 |
| Joe and Sinmir sharing a mead after defusing the potential face-smushing of Nuntius. |
(Nuntius Publicus is a reporter for The Black Horse Courier in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil, sent to Skyrim to report on the progress of the war. Not finding much actual warfare going on as of yet, Nuntius decides to send back reports on daily life in Skyrim. Most people are unwilling to talk to him, but he happens upon Joe Smith, an alchemist and silversmith. Joe Smith agrees to keep a journal for Nuntius to help him report on the daily life of an average person in Skyrim, though as it turns out, Joe Smith is not exactly average.)
(As with my other roleplaying blogs, you need to read the bottom post first and work your way up. The top post is the newest, the bottom post is the beginning.)
Dear Nuntius:
You wanted me to keep a journal of my daily life and thoughts, and I agreed because nobody else in town would. And the name-calling, Brenuin calling you a milk-drinker. I thought that Sinmir threatening to beat you into a bloody pulp was quite uncalled-for, so I guess you got my sympathy because of that.
How you even got to Whiterun alive, and how you think you are going to be a war correspondent, when you can't defend yourself against a drunken old man in rusty iron armor is quite beyond me, but I guess that's your worry. If you want to invest in some of the best steel plate armor in Skyrim, I can get you the goods if you have the coin. My sympathy only goes so far. Or I can make you some nice leather armor cheap, though I wouldn't go fighting Stormcloaks in it.
I guess a little background on me is in order. I was born in Skyrim, a Nord of Nord parents, but I was raised in the Imperial City. My dad joined the Legion and got promoted, and then we left for Cyrodiil when I was 7. Then he went and got himself killed. Funny, he survived the Great War and then went and got himself scalped by some sodding bandits.
Things got progressively worse after that. My Ma, who was always a housewife and always wanted to be just that, had to work as a bar maid to keep us fed. Me, I chopped wood all day from the age of 12 up. I tried to make a go of it in Cyrodiil, I really did. Cyrodiil was home. But after hearing how Skyrim was such a land of opportunity, and it being my birthplace and all, I finally decided I had to go there. I gave my Ma all my savings, all 120 septims worth, to keep her going and headed north to Skyrim with the shirt on my back. I literally looked like a beggar. I ate berries and had a few handouts on the road north or I might not have made it.
And then when I crossed the border... well I had a misunderstanding with the Legion and then the dragon attacked Helgen and all that, I don't want to get into it. The important thing is, as soon as I was free and across the border, everything improved for the better. And here I am, a year later, and I lucked into a house in Whiterun and I have two lines of business going, alchemy and silversmithing, I have a quite fair mound of shiny septims, and am looking to get a new house in Falkreath soon, one with room for a garden and a wife and all that stuff.
And a nice kitchen, divines damn it, you just can't get good pastries in Skyrim. Everyone carries the same crap, sweetrolls and honey nut sticks.
Did I tread on some toes getting here? Well sure, I even have the Dark Brotherhood stalking me, but I never broke the law. Not once. I... did some things...
...You can't get good supplies here in Skyrim! Everyone's afraid of traveling the roads, and with good reason. So if you find yourself needing 30 or 40 ingots of iron, or say garlic, you can really find yourself out of luck. So... I knew that some bandits had some garlic, they were bragging on it, poor pathetic bastards. You can't grow garlic in Skyrim, so all of it is imported. Usually if you need a clove or two it's not a huge problem, but I am an alchemist. I create potions in bulk. So I needed that garlic. So I went and killed like 5 bandits... um, for their garlic. Hey, it's business, the Jarl probably would have rewarded me for it had he had known of it. Killing bandits and evil mages and Forsworn and such is totally legit, not that I want to make a career of it.
And ya, killing a bunch of other bandits for iron ore. You would think with Skyrim being as rich in iron as it is, getting 30 ingots wouldn't be a problem. Well, it is. Hey, I have a business to run here, I can't smith stuff without iron. No smithing and no potions means no money, and that's just not an option. I might have been raised poor, but I sure as heck don't plan on living that way.
And there were those Forsworn and their gold mine, but that was not my fault. They attacked me first. Then I found they were sitting on a mine full of gold, and well, things followed logically from there.
You may get from all this the impression that I am a bad guy, or at least uncivilized, and that's totally not true. I love the finer things in life, you might have noticed my pricey adornments. I would love it if the supply situation was such that I didn't have to go tramping through the wilds searching for raw materials, but that's just not the case. Hell, I'd never leave town if I could get decent supply here at a decent price, but prices here are outrageous, again because of the supply situation. You want something, you have to go get it. It's just business, is what it is. The fine ladies who buy my jewelry don't care who I had to kill to get the raw materials, as long as it is all legal, and neither do I.
Speaking of raw materials, giants toes. Yeah, toes off giants, who'da thunkit? You can make some ridiculously profitable potions with giants toes if you can find the damn things. I sure am not ready to go kill giants for them.
Anyway, I probably run the risk of boring your readers to tears, so I'll stop there. You asked me what do I think of Skyrim? It really is a land of opportunity... as long as you are prepared to do what it takes. If you're not prepared, you will wind up as just another dead body on the roadside, of which there are many in Skyrim. That's me, I am prepared to do what it takes. I don't like the killing, but better them than me.
What side am I on in the Civil War? Of course the Imperials. Not that I am going to go join the Legion or anything. That's something important I learned from my late father: if you are going to get killed for something, make sure it's for yourself, for your power and wealth, and not for Emperors or Jarls or anybody else. You got that?
Have a good one. Watch out for those damn mudcrabs, goddamn suckers bite.
You wanted me to keep a journal of my daily life and thoughts, and I agreed because nobody else in town would. And the name-calling, Brenuin calling you a milk-drinker. I thought that Sinmir threatening to beat you into a bloody pulp was quite uncalled-for, so I guess you got my sympathy because of that.
How you even got to Whiterun alive, and how you think you are going to be a war correspondent, when you can't defend yourself against a drunken old man in rusty iron armor is quite beyond me, but I guess that's your worry. If you want to invest in some of the best steel plate armor in Skyrim, I can get you the goods if you have the coin. My sympathy only goes so far. Or I can make you some nice leather armor cheap, though I wouldn't go fighting Stormcloaks in it.
I guess a little background on me is in order. I was born in Skyrim, a Nord of Nord parents, but I was raised in the Imperial City. My dad joined the Legion and got promoted, and then we left for Cyrodiil when I was 7. Then he went and got himself killed. Funny, he survived the Great War and then went and got himself scalped by some sodding bandits.
Things got progressively worse after that. My Ma, who was always a housewife and always wanted to be just that, had to work as a bar maid to keep us fed. Me, I chopped wood all day from the age of 12 up. I tried to make a go of it in Cyrodiil, I really did. Cyrodiil was home. But after hearing how Skyrim was such a land of opportunity, and it being my birthplace and all, I finally decided I had to go there. I gave my Ma all my savings, all 120 septims worth, to keep her going and headed north to Skyrim with the shirt on my back. I literally looked like a beggar. I ate berries and had a few handouts on the road north or I might not have made it.
And then when I crossed the border... well I had a misunderstanding with the Legion and then the dragon attacked Helgen and all that, I don't want to get into it. The important thing is, as soon as I was free and across the border, everything improved for the better. And here I am, a year later, and I lucked into a house in Whiterun and I have two lines of business going, alchemy and silversmithing, I have a quite fair mound of shiny septims, and am looking to get a new house in Falkreath soon, one with room for a garden and a wife and all that stuff.
And a nice kitchen, divines damn it, you just can't get good pastries in Skyrim. Everyone carries the same crap, sweetrolls and honey nut sticks.
Did I tread on some toes getting here? Well sure, I even have the Dark Brotherhood stalking me, but I never broke the law. Not once. I... did some things...
...You can't get good supplies here in Skyrim! Everyone's afraid of traveling the roads, and with good reason. So if you find yourself needing 30 or 40 ingots of iron, or say garlic, you can really find yourself out of luck. So... I knew that some bandits had some garlic, they were bragging on it, poor pathetic bastards. You can't grow garlic in Skyrim, so all of it is imported. Usually if you need a clove or two it's not a huge problem, but I am an alchemist. I create potions in bulk. So I needed that garlic. So I went and killed like 5 bandits... um, for their garlic. Hey, it's business, the Jarl probably would have rewarded me for it had he had known of it. Killing bandits and evil mages and Forsworn and such is totally legit, not that I want to make a career of it.
And ya, killing a bunch of other bandits for iron ore. You would think with Skyrim being as rich in iron as it is, getting 30 ingots wouldn't be a problem. Well, it is. Hey, I have a business to run here, I can't smith stuff without iron. No smithing and no potions means no money, and that's just not an option. I might have been raised poor, but I sure as heck don't plan on living that way.
And there were those Forsworn and their gold mine, but that was not my fault. They attacked me first. Then I found they were sitting on a mine full of gold, and well, things followed logically from there.
You may get from all this the impression that I am a bad guy, or at least uncivilized, and that's totally not true. I love the finer things in life, you might have noticed my pricey adornments. I would love it if the supply situation was such that I didn't have to go tramping through the wilds searching for raw materials, but that's just not the case. Hell, I'd never leave town if I could get decent supply here at a decent price, but prices here are outrageous, again because of the supply situation. You want something, you have to go get it. It's just business, is what it is. The fine ladies who buy my jewelry don't care who I had to kill to get the raw materials, as long as it is all legal, and neither do I.
Speaking of raw materials, giants toes. Yeah, toes off giants, who'da thunkit? You can make some ridiculously profitable potions with giants toes if you can find the damn things. I sure am not ready to go kill giants for them.
Anyway, I probably run the risk of boring your readers to tears, so I'll stop there. You asked me what do I think of Skyrim? It really is a land of opportunity... as long as you are prepared to do what it takes. If you're not prepared, you will wind up as just another dead body on the roadside, of which there are many in Skyrim. That's me, I am prepared to do what it takes. I don't like the killing, but better them than me.
What side am I on in the Civil War? Of course the Imperials. Not that I am going to go join the Legion or anything. That's something important I learned from my late father: if you are going to get killed for something, make sure it's for yourself, for your power and wealth, and not for Emperors or Jarls or anybody else. You got that?
Have a good one. Watch out for those damn mudcrabs, goddamn suckers bite.
