-Can
I do this? It’s been like, six months since I’ve picked up the bow and
tried to save Skyrim. It’s just been so long. If only I had some
guidance, a role model to follow in my time of need....
-What would Punchy do?
-LOAD ALL THE SAVE FILES! Wait! Load the most recent save file, that makes way more sense.
-WHAT DO ALL THESE BUTTONS DO!?! How do I... anything?
-PUNCHY! I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH YOU MARVELOUS DRUNK! I can’t hug you so I’ll just jump at you to show my unbridled joy!
-Snuggleface and Meeko! I don’t suppose either of you remember how to equip a bow, right?
-Okay, I use to have this down to a science, what I need is human target practice to shake the rust off.
-How is it possible that I’m more than a hundred yards from a bandit? Has this ever happened before? Has Skyrim’s mind blowing bandit problem solved itself in my absence?
-Wait, no, Forsworn camp twenty feet from here. Phew, was afraid I had completely lost touch with this society.
-Here we go, let’s make this first shot count. Arrow back, aim for the skull and *thwomp*...
-*clank*
-Right, can’t be expected to get the rust off quite so fast. This time I will factor in arrow drop and …. *thwomp*
-*clank*
-*sigh* Right! Thankfully this Forsworn is deaf... or already dead. Nope, he just went to go check out that rapidly growing pile of arrows. Let’s try this again...
-*THREE ARROWS LATER*
-*clank* OH SCREW THIS! You! Yeah you! Come over here! I need to bludgeon you to death, apparently.
-There! What I lack in depth perception I make up for in vicious beatings.
-Screams, rapid footsteps... I may be rusty but I know what those sounds mean. Company.
-*Thwomp* Right in the eye! Oh I know you can’t share my joy Mr.Forsworn on account of the massive internal bleeding, but let me assure you, the way I spun around and planted that arrow directly into your brain signaled my glorious return.
-My hit rate might be below twenty percent but my witty rejoinder rate is still a sturdy one hundred percent.
20-Nothing like stealing the boots off a dead man to bring back fond memories, eh Punchy?
-Well, our bags are now filled with the helmets and boots of various slow footed thieves. Now that the Forlorn know we are back let’s check in with our local den of villainy. Riften.
-Dear simple villagers, I don’t mean to cause a distraction but everyone stop and stare at the wonder of nature that is I, Dragonface!
-I never felt right leaving this town is such disarray. All this grief seems to be caused by one family, the Black-Briars.
-Let’s knock on a few doors, ask a few question, snarl, bark and cause a general ruckus. I want the Black-Briars to know there is a new sheriff in town and he can’t be bought... also that the new sheriff is a sharp dresser and way beyond handsome.
-And modest, that too.
 |
| Please cue the dramatic music. |
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