It’s been a hard cock-knocking life for Gunter Oniyama, ever since he came to Skyrim. I am actually months of progress ahead in the game than last I wrote about it here. God damn it, so much has happened and been done and fuck you and fuck me harder if I’ma try to recall every single goddamn thing I’ve done in that game between now and then. Christ or Ysgramor, let’s fucking eat.
I’d like to relay one episode that actually happened, though, and was quite a dramatic series of events. You needn’t have been there: I’ma spell it out just how it went down, in short epic form:
Gunter believed that it was no bad thing to have a wife in Skyrim. He heard that amongst the maidens of the realm, there were career-minded merchants who could do trade by day, cook his dinner by evening, and ride the orc steak all night. Most married women provided their provider with a stipend, an allowance in some cases, of their store/stall/food cart’s take every day.
“Free money for god’s sake. And I’m going to be mauled by a big-ass dragon any day now, so fuck it man — I need all the help I can get.” He put on the Amulet of Mara — the symbol that makes every questable motherfucker in the game start riding your jock and asking if you’re available — and headed out for a drink at the Drunken Huntsman. It was right across the street from his house, after all, and it wasn’t like he was going to lose his way even if he decided to use all his dragon gold to drink the bar dry.
The dark elf assassin who Gunter had once hired to help clear a camp of bandits was sitting in her usual space. Gunter sat down across from her in his unassuming way that no one ever questioned, though if it had really happened, it would be awkward as hell.
“Like hi, or something,” said Gunter to the woman.
“Hello orc-friend,” she said smiling, “Unter, wasn’t it?”
She regarded Gunter with half drunk bemusement. “Okay, Gunter. So, I see you’re single. What’s up? You down with me?”
“Like yes or something,” Gunter said, now completely flustered and thinking about her awesome it would be to suck on those blue tits. “Um. Like do you, like, fancy me or something?” he asked, blood burning.
“Of course. Shall we marry?”
Gunter grunted and stammered confidently, “Uh, like I do and stuff.”
And it was decided. Gunter would marry Jenassa, she would quit her job as hired gun, and set up a weapon shop in Whiterun that would hopefully yank the bush right off the Warmaiden’s iron twat. But first, Gunter had some business to take care of.
“I’ll be gone for like a couple weeks. Gotta like get some questing out of my system and stuff.”
“Hurry home,” Jenassa said.
Gunter went on extermination missions for the Companions, visited the Greybeards up in High Hrothgar, seeked out werewolf totems to enhance his dark gift of lycanthropy, and fought no less than four dragons. Each time he slayed one and absorbed its soul, he would return home to sell the dragon bones to the Khajit outside of Whiterun, or to any other vendor he could offload the damn things on. And every time, he would return to Whiterun, visit Jenassa at the Drunken Huntsman, and every time, she would say, “We need to talk to the priest in Riften about getting married.”
And every time, Gunter would say, “Like okay or something.” In Gunter’s heart, a small blueballed war was going on. “Damn,” he’d say. “Do I really want to get married? Will I be a good husband to this woman? Will she be a good wife to me?” Then a dragon would attack, as if to put him out of his misery, and then he would slay it and head home and repeat the cycle all over again.
The fourth time he came home, he went straight to the Drunken Huntsman and nearly bashed the door off his hinges as he busted in and ran up to Jenassa, sitting at her usual place.
“Honey! Come with me, I have like a surprise and stuff.”
Jenassa beamed at him, but nevertheless put her hands on her hips and said, “You know the price, Gunter.” And he had to hire her as a helper for 500 gold. Once she was his companion, he went into her inventory and placed in it a gold ring with a flawless diamond in the center.
“Oh, Gunter – it’s divine. Let’s go to Riften right now and get married tonight!”
“Like wait or something. I want you to join me for three last quests, and by dawn tomorrow, you shall be like my bride and stuff,” said Gunter with a goofy adventurous grin on his face. “Come on — I’ve hired a carriage to Markarth.”
“Markath?” asked Jenassa. “Isn’t that on like the opposite side of Skyrim?”
“Like, trust me or something, darling,” he replied.
The two boarded the carriage and set off for Markarth. On the way they chatted and fooled around, Jenassa giving Gunter generous handfuls of what he could expect in raw flesh once they were orc and wife.
to be continued or something…