to worry that the number of Imperials I was killing might catch up with me, even if no one survived. There were more Stormcloaks hanging about now, and I didn’t want them getting the idea that I liked them. Or that they should talk about me, ever. Fortunately, bait (a soldier) and a trap (an uncommonly large quantity of spilled oil) presented itself. I only expected one to get caught in the ‘accident’, but all of them went up like kindling. It honestly made me worry that they might be Nord separatist vampires, but a little prodding was enough to confidently say that they weren’t. They hadn’t gone as dusty as flaming vampires tended to get. Couldn’t be so certain about Beard, though. Didn’t seem to even notice the attempt at “oh gods I’m sorry it was a mistake”. He hadn’t been burning in sunlight, but that was never a sure method to go by anyway. One thing was looking up, though: Despite a few distinctly dramatic sounds funneling down through a high cleft in the rock, it didn’t seem like the dragon was nearby. The only structural failures that happened were purely due to terrible craftsmanship: The bridge collapsed within seconds of crossing. At the same time, I began to wonder: Was Beard even aware that the others were dead? He’d walked right past them with zero response, and was now referring to them as if they were alive. It was about this time that I began considering that I was stuck in a cave with a mandman.
Done with uploads for tonight. In place of killing Ralof, I tried to do in the rest. Then he had to go and make it weird.
