Hello fellas! During the past weeks we welcomed aboard into our Dev Team: Zeq, as content manager for the RCRN website. Today, after several days of work we are happy to present a periodical (and community-driven) novel, which will guide you around Tamriel, we hope that it will be an entertaining read for our whole user base. I leave the rest to Zeq! Happy reading!

Hello and welcome to the A Tale of Two Let’s Play.

The basis of this LP is twofold. The first goal was to add a greater narrative and additional story through a loose interpretation of the in-game events, changing dialogue, or adding some where there was none, and occasionally adding new characters.

The biggest change here being the alteration of two dragonborns, and focusing the story around their interactions. The second objective of this story was adding a community driven aspect to the story. Currently, our plans with this is to have a poll each week which will relate to the story in some way, such as which course of action one of the characters should do next.

The planned schedule for these is weekly updates; however, beginning updates may be slower as we get into the routine of things and figure out how to best implement the community driven aspects of the story. Potentially story affecting mods I am running are Interesting NPCs (as well as Inconsequential NPCs), Civil War Overhaul, Falskaar, Wyrmstooth, and Undeath. The latter three adding new quest chains, none of which I have fully played through before. Additionally I have both the Dawnguard and Dragonborn DLCs and many other mods running (of course including the newest version of RCRN AE), which should have minimal effect on the story, if any at all. My plan is to focus around the expanded civil war quest line from CWO (Civil War Overhaul) and the main story, but am willing to go into the DLC or any mod quest-lines if there are requests for them, including any mod quests which I currently do not have.

So, without further ado, enjoy.

Chapter #1

Helgen Omens: The Orc Perspective

“Hey, orc! Wake up.”

Where am I?

“Captain, if I may, I would advise a calmer tone. Took four of us to get him down. What it took to finally get him to calm down, I’ve seen kill lesser men.”

That’s right, I did get a little overzealous in that debacle… how long ago was it?

“We have a schedule. I don’t want to stand around in the cold just for some lazy orc.” The ‘captain’ replied, her tone if anything was more bellicose, not less. With another a loud smack she finished. “Now… GET UP.”

The orc stretched his bruised body, opened his eyes, and stood up. Before him was a woman in Imperial-styled plate armor, and what looked like her assistant. Beyond them lay a mass of guarded prisoners by a chopping block.

“What are you doing in Skyrim, orc? You from the strongholds?” The assistant asked as soon as the orc had gained his bearings. He wanted to explain it was the opposite, but the captain beat him to it, with an impatient “get on with it.”

“Fine. Name?” The assistant continued.

“Forgsmitt… Ro-Trinius. Chosen Champion of Trin-”

“That is plenty. Now send him to the block like the rest.” The captain interrupted.

“But captain, it is unlikely he is a rebel, they said he was fighting both our men and theirs.” The assistant explained.

“He attacked soldiers of the Empire, that is reason enough. So what if he isn’t part of some larger organization.” The captain stated hurriedly, and marched off to see over the executions.

“But it was they who attacked him.” The assistant rebutted toward to the empty air. Then turning to Forgsmitt, apologized. “I am sorry, Fordsmi…? prisoner. I will try to have your remains returned to your home, if that is any consolidation.”

Forgsmitt gritted his teeth, forming the best approximation of a grin as his tusks would allow.
“Don’t bother. If I die in a pitiful place like this, then I don’t deserve so much.”

The orc shuffled his way to the literal death row, and began formulating his escape.He had not intended to oppose the empire, but Trinimac had a plan for him, this he was sure.
It was by miracle his life had been saved when his forge exploded back in Nova Orsinium, and during it he had been given a vision. On that day, he named himself Ro-Trinius, and set out across Tamriel in the name of the great Trinimac.
He had wandered more or less aimlessly, visiting the occasional stronghold to root out the blasphemy of Malacath, but did so to little avail. He could beat their chieftains, but could not force the abandonment of their beliefs. Flaunting the strength of Trinimac over this pretender was good enough perhaps.
He eventually heard of the civil war and made his way towards Skyrim, in hopes that at this center of conflict would reveal his true purpose. And he didn’t doubt this even as the first head rolled. They may all die, but he, he had divine protection.

It was then that a noise was heard echoing from afar, but not to be delayed, the captain ushered the next prisoner to the block. A pale Dunmer with blonde hair. The elf made some quiet comment, and then laughed darkly before following the directions of the assistant, now standing before him.

As the Dunmer laid down his head, another roar rang out and a large black object appeared from behind the mountains. As soldiers tried to identify what the massive flying object was, it made such questions abundantly clear by landing on the tower parapets above them. Shouts of “Dragon!” rang out as men and women below scattered in response to the terrifying destruction brought forth by the beast. The Dunmer and the Stormcloak rebels seized their opportunity, the Imperials looked to their general to rally them, the townsfolk panicked, and amid the chaos, Forgsmitt smiled: he had found his purpose.

Striding calmly amongst the frantic motions of those around him, he made his way to the rest of the prisoners. He declared silently his predicted destiny. He would first make his way out of the city, and afterward, he would rid Tamriel of this black beast in the name of Trinimac. Then his name, and the name of his deity would be known to all. Ever Orsimer would know it was no Daedra-spawned pretender who had delivered them, but the mighty Aedric warrior. And so too would the rest of the world once again remember the power and deserved place of Trinimac in the pantheons. This was the task Forgsmitt believed he was destined to undertake. As he jumped through fire and ran through destruction, he did not doubt it for a moment.

“Stay with me if you want to live, prisoner.” Came a voice interrupting his thoughts. It was the assistant from before. Forgsmitt followed this soldier with naught but a grunt of assent. They made their way to the keep without much trouble. Once they entered the structure the assistant turned toward Forgsmitt and said he would cut the bindings.

The balding blacksmith breaks free.

The doom-bound warrior Forgsmitt Ro-Trinius.

“By the way, my name is Halvar.” He said as the ropes slipped off.

“Forgsmitt.” The orc replied.

“You already told me, remember?”

“Yes.” Forgsmitt replied flatly. “But apparently you didn’t.”

“Sorry about that, Forgsmitt.” He apologized with a weak smile. “Anyways, grab any gear you can, and let’s go.”

Ruffling through the barracks chests, the orc found a spare uniform and sword. Not his preference of gear, but it would have to do for the moment. Satisfied, the two of them moved deeper into the fort.

As Halvar unlocked one of the gates, the duo heard voices. It was Stormcloaks. Halvar looked toward Forgsmitt and optimistically commented. “Maybe we can reason with them.” Then striding into the room he held out his hands. “Hold on now, we just want to… Ralof? You damn traitor.”

“Hold on now. We all want to get out of here.” Interrupted the second figure as he stepped forward. It was the Dunmer from before. “Pardon. Names Jonathan Eliott Rubius. You can call me Jon. Or Eliott.”

The others stood in silence before him.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you didn’t seem too terribly interested in the prospect of a battle?”
The ashen elf continued.
“Our chances of getting out alive are broadened if we cooperate. I am not particularly well informed about the civil war, and the two of you seem to have some personal history, but no matter how you look at it, I think a dragon rates higher on the immediate priorities. Do you have any problems with that?”

The dashing rogue Jonathan Eliott Rubius.

The dashing rogue Jonathan Eliott Rubius.

Forgsmitt would have welcomed a fight, but such a fight could always be found elsewhere, and so he remained quiet. Speaking for the both of them Halvar gave a simple “No.”

“Good. Good!” Jon cheerfully replied. “Now, I am afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You seem to know Ralof here, and I have introduced myself just now. So how about yourselves?”

“I am Halvar, and my friend here is…” The Imperial began, to which the orc continued. “Forgsmitt Ro-Trinius. Champion of Trinimac.”

“Trinimac, eh? There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while, don’t you Orsimer believe him to be reborn as Malacath or something?”

“No.” Forgsmitt replied as calmly as he could. “That pretender is a blight on our history; I hold no love for him.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.” Jon replied. “Our people have always thought of him as a necessary trial in life to overcome.”

Despite the apparent agreement. Forgsmitt could not say he liked the dark elf before him.
As they pressed onward, collapses and occasional roars reminded them of the situation outside. They entered a storeroom, and could hear voices on the other end. A pair of Imperials appeared, and seeing free men in Stormcloak garb immediately became hostile. Jon and Halvar attempted to calm them, but to little avail. The mention of cooperation between the two factions was responded with a strikingly clear response. One in a language Forgsmitt was far more fluent in, leaving the two opposing soldiers crumpled upon the ground. Forgsmitt took the warhammer wielded by the recently deceased soldier in front of him. A hammer was much more his kind of weapon. He then turned to the other three members of their band to see them talking about what to do next.

“Anyways, there should be some healing potions stored in this room. Might as well grab them before we head out.” Halvar said with a sigh.

The group lost no time following this suggestion, and soon enough were descending deeper into the fortress insides.

“You even know if there is a way out this way?” Forgsmitt asked Hadvar.

“Hush now, you hear that up ahead?” Jon interrupted.

“It’s the torture room up ahead.” Hadvar replied. “By the gods, I wish we didn’t need those.”

“It sounds like a fight, let’s hurry.” Ralof replied, charging ahead with Forgsmitt.

The two saw a pair of Stormcloak escapees striking back against their Imperial captors. The sight of an Imperial and a Stormcloak charging in together was strange enough to give the whole group pause. This gave time for Jon and Hadvar to catch up.

“Wait… wait just a second.” Jon exclaimed breathlessly.

“What exactly are you doing?” The head torturer sneered quizzically.

“There is a dragon attacking above up top.” Halvar tried to explain.

“A dragon? Please, don’t make up nonsense.” The torturer responded. “Certainly that noise is from a Stormcloak attack?”

“Come with us, we need to get out of here.” Hadvar pressed.

“You have no authority over me, boy.”

“Didn’t you hear me? The keep is under attack!”

“Forget him, Let’s go.” piped up one of the me Stormcloaks

“Hold on, there looks like there is something in this cell. We need everything we can get.”

“Don’t bother, I lost the key to that ages ago.”

“I can deal with that.” Jon piped up, following up with a mumble. “…Always keep a pick or two on me… ah, here it is.”

“Sure, take all my things.”

“Ignore him, let’s just go.”

“There is no way out that way, you know…” The torturer chided. “And besides, you think I would just let rebels and delirious traitors just walk ou- Gwauh!”

“Shut. Up!” Forgsmitt cried out, slamming his warhammer into the head of the torturer, felling him with one clean blow.

“What did you just do, he was an officer in the Imper-” Hadvar began.

“No.” Jon responded.

“He was a condescending prick. There was nothing wrong with our Orsimer friend’s actions. You Imperial army is probably better off without him in any matter. Now let us continue onward before the dragon brings everything down.”

The group, now composed of seven, with the addition of the two Stormcloaks, and the assistant to the torturer, they pressed onward. Despite the words of the late torturer, there was sure enough a drawbridge leading to a natural cave. As they were crossing through, another tremor sent rubble down upon it, crushing the torturer’s assistant instantly and leaving one of the Stormcloaks trapped.
He bade them to press onward without him, and so they moved further into the cave. Forgsmitt was all too happy to press onward, leading the charge in clearing out the wildlife that had settled into the cave. These beasts couldn’t have come through the fort, so there must be another exit. Sure enough, they soon found it. The others breathed sighs of relief as they watched the dragon fly off.

First breath of freedom.

First breath of freedom.

Forgsmitt breathed the fresh air in deeply, and reminded himself that this was just the beginning for him. All of Tamriel would come to know the might of Forgsmitt Ro-Trinius.

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