My Argonian Account

After a rather dramatic escape from the dragon attack at Helgen, I happen upon a quaint logging village called Riverwood. Etymology of the town’s name aside, Riverwood is complex and often unpredictable. A moonlight stroll reveals a burgling, a family feud, a lesson in hide tanning, and a populace disturbed by unlawful entry, game for midnight bedside chats. I’m reminded to make my way to Edoras (I said it) but am driven east towards wild marshes and rumors of thievery.

An uncharted cave. Brandishing an optimized war axe and a flamethrower hand, I dispatch the garden-variety bandits to collect precious gems, shards of an ancient sword, and the bandits’ clothing. No red text (the wagging finger) accompanies my pillaging. I push east with a clean conscience. I burn a family of spiders, maul nearby wolves, steal a soldier’s horse (red text included), and donate five gold pieces to a beggar.

I join a thieves guild, get blackout drunk, clean a church, learn magic, subdue a frost troll, kill and absorb a frost dragon, meditate on a mountain vista, befriend a werewolf, assassinate a blacksmith for pay, assassinate a blacksmith for sport, poison a brewery, shout at a cave bear, discover a submerged spire, and save frequently. I still haven’t gone to Edoras. Oh, and I’m a lizard man.