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Unbound Familiar

An avid gamer nerd's dreams come true in another brutal yet lucky? fashion. Follow him as he does his best not to die in laughably humiliating ways, all while trying to escape his abrupt and unwanted servitude. Will his knowledge of the world he finds himself help him succeed? Will he return home? Will evolve past his title of 'Dog'? Read and find out! This will be another multiversal world-hopping story, similar to my other one, EBW. I'll not spoil the surprise of the first world, but Skyrim will eventually be involved... And no, I'll not be adhering to plot, instead destroying it and hopefully not butchering the original story in the process. Feel free to join my Discord : https://discord.gg/EJxRKkwtDm Also, if you enjoy my stories, want to read ahead, and or support me. Take a look at my Patreon : https://www.p.atreon.com/Nagross Also, I've 'borrowed' the picture from : greenmapple17, on Deviant Art.

Niggross · Diễn sinh trò chơi
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Galvanizing Presence

*Bzzzchou!*

A Teleportation Gate opens up on the outskirts of Falkreath as three people step out of it. "Huh, this is different." Michael mutters as he stands on a ledge that overlooks the city of Falkreath. Unlike before, the place had already been fortified to some extent, with makeshift log walls having been set up around the city, and rickety guard towers to accompany them.

"At least they're preparing to fight, I thought we might have had to fight alone again." Tiffania adds from the side.

Megumin glances at them, "You've done this before?"

The duo shrug, "Kind of, we've always been on the attacking side though." Michael says before trailing off as he notices something odd, "What's that?"

...

"Furred blue armour?" Megumin says, "Is there something off about them? Ooh, are they a famous band of adventurers? Or maybe bandits?"

Michael chuckles but shakes his head, "I mean, some would say so. They're Stormcloaks, men serving under Ulfric Stormcloak. Their traits are being Nords and not liking Elves... That's about it come to think of it..." he says, not mentioning the way Tiffania raises her hood, it not doing anything to hide her ears due to the hood's design...

"Are we not going to help then?" the explosion girl asks.

"Of course we're going to help. It might just be annoying to deal with the Stormcloaks while we're there though." he says, grabbing the duo and casting Arctic Wind to glide down to the ground under the ledge.

The duo walks around and finds themselves standing outside of the makeshift gate leading into Falkreath, a Stormcloak soldier standing there with a bow at the ready.

"Hey, I'm Michael, we've been asked to come here by the Jarl? Think you could let us inside?"

The guard squints at them suspiciously, their grey robes giving him more pause than he'd usually have. It takes a while waiting for the guards to go back and forth between the gate and the Jarl, but soon enough Michael and his companions are walking into the Jarl's Longhouse.

Inside they're escorted by a servant into a backroom where Jarl Dengeir, a few of his Thanes, and some representatives of the Stormcloaks were waiting. The Jarl immediately notices Michael and goes to greet him however, ignoring regular procedure entirely.

"Michael! Did you get my letter or have you just come to visit? From what I know a horse from Winterhold should have taken half a week!" he loudly says while clasping Michael's arm in a friendly manner.

Er...

Shaking his head, Michael returns the gesture and gives a firm squeeze to Dengeir's forearm in return, "You're right, the Courier reached us as we were coming to visit. Didn't think we'd be walking into a warzone, to be honest."

"What luck!... For me at least. Maybe you and your friends should look into finding a four-leaf clover of something. Who's the new girl?" he suddenly asks, looking at Megumin.

Michael answers before she can start shouting some chuuni shit again, "That's Megumin. Charlotte and Illococoo would be here but, they've got other things to attend to. They say 'Hi' by the way." he explains, not wanting to risk offending the Jarl with something so small.

Dengeir nods, satisfied. "I'll ask this first, do you wish to help Falkreath? I'm sure we could handle ourselves without it, but, I've been wanting to smack some heads together for a while now. Are you in?"

Michael nods, "Of course. What's with your 'visitors' though..." he asks, subtly nodding his head at the Stormcloaks in the room.

"Them? Hah! Get this! I sent word to Solitude to have some soldiers sent, but they refused! The High King said that 'some bandits and rebels' weren't enough to muster troops." he gives a dry spit to the floor, "Bah! I know it's those fuckin' Elves holding things up again!" he says, before noticing Tiffania's ears and wetting his lips with an apologetic look, "Force of habit... No offence intended."

Tiffania shakes her head, "None taken... From what I've heard, the Thalmor deserve the hatred they've garnered."

Dengeir nods enthusiastically, "She's a keeper, lad, don't let some pounce poach her under your nose!"

Michael smiles and smacks Tiffania's ass, causing her to give a quiet yelp as a pinch response, all while Megumin blushes at their antics, "No problems there, my Jarl. She holds my heart and I hold her ass."

"M-Michae-" Tiffanias starts but the group is interrupted as the largest fur-wearing man in the room calls them over, "Stop lolly-gagging already, we've got a war to win!"

"Ah, right." Dengeir mutters, bringing the trio over to the table which held a map of the region, "This is Galmar Stone-Fist, Housecarl of Ulfric Stormcloak and overseer of the Stormcloak forces."

Galmer nods with crossed arms, "Hail, you're that foreigner, Michael, yes? I've heard of you... Fighting off Trolls with the Companions in Whiterun and hunting dark wizards in Winterhold. You're making quite the name for yourself."

"Huh, didn't think people bothered to notice..."

"The Stormcloaks notice. Missing talent is the Empire's territory." Galmar says while ignoring Tiffania and Megumin and looking over at Nenya, the Jarl's Steward and long-time friend. "Elf, grab us some drinks. This might take a while."

"Pardon? Nenya retorts, offended by the man's words and overall demeanour.

"Galmar, hold your tongue and stop insulting my Steward. Save your prejudice for those who deserve it." Dengeir growls and Galmar just nods neutrally.

"Er, should I be here, Jarl?" Michael asks. He knew he wasn't near important enough to be present for this kind of thing.

Dengeir just shrugs, "Your choice. Having your input might help or might not. You can go with Nenya and we'll talk later if you like."

Michael nods, "I'll do that. Leave the guys who know what they're talking about to sort out the tactics." he jokes before following the Altmer out. He had no wish to get involved with the higher-ups. Having his name mentioned by the people in this room might attract the attention of other more annoying Nobles. Not to mention the fact that Ulfric might try to recruit him.

Hope you bois liked the chap, if I missed anything please let me know. Thanks!

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