The Saga of Ignatius Baytor Options

[Lady Saga]

Hello, it's been awhile since I've posted here as Lady Saga. Renee Gade IV likes to clutter her character stories up into one big mess, while I prefer to post individually, as we shall see.

What I am going to be writing is a series of journal entries from a new character of mine: Master Baytor. It's okay, go ahead and laugh. He is an Altmer from Summerset Isle who has been comfortably living in Cyrodiil ever since the Great War. He learned a bit of magic in the Imperial City, and also is somewhat proficient with swords. He is a Spellsword, my first dual-wielding character, and third character to attempt the Main Quest & Civil War with. He'll be doing the Civil War. He's a Thalmor agent, trying to aid the Imperials at war, although as we shall see, the word "trying" is to become pertinent at the beginning of this tale.

And here is his first journal entry.

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Sundas, 11:15 PM, 17th of Last Seed, Year 201

Those impetuous fools! To think that they could send me to Skyrim, and then trick me into a bargaining of sorts, thrusting my inhibitions and mocking my terrantcy!

I ... am Master Baytor, Disciplinary Lord of the Aldmeri Thalmor. I have started this journal as a record of sorts, that he who might find it might also know of my tales, and how I have come to make arrivation into Skyrim. The 'impetuous fools' of whom I speak might gladly bow thy heads in shame, were they to know whom they were dealing with! I am (and always will be) one of them! Foolish degredators!

I am not the TRAITOR of whom they seek!

Not so long ago, the White Gold Concordat promised many great things: the ending of the Great War among them, as well as the joining of forces between Imperial regimentations, and the Aldmeri Dominion. All of these great things have been long decided, yet here I am. I, Master Baytor, made travels with a group of others, all of us up from Cyrodiil and the Summerset Isle, planning to make our visitation brief, and to the point. When we did make sudden appearance upon a camp of Imperial-led soldiers located not far from Pale Pass, chaos did erupt! We elves were quickly be-sieged; many of us fell. Only I and perhaps one other did survive.

An errant move on the specious foolish Imperials! We are not of betrayal, and the wrong was not righted for many many hours. Why might I be chosen for such sodden mockery, and thrown onto a cheap wooden cart along with criminals, low-lifes, and (behold!) General Tullius himself? These questionings are (as of now) un-answered by the incompetent boobs who made ruination of my first days in Skyrim.

My companions are not of presence, but I am on their side, the side of the Imperial Empire, or so it would seemingly be.

But this tale ends not yet. .. The things I have seen, the The events I have beheld, would fill tomes full of fantastical but laughably erroneous scripts, had they not have actually happened. For upon my very execution, after being branded a superfillious traitor, did I nearly commence to have my very head befallen, lopped off with an axe the size of an oxen's yoke. Yet was I saved.

I was saved.

I, by mighty voice spoken by the Eight, do require some dispensation of belief, here. Cast aside thine judgements. For what I am about to write next might very well drive you into titters and tatters of comical belly-laughings. But I swear upon the hand of mighty Akatosh that such occurances did, in fact, occur. From the very sky did a large shape devolve, and land upon a nearby stone fortification-tower. It was not to be believed. A dragon! A dragon did make ruins of the whimsically dreadful village known as Helgen. Twas not to be of belief, I must say! That such a dark force from the sky, breathing gaseous forms not be be taken abruptly, did actually appear and commenced to also attack! Many men fell by the wayside as it hopped and flew from one perchment to the next, arrows and fire lighting the sky, in hopes to take the flying menace by much lesser devices.

Yet I did make my escape! For here I reside in a small hamlet known to the locals as 'Riverwood'. All sod and dirt. Where are the great stone edifications of which I have heard?

Any-ways. In Riverwood dwell'th I, while the dragon has made its escape, flying off into the day's sky like a damnation from the planes of Mehrune's Dagon.

MASTER BAYTOR, who now seeketh his long-deserved rest

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This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Oct 28 2015, 12:02 AM

[Renee]

Bleak Falls Barrow


Turdas, 11:17 PM, 21st of Last Seed
Days Passed: 5

Would it be presumptuous to wonder of specificty why it is that I, Master Baytor, have been dispatched to this daedriclly-inspired hovel upon a mountainside, and far from the reaches and safties of the Hold? I am but alone, with no aide whatsoever to guide and illuminate. Treacherous twits, they are!

It is of fortune, however, that my variant skills of sword-play, and fantastical magics, have been magnaninous, my full proficiency at melees and combats have devalued many a bandit, wolf, and rat of unfortunate existence. All who dare taketh upon the Master Dominion Lord of the Thalmor have fallen by the wayside.

I dwell now in the massive stone fortification known as Bleak Falls Barrow. Ice and cold all around, yet these fallen bandits have seen fit to at least have the courtesy of providing themselves a bonfire. They are no more, their fire now has been taken advantage by me. A meal of meats and fruits, a bit of rest, and I shall soon wander down-wards into this wretched tomb.
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Fredas, 3:28 AM, 22nd of Last Seed

I have awoken from a slumber, as I fed myself by the bonfire's flames I had apparently dozed! Such slumber was not of my very intentions, I must say. The bonfire formerly of encirclement by the fallen bandits has extinguished, and these fools had not the decency to have hauled more timber for the burning. Air is blinding cold, . Were I not proficient in the arts of flaming-magics, I would all but freeze my hind-quarters to the very stone floor!

The questionings remain: What are my intentions to be, and are they to be of inclusion parallel to those of the Jarl?

Why dwellth I here? in this decrepit barrow? seeking some wraught of stone I have only heard rumors about?!

--==-
Not one week ago, twas my intention to secure a position of solidity within the court of the Jarl, as such was my position in the Imperial City. I, Master Baytor, would travel throughout the holds with my Thalmor companions, gaining the fabulous Skyrim wealths which have tickled my ears, ever since the Imperials have made partial conquest. That I would become as one of the fallen heroes of my youth: Dyan phor a'Cauz, Renee Gade the Second, Joan of Arkay, and Beujawk the Greyish Sorcerer? A hero for all the land to gaze upon, and make of so many envies I would be!

But those impetuous Imperials! Were it not for them, by now I would securely and of certainty have made my true positioning within the province of Skyrim. * But it is of knowing that all coins have two sides: and a true Master will view both. What if such riches are to be of truth? What if much gold is to be found? And treasures as well? What if these rumorings are of truth?

These are the thoughts which drive me deeper into this heathen hovel. I must presseth on, not only for adventure, but also to warm my very bones.

*

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Fredas, 11:25 AM

I made my come-uppance, and have borne witness to one very unlucky bandit, whom I crept upward from behind to make him my prey, when thus bandit made a motion which called his very own doom! Pulled a lever did he, and now has fallen amongst the shards and dust motes which litter all about.

A puzzle of sorts before me. Hmm. Eagles and snakes and seacreatures upon tall triangular blocks of stone, carved as such that 'tis of apparentcy one must turn these blocks just so, and then pull upon that lever which caused the bandit's fate. I have made summation of one primitive yet effective Nordic puzzle-trapping. I have not seen such trappings in the ruins of the Ayleids down in Cyrodiil.

12:07 PM
The rumors contain much truth! Riches! GOLD! I have found gold! The very first urn and chest I have located has yielded 10 Septims. Twas my thinking that such gold might have been left by the bandits, but as of now I stand in the very hall of these Nordic warriors, I have found many such treasures in my very immediatcy: thirty-three gold pieces and one meager soul gem. As such treasures were of locating just beyond the reach of that fallen bandit, it is of reasonings that beyond lies much more.

Might I, Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the Aldmeri Thalmor, come not to prosper and thrive, but also gain the impostuous wealth of my fallen childhood heros? **

**


Note: I did ALL of Bleak Flats Barrow tonight and will post the rest tomorrow, hopefully. I took about a dozen pictures, though, and I'm trying to put as much text with pictures as possible, for your viewing pleasure.

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 28 2015, 12:18 AM