#ma'dran

[madran-khajiit]

Here’s a screenshot of Ma’dran, in case you wanted another look at him. 

[red-king4]

[madran-khajiit]

2 Hearthfire 4E 201

Using his last money, Ma’dran has bought himself a cheap set of hide armour and an iron sword. It is time to go check on that bounty, if the offer is still up.

The Jarl’s hall is large and dominated by a big log fire and tables set for a feast. Curiously, all the chairs are empty save for two: one occupied by a young man who loudly introduces himself as the Jarl’s son, and another by a large man in heavy armour with a bright red cock’s bill for hair. The Jarl herself is a woman of middle age, red-headed too, who slouches in her seat. Her posture does her no favours when compared with the Altmer woman standing next to her, who is a giantess in comparison. 

“Speak, traveller. Clearly you’ve come to my court for a reason, now out with it.”

“I, well, your grace, I was wondering about... about that bounty”, Ma’dran says, unsure how to address a Jarl. 

“Oh, a bounty, you should speak to my steward for that, she handles these things. Anuriel, take care of him, please”, Jarl Laila Law-Giver says and makes a small gesture towards the towering Altmer. 

“As my Jarl said, my name is Anuriel and I am the steward here. I handle everyday matters for the Jarl. You wanted to know about the bounty for a bandit camp, yes?” Anuriel’s voice is more kind than Laila’s, but still very businesslike. 

Ma’dran just nods, not wanting to make a fool of himself. Inside his head a voice repeats: just a merchant’s son, don’t know a thing about courts, just get me out of here...

“The bounty is still available, if that was what you were here for”, Anuriel says. “Though know that you aren’t the first one to try, the Greenfell Keep lot are a tough bunch...” 

The road to the keep is short, and Ma’dran almost has time to forget about his terrible task on the way, because the sun is shining beautifully through the yellowing autumn leaves in the forest. 

The fortress itself is barely guarded at all, the lone guarding bandit asleep at her post, with several empty bottles around her. Ma’dran gets inside with surprising ease, and from then on it’s a matter of sticking to the shadows and ambushing them. The first bandit he kills, he feels sorry for, wondering what his parents would think if they knew what their son was up to. Not the second one. Every single movement of his is fast, every muscle taut as a bow-string, his heart beating a tattoo on his chest. The armour they wear look like his: cheap, strung-together provisorical solutions made out of iron, leather, hides, pelts. Their weapons are like his, too: the cheapest iron, barely better than pot-metal. They come at him with clubs and maces and hammers and daggers, and him against them with his thin little sword, no shield because the money ran out. They kick and punch and grapple and a fierce little Bosmer tries to bite, and he answers with memories of street fights in his youth and the sheer raw panic of I won’t die today. Eventually he makes his way to the tower where the bandit leader lives, roosting up there like some vulture, and this time the fight is very dicey indeed. Ma’dran manages to distract her by clawing at her eyes, making her scream and cry blood, and then he finds the spot and plunges his sword through her rawhide breastplate, again and again and again until he catches himself and stops. 

She’s dead, I did it, she’s dead, goes the refrain in his head, and he rummages through her pockets and the large chest containing the bandits’ spoils, finding gold and jewellery, an unusual-looking book and other trinkets and items. He tries not to think about the Khajiit couple dressed in merchant’s clothes whose bodies he saw in the cellar. Ma’dran puts everything that looks remotely valuable into his large leather satchel and begins the walk home on legs shaking with exhaustion.

[madran-khajiit]

DILL <3

Ma’dran picks up the bouquet lying on the bedside table and looks at it quizzically. It’s a bunch of dill, thick with flowers and spreading its herbal fragrance through the small inn bedroom. Who left this here? And what is he meant to do with it? He knows some flowers have meanings, like how a red rose means love, a nightshade means they want you dead, and so on. But dill, what sort of meaning could dill have? Maybe it has something to do with cooking, that someone wants him to cook something with it? Or perhaps it’s a hint at alchemy, that they want him to make them a potion of some sort? Very curious indeed.

[madran-khajiit]

Let's Play Skyrim! Episode 05 - Treasure Hunters | Ma'dran - Khajiit Adv...

[madran-khajiit]

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[madran-khajiit]

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[madran-khajiit]

Let's Play Skyrim! Episode 01 - Beginnings | Ma'dran - Khajiit Adventurer

Hello! This is the short little beginning episode of what's to be a series on the channel. My Skyrim game is modded, and I can provide a mod list if someone ...

Here is the first of Ma’dran’s adventures on YouTube. This blog runs parallel to the video series, and events happening here may or may not mirror what is happening in the video series.