Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )

2 Pages V < 1 2  
Reply to this topicStart new topic
> The Saga of Ignatius Baytor
Lopov
post Dec 15 2013, 11:45 AM
Post #21


Master
Group Icon
Joined: 11-February 13
From: Slovenia



Hahaha, that's awesome! It's good that you don't write about this stuff in the Lore section on Beth forums, some no-nonsense members would probably find you at home and decapitate you if you mentioned that there was an Argonian among the Thalmor. biggrin.gif


--------------------
"I saw a politician the other day."
"Horrible creatures - I avoid them whenever I can."
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Lady Saga
post Dec 15 2013, 12:23 PM
Post #22


Mouth
Group Icon
Joined: 20-February 12



Lol maybe I should post there! And perhaps the fact that there was an Argonian in MB's traveling band of Thalmor has something to do with why he was branded a 'traitor' at the beginning of his journal.

User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Lady Saga
post Jan 12 2014, 05:58 PM
Post #23


Mouth
Group Icon
Joined: 20-February 12



Update: My snobby Altmer is about to return to Whiterun with the Dragonstone in this episode, those who have done the Main Quest know what's about to happen.

IPB Image


Morndas, 5:55 PM, 25th of Last Seed

On return to Dragon's Reach, did I carry the so-sought dragon's stone from the Barrows of the Dead, and whilst conversing amongst Farengar the Secret-Fired Wizard, and a barren-headed associate did Irileth, the accosting Dunmer from the Jarl's court, effect her soddentious approach once again. But at present did Irileth cometh forth not to accost, nor give bewarings that I must vacate the Jarl's court as henceforth, and rightly so for her Dunmerious sake.

A dragon! A dragon has been sighted about! I have been avenged in my words, so previously distrusted and ignored.

I am to accompany Irileth and a local posse of nitwit soldiers somehwere beyond the walls of Whiterun, and must make haste in my travells!


----------------------------------------------------------

IPB Image

Tirdas, 2:06 AM, 26th of Last Seed


As I scribe these words into my fatithful tome, my hand it shakes, my bones they ache. I, Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the almighty Thalmor, have taken upon a sight much more dreaded than imagined, that I fear such might enter into my dreams of night, and on many other such darknesses of frequent. The dragon!

As I did make approach towards the hazy, shadowing plains of Whiterun Hold, and gathered upon these plains with the aforementioned grouping of nitwit guards and mercenaries, I feared in my very bones that the rumorations could be true. And then, did he make appearance! ... Breathing gaseous enemations and flitting about high up into the night skies!

But I did make solid attacking upon this dragon! My flaming atronach was cast, my Nordic sword of ice and cold I did swing into the very scales enveloping the great, gargantuan beast; I flailed upon its wings and body so mighty did I, and danced around upon my feet so lithe, whilst the dragon enflighted and glided from his mighty heights. The guards themselves did as they could, yet were not of matching towards the great beast. Were it not for I, Master Innquoo Baytor, would it have been that all those whom were of presecne would have be-fallen from woeing, and to their death-beds they would have decreed to fail.

The dragon's flesh and guts did sweep across the plains upon his bereavement, great castings of firey essence filled the air arond me, and immersed me so. I made careful inspectings of his remains: bones the size of a ship's galley bracings! I know not what happened just then, but the world around me blurred just so, and away from my reach did my mind go.

I am to make my return to Jarl Balgruuf, leader of all Whiterun Hold, and report my findings, that the dragon which might have slain Whiterun has now been pacified eternally. But as of now, I must gather my wits and my poise.

I sit currently in The Drunken Huntsman, a sweetroll of better quality before me than that which might be found in that narrow-in-width and in-mind hamlet beknownst as Riverwood, and accompanied by three bottles of Whiterun's finest mead, all of which shall be downed with relish, in celebration of thas death of the dragon of Whiterun plains.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

IPB Image


12:26 PM

I must scribe more: As I ensconce here at present, before the Jarl's grandest tables of oak-wood, I now feast upon a meal which is finally of true succulency: fruits not far from the tree, slabs of meat not long from the slaughter, and cheese which is aged to (finally) perfection, all to be-fit for digestion for the likes of I.

I, Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the mighty Thalmor, am now Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the Thalmor, and Thane of all Whiterun Hold. The peoples, they will remember my name. The guards shalt grant me passage as my titling has brought before me powers unbeknownst amongst Cyrodiil's Imperial City.

----------------------------------------------------------
4:44 PM

I have made further discussings with the Breton* known as Farengar, the Court Wizard appointed to the post for his Excellentcy, who has shown me the manners of proper enchatnting here in Skyrim. With a gem of souls and a specialized table of Arcanity, did I place my delicate hands, the hands of which not long ago slew a forceful being existing formerly only in the rumorings of drunken roustabouts and tongue-wagging whorres. The item of dis-enchantment, it did collapse, allowing me to use its forces to later enchant a second object, a simple guard's helm.

Farengar has informed me that the College of Winterhold might have interest in my talents as well, and I must make visitation to the Greybeards of High Hrothgar, but on the morrow I shalt first deal with a legion of bandits, of whom have with sore decision made residence inside an old fort nearby to Whiterun known as Halted Stream's Camp. They shalt count their last hours, unknowingly, before they meet their doom
. [/size]




IPB Image

IPB Image

IPB Image

IPB Image

IPB Image

IPB Image


This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Oct 28 2015, 12:08 AM
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Grits
post Jan 12 2014, 07:14 PM
Post #24


Councilor
Group Icon
Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast



Nice work, Master Baytor! The Jarlí s own bed should be available for sleeping, though that might not be to the Masterís taste. (Iíve had two characters shack up with the Jarl for a time.) I wish him good hunting at Halted Stream Camp!


--------------------
Jerric's Story * Darnandex * Morning Star Screenshot: Cyrodiil Meadow
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Lady Saga
post Feb 9 2014, 04:40 PM
Post #25


Mouth
Group Icon
Joined: 20-February 12



The Jarl's own bed is okay? Yikes! .. As arrogant and uppity as Baytor is, I don't get the sense that even he would consider this as a sleeping option. laugh.gif He's been staying in this one room somewhere in the middle section of Dragon'sreach where there's a non-respawning wardrobe. He needs 5,000 gold to buy the Whiterun house, and he's almost there matter of fact.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Journey to Solitude


IPB Image


I have made pact with a travelling band of Thalmor* a grouping of mighty sorcerers who as of current are of finding their way to Solitude. We travel as a septet: three Thalmor agents, their fetid Nordish prisoner, my iron-emblazoned Warrior Wench** and of course, I, Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the mighty Thalmor, and Thane of Whiterun Hold. The Thalmor make holding of an embassy located in the vicinity somewheres north of Solitude, allowing me to join their ranks upon entry into


Sundas, 5:41 PM, 31st of Lasst Seed

We have made arrivation into Solitude, though two of our traveling posse have been lost to a stronghold of bandits squatting directly within a fort located across the road itself. These foul bandits kept a strong defence, but we besieged them with our magics of potentcy, our skills and acclimations amongst weaponry. No more shalt these grisly menaces terror the road to Solitude with their evening tosses and all manner of bantering.

Solitude and the idea of such brings forth much glee to this Thalmor elf! A homestead away from homestead for the Imperials who fight to regain position here in Skyrim, touches of Imperial design make appearance hither and yon. One gruesome sight I did behold upon entrance into Solitude: the execution of a man of pure guilt, whom made assistance amongst the Stormcloaks, and as such caused the final murder of Torygg, former High King of Skyrim. Be him no more, traitor!

Solitude contains a quaint selection of day-grinding shoppes nearest to the township's entrance, one of such being a clothing shoppe! Oh how I cannot wait 'til the morrow to make visitation towards this shoppe. I declare Solitude comtemporary and fitting for this travelling Thalmor elf



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solitude and the Imperials


Morndas, 2:09 PM, 1st of Heartfire

Today and on the present, I hold court with the illustrious Winking Skeever, a three-storey lodging of better quality than those which might be located upon Skyrim's country-side. The furnishings are acceptable, the food delectable, and 'tis of reasoning that the invluence of the Cyrodiilic region is to blame. But, one menace does betray as I slumbered off to the nether regions of my mind on the night previous.

IPB Image


Yes, as you may have pondered, and to wit have made presumption, I speak of yet oantnother sanctimonius gangling twit, who feels such reason to pound endlessly upon a drum of calf's skin well into the eve like a neighboring fool's storm arriving on Middas in the form of Cicero's gales of laughter. Would it be not to liking to smash this 'artisan' with a bowlful of Sheppard's Pie, and directly into her dementive Nordic face? The idea as such tempts me grandly.

I however did no such thing. In my mind, I would suffer peals of laughter to stuff this lady's face with a pie, but in relegated society, one must conduct himself of the upmost coventry. As such, I merely 'requesteed' that she put this drum of calf-skin, her imbecilic lute of twanging, to the wayside. I then proceeded to give such a tongue-lashing that this so-called 'bard' might not have reason to sit upon any stool of wood of a weeks's time, much less sing and praise the songs of such repetitious inanity!

On the day of this bardess's death, I will indeed drink and will sing. Indeed.

Heed my ramblings reader, for today is one of the utmost importance; today I am to suss about this town of Solitude, where a man can lose his life by civil beheading should he become a miscreant of such, and locate the chapter house where General Tullius shalt deem my necessity, in aiding against the Stormcloaks.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

IPB Image
IPB Image


Tirdas, 12:56 PM

After having conversed with the General of all Imperials and eloquenting my way to join the Imperials themselves, the General and his lieu have chanced upon me a task. I am to revert to the furthest reaches of Haafingar to locate a fort-full of the usual rabbelry. Bandits have usurped the local soldier's abilities to keep this place, known as Hraggstad or some such, un-occupied and under control, so I beg of ye to chance one guessing ... who shalt make such bandits desire and wish they had never set footing inside their warm, cozy fort?

And 'tis of fortunous situation that I, Master Baytor, Dominion Lord of the Thalmor, and Thane of all Whiterun Hold, should make small course upon my mission, and perhaps terrorize the bandits who dwell within Hraggstad just so. On-accompanyment I shalt bring my housecarl on the morrow, a dredged Nord female by the name of ... Lyssa ... Lynda? Oh, 'tis no matter, for I merely make referring to her as Warrior Wench. Of old-fashioned iron and steel is she, and while she may assist in the corptunous task of ridding the local banditry, I shalt devise my newfound magics to end their days of reveling upon the coastal cliffs of Haafingar.

Make promise of thine prayers, thee unuptuous heathens.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tirdas, 11:55 PM

Of the aforementioned heathens, I can say no more. They have succumbed to their fates. On the whole, they did gather enmasse to scare and surprise me into submission, their crude arrows of iron and their swords of steel. Nevermore shat such miscreants shar a pint of mead around their sorptuous campfires, or rid their breath of hallowed funk with snowberries and juniper.

I must now rest in-depth, while my new Nordic wench accompanies to my very needs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fredas, 12: 35 PM

'Tis Fredas once more, and I am now tasked to clear some rabblery just northwest of Whiterun, Ulfric Stormcloak has chosen to locate and steal an ancient crown...so be it his death should he succeed.




This post has been edited by Lady Saga: Nov 4 2015, 12:33 AM
User is offlineProfile CardPM
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post

2 Pages V < 1 2
Reply to this topicStart new topic
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

 

- Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 21st September 2019 - 08:14 PM