Fandom The Second Rebellion - Skyrim Interest Check

[0stinato]

Yea man I think that sounds like a great idea! Getting a lot of character development and what not, and just having some fun in general.

My preference for Rps is usually small to median, mainly for the fact that I get overwhelmed very easy. Plus, lately I have had some shortage of time.

One more note, I am in the process of moving and in order to show the house off to other people I had to hide away my computer somewhere So that limits me on post but I will try my best to get some post in on other devices.

Aheh, good thing Jekkel split to go and have a bath. He's sort of got an excuse for being out of action for a while.
But yeah if you can only post short things don't worry - I'm sure we'll be able to work around it.
I'm just having an amusing thought that you might put up a post like

Jekkel washes his right leg.

And then, a few posts later...

And then Jekkel chose to wash his left leg.

And so on.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Yea man I think that sounds like a great idea! Getting a lot of character development and what not, and just having some fun in general.

My preference for Rps is usually small to median, mainly for the fact that I get overwhelmed very easy. Plus, lately I have had some shortage of time.

One more note, I am in the process of moving and in order to show the house off to other people I had to hide away my computer somewhere So that limits me on post but I will try my best to get some post in on other devices.

No problem, that's fine. Good luck with the house! (:

Okay, so writing games... I'm thinking a loose sort of thing would be easier to deal with than a more formal RP set up with people coming in and out, unless y'all just wanted whoever happens to be there to post without really worrying about turns or posting order. It might be chaotic, but maybe not so bad with shorter posts?

I was thinking that the writing prompt game would be a lot of fun. So somebody would post a short prompt of some sort (a series of words, a phrase or some sentences, a picture, song clip, etc.), set a time limit for submissions and any rules/guidelines they'd like to include, and then pick someone to make the next one. I'm pretty sure there's stuff like that in the writing forums or somewhere. Sound good, or would y'all rather do something else?

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

I actually have a picture to start off with, if would like. Guidelines are pretty open-ended, just some sort of writing inspired by this lovely picture. I figure it probably lends itself more to a scene outside of Skyrim and our characters, but if you want to keep it there, then go for it. I'll leave it up for... I dunno, I guess 24 hours? Or until everyone interested in participating has made a submission or passed.

( 0stinato Sir Monsieur explosiveKitten Twyllvarlais Locklaklazarii MightBeASithLord MorgathosTheRussian
Is that everyone? Go ahead and tag anyone I missed...
If you're interested in participating with this writing game, please like this post or make a note of it so we know who all to look for. Thanks!)

Okay, so here is the prompt. Are you ready for this? I don't think you are, it's quite awe-inspiring. It may just bring you to tears...

Spoiler: Behold...

I have no idea if this is a real image or not, but it should be. What I have in mind is sort of an explanation of how this image happened, but you can write about whatever else comes to mind. I'll put in my response later, because who could pass this up?

 

[Locklaklazarii]

Huhn?

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Huhn?

Oh, sorry, you weren't here... Since several people are busy or spotty with activity right now, we're going to put stuff on pause for the moment. Of course, that doesn't mean you can't roleplay during this time, we're just taking a break to let people deal with other stuff. But to keep everyone entertained and to have some fun, we're gonna have some writing games going on. It's just a basic writing prompt right now, but there are a few other possibilities and new suggestions are welcomed.

The idea for this one is that I've provided a picture for everyone else to go off of. Anyone who wants to participate can write a piece somehow inspired by or related to the prompt, and then I'll pick my favorite one. Then, that person makes the next prompt, and so on. You can write stuff for your own prompt as well if you want to.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

"Brendan and the Snail"

Brendan sat in the cheerless stone cell with his head in his hands. What kind of hideous torture was this? How could they be so cruel? What had he done to be locked up in such a way? It was more than unfair, it was inhuman! Days spent laboring in the hot sun, nights shivering under thin bits of cloth barely fit to be called blankets, subsisting on crust and water without ever a smile or laugh to lighten the mood… It was a prison, pure and simple, no matter what the abbot said about “being free from earthly concerns and entanglements”. Brendan liked his earthly entanglements. They were much more entertaining.

He looked up and peered through eyes bleary with boredom and exhaustion at the wretched parchment sitting before him. Words, words, words! Was there no end to them? They twisted and danced across the page, jeering and mocking him like some sort of demonic chorus. Perhaps he should exorcise them with a bit of “holy water”... He glanced at the smuggled decanter hidden under his bed. No… he thought Surely the abbot isn’t so heavenly as to not recognize that when he smells it… Very well, then, he would have to slog through the pages sober.

With a dejected sigh, he dipped his quill into the pigment and tried to scratch out a few more words. However, despite his intense concentration and effort for a whole five minutes, none came. He heaved a grunt of frustration. He never wanted to be a monk! Who would want to? He enjoyed his comfortable life, still reasonably influential and wealthy, but without the responsibilities or worries of the one who actually had affairs to manage. All he needed to worry about was which festival he would visit next. If he had the eldest, he could have inherited his father’s estate, or at least become a knight if he was the second son. But as the sixth, he was left with a mere pittance and forced into the monastery. He couldn’t even have been the seventh… At least that would have been lucky!

The pigment was beginning to dry on the quill, so Brendan knew he would need to get started again. Maybe all I need is a change of pace… At least the illustrations are slightly less tedious… That was true enough, but by this point, only slightly so. He had gone through every image he could think of from curling vines and frolicking animals to leering demons and licking flames. He had painted so many shining faces of saints and scholars that he couldn’t stand the sight of them and he longed for something more interesting to depict. Outside, the clouds parted and a shaft of light shone through the small window onto the empty spot he was considering. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have had this privilege, but the abbot wasn’t entirely without mercy and had graciously accepted Brendan’s father’s gold in exchange for his son receiving a room with a view. He didn’t know at the time that it would be the only view…

Slowly, creeping up the sill, a snail came into view. Brendan stopped what he was doing and studied it with a gentle smile. He loved nature and her creatures, which was exactly why he couldn’t stand being cooped up like this. Even though the little snail moved with agonizing slowness, at least he could go where he wished. Many wouldn’t think it, but he saw a great beauty in the usually-detested creature, from the gently spiraled shell to the silver trail following. As he watched, a swifter movement caught his eye. Outside the monastery, whirling through the dripping grass, a boy was practicing with his sword. At least, that’s what he thought he was doing. Brendan thought it looked more like aimless flailing, but who was he to judge? He wasn’t supposed to know about violence any more than the life-water he’d been thinking about earlier. He chuckled under his breath. Maybe that was the reason for the lad’s unsteady movements....

The boy spun around the field, stabbing and parrying imaginary foes, probably at least a hundred in his young mind. After one particularly great swing, the snail retracted an eye as though it had been struck. Funny… It almost looked like the boy attacked him. From this distance, though, the snail looked like a great beast in contrast to the small boy. The coincidence dragged the monk’s attention in even more as he began to visualise the young knight-to-be facing off against a wild and fierce creature with an armored shell, tall stalked eyes, and entrapping ooze. He glanced down at the empty space on the parchment and grinned. He had an idea…

That evening, he brought the finished pages to the abbot for inspection. The grim old man looked through them, nodding his head slowly. “Yes… Yes… This will do…” Then he froze and brought the parchment close to his face. His eyes became hard and his face burned red as he addressed the monk. In a cold voice of barely controlled calm, he whispered “But what… may I ask… is this?”, pointing a bony and shaking finger at the image of a knight and snail beneath the holy text. Brendan looked up at him with an innocent and bewildered expression. “It’s a knight and snail, sir. Shall I fetch you a candle?” The abbot closed his eyes for a moment to remember the virtues of patience and self-control before speaking again. “I see… And what, my son, are they doing in the Life of Saint Abbán?”

Brendan suppressed a smirk. This was an even better reaction than he had hoped for. His eyes filled with serious honesty. “Father Abbot, Saint Abbán was said to protect men from monstrous beasts. As I worked on his manuscript, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. A true enough miracle! I looked and saw a vision of a bright and glorious knight defending the innocent from this foul and loathsome creature. It was divinely inspired…”

The abbot closed his eyes again and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do with him? He had tried everything he could think of, but the boy was incorrigible. He couldn’t be sent away. The boy’s father would have none of that, and none of the other monasteries would have him. Perhaps he should be taken off the manuscripts for a while. But where could they put him? He smuggled tavern songs into the choir services, harassed the silent monks with inane chatter when studying, tossed worms at the workers while in the garden… At least when working on the manuscripts nobody else had to deal with his distractions. Maybe whoever read it would be too interested in the lives of the saints to notice the bizarre scene hidden in one corner of the page. Against his better judgment, the abbot sighed and shook his head resignedly. “Very well, I suppose I can’t fault you for creativity… Just… don’t do it again.”

Brendan nodded solemnly and replied “Oh no, sir. I promise I’ll never draw a knight fighting a snail again…” With that, he turned and hurriedly walked back to his cell to hide the grin of delight spreading across his face. A hundred wonderful and unexpected new scenes were filling up his mind and a joyful zest for his work filled his heart. He couldn’t wait to get started again the next day. He was truly lucky to be a monk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Well, that was longer than I expected, but that was fun! I'm interested to see what sorts of things y'all come up with! (: )

 

[Sir Monsieur]

"Brendan and the Snail"

Brendan sat in the cheerless stone cell with his head in his hands. What kind of hideous torture was this? How could they be so cruel? What had he done to be locked up in such a way? It was more than unfair, it was inhuman! Days spent laboring in the hot sun, nights shivering under thin bits of cloth barely fit to be called blankets, subsisting on crust and water without ever a smile or laugh to lighten the mood… It was a prison, pure and simple, no matter what the abbot said about “being free from earthly concerns and entanglements”. Brendan liked his earthly entanglements. They were much more entertaining.

He looked up and peered through eyes bleary with boredom and exhaustion at the wretched parchment sitting before him. Words, words, words! Was there no end to them? They twisted and danced across the page, jeering and mocking him like some sort of demonic chorus. Perhaps he should exorcise them with a bit of “holy water”... He glanced at the smuggled decanter hidden under his bed. No… he thought Surely the abbot isn’t so heavenly as to not recognize that when he smells it… Very well, then, he would have to slog through the pages sober.

With a dejected sigh, he dipped his quill into the pigment and tried to scratch out a few more words. However, despite his intense concentration and effort for a whole five minutes, none came. He heaved a grunt of frustration. He never wanted to be a monk! Who would want to? He enjoyed his comfortable life, still reasonably influential and wealthy, but without the responsibilities or worries of the one who actually had affairs to manage. All he needed to worry about was which festival he would visit next. If he had the eldest, he could have inherited his father’s estate, or at least become a knight if he was the second son. But as the sixth, he was left with a mere pittance and forced into the monastery. He couldn’t even have been the seventh… At least that would have been lucky!

The pigment was beginning to dry on the quill, so Brendan knew he would need to get started again. Maybe all I need is a change of pace… At least the illustrations are slightly less tedious… That was true enough, but by this point, only slightly so. He had gone through every image he could think of from curling vines and frolicking animals to leering demons and licking flames. He had painted so many shining faces of saints and scholars that he couldn’t stand the sight of them and he longed for something more interesting to depict. Outside, the clouds parted and a shaft of light shone through the small window onto the empty spot he was considering. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have had this privilege, but the abbot wasn’t entirely without mercy and had graciously accepted Brendan’s father’s gold in exchange for his son receiving a room with a view. He didn’t know at the time that it would be the only view…

Slowly, creeping up the sill, a snail came into view. Brendan stopped what he was doing and studied it with a gentle smile. He loved nature and her creatures, which was exactly why he couldn’t stand being cooped up like this. Even though the little snail moved with agonizing slowness, at least he could go where he wished. Many wouldn’t think it, but he saw a great beauty in the usually-detested creature, from the gently spiraled shell to the silver trail following. As he watched, a swifter movement caught his eye. Outside the monastery, whirling through the dripping grass, a boy was practicing with his sword. At least, that’s what he thought he was doing. Brendan thought it looked more like aimless flailing, but who was he to judge? He wasn’t supposed to know about violence any more than the life-water he’d been thinking about earlier. He chuckled under his breath. Maybe that was the reason for the lad’s unsteady movements....

The boy spun around the field, stabbing and parrying imaginary foes, probably at least a hundred in his young mind. After one particularly great swing, the snail retracted an eye as though it had been struck. Funny… It almost looked like the boy attacked him. From this distance, though, the snail looked like a great beast in contrast to the small boy. The coincidence dragged the monk’s attention in even more as he began to visualise the young knight-to-be facing off against a wild and fierce creature with an armored shell, tall stalked eyes, and entrapping ooze. He glanced down at the empty space on the parchment and grinned. He had an idea…

That evening, he brought the finished pages to the abbot for inspection. The grim old man looked through them, nodding his head slowly. “Yes… Yes… This will do…” Then he froze and brought the parchment close to his face. His eyes became hard and his face burned red as he addressed the monk. In a cold voice of barely controlled calm, he whispered “But what… may I ask… is this?”, pointing a bony and shaking finger at the image of a knight and snail beneath the holy text. Brendan looked up at him with an innocent and bewildered expression. “It’s a knight and snail, sir. Shall I fetch you a candle?” The abbot closed his eyes for a moment to remember the virtues of patience and self-control before speaking again. “I see… And what, my son, are they doing in the Life of Saint Abbán?”

Brendan suppressed a smirk. This was an even better reaction than he had hoped for. His eyes filled with serious honesty. “Father Abbot, Saint Abbán was said to protect men from monstrous beasts. As I worked on his manuscript, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. A true enough miracle! I looked and saw a vision of a bright and glorious knight defending the innocent from this foul and loathsome creature. It was divinely inspired…”

The abbot closed his eyes again and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do with him? He had tried everything he could think of, but the boy was incorrigible. He couldn’t be sent away. The boy’s father would have none of that, and none of the other monasteries would have him. Perhaps he should be taken off the manuscripts for a while. But where could they put him? He smuggled tavern songs into the choir services, harassed the silent monks with inane chatter when studying, tossed worms at the workers while in the garden… At least when working on the manuscripts nobody else had to deal with his distractions. Maybe whoever read it would be too interested in the lives of the saints to notice the bizarre scene hidden in one corner of the page. Against his better judgment, the abbot sighed and shook his head resignedly. “Very well, I suppose I can’t fault you for creativity… Just… don’t do it again.”

Brendan nodded solemnly and replied “Oh no, sir. I promise I’ll never draw a knight fighting a snail again…” With that, he turned and hurriedly walked back to his cell to hide the grin of delight spreading across his face. A hundred wonderful and unexpected new scenes were filling up his mind and a joyful zest for his work filled his heart. He couldn’t wait to get started again the next day. He was truly lucky to be a monk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Well, that was longer than I expected, but that was fun! I'm interested to see what sorts of things y'all come up with! (: )

Brovo! I would like to say that was quite enjoyable. The story flowed so well, it was very satisfying to read.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Brovo! I would like to say that was quite enjoyable. The story flowed so well, it was very satisfying to read.

Well, thank you! I've actually wanted to write it for some time now, but I never really had a good excuse for it. It was certainly entertaining to write... (x

 

[0stinato]

That old man Kumiko had come across - he'd been skirting around the very edges of Skyrim, looking for an elusive ring and had instead found a little cottage - had warned him of a few animals to look out for. Or, rather, the 'guardian' animals... the spirits of animals. Huge, translucent beasts that needed a good old whacking. The reason Kumiko knew they looked like this is because he'd seen the mud crab guardian. And the old man had warned him of the other two as well. Those who put these guardians down were accepted as protectors. This was Kyne's Trial.

But Kumiko always found it odd - wasn't Kyne the god of peace or something? Something equally boring and generally unfun. Probably peace. He wasn't on the up-and-up with the Divines... he preferred the Daedra way more. They knew how to party.

But, as he spied something shifting on the horizon, he remembered the old man's words about Kyne's Sacred Trials. It wasn't translucent, glowing blue or anything, but it looked oddly huge. With narrowed eyes and twitching whiskers, he reached for his scimitar as he shimmied towards it.

The hell was it? Through the fog, it looked like it had the shape of a mammoth - sloped back, smooth, thick limbs... or, one limb... Perhaps a trunk somewhere? Perhaps a baby mammoth, perhaps that was all it was.

But no. As Kumiko's gut said, it wasn't that simple. If it was indeed a mammoth he'd have shrugged it off minutes ago, instead of walked towards it. Deciding he needed a better view, he climbed up onto a mound of moss-covered rocks not far from the beast. From here he had a pretty good view - Rorikstead was just on the horizon. But look down and... by gods.

"Ewww," was all Kumi could say as his fingers recoiled from the rock. What was down there, what was quietly schlepping its slow way across the moors, was a massive snail. A gods-be-damned massive snail. Just like the mud crab guardian he'd come across, its size was impressive. And, just like in the Trial, it was a creature oft overlooked by the layman. Mud crabs were brushed off, skeevers were poisoned, wolves were slaughtered. Why would a snail be any different?

Though there was nothing too scary about snails generally. Skeevers and mud crabs had the habit of attacking ankles if they were stepped near. And wolves went for the limbs. Snails though... they wouldn't attack would they?

Kumiko was inclined to find out. So, with a mind full of questions and not so much an unironic repetition of a certain curiosity-and-cat related phrase, he let himself drop from the stones. He didn't put his scimitar away; perhaps snails had ways of attacking he didn't know about.

"Hey there," he whispered, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. "You're a big guy. Can I ride you?"

But the snail must have sensed Kumiko was there, as its eyes, up on stalks, shrank into its body. With an audible squelch.

"Ewwww! Oh, gross, wait 'til I tell Farkas about you," he giggled. "Gods."

The snail, unbeknown to Kumiko, was becoming quite nervous. Crossing the landscape wasn't too hard but the constant up-and-down of the ground was so unnerving that it was slowing down. How was it to know nothing would come up behind it and try to nip its squishy body? But something was coming up to it and, although it hadn't attacked the snail yet, the snail was justified in its anxiety. As such, it tried to retreat into its shell, only to feel a hand upon its flesh.

With a shudder, the snail pushed its way out of its shell, erupting in its full glory before Kumiko. He fell back, more amused than scared, his scimitar landing a few inches away. The inglorious beast, before seeming so innocent, suddenly became more threatening; a rasping mouth emerged seemingly from nowhere, revealing rough scale-like textures as well as a slippery hole.

With this hole of death above him, as well as the huge form getting nearer without a sound, the shell of the beast rocking slightly to and fro as the snail edged nearer, Kumiko felt an uneasiness hatch in his stomach. But that soon evolved into a slight bit of panic as he struggled away, feet slipping on the wet moor grasses. Soon, his scimitar was harmlessly squelched under the form of the beast. Not that that was a problem - at his last count, Kumi was packing at least eight weapons.

"Arkay save me!" the Khajiit moaned, deciding that he was actually going to get out of there sharpish now. He flipped onto his hands, stood, and bolted, mouth stuck in a frenzied grin. He was faster than the snail beast, much faster, but it still looked huge as he glanced over his shoulder at it. What a wild ride. Too wild. For once.

"Just you wait, Farkas, I have a gods-damned story and a half for you!"

Kumiko ended up slouching into Whiterun, breathing too heavily. He regretting running all the way here. He should have just run to Rorikstead and told Erik. It was way closer. But no, he was here now. Farkas was going to hear the story. His calves were aching, but he knew it was the ache of a story to be told, so he kept walking, walking towards Jorrvaskr, up its far too many steps, entering its impressive form. He wasn't going to look for Farkas though and instead collapsed on a bench along the wall.

When Aela came over to ask if she could help him in any way at all, he grunted something almost inaudible about a massive beast that he needed to tell Farkas about. Perhaps because Aela had a penchant for stories of beasts, or perhaps because she knew the sooner Kumiko got what he wanted the sooner he would leave, she quietly fetched Farkas for him.

"Farkas, oh my gods, you'll not believe," Kumi sat up upon seeing his beaux, all energy restored. "So, there was this massive - and I mean massive - snail, okay? Right? Huge. As in, it was like four feet tall, shell included."

"Is that tall?"

"Wheesht, it's tall for a snail," Kumi said sharply. "Seeing as snails are usually, you know, that big?" he showed Farkas with his finger and thumb. "So this one was like a thousand times bigger."

"Whoah," said Farkas.

"I know."

Everyone knew Farkas wasn't the fastest thinker. Aela knew it, Vilkas knew it, the others all knew it too. Even Brill, who wasn't even in the Companions exactly, even he knew it. So, as Kumiko's admittedly embellished story went on, more and more audience arrived, seemingly to help explain something to the dimwitted Nord. And, because Farkas didn't understand that snails must have mouths, one of the Companions went on to try and explain, armed with charcoal and parchment. He was all set to draw, but Kumiko kept telling him what to put. Put me being the hero, Make me taller, I'm not that short. No, I had a scimitar. As such, a rather odd image was created, one that seemed to raise more questions for Farkas, and the audience, than it answered at all.

(God, I was in the middle of playing the Sims, why did something of this length spontaneously happen? The picture reminded me of Kyne's Sacred Trials, hence the Skyrim-themed... escapade...
(Also, Alba, yours was fun to read! Even just the fact the monk's called Brendan I found quite funny. A bit of a shitlord, is Brendan?)

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

That old man Kumiko had come across - he'd been skirting around the very edges of Skyrim, looking for an elusive ring and had instead found a little cottage - had warned him of a few animals to look out for. Or, rather, the 'guardian' animals... the spirits of animals. Huge, translucent beasts that needed a good old whacking. The reason Kumiko knew they looked like this is because he'd seen the mud crab guardian. And the old man had warned him of the other two as well. Those who put these guardians down were accepted as protectors. This was Kyne's Trial.

But Kumiko always found it odd - wasn't Kyne the god of peace or something? Something equally boring and generally unfun. Probably peace. He wasn't on the up-and-up with the Divines... he preferred the Daedra way more. They knew how to party.

But, as he spied something shifting on the horizon, he remembered the old man's words about Kyne's Sacred Trials. It wasn't translucent, glowing blue or anything, but it looked oddly huge. With narrowed eyes and twitching whiskers, he reached for his scimitar as he shimmied towards it.

The hell was it? Through the fog, it looked like it had the shape of a mammoth - sloped back, smooth, thick limbs... or, one limb... Perhaps a trunk somewhere? Perhaps a baby mammoth, perhaps that was all it was.

But no. As Kumiko's gut said, it wasn't that simple. If it was indeed a mammoth he'd have shrugged it off minutes ago, instead of walked towards it. Deciding he needed a better view, he climbed up onto a mound of moss-covered rocks not far from the beast. From here he had a pretty good view - Rorikstead was just on the horizon. But look down and... by gods.

"Ewww," was all Kumi could say as his fingers recoiled from the rock. What was down there, what was quietly schlepping its slow way across the moors, was a massive snail. A gods-be-damned massive snail. Just like the mud crab guardian he'd come across, its size was impressive. And, just like in the Trial, it was a creature oft overlooked by the layman. Mud crabs were brushed off, skeevers were poisoned, wolves were slaughtered. Why would a snail be any different?

Though there was nothing too scary about snails generally. Skeevers and mud crabs had the habit of attacking ankles if they were stepped near. And wolves went for the limbs. Snails though... they wouldn't attack would they?

Kumiko was inclined to find out. So, with a mind full of questions and not so much an unironic repetition of a certain curiosity-and-cat related phrase, he let himself drop from the stones. He didn't put his scimitar away; perhaps snails had ways of attacking he didn't know about.

"Hey there," he whispered, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. "You're a big guy. Can I ride you?"

But the snail must have sensed Kumiko was there, as its eyes, up on stalks, shrank into its body. With an audible squelch.

"Ewwww! Oh, gross, wait 'til I tell Farkas about you," he giggled. "Gods."

The snail, unbeknown to Kumiko, was becoming quite nervous. Crossing the landscape wasn't too hard but the constant up-and-down of the ground was so unnerving that it was slowing down. How was it to know nothing would come up behind it and try to nip its squishy body? But something was coming up to it and, although it hadn't attacked the snail yet, the snail was justified in its anxiety. As such, it tried to retreat into its shell, only to feel a hand upon its flesh.

With a shudder, the snail pushed its way out of its shell, erupting in its full glory before Kumiko. He fell back, more amused than scared, his scimitar landing a few inches away. The inglorious beast, before seeming so innocent, suddenly became more threatening; a rasping mouth emerged seemingly from nowhere, revealing rough scale-like textures as well as a slippery hole.

With this hole of death above him, as well as the huge form getting nearer without a sound, the shell of the beast rocking slightly to and fro as the snail edged nearer, Kumiko felt an uneasiness hatch in his stomach. But that soon evolved into a slight bit of panic as he struggled away, feet slipping on the wet moor grasses. Soon, his scimitar was harmlessly squelched under the form of the beast. Not that that was a problem - at his last count, Kumi was packing at least eight weapons.

"Arkay save me!" the Khajiit moaned, deciding that he was actually going to get out of there sharpish now. He flipped onto his hands, stood, and bolted, mouth stuck in a frenzied grin. He was faster than the snail beast, much faster, but it still looked huge as he glanced over his shoulder at it. What a wild ride. Too wild. For once.

"Just you wait, Farkas, I have a gods-damned story and a half for you!"

Kumiko ended up slouching into Whiterun, breathing too heavily. He regretting running all the way here. He should have just run to Rorikstead and told Erik. It was way closer. But no, he was here now. Farkas was going to hear the story. His calves were aching, but he knew it was the ache of a story to be told, so he kept walking, walking towards Jorrvaskr, up its far too many steps, entering its impressive form. He wasn't going to look for Farkas though and instead collapsed on a bench along the wall.

When Aela came over to ask if she could help him in any way at all, he grunted something almost inaudible about a massive beast that he needed to tell Farkas about. Perhaps because Aela had a penchant for stories of beasts, or perhaps because she knew the sooner Kumiko got what he wanted the sooner he would leave, she quietly fetched Farkas for him.

"Farkas, oh my gods, you'll not believe," Kumi sat up upon seeing his beaux, all energy restored. "So, there was this massive - and I mean massive - snail, okay? Right? Huge. As in, it was like four feet tall, shell included."

"Is that tall?"

"Wheesht, it's tall for a snail," Kumi said sharply. "Seeing as snails are usually, you know, that big?" he showed Farkas with his finger and thumb. "So this one was like a thousand times bigger."

"Whoah," said Farkas.

"I know."

Everyone knew Farkas wasn't the fastest thinker. Aela knew it, Vilkas knew it, the others all knew it too. Even Brill, who wasn't even in the Companions exactly, even he knew it. So, as Kumiko's admittedly embellished story went on, more and more audience arrived, seemingly to help explain something to the dimwitted Nord. And, because Farkas didn't understand that snails must have mouths, one of the Companions went on to try and explain, armed with charcoal and parchment. He was all set to draw, but Kumiko kept telling him what to put. Put me being the hero, Make me taller, I'm not that short. No, I had a scimitar. As such, a rather odd image was created, one that seemed to raise more questions for Farkas, and the audience, than it answered at all.

(God, I was in the middle of playing the Sims, why did something of this length spontaneously happen? The picture reminded me of Kyne's Sacred Trials, hence the Skyrim-themed... escapade...
(Also, Alba, yours was fun to read! Even just the fact the monk's called Brendan I found quite funny. A bit of a shitlord, is Brendan?)

Ahhh, that was fun... I kept having this image of a kitten trying to get a look at an iguana, but flying into a panic whenever it moved. (x

Also, I imagined the snail as the size of a mammoth, so it was funny when it was "only" four feet tall. Was that like a reverse fish-story?

Actually, kinda funny story behind Brendan. So, I'm obviously a geek, but I often make a game of including little nods to history or folklore or such in my writing for my own entertainment and to see if anyone notices. I figured that, if ever there were a mischevious monk drawing weird pictures in manuscripts, he had to be Irish. I was thinking of names, and I thought of this song about an artist travelling with Saint Brendan and telling exaggerated (or not!) stories of their adventures, so I named this monk after him. I also kinda imagine him daydreaming about being on such exciting adventures, so that works too. I also just like the name.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Guys, just gonna let y'all know that I have a lot of stuff to finish before leaving for break tomorrow, so I don't know how much I'll be around. I'll still check in as much as I can next week, and maybe type some stuff on my computer to post on my phone. Have fun!

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Guys, guys, GUYS! Oh my goodness, I'm so excited... I've been looking around for archives and resources to use for my research paper (I'm looking at Ireland during and after WWI, up through 1923) and not only did I find digitised copies of newspapers from across the country, but also handwritten witness reports from soldiers! Of course, I knew there would be things like that around, but I usually have a hard time getting access to them because they're usually either in a library or private collection or something. But I can actually look at these, and to look at these people's words and to think about them sitting down and writing them is really incredible... I'm sometimes having a bit of an issue figuring out handwriting, but still... Ahhh, it's so cool...
Anyway, that has nothing to do with this roleplay or anything, but I'm geeking out over here and I wanted to tell y'all about it. I'm very happy now... (x

 

[0stinato]

Guys, guys, GUYS! Oh my goodness, I'm so excited... I've been looking around for archives and resources to use for my research paper (I'm looking at Ireland during and after WWI, up through 1923) and not only did I find digitised copies of newspapers from across the country, but also handwritten witness reports from soldiers! Of course, I knew there would be things like that around, but I usually have a hard time getting access to them because they're usually either in a library or private collection or something. But I can actually look at these, and to look at these people's words and to think about them sitting down and writing them is really incredible... I'm sometimes having a bit of an issue figuring out handwriting, but still... Ahhh, it's so cool...
Anyway, that has nothing to do with this roleplay or anything, but I'm geeking out over here and I wanted to tell y'all about it. I'm very happy now... (x

You don't have to wheesht for our sake! It's always a joy when someone is able to get into what they really love, and if they're succeeding and finding more things to enjoy whilst learning, even better. As far as I know, Ireland is a really interesting place to study in the context of WWI, it's just not that spotlighted, which is a shame. So much went on, so much pride-of-Ireland stuff within the war, that it's honestly quite beautiful.
I only know the bear minimum though - as in, what I learned through studying Yeats a couple of years ago. If you want to have a little break from in-depth study, his poem An Irish Airman Forsees his Death is a good read. Also the Keane song Bad Dream was inspired by that poem (I only noticed on the bus-ride home after my English exam that the song was incredibly similar... so I looked it up and Keane said they based it off the poem). The poem talks about the son (Robert Gregory) of someone Yeats knew (Lady Gregory), who died in the war and who was an airman.
While everyone else was all groaning over it, I was quietly loving how personal it all was. Yeats came through much more than Robert Gregory, but that's only natural - Gregory's death was an outlet for Yeats to show how much he couldn't stand a) the war and b) the English... but even though he had all the hatred, somehow it doesn't seem as bitter as some of his other poems. In fact, An Irish Airman is almost accepting of it all.

There I go, geeking... either way. You said about people sitting down to write something, it reminded me of the poem... definitely have a read if you don't already know it. It might be a good, context-related break.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

You don't have to wheesht for our sake! It's always a joy when someone is able to get into what they really love, and if they're succeeding and finding more things to enjoy whilst learning, even better. As far as I know, Ireland is a really interesting place to study in the context of WWI, it's just not that spotlighted, which is a shame. So much went on, so much pride-of-Ireland stuff within the war, that it's honestly quite beautiful.
I only know the bear minimum though - as in, what I learned through studying Yeats a couple of years ago. If you want to have a little break from in-depth study, his poem An Irish Airman Forsees his Death is a good read. Also the Keane song Bad Dream was inspired by that poem (I only noticed on the bus-ride home after my English exam that the song was incredibly similar... so I looked it up and Keane said they based it off the poem). The poem talks about the son (Robert Gregory) of someone Yeats knew (Lady Gregory), who died in the war and who was an airman.
While everyone else was all groaning over it, I was quietly loving how personal it all was. Yeats came through much more than Robert Gregory, but that's only natural - Gregory's death was an outlet for Yeats to show how much he couldn't stand a) the war and b) the English... but even though he had all the hatred, somehow it doesn't seem as bitter as some of his other poems. In fact, An Irish Airman is almost accepting of it all.

There I go, geeking... either way. You said about people sitting down to write something, it reminded me of the poem... definitely have a read if you don't already know it. It might be a good, context-related break.

Oh yeah, I think I remember reading about that poem sometime... Don't think I've read it, though, but I'll remember to look it up. I ended up reading a bit of Yeats for class last year, so it would be interesting to read some more. Thanks!

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Well, 0stinato , it looks like you're next up on the writing game, unless would rather wait and see if someone else joins in. I'm going to be leaving soon, but I can probably still get in a few short things during the week. Y'all have fun!

 

[0stinato]

Well, 0stinato , it looks like you're next up on the writing game, unless would rather wait and see if someone else joins in. I'm going to be leaving soon, but I can probably still get in a few short things during the week. Y'all have fun!

I will take that up, but perhaps on Sunday? Tomorrow's the busiest day of the week (I work in a café) and right now I'm writing my own thing. So - if anyone else wants to take on Alba's massive-snail challenge, go ahead!
I'll have a think about something for Sunday evening GMT. Keep the game going eh.

 

[0stinato]

Here's a writing game for you all -

You've all heard of the rule 'show don't tell'? Well, write a little short thing where a character/s is expressing an emotion, but you cannot name it or anything around it. No 'she shook her head aggressively' here. Nope. Instead, you'll be writing stuff like, 'she shook her head with such force I almost felt the breeze of her hair on my arm' and such like.

No 'ly' words, that's boring. Body language, the environment and even the way other characters react to your subject, they can all be used instead.

What are they reacting to?
Simply select an image to respond to:
a)

or
b) or c)

 

[Locklaklazarii]

A

 

[Sir Monsieur]

Preferable A

Probably won't have time to post anything but I enjoy reading everyone else's thoughts.

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Here's a writing game for you all -

You've all heard of the rule 'show don't tell'? Well, write a little short thing where a character/s is expressing an emotion, but you cannot name it or anything around it. No 'she shook her head aggressively' here. Nope. Instead, you'll be writing stuff like, 'she shook her head with such force I almost felt the breeze of her hair on my arm' and such like.

No 'ly' words, that's boring. Body language, the environment and even the way other characters react to your subject, they can all be used instead.

What are they reacting to?
Simply select an image to respond to:
a) View attachment 289171

or
b) View attachment 289172 or c)View attachment 289173

(This is from my phone, so it's gonna be a little short, but here goes! Hopefully this is the sort of thing you have in mind...)

The man was walking through the crowded mall with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. The day was bright and just warm enough for the cool air of the building to seem particularly inviting. The crush of people was a little jarring after a peaceful walk through the park, but he was pretty sure his blood pressure could take it. Take a deep breath, don't stress over the little things, and everything would be fine.

Then, suddenly, everything was not fine... This was an abomination! An outrage! How dare they? How could they be so careless?! He glared at the offender with burning eyes and stormed over. "You!" he growled, struggling to claw off the unnaturally hideous face, but to no avail. Children stated and pointed as their mothers hurried them away while other shoppers watched him with confused and concerned eyes, but none wanted to get involved. Somebody else would deal with him, surely. They didn't have to risk anything themselves...

The man's assault on the hated fault-of-nature was unsuccessful and he was beginning to lose control. The object of his attack lay there cold and unmoving, but he couldn't stop. That face... It was still staring at him... Still insulting every atom of his existence. Did nobody notice? Did no-one care? He began to feel cold and shook as he backed away. His heart fluttered in his chest and his breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled back into a nearby bench, much to the alarm of the occupant already sitting there. They suddenly had urgent business in another part of the store and hurried away.

The man buried his burning face in pale and trembling hands as he struggled to gain control of the situation. After a moment, a new light entered his eyes and he stood to his feet with a start. Of course! It seemed so obvious now! He dashed away laughing straight for the paint shop. When he returned to the spot, he had armloads of beige-colored paint, dark brown, and both a broad and narrow brush. After tearing through the wrapping, he set to work covering the awful visage with paint, then finished with a series of narrow dark lines at the top.

He stood back to admire his work and began to cackle as his features relaxed and a healthy color returned to his face. Strangers gave him a wide berth and whispered among themselves. A few had cellphones out recording the spectacle. Soon, a uniformed officer shouldered his way through the crowd and approached the man. "Excuse me, sir... Just relax and don't do anything foolish. You're going to have to come with me."

The man looked up at the officer with blank and empty eyes, his face and arms splattered with the results of his work. He looked back and saw that the offender was now covered in paint and would bother him no more. He flashed his teeth in a broad smile and laughed again. "You're welcome, officer... You're all welcome!" He threw his arms wide in an all-encompassing embrace, but they were soon pinned behind him as he was led away. He looked back with a benign smile, knowing that finally, everything was fine.

As the crowd dispersed and he looked around the walkway, he froze as a chill ran up his spine and his face boiled again. Everything was not fine! What madness was this? Who could do such a thing? Was the world really so depraved? The tiles lining the walkway were arranged in a pattern of five with lines on the top, followed by one with lines on the bottom, then five more on top, and so on along the entire length. The pattern was unbroken... Except for one down-tile covered in paint and with thin lines imitating the five flanking it.

As the officer escorted the man outside, the shoppers could hear him raving like a madman. "No, no, no! It's wroooong!"

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

Hey there! I'm back in school now, so I have Internet again. It's going to be a busy week, but I'm going to do my best to finish up those pages and check the thread's pulse to see where we stand. My goal is to have everything up and ready for either our old group to be ready to move forward or to introduce some new people if we've thinned out too much. That may be a bit ambitious, but I'm gonna try.

I think there's still enough of us to keep going, though we may have to rearrange our groups somewhat and/or introduce NPCs. This weekend I had a thought about a couple of rebels becoming trapped by a Thalmor patrol, if that would be of interest to y'all Locklaklazarii or Twyllvarlais . I thought that maybe one or both were injured and sought shelter in a cave until they were strong enough to travel, but either they were in Thalmor territory or the Thalmor were trying to extend their range, and they found the cave. I think Saor may be the only rebel character still here ( MorgathosTheRussian - Are you still interested?), but I could bring in some NPCs. I have four that I often bring in and out, and y'all are welcome to make more. explosiveKitten - I was talking about trying to work something out with you earlier, so would that be of interest to you? I know Maroluna isn't a rebel, but that could be interesting as well. Maybe she gives or recieves aid before learning that Saor was part of this movement she hates, and then has to decide what to do from there, or maybe becomes "guilty" by association in the eyes of the Thalmor?

Anyway, that was just a thought. Others are welcome as well! We might need to confirm who is still here before making a bunch of plans, though.
But the semester will be over for me in about six weeks (finals are the second week in May), and after that I won't have consistent access to a computer or Internet until school starts again in August. I will still have my phone and figured out how to type on my computer then sync it to my phone to copy/paste, but I still only have 1G a month, so I won't be here very much. I'd really like for us to be able to write together a little more before then if possible.
(Of course, y'all are encouraged to keep going over the summer, but I'd like to be part of the fun as well! (x )

 

[Twyllvarlais]

I'm still here. As for the Thalmor patrol scenario I don't mind mind at all.

AlbaGuBrath Locklaklazarii

 

[Locklaklazarii]

Neither do I
AlbaGuBrath Twyllvarlais

 

[AlbaGuBrath]

I'm still here. As for the Thalmor patrol scenario I don't mind mind at all.

AlbaGuBrath Locklaklazarii

Neither do I
AlbaGuBrath Twyllvarlais

Excellent! I'm glad y'all are still here. So do you have any thoughts or suggestions about how to work that in?

 

[0stinato]

and/or introduce NPCs

(I doubt he will pop up but) FARKAS IS MINE, BAGSIE.