OOC:

Hey, I haven't been on the ES forums for a long long time though I've been active in the Fallout Fan Fiction area. I've had fun in RP threads for some time but have come to realize I nearly always pick one of two basic character types. Either an ugly, strong, not particularly intelligent but very moral character (usually an Orc or a Nord) or an older, very intelligent, and either Machiavellian or simply amoral.

You can look at the "The Warren" thread in the Fallout Fan Fic section to see what I mean.

I want to try a new character and I think a good way to do this would be to play sort of a side character.

The idea of this thread is that my character, Josian Townway, is a relatively young not particularly talented Imperial. Anyone who wants to join is welcome to send me a PM w/ a character sheet and essentially just play out their adventures with my character as a sidekick. I won't be around as much as I'd like to be soon due to a new job, but I'll post during the weekends at the very least and the first person to join can control my character should it become necessary....anyway...


The Adventures of Mr. Josian Townway

I have come to my decision. Life in Skingrad had become entirely too dull and father wanted me to work in the bank. After gaining some fame for his writings he had found some monied friends and believed he could make a fortune. He wanted me to live a simple life helping him build this project of his, but I want what he had. I want more than he had.

I want to go out into the world and see what there is to be seen. I was too young to really take notice during the rise of Martin Septim and the Champion of Cyrodil, and now things here have grown so dull. The world was so active in that time, Martin, the Champion, the deaths at Summitmist Manor, and all that business with Glarthir...but since then it has been so very dull.

As I said I have come to a decision. This will be my chronicle. I have set out on the road and found myself at a new small settlement on the road to the ruins of Kvatch. I shall seek out adventure, encounter interesting people, and chronicle all that I see. I shall go seek my adventure in that greet meeting ground, the local pub.

The young Imperial lifts the crude mattress and slips his journal beneath it. He steps to a small dirty mirror and examines himself in it. His fine brown hair is brushed back from his forehead and tied in a short ponytail. He is still clean shaven though he has decided to develop a bit of growth to give him that rugged adventurer look that he really ought to have.

Josian pulls his collar up and straightens it out carefully before smoothing the shirt down and stepping out of his room, carefully locking the door behind him. He turns to make his way down the steps before pausing, returning to the door, and checking to make sure the lock has latched twice. Confident in the security of his room he ventures down into the pub.

Carefully side-stepping a drunken Wood Elf entirely engulfed in conversation he makes his way to the bar and pulls out a stool.

As he dusts of the seat before carefully setting down onto it the Orcish bartender grunts in his general direction.

"What'll it be kid?"




Sitting rather stiffly at the bar he gingerly sips at his ale, scanning the bar for adventurers to join with. Preferably one with some sense of hygiene he considers as he sees a rather large Orc in a light yellow tunic with dark yellow circlets around his armpits.

He looks about excitedly, wondering where life will take him. Is that smelly Orc a bounty hunter perhaps? Is the rather stout Nord in the corner, the one flirting with the barmaid, perhaps hunting down the witch that stole his clothes? Is that Khajit picking through his lunch off on some grand adventure or simply seeking his next bit of Skooma?

How exciting this world was, and how full of opportunity.


OOC: Any criticism/advice is very much welcome

I had always heard that bars were excellent places to meet adventurers and begin ones own travels, but that was certainly not the case today. All I met was a bunch of drunkards talking about local politics, Martin Septim, the rebuilding of Kvatch, or local women. I did get one possible lead though, I heard that the local blacksmith had gotten an unusual job lately. Tomorrow I shall investigate the situation, perhaps it is from there that my adventure shall begin.

I certainly hope so. I am ready for one of the grand adventures I've read so much about.

He places the small book down and gets up to switch off the light. The room engulfed in darkness he walks out to go look through the window. He hopes to see some nefarious presence down the street, or perhaps a strange figure lurking behind a window, but things are depressing staid at the moment. He shuts the blinds and climbs into bed, pulling the blanket up and saying goodbye to another day.

He dreams of sailing vast seas and arriving in strange forgotten ports. Of venturing through enormous mountains to cyclopean monuments at their peaks. Of shady Dunmer allies and proud Nordic companions. Of haughty Altmer enemies, of slaying Orcish hordes. He dreams of a life spent on the move, seeing the world, venturing where no other has before, and sharing his stories with like minded fellow adventurers.

He dreams of anything other than a lifetime spent going about the minutiae of everyday life. Anything but a life as a banker, farmer, or shopkeep.

He gets out of bed with a start, ready to go start his adventures and hoping for a better result than yesterday.

He carefully buttons his shirt and smooths out the collar, pinching it to ensure that the collar stands up as it ought to. He combs through his hair and secures it with a simple leather strip before walking out of his room and locking the door behind him. He catches himself once more at the top of the stairs then heads back quickly to double and triple check that it is indeed locked. It is.

It's early in the morning and quite cold. He wonders if he shouldn't have procured some sort of jacket or heavy cloak before leaving his family home, but decides it is perhaps part of the adventure, braving the cold. He considers the dirt road and rolls up the legs of his pants, perhaps it would have been wise to procure some rain boots as well. There is an ever so slight drizzle this morning that may soon turn this dirt road into a long mud puddle.

He hurries along to where the traders display their wares and searches out the smithy. His identity quickly becomes clear, a large Nord with a sort of long mustache that grows down to just below his chin. Bushy eyebrows all but cover his deep set brown eyes.

Surely this will be the beginnings of his adventure.

Venturing through Cyrodil, perhaps back into this man's homeland of Skyrim, exploring his ancestral halls, slaying men and mer, discovering -

"What is it son, I'm busy."

Awakening from his daydream Mr. Townway finds the Nord staring down at him with a rather disinterested expression.

"I've work to do and not enough time in the day to do it, so wake up and tell me what you need or get moving, you're blocking my shop."

"Ahh," Townway responds, regaining his composure, "I heard you were working on a most unusual request sir."

The Nord nods and motions the young Imperial to the side to clear up room for PAYING customers.

"Yes, yes. I'm restoring a Dwemer War Hammer at the moment. I'll be bringing it out shortly if you'd like to see it."

"Oh yes, very much."

"Five septims."

He produces the gold and gazes about the man's workplace. Soon he'd be looking upon the weapon of a long dead...or teleported...or damned...or something Dwemer warrior. How exciting!

He stands as the drizzle picks up to a light rain, rocking from foot to foot to disperse pent up energy and to keep his body warm. The Nord seems to have no issues with the cold, but then of course he doesn't. He's a Nord, made to live under such conditions and humongous, that probably keeps him that much warmer. Besides, he's probably been in worse situations, probably ventured through the mountaintops of Skyrim, bare chested, dragging the corpse of some strange beast back to his log cabin for -

"Ye're looking at me again queer again son. What is it?"

"Oh nothing sir, just distracted."

He shivers a bit.

"Sure is cold out here."

"It'll be a bit before I get started on that hammer. Why don't you go across the street to Crazy Fedic's and see if you can get a nice suit of fur. I'll call you over when I'm ready."

Josian happily does so, dashing through the muddy street to the small store. As he stands before the small selection of clothing he tries to slap and wring the water out of his own clothing. They say cotton kills and he is beginning to see why. Even down here in the plains of Cyrodil it is quite cold, and these simple cotton clothes are holding onto as much water as possible, chilling him to the bone.

"Sir? Sir?" He asks in a rather squeaky voice, teeth pvssyring.

"Sir?"

"What is it fetcher?" A rather morose Dark Elf greets him as he comes out from the warmer recesses of his shopfront.

"Fetcher? Sir, I'm a potential customer, you should treat me with more respect than that." He replies indignant.

"Very well, I apologize, Sir Fetcher. What will it be?"

Realizing that he is wasting his time expecting any better from this scarcely civilized Dunmer Josian gets to business.

"I was looking for some more appropriate clothing, it's terribly cold out here,"

he says looking about as the rain continues to softly fall,

"And wet too. Cold and wet."

The two converse for awhile, haggling over price. Mr. Townway uses his Imperial way with words and his own personal unwillingness to spend more than the absolute minimum on much of anything to his advantage. The Dunmer, Crazy Fedic, in turn uses his own disinterest and knowledge of who needed whose wares to keep the price from deflating too much.

In time Josian got the Fur Armor for about 70% of the asking price. Partly due to his bargaining skills, but primarily due to the Dunmer's desire to be rid of the pesky Imperial and to return to the warmth of this shop.

Feeling quite satisfied Josian strips his shirt of and pulls the Fur jacket on while pushing his slightly damp legs, still clad in basic pants, into the leggings. He removes his rather fancy but not particular comfortable shoes and happily slips on the Fur boots.

After again summoning the Dunmer, now that much more displeased to still be dealing with the Imperial he works out a simple bargain, exchanging his sopping but rather exquisite shirt and shoes for a thicker shirt to wear under his Fur jacket.

Now quite warm and pleased with himself he wanders through the marketplace examining other wares and continuously checking back on the Nord, anxiously awaiting his work on the Dwemer War Hammer to begin.

Please close this. I want to restart it differently and as a Fan Fic as it seems to have garnered 0 interest in it's current form.

Patience my friend, keep updating it will get noticed eventually. It is a intresting concept though and I enjoyed the read but in my opinion it seems to be lacking direction. To be honest I am not the best critic because I am still working on my first fanfic myself but remember, patience.

A.) it basically is a fan fic already.
b.) there is a reason for sigh-up threads
C.) i'd join with a relativley interesting character if not for my being in another RP.