Outlaw: An alternative Skyrim playthrough

[Lazarus Carter]

Welcome! This is Outlaw. What follows is an unnecessary author's note, but in order to get the most out of this thread I suggest you read.

I've always been a big TES fan, but my favourite part of the game has long-since been the mods. I've got a mod which allows me to essentially choose WHERE in the game my character starts - and as such, I've randomised a character - the details of which can't yet be discovered - and under this mod, picked a pretense of that this particular character is an outlaw camping with a gang of bandits in the wilderness.

The only other facts you know are this: this character has begun with amnesia, and can remember nothing of himself, and he awakens clutching a rolled-up map, and some sense of the world's geography.

We're gonna play this out like one of those choose-your-own adventure books. I'm going to present you with a scenario, you'll give me choices, I'll follow up on them - if possible, which, most of the time, they will be - and the story of our Outlaw will advance. Be careful, though; cause if he dies, there's no reloading, that's it. I'll have to start from a different character.

With that in mind, all italicised text from here on out will be my commentary. Everything else will be a narrative acompaniment, and bolded text will be particular choices, though it's perfectly open to you. The choices you suggest will be taken into account and can be of any degree, so it can be anywhere from controlling fighting mechanics for each single enemy to "clear this dungeon", and for each I'll provide step-by-step screenshots of how things go.

Additionally, I'm not going to tell you anything about the character: everything must be encountered IC, even appearance, though you can do slightly wacky things, for instance, "consult the cosmos on your racial upbringing", but know that it may well yield wacky answers.

Note that I expect due hilarity - but for now, let's play!

*****

Darkness. That is all that precedes you. Darkness. You try with all your might to wrench your eyelids open, but it feels as if some deep, dark, hex is holding them tightly shut. You try to writhe and squirm as best you can, but the only fruits of your labour appear to be the tiniest twitching of the smallest finger on one hand.

It is after a while that all this incessant "movement" seems to yield... SOME result; your eyes flicker open and you're greeted with an exceptionally boring sight: large amounts of craggy rock ceiling.



It is very rocky indeed. Though within your plane of vision there appears to be some sort of automatic compass, and a strange cross-like thing. Curious.

After your eyes, it is not long before the rest of your bodily functions return. Momentarily, you pull yourself up into a seating position, and then stand, looking down at the floor upon whence you came: a small, fur bedroll upon a cobbled floor.



A source of daylight and birdsong emanates from an exit from this sanctum, only a few feet in front of you, but your vision is still hazy, your mind groggy, and your every movement sluggish. To boot, you can't remember anything. Behind you, the warmth of a fire flickers through the standard Skyrim chills and you hear a strange, female voice. What do you do?

[Behemoth Hennimore]

Check pockets and/or inventory

[Lazarus Carter]

>Check pockets and/or inventory



Checking your pockets infact prompts you to open a transparent holo-screen upon your plane of vision which obfuscates your ability to see, but apparently seems to stop time around you as a trade-off.

Your inventory contains (incase you can't read the screenshot, you nonce):

- One book, adequately titled "Book of Homies"
- A set of fur amour, which whilst not incredibly defensive, is very soft, and indeed made of fur
- Two gold necklaces, presumably liberated from some unwitting old ladies
- Five apples, which is enough to apparently keep the doctor away for the next five days
- A handful of grilled leeks, because you're Welsh like that
- An iron shield (God knows how it fits in your pocket)
- Thirteen lockpicks, for shenanigans
- An apparently odd eldritch text written in an unrecognisable language that you only divine to say "Rebind Keys"
- The blueprints for a water well
- Ten healing potions
- A side of seared slaughterfish
- A silver garnet ring, and three silver rings, once more presumably liberated from unwitting grannies
- A steel war axe, for chopping and general barbarism
- A well-cooked venison chop
- And... an icicle. No, seriously, you're holding an icicle in your pockets. Nice one, douchebag, now everything's gonna get wet.

What do you do?

[Behemoth Hennimore]

Take the icicle out of pocket. Use the icicle to search for traps; poke each item in room, and poke all the stones on the floor or walls.

[Lazarus Carter]

>Take the icicle out of pocket



You do so, registering the fact that, as presented, the icicle is indeed both wet and cold, and very little but. Infact it would be safe to say that by extension, your hand is now wet and cold.

>Use the icicle to search for traps; poke each item in room, and poke all the stones on the floor or walls.

This seems like an excellent idea. For starters you begin to poke each of the items, beginning with...



Your bed roll... not a trap, however now carrying a large wet smear from the icicle.



Uncovering some items next to your bed, you begin to prod them one by one, hoping they belong to you and not the strange source of the female voice. Iron shield. Not a trap.



Iron helmet. Not a trap.



Iron sword. Not a trap.



Fire, not a-

...oh.

Your icicle promptly melts as you attempt to prod the fire with it, appearing mainly like some sort of mentally restricted child. However, all that equipment by the bedroll, though maybe a tad soggy, isn't trapped, and the other occupant of the room appeared to have no qualms about your prodding it. What do you do?

[Behemoth Hennimore]

Examine self. If male, wear fur armour and pretend to be Tarzan. If female, burn fur armour; its revealing nature is demeaning.

[Cael Gladius]

Run out of the cave screaming like a madman. Everything is obviously a trap and should be treated as such.

[Lazarus Carter]

>Examine self. If male, wear fur armour and pretend to be Tarzan.



As is clearly evident, you are already wearing the fur armour, douchebag. Where would you keep it otherwise? What, do you think you'd really be sleeping naked?

Moron.

As for the Tarzan part, you scratch your testicles and grunt in a manly way for a few moments, but it swiftly loses its appeal. Apparently the chamber's female occupant is not attracted to your base alpha male sexuality.

>Run out of the cave screaming like a madman. Everything is obviously a trap and should be treated as such.



Loudly obliging, you bolt into a sprint out of the chamber. "IT'S A TARP!" You scream, at a volume which would make even the great Admiral Ackbar envious. With no real sense of direction you sprint through the chilly Skyrim wilderness, the fur armour's exposed and so-called "revealing" design when it comes to your undercarriage allowing your genitalia to feel the present breeze. Ah, nature.

And so you continue on like that one Flock of Seagulls song.



"And I raaaan~"



It isn't long before you find yourself at a fork in the road, literally. Looking up you see some intimidating-looking spikes planted into the ground as a sort of defense measure, and a rigid moose guardian standing at the mouth of the road. Above there is chatter, and your extra-sensory compass alerts you to what appears to be a red dot on the horizon, just up past those spikes.

Red dots. Red dots everywhere.

Taking the uphill path will presumably lead you into a combat encounter, whereas if you're not feeling lucky, you could take the downhill path and run away like a little bitch. What do you do?

[Reverend Smith]

Attempt to eat the moose guardian. :|

[Behemoth Hennimore]

Go backwards, and politely ask the woman in that chamber if you could borrow the iron helmet; it pays to be prepared for a combat encounter.

[Cael Gladius]

You're no pussy! Fight those goddamn red dots to the death!

WITH YOUR FISTS.

[Leviathan]

Punch it in the dick.

[Lazarus Carter]

>Attempt to eat the moose guardian.

Your approach yields a storm of pointy things, but you persists.



You hear the entrails of the moose-guardian pre-packaged call for you. Telepathically its thoughts ring in your head. "Eat me, outlaw," It says. "Tear me into shreds and feed upon my very form."



In a manic hunger you approach it and take a large bite out of its neck in a sensual and possibly zoophilic manner... only to realise... the taxidermist got there first.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

>Go backwards, and politely ask the woman in that chamber if you could borrow the iron helmet; it pays to be prepared for a combat encounter.



Well, shit.

Would appear we're out of luck there.

>You're no pussy! Fight those goddamn red dots to the death! WITH YOUR FISTS.

Your vision compass has lied! There are infact no red dots; and instead simply a man wearing fur armour with a shooty thing and many pointy things, raining down spiky pain upon you! What is this madness?!

In an amnesiac rage you march up the well-disguised stairs to the right of his pedestal and approach him, before facing off with your adversary.



Marching upon him with raised hackles...



You strike him over and over with a great roar each time, screaming at the top of your lungs as your fists pound his flesh in an utterly non-sexual manner. Over and over again you drive your hands into his body, slamming him, ramming him, smashing him, crushing him.



It is not long before your opponent falls, your face and hands covered in the warm and sticky blood of your foe. You unleash a war howl in celebration, beating your crimson fists against your own furry chest. In your heart you yearn for further blood.

Below the trophy of your triumph awaits, ripe for looting, or necrophilia. Additionally, here there is an actual cave, probably full of monsters of some sort. You are still filled with regret over the inedible nature of the moose guardian, but reassured by the cooked side of venison in your pockets. Alongside this, the exit onto the path leads out and down beyond, and you're still feeling penetrated at every angle (haha) by arrows, so it may be a wise idea to drink those healing potions like a fifth of vodka.

[Leviathan]

Summon thy magical prowess and enter the caves. FRY ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

[Cael Gladius]

Eat your juicy meats and chase them down with some yummy red magic health potions. Every good kill deserves a good meal.

[Moloch]

Eat the dead corpse you killed. 8D

[Bastian van Staade]

>Eat your juicy meats and chase them down with some yummy red magic health potions. Every good kill deserves a good meal.



You begin chugging health potions and stuffing your face with venison like there's no tomorrow...



But out of nowhere, before you can do anything else, a second interloper appears, this one carrying two sharp objects. What do you do?

[Moloch]

Punch him in the face! Then eat him! And his sharp objects!

[Leviathan]

Destroy his face, disguise yourself as him, enter the cave and zap them alll down with magicks.

[Abaddon]

Disregard and drop inventory, sneak further into cave unarmed and naked.

[Cael Gladius]

Destroy his face, disguise yourself as him, enter the cave and zap them alll down with magicks.

This, but use his weapons instead.

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