Also I ate a giant's toe. It restored my stamina.
So, I have been working hard for the moneys and haven't had much free time to myself to do anything other than come down with a truly horrific cold and play Skyrim. I've been amusing myself by writing up some drabbles from my main playthrough: Skuld Wrymsdottir met up with Erik the Slayer (who is nice but a bit stupid) and Barbas, who is a talking dog. Together the three of them roam around Skyrim having hijinks. Right now they're solving a grisly murder although it's more Inspector Clouseau than, say, The Killing.
(Let me gush for a moment about The Killing (the second series of the Danish crime drama, not the inferior shouty American remake)- I LOVE THE KILLING. It is SO GOOD. I especially love how Sarah Lund, the main character, is a female lead who is allowed to look tired all the time and walks away in the middle of conversations that don't interest her. She is amazing. I love her).
Anyway, here are the aforementioned drabbles, reposted from my tumblr. In The Hangover, Skuld regrets interrupting a murder investigation for a drinking contest, and in Seems Legit we see that she is a terrible judge of character.
“-lright?”
Skuld groaned and opened her eyes. She felt like she’d been sat on by a dragon- a professional opinion, in Skuld’s case, though it wasn’t an experience she talked about much.
“I died, didn’t I?” Skuld sighed and rolled over. “Killed by a drinking contest. Guess grandad was wrong. I am a real Nord.”
“Oh, thank Talos I found you.”
Erik helped her to her feet, his voice far too loud in her ears. “After you told me to wait outside Candlehearth Hall I did, but then we were standing around outside for so long I thought I’d go inside and look for you, and Elda said you’d gone with that Sam guy, and then I knew something had to be seriously wrong…”
“Erik-“
Skuld squinted at her surroundings. The banners were vaguely familiar, but the stonework and the altars, they were completely-
“…and then I found a guard who pointed me to Rorikstead, and I know you wouldn’t go there without me, right-“
“Erik.”
Skuld turned her attention back to the other Nord. “Tell me where we are.”
Erik blinked. “The Temple of Dibella.”
Skuld’s eyes widened and her fingers twitched involuntarily, releasing a small spark of magic. “In Markarth?”
Erik nodded. “I had to leave Barbas outside.”
“The kid forgot I could open doors.” Barbas’ voice cut across the temple, gruff and annoying and far too loud. Skuld winced. “And also forgot that this temple is full of priestesses, one of whom is headed this way right now.”
“DOVAHKIIN!” The priestess’ voice split the air with the power of a thu’um. “I might have known!”
Skuld started towards the door at a dead run, Erik and Barbas in hot pursuit.
“Hey, Skuld.” Erik panted, his armour clanking with every step. “I think this is another thing the bards didn’t mention.”
It was a minor miracle of the Eight, Skuld reflected in the one part of her brain that wasn’t crying out in pain, that out of her followers Erik often made less sense than the talking dog.
“Shut up, Erik.”
-------
The best part of being the Dragonborn, Skuld decided, was that people assumed that you were both extremely important and very necessary to their plans.
When this translated to couriers bringing invitations to swanky museum openings, so much the better.
“Dear Skuld Wyrmsdottir,” the battlemage read aloud, as neither Erik nor Barbas were literate (Erik had only learned how to make an X, and Barbas had decided that talking was enough of an achievement for one dog), “You are cordially invited to the opening of my new museum in Dawnstar. Please arrive at six pm sharp. There will be refreshments. Yours, Silus Vesuius (owner).”
Skuld folded the paper up and stashed it inside her armour, grinning. “This is what I’m talking about! Fancy parties!” She paused. “Well, fancy museum openings. Museum openings are fancy, though, right?”
Erik and Barbas exchanged a look. “Skuld…” Erik began cautiously. “Have you ever actually been to Dawnstar?”
“I’ve been slightly busy, Erik.” Skuld said in her shut-up-Erik voice. “What with being the savoir of Skyrim and fighting an ancient evil and not having any fancy museum openings to attend.” She paused. “Also, you never left Rorikstead before I came along, so shush.”
“I’ve been to Dawnstar.” Interrupted Barbas. “It’s not really a party kinda place.”
“You mean they wouldn’t let a dog in the inn.” Skuld crossed her arms, which meant that the conversation was over. “We are going to Dawnstar and being fancy for once in our lives and you are both going to just let me have this.”
--
The door slammed shut behind them and Skuld’s carefully maintained poker face collapsed. Barbas was shaking with uncontrollable doggy laughter.
“Oh my gods.” Skuld could feel hot shame creeping up her neck onto her cheeks. She had worn her nice clothes for this and everything. “Did you see those banners? I thought he was going to kill us then and there.”
Erik shook his head. “I told you-“
“Shut UP, Erik.”
Barbas was still snickering. “You know, for a crazy daedra worshiper the guy runs a decent museum.”
“We are never speaking of this again.”
(Let me gush for a moment about The Killing (the second series of the Danish crime drama, not the inferior shouty American remake)- I LOVE THE KILLING. It is SO GOOD. I especially love how Sarah Lund, the main character, is a female lead who is allowed to look tired all the time and walks away in the middle of conversations that don't interest her. She is amazing. I love her).
Anyway, here are the aforementioned drabbles, reposted from my tumblr. In The Hangover, Skuld regrets interrupting a murder investigation for a drinking contest, and in Seems Legit we see that she is a terrible judge of character.
“-lright?”
Skuld groaned and opened her eyes. She felt like she’d been sat on by a dragon- a professional opinion, in Skuld’s case, though it wasn’t an experience she talked about much.
“I died, didn’t I?” Skuld sighed and rolled over. “Killed by a drinking contest. Guess grandad was wrong. I am a real Nord.”
“Oh, thank Talos I found you.”
Erik helped her to her feet, his voice far too loud in her ears. “After you told me to wait outside Candlehearth Hall I did, but then we were standing around outside for so long I thought I’d go inside and look for you, and Elda said you’d gone with that Sam guy, and then I knew something had to be seriously wrong…”
“Erik-“
Skuld squinted at her surroundings. The banners were vaguely familiar, but the stonework and the altars, they were completely-
“…and then I found a guard who pointed me to Rorikstead, and I know you wouldn’t go there without me, right-“
“Erik.”
Skuld turned her attention back to the other Nord. “Tell me where we are.”
Erik blinked. “The Temple of Dibella.”
Skuld’s eyes widened and her fingers twitched involuntarily, releasing a small spark of magic. “In Markarth?”
Erik nodded. “I had to leave Barbas outside.”
“The kid forgot I could open doors.” Barbas’ voice cut across the temple, gruff and annoying and far too loud. Skuld winced. “And also forgot that this temple is full of priestesses, one of whom is headed this way right now.”
“DOVAHKIIN!” The priestess’ voice split the air with the power of a thu’um. “I might have known!”
Skuld started towards the door at a dead run, Erik and Barbas in hot pursuit.
“Hey, Skuld.” Erik panted, his armour clanking with every step. “I think this is another thing the bards didn’t mention.”
It was a minor miracle of the Eight, Skuld reflected in the one part of her brain that wasn’t crying out in pain, that out of her followers Erik often made less sense than the talking dog.
“Shut up, Erik.”
-------
The best part of being the Dragonborn, Skuld decided, was that people assumed that you were both extremely important and very necessary to their plans.
When this translated to couriers bringing invitations to swanky museum openings, so much the better.
“Dear Skuld Wyrmsdottir,” the battlemage read aloud, as neither Erik nor Barbas were literate (Erik had only learned how to make an X, and Barbas had decided that talking was enough of an achievement for one dog), “You are cordially invited to the opening of my new museum in Dawnstar. Please arrive at six pm sharp. There will be refreshments. Yours, Silus Vesuius (owner).”
Skuld folded the paper up and stashed it inside her armour, grinning. “This is what I’m talking about! Fancy parties!” She paused. “Well, fancy museum openings. Museum openings are fancy, though, right?”
Erik and Barbas exchanged a look. “Skuld…” Erik began cautiously. “Have you ever actually been to Dawnstar?”
“I’ve been slightly busy, Erik.” Skuld said in her shut-up-Erik voice. “What with being the savoir of Skyrim and fighting an ancient evil and not having any fancy museum openings to attend.” She paused. “Also, you never left Rorikstead before I came along, so shush.”
“I’ve been to Dawnstar.” Interrupted Barbas. “It’s not really a party kinda place.”
“You mean they wouldn’t let a dog in the inn.” Skuld crossed her arms, which meant that the conversation was over. “We are going to Dawnstar and being fancy for once in our lives and you are both going to just let me have this.”
--
The door slammed shut behind them and Skuld’s carefully maintained poker face collapsed. Barbas was shaking with uncontrollable doggy laughter.
“Oh my gods.” Skuld could feel hot shame creeping up her neck onto her cheeks. She had worn her nice clothes for this and everything. “Did you see those banners? I thought he was going to kill us then and there.”
Erik shook his head. “I told you-“
“Shut UP, Erik.”
Barbas was still snickering. “You know, for a crazy daedra worshiper the guy runs a decent museum.”
“We are never speaking of this again.”