Once again, a few things happened around the same time.
First, Slaves of Tamriel handed me this lovely code snippet that checks for a quest before it tries to call it:
This was in the time before ModEvents were prevalent in nearly everything, so hooking onto quests was the only sure way to connect. Well, that I knew of, anyway. With this in my pocket, I could connect to any mod in existence as long as I had a quest name and, as a bonus, I could check to make s
The Creation Kit is, at the same time, an extremely useful, powerful, and fairly easy to grasp tool AND a confusing mess that makes one wonder how anyone manages to accomplish anything within its confines. After going through the tutorials (which are actually very well done and very helpful for getting the very basics), I learned three important things that became the combined cornerstone of all of the mods I have made. They are these:
1 – Dialogue trees are easy to make.
2 – Qu
Someone thought it would be interesting to know about the history of Simple Slavery and suggested a blog post about it. Since I, being a complete narcissist, love talking about myself and, more specifically, about all of my limitations as a mod-maker and a person, I decided to give it a go. So here is the history behind Simple Slavery.
Picture it: the dead of winter, 2014. Was it only six years ago? Feels like so much longer.
Anyway: the dead of winter, 2014. I had stumbl
The orc heaved a large bag out of the water and flopped it on the ice with a jarring metallic clank without looking away, then spoke in exactly the sort of deep grumbly voice that she had imagined. “I have one more load to get. Sit tight – I won’t be long.”
Aithne couldn’t have responded had she wanted to but he didn’t seem to expect a response – he turned and jumped back into the water. Aithne spared a moment to marvel at the orc’s ability to swim in such icy water as she clambered to her
It made no sense, Aithne thought. The crow’s nest was the highest point on the ship, which meant it was the closest to the sun. That should make it the warmest spot, shouldn’t it? She glanced off-port at the distant mountains of Skyrim. They stared back, their icy crowns glittering in the bright light of day. They were even taller than the crow’s nest – they should be the warmest spots on the planet. Instead, they were the coldest.
It made no sense.
She sighed and re-focu
“This is going to take forever. No wonder we haven’t won the war yet.”
“They can’t get everyone through at once. Be patient.”
“Patient? I’ve been standing out here for three days!”
Sloan winced at the words. The courtyard was stuffed with people, hopeful recruits in the fight against the Empire and the Thalmor. There seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason, no neat queues or order. Once in a while the door leading into the fortress would open and the entire pres
Windhelm was much as she remembered it – cold, worn, ugly. It squatted by the river like a giant toad, complete with warts. She shivered at the memories it stirred. She had not been back since that night, not even to tell Aventus of her deed. Just a quick letter sent by courier (“You can rest now”), a faster and safer method of passing on the news, at any rate, even if she had been inclined to leave Riften ever again.
Ever again. And yet, here she was. She shivered, only partially fr
"And then Dargon said that my parents might not be dead and that 'they' were back and to find you." Sloan ended her story in a rush and waited with bated breath as the Breton seated across the table raised an eyebrow.
"Did he, then? We'll have to have a long chat, he and I." Anakath had seemed amused at the beginning of Sloan's story. She did not appear amused any longer. "Look, I can see that your hopes have been raised but...well, they shouldn't be. Just come to grips with the fact
She had walked right by it without knowing. She hadn't needed to go to Falkreath at all. Or even get shot at by the Bridge Gang, as the guard at the gate had called them. Her parents' house was tucked in the hills about halfway between Helgen and Falkreath. In her defense, she told herself as they stepped out of the trees into a large clearing that seemed to cradle a ramshackle hut, there had been no way for her to know there was a house anywhere in the area, so hidden in the hills and trees was
Sloan threw her sword down the hill then jumped after it, sliding through slewing rocks and dirt on her butt as another arrow arched through the air above her. When her body finally stopped, she laid back and took in deep gulps of air for a bit before heaving herself to her feet. As she had expected (and hoped), the archers had not been keen on leaving their roost to chase their quarry, especially when the walls of Falkreath were now in sight. It took a few moments to retrieve her sword and on
Her eyes had not deceived her. And yet they had. There was, indeed, smoke rising from Helgen, but it was not from chimneys, it was from woodfires. Aside from surprisingly sturdy looking walls, the entire city had been reduced to rubble through some calamity so large that Sloan's imagination balked at her attempt to conceptualize it. It was as if someone had picked up the entire city and shook it in giant hands and then cast it like dice back to the ground. And then lit it on fire - the remains o
Solitude was very much like I remembered it, although I was a little surprised to enter just in time for a beheading. Public execution is generally not a thing in Skyrim. I left Lydia at the inn and headed up the ramp to Castle Dour and presented myself to the guards as a new recruit. They grunted and jerked their heads toward a table. Or, rather, toward the extraordinarily long line of recruits queued up at said table. The courtyard was huge, easily the length of a football field (except round,
Things didn't go exactly how I wanted on my first official assignment as a member of the Imperial army, but as these things go, it wasn't too bad. Because getting captured and raped by only one man counts as a nearly pleasant experience.
First, let's talk about armor. Here's the thing I discovered about the armor in this Skyrim: it has been enchanted by illusion magic. No, really. I was pleased when they handed me my official armor. It seemed to be a full set - no gaps, no holes, no biki
Lydia was hilarious. She didn't know it, but she was. She had one of those dry senses of humor that would pop up at unexpected times. For instance, after killing a bandit who had decided to attack two armed horse-backed people, I was rifling through his belongings to see if there was anything useful or valuable. I came across a small bag of gems, so I held it out.
"Hold this for me, will you?" To which she responded, completely deadpan, "I am sworn to carry your burdens." I literall
Once again, I find myself covering the ground that probably everyone has heard about a million times, so once again I’ll skip the minute details. There were a few differences between the first go round and the second:
- I changed my combat style during my trek through Bleak Falls Barrow to better suit my new philosophy of “try not to let anyone with a weapon get near me.” To that end, I used my bow and my fire a lot more than I had in the past, to good effect. The final piece was pic
By rights, I should have died. Or at least have broken a limb or two. But whether it was because Sanguine wasn't ready for another visit so he protected me or just because of sheer dumb luck and just enough ledges and rocky outcroppings to keep my fall from reaching terminal velocity, I landed in a pained heap at the bottom of the cliff with nothing worse than a few more bruises. I laid still after I landed, hoping that my captors would see my body and assume that I had died. Even if they though
It was my own fault, really. Things in this Skyrim were just a touch different - the nights were a little darker (compensated for by lanterns that someone had set up along the roads. They didn't really illuminate the darkness so much as provide a beacon to keep you on the right path when it was dark or stormy), the clothes were a little...well, skimpier, and that was pretty much across the board, from what I could tell - not just armor but day to day clothing showed a lot more skin (for women, o
The road to Windhelm was fraught with...nothing. Well, not nothing, but close enough to it. There were a few wolves, a few skeevers. There were bandits, but the total number of them weren't enough to keep track of on more than one hand, and all but one were busy getting slaughtered by a khajiit merchant and his human wife near Steamcrag. I took the opportunities presented to practice. I remembered my training with Delphine but my body at that time had been hardened by years of travel and combat
As I look through my notes, I see that I shirked a bit on the early chapters about the details of the people and places that started me on my journey the first time. Parman was one of those skimmed-over details. Lysha was another. I don't know why it was so rushed, except to say that it was a very confusing time and my memory of exactly what was said is a little hazy. An example of this is the meanings of roldor and roldoe - I learned those words Lysha, as we tried to figure out just how the hel
The irrepressible mage was, momentarily, repressed.
"You...you know my name? How is that possible?"
"Aaahh...that's too complicated to answer. Tell me, Parman the not-quite-so-great-as-he-thinks, what is the correct word for 'demon' in the summoning language?"
Parman huffed and looked quite offended. I managed to stifle my laughter.
"Every child prodigy knows that. Roldor."
"Good! Now look carefully at your notes and tell me what you
"Well look who's here. Long time no see! A couple of days, at least!"
I blinked my eyes open as the last waves of the orgasm faded away. A familiar smell and a tangible heat immediately kicked my lust back into gear, and I looked up at the grinning red face of a certain naked red demigod.
"You!!" I snapped to my feet, and the movement clearly started him, because his grin turned to a frown.
"Yes, me. Wha..."
I slapped him as hard as I could across
Let me say this now, because I don't think I've mentioned it yet - being in your late thirties sucks. At first I thought all of the little aches and pains I felt were just residual effects from my long imprisonment, but after a few weeks some of the pain lingered. When I said something to Delphine and Esbern, they laughed.
"That's just what it feels like to get old," Delphine explained most unhelpfully.
"Wait twenty years," Esbern added with equal uselessness. "I wish I w
The rushing wind rebounded off the cliffs, mimicking the sea breaking itself against the merciless rock of the shore. The acrid reek of steel, leather, blood. Everywhere, blood. Fury given form, gushing red rivers ground into paste so the soil looked like baked clay. Then, silence. A silence so vast it could fill an ocean, yet so sharp it pierced the soul. It lasted for a heartbeat, maybe two, but felt like a lifetime. Maybe two. The kind of quiet reserved for sacred places. Or graveyards.
Sloan smiled as the soldier glanced back at her before leaving the room. Marcus was her absolute favorite regular, so the smile was genuine. She smiled lingered even after he left and she tied on her filmy robe and gathered her underthings and shoes. She left the room as the cleaning slave entered and made her way to the apartments, tossing the undergarments in the laundry as she passed it.
It was a nice way to end the day, even though it had finished a little later than usual. Marcu
In contrast to the plodding days of nothingness in the pen, once they stepped inside the building events proceeded at a breakneck pace. They were whisked to a large room containing some ingenious system that turned the entire thing into one huge communal shower. It was like standing in a moderate rainfall. Slaves, faces blank and impersonal, washed them off with brusque, efficient swipes of rough cloth. They were then led to another room where the chain that linked them together was removed. Thr