I joined four years ago as a travelling gypsy travelling the digital void of the internet to bring to a new home a great god. Fleeing from He Who Shall Not Be Named I and my cadre came to the RPGuild and put down roots. It was fine. The soil was rich and the air warm. Sure, there were some troubled spots, exacerbated by the absence of the liege-lord. But in time with patience and perhaps some stubbornness all of this overcome and we continued among the green pastures. Never to feel the cold winds and to feel warm and comfortable in our hearts for that.
That is, not until recently.
You see, I woke up this morning feeling a bit cold. That was unusual. So I lit my fire as I used to and warmed myself by the hearth. On the wall hung a skull. Ancient, primordial. It was of a dragon. No one thought they ever existed. Perhaps it was a fake. But it was passed down to me through the family. It was a curiosity of sorts. No one thought anything of it. But I felt particularly disconcerted with it this morning as I looked up at it.
That is when I heard the knock on the door.
Visitors? This early? The sun had barely risen and the crow hadn't cawed yet. I shrugged it off. Throwing my furs across my shoulder I went to the door and opened it. There, standing in the snow was a tall lean man. His face as pale as parchment. His hair a mess. He looked me down with sharp eyes as his mouth curled back and he spoke, "Hi Anon, I have a new RP for you..." he began, reaching into his jacket.
I doubled back, terrified. I knew somehow something was in that coat pocket. Something I didn't want to see. "I thought you like this..." the tall man said again. His hand slowly moved out from his coat. I could feel the breath catch in my throat. By the Nines.
"It's called..." I could see the corner of the object he was holding. It was black, sharp. Was it a weapon? No, hardly. Far worse than that. I clutched my heart as I saw it. My eyes widening at the large ancient white lettering on its package. As he stepped in the door shut behind him. The room went dark as a faint mist rolled in, dimly lit by the fire behind me. From a distance, as if from a mountain top I could hear a chanted song.
"It's Skyrim, anon. Don't you want to play a Skyrim RP?"
I screamed. My voice full of dread. God damn you Todd Howard.
That is, not until recently.
You see, I woke up this morning feeling a bit cold. That was unusual. So I lit my fire as I used to and warmed myself by the hearth. On the wall hung a skull. Ancient, primordial. It was of a dragon. No one thought they ever existed. Perhaps it was a fake. But it was passed down to me through the family. It was a curiosity of sorts. No one thought anything of it. But I felt particularly disconcerted with it this morning as I looked up at it.
That is when I heard the knock on the door.
Visitors? This early? The sun had barely risen and the crow hadn't cawed yet. I shrugged it off. Throwing my furs across my shoulder I went to the door and opened it. There, standing in the snow was a tall lean man. His face as pale as parchment. His hair a mess. He looked me down with sharp eyes as his mouth curled back and he spoke, "Hi Anon, I have a new RP for you..." he began, reaching into his jacket.
I doubled back, terrified. I knew somehow something was in that coat pocket. Something I didn't want to see. "I thought you like this..." the tall man said again. His hand slowly moved out from his coat. I could feel the breath catch in my throat. By the Nines.
"It's called..." I could see the corner of the object he was holding. It was black, sharp. Was it a weapon? No, hardly. Far worse than that. I clutched my heart as I saw it. My eyes widening at the large ancient white lettering on its package. As he stepped in the door shut behind him. The room went dark as a faint mist rolled in, dimly lit by the fire behind me. From a distance, as if from a mountain top I could hear a chanted song.
"It's Skyrim, anon. Don't you want to play a Skyrim RP?"
I screamed. My voice full of dread. God damn you Todd Howard.
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