Sunday, December 11, 2011

Wedding Blues in Skyrim

Dohvaakin: "Remember Omerta. Don't you dare tell the wife."
Ah, Skyrim. Who would have known that the stuck-in-my-computer fantasy land of Skyrim would have forced me to confront one of the most befuddling questions a man would ever have to scratch his head over- that is, which charming maiden should I marry- a question which thankfully I have yet no reason to worry over in real life, nor will I ever have to worry about given my lousy track record and groan-inducing fussiness.

I chose to play as a female Nord who sides with the Imperials only because Ulfric Stormcloak didn't say a word to me while riding the cart to our execution party, the uppity buffoon (So what if he was bound and gagged). Normally being next in line to have your head disconnected from your spine wouldn't leave much room for worrying about matrimonial matters, but Skyrim's a forgiving place like that. Hey, all you have to do to marry is wear some bling to show that you're 'on the market' and check out potential partners, it's that easy.

Well, who to marry then? Despite playing as a barbarian female wandering the frigid wastes of Skyrim in, ah, lightweight Forsworn armor, I didn't feel much like betrothing myself to a smelly male Nord with an uncannily Schwarzeneggerian voice. Thankfully Skyrimmers don't have any problems with lesbianism (Being too busy with dragons and taking arrows to the knee) and I was free to take my pick from the female population.

How about Aela the Huntress? She looked like a good match, being a fellow Werewolf- we could do dinner dates with wimpy townsfolk in-lieu of spaghetti and meatballs. Unfortunately to clinch her I'd have to do a long list of jobs, and I was a little too lazy for that.

Borgakh the Steel Heart, maybe? Maybe I'm just racist. By Sheogarath, ye orcs are ugly! Those upturned teeth were particularly unsettling. Brelyna Maryon, the summoner? She's an elf. I'd consider her as a possibility if she'd take off that annoying hood- oh. She wears it to bed too. Well, you just lost your chance to be married to the Dragonborn.

I took a little journey back to Riverwood, the first town I wandered into after escaping Helgen. I noticed someone I'd forgotten- young Camilla Valerius. I measured her coolly- she seemed to be alright. Perhaps I'd marry her, and rescue her from this pathetic excuse of a town? But I just had to be sure. You don't take marriage lightly, after all. I cast a forbidden spell, Reezd Wyiki, to look into possible alternate futures, and found out that if I'd married her and let her stay in Riverwood, either of her two original suitors would occasionally 'visit' her. The temerity! That ruled her out, of course, and I left Riverwood in a huff.

Who else was left for me then? My collection of silly housecarls? No thank you. I'd rather not have them greet me with "honored to meet you again, my love" in that respectful voice every time I return home. What a mood-spoiler. I'd rather not go with any of the sell-swords either- not a chance in hell that I'd pay for a bride...

On time though, I came tantalizingly close to picking a suitable mate. I was doing a quest in Markath, and found myself in the poor zone- where I came across a charming beggar girl sitting on the ground. She wasn't sour or mean, nor did she try to cheat me out of my coin. The fact that she had a pleasant face helped somewhat, of course... sadly it was not to be. Marriage was simply not possible- simply because she wasn't in the approved list. Sigh.

I headed back to Whiterun to dump some stuff. There I bumped into the aspiring trader Ysolda, and... oh bother. I got tired of the whole thing, of running around looking for another person to share my bed. Ysolda it would have to be- Ysolda, the whore of Skyrim, winner of the 'I chose her as my Wife' award, decided by the NPC with the most marriages to Dragonborns since 11/11/11. Oh well. At least she's nice.

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