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18+ The Last Dragonborn

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Zelda, Feb 28, 2017.

  1. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The thick fog of tension seemed to dwindle ever so slightly as the minutes passed. With Rolard's thanks to Valencia, she did not respond, but nodded her head in understanding. Words were not needed to express her understanding. She was not one to hold tension stubbornly, as she knew such a thing would only bring havoc and distrust. She knew the Divines would bring Justice where it was needed, and it was for her to learn, where that justice would flow. Solitude was the only source that the Divines could make their decision from. Valencia knew there had to be someone - anyone - from High Rock that was a political leader visiting in Skyrim for support of the Imperial Legion.

    However, the raging storm of Ihylin almost swept the knight off her feet. Lord Seton's graceful smirk and fluid silent-worded response made the knight herself grow a slight smile. All hell broke loose as Lady Sweetwater released the thunder that boomed through the shelter, the hail of anger and upset pelting the Lord beside the knight - quite literally.

    After the fact, and after the woman had took her portion of food to sit down, an apology flowed from the Lord's mouth to Ihylin's ears. It was certainly heartfelt, and it made the knight herself feel guilty.

    Sitting by the fire, the woman sipped a fine glass of water as she opened the envelope. It was often that she received letters from her liege. Of course, the letters were informal, and disguised as nothing but a regular letter.

    Dear Valencia,

    That is excellent news! I was worried there for a moment that I would never see my appointed knight again. I hope you are still fairing well? Health is high and mighty? I give my condolences to you as well: I know you wanted your mission to run smoothly. I suppose Skyrim needs more help than what we planned. And do not take that personally: I know you all too well, Val. I must apologize but this letter were be rather short compared to the others: the Courtship Ball will be coming up in two months. I ask that, if you may, return to Wayrest? I would feel much safer during the evening with you due to so many nobles in one place. Besides: I need my future wife to know my best friend. It would be an honor to have you there.

    With Love,
    Ro


    Running her fingers through the threads of the scarf the man made, it only pained the knight's heart more. She left on a mission to help Skyrim, only to fail miserably. Not only that, but she left her best friend - the person she cared so much for - behind. Worst of all, she was asked to watch him court another woman: someone, she selfishly thought, would not be her. It was another reason she left: her feelings for her liege were unparalleled, and knew it was too much for her heart tot take when the time came for him to be engaged to a royal. But his happiness was above her own, and if she could see him happy, it would make her at least a bit happy.


    Her road to Solitude would be her last adventure through Skyrim, and perhaps, for the rest of her life.

    As the auburn-haired woman called her name, the white-haired woman took a bite of her stew and rose her head, listening intently to what the merchant had to say. It was heartwarming to hear her words were of kindness, and it certainly eased her mind and heart. She let out a small chortle, smiling a bit with her 'blame' to the moons. The knight herself had done the same in a select few situations. With her blessing to continue to Solitude, the woman continued to smile. "Thank you, love." Of course, the higher pay did not concern the woman: she wouldn't accept the money. Certainly not when the merchant insisted on feeding and caring for them.

    @Hart @Keidivh
     
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  2. Kivuli_The_Khajit

    Kivuli_The_Khajit Werewolf Queen of Skyrim

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    Kiv takes a moment to think it over. The caravan back there really did no wrong....however they had supplies she could use. And she still suspected them of lying.

    "Alright. You have yourself a deal." The hybrid reaches down to shake the Redguard's hand.
     
  3. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death a soul devoid of eternal bonds
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    Pushing himself off of the cold stone floor, Kyneth found himself to be confused as to where he was. Around him the shallow mouth of a cave seemed like it was trying to swallow him in it's darkness. Outside the weather was the same as it was when he climbed into the little cave and sat himself down. Suddenly his memory came back to him, and he began the short walk outside. At the top of a ridge, Kyneth looked east, and could make out the vague silhouette of the bridge which gave the small township of Dragon Bridge it's name.

    His gaze glanced around at the hills around the little out-cove in which he stood, and decisively stepped down onto the slope; starting his way towards his initial destination. Karthwasten was a mere hour's walk, and though he couldn't tell the time of day through the thick swirling clouds that still quarreled above him, he felt as though he would get there long before nightfall would come.

    What's this hesitation? Are you actually scared already? Are you really?

    "I'm not scared," Kyneth muttered with exhaustion, "I'm just worried."

    About what? Being seen? HA! As if anybody would even mutter a word to you, let alone make eye-contact. So what in Kynareth's name are you worried about?

    "I don't know if you remember, but not too long ago, YOU decided to take hold, and I woke up with one and a half dead people at my feet!" His tone had stopped showing how worn out he was, and decidedly showed exactly how fed up with the day's events he actually was. His pace slowed to a stern and calculated trot, scaling the grassy, rain-soaked hill. His body flashed hot, and for a split second, he thought he felt himself losing his composure once again. Yet, with a quick grit of his teeth, and a tense of his body's muscles in their entirety seemed to allow him to rip control back into his possession. "I'm turning in this contract, 'cause you're right, what am I worried about?"
     
  4. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    With a smirk, the woman happy to know that the Khajiit was willing to play. Of course, Rayyia had no intention of slipping one past the Khajiit: it was more of a test. Khajiit were never truly allowed in the Holds, and had trouble surviving in the Skyrim wilds. If she fared well... the Redguard-Nord would be willing to allow her to her "family". She was always looking for new recruits. Bandits in Skyrim at the time was it's own form of politics: some bands were more powerful, some bands hated each other, some were allies. And others lone-wolf parties. Rayyia - the Queen of the Flames, as some said - wanted to have the most powerful group of all. Her group was made of lone-wolves without a place to go in the bandit world. Her own band of misfits turned powerful warriors.

    The more the merrier, she always thought. "Alright! Then let's begin the fun~" She mused, looking to her bandit followers behind her. "Let's stick to the plan: first-" The woman stopped herself, looking to the Khajiit. To truly test her skills... she needed to know her thoughts as well. "Say: I have a plan... but I was wondering what your approach would be to ransack the caravan... any thoughts?" She asked, smirking, as usual, her arms crossed, waiting for an answer. Question number one.

    @Kivuli_The_Khajit
     
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  5. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    While the hidden valley was soaked with rain, the young woman was satisfied with the coziness of her cottage. The smell of soup lingered out the cottage to fill he valley with it's inviting scent. If the valley wasn't hidden, she'd be worried someone would find the place. Of course, she knew if the time ever came, she only hoped the traps she made would catch someone off guard, and perhaps scare them away. It was a fear of hers, but it was nothing she could control. All she could do was hope and pray that the safe haven would be kept away from the evil outside world. Her "small" dog Saber continued to nudge the cooking female, making her laugh in return. "Stop it, you!" She giggled, leaning over to take a taste of the soup.

    "Mmmm... needs a bit more herbs." With that she took specks of Skyrim herbs and stirred. Her stomach growled with impatience, as well as Saber finally curling up and sitting down. With her thick dry clothes, the fire warm, the food enticing, and the patter of the rain, Eydis felt as if she could fall asleep standing from the coziness. When out in the dangerous world, she was often on edge, but tried her best to relax. In her haven, she had no fear. She could sit outside on a sunny day and listen to the stream of water leave the valley out a cave, and enter from a waterfall of another cave.

    The girl glanced and flipped through the pages of the cookbook she held, deciding to check on what future recipes she could make. It was quite fun to cook for her, as an alchemist, that is. She found it to be similar skills that could be used multiple different ways. She always thought that she would make a restaurant / alchemy shop if she ever made enough money... she left the idea behind years ago due to the chaos of the world outside her small valley.

    After a few more minutes the chicken soup was finally complete. She let lifted the pot level so that it could stay warm but not overcook itself. Taking a bowl full for herself, she also filled a smaller bowl for her companion. "There you are Saber: a warm meal!" She made sure to let it cool before feeding it to hungry creature. She refilled his water bowl by going to the water bucket. She made herself a glass, before putting the water back into the bucket and deciding to drink warm milk instead. She opened a hatch and walked down the steep stairs to the basement. There was stored lots of products within the cool walls. Down at the end was an opening in the floor where she stored ice and snow from the winter. She would once a year make a trip northward to get some more.

    After she got her milk and warmed it over the fire, she was content enough to sit down, eat her delicious soup, and drink the warm milk as she read a fiction book.

    @Specter of Death
     
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  6. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    "You look like the mercenary type." An old man sipped his mead, placing back on the table with his fist still grasped around it. He had brown beard going grey that was left a mess; his face spotted with dirt. His armor seemed to have small amounts of crusted blood that wasn't his. "Depends on your type of mercenary." The dirty-blond stated to the old man, staring at the mead in his hands. The veteran chuckled, coughing a bit before taking a sip of his mead once more. "Ay; not the talker are ya? I get it... with the political state of Skyrim...you'll get yourself murdered simply stating an opinion."

    When one was the Dragonborn, a civil war was just another obstacle and distraction from the true villains. He may have looked burly, and surly he was no intellectual mage, but he knew well that the Thalmor were the true enemy: not the elves, Nords, Empire, Imperials, Stormcloaks, and who else that was in the damned war. Such interests did not concern him when dragons were rising once more. Of course, if it benefited him in any way to stop the dragons, he would take the offer in a heartbeat. That was the reason he did so many off-the-wall tasks for so many. He gained their trust, was able to receive information, and gained gold. While he had no true leisure time, doing such menial tasks allowed him to progress through his quests.

    And to buy more mead.

    "I heard rumors about a reward up in Shor's Stone." The old man spoke up, gaining the Dragonborn's attention as he took another sip of his mead and cleared his throat. "Not sure what it's about... though the guards say they are not taking part in whatever's goin' on. Pissed off the only farmer there, the cowardly bastards." He coughed, taking another sip of his mead. "Ay, can I get another mead, ma'dam?" The respectful veteran spoke, the woman graciously nodding her head as she took his empty bottle away. The blue-eyed hero simply watched and listened to the man intently.

    "I'd go up there and show them guards what a real Nord is, but I'm afraid my body is no longer up to the task, heh..." He coughed again as the waitress handed him a mead, and he, in return, sent her away with the gold. "Thank you my lady." Another round of coughs left him as he took a few larger gulps of the mead. "Ah... but I'm sure a Nord like you would be up to the task. Not sure what kinda reward'd be there, but if it is enough to scare the guards silly, there has to be something worth your while."

    @Snoball
     
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  7. Snoball

    Snoball Could have sworn I had a W in my name

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    THUMP

    The heavy sound of a massive object smacking the ground rings through the creaky, wooden walls of Riften's Bee and Barb tavern. It came from the second floor, and although some patrons on the first floor pay it mind, others simply disregard it and go about their business. The same can't be said for the innkeeper Keerava, who lets out an audible sigh. She shoots a discontented look toward her partner, Talen-Jei, signaling him to head upstairs and have a chat with the graceful, sleeping beauty that was unsurprisingly the source of the sound.

    "pl*ps. On the forehead this time..." With a loud, disgruntled groan, Gorlocke lifts his massive body up off the floor. He did quite the heavy drinking the night prior and had slept in for the entire following afternoon. Though accidentally sliding off the bed wasn't uncommon for the behemoth orc, but he'd always find a way to make each landing slightly more painful than the last. Rubbing his forehead to check for any lumps or bruising, he stands up and takes a seat on a nearby chair. Every step and seat he took was greeted to the sound of creaking wood, pressed beneath the sheer weight of the orc. He puts on his gear, but before stepping out of his room, he is greeted to a less-than-pleased Talen-Jei.

    "I know you Argonians aren't that good with the whole 'facial expression' thing, but I already know where this is going, Tal." Gorlocke was well acquainted with Talen and Keerava prior to choosing to stay at their inn. But despite considering him a friend, the burden of him staying here at the inn was beginning to weigh down on the Argonian couple. "You know it's nothing personal, Gor. But it's been almost a week now, friend. Keerava is getting fed up, and rightfully so. A burly, orc mercenary indefinitely residing at the inn - let's just say it's not the best marketing strategy to get others to stay the night." There was sincerity in Talen's tone, he didn't want to kick Gor to the curb, but his usefulness at the inn was vastly overshadowed by the cons that came with him staying here constantly. "Damn. You got a funny way of calling me ugly there, swamp breath." Before Talen can protest and claim he didn't mean it like that, Gorlocke cuts him off with a hearty laugh. He then catches his breath finally. "I'm just pulling your tail, friend. Finding high-stakes jobs has been tough with the war and pl*ps, but give me a couple days and I swear I'll be out of your hair. Errr... I mean feathers... scales?" He manages to get a chuckle out of the typically stoic Argonian as they both head down to the first floor.

    While Talen-Jei returns to serving guests, Gorlocke proceeds to take a seat at one of the empty tables. The inn is filled with its usual regulars, but the two that grabbed his attention were not as familiar to him. Instead of ordering a drink or something to eat first, Gorlocke chose to listen in on a conversation between a dirty, older mercenary type, and a much more clean- almost heroic-looking Nord. It was something Gor couldn't put his finger on, the latter simply had an aura of power and leadership about him. Despite this, he didn't look too different from the other hundreds of Nords he's crossed paths with, so he simply payed this feeling no mind. Gorlocke threw in his two cents after the older man had finished speaking.

    "Haha. I think you're giving these guards too much credit. They're trained to take strolls around the city and jail people for stealing cabbages. The farmer probably asked them to help water his crops or something."

    @Zelda
     
    #107 Snoball, Sep 15, 2017
    Last edited: Sep 16, 2017
  8. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Between the coughing and downing of mead, the blue-eyed Dragonborn simply listened intently. While the job seemed to be just another situation involving most likely just a small band of spiders 'terrorizing' the townsfolk, something seemed a bit off. Yes, the guards were very cowardly, such rumors would not spread so far as to Riften if it was something small... unless gossip was slow.

    However, before the Dragonborn could speak, he heard the voice of another. Both he and the veteran turned to face the massive Orc who had entered the conversation. Despite most orcs seemingly serious, closed-off, and straightforward, this one was far from it. Instead, his voice projected a chuckle and a rather humorous outlook on the guards of Shor's Stone. While the Dragonborn was not one for expressions, a small smile tugged at the side of face, and a more prominent appeared on the veteran. "You certainly speak the truth, Orc." The veteran spoke, followed by chuckles and coughs. "You are probably right... I've only passed through Shor's Stone, and the guards are a sorry bunch." The Nord spoke, facing the veteran and Orc.

    "I wish your statements were of truths." Intruding in the conversation was Keerava, the innkeeper of the Bee and Barb. "A poor wood elf girl was kidnapped. The mines are under bandit's control, and the bandits stole her for ransom. But as the townsfolk were waiting for a ransom note, it never came. They are worried something bigger than bandits is in the ebony mine." Her voice was raspy as usual, but a tone of sadness echoed through the ears of the men who sat listening.

    The Dragonborn had saved many in his travels, despite being only the very beginning of his quests to destroy the dragons. However, when children were involved, it could bring sorrow to any person of Skyrim: no matter race, lest they be of pure malice. After another fit of coughs, the veteran spoke up from the silence. "I can imagine the worry of the townsfolk... but why in Oblivion would the guards not allow even the miners to go in? They are a strong bunch, those Shor's Stone miners." Keerava shook her head as she swept. "The guards do not want anyone going down there. They'll be blamed for their lives, and the guards themselves find the situation too dangerous. They say to leave the girl down there until some of the stronger Rift guards arrive... but with the Thieves Guild having issues, that poor girl is doomed."

    "No... I'll go." The Dragonborn spoke up calmly, the veteran choking on his mead a bit. "You? Go in there with who knows what inside that mine? You must be mad to go in there alone, but I cannot stop you."

    @Snoball
     
  9. Snoball

    Snoball Could have sworn I had a W in my name

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    Gorlocke was never one to put anything past the innkeeper. Although he briefly entertained the possibility that Keerava was saying this to get him the hell out of the Bee and Barb finally, he knew deep down she was a woman of her word. The details of the kidnapping already annoyed the hell out of Gor, as his own history made the theft of a child strike a chord within him. Still, he pondered what could be the bigger threat than the bandits inside the mine. Before a thought could even come to him, the bold, blue-eyed Nord quickly and confidently heeded the call to arms. Gor was taken a bit back by how sure the man the was in venturing into a complete unknown, but it was certainly a quality the orc could look up to.

    "Well, pl*ps. That didn't take very long, haha." The orc belts out a chuckle, before looking directly at the Nord and taking on a bit more of a serious tone. "Listen, I don't know if you're piss drunk now or just stupid, but you're friend here probably has a point. You might just need someone else whose even more drunk or stupid enough headed down there watching your arse." It was strange. He'd only just met the stranger, but Gor was never one to shy away from a gut feeling. The man's voice ushered in a sense of power and certainty. It's as if he wasn't taking a risk with his own life, like he already knew whatever was in that mine was in for a world of hurt. Maybe this is why Gor had no qualms about jumping head first into this task as well.

    The orc then thanks Keerava for the additional information and asks her for an ale, it was shocking to him that he wasn't already downing a drink by this point. While waiting on the drink, he addresses both men this time. "Honestly, I'm still betting on whatever the hell this is to be something pathetic like wolves or spiders, but cracking bandit skulls is always a good time, I guess. Just hope you can back up that confidence of yours, Nord." Though the stranger looked the part of a hero, Gor had seen his fair share of brave, seemingly heroic individuals get made short work of when the time came to raise their sword. He wondered if the man in front of him would be no different.

    @Zelda
     
  10. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death a soul devoid of eternal bonds
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    "Okay, okay," the Nord spoke with an exhausted sigh, "we'll stop at the inn when we get there to take a load off little one. Does that sound good?"

    The small canine frame bounded excitedly in circles around Thorriniir with excitement. A short chuckle escaped his throat, "I'll take that as a yes then."

    They had been walking the northwestern coast of the cold province for the past threes, and at this point Thorrin couldn't argue with the feeling of exasperation that Meadow and him shared. Just as soon as their descent from the upper hills graced them with the sight of the carved stone dragon skull that adorned the arcing bridge, it seemed his suddenly aching bones couldn't wait to sit next to a warm flame. It would only be less than a half hour before they would set foot upon the stone path of Dragon's Bridge.

    They hadn't visited the city in quite some time, and though it wasn't really a city they particularly favored, at this point even a dank cave ruled by falmer would do. Meadow barked ahead of him with anxious, shuffling paws beneath her. Good lord, I'm going as fast as I can! The thought in his head wasn't annoyed or angry, only just as anxious as his companion. Running was no longer his preferred traveling speed, unlike the coyote's. He couldn't blame her for expecting it though, usually running was the regular pace they kept as they traversed the terrain they found themselves in.

    "I'm just as tired as you, you bug," Thorriniir called ahead at her, "but unlike you, I don't have endless stamina! So you'll just have to be patient, now won't you?"

    A soft wine escaped her throat at that statement, and her head dropped as she drug her feet to return to his side. A small pang of guilt filled his gut, and he rolled his eyes. Taking a deep breath followed by a heavy exhale, he braced himself and forced his legs into a gentle, half jog. Meadow stopped, and tilted her head at him. He stopped to glare back at her, "oh don't you give me that look, you've convinced me so you best keep up!"

    Without any hesitation she rushed back to his side, and he returned to his slow run. Before long, his legs gave up the pace as the smell of warm stew filled his nose and his feet fell on the cobble path just north of the town. Meadow's pawsteps seemed to have given up as well, and the two of them calmly walked their way into the village; pointed directly in the direction of the inn.
     

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