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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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    With a smile, the knight nodded to the auburn-haired woman before standing. "Thank you Ihylin." She watched as Ihylin left, giving a small sigh. Despite the warmth of their previous conversation, she could tell the pain and worry Ihylin felt for his-royal-pain-in-the-ass.

    The white-haired young woman made her way quickly to the bath, as she was very eager to relax. She did not plan to bathe for too long, as she had this off feeling about everything. It was as if her gut was telling her something was wrong, or something horrible was about to arise. The woman was adamant about trusting herself, but she did not wish to feel that way about the ominous feeling.

    Carefully she stripped herself of her sword, shield, armor and attire, placing it gently on the ground beside her. She prepared the water before slipping in, exhaling a great sigh. It had been quite some time since she last took a nice warm bath, and she was afraid of her body odor from the trip was perhaps noticeable. Closing her eyes she slid down into the bath up to her nose. Warmth embraced her body like a hug.

    Please give him a chance. He lost a lot of what he loved in such a short time.

    Valencia rose from the water quickly, choking on the water she took in from her thoughts. Her white hair strung from the water, her coughs lightly fading as she took deep breaths. She held her chest, not for breath, but for unease. The conversations they've all had... it made her feel like a villain.

    The confrontation and Ihylin standing bravely between them... the brokenness of Valencia's demeanor in front of Ihylin... the almost traitorous-like aggression she gave to Lord Seton...

    It hurt. Her very duty as a knight was to serve and only to serve. Yes, it helped when her heart was big... but now it was getting in the way.

    The usually calm knight splashed the bath water in anger, much a like a child. She had already cried her tears earlier, and had none left. She stared at her reflection, the steam and ripples in the water making her reflection disoriented. With another sigh, she began to wash her body with pleasant smelling soap; quite the opposite to the stench of a foul future of events to occur. The feeling of the crusted blood and dried mud being removed was, however, a great feeling.

    Even with the feeling of being clean and the warmth of the bath, it still felt so cold. She wished not to hurt her friends, and yet... she had to risk it. She would listen intently and honestly to Lord Seton, and hoped and prayed to the Gods that he was innocent. If what he and Ihylin said was true, then she would bring justice to them; finally.

    Once she was done, she dried herself off. Instead of enjoying a bath like one should, she felt like she was imprisoned in her own thoughts, and wished not to be alone with them any longer. Her hair curled tightly - more than the usual tight waves - from the water. She placed it up in her usual messy yet orderly bun and braids. Digging in her small satchel, she pulled out the second set of underclothes, one of the only things in the satchel. Setting her dirty clothes aside, she figured she could wash them tomorrow morning.

    It was a wonderful feeling to place on clean clothes after a warm bath, so it eased her mind for a few moments. Valencia habitually put her armor back on, only realizing afterward that she really did not need to. With a sigh, she grabbed her sword and shield, the light from the candles and torches still lit flickering on the blade. Sheathing the weapon and strapping the shield to her arm, she made her way back to the main room.

    When she entered, she noticed Ihylin and Rolard were not found. Assuming they were chatting alone elsewhere, she took her seat, glancing at a random book left on a nearby table, and decided to read. She had to keep her mind on other things, and she wanted to give them their privacy if they were talking.

    @Keidivh @Hart
     
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  2. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    "Good evening, Princess."

    The moment their eyes locked, fire raged between them. Celica never blinked as the male took his sweet time walking around her, the tension filling the air thicker than the fog of Black Marsh.

    The entire tone of the man quickly and easily put the woman off, and he knew veryyy well how to push her buttons. It was one of many encounters they had made in the past... and his words were true; she was avoiding him.

    As he spoke, she refused to; she bit her tongue, and could taste a small bit of blood before she eased her bite. However, her jaw, posture, and eye contact were still as stiff and tight as ever. She wished not to feed the flames, but she did not know how much longer she could take his royal asshole-ery.

    "As the General alluded to, we've much negotiations to discuss, Princess. I know you and your family have not always been the most welcoming to the positive reform I attempt to bring to the Kingdom of Evermore, despite my changes being for the benefit of all of High Rock's people."

    The princess kept her eyes from rolling but couldn't help but mutter under her breath: "reform... what a joke." As he continued to ramble on lies and honeyed words, everyone in the room seemed to tense... except for the Thalmor present.

    Celica remembered the numerous times Azrael himself had come to visit the kingdom. He already had a few spots in the other kingdoms with ambassadors, but they were still very... unwelcome. However, only a few kingdoms were still left without Thalmor insurgents, and Evermore was one of them.

    He was persistent. Offered security, wealth, prosperity, and other "gifts". Tried to gather the people's desires, the political desires, desires from anyone with say, really. He was cunning, manipulative, and deceiving. The princess was an intelligent woman; praised greatly to those who knew her name in Tamriel for her tactics and problem-solving skills. She easily saw past Azrael's guise and could see his true intentions. She knew what he and the rest of the Thalmor desired. She did her research; and yet, so many are naive.

    As chairs were presented to everyone, the princess dared not sit down. She watched in disgust as he crossed his legs, toying with the foul energy of the room. Her eyes squinted, staring down the elf across the table.

    "I'm afraid you are wrong, Volaire." She spoke in a low tone, daring not to use his title as "Lord". She placed both her hands on the table, leaning slightly, keeping her low and serious tone. "There is nothing more to discuss than the repetition from before. There will be no Thalmor relationships with Evermore. We plan on staying neutral and will continue to do so."

    Her hazel eyes glanced to General Tullius, her lips still frowning profusely. "It is unfortunate that General Tullius has offered to waste your time. I apologize on his behalf." Her eyes met back with the elf's, ignoring the Imperial's discomfort and frown towards her.

    She stood up straight again, placing her hands on her waist. "Unless you have anything... new, to say... which I doubt, speak now or forever hold your peace." Her tone was unwavering, but one could easily tell she was done already and the meeting had just begun. She wished to end it, but had a feeling Azrael would drag it out and/or have something to say.

    @Snoball
     
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  3. Snoball

    Snoball One pretty swell dood

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    "Unless you have anything... new, to say... which I doubt, speak now or forever hold your peace."

    Here we go again.

    Like her parents before her, Celica was proudly resistant to any and all offers made by the sly Altmer. It was a trait that although Azrael respected, it made the Alabora family the biggest wall in his attempt to occupy and wrest control of Evermore.

    An annoyed, half-smirk on the face of Azrael was indicative of his growing frustrations with the princess's unwillingness to cooperate. Although she stood up ready to stand her ground and leave, the night was far from over in Azrael's mind.

    "I thank you for asking that Princess, as I do in fact have something new to bring to this discussion." Azrael then stands up from his seat to meet Celica's gaze, almost as if not wanting to be looked down upon.

    "General Tullius being here is of no coincidence. The situation in question is larger than both High Rock and the Thalmor, it concerns the Empire as a whole. As proud as Bretons are of their own politics and neutrality, at the end of the day, you are in fact under the Imperial Legion's banner." Celica wears a cold expression, still incredibly unfazed by the Altmer's words, but he is determined to force her hand. Azrael signals one of his knights carrying a map to roll it out onto the table in the center of the room. Its contents reveal a political map of Skyrim and High Rock. He then directs Celica's attention to the border of the two nations.

    "It is no secret that the Stormcloaks have certainly turned the tide of Skyrim's civil war since Ulfric Stormcloak's unfortunate escape from his execution. The Imperials are taking in all forms of auxiliary troops they can muster. But I understand your confusion Princess. You wonder, "What does any of this have to do with High Rock and her people?", and that is where I factor in." He walks to a nearby stone shelf. On top of it waiting for him is a scroll, a transcript of the White-Gold Concordant's articles and ultimatums. He unfurls it out next to the map.

    "As decreed by the White-Gold Concordant, all nations that wave the Imperial banner and the Aldmeri Dominion are to agree to an allied peace. We within the Dominion may not directly interfere with the governments of the nations we have made peace with, but we are given a say in how the Imperials soldiers within each nation are distributed in times of conflict."
    He rolls the scroll back up and sighs. Here comes the hard part: getting her to agree.

    "I will make this simple and precise, Princess. There are Imperials officers who still operate in the hills around the Kingdom of Evermore. With your kingdom's close vicinity to Skyrim's Markarth, the Reach requires all the man-power it can muster. We refuse to leave those outposts unattended, and as such the Dominion intend to occupy these locales until its stationed Imperial soldiers return from aiding Skyrim's war effort. I advise this only looking out for Evermore's safety against foreign invasion, Princess."

    After he finishes speaking, Azrael begrudgingly passes the floor unto Celica. Sadly he knows this staunch-hearted Breton far too well. It isn't going to be this easy.

    @Zelda
     
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    #163 Snoball, May 20, 2019
    Last edited: May 20, 2019
  4. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Rolard's azure skies never left the skyline that hung heavily over Castle Dour as his fair host burst out of the front door in her typical, elegant style. The lass practically tripped over the contemplative Breton before whipping towards him, looking as if she were about unleash a torrent of words that would cause even Castle Dour's walls to crumble. Whatever words she had for him seemed to die before reaching her lips, instead just staring at him silently. This made him more uncomfortable than her yelling by a long stretch, her hazel eyes conveying a feeling that made his skin crawl. Pity.

    By the gods how he hated it. Everything he had was stripped from him. His lands, his titles, his honor. The only two things he had left in this world were his siblings and his pride, and ex-knight was loathe to surrender either. He couldn't be mad at her for it, he knew she that she genuinely cared. For what reason he honestly couldn't fathom.

    The fiery haired girl spoke with in an uncharacteristically soft manner, making the hardened veteran feel as if he were some child that had skinned his knees. Despite the softness of her words however, they still made his skin crawl.

    Rolard hadn't visited the temple of any Divine since his flight from Akaire. After the sins he had committed, how could he face them? The thought of standing before them with the blood of his mentor, of his kin on his hands was enough to make him feel nearly ill.

    None of this showed however as he simply looked up towards his old friend, an easy smile on his lips. It was a facade that slipped on with such ease it was practically a natural response at this point.

    "I'm not so sure about that Ihly, with the way you scream you could probably shout me to the Temple. You sure you aren't this fabled Dragonborn I keep hearing about?" He let out a dry laugh, struggling to contain a fit of coughing that began to scratch at the back of his throat. The quip momentarily reminded him of his reason to come to this damned city to start with. Information. Gods, it truly seemed like an eternity since he met those two strange women in the Drunken Huntsman. At some point he would have to continue his search, but not now.

    "Aye, I'll go with you. If only because I know you'll never drop the damned subject." Pushing himself up from the chair, pain shot through all of his joints, though Rolard refused to so much as wince due to it. Taking a moment to let the fire in his legs settle, Rolard began trekking his way towards the temple, the castle weighing on him more with each step.

    "So... I trust your talk with dear Lady Valencia went well enough? No plans to run me through with that sword of hers yet?" Dark laughter left his lips as he pushed himself up the slope, pausing only when he reached the gates of the castle. His easygoing attitude melted away for a moment, before the Breton pulled his hood over his head. No need to make things anymore difficult then they already were after all.

    @Hart
     
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  5. Hart

    Hart Sassmaster

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    Even through everything, he still managed to put on airs. Typical Breton royalty. She wasn't in the mood to be amused, yet she couldn't help the little smile that cracked about the Dragonborn joke.

    And she was relieved, at least, that she wouldn't have to drag him to the temple by the ear. Rather disgruntled that she'd had to scramble off the ground to catch up with him instead, Ihylin punched him in the arm lightly on catching up.

    "Leave a lady in the snow, would you?" With a sigh, she pulled off her bracers, flexing her knuckles against the cold. White scars pinked under the biting chill, and she tucked her arms under her cloak, arms crossed against her ribs, kneading at disfigured skin. These winds always made her scars ache.

    "Valencia has been... placated for now. I offered the opportunity to look through an old box of letters, as some of them might be from you. Figured it would help her get to know your character a little bit better than this... Oblivion cursed trip did. Of course, if that's not what you want, I can always retract that offer."

    Breathing puffing little white clouds in the evening air, Ihylin stretched her gait to keep up with him.

    She'd always had trouble keeping in stride with him, being a few years younger. Teased him, even, on the rare occasions she was able to visit. She recalled, in her teenage years, she'd returned to Highrock for... some or another reason, and nearly gaped at the sight of Rolard when he'd shot up like a green sprout.

    Her thoughts, and a door, stopped her in her tracks. Why was she even so concerned about this anyway? Rolard was an adult, he could handle all of this on his own. That's what she wanted to tell her self, at least. He was capable of handling this mess on his own, but... she couldn't just leave him to deal with it alone.

    With a slight shake of her head, she pushed the doors open, hoping the he hadn't caught on to the blank stare she'd given the door for a few seconds.

    Inside, they were greeted with by cold halls and a warm face. Ihylin let a smile crack as she addressed the priestess before her.

    "Acolyte Freir. Are we bothering you this late in the evening? I was wondering if you'd let us sit for a while, and request services from you? Touching her hand to Rolard's shoulder lightly, Ihylin let her tone soften. "He contracted something during travels, and we were able to rid of most of it. I'd rather make sure that he does not have a reoccurring case of sickness.

    The Nord only nodded slightly, gesturing towards the rows of pews that lined the temples. "Have a seat where you wish, I will be a moment to gather supplies.

    Simple as that, Freir walked off, leaving the two of them in the hollow silence of the temple.

    @Keidivh
     
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  6. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Every sentence that poured from the Altmer's mouth rank of word vomit to the Breton princess. Arthur could feel the tension rising in the room, heat swelling between the two in comparison to the snowstorm that begun outside. Celica never left her gaze on the Thalmor Lord's eyes, and her expression was tantalizingly cold.

    At the beginning, everything he spoke of she was already well-aware of. It wasn't a surprise that he intended on pulling the Empire's playing cards against her. High Rock had been peaceful with everyone externally, and yet they still had wars shoved up their arse. His words strung like honey, dripping over with a sweetness enough to kill a man, sugar-coated with a foul innocence.

    Then he pulled out the damned scroll. The White-Gold Concordant. The very piece of scripture that had been copied and distributed time and time again, only for the Aldmeri Dominion to prove their superiority and make it seem like a peace offering. She knew damn well their true intentions, as they knew that she could care less for the Empire; she only cared about getting rid of Evermore's enemies... the Thalmor included... This required the aid and unification of the Empire.

    Her eyes visibly squinted in disgust at the scroll, wishing she could burn every paper that held those words and dance around the embers. Despite her visual distaste towards the entire conversation, anyone who knew well her knew that she listened to every word muttered from every mouth. She memorized their verbatim and inflections to gather information of not only the subjects shared but of the truths hidden behind them. It was what gave her the grace of communication and charisma that made her a worthy political opponent.

    Once Azidal was done speaking, she smiled briefly, but it was not one of happiness. It was one of a readiness to fight.

    "You are correct, Volaire," she spoke, still smiling at the man. "The Thalmor have say to how and where Imperial soldiers may be distributed... Imperial. Soldiers." She spoke, a grin still on her face. It was gentle, but the fierceness in her eyes were set ablaze. "Not Thalmor soldiers, I'm afraid..." Celica stood taller, removing her hands from the table and placing them behind her back.

    "And these unattended outposts? My my I was unaware of such a fault in security! I thank you for bringing this to my attention! I will personally move the extra Imperial soldiers from the west of Evermore to the east as well as send a few of my men to those outposts. I will also inform the other kingdoms of this matter so we may send more men." She faced Arthur, gave him a smile, and returned to Azidal.

    "As you said, we do need more... man, power. I will be happy to supply those outposts. That way you can place your very busy soldiers in more... problematic areas.... Perhaps here in Skyrim, where the Thalmor units are failing, time and time again, to keep the Stormcloaks at bay?" Her voice taunted the man slightly, but it was mild enough to slip by without seeming immature but harsh enough to strike something in the elf in front of her with truthfulness.

    The one thing that did strike her though - that she waited patiently to dismiss - was the threat of foreign invasion. She was unsure whether it was a jab at The Battle of the Red, so she was cautious. "And on the note of foreign invasion, it is not of your concern. Evermore currently has no threats, and it shall continue to stand that way." With a small bow to the elf, she gave a grin. "Now then, I believe that settles things? Any last thoughts or suggestions?" Unfortunately for Celica, her time was up, and it was now time for Azidal to fan the flames as he usually did, even though she was still trying to push the summit to a close.

    @Snoball
     
  7. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    From the reflection of the fireplace on the windows, she could see snowflakes falling heavier than prior. The biting chill that ran through the gates of Solitude when they entered was the approaching storm, it seemed. Placing the book down, she glanced out the window, placing her warm hand on the cold surface. Gazing her own icy eyes out the glass, she saw no signs of the two friends, but instead footprints in the snow. Valencia had no doubt they were off to someplace together for the time being, and would return due to the cold.

    The memory returned quickly to her. "The letters!" She spoke aloud, turning back from the window. How had she forgotten? Perhaps her own thoughts and the bath took them off track. Quickly she retrieved them and took a seat, feeling the warmth of the fire keep her at ease.

    She found that they were generally organized by date, so she began there. She felt a bit uncomfortable reading such personal information shared between two close friends, but found herself enjoying the letters at times.

    Some moments were sad. Others were joyful. The fact that Ihylin kept them all was a sign of friendship in itself. The letters were crisp and well-taken care of; something a person who found them very important would care for. A smile appeared on her face at the thought as she continued on. The happy letters between friends sharing their adventures had bits of confusion and unanswered questions in them, but seemed to be overlooked. But missing the other side of the conversation is what may be to blame.

    Then the letters became melancholic; sorrow lining the handwriting. The story unfolded in a manner that was filled with sadness, detachment, worry, guilt, and just an overall feeling of loss. What were once conversations about time spent, and she assumed playful yet serious scolding from Ihylin, turned to hopelessness and distance. It all was adding up... and all because a man cared about his family.

    As she closed the last letter, she placed them back in the box carefully the way she found them. With a sigh, she glanced out the window, white snowflakes glazing past from the falling twilight of the evening. "I can't do this..." she murmured to herself. The woman took the chair and turned it around to face the window. She placed her arm on the windowsill, resting her head in her hands as she watched the snowflakes fall. "He was wrongfully accused... they threatened his family..." She continued to murmur to herself, as if to talk with someone else within her head. "Yet he murdered members of Wayrest..."

    Another sigh left her lips as it left a fog on the window. "But... I... what would have I done in that situation...?" Her gaze met with the footsteps that the new snow had almost buried. It was not too heavy of snowfall, but the two had been gone for a while. "I... I don't know..." Crossing her arms, she laid her head on them, the coolness of the windowsill touching her cheek. It felt incredible with the warmth of the crackling fireplace behind her. "I'd... I'd do... what was... right..."

    The snowflakes became hazy as a desire to rest overcame her. It had been a long trip, and despite the warm bath, thoughts had been crossing her mind for quite some time. The easiness of the snow, the warmth of the fire on her body, and the coolness on her face; it called out to her. The thoughts of distress in her mind plagued her desire to rest for so many nights, and here she was, stuck once again.

    But there was something different about this night. It was as if... she really did know what she needed to do, but decided it was time to do what she wanted to do... the selfish thing. Against everything she had done all her life.
    To follow her heart, not the flag of her home. To make things right... even if requires a bit of wrong.

    Finally, rest met with the woman, her unnatural white hair gently brushing the cold window as her head stayed on her crossed arms. Her icy blue eyes were closed, a peaceful sleep easing her as she awaited the return of her friends.

    @Keidivh @Hart
     

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