09-16-2006, 11:47 PM
1. 1: What it is: (Cog's first side quest post)
You?re in the Capital City of the Tang Mo, Bu?Po. After you conversation with the Nerevarine, you have been given free reign within the city while before you going to meet your contact with the Tang Mo. As you wander, you decide to visit one of the many taverns that dot the streets. You decide upon the one called the Lantern in the Tower, complete with a picture of a dark tower and a single lamp gazing out from it. The door, a large, oak construction scarred with many years of use and abuse, creaks slowly inwards into the smoky antechamber. Two men, sit in chairs, smoking cigars and reading the publishing sheets while a doorman guarded the inner chamber where the booze is served. A large sign poster next to the inner door displays a message in bright red letter:
?No Deadly Weapons: Use the Grandma Test!?
You walk up to the doorman, who greets you with a noncommittal glance. He seems to be uncomfortable. You ask what the Grandma test is.
Uncomfortable Doorman: ?*Sigh*?okay, here it is. The Grandma Test: Take the weapon- and hit your grandma with it. If she dies, it?s not okay. All weapons that are not okay include, but are not limited to; Swords, Axes, Knives, Bows, Picks, Spears, Bricks, Shovels, Sticks, Chickens, Pictures of Vivec, some Hats, and various and miscellaneous scribal paraphernalia.?
After this speech, you deposit all of your weapons with the doorman, and enter the bar proper. Inside, it is remarkably bar for such a stringent door policy, loud with customers and a little dark, but clean and well stocked. The patrons, almost overwhelmingly Tang-Mo, seem to be the respectable sort of patrons, most of them obviously just blowing off steam from their day off work. You sadden, thinking that you?ve chosen a boring and uninteresting bar; until you spot the man in the corner- he?s staring at you with eyes that glint in the lantern light. You order a mug of the local brew, an incredibly strong drink that reminds you strongly of the Sujumma that you tried once, and pull up a seat next to the mysterious stranger. He glances away from you as soon as he notices you approach. Curious, you initiate conversation, and introduce yourself. He glances at you, finally, and growls at you, a sibilant, yet rough voice that reminds you of a Kahjiit with laryngitis.
?Keep sitting there and I?ll cut out your throat, %pcrace.?
Unintimidated, you remind him of the grandma rule in place. The Kahjiit-thing chuckles and pulls out a dagger.
?My grandmother once took a fireball to the head standing, and survived. That was last Tuesday.?
You stare blankly. You feel a small tugging at the corner of your mouth.
?We take things very literally in Akavir?
You laugh, and offer him a mug of the local beer. He stares at you for a moment, and nods.
?Your offer is kind. Perhaps I will refrain from removing your throat. For the Moment.?
You laugh, amused at this fellows cheek, and give him a mug of the beer. You holler for another at the barkeep, who begins to make your drink. You turn, and ask the fellow his name.
?Uken is my name.? He takes a slow drink, watching you the entire time. You grab your mug from the waiting barkeep, and take a long swallow of the potent brew. Wiping your mouth, you ask him what brings him to Bu?Po.
?My business is my own.?
A silence settles around you. You take a drink to mask your awkwardness, and proceed to tell him your story, about how you saved Tamriel from Oblivion, and came to Bu?Po to find the Nerevarine and check upon the Imperial Expedition. You stammer some, and slur some of your works, the powerful intoxicant starting to affect you. Uken takes your story in blankly, then laughs under his breath, a low, rough hissing. You ask if he doesn?t believe you.
?No. A story that grand? From a stranger who hangs around in bars? If you?re so great, why aren?t you drinking in the palace, and dining with the Emperor regent and being served grapes by the Nerevarine? Fool. You are a liar- I will fight you, because you are a liar.? He beings to reach for the dagger in his belt.
A little offended, and a little drunk, you act somewhat rash- instead of running, like you should, you punch him straight in the nose. He goes down, catching himself on his hands, then kicks the table on to you. The others patrons start running towards the exits- the barkeep reaches below the bar, obviously fumbling for club of some sort. The Kahjiit-thing, pissed off, growls at you, and even in your drunken state, you realize you might have done the wrong thing- those are some wicked fangs. White, glittering, and already covered in froth, they looked able to take off a finger as easy as bite off a piece of steak. The dagger gleaming duskily in the lamplight didn?t look good either. Considering your options, you (Insert preferred style of fighting).
Leaning over the body of your dead foe, you notice a small, gleaming ring on his right hand. You pick it up, feeling the magicka that obviously imbues it, and head for the exit, hoping to reclaim you weapons and equipment before the death is reported
You?re in the Capital City of the Tang Mo, Bu?Po. After you conversation with the Nerevarine, you have been given free reign within the city while before you going to meet your contact with the Tang Mo. As you wander, you decide to visit one of the many taverns that dot the streets. You decide upon the one called the Lantern in the Tower, complete with a picture of a dark tower and a single lamp gazing out from it. The door, a large, oak construction scarred with many years of use and abuse, creaks slowly inwards into the smoky antechamber. Two men, sit in chairs, smoking cigars and reading the publishing sheets while a doorman guarded the inner chamber where the booze is served. A large sign poster next to the inner door displays a message in bright red letter:
?No Deadly Weapons: Use the Grandma Test!?
You walk up to the doorman, who greets you with a noncommittal glance. He seems to be uncomfortable. You ask what the Grandma test is.
Uncomfortable Doorman: ?*Sigh*?okay, here it is. The Grandma Test: Take the weapon- and hit your grandma with it. If she dies, it?s not okay. All weapons that are not okay include, but are not limited to; Swords, Axes, Knives, Bows, Picks, Spears, Bricks, Shovels, Sticks, Chickens, Pictures of Vivec, some Hats, and various and miscellaneous scribal paraphernalia.?
After this speech, you deposit all of your weapons with the doorman, and enter the bar proper. Inside, it is remarkably bar for such a stringent door policy, loud with customers and a little dark, but clean and well stocked. The patrons, almost overwhelmingly Tang-Mo, seem to be the respectable sort of patrons, most of them obviously just blowing off steam from their day off work. You sadden, thinking that you?ve chosen a boring and uninteresting bar; until you spot the man in the corner- he?s staring at you with eyes that glint in the lantern light. You order a mug of the local brew, an incredibly strong drink that reminds you strongly of the Sujumma that you tried once, and pull up a seat next to the mysterious stranger. He glances away from you as soon as he notices you approach. Curious, you initiate conversation, and introduce yourself. He glances at you, finally, and growls at you, a sibilant, yet rough voice that reminds you of a Kahjiit with laryngitis.
?Keep sitting there and I?ll cut out your throat, %pcrace.?
Unintimidated, you remind him of the grandma rule in place. The Kahjiit-thing chuckles and pulls out a dagger.
?My grandmother once took a fireball to the head standing, and survived. That was last Tuesday.?
You stare blankly. You feel a small tugging at the corner of your mouth.
?We take things very literally in Akavir?
You laugh, and offer him a mug of the local beer. He stares at you for a moment, and nods.
?Your offer is kind. Perhaps I will refrain from removing your throat. For the Moment.?
You laugh, amused at this fellows cheek, and give him a mug of the beer. You holler for another at the barkeep, who begins to make your drink. You turn, and ask the fellow his name.
?Uken is my name.? He takes a slow drink, watching you the entire time. You grab your mug from the waiting barkeep, and take a long swallow of the potent brew. Wiping your mouth, you ask him what brings him to Bu?Po.
?My business is my own.?
A silence settles around you. You take a drink to mask your awkwardness, and proceed to tell him your story, about how you saved Tamriel from Oblivion, and came to Bu?Po to find the Nerevarine and check upon the Imperial Expedition. You stammer some, and slur some of your works, the powerful intoxicant starting to affect you. Uken takes your story in blankly, then laughs under his breath, a low, rough hissing. You ask if he doesn?t believe you.
?No. A story that grand? From a stranger who hangs around in bars? If you?re so great, why aren?t you drinking in the palace, and dining with the Emperor regent and being served grapes by the Nerevarine? Fool. You are a liar- I will fight you, because you are a liar.? He beings to reach for the dagger in his belt.
A little offended, and a little drunk, you act somewhat rash- instead of running, like you should, you punch him straight in the nose. He goes down, catching himself on his hands, then kicks the table on to you. The others patrons start running towards the exits- the barkeep reaches below the bar, obviously fumbling for club of some sort. The Kahjiit-thing, pissed off, growls at you, and even in your drunken state, you realize you might have done the wrong thing- those are some wicked fangs. White, glittering, and already covered in froth, they looked able to take off a finger as easy as bite off a piece of steak. The dagger gleaming duskily in the lamplight didn?t look good either. Considering your options, you (Insert preferred style of fighting).
Leaning over the body of your dead foe, you notice a small, gleaming ring on his right hand. You pick it up, feeling the magicka that obviously imbues it, and head for the exit, hoping to reclaim you weapons and equipment before the death is reported