An Unexpected Apparition
On my way out of Anvil -- and I swear this is true -- some frantic-looking man armed like a mercenary rushed up and asked if I were a strong hero or something, and wanting help with some bandits. Honestly, he was a lunatic.
I tried to give him the brush-off but he became annoyed and kept insulting me, calling me a mudcrab. I had enough and, with every intention of turning his sorry case over to the nearest city watchman, I told him what he wanted to hear -- that yes, I was strong hero, so lets go. Then he draws his two handed sword and takes a swing at me. I cry bloody murder of course, but by the time the watch had rushed over, I had managed to -- narrowly -- dispatch him.
After that -- and I'm not even sure this really happened -- an apparition of a green-eyed woman in a black hooded outfit spoke to me. Mumbled some psychotic garbage about how she enjoyed seeing me kill this person and gave me some veiled threat about joining her in something or other, "or else". I didn't know whether it was lingering sea sickness, too much sun, or maybe aged-too-long Bruma Skyrim Cheese I had in the Mages Guild--I said yes, and she instructed me to meet her at the Shrine of Namira. Definitely not to get it on (and psychotic chicks are creepy anyway -- trust me).
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the Shrine of Namira. Wherever that was. And isn't Namira one of the nastier Daedric goddesses? I'll have to look that up.
Bless Lexie's sweet heart she managed to at least let me keep my Legion armour after. I otherwise stepped off the ship this afternoon with only a serviceable sword and bow. Whatever I might say about the Legion, at least they gave out real armour (instead of the cardboard thin rubbish you get in some of the smaller provinces that won't protect you adequately from a sewer rat). The city guard asked about it, and I gave them some story about being on leave. I think they wanted to poo-poo me for wearing armour while not on duty, but since it did save me from being minced up by a maniac, they bit their tongues.
Some basic inquiries with the local inn revealed the dead guy to be Da'Cryon Mesho. (An odd name, no?) Not sure where he was from or where he was bound or who his next of kin were. The guards fobbed off his junk belongings on me as the "spoils of war" -- more like not wanting to figure out his next of kin. In any case, I bartered some away for a sturdy huntsman's leathers from the local armoury and set off for Brina Cross Inn. Less heavily armoured but lighter on my feet.
I tried to give him the brush-off but he became annoyed and kept insulting me, calling me a mudcrab. I had enough and, with every intention of turning his sorry case over to the nearest city watchman, I told him what he wanted to hear -- that yes, I was strong hero, so lets go. Then he draws his two handed sword and takes a swing at me. I cry bloody murder of course, but by the time the watch had rushed over, I had managed to -- narrowly -- dispatch him.
After that -- and I'm not even sure this really happened -- an apparition of a green-eyed woman in a black hooded outfit spoke to me. Mumbled some psychotic garbage about how she enjoyed seeing me kill this person and gave me some veiled threat about joining her in something or other, "or else". I didn't know whether it was lingering sea sickness, too much sun, or maybe aged-too-long Bruma Skyrim Cheese I had in the Mages Guild--I said yes, and she instructed me to meet her at the Shrine of Namira. Definitely not to get it on (and psychotic chicks are creepy anyway -- trust me).
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the Shrine of Namira. Wherever that was. And isn't Namira one of the nastier Daedric goddesses? I'll have to look that up.
Bless Lexie's sweet heart she managed to at least let me keep my Legion armour after. I otherwise stepped off the ship this afternoon with only a serviceable sword and bow. Whatever I might say about the Legion, at least they gave out real armour (instead of the cardboard thin rubbish you get in some of the smaller provinces that won't protect you adequately from a sewer rat). The city guard asked about it, and I gave them some story about being on leave. I think they wanted to poo-poo me for wearing armour while not on duty, but since it did save me from being minced up by a maniac, they bit their tongues.
Some basic inquiries with the local inn revealed the dead guy to be Da'Cryon Mesho. (An odd name, no?) Not sure where he was from or where he was bound or who his next of kin were. The guards fobbed off his junk belongings on me as the "spoils of war" -- more like not wanting to figure out his next of kin. In any case, I bartered some away for a sturdy huntsman's leathers from the local armoury and set off for Brina Cross Inn. Less heavily armoured but lighter on my feet.
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