Head hurts. Too much drinking at the party. Cart’s moving. Wait, cart? How much did we drink last night?
No, no, no. This isn’t right. Last night we were in a posh party. We had velvet robes. We had obsidian armor! We were the boss of the thieves’ guild AND the assassin’s guild AND the mage’s guild AND the fighter’s guild, collecting tithes from each! And there was something about Oblivion gates… but we kind of forgot about that. And now…
And now we’re in a cart! And there’s snow! Dinosaurs hate snow! They’re cold blooded! And there’s a bunch of people who stink like… who stink like… NORDS. We remember Nords. Well, mostly we remember killing a Nord in that weird assassin’s quest where we had to systematically kill everyone at a fancy mansion without them knowing it was us. That was great! That was fun! This is… and now there’s…
TITLE SCREENS? That can only mean one thing. It’s happening again. It’s all coming back. It’s time for…
Okay, here’s the situation: we quickly learn that we’re being carted to some city in the middle of this frozen wilderness because we had the terrible luck to be lumped in with these smelly Nord revolutionaries. There’s a thief in the cart who seems to share our sentiment. He just wanted to steal some bread and silverware and stuff! We nod silent agreement. We’d almost consider him a brother, but, well… he is human.
Who am I? WHO AM I?
THAT’S WHO I AM.
I now realize that I was speaking out of turn and express my sincere apologies.
After we have the pleasure of seeing the thief shot down with arrows upon trying to escape and subsequently watching one of the stinky Nords get decapitated by a big ole axe, we’re forced to make peace with our gods. Unfortunately, Super King Awesome considers himself his own god (q.v.: One Dinosaur’s Oblivion, subsection re: Dinosaurs have their own religion, it’s called being totally awesome and kicking ass all the time forever) so his pleas kind of fall on deaf ears.
“It’s not our fault!” we insist, “We’ve never done anything political in our lives! And you know that’s true because the Arognian race is made up largely of slaves and scullery maids who could really use a civil rights movement!”
These pleas, too, fall on deaf ears. The axe is raised.
AND THEN A FUCKING DRAGON PERCHES ATOP A TOWER AND BURNS THE WHOLE VILLAGE DOWN.
Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Super King offers a long-distance fist bump to his lizard-from-another-mother and takes off running. There are feats of acrobatics to consider, and he’s given a choice between following the smelly Nords or Imperial soldiers. It takes a moment to consider. The Nords didn’t try to execute him for some hazy crime, so that’s nice, but they are very smelly.
He picks the Nord and immediately gains a newfound respect when:
He tells us to loot the armor and very clothes off one of his closest friends, now dead.
Well shit, we were gonna do that anyway.
The imperials attack and we pretty much murder them in cold blood. Then we take their clothes, which makes us look like a centurion. Now that we’re done with the dead Nord’s equipment, four seconds after having stripped it off his still-warm corpse, we chuck it to the side and pretty much don’t notice if that hurts our companion’s feelings or not. Dinosaurs are not particularly adept at reading human emotions. Don’t get me wrong, they can do it, they just don’t want to.
This will likely become a running theme.
Smelliness aside, we start to like this Nord all the more when he requests we ransack every barrel in a small room we come across. “Hunh?” We grunt in response, our face buried snout-length in a basket of carrots:
We then claim the basket for our own, as is our sovereign right.
We trudge on, through the storerooms into what seems to be a dungeon.
Hey I didn’t sign up for th…
Back in MY day, back in CYRODIIL, a torturer would at least wait until you weren’t answering his questions before he shocked you with magical electricity shooting from his hands. Well, just goes to show you what kind of respect one is afforded in the frigid north.
The torturer dispatched, it seems we’ve absorbed the power of his electric hands into our own. After a few test-zaps on our companion (“Hey, I’m on your side!” he complains, but we can’t hear him over the electricity) we decide that this is pretty much the best gift that anyone has ever received. We set about electrocuting everything we meet.
Like this guy.
And this guy.
And this guy
(might be the same guy, or maybe our electric hands fused two dudes together into a horrible abomination)
Archimedes once said: give me an electric hand big enough and I’ll murder the entire Imperial army for no reason (paraphrasing from the original Greek). We are finding this to be mostly true, and are also finding shock-murder to be about as much fun as a person has ever had, but nothing could prepare us for what would come next.
No big thing for my electric hand… OR SO I THOUGHT.
AAAAAAA. ELECTRIC BEAR!!!!!
But with enough effort, and a little bit of luck, and maybe that guy we’re with swings his axe like one time, the bear goes down. And we level up! And we’re free from the cave! The bear was like an end boss and we kicked his dick right off! We want to do a victory jig, but there’s no victory jig emote!
Now, free men, we split off from the stinky Nord as quickly as possible (after several Save/Load attempts at picking his pockets). He tells us to go to some dumb down in the mountains where we can meet his sister. Super King asks “is she hot?” But that mostly just draws some weird looks. That’s okay.
After being crammed up in that cave for so long it’s nice to take a deep breath. And hey, now that I have clothes warmer than a prisoner’s sack cloth, maybe this climate isn’t so bad. It’s all… snowy…
There’s a whole big world out there, Super King. There’s a whole lot to explore and our adventure is just beginning.
(and then we electrocuted a fox)
Big ups to Jack, other Jack, Tom, other Tom, Dale, Jon, and Marques, whose donations and shirt purchases made Super King’s continuing journeys a reality!