A Skyrim Bromance (sort of)

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dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
Note to reader: The following takes place on a moonlit night, a stone’s throw from the Whiterun Stables. Two friends have gathered around a crackling campfire, swapping stories and giving each other “the business,” as most friends are wont to do. Their names are Doonkur, a Khajiit, and his trusty steed, Shadowmere. As Doonkur is the only one who understands what Shadowmere is saying (which is indicated by DaVinciHorse50x45.png ), we will be relying on him for translations and/or interpretations. Let’s move closer and listen in.


Approaching the campfire, Doonkur sets two buckets filled with a home-brewed concoction near Shadowmere, who is already basking in the fire’s warmth. “Here you go, ol’ buddy,” he says. “And there’s more where that came from.” He then takes a seat on a log across from his comrade-in-arms, cradling the numerous bottles of Black-Briar Reserve for himself. Once settled, he unties a pair of parcels from his belt and shakes them both at Shadowmere. “A bag full of the finest Whiterun carrots, or so they tell me,” he says with a wink. “And this one contains a few sweet rolls and honey nut treats for us to share.”


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“Oh yeah, you’re welcome,” he replies. “And by the way, the bucket on your left is filled with that mix of oats and Nord Mead you enjoy so much. In the other one you’ll find your other favorite combination of Black-Briar Mead and green and red apples.”


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“Of course I remember,” Doonkur retorts. “You only ask for it just about every day. The merchant also told me those oats are imported, but curiously, he could not tell me from where. So after you’ve had a few swallows, you tell me if you can taste the difference between this so-called imported oats and regular oats.” The two friends take healthy sips from their respective containers.


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“I agree, my friend. That is indeed some rather tasty brew,” sighs Doonkur. “And thanks, but I will have to respectfully decline your offer of a sample of your oat and mead mix. You know what oats do to me.” With that, they both swig their drinks. “Well,” begins Doonkur. “Have you had enough to tell me whether these imported oats from Talos-knows-where are any good? Can you tell the difference, or did that trader pull one over me for those extra Septims?”


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Doonkur chuckles. “Never mind how much I paid for them,” he said. “Some things are better left unsaid or admitted as the case may be. And besides, you’re worth it. So. . . .”


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“By Sithis, I knew it!” he exclaimed. “Imported oats! Who had ever heard of such a thing?! Just make sure you finish every last drop.”


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“This is true,” he continued, nodding. “You would finish every last drop regardless of where the oats came from. Or if they were even oats,” he concluded, winking at Shadowmere. After more liquid has been consumed, Doonkur reaches for the larger parcel and opens it. He reaches in and pulls out three carrots. He tosses one to Shadowmere, who catches it in mid-air, greedily consuming the vegetable. After a nod from the horse, another carrot is thrown his way, this one somewhat to his right. Again, the flying object is snagged in the air and eaten. Shadowmere eyes Doonkur suspiciously, who now leans forward ever so slightly with a raised left eyebrow, but the horse notices both. Following another nod and a flip of his mane, the final morsel is tossed topsy-turvy toward the horse’s left, higher than the previous two. Rearing back, the carrot never stood a chance, as it disappears immediately. The triumphant steed makes his short way back to the fire.


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“What?!” asks Doonkur incredulously. “Don’t you start with me!”


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“What was that? Imported carrots?! Will you shut up!” Once the friends have traded disparaging looks at each other, Doonkur rises to stretch while at the same time reaching for the smaller package. As he’s untying it, he strolls over to Shadowmere. His right paw still concealed, it is now the horse’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why do you give me this look?” he asks. “Must you think I bring nothing but ill-will and perhaps, an ebony dagger in this sack?”


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“Please,” Doonkur replies. “I do not believe I would waste the energy and an ebony dagger on you, my good friend.”

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“My choice?” he responds, stroking his chin and eyeing Shadowmere amusingly. “For you, I would probably choose a horker tusk as my weapon and a gourd as a shield.”

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“And what did we agree on with questionable language? Ha! That will be 50 Septims. Thank you for your donation,” smirked Doonkur. After coin has been grudgingly passed, the Khajiit glances at the horse, while at the same time reaching into the parcel and pulling out . . . a honey nut treat, which he immediately offers to Shadowmere for consumption. As soon as the delicacy disappears, Doonkur turns to his trusted ally with a question. “There is something you wish to ask me? You have this look of a question that has been bothering you for a while. Or perhaps I am wrong.”

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“Ah, caves and dungeons and the like are what you’d like to talk about. What is your question?” inquires Doonkur.


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“Well, you see, it’s not that I never wanted to take you down there with me. Because believe me, I did. As Sithis is my witness, I did. I always left you at the entrance because of two things. One, I know you can take care of yourself if attacked. And two, there are many passages and tunnels that you would just not be able to fit through.”


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“When and where in any of my previous responses did I say you had “a fat ass?!”


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“Implications do not count, and you know that!” Doonkur snapped. “And besides, when did you become so sensitive? But now that we are on the subject of ample posteriors, here are a few questions for you. Who got stuck at the entrance to Valtheim Towers? And who had to jump in the river and swim across to the other side in order for us to battle those bandits? So much for sneaking up on them, thanks to you.”


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“Hold on, I’m not done yet,” Doonkur retorts. “Who always seems to get trapped because he can’t turn around on bridges at Forsworn camps?”


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“Which camp? All the Forsworn ones we’ve been to!” exclaimed the Khajiit. “Perhaps when they’re building these bridges, they do not expect a horse to be on them. Have you ever thought of that? Just jump off the bridge, you imbecile! I’ve no doubt you’ll survive. And along those lines, who would also get stuck on battlements in forts? Again, because he can’t turn around. Jump. Off. The. Battle. Ment. You’ve survived higher leaps than that. I’m sorry, but some places are just not built for horses, and you want me to take you down into a cavern or dungeon? We may never get back out.”


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Doonkur shakes his head. “You misunderstand, my friend. I would travel to the ends of Skyrim to fight anyone, anywhere, anytime with you as my only ally. But I must say, your sneakiness leaves much to be desired.” Silence falls, as the two friends eye each other. Finally, the Khajiit rises and shuffles off toward the stables.


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“I’ll be back,” he mutters to Shadowmere. Within ten minutes, he returns to the campfire, carrying a bucket of liquid in each paw, while two bottles of Maven’s finest Reserve are tucked under each arm. He places both buckets near Shadowmere, stroking his neck while saying with a smile, “It looked to me like we both needed more.”


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“Oh no,” he replied. “I didn’t get these from Breezehome. Are you nuts? If I showed my face there, Mjoll would never let me out of the house, especially once she saw me leaving with two buckets and four bottles of some strong, delicious brew. No, I picked these up from the stables. For a few Septims, Skulvar allowed me to keep our stash there, saving me countless steps and, um, avoiding Mjoll’s wrath at the same time. You’ve seen her in action on the battlefield, so you know her prowess as a warrior is unquestioned. Now try to imagine that in the bedroom, in the alchemy room, in front of the fire, on the stairs. . . .”


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“All right, all right. You get the picture. I hear you,” Doonkur smirks at Shadowmere. The two comrades share a nod, and more guzzling of their drinks commences.


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“Another question? You are quite the inquisitive one tonight, aren’t you?” Doonkur says with a shrug. “Let’s hear it.”


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“Why did I marry Mjoll?” Doonkur takes a moment to ponder the question, and his answer. “Well, after first meeting her in Riften, we happened to bump into each other a few times, in the market or at The Bee & Barb. Once, even at the blacksmith’s. That’s when I knew she was special, and that I had to have her. But I digress. One of those times, I asked her why she had such a forlorn look on her face. She then told me the story of her beloved sword, Grimsever, I think she called it. I do not know if it was the drink I had that day, or her mesmerizing voice, but the sudden idiot-filled-with-bravado that I am, told her I’d go get it.” At this, Shadowmere lets out a snort, followed by another one, finding this description both appropriate and spot-on. Doonkur was also unable to stifle his amusement, breaking out in an ear-to-ear smile. With a slap on his knee, and an eruptive laugh, he gets up and saunters over to Shadowmere. Once he locates an acceptable place to sit, he continues his story. “The one thing I remember most when I returned her sword to her was the utmost joy, relief, and . . . and . . . allegiance. She just had it in her eyes that she would follow me wherever I asked her to, in gratitude of the return of her sword. And I did. As Mara as my witness, I did. If nothing else, just to be near her. And if she did me the honor of becoming my wife? I already knew she would never leave my side, not with the look I got when I handed her Grimsever back. Following a few successful adventures, raids, quests, whatever you choose to call them, we got to talking, one thing lead to another, and I think you know how it ends. An interesting question, my friend. Why do you ask?”


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“Astrid?!,” Doonkur bellowed. “You’re asking me why I never made arrangements to marry Astrid?! First question is, are you serious? Immediately followed by, what exactly do you mean by “arrangements?”


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“Tell me, what is in those buckets? Perhaps you have had a little too much to drink tonight. Well, let us first consider the facts about her. For one, that assassin’s armor couldn’t help but make her look oh so delicious, may she rest in peace. A snug fit and all, you understand.” As Doonkur winks at Shadowmere, the horse snorts his approval and agreement. “And her voice? By The Nine, I hate to admit it, but that voice of hers was one of the main reasons I joined the Brotherhood in the first place.” The Khajiit shrugs, and again the horse emits another snort of agreement. “However, a crucial fact you’re forgetting is that she was already married to Arnbjorn at the time. Remember him?”


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“Okay, and if you remember him, then you should also remember that he was a werewolf,” said Doonkur.


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“I should have taken him out to get closer to her?!” Doonkur snapped. “Did you not hear I said he was a werewolf, not a werepuppy? Seriously, how long do you think I’d last against him? These Khajiit claws could only do so much damage. I notice that drink of yours sure makes you brave, but at my expense of course.” Doonkur smirks at Shadowmere who merely nods, and then proceeds to fish an apple out of one of the buckets. After consuming the fruit, the horse snorts twice, then shakes his head vigorously. Noticing this, the Khajiit looks at his friend and asks, “Do you think I could try one of those apples?” Shadowmere responds by reaching into the bucket, extracting an apple delicately between his teeth, turning to his companion, and dropping it into his paw. “Thanks,” Doonkur says, and then takes a bite. Nearly choking, he turns to the horse and exclaims, “I swear on my mother’s grave that that is one potent apple! I can see why you like them so much.” He takes another bite and nearly rolls off the log due to the spasms from his coughing. Shadowmere merely eyes him with amusement. “Here. You finish it,” Doonkur states, and tosses the apple up in the air, testing his friend’s mouth-eye coordination. The horse claims his airborne prize, and following consumption, again snorts twice with a head-shake. Doonkur laughs and shakes his own head, saying, “And remind me never to ask for another apple ever again.”


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“What to talk about now?” the Khajiit repeats Shadowmere’s question. “Well, since we were just speaking of the fairer sex, here’s a question for you. Are you ever planning on making a move on that chestnut filly in stall #4?”


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“Don’t play coy with me. You think I don’t notice things?”


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“Like what?” Doonkur asks incredulously. “Well, I see how you look at her for one. I also see how you seem to always be on your best behavior whenever she’s nearby. Of course, the first chance I get, I’ll have to tell her the truth about this. That no, he’s not always like this.”


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“The same to you, buddy,” he replies. “Now, let’s see. What else is there? Ah yes, I have also observed how you stand up straighter and hold your head up higher. And another thing: you don’t smell so bad. Oh wait, that’s probably me.” Another laugh and toast is shared. “Now, what if I were to tell you that after slipping Skulvar 10 coins, that somebody I know now has a reservation for stall #3? You like? Just don’t muck this up, okay?”


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Doonkur nods. “You’re welcome,” he replies. “Anything I can do to spur my good friend’s attempt at romance along.”


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Again, Doonkur nods. “I do. I really do think she likes you. And never mind that she acts like she doesn’t.” The Khajiit peers into the darkness surrounding them, making sure Mjoll is nowhere within earshot, before continuing with a wink and asmile to Shadowmere. “You know women.”


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“Indeed. You are very perceptive, as I do have another question for you.” Yet more of their drinks are quaffed, and it is quite obvious the two friends are feeling no pain. Doonkur continues, “Remember that first time we met?”


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“No, not that time!” he snaps, glaring at the horse. “It was right outside of the old Sanctuary. The black pool? So I’m out there looking for a horse based on Astrid’s instructions. I happen to glance at the pool and it starts to smoke. Might have been bubbling, too, I don’t recall. And then you start rising, slowly of course, for extra drama I can only assume. Your rising completed, you then rear up, pawing at the sky with your hooves. I thought you were going to trample me, and then double-back just to make sure.”


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“So you remember that, then,” confirms Doonkur. “Well, what was that all about?” The Khajiit eyes the horse from the corner of his eye, waiting for an answer.


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“Not telling, huh? Fine,” he snorts and shrugs. He then drains the last of his Reserve, and notices that Shadowmere’s pair of buckets are also empty. By Sithis, even the apples are all gone, he thinks to himself. He eyes his steed expectantly, nods, and then asks, “Refill?”


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“What? C’mon, the night is still young,” he pleads. At this, Shadowmere nods, receiving in return a big smile from Doonkur. “Atta boy,” he says. “And besides, I’m sure Mjoll will banish me to the spare bedroom tonight, assuming she even lets me in the house.” They both share another laugh, as Doonkur rises to fetch those refills. “I’ll be right back.”


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“Yeah, it didn’t take me too long because this is all we have left,” he replied, sadly placing one bucket of his beloved oats and Nord Mead in front of the horse, while holding two bottles of the Reserve for himself. “Reckon we sure put this stuff away tonight,” he says with a nod at Shadowmere.


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“What was my most memorable adventure with you?” Doonkur repeats, while at the same time scratching his left ear. “These questions you have tonight is. . . .”


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“Okay, okay, I’ll answer the %@$#!*& question!” the Khajiit shouted.


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With a drop of his shoulders, Doonkur casually leans forward and reaches into his pack, removing a bag brimming with coins. Without turning, he extends his right arm toward his friend. After the bag of coins has been relieved of his possession, he then peers over his right shoulder, simultaneously glaring and giving The Look to Shadowmere. The Look is duly returned, but with a raised left eyebrow. With a shake of his head, Doonkur gets up to make himself comfortable on a log opposite his stallion. He clears his throat, then begins, “My favorite, you ask,” he says. “It would most definitely be our trip to High Hrothgar. Not for the destination, eh, my friend? But for the journey!”


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“It is interesting that you should mention the Ice Troll first, because that was exactly what I was thinking of, too,” Doonkur chuckled. “We just could not take it down. I remember dismounting and sprinting back to what I thought was a safe distance. And what do I see? You sprinting past me. I believe I wasted an arrow at that time, such was my surprise.”


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“My plan?” he replied. “My plan was to have you engage the troll up close, and I would rain arrows into it from afar.” The pair of comrades look at each other, then splutter into a fit of riotous laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, Doonkur continues, “In all our travels together, that Ice Troll was the only thing I have ever seen you run away from.”


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“Me? I run from everything. You know that,” the Khajiit says, while swigging his Reserve, pausing for effect. “Even Mjoll.” Once again, the brothers-in-arms share a hearty laugh and another toast.


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“You’re right. As if that cursed troll wasn’t enough, just what was waiting for us around a few bends later? That blasted Frost Dragon. Where did he come from?!”


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“The sky? Of course he came from the sky, you idiot.” The Khajiit glances at the stallion, who’s obviously enjoying his moment of humor.


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“I see,” nodded Doonkur. “You remember that part also, huh?” He lowers his head, while shaking it at the same time. Making eye contact with Shadowmere, he states, “What I saw that day shall never be surpassed. Never. Hopefully, you’ll forgive my lapse in urgency as to loading and firing my bow. But understand, when I saw him blow his frost breath on you and you started to rise in the air, while still pawing at his scaly head? I could not do anything but look on in awe, at both his obvious power and your awesome resolve. That’s when I knew,” he continued, while rising to approach Shadowmere to scratch his nose. “That’s when I knew that I would fight to the death with you and for you.” The pair share a respectful nod to each other, then,


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“I say again. Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime.”


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“No, to tell you the truth, I do not remember what we got out of that climb, if you can ignore the potential for frostbite. Other than that, we dropped off the supplies like we were asked to; I met with what appeared to be some kind of monk order; they talked loads of nonsense; then we left. I may be missing something, but I don’t think so. What about you?”


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“That is true. I do remember our descent. Especially the part when we approached the Ice Troll’s lair, I had you sprint past it like there were a frost dragon and a fire dragon snapping at your heels.” Again, the pair breaks out in side-splitting laughter. So much so, that Doonkur slides off the log, landing on his back, gazing up at the stars. Shadowmere lets out another snort to further deride his companion. Until. . . .

“You two!” barks a Whiterun guard. “Do you have any idea what time it is?!” Brushing himself off while kneeling, Doonkur shoots Shadowmere a covert glance. The horse responds by giving his friend a look that practically begs, “Please don’t.” As the Khajiit rises, he turns to his stallion, nods and winks while answering the guard, “Night time?” Their laughter is again raucous and lengthy. Doonkur stumbles over the log, now landing on the other side. This elicits a thunderous snort from Shadowmere, strong enough to blow oats out of both nostrils. Adding to his uncontrollable hysterics, Doonkur finds himself struggling to breathe, what with all the laughter they’ve been recently sharing.

The pair of guards eye each other, until one shouts, “All right, that’s enough out of the two of you! Now put this fire out and be on your way! I am Captain Hermaeus and the pair of you are obviously not aware of our No Lollygagging rule! It’s only a rule now, but if I get my way, it shall become law! You mark my words. Now put out that fire and clean this place up! Don’t make us come down here again!” The Captain eyes the partying pair, then says in his most menacing tone, “We’ll bring reinforcements if we have to.”

It’s all Doonkur can do to stifle his laugh, almost drawing blood from biting his tongue so hard. He waves at the departing guards, stands up from the log and approaches the horse. “Reinforcements?” he inquires. “Your reputation precedes you, my friend. They know a good battle horse when they see one. Besides, it’s just as well we turn in for the evening. We’re both out of our beloved brew. C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your stall.” The friends make the short trek in silence. Approaching the stables, they see an occupant in stall #4. Sharing a glance, the Khajiit merely smirks and nods at his steed. As Shadowmere is settling himself into his stall, Doonkur unties a bag from his belt and places it on a post within his horse’s reach. “This is for you, my friend,” he states while scratching his nose and tousling his mane. Turning to leave, Doonkur tells his stallion, “And just so you know, there is enough in that bag for two.”


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“You’re welcome,” he responds, with yet another wink. Smiling, he commences his stroll to Breezehome. Before rounding the bend, the Khajiit turns and waves at his comrade. Even in the darkness, Doonkur can see Shadowmere’s nod and bob of his head in reply. He turns and continues his brief journey home, an ear-to-ear grin plastered across his face.
 

Start Dale

I got 99 problems but a Deadra ain't one.
I like it man, a very interesting idea indeed. Novelly written as in the one sided conversation, yet quite realistic, in my less lucid moments i've almost chatted with my car like this especially on a long drive...

Has elements of the James Stewart movie 'Harvey' to it.
 

Rayven

Global Moderator
Staff member
You know this makes me think of any character internal dialogue. Have you ever written something like that?

I thought this was hilarious, personally. When it was first published with the 9's instead of the hearts, I did think the size of the 9's implied some sort of emphatic-ness of Shadowmere's responses. I'm not sure if that was intentional, but since it's changed now, I suppose it's a moot point.
 

dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
I like it man, a very interesting idea indeed. Novelly written as in the one sided conversation, yet quite realistic, in my less lucid moments i've almost chatted with my car like this especially on a long drive...

Has elements of the James Stewart movie 'Harvey' to it.

Thanks, dude. Exactly. I'm sure we've all done it to some degree. Might have to look into "Harvey" as I've never been a James Stewart fan. :)

You know this makes me think of any character internal dialogue. Have you ever written something like that?

I thought this was hilarious, personally. When it was first published with the 9's instead of the hearts, I did think the size of the 9's implied some sort of emphatic-ness of Shadowmere's responses. I'm not sure if that was intentional, but since it's changed now, I suppose it's a moot point.

No, this would be my first, Rayven. Trust me, I have all these little dialogues in my head, but I don't think that's what you're referring to. :confused:

Thanks, and I'm glad you both liked it. As for the nines, what that shoulda been was an actual horse. I tried to import it from one of my font sets named Da Vinci. Yeah, that Da Vinci. The set includes his handwriting and as extras, a bunch of his illustrations. A horse was one of them and I thought it'd be perfect for Shadowmere's comments. As you've seen, keystroke 9 was the horse. I wasn't about to leave it at the nines, so I looked for what we could use from our list of smilies. And since this is a bromance, ahem, the hearts won in a landslide. <3 See?
 

Start Dale

I got 99 problems but a Deadra ain't one.
Thanks, dude. Exactly. I'm sure we've all done it to some degree. Might have to look into "Harvey" as I've never been a James Stewart fan. :)

((What Ravyen said))

No, this would be my first, Rayven. Trust me, I have all these little dialogues in my head, but I don't think that's what you're referring to. :confused:

Thanks, and I'm glad you both liked it. As for the nines, what that shoulda been was an actual horse. I tried to import it from one of my font sets named Da Vinci. Yeah, that Da Vinci. The set includes his handwriting and as extras, a bunch of his illustrations. A horse was one of them and I thought it'd be perfect for Shadowmere's comments. As you've seen, keystroke 9 was the horse. I wasn't about to leave it at the nines, so I looked for what we could use from our list of smilies. And since this is a bromance, ahem, the hearts won in a landslide. <3 See?


Ah, i have to say i liked the nines imagery wise more than the hearts. But i can see why you changed it.

You should check out 'Harvey' though sometimes i can find James Stewart a bity annoying, the movie is pretty good as the main character is his imaginary friend a 7ft talking rabbit. All the dialogue is one sided and quite entertaining between James Stewart and the character and you realistic back and forth with Shadowmere reminded me of that patter in the movie.

Dare i suggest... More.
 

dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
You woulda liked the horse even more. Hmmm, I'll have to think about your "more" comment. :eek:

The voices have been released. You want more voices in my head?! Egads, man, have you no compassion? No mercy? :rolleyes:
 

Start Dale

I got 99 problems but a Deadra ain't one.
You woulda liked the horse even more. Hmmm, I'll have to think about your "more" comment. :eek:

The voices have been released. You want more voices in my head?! Egads, man, have you no compassion? No mercy? :rolleyes:

Man you already know the answer to that. :D
 

Rayven

Global Moderator
Staff member
Let me download the font and grab the horse. I'll have to turn it into an image and put it back in your story. That is if you don't mind me jumping in and editing it. Do you want it red like the 9's were?
 

dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
Let me download the font and grab the horse. I'll have to turn it into an image and put it back in your story. That is if you don't mind me jumping in and editing it. Do you want it red like the 9's were?

Sure, Rayven. That would be cool. And yes, I'd like to keep him in red; he tends to stand out more. FYI, when I originally included the horse, it was in 20 size font. Of course, I don't mind. If you can jump in and swap out all the hearts for red horses, then yeah, please do so. If not, no worries. Thanks for even offering. :)
 

Rayven

Global Moderator
Staff member
Well, I found the actual DaVinci sketches so I can trace them real quick in Illustrator so they'll scale nicely. I found a screenshot of the horse in the font. Or I can freehand something like the Altamira or Lascaux ones which look sorta like this:

lascaux2web_jepg_ljxl.jpg
 

dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
You sure this isn't too much trouble? After having finally posted it, I'm fine with the hearts. I would probably choose the one in the font, or preview samples of what you come up with. Again though, no sweat if this turns into more of a hassle.
 

Rayven

Global Moderator
Staff member
Well let's see what I come up with and you can choose whatever you like. I won't be offended if you don't like the stuff I come up with. I've not been able to do any artsy stuff for the pure joy of it in a LONG time so it'd be my pleasure :)
 

dunklunk

You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.
Wow. Very nice. I take it there's a lotta space due to the size of the icon? If so, no problem whatsoever. Looks a whole lot better than the hearts or especially the nines. Well, imo, anyway. Thanks again, Rayven. :)
 

Rayven

Global Moderator
Staff member
I spaced around the horse when I was putting it in because it was causing the lines to look bumpy above and below.
 

Rekamennos

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This is absolutely brilliant! I loved it so much!
 

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