Me, a humble draugr, quietly minding my own business in my barrow tomb, doing my daily chores (lighting the candles, taking the frostbite spider for a walk, making the large swinging axes swing in the corridor of large swinging axes), having a sleepover with the lads in the deathlord’s chamber
YOU, loud, alive, obnoxious, barging into our tomb eating an entire wheel of cheese, making a mess, plundering my life savings from my burial urn, setting fire to frosty (the frostbite spider), re-killing me and the lads, WAKING the deathlord
“Welcome to Markarth, safest city in the Reach.” Within ten minutes of arriving I’ve witnessed a murder, become caught up in a civil war, and found Molag Bal squatting in someone’s basement.
And then I got killed by a goat.
How they could have the audacity to use the word “safe” in the same sentence as the word “Markarth” is fucking beyond me. This city is 120% stairs.
the most powerful thing humans have is the fact that you can drop a “hey whats going on everypony” into a conversation and immediately activate everyone’s fight or flight response to go off in a 20 foot radius
Pride, Prejudice and Mail Order 