Thursday, 16 October 2014

When I decided to make my new Skyrim adventures into a serial #1

I started up Skyrim again. Mostly because I wanted to get those last four pesky achis  on Steam. But while I worked on my old char I fell in love with the game all over again and decided to start anew. I Skyrimised the dark elf I used in both Morrowind and Oblivion, and after an intense modding session I was off into a whole new world, although it was my fourth attempt at a playthrough (fifth if you count the one I started on the 360). But while playing with this new char an idea formed in my head to make a sort of serial, or feuilleton, of my new char's adventures. I thought it would be a fun way for me to keep my writing active while I'm looking for new ideas, and also maybe someone would find it fun to read? Anyway, here we go.


Hi, my name is Neela and I'm a Dunmer born and raised in Mournhold, the capital of Morrowind. When I was little I was told by my parents that shortly after I was born I was cursed to live a 1000 years, by some unknown wizard. Thus far I'm about 250 years old (I've lost count), but I neither look nor feel any older than 20.

I was very young when I ran away from Mournhold and made my way into Cyrodiil. I found my way to the Imperial City and there I was soon arrested for thieving. Before I knew it I was on a ship, transported to Vvardenfell, and thus back to Morrowind. While I was there I got caught up in all sorts of things and I hardly had time to stop and reflect. Soon I was frequently speaking with Azura and after no time at all I found myself in the middle of the Red Mountain on my way to fight Dagoth Ur and end the Blight. I still don't know how that happened, but for a long while afterwards people kept calling me the Nerevarine.

I got involved with the Morag Tong and found myself fighting a war against the Dark Brotherhood. I was sent to Cheydinhal to find out where they were hiding and finish them off, but I was discovered and once again found myself in a prison cell in the Imperial City. In Cyrodiil no one knew of the Nerevarine and the title that gave me access anywhere in Morrowind held no value there. I was released by one of the Emperor's whims and had to watch him die. I once again got caught up in events I couldn't control and before I knew it I was the Hero of Kvatch, the Savior of Bruma and the Champion of Cyrodiil. All because I was dim-witted enough to enter through a portal to the Oblivion realm of Mehrunes Dagon. Repeatedly. And come out alive. Repeatedly. After saving Cyrodiil I felt like I belonged there more than I did in the politically divided, hostile and complicated province of Morrowind from which I hail, so I decided to stay in Cyrodiil. My loyalties changed and I soon found myself a member of the Dark Brotherhood rather than Morag Tong. That's when I found the door to Sheogorath's realm of the Shivering Isles.

I lived in the city of Mania in the Shivering Isles for 200 years, before I decided that I had had enough of madness and I made my way back to Cyrodiil, up north, past Bruma and towards the border to Skyrim. Maybe some rowdy Nords would be a nice change of scenery? But luck was never really on my side, and just before crossing the border I found myself in an ambush and taken to my execution. It had been 200 years, no one would believe me if I told them I was the Nerevarine or the Champion of Cyrodiil, so I kept my mouth shut and obediently walked towards the execution block. I was cursed to live for another 750 years - either the curse had broken during my time in Sheogorath's realm or something would happen. Something did happen. A huge black dragon something. I managed to escape a destroyed Helgen with Hadvar who showed me the way to Riverwood and from there to Whiterun to get a message to the Jarl. There I made my first friend in Lydia, who followed me on my adventures. She was a great help on my journet up the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar! Though, she did have a tendency of always blocking my way. Lydia, you're adorable but a little dense.

Things spiralled out of control again and after I had enforced a temporary treaty in the civil war I found myself riding on the back of a dragon named Odahviing, on my way to Skuldafn and then onwards to Sovngarde. Sovngarde was amazing and I suddenly wished I was a Nord. It was amazing battling Alduin alongside the Nord heroes of old, and when he was finally defeated and dissolved into nothing I didn't miss one second of it. I was returned to Skyrim and the Throat of the World by the gatekeeper Tsun, and there I was greeted by Paarthurnax and many other dragons as Dovahkiin. Great - another title.

I returned to the Greybeards and then the Blades and was devastated by Delphine asking me to kill Paarthurnax if I wanted to continue being one of them. I decided I'd rather be a Blade than living the Way of the Voice and travelled back to the Throat of the World to kill one of the dragons who'd become my friend. With Paarthurnax dead I returned to the Blades and asked Lydia to become one of us. I did the same with the sellswords Jenassa and Marcurio, both of whom I had run into while finding a way to defeat Alduin.

I bought a house, my first, in Whiterun and then went on to explore the Bards College in Solitude. I thought that would be a nice way to relax after fighting dragons and saving the world (again), but nope. Viarmo immediately had me running off into a Nord ruin fighting draugr to find Olaf's verse. I succeeded in becoming a bard and after helping several of the members of the College recover stolen instruments of value, I decided to take a quick trip back home. There I brawled with Uthgerd and won so she became my new friend and follower when I went on my way to explore the College of Winterhold.

No comments:

Post a Comment

What's the first thought in your head after reading this? Let me know!