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The Straw That BrokeReyda loved her brother, but there were days she just wanted to strangle him.
Taking care of Narfi was always a struggle. No one ever told you what it was like taking care of a man-child day in and day out. Most days he could do most of the necessary functions of care for himself like dressing and bathing on his own. In fact, they frequently had good days where they would sing together or take walks by the river. Most of the time, Reyda loved her older brother and was happy that she could be there to take care of him.
Then there were days like today.
She had decided to give the house a huge cleaning. Narfi was never any help for this sort of project, so she had sent him outside to entertain himself while she worked. It had been exhausting hauling the various pieces of furniture around so she could scrub and dust. It had taken buckets upon buckets of water to get the place exactly how she wanted. By the end of the day, her hands were swollen and her back throbbed, but she prided herself
Old Life FestivalMiddas Evening Star 31st 204 4E 11:00 PM
There was nothing like being lonely in a room full of people.
I looked around Dead Man's Drink, the local tavern and inn for Falkreath, and took in the various groups drinking quietly. There was some conversation among the locals and even a bit of singing, but it was eerily somber for a holiday known for its drinking and overall good cheer.
Or maybe I was thinking about tomorrow's New Life Festival when gifts were given to loved ones and promises for a better year were made to be broken in the next two weeks.
Tonight, Old Life Festival, was a day for reflection. A day to think about the past...and according to some, a chance to resurrect the recent dead. That was why I was here instead of home in Dawnstar. I wanted to see if I could talk to the dead. It wasn't as if I hadn't done it before.
I tried to sip my mead, noting with dull surprise that the tankard was empty. I started to stand to get another drink when an older Imperial
Season Unending Part 1"Dammit, Ulfric got here first," General Tullius groused as he dismounted.
There were two horses bearing the Windhelm colors already in the High Hrothgar stables as the Imperial contingent filed in. With Tullius, Legate Rikke, Jarl Elisif, Jarl Balgruuf, their housecarls, and Ambassador Elenwen's mounts included, the small shed was overly full. The Greybeards had no need for horses, but they had the building for their rare visitors. It was highly unusual for them to have this many guests at once.
"Of course he did," Elenwen said as she smoothly dismounted. "He's much closer than we were, he has a smaller contingent, and he had to be here first to prove his worth."
"He's also not going to be happy that the ambassador is here," Rikke murmured to Tullius. Elenwen smiled, not acknowledging the legate's words. "You know how much Ulfric hates the Thalmor."
"What was I supposed to do, Legate?" Tullius replied lowly. "She's higher ranked than me and has every right to be here. I couldn't exact
Caught in the RainIt hardly ever rained in Windhelm.
The capital of Eastmarch was too far north for much precipitation. Most of the year the land was covered with snow making growing most vegetables impossible. There were a few plants that thrived in the cold, but not enough for the Hold to survive without imports. Thankfully, there was the lucrative fishing industry to export in exchange for greens from the south.
"There are two seasons in Windhelm, little brother," Galmar used to tell Rolff when they were children, "winter and Summer's Height,"
Rolff Stone-Fist sighed as he remembered that sweet memory from when he and Galmar too young to know better, but old enough to get into plenty of trouble. It must have been at least fifty years ago, long before the Civil War and the Great War.
He missed his big brother. Galmar had always watched out for him, even when he was disgusted with Rolff. There had been years when they had been far apart. Galmar always had his duties to take him away. First, his role as
Darkness Rises When Silence Dies - Part 1Sundas 5 Sun's Dawn, 4E 202 4:00 PM
I was walking south along the trade roads towards Whiterun returning from the Throat of the World after defeating Alduin, the World Eater and god of destruction. Every step was pain as I forced myself to place on foot in front of the other like a lone soldier's march. "Left, right, left, right", I muttered to myself. My mare nickered softly behind me being led by her reins. I had ridden her to the point of exhaustion, but had been unwilling to stop moving. The thought of being still was too much like the thought of being dead.
The sky was dark overhead, pregnant with storm clouds. Maybe it would rain. That would be the perfect ending to my journey home. I would arrive in Whiterun soaked to the bone and covered it mud. It would be like the gods pissing on me from heaven. "Go on. Do it. I dare you," I muttered darkly. I even flipped a rude gesture to the skies in the hope someone up there would notice. Especially Tsun.
UNBOUND: BEGINNING OF THE TALE OF DRAGONBORN PT 2UNBOUND: THE BEGINNING OF THE TALE OF THE DOVAHKIIN PART 2
The trip to Riverwood from Helgen had been horrible. It was long and cold, but at least the company had been good. Marilena had decided to travel with Ravioli after they had managed to escape the evil, black (yet oddly sexy) dragon.
They had taken refuge inside the keep and found their way into the basement where the torture room was where they found the horrible (and ugly) torturer and his tall and muscular assistant. They had kicked those guys' asses and then strung them up in a cage together to get a dose of their own stupid torturer medicine.
Ravioli had taken her to Riverwood, a little nobody town where his sister lived. There was a long boring unskippable talk by the river. Marilena mostly focused on catching butterflies and picking flowers for alchemy ingredients because having potions was both useful for fights and making mad bank at the store.
There had been some talk about going to Whiterun to warn the jarl there of t
The Mary Sue DilemmaWritten for :iconthe-bards-college:
I'm pretty certain all of us know the term "Mary Sue". It is one of the most dreaded labels our original characters can earn. But what exactly is a Mary Sue?
Is she an unlikable protagonist?
Is she poorly written?
Is she cliched?
Is she an author avatar?
Is she an idealized character?
Is she a power fantasy?
Is she infallible?
Is she the center of attention?
Can a Mary Sue be male?
Can a Mary Sue be a canon character?
What exact combination of these traits are needed to make a character a Mary Sue?
The term originated back in 1973 in a parody Star Trek fanfiction called, "A Trekkie's Tale." I had never read it before tonight and was shocked to find how short it was. I highly recommend taking a minute to read it before continuing here.
Over time, Mary Sue stopped referencing the specific character and became notoriously attached as a term meaning unrealistic self-insertion wish-fulf
Breath and Focus Part 12Turdas 25th Last Seed 206 4E 5:00 AM
It was still dark out when General Tullius's eyes snapped open. He had woken this time of day almost every day for the last thirty years. The general couldn't remember the last time he needed someone to wake him for the day. He was nothing if not a creature of habit.
The older man didn't bother to light a candle as he got dressed. There was no need. He knew exactly where his meager possessions were—tragically few for as long as he had lived here in Castle Dour, but General Tullius had never been much for material possessions. There were a few items of value to him—his Imperial armor, his blade, a ribbon that had belonged to his dead wife—but he did not have anything that mattered that he couldn't carry on his back for leagues if necessary.
General Tullius was a soldier through and through. Ever since he was a young man of eighteen, he had been a Legionnaire. He had joined the Imper
For the Future of Skyrim - Part 13Morndas 7 Rain's Hand 4E 204 9:00 AM
I was reviewing the reports from around Skyrim that Nazir had gathered from his contacts. Mostly I was focusing on how the Civil War was progressing. Falkreath had finally fallen in late autumn of last year. Fort Neugrad should have been an easy victory, especially after the grueling campaign against Whiterun the year before.
However, thanks to the whispers I had placed in the right ears, some folk were uneasy about the supposed Dragonborn assisting Ulfric's rebellion. She had arrived late in the siege against Balgruuf and had provided invaluable morale to the troops in helping defeat him, but since then the pretender had been hiding in Windhelm instead of leading the charge on the field.
There was only one reason for that: she could not produce a thu'um, a dragon shout. I had frequently used my shouts wherever I went when I was the Dragonborn. Many people did not know me by name or face because of the obscuring dragon scale helm I used to wear, but
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