Selection #1: A confrontation between Sovro and a drug dealer/slaver in a vampire den disguised as a skooma den. Dialogue in italics is repurposed vanilla dialogue.
Sovro: You. Girl. Have there been any new arrivals of any interest?
Dealer: You can buy from me. We’re not running a charity here.
Sovro: Yes, but is there any new product of worth here?
Dealer: This is the Redwater Den, purveyors of the best Skooma outside of Balmora.
Sovro: Listen, you pathetic creature. I am not here for skooma. Do not play dumb with me, or I will merely take you instead. Some fetchers find that sort of vapid attitude alluring. The answer is a simple yes or no. Have there been any new arrivals worth more than you?
Dealer: Well… so long as you don’t tell anyone.
Sovro: As long as you continue to deliver, your secret is safe with me.
Selection #2: Powerful Daedric Princes confront the player as they attempt to betray and sever their connection with them by destroying the artifacts they gave the player.
- Azura: The Black Star:
- (Dunmer): Give it to him, you faithless creature. If you ever hope to have my sisters and I look favorably upon you again, you must destroy this twisted abomination you created.
- Boethiah: Ebony Mail
- (Dunmer, Telvanni): If I didn’t believe you were serious, I would laugh. A Telvanni mage, giving up her/his power? For what? Morality? You are pathetic. Do this, and you will be lower than a scaled slave in my eyes.
- (Dunmer, Dres): You shame your house, my Dres Champion. You were meant to honor the Good Daedra. Yet you tolerate your companions’ service to Molag Bal, and now this?! I should swallow your house whole, and create a new order of shamed outcasts.
- (Dunmer, Redoran): Serving the Imperial gods, my Redoran Champion? That will not do. Do you fancy yourself some sort of Hlaalu wretch? I command you to stop before you spit upon all your ancestors have fought for.
- Mephala: Ebony Blade
- (Dunmer, not killed family, romance, or current follower): My sweet child… Is your faith in the Good Daedra so lacking? Have we not given you everything you desire? Oh? Do you want more? I can give you more. Your darkest desires… The blood you crave, spilling over your hands, into your mouth, staining your soul… The power you’ve always deserved, and too long been denied… The lover that could make your heart stop and start again with a single touch…
- Molag Bal: Mace of Molag Bal
- (Vampire Spawn): Wretched spawn. You think to defy the Lord of Domination?! Your un-life is nothing but kill or be killed. If you do not slaughter these Vigilants with my Mace, in my name, they will kill you. And then you will be mine, completely. I win either way. You are not so lucky.
- (Child of Coldharbour, as punishment): Oh, how I have longed to sink my claws into your soft flesh and rip you open once again… Do go on… Give the Vigilant the rusted remains of my Mace. He will kill you. And I will be waiting…
- (Child of Coldharbour, as blessing): My precious Champion… I am not a Prince you should betray. I was ever so gentle with you when I made you what you are. Defy me, and I will not be so soft, once these Vigilants are through with you…
- (Scion of Nighthollow): You never should have trusted Namira. She weakened you. And now you are so weak that you cannot even resist a mortal’s orders to strip you of the last bit of power you have. You might go to the Void. Or to the Dark Heart. But I hope you come to me. I would so love to have you back as my plaything.
- (Mannimarco-aligned Vampire): You pathetic creature… Your so-called god cannot save you from me. He could not even save himself from me. He has lied to you. I am the only one who has given you power, and without my Mace, I will make sure that you are nothing but a worm beneath my claws, just as your precious Mannimarco was and soon again will be…
- Sheogorath: Wabbajack
- (Mania): Ha! My boon companion! You must be mad to—Ha ha ha! Of course you are! Mad! You are mine, after all… But the Wabbajack?! Pah! A life without cheese?! No! A terrible thing! So terrible! Come back to Uncle Sheo. We will have such fun together!
- P: I can’t live without cheese! Don’t do this to me!
- P: I have to go see my Uncle right away!
- P: My Uncle said not to give you the fishy stick.
- P: Ha! Ha ha ha! Wabbajack! Wabbajack! Wabbajack!
- (Dementia): You would give someone the one spot of joy in your life? How… Selfless of you. But consider this… He is not like you. He might not be able to control the Wabbajack. Surely the moral thing to do is to keep it for yourself. Keep him safe. You’re the only one who is strong enough to carry this burden… Aren’t you…?
- P: Vigilant, stop. He’s going to hurt you if we go through with this. I must bear this curse.
- P: I can’t do this. It has to be me. I’m the only one who can talk to it.
- P: NO! It’s MINE! Don’t touch it! Don’t touch me! It’s all I have!
- P: (Sob uncontrollably and hold the Wabbajack, your sole comfort, tightly.)
- (Not Determined): Oh, poo. You’re being such a fastidious narwhal. No, no. I gave you the Wabbajack. It is YOURS. You must be the one to have it or it could get explosive. We couldn’t have that! Vigilant innards everywhere! Or we could! Ha! That could be fun!
- P (Any Amulet of the Divines equipped): Silence, Mad God! I’ll do as I please!
- Sheogorath: Oh? Do you think you do now? No, no, mortal. That isn’t how any of this works. Not one little bit! We have games to play yet, you and I. (Amulet turns to Amulet of Sheogorath, will kill you if removed.)
- P (Any Amulet of the Divines equipped): Silence, Mad God! I’ll do as I please!
- (Mania): Ha! My boon companion! You must be mad to—Ha ha ha! Of course you are! Mad! You are mine, after all… But the Wabbajack?! Pah! A life without cheese?! No! A terrible thing! So terrible! Come back to Uncle Sheo. We will have such fun together!
Selection #3: Sovro’s response to vanilla orc miner dialogue.
“I’m here to mine, outlander. So unless you want to dig, get out.”
Sovro: Me? Dig? Oh, no no. That’s what cattle like you are for.
Selection #4: From book 3 of my fantasy series, narrated Celeste, a cursed assassin as she relives one of her memories from her time in the Wild West.
I heard a woman scream, followed by a baby’s cry. Oh, shit, seriously? I hated when kids got involved. I heard her frantically shushing the child, to no avail, and followed the sound. I lowered my pistol, but kept it at the ready, in case this was some sort of act. The sound came from a large wardrobe. I angled my body to hide my pistol and opened it. She screamed again and curled around the baby.
“Look, we don’t want no trouble, all right?” The woman whimpered, not even looking up at me. “But we ain’t going back to you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wish I could say we ain’t any trouble, but I can at least tell you that we ain’t the trouble you think we are.”
The young woman looked up at me with wide, teary eyes. “You’re a woman?”
“Last I checked.”
“But the door. Who—“
“Oh, that was me. Listen, little lady, we need to get out of the open. Safe place to stay. Warm food, warm fire. That sort of thing. You need someone to deal with your trouble.” I stepped back and casually spun my pistol in her view, but never pointing at her. “We ain’t half bad at dealing with trouble.”
“Don’t hurt me! Please.”
I narrowed my eyes and aimed my pistol at the whiny woman’s face. She flinched and cowered away from me. “Oh, for shit’s sake, woman. If I wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead before I even opened that damn cupboard.” I held my aim and gaze. “What we do need is for you to shut your damn mouth and keep it that way, unless you want our trouble on top of yours.” The woman’s lip trembled as tears rolled down her face. “The hell’s a fragile flower like you doing out West anyhow?”
“It weren’t my choice, ma’am!” She blubbered.
“Rhetorical question.” I gestured with my pistol. “I don’t want your damn sob story. I don’t give a damn. Is it a deal or ain’t it? You keep us safe, we keep you safe. The less whining, the better. Any funny business and I shoot you and leave the kid for the coyotes.”
“S-sorry, ma’am. It’s a deal. It’s a deal. Take what you want. Just leave us alone!”
I smirked as I holstered my gun. “Glad to hear it, darling.” I went to leave and looked back over my shoulder. “One of my companions is hurt. Make a bed or something up for him, will you?”
“Y-yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”
“And shut that kid up.”
“Of course, ma’am. Whatever you say ma’am.”
Selection #5: From book 1 of my fantasy series, narrated by a young King Arthur interacting with his cousin, Mordred and his sister, Kay.
A hand tapped my shoulder. “Cousins!” Mordred said cheerfully from behind me. Morgana released her death grip and stalked away, towards Nimue, annoyed that her harsh words had been interrupted. I turned to my cousin, dressed in white and pale gold as he usually did. “It’s a lovely feast, isn’t it, Arthur? Kay really did such a wonderful job putting all of it together.” His tone was pleasant, but his timing was unsettlingly good.
“Yeah it’s fine,” I grumbled.
“Aw, cousin, is something the matter? What could it possibly be? Your wife is stunning. I’m sure you can’t wait for the after-party in your chambers. I certainly wouldn’t have waited this long in your shoes…” He elbowed me playfully in the ribs and I nearly threw up. Whether it was the mead I drank too quickly, the positioning of his elbow, or the thought of making love to someone I did not love, I could not be certain.
“Yeah… Definitely. I’m… Very excited for… That. Uh. But why cut the party short?”
“Why indeed!” Mordred grinned at me and took both of my hands. “Come, cousin! A lively song! Let us dance the night away!”
Before I could protest, he dragged me out into the room and began turning the both of us in such wild circles very quickly. I was absolutely going to be sick. I looked up at my cousin, hoping to catch his eye before it was too late. He threw his head back and laughed joyously as we continued to spin, faster and faster. I frantically looked around for someone to get me out of this, but that only made me more nauseous. I shouldn’t have drunk so much mead.
It was too late. I promptly vomited on myself and on my cousin’s pristine white coat. Our spinning came to a stop as Mordred realized what had happened. He gasped loudly, and spoke even louder. “Cousin! Are you quite all right?!” I looked at my feet, hoping desperately that no one would notice. The music slowed and quieted a little. Fantastic timing… “Oh, our poor king has been sick!” Mordred announced loudly. “Someone should come help! Perhaps his new queen? Perhaps a dear knight of his?” I felt nearly everyone staring at me. Some of the guests began to laugh at my predicament. Tears blurred my eyes again. This was far from kingly behavior. Mordred began to guide me to the side of the room so I could be cleaned up. “Make way for the king! He has been sick!” Mordred sat me down in a chair and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He began dabbing at my soiled doublet, eyes full of concern. “Oh, cousin. Let’s get this cleaned off before you stain your wedding clothes… I’m so sorry this happened. I had no idea you’d had so much to drink… This is all my fault.”
I heard more laughter and gasps echo through the hall, over the music. I wanted to curl up in a hole and never be seen again. A very loud voice cut through everything else. “You son of a bitch!” Kay. Mordred froze and his grip tightened on the vomit-covered handkerchief. I looked up, past Mordred. My sister stood behind him in a complete rage. Her eyes blazed with bright, orange fire, and her whole head flickered and shot sparks like a bonfire. She slapped a hand down on Mordred’s shoulder, singeing his coat. “You’ve done enough here, cousin,” She snarled.
I could feel more guests coming over to watch us. I shut my eyes, praying my sister would, for once in her life, shut up and stop embarrassing me.
“I’m just trying to help clean him off, Kay—“ Kay cut off his nervous words with a hard punch to his jaw. Mordred’s yelp and the gasps of the audience my sister had drawn made me look up. Kay’s fist blazed with fire too.
“You little shit!” Kay yelled at him. “Only I get to bully Arthur!” She swung wildly a few times at him, but he ducked. She then ran at him, arms wide, to tackle him, with such terrible form that I finally realized what she’d been doing with her melodramatic display. The crowd that had gathered to watch me originally now had their eyes completely glued on Kay’s wildly violent antics. A sob escaped me. Despite everything she’d done to me in our youth, she’d put her own reputation on the line just to protect my dignity tonight.
“Good Sir Kay!” Mordred whimpered across the room, still dodging Kay’s flaming fists, “Stop this madness! Knights of the Round Table do not fight each other!”
Kay raised her arms in the air dramatically, a plume of flame swirling above her. She laughed maniacally. She grabbed Mordred by his jacket with one hand and lifted him in the air. “Good thing I’m not fighting a knight then, you stupid little page!” The crowd laughed at Kay’s cruelty. Mordred’s smile and fear faded completely for a moment, and his eyes filled with an anger and darkness I’d never seen in him. Kay threw him roughly to the ground and pinned him there with her boot on the side of his face. “I’d ask you to get me a drink, little page, but you’d screw that up too. You can’t even dance with someone without causing them physical illness.” The crowd continued laughing at Mordred as he squirmed uselessly under Kay’s boot. My heart sank. I felt bad for him. He hadn’t meant to draw attention to me… He just wanted to help. I wiped my face and clothes down while the attention was not on me.
“I didn’t mean it!” Mordred whined.
“OH!” Kay exclaimed loudly. “Did you all hear?! He didn’t mean to be an ass! All is forgiven! Here, let me help you up!” Kay removed her boot from his face and leaned down, hand extended. He slowly sat up and reached for Kay’s hand. At the last second, she pulled it away and spat directly in his face. Everyone laughed again. She kicked him hard in the chest and stood over him menacingly as he coughed and writhed on the ground, almost in tears. “Mean your cruel actions, you pathetic little coward.”