Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24524076-20160803200831/@comment-24524076-20161111004352

Pelagius the Geek wrote:Though, your writing was good and you've immediately seen and accepted your problems, so congrats and thanks! Many don't. Thanks! I like to be a crowd pleaser, and years of campaigning have given me the ability to tell an interactive story fairly well, I'd like to believe.

And, don't worry, I plan on sticking to the formula as it's been. Again, the railroading was unintentional...

Anyways, Option 1 it is. The Hunter remains and we live with our actions.

[There is one thing the hunter has done I cannot let stand on this current path, though -- *Uses GM Magic(tm) to pretend that Don't-Drop-the-Soap was but another Argonian who looked rather similar*]

Anyways, now time to advance the new story. It's gonna be a long one, grab some popcorn. Hopefully, you recently purchased some from roving Boy Scouts.

''A Whiterun guard jolts awake in the barracks. He hears the twang of bowstrings, the whistle of arrows, the painful grunts of battle. He quickly tumbles off his rock-hard matress and slips on the armor of the hold. The fleece-lined breastplate, the steely gauntlets... finally, he slips a helmet over his unkempt black hair.''

Enough purple prose.

Enoguh interrupting my narrative, Sheo.

Alright, alright. Just don't have a repeat of Cannibal McShootyBow.

''Affirmative. The guard grabs his sword and shield and rushes out the door, the cold midnight breeze waking him up. Three guards lie dead, and two more have a Redguard pinned down, the situation finally under control.''

''The guard checks the identities of his fallen comrades, though reluctantly. The first was Ulfric Bloodied-Blade (No relation). The second was Arvid the Bladesmith (he made daggers for Warmaiden's on his off days). The third... oh no. No, no, no. This can't be right!''

''At the guard's feet lies Radburn Firefjord. A fine warrior, and a close friend of the guard's, as well as his father's. Could it truly be so? The guard rifles through Radburn's pockets, hoping desperately to find evidence against this. A few septims, one of Arvid's finer daggers (a wedding gift) -- and a piece of parchment ready to be delivered. The guard opens the envelope and reads the manuscript inside. He's startled to see his name at the top.''

"My good friend Jabari Mighty-Mug,  As you know, it is but a few days until I am sequestered in the room that all guards stay in for the last couple days before retirement. Afterwards, I believe I will travel abroad, as my home leaves nothing left for me, with my wife having passed two years ago and my two sons making their living in Cyrodiil. I wish to see all that Nirn has to offer, and will return home afterwards for a quiet retirement, should I survive it all.

''Your father, Bjarke, was a wonderful companion before he passed last year. You have been wonderful as well, and a fine apprentice when you were young. As such, I'd like you to take the key enclosed and use it to unlock the mahogany wardrobe in my cellar. Many great things await you.''

''Regards,  Radburn Firefjord''"

''Jabari is crushed by the loss. If only he had not retired early, he may have been able to join the fray, and prevent Radburn's death.''

''But now, Radburn has left a legacy for him. He retrieves the wardrobe key from the envelope and clutches it tightly against his chest.''

''A day by carriage later, and he stands in front of Radburn's home near Rorikstead. He enters the home and sees a fine bow hung over a mammoth skull as a hearth decoration. He searches around for a short bit and finds the cellar, then the wardrobe within. He uses the key, and the door of the wardrobe opens with an old creak. In it is a very fine set of armor, the onyx gleam marking its composition as Ebony. It glows in areas with a malevolent crimson light. This must be Daedric armor. It is posed with a sword in hand, planted in the floor in front of it as if it were an old king, glory-bathed from combat. The sword itself has a fine black grip and guard adorned with ruby, with a blood-red blade. Its very aura is invigorating. Jabari slips on the armor. He feels as if he could run for miles, and absorb any blow, so long as he wears it. It's astoundingly comfortable, and has none of the heft it did as he held it above his shoulders.''

''He grips the blade, and feels a strong power flowing through him. This blade is an heirloom; it has lasted many, many generations. Should he visit an artificer, they may date it back into the second era. There is a small black felt bag with a note tied around it. The note reads "A treasure to comfort you when nothing else will". In it is a pile of coins, covering two stones, one a polished obsidian, the other a fine moonstone. They do have a rather calming energy to them.''

''Radburn's mind has been broken by grief. He feels he has let his companion die, and wishes to avenge him. Should he succeed, his mind will likely mend itself. Should he fail, and survive the ordeal, his mind will likely shatter completely -- a horrifying void is in the very furthest reaches of it, and will totally envelop it should it have a chance to take hold. Will you lead him to salvation, glory, vengeance? Or will you lead him to misery, death, and total breakdown? The choice is yours to make.''

By the Nine, I give you an inch and you take a bleeding mile.

Shut up, Sheo.