Your character as the subject of a cheesy dime novel or penny dreadful.....Post the Title!

newtinmpls

In America they were called Dime Novels, In England the term was Penny Dreadfuls; cheesy lurid sensationalized short books (sometimes more like pamphlets) sometimes loosely based on an actual person (allegedly Wild Bill Hickok had a gift for self promotion only loosely related to actual facts).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dime_novel

Most of the "books" we find in-game are pretty short or summaries or excerpts anyway - this could be interesting.

For months my group had referenced the totally imaginary adventures of "Domino Fae the Pirate Queen" Then the other day a friend threw out a suggestion that his newer character had read "Rythe Rendel and the Orc Maidens" about a dashing dunmer who rescued and .... frolicked with a pair of lovely orsimer sisters.

Thing is - one of our group has a character by that name and this was a seriously bastardized and sensationalized version of something that happened in-game. But it would make a great little lurid dime novel.

So if the tales of your character were fictionalized into an in-game dime novel - What would the title be?

newtinmpls

Anyway:

Dragonknight Llandris and the Witch of the Reach
Dedicated Knight of the Order Draconis caught in the web of a Reachwoman who calls forth the souls of his dead foes to heal him. She leads him deep into the daedra infested ruined heart of the Imperial City - but is she truly an ally, or will she betray him?

newtinmpls

On my way to work (I bike, so I have a while to think of completely weird things)

Rythe Ryndel and the Serpent Queen's Serenade

Sellistrix had paused in her deadly song; that was all he knew for a moment. He struggled to rise, head pounding, gaze unfocused, blood trickling from his nostrils. Her crimson-scaled form swayed before him, and as he slowly focused on her, he could see the amusement, the contempt in her expression. But she had paused, and that would be her last mistake. His eyes narrowed and he took a breath to begin his own song. Learned in the knightly order that had awarded him the dragon tattoo, fueled by the fiery rage that was his Velothi heritage.

His song was fire.

.

edited to muck with the title. Still not entirely happy with it.

newtinmpls

Yes it's a necro, but the info technically isn't outdated....

And I found one in-game instance of someone who could go for a "Thrilling Tale of Adventure"



I so want this guy to get another Undaunted....

NorroenDyrd

I once pondered a scandalous trashy romance novel starring my Orc and Abnur Tharn

The title would be Chronicles of Tharnia.

NorroenDyrd

On second thought, the image I included in the post above (intended to be as a parody, but still showing a bit of skin) would probably violate the community rules on vulgarity. So here's an external link to it on my Tumblr blog instead. Perhaps you can get a good chuckle out of the ridiculousness!

newtinmpls

NorroenDyrd wrote: »

I once pondered a scandalous trashy romance novel starring my Orc and Abnur Tharn


The title would be Chronicles of Tharnia.

Oh. My. God.

You could totally put the "blurb" here, but yes, I think that the actual pic would be a bit much.

Wow.

My brain is broken.

Although...on consideration, it can't be just "a nebulous Orc" - please pick one in particular. After all, this could give a whole other layer of meaning to "Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

.

NorroenDyrd

No worries, it's not a nebulous Orc! It's a very specific Orc, an OC of mine! XD

newtinmpls

NorroenDyrd wrote: »

No worries, it's not a nebulous Orc! It's a very specific Orc, an OC of mine! XD

Hmmmm... so ... not Stuga.

Do tell more!

Ilsabet

Oh geez. Well depending on how sensationalized you want to get, and who was telling the story (read: not Ilsabet), you might end up with...

Ilsabet's Golden Night

...about her daring rescue of a certain dashing knight and what happens when the two of them finally get some alone time together...

(Ilsabet would be absolutely horrified to see something like that in print, incidentally. Please pay no attention to her sneaking off to read it where nobody can see her.)

newtinmpls

Tales from the Sybil of Grace

This would be the title not of a single story, but of short episodes of unlikely but devoted love and romance. There are a lot of indications that Dibella does not frown on some unorthodox unions, and indeed in ESO there are quite a few relationships that cross traditional gender (and even racial) likes.

Unlike the "Lusty Argonan Maid" these would likely focus more on the romance than the physical intimacy. There are a number of stories/letters in-game which might be interesting starting points:

https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Augustine_Viliane_Answers_Your_Questions

So as a tribute to the first of these that caught my imagination story-wise:

Saving the Feathered Mother's Eggs

The voice of the Hist woke Hears-Sap out of dreams of crying eggs. He woke, reaching instinctively for the weapon ready beside his bedroll. The echo of his dream still calling with an urgency now echoed by shrieks of rage and despair. Intent on aid, he kept to the Sithis-blessed shadows as he answered the cries for help.

Up a hill, around several trees, and still warded by shrubs, he saw a coarse and laughing group of hairy and oversized mer; Nords perhaps or maybe Orsimer. The sound of coarse laughter and the quiet zing of bowshot rang out. Two of them had weapons drawn, aiming uphill. The other was gathering up ... something. Somethings largish, ovoid, mottled.

The blood in his veins froze. They were gathering eggs. They were desecrating a nest.

"My Babies!" The feminine voice echoed the still-urgent call of the Hist in his dreams.

He looked up, following the line of bowshot, and saw her. Crimson plumage, chest heaving with rage, and luminous eyes filled with tears and desperation. Her gaze seemed to pull at his very being. This was why the Hist had woken him.

She was why he had come here. Not just here, following the cries for help, but here, to war, to join the Pact at all. How unexpected, to find another Argonian here.

And then her wings beat hard and she wove a bolt of lightning that reduced one of the bows to splinters and suddenly coiling string. She wasn't an Argonian at all. And that should have mattered.

But it didn't

newtinmpls

And from my bestie, as his Goblin Boy is talking himself up while waiting in queue for Battlegrounds:

Stone Fang, Hero of the Toothmaul
The trials and tribulations of a Paladin Goblin

StormeReigns

The Argonian popinjay Ginger Schnapps and the fenced Guar!
A Fantasy and Parody reads like a Musical Noir: Like mixing Gallivant + Dude where's my car!?

ZOS_Adrikoth

We love these titles that you've all come up with, keep em coming.

newtinmpls

Yeah sorta necro, but again, nothing is out dated.

I'd been thinking about the whole cheesy series of novels around my bestie's Dragonknight Rythe Ryndel Faryon (to give his full name); a totally swashbuckle-y character. We every so often throw out random "titles" (usually when in either Undaunteds or Delves, for some reason).

Anyway, I was mucking about with a necromancer character, then had her become a vampire, and you know how hard it is to get dunmer ladies to not look horrible and angry - well making this one a vamp undid all my work. Argh. So then in the process of looking to see if there was a skin that would look less horrific.

Turns out the Maomer skin does a decent job of getting her back to reasonable cuteness..



Which means there definitely has to be a backstory about Rythe and a Maomer maiden

newtinmpls

Oh, and here is Rythe in all his dunmer dragon-knight-y glory

newtinmpls

Work in progress, but:

My Mother in the Doorway

Finally home, Lolith paused at the doorway, head bowed briefly as a gesture of respect to the small wall shrine that marked the waiting door.

The tiny reflective circle caught her reflection; and some trick of the light centered on one of the scars she’d had all her life. She raised one hand to briefly touch her right cheek. She had been born with faint scarring along her cheekbones, and as she grew older, similar rough makings had developed along arms and lower back. Rather than conceal them, she dressed to display them. She was a Faryon and a Telvanni. She would not be cowed by the disdain of others.

She returned her attention to the shrine. Whispering words of reverence, Lolith lit a small branch of incense, and set it to burn. It was meet to greet and to thank the ancestors who stood as protection for her dwelling. She murmured aloud the final line of the litany of greeting:

“In that moment I saw the face of my ancestor /
And from that point onward, I was never afraid”

White smoke curled up from the incense, coiling and uncoiling like a serpent riding on the wind. For a moment Lolith could smell salt, and brine, and in the air was the tingle of ozone after a storm.

The smoke coiled again, and a white eyed, storm-haired woman smiled at her. A whisper unheard by her ears sounded loudly in her heart.

“You wear my face, daughter.”