It has been ten years since the Skyrim Civil War ended and The Last Dragonborn conquered the land with his deeds. You are Sofie Sky-Bearer, his adopted child and chosen heir, and you have a lot to live up to. Fearing a new calamity on the horizon, he sends you into High Rock in hopes of forging an alliance with the Breton kings or otherwise thwarting the Aldmeri Dominion. Something else haunts the edges of your mind, however, and as your mission begins you find yourself fearing a new threat, something far worse than war or the Thalmor. Tamriel is teetering towards disaster, and you just hope that you have it in you to tip them back into balance. The bards await your deeds, Dovahkiir.
You feel the pull before you hear it, giving you enough time to grip the rooftop you're on.
"DOVAHKIIR."
The booming words rattle through your body, shaking you from head to toe and lingering in your lungs, leaving you gasping. You exhale in tune with the thunder as it ripples across the mountains, the last echoes being heard not in the Voice but in the trembling of your heart.
"I hate it when he summons me like that," you groan as you unclench your body. If you weren't already working hard you would be in a cold sweat. The others laboring on the rooftop with you can't help staring as you fervently make your apologies and carefully clamber your way down. The High Thane doesn't normally make your visits a public spectacle, so that means urgent business, but it is still profoundly annoying. At least it doesn't affect others like it does you. For them it just means they know where you're going.
As you're maneuvering down the scaffolding, you gaze out onto your home, Helgen, the stronghold between the mountains. You've been told that back when the Skyrim Civil War was still happening the whole thing was burned to the ground save the walls. Today that notion sounds silly. Helgen is a sprawling city clambering its way up the nearby hills and down into the forest, with farms clinging to every surface that can be eked out. Stone walls and buildings make the city into an enormous fortress with glimmering "bronze" dwemer-style ballistae perched on the towers, not only protecting against dragons but against the hungry eyes of the wounded Empire. Looming atop the largest hill is the keep, Joorszind, in truth a fortified stone mead hall with a sculpture of Akatosh looming so large over its entrance as to cast a shadow over its domain.
The High Thane certainly has a flair for the dramatic.
Of course, the temple you're working on pales in size compared to the Joorszind, but there's a greater pride for the stonework here than the rest of Helgen. The new Temple of Akatosh bears inspiration from the old Nordic ruins with its looming stone towers and tall arches, but sporting the warmth and flares of modern Nordic structures. As your feet hit the floor, you beam as you consider how heavy your hand has been in making it rise. Oh, you had your role in growing Helgen, but this is the first building that you feel proper ownership of, if shared with the other laborers. This temple is your mark on your home.
"GRAH-ZEYMAHZINNE." The High Thane's voice ripples across the mountains.
That call snaps you to attention. The shout roughly meant 'battle-companions,' but you knew that to be the words used to summon the Dragonborn's heralds. Something dire was happening. Despite your aching bones you start into a jog through the teeming city center, through the familiar yet shifting heart of your home.
In the ten years since the Skyrim Civil War, Helgen has become a peculiar melting pot of people. It's still dominated by Nords, the natives of Skyrim, but immigrants from all corners have fled into her waiting arms, especially those fleeing oppression in the Aldmeri Dominion and poverty in Morrowind. Men, mer, and beastfolk alike greet each other with smiles in passing; some more tersely than others, but nobody dares put even a crack into the peace under the High Thane's watch. That smothered tension is an old song to you, and one you think was intended. Helgen's rebirth has become something of a symbol, of the titanic effort that will be demanded if Skyrim is to thrive in her hard-won independence, and welcoming refugees seems a pretty blatant addition to that message.
Saying as much as possible without speaking certainly sounds like the Last Dragonborn.
You pause at the top of the hill to collect yourself, straightening your hair and making sure you don't reek too badly of your labors. Normally nobody would care at Joorszind, but this was official business. Plus… the intricate bas relief on the great bronze doors out front always makes you self-conscious. Made in the old Akaviri style, they tell the saga of Lodvar Sky-Bearer, the Last Dragonborn and First High Thane of Skyrim. From the headsman's block to the fall of Alduin the World-Eater, from the destruction of the Volkihar vampire clan to the conquering of the First Dragonborn.
What it omitted could be seen in a blue and white banner bearing a rising phoenix with its wings cradling a starburst. Officially, High Thane Lodvar was subordinate to High King Ulfric Stormcloak, the sovereign of Skyrim. Everyone knew that was an illusion. The Dragonborn had conquered Skyrim with his deeds long before he ever loaned his sword to Ulfric's rebellion. A more loyal subject would have laid his deeds out from his knees and offered them unto Ulfric, but Lodvar's contempt was palpable. In those ten years Skyrim's rulership was effortlessly and wordlessly stolen away. Ulfric had his palace and nothing more.
Pride and burden weigh on you as usual, then with a controlled breath you shove the great doors open.
The rich scent of cooked meat and a deep permeating warmth greet you. Despite ostensibly being a palace, Joorszind is a homey place, more like an enormous tavern. Warriors, craftsmen, and community leaders alike huddle around vast oaken tables enjoying fresh food and mead in equal measure. Tapestries cover many of the walls while a stone carver and her apprentices diligently continue filling out the expanse of unfinished details in the hall. The cooking fires along the wall and windows near the roof provide all the needed light, while a young bard couple provide what little musical encouragement the people need.
At the far end of the hall, sitting on his wooden throne is the Last Dragonborn. He is an imposing man in every imaginable way, physically large even for a Nord and his steel eyes carry an intensity which dwarfs his personal bulk. His hair is long and black, his beard full and intricately braided with stalhrim--unmelting ice--beads woven in. His face has more scars than unblemished skin; a mixture of burns and cuts show the pain of his labors, leaving him no longer handsome but certainly a man who had once been so. His regalia looks drab at a glance, but the astute eye would notice that it's fashioned from dragon skin and reinforced with strips of yet more stalhrim. He wears no crown nor other jewelry of his station, instead a dragonbone sword sat at his hip with a smoldering orange gem for a pommel.
Despite being an intimidating presence in and of himself, you always seem to find your eyes drawn to his chosen footrest: the very headsman's block which should have taken his life.
You present yourself to him and begin to kneel, only to receive a whispered, yet somehow gut-shaking, "No."
You straighten up nervously, only to find the High Thane smiling. "My lord?"
"My heir does not kneel," he tells you, his voice still louder than natural but now carrying the softness you've come to know.
You can't help beaming as you go to him and pull him up into a warm, borderline backbreaking hug. As you separate you bow your head to him and he kisses your brow lightly, a family ritual you can't remember starting. Then, seeing that nobody else has arrived, you fall in beside your father while he returns to his seat to await the others.
Again, you find yourself stewing in mixed pride and intimidation. Despite standing over him, you feel a shadow looming over you larger than your nation. You are the Dragonborn's child, the orphan heir of Skyrim. Who are you?
Your Character: You were orphaned during the Skyrim Civil War, if not directly because of it, and taken in by Lodvar Sky-Bearer, The Last Dragonborn. While he has raised you sternly with high expectations, who you were before has forged you just as much as he has.
--[]Aeta: Nord female, Skaal daughter of Oslaf and Finna, personally witnessed Hermaeus Mora's presence on Solstheim and lost your parents to him. Calm and regal, you hold your ancestral ways in high regard and hunger to not only be the voice of an oft-forgotten people, but to lead them into the world you forge.
--[]Alesan: Redguard male, son of a sailor left stranded by your ship's crew in Dawnstar. Ambitious and proud, you have always had big dreams and a bigger voice, both of which you've used to inspire others to eager action.
--[]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
--[]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, pain has forged you into the vanguard of Skyrim; you are the first to step up to any task and the rock which many people lean on, no matter the weight it puts on you.
--[]Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with your gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you greet people for the lesser creatures they are while simultaneously shouldering their burdens; your only religion is noblesse oblige with a smirk.
--[]Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
--[]Lucia: Imperial female, girl thrown out by her aunt and uncle in Whiterun after her mother's passing. Dour and fierce, you choose your words with care and throw every ounce of passion you have into most situations, yet find your greatest joys in quiet companionship.
--[]Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with your harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, you have always been the voice of gentler actions in your father's court, yet step up to a crisis with lightning in your step and your chin held high.
--[]Sofie: Nord female, flower-selling daughter of a Stormcloak soldier left on the streets of Windhelm. Quietly cheerful and insightful, you have been quick to spot the beauty in life while being equally swift at dealing with threats to those precious things--always with a smile.
Sibling: Your fellow adopted orphan and your right-hand man/woman. Note, if you choose Britte or Sissel here and aren't playing their twin, I'll allow both of them to be adopted siblings in this case. I will also allow Blaise and Knud to be paired the same way (as they were raised together).
--[]Aeta: Nord female, Skaal daughter of Oslaf and Finna, personally witnessed Hermaeus Mora's presence on Solstheim and lost her parents to him. Calm and regal, her coldness belies the passion she shares with you for forging a new future for your people (and hers).
--[]Alesan: Redguard male, son of a sailor and left stranded by the ship's crew in Dawnstar. Ambitious and proud, he has always had big dreams and a bigger mouth, which you often find inspiration in… when he's not getting you into trouble.
--[]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts. Sly and charming, he has always been a subtle mischief maker, albeit one whose backfires usually land in your favor.
--[]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
--[]Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
--[]Knud (Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, he has always used you as the meter-stick for his own achievements, yet you could never ask for a better advocate.)
--[]Lucia: Imperial female, girl thrown out by her aunt and uncle in Whiterun after her mother's passing. Dour and fierce, she has always been unnervingly laconic, yet for her fiery impressions you know her to be the greatest source of warmth in your life.
--[]Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
--[]Sofie: Nord female, flower-selling daughter of a Stormcloak soldier left on the streets of Windhelm. Cheerful and insightful, she has always helped you find the silver lining in any situation and quick to lighten your moods, while sporting the wit to advise you when necessary.
This will be plan-based democratic voting, please name your plans.
Later on we'll be using an Action Point system where appropriate and I will sometimes give options for Overflow, that is going over your AP limit in exchange for some negative repercussion.
Name: Sofie Sky-Bearer Gender: Female Race: Nord Age: 20 Description: Tall and slender with strong features, large golden-brown eyes, and long auburn hair (usually worn in a braid).
Personality: You are quietly cheerful and insightful, you have been quick to spot the beauty in life while being equally swift at dealing with threats to those precious things—always with a smile. Relationships:
-Lodvar Sky-Bearer: The Last Dragonborn and your adoptive father, he rescued you from destitution and has raised you into the woman you are today. -Serana Volkihar: Effectively your adoptive mother, as well as your tutor in magic
-Paarthurnax: Dragon master of the Greybeards and your greatest mentor, you've spent a great deal of time tutoring under him. -Britte Sky-Bearer: Your sister and one of your most trusted confidants, she is often coarse and aggressive, but her brilliance is always a welcome presence and you have grown close regardless of her prickly nature. -Sissel Sky-Bearer: Your sister and one of your most trusted confidants, she is the tender voice in your ear and your warmth in hard times, and likewise you know she relies on you perhaps even more than her twin.
Moments of Glory
-Prior to the current adventure, you defeated Sheogorath in a battle of wits (or at least as close as one can come to doing so). In exchange for your victory, you were awarded with... a spoon.
Name: Britte Sky-Bearer Gender: Female Race: Nord Age: 18 Description: Tall and powerfully built with piercing green eyes and long blonde hair, usually tied back with some extremely tight braiding along the sides.
Personality: Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times. Allegiance: The Sky-Bearer family, including you. Goals: Unclear, is currently content following you but you're certain there's some gears turning in some way.
Unique Equipment:
-Chillrend: A glass shortsword enchanted with frost and sporting a long and storied past.
Name: Sissel Sky-Bearer Gender: Female Race: Nord Age: 18 Description: Tall and powerfully built with piercing green eyes and long blonde hair, usually tied back with some extremely tight braiding along the sides.
Personality: Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small. Allegiance: The Sky-Bearer family, including you. Goals: She seems completely content being your right hand woman at the moment.
-Lodvar Sky-Bearer: Nord, Male. The Last Dragonborn, High Thane of Skyrim, and your father.
-Serana Volkihar: Nord (Vampire), Female. Your mother for all intents and purposes and your mentor in magic.
-Paarthurnax: Dragon, Male. Master of the Greybeards, formerly Alduin's right hand man, and now your dearest mentor.
-Frothar Balgruufson: Nord, Male. Eldest son of the deposed Jarl Balgruuf and a dear friend of the twins'; is striving to become a member of the Dragonguard.
[X] Plan: Sister Act
-[X] Your Character: Sofie: Nord female, flower-selling daughter of a Stormcloak soldier left on the streets of Windhelm. Quietly cheerful and insightful, you have been quick to spot the beauty in life while being equally swift at dealing with threats to those precious things--always with a smile.
-[X] Sibling: Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
-[X] Sibling: Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
Let's get the voting started! The logic here is simple enough: mo' sisters, mo' better, so I'm capitalizing on the chance to pick up two at once with the twins.
MC
[X]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
Sibling
[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
I'm a little disappointed that we don't have an Altmer orphan option because that would make the relationship in the story much weirder. On the other hand, I really really like the description of Sofie's character.
[X] Plan Sissel's Dreams
-[X]Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with your harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, you have always been the voice of gentler actions in your father's court, yet step up to a crisis with lightning in your step and your chin held high.
-[X]Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
Inspired by this to want to play as Sissel directly. Though I'd be okay with her being our sister to.
[X] Plan: Nord children of Dovahkiin
-[X] Your Character: Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
-[X] Sibling: Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
-[X] Sibling: Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
-[X] Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts. Sly and charming, he has always been a subtle mischief maker, albeit one whose backfires usually land in your favor.
Knud looks to me to be a leader type so i think it is best we play the twins as our sister and a sly brother as well
[X] Plan Sissel's Dreams
-[X]Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with your harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, you have always been the voice of gentler actions in your father's court, yet step up to a crisis with lightning in your step and your chin held high.
-[X]Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
MC
[X]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
Sibling
[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
This is plan voting, so you'd need to format it like this for it to be properly counted:
[] Plan: SwankyPapist's Plan (or, y'know, whatever plan name you might prefer)
-[] Your Character: Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
-[] Sibling: Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
Except with Xs in the brackets, of course. Also, Blaise is paired with Knud in the same way that Britte and Sissel are paired, so if you're picking Blaise as your bro then Knud comes free and you can get both. So really, unless you specifically want to omit Knud for some reason it would be more like:
[] Plan: SwankyPapist's Plan
-[] Your Character: Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
-[] Sibling: Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
-[] Sibling: Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
[X] Plan: Nord children of Dovahkiin
-[X] Your Character: Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
-[X] Sibling: Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
-[X] Sibling: Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
-[X] Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts. Sly and charming, he has always been a subtle mischief maker, albeit one whose backfires usually land in your favor.
I respect the intent, but I don't think this is a legal plan. By default we only get one sibling, but if we pick one of a twin/sibling pair as our sib then we get their matching counterpart as a bonus. So picking Britte and Sissel as siblings is legal, and picking Aventus as a sibling is legal, but picking Britte and Sissel and Aventus as siblings is not legal.
MC
[X]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
Sibling
[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
I like the combo, but please name the plans going forward. More than anything it makes it easier to coordinate.
[X] Plan: Nord children of Dovahkiin
-[X] Your Character: Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
-[X] Sibling: Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
-[X] Sibling: Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
-[X] Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts. Sly and charming, he has always been a subtle mischief maker, albeit one whose backfires usually land in your favor.
Unfortunately, as Fayhem pointed out this plan isn't quite legal. Barring the twins or the Katla brothers, I'd prefer it if there was only one sibling. Those two pairs only get a pass because it makes sense to me that they might stick together. Otherwise it's one sibling to a batch.
[X] Plan the Loyal Son and his Passionate Sister.
-[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, pain has forged you into the vanguard of Skyrim; you are the first to step up to any task and the rock which many people lean on, no matter the weight it puts on you.
-[X]Lucia: Imperial female, girl thrown out by her aunt and uncle in Whiterun after her mother's passing. Dour and fierce, she has always been unnervingly laconic, yet for her fiery impressions you know her to be the greatest source of warmth in your life.
These two seem well matched, if you read and compare their protagonist votes, Blaise can be the quite companion Lucia enjoys being with most. Meanwhile her caution tempers his loyalty.
[X] Plan: The Boys of South Park
-[x] Your Character: Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
-[x] Sibling: Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
-[x] Sibling: Knud: Nord male, son of the farmers Katla and Snilling whom neither parent expected to amount to anything. Driven and deceptively polite, you secretly spit in the face of expectations and delight in frustrating rivals, often finding fierce motivation in a simple "you can't do it."
Adhoc vote count started by Eternal_0bserver on Dec 28, 2022 at 5:22 AM, finished with 16 posts and 10 votes.
[X] Plan: Sister Act
-[X] Your Character: Sofie: Nord female, flower-selling daughter of a Stormcloak soldier left on the streets of Windhelm. Quietly cheerful and insightful, you have been quick to spot the beauty in life while being equally swift at dealing with threats to those precious things--always with a smile.
-[X] Sibling: Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
-[X] Sibling: Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, she has always been the voice of gentler action and caution, yet has always been the first at your side in any crisis, big or small.
[X] Plan Sissel's Dreams
-[X]Sissel: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with your harsher twin sister Britte. Kind and dignified, you have always been the voice of gentler actions in your father's court, yet step up to a crisis with lightning in your step and your chin held high.
-[X]Britte: Nord female, daughter of the deeply unpleasant Lemkil of Rorikstead orphaned along with her gentler twin sister Sissel. Sharp-tongued and intelligent, you're often grateful to have both her cleverness and wicked words at your side, even if both can be grating at times.
[X]Aventus: Nord male, betrayed son of Windhelm who sealed one of the last Dark Brotherhood contracts (sort of). Sly and charming, you believe every obstacle can be subverted with the right words or a wrong step, and delight in watching the wicked tumble down.
[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, he is a man you can always lean on and is unswervingly loyal, even if he isn't the most stimulating conversation.
[X] Plan the Loyal Son and his Passionate Sister.
-[X]Blaise: Breton male, son of Imperial soldiers who became a stable boy for Katla. Stoic and wise, pain has forged you into the vanguard of Skyrim; you are the first to step up to any task and the rock which many people lean on, no matter the weight it puts on you.
-[X]Lucia: Imperial female, girl thrown out by her aunt and uncle in Whiterun after her mother's passing. Dour and fierce, she has always been unnervingly laconic, yet for her fiery impressions you know her to be the greatest source of warmth in your life.
A stray whiff of lavender crosses your nose and the bittersweet nostalgia it carries perks you back up. That's right, you are Sofie Sky-Bearer and this anxiety is unbecoming of Helgen's heir. If nothing else, people look to you for reassurances, and you find yourself preening to make sure you look the part.
Your otherwise strong Nord features are softened by big and bright golden brown eyes, and perhaps a little makeup to emphasize their glow. Your long auburn hair is a little frazzled from the day's work, nothing some time with a brush and some braiding over your shoulder doesn't fix. Your voice is soft and light, father often said you had a beautiful singing voice and even in arguments you prefer to keep your tone gentle; shouting is for your enemies. Your dress is somewhere between work-friendly and fancy, blue and red with saffron yellow embroidery, hardy while being nice enough to give you some extra gravitas. Not that your stature doesn't already do that; you're nearly as tall as your father, though relatively slight for your height. A sprig of red mountain flower tucked behind the ear and a warm smile are all it takes to complete the ensemble.
Thankfully, it's never hard to break up mental storm clouds in Joorszind and make that grin ring true. You wave down a server to summon one of those delicious lavender-cranberry dumplings that caught your attention. It doesn't hurt that the musicians are your childhood friends Lars and Braith, and they usually play some old favorites of your father's. As you eat you hum along in tune to the music, closing your eyes in a moment of bliss before facing whatever storm your father has foreseen. Eventually you settle on people watching, seeing if you can figure out what made your father summon his advisors.
You're quick to dismiss the familiar faces like Archmage Tolfdir looking for college funding and Frothar Balgruufson on his biannual attempt to join the Dragonguard. You spy a trio of massive coats with Argonians located somewhere within, all huddling near the fire; the latest delegation from An-Xileel most likely. A Breton with tattoos and bone piercings stares daggers through your father; she's a Reachman, probably negotiating for a tribe who hadn't joined the Forsworn. A Bosmer--Wood Elf--is doing her best to hide while remaining at the dinner table; most likely she's this week's Dominion defector. An Imperial man with more jewelry than clothing is singing way too loudly and sloshing mead all over himself; gotta be a merchant who just sealed one sweet trade deal.
That's when you spot your best lead: an elderly Redguard man in what had at some point been armor leans against the table, asleep with his head on his fist. You recognize an Alik'r warrior when you see one but you've never seen one without his scimitar, or with gray hair for that matter. On top of that, Hammerfell's delegates haven't come bearing anything but refugees and ill tidings, yet they always endeavor to look dignified. This man looks like he's been dragged half-dead off a battlefield.
Oh no. "Father, the Alik'r there, is he why--"
"Well done," he interrupts you, then puts a finger to his lips. Right, message received. This is for closed doors. Well, "closed doors;" the doors will likely be open to let a certain herald participate.
Before you can continue that train of thought a hall wing door swings open and one of your sisters drags herself in like a bear freshly roused from hibernation. It's initially hard to tell which sister she is; the twins Britte and Sissel both tie back their long blonde hair with tight braiding along the sides of their heads, sport the same piercing green eyes, and take a great deal of pride in their appearance. This one is wearing a dress of similar quality to yours, in this case green and white with a fur collar. The twins are slightly shorter than you but broader and curvier, and often-times you feel like Sissel is the tallest of the three just from how she holds herself.
Of course, the surefire way to tell them apart is to let one open her mouth.
"Father, if you just shouted my head open to watch Sofe get scolded, I'm gonna piss in your mead and use your favorite cloak as a bath towel."
A single bark of a chuckle from father slams into your gut while you chime, "Well good morning to you too, Britte. Shall I get you some tea?" Your grin turns sly and you add, "Maybe a necromancer?"
"Grrrrrr." She doesn't dignify you with a response, instead waving down a barmaid and commanding, "Juniper juice. Yesterday." With that she gives your father a curtsy and huddles up next to you. "Stupid hunting trip. Stupid mead. Stupid stupid stupid…"
"Must've been quite the night to reduce you to one word," you tease, hiding your snickering behind your dumpling.
"Oh you want eloquent?" she snarls, focusing on someone in the crowd with a murderous sneer, "If that blue-blooded brat blunders his bloody bullseyes, by Boethia's bitty balls I'll burn his bardiche blunt."
You don't need to look to know who she's talking about. "Well, little Frothar's bound to get better at some point."
"Mmf. I'm too young to be his mother," she grunts noncommittally, not bothering to hide her irritation. Despite that, once she gets her juice and gets that first gulp down, you catch her hiding a thin smile behind the mug. "He's got it this time. He better have it this time."
You pat your sister's back and tell her, "I'm sure his teacher did a good job."
Britte scoffs haughtily and feigns indignation. "Of course she did, she's the Divines' finest creation after all," she proclaims, flipping her hair dramatically.
You scoff and roll your eyes, but it's all theatrics. In truth, you think it's sweet that she decided to help Jarl Balgruuf's prodigal son. You honestly never knew what to make of him, considering the (one-sided) grudge between your fathers, but the twins welcomed him with open arms back when he first appeared in Helgen. You've only interacted with him fleetingly and your few impressions have largely been of an immature boy who, to his credit, realizes his shortcomings and is trying to grow up. You don't really have an explanation for his fervent desire to join the Dragonguard, and both twins have guarded his information like a fort. As it stands, the only thing you've determined is that any familial grudge has been left to rot, and that's good enough for you.
Though, Britte's ongoing concern almost makes you inclined to tease her about it. Hmm… nah. Maybe if father wasn't here. Or if he weren't summoning his council.
Instead you make eye contact with Frothar and grant him a light salute of good luck. He jolts in surprise at being acknowledged, then does the best bow he can manage from his bench, only to bop his head on his stew bowl. You once again hide your laughter behind what's left of your dumpling while Britte whimpers into her mug.
"He'll be fine," you reassure her while speaking towards Frothar, making sure he has his chance to lip read. His look of flustered horror tells you he's now more embarrassed than anything, then he tries (and fails) to look confident as he starts scarfing down his stew with an extra round of gusto.
"Ugh! You're tempting my fate, and I'd rather do that myself, thank you," Britte declares, rubbing her eyes, "Enough about that lummox. Why'd father even summon us? I know it wasn't just to stand around and look pretty. We do the second part just great doing other things."
"Patience, Bri, open your eyes up and it'll be clear," you tell her.
"No. Don't you dare start going sage on me." Though, even as she says that, you see her eyes tracking and she seems to snap into a realization.
Good, you didn't want to voice it. As it is you're trying to keep your nerves under control. Luckily for you both, your father's heralds begin arriving in force. During the Skyrim Civil War, the Dragonborn had a large cadre of followers, a private army of men and women from all walks of life willing to answer his call, all of whom he'd aided in some manner or another. Today they remained in his service to build his three elite corps: the Dragonguard, Winter's Circle, and the Echoes. The Dragonguard were blatantly the Blades reborn, serving as the High Thane's elite guard, albeit made under his personal direction rather than following old traditions. Winter's Circle were a revision of the Winterhold College, an order of mages finally given the funding and resources they need to push magical knowledge forward and create a new breed of mages. The Echoes are what had been the Riften Thieves' Guild, now turned into Skyrim's agents and spies. Not every herald is a member of any of these, but most were, or at the very least one of the other notable organizations in Skyrim like the Companions. Some, his closest friends (your aunts and uncles), stood taller than anyone had any right to.
As this parade of legends filed into Joorszind, the usual court revelers slowly began to realize that the fun times were ending and they were going to need to find somewhere else to be. Most left without comment, though the drunken merchant needed a bit of coaxing from his friends. Notably, when the old Alik'r went to leave, your father told him, "You may remain, general."
The man fell back to the bench with a thunderous thunk, and gasped, "Ah, thank you, your lordship."
That poor man. However, as the heralds filed in, you noticed one person's absence. At least until the alarm bell was given a single strike, denoting a dragon sighting, though not necessarily an attacking one. A few people perk up in mild alarm, but two more steady chimes set everyone at ease, including yourself.
Visible through the open doors, a massive red-and-white dragon slams to the ground and lets out a terrifying rumble as he stares inside. "You called, dii jun?" Odahviing asks rhetorically, adding an intimidating chuckle as he watches the other heralds squirm.
As he settles into position, a woman slides down from her perch on his neck, pausing to thank him before hurrying to join you and Britte at the High Thane's side. Sissel is Britte's spitting image, though at the moment she looks like she just finished running a marathon and her hair is a frizzy mess thanks to the wind of riding a dragon. Despite her clear hurry, she moves with an unmatched ethereal grace, seeming to weave between the others like a ghost, and when she reaches father's throne she seems like she's practiced her curtsy a thousand times. "Apologies if I kept you waiting, father," Sissel says, "The trip down is longer than I thought."
Your father waves off her apology and gestures for her to join her sisters. The moment she's into your reach you pipe up, "Need help with your jacket?"
"No. No I'm still freezing," she gasps, staring into the ceiling and trying to catch her breath, "You'd think riding a dragon would be a thrill, mostly I was keeping my eyes from freezing shut." Both sisters have the same husky, somewhat deep voices on the surface, but Sissel's tone is often rather regal and has a certain ragged beauty note to it, while Britte has always sounded more like a bandit chief than a princess.
"Yeah, flying from the Throat will do that to you," Britte comments, idly dismissing her twin's suffering.
You sigh and pull your sister into an embrace, rubbing her intensely and trying not to notice how icicle-cold her skin is. Not that trips to and from the Throat of the World--the tallest mountain in Tamriel--are a new thing, though you've never had the displeasure of flying straight from the peak. Odd that she came in on Odahviing though. Odahviing is your father's right-hand dragon, his herald of heralds (at least to the outside eye), the mighty voice he sends when he wants the object of his message to sit down and shut up. Lodvar also really doesn't like it when Odahviing tries to teach his daughters. That's Paarthurnax's job. You can see him staring holes in the dragon's skull, and the big lizard's smug preening seems to imply he's very, very aware.
Bold. "So, why were you with Odah anyways, Sissy?"
"Mmf. He decided to have a debate with old Paarthurnax and they both opted to make me the arbiter instead of dragging father up the mountain," she whispers, burying her face into your shoulder, perhaps in hopes that father won't hear, "It's exhausting, but I think I did a good job."
"Ah." That made sense. Your father kicking the dragons' collective scaly tails up and down the mountains did a lot to cool their heels. Officially, they've bent the metaphorical knee to the Dovahkiin as Alduin's successor, recognizing his lordship over them. In practice it's more complex. At present there are three main camps: dragons who are trying to find peace in their own way (largely under Paarthurnax), free dragons who have fled out of your father's reach, and the warriors like Odahviing who serve your father directly (for now). Paarthurnax and Odahviing have been enjoying their infamous "debates" with clockwork regularity, and normally they've been vigorous enough that they ask the High Thane to observe to keep them from killing each other.
Guess this was a relatively mild debate if Sissel was all they needed. "Well, you don't look burned," you joke, "Pretty sure if you ask him now he'll braid your hair."
"Har har," she groans, then looks up at you with an appreciative smile, "I'd love to see that."
"There's my Sissel." While you continue warming her up, you note Britte shooting you a jealous glare. As usual you dismiss it with a roll of the eyes, but take note for later. Ah, Sissel, if you knew what it was like balancing you two, you wouldn't mind the dragons, you think to yourself.
Before too long, your father passes a map off to someone and they begin laying it down across the table. Meanwhile, your father clears his throat and stands, forcing everyone to stand at attention. "I summoned you all for one reason: Hammerfell is conquered."
Everyone present knew it, but hearing it said and the abruptness with which he brought it up was something else. Even you chafe under the words. However, as the map is laid out, you realize your father's expression isn't one of aprehension or concern, but fierce determination. His voice booms across the halls, seemingly uncaring if all of Helgen hears it or not. "I speak not of doom, but opportunity. This message will march across Tamriel, and with it will come panic in the great halls. Now is our only chance to halt the Dominion."
The audience, and the general particularly, seem more befuddled by the High Thane's words than anything else, but you quickly notice that the map looks very odd. As your father lays out the situation in Hammerfell and how he came to know it, you take stock of what has happened in the recent years.
To cut a very long story short, The Great War between the Septim Empire and Third Aldmeri Dominion nearly forty years ago has left Tamriel shattered and segmented. Hammerfell seceded as a result of some truly heinous demands, as did Skyrim eventually in her Civil War. Black Marsh, now named An-Xileel, was never an easily-held province and gained its own independence relatively peacefully. Oh, and Orsinium has become a thing… again. Hammerfell had been the saving grace, the nation keeping things relatively balanced, as they were wealthy and had managed to fend off the Dominion. At least until this last year when… for some reason resistance just collapsed. Now things have begun to look quite grim.
The Septim Empire is rapidly decaying, essentially bleeding out from the one-two punch of The Great War and Skyrim Civil War. The Empire is hemorrhaging money, and losing a land bridge to its only profitable province, High Rock, hasn't helped matters. In fact, by all accounts High Rock has been leveraging more and more concessions out of the Empire to the point that it might be considering secession too. That leaves the Empire with only its home province of Cyrodiil and Morrowind--for what good that's worth--to rebuild its devastated legions and its wheezing economy. You hear the new emperor is a pretty good civil servant and was talented enough to head off what could've been a disastrous succession crisis, but you suspect it's too little too late.
One would think the Third Aldmeri Dominion would be hurting as much as the Empire, but they've managed to leverage their position far better. Controlling their home of the Summerset Isles as well as Valenwood, Elseweyr, and now Hammerfell, they are undoubtedly the dominant force in Tamriel. Their conquest is made cruel by their views, that men are lesser creatures and mer--especially Altmer/High Elves--are inherently superior, and they are eager to enforce that view at any given opportunity. Worse, they are far and away more magically capable than any of their would-be quarry, save perhaps the Bretons of High Rock. The one saving grace is that their wars have left both their population and coffers depleted enough that they haven't been able to press their ambitions as hard as they'd like.
Orsinium sprung into being between Skyrim and Hammerfell, another new homeland for the Orsimer, and in the unrest caused by the Dominion's constant barrages they claimed Dragonstar and its accompanying county over the last four years. Many people blame the Orsimer for Hammerfell's troubles, as it drew their attention away from the Dominion. Despite the surface level aggression, they've attempted to toe a fine line of claiming a conquest while playing a relatively peaceful diplomatic game, taking advantage of the ongoing Hammerfell refugee crisis, and soothing the internal upheaval their actions have caused. To your knowledge they've been handling things relatively deftly, but with their border slamming shut and walls sprouting up to turn the country into a giant fortress, it's hard to say much for certain.
The Argonians are the only ones coming out in good shape after of everything. After breaking free nobody has had the guts to invade An-Xileel, so they've been left alone to recuperate and build up their economy, albeit while occasionally prodding the Morrowind border. They're a relatively prosperous nation now, selling basically anything to everyone from rare herbs to fine fabrics to weapons. Not that a marsh is prime economic territory--they're certainly not the powerhouse High Rock is--but things have become pretty rosy for Black Marsh.
As for your own Skyrim, she's still recovering from her war, and while your father has put in titanic efforts to wrench her back into prosperity, these things can't be fixed over night, especially the devastated population. Skyrim is becoming an industrial powerhouse though, between your father's frenetic infrastructure projects and selling weapons to Hammerfell. Additionally, while Skyrim's military is still recovering, the Dragonborn and his heralds are an army unto themselves, and as far as anyone knows he seems able to summon dragons on a whim. That's not actually something he can do, but keeping up the mystique has kept the Thalmor from jumping on the otherwise juicy opportunity. Ironically, the refugee crisis is helping solve some of Skyrim's problems for her; the High Thane needs workers and soldiers for his projects and army, and here are a bunch of Redguards looking for gold and/or a fight.
So, now, back to Hammerfell. According to Lodvar and some interjections from your guest, General Kessad, the last holdout cities have fallen to the Dominion, but there are large populations of resistance fighters still active. The problem now is that Elinhir near the border and Sentinel on the coast had been the main points of contact for combatants to acquire supplies, especially food and medical equipment. Nobody had expected those two cities to just roll over either; everyone had anticipated their sieges to carry on for months, if not years. Instead they'd abruptly crumbled without explanation. Now the Redguards' only hope is to scavenge or pull back to regroup with another army for a counter-invasion.
"I'll be candid, your lordship, that's why I'm here," General Kessad adds as the explanations come to a close, his exhaustion belying the passion still burning within him, "My hope is that Skyrim will come to my people's aid. I know you've assisted us in the past, and words can't express my appreciation, but we need your full weight now. I'm returning home, with or without your army in tow."
Lodvar nods, his hands clasped behind his back as he addresses the room, "Why would my heralds be summoned if not to aid you? I cannot pledge my armies as we are, but I'll direct your attention to the table." Indeed, you had taken notice of the discolored Imperial provinces. "I've had the beginnings of a plan for some time. Already I've sent my Echoes into wavering Imperial provinces to lay an offer: a secession pact. I intend to pull them into Skyrim's command and bring them together."
Murmurs ricochet around the room, but General Kessad just leans against the table, looking utterly defeated even as he snarls, "Dragonborn. I could not give a single. Solitary. Damn. About your ambitions. My people are dying, our cities being turned into enormous prisons, while you plot."
"Then try this: I will unite Tamriel to throw the Dominion out of Hammerfell. Off our continent."
The room goes silent. You re-examine the map, trying to piece together what he's getting at. Then it clicks for you. "Everyone else outnumbers the Dominion," you state aloud, "And they've been using resources in Hammerfell."
Your father doesn't acknowledge your words, continuing to walk the room, "I will send the heralds and soldiers I can spare, General, and they will assist in disrupting the invasion. They will train your soldiers and chip at Thalmor forces. In exchange for your patience I will muster Tamriel to your side."
That quiets Kassad's protests, sending him falling to his seat. He stares at the map, slumped back and struggling to focus. "How?"
"One at a time. Piece by piece," Lodvar explains, "Morrowind by one hand. An-Xileel by another. Orsinium by my own Voice if need be. It will take time and many hands." With that he turns to his heralds. "If your wills match mine, we will create a new empire, one to save your people, General. One forged in fire against the Aldmeri Dominion. One to reunite our people into a new and prosperous future. What. Say. You?"
A cacophony of rising feet and drawn weapons answer, raising their blades and voices high. "HAIL DRAGONBORN! HAIL THE HIGH THANE! HAIL THE EMPEROR!"
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The rest of the meeting goes as expected, mostly spent laying out plans, who to send where and so forth. Some the High Thane expects to be easy sells, especially Morrowind, and the harder ones he intends to speak about behind closed doors, especially whatever madness he thinks will wrench Valenwood away from the Dominion. However, one thing gets your attention: while some people are slated for High Rock, he never specifies who's going to Daggerfall, which seems to you a strange oversight. Daggerfall is perhaps the wealthiest city left outside the Dominion. Why nobody there?
You find yourself stewing on that in your family's private living space afterwards. Frankly stewing on this whole thing. People tend to call you an optimist, and perhaps rightly so, but this plan seems… so casual for what it's proposing.
Britte obviously agrees, ranting herself in circles, "Oh, just gonna casually replace the empire with one of our own. D'oh! Why didn't I think of that? Well… I suppose dad's the one person who could do it. But this seems absurd! The entire Empire couldn't beat down the Dominion, and pa thinks he can do it single-handed."
"If anyone could…" Sissel comments, warming up by a fireplace, "Father was able to go toe-to-toe with the 'firstborn of Akatosh' after all."
Your family's private lounge is fairly simple, a small fireplace with some chairs, stools, and furs laid out as well as some assorted diversions for snowy days: books, instruments, games, etc. There's a beautiful view of the Throat of the World looming over you, and right now you can see the faintest hint of dragons swirling over it. Guess Odahviing's giving them something to talk about.
"No, Britte's right," you tell your sisters, casually plucking at a harp off to the side, "He was able to pull Skyrim together because there was a common desire regardless of side: to have Skyrim be whole again. Not everyone wants another Empire." You shrug and smirk back at your sisters. "Though, guess there is one unifying thought: we're all piss-terrified of the Dominion."
"I wouldn't phrase it that way," Britte counters, flipping a dagger idly in her hand, "Try eager to test my wits."
Sissel groans and scowls, but you catch a smile as she stares into the flames. "Of course all you want is a fight."
"Come on, you can't tell me some part of you isn't looking forward to it," Britte challenges, leaning towards you both eagerly.
Sissel scoffs and shakes her head, unwilling to answer.
You scoff, then find yourself conceding, "Well, maybe I'm not eager, but I can't deny it'd be nice to hear my name in song."
"HAHA! She's a Nord after all!"
"However, mostly I know we'll have to take this fight at some point," you interject, pausing your strumming, "The elves will come for us eventually, so I say let's keep it on our terms."
That earns a thoughtful huff out of Britte, but Sissel seems even more morose. After a brief silence filled only by your strumming, she says, "Didn't we have our fill of war as kids? I don't want to inflict that on someone else."
You smile tautly, thoughts going to the amulet of Talos tucked under your dress. "None of us would. But I don't think we're getting much of a choice." At which point you resume plucking the strings, swaying along with the music. "On the bright side, if father succeeds it'll make for a future with more art and fewer swords, or maybe even stop the war altogether."
It isn't until after you make that comment that you realize you'd been playing "The Dragonborn Comes." Guess you've heard that song enough for it to be reflexive.
"That's my intent." Your father enters the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
Britte chuckles and comments idly, "If I'd known music could summon dad, I'd have come up with a creative use for it."
"Oh hush you," you retort, refusing to stop now since you know it's your father's favorite, "I know it's not your first time shaking the world's teeth, but are you sure this is a good idea, father? You're just going to declare yourself emperor?"
"I never said that," Lodvar points out, sitting down next to Sissel by the fire.
You and your sisters share a confused look and Britte speaks for you, "But… you just laid out a plan to create an empire."
"I did."
"The heralds were hailing you as emperor," Sissel adds.
"They chose to do that." Your father begins sprouting a sly grin, his true self starting to slip out instead of his facade.
Oh no, that's his scheming face. You quickly consider his words, thinking about what he directly stated during the meeting versus what people were assuming. Eventually something clicks and you ask, "So who is going to lead if not you?"
Those steel grey eyes pierce clean through your soul. "You will."
A harp string snaps and Britte's dagger clatters to the floor. Silence echoes through the room for a long while. The whole while your father meets your gaze, his very presence challenging a response, but his coy grin is clearly amused. Your throat feels dry, your head dizzy as you struggle to wrap your head around those words. When you finally force words through your lips, they feel suddenly ragged and hoarse. "Why me?"
Indeed, what skills could you possibly have that would ever warrant your father choosing you over himself?
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Skills: These will be broadly clumped into four categories: Martial, Magic, Stealth, and Voice. Each will have their own teacher who helped further shape Sofie, respectively being Lydia, Serana, Inigo (as in the Khajiit follower mod), and Paarthurnax. Skill levels range from 0-10, 0 being completely untrained, 5 being a journeyman or fairly skilled user, and 10 being a master. For example, a common town guard will typically range from 2-4 in appropriate martial skills. This is mostly an abstraction representing how good you are in the field and will open up choices or appropriate write-ins. Your primary skill field will grant you a starting level of 5 in the listed skills, your secondary field granting levels of 3. Skills shared between your primary and secondary will start at 6. You will also have level 1 in a few skills mostly because they make sense to have entry-level training (for example, One-Handed will receive that treatment if you take Magic and Voice). Not to say you cannot train over the course of the quest in something else (say, a Martial character learning Restoration magic), and you can expect your skills to improve broadly as the quest continues.
Skill overview Martial: Choose this if you want to focus on fantasy battles and bringing swaths of Tamriel's foes to their knees.
--Archery: Shooting with bows; shared with Stealth.
--Block: Effectively deflecting incoming blows.
--Heavy Armor: Effectively using hard plate armors to mitigate damage.
--One-Handed: Fighting with one-handed weapons, shared with Stealth.
--Smithing: Creating items; shared with Voice.
--Two-Handed: Fighting with two-handed weapons.
Magic: Choose this if you want to focus on feats of magical prowess and interacting with the higher powers on and beyond Tamriel.
--Alchemy: Creating potions and poisons; shared with Stealth.
--Alteration: Changing the properties of things, including protection magic.
--Conjuration: Summoning creatures and equipment to aid you in battle.
--Destruction: Attack spells such as fireballs and lightning bolts.
--Enchanting: Imbuing items with magic, shared with Voice.
--Illusion: Spells which alter a target's mind or others' perceptions.
--Restoration: Broadly healing magic, but can be used to harm in certain ways.
Stealth: Choose this if you want to focus on espionage, assassinations, and disrupting the political climate of Tamriel from the shadows.
--Alchemy: Creating potions and poisons; shared with Magic.
--Archery: Shooting with bows; shared with Martial.
--Light Armor: Effectively using flexible armors to mitigate damage.
--Lockpicking: Cracking security and disabling traps.
--One-Handed: Fighting with one-handed weapons, shared with Martial.
--Sleight of Hand: Pickpocketing and other dextrous finger work.
--Sneak: Going unnoticed.
--Speech: Using your words to convince people to do what you want; shared with Voice.
Voice: Choose this if you want to focus on investigation, intrigue, and tapping into powers forgotten by Tamriel. Note: There will be skills related to the Thu'um which I cannot reveal for spoiler reasons. If the Voice is a focus you will pick these skills up quickly upon discovery and adopt a level appropriate to whether the Voice is your primary or secondary skill group.
--Enchanting: Imbuing items with magic, shared with Magic, though mimics Thu'um effects rather than traditional Magic.
--Investigation: Interpreting evidence and deciphering lost languages.
--Smithing: Creating items; shared with Martial.
--Speech: Using your words to convince people to do what you want; shared with Stealth.
--Thu'um: The Voice of dragons and ability to use your Voice to enact magic by tapping into the natural powers both within and without you.
--Others: To be discovered.
Your voice is soft and light, father often said you had a beautiful singing voice and even in arguments you prefer to keep your tone gentle; shouting is for your enemies.
Of course, the surefire way to tell them apart is to let one open her mouth.
"Father, if you just shouted my head open to watch Sofe get scolded, I'm gonna piss in your mead and use your favorite cloak as a bath towel."
A single bark of a chuckle from father slams into your gut while you chime, "Well good morning to you too, Britte. Shall I get you some tea?" Your grin turns sly and you add, "Maybe a necromancer?"
As he settles into position, a woman slides down from her perch on his neck, pausing to thank him before hurrying to join you and Britte at the High Thane's side. Sissel is Britte's spitting image, though at the moment she looks like she just finished running a marathon and her hair is a frizzy mess thanks to the wind of riding a dragon. Despite her clear hurry, she moves with an unmatched ethereal grace, seeming to weave between the others like a ghost, and when she reaches father's throne she seems like she's practiced her curtsy a thousand times. "Apologies if I kept you waiting, father," Sissel says, "The trip down is longer than I thought."
"There's my Sissel." While you continue warming her up, you note Britte shooting you a jealous glare. As usual you dismiss it with a roll of the eyes, but take note for later. Ah, Sissel, if you knew what it was like balancing you two, you wouldn't mind the dragons, you think to yourself.
"One at a time. Piece by piece," Lodvar explains, "Morrowind by one hand. An-Xileel by another. Orsinium by my own Voice if need be. It will take time and many hands." With that he turns to his heralds. "If your wills match mine, we will create a new empire, one to save your people, General. One forged in fire against the Aldmeri Dominion. One to reunite our people into a new and prosperous future. What. Say. You?"
A cacophony of rising feet and drawn weapons answer, raising their blades and voices high. "HAIL DRAGONBORN! HAIL THE HIGH THANE! HAIL THE EMPEROR!"
Eventually something clicks and you ask, "So who is going to lead if not you?"
Those steel grey eyes pierce clean through your soul. "You will."
A harp string snaps and Britte's dagger clatters to the floor. Silence echoes through the room for a long while. The whole while your father meets your gaze, his very presence challenging a response, but his coy grin is clearly amused.
Also, interesting - didn't see that one coming tbh.
@KingAardvark1st Is this supposed to be a plan vote or is okay that we're voting for primary and secondary separately?
Assuming the latter for now since that's what's happening at the moment:
[X]Primary
-[X]Magic & Serana
VAMPIRE WAIFU SENPAI GET
[X]Secondary
-[X] Voice & Paarthurnax
Can't play a Skyrim quest and not have any Shouting, lol.
More concretely, I like magicky stuff way more than Martial (I also strongly get the vibe that Britte is a Martial main already) so why not double-down on that. I think this has good synergy in that we can cast spells while our Shouts are on cooldown, and regenerate mana while we're Shouting, helping to redress the primary limitations of each.
I will also approval vote this though, because I really like Serana and I'll be bummed if she's not a factor at all.
I think we'll do this as a plan, as doing it separately invites complications (since these are the same things being voted on twice). Should've said that out of the gate, I apologize.
Don't you worry about Serana. Suffice to say all four mentors were "in the house" so to speak, and I have plans for all of them. And yes, you can add a sinister cackle to the end of that sentence. That said, valid haha
