Introduction
12 years ago, the Imperial province of Cyrodiil, the center of Tamriel, was on the verge of destruction due to the efforts of the Daedra-worshiping cult, the Mythic Dawn, to bring the powerful Daedric prince Mehrunes Dagon into Tamriel. Portals to Dagon's plane of Oblivion opened up all across Cyrodiil after the Mythic Dawn orchestrated the assassination of then-Emperor Uriel Septim VII and his sons. It was only from the efforts of the last remaining heir to the Septim line, Martin Septim, that Mehrunes Dagon was banished back to the realm of Oblivion.
Since then, Cyrodiil has not changed much. There is no less crime in most cities, though the security of the Imperial City has been drastically increased. The city itself is now controlled by Chancellor Ocato and the Senate. The Fighters Guild has seen more business of late partly because of the huge influx of people coming in from the various provinces, and the increase of recruits due to this. The Mages Guild, on the other hand, has not fared as well. After the rise of the new Archmage four years ago, he has unbanned Necromancy, resulting in the grim practice being more popular than it ever was. The Thieves Guild is now extremely prosperous and significantly more powerful since stealing an Elder Scroll, so much so that members regularly boast about being part of the guild and that they are untouchable by the Law. Owing to it's prosperity, the Thieves Guild has expanded and branched into three chapters, each run by seperate and extremely skilled Master Thieves. The Dark Brotherhood, weakened by the near total annihilation of it's entire Cyrodiil chapter, is threatened by another guild of assassins, a newly arriving Morag Tong. The Morag Tong have recently been government-sanctioned by Chancellor Ocato, amidst major controversy. Now the existence of the illegal Dark Brotherhood is in trouble, as they now get fewer contracts, with their members being regularly eliminated by the Morag Tong. Kvatch has been rebuilt using the resources from anonymous donations, while Skingrad is in a state of deep political turmoil. The Count has been discovered as a vampire and struggles to maintain his position. This has led to other vampires revealing themselves to the public and moving to Skingrad, thinking it to be a safe haven for them. The racist Count of Leyawiin has been replaced by an Argonian chancellor, as a result, Argonians and Khajiits moved to Leyawiin enmasse, causing the town to look much more like a swamp.
Map of Tamriel: http://images.uesp.net//c/c3/TamrielMap.jpg
Races of Tamriel:
Altmer (aka High Elves): The High Elves consider themselves the most civilized culture of Tamriel; the common tongue of the Empire, Tamrielic, is based on Altmer speech and writing, and most of the Empire's arts, crafts, and sciences derive from High Elven traditions. Deft, intelligent, and strong-willed, High Elves are often gifted in the arcane arts, and High Elves boast that their sublime physical natures make them far more resistant to disease than the "lesser races."
Argonians: At home in water and on land, the Argonians of Black Marsh are well-suited to the treacherous swamps of their homeland, with natural immunities protecting them from disease and poison. The female life-phase is highly intelligent, and gifted in the magical arts. The more aggressive male phase has the traits of the hunter: stealth, speed, and agility. Argonians are reserved with strangers, yet fiercely loyal to those they accept as friends.
Bosmer (aka Wood Elves): The Wood Elves are the various barbarian Elven clanfolk of the Western Valenwood forests. These country cousins of the High Elves and Dark Elves are nimble and quick in body and wit, and because of their curious natures and natural agility, Wood Elves are especially suitable as scouts, agents, and thieves. But most of all, the Wood Elves are known for their skills with bows; there are no finer archers in all of Tamriel.
Bretons: Passionate and eccentric, poetic and flamboyant, intelligent and willful, the Bretons feel an inborn, instinctive bond with the mercurial forces of magic and the supernatural. Many great sorcerers have come out of their home province of High Rock, and in addition to their quick and perceptive grasp of spellcraft, enchantment, and alchemy, even the humblest of Bretons can boast a high resistance to destructive and dominating magical energies.
Dunmer (aka Dark Elves): In the Empire, "Dark Elves" is the common usage, but in their Morrowind homeland, they call themselves the "Dunmer". The dark-skinned, red-eyed Dark Elves combine powerful intellect with strong and agile physiques, producing superior warriors and sorcerers. On the battlefield, Dark Elves are noted for their skilled and balanced integration of swordsmen, marksmen, and war wizards. In character, they are grim, distrusting, and disdainful of other races.
Imperials: The well-educated and well-spoken natives of Cyrodiil are known for the discipline and training of their citizen armies. Though physically less imposing than the other races, Imperials are shrewd diplomats and traders, and these traits, along with their remarkable skill and training as light infantry, have enabled them to subdue all the other nations and races, and to have erected the monument to peace and prosperity that comprises the Glorious Empire.
Khajiit: The Khajiit of Elsweyr can vary in appearance from nearly Elven to the cathay-raht "jaguar men" to the great Senche-Tiger. The most common breed found in Morrowind, the suthay-raht, is intelligent, quick, and agile. Khajiit of all breeds have a weakness for sweets, especially the drug known as skooma. Many Khajiit disdain weapons in favor of their natural claws. They make excellent thieves due to their natural agility and unmatched acrobatics ability.
Nords: The citizens of Skyrim are aggressive and fearless in war, industrious and enterprising in trade and exploration. Strong, stubborn, and hardy, Nords are famous for their resistance to cold, even magical frost. Violence is an accepted and comfortable aspect of Nord culture; Nords of all classes are skilled with a variety of weapon and armor styles, and they cheerfully face battle with an ecstatic ferocity that shocks and appalls their enemies.
Orsimer (aka Orcs): These sophisticated barbarian beast peoples of the Wrothgarian and Dragontail Mountains are noted for their unshakeable courage in war and their unflinching endurance of hardships. Orc warriors in heavy armor are among the finest front-line troops in the Empire. Most Imperial citizens regard Orc society as rough and cruel, but there is much to admire in their fierce tribal loyalties and generous equality of rank and respect among the sexes.
Redguards: The most naturally talented warriors in Tamriel, the dark-skinned, wiry-haired Redguards of Hammerfell seem born to battle, though their pride and fierce independence of spirit makes them more suitable as scouts or skirmishers, or as free-ranging heroes and adventurers, than as rank-and-file soldiers. In addition to their cultural affinities for many weapon and armor styles, Redguards are also physically blessed with hardy constitutions and quickness of foot.
Character Sheet:
Name:
Race:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance:
Gear (Anything that you can carry on your person that makes sense with your profession, you may also have one bag that washes up alongside you):
Profession/Class (You can think up your own, as long as it makes sense, or choose from a list: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Classes):
Background:
Personality:
Birthsign (This is purely for roleplaying purposes, no special bonuses: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Birthsigns):
PM me with any questions you have.
Since then, Cyrodiil has not changed much. There is no less crime in most cities, though the security of the Imperial City has been drastically increased. The city itself is now controlled by Chancellor Ocato and the Senate. The Fighters Guild has seen more business of late partly because of the huge influx of people coming in from the various provinces, and the increase of recruits due to this. The Mages Guild, on the other hand, has not fared as well. After the rise of the new Archmage four years ago, he has unbanned Necromancy, resulting in the grim practice being more popular than it ever was. The Thieves Guild is now extremely prosperous and significantly more powerful since stealing an Elder Scroll, so much so that members regularly boast about being part of the guild and that they are untouchable by the Law. Owing to it's prosperity, the Thieves Guild has expanded and branched into three chapters, each run by seperate and extremely skilled Master Thieves. The Dark Brotherhood, weakened by the near total annihilation of it's entire Cyrodiil chapter, is threatened by another guild of assassins, a newly arriving Morag Tong. The Morag Tong have recently been government-sanctioned by Chancellor Ocato, amidst major controversy. Now the existence of the illegal Dark Brotherhood is in trouble, as they now get fewer contracts, with their members being regularly eliminated by the Morag Tong. Kvatch has been rebuilt using the resources from anonymous donations, while Skingrad is in a state of deep political turmoil. The Count has been discovered as a vampire and struggles to maintain his position. This has led to other vampires revealing themselves to the public and moving to Skingrad, thinking it to be a safe haven for them. The racist Count of Leyawiin has been replaced by an Argonian chancellor, as a result, Argonians and Khajiits moved to Leyawiin enmasse, causing the town to look much more like a swamp.
Map of Tamriel: http://images.uesp.net//c/c3/TamrielMap.jpg
Races of Tamriel:
Altmer (aka High Elves): The High Elves consider themselves the most civilized culture of Tamriel; the common tongue of the Empire, Tamrielic, is based on Altmer speech and writing, and most of the Empire's arts, crafts, and sciences derive from High Elven traditions. Deft, intelligent, and strong-willed, High Elves are often gifted in the arcane arts, and High Elves boast that their sublime physical natures make them far more resistant to disease than the "lesser races."
Argonians: At home in water and on land, the Argonians of Black Marsh are well-suited to the treacherous swamps of their homeland, with natural immunities protecting them from disease and poison. The female life-phase is highly intelligent, and gifted in the magical arts. The more aggressive male phase has the traits of the hunter: stealth, speed, and agility. Argonians are reserved with strangers, yet fiercely loyal to those they accept as friends.
Bosmer (aka Wood Elves): The Wood Elves are the various barbarian Elven clanfolk of the Western Valenwood forests. These country cousins of the High Elves and Dark Elves are nimble and quick in body and wit, and because of their curious natures and natural agility, Wood Elves are especially suitable as scouts, agents, and thieves. But most of all, the Wood Elves are known for their skills with bows; there are no finer archers in all of Tamriel.
Bretons: Passionate and eccentric, poetic and flamboyant, intelligent and willful, the Bretons feel an inborn, instinctive bond with the mercurial forces of magic and the supernatural. Many great sorcerers have come out of their home province of High Rock, and in addition to their quick and perceptive grasp of spellcraft, enchantment, and alchemy, even the humblest of Bretons can boast a high resistance to destructive and dominating magical energies.
Dunmer (aka Dark Elves): In the Empire, "Dark Elves" is the common usage, but in their Morrowind homeland, they call themselves the "Dunmer". The dark-skinned, red-eyed Dark Elves combine powerful intellect with strong and agile physiques, producing superior warriors and sorcerers. On the battlefield, Dark Elves are noted for their skilled and balanced integration of swordsmen, marksmen, and war wizards. In character, they are grim, distrusting, and disdainful of other races.
Imperials: The well-educated and well-spoken natives of Cyrodiil are known for the discipline and training of their citizen armies. Though physically less imposing than the other races, Imperials are shrewd diplomats and traders, and these traits, along with their remarkable skill and training as light infantry, have enabled them to subdue all the other nations and races, and to have erected the monument to peace and prosperity that comprises the Glorious Empire.
Khajiit: The Khajiit of Elsweyr can vary in appearance from nearly Elven to the cathay-raht "jaguar men" to the great Senche-Tiger. The most common breed found in Morrowind, the suthay-raht, is intelligent, quick, and agile. Khajiit of all breeds have a weakness for sweets, especially the drug known as skooma. Many Khajiit disdain weapons in favor of their natural claws. They make excellent thieves due to their natural agility and unmatched acrobatics ability.
Nords: The citizens of Skyrim are aggressive and fearless in war, industrious and enterprising in trade and exploration. Strong, stubborn, and hardy, Nords are famous for their resistance to cold, even magical frost. Violence is an accepted and comfortable aspect of Nord culture; Nords of all classes are skilled with a variety of weapon and armor styles, and they cheerfully face battle with an ecstatic ferocity that shocks and appalls their enemies.
Orsimer (aka Orcs): These sophisticated barbarian beast peoples of the Wrothgarian and Dragontail Mountains are noted for their unshakeable courage in war and their unflinching endurance of hardships. Orc warriors in heavy armor are among the finest front-line troops in the Empire. Most Imperial citizens regard Orc society as rough and cruel, but there is much to admire in their fierce tribal loyalties and generous equality of rank and respect among the sexes.
Redguards: The most naturally talented warriors in Tamriel, the dark-skinned, wiry-haired Redguards of Hammerfell seem born to battle, though their pride and fierce independence of spirit makes them more suitable as scouts or skirmishers, or as free-ranging heroes and adventurers, than as rank-and-file soldiers. In addition to their cultural affinities for many weapon and armor styles, Redguards are also physically blessed with hardy constitutions and quickness of foot.
Character Sheet:
Name:
Race:
Gender:
Age:
Appearance:
Gear (Anything that you can carry on your person that makes sense with your profession, you may also have one bag that washes up alongside you):
Profession/Class (You can think up your own, as long as it makes sense, or choose from a list: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Classes):
Background:
Personality:
Birthsign (This is purely for roleplaying purposes, no special bonuses: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Birthsigns):
PM me with any questions you have.
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 17 authors
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Meer-mah’s lifeless corpse laid waste on the ground beneath Og`mir’s towering stature. The battle was won, and the Argonian slavers where no more. The orc knelt down to check of any valuables or belongings of the slaves that the Argonian overseer might have on his possessions. As Og`mir was riffling through the belongings he paused, it was as though a knife had pierced his heart. His head began to throb as he lifted an old insignia, The Timber Wolves of Bruma’s old insignia. The orc began to regret his decision on hastily killing the Argonian, he wanted answers and he wanted them now. Og`mir continued his searching, but it was more like a vulture scavenging the meat off a carcass. He ripped the clothes off the lizard and began to shake the cloth impatiently waiting for a sign to drop out of its pockets. Suddenly, a rolled up piece of parchment dropped to the ground. With haste, Og`mir picked up the scroll and tore the leather binding. His eyes began to scan across the paper, it was a contract. But to the orc, it looked more like the start of an army. The parchment was an agreement to which the Timber Wolves would swear allegiance to someone, or something. At the bottom of the paper was a purple and black seal, Og`mir had never seen a tattoo of this kind, and it irritated him further.
Abruptly, the orc heard a calm voice behind him. When he turned to face the voice his eyes were narrow with rage and his brow was furrowed. He took the insignia and placed it beneath his armor, concealing it from any lingering eyes that might find it for look for it. Og`mir stood up from his kneeling position, still holding the contract only now it was crumpled between his grasp. “I was doing what I was paid to do, you’re safety was on the bottom of my list.” He said irritably. It wasn't that he had a grudge against dark elves, it was more of the fact he killed the cold blooded beast before questioning him further. He noted the Dunmer’s offer to help him in whatever cause and with the recent events, Og`mir and his Bosmer companions would need all the help he could get. Carelessly, he dropped the parchment near the Dunmer. The orc eyed the scene and began to question why Ordami and Milora weren’t here yet, he saw the Breton caster and the Altmer ranger, but the two Bosmers were not around. Og`mir looked down at the dark elf, he didn’t want to leave the fatigued man unattended, however he was concerned of his companion’s fates. He stretched out his giant green hand towards the dark elf, offering to assisting him from off the ground and somewhere much more sanitary, like the side of the cage he was held in for hours.
Abruptly, the orc heard a calm voice behind him. When he turned to face the voice his eyes were narrow with rage and his brow was furrowed. He took the insignia and placed it beneath his armor, concealing it from any lingering eyes that might find it for look for it. Og`mir stood up from his kneeling position, still holding the contract only now it was crumpled between his grasp. “I was doing what I was paid to do, you’re safety was on the bottom of my list.” He said irritably. It wasn't that he had a grudge against dark elves, it was more of the fact he killed the cold blooded beast before questioning him further. He noted the Dunmer’s offer to help him in whatever cause and with the recent events, Og`mir and his Bosmer companions would need all the help he could get. Carelessly, he dropped the parchment near the Dunmer. The orc eyed the scene and began to question why Ordami and Milora weren’t here yet, he saw the Breton caster and the Altmer ranger, but the two Bosmers were not around. Og`mir looked down at the dark elf, he didn’t want to leave the fatigued man unattended, however he was concerned of his companion’s fates. He stretched out his giant green hand towards the dark elf, offering to assisting him from off the ground and somewhere much more sanitary, like the side of the cage he was held in for hours.
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Sweating profusely and breathing deeply, Azoth clawed his way around the cart, trying to make his way to where Belas was. Suddenly the Dunmer sat up, apparently recovered. He tried to stand then, though he couldn't manage it and fell back to his butt. Azoth would have rushed over to help him, but if he let go of the cage right now, he could probably just be joining Belas on the ground without the ability to get back up. Luckily he wasn't alone in his thoughts though, because Fayth showed up offering him a mana potion and the Orc that had showed up also came over to offer him some help up. That left Azoth with a chance to rest, which he desperately needed.
He leaned his back up against the cage, trying to get it to support as much of his body weight as he could, even though it dug uncomfortably into his back. He slumped down a little, but didn't let himself drop into a sitting position. Throwing his head back to gasp for air more effectively, something a little off behind the caravans caught Azoth's eye. He stared curiously for a minute before figuring out what it was, though it didn't make much sense. He tried racking his brain for some kind of recollection, but he had no idea why they would be there. Letting his head flop to the side, he looked over at the other three.
"H-hey! Any of you guys kill any... Bosmer?" Azoth asked, pointing back to where he saw them.
He leaned his back up against the cage, trying to get it to support as much of his body weight as he could, even though it dug uncomfortably into his back. He slumped down a little, but didn't let himself drop into a sitting position. Throwing his head back to gasp for air more effectively, something a little off behind the caravans caught Azoth's eye. He stared curiously for a minute before figuring out what it was, though it didn't make much sense. He tried racking his brain for some kind of recollection, but he had no idea why they would be there. Letting his head flop to the side, he looked over at the other three.
"H-hey! Any of you guys kill any... Bosmer?" Azoth asked, pointing back to where he saw them.
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Sarkham sat calmly as the guard fed them and left, and sat annoyed as his cell mate and the Ashlander down the hall argued. He gritted his teeth to keep from telling them both to shut up, and unlike the Ashlander, he was in the same cell. He took a deep breath before he spoke in a calm voice to his singing friend.
"Now is not the time to be arguing among ourselves, friend." he spoke quietly before lifting the bread the guard had left. He ate it wholeheartedly, folding his legs beneath him and waiting. He thought quietly to himself of the possibilities of where he could go once he got out. He knew several safehouses that had been active for Blades members during his service, but he was unsure if they were still running. There was also his cabin in the Jerall mountains, the old retreat he had owned. When he left Cyrodiil, he told no one its location and it should still be intact. He sighed frustratedly as he pondered if he'd make it out at all.
"Now is not the time to be arguing among ourselves, friend." he spoke quietly before lifting the bread the guard had left. He ate it wholeheartedly, folding his legs beneath him and waiting. He thought quietly to himself of the possibilities of where he could go once he got out. He knew several safehouses that had been active for Blades members during his service, but he was unsure if they were still running. There was also his cabin in the Jerall mountains, the old retreat he had owned. When he left Cyrodiil, he told no one its location and it should still be intact. He sighed frustratedly as he pondered if he'd make it out at all.
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"Ah, thank you milady," Belas said grateful towards the Altmer. If he was in any other position, he would refuse and let Fayth have it. Considering the circumstances though, he had to or he would be sitting there for the rest of the day. Belas drank the potion and then felt the fire return to his bones as the edge of his fatigue was dulled. He was content and was about to stand on his own when a green hand came into his view.
Belas then remembered what the Orc said about his reason for helping them. "Either way, you did manage to turn the tide friend, and for that I thank you." He said taking the hand and rising to his feet. He was a bit unsteady at first, but soon he was standing surely, if a bit tired at the recent events. Indeed, he is just lucky to be alive, much less free. Belas patted the Orc arm to show his appreciation and then began to make his way to the cart Fayth had just unlocked. It was time to get his things.
"It's unlocked right?" He asked Fayth although it was rhetoric. If it wasn't, then she wouldn't have gotten the potion. He raised a hand in greeting toward Azoth as the breton leaned against the cart. Apparently, his magic had taken a lot out of him as well. He turned a corner and then began to shuffle through the bags in the cart. After a while, he came to a large burlap sack attached to a quiver and an oaken shortbow. The bow was Belas's. He picked the bag up and felt the familiar weight of his armor in the sack. He brought it around the back of the cart and opened it, taking quick inventory. He found his blue extravagant pants and shirt, surely they were to be sold if they hadn't had escaped.
Belas checked around to make sure Fayth wasn't in eyesight and quickly changed from his tattered rough pants to his personal pants. He chucked the rough cloth into the woods and followed up by putting on his shirt and bonemold boots. He then slid into his quiver, keeping the rest of his armor in the bag. He brought the bag back around front of the cart and sat it there while he leaned against the cart, and waited for his companions to properly rearm.
As he waited, he heard Azoth's comment about the Bosmer. "Bosmer? No, they weren't with the Slavers. I believe they arrived at the same time as the... Oh.." Belas said with sudden realization. They had arrived with the Orc into the fray. Belas then bowed deeply to express his condolences to the Orc. "I am very sorry for your loss." He said to the Orc.
Belas then remembered what the Orc said about his reason for helping them. "Either way, you did manage to turn the tide friend, and for that I thank you." He said taking the hand and rising to his feet. He was a bit unsteady at first, but soon he was standing surely, if a bit tired at the recent events. Indeed, he is just lucky to be alive, much less free. Belas patted the Orc arm to show his appreciation and then began to make his way to the cart Fayth had just unlocked. It was time to get his things.
"It's unlocked right?" He asked Fayth although it was rhetoric. If it wasn't, then she wouldn't have gotten the potion. He raised a hand in greeting toward Azoth as the breton leaned against the cart. Apparently, his magic had taken a lot out of him as well. He turned a corner and then began to shuffle through the bags in the cart. After a while, he came to a large burlap sack attached to a quiver and an oaken shortbow. The bow was Belas's. He picked the bag up and felt the familiar weight of his armor in the sack. He brought it around the back of the cart and opened it, taking quick inventory. He found his blue extravagant pants and shirt, surely they were to be sold if they hadn't had escaped.
Belas checked around to make sure Fayth wasn't in eyesight and quickly changed from his tattered rough pants to his personal pants. He chucked the rough cloth into the woods and followed up by putting on his shirt and bonemold boots. He then slid into his quiver, keeping the rest of his armor in the bag. He brought the bag back around front of the cart and sat it there while he leaned against the cart, and waited for his companions to properly rearm.
As he waited, he heard Azoth's comment about the Bosmer. "Bosmer? No, they weren't with the Slavers. I believe they arrived at the same time as the... Oh.." Belas said with sudden realization. They had arrived with the Orc into the fray. Belas then bowed deeply to express his condolences to the Orc. "I am very sorry for your loss." He said to the Orc.
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"Shadow hide me...", whispered Ballista in a panicked voice. This scene was too familiar to her. People glaring at the strangers, not wanting them, hating them for their newness. Her eyes darted back and forth between the assembled people, searching for weapons or sharp objects. She yelped in surprise as a small rat darted over her feet. She was glad of the hood, for her face was a deep scarlet as people looked at her questioningly. She sidled up to Othan and whispered in his ear. "We need to find directions to a bigger city and leave here...fast. I am in fear for my life." Her gravelly voice was a little hard to hear, but she couldn't speak any louder.
Ballista moved to a quiet, dark corner of the village and cast a chameleon glamour on herself, mostly to make her more comfortable in this public place. She began chanting to calm herself.
"Shadow hide me,
Make me unseen.
Shadow conceal me,
Make me unheard.
Shadows come and take me,
Make me not here.
Shadows come and stop this pain,
Hide away the light."
Surprisingly, for an assassin, Ballista scared easily and needed many chants and rituals to comfort herself. Lucien tried to toughen her up during her training, but accepted the flaw and used it to his advantage. He taught her some old chants and gained her trust, making her loyal to him, no matter the cost. When the Dark Brotherhood chapel was cleansed by one of his disciples, the higher ups decided that he was a traitor and murdered him, brutally. This devastated Ballista, causing her to distrust any form of authority due to the inherent power it possesses.
Ballista watched from under her veil as Othan and the others dealt with the villagers. When it was time to move, she would make her way through the village and follow them, or find a hidey hole if they needed to stay for some reason.
Ballista moved to a quiet, dark corner of the village and cast a chameleon glamour on herself, mostly to make her more comfortable in this public place. She began chanting to calm herself.
"Shadow hide me,
Make me unseen.
Shadow conceal me,
Make me unheard.
Shadows come and take me,
Make me not here.
Shadows come and stop this pain,
Hide away the light."
Surprisingly, for an assassin, Ballista scared easily and needed many chants and rituals to comfort herself. Lucien tried to toughen her up during her training, but accepted the flaw and used it to his advantage. He taught her some old chants and gained her trust, making her loyal to him, no matter the cost. When the Dark Brotherhood chapel was cleansed by one of his disciples, the higher ups decided that he was a traitor and murdered him, brutally. This devastated Ballista, causing her to distrust any form of authority due to the inherent power it possesses.
Ballista watched from under her veil as Othan and the others dealt with the villagers. When it was time to move, she would make her way through the village and follow them, or find a hidey hole if they needed to stay for some reason.
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Sai looked up from under his hood at the people of the village. A place out here being weary of new arrivals was to be expected. Add that to the fact they entered it with the kids. Othan approached a woman and seemed to be talking to her about something, Sai wasn't paying much attention. The aura of the town unsettled him. He had been to many small villages and the like numerous times, but one time made him weary of them forever. He had traveled to a small town known as Hackdirt a year or so ago, finding a disturbing truth hidden within the town. Since then he has always been cautious when entering them. Sure the city has its crime, but in the middle of the forest, no one will come if you scream. Sai heard the woman mention tavern which caught his attention. He could really use something to drink after today.
After their conversation finished the woman seemed to whisper something to Othan then took her leave. Sai was curious about it, but let it go for the sake of not starting a situation. "Alright, I guess we should check this place out."
After their conversation finished the woman seemed to whisper something to Othan then took her leave. Sai was curious about it, but let it go for the sake of not starting a situation. "Alright, I guess we should check this place out."
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Jolgeim watched as the only woman in their group slide right next to the dark elf, whisper something barely audible in it's ear only to almost disappear next through some magic he had rarely seen.
From the looks they were given, he knew that the locals might be distrustful of them but to react so drastically, the woman was suspicious if not downright unstable. In addition, he had smelled blood on her where none of them had bled.
"Alright, I guess we should check this place out." One of the group said, distracting him for a moment, Jolgeim lightly swayed his head left and right in a 'Nothing better to do' manner and proceeded right next to Snow and Pilpen, making sure his back was turned to the group.
"Thanks for the help." He said softly with a slight curve of the lips, holding up Pilpen's hand and placing a few of his own copper coins into them. A seemingly kind gesture but Jolgeim was hoping that seeing this, the boys would elevate some of the tension they had with the townspeople. Even if they had lost most of their belongings and the others were scrapping for gold, in the long run it would be worth, his instincts were sure of it.
"We will be heading to Anvil on the morrow, then?" Truth be told, he was wary of the whole lot of them, even if they could not tell. None of them had introduced themselves yet and the white haired man seemed the sanest and even he looked like he had something to hide. Nords like him, no matter they came from, shared a same dislike of treachery and shifty characters.
Jolgeim clutched his sternum where the scimitar had struck*. Looks like he won't be getting any rest tonight ...
*OOC: Refer to Beach Scene, injury was mentioned to have been sustained upon the Serpent's Wake.
From the looks they were given, he knew that the locals might be distrustful of them but to react so drastically, the woman was suspicious if not downright unstable. In addition, he had smelled blood on her where none of them had bled.
"Alright, I guess we should check this place out." One of the group said, distracting him for a moment, Jolgeim lightly swayed his head left and right in a 'Nothing better to do' manner and proceeded right next to Snow and Pilpen, making sure his back was turned to the group.
"Thanks for the help." He said softly with a slight curve of the lips, holding up Pilpen's hand and placing a few of his own copper coins into them. A seemingly kind gesture but Jolgeim was hoping that seeing this, the boys would elevate some of the tension they had with the townspeople. Even if they had lost most of their belongings and the others were scrapping for gold, in the long run it would be worth, his instincts were sure of it.
"We will be heading to Anvil on the morrow, then?" Truth be told, he was wary of the whole lot of them, even if they could not tell. None of them had introduced themselves yet and the white haired man seemed the sanest and even he looked like he had something to hide. Nords like him, no matter they came from, shared a same dislike of treachery and shifty characters.
Jolgeim clutched his sternum where the scimitar had struck*. Looks like he won't be getting any rest tonight ...
*OOC: Refer to Beach Scene, injury was mentioned to have been sustained upon the Serpent's Wake.
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"Your welcome big guy," Fayth replied. Now that that was done it was time to change out of these rags. She turned and made her way back to cart where their equipment lay. Fayth retrieved the sack of her items; her bow, Heartseeker; and her quiver, Frostbane. "Well then, I'm going into the woods over here to change!" Fayth announced loud enough for everyone to hear. "No peeking!" she warned and trotted off into the woods. Once she found a suitable clearing not far from her companions, she retrieved her clothes from her bag and began changing. Her outfit consisted of a pair of green elven boots, brown thigh length socks with a belt at the top holding her dagger, a pair of shorts with a green skirt hanging over it, a pair of brown arm sleeves, a white armored bustier with matching bracers with a blue enchanted gem in each, a matching white choker, and a moon crested locket. She retrieved her equipment belt from the bag and buckled it around her waist. Onto that she tied her bag of gold and stashed her map of Cyrodiil. Having equipped all of her gear she emerged from the woods. "Now that's better. How do I look?" she asked approaching her companions.
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"Shadowhidemeshadowhidemeshadowhid-" Ballista stopped mid panic attack when she noticed a young woman looking at her very oddly. For about a second, they both just stared at each other, but the other woman looked away first. Feeling a bit reassured, Ballista stood and dusted herself off. Her chameleon spell had worn off about ten minutes ago and she had just hoped that no-one would come and bother her. The other woman cleared her throat awkwardly a couple times and remained silent, her eyes searching around for something.
"I would appreciate it if you just told me whatever it is you wanted to tell me. I dislike awkward silences," rumbled Ballista. The other woman jumped slightly at the surprising sound of Ballista's voice, but appeared unshaken. She extended her hand and smiled widely, waiting for a few seconds. When the offer wasn't accepted, she let her arm go limp and dropped the smile a few notches. Maybe she was just trying to get to know an outsider.
"I heard you were traveling and I was wondering....well...Could I come with you?"
Maybe not. Ballista chuckled a bit, which evolved into a snicker, which mutated into a laugh. The sheer oddity of the situation, to her, was too great to keep it in. After a minute or so, she was on her knees trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen.
"Ahhh...I haven't laughed like that in....many years. It's funny to me, because no one ever talks to me. At least, not for conversation. Mostly they berate me or some such. If you want to know who to travel with, talk to one of those guys. I'm just a tag-along." Ballista wiped a tear from under her hood and leaned against the house behind her. Laughing had put Ballista in such a good mood that her paranoia died down a bit and she could actually look at the surroundings and enjoy them. The woman left, casting her odd glances but following her advice and moving over to the group of travelers.
"Excuse me? Excuse me?" she called out as she approached the group. "Hello? Yes, my name is Lainy and I want to accompany you." A collective groan arose from the assembled villagers.
"Lainy! Leave the travelers alone. They don't want any of your damn pestering!" A mid-size plump man turned to Othan and said quietly, "She's the town crazy. She thinks up all these weird ideas and brews the most awful potions. She doesn't have anyone to inflict her torture on but us, so she does. I once drank one of her potions. It tasted alright, but my feet smelled of cooked cabbage for at least a week! Don't accept any food items she gives you, and don't let her tag along. She'll just give you trouble." The man nodded sagely, backed up by a few elderly folk.
"I would appreciate it if you just told me whatever it is you wanted to tell me. I dislike awkward silences," rumbled Ballista. The other woman jumped slightly at the surprising sound of Ballista's voice, but appeared unshaken. She extended her hand and smiled widely, waiting for a few seconds. When the offer wasn't accepted, she let her arm go limp and dropped the smile a few notches. Maybe she was just trying to get to know an outsider.
"I heard you were traveling and I was wondering....well...Could I come with you?"
Maybe not. Ballista chuckled a bit, which evolved into a snicker, which mutated into a laugh. The sheer oddity of the situation, to her, was too great to keep it in. After a minute or so, she was on her knees trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen.
"Ahhh...I haven't laughed like that in....many years. It's funny to me, because no one ever talks to me. At least, not for conversation. Mostly they berate me or some such. If you want to know who to travel with, talk to one of those guys. I'm just a tag-along." Ballista wiped a tear from under her hood and leaned against the house behind her. Laughing had put Ballista in such a good mood that her paranoia died down a bit and she could actually look at the surroundings and enjoy them. The woman left, casting her odd glances but following her advice and moving over to the group of travelers.
"Excuse me? Excuse me?" she called out as she approached the group. "Hello? Yes, my name is Lainy and I want to accompany you." A collective groan arose from the assembled villagers.
"Lainy! Leave the travelers alone. They don't want any of your damn pestering!" A mid-size plump man turned to Othan and said quietly, "She's the town crazy. She thinks up all these weird ideas and brews the most awful potions. She doesn't have anyone to inflict her torture on but us, so she does. I once drank one of her potions. It tasted alright, but my feet smelled of cooked cabbage for at least a week! Don't accept any food items she gives you, and don't let her tag along. She'll just give you trouble." The man nodded sagely, backed up by a few elderly folk.
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Sai crossed his arms and let out a heavy yawn. He had stopped paying attention to the ramblings around him, an empty stomach and lack of sleep taking its toll. "Let's just head to the tavern for now." He walked close to the rest of the group so no one else could here. "I suggest we lay low until this whole mess blows over. Once they stop looking for survivors we can get to Anvil without having to be annoyingly questioned." Sai didn't know if they were even looking for survivors, but taking a chance then calmly waiting inside a dungeon until they decide to release you, isn't worth taking. "Plus i think we can all agree that we all need supplies. I doubt Anvil will be a short trip." He had completely ignored the Lainy woman and assumed the other survivor was perfectly content with staying at a distance from the rest of them. He rarely asked others about their problems or why they do things, he'd simply accept it and move forward, much like he was doing now. He looked at the kids and bent down, so he was at eye level to Snowe. "Once we get our things together at the Tavern, we'll follow you to your dad's, alright?" Snowe nodded, Sai standing up. He turned back the way they were heading and pressed forward, intent on getting one wink of sleep even if it kills him. As he walked The Dancing Mare came into view, a wood sign of a horse outside of it. "Alright, so who's paying?"
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"Work for a day, stay for two. That's the common policy." He said bluntly to Sai who was too eager to step into the building without anything, Jolgeim was definitely not going to be generous to a bunch of people who had been so far nothing but strangers.
Jolgeim looked at the woman who had come running, her request was totally unexpected. He hoped that the other shipwrecked fellow would answer the question and save them a headache, but it turned out that Jolgeim had been wrong about that person's usefulness as he just continued walking to the Inn.
"As much as we would love to have you, missus."
He said, he had considered that she would have money to pay for any lodging but on a personal stand it was unmasculine to ask a woman of such thing.
"Your villagemen need your potions, as much as they hate to admit it."
Then he was about to pat her on the shoulder but realized it might not have been appropriate, they might not have been open minded people. So he simply smiled condescendingly, hoping this bizzare incident quickly passes over.
Jolgeim looked at the woman who had come running, her request was totally unexpected. He hoped that the other shipwrecked fellow would answer the question and save them a headache, but it turned out that Jolgeim had been wrong about that person's usefulness as he just continued walking to the Inn.
"As much as we would love to have you, missus."
He said, he had considered that she would have money to pay for any lodging but on a personal stand it was unmasculine to ask a woman of such thing.
"Your villagemen need your potions, as much as they hate to admit it."
Then he was about to pat her on the shoulder but realized it might not have been appropriate, they might not have been open minded people. So he simply smiled condescendingly, hoping this bizzare incident quickly passes over.
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Ballista chuckled quietly at the scene being made, but made herself scarce just incase that nutbag girl decided to take another crack at her. She slipped into the Dancing Mare and ordered a tankard of mead. It reminded her of the time she used mead as a poison. She grinned at the memory, still surprised at how strongly allergic that Nord was to the stuff. One sip and he was down for the count.
She nursed the tankard in a corner, but the only table without people sitting at it had room for some. She hunkered down and tried to look menacing.
"Hey! Hey you!" Ballista's head whipped around, almost throwing off her hood. "What the hell is this girls problem?" growled Ballista. Lainy sat down heavily right next to her and started telling some sob story about how everyone hates her and blah blah blah. She mentioned something about how one of her group members thinks she's better off here and what does she think about that. That's when she realized that Lainy had stopped talking and looked expectantly at her. For some reason, Ballista didn't want to offend her, so she shrugged and took a drink. Lainy accepted that as a sign of acceptance and started talking about some potion she brewed and how it went wrong.
Without thinking, Ballista muttered, "You used too much Ladies tresses and not enough ginseng." Lainy blinked in surprise and got excited.
"Of course!" she exclaimed. Without any other comments, she scrambled out of the inn. Ballista chuckled. The kid reminded her of herself when she was younger. She did have a bi if a soft spot for plucky young people with something to prove.
She nursed the tankard in a corner, but the only table without people sitting at it had room for some. She hunkered down and tried to look menacing.
"Hey! Hey you!" Ballista's head whipped around, almost throwing off her hood. "What the hell is this girls problem?" growled Ballista. Lainy sat down heavily right next to her and started telling some sob story about how everyone hates her and blah blah blah. She mentioned something about how one of her group members thinks she's better off here and what does she think about that. That's when she realized that Lainy had stopped talking and looked expectantly at her. For some reason, Ballista didn't want to offend her, so she shrugged and took a drink. Lainy accepted that as a sign of acceptance and started talking about some potion she brewed and how it went wrong.
Without thinking, Ballista muttered, "You used too much Ladies tresses and not enough ginseng." Lainy blinked in surprise and got excited.
"Of course!" she exclaimed. Without any other comments, she scrambled out of the inn. Ballista chuckled. The kid reminded her of herself when she was younger. She did have a bi if a soft spot for plucky young people with something to prove.
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All conversation was cut short at once, and as the door swung heavily on its hinges, Ashur retreated away from the cell door once more, just as he had done when Aela had been taken away. The food, however meagre and dirty it was, was welcome. How many hours had it been since his last meal, back on the Serpent's Wake ? How long had they all floated in the water before washing up on the Anvil shores, mistaken for smugglers and imprisoned ? Was it yesterday, the day before ? As Ashur quickly downed all his food, he pondered over this, trying to piece together scraps of memory from that eventful night; it led to no conclusion.
The sounds of eating died down: mouths stopped chewing, bowls were set back down onto the stone ground by the cell doors, quiet reigned once again. When the Dunmer had judged that enough time had passed, that that final guard was now out of the castle grounds and attending the public execution of the Dremora that had been next to him minutes earlier, he got up on feet, brushing off dust, stretching muscles, testing his link to the magicka around him with the smallest of fireballs in the palm of his hand.
He was ready.
"Leon; he called out in a hushed tone; it's now or never. Freedom is but a lock away ..." Shuffling, mumbling. Leon's voice was muttering, to himself or his cell mate Randolph no doubt, and the sound of metal against metal, a faint scraping and clicking, could be heard lightly echoing throughout the jail. A smile lit up Ashur's face as soon as the old door of Leon's cell screeched open, though the wait for that sound to reach his ears felt like forever to the Ashlander. The old man; he could properly see him now: gritty, bearded, a mad glint in eyes crowned with heavy, bushy eyebrows; made his way at once towards his cell, and with a confident nod Ashur gripped the dirtied silver instrument that was handed to him. Its slim, toothed end was inserted into the rusty lock, and with an ear pressed against the metal, the Dunmer manoeuvred the pick about, lifting up one tumbler after another quicker than he'd expected. Leon looked impatient, edgy. The taste of freedom was proving too strong it seemed, and that mad glimmer that Ashur had noticed before seemed to grow, like the stars of an early night sky.
As for a second time screeching hinges echoed throughout the jail, Leon seemed to grow even more agitated. He was whispering to himself, pacing, clenching and unclenching his bony fists. "We'll soon be out, old man. Keep calm while I free the others, aye ?" No answer greeted the Dunmer, yet with determination, he moved towards the next cell, the one on his right: eyeing the Imperial, Cassius, as he scraped his pick against the tumblers of his cell door, Ashur noted thankfully that his singing had died down. The other man in his cell, he too an Imperial, seemed in meditation of some kind: he definitely had a better head atop his shoulders than any of the others. That would prove useful.
"Come on you two, get out and get ready !" he hissed as the third door opened. All that was left now was that final Dunmer, Eryaron. Before busying himself about the lock, Ashur stared at the convict long enough to make him understand that the words that came next were serious: "You're staying shackled until we get out of here, Dark Elf. I'm not trusting you any more than the Cyrodiil pigs, but if you prove your worth, I'll make sure I don't accidentally lose the warden's key once we're out, yes ?" Again, the pick worked its magic and the door was opened, the lock proving tougher this time, but the pick more than making up for it with its excellent craftsmanship despite years of disuse.
Motioning for everyone to stay quiet, he headed up the corridor, the others in tow most likely. He didn't want to be the leader of this breakout and have to face the warden first, but there remained a final door to unlock, and by the blessing granted to him by Mephala, he guessed he was the most apt with magic at this given time. Resting against the coarse wood of the door leading to the jailer's office (or so he hoped, in any case), the Ashlander crouched to peer out of the lock. He could see nothing through the opening other than cruddy furniture and low torchlight. Focusing on the few of them he could see, Ashur extended his reach towards them, feeling the natural fires, and quenching them by engulfing them in a sphere of magicka so as to cut off the air. At once, the room dimmed, a few candles at most giving off light now, and the gruff voice of an Imperial letting out a "What the ..." as his chair was pushed back and he got up, reached the Dunmer's ears.
All that was left was the door to unlock, before they tested the man's mettle. Ashur worked on it as silently as possible, noting how much harder this one was to free open. With a quiet snarl, he felt a tumbler fall down on the silver lockpick, the others promptly following suite, though he noted in relief that it did not however break it. Starting over, he finally freed the lock, which clicked open far too loudly for the man's taste. Finally, tying his hair up in a bun, Ashur used the pick to keep his knot of hair in place, having nowhere else to put the pick until they got their kit back. Looking back to the people behind him, he gave a nod bearing the grave realisation that they all faced a deadly situation. The grave look he gave them was honest, no theatricals or drama intended. One last time, he felt the magicka about him, and tensing his muscles, led the ambush, knowing that for the time being the warden had not drawn his sword.
What came next was nowhere near what he had hoped for.
Leon charged up the corridor, pushing the others aside. Ashur was knocked against the stone wall, and shouting in a murderous rage, the madman kicked the door open, something along the lines of "This is for ol' Dolphy !" escaping his lips, which Ashur would recall being almost frothy. A punch landed on the warden's helmet, the chain coif taking most of the brunt of the hit. Leon yelped at the pain that surged through his fist, and with a curse, the jailer drew his blade. Another thing that Ashur would recall was the distinctly similar sound that the sword had made upon both exiting its sheath and entering Leon's frail body. Dark blood coated the blade up to the hilt, flowing freely from the man's open wound as his dying body slumped down to the ground.
All of this had happened so fast: Ashur was still on the ground, slowly trying to get up, though the shock of their wholly failed plan kept him on his ass. Realising that they were still in a corridor, in a doorway even, the Ashlander barked one last command as the fight started: "Bloody get in there, you !"
The sounds of eating died down: mouths stopped chewing, bowls were set back down onto the stone ground by the cell doors, quiet reigned once again. When the Dunmer had judged that enough time had passed, that that final guard was now out of the castle grounds and attending the public execution of the Dremora that had been next to him minutes earlier, he got up on feet, brushing off dust, stretching muscles, testing his link to the magicka around him with the smallest of fireballs in the palm of his hand.
He was ready.
"Leon; he called out in a hushed tone; it's now or never. Freedom is but a lock away ..." Shuffling, mumbling. Leon's voice was muttering, to himself or his cell mate Randolph no doubt, and the sound of metal against metal, a faint scraping and clicking, could be heard lightly echoing throughout the jail. A smile lit up Ashur's face as soon as the old door of Leon's cell screeched open, though the wait for that sound to reach his ears felt like forever to the Ashlander. The old man; he could properly see him now: gritty, bearded, a mad glint in eyes crowned with heavy, bushy eyebrows; made his way at once towards his cell, and with a confident nod Ashur gripped the dirtied silver instrument that was handed to him. Its slim, toothed end was inserted into the rusty lock, and with an ear pressed against the metal, the Dunmer manoeuvred the pick about, lifting up one tumbler after another quicker than he'd expected. Leon looked impatient, edgy. The taste of freedom was proving too strong it seemed, and that mad glimmer that Ashur had noticed before seemed to grow, like the stars of an early night sky.
As for a second time screeching hinges echoed throughout the jail, Leon seemed to grow even more agitated. He was whispering to himself, pacing, clenching and unclenching his bony fists. "We'll soon be out, old man. Keep calm while I free the others, aye ?" No answer greeted the Dunmer, yet with determination, he moved towards the next cell, the one on his right: eyeing the Imperial, Cassius, as he scraped his pick against the tumblers of his cell door, Ashur noted thankfully that his singing had died down. The other man in his cell, he too an Imperial, seemed in meditation of some kind: he definitely had a better head atop his shoulders than any of the others. That would prove useful.
"Come on you two, get out and get ready !" he hissed as the third door opened. All that was left now was that final Dunmer, Eryaron. Before busying himself about the lock, Ashur stared at the convict long enough to make him understand that the words that came next were serious: "You're staying shackled until we get out of here, Dark Elf. I'm not trusting you any more than the Cyrodiil pigs, but if you prove your worth, I'll make sure I don't accidentally lose the warden's key once we're out, yes ?" Again, the pick worked its magic and the door was opened, the lock proving tougher this time, but the pick more than making up for it with its excellent craftsmanship despite years of disuse.
Motioning for everyone to stay quiet, he headed up the corridor, the others in tow most likely. He didn't want to be the leader of this breakout and have to face the warden first, but there remained a final door to unlock, and by the blessing granted to him by Mephala, he guessed he was the most apt with magic at this given time. Resting against the coarse wood of the door leading to the jailer's office (or so he hoped, in any case), the Ashlander crouched to peer out of the lock. He could see nothing through the opening other than cruddy furniture and low torchlight. Focusing on the few of them he could see, Ashur extended his reach towards them, feeling the natural fires, and quenching them by engulfing them in a sphere of magicka so as to cut off the air. At once, the room dimmed, a few candles at most giving off light now, and the gruff voice of an Imperial letting out a "What the ..." as his chair was pushed back and he got up, reached the Dunmer's ears.
All that was left was the door to unlock, before they tested the man's mettle. Ashur worked on it as silently as possible, noting how much harder this one was to free open. With a quiet snarl, he felt a tumbler fall down on the silver lockpick, the others promptly following suite, though he noted in relief that it did not however break it. Starting over, he finally freed the lock, which clicked open far too loudly for the man's taste. Finally, tying his hair up in a bun, Ashur used the pick to keep his knot of hair in place, having nowhere else to put the pick until they got their kit back. Looking back to the people behind him, he gave a nod bearing the grave realisation that they all faced a deadly situation. The grave look he gave them was honest, no theatricals or drama intended. One last time, he felt the magicka about him, and tensing his muscles, led the ambush, knowing that for the time being the warden had not drawn his sword.
What came next was nowhere near what he had hoped for.
Leon charged up the corridor, pushing the others aside. Ashur was knocked against the stone wall, and shouting in a murderous rage, the madman kicked the door open, something along the lines of "This is for ol' Dolphy !" escaping his lips, which Ashur would recall being almost frothy. A punch landed on the warden's helmet, the chain coif taking most of the brunt of the hit. Leon yelped at the pain that surged through his fist, and with a curse, the jailer drew his blade. Another thing that Ashur would recall was the distinctly similar sound that the sword had made upon both exiting its sheath and entering Leon's frail body. Dark blood coated the blade up to the hilt, flowing freely from the man's open wound as his dying body slumped down to the ground.
All of this had happened so fast: Ashur was still on the ground, slowly trying to get up, though the shock of their wholly failed plan kept him on his ass. Realising that they were still in a corridor, in a doorway even, the Ashlander barked one last command as the fight started: "Bloody get in there, you !"
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Belas looked at the horizon and noticed the sun setting. A he sighed and sat the bag he carried in his hand on the ground and retrieved what armor remained in it out and donned it. Now Belas had his full set of bonemold equipped. He sighed, becoming a bit restless and took a step forward from the cart he was leaning against. He looked at his new companions and shrugged.
"Shall we move this party to a city with an inn? I would prefer a nice soft bed to the unforgiving hard rocks. Besides, Anvil can't be that far off right? I doubt these bandits would have had time to move us that far away from the coast." Belas said pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to get to a town of some sort. He lived in the wilderness for a while in his time in Morrowind. It was not an experience he would like to do again.
"I suggest we backtrack towards the coast and then follow it to Anvil. Who knows? Maybe we will find a road to Anvil? Only one way to find out." He said with a point in the opposite direction they were going.
"Shall we move this party to a city with an inn? I would prefer a nice soft bed to the unforgiving hard rocks. Besides, Anvil can't be that far off right? I doubt these bandits would have had time to move us that far away from the coast." Belas said pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to get to a town of some sort. He lived in the wilderness for a while in his time in Morrowind. It was not an experience he would like to do again.
"I suggest we backtrack towards the coast and then follow it to Anvil. Who knows? Maybe we will find a road to Anvil? Only one way to find out." He said with a point in the opposite direction they were going.
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*Glances around...*
Since this is deader than a door nail, I shall be using this for IC tests. Such as positioning and pictures and such. So the first is Position on both the left and right!
Belas looked at the horizon and noticed the sun setting. A he sighed and sat the bag he carried in his hand on the ground and retrieved what armor remained in it out and donned it. Now Belas had his full set of bonemold equipped. He sighed, becoming a bit restless and took a step forward from the cart he was leaning against. He looked at his new companions and shrugged.
"Shall we move this party to a city with an inn? I would prefer a nice soft bed to the unforgiving hard rocks. Besides, Anvil can't be that far off right? I doubt these bandits would have had time to move us that far away from the coast." Belas said pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to get to a town of some sort. He lived in the wilderness for a while in his time in Morrowind. It was not an experience he would like to do again.
"I suggest we backtrack towards the coast and then follow it to Anvil. Who knows? Maybe we will find a road to Anvil? Only one way to find out." He said with a point in the opposite direction they were going.
Sai crossed his arms and let out a heavy yawn. He had stopped paying attention to the ramblings around him, an empty stomach and lack of sleep taking its toll. "Let's just head to the tavern for now." He walked close to the rest of the group so no one else could here. "I suggest we lay low until this whole mess blows over. Once they stop looking for survivors we can get to Anvil without having to be annoyingly questioned." Sai didn't know if they were even looking for survivors, but taking a chance then calmly waiting inside a dungeon until they decide to release you, isn't worth taking. "Plus i think we can all agree that we all need supplies. I doubt Anvil will be a short trip." He had completely ignored the Lainy woman and assumed the other survivor was perfectly content with staying at a distance from the rest of them. He rarely asked others about their problems or why they do things, he'd simply accept it and move forward, much like he was doing now. He looked at the kids and bent down, so he was at eye level to Snowe. "Once we get our things together at the Tavern, we'll follow you to your dad's, alright?" Snowe nodded, Sai standing up. He turned back the way they were heading and pressed forward, intent on getting one wink of sleep even if it kills him. As he walked The Dancing Mare came into view, a wood sign of a horse outside of it. "Alright, so who's paying?"
Epic fail...
Since this is deader than a door nail, I shall be using this for IC tests. Such as positioning and pictures and such. So the first is Position on both the left and right!
"Shall we move this party to a city with an inn? I would prefer a nice soft bed to the unforgiving hard rocks. Besides, Anvil can't be that far off right? I doubt these bandits would have had time to move us that far away from the coast." Belas said pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to get to a town of some sort. He lived in the wilderness for a while in his time in Morrowind. It was not an experience he would like to do again.
"I suggest we backtrack towards the coast and then follow it to Anvil. Who knows? Maybe we will find a road to Anvil? Only one way to find out." He said with a point in the opposite direction they were going.
Epic fail...
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Use your INK to craft new artifacts in The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.
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View All » Add Character » 23 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Game Master
Controls NPCs, quests, drives story arc
Fayt Celor
The runaway daughter of a Telvanni Diplomat trying to find a decent life in Cyrodil
Aela Kirshiik
Aela is a half-dremora battlemage hoping for a better life in Cyrodiil
Ashur Ilabael
From simple Ashlander to Morag Tong assassin, he's now been sent to Cyrodiil against his will to exact Mephala's wishes.
Azoth Arlius
An ex necromancer Breton
Sarkhan Bretus
Ex-Blade member that failed to protect the Emperor, and changed his lifestyle to that of the martial artist monks of the mountains.
Othan Arenim
A wiry Dunmer with a hardened heart and a grim past.
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Sarkhan Bretus
Ex-Blade member that failed to protect the Emperor, and changed his lifestyle to that of the martial artist monks of the mountains.
Ashur Ilabael
From simple Ashlander to Morag Tong assassin, he's now been sent to Cyrodiil against his will to exact Mephala's wishes.
Fayt Celor
The runaway daughter of a Telvanni Diplomat trying to find a decent life in Cyrodil
Othan Arenim
A wiry Dunmer with a hardened heart and a grim past.
Azoth Arlius
An ex necromancer Breton
Aela Kirshiik
Aela is a half-dremora battlemage hoping for a better life in Cyrodiil
Game Master
Controls NPCs, quests, drives story arc
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Game Master
Controls NPCs, quests, drives story arc
Othan Arenim
A wiry Dunmer with a hardened heart and a grim past.
Sarkhan Bretus
Ex-Blade member that failed to protect the Emperor, and changed his lifestyle to that of the martial artist monks of the mountains.
Aela Kirshiik
Aela is a half-dremora battlemage hoping for a better life in Cyrodiil
Azoth Arlius
An ex necromancer Breton
Ashur Ilabael
From simple Ashlander to Morag Tong assassin, he's now been sent to Cyrodiil against his will to exact Mephala's wishes.
Fayt Celor
The runaway daughter of a Telvanni Diplomat trying to find a decent life in Cyrodil
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165 posts · 21 characters present · last post 2011-02-16 05:38:47 »
Home to the Imperials, center of Tamriel
0 posts · 2 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Cyrodiil, a province of Tamriel ↪ Anvil Owner: RolePlayGateway
The harbor city of Anvil
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine: Out of Character
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Most recent OOC posts in The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Okay, listen up lads and lasses, like I said earlier on in this OOC (for the little amount of people reading it :P) I'm off tomorrow for a bit more than two weeks to Britannia without much Internet access, definitely non the first anyway.
So I've started the fight with the warden, I'll let anybody who wants NPC him, but don't kill him off or anything FFS, okay ? :P I'll see where this thing has been left when I come back. Hopefully very much alive and not dying in a gutter.
So I've started the fight with the warden, I'll let anybody who wants NPC him, but don't kill him off or anything FFS, okay ? :P I'll see where this thing has been left when I come back. Hopefully very much alive and not dying in a gutter.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
*Scratches chin*
Lets see if this isn't completely dead...
Lets see if this isn't completely dead...
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Just figured I'd post up on here and let everyone know that I'm back, though I see Rob still hasn't posted so I take it I should be waiting for him before trying to pick up again?
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
I would welcome him into the Slaver's party with open arms... Considering I am waiting on anything to happen. I just hope this long hiatus hasn't made Cynoc or Vain drop...
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
If you really want to, you can leave the party, yeah. Could go to the Slaver party, if you want.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
I have, though I also have yet to see any reply in my inbox.
However, I do know the GM's plan for our party and even if I left it will be after the event has taken place (and through reasonable means, not just disappearing).
However, I do know the GM's plan for our party and even if I left it will be after the event has taken place (and through reasonable means, not just disappearing).
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
I trust you've already taken this to PMs with skulblaka ? And if you haven't, starting there would probably be the best bet.
If you do end up leaving the beach party, along with Standard/Othan's departure, that would leave ... Skulblaka and Lycos, no ? Which is fairly small, and kinda ruins any ideas the GM had about your party. That said, all in all, if it's the choice between losing you or having you have more fun somewhere else in the RP, I personally would chose the second option. Don't want to lose any more players.
Let's see what Dante has to say, and like I pointed out, if you haven't already, take it to PMs with the person at hand.
If you do end up leaving the beach party, along with Standard/Othan's departure, that would leave ... Skulblaka and Lycos, no ? Which is fairly small, and kinda ruins any ideas the GM had about your party. That said, all in all, if it's the choice between losing you or having you have more fun somewhere else in the RP, I personally would chose the second option. Don't want to lose any more players.
Let's see what Dante has to say, and like I pointed out, if you haven't already, take it to PMs with the person at hand.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
I read the other parties' posts and mine is just, well let's say they are all roleplay masturbating at this point with no reaction whatsoever to anyone else's post.
Take for example skulbaka's last post, nope, I talked to her NPC which she literally threw at us (out of the blue and it made no sense, given the village's background which you had given us, nothing of such would have happened, but I closed one eye)and later she didn't even bother to make a reaction, like all the rest of her posts such as ignoring the one about the orc not being anywhere near them.
To be honest, this is rather demoralizing, it's abit sad really since you've put so much effort into this roleplay.
Dante, I don't want to sound like I'm ranting but I would like to leave this party, perhaps I will create a new character somewhere?
Take for example skulbaka's last post, nope, I talked to her NPC which she literally threw at us (out of the blue and it made no sense, given the village's background which you had given us, nothing of such would have happened, but I closed one eye)and later she didn't even bother to make a reaction, like all the rest of her posts such as ignoring the one about the orc not being anywhere near them.
To be honest, this is rather demoralizing, it's abit sad really since you've put so much effort into this roleplay.
Dante, I don't want to sound like I'm ranting but I would like to leave this party, perhaps I will create a new character somewhere?
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Ok...im back, I wanted to know if I can still jump in the roleplay even after all that has started. Can the leader send me a messages telling me so and if you can, give me a breef summary of whats going on. If not its fine
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
You make it sound like I'm a sadistic homicidal maniac ! :3
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
You can just take control of him and kill him off in the escape, if you want.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Sorry lads and lasses, got a rather pleasant hangover right now, makes typing a rather interesting activity, so I'll have to post tomorrow, or late tonight if I've sobered up (as in, finally lost all the effects of the ethanol in my body) by then.
And I don't think Rob dropped. Four days isn't that long a time if you have a life elsewhere to take care of unlike most of us :P And yeah, damn shame to be losing you Standard, as you know, but like I said, real life is the best thing around.
So Dante, will you RP Leon for what little use we have left for him, or should I check with Standard and see if I should do or what ? Have you sorted this out at all ?
And I don't think Rob dropped. Four days isn't that long a time if you have a life elsewhere to take care of unlike most of us :P And yeah, damn shame to be losing you Standard, as you know, but like I said, real life is the best thing around.
So Dante, will you RP Leon for what little use we have left for him, or should I check with Standard and see if I should do or what ? Have you sorted this out at all ?
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
I don't think Rob has dropped, probably should give him a little more time. But yeah, since it's just you two, you can just carry them along and head to Anvil for now, no problem.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Well... Seeing as Rob hasn't posted in four days.. What shall we do? (Me and Vain, considering Cynoc is on leave for now.) I suppose We could drag them both to Anvil and if Rob does come back then no harm done, we just continue from Anvil. Even if he doesn't come back, we could just bid adieu to the Og'mir in anvil and continue on our marry way.
I honestly like this RP and would hate to see it go down in flames because of a couple of people dropped. ((Perhaps time for a roll-call?))
I honestly like this RP and would hate to see it go down in flames because of a couple of people dropped. ((Perhaps time for a roll-call?))
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
The Beach party will just continue, shouldn't be much of a problem. For Leon, I'm thinking he'll die during the Escape. Hate to see such an interesting character go, but it would be a burden to bring him along, We'll need to wait for Selothi to post now. Caravan's still waiting for Rob, not sure where he is, but hopefully he'll get on soon-ish.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Did you just call us scrub? >:(
Which town?
Alrite, take care of yourself but don't EVER stop roleplaying. It's going to help improve your english, your social skills, your sex life ...you know it. :]
Which town?
Alrite, take care of yourself but don't EVER stop roleplaying. It's going to help improve your english, your social skills, your sex life ...you know it. :]
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Hey everyone. Well, those of you who look here, anyway. I'm moving out of town and starting at a new university next month, and my schedule is going to be pretty intense. Unfortunately, I'm having to quit this RP because I simply will not be able to keep up. School has to come first, obviously.
I don't know what Dante is going to do with Leon, but Othan is most likely going to die in order to drop him from the story.
With many of you, it's been a fun couple weeks. I'd like to say I hope to see you again in the future, but realistically that is not going to happen, as I will not be starting or joining any more RPs for... well, forever.
Take care, all. Tschüß.
I don't know what Dante is going to do with Leon, but Othan is most likely going to die in order to drop him from the story.
With many of you, it's been a fun couple weeks. I'd like to say I hope to see you again in the future, but realistically that is not going to happen, as I will not be starting or joining any more RPs for... well, forever.
Take care, all. Tschüß.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Hey everyone, something suddenly came up and I wont be able to reply for a couple days. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, and I'll come back and try to make up for anything I missed!
I would try to throw up a post now, but I kind of need to wait for Rob to make a reply before I go for another one, so I'll just have to wait until I get back. Feel free to drag me along if need be.
I would try to throw up a post now, but I kind of need to wait for Rob to make a reply before I go for another one, so I'll just have to wait until I get back. Feel free to drag me along if need be.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Yep, mostly due to waiting for others to post so the rest can move on. On that note, Standard's gonna have to drop due to time issues, he'll post about it here later.
Re: [OOC] The Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Divine
Aye captain, You be right. Good to know we aren't entirely abandoned. Things seemed to slow down like it hit a wall.
Hard.
Hard.