Skyrim Fan Fiction Library

[Brandy1123]

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.

Edited March 6, 2012 by Brandy_123

[Brandy1123]

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.

Edited March 6, 2012 by Brandy_123

[Brandy1123]

These are getting lots of views. Another story will be added this evening

[Brandy1123]

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 .

 

 

 

Like Aunt Hropee

 

 

Being from a large family made the farm work easier then on others in the trade. Chores were shared and spread out through all in the household. The livestock pretty much took care of themselves in the open field of low grass. The natural spring that flowed down by the rocks in lower corner kept watering to a minimum. Most of our crops; corn, potatoes, cabbages and the like took up most of the land. The extremely rich soil kept producing year after year. Father had a secret fertilizer he used on the land each fall, after first real hard freeze. He said it keeps the stink down using it in winter. Frankly, it did lessen the nausea, but not by much. The umbra colored slag he watered down to a perfect blend of what he called his husker and sea weed pasture porridge.

 

He mixed the crud in pots throughout the spring and summer. Putting it into barrels, he posted his cryptic symbols and dates on each before sealing them for the “seasoning process”. He, or should I say he and my Aunt collected the “ingredients” usually on the first moon of the month. The week long treks often brought them back with closed tubs and drums of all their collecting. You could always tell when the time was drawing near, as both of them would start getting anxious for the trek while she and my Brother fought like cats and dogs.

 

My sweet Dear Mother was killed on one of journeys, some years ago. Father somehow convinced my Aunt to join him on his trips. She was steadfast against them back then, as I recall, up to about the time Dear Mother had passed on. Then, a whole change of heart. Maybe she was broken about losing her only sister or that she knew we all depended on the fields. Either way, for some reason she failed to ever bring up, she now journeys with Father on his hunts.

 

In the springtime, prior to the first of the seasons excursions, my dear Aunt moved in with us. She stayed in a makeshift room off the storeroom, but her influence was felt immediately. First off, My older brother started to smell like my Aunt. She often wore strong smelly sashes and perfumed concoctions lightly dabbed with flower oils, but it was something else. After the return, their relationship, although strained at first, was all of a sudden better. I don't understand what happened, but it made living in the house a little easier with out all the arguing and bickering.

 

One night during the summer, it seemed like animal sounds coming from my Aunts bedroom. I crept up to the door and got very scared. I ran back to my bedroom and hid under the bed. By morning, Father found me and we talked. I told him what I heard and was afraid for my Aunt. Father laughed slightly and said it was nothing. My brother was just becoming a man and sometimes strange things happen. He said my Aunt was helping Brother through this very hard time.

 

Brother wasn't around that day, or the next. Then my Aunt went away for a while. A few days after, they returned and both seemed very happy. Their relationship in the house was so much better. They often went away between hunting trips only to return closer and happier. Sometime late in the summer, they had Brother go on his first hunt with them. I watched my younger brother and sister while Father's friend stopped by once in a while to check on us. His friend Isn't around much and I don't even know where he lives. He has really good stories about hunting and traveling and fighting. Father says he's his closest companion in the whole world.

 

When Father, Aunt and Brother returned. Brother was changed. His eyes were different, his voice, even his looks. He had changed in those short ten days. He seemed taller and by the Devines he needed a bath. Father always smelled of his formula. Aunt always smelled of perfumes and flowers. So, I guess Brother needs to smell like something to, since he's a man now. I just wish he didn't smell like you just stepped into something out in the pasture. Talking to Father later that evening, after Brother and Aunt went out for a long evening walk, he told me some things I had never known. During our talk, I asked about brothers smell. It was bad. He said, He himself has a similar one, but due to his work, it covers it. We both laughed, because although used to the smell, it was kind of nose wrinkling. He said Dear Mother, had a trick, but like the rest, she also had the distinct aroma. He then said something I found very odd. He said, “Like Aunt Rhopee”. Then he said Aunt covered hers with flowers and perfume oils.

 

I said back “Like Aunt Rhopee?” I never knew her name. To me she's just Aunt. She's Always been Aunt or Auntie. Father looked at me kind of funny and said “Yes”. He then said, “ Do you understand that and what it is?”. “Of course Father. I do understand. Being dear Mother's sister and me Always calling her Aunt. Of course I understand”, I said back.

 

We talked some more, confusing me slightly at times, by I enjoyed our talks. He said by next year, If I keep up the chores and kept being responsible, I may be able to join a hunt and be part of the pack so to speak. He said the more the merrier, but he must be sure I am strong enough for the strain on my body and the long nights. We'll see he said. If I can prove myself, He said he'd help me along as Auntie helped Brother. He stated “I surely must be a woman as Dear Mother was before they let me join with them”. I said, “ Father, don't you mean join you?”, he said smiling, “yea, that too” and hugged me, then left my room.

 

That winter passed, like others, and the supply of fathers mix was always present. It seemed the horkers or whatever it was, never ran out. I often overheard stories of the hunts and was scared. I'm sure they knew I was listening at times, because the stories got really scarey with people fighting people and monsters and all sorts of chilling beings. I didn't want them to think I was still a baby and hid my fears. Many nights I stayed awake way too late because of the terror and nightmares after I closes my eyes.

 

Often after dark Aunt Hropy and Brother or Father and Aunt would go out for a long walk. On through the winter and back into spring this went on. Each passing week, father and I talked more and more about the hunts and am I ready for him to make me as Dear Mother. About a week later, Father came to my room. It was after dark when he entered. I was just about asleep. He sat on the edge of my bed and asked me gently if I was ready. Ready for him to make me a woman like my Dear Mother was. He felt like it was his role to bring me to the place where she once was. He would care for me but not let another man share with me what he was about to do.

 

I hugged Father and said I would love to share with him what he spoke of. I needed him to make me like the woman Dear Mother was like. Father guided me out to the shed near the barrels. Brother and Aunt were there. I told Father I did not understand, but I was ready for him. He came to me and kissed me gently on the forehead and did the deed. The next morning I awoke tired and wracked from pain. I never new such invigorating heights existed. What Father did to me, making me a woman like Dear Mother made me feel special. Aunt treated me even more special afterwords. She said my Dear Mother would be so proud of me, taking her place next to Father. The hunts were special. All that we shared, to this day I hold dear

 

Thinking back many years ago, to those simple times has brought tears of joy to my eyes. I sit hear alone, as so often I've done over the times. I know now the true pain Dear Mother must have endured all those long, long seasons ago.

 

I heard the men yelling, armor and the ting of steel clanking. They were Close, I can almost smell them.

 

I remember Aunt telling me after the hunt that both Father and Brother fell. Never let them draw you in. Change. Change your plan. Change your destiny. Like Aunt Hropee. I almost laughed thinking about it. Auntie didn't return from a hunt her an I went on shortly after the fall of both Father and Brother. She gave herself for my behalf. On her strength and will alone I survived and was able to escape being the prey. I shall never forget the hunts we all shared. Forever cherished, forever close in my heart.

 

I can hear several of them, 4 I think. A dog too.

 

How naive I was back then. Like Aunt Rhopee she would always say. Father too. She was right. They were right. Its time for a change, so to speak. I am glad all these years later that it was Father who started my journey. Made me the woman I am, The woman like Dear Mother.

 

The warriors are here now. This is it. It's time. Like Aunt Hropee kept singing in my mind as I changed.

 

Like Aunt Rhopee, Lyke Ant hropy, Lykan thropy. Lycanthropy

 

Once again I took on the ancient form my Father gave me. Letting me drink of his blood in that shed long ago. I became a woman as my Dear Mother. The sister to my Brother and Niece of my Aunt. My body changed. I formed and grew thirsty for the blood of men. I coiled up as a snake poised to strike and roared. I could smell and taste the fear in the air about me. I burst from my hiding as the hunter.

Edited March 8, 2012 by Brandy_123

[DanielLiswinski]

Can you tell me, how long it may take, until it becomes a "real" Part of Skyrim? :ohdear:

[Brandy1123]

I really have no idea. I was asked to submit some stories so I am. I'll submit one or two more I am already writing, after that I probably will stop.

[DanielLiswinski]

You don't have to hurry. ;) I can wait. :D

[SinderionsBones]

My talents when it comes to Skyrim and TES games, so far as I can tell, lie in designing story based mods. Unfortunately this often means I get bored halfway or so through actual development and move on to a new idea. This leaves me with pretty detailed scripts quest element summaries, basic project timelines, etc... and little desire to complete the project. The following is an adaptation of about 1/4 of one of my mod scripts, through my very limited abilities as a writer, for a possible in game book. If my 1/4 theory, based on the table of contents on the script I have, holds true, this could be volume one of four, with the division at your discretion of course.

 

Have something I brain dumped:

 

Far from home, for the emperor.

by Arrianus Arius, Imperial Scholar

 

In the interest of impartiality following my last published work on the subject, I have compiled the following. This is a complete account of an Imperial soldier of a special quality, on a particular mission. I will let the account speak for itself.

A cracked spar, a two second goodbye to dearest celeste, and the thick musky pelt was on top of me. The smell is what brought me back. Nothing smelled like that back home in Cyrodil. She would never allow anything so earthen. That’s when I remembered. I’m not home. I’m on some gods forsaken hilltop on another damned assignment for my emperor. Once again, she, is but a rapidly fading dream.

 

Now it’s something else. Blood. Replacing the scent of thick fur is that of briar, antler, sweat and blood. Only now do I realize how disturbingly familiar it’s becoming. They’re coming back wounded and I’m trapped under the remains of my own bedding and windbreak.

 

I can’t get information from the dead. That’s just not my style. Time to get myself together and make sure they don’t finish the job the soldiers started. Sword wounds to the midsection. Arrows taken to shoulders and knees. You don’t get these types of injuries fighting in a civilized manner. Madmen, that’s what they call them. Insanity, maybe not. Misguided is my estimation.

 

It still amazes me how they make no attempt at garnering valuables or supplies from those they terrorize. We aren’t starving, but we could do better. Interesting. Am I really advocating banditry just because I miss the taste of my wife’s sweet rolls? Six set out, six returned. Good news for my mission. Not so good, I fear, for my Imperial brethren.

 

Bandages and healing magic? No. I wish. Too much down that road and they would get suspicious. No, it’s basic herbs with maybe a hint of restoration, but only so far as they can do themselves. They love their Blisterwort and Imp Stool. Certainly cannot heal wounds without strong smelling moldy fungus now can we? No no they would say, the more it reminds one of some dark hole, a rotting carcass, or a prowling sabercat the more ancient power it holds. Bah.

 

When your greatest warriors walk around with open chest wounds as a matter of pride what can you do? Maybe there is some insanity in this after all. That’s not for me to decide. Where are your hidden bases? How many of you are there in this part of the reach? This is my part. All this I have to ask without asking. Observe without looking.

 

If old Basil had told me that day in front of castle Dour that I was going to be patching up forsworn fresh from killing my comrades, I don’t know what I’d have done. I certainly wouldn’t have let him get me going with so little as a tour of Solitude and some speech from Tulius.

 

Old style offices, lavender and parchment in the air, men with smiles so big you’d think they’d found treasure. This is where I was recruited from the Imperial regulars. Never so much as a hint I wouldn’t be working on the big stuff. I can’t pass for a Altmer, a Thalmor job is out. Can’t do Stormcloaks since Nord is a bit of a stretch. I’m an imperial with the face of a Breton. No, they wanted to use me, so here I am. Gathering intel on a thorn in their side rather than the Mammoth in the room.

 

I’ve got a good thing going though. I’m to meet with the Patriarch today. They’ve decided to have me in as they discuss the immediate future. This should include members from some nearby Forsworn holds. Two of which I’ve yet to get a good location on.

 

 

Trailed off cuz it's bed time. Not necessarily the break point.

 

I based it's length on the previous work of the author I blamed for the work: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:The_%22Madmen%22_of_the_Reach

I only put this at the end because I want to avoid any direct references to what's actually going on until you read through once :D Title was also last second addition. I don't care what it is lol.

[SinderionsBones]

Some more. Moving, maybe too slowly, through my script... I'm trying to be brief to feel like a game book. not the easiest thing.

 

No wind today. The great sunbeam warming my face envelops the entire hilltop. Rough grey and black stones make up the center of our little universe. Our crusting moldy sided ruin, ancient imperial. I sleep in golden hay and sabercat hide wedged in the cold rock face. Today I’m going to the tower.

 

Solid structures haven’t been a big part of my life for months now. Only those invested in the sacred rites of vengeance get real walls. Have your heart ripped from your chest, you can get a roof over your head. I’m just glad this stronghold doesn’t have a resident hagraven. That was my biggest fear since the moment I started training.

 

We’ve got a hag sure. An old woman in warpaint that conducts those blasphemous rituals and ceremonies in the tower. I think she’s as repulsed by those abominations as I am though. She’ll be there, with the patriarch, one of our briarhearts. Together, they are the gruesome heart of misguided cruelty and vengeance. The distilled spirit of these peoples hatered.

 

Black smoke coming from the tower. It’s time to go. Dried algae and some body parts on the fire no doubt. One step closer to the information I need. They no longer doubt me. Every word of their zealous hate speech now brings them closer to the block. There is no place for their philosophy of vengeance in a peaceful society.

 

You don’t really get used to surprise bloody goat heads being thrust at your face. I should know better than to rush into the domain of a forsworn hag, however human she may still be. A fresh alter to the old gods dominates the round room, towering over the patriarch in the center. Parts of it are fresh at least. A recent mammoth kill. Parts of the chest cavity still red, some meat in the joints. Antlers deteriorating, that parts not fresh. It’s probably the frequent nearby fires drying them out. Maybe I’ll give them good old imperial taxidermy advice. That’ll be the day.

 

I’m pretty sure the hay and hide pads to the left are for those of us visiting, attending the meeting. I’m also pretty sure this part will be bad. Sure enough the hag inspects us, and addresses the briarheart with a nod. Approaching a stone alter, she retrieves a bowl of something. Aww man. She crosses the cold stone floor littered with discarded stem and bones in our direction. My fellow ‘clansmen’ looking on.

 

Warmth? I wasn’t expecting that, it’s actually kind of nice till I looked at the liquid running down the sides of my head. Black. Clearly blood based. Some … horrible offering to the shrine and their patron red eagle no doubt. This is something they should have added to the training. It’s all I can do to keep it together. To make it believable that this experience is most hallowed and sacred. I just want it off me.

 

“Our brothers and sisters to the northwest are not fairing so well. They are well hidden behind and above the mines, but nords advance and make the sacred duty all the more dangerous. Ours and our fellows in Greyrun gorge intent is to drive the nords from the area in such a way that they will remain ignorant of the stronghold.”

 

Bingo. It’s a good day, and we’re just getting started here. The bloody goo in my hair is still warm…

 

Again, trying to do book sized fragments, a few small shifts in focus and style between to mix it up. Still all arbitrary though, just for the heck of it.

Edited March 11, 2012 by SinderionsBones

[PikaNikz]

Sorry for my topic-absence lately. Everything is still on schedule with the projects. We're aiming for the first release to be at the end of March. You can check TESmods for updates. That's the main site for our project. (It also has tutorials if you're wanting to learn how to make your own books in Skyrim with the Creation Kit.) When the release happens I will contact everyone who has submitted works and give you a link to the mod. I will also post that information in this topic.

 

 

Brandy_123

>> I'll submit one or two more I am already writing, after that I probably will stop.

Oh noooo. I really appreciate your work. Thank you for being part of this project and sharing your talents.

 

 

SinderionsBones

Thank you! :D Which of these Book Covers do you want me to use?