Brandy1123
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Posts posted by Brandy1123
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On mid to low end systems, here's a trick to squeeze out a few more FPS.
Sart your game game as normal . Then, CTRL/ALT/DEL and pull up task manager. Click the Process tab. End any and all processes that contain the word STEAM in it.
Before anyone cries "Steam doesn't affect games" whiney tune , try it.
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With mods loaded, its hard to tell where any problems really lie. With altered game files and overwritten/deleted/altered objects, it migh be a dead end street waiting for someone to get you a solution. My suggestion is to wipe your game (not your saves) and relaod it. Then every 2 or 3 mods, back up your data directory.
Thank Steam you only have a 2-6 hour download wait to load a game you probably purchassed a DVD for.
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You heartless person. You take her from her intellectual society and make her slave away selling cabbages and apples for a paltry fee. Then, you rob her of any dignity and of the hard earned septims while making her live in that place. Thats not all, oh no, now while you're out being the Dovahpimp with all the companion girls, she has to listen to Nazim about not being able to afford to live in the cloud district.
Now then, when you see her at the alchemy table mixing things with ingredients you didn't give her, you might ponder whats in that next cooked meal. :D
Bon apetit! ;)
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The stick/pad might have dead spots causing it to stutter downward. calibrate the stick and see if it gives you the option to mask off dead stick values.
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More then likely the modder used a markfordelete command to remove the wall/floor and place their new and improved house layout. When you removed the mod, it removed the changes leaving the hole that was a deleted object. Once an item is marked for delete it is gone. Without getting the wall/floor ID, placing it in your home and using the move/rotate x/y/z console commands your pretty much stuck with a sun roof inside. I think a save prior to the mods change will bring it back, as will a new game start without the mod loaded. (then again, if meshes were altered or skins changed, you might be in trouble again.)
I know this probably didn't help, but at least it might give you an understanding as to why its gone.
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Please ask for permission prior to using any or part of my writing. Drop me a request if you want a specific topic or subject
As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.
I hope you enjoy .
Two Handed Sword
In from the western wasteland he walked. A confidence that very few shared, echoed his movement. Surely a soldier, at least trained, was this man. Carefully tended bands of steel and leather served as his shelter. Marks of encounters, long ago or recent, still evident on its surface. A freshly hammered out dent here, a mended bit of over stitched leather there. All in all, It was well used, but serviced as needed.
He didn't wear a helm, but rather had it perched atop a leather pack he carried. A small sword, imperial by look, hung from his left hip, loosely, and back. The yellow glint of a dagger grip and pommel hung inverted from his right shoulder in an inconspicuously placed sheath. The scar under his left eye matched both the ones on his forearm and right thigh, at least the part of his leg that was visible. His gloves tucked into his belt left his huge knotted hands free to hold the small pouch of wild berries he was enjoying. Another skin, probably wine, was swinging across his chest and shoulder from a finely braided cord.
On his back he had a great sword covered in a tailored lion skin, whose appearance left no doubt that it was made with care and at great cost. Its craftsmanship you certainly would like to see, but could only imagine. Like the rest of his belongings, nothing was easily reached or accessed but his mix of berries and his flask. He didn't seem worried, and wasn't in a hurry. Confidence is how I first described him. I'll just stay with that.
I watched him as he walked into town. We have no guards. There's no doubt our militia would have its hands full if he so deemed it. He didn't. As I said, he just walked into town. Passing the mill first, he casually walked over and started chatting to the work hands. In moments they were all laughing and pats on the back with forearm grip greetings were given. Before long, he parted his newly gained companions and headed towards the Inn he no doubt had asked directions for.
On the porch next to the wood pile, I sat. Cleaning a plate from the morning meals few of our towns folk often enjoy. Our eyes met as his intended path brought him my way. His smile was soft and calming behind a evenly trimmed beard that matched the dark brown of his thick hair. Keeping eye contact, he walk up and over to where I sat.
I stood a greeted the stranger. The warm rays of sunshine filtering behind him set a warm glow around his body. He returned the gesture and asked if this was a good place to rest for a few days. Laughing slightly, I pointed to the sign he obviously couldn't have missed, and said, “I'm sorry, you have the wrong place”. He was quiet for a moment, then burst out in a hearty laugh that's been missing for so long.
I brought him inside and told him to sit anywhere. He chose a place not far from the doorway, facing it, as expected. Brakton, my half sleeping assistant got up from behind the bar and went over to the man to see what he needed. A few coins were exchanged and Brakton took the mans pack over to the far left room and set it on the bed.
The man ate a fair bit of stew and bread. He even refilled his wine skin. He then requested some other small tidbits of nuts, berries and dried meat for his travel bag. The whole time, I kept watching him. He would look up, smile or nod and continue his eating or drinking. After a spell, he sat back from the table, wiped his mouth and went to his room. He smiled and nodded to me when he passed
A slow day it was, so Brakton left early. I was cleaning up after a few patrons had gone when the stranger came from his room. “I know you've been watching me”, he said. “Likewise” I replied. “Don't get many travelers I take it”, He shot back. “Not since the war and the plague of vermin that stalk the roads”, I replied. It was quiet for a while while we both just looked at each other. He broke the spell I was falling under and asked if a bath was available. I told him there is a trough in the cellar, I'll have it filled with hot water tomorrow. He nodded and turned in for the night.
I have not had feelings for any man since my Gerrod was killed in that war some years ago. I was left to tend this Inn alone. Brakton isn't exactly a man. a boy really, well, maybe a man in his own right. He'll be a good man someday, but that drifter, hmmHmmmmm, he looks like a good man right now.
I stirred the coals in the hearth and filled the big iron kettle with water. It should be overly warm by morning. I kept thinking of the way he looked at me, the thoughts behind those eyes could take weeks to read for each passing second. I turned into bed. I should say, I kept turning in bed. At one point I sat upright as I thought I wasn't alone in my room. I was alone. I wanted my dreams again.
I woke early the following day and dressed in my normal working attire. Nothing frilly or lacy but presentable and serviceable. I tucked a rag under my apron string and went out to face the day. Brakton had already started a pot of porridge and some cakes were just rising on the hot plate. I could even smell Snowberry and honey tea.
Shortly after I checked the water, He came out of his room. He had on wool breeches and a light colored tunic with a long belt wrapping his narrow waist. A set of light skin bracers were laced on his wrist. I greeted him as best I could and tried to not look overly interested. He smiled and gave a polite nod. I asked when he wanted his bath and he said after morning bread would be fine. While he was eating, I had Brakton help me fill the old trough and get that soft cloak so he could dry himself afterwords.
When he finished his meal, I showed him to the cellar. We already had a small fire going in the lower fireplace and a lantern near the wash basin. He stepped by to get to the trough when his lean, hard body pressed against me as he passed. Hard as iron, and hot as fire. The lantern flame flickered in the slight breeze like mine did inside. I returned upstairs.
About an hour later he was back on the main floor. Hair still dripping, he went to his room. Rather quiet for a while, then a soft metal on metal scraping could be heard. He's probably checking his swords and gear from the sound of it. I let it pass. He went outside just after the high sun and I watched him through the window. Walking surely, he crossed the road near the mill and followed it down to the water's edge. He had that small sack of food bits with him and the ever present skin. Not a bad vice I thought, quite delicious. I caught myself thinking, then embarrased briefly.
He came back into the Inn several times that day and left without too many words. That evening, Jokkob from the mill played a few songs on his old, out of tune lute. He's no bard, but the three songs he can play are not too bad, that is until he tries to sing. The stranger tipped him a few coins and even joined in on a song he made words to as he went. It sort of went like this.
There once was a maiden, so charming and true.
She left all her callers, at night to be blue.
They pondered their actions, of what they would do.
The pretty young maiden, so charming but true.
She knew she would marry, but didn't know when.
They vied for her friendship, each one of the ten.
She felt like a princess, each time and again.
She knew she would marry, but didn't know when.
Time came to pass, the woman took years
Her suiters not thirsty, all sated with beers
So lonesome was she, she shed only tears
Til he came to call, and quenched all the fears.
All the men burst into fits of laughter and razzing. Clapping and drinking with more people showing up and more songs sung. I do have to admit, its been a while since the light faded long into the night here. Yet, through the end of his singing, He kept glancing at me. The moon was long past the treetops when the last of the merrymakers left. Brakton helped himself to three too many rounds and was an hour into a good snore session behind the counter. I left him, he looked peaceful enough. I gathered the mugs and stacked them on a table until morning. The Stranger sat at another, deep in thought and said nothing.
When I finished clearing the last bench, I turned to go. He was standing behind me. No threatening gestures, instead, a warm welcome feeling was there. I looked up into his soft but hardened eyes. I melted, let go and reached for him. I longed for his touch, the way only a man can hold you. The much needed company I missed.
He led me to his room. Grabbing a jug of wine as we walked, the door was reached, then shut. In the darkness he directed me over to the bed where we both sat down. His large rough hand had the touch of the finest silk as he caressed my cheek. Turning towards me, He whispered, “ give me a moment”. Moving slowly, he stood up. I heard a metal buckle then cloth sliding down. He brushed it out of the way with a flick of his foot. Then said, “I seldom do this, but you are an incredible woman. I want and need to share this special time with you”. We both shared a drink, then two.
His strong hands guided mine to his implement. I immediately felt its harness. I ran my fingers along its length, out to the tip. It was big. He freed my hand from his. I no longer needed guiding as I gently retraced my path back down to where it began. I wrapped my hand around it, my fingers never touched. I was nervous and he sensed it. We'll go slow, I promise it won't hurt you intentionally. I melted with that warm feeling deep inside. It must be the wine I thought. Shifting slightly on the bed, I dropped the apron and cleaning rag I still had on.
He stood up and I could feel his warm breath with each exhale as he guided my other hand to his equipment. I could not deny what he wanted and I followed his lead. I let both hands grip it. I was amazed and afraid. This thing would be my death if he impaled me with it. I moved and an immediate wetness overtook me. I was not in control of anything. It just happened. He sensed the wetness. The sweet smell lifted up like the aroma of freshly baked bread filling the room.
I cried out as the huge hard implement bit into me. He grabbed hold of what I didn't have in my hands and gently pulled it from my grip. The pain overtook me as I wept uncontrollably. We both got up from the bed and he held me apologizing for the pain he caused. We opened the door to let some light in and that's when we both saw the blood.
He grabbed my apron and wrapped it around, guiding me into the open area of the Inn. He set me on a table as he examined the still bleeding area.
He looked up and smiled, saying “ I'm sure it feels worse then it is. There's hardly a scratch”, I replied, “I hope so, it feels like I'm cut in half.” We both started laughing. Still clutching that monster in his free hand, he brought it back up. “Would you like it? “, he asked. Temped, I had to tell him no. We both already knew it was far too big for me to handle.
He helped me to the floor and headed back to his room. With the door open, we could see the mess we made in that short time. He set his Two handed sword on the bed next to that tipped and now empty wine jug. I picked up that exquisite cloth sheath covering that he had discarded. It was stained from the wine that spilled in and onto my lap. Feeling bad, I grabbed my apron to wipe it, but it had blood from the cut on my hand. Again we laughed.
I should have just had him bring that dam sword into the main room.
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I don't think i quite understand what you are asking. IS the question about using just a single handed item and not having your other hand in a combat style fighting pose?
If thats the case, you are losing out on a lot. Under master level, the power attacks decide the battle. Stamina is just as important if not more then health. The wirlwind of a dual wielding player takes out anything thats close. Under other then master, I have taken out 2 dragons, 2 saber cats, an assassin and 3 wolfs in 1 use of the dual weilded axe/sword combo. A wee bit tougher at master, but the point is made.
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I think the Nord men (and women) are ther best looking in the game. Most of the mods seem to be customized for them as the base model, Its sort of like REN from TES4. There were other modders who did great work, but Ren set the bar, especially with the cute elves.
IMHO the eyes on the elves look hideously grotesque. I don't want to play a race where the lacrimal and canaliculi seem to be sliding down your nasal duct.
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here is the Nexus version. Jsut type it in. It even has the downloader self installer
Friendly Fire agro removal
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I have used the more money mod with no problems. Another thing that could have happened is you walked away from Brin before he finished his dialog with you. usually if you do, he says " I'm not through talking to you". If you dont get his full dialog or you walk away and dont re-querry him, the quest never advances.
Go back and talk to him and see if that works.
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PikaNikz - I'll write as I can and you place them in whatever form fits for the project. All I request is you use the covers and parchment types I selected. During the week, you wont get as many as I have given this weekend, but I'll continue to write. If you do have an interest in something and want it written about, just ask or give me some topic, item, name, location, or something to launch from. I'll make it a top priority.
I have 2 more in the process right now and probably will post one tonight and the other tomorrow after I get home. I do still play the game, but after some 900 hours of game time, I have seen most things.
NOTE - After this next story gets posted, I'll stop unsing place holders and post directly. It makes chatting easier to understand.
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place holder - Ignore this entry
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A woman named Carl
She fought with a passion,
She guarded the Jarl,
Swift was her stroke,
This Woman named Carl.
She faught with a passion,
---And put worth to her skill,
---With each battle won,
---She dialed in a fast kill.
---Long hours she worked,
She guarded the Jarl,
---To keep the hall safe,
---When the folk came to parle.
---With eyes that saw true,
---She judged what she saw,
Swift was her stroke,
---At the drop of a straw.
---Of her legends and tales,
---The woman did snarle,
---For her Honor alone,
This woman, named "Carl".
Added Note : hehehe - it can be sung to the song "Down with ulfrik, the killer of kings....."
PikaNikz - it should read Ingavor : Also, would you prefer shorter stories to the longer and possibly multi-volume ones?
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Place Holder for Story 4 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.
As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.
I hope you enjoy .
The Tower
I was at the tower when it first arrived. Black as coal with an evil blueish gleam. From the south it flew on its journey of hate, stopping to quench its deep seated desire for destruction. Svengol saw it first, but not long after, all were witness. It started with a roar that shook everyone to the ground. A deep fear swelled up that was almost overwealming. We all ran for cover. It flew once overhead and blotted the sunlight with its huge wicked form.
Unlike anything before witnessed, it circled above as a wolf circles its prey. Its keen eyes burning as they passed over and beyond. Gendov, Svengol and Jurgen made the top of the tower, Kintrel, Jangra and Hronta were on or near the south wall. Torgol and Makkra at the base of the tower and I by myself took cover in a small drainage ditch near the roadway. I saw Jurgen on the top of the tower let loose an arrow as it made a pass. The arrow struck the beast but only seemed to heighten its anger, if that was possible. It turned wide to the right on a long sweeping arc, setting up its next run. Then, as if from legends, it folded its wings and came at the tower in a flash. A monstrous cry was let loose and flames engulfed the entire tower. The roar was defening but screams of pain and agony could be heard above the echoing thunder and the hot crackle of a raging fire.
A lifeless burning body fell with a thud across from me but closer to Kintrel near the base of the wall. I saw Kintrel yell in terror and frantically run, heading down along the road to the south. Hronta started after him, but the beast was already there. It came down fast and precise as it raked Krintrel with razor sharp talons and easily lifted his screaming body as it climbed. It tore him with his other claw and dropped his shredded shell to a silent, lonely impact.
Back around it came, this time we all were ready. A stream of arrows lept up from all. As fast as we could nock, we drew and released. Most of the feathered shafts missed their mark, and those that did strike, appeared to do little or nothing. Flames burst forth and the tower appeared as a torch. The screaming and yelling above us indicated great anguish as the pain from the heat and flames burned flesh and armor alike. This beast was real and it meant to stay.
Jangra was yelling at Torgol as it made it's last pass. He looked terrified, but listened as she laid out her plan. She then said something to Hronta and he darted towards the tower. As the Beast made its next turn, Torgol was dropping all his gear and laid low as everyone, including myself just let arrows fly. The winged behemoth responded by letting its searing hot breath lick the walls of the tower and along the open field east and beyond my sight.
That's when I saw him. Torgol bolted for the roadway north of me and ran like the very winds them self. He shed his armor, sword, shield and bow. I think I saw a dagger, but it was clear his intent wasn't a fight. I then realized, Jangra sent him for help. If he could top the main hill, the guards on town watch will surely see him. We needed to buy him time.
The creature was making its way as Torgol hit the road and started his trek. It seemed to take everything in at once and followed a precise path well above the tower. It then started a slow decent towards the running man. I only had precious seconds to react as I stood up from the hidden recess of the ditch and let an arrow fly. It struck the beast below the front claw and it veered slightly. With a wild twist of its head, it arced back and made a wide sweep. I darted for the southern end of the wall. For a moment, it appeared to forget about Torgol and spewed out a painful deafening roar with fire and smoke blowing wildly into the air about it. The arrow seemed to penetrate its thick scaley hide enough to tell us, it can be hurt.
It's pass took it over my head and I saw its eyes. Swelling with hatred and lust for destruction. It was marking me for its next go. I glanced back up the road and saw Torgol crest the hill and disappeared over its summit. The loud flapping sound brought me back to my real concern. Instantly I saw the beast's intent. It's spikey head reared back and then lunged forward as it closed the distance. I dove for cover on the other side of the wall as the structure was engulfed in a fiery nightmare of heat and shattered rock. The wake of the heat blast knocked me over as it powered its way past and up towards the sky. A score of arrows followed its path. I saw Hronta and Makkra pulling what looked like Svengol from the rubble. I don't think he made it.
Pass after pass this beast continued to test our will. Pass after pass it slowly leveled the tower and wall. Rubble was everywhere, smoke, burning wood, brick and flesh. Yet, with each pass, you could see a trail of arrows, mine included, following and sometimes striking this spawn of evil. On every wave, fire billowed up from the creatures belly, scorching and charring anything in clutched. Yelling of pain could be heard through the sight stealing murk of smoke and haze. Twangs of bowstrings were audible over roars of shouts, as if being played by a minstrel in a busy tavern. Again and again flames showered us from the sky. Time and Time the strength of men fought on and held their ground.
With arrows dwindling and resolve fading, a horn blast was heard from the north and west. It could only mean Torgol made the town. I had no idea where anyone else was, but I needed to get to a place I could gain cover. Along the wall I crept, trying to reach the doorways remains. I stopped to dodge a cascade of falling boulders and let one of my remaining arrows loose. I was about to step over some smoldering rubble when I spotted the torn remains of Gendov. I lept over him and kept on towards the tower's opening. Smokey debris lie strewn everywhere. Makkra was there, burned but capable and we joined together to make our stand. Noise above the broken and misshapen stairs told us we were not alone and someone else in the tower was still fighting on.
Through a break in the smoke and fog, I saw them. A squad of soldiers from the keep. I could make out the Captain herself leading the bunch. At her side was some stranger I had never seen. He was chiseled and hard. His eyes showed a resolve like none other. He wasn't wearing the issued uniform or armor from the town, but simple gear as a traveller would adorn. The helm perched upon his brow held high and outlined his stern look of determination. His sword at the ready, was flickering from a gem set deep into its belly. As the flicker of a candle in a soft breeze, a light danced out from the weapon. His other hand cradled a strange worn shield that truly has seen some far and forgotten recesses.
CRACK!. the walkway above me shattered and fell. I looked up and jumped trying to clear myself of this incoming mass of stone and wood. Flames hidden from view raced from behind the crumbling debris and stuck me hard. I was horribly burned and pinned under a block of charred stone. Smoldering ash and lumber landing on my broken body. Looking across, I saw Makkra run out and join forces with the new team of defenders. I tried to move but my legs and arms were cold and numb. I watched the battle unfurl from my place of rest.
The newcomer stepped out into an opening as the great beast passed. It seemed to sense him there and disregarded all others. Archers now lined the north end of the tower's remains, with the Captain standing at the fore with axe and sword drawn. Through the haze and my failing sight, I saw the creature turn fast and descend upon this lone man. A deafening roar was belched out with flames and raking claws as it landed just yards from the hardened warrior. Engulfed in the very oblivion flames that rent this tower of stone, the swordsman was lost from sight. The Captain, yelling commands, started forth with such speed, it was hard to see what she was doing. Sword and Axe bit deeply into the creatures left rear side and leg. Time and time she swung down with scores of strikes that truly would have severed limbs. As she dodged and readied another series of attacks, the great beast swept its tail and struck her hard. She tumble far to her right. She staggered up, gained her awareness and started moving again.
The beast turned back to the smoke and ash it's flames left behind. This great warrior stepped from the waste and sliced hard with his gleaming white sword. The creature reeled back, trying to gain the sky when that blade struck again, sending the wanton beast back to the ground. It reared its spiked and spiny head then bellowed an unnatural declaration at the force it wasn't ready to deal with.
As my vision dwindling and my body feeling the call of my ancestors, here is what I took with me.
This warrior himself reared back and returned a like gesture, as if cursing the great beast in its own lost tongue. Fire, reached out with his strange and deadly words engulfing the wounded thing. Flames hotter then its own seared though scaly hide, its soft under flesh and into the bone itself. With blinding speed, that great glowing sword bit into the evil spawn before him. As if falling backwards, it gained it full height on it back legs and tail. The whole of the Reach could have seen it over the tower had it still stood. Great out-stretching wings extended three times its height and wavered, then drooped. The creature bellowed out a last echoing scream from its broken and bloody mouth as it slumped to the ground at the foot of the warrior.
Fading now from my vision, I saw the captain join his side as he pulled that great jeweled blade from the deep gash he left in the creature's chest. He stepped back as if waiting for some other adversary to meet. I blinked my eyes and tried to focus as these strange rays of light emanated out from the defeated carcass and engulfed this man. As he stood with his head held high towards the clouds, he appeared as one taking in a refreshing spring rain. The great beast then started to burn. A mystical fire from within, no heat, but a crackle and flickering blue flame. Then it was gone. It could only mean one thing.
This man, this warrior. It must be. It can only be. Dovahkiin... Dragon..bor... Dovahki, Dovah
- darkness
PikaNikz, as brandy is a golden color of brown, lets go with book cover 07 for them all. If the parchment is also a choice, I'd prefer number 63. Thanks for asking
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Place Holder for Story 3 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.
As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.
I hope you enjoy .
Skeever's Got Tail
It came to pass, the greatest war ended and the survivors slowly but surely wound their way back home. Usually it was far from the town they started their journey from, but a place they could now feel safe and secure. The struggles each faced, known truely only to themself was burried deep. The pain of remembering what they had to do in order to survive the terrors of war. Swords were hung and stored, while plows were forged and trees were felled. Much they all lost, soldier, sailor, merchant, farmer, smith and child. All were changed and all lost an innocents you can never regain.
Over time people joined in smaller circles, again growing and building. These areas became wayside stopping and resting points on journies yet to be completed by would be travellers. Like all towns of migrant societies, the bad often followed or slithers in with the good. Usually undetected, this low class and bred of society dwells on the fear, anger, and wealth of the hard working towns folk. In one such village, not to far from here, lived a certain miscreant, Karne "The Skeever" Ingavor. The skeever had a horrible reputation as a lazy good for nothing lout. His vile language, nasty disposition and disfigurement, did not help his cause. Children feared him and nightmares often revolved around The Skeever. You see, Karne was born during a raid on that old ruins to the south. It was there when his eyes first looked towards the heavens. It is said, his mother died that day and he himself should have perished.
Sometime during that battle, a healer was moving from fallen to fallen trying to aid the injured as best she could. As the story is told, She found the welp barely clinging to life. The healer attended the child and carried him off with the other injured she tended. A few years passed as Karne was under the care of this healer of Stendar. From the start of his unsettleing life, Karne started to change. His body almost daily took on a form completely of its own. Mis-shapen from the normal appearance, he continued to change. Over time, his disfigurement became a grave concern to his gaurdian. The Stendar follower, not only a healer, but a Vigilant. She started to see some non-human traits in the now young man. Unsettleing and un-nerving as they were. Small apendages were sprouting from his head and back. Even his skin was different. The Healer knew of abominations and dealt with them long years ago during the war. She herself hunted down Daedra and those that worshipped them.
She knew she had to end this young life before it was too late. She struggled with it daily, weekly and yearly. often at night, she held a dagger just inches from his throat, closely shifting it back and forth. As to hypnotize herself to do the deed but always falling short of the task. On a night some 18 years after he was pulled from the arms and his deceased mother, Karne awoke to a gurgling sound. A sound like air blowing deep, thick bubbles in a hot spring, followed by a loud thud. Looking around in the darkness, Karne found the source. His protector had killed herself. Unable to do what she was sworn to do, gone mad from years of mental anguish and struggles, she did only what she could do. Allow the child, the man to live, and she herself would take his place and finally be at peace.This caused Karne to go mad. He tore apart the small cottage. He destroyed everythig he could get his hideous hands on. In his fit of rage and anger for all he had become and endured, Karne ran deep into the forest.
After several seasons in the wilderness, he came across a village. At first the people were afraid of this monster, but slowly over time, they allowed him in and near the town. People still feared him, but he was tolerated during the hours of light. As with most settlments, vermin inhabit the areas just outside of town. As Karne had no real way to gain enployment, he often killed the deer, rats, and skeever. He sold the meat and pelts of all his efforts to sustain himself with both furs, meat and a rare septims from the spoils he sold. The towns children dubbed him "The skeever" due to his rat-like, un-human form.
Karne stayed on the outskirts of town and watched and hated the town folk. All their laughing and eating and drinking and gold and houses and things that shine and hugs and girls. Karne started watching the girls. He watched the pretty ones move about through the town square, down to the river's edge to draw water, the houses they lived in and who else was with them. Often while he sat, he was force to look at a stiff apendage he had, growing from his very body. It caused much discomfort at times and he knew not what to do with it. He did noticed that none of the girls had one. Still and again he looked on.
He saw patterns in people. The same ones did the same activities, at the same times on the same days. He saw hunters depart on long journies leaving women folk to tend the farms and stalls and forges. Women left too, but he wanted a girl who wouldn't hurt him, if you know what I mean. So Karne watched, then he waited. Not a long many weeks into his wait, a party of hunters moved out away from the town with full packs and gear. He knew the time was right and moved down towards a farmhouse as the hunters crested a distant hill and vanished from sight.The Skeever moved across a window casing of the house leaving a slight shadow, unseen from the girl inside. He looked through several windows 'til he spotted the young Nord. Karne, though not fully a man, had desires like every other man. His desires burned for many years as he sat and plotted. All his pent up fire will be spent this day. He could feel the hardness and thickness of the bulge he dilligently kept hidden all these years, rub against the famrhouse wall as he slowly crept around to the back door.
The door itself was unlocked and the skeever silently moved into the light of the house. So quiet was he, that it appeared as two shadows moving around and away from the glowing embers in the firepit. Upon gaining the room on the left, Karne spotted the farm girl of his memory. As he moved closer, the bulge under his skins rubbed the doorway as he clung to the shadows and passed into the room. Close now, his heartbeat raced. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. He was mesmerized as her lips opened and closed slowly to some dream she was hoping would never cease.
As Karne moved further into the room, his desire to reach this girl grew. The protrusion causing him so much anxiety was tenting his breeches and they caught on a nail stuck in the doorway. As he moved towards his target, he wiggled and squirmed to free himself. A loud tearing sound was heard as the nail refused to let go and the thin, worn, hide material was wrent. Thrusting outward came all the length and hardness he had. The girl awoke with a start and sensed the intent of the other. She raised her arms as he made contact and bound her to the bed with his full force. Frantically, she tried to push him off. The more she struggled, the more he twisted and turned. She went to grab him and tried to escape. Thats when she felt it. The hard thick protrusion. She desparately grabbed for it and squeezed.
Karne during this struggle was taken back by her quickness and strength. Then to his utter shame, humiliation, and pain, she squeezed his bulging appendage. He stopped struggling and let go of the girl. Still clutching his now throbbing thick pike, she guided him towards the firelight. She looked at him as he grimmaced, then slowly let go of his ego. It was quiet for sometime. He found no words, so he waited for her to speak.
After a long silence, she said, I knew you when we were both younger. My mother was saved on a battlefield, near a castle not far from here. We shared the same bread and fruits. My mother healed after some time and we left. I saw you in and around town but did not recognize you. She went quiet. Finally he spoke, "I saw you also and did know you. I remembered you and remembered you gave me a hug before you left. I just wanted a hug". "Just wanted a hug"? she said, "You break into my house, steal your way into my room, then accost me in the dark. What of this, this, this thing? What am I to think of that? You wanted a hug and you come to me like this? Get out"! Karne left dejectedly. He trudged back through the woods to his shelter, collected a few paltry belongings and disappeared.
Several years later, while sitting on the edge of a dock, an Argonian sailor walked up to him. He had never seen anyone like this before. The sailor said they needed another hand on the ship at the far end of the dock. Karne agreed as he had nothing else. He boarded the ship and followed the sailor to the berths. As the sailor turned to leave, Karne looked at him and said "I have been in misery for a long time. This bulge I have needs relief and I don't know how to take care of it. I see you have one too, can you help me. The sailor laughed heartily, gently reached into Karnes pants and pulled it out. He then took his own and showed karne the difference. He himself was mesmerized by karne's unique shape and size. For the next few hours the sailor talked with karne about his past, nickname and problems. The sailor left karne satisfied and with an understanding of what he had hanging there.
It turned out that Karne "The Skeever" Ingavar was a halfbreed argonian. Skeever's tail was never again pent up and the pains of his past washed away with the tide.
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Place Holder for Story 2 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.
As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.
I hope you enjoy .
Taste of my THUUM
She sat on the edge of the bench peering around the open room that doubled as the rest of the building. A small cooking pot over the fire and a mistreated animal hide covering a worn dirty slab of stone that served as the flooring. Cold was the room, but the kindled flame of the prevoius night was still glowing and still fresh in her mind. Looking across the place, a small, crudely shaped table stood. Its poor quality was lost in the strewn rags and scraps that littered the whole area.
"Was it really worth it", she thought. "A night I shall not soon forget". The only thing wrong, after such a euphoric evening, was the bad taste stirring in her mouth. She knew it's flavor and dreaded the after taste. Still, it was worth it. Worth every moment. Never before had she been taken to such heights until she met that unkept son of some forgotten union many long years ago. He was not a tall man, short neither. She looked him over and laughed to herself. His hair was a mix of browns, greys and dirt. The kiddish grin he always had painted on his face tickled her. He was no warrior. He probably would run from an altercation and leave her to fend for herself, she thought. Still, he was not overweight. Just right she said. I guess.
He looked up as he stirred some portion of a once living critter in a rusted iron pot. The belly of the thing took on a reddish glow, like an apple at harvest. It was hot. She smiled. She remembered being hot the previous night. They both stirred a measure of something and she glowed for hours afterwords. She slightly trembled, remembering the feeling. No man has given her so much, filled her so much, taken her over the edge. She smiled again. The man had experience to match his looks and age. The way he opened up her vat and stirred the contents to just the right consistancy. The care he took as he placed his ladle into her cask and started to stoke the fire.
He looked up at the woman. The one, not so many hours previous, whom he shared his cup with. "The stew is about ready, if you're hungry. We can eat something before we get on", then he winked. So sure and confident was he. She just knew she couldn't resist his charms, his cordialness and his affluant simpleness. She joined him for a brief bite, if only to remove the after taste that still lingered in her mouth and on her breath. They sat there silently for a while until he spoke. His talk but a wisper, like always, to draw you in. "I gave you my best last night, you know. I'm not sure I'll be able to measure up like that again". She responded, "If only once in my life I've had that experience, none shall compare to your dilligence to the job you preformed". "To kind, you are. But I must say, I have had many taste my THUUM before you. Few have had the staying power you posses when its in their hand, my dear", he said. She responded, "The heights you have taken me with your THUUM will surely not be so easily forgotten. For I myself have placed to my lips many that did not measure up. I know what I love and desire. You have given me what I needed. You filled my being. You're THUUM possesed me. I need your THUUM again. Can we? Can you give it to me as you did just hours before".
"My, Dear", he said. "You speak of this as if its some trivial matter. As if I'd just lay my best down for anyone who dares ask me to bare my all to them. To you, I would wish to share again the strength and potency of my THUUM, but I cannot.For you see, the lads from the guard house will be visiting me shortly and I must ask you to leave". Angrilly she stood up and said, "So, you'd share your THUUM with your mates instead of with me? You would prefer them to sample your THUUM and partake of all you have. They are unable to open up to you as I have done. You could never fill them as you have filled me. You could never have them with you, speaking as we did of places we'd share. Yet, you chose them over me". sighing, she calmly said," I understand. It's what you prefer. I know I cannot offer you what they can, for I do not posses their weaponry".
Sadly she looked up as if broken in spirit. She painstakingly walked over to him and slowly knelt down before the man." Is there anything I can do to change your mind. Is there anyway I can convince you to give me your THUUM as you have this past eve". Looking deeply into her eyes, she already knew the answer he was about to give. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but I must ask you to leave."
As she departed, she looked back towards the small alcove that held the copper casks and lids. The remnants of a small honey comb, slowly dripping its golden treasure from the pot, he asked her to bring , that sat quietly as if untouched. The honey taunted her of the night before and the taste of what she surely would miss. She poked at the fire before she left, saying more to herself then to anyone, "3 times have you gotten it warm yet it did not rise. 3 times have you input your herbs into my honeypot. 3 times have you pulled out your ladle when I thought it was time. Yet each instance you refused to give me your secrets. Refused to let me have and control your THUUM. I will treasure what we shared, and I thank you." She then departed. After the door closed, he quietly said, "3 times you say, three times you say, 3 times you say. To that I say once. My thuum is mine to give whom I please. As for my secrets, its not 3 times 3 its three times once.
Thrice Heated Underfermented Ullage Mead.
And to that my dear sweet serving girl, is why I make the drink, my THUUM, and you just get to taste it and bring me the coin.
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My stories will only be as graphic as your mind reads into it. The crab one is really quite innocent if you see it for what it states. How the reader interprets my web of wording isn't my fault. :biggrin:
I'll work on them this weekend and see if I can give you more content based on the style of writing I have chosen.
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This topic really drives hard core "gamers" from both sides CrAzY. I personally sit on the fence. I like both, but not merged.
Lets just put it all back into perspective. Skyrim IS a game. OMG she said it!!! All games have pieces or parts you play with for your version of fun. How about you load the mods you like for your type of game play. Then, Change or don't d/l the ones you despise. You then can learn to mod or invest more time in your present mods and become one of the great sources for all our enjoyment. Make what you like and let us try it out. :D
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Could someone reskin the dragon armor with the same texture from around the shoulder area? The dragon armor always looks heavy, bulky, clunky and brittle. The armor would be more believeable if it was the sacely looking texture and not the harsh looking type it is now. Maybe not a complete replacer, but a balcksmith option to create a second type of dragon armor.
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ooops!!! sEEking is right. Seaking is also a pokemon goldfish-ish thingy, but thats NOT was I was referring to. I tried (twice)
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I was mentioning the bounty because there are quests in Markarth following the Foresworn quest where you can get a bounty added. I remember at least one other time, but I just can't recall what it was. I also was thinking of the patrols. Specifically the patrols that have a prisoner. As I entered the present time line as a prisoner, my heart opens up to them and I feel its my duty to free them. I don't like to kill the governing patroll, but without doing so, I gain the bounty. If I was to beat them into submission, I still accomplish the goal and gain no bounty. I like the fact that they can put out contracts on me, have thugs, mercenaries and bounty hunters stalk me down. That is a little bit of realism I really enjoy.
All in all, I hope one of our wonderful modders takes this torch and runs with it.
I remember now, the Hammerfall soldiers always trying to get the Redgard women in the middle of the wilderness, on distant roads and bridges. Without killing all of them, you get a bounty. Where as, beating them down gives me the feeling and satisfaction that I'm helping another woman get away from these oppressors.
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There are some animations that only happen as scripted motion. The going to bed scripts and others like when you first enter Riverwood. If you follow the Stormcloak soldier, he eventually uses a tree stump as a seat. That in itself would be a good addition especially if you could use them as seating object.
Have soldiers periodically walk to the black smith and have their non-butter cutting swords sharpened, Have the gaurds yell at the kids for any number of things children get yelled at for. Have people once in a while empty the bucket of cleaning water from their porch or window. There's a lot of things that can be added and I think you are right. It would make just watching the game entertaining.
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What!!! You're not fighting giant DUNE type worms when you dig? Why would anyone be even remotely attrated to such a mod? Some people, Ewwwww!!!!
Tytanis, this is wonderful. It can be a huge endeaver though. I can already see the stress lines forming as you face the hoard of "Can ya change" , "Can ya Add". I truely look forward to this mod completed. As long as we're on the subject, ;) , can you add....
Make the diggin only 2 or 3 swipes of the hoe or shovel. Make a Harvesting Kit to be able to harvest your seeds. Maybe even need healing potions to keep them alive during transport. I recall playing Ultima Online a few years ago and some person made a harvesting/planting mod that did something similar to this. Maybe even make it so you have to purchase the instructions for plant types from an alchemist. Give only regional plants to the local alchemist.
Any way you decide to move with this mod, I'm sure it will be a worthy download.
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I think it would be a good addition to the game. I would not want to see them as a missile weapon though. Thats a Javelins job. Although a spear was tossed just prior to engaging an enemy, it was done so with the intent of taking out a shield (or soldier) before hand combat.
Here is a good source for ideas on the animation. Watch the movie Troy. When Achilles (Brad Pitt) and Hector (Eric Bana) fight before the wall. It is an amazing work by hollywood to bring a bit of realism and believablility to a brutal fight scene.
Skyrim FPS Drops
in Skyrim LE
Posted
Your system is under powered. That video card can run on the power supply listed in the systems purest and simplest form. Depending on other things you have in your system, to include memory type, hard drives, other drives, usb ports used and devices plugged into the ports (they also have limits) , you can put your PC into a brown out power shortage. Lots of board damage can happen then, to include arcing at the terminals, trace burns, and all out system failure/damage. If you start over clocking, thats another issues completely. BASICALLY : Frequency = Heat. Heat = power.
I'm not saying that low rated p/s is your problem, but for looking at what you posted, I wouldn't discount it so redilly.