The Elder Scrolls Subcategories
10830 Skyrim SE
Time to hire a few dragons to guard the house i built and stashed like the entire maps worth of loot in ..... Pretend not to be single.... slaughter a few cities to make myself unappealing and [censored]-ish . GG
I personally think that Oblivion's Persuasion mini-game is easily the most idiotic gameplay concept Bethesda has introduced into the Elder Scrolls series since its inception in 1994. It is not a roleplaying game mechanic. In fact, I would say it is anti-roleplaying. It is bizarre, it is unintuitive, it is unimmersive and it is unrealistic. I am glad they ditched it and I hope it never returns.
@LordMar - Thanks, I will check it out!.
They´re an isolated, traditional and pious island with a thing for supremacism. At least part of their influence comes from the military period of Japan, although I´m sure there are other influences.
I've criticized the Obscure texts by Kirkbride and Rolston and I thought that I could now implement my own criticism. Therefore I took the task to take the contents of the text "From Totemic Traditions in Atmoran Culture" and to package the same information in an scene with characters and humor. It is not a big text, nor is it revised. It is translated from my german-original. It shows that there are quite a few ways to convey Lore. How you like it?
Dorgur gro-Urgulg entered the filthy inn in the harbor district of the Imperial-City and sat down to the table, where Mikhael, the small, weak Imperial and at Mojo, the small and weak Nord sat. Dorgur invited both to a talk in "The floating bowl" and was surprised that both scholars of the university were already waiting for him. He sat on the creaking chair and nodded to both scholars, who were however in a dispute.
"If we take note of the more than dubious scholasticism of the Pocket Guide to the Empire then," began Mikhael, expressing his words by tapping on the gray wooden table with his fingers in the rhythm of his words and brought the candle standing there to flicker. But Mojo interrupted him as he hit the table with his flat hand. "The third edition! We talk about the third edition!"
Mikhael laughed mockingly and let his yellow teeth flash. "There we have it! It needs three editions so that this trash comes a bit close to the truth!"
Dorgur cleared his throat and the two scholars opened their eyes, they had not noticed him until now.
"Go on, my friends," said the orc. "I can wait, it does not hurry." Both nodded and Mojo took the word. "The Nedics are the ancestors of the Nord and thus also of the Imperial."
Mikhael rolled his eyes. "Idiocy! The Gwylim press, the most successful and most serious publishing house on the continent!" He raised his finger with warning and his green robe slipped down the arm a bit. "Has clearly stated in its dissertation that the Nedics were a separate race who were on Tamriel before your shaggy ancestors appeared."
Mojo crossed his arms, shaking his head and let Mikhael finish his speak.
"I do not say that there is no Nord-blood flowing in the veins of every imperial Man. Your kind is very well-known for their lust, so it only makes sense that your blood flows in every race, even in the orcs!" He pointed to Dorgur, who raised his hands innocently.
"The book is from the second era!" Mojo yelled. "This is anything but not a current source, and the fact that the author of the book does not refer to any sources in the book itself is more than just questionable!"
"Maybe," Dorgur interfered. "The truth is lost in the god-time impossibilities of the Dawn?"
Both scholars were silent for a moment, then turned to the orc. "What did you want from us, Mr. Gro-Urgulg?" Mikhael asked.
"Oh, yes, I just wanted to let you know that I [censored] your two women." The scholars opened their eyes. "Originally I wanted to apologize, but now I realize that I've just done a favor to the two lovely wifes."
Both scholars got up and raised their daggers. "What did you do, pig-child?" Mojo moans, and the orc stands up, letting its war ax look, which both scholars surpassed.
Again the two men opened their eyes. "I said I [censored] and [censored] your wives again, like a gutted chicken that just waited to be filled with my masculinity, what's about it?"
Both men put their weapons away and sat down, looking anxiously at the table.
"Thought so." Dorgur shook his head and hit on the table so the two men shrank. He put money on the table. "Drink something while I fill your chickens." And he left the tavern.
Varus said nothing, only stiffened his jaw as he looked over the man in front of him: he did not match the description of anyone reportedly sent out from Balmora, but upon closer inspection, he saw the out of place designs on the man's weapon that marked him as one of the Blades.
'Perhaps I didn't stress the importance of time in this matter, Blade.' The Knight's expression was cool and carefully measured as he locked eyes with the spy. 'What you're asking for amounts to several days worth of supplies, implying it will take you that long to reach Balmora. That isn't acceptable.' Varus' dark eyes narrowed, just enough to be noticeable. 'If you and your spymaster lack the resources to get things done in a timely manner, then I'll send Captain Spellbinder in disguise with a unit of Legionnaires to Moonmoth, and [censored] the Temple.' His attention shifted sharply to Fara.
'You aren't attacking anybody. Tensions are already high enough in this city, and if people start getting mugged in the streets, particularly by an Elf, we're liable to have a panic. And I don't need my men having to worry about keeping the civilians in line when we might be looking at a siege of the city walls in the next several days.' He drew a deep breath through his nose. 'I'll see that you get your boat and supplies, through the...regular channels.' Varus licked his lips slightly; the Thieves Guild was in a bad spot in its turf war with the Camonna Tong, and had every reason to want to help the Empire's interests...and leave the Temple hurting. 'Give them an hour after I leave to get everything set up; you'll know which boat is yours when you get to the docks. And when anybody asks, none of you were ever here.'
'Hello again, Zethan.' Lucilla bowed her head politely towards the Dunmeri mage, her expression decidedly neutral. 'I don't believe I had the opportunity to introduce myself earlier. I am Lady Artoria, of the Imperial Legion.' She looked up at the Inquisitor and smiled softly. 'Your Inquisitor and I were just discussing my earlier encounter with the Breton lad, and I happened to mention that I came upon the two of you in the middle of a conversation.' Her features grew concerned. 'Pray tell, do you recall the boy saying anything out of the ordinary? Anything that might be considered damning? Alas, I am but a common soldier, unfamiliar with scholarly matters, and I fear I haven't been of much use in the Inquisitor's investigation.'
A plant? Or perhaps simply a useful idiot in the wrong place at the right time? Lucilla mulled over the Telvanni's role in this affair. If he's sided with the Inquisitor, then the outcome of our little game was decided from the beginning; they'll use the thinnest scrap of evidence as just cause...but if it isn't enough to appease the Legion, then there will be war regardless. Too many eager Generals in Skyrim looking for a reason to spill some Dark Elf blood to let such a thing go unanswered. But if he can be made to support my retelling of events, then maybe there's a chance...
All things in balance, Lucilla. We all have our parts to play in Fate's game.