In the days of the olden times, chivalry flourished with it full glory like the rays of dawn (allegedly). The wandering Thane, in full plate, shimmering with a halo of might(and perhaps fire resistance), saves the Jarl's daughter from the clutches of a foul Dragon. The flame belched and scorched the Thane like Scotch. Yet the halo(it's fire resistance,yup) grew as glorious as the flame itself. The Thane braced the ferocious inferno with the even more fearsome courage( and a shield, did I mention fire resistance?) and waned was the Dragon's strength. Thus the Thane leapt forwards and cleft its head in twain. The Prin... I mean the Jarl's daughter was saved, by the wandering Thane, she looked into his face (clean shaven without a hint of soot, very realistic), his beautiful eyes, his determined gaze and his masculine jaw, damn that jaw, so big, like a croc.

The Thane feasted ten days in the Jarl's hall for he gained his beautiful daughter's hand. And they lived happily ever aft...BUT NO! This shan't be the ubiquitous tales of housewives, desperately trying to bore their children to bed . Nor the dream of every little girl, and the nightmare of every young women (or old women's fetish). This is a tale of Skyrim! Life is hard, no fat people(to ridicule), kids can't die, and adults died by the feverish shatter of bones and the bane of their wit(aka running off cliffs, getting stuck on flowers, right Lydia? Also bone break fever and witbane are diseases, for those not nerdy enough) .

So there was no thane, just a vile beggar, tramp of a beard, and dirt ridden was his face, the aroma of shit emitting from his gob. He was donned in...nothing(if you're offended by nudity, then we've provided a loin cloth, wimp), and Jarls had no daughters of age, so there's Sylgja, a miner. The spine chilling gust blew against the shivering vile beggar, he sits amidst the trees,and bats are swaying in the breeze(the first to get the reference will be featured in the next story), he sits near a road, to Solitude. A group of young lads and lasses, drunk from a night of...entertainment, stumbled along the road. "FOOD, CLOTHES, BLESSED ARE THE ONES WHO SHARE A SEPTIM!" The dying beggar, yelled with his next to last breath, which was surprisingly rigorous. The generous youngsters showered the wretched man with shining...spit, and piss.

Pissed was the beggar, and thus he seeks revenge, by the means of personal gain. He silently tailed the group, and one by one, he cut their purses and stripped their belongings, apart from loin cloths and bikinis, all unnoticed. For he was the master of stealth, and thievery, also the group was very drunk. Then, he rested against a tree, and started dying again.

A guard was on a patrol route, his papers say, "0002E1F0 Lars, lv 35, guard of Solitude". He had a leather bag with two apples, an ale, some clothes, and other stuff people don't care. He wore a smart cuir bouilli, a sword of steel, and a silly grin, hidden under his helm, a constant silly grin. He passed the drunken group and covered both his eyes with haste, then one. He looked at the drunken lads and lasses and yelled, "Wut teh fuk, are you born without a mother? Or did your mother dropped you when you're born? How in OBLIVION are you still wearing something! Youngsters these days！"

They replied with a smirk of a groan, and proceed to move along. A dying man appeared into the Guards view. He walked towards him and asked, "Are you alright, sir vile beggar? Do thy need my assistance?"

"FOOD, CLOTHES, BLESSED ARE THE ONES WHO SHARE A SEPTIM!" the beggar repeated.

"I've naught a septim, yet I've two apples for you."said the Guard as he gave two juicy fresh apples to the vile beggar, "What is thine name?" The Guard asked.

"Player 1"the beggar replied, "What's yours?"

To which the Guard replied, "Certainly not as peculiar, Lars." while his helm was lifted that harrowing smile greeted the beggar, sent shivers down the spine, the creep.

"Well, I'm off Player 1, it was a nice chat." Lars left with only a loin cloth, and his messed up face, glowing with bless.

"You liar, you have more than a septim worth of shit, and you ain't giving, that's what you get！"

Hissed Player1 as he shoved pieces of armor down his...well...his...loin cloth? Who knows, then something fell from the greaves, unnoticed. Thus the vile Player1 was off, with more than a hundred septims worth. Yet he's got bigger fish to fry, so he snuck towards Solitude, shrouded in the darkness of night(duh), with a bucket in his inventory...a big bucket.

The item forsaken by Player1, was retrieved, now lies on my dusty shelf, I'd love to share it with you, if I could get it *jumps* Hmmmmph, HMMMPH ah damn it was so close! HMMMMMMPH...

Now Sylgya is a fair maiden, and a miner. Dirty was her hands, and soot covered her face, that was the only makeup she wore. Her job was to give ore veins living hell of whacks. Or nine picks to be precise, until ores and gems appeared in her pocket, then repeat until all veins were whacked. She then gives the items to the overseer and ten septims she shall receive. Her parents were parents, and so was the parents of her parents, they were parents after parents till the time Trolls had the same parents. That would be her life, a jolly, comely, sooty miner, and a mother, bickering with a idiot of a husband, and undyingly disturbing children. Unless she met someone with a peculiar name, a beggar...of a Thane(the beggar thane).

The journey of Player1 continues, after these messages:

GREATSALE OF ALE ONLY 9 AND 9POINT NINETH OF SEPTIMS FOR A SIXBAG OF HONINGBREW!

Got the vamps? Are you sick of the entire province turning on you? Are you mad because that Goth girl rejected you? Are you sick of no one respects the work you've done? Come to Morthal with a black soul gem, we cure all fang bearing diseases.

The following people have been missing, report to the nearest guard if you have information about the following people: Uthgerd deGorilla, Lydia Burdenslave, Mikael Gaylukkin and Nazeem.

Meanwhile...

HMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH! AHHHHH!*tumble*tumble*crash*bang*ding*ouch*GASP*

I...got...it*exhale*mad ragdoll*

Journal of a Solitude Guard

The warming rays of dawn were cast upon Solitude and it's people.

Dew formed on the cobblestone streets, glistening in the light of the glorious morning sun. Men and mer of different shades, in both color and personality, hustled about in the cobblestone streets, stepping on the morning dew, as if they aren't the gems of nature that they are, along with the moss growing between the stones, which looked like miniature rain forests. You would have noticed that... if you had time. And lots of it.

My name is Lars Phalus, a common guard of the city of Solitude. And when you are a guard like me, patrolling the one and a half street of a city. You'll soon notice things like dew, and little rain forests. Turns out, someone's getting the block today. FTI, that's "for thy information"it's Roggvir. But who cares really, except for every f**king

man and mer in the city! But not me, I just wanna an apple and watch the dew. Oh look, a guy just got in time to witness DEATH! He dresses funny, all smirking in that pfft, FULL DRAGONPLATE ARMOR!? WTF! I bet this guys full of cow dung you, what are u 22? How the OBLIVION do you get... you know what it's not worth it. Calm down Lars...*deep breaths*. That gir... I mean lady in waiting behind him looks hmm comely but rather dull...yet faithful and industrious. But that guy, looks fishy...I don't think this is a healthy relationship. Yeah I'm done here.

The day of Roggvir's execution went eventless, at least for Las Phallus...

The night was of frost, gloom and spilt blood. Roggvir's corpse lay stiff and pale, the eerie Secunda shone on the cloudy eyes of Roggvir, his ghastly face was covered in congealed then dried crimson of once flowed blood. None of which were his own...

The next Chapter ...

The hospitality of the sun never fails, like the faith of Lydia upon the Dragonborn, yet it will not always reveal, sometimes it's concealed behind a veil of clouds. Which can be gentle, or thunderous...

This morning was naught. For thick overcast loom upon Solitude.

The Divines concluded today shall be night for dawn, and heavy rain shall be held back like piss before the detect of a bathroom. That's the first thing I wrote on my journal today. So... apparently the fishy guy and his ...lady in waiting(with a f**king axe!?) Shot the headman in the face, then proceed to murder six more guards! Then stripped the dead and left! Roggvir was delighted to have his life back but only to succumb to a stroke and died too(yes, he'll do that). So now everyone is scared and there's 6 naked dudes and another one dressed in prison clothes to be hauled into the "haul" of the dead. Maybe one of my brethren will do it eventually, but certainly not my brother.

Now I must tell you that brethren and brothers aren't the same. A brethren watches you back, a brother breaks it. A brethren suks di**s to save you. A brother IS a di**.But he went to fight a dragon and I GET FU**ING GUARD DUTY! *gasp*JUST because he's 50 an I'm 35! Man he got to 50 so fast I call witchery! I bet he doesn't even float! Son of a bit*h!(even though they had the same mother)And he gets all the ladies in waiting that's how much of a Grandus Phallus he is... oh... OH THAT'S WHY!...shit...

I hope somebody steal his sweetroll.

Rain poured in solitude, dew were swept away by the gushing sewers.

The empty cobblestone streets flooded with water. Lighting cleaved through the morning "night". A thunderous roar deafened Solitude.

A being sweeping within the clouds...And eats it...

To be continued...