1. Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
    Dismiss Notice
  2. Hey there, and welcome to our roleplaying section. Please take some time to read two of these useful resources below, if you're already a roleplaying expert, then there's no need to read the following beginner's guide, but be sure to read the rules.

    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
    Dismiss Notice

Private {18+} What Dwells Below

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Aethalia, Sep 21, 2019.

  1. Aethalia

    Aethalia Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Dec 29, 2012
    Messages:
    643
    Likes Received:
    671
    Reputation:
    333
    It is the year 213 of the fourth era. The dragons of Skyrim are gone, vanquished by the dragonborn years ago. After his duty was completed, the dragonborn too, faded into legend. With the defeat of the World-Eater, the imperials and stormcloaks that had settled on a truce for the duration of the Dragon Crisis, were back at each others throats. The war rekindled with the same savagery as before, and after seven brutal, bloody years of conflict, the war ended with Ulfric Stormcloak named the High King. The Legion retreated over the mountains, back to Cyrodiil, to regroup. The Thalmor, those that survived the purges, swiftly followed them. For a time, Skyrim enjoyed a wary peace.

    However, like most things, the peace did not last. Two years after the conclusion of the war, the king was found dead at an assassins hand. The news through Skyrim into chaos once again, but this time, the empire was ready. A fully rejuvenated legion of imperials marched through the Pale Pass, and crushed the disorganized remnants of Ulfrics army. The deposed jarl of Solitude, Elisif the fair, was reseated, and declared the High Queen. General Tullius and his forces remained in Skyrim as an advisor and peacekeeper of the region. Once again, peace reigned. Helgen was rebuilt, cities expanded,and many of the old forts were manned once again.

    But like Ulfrics' peace, this peace was troubled. The jarls of Windhelm, Dawnstar and Riften strained under Imperial law. Nameless things stirred in marshes of Morthal, and strange occurrences have been reported throughout the province. The legion, though concerned, is still worn out from the war. The Thalmor are more interested in rooting out Talos worshippers than tracking down missing villagers. But something must be done. To that end, couriers are dispatched to every major town and city, and messages are posted. Be they mercenaries, adventurers, and aspiring heroes, all are needed. The messages instruct those interested to meet at the Four Shields Tavern, in Dragonsbridge. Where a fresh mystery has surfaced...



    Cast List

    Aethalia as Syloria Melorae

    @Thesius as Murtagh Bordar

    @TheArgonianDrell as Daxos Xiavir

    @TheShadedOne as Varisha

    @Morbidbread as Raeval Alarys/ Kiln

    @Signus as Andros Haorsson

    @Drahkma as Therian Corvae

    @Rell as Jamiel Acosta

    @Madrar as Amareth Imraskir
     
    • Like Like x 2
    #1 Aethalia, Sep 21, 2019
    Last edited: Oct 7, 2019
  2. Aethalia

    Aethalia Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Dec 29, 2012
    Messages:
    643
    Likes Received:
    671
    Reputation:
    333
    Syloria Melorae walked along the road, her robes shifting slightly in the cool breeze. The high elf shivered and pulled her hood forwards, trying to cover as much exposed skin as she could. For more than one reason. The war was finally over and Skyrim had begun the long, painful process of rebuilding. The Thalmor had been ousted along with the empire years earlier, but with the empires' return, the representatives and rulers of the aldmeri dominion were slowly creeping back into the isolated province. And while Dragonsbridge was technically 'imperial', Syloria was wary of advertising her race. The nords were part of the empire again, but they were not overly welcoming of outsiders. Especially outsiders who reminded them of the ban on Talos worship.

    She wanted to help the people of Skyrim. Things were happening- strange occurrences that had little logical explanations. Monsters in Morthal, murders in the isolated farmsteads and homes scattered throughout the land, and people disappearing from walled cities. The imperials and the newly coronated queen Elisif were overwhelmed. And even worse, murmurs of rebellion were spreading from the formerly radical rebels that dwelt in the holds of Dawnstar, Windhelm and Riften. Those jarls in charge of the holds were calling for open rebellion once more, and the ousting of all 'non nords'.

    The high elf huffed a sigh, and set foot on the fabled 'dragon bridge' that gave the town on the other side its name. Guards in imperial and hold livery patrolled the far side. A wall had been erected around the town, and the sturdy wooden gates were currently open. Below, the Karth river rushed on its way towards the sea. She reached the far end of the bridge, and a pair of guards stepped forwards, one holding his hand forwards, motioning her to halt. "Elf. What's your business here?" The human demanded gruffly, causing Sylorias' eyes to narrow slightly. She was very clearly not associated with the Thalmor, but that didn't mean she was liked.

    "My business" she said, keeping her tone neutral, if not pleasant, "is the investigation of the murders that took place outside the town. Surely you heard someone was coming."

    "Aye." The guard said, "but that doesn't mean we can just let any odd stranger stumble through the place. Besides-"

    "Let her through!" Another voice, firm with authority rang out from behind the men, past the gates. "She's here at my request." Both guards turned at the demand, and some of the stiffness went out of the first guards bearing.

    "As you wish, sir."


    The redguard who approached walked with the same authority that he carried in his voice. His hazel eyes were hard, like the eyes of one who has seen one too many abominations in their time. He smiled grimly at the elven woman walking through the gate. "Welcome to Dragonsbridge. I wish it was under better circumstances."

    "So do I. What do you know?"

    Isran scratched his bearded chin "not alot. Apparently some farmer went mad and slaughtered his entire family."

    "Have the guards questioned him?"

    "He dove off the cliff. Best we can tell, he either swam down river or drowned."

    Sylorias' eyes widened "he jumped down there?" She repeated, looking back towards the precipice.

    The leader of the Dawnguard shrugged "like I said. The man went mad, butchered his wife and children, then leapt off the cliff. I've asked the guards not disturb anything. Would you like to investigate the place with me?"

    "Let us wait. Others are surely on their way. We'll fill them in as they arrive."

    "Good enough" Isran agreed. "I'll be at the penitus occulatus outpost with my men. Find me when you're ready."
     
    • Creative Creative x 4
    • Like Like x 3
    • Winner Winner x 2
  3. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

    Joined:
    Aug 12, 2017
    Messages:
    96
    Likes Received:
    241
    Reputation:
    55
    In the corner of the Four Shields tavern, the only establishment where a traveler weary from the road could rest their feet in Dragonsbridge, sat a stranger to the land. Raeval Alarys, former guard captain of Raven Rock, current wandering sword and warlock, sat, eyeing the door warily. His unique bonemold helm was set off to one side, resting at the edge of the table. His short dark hair was concealed by shadows just like his grey skinned face. Only his eyes, a peculiar amber, were visible to the rest of the patrons. Which very well could have been the reason most of the people in the place were carefully avoiding that particular corner.

    Despite appearances, Raeval had no real intention of intimidating the people of Dragonsbridge. But he'd never been one for talking and even less for mingling with others. The change he'd gone through several years ago had done very little to improve his social skills. His fellow dunmer shunned him and most others thought him some form of sorcerer. Besides the elven greatsword that currently leaned against his left knee. The hilt was within easy reach, just in case someone was foolish or drunk enough to start a fight. The guards hadn't given him as much trouble as he'd expected coming into the town.

    He suspected that the current events going on throughout Skyrim recently and Dragonsbridge in specific, had them more concerned than a single dark elf with odd eyes. Raeval had investigated more than a few murder cases in his capacity as a guard captain on Solstheim. But never had he heard of the murderer commiting suicide so quickly afterwards. Being slain by guards trying to take them into custody was not unheard of but leaping off a cliff before anyone had even suspected them was. He hadn't yet examined the crime scene, but he would certainly make it a priority.

    For now he was content to listen and quietly gather information. A guardsman had told him that the man had been in good standing with the guard and had cherished his family. Nobody had suspected him as a violent man, much less a murderer. The former captain sipped the goblet of wine he'd been nursing since his arrival in the tavern. Things did not add up. The civil war was over and the imperial legion had long since secured the region. There was no drought or famine going around, near as he could tell. But something must have broken the mans' mind. A lovers' quarrel, perhaps? Possible, but unlikely. By all reports the mans' wife had kept to herself. "Curious" the elf murmured to himself.
     
    • Like Like x 5
    • Creative Creative x 2
  4. Thesius

    Thesius The Imperial Paladin

    Joined:
    Sep 22, 2013
    Messages:
    171
    Likes Received:
    320
    Reputation:
    132
    The orc warrior sat at the bar of the Four Shields tavern,his appearance more suited to battles and brawling than brooding. Nobody expected an orc to be thoughtful, least of all one of his size. What could be seen of his forearms hinted at a past of bloodshed, if scars could be a reliable indicator of a persons past. He didn't meet the gaze of anyone around him but he could sense their stares. Not hostile but not exactly welcoming, either. Orcs were rare sights outside of their scattered strongholds even with the imperials finally succeeding in putting down Ulfric for good. The imperials hadn't claimed credit- of course they hadn't. The empire was much more politically savvy than the nords, and more willing to engage in underhanded activities. But revealing themselves to be the ones that had hired an assassin to remove the Stormcloak leader from power would have drawn out the war for much longer than it had. The northern jarls probably suspected, but they wouldn't commit troops over mere suspicion. Both sides were hurting.

    'But why am I here?' Murtagh wondered silently to himself. He had heard the call from the newly crowned high queen and he had heard the news of disappearances and murders. That being said, he was no hero and couldn't exactly be called an adventurer. The last time he'd fought anyone, with the intent to kill, anyways had been several weeks ago. Despite the murmurs of discontent in some of the holds, Skyrim was in a very fragile peace. Then Murtagh had his answer; even if many nords thought he didn't belong, he wanted to maintain that peace. For his kin at the strongholds as well as the people of Skyrim. They deserved something more than endless wars. He chuckled into the flagon of ale he held, wondering if the drink was making him sentimental after all his years as a mercenary.

    He lived on war and bloodshed for most of his life outside the stronghold. Fighting mostly for the empire but he'd taken jobs for a few 'interested third parties'. He shook his head wearily, still chuckling. His mirth came to an end when his ears, keener than most humans seemed to think, picked up conversation from one of the nords sitting a couple of stools away. The man was considerably drunker than the mercenary orsimer, swaying back and forth on his stool as he jabbed a finger into the face of his bemused friend. "It ain't natural I says!" He slurred, coming dangerously close to smacking his face off the hard wood of the bar. "Monsters in the swamps! People jus' vanishin' o'er night!"

    "Hjalgi, you're drunk and your mind's running wild. It's just bandits doing their usual thing." His friend said, "and you know those Morthal folk have always been a little skittish. Probably just saw a troll or something on its' way to the caves up in the mountains."

    "Aye." Hjalgi said, nodding and swaying in tandem. "Might be your right" he made to stand and made it two steps before he nearly pitched sideways into a table. Luckily for man and table, Hjalgi's friend was a little more sober, managing to avoid injury and a mess.

    "C'mon. Let's get you to a bed for the night." The pair stumbled off towards the inns' rooms, and Murtagh returned to his drink, but his mind was whirling. If the trouble was spreading so quickly that even some travelers, or at least he assumed they were travelers, had heard of it, action was needed. And if he was good at one thing, it was acting. He looked up from his flagon and noticed something, or rather someone, he had overlooked before. A figure in tan armour with amber eyes that seemed to glow in the light of the candle on the table the figure sat at. Almost certain the individual was not a regular given the cautious distance the others were giving him, very much like Murtagh himself, the orc lumbered over, scooping up his shield as he went.

    "Greetings," he said "I couldn't help but notice you,over here on your own. I think we're here for the same reason and it might be best if we work together, instead of apart."
     
    • Creative Creative x 4
    • Like Like x 2
    • Winner Winner x 1
  5. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jun 3, 2018
    Messages:
    100
    Likes Received:
    270
    Reputation:
    37
    Andros glanced up at the cloudless sky and scowled. His helmet and the cloth mask that covered the lower half of his face only offered limited protection against the burning rays of sunlight. His head hurt and pinpricks like needlemarks or the teeth of tiny creatures covered his skin. The bounty hunter heaved a sigh, expelling air that he didn't need. Hadn't needed for roughly five years or so. Some human habits had stuck with him in the transition to undeath. The great bridge waited ahead of them and he could hear the Karth river rushing past below. He could see guardsmen patrolling on the other side. He also saw figures in tan and brown, some with full face helms. Dawnguard.

    The nord cursed to himself, wondering what the order of vampire hunters were doing in Dragonsbridge. He'd heard of the murders and disappearances in the area but he'd heard nothing about vampires. He hesitated, running his thumb along the edge of his axe blade. He wanted to help but not if it meant having his head lopped off by a group of crossbow-toting zealots. It was too late to turn away now- they'd seen him and changing his course would likely raise some awkward questions. He cursed again, then set foot on the bridge, making sure his mask was in place, properly covering his lower jaw and set foot on the bridge, striding towards the sentries on the others side.

    He had barely made it across when the guards barred his path. "Close enough, friend." One man said as a third, this one in the tan and brown of the Dawnguard made his way over. "Let's see your face." The vampire hunter growled, fingering the haflt of his own axe. Andros shook his head, readying himself for a fight. He had no desire to shed the blood of the guardsmen but it looked like he was running out of options. "That's not going to happen. I'm here to help, not fight. Are you going to let me in or not?" The Dawnguard scowled and drew the axe from the loop in his belt, prompting the two guardsmen with him to draw their own weapons. "Lower the mask. Now."
     
    • Like Like x 5
    • Creative Creative x 2
  6. TheShadedOne

    TheShadedOne The Angry One

    Joined:
    Jan 11, 2013
    Messages:
    1,158
    Likes Received:
    1,304
    Reputation:
    301
    Varisha stalked through Dragonsbridge, moving like a shadow even in the daylight. The nightblade assassin stepped lightly behind a pair of guards, keen khajiiti senses on full alert and her hand never far from the crescent blade on her hip. She had committed no crimes in the hold, but she very much doubted the guardsmen would be pleased to find someone of her reputation skulking around their town. She'd already seen the dawnguard patrolling alongside the guardsmen. Their leader, the one she'd heard the others call 'Isran' had escorted an elven woman through the town gates not too long ago. She was curious but not enough to introduce herself just yet. She had found the posted plea nailed to a sign post just outside Riften. While she wasn't the altruistic type, she was willing to bet the jarls and the high queen were willing to pay a kings' ransom for someone to get to the bottom of the murders and disappearances.

    Dragonsbridge was quite a walk from Riften but Varisha had gone to extraordinary lengths for coin before. She doubted this time around would be much different. She fingered the hilt of her unusual blade as she listened in on the idle chatter between the two men she was shadowing. From what she could figure out, things were only getting stranger in Skyrim. Varisha herself was not unaccustomed to strange- but the news from the surrounding area pushed even at her understanding. People didn't generally murder their family and throw themselves off cliffs. People seeing monsters in the swamps of Morthal was nothing new- the hold was largely untamed, with few adventurers going far off the main road in that region.

    For Varisha herself, she had no interest in wading through filthy swamp water to validated some peasants' story. Raised voices near the bridge drew her attention and she froze, listening. She let the guardsmen march further ahead, before slipping into a side alley. The two guards continued, oblivious to the assassin that had been stalking them. She moved quietly and quickly through the town, back towards the bridge. There, she saw a group of mixed guards and Dawnguard. All of them were confronting a masked man with an impressive axe. Despite being outnumbered, the man seemed adamant about not lowering the cloth that concealed the lower half of his face.

    She abandoned her slinking movements and strode purposefully towards the group. She didn't know the man but it was clear he was in Dragonsbridge for the same reasons she was. Plus, from what she'd heard she was going to need all the help she could get. She stepped up beside the lead guard, placing a hand on his shoulder and calling on her illusion magics at the same time. "He doesn't need to lower his mask" she whispered, noting the mans' shoulders relaxing as her spell took effect. "He's free to enter Dragonsbridge and go about his business."

    The man grunted, shook his head and stepped aside "you don't need to lower your mask. Enter and be about your business." With that, the guard turned around and proceeded down the main street. "So," she stepped in front of the masked man, "instead of a thank you, I'll accept the reason you want to keep your identity secret so badly." She jerked her head towards the tavern, "you can tell me over a drink, if you like."
     
    • Like Like x 5
    • Creative Creative x 2
  7. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

    Joined:
    Aug 12, 2017
    Messages:
    96
    Likes Received:
    241
    Reputation:
    55
    Raeval glanced up at the words, delivered in a gruff but not unkind tone. The orcish warrior who stared down at him did not strike him as one for conversation. However, he'd noticed the orc had mentioned that their reasons for being in the tavern were similar, if not identical. The former guard captain leaned forwards, glancing around at the others patrons. "It seems we do indeed share a purpose,stranger." He knew he could not make much of a difference on his own. Certainly not if things were as bad as whispers and rumours hinted at. "Tell me, what have you heard of the man that murdered his family and threw himself from the cliff?" He nodded out the door, where the guards and dawnguard doubtless mingled as they patrolled the streets. "The guards are vigilant, but they know little and what I have heard is naught but speculation and rumour mongering."
     
    • Like Like x 8
  8. Screeching Spasmodically

    Screeching Spasmodically Spasmodic Screecher

    Joined:
    Jun 4, 2018
    Messages:
    85
    Likes Received:
    230
    Reputation:
    22
    "Interesting" was the first word to break the shrouded figures mouth in many hours. The ones before had been something along the lines of 'take me to the town called Dragonsbridge', directed at a carriage driver outside the city of Markarth. The trip had been long and uneventful, but Luarin Drascua, more commonly known as 'the Shadeling' to both employers and victims, was used to waiting. She hadn't actually taken the carriage all the way into the town itself. She'd paid the driver extra to stop several kilometers from the bridge itself and slipped in under the cover of darkness. While the empire had ultimately triumphed in the struggle for control of Skyrim, she was well aware that people of non-nordic descent were somewhat less than welcome in some places. She'd never been particularly interested in the provinces' politics and biases but the posted bounty had promised a reward. It would be practical to remain on the good side of the local authorities.

    Starting a fight at the gates because the sentries, understandably, would be reluctant to allow her inside the walls of their town. After all, in her robes and armour, she hardly looked the part of a paragon of virtue. So after infiltrating Dragonsbridge, she'd picked a perch on one of the taller buildings and settled in to wait. She noted the arrival of the robed altmer woman, a paladin or cleric of some type judging by the welcome she recieved from the dawnguard soldiers nearby. She also noted with some interest the khajiit woman who stalked the patrolling guardsmen, seemingly without any goal in mind. The confrontation at the town gate appeared to vindicate her decision to rely on stealth rather than walking in boldly.

    To her mild surprise, the khajiit broke off her shadowing of the guards, without either soldier realizing their corporeal shadow had left their heels, and went to the assistance of the man arguing with a mixed bag of danwguards and hold guardsmen. She wondered briefly if they were partners or friends but deemed it unlikely. Neither seemed completely at ease with the other, even as the khajiit suggested the man buy her a drink. Together, the pair headed for the local tavern still unaware of the assassins' scrutiny. Once the pair were out of sight, the assassin pulled her robes tighter around her and settled in to wait for more arrivals.
     
    • Like Like x 5
    • Creative Creative x 3
  9. The Seraph

    The Seraph When the Dawn Breaks, I shall be there

    Joined:
    Jul 17, 2018
    Messages:
    240
    Likes Received:
    146
    Reputation:
    35
    Serilius walked upon the frozen cobblestone road with a pep in his step. He held upon his face a sickly saccharine smile to complement the unsettling sterility of his general appearance. He was ambling onwards to Morthal, for he had plans in mind for this sick and diseased land but everybody needs to rest their feet every once in awhile. Twigs bristled behind him. Serilius merely smiled even wider. He heard a quick rustling and a retching noise. Serilius lept to the side of the road, unsheathing his sword and igniting his flame. Sickly green bile rushed out to where he was, and its sender? A worshipper of Peryite. Serilius laughed a laugh of fury and hatred. He jovially beseeched the diseased one, "Ah, one of you! I would have thought that you would have been disheartened after that shrine and its attendants burned in my light and love, but I guess not."
    "Peryite curse you, demon!" screeched the woman with wrath in her voice. She was soon met with a wall of golden fire. It did not hurt as it engulfed her, nor did it hurt as her skin cracked and charred, or when the fat on her body melted off, or when her eyes burst, saving her from having view this horror. It only took a several moments for her to succumb to her wounds. Serilius let his flame die when she stopped writhing. He merely smiled as he doused himself in the flame to rid his body and soul of her presence.

    At last he reached Morthal, a wretched, diseased mire. He felt the instinctual need to cleanse himself, but when he unveiled his flame, a nearby local sneered at him. Serilius merely smiled and continued on his way as the townspeople gazed in terror and wonder at the burning man. He entered the in grandly, the last of his flames dying. Serilius strode over to the innskeeper and beseeched of her something to drink. She eagerly snatched a mug from an unconscious patron and poured more ale in it. Staring in horror, Serilius asked if her
    "Are you not going to wash that?"
    "Oh, oh right! I'm sorry. Just not used to pouring a drink for anybody but him," she stated, nodding over to the unconscious man. She poured out the drink and scrubbed the mug with a rag, but it was not enough for him.
    "You know what, I do believe I am fine. I will just head on out," said Serilius, barely trying to mask his abject disgust. He quickly rushed out of the inn and continued on his merry way. Dragonsbridge cannot possibly be that far off, can it? he thought.

    Several hours later, Dragonsbridge was on the near horizon. Serilius laughed out of relief.
    This will be it! thought Serilius, This is where I shall begin. All the cleansings in Cyrodiil were nothing compared to my grand plan. I will start here, I will answer this call, and with light and glory, I shall cleanse this land. The people will herald me as the dawn of a new age! I will purify this land and from here all of Tamriel! They will sing my name from Betony to Lilmothiit!
    "I will be the light, the glory of this world!"
    Serilius muttered these last few words out loud, "All will be cleansed by my own will and hand! He softly laughed, brushing away the tears that seemed to accompany his quiet moments.
     
    • Like Like x 4
    • Creative Creative x 4
  10. TheArgonianDrell

    TheArgonianDrell Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Sep 21, 2013
    Messages:
    158
    Likes Received:
    389
    Reputation:
    30
    Daxos Xiavir walked with the caution and stealth of one who has been both hunter and hunted. His path was meandering, though his goal was the town of Morthal. The few travelling merchants and imperial patrols he'd come across assured him the town was not far away. However, they had also warned him of sightings of monsters in the foetid waters. That had been a day before he'd reached the edge of the great swamp that surrounded the town and eventually opened into the bay that served as the border of Hjaalmarch. With those warnings in mind, the warrior moved with his hands never far from the hilts of his blades. The swamps of Morthal were still, silent, as if whatever dwelt within was holding its' breath.

    The argonian was no stranger to monsters, whether they wore the skin of men, mer, or something entirely different. Nor was he averse to traversing marshes and swamps. In fact, he preferred them to the bitter cold that was most of Skyrim. Hjaalmarch was nothing compared to the great Black Marsh. Yet despite the creatures that lurked in his homeland, he had never been worried about becoming somethings' lunch. Here, in this place far from home, he felt...watched. Stalked almost, as if something lurked beneath the murky waters, ready to catch him off guard.

    Setting foot on a small isle that was somewhat elevated above the rest of the swamp, he took the opportunity to see what he could. Slowly turning, his keen eyes scanned the waters and brush. Nothing stood out to him and yet... "this place makes the scales itch." He murmured to himself, and felt a sense of relief when he spotted the main road not far from his current location. Braving the waters once more he made his way to the road following it in the direction he presumed Morthal to be. Even on the solid ground of the road, he still felt somewhat uneasy.

    It did not take long to reach the outskirts of Morthal. The town itself was protected by a wooden palisade and watchtowers with burning torches guarded the main approach. The road itself lead through an open gate, guarded by gaunt men who watched him carefully. He nodded a greeting, which the men hesitantly returned. It was as though they were expecting trouble at any moment though he had no idea if it was from him or whatever supposedly lurked in the swamp. He kept his wits about him as he walked past the men and started looking for a place to rest for the night.

    A building not far from the gate caught his attention. A hanging sign declared it the Moorside Inn. Glad for the opportunity to take in some food and rest, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. A lone man in unusual garb sat by himself. "Come on in!" The innkeep called to him, and Daxos gladly stepped up to the bar "a couple breasts of chicken, and some mead if you have it." It did not take long before his food and drink were ready. Before he could introduce himself the the man, an imperial, he stood and rushed out of the place, a look of horror on his face. The argonian tilted his head in mild confusion, before dismissing the human. Perhaps he'd forgotten something and would be back shortly. Or perhaps not.
     
    • Like Like x 4
    • Creative Creative x 4
  11. Thesius

    Thesius The Imperial Paladin

    Joined:
    Sep 22, 2013
    Messages:
    171
    Likes Received:
    320
    Reputation:
    132
    Murtagh grunted at the elfs' words, noting that his eyes were not the same red as most of the dark elves he'd met. A strange amber that seemed to glow with some inner power. It made the orc cautious but the elf seemed as trustworthy as any he'd met since arriving in the town. "Then the guards and I have something in common. I'll admit it's strange and I can't blame the locals from coming up with their own theories." He frowned, remembering the words of the drunk townsman and his friend. He glanced over his shoulder and recieved suspicious glares from the remaining regulars who weren't too drunk to notice the pair. "Even though I feel they've done more harm than good." He turned back to the elf, and felt the stares of the locals turn away as they lost interest. "I've heard little about the strangeness in Skyrim, but enough to know this isn't some bandit band or cabal of necromancers. There must be others who are headed here as we speak. Might be that they have more information than we do."
     
    • Like Like x 7
  12. Rell

    Rell Champion of Malacath!

    Joined:
    Jun 3, 2018
    Messages:
    84
    Likes Received:
    191
    Reputation:
    22
    Jamiel Acosta hummed to himself as he strode down the road towards the town of Morthal. His dark skin and odd armor made him something of a...unique sight on the roads of Skyrim. Some bandits had not so long ago assumed that as a newcomer, he was blind to the dangers of the roads. He and his long hafted mace had quickly taught them a fatal lesson. He didn't begrudge them their attempt at robbery and murder. In fact, he was glad for the diversion. The trip from Hammerfell to the land of ice and cold had been dull. Even during the end of the war, with the empire gaining ground throughout the province, fights had been rare to come across.

    The warrior had found himself sitting and drinking in the city of Whiterun most days. Not because he was depressed but out of boredom. Besides, the nords were a rambunctious folk. He'd gotten into more than a few brawls, and enjoyed every one of them. That was where the courier had discovered him. Deep in his cups and waiting for some action. While the missive was vauge, it hadn't sounded like his usual jobs. On the other hand, Jamiel had been willing to take anything, so long as he got to involved himself into some form of trouble.

    He looked around as he walked, noting the change in terrain. Instead of snow and ice and mountains, the land was now covered with scraggly trees and marshlands. He also noted that he was no longer alone on the road. A man, imperial or breton, he guessed, was walking towards him, talking to himself and...crying? Or laughing. It was difficult to tell at such a distance. Jamiel brought one arm up above his head and waved to get the other travelers attention. "Ho there friend!" He closed the distance until he was barely a meter from him. An eyebrow arched as he took in the strange white leather armor he wore. He chuckled lightly, imagining what any onlookers might think of the scene.

    He was fully aware that the man could be trouble. After all, he seemed like he could handle himself with the sword at his waist. But he was itching for a fight, and his long mace was clutched in his other hand. "What brings a character like yourself out here?" He took in their surroundings with a wave of his arm. "This road doesn't seem like a place for adventurers like us to meet, eh?"
     
    • Creative Creative x 4
    • Like Like x 3
  13. Signus

    Signus Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jun 3, 2018
    Messages:
    100
    Likes Received:
    270
    Reputation:
    37
    Andros frowned at the strange khajiit woman. Her attire and attitude hinted that she was used to going places unseen. However, the large, crescent shaped blade at her hip hinted she was just as used to combat. There was no familiarity in the guards eyes when she touched him on the shoulder, but he relaxed ever so slightly. "you don't need to lower your mask. Enter and be about your business."

    Incredulous, he stared as the guards stood aside and the one who'd questioned him turned and walked up the main road. The mystery was somewhat answered when the khajiit took the nords' place in front of him. She suggested that he reveal the reason for his secrecy, perhaps over a drink. Despite himself, he found that he liked her boldness. "I think I owe you the drink, at least" he admitted. "The tavern isn't far from here. Four Shields, I believe it's called."
     
    • Like Like x 4
  14. The Seraph

    The Seraph When the Dawn Breaks, I shall be there

    Joined:
    Jul 17, 2018
    Messages:
    240
    Likes Received:
    146
    Reputation:
    35
    A sonorous voice cut through the chill winds and Serilius looked up to see a great, blue eyed Redguard carrying a long, recently used mace. Suspicion immediately filled Serilius as he smiled brightly and closed the distance. An inquisitive rabbit turned its nose and fled at his noxiously floral scent. He seems to be a warrior, noted Serilius, I will not win this fight head on. With cold, calculating eyes and a large smile, he heartedly stated "Good day! Yes quite a good day indeed! I seem to be out of sorts, yes? Now, it truly is nice to see a such a capable looking fellow adventurer and in such an odd place. Wherever could we be going?" As Serilius adjusted his gait and put his hand on his hips, somewhat subtly grasping the hilt of his sword, he scanned the man. He had been deliberately obtuse and coy, for though this man seemed to be going to the same destination, how unwise it would be to give away any compromising information.
     
    • Like Like x 5
    #14 The Seraph, Oct 25, 2019
    Last edited: Oct 26, 2019
  15. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

    Joined:
    Jun 10, 2012
    Messages:
    1,686
    Likes Received:
    1,302
    Reputation:
    425
    Amareth Imraskir strolled across the Dragonbridge that gave the town on the other side of the river its name. His dark robes flapped in a light breeze, revealing the justiciars' breastplate he wore. The silver tattoos gleamed in the sunlight, and his lips curled in a gentle smile when the guards noticed his approach. The Thalmor were not as common in Skyrim as they had been a decade ago, but an elf in altmeri armour still brought up less than pleasant feelings.

    He was used to being treated with suspicion. The expressions on the guards faces assured him this encounter would be no different. "Halt!" The man on the left barked, his grip tightening on his spear. "State your business."

    The elf spread his hands, revealing dark golden flesh, empty of weapons. "Merely to provide my assistance in the trouble that seems to be plaguing the land of late. This is where we were to assemble, was it not? Or am I too late?"

    The two guards exchanged confused glances. They'd obviously had little dealing with altmer, and were relying on the stories they'd heard about Thalmor patrols. "Erm...no, that dawnguard fellow is here. You, ah, you can enter." He glanced at his companion, who shrugged. "Just, keep out of trouble."

    Amareth smiled again and strolled past the pair. His gaze set upon a man that stood out from the nearby guardsmen. He walked alongside a blonde elven woman. They were walking away from them, but he quickened his pace to catch them. "Good day. Amareth Imraskir, at your service."
     
    • Like Like x 3
    • Creative Creative x 2
  16. TheShadedOne

    TheShadedOne The Angry One

    Joined:
    Jan 11, 2013
    Messages:
    1,158
    Likes Received:
    1,304
    Reputation:
    301
    Varisha smirked at the mans' easy deflection of her demand. It seemed not all humans were as dull as she'd come to expect. Walking with him to the local tavern, the Fours Shields, as he'd said, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Conversation in the immediate area died down as the locals turned to see who had just come in.

    More than a few expressions turned suspicious and a few were outright hostile. The khajiit brushed opened her long coat and brushed her fingers against the hilt of her blade. All but a few turned back to their drinks and Varisha continued her surveillance of the room. A large man, possibly an orc, had his back to her, facing a dark elf with strange amber eyes.

    Making a note to speak with them later, she went to the bar and tossed a small coinpurse at the innkeeper. "Two bottles of ale." The nord woman eyed the purse suspiciously, but eventually grabbed it, exchanging the coin for a pair of dark bottles. She picked out a free table and set a bottle at the chair across from her, before stretching dramatically in her own seat, arms above head and back arched. Finally, she glanced up at the nord. "So, what brings you here? Adventure, gold, or misguided nobility?"
     
    • Like Like x 5
  17. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

    Joined:
    Aug 12, 2017
    Messages:
    96
    Likes Received:
    241
    Reputation:
    55
    The orcs words were disappointing but not unexpected. It seemed despite all the trouble in Skyrim, nobody seemed to know the root of the trouble. "No, bandits and necromancers are dangerous, but I've dealt with their kind before." He suppressed a shudder at the memories of his captivity in the hands of the necromancer on Solstheim. "Any covens or bandit groups large enough to be capable of spreading this much chaos would quickly draw the attention of the empire." The door opened and conversation throughout the tavern died momentarily as the door opened. Raeval glanced past the orc to see a masked human with a large axe. Beside him stood a khajiit woman, who brushed the front of her long coat open to reveal a crescent blade at her waist. The two retired to a table of their own, but the former guard captains' curiosity was piqued. "It seems we are not the only ones to be investigating these...occurrences."
     
    • Like Like x 3
  18. Harkatti

    Harkatti Sorceress Supreme!

    Joined:
    Jul 5, 2017
    Messages:
    121
    Likes Received:
    271
    Reputation:
    47
    Anya Frostborn crested the hill and looked over the swamps and forests that surrounded the town of Morthal. The capital of Hjaalmarch was not terribly impressive, and the young swordswoman noted the defences, and wondered where they'd gotten the lumber for the palisade and watchtowers. Surely not from the trees in the swamp. She doubted the wood they yielded was good for burning, nevermind building.

    With her hand on the grip of her ancestral blade, Winterspite, she started the descent towards the guarded gates of the town. The wrapped hilt of the sword comforted her, so far from home. She was already looked down upon by many because of her arcane talents. Her tolerance of the other races in Skyrim had done little to endear her to the stormcloak supporters back home.

    She'd seen enough of war as a child. The stories she'd heard had lured her far from home, seeking the cause of the murders and disappearances. What she'd heard had only brought up more questions, and a realization. She could not defeat whoever, or whatever was behind these attacks on her own. A courier had bumped into her on his way north and she'd persuaded him to share his message.

    A call had gone out for warriors, heroes, and sellswords to meet in the town of Dragonsbridge. Less than a day from Morthal, so long as the weather held and she was not waylaid by bandits or monsters. But now was as good a time as any to rest her weary feet and resupply.

    The inn was empty, except for a few regulars and an argonian in a mixture of steel and leather, with a pair of swords at his hips. At the moment, his back was turned to her, but she suspected they shared a common purpose. Walking up to his table, she maintained a respectful distance and cleared her throat. "May I join you? I think our destination may be the same place."
     

Share This Page

  • Like us on Facebook