Lost and Found

It all began with a chicken, a dagger and a wheel of cheese. Born in Dawnstar forty-seven years ago, Frithjofr, a Nord as thick as a horker loaf, now spends most of his time sauntering, ambling or wandering aimlessly around Skyrim armed with a wooden spoon and a pair of lucky socks. He can normally be found in a hut near Solitude, where he lives with his partner Hrokr and a mildly homicidal chicken named Burd.

[lostnord]

Incredibly, after a ridiculous amount of detective work, I have managed to recover this blog.

Frithjofr is clearly no longer active, but if you want to find me, head over to boarchasers, where Frithjofr occasionally crops up, or my personal blog butleroftoast, where I ramble about video games, D&D, cats, and random things which catch my interest.

To anyone still around, thank you for the stories we told together. This community changed my life and I will always remember everyone I met here fondly. So will Frithjofr, as he enters a quiet and gentle retirement.

[boarchasers]

((Frithjofr in a corner somewhere, slowly waking up from a long sleep as 'Reign of the Septims' plays in the distance.))

[lostnord]

[rpsentences]

SENTENCE STARTERS | SKYRIM ( DAEDRIC QUESTS )

❝ You look like someone who can hold their liquor. How about a friendly contest? ❞ ❝ I’d love to help you, truly, but I’m too busy cleaning up your mess! ❞ ❝ You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here. What do you have to say for yourself? ❞ ❝ You really don’t remember stealing a goat and selling her to a Giant? Are you thick? ❞ ❝ Look, I’ve been patient, but you still owe me. ❞ ❝ Darling! I’ve been waiting for you to return…so we can consummate our love! ❞ ❝ Sorry it didn’t work out between you and ____. I know you were excited for the wedding. ❞ ❝ You’re here! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it! ❞ ❝ I haven’t been so entertained in years! ❞ ❝ Get a hold of yourself! I promise you, they’re just dreams. ❞ ❝ We’re in serious danger, but there’s so little that I can do about it… ❞ ❝ I’ve said too much. If anyone overhears what I’m saying, it could start a panic. ❞ ❝ I won’t lie to you, there is risk involved in this… ❞ ❝ I swear I’ll do everything in my power to prevent harm from befalling you. ❞ ❝ We must remain here and guard this place…with our lives, if necessary. ❞ ❝ You’re a traitor. You left me here to die. ❞ ❝ Is this punishment for my past? Is it your will to torment me so? ❞ ❝ One day, I’ll tear your face apart so that you leave me alone. ❞ ❝ I’ve been waiting for someone as fit as you to carry out my will. ❞ ❝ Your world is admirably steeped in lies and inclinations. ❞ ❝ Sometimes the world can only be cleansed by disease. ❞ ❝ I have been watching you for quite some time. The decisions you make intrigue me. ❞   ❝ I will not stand for betrayal. I want you to kill ____ , in my name.❞ ❝ Your betrayal will be punished, and your obedience will be rewarded. ❞ ❝ An empty pocket is better than a full grave. We should leave. ❞ ❝ I feel the hunger inside you. Gnawing at you. ❞ ❝ It’s alright. I will not shun you for what you are. ❞ ❝ You’ve found a friend who understands you. You can let go of your guilt. ❞ ❝ Why don’t you lay down and rest while I get the meal ready? ❞ ❝ I knew when you walked into this place that you were special. ❞ ❝ Follow me and keep your eyes open. You never know what we might find. ❞ ❝ Fool! Did you think I would so easily reward you? ❞ ❝ I want you to bend your knee and give me your soul. ❞ ❝ Are you here to kill me? To slay me, while I sit here tired and helpless? ❞ ❝ Ah, you mortals and your frail, limp, pathetic bodies. ❞ ❝ When your enemies lie broken and bloodied before you, know that I will be watching. ❞ ❝ Who sent you? Was it ____? We agreed there would be no more questions. ❞ ❝ You are nothing. An empty vapour dispersed by the slightest breeze. ❞ ❝ You have caught my attention. That is most unwise… ❞ ❝ You have proven the strength of your will and your tongue’s gift for lies. ❞   ❝ Are you able to cast aside your honour and strike with the hidden blade? ❞ ❝ I will not give you the dignity of defending yourself. ❞ ❝ You have earned my respect, a feat few manage and live to tell about. ❞   ❝ Why don’t you come in? I have a job you’d be perfect for! ❞ ❝ I don’t declare a winner whilst there is still a pawn on the board. ❞ ❝ You’ve been a worthy tool. Fill the world with destruction in my name. ❞ ❝ What’s your heart’s desire? What kind of deal can we strike? ❞ ❝ It seems a shame to give away a weapon like this, doesn’t it? ❞ ❝ You forget how nice supreme power feels when you’ve been stuck in a cave for years. ❞ ❝ It’s a shame you wished for something so dull…A lack of imagination on your part. ❞ ❝ A lack of ambition like yours really should be punished. ❞   ❝ Your free will is an illusion. ❞ ❝ We cannot carry on this way! We’re doomed if we don’t do something! ❞ ❝ I have no wish to depend upon a stranger, but I have no choice. ❞ ❝ You’re weak, you’re small, and you’re an embarrassment. ❞ ❝ You’re always trying to scheme yourself out of responsibility. ❞ ❝ Your deceitful ways have cost everyone dearly. ❞ ❝ A new day is dawning…and you shall be its herald. ❞ ❝ This wasn’t anything I intended to do, believe me, I just…lost control. ❞ ❝ There’s no purpose in keeping secrets if we’re going to die here anyway. ❞ ❝ I feel the animal inside me, stronger than ever. ❞ ❝ Why does everyone ignore me? Why will no-one help me? ❞   ❝ You are far too hard on yourself, my dear. ❞ ❝ What would people do without you? Dance? Sing? Smile? ❞ ❝ Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are? ❞ ❝ I’m finally ready to love myself…and continue hating everyone else. ❞ ❝ I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining. ❞ ❝ You wield fear like a cleaver. ❞ ❝ The trouble you can get into while I’m gone simply boggles my mind. ❞

[lostnord]

Autumn Festival

Guest Name: Frithjofr.

Race: Nord.

Gender: Male.

Date: He planned on coming alone, knowing Hrokr wouldn’t enjoy such a big social gathering, but Burd insisted on chaperoning him.

Outfit: Frithjofr thinks “formal wear” means “wearing socks which don’t have holes in”. He will at least wear newer clothes from Solitude rather than his old Cyrodiilic attire, however, including a shirt which was white once and a leather jerkin.

[lostnord]

A Spot of Bother [Vashta, Frithjofr]

[lostnord]

tamrieltrinity:

Vashta opened her eyes, somewhat unaware that she had clenched them harder than she had ever clenched anything before. There didn’t seem to be any dangerous things around ready to skewer both of them like a skeever kebab. She strained her eyes, trying to see what the buttons were actually doing. The metal bits above were moving around but it must mean something. Dwemer were…practical. Everything had a purpose, it’s just a lot of that purpose seemed to be killing things. 

“There’s…there’s light appearing to each hoop…thing. maybe they need to align up with the glass parts and then…then….then something else would happen?” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It might be a…lock thing? Like if we align it all up like a key aligns up all the tiny bits in a lock, it might unlock a way up…or treasure? Maybe? It might be a massive vault of stuff like…like…more of that dwarven metal or armour…or books…or whatever the Dwemer liked?”

Dwemer ruins were not Frithjofr’s area of expertise, but his luck had led him to stumble into a few over the course of his lifetime. He frowned and prodded idly at the button while he considered what he had seen inside them.

‘They mostly liked traps, from what I’ve seen. Lots of ‘em. Maybe this is just a really clever one? They draw you in, making you think it’s all a safe and friendly puzzle, and then spinning blades come out of the floor and kill you. Sounds like a Dwemery sort of thing to--’

There was a loud thunk and a grating sound. Frithjofr’s random button presses had caused the hoops and discs to slot into place, aligning the beams of light and triggering another brass arm to unfold. A large glass orb was suspended at the end of it. Frithjofr retreated slowly while watching this development, until his back was against the wall, and kept staring at it when everything seemed to have come to a standstill. Without moving his eyes he said,

‘‘M not touching it. ‘S your turn now.’

[lostnord]

A Spot of Bother [Vashta, Frithjofr]

[lostnord]

tamrieltrinity:

Vashta glanced to the Nord, before her gaze was back on the dwemer tangle of metals surrounding them. Something about this place felt off, like she wasn’t meant to be here. Which, in reality, was true. She was really meant to be in jail right now after attempting to steal from the blacksmith and his wife instead of in this hellish place. She vaguely thought it might be some form of Oblivion aisde from the fact there were only Falmer and…they were’re daedra, were they? They were elves who had gone off somehow like milk in the sun. 

She noticed he was staring at the buttons. They were tempting, she would give them that. Behind them was some seats. Surely the dwemer would want to keep an eye on this? That they wouldn’t give seats to something that would kill them in the seats?  She looked around. His hypothesis might be right, might be wrong. There didn’t seem to be much of a way out and at least this place was Falmer free and dwemer-deathweapon-on-legs free thus far. “If you want to press a button, do it. If anything comes through to try and kill us i have the bow and you have…you.” she said, smiling uneasily at him. “But it’s…it’s worth the risk if we can get out of here.” She pulled an arrow out of the quiver. She had ten left. Hopefully a hoarde wouldn’t pop up out of nowhere. That would..be difficult to deal with. 

Clearer instructions had never been issued. From somewhere in the depths of his pocket Frithjofr retrieved a a wooden spoon, one of the few items not confiscated during his brief internment, and this combined with Vashta’s support seemed to make up his mind. He gripped the handle and nodded.

‘I got this. We’ll manage, right?’

And with those inspiring words, he pushed the nearest button.

There was a lot of brass and a lot of glass in the contraption. It could have sprung up as a blade and hurtled towards them, or shattered across the jailbirds-turned-adventurers in hundreds of lacerating shards, or heated to intolerable levels. The contraption could have parted to unleash a horde of mechanical monsters no bow would be able to stop. There were any number of ways it could have killed them, and if they died, all the way down here, so far from the light of day, nobody would have found their bodies.

In the event, the brass shuddered a bit, then went still. Dust settled. Frithjofr prodded the button again, and then a few more times, and then a few of the others to be sure. The only affect was the brass rings rising and rotating before falling back to their original position. No death appeared, and nor did any staircases. He loosened his grip on the spoon.

‘Huh. Thought that might get us somewhere. D’you see anything that’s changed?’

[lostnord]

Follower Dialogue: Frithjofr

Original: [ghartokpadhome]

Copy and fill out with what your character’s dialogue would be if they were a Follower in the Elder Scrolls!

Frithjofr - wanderer.

Initiating conversation:

“Hullo.”

“‘Lo.’

“Well met.”

Exiting conversation:

“Take care.”

“Talos be with you.”

Asked to wait:

“Uh, right here? Sure.”

“You won’t be gone long, right?”

“You don’t think there’s any mudcrabs here, do you?”

Spoken to whilst waiting:

“Ah! ...Sorry. Thought y’were a ghost. They sneak up on you, y’know.” / “Did you hear that?” - Initiating conversation.

“Aye! Please!” / “Hang on, think I lost my sword... No, wait, found it. Let’s go.” / “Onward!” - Asked to continue following.

“Please don’t forget about me.” / “It’s lonely here. ‘N dangerous. Just saying, though, ‘m not scared or anything.” - Conversation exited without being asked to follow.

Asked to move/interact:

“Aye.” / “Right!” - Command given.

“Uh... not sure I can.” / “I think I broke it?” / “‘S not working.” - Command denied.

“Did it!” / “There!” / “Got it.” - Command completed.

Asked to trade items:

“Sure, I got space.”

“Please don’t take my spoon. ‘S mine.”

Dismissed:

“I’ll be, uh, somewhere. Dunno where. If you hear yelling and chickens, ‘s probably me.”

“D’you know that place, with the thing, ‘n the stuff? I’ll be there if you need me.”

After dismissal:

“’S you! Hello, you. Long time no see, unless I forgot seeing you, which I do sometimes. Sorry.”

“Ready for another adventure? I got my lucky socks on.”

Combat

“Ahhh!”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Why... won’t... you... die?”

Other Dialogue (Specific cities, locations, situations, etc.)

"I was born and raised here. Feels like a long time ago, but... I s’pose it was.” -Ambient dialogue in Dawnstar.

“I dunno much, but I do know this is wrong. How good’re you at accidentally setting fire to things? Y’know, just out of interest.” -The Museum of the Mythic Dawn.

“This place gave me nightmares when I was a child. Still does.” -Shrine to Mehrunes Dagon.

“Mind if I visit someone while we’re here? I promise I probably won’t get into trouble, maybe.” -Entering Riften.

"Hullo, Minnel.” -Ambient dialogue in Falkreath’s graveyard.

“Was that guard looking at me? That guard was def’nitely looking at me.” -Whiterun.

“Uh, if you see a Nord with a dog and a crossbow looking angry, let’s go the other way. ‘S a long story.” -Ambient dialogue around Riverwood.

“I like Orcs. But, uh, not all of ‘em like me.” -Near an Orc stronghold.

“Ahhhhhh!” -Encountering a mudcrab; triggers Frithjofr to run.

“Magic turned me orange once." -Ambient dialogue in the College of Winterhold.

“D’you think they got some books on the Septims here? My Pa told me lots’f stories about Martin Septim when I was small.” -The Bards’ College.

“Pelagius is a good name. Don’t see why one person had to put everybody else off it.” -Inside the Blue Palace.

“Dunno what the Grey Fox’d think of Riften. Doesn’t feel right t’me.” -On Riften’s lower levels.

[sneakylittleelf]

The map had been rolled back up and stowed away before she began to trudge along behind Frithjofr. When the wind blew it felt so bitterly cold to her, she wondered if she might as well have been in her nightclothes for how much her armor seemed to be helping. It was freezing, and Luth did not like it one bit. She lagged behind, moving a lot slower than her Nord friend, frowning through the chattering of her teeth and on the verge of tears by the time he stopped and offered her the tunic.

“Ch-chicken f-feathers don’t b-bother me at all.” Luth mustered a smile, took the tunic and quickly pulled it over her armor, any extra layer would be helpful at this point. “Thank you.”

Then she pulled out a small flask from her bag and took a long swig, wincing as she swallowed it down. She held it out to Frithjofr. “Want a swig? It’s Rotmeth, very hard to come by here. Just don’t drink too much… it’ll warm your insides up but it will muddle your head too.”

[lostnord]

Nordic blood was all well and good in the snow, but a little extra liquid warmth to help it along never went amiss. Frithjofr took the flask and had already swallowed a mouthful, pulling a face at the unfamiliar flavour, before he thought to ask,

‘What is Rotmeth, anyway? Apart from a Bosmer thing.’ He paused, considering the bottle and the general reputation of Valenwood’s cuisine. The aftermath of something simultaneously sweet, spiced and exceedingly strong burned on his tongue. After a moment he added, ‘Uh. Is it safe for Nords?

[lostnord]

Frithjofr does not have a happy history with pirates (see Headcanon #93). Apart from being the swaggering, brutal warriors he both envies and fears, they were a plague on Dawnstar in his childhood, including one particular brig named the Runaway Scamp. It rarely docked nearby, preferring to terrorise merchant ships rather than the town itself, but every now and then some of the crew would make it past the unsuspecting guards and into Windpeak Inn. Little Frithjofr often spent his days there being looked after by the innkeepers while his parents were in the mine or out hunting; after a visit from the pirates, he had several nightmares about “the grey man with the brown teeth”.

[lostnord]

tsabiira said: {I’d be interested in a thread (if you want?)!!} whatoddities said: (forever and always) misoradorval said: [[I wouldn’t mind a new thread with him!

((Hurrah! Does anyone have any particular ideas? If not, I’m happy to write a random starter.

And Kaelie - did you have any characters in mind?))

[sneakylittleelf]

Luth shivered, brushing some snow off her body that had clung to her when she waded through it. She simply was not used to this weather, no matter how long she lived in this province, and no matter how thick the leather of her Nightingale armor was. The Bosmer would never admit to missing Valenwood, but she did miss Elsweyr. A climate similar to what she grew up in, all nice and warm with air that was scented with spice when it blew through the market. She sighed, and looked up at the happy face of the bumbling Nord by her side, and suddenly she didn’t feel quite so homesick. 

“Hmm.. you may trust a feeling only if that feeling comes from a Bosmer.” She flashed a teasing grin at him. “We are skilled hunters you know… and besides, I have a map!” A light chuckle, as she pulled out a rolled parchment and opened it, then her eyes scanned the horizon. She pointed. “See that bit of smoke? The tower rising up? Winterhold is over that way. It seems a bit far off, I don’t think the driver dropped us where he was supposed to… but, if we follow in this direction, past this mine…” her finger traced along the map as she spoke “I think we will be in the right area. It’ll take a while though. Probably need to camp out before too long.”

[lostnord]

Maps appeared to be a concept Frithjofr had never before encountered in his several decades on Nirn. He watched Luth unroll it and followed her finger across the parchment with a look of intense concentration, and squinted at the page when she was done.

‘I trust you more’n me, so if you trust the map, that’s what we’ll do. Never got my head round ‘em, though. How does paper know where to go? And the people who draw ‘em, how do they know they’re getting the lines right?’

It was a mystery to be left unsolved. Before Luth could provide an explanation Frithjofr strode off through the snow, welling up over his boots, through the slits in his armour and down against his ankles without causing him any visible discomfort. He did stop when the frost started to stain his socks, but it was only to frown again, this time at his companion, and start tugging at the shoulders of his bag. A short struggle produced his tunic and he held it forwards with a smile.

‘Bosmer might be good at feelings, but Nords’re good at snow,’ he said. ‘‘S more important, when you think about it. Being lost doesn’t matter, but dying of cold does. This’ll keep you warm, though. Don’t worry. ‘S only got a few chicken feathers in it.’

[lostnord]

Wake up the sleepy Nord!

I’m looking to get things moving on this blog again, but I can’t do that without people to interact with. Is anybody interested in a thread with Frithjofr?

Or, for that matter, does anybody have a thread with him which I have been neglecting? I know I owe Grace a reply (having only discovered it today, I am so sorry).

[lostnord]

sieralon said:

((I miss frithy too. :c It would be awesome to have he and Sier adventure again. That was one of my favorite rps.))

((Then why don’t we? I want to get this blog moving again! Would Frith still know Sier now that he’s been overhauled, or would we be starting from scratch?))

[lostnord]

The difference between a hero and a coward is that the hero tells more lies;       the difference between a hero and a coward is that the hero is the one who dies.

  Sunrise of Flutes, Jeremy Soule -- Two Figures in the Snow, Nerina Pallot -- Ged a Sheòl Mi Air M' Aineol, Julie Fowlis -- Harvest Dawn, Jeremy Soule -- Nord Mead, Miracle of Sound -- Eleven, Nerina Pallot -- Reign of the Septims, Jeremy Soule -- My Personal Demons, Darius Greene -- Jauffre Jam, m0gdred -- Run Honey Run, Morcheeba -- Glory of Cyrodiil, Jeremy Soule -- Cloudy, Simon & Garfunkel -- Through the Valleys, Jeremy Soule -- Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud), The Beautiful South -- The Fool on the Hill, The Beatles -- Not Yet, Gladiator -- I Feel Better, Gotye -- Light A Roman Candle With Me, fun. -- Stupidly Happy, XTC -- Time in a Bottle, Jim Croce -- Being Around You, Joey Fehrenbach -- All’s Well, Jeremy Soule

                                                                                (But no matter where I run,                                                                                   my mind will stay with you.)

[scalesandsecrets]

lostnord started following you

Oh, why did these things always have a tendency to turn into such a bother? A slight grit of his teeth as Nor glances down at the parchment held between his hands, a weary sigh following shortly after. When was he going to learn when it came to enchanting job drop-offs and getting decent directions to said drop-offs? It’s enough to elicit an almost growl from the assassin’s throat, Nor’s gaze shifting down the path when he suddenly catches sight of just possibly his ticket out of this annoyance. Assuming the other person knew their way around their current area, of course.

“Ah, excuse me sir?” Nor calls out, the Argonian features shifting into a light smile. He knew well how easily his face could show his irritation, so no sense making the other think he was angry with them. “Perhaps you could help me. I’m meeting a person in a particular spot, but I am having some difficulties locating said spot. Are you any good with directions, by chance?”

[lostnord]

This was not expected. Upon finally sighting another person Frithjofr had determined, whoever they were, to see if they knew their way about and had set off towards them accordingly; to be met halfway and asked exactly the question he was rehearsing himself was not a part of the plan.

‘Uh...’

He scratched his chin and looked around. Local landmarks consisted of rocks, more rocks, a slightly less interesting rock formation and a large, lone rock. They could be anywhere in Skyrim. Anywhere in Cyrodiil, for that matter.

‘Kind of depends what you mean by “good”,’ he said cautiously. ‘Me and directions’ve got a funny sort of relationship. I like ‘em, and I’ve heard a lot of ‘em, but they never seem to work for me.’

[sneakylittleelf]

Luth couldn’t help but giggle, a giddy little laugh as she was only barely containing her excitement. It was going to be an adventure, and the thought of forgetting all the serious and depressing things that filled her mind lately was very appealing. 

“Yes, let’s!” She started out the door and down the stairs, casting only one scornful glance at the group of Nords. She stopped at the counter to purchase some food. Hard bread rolls, cheese, apples, and dried meat all packaged up and stowed away into the Bosmer’s satchel. She also bought a couple bottles of wine.

Before heading to the road, Luth stopped by her house to get more supplies. She packed light, bringing only essentials like armor, her bow, a canteen of water, several poisons in small little bottles. All the things she normally took on trips. It was all carefully arranged in her lightweight satchel, and her bow slung across her back. She adjusted it as she made her way out of the city towards the wagon.

[lostnord]

The ride itself was peaceful. The rumble of the wagon, combined with the steel armour clanking every time the wheels crossed something larger than a twig, made conversation impossible, which didn’t stop Frithjofr from chattering away to himself. The occasional phrase which did make itself heard suggested that it was a small mercy Luth wasn’t required to come up with an answer to his rambling.

It was when they were halfway to Winterhold, not long past Windhelm, that the inevitable happened. Frithjofr’s instructions to the driver that they be taken “somewhere up north, y’know, where all the real snow is ‘n stuff” were not, it seemed, as precise as they could have been. Their coin brought them to a quiet road cut out of a snowdrift, where the driver wished them luck, shook his reigns and trundled away towards dry land.

Frithjofr struggled out of the waist-high snow he had landed in and, undeterred by the howls which could have been the wind or could have been wolves, grinned at Luth.

‘Which way now, d’you think? I’m thinking that way.’ He poked a finger towards a frosty bush. ‘I got a good feeling about that way, ‘n you can always trust a feeling.’

[sneakylittleelf]

Judging by the impressed look on her face, Luth either didn’t notice the scuffs and dents, or just didn’t care. She leaned back on her heels and let out a slow whistle as she looked him over.

"Goodness, Frithy. You look like a proper knight."

A moment of hesitation followed as she worried that her compliment might encourage him to rush into danger under the impression that a suit of armor would replace years of training. She gave him a serious look, brow furrowed, hands on her hips. “But I still want you to be extra careful, and don’t get into any fight that can be avoided. Understand?”

[lostnord]

He nodded, armour clanking with each movement.

'Aye, of course. I prefer being alive to being dead anyway. Nobody ever talks to you if you're dead, and 's probably painful as well. Don't know why anybody does it.'

It was the closest Luth was going to get to solemn assurance, and once it was out of the way Frithjofr started to grin. Despite his promise, and despite his cowardice, the promise of an adventure was too exciting to be dulled by mere thoughts of inevitable human mortality.

'Now let's go. We got a shrine to find.'