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  • Dale of Belfast - Level 1 (ish) Part 1 Sep 25, 2012

    The continuing misadventures of 'Dale of Belfast' my Skyrim character. Belfast was an isolated town in the northern mountains near Dawnstar, it collapsed into Oblivion shortly after the two warring factions in the town made peace... Some say the Deadra frowned on Belfast's burgeoning prosperity.
    Dale of Belfast on a long drunken bender at some isolated inn was by pure chance the only survivor of this lost town. Captured by Imperial forces for swearing at them while severely hungover, he barely escaped Helgen, since then he has adventured across Tamriel hoping the next quest will be the one to take him home...

    Level 1 (ish)
    His head exploded in agony as he was jostled awake by the rocking and bumping of a cart. Some fool then compounded the situation by trying to talk to him.
    "Wait" he barely managed to whisper before last night rose in his throat and he turned over the side of the cart and released the Aedra know what onto the track below them.
    "Have some decency back there!" Barely focusing he managed to recognise a red blur, it swam into the form of an Imperial guard then back out again.
    "A drunk and a thief, i'm starting to think we are the only two Nords of honour on this cart Jarl Ulfric" A yellow topped blue blur spoke to another hairy gagged blur on the opposite side of the cart.
    From his right a tanned scared blur decided to join in with this terrible assault on his senses "You and me we aren't like the others we shouldn't be here".
    "Shouldn't be here, wait" Again he leaned over the edge of the cart and emptied his heaving stomach on the track underneath. "Tanned, where are you tanned?" A solid bump from the cart knocked him out for a short duration.
    "Prisoner!" Jolting awake he turned and fell onto the floor of the cart.
    "What's that?" He asked the wood underneath him "Where voice?" A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and dragged him out of the cart and he fell onto his knees and stumbled to his feet.
    "You weren't with the others, were you?" The right tall blur questioned him it slowly started to swim into the shape of another Imperial guard.
    He felt silly, obviously last night had been a long one for he was still worse for the wear of it all. Still the dancing, he shook himself inside. No he was swaying the guard was still, still this guard he deserved the true Belfast Nord's answer to such a deep philisophical question.
    "With them? With them? You dare question me, my loyalty my oath. Why i'll wager you have yet to know of me, for you will be smote, smitten, smitted? Nope smitten with or by me verily for i am Dale of Belfast, the scourge of all drunk tanks in all the nine holds that will always be true. Wait where was i?" Dale of Belfast as he had announced himself as being in the true and most just manner stared accusingly out towards the guard who held a board with a page on it.
    "You'll be true" The guard begrudgingly replied.
    "Yes true, they were with me. They knew not what they did for i poured them forth into the darkness so foul to cleanse me, it and wait, no me" He grinned sheepishly at the sky, this was going great a worldclass performance the town would talk of weeks about the latest exploit in town guard roasting, he changed down to a hushed reverent if slightly slurred tone "They were sent after the first, lone explorer, nae! Adventurer! For he had been scorned in love for his true mass of lansdscape beauty. So the other chased him to rescue him and then you met us and we are here the end. I'm going to be sick" At that he wretched onto the dirt again, then looked over to the guards. "Take me to my room, gentlemen".
    The left blur that had decided finally to become a shortish heavily armoured woman looked through him "Sober Stormcloak, drunk Stormcloak, makes no difference, send him with the others to the block".
    The other guard tried to protest, but was waved down. He approached him and led him to a spot with the others, someone was shouting about Skyrim so he joined in "And Belfast!".
    "Where?" a light armoured figure replied.
    Looking at the ground he mumbled "Belfast, Belfast he asks where it is?" Shaking his head still looking to the ground he felt an arm move him forward and kneel him down he turned "Thanks i think i need to hurl again"
    Dale looked down to the severed head in the basket and turned he noticed the large hooded figure with the battleaxe and felt the night inebriation fall off him all at once. A sharp boot to his back forced his head onto the executioners block.
    "Oh boy" he uttered futily.
    And vomited heavily into the dirt as the executioners shadow fell over him.
    More Mis Adventures from Level 1 (ish) soon.
    Panthera and (deleted member) like this.
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