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18+ One Final Adventure

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Hale Loneshadow, Jul 3, 2018.

  1. Hale Loneshadow

    Hale Loneshadow Well-Known Member

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    The lonesome ranger stands at the edge of the balcony in his rented room at the Old Hroldan Inn. A fitting place, he thought, where these two rivers meet. These two unstoppable forces of nature ran for what could seem like eternity until they finally smashed into each other here, finalizing their inevitable approach on each other.

    It was this symbolism that drew the pensive ranger to this place, where he had sent out his ravens to the various holds of this land and beyond, a desperate call for friends new and old.

    For nearly two hundred years had the ranger been alive, yet for nearly thirty years he had been an exile from his own realm.

    The mad wizard Garum and the forces of the wicked, if far off, kingdom of Th'ylehah had finally caught up to him. His old enemy was here, in Tamriel and possibly Skyrim itself! The one who burnt the farms, the villages, the people of Evondale. The one who beheaded his beloved king and queen. The one who imprisoned - and possibly killed - his betrothed.

    As jaded and vice-filled as the ranger had been these last few decades, the fact that Garum himself had come both spurred him on as much as it filled him with trepidation, and more questions. The assassins and mages that the ranger had managed to take alive had at least provided him with some useful information before they expired at his hands...

    As soon as a party of whatever motley crew would answer his call would arrive, the ranger would set off on his first lead...the location of his old friend and cousin, Prince Pelham.

    Hale Loneshadow was going home.


    The Ranger reflected on this all, past and future, as he stared into the hearth-fire from his seat at the large table in the middle of the tavern floor of the Old Hroldan Inn.

    Hale's own fire in the form of some lit pipeweed gave shadows to his already grizzled, yet still ruggedly handsome features, underneath that well-worn cloak hood of his. The Ranger's dark browned, almost black, curly hair that fell just on both leather and steel pauldrons looked to be as if to be hands reaching out in the darkness, his bearded face reflected strongly in the flames.

    Even in the most premium seat of the table he had reserved for the night, Hale Loneshadow still felt a twinge of a dark chill on the airs. The forested road to simply arrive at the Old Hroldan was treacherous in and of itself, but the winds of magick were ever changing, and with the arrival of his oldest foe, and the release of his oldest friend, Hale knew that the winds were now stirring, and the nearly wintered-in Markarth was already home to some disturbing magicks.

    The Ranger hoped that his many traps and tricks he had placed within the forest would aid any potential adventuring companions, and to perhaps clear their way and give them some peace of mind tonight.

    To better clear their minds and give them time to reflect on what I am about to ask of them, Hale thought grimly to himself. While sobriety isn't an issue, when those accustomed to the road are able to, even for one night, feel that sense of security, nothing else matters for the time being.

    That being said, Hale's ranger sense was picking up a druidic message from his warhawk familiar, Soren, and a sign of life came to the Ranger's detection spell on the dark and dreary road...
     
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  2. The_Lost_Foxtrot

    The_Lost_Foxtrot Lord of Shadows

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    it was starting to become dark in the Reach, wich was when dangers like Wolves and Forsworn would roam the mountain filled hold. Four forsworn scouts where out hunting and looking for a Merchant caravan to raid , but since it was darkening they had set up camp With a fire since it starting to be rather Cold.

    "I hate the cold" said one of the forsworn grumpliy as they sat around the fire trying to warm up, "shut up we now, you have said it like six times already" came from the one sitting too his left whom was tired of the complaining, this one female "can you do anything other then sit on Your arse and whine like a child". The first growled and was about to put his fist in his comrades face but was stopped by what sounded like a twig snapping, everyone froze in Place holding their breath, trying to listen to where it came from.

    After a minute they pulled out the weapons they had on them and took one of the thin logs from the fire as a torch, "Jorgen, Gistel go take a look" the leader of the group order the ones the was arguing, they nodded to the leader and walked into the darkness. the leader and the last in the group stood ready incase something happend.''Caw caw'' they turned around just to see a crow, albeit a strange one it looked slighty bigger then normal crows and had purple eyes. Just then he heard screams coming from behind them, he turned back again then, everything became dark.

    Mathias dropped the Forsworn he had killed and sighed, sheathing Ravens Claw as he walked past the bodies and whistled for Amyra to come as she came out of the shadows, her muzzle covered in blood and they walked Down the Cliff together when she was done cleaning herself up.

    when they where on the road again they could see their destination, Old Hroldan just up ahead,''Finaly'' he mumbled to himself thanking Sithis that they have made it, while his loyal companian gave a little bark of joy. Once inside the inn he looked after his target, after a moment he saw him, the ranger sitting at a table smoking from a pipe. Mathias walked up to the table and satt himsef down directly across from the hooded man and just stared at him for a few minutes, Amyra lying down by her masters feet.

    just then a boy no older then twelve at the most came up to them "w-would you like a-anything s-sir" he asked with a stutter, most likely intimidated by the mask.
    "the strongest wine you have here please and a meal, and two bolws of meat and water for the fox. and a room for the night" Mathias requested without taking his eyes of the man sitting across him, his voice calm almost cold,
    the boy nodded quickly and hurried off to get the orders. when he was gone it was silent again for a few moments, "so, you'r the ranger whom one of my clients told me about" he stated as the boy came back with the order, placing the bolws on the ground for Amyra and handed the wine and warm meal to him."h-here you og s-sir,that w-will be t-thirty s-six septims", he gave the boy the coin needed as Mathias took the tankard and poured some of his 'medicine' in and took off his masks and placed them on the tabel as he pulled Down his Hood, the lad walking back to his mother whom he guessed was the innkeeper. "I must say that I became rather interested in this adventure of yours" he said as he took a sip of the wine and started to eat, Amyra had already devoured half of the meat given to her.
     
    #2 The_Lost_Foxtrot, Jul 3, 2018
    Last edited: Jul 4, 2018
  3. Simus

    Simus An Excellent Site Member

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    Twilight had fallen on the forests of The Reach and the forested path to Old Hroldan was becoming very dark indeed. Within a few minutes night had fallen and the stars came out. Like most nights in Skyrim it was cold but beautifully clear. Rabbits, foxes and torchbugs were all seeking shelter for the night and the trio of travelers were doing the same. Hale Loneshadow had sent out a call for help and the children of Simus Psyrakon were here to answer.

    Alice was leading the trio. The starlight spell above her head guided her way and the deep blue cloak she was wrapped in provided extra warmth and, more importantly, hid her figure. Even though she was two years away from being thirty she was still a small and thin girl. This made her look frail and weak and that tended to attract unwanted attention. Any who presumed this were fools however. Alice was much stronger than she looked, lightning fast in a fight and a hardened veteran of ten years of warfare in two different armies. She was always ready for a fight. The cloak she was bundled and shrouded in had special illusion enchantments that let her remain almost completely invisible so long as she stood still. Her short but full brown leather gloves, knee high brown leather boots and white tight-fitting leather bodysuit, all enchanted, provided good protection against arrows, magic and even blades as well as keeping her warm. The short blue dress she wore over her suit, in addition to being quite fashionable, provided extra protection as it was enchanted with stoneflesh. Her small silver sapphire earrings and the sliver sapphire earring on her right hand under her glove increased her magika. Everything extended her stamina and eased the burden of what she was carrying and none of it ever wore out. Even battle damage would slowly fix itself and eventually leave everything good as new.

    Alice's weapons were no less deadly. Her long steel dagger was always sharp and her Imperial shortsword, Father's Steel, crackled with lightning when she wielded it but her primary weapon was her bow. Her hunting bow, Mother's Fire was concealed under her cloak across her back, along with its quiver of steel arrows. She had both broadhead arrows for dealing with large fleshy creatures and bodkin arrows for dealing with heavily armored warriors, a common sight in Skyrim. Upon her command her bow could sheathe any arrow in flame for a nasty and terrifying surprise but in a separate compartment of her quiver she held something truly special: Three ebony arrows enchanted with fireball magic. After hitting a target the arrows would explode in a ball of fire magic, sending fire, metal and wood splinters and a massive shockwave out for several meters, all while inside the target. They were expensive arrows that made a grisly death of any target and his friends but they were nonetheless effective. A rather sad necessity bred out of a lifetime of warfare.

    Behind Alice was her little sister Cilla. The last time they had met Hale Cilla was only a child of ten, starving from being fed on by vampires and sick with the rattles from lack of food. It was a heartbreaking sight for anyone in their group but for Alice, their father Simus and to everyone's surprise, Hale, it was a sight that drove them to righteous anger. They had won the day and in the ten years since Cilla had recovered wonderfully. She was a strong and confident young woman of twenty and she was fiery in every sense of the word. She was impulsive, quick to anger, quicker to forgive and a master of fire magic. At the moment, her fire was cool. Merely a pair of softly-glowing balls in her relaxed hands, illuminating her slim armored figure. Her upper half was protected by a scale mail shirt with light steel plates for her chest, shoulders and waist while her stomach was protected only by the shirt for easier movement. Her lower half was unarmored, with only tall leather boots and soft crimson leggings for protection as well as a crimson shawl tied around her waist if her shoulders or head ever got cold. This didn't happen too often. Her long brown hair was tied back with a leather strip and there was a big smile on her face. Her ever-watchful sister was always on the lookout for danger so that left her alone with her thoughts. Here she was, on an adventure with her older siblings coming to help a ma who had reunited her with the father and big sister she thought were dead. And this time she was old enough to really help out. She had barely been able to contain her enthusiasm but she was also feeling the weight of a great debt. She had no idea how to repay Hale for giving her her family back and this seriously worried her. The entire family had picked up on this and before they even left Cilla had had a serious talk with her dad and Alice. It had gone relatively well after he explained that she owed Hale nothing and was more than paying back his kindness but it still worried her. She and Alice had talked about it a great deal over the last two days of travelling from Whiterun. Cilla loved her big sister more than anything and trusted her completely but she had explained several times that she wouldn't be right with this until she was at Hale's side, personally helping him out. Alice understood completely.

    Bringing up the rearguard and keeping an eye on his two sisters was Titus. While Alice was a gifted illusionist and enchanter and Cilla solved everything with fists and fire Titus had absolutely no magical luxuries. He was a pure warrior, armored in Nord steel and with a skyforge steel sword at his side and a round shield also across his back. He was a proud member of the Companions and wielded a skyforge steel battleaxe across his shoulders just like Ysgrammor himself. His long oily black hair had to be kept out of his face with a leather strip and the black scruff all over his face showed that he really needed to shave but his equipment was pristine. All of his weapons were cleaned and polished without even a hint of rust. Even his armor was well-oiled and free of rust, showing the pride he took in his station. Titus was not among the party that had rescued Cilla but he had still met Hale several times over the last decade. He seemed like a good guy and got on very well with his sisters but Titus had always been guarded around him. Hale was a ranger, a huntsman and wanderer of the wilds and such men had a reputation that Titus had discovered was well-founded. Titus was a member of the Circle and therefore a werewolf, and that was not something he or his family liked to spread around. Drinking Aela's blood was a reckless decision that was very much against his father's wishes. They were mad at each other for weeks after the family found out and even though Simus had accepted his son's decision rather quickly it was a sore spot between them. Even now they had some friction from time to time. Titus and Alice had had similar friction but she loved her twin brother enough to simply drop the matter. Cilla had fully embraced the idea and had simply decided that what Titus was was his own business. Titus was loved and accepted as he had always been but he always had to be careful. One outburst of rage at the wrong time could trigger his transformation and turn a simple argument into a blood-soaked room. Titus' greatest fear was and still is that that blood would be someone in his family. Many a warrior and ranger judged and hunted him based on that nightmare and Titus always feared that Hale, or a misguided friend of Hale's would be that sort of ranger. Titus would be the first to admit that he wasn't being fare to Hale, especially when he was so close to the rest of the family and had shown him anything but respect, but he always kept his guard up. Such was the life of a werewolf.

    The three of them arrived at Old Hroldan in the starlight just as it was getting cold. Alice, bundled as she was, still wasn't quite warm enough and was looking forward to a warm fire and a hot bowel of venison stew. Cilla and Titus weren't at all bothered by the cold, Cilla for her constant flame magic keeping her warm and Titus' beast blood doing the same, but were looking forward to some food and rest all the same. The trio entered the inn and immediately spotted Hale. He was sitting at a well-laid table with his hood up smoking his favorite pipe. He looked dirty and his beard was unkempt, clearly having been in the wilds a good while. Another hooded man was with him and trying to strike up a conversation but Hale didn't seem too interested. The innkeeper was busy at the moment so the trio advanced on Hale's table, Cilla at the front. She was protected by her siblings on both sides, an old habit that would probably never die as she'd always be the baby of the family. Maintaining her smile and showing no regard for the other man Cilla slammed her gauntleted hands flat against the table to get Hale's attention, then beamed down at him as he looked up at her.

    "Hale Loneshadow!" She said, louder than was necessary but her voice full of mirth. "Do you remember me?" Titus chuckled at his sister's foreward approach and Alice simply smiled, happy that her little sister was in such a good mood and overjoyed to see her long time friend again. Both maintained a slight distance to make room for the laughs and hugs that were surely about to happen.
     
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  4. Alty

    Alty Caw Caw

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    The cry of an eagle sounded distantly, and it was like pure chimes to Morthaine's ears. From her precarious position, she craned her neck, though saw no such bird. It was a nice view, not that she'd care. She was crouched on the edge of one of the many rocky heights near Karthwasten, hands gripping the ledge around her toes for balance. There was light snow here; no doubt that she slipped few times getting to her perch.

    Hours earlier, it was cold in Morthal. Like that would ever change; the hold was surrounded by mountains. However, "cold" did not pass Morthaine's mind. She was already off as soon as the courier batted a lash at the peculiar figure laying atop the tallest structure. She was off for this "quest" mentioned in the messenger's words. So far, she has trailed a caravan and a carriage on her way to Karthwasten.

    She was refusing sleep, as always. It was mere sense to steal an unfortunate traveler's horse rather than walk her feet raw. She wasn't just there to enjoy the view- she was waiting. Her eyes flitted as soon as she heard the gate of a warhorse that has yet seen war. It appeared young, a breed that was rather lithe, though sturdy. The owner was a balding man, now entering an inn.

    She didn't stumble her way down, but she was careful. She began approaching her ride, noting how restless it was in standing. It hadn't been ridden for long; energetic. Perfect. It snorted in acknowledgement, but remained as calm as the assassin. Mindless of her surroundings, as nobody was out this late of day, she took the reins with a little roughness, a little jingle following. She boarded, the horse swaying a bit in his excitement. The door opened, but the bay stallion darted at full throttle with a harsh kick to its ribs before the owner could stop the thief.

    ׆×


    The thundering of hooves came easily to a trot outside the inn. Morthaine passed it, allowing her new steed to walk off the exhaustion, before she yielded at a post. She glanced at the other horse parked just in front of her stolen one, though she didn't dwell on it long as she approached the entrance, but not before hooking the reins to a column. She immediately spotted a group when she entered, of which she stood afar from. First impression was to merely stand opposite, arms crossed, occasionally peering into the fire if she wasn't casually staring down the group from beneath the shade of her hood. The cloth meant to conceal her mouth was down, the scar glinting with the flicker of light from the flames.

    There was no trace of amusement towards the gaily atmosphere.
     
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