The man was merely a wandering dropout of the Bards College. I decided to head to Riverwood because my magical satellite map had an arrow there and I heard Ralof mention it. A few minutes later, while I was jumping through the forest picking and eating flowers, I entered an area known as Embershard Mine, but I was soon back on my way. And I finally arrived at Riverwood after about 6 hours traveling what looks to be less than a mile.
I meet a friendly blacksmith named Alvor, having read a book about blacksmithing in the mine I offered him my services. Made an iron dagger a rugby helmet as per his instructions and then sold him the fine products along with my spoils from the camp. I was living large and decided to buy a drink at The Sleeping Giant Inn and head to bed.
Only an hour into my adventure and I happen upon a camp of fellow adventurers! How exciting! I observe them for a moment, one is chopping wood and another is using the nearby tanning rack while the third appears to be eating. I decide to walk in, so as not to startle them and receive quite a powerful hit from an iron war axe for my trouble.
This is my first encounter with people in the wilds, the choices I make now will shape me forevermore. I am faced with the choice of running and letting these kind people live, or the morally insurmountable task of taking another life. While pondering this, they decided that the first strike didn’t quite reach the bone in my arm and wanted to give it another go.
[I didn’t realize there was a man photobombing me from the path. I will give him a chat]
Sundas, 17th of Last Seed
1PM and I have escaped the dragon attack on Helgen. After a few sweaty hours with Ralof in the cave we say our goodbyes. We give each other one more homoerotic once over and go on our way. Leaving me with this view.
After hours of painstaking plastic surgery, and planting a shrub on his head. Busheeus is born.
On the ride into Helgen I bond with a fellow prisoner. Lokir of Rorikstead, who tried to steal a horse but obviously didn’t make it too far. While he seemed to know why he was here, I am apparently struck with some brand of amnesia, wherein I don’t know who I am or what I look like.
Our cart finally came to a stop and we were let off. In a panic my dear friend of five minutes, Lokir of Rorikstead, decides that he had leg cramps and needed to jog it off.
The hapless adventures of a lonely Argonian as he ventures through the world of Skyrim learning lessons in: love, life and exploration.