Lordt, The Skyrim Chronicles. “Stenvar,…Stenvar?”

It was just another typical day in Skyrim, except on this morning I had to send the Housecarl Lydia back to the kitchen in Dragonsreach. Honestly, her bungling is consistent and it was high time I took up the search for a more able strong-arm to aid my cause. Though, I must admit, my cause is yet, if ever, to be discovered.

I set off immediately for Windhelm, specifically because I had heard rumours that an elite swordsman by the name of Stenvar often frequented one of the taverns there.

Upon arrival it wasn’t hard to find the man I was looking for.

I entered the Candlehearth Inn and drew up a chair as I surveyed the room. As I looked from face to face I considered the rumour I had heard to be wrong. That was until I noticed a maniac sitting at a table in the far corner. He was on his own and I probably would have passed him by if it wasn’t for the size of his sword and the shine off his bald head. He caught my eye and my first instinct was to get the hell out of there. But I stopped myself and made my way over to his table.

Without preamble, Stenvar introduced himself and mentioned that for a piffling five hundred gold he’d come and work for me. Done.

On the road out of Windhelm Stenvar already paid for himself by running wildly at anything that moved within a hundred yards of me, be it animal, vegetable of mineral.

Our travels took us far and wide, but were largely uneventful. That is until we heard of a quest…

I’ll spare you the specifics, but the short of it saw Stenvar and myself travel towards a particularly grim Dungeon in Volunruud.

Needless to say, we summarily slew the guards, looted the chests and barged our way in the front, and only, door.

Our journey was tedious…We were looking for a shady character by the name of Kvenel the Tongue. Apparently he had a good sword or something, but that was enough for me. By all accounts our chances we slim, and once I saw what we faced down there, I realised it was time for Stenvar to take point.

A brief argument about that for five hundred gold I would expect Stenvar to hang himself if I said so saw the brute lead the way into a large chamber with a rather pissed off looking, and I assume, Kvenel the Tongue lounging in a crude throne.

Had I led the way, we may have had the element of surprise, but then again…perhaps not. Anyhow, events unfolded at an alarming rate and before I knew it, not only had Kvenel the got up off his arse to offer up front row tickets to a disembowelling contest for Stenvar and I, but his olde chum, a late and great Draugr Scourge decided to join and invite Mr. Anti-Social the Frost Atronach along for the party.

I’m not sure exactly how much time had passed before Stenvar realised I was half way down the corridor trying to ring the faeces out of my britches, but much to my surprise the bald headed maniac actually gave as good as he got. My brow rose.

As I saw the tables turning I decided it was perhaps a good idea for me to get involved. Casting my trousers aside and rummaged through my pack and found a scroll of fireball conveniently placed at the top. Swheet.

Logic would dictate that fire would melt ice, and seeing as the giant before me dealing out punishment was made of ice, or rather frost, why not throw some heat at it?

Turns out there was a good reason for that…

As luck would have it at the precise moment I loosed the fireball, Stenvar smashed the thing into smithereens. This meant that instead of the fireball hurtling into the Frost Atronach it hit Stenvar square in the chest and sent him into the clawing arms of the waiting Draugr Scourge and ever-cheerful Kvenel the Tongue.

Well its all fun and games until someone looses his temper…and takes a fireball to the chest.

Stenvar went berserk, and I’d like to think that his rage was directed at my enemies, but I think he was perhaps trying to fend them off as much to get to me as to hurt them. Whatever his motive, the greatsword he carried dealt a lot of damage in a shockingly short space of time and had I had a video camera to film the event, I would have.

I saw victory on the horizon and wanted to get in on the glory. I ran down the corridor like a man possessed, dual daggers at the ready and a potion of strength already making its way down my throat. This was it; brothers in arms, warriors side by side, companions… victors!

There was about a minute of hacking, slashing, some further hacking, followed by a little more slashing until eventually I realised the battle had stopped.

I thrust my fist up into the air in triumph and sheathed one of my daggers. The other had been wrung from my grasp at some point during the melee. In the heat of the moment I thought it appropriate to turn and hi-five the warrior Stenvar, to make up for my earlier mistake with the fireball.

“Stenvar!” I cried, joyously. “Stenvar” I said normally. “Stenvar?” I asked quietly. I took a step to see if he was down the corridor and as I moved my foot hit something heavy, a helmet, Stenvar’s helmet to be precise.

I looked down to see the butchered corpse of not only the Draugr Scourge, the Frost Atronach, Kvenel the Tongue, but also that of Stenvar the unlucky. A dagger was sticking out of his back… My dagger.

I looked around to make sure nobody else had witnessed what happened. I searched the area and looted what chests and enemies I could find. Then I looked down at poor Stenvar and looted him too.

As I made my way out of the dungeon back to the fresh air of Skyrim I hefted a large coin purse in my hand. By my best guess it contained a little over five hundred gold pieces.

You just can’t get the staff these days.

~Lordt.

Stenvar

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Lordt, the Elder Scrolls Online Chronicles. “An Intimate Relationship with Foliage”

It had been a lean Christmas in the Blacke household and whilst no gifts were left beneath the tree I was intrigued by the questionable meat sack draped over the mantle.

I decided to take a morning walk through the “streets” of Shadowfen, clutching my sack with both hands.

As I rummaged inside for what can only be politely described as “some foul meat” I heard footsteps behind me.

Within seconds I was de-bagged and radished before finding myself searching for the nearest bush to retain what modesty I had left.

That afternoon was a cold one, but not wholly unpleasant.

As I peered out from behind a large fern I was privy to conversations and transactions that were perhaps not meant for general observation. Of course, the one thing I was not privy to was indeed a privy and it had gotten to that point…If I had to push back my mid-morning dump any further I was in danger of coughing up excrement.

I chose a spot near a well-to-do tailor I used to purchase fine wares from back in my prime. Despite the quality of the gear he was touting I knew the guy had hygiene issues and the stench of the contents of my bowels sitting in a bush near him would probably go unnoticed.

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. And whilst the man roved over to take a closer look as to what was befouling his day’s business I seized the opportunity to relive the man of some of his stock. Sadly the stall seemed bereft of certain items that I needed; namely trousers and indeed a belt. I reasoned that there was little need of one without the other and so I went on my merry way, striding out into the street of Stormhold looking like last year’s reject from Tamriel’s worst dressed clown competition.

Still, at least I had my dignity. Or did I?

Mere minutes after skipping down the path I heard shouting behind me. It was the irate shop keep.

A nearby guard spun on her heels and grabbed me forthwith and without preamble.

I soiled myself there and then.

The guard demanded to see my coin purse and that I pay a fine for my crimes and to recompense the shop keep. I suppose in hindsight she didn’t mean my ball-bag; My mistake.

The next thing I knew the shop keep had stripped me of my newly acquired clothes and I was back to doing my best Lady Godiva impression.

I wish I’d been given some Socks…

~Lordt.

 

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Lordt, the Elder Scrolls Online Chronicles. “Lute-Ocalypse”

A delicate collection of pieces performed on the Lute.

Please forgive the enthusiastic crickets and grasses in the background. Anyone who has played this game will know it is surprisingly difficult to find somewhere “silent”, or free from lunatics going berserk for no reason. As it is I had a Dolmen to contend with during these recordings.

Still, they are rather peaceful and I hope you enjoy.

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Lordt, The Gears of War Chronicles. “Lever That Alone”

Marcus and I had been battling for what felt likes weeks. In reality it must only have been hours, since despite our size neither of us had felt the desire to take a shit or eat anything.

After having slain the enemy down to what appeared to be the last grub and revived each other so many times it was bordering on a fetish, we had developed a strong companionship and one that saw us continually looking out for each other’s back.

We’d had a recent tip-off that the enemy General Raam was onboard a train that would be passing us by any moment. As it roared past, Marcus and I hopped on board, leaving two lunatics on the platform staring at our silhouettes as we raced off into the distance. Or was it the other way around?

On board we took the opportunity to rev up our lancers and visit the Sunday carvery, consisting chiefly of Lambent Wretches. Delicious.

Progressing forward old habits reemerged as I found myself pushing a button for no reason. Seconds later and half a dozen metal canisters piled past Marcus, just inches from his face and groin. The look he gave me suggested that I think again before touching anything else.

True to my word as we made our way up the train I took pains to avoid any and all buttons, levers and switches allowing Jack to do the honours whilst I scratched my sack. I even managed to avoid filling a large canister full of lead, so I was feeling pretty good about myself and my new leaf, recently turned.

That’s when the Berserker made an appearance. As she approached I broached.

I couldn’t help by wonder where she had come from, since the train had been empty up until that point and I’m pretty sure we would have noticed if she had tried to smuggle away in one of the vestibule areas and/or toilet cubicles.

Anyway, before we became pulped, Markus had an idea of how to rid ourselves of the nuisance with a plan to run past the beast onto a separate cart whilst timely releasing the former trailer, therefore staving off an impromptu trip to the morgue.

And I have to say It was a great plan and, for the most part, well executed.

Markus sped past the beast, as did I before we hung around the threshold of the cart waiting to lure the Berserker in. I loosed off a few rounds to get its attention and hovered near the release button. As she lunged in and crossed the gap onto the next cart I shouted in triumph, firmly pressing (And I remember it was very firm) the button and watched the carriage disappear into the distance.

Strangely enough, on a back glance I thought I saw Markus, slumped over the railings of the released carriage, although it was hard to tell since whomever it was had been half-pulped by the Berserker in due course.

With the mission accomplished there was only one thing left to do and that was to get the Raven out of dodge. There was no point in faffing around with General Raam anyway since the train was doomed to go over a precipice.

I spared a brief thought for Markus until I remembered that his loss was very much my gain. Not only would I no longer have to look at his oversized neck, I’d also likely be eating double rations back at the mess and could look forward to a nice, long BM.

~ Lordt

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Lordt, the Far Cry Chronicles. “C4 At the Door”

As I removed my eye from the rim of the scope my lips curled up in silent satisfaction.

“Would you remove that shit-eating grin?” Hurk asked.

I saw no reason to do so and held the pose before loading another round into the chamber of my Predator sniper rifle and deftly executing another sentry.

However, my smugness was short-lived, since the Fortress ahead of us was not populated by sentries alone. They were but the icing on the cake, if that. Somewhere behind those walls would be men-at-arms, lunatics, heavies and no doubt the customary mortar these guys seemed so obsessed with. To be honest, if I had access to one, I would be too.

We needed a plan to get inside and if the slumped corpses of the trio of sentries I’d reamed hadn’t already given the game away, the RPG on my shoulder might.

“Wait, I’ve an idea” Hurk said, ill-advisedly placing his hand on the end of the rocket to lower the launcher.

He nodded over to the truck we’d just exited.

To be fair, I’m surprised our arrival hadn’t already alerted every fortress and outpost within a fifty mile radius. We had burnt the clutch out, ragged the engine and basically skidded to a stop at the end of the driveway before piling into the shrubbery.

Yet somehow no one seemed to notice a damn thing.

It took me a while to get Hurk’s meaning. He’d not long been savaged by a Honey Badger and I had suspected it was beginning to affect his performance.

But then the penny dropped.

Seconds later we were packing the trunk of the van with C4 like the stuff was going out of fashion.

The plan was to release the handbrake on the truck and send it through the front door like an unwelcome guest.

Naturally the plan hit a snag when we realized the incline on the road was nonexistent and the truck stayed put.

There was only one thing for it. One of us, and by which I mean Hurk, would have to drive the vehicle hurtling towards the front gates and then abandon ship mid-way, leaving the vehicle to careen helplessly to its doom.

It was a perfect plan that could not possible fail.

…At least until we executed it.

Now, I’m not an unkind man, but I do have a certain reputation. But before I could wish my pal good luck and to be careful not to drive over any mines he…drove over a mine.

As I watched the mushroom before me cloud reach skyward from the comfort of a nearby grassy knoll I noticed the crisp husk of a man looking back at me from the wreckage. Those cold, dead eyes were fixed on one thing; the detonator in my hand.

What must he have thought?

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Lordt, The Splinter Cell Chronicles. “Silent and Smooth”

We’d entered Yastreb Archives with the aim of being silent and smooth, as always.

After all, all we had to do hack some computers.

The reality involved a broken chandelier, a dozen empty magazines, two dozen dead guards and 2 pairs of brown trousers.

It’s difficult to pinpoint where it all went wrong, but I suspect it was during the stage when my companion was sneaking around on the edge of a balcony and I thought I’d “help him out” by poppin’ a cap into the head of a guard approaching his position.

I hadn’t shared my plan. I just thought I’d do it and then look smug when the guard slumped over the balcony next to him. Besides, I knew my companion had a penchant for non-lethal combat if at all possible and to be honest, I don’t buy that, even from Batman.

So I took aim and fired, silencer on of course.

I missed and clipped an enormous chandelier.

I crowned as the chandelier decided if it wanted to drop or not and I saw my companion turn as he heard the unmistakable chink of bullet upon chain/glass.

And then it fell.

And not only did it fall, it fell on a group of guards hanging out beneath it, showering them in glass but otherwise only serving to alert them as to our presence.

Seconds later my companion fell from the balcony. I say fell, he was pushed by the guard that I had failed to take down.

I suppose the saving grace here was that we were now in a darkened section of the vast room, albeit teeming with guards. I mean, there were a LOT of guards; so many guards in fact that I considered fucking off.

But then I remembered my pay check, or lack thereof if I abandoned the mission at this critical time.

I stormed over with not 1 but 2 syringes of adrenalin and let him have one in both sides of the groin.

He was hard for hours.

The room became a warzone. Our “quiet” approach had turned into the usual massacre. Oh well, at least now we could go loud.

I brought out the sub-machine gun and stitched a human outline around a marble pillar of the guard I was shooting at. Eventually I needed to reload and I hit the deck as he returned fire.

I saw my companion take cover too. He gave me a withering look.

“The hacking” he hissed. “let’s get it done and get out of here!”

I signaled with hand gestures that the next room looked empty and that we should hold up in there for the moment. He nodded in recognition and we burst in like we owned the joint.

It was full of guards and as I had tactically let my companion enter first he was cut down like a corn stalk.

I opted to stay out of the room and poked my head round the corner. 4 of them, and my companion looked dead.

Shit.

I reloaded and kneecapped one of them. While I had their attention I noticed my companion sit up like The Undertaker and switch off the light.

There was some kind of kerfuffle and when the light came back on everybody was dead.

I used a third shot of adrenalin on my companion, this time directly to the tip, and then one on myself for giggles.

There was a moment’s respite. All the guards in the area had bought it and it seemed as though those remaining had clustered around the data units we were required to infiltrate.

Great.

“Quietly” my companion said.

I nodded and we both shimmied up the pillars and hung off the balconies.

To be honest I was somewhat surprised at how anyone with so much adrenalin inside them could still function.

As we hung off the balcony I noticed a bulge in the crotch of his trousers. I hadn’t needed to see that and it ruined the whole evening for me.

Next we split up and took a sector each in order to hack the terminals. Apparently all we needed to do was to get near the computers and we could transmit wirelessly. The closer we got the quicker it would be.

A natural coward I had already tried accessing the data in the car park, but it just wasn’t working.

I could see my companion near his 2 terminals, just below, hanging off the balcony. He silently crept up and choked out the guard nearby, setting the data transfer off and giving us a time limit.

We had a minute left for me to complete my hacking and 2 guards were camped beside the computers.

I hung off the balcony and waited. The transfers had begun, but were painfully slow. I couldn’t risk taking on both guards so close to completing our goal. With any luck the hack would complete and I could lower safely down and out the back door.

But no. There just wasn’t time.

10 seconds left and only 80% hacked.

We were fucked.

At the last second I pulled myself up over the balcony and the transfer shot up, completing but 1 second before the deadline. I more or less fell into the computer stack and the guards rumbled my straight away.

I leapt back over the balcony leaving a trail of shit behind me. That was close.

As the guards swung around with their torches my companion had the misfortune to be just rounding the corner.

Needless to say, a 4th shot of adrenalin was summarily needed.

Having taken down the two guards from behind and saved my companion AND having just completed the data transfer I was feeling pretty good.

Hands on hips I stood on the balcony and surveyed the scene.

“Yup… Silent and smooth as always”

 

~Lordt

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Lordt, The Splinter Cell Chronicles. “Looks Like Somebody Got Some Smoke Grenades for Christmas!”

It had been a lean Christmas in the Fisher household this year and true to form Santa had at forgotten to place the deployable minigun that I had requested (in a hand written and wax sealed letter for 6 years running) under the tree.

It was then, whilst trying to order some cheap Dutch female mud-wrestling videos over the internet that I found that my credit card had been declined.

Boxing Day ruined.

After spending then next few minutes inscribing “FML” on Facebook and looking at photographs of everyone’s Christmas dinner that I decided to pay a visit to the bank to see what the problem was. They’d be open on Boxing Day, right?

I’d spent longer than I had intended in Poundland, having taken full advantage of their 10% sale and saving myself well in excess of 10p on the mornings essentials.

I then heard a call from my friend. Turning around I saw he was rather grim faced. It transpired that he too was unable to purchase the aforementioned mud-wrestling videos and that his Boxing Day was also a complete write-off. Conveniently, we shared the same bank so decided to go together.

It was a bit of a mission since the bank was based in Panama, but we shared a bag of Haribo on the way which made the hours just fly by.

En route I also idly considered the idea of changing my name to $am Fi$her, but my companion informed me this was a perfect way to be a cunt, so I decided against it.

The Bank.

I must say staff were a little surprised when my companion and I rocked up at the MCAS Banco de Panama at 11am on a Thursday morning.

It may have been something to do with the AK47 strapped to my back, or the fact that I was erect due to the AK47 strapped to my back. Either way, they weren’t letting us in.

I tried to explain, as did my companion. All we wanted was to watch some quality mud wrestling on Boxing Day and if the female members of staff would just like to remove all their clothes and crawl into the mud, even the gutter would do, then we would happily be on our way and would address the declined cards in the morning.

Their response was unanimous in its indifference, save for one enterprising character who at least took the time to inform us that not only did the bank have no female members of staff but that the remaining men would not be willing to drape themselves into the gutter for our personal entertainment.

Well. For my riposte I informed the guards that I had some dirt on their current manager Hugo and if they all wanted to still have a job in the morning they had best open up.

The most access I saw in those next few minutes included a man’s anus as he mooned us and then the guards holed up and said we weren’t getting our money.

It was then my companion and I went to work.

Carefully infiltrating the building through a network of lift shafts and air conditioning units we entered the main sales floor at sometime just after midday.

The room was teeming with guards ad we were lit up like a Christmas tree as the Sun poured in and silhouetted us against the windows.

Taking time to close the blinds we then opened fire and the room quickly filled with shattered glass, bullets and faeces.

Hunkered down behind a filing cabinet with my companion it was then I realised that I had indeed soiled myself. It was a shame since for my trip to Panama I had opted to wear my best slacks, not having expected the day to take such a downward turn, despite having turned up locked and loaded, as well as pre-lubed.

“What are we going to do!?” shouted my companion as he fired a few suppressing rounds at the enemy over the top of the cabinet.

“I have a plan” I responded.

It was a ploy I had used many time before and had failed me on more than one occasion. I thought I heard my companion sigh as I lowered my gun and reached for the grenades.

With two hands I was able to throw at twice the speed, instantly filling the room with small cylindrical devices. It was then that I noticed I had left the frags at home and had just thrown 6 smoke grenades into a confined space. In hindsight I suppose it could have been worse…

“Shit”

My partner and I hit the deck and began to choke as the place fogged up forthwith…and I’m not talking about the stench from my recently soiled slacks.

The gunfire seemed to lessen until all that remained was one guy as he commando rolled across the floor for no reason, uttering the immortal phrase “Looks like somebody got some smoke grenades for Christmas!”

I had, in fact, received the grenades in this year’s stocking.

It looked like Father Christmas had fucked things up once again.

Git.

~Lordt

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Lordt Pays Tribute to ROTH.

I’m just going to take a moment here to pay tribute to one of the best games I think I’ve ever played. It was so good, in  fact, that I didn’t cheat.

The game?

Realms of the Haunting.

What an epic…The first game I ever bought for PC. Terrifying, Clever, Interesting and HARD. And tonight it has ended. If you don’t mind old graphics, do yourself a favour. http://www.gog.com/game/realms_of_the_haunting

Further info can be found on a fantastic fan page at: http://www.realmsofthehaunting.com/

roth

 

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Lordt, The Splinter Cell Chronicles. “The Human Colander”

We made our way quietly over the perimeter fencing. I say quietly, when really I mean we made enough noise to wake a drugged corpse, but the matter is moot, since we remained unnoticed anyhow.

We arrived at a small bunker in which a lone guard ran laps trying to work off some of last night’s vindaloo. I didn’t take long before my companion had choked him senseless and stuffed him in the corner.

Before the guy had even hit the ground I was rappelling down the missile shaft as though someone had greased the ropes told me I was on the Crystal Maze. I landed in a heap at the bottom, fortunately on top of an unsuspecting guard. A look from my partner told me I had gotten away with something stupid…

I punched the button for the nearby lift with perhaps more energy than was necessary and as both of us wanted to be first down into the bunker we got wedged in the doorway.

“WILL YOU MOVE!?” My partner demanded, more than asked.…

I complied and we made our way down.

In the corridor below I noticed a fee figures up ahead, and a pipe above. Perfect.

Moments later I felt something hit me in the groin. My partner had had the same idea as me and I had blocked his motion to grab onto the piping. This did not go wholly unnoticed by the guards and it was a near thing that my companion got behind a wall in time as they pulled out their flashlights.

A few neck snaps later and we felt much better about ourselves as we stuffed the limp corpses of the guards into the lift and sent them skywards. I was sure to empty their pockets of any spare ammunition, weaponry, grenades, loose change and sticks of gum before we moved on.

Next we climbed into a vent at the end of the corridor and I began to feel like a sausage stuffed into too smaller skin. As my partner broke wind in my face my eyes did weep. Perhaps it was an accidentally deployed teargas grenade. Or perhaps it was just the remnants of some bad scampi.

Finally we reached some kind of lab…

We jumped down and beat the shit out of a scientist for no reason, then moved on into the next corridor where I Tomoe Naged my companion into a wall.

What awaited us was both horrific and comedic; More specifically horrific for my partner, and comedic for me.

A drone gun sat around the corner. We were doomed.

My companion had barely grabbed hold of the piping on the ceiling to circumnavigate the obstacle when I couldn’t resist poking my head round the corner to take a look.

What happened next was a form of process. One minute, my partner was crawling along a piece of ceiling piping. The next, he had become a human colander.

As his slumped and riddled body slid across the hallway with the momentum of the bullets I took a moment to chuckle before taking a moment to take a picture, and then take the piss.

I then pulled him back round the corner.

2 shots of adrenaline later and it was like it had never happened. I did, however, receive stern words for my troubles.

 “Let me put it this way. Aren’t you glad I resisted throwing any grenades?” I riposted.

~Lordt
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