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With the Elder Scrolls 6 on the horizon I find myself pondering what will be the fate of my dragonborn, will he go off somewhere such as Atmora, will he be forgotten or which honestly is the worse outcome for me, turn evil due to his actions in the dragonborn dlc and I find myself fighting my old character, honestly I would rather have him be forgotten so he can retire, my main dragonborn character Ghalen my wood elf Paladin, who bought order to skyrim deserves some peace so the thought of having to kill this character would honestly break my heart.

I hope the latter isn’t the case, I want Ghalen to have a happy ending.

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Sorry for nsfw,I’m in a search for an outfit.I suddenly started to explain my actions,so,the first thing I created for this character is body texture.The most of my characters use dizona body,but I wanted to try something different,so I chose SAM.So I started to make a retexture for this body and during the process new character appeared.

forevervobla
forevervobla
forevervobla
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Finally updated COR, and I’m really liking the new sliders.

taultvec
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The first piece of a project I’m working on!

I’m working on a serie of tiny paintings (7 x 7 centimeters) based on video games.

The first one is based on Skyrim.

I considered opening an Etsy shop and sell some there… What do you think?

If you’re interested by this project and have suggestions, you can leave a comment. I plan on doing a new post soon to propose several patterns I want to work to on. Maybe you’ll see your favorite there… 😉

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Firien stormed out of Dragonsreach and into the pouring rain. She quickly hurried down the steps and into the Clouds district, her footsteps loud as she splashed through mud and puddles in the cobblestones. She made a conscious effort to not look at the charred and now soaked ruins of Jorrvaskr. Despite the rain, Whiterun was bustling with activity, but the mood was grim. The reality of what had happened the night prior was setting in with the residents of the city, and many were preparing themselves for another siege.

Firien didn’t know if that would happen, but she wasn’t going to stick around to find out. Tahir was out there somewhere, and she needed to track him down. Vilkas had already left her there, gone after Tahir in a furious rage with fire in his eyes and hell in his heart.

The taste of bitter resentment was heavy on Firien’s tongue as she thought of Vilkas. He knew how important Tahir was to her, and yet he still thought it best to go after him without her.

It wasn’t until she reached the Plains district and slipped past a mud-splattered cart pulled by a dismayed cow that she heard her name being called. She ignored the calls and continued on her way, the gates of Whiterun now in sight. She pulled her hood over her head and loosened the straps holding Flameweaver against her back, just in case the guards tried to refuse to let her through. With Jorrvaskr gone, she didn’t know if the title of Companion still held any weight, especially now that the gate was manned by Stormcloaks.

She could not let them know who she was, because she knew they were going to stop her the moment they realized she was the Dragonborn.

“Firien!”

Firien pressed on, ignoring the unmistakable sound of Farkas trying to catch up to her.

“Firien, wait!”

She felt a hand close around her upper left arm, and she whirled around, ready to strike Farkas, still furious with him for knocking her unconscious the night before, but he caught her other fist before she could.

“Let me go!” she commanded coldly, trying to free herself.

“You need to listen to me,” Farkas said, his voice low and angry. “You’re being foolish.”

“You know what they will do to him,” Firien snarled, trying again to wrench her arm from his grip, but he held onto her tightly.

“Listen to me,” he said with a tone of finality. “Look at me, and listen.”

Firien continued to struggle, and though passers by looked in their direction, no one stepped forward to help, and Firien, while furious with Farkas, dared not to do anything that could land him in trouble with the guards. Farkas maintained his iron grip and finally, Firien stopped struggling and looked at him reluctantly. There was a hardness in his eyes she seldom saw, and his mouth was set into a bleak line.

Despite his very different expression, she was reminded of the first time they had ever left the city together. When it had been raining and cold and she saw him as nothing more than a nuisance. He had caught up to her and gripped her arm the same way in the exact same spot they were standing. Just outside of the Drunken Huntsman.

Strange how fate worked.

You can’t go out there on your own,” he said. “You’re hurt—“

“So are you!” Firien said explosively, gesturing wildly to his left side, where she had seen the dagger protruding the night before, but Farkas cut her off before she could say anything else.

“You’re hurt,” he repeated more loudly than before, “and angry. You need someone to keep you from doing something stupid. What happens if you get ambushed? Two weapons are better than one.”

“Farkas, I can handle myself,” Firien snapped, trying once more to pull herself from his grip, but again she failed.

“Firien,” said Farkas, his voice now somewhat softer than it was before. “I won’t stop you. I know it would be stupid of me to do that. I wouldn’t want to do that to you anyway… What I mean is you can go. I won’t stop you. But… If you go, then so will I.”

Firien, shocked, stopped struggling, and the moment she did so, Farkas released her arm and held his hands up in surrender. Overhead, thunder cracked and lightning flashed, but that still did not deter her.

“Besides,” said Farkas casually, holding up an iron key ring with only one key on it, “they’re not going to let you through without a key, and the Underforge has been blocked, so…”

“I was going to fight my way through,” said Firien stubbornly.

“I know,” said Farkas seriously, “which is why I got these. It’s Whiterun’s law to grant passage to anyone with a key to the city. Even under Stormcloak rule, they can’t refuse us passage. You just need to stay inconspicuous.”

“Farkas, I…” Firien trailed off uncertainly, and Farkas placed a hand on her cheek.

“I know,” he said again, but this time his tone was tender. “Now let’s go get Tahir back.”

He leaned in close, but instead of kissing her like she had expected, he merely touched his forehead to hers for a moment before turning and marching toward the gate with all the confidence in the world, and Firien couldn’t help but follow.

xx

Here’s a little excerpt from my fic for anyone interested or curious! I know I’ve previously mentioned that there’s another war after the main questline and the Civil War questline (in mine, the Stormcloaks win, but I kind of Game of Thrones’d it and made them very brutal and horrible toward elves and beastfolk) wherein someone else decides to fight to be High King/Queen of Skyrim (not saying who tho, but it’s a Nord npc).

The context for this scene in particular is that Ulfric Stormcloak is very angry that Firien (being the LDB) won’t join his cause and so he sends a small cavalry to Jorrvaskr to bring her back by force but they accidentally burn it down during the fight and Tahir gets captured instead, for bait reasons. Firien tries to go after him, but she’s gravely injured and losing a lot of blood, so Farkas has no choice but to knock her out to subdue her. He is not happy about having to do this but it was between that and letting her go out there and get herself killed. Meanwhile, Tahir’s loyal, loving husband Vilkas goes after him but doesn’t bother to bring Firien with him because he’s too angry to consider anything or anyone else. Also the Stormcloaks manning the gate are aware of what happened to Jorrvaskr, but not exactly why which explains the lack of conflict about Farkas passing through. They’re also fairly new to the area, having just won the war, so they don’t know all the relationships and hot juicy gossip and all that good stuff yet. Obviously this little bit can’t explain everything so I apologize if it seems plothole-y, and I also apologize for my adhd ass trying to over explain everything.

So yeah I hope you guys like this little peak at my writing/fic because I’m VERY nervous about posting this here,,,

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Haven’t done Teldryn headcanons in a while, so here’s a post using this list as inspiration.

Tells, Tics, and Posture

Teldryn tends to smile with only one side of his mouth. Some find it endearing, but those who don’t know him might think it can look malicious. The bigger the smile the less obvious it is, though. His teeth only really start to show when he starts laughing.

When he’s lying, Teldryn has two issues. The first is his instinct to move. He’ll switch his weight-bearing leg, move his hand from his hip to his sword to hanging free, tilt his head, things like that. If he’s caught off guard, he might be too busy concocting the lie in real time to bother watching his posture, but it’s generally innocuous enough that strangers won’t pick up on it. If he’s had too much time to mull it over though, he might seem unusually stiff. Despite this being when he’s most conscious of his tell and actively trying to minimize it, it’s actually easier to spot the lie when this happens, even for strangers. Natural timing for posture shifts is very difficult to mimic. Teldryn is much more successful at spontaneous lying than premeditated lying. When he gambles, it’s to waste time and building connections, not for the money. He’s not terrible at it but that’s due to a lot of practice and focusing more on distracting other players from his tells than hiding them.

Something else that happens when he’s nervous, any kind of nervous, not just when he’s lying, is that he’ll cough or clear his throat more often. His lungs are shit, and the tickle at the back of his throat hasn’t gone completely away in years, and if he’s tense, his throat will tense up as well. Adrenaline will keep the coughing at bay, but if there’s no adrenaline and just a general sense of unease, the cough will kick up a notch. Not great for stealth missions, but adrenaline and sheer willpower go a long way. He’ll also catch himself drumming his fingers or unconsciously clenching his jaw, but these are more manageable.

When he’s not actively regulating his movements or doing anything that might change them, however, Teldryn maintains a very relaxed posture. It’s not like he slouches or anything, but he usually looks a lot less alert than he actually is. He likes to stretch his legs out when he’s sitting, generally with his arms across his chest. He also likes to lean against a wall if sitting isn’t an option. (He’s also fallen asleep like this, and behind those stupid goggles no one can actually tell. So occasionally he’s actually less alert than he looks. It depends.)

When he walks he’s actually pretty quiet, and has accidentally startled many people without meaning to by coming up behind them. It’s become almost a habit to sniff or cough lightly for the sole purpose of alerting someone who’s not looking at him to his presence. This happens less when he’s in full armor, and the boots are a little harder to stealth in, but he practices and can be damn-near silent when he wants to be. Coughing or even just raspy breathing can be more of a giveaway than his footsteps.

Talking to People

Teldryn is overall a good conversationalist. He makes eye contact, even if the vast majority of the time his eyes are hidden behind his goggles and no one can tell.

Teldryn is by no means soft-spoken, but he rarely raises his voice outside of battle either. If he’s got something to say, he’ll say it without reservation, but if nobody was listening, he’s not likely to try again. He doesn’t participate in many group conversations anyway. If he has a patron at the time he’ll hang back and let them do the talking unless prompted. If he’s on his own, he’ll still hang back and let other people have the spotlight save for the occasional side comment. He’s not vocal about his opinions, particularly regarding sensitive topics (religion and politics mostly), always conscious of the ears of potential patrons.

As for getting someone’s attention, if he just wants to add commentary but doesn’t actually have anything useful to say, he may very well just start talking and if someone wasn’t ready, well, they can catch up. However, if he feels like what he’s about to say may have actual bearing on the circumstances, he’ll either clear his throat first or sometimes do the more civilized thing and actually start with the person’s name or honorific. (Clearing his throat for attention is a distinctly different sound than when he’s actually just clearing his throat, which he does more quietly and turned slightly away.) 

When it comes to greetings, Teldryn is very unlikely to shout across the room, wave, or do anything else to draw attention to himself. He generally just nods to acknowledge the other person. If he happens to have a drink in his hand, he may raise it slightly in a friendly gesture, but he saves verbal greetings for when the person is within a conversational distance. He’s also the sort that considers simply saying the person’s name an acceptable greeting if he has nothing in particular to say.

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