Skyrimosity
Well-Known Member
But Anyway, can't wait for more of the journal. Cidius is going to get the Evil Farmer Nazeem! (Please stealthily drag his dead body to the Cloud District.)
Cidius Saro - Agent of Light
- Thread starter Friday is My Day!
- Start date
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
Skyrimosity
Well-Known Member
Yea, drag his dead body to the cloud district then shout "SO, DO YOU GET TO THE CLOUD DISTRICT OFTEN" then sneak and get your pay. Everyone's happy
Mr1cammando
asdf
But do you REALLY need pay for killing him? His death is an reward in itself. Besides, just turn out his pockets.
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
Well, either way I'm not getting paid.. I can't just spawn money, I'm on 360
Skyrimosity
Well-Known Member
I'm sorry, the Evil Farmer's influence of Cabbage upon my mind has clouded my thinking.Well, either way I'm not getting paid.. I can't just spawn money, I'm on 360
actually, either way, cidius should be doing this for the honor and justice instead of money, should he not?
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
Mr1cammando
asdf
But Nazeem is even more disrespectful. So in this case, 2 wrongs make a right. And, if you wont take it, someone else will. He has no children and his wife hates him. No one would mind if you took is pocket change.Exactly. I probably don't even loot his body. It's disrespectful
Though, if you kill him, what happens to the farm? Do the battle-borns buy it and make themselves a monopoly?
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
The city of Whiterun seizes it and turns it into a tourist's attraction. Duh!
Skyrimosity
Well-Known Member
Tourist attraction?
"Hey kids we're going on a vacation."
"Where are we going daddy?"
"Whiterun Cabbage Museum."
"Hey kids we're going on a vacation."
"Where are we going daddy?"
"Whiterun Cabbage Museum."
Mr1cammando
asdf
Do they have a gift shop?
Oh my god. They must have t-shirts with "DO YOU GET TO THE COULD DISTRICT VERY OFTEN?" on the front. On the back it says "OH WHAT AM I SAYING, OF COURSE YOU DONT.". They also have hats with cabbage logos on them. And cabbage leaf skirts? Nazeem's head would be on display, stuffed like an elk.
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
oh my god, i totally want their skooma shirt, it IS the nectar of the divines no matter what the empire says!
PelagiusIV
Active Member
Great first entry! Love the direction this is going in. Always fun to read a great assassination story. And I like the twist you threw on it about him being an anti-hero of sorts.
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
Thanks man, it's a refreshing change of pace from Filim!
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
- Tirdas, 19th of Last Seed, 4E 201 -
After laying my quill to rest earlier today and sending about a dozen honeyed words Hulda's way, she served me up a couple of free bottles of mead before I got started. I decided it'd be best to pay a visit to Wilmuth to see if he actually had any credible evidence to support his claim. Doing a cowardly farmhand's dirty work isn't how I operate, especially when lives are at stake.
Too bad my peaceful stroll to Chillfurrow Farm was rudely interrupted though. By what, you may ask? A bloody vampire! That's right. A gruesome Dunmer bloodsucker ambushed me in broad daylight and guess who wasn't there lend me a helping hand? The brilliant Whiterun guards! Too hopped up on mead, most likely. Those drunken Nords are really in shambles compared to the guards back in Cyrodiil.
I remember one evening in the spring of 196 I was returning home from ending a conspiracy formed by a trio of priests of Akatosh in the Imperial City when a savage troll began pursuing my horse, Helga, and I. The beast chased us all the way to the gates of Skingrad where a pair of Imperial Guards took care of it fast and efficiently. Poor Helga was scared to death afterwards, though. Couldn't get her to leave the stables for all the apples in Tamriel! Such a shame.
Returning to the present, I used my Imperial-born power to convince the walking leech I wasn't worth his time and he hastily retreated into the woods, living to feed another day. I made my way to Chillfurrow Farm where Wilmuth presented me with a strong piece of substantial evidence: a letter written by Nazeem that read:
N,
Although Chillfurrow is not on the decline, it is no longer inclining either. I think my only option is to thin out the competition.
- Nazeem
I found myself feeling like a child whose sweetroll had just been stolen from him as our new lead vanished into thin air when neither Wilmuth nor Hulda had any idea who N could be. With no other roads to go down, I was forced to begin what my father called "the most monotonous, yet necessary, step in our process."
Scouting.
The art of tailing your target, taking note of where they go and who they talk to is most certainly a boring one, but it is necessary. "Knowing your target's daily activities and routes can be the difference between life in a damp cell with a lonely Argonian maid or a plush, king-sized bed with a Colovian beauty, son." was one of my father's favorite quotes. Talk about a man with his priorities straight!
So, tail Nazeem was what I did. You truly don't understand how utterly tedious it is to casually walk on the same road and see the same people do the same thing for hours upon hours until you've actually done it, but I'm just glad it's over. Our pompous little farmer didn't do anything or meet with anyone suspicious, but at least I've got a general idea of his daily activities.
From around 9AM to 12PM, Nazeem spends his time harassing the merchants occupying the various stalls in the market district of town. From 12PM to about 4PM, he struts around the streets of Whiterun as if he's the Count -- Jarl, I mean -- himself. After 4, he retires to the Drunken Huntsman, a local hunting supply shop, for a hard-earned dinner and much needed sleep.
My best bet is to either get him on an empty street when no one else is around or when he's sleeping. Both come with their own set of complications and I can't afford to slip up, but I suppose I'll just rest on it. First, I have some business to attend to. Hulda agreed she'd stay the night with me... so long as it's spent at the smooth oak bar downstairs!
Some day, Hulda, you just wait and see.
After laying my quill to rest earlier today and sending about a dozen honeyed words Hulda's way, she served me up a couple of free bottles of mead before I got started. I decided it'd be best to pay a visit to Wilmuth to see if he actually had any credible evidence to support his claim. Doing a cowardly farmhand's dirty work isn't how I operate, especially when lives are at stake.
Too bad my peaceful stroll to Chillfurrow Farm was rudely interrupted though. By what, you may ask? A bloody vampire! That's right. A gruesome Dunmer bloodsucker ambushed me in broad daylight and guess who wasn't there lend me a helping hand? The brilliant Whiterun guards! Too hopped up on mead, most likely. Those drunken Nords are really in shambles compared to the guards back in Cyrodiil.
I remember one evening in the spring of 196 I was returning home from ending a conspiracy formed by a trio of priests of Akatosh in the Imperial City when a savage troll began pursuing my horse, Helga, and I. The beast chased us all the way to the gates of Skingrad where a pair of Imperial Guards took care of it fast and efficiently. Poor Helga was scared to death afterwards, though. Couldn't get her to leave the stables for all the apples in Tamriel! Such a shame.
Returning to the present, I used my Imperial-born power to convince the walking leech I wasn't worth his time and he hastily retreated into the woods, living to feed another day. I made my way to Chillfurrow Farm where Wilmuth presented me with a strong piece of substantial evidence: a letter written by Nazeem that read:
N,
Although Chillfurrow is not on the decline, it is no longer inclining either. I think my only option is to thin out the competition.
- Nazeem
I found myself feeling like a child whose sweetroll had just been stolen from him as our new lead vanished into thin air when neither Wilmuth nor Hulda had any idea who N could be. With no other roads to go down, I was forced to begin what my father called "the most monotonous, yet necessary, step in our process."
Scouting.
The art of tailing your target, taking note of where they go and who they talk to is most certainly a boring one, but it is necessary. "Knowing your target's daily activities and routes can be the difference between life in a damp cell with a lonely Argonian maid or a plush, king-sized bed with a Colovian beauty, son." was one of my father's favorite quotes. Talk about a man with his priorities straight!
So, tail Nazeem was what I did. You truly don't understand how utterly tedious it is to casually walk on the same road and see the same people do the same thing for hours upon hours until you've actually done it, but I'm just glad it's over. Our pompous little farmer didn't do anything or meet with anyone suspicious, but at least I've got a general idea of his daily activities.
From around 9AM to 12PM, Nazeem spends his time harassing the merchants occupying the various stalls in the market district of town. From 12PM to about 4PM, he struts around the streets of Whiterun as if he's the Count -- Jarl, I mean -- himself. After 4, he retires to the Drunken Huntsman, a local hunting supply shop, for a hard-earned dinner and much needed sleep.
My best bet is to either get him on an empty street when no one else is around or when he's sleeping. Both come with their own set of complications and I can't afford to slip up, but I suppose I'll just rest on it. First, I have some business to attend to. Hulda agreed she'd stay the night with me... so long as it's spent at the smooth oak bar downstairs!
Some day, Hulda, you just wait and see.
Friday is My Day!
Well-Known Member
I really wish I could have put Nazeem's letter in proper letter format, but my stupid iPad doesn't let me indent or italicize anything. Forgive me, guys!
