Jump to content
Main menu
Main menu
move to sidebar
hide
Navigation
Main page
Recent changes
Random page
freem
Search
Search
Appearance
Create account
Log in
Personal tools
Create account
Log in
Pages for logged out editors
learn more
Contributions
Talk
Editing
Openai/6940dc36-f820-8002-8656-3492c2d4fc89
(section)
Add languages
Page
Discussion
English
Read
Edit
Edit source
View history
Tools
Tools
move to sidebar
hide
Actions
Read
Edit
Edit source
View history
General
What links here
Related changes
Special pages
Page information
Appearance
move to sidebar
hide
Warning:
You are not logged in. Your IP address will be publicly visible if you make any edits. If you
log in
or
create an account
, your edits will be attributed to your username, along with other benefits.
Anti-spam check. Do
not
fill this in!
=== Assistant: Excellent. === Excellent. Let us begin. The wooden door of the Census and Excise office creaks shut behind you, sealing out the damp air of the Bitter Coast. Inside, the room smells of salt, ink, and old timber. Marshlight filters through small shuttered windows, casting pale reflections across rough-hewn beams and a long counter scarred by years of bored officials and impatient travelers. A ledger lies open on the desk before you, its pages thick with names—most forgotten, some crossed out. It is the season of Hearth-Fire’s Turning, a rare Imperial-Dunmeri convergence of winter festivals. Someone—clearly not paid enough for this—has attempted to decorate the office. Sprigs of ash-pine and hackle-lo leaf hang from nails in the walls, and a small guar-hide lantern glows warmly with tinted glass in festive reds and greens. A paper star bearing the seal of the Empire droops slightly above the counter, held up by twine. Behind the desk stands Socucius Ergalla, an elderly Imperial clerk with tired eyes and a thin smile. He wears his usual red-brown robe, though today it is adorned with a ridiculous woolen cap stitched with the Imperial dragon in white thread. He clears his throat, quill poised. Off to the side, a crate of belongings waits—your belongings—still smelling faintly of the prison ship’s hold. “Ah, yes,” Ergalla says, voice dry but not unkind. “Another release. And during the holidays, no less. Let’s get this over with before the scribs freeze in their shells.” He looks up at you expectantly. ===== Let us begin with the basics. ===== # What is your character’s name? # Gender? # Race? (Imperial, Dunmer, Nord, Breton, Argonian, Khajiit, Redguard, Bosmer, Altmer, Orc) Once you answer these, we will proceed to class and birthsign.
Summary:
Please note that all contributions to freem are considered to be released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 (see
Freem:Copyrights
for details). If you do not want your writing to be edited mercilessly and redistributed at will, then do not submit it here.
You are also promising us that you wrote this yourself, or copied it from a public domain or similar free resource.
Do not submit copyrighted work without permission!
Cancel
Editing help
(opens in new window)