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Author Topic: A Skyrim Story (FxM)  (Read 79 times)

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Online ChiTopic starter

  • Fallen Jedi, Mistress of the Thieves Guild, slayer of Rancors and crusher of Draugr. Dragons beware!
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A Skyrim Story (FxM)
« on: July 18, 2021, 07:15:00 am »
I've recently been writing a Skyrim story, but sadly we broke it. I'm hoping someone can come along and help me revive it with less overpowered characters, which may have been the problem as to why what happened happened.

I love the idea of playing a young female thief (with a secret even she doesn't know she has), who's good at her craft and equally good in a fight. She talks like a guttersnipe but is far more intelligent than her speech mannerisms let on, so people underestimate her because of that. Whether she's already on the path to the Thieves Guild questline can be determined.

Her partner in crime once they meet? Likely the Dragon born, but not a well-versed or powerful one. Possibly after his hike up the throat of the world to High Hrothgar? Or even just traveling there to meet the Greybeards if they're both low-level characters.

Can you help me? Where's Nocturnal when you need her dammit?!?

Online ChiTopic starter

  • Fallen Jedi, Mistress of the Thieves Guild, slayer of Rancors and crusher of Draugr. Dragons beware!
  • Lady
  • Enchanter
  • *
  • Join Date: Oct 2015
  • Location: Somewhere far from normal.
  • Gender: Female
  • A shadow, a sneak, behind you and in front of you!
  • View My Rolls
  • Referrals: 2
Re: A Skyrim Story (FxM)
« Reply #1 on: July 18, 2021, 07:39:49 am »

My original opener for the first story
The young woman rode her grey dapple steed along the dusty road. Feeling the dust grate in her mouth, and the sweltering heat of her black armor pulling at her she threw back the hood of her cloak and slid the morion that covered her face off, hooking it over the pommel of her blade. At sixteen she was small for her age, but the sharpness in her eyes, the downturn at the corners of her lips, and the furrow of her brow showed the look of a young woman who had far too many responsibilities and cares thrown onto the shoulders of one so young.

Of course, she was the youngest Master in the Annals of the Thieves Guild, even if it was just in name at this point. After the disappearance of Mercer Frey with much of the Guild's plunder almost two months ago she was saddled with much of the responsibility of rebuilding while doing her share of jobs to keep them afloat. Well actually more than her share if truth be told. 'Ridic'lous!' she thought to herself. 'Fitty men an' wimmin loungin' about drinkin' an' fightin' an' their feckin' Guild Master is gallivantin' about stealin' an' robbin' an' such jus' so they's can do feck all! Bryn'll get an earful when I gets back, Delvin an' Vex too! Enough's feckin' enough! Ye' don't work, ye don't eat. An' the ones as don't wanna work'll be turfed out!'

She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a stick of smoked meat to chew on for her lunch, and took a sip of water from her canteen. Looking at the swamps to her left she scowled as she got a nose full of the sulfurous stench that permeated the Eastmarch.

“Feckin’ hell, I couldn’t do this at night? Whose brillin’t idea wuz it to travel in me Nightingale armour in broad daylight? Oh.. yeah. T’was my brillin’t feckin’ idea!” she cursed at herself as she shook her short, messy white-blonde hair to try and get it to dry a little.

She was a small young woman and looked ridiculously tiny on the back of the warhorse she rode. Her face was fair, with a pixie-ish quality to it, wide grey-green eyes, slender up-turned nose, and lips just pouty enough to look kissable. That white-blonde hair was an outstanding feature though, and combined with her looks, her petite stature, and how perfectly proportional she seemed to be, she’d be a lovely specimen of feminine beauty, if it weren’t for the multiple weapons strapped, belted, and hung off of her of course.

Mouse looked up at the sun and cursed herself again as she slowly chewed the chunk of horker meat in her mouth. Little more than half a day’s ride from the Flagon and she already wanted to be back home. “Feckin’ Mercer Frey, I swears when I gets me hands on ‘im I’ll strip ‘im of ‘is manhood! By Talos I can’t wait fer the day we cross blades!” She kicked the horse gently in its ribs and said a quiet “Gi’dap Misty.” The horse responded immediately and trotted a bit faster, making the young woman bounce on its bare back as she rode.

Several miles later she reined in her mare, an uneasy feeling in her gut, made more so when the horse under her ass stomped a few times and snorted. “I know Misty, sumpin’ ain’t right ‘ere. I don’t like th’ looks o’ how convenient all them outcrops ‘n such ahead gives cover but there’s none on th’ road.” Her hand patted the horse’s neck as she surreptitiously loosened her blades in their scabbards. “Okay girl, try’n gallop through? Or go back a bit ‘n swing round?” Misty pawed the hard dirt and shook her head, making the small girl smile wickedly.

“Through it is den!” she said as she kicked her horse hard in the ribs, making her lunge forward with a loud whinny. Reaching to her right hip Mouse pulled a long dirk from its scabbard, holding it out to the side while she hunkered down behind her horse’s neck as they rode at breakneck speed through the suspected trap. Sure enough her instincts had been correct, but unfortunately, Mouse’s instincts couldn’t tell her how many opponents she’d be facing. As soon as the girl rode past the first outcrop two figures popped up on either side of the road, bows drawn and arrows flying almost before she could react. Yanking hard on the reins her horse spun to the side, one of the shafts tugging on her cloak as it passed through the heavy material. More arrows started flying past her head, and she felt her mount stumble as one of them buried itself in her hindquarter, cause the beast to scream and rear. Two more arrows found their marks, in between the grey horse’s forelegs, the other in its neck, causing splashes of blood to mar its beautiful coat as it screamed in surprised pain as it fell.

Mouse leapt off her horse, glad she had never learned to ride a saddle, less chance of getting tangled in a stirrup. Crouching behind her dying mare she could hear more arrows plunk wetly into the poor animal’s body as it struggled to move and escape. Without thinking as to how many foes she faced she lept over the dying horse’s body and charged towards the first person she saw, a stocky bald-headed man with a bushy beard. He gazed at her in shock for a moment, amazed that this slip of a girl was charging him like a fury, screaming with rage as the small sword spun in her left hand and a wicked looking dagger in the other. Before he could even fully register the ridiculousness of the situation he grunted and coughed blood as her small sword ripped up through his guts to his heart and her wicked dagger deftly sliced his throat.

“C’mon ye feckin’ barstids! Quit yer hidin’ behind rocks like cowerds! Murderers! Misty wuz me fav’rite ‘orse! She din’t done nuffin’ to yas!” The petite sixteen-year-old screamed as she took the fight to those who thought they’d found an easy mark. An Argonian tried to tackle the young woman from the side, but she spun and danced off, clambering up his back until she could slide her dagger through the back of his neck, severing his spine at the base of his skull. Flipping up and back before he even started falling, she twisted mid-air, landing on her toes to cross blades with another human, a fur-covered female who was head and shoulders taller than she was. The woman smiled, showing chipped and blackened teeth, swinging her sword a few times at what she thought was a child. Many people had had the mistaken thought that Mouse was much younger than her actual age simply because of her diminutive size. Most who crossed blades with her under that assumption generally bled out as they pondered their error. Mouse blocked every strike easily and could see the haze in her eyes. Skooma!

Mouse heard the heavy rapid thump of feet in heavy boots coming up behind her. She danced forward a bit at the woman, her little blades flashing like lightning in her face then at the last second dropped to the dusty ground. Mouse barely missed getting trampled by the feet of an Orc as it charged over her and into the woman, the blade she’d been holding spearing out of the beast’s back as he landed on the woman, dead.

Flipping herself back to her feet Mouse spun in a circle as she heard calls from behind the rocks. “C’mon ye feckin’ cowerds! ‘Fraid ta fight? None ‘o ye man enough ta take yer chances wiv me?” she could hear the woman under the Orc gurgling and gasping for air, and against her desire to let the woman suffocate under her compatriot’s bulk, she walked over and looked around to where she suspected her adversaries were. “Dis one ‘ere? Won’t be th’ last t’day. If not t’day, I’ll hunt ye dogs down an’ kill ye…”

’...feck’ went through her head as she felt a hard crunch to the back of her head, things went grey, then as black as a deep pit.

“Strip her,” the low, rumbling voice of the Orc who’d brained Mouse said as a Khajiit and two more humans approached. The small girl was bleeding from an ear and her nose, and her breathing was shallow and pulpy sounding. As they removed her armor down to her thin undergarments they were shocked at the sight of how small she actually was.

Looking around at the carnage, one of the humans shook his head slowly, “Shit she’s just a kid! What, maybe sixteen? Karg she took out four growed people, an’ one an Orc!”

The big Orc grinned savagely, “Don’t matter, little shit like that’ll be dead in an hour, she’s bleeding into her lungs. The bitch’ll drown on her own fluids. Peck, how much gold did she have?”

The smallest of the humans cringed, “Fifteen, Karg?”

“What?!” their leader roared. “Fifteen damned gold? That's ”

“Maybe her armor and weapons will get a fair price?”

Karg glared at the remains of his crew, “It better or there’ll be more dead bodies around.” Shaking his head he walked away from his people, shaking his head, wondering how such a small young woman had managed to kill four of his people so easily. Looking back at the dying girl he almost...almost...felt sorry for her. She’d fought like a true warrior, fearlessly and bravely.