URY goes ReCreational with an hour of Funk, Soul and House.
Three radio techies live in one house. They decided to mic up the kitchen and make pancakes on air - what could go wrong?
Happy pancake day!
You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Lokir: Darn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there! [Lokir looks at the gagged man.] Lokir: And what's wrong with him? Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Lokir: Why do you care? Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead. [They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.] Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting! General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with. Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me. Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe. [A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.] Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going? Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub. Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers. Torolf: Inside the house. Now. [The wagon stops near the chopping block.] Imperial Soldier: Whoa. Lokir: Why are they stopping? Ralof: Why do you think? End of the line. also a banging breakfast show.