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    Matthias+

    Down among the dead men let him lie!
    Capture2.jpg

    -

    It is the 24th of Sun's Height; the year of Akatosh 186. These are the middling years of the Fourth Era.


    A decade after the Great War, the lands are plagued with infirmity. The people of Tamriel still reel from the blows struck to the land, hearth, and home by the mutual struggling, battering, and biting of both the Aldmeri Dominion, and the Empire. This struggle for the domination of Nirn has weakened both Empires, as well as the lands they fought for. The Empire is in disarray.


    Though they both fought bitterly, the Empire suffers far more in comparison to the Dominion; even after the Empire renounced Hammerfell as a province, and the Dominion moving in only to be fought to a standstill, losing nearly a third of their invasion force; the Dominion still holds it's ground. It continues to recover at a much faster pace than the Empire ever could. The war between Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion ended in 4E 180, after 5 years of war, hastening the Dominion's recovery.


    In the province of Skyrim, what was referred to as an 'incident' began in 4E 174. Forsworn took the city of Markarth and declared themselves independent from 4E 174 to 4E 176 before Ulfric Stormcloak at the behest of Jarl Hrolfdir was asked to take the city back, but accepted only on the condition that Talos would allowed to be worshipped freely in Markarth. Hrolfdir accepted, and Markarth was retaken, much to the chagrin of the Reachmen.


    The wars are over.


    However, something yet stirs in the elusive darkness, and there is another war to come...

    -

    This is the RP thread.

    This is the RP thread for 'A Dark Promise'. In this thread, you are role-playing your character(s) in the decade and a half leading up to Skyrim. The story takes place in 4E 186, exactly 15 years before the beginning of Skyrim; the story will eventually end in 4E 201, and a new thread will begin with new events.

    This role-play is meant as a way to tell the story of your character in the past, and is mostly meant for people who have a lot of trouble writing histories, but that doesn't bar people who don't from playing. It's also meant as a way to tie characters together, and to plan how characters would be related in the future, either by yourself, or with other players.

    This role-play will be mainly centered around the characters, though do keep in mind that events based upon the words on the 'Elder Scroll' up there will take place at some point. Any player and their character(s) may take place in these events, though that will necessitate contact with other player's characters. Do note that these events are somewhat planned, so that order may be kept.

    Also, note that there will be time-skips of about three years between each event, after each character's plot line has been concluded. The only event that shall not have a time-skip, is the sixth and final event.

    -
    Rules/OOC may be found here

    Read them well.
    MAKE SURE TO READ THE OOC FOR EVENT WARNINGS!
     
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    Matthias+

    Down among the dead men let him lie!
    ~On the road to Camlorn from Daggerfall~
    ~The Locale~

    It was gray.

    Silent.

    Today was a gray one, full of clouds, and soon, there would be rain, but for now it seemed all life that could sound had gone silent. Storm clouds gathered ever thicker, and breaking the silence was a drop of rain. Then another drop, and another, and so on, and so forth. Soon it was storming; it was storming so hard and loud, that one could not see, let alone think. Sometimes, a bolt of lightning, and a crash of thunder would break the sound of the tempest, only to be overtaken once more by the crashing of the water upon the grass, and the dirt.

    ~Matthias~
    ~The Carriage~

    Through the storm, the drumming of a horse's, no, two horse's hooves could be heard; with the sound came another: The crashing of carriage wheels. The sounds were not made by the wheels hitting the dirt itself, no, it was the wheels hitting the rocks embedded in the dirt. That was the problem with these roads. The merchants who often took the roads were used to moving at a slow pace, as not to damage their merchandise, so they often did not bother to clear the roads of debris. That, and the constant threat of the local banditry coming upon them if they were to stop completely. It also didn't help that the banditry kept the road in poor condition on the off chance that a carriage full of goods might unseat a wheel.

    The carriage cleared the rough section of road, though, now going on an incline, the horses were struggling to pull the heavy wood cabin. There was a hill, and on that hill there was a tree, a landmark. The hill only went down from here, and by the road that had been beaten of all grass, and made anew in dirt, one could tell that it was a road well-used, as it should be. Daggerfall, Camlorn, Orsinium, Wayrest, Northpoint, and Evermore; where there had been the squabbling hundreds in the Third Era, now there were but six. Six to squabble openly amongst themselves, and six that will eventually fall upon the swords of conflict. Their own swords.

    The merchants, naive, and cursed of greed as they were, did not care for any conflict except when it could help them line their pockets. They would travel between the cities, out of High Rock on foot, and back into it astride the silvery-pale horse whose name was Death. The merchantmen were a contemptible bunch, truly. Throwing aside all care or sympathy for the shattered peoples of any land in the pursuit of a few gold pieces.

    The driver of the carriage coughed roughly, cursing his day's luck for having a storm come upon them. Matthias would not ask the driver how much further Camlorn was, for they had only left just a short while ago. Inside the carriage, stirred from his thoughts by the exclamation of the driver, Matthias moved the hair from his eyes. Matthias would not ask the driver how much further Camlorn was, for they had only left just a short while ago. He pushed the last thoughts of distaste from his mind as he fetched a book from his bag. The rain had ceased enough to allow thought, after all, so why not?

    He was somewhat surprised that the rain beating the roof of his carriage did not stir him from thought, though the surprise wore off quickly as he realized that he had become used to the rain in the southern side of this damp province. He pulled the book from the bag, and spied it's title.

    'The Five Songs of King Wulfharth'.

    A pleasure to read, truly.
     
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