Chapter 3: To Baltimare and Beyond
As Heimskr approached the sleeping stallion casually, a small mudcrab locked in one of the fisherpony’s cages mumbled to himself drunkenly.
“How dryyy Ah amm... Noh’ body knowws...how dry I am..”
Stepping around the caged crustacean with a disgusted grimace, the priest of Talos stared at pony. The stallion had a simple gray coat and a mane and the tail the color of juniper berries.
Heimskr noticed something resembling a tattoo, or war paint, on the fisherpony’s flank. Such were common among Nordic warriors. Upon closer inspection, the image was shown to be nothing more than two crossed fishing poles. The nord scoffed at the sight.
“This must be one them ‘cutie’ marks that weird history book mentioned.” He thought aloud. While the noise of his voice did not awaken the snoozing pony, it did trigger a rather loud snore.
The priest snorted, unimpressed. “Trotting around with little cutie marks on em’. What a bunch o’ little milk drinkers!” In response, the stallion snored again, and mumbled something as he absent-mindedly rubbed at his muzzle.
Sighing, Heimskr produced another flask of cyrodillic brandy, this only a quarter full. He downed the rest of the expensive alcohol, set it aside, then cupped his hands to his mouth, and leaned towards the stallion.
“HELLO FRIEND! HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE DIVINES , OR TALOS, THE MIGHTIEST AMONG THEM?” Heimskr inquired in his sermon-speaking voice.
Unbelievably, the stallion hardly stirred, still sound asleep.
“Bah!” Heimskr tossed the empty brandy bottle out into the ocean. The container hit the water with a distant ‘thunk!’
That was when a lighting bolt, the second today, struck the ground three feet from the priest. The resulting impact turning the sand to glass.
Standing on the glass, was a random bard, of the type commonly encountered throughout Skyrim. Next to her, was a large cave bear with a brown coat. He was somehow holding a lute in his paws. The bard stared off into space for a few moments, before she pulled a drum out of nowhere. “I will now perform, a personal favorite of mine.”
She began beating on the drum, while the bear casually played the lute, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“Oh.... There’s once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding in from old Rorikstead!...”
A draugr whose’ lungs had long since turned to dust, or a choir of angered manticores, likely could have produced better melody. The noise caused Heimskr to double down, gripping his hands to his ears under his cowl, trying to blot out the horrendous noise.
This proved enough to awaken the stallion as well, who fell out of his chair in alarm. The bard and lute-playing bear disappeared in a flash of magical energy before the pony could notice them, and he now stared at Heimskr wide-eyed.
“What...What are you?”
Heimskr flashed the awoken pony a creepy smile from under his orange cowl. “Greetings friend! I’ve come to your land from distant Skyrim! I stand before you now, to share with you the WORD OF HOLY Tacos... “ His voice dropped lower for a second, before resuming. “TALOS”
The fisherpony squinted his eyes in confusion, his ears falling flat. “The who, to where the what now?” He sputtered back.
The priest figured for once that he had laid things on a little too thick, so he decided give the equine local a break. If anyone could help Heimskr find a viable place to set up and begin his holy work, it would be this stallion.
Heimskr cleared his throat, and gave the pony what he hoped to be a friendly grin. “Forgive me for rudely awakening you, friend! You can call me Heimskr, priest of Talos, and Son of Skyrim. A pure-blooded human Nord denizen of Skyrim, through and through!”
His pony observer continued to stare at the Nord, completely dumbfounded that something like this had been coughed up by the ocean, while he had been asleep. The fisherpony took mental note, never to fall asleep on a beach ever again.
“Ugh..” Still unsure how to address such a random, exotic-looking individual from a land apparently thousands of miles away , he stammered back a response.
“I’m, ugh.. Line, Line Caster, earth pony.”
Heimskr nodded slowly, secretly as unimpressed with the name as he was with the pony’s cutie mark. “So, you’re a common fishmonger then?”
After a few moments pondering the archaic sounding word, the stallion nodded back.
“Ayep.”
The Priest of Talos scrunched his face as the sun glared at his eyes. “Curses, this sun is starting to bugger me already! Do you known where I can find a proper drinking establishment around here, or a Temple of the Divines? I wish to see your religious leaders, for you see, I have the holy task of...”
The mystique of the Nord finally dying off, Line Caster gained enough of his bravado back to cut the rambling priest off. “Whoa, whoa! Hol’ up there mack!” He said in his Baltimare accent.
“I wouldn’t know about any o’ that holier-than-thou spiritual business. But I know somewhere ya might find somepony who could get ya a good start.” The stallion got up, and gathered his equipment, catches included.
Holding the handle of the crab cage in his mouth, Line Caster turned towards Heimskr. “Can you believe I caught this one tryin’ ta sell me cheap booze on the beach?! Snatched em’ right up!” The priest nodded, giving the mudcrab a scathing scowl.
“Hey pal... ya let me go, and I might be willin’ to part with a few bottles of....” The mudcrab murmured.
“Shut it!” Line Caster hissed. “A catch this size, who needs tuna! This one’s going straight to market. You should be able find where you should start on the way there, I’ll show ya the way. That sound dapper to you?”
Heimskr shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever gets me off this mudcrab-infested beach faster. I suppose I’ll collect my possessions when I return here.” Line Caster raised his eyebrows, as he eyed the ship the human had arrived in.
“They be on that ship of yours?”
“Aye.”
“Welp, I suppose I can carry your cra... I mean possessions in my cart and what not into the city.” The earth pony motioned a hoof towards a rickety-looking wooden cart. Heimskr sincerely doubted the vehicle’s ability to carry his chest and all, but he wasn’t about to turn down a free ride.
After a few more minutes of lugging the super heavy chest from the longboat up to the fisherpony’s cart, the two set off up the coast. Heimskr had managed to fit everything he had in the single large chest. Even all the stuff that didn’t seem like it could fit, actually did because Nordic chests from Skyrim are just made like that apparently.
As they went around a bend of the dirt road, the vegetation and trees gave way to reveal the glorious skyline of tall, gleaming buildings Heimskr had glimpsed from afar.
“Talos’ beard...” The massive skyscrapers took the priest’s breath away, more so than any fierce Skyrim blizzard could. Sensing his wonder and awe, Line Caster grinned at the Nord.
“That there’s the damn fine city o’ Baltimare, Heimskr.” He said as he pulled the cart. Behind Caster on the wagon bed sat Heimskr, who murmured back in response.
“I know. I read it in a book. Never before have I seen such a magnificent sight. Surely the Nine Divines themselves fashioned the buildings with their very hands...”
Line Caster gave the skyline an appreciative glance as he made his way towards it down the road, “Ain't she just a beauty? I’m from there, born and raised. I only fish out here on account of the docks being too noisy, scares away the best of the catch, you see.”
“Is that so?” Heimskr muttered back.
While the sights still awed him, the Nord found himself sandwiched between two menaces, one old, and one new. The first, sat across from him, still in its cage. The priest hated them back home, and he still hated them now.
The second, was Line Caster, who was now giving a random lecture about how to, and not to properly catch fish and crustaceans, why fishing with explosives or magic is wrong, and blah, blah, blah.
Heimskr prayed to Talos that the trip would be short and straightforward. Three minutes after the prayer, a heavy rainstorm rolled in, and not only drenched the two, but turned the dirt road into mud.
“Well smack me on the flank and call me a Changeling’s little dungeon slave, looks like this trips gonna be a longer one now, but we’ll be there in no time, stranger!” Caster declared, as his hooves continued on through the muck. His natural earth pony strength left him largely unaffected-if a little annoyed-by the rain.
Pushing ever so slowly towards nearby Baltimare, Line Caster decided it was time to continue, ‘getting to know’ his new nord acquaintance. “So anyways, like I was sayin’, the best way to get a bite, is to use a proper lure, like some deep fried parasprites...”
The Priest of Talos groaned quietly to himself as the stallion ranted on and on, giving Heimskr the impression he may have finally met his equine match in the department of overzealous job obsession.
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Level 4. In Discordian Equestria, apple tree bucks you.
After a brutal twenty more minutes of rain, rants, and rickety carts on poorly maintained roads, the two travelers at last arrived in the city of Baltimare, an important port city of medium size on the Eastern Coast of Equestria.
Heimskr wondered to himself how such a backwoods-looking road, could lead to such a posh, exquisite looking metropolis. This was just one of the many things that still confounded the Nord about this new land.
Line Caster, after giving Heimskr directions to the nearest tavern, mercifully left the human alone to sell of his possibly inebriated crustacean catch.
The nord now walked through the crowded streets, drawing dozens of funny looks as he lugged his impossibly over-stuffed chest with him (because everypony who isn’t the Dovakhiin or his followers has no concept of inventory encumbrance) to some tavern Caster had referred to simply as, “Hon’s Café.”
The ponies around him, while staring at him, did not stop to greet him or otherwise engage in social interaction with the nord whatsoever. They stared, then simply held there muzzles in the air, their curiosity waning as quickly as the rain fell from the rim of their back-mounted (if very fashionable) umbrellas.
He had no idea what in Talos’ name a café was, but figured it sounded like someplace a ditzy, milk-drinking Imperial, High Elf, or Breton would favor. Heimskr eventually found the establishment, a modest-sized business situated in the first floor of one of the towering pony buildings of Baltimare.
Hon’s Café was distinguishable by what appeared to be the sculpture of some kind of massive, graceful pink-feathered, long necked bird hanging from the second story fire-escape. Flanking the bird were neon lights proclaiming in oddly Tamrielic letters, ‘Hon’s Café’.
Unlike the city itself, the cafe’s front entrance did little to impress the nord priest. “A pink feathered, over-sized pheasant, and signs made flashy with Alteration Magic, bah! Bet this place is run by a bunch of harpies!!” Heimskr muttered.
Under his breath, he hissed. “Thalmor mages! They might be here in this land. I must be cautious!” Reluctantly, and with a profound sense of unease, Heimskr entered the establishment, still garnering stares and quiet murmuring from the pony citizens of Baltimare.
His goal was to learn more about the land than the weird book had told him, hopefully make a few connections, and find a proper place to set up and begin Talos’ holy work in Equestria.
As he walked in, chest in hand, he set the large container, still slick with rainwater, onto the red and white checkered floor next to an empty metal and leather seating booth.
Some kind of strange, upbeat orchestral music Heimskr could not identify played out from weird looking devices in the corners of the café. The only instrument he could identify in the alien sound was an occasional drum beat.
The walls and windows were adorned with random motley decorations ranging from more of those strange, slender pink birds, weird black-colored grooved discs with holes in the middle of them, and unbelievably life-like paintings in color and black-and-white of various ponies.
With a grunt, he let go of the chest and sat down, noticing a menu in the center of the table. Most of the patrons gave him funny looks as he entered, but eventually returned to their newspapers, coffee mugs, or meals.
Heimskr watched them back nervously under his cowl. He stayed silent as he read the menu, before a voice cut into his analysis of the local cuisine. (Some many sweets and desserts, but no mead or mutton?! Talos have mercy on such decadence!)
“What can I getcha, hon?” A voice inquired sweetly.
Heimskr turned to see a large, matronly-looking middle aged unicorn mare wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a white and pink apron. Her cutie mark appeared to be a cast-iron pan flipping a buttery pancake with a smiley face on it, but of course Heimskr only recognized what the pan was.
Her mane was stylized and frizzy, and was a light brown mixed with a few streaks of red, pink, blue, and possibly a little white from age. She now peered at him expectantly, a quill and notepad hovering in her pink aura in front of her.
“Ugh.. I was actually hoping for directions, but ugh...” He suddenly remembered he had been living off brandy and hard, salted beef for several weeks.
“Come to think of it, I’ll take an order of umm, waffles are they called? Hit me with a little of that maple syrup too! I want to try some of this ‘coffee’ of yours as well, and by lady Dibella’s sweet, sweet ta ta’s, throw in some extra moon sugar!”
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If EVER there was a "fish-out-water" story, it's this one. I'm still laughing from Heimskr's interactions with Line. Gonna follow this hard!
Just imagine if Heimskr pulls a Thor once he tries the coffee
I killed him for the brotherhood! Idk how I got a quest from them to kill him XD
Also, based on the level of random, I am starting to think that this whole story is Sheogorath trolling Heimskr.
dashie.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw5118-da.png
The random humor is fantastic. I hope he goes into his full gamer poop rant at some point and gets thrown in the dungeon.
Not like the chintzy chests they have in Vvardenfell, grumble grumble
3204733 I'm glad someone noticed one of the Morrowind references I made in there.
One of the others was the drunk mudcrab merchants, I remember you could find one somewhere SE of Vivec City.
The amount of youtube poop references is just funny
"Smack me on the flank and call me a changeling's little dungeon-slave." I'm sorry, but I just love that line.
A horrible female bard... Oh god, it's the one from Dawnstar, isn't it?
She scares me!
Love the clear reference to actual Baltimore. I watched that Kitchen Nightmares episode. (Hon's Cafe)