Note from ThisDude: In the following story there are elements of stronger than usual language, wall breaking and possible offensive themes. Please due take note of this and heed thy warnings.

"I thought you said the town was close." I was beginning to get impatient with the scenery. The trees were pretty much the same old scattered trees. I saw a rabbit I think, maybe, could've been snow. This dirt road, which felt endless by the way, was starting to hurt my feet. The stones were... hold on. These stones have giant holes in them.

"Harvard. Stones!" I ran up to them and stared at the pictures. "What do these squiggles mean!?"

"Those stones allow you to earn experience faster in the general theme of the stone you choose." Harvard proclaimed.

"Wait. What?" I was lost. "Harvard did you just break the fourth wall?"

"No, the writer doesn't know what I actually say right here so for convenience he wrote what he knew. He's going to give me free will again in a sec and I won't remember any of this."

"You're kidding."

"Thief, eh?" Harvard's free will was definitely back. "Not too late to change your fate, you know."

Thanks writer. Way to give him back the script.

We continued our dreadfully boring walk. Me still wishing the writer would put something interesting for plot enhancement or just skip this part completely. Nope. Still walking this boring walk, with boring Harvard, in boring Skyrim, on boring Nirn. I obviously don't care to describe the walk and what I actually experienced so the reader can know I viewed nature as. Shame on them for even thinking I cared. Most, if not all, the readers played the game and had to go through this part. They know how boring and unnecessary this walk is. In any case, the writer is finally letting me show up at the stupid town cause I rant too much.

Walking into the town I saw what looked to be a village out of vanilla minecraft. There was a blacksmith, a couple houses no one really acknowledges, villagers, a horse that is apparently owned by no one. Definitely Minecraft.

There was a huge roar that echoed into the village. One villager looked up to the sky.

"Was that a mother fucking Charizard?" The old woman said under her breath.

She actually seemed to be the only person to have noticed or even cared. Even Harvard was ignoring it. Instead he pulled me into the blacksmith's house.

"Welcome to my smithy." The old man standing there smiled with his words. "You seem like you can take care of a wild animal and train it to fight other vicious and possible stronger animals. Here take one of these capture devices and beat all the Jarls with the animal inside."

Anyone else feeling some sort of deja vu?

"But Uncle Palm, what about me?" Harvard complained.

"You'll get yours soon enough Hadvar."

I walked over to the table and picked up the one on the far right. As soon as I touched it an orange lizard materialized. The mutation spoke it's name and flames came out of it's mouth engulfing Harvard in a ball of fire. I like this thing already.

"Charmander really is a dragon!" I yelled in excitement.

"Fine. I pick this one." When I saw him starting to reach for squirtle I drew my dagger and tried to cut off his fingers. The chop would have been successful if not for him being an essential npc. Sure his fingers fell off but they grew right back. After he jumped around for a while in pain he grabbed the squirtle anyway.

"Hey bit-" Harvard started.

"Don't you dare. I may not be able to kill you but I can make you wish you were dead." Harvard gulped.

I lifted my pokeball and commanded the release of my charmander. In a burst of red light my charmander appeared ferocious in every manner of the word. Harvard tossed his ball and summoned the stupid squirtle. What Harvard didn't realize is that the writer was on my side and made my charmander level ten. The charmander scratched the squirtle twice and it fainted from pain. I'll never understand how something could faint from the pain of a small scratch.

We both returned our pokemon to their pokeballs.

"But I thought water-types were stronger than fire types!" Harvard complained.

"Please tell me what water type move your level five squirtle has." I said with extreme sarcasm.

"Levels? Pokemon aren't based on levels. They just get stronger. This isn't some rpg, this is real life."

I facepalmed. Sorry you had to sit through that reader.