Dawn comes to Cyrodiil, greeted by the chirping of songbirds and the crow of the rooster. A warm breeze blows through the window and Sharlassa breathes a contented sigh as she stirs in her bed. What a perfect way to start a day!
And then I open my eyes and remember my plight. Buggers. I'm on the run from psycho-killer-whore-thieves. No bed will be safe for long. I'm a fugitive, on the run from, er... injustice. And adventure. That's even worse. As an old philosopher once asked, "Which is better: to suffer an injustice, or to commit an adventure?" Well, if I don't get outta Dodge, I'm going to be suffering and committing. So I pack my things into my invisible extra-dimensional backpack.
It's 5:30am on the 31st of Last Seed, day 5 of my non-adventure, and I celebrate the blessings and not-quite-curses that life brings by enjoying a light breakfast of apple and cheese while I plan my route for the day.
Hmm... there seems to be a suspiciously large hole in my map north of the Brina Cross. What lies in that unmarked territory? Is it a mountainous paradise? Or perhaps a rugged wasteland? Is it miles of nothing but boredom and walking, or it filled with tedious adventure after sodding adventure? I dunno, but I've decided that's where I'm going. I gots to get my run on after all, lest I get caught by psycho-killer-whore-thief-gangsters (hmm... ever time I think of them a new colorful description pops into my head, and it's a bit longer than the last one).
Why not head for Kvatch, the city to the east? Well, there's a problem, see. See, Kvatch got destroyed in the main game, see, and there's no way you can see it as a normal town, see. So see, even though I've got a mod that delays the main quest, Kvatch is still designed as a destroyed city, see. See, they put a guard outside the front gate that tells you Kvatch is closed. See?
Besides, I'm a country gal, a hunter, used to roughing it and living off the land. Those hoes chasing me are pretty girls, not up for some serious slogging through the mountains. In a nearby town they might catch me. But in the mountains, the one doing the catching is me. Because I am... a hunter!
Okay, well, a huntress. But you get my point.
I stalk out into County Kvatch, keeping a brisk pace but still stopping to grab a pretty flower or two. For potions, I mean. I'm a huntrer... -ess. I'm not into the the whole "Ooo, a pretty flower! *melt*" thing. Really.
Pretty soon I'm welcoming the sight of the morning sun as it breaks over Colovia's mountains. Ah!
Oh hey, is that a fort? It's not on my map, so I creep forward to check it out, hopeful that my woman's intuition will divine the name of the ruins.
Hey, I think there's someone living here! I can tell by the fact they're shooting arrows at me. I turn to run, but an armored archer lady comes bursting out of the underbrush. Not one to be shown up by another chick, I draw my sword and slash at her until the falls.
In accordance with my religion, I strip her of her clothes and repair hammer, though I leave her noisy iron armor for a non-sneaky, non-hunter scavenger to take.
Even without taking on her armor, though, I'm feeling a bit... heavy. Hmm... why can't I move?
Woah, I've got some serious diseases going on after that fight. Rattles, my intuition tells me, and Colleywobbles. What the hell, man! I've been given a disease by some chick I don't even know! That's one of those things you think only happens to other people, but after a night of hitting the bar and buying drinks for the hottie next to you, you wake in with a horrid hangover and a note on your pillow saying you should probably get yourself to the clinic... I swear, though, I'm not into chicks. Didn't you see me checking out the sailors?
However this happened, there's only one thing I can do to cure it. Okay, well, there's several. But there's one I can do right now that's quick and painless. I hunt through my pack until I find some mandrake root. I've been picking this stuff all over, and its first property is Cure Disease. A few bites and I'm starting to feel better already. Good thing I had this, or I might've had to spend most of my blog hunting for ingredients for a Cure Disease potion, and no one likes a copycat.
Anyway, now disease-free, I creep towards the tower again, determined to learn its name before... great, now an armored orc chick is running to greet me, too. She's probably just as diseased ridden as her butch forester friend that attacked me. I fill one hand with mandrake root and the other with my sword. Die diseased ho!
Faster than I can take a screenshot, she cuts my health in half. Yipes! This is not the diseased ho I'm looking for. I perceive I have a choice. Run, or... well, okay, there's not really any other option.
Ha, check this out. I'm going to run and chug a coupla health potions. Even in her armor, the orc's faster than me, so my alchemy skill is the only thing keeping me alive as she hacks at my back. I chug away until I think I can turn around and face her with full reserves. It's a one in a million chance, but it just might work.
Fortunately, one in a million chances work out nine times out of ten. My skillful use of potions and poisons keeps me healthy while keeping her dead. That settled, I munch on some mandrake root to get her germs outta my system. Then... I get religious.
Booyah! Who's the kick-ass warrior now? Me, sister! I'm a lean, mean, green-fighting machi... damn, that hat is ugly.
Okay, that's better.
Booyah! Who's the kick-ass warrior now? Me, sister! I'm a lean, mean, green-fighting machine. Bring on your diseased butch orcs and your psycho-killer-whore-thief-gangster-wenches. I'm the last thing they'll ever see!
