Elder Scrolls Oblivon: The Provinces Blood War

The time is now over 200 years since the great battle of Akatosh and the Champion of Cyrodil. The once united provinces have withdrawn from the union of the Empire, turning against each other declaring war. The Imperial city has been battered until broken down and become a safehaven for thugs and thieves. Can you help reunite a dead Empire? I suppose we will find out. And as almost all good stories begin, they start in an inn with two drunk orcs....

Hiya all! I wanted to start a new Oblivion post, seeing as all I can find are the older ones. Please feel free to jump in and have fun!

Rules
1. Please, please, please (IDK how many times I can say it) be polite!
2. If your new, make sure you include your name, class. race, and gender.
3. Cursing is fine, but please dont over do it.
4. Have fun!

Name: Keikeiya
Gender: Female
Class: Acrobat Rogue
Race: Woodelve
Apperance: Dark brown long hair, unusually long elven ears, sharp green eyes, fair pale clear skin, long slender figure, and thin rose colored lips. (Yes I actually look like this, except for the whole pointy ears thing, which would be kinda weird but cool, so stop asking rofl.)

Bio: Keikeiya is almost 24 years old, and very young compared in elven standards. Her father and mother were born around the time of the battle for Tamriel against Oblivion. Her mother died giving birth to her, and her father was killed 8 years later when the family farm was attacked by a small horde of demonic creatures. Before the creatures got the chance to kill her, men from the chapel in the city of Cheydinhal had seen the creatures and assembled a quick troop of men to try and save the cottage, since the guard could no longer be counted on while most were fighting in the war. When they found the quivering girl hiding in the fireplace they took to the chapel and an old Imperial man rasied her as his own daughter.

He was a master of acrobatics and had lived a peaceful life, with no family or children, he gladly welcomed the girl to his life. When Keikeiya was 14 years old he began to teach her what he had taught no other, and passed down his ancient family secrets. At the age of 71, he died of old age. Keikeiya was devestated and lost what little belief she had in the gods. She was then 17 years old.

While wandering the streets of the city a man who was an initiate of a secret cult took her in. He was like a 3rd father to her. He taught her how to wield a dagger, pick pocket, thieve, rob, and be a natural thug. He shared with her his knowledge of how to construct deadly and unusual weapons. While participating in one of his hired missions, he was slayed brutally by another secret organization. Keikeiya was then 21, and had only know the man for 4 years since the last death in her life. From that moment on Keikeiya refuses to allow anything to get close to her heart, because she dosent want to be vulnerable to that pain again. Keikeiya refuses and vows to never be a victim of the disease called love...or perhaps, so she thinks...
------------------------------------------

"No, its mine!"
"You aint touching this sword! I killed the damn thing, so I get what it was guardin'!"
Two orcs were pushing each other around, both holding an end of what was a sheathed sword. The two had too much ale to see straight, and as they argued a small crowd was forming in the inn. Everyone was silent with awe as the huge figures threw a table between them aside and stood thundering.

"You stupid wretch! Who was it that stopped that thing from chopping you in halve? Me! So I'm supposing that I get the sword since you would'nt have even lived to slay it!" the first orc shouted as he yanked the sword with impressive force.
The second orc roared with fury as he threw his helmet down hard on the floor. It was like watching an overgrown two year old throw a temper tantrum. Just as it seemed the two would begin pounding each others heads in, a giggle emerged from the quick silence. Both orcs stopped and turned slowly toward the sound. The giggle turned into a loud laugh, and the crowd divided to reveal who was making it. The orcs took a step forward, and they saw a woman sitting in a chair, arms crossed, feet up on the table. Long ears were showing through her dark brown hair, and her skin was a light fair color. Black armor covered her body, with special straps around her knee and elbows. A dagger lay on the table next to her feet, and a sheer black mask covered her mouth and nose. Her mouth was opened wide as she almost choked gasping for air from laughing so hard.
"What you think so funny you damn wench?" an orc growled.
"Yeah? Stop laughing you disgusting little..." the second orc was cut off by her loud choking noise mixed with uncontrollable laughter. The first orc turned to the other, and gave a small smirk, as the second orc seemed to nod. They both stepped toward the elf, who seemed to finally get a grip.
"You two bastards would dare put a hand on me!" she said with a devilish look in her eyes and a small grin on her face. The two orcs took another step toward her, and her smile quickly faded. As they went to take another step forward, a figure stepped out from the crowd and positioned themselves between her and the brutes...

OOC: I'll go to this another time.

Name: Elliot Naser
Race: Argonian
Star: The Warrior
weapon: anything he can buy from Leyawiin.

Name: Horace
Age:30
Race:Nord
Birthsign:The Warrior


The bartender had had enough. His claymore shone in his hands as he stared angrily at the two monsters. They had been causing trouble in here every day for the past month, and it was causing trouble for buisness.

"You two, out! I've had enough of your trouble-causing antics, and I'm telling you now, get OUT! You can fight in the street if you want, but don't do it HERE!"

The Nord's veing popped out of his neck as he ordered them out.

((Do I need to make a charrie skeleton?))

Name: Dor'gu rinehardt
Gender: Male
Class: Swordspell
Race: Dark Elf

Der'gu took a drink of his brandy and watched as two orc's got up and started fighting over a simple seathed blade, he sighed and pulled his hood down from his dark purple cloak, his long black hair shining under the candle light "Mindless fools....." he said to himself as he watched the fight with a irriative look on his face. But then that instants he female voice was heard, which stopped the fighting, Dor'gu turned his head and saw a female wood elf siting there, apparently it was HER voice that stopped the fight.

Hey i'm going to use Selik for this if you don't mind (as i have for all TES roleplays) there is a bio on my profile but i will post it here too.

Height: 6`1"
Age: 34
Race: Imperial
Place of birth: Cyrodiil
Eyes: Deep Blue
Hair: Long , Dark brown , untidy and ragged
Facial hair: Thin layer of stubble
Scars/marks: A long scar down his left cheek , many cuts and scars on his chest and legs
Occupation : None
Previous occupation : served in the legion
Hobbies: Hunting , Goblin hunting , drinking beer , casual smoke (pipe)and most of all Fighting
Weapons of choice: A broadsword , a large dagger , a small axe and a bow and arrows
Armour/Clothing: thin chain mail shirt and greaves . A thick leather vest and greaves over the chainmail. leather boots and gauntlets.
Wears a dark green cloak with hood

Background:
Many years ago , Selik was in the legion . He was a great swordsman and good commander. He had lots of Power , Money and Friends . He had a good life .
Then one day , a man in black cloak approached him . The man requested that he join his "group" of mercenaries . The group was called " the Night Wings " . Selik , overjoyed by the thought of more money accepted the offer not knowing what was about to come next . The man then stated that he MUST assasinate his legion captain or they would kill him .
Selik was horrified . He had not the heart to do it , but then the thought of more gold came into his mind and he drew his blade .
That same night , he snuck into his captains tent and plunged the dagger straight into the throat of his captain . He did not even stay to watch him die . He simply Ran . Ran and joined the mercenaries , his so called "new friends" . Sometime after , Selik became sick of the mindless killing of innocents and realised his folly .
He quit the The Night Wings and became a traveller .
At a later age he had a run-in with some very angry goblins . He was shot twice with arrows , in the chest and the shoulder ,and was severely injured . He rested for many months recovering .
He then made a solemn hatred for goblins and hunted them for
money . He started practicing with a bow and learned how to hunt quite efficiantly . he has lived travelling the world for some time since...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Selik trudged through the streets heading for the nearby alehouse , hoping for a drink. He didn't know how much gold he had left but all he wanted was a drink and a bit of relaxation by the fire. He hoisted his bow and quiver of arrows back onto his leather armour and checked all his weapons were fastened accordingly. he gave them all a slight tug before carrying on through the dark streets , beginning to hear the noise and uproar emitting from the glowing alehouse. He smirked to himself and retrieved a small brown pouch containing 7 gold pieces. He really did not have much money left all , not after the ogre incident in the forests. He lifted his hood up over his head and slowly pushed open the door , feeling the rush of warm air from the roaring fire and sound of laughter and people chattering bombard his ears. His eyes scanned the room before settling on 4 figures sticking out from the undisturbed crowd. A Nord wielding a glistening claymore , two brutish orcs and a female wood elf that appeared to be confronting and taunting the two orcs.
Selik pushed past and old man and took a seat next to an young Redguard. Realizing the Nord must be the barman Selik turned his attention to the fray , watching the 4 figures closely and letting a hand slip down to the wooden handle of his battle axe , just incase of an altercation...

Name: Iuvanius Vanderrus III (You-van-ee-us Van-der-us the Third)
Age: 53
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Class: Sorcerer
Appearance: Of average height and build, Iuvanius is nonetheless an impressive figure. Perhaps it is the set of Dwarven armor he wears, complete save for helmet and shield and still covered in a light layer of dust that attests to the fact that he recovered it from a Dwemer ruin. Perhaps it is the fact that he carries no weapons and still strides confidently, his mixed grey and white hair (cut short to keep it out of his way) flowing behind him as he walks.

His backpack is heavy with quills, ink, and books he himself wrote as well as comparable works by other scholars, in addition to little gold medallions and bits of scrap metal salvaged from the ruins of cultures long gone from the face of the world. The bags under his eyes are large and a scraggly beard continues to attempt to invade his face, but in his eyes the look of great knowledge can be plainly seen.

History: Born in the province of Morrowind to a pair of traveling merchants, young Iuvanius could not decide if he was more impressed with the valiant knights of the Imperial Legion or the powerful and mysterious shamans of the Ashlander tribes. Naturally his parents, being law-abiding citizens, did their best to discourage his interest in the latter. To say that their efforts failed is a vast understatement, for the young boy often spent hours pouring over every book on the history of Morrowind and the practices of the Ashlanders that he could lay hands on. He excelled in his studies of mathematics and rhetoric but was always disinterested with swordsmanship and the history of the Empire, both of which he viewed as relics of a culture he never expected to have much to do with.

Desperate to ensure that their only child was one who understood his obligation to the Emperor, the eighteen year old Iuvanius was shipped off to the Imperial Legion despite his business savvy and his pleas to the contrary. His superiors didn't know quite what to make of him, because though he was always respectful and followed orders in their presence it was suspected that he was more loyal to the local Dunmer than to those he was supposed to be fighting for. Often any offenders who were merely upholding local traditions, no matter how illegal under Imperial law, would be allowed to leave by the young soldier provided they grant him knowledge of the history and customs of those he sought to understand. When he was found to be smuggling Dwemer artifacts in exchange for the chance to study some of them, however, it was decided that enough was enough. Iuvanius was dishonorably discharged from the Legion at the age of twenty-two.

As the young man wandered, lost and broken, a member of the Mage's Guild in Ald'ruhn noted his ability to study and write quickly and offered him a position as a scribe in the local guild building. Working at this for only a month he was as surprised as everyone else when his magical gifts began to manifest. Displaying some talent in all schools of magic save illusion, which he believed to be useless in practical situations, Iuvanius quickly rose to the rank of apprentice. It was at this time that he wrote his first treatise on the uses of undead components in alchemy. Though well-received within the ranks of the Ald'ruhn guild it did not attain popularity elsewhere. Even so he was promoted to Journeyman, and began to travel throughout the continent seeking to improve his magical talents.

Though it was difficult and took many years Iuvanius gained the trust of several Ashlander tribes, learning a great deal of their customs and living and working as one of them for half a decade. Eight years after leaving the guildhouse in Ald'ruhn he returned, then scarcely left his chambers for the next year and a half. When he emerged he had written what many called the ultimate source for information on the Ashlanders and their culture, the three-volume Children of the Wastes: My Travels in the Ashlands. Unlike his previous book the series was an undeniable success, with it being absorbed into the private collections of many nobles and used as a teaching resource. As his popularity as an author soared, however, the thirty-three year old man vanished again.

Satisfied with his work on existing cultures, Iuvanius decided to begin work on one that had vanished. Using his formidable offensive and travel magics he braved the depths of many of the world's Dwemer ruins, keeping sketchbooks and logs of everything he encountered. Long after the time of the Nerevarine he studied Kragenac's tools, collected every possible account of the race's activities from all those he met in Morrowind Province, and drew and explained hundreds of Dwemer devices. And yet it was not nearly enough for him. His research thus far showed a casual subject for dinnertime chat, not the world-shaking spectacle he desired. Convinced that he needed more material, he traveled to Hammerfell at the age of thirty-seven.

It was a simple matter to track down Dwemer ruins, but they were far more heavily defended by bandits and foul beasts than anything he had yet encountered. The sorcerer spent most of his personal fortune, gained by his books, hiring mercenaries, diggers, and pack animals. Whenever he could he worked with the Mage's Guild of Cyrodil, attempting to establish good ties between them and the guild he knew so well, and by the time his research was complete and he was forty-five he was a guild Magician. The six volume The Forgotten Race: Legends and Relics of the Dwemer People was a success across Morrowind, Cyrodil, and Hammerfell alike. Impressed with his gifts the council of wizards offered to make him a Master Wizard, but he refused the title and became a Wizard in order to continue to pursue knowledge.

Having seen firsthand the declining ties between the provinces of the Empire since the sacrifice of the last descendant of the Emperor, Iuvanius has grown to care more and more about the failing land that he once viewed with casual disinterest. His current and largest work, a series on the Daedra and the nature of Oblivion, has taken so long that he was forced to write a book on Necromancy (Blood and Bone: Desecrators or Geniuses?) on the side in order to keep himself afloat. The decline of the Imperial City, an area that deeply impressed him when he first arrived in Cyrodil to compare the Dwemer to the Ayleids, has saddened him greatly, and he would very much like to see it restored. Recently returning from a journey to his home province to study Daedric Shrines and the cults that inhabit them, the Wizard would like nothing better than to see a new Emperor on the throne who could bring stability to the world once again.
--------------------------------
Normally the likes of Iuvanius Vanderrus III stayed well away from the undignified squalor of alehouses, where ladies of easy virtue and men of too much drink could be found in plentiful numbers. Though he enjoyed the company of neither the Sorcerer was indeed seated in a corner table, his dusty Dwarven armor still managing to gleam in the light of so many candles and torches. Across from him sat the reason for his visit: a Dark Elf, young in age, in a hooded robe so as not to be recognized. The two men exchanged talk in low voices, with the Wizard often leaning down to take notes with the quill and paper he held in his hands. Though he had only been in the room twenty minutes he was already on the back of his second page of information, a sign of a good and informative contact.

As the Dumner finished his speech about the Masque of Clavicus Vile, a Daedric artifact Iuvanius had sought for some time and of which he had finally gained enough of a mental picture to put down a sketch, there was a commotion at the bar. Attempting to ignore the entire event the Wizard dropped the agreed-upon sum of gold, gained when he sold off some minor Altmeric contraptions he'd found on an adventurer foolish enough to wander into Ald Daedroth back in Morrowind, upon the table and shook hands with the former cultist he'd so often worked with. It was only when a third voice, the unmistakable giggle of a Bosmer, joined the torrent of angry language that he bothered to look up. A minor fight had clearly gone from bad to worse, a common consequence in a city practically run by thugs.

Carefully preparing a trick he'd invented when cornered by a group of brigands while doing some work for the Cyrodil Mage Guild, the Sorcerer covered the nails of the floorboards between the Orcs and the Bosmer in a soft blue light barely visible against the harsh light of the torches and lanterns that lit the place. If the drunken fools made a move toward the lady or the crowd he'd send them down to the cellar to wake up in the morning with hefty bruises. Though he could hardly wage a personal war on criminal activity in the Imperial City, as that would be nigh suicidal, he could at least do a good thing or two when he wasn't too busy working on his latest project.

Horace looked over at his new customer, then hollared to the back of the bar.

"ARYA! I'm having some problems out here. Can you give the man a drink, or whatever it is he wants."

A young wood elf emerged from the back of the bar, and approached the man with the bow on his back.

"What can I get you sir?"

Keikeiya glared at the inn keeper and said "What? A little brawl can't be that bad for business..."
She slowly pulled both her feet from the table and stood up. Her hand slipped over the dagger and gracefully into her palm. She twirled it wildly but with control. (She couldn't help but show off since she had everyones attention.) "...but since I became invlolved in the fight, I'm sure that patrons of this inn wouldn't want to be exposed to a very, very, bloody fight. So why don't we take it outside?"

One orc tightened his fist into a ball and slammed it against the wall, "Now we wouldn't be wanting you to run away!"
As Keikeiya took a step forward to confront the orcs, she pulled herself back ever so slightly. She couldn't let on that her knee had been hurt, making halve of her dodges or flips impossible. I think I was careful enough, maybe not even the customers saw it, she thought.
If the two orcs knew, it could make the situation worse, not that her taunting had made it any better. She saw no way out of a fight and hoped for the best...which that hope was quickly crushed as one orc yelled "Enough of your damn talk wench!"
With a dagger in her hands, there wasnt much she could do to keep the brute off of her, and she was in no position to attempt any kind of evade. Why did she have to talk so much? It always got her in trouble.

"RARRRG!!!" The second orc yelled as he charged toward her, and she braced herself for the impact, just as she saw the strange almost unnoticeable glow on the floor. She fell back into her chair laughing as hard as before. For a Bosmer, she certainly didn't act like one. The laughing made the orcs angrier, and they both charged, making the mistake of crossing the floor onto the blue light. Both fell and a large crashing sound seemed to be the only sound around for miles. As the dust cleared the Innkeeper got a look at the hole in his floor.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY FLOOR YOU DAMN IDIOTS!!!' He screamed in almost a plea as his vein seemed to pop more out of his neck. Keikeiya realized orcs, were the least of her problems, as the innkeep brought his eyes to her while she continued to laugh. The devilish look came back to her eyes.

"Ehh...Well, it probably isnt as bad as it seems! But my friends, I've got a bit of work to do in the prison, so I will just be going..." she said slyly. As she approached the door, two angry men stood in the way. "Crap...I didn't even do anything this time.." she mumbled...

"Do you two really beleve you can stop a Bosmer like that?" Dor'gu had finished his drink and stood up, placing his hood back on his head, he glared at the two guards and walked over, his silver long sword glisting under the candle lite.

The two stepped from the shadow, and again they were two orcs. "WHAT THE!!! Okay so what, is there an endless army of you incompetent bastards?!" Keikeiya whined.

"Those orcs were our brothers, and you gone and sent them through the floor! We gunna make you pay for this with your blood!" one said.
"But brother, what a waste of fine skin, why kill her so quickly?" he said with a thin smile. And both orcs drew their weapons.

"Since when have the Imperials been hiring orcs for guards?" Someone said from behind the crowd.
"Since they aint got enough of the guards in the first place." and they returned their attention to the Bosmer.
"Get her!" the orc yelled, and they both charged.
She removed the mask and her eyes seemed to pierce everyone with the sharp green colors. Keikeiya gripped the dagger, and again braced for impact as a large sword came smashing down towards her.

Dor'gu unsheathed his sword and blocked the orc's attack "you really should fight someone more your size." he said with a sly smile, he then reeled his left hand back and shot his open palm out, a fire ball shot out and struck the other orc.

Keikeiya giggled again. (She really does laugh at the wrong times.) She grabbed another patrons dagger and took two steps jumping onto a table and then jumping again flying through the air. Pain seared through her knee but she couldn't let the darkelf man have all the fun! She landed behind the orc whom recieved a fireball. He whirled around in pain but still aware. Keikeiya ducked his flying hammer and shoved a dagger into his leg. He yelped and let go of the weapon, sending it flying. He brought both his fists down at her, but she rolled over and dodged it.

Horace stood on the table, and hollared with all his might. He was quite loud, and the inn became silent as he yelled.

"ENOUGH! THIS FIGHTING IS TO STOP NOW! IF NOT, I'LL HAVE TO TEAR ALL OF YOU APART, LIMB FROM LIMB!"

His hands tightened around his Claymore, and he glared at the orcs. All of the trouble had come from them for the past week, so they'd be the first to go. Everyone in the inn was focused on the commotion, and they had all backed away so they wouldn't get hurt. It was going to be a bloody fight, but it was going to happen in Horace's inn.

"OUT! NOW!"

The floorboards, until recently interred in the cellar, suddenly flew back (orcless) into position and held themselves there. The same could not be said of the nails, which formed a small but painful and potentially deadly storm around one of the Orc newcomers. Iuvainus stood back and watched as his improvised projectiles crashed into the legs of the combatants, drawing thin rivulets of blood that would certainly impede the guards' fighting for some time. Sadly the sorcerer's contact had been wise enough to leave before the brawl had truly started and would probably have to be tracked down later. Freed from this worry, the Wizard concentrated on fighting while looking innocent. He'd sort of started the mess, after all.

As the Orcs did their best to make the Bosmer's life shorter Iuvanius brought his projectiles upward, crashing into their arms and creating painful lacerations along the muscles that controlled their strength. A moment later several dents and holes appeared in their helmets, more to scare them than to injure them. All this accomplished the bloodstained nails flew back into place, looking perfectly innocent, as their former wielder prepared what spells he had left in case the battle continued. He didn't want to kill anyone or cause collateral damage, so he'd have to choose carefully...

"Don't bore us to death inn keeper!" Keikeiya noticed the man in the corner, his movements quick and secret, so it must be him controlling the magic. She failed to realize who was helping the fight and who was attacking, so she took a second dagger and threw it towards the man. It missed landing in the wall behind him. Yet another orc came from the crowd and smashed his mace down and dodging it made her misjudge the throw of the blade.

(...........*feels sort of ignored*)

Horace charged one of the orcs, and slashed him in the leg, making it impossible for him to move. He then kicked the other one in the kneecap, doing the same thing to him. Now that neither of the orcs could move, he would have to make sure they lived and got sent to the dungeon.

"NOBODY MOVE!"

He exited the inn and went twoards the closest guard. It would take about twenty minutes for him to get there, and another twenty to get back, so that left fourty minutes for anything to happen in his inn.

Keikieya grabbed the darkelf, pulling him out of the way of an orc throwing a chair. "What was the whole purpose of stepping in? I had it covered!" she said, lying through her teeth. It was obvious the darkelf didnt believe her.

"Just a large bottle of mead , if you please..." Selik replied to lady , raising a pointed finger in the air. He received his drink and took a long sip when all of a sudden , a large cracking noise followed by an eerie level of silence disturbed him , forcing him to stand , along with the rest of the bar , to get a glimpse of what was really happening. These kinda of events happened often. The lack of a real sense of authority and the fact that Cyrodiil's citizens had developed a feeling of independence ruined the pace and tranquility that followed the Oblivion Crisis. He could not actually make out the words as the 4 people were turned into two people as it appeared that the two orcs had 'fallen through the floor'. Selik cracked a smile and took another drink of his mead. The Bosmer lady took for the exit when another two orcs stumbled in front of the door and drew their weapons. Selik watched a male dunmer follow her stand to attention at this , whom he thought must have be the choreographer of this attack. He turned away and watched the Barkeep attending to his ruined floor when a familiar sound of a battle cry and the clashing of weapons came from behind him. He spun on his chair and noticed that the dark elf had infact joined with the woman to fend off the orcs. Selik took another long drink and placed the bottle at the bar , leaving 3 of his gold coins there. He leaned back folding his arms as if waiting for the correct time. He smirked and watched the four in combat , and it looked as if he wouldn't need to jump in , even though he had the sudden urge...