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    Wauten Dayhil

    Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
    "To Wauten Dayhil, Handsomest Daedra Hunter who is Very Handsome,


    Perhaps you’re reading this note in a cave, on the road, yadda yadda yadda... you are very handsome... Wherever, or must I say, however handsome you are... I have something worth your while."

    "Oooh, this does sound interesting," the Hunter interrupted his reading, before continuing to relay the contents.

    "Something YOU specifically need. Your quest for eternal bliss has just begun; however, the trials that await you are no match for your handsomeness. You have the opportunity now to leave this note in its rightful place, I don't know what that word is... But... if you’re really handsome, and a fire has been lit in your heart, flavor text, yadda, then you are definitely handsome. Few others have received a note like this, and those few you will meet soon are not as handsome as you. Risk what you have... unimportant words... but know you cannot grow any more handsome. I will make myself known to you soon, for notes can only display so much admiration for your handsome face. Take the southern something or other, find the Guardian stones. Superficial ink usage... you are handsome, I will see you then. By the way, you are handsome.


    T.K."

    The daedra hunter set the piece of parchment down on his lap, and took up his lute once more. As he plucked at the strings, the man mulled over what he'd read. The idea of yet another adventure was quite appealing, and his weapons were becoming appallingly devoid of blood. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe this really is fate.... mayb- the string he'd been picking at snapped with a loud pwing, and Dayhil winced at the sound. With a sigh and a shake of his head, the daedra hunter set the instrument back down on the floor, and looked to his companions.

    "What say you?"
    he asked, looking from face to face.

    "I think more than half of that was horseplops,"
    said a hulking Nord, "no way someone'd call you handsome in a letter, let alone as much as you just read. And what in Oblivion is 'super... superfecal'?"

    "Nobody asked you, Bjarik,"
    Dayhil said, looking to his other companion, "What say you, Letri?"

    "I say it sounds like a good source of gold,"
    the little Wood Elf replied, in a voice that seemed far too loud for her small stature, "but Bjarik's right. You're definitely lying about the handsome parts."

    "Okay, that last sentence may have been just me,"
    the hunter lamented, "but I swear on my father's left nut that the rest is true!"

    At about this time, in one of the Myriad Realms of Revelry, Sanguine slouched in his throne; a bottle of brandy in one hand, a woman's bosom in the other, and a man's head betwixt his legs. All was drunken merriment until Sanguine felt a twinge, and his groin began to burn. "Again?" was all the Daedric Prince could squeak out, before he lost consciousness.

    "Anyways!"
    Dayhil shouted aloud, shattering the hunter's mental image of his father, "I take it that you believe I should go?" His companions nodded their approval, "Then I shall go."

    With that, the daedra hunter-slash-wordplay extraordinaire packed his lute, bow, and blade, rose from his log, and walked the twenty feet from their camp, up the hill, and stood staring at the famous Guardian Stones of Skyrim. He took a deep breath, turned about, and shouted back down to his companions, "Bye! Have a beautiful time!" while waving his hand, and then gave a thumbs-up.

    "What's that supposed to be?"
    Letri whispered to Bjarik, as she tore more meat from the roasting skeever and stuffed it into her mouth.

    "Who knows?"
    Bjarik replied, gazing up at the stars, "It's like he's from a different world, sometimes."
     
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    Casamir squared up and analyzed the man in front of him. The Nord he shared the makeshift ring with was shirtless, barefoot, and much larger than himself. The crowd of onlookers that made up the walls of the ring cheered for him. It seemed Dar' Shajiir had been setting him up with increasingly difficult opponents, this guy was definitely stronger and less drunk than the last.
    It was a nice racket they had going, they'd arrive separately to town, Dar' Shajiir always arriving first. He would get to drinking and talking to the locals, telling them that all the best fighters are from Cyrodiil, that no Nord could hold his own in a fight against an imperial. "Too bad there isn't one around to prove this theory of yours," or "If I see one then we'll find out," they'd say. Then, conveniently, Casamir would stroll into town non chalantly. Dar would offer to make a bet with whatever Nord he'd suckered into his trap, then approach Cass with the offer. After some coercing and comments about his manhood, he would reluctantly agree to the fight. Cass puts on a show, drags the fight out a bit, takes a few punches, then finishes it. They leave town separately, meet up later, and split the winnings.
    This time however, they might be out their investment. Cass took one hit in the beginning to make it look like a fair fight, and immediately regretted it. His right eye was now swollen shut opened him up for a follow up shot, which brought a cheer from the crowd. He now wiped away the blood from his nose and flicked it off his hand into the dirt. They're shuffling had kicked up plenty of dust, which blended with the blood in his mouth into a dry disgusting mess.
    He spat into the dirt and kept circling his opponent, whom he still hadn't landed a blow on. He loosened up, dropping his fists a little and staying on his toes. When the next blow came he melted around it, his body liquid against the onslaught. Another blow, and he adjusted the flow of his body underneath it. Frustrated, his opponent made a hard and risky swing.
    Got him.
    Sidestepping the blow, he dropped into a wide power stance and punished his opponent's mistake with a hard blow to the ribs. The man countered with a reactive backhand swing, which Cass easily ducked under, following up with a hook into his abdomen. Now hurt and winded, the Nord grasped at him in an attempt to grapple him and catch his breath. Cass stepped back just out of reach and grabbed the Nords thumb, bending it back until his opponent was forced to his knees. His training and habits told him to drive his knee into the kneeling man's face, but he stopped himself. Instead, he let up slightly on his grip.
    "Do you submit?"
    The man thought a moment, then nodded. Casamir released his grip and helped the man to his feet. They both chuckled a little bit, Cass wiping the blood from his face and the Nord grasping his ribs and catching his breath. They shook hands and the crowd surrounding them closed in. Cass heard Dar thanking the Nord's friends for the coin they were handing over. The reason that this hustle had worked so long was that this was a common past time in Skyrim, fighting and gambling were just another part of a night of drinking here. The way that Nords can be beating each other's lights out one moment and laughing and drinking together the next was something he respected about them. They all began talking and laughing, some still groaning over the lost bet, but one man seemed more upset than the rest. A skinnier Nord with long greasy hair stepped forward.
    "They cheated! These two know each other! We got played!" He looked around the group for support, not finding much. Most just grumbled. "Let it be Bjorn," and "don't be a sore loser." Some though, stopped what they were doing and listened. The one called Bjorn took another step further. "We don't like hustlers around here. I worked hard for my coin and I want it back!"
    Now the group was silent. Casamir and Dar were only a few paces apart speaking to different people. Cass didn't even bother turning all the way around. "We can settle it in the ring if you like" He grinned over his shoulder at his skinny accuser.
    "I would." Bjorn punctuated his statement by unsheathing his sword. Casamir's grin was gone. He didn't like being threatened. The crowd was silent. The Nord who he had fought was the only voice. "He won fair and square, just accept it. Put the sword down."
    Bjorn held his sword in front of him in a fighting stance, not taking his eyes off of Casamir. "Deny it."
    Cass finally turned towards his accuser and began walking towards him. "I won't even dignify that with a response. I carry no sword, you've drawn steel on an unarmed man, but if a duel is what you want." He was only a couple steps from him now, "then make the first move." He stopped so the the man's sword was inches from his neck. He stared unblinking and cold up into the taller man's eyes, face like stone. Bjorn opened his mouth, stuttered, and tried to take a step back. Cass hooked his leg and shoved him into the dirt, then turned toward the path out of town and left them all behind, not saying a word.
    He released the ironflesh spell he had focused on his neck as he'd approached his adversary. He was so angry he was shaking. Not at the man who had called him out, but at himself. The man was right, he was cheating. The master who had trained him always told him, "I teach you to fight so that you don't have to." She told him to earn money fighting was disrespectful to the art. He tried to find honest work, but he always fell back on using his fists.
    He wanted something more, to find a purpose. These jobs were fun when he was younger, but he wanted to look forward to more than just beer money.
    Absorbed in his thoughts he reached the camp he'd set up in the forest south of town. He already had a stack of wood and kindling and got a fire going in no time. He sat crossed legged, leaning against a tree as he stared into the flames.
    When his Khajiit friend arrived, he was still staring into nothing letting a cigarette burn down to the butt between his fingers. Dar' Shajiir walked up to him smiling and put a bottle of beer between his crossed legs. He pulled another out of his bag and sat next to his friend as he opened it.
    "Did you see the look on his face when you stared him down?! After you left he took off back to town, he probably needed a change of pants," the cat's laugh echoed in the forest. Dar' Shajiir had been like a brother to Casamir since they were children. The white and black striped Khajiit always wore a smile and never let anyone dampen his mood. His love of booze and women were only matched by his love of gambling. He looked at his companion expectantly.
    "Well? Are you going to let me drink alone? I dont want to feel like some kind of alcoholic," He joked.
    Casamir opened his drink wordlessly, and took a long gulp. They sat in silence together listening to the crickets chirp and the fire crackle. The silence was broken when Cass threw his beer at a nearby tree, smashing the glass bottle and spilling it's contents onto the ground. He said nothing and stared back into the fire.
    His feline companion winced at the sight of so much wasted alcohol, then smiled again. "That's ok, that's why I brought you two," He said as he started rummaging through his bag.
    Casamir finally looked up and spoke. "Do you remember when we were kids? When we were destined for something greater? All those adventures we thought we'd have?"
    Dar chuckled. "You don't think that was an adventure?"
    Cass continued. "We're not heroes. I took jobs like this thinking I was honing my skills for something greater, but that greater purpose never came. We're getting old, at what point do we become common criminals?"
    Dar pulled out another beer and examined it "The real criminal is the shopkeeper who sold me these beers. This one's empty!"
    "I'll tell you what point. When I started doing these jobs with you for fun, not survival. This is my last job brother."
    "That's what you said last time. But seriously, look at this! I could've sworn these were all full when I left town."
    Casamir took a break from his rant to take the bottle from his brother. It wasn't completely empty. He shook a piece of parchment out of the bottle and opened it.
    The cat next to him leaned closer. "What is it?"
    Cass scanned the page. With nothing else to say, and the words on the page swirling in his brain, all he could manage was, "Its a note."
     

    kenia153

    Member
    With just a gentle tap from Eira's finger, the water danced away. Lake Illinalta was one of her favorite places, and one she visited often. It was peaceful, and relatively distant from any towns or cities. The weather was also kinder than that of the more northern wilds.
    Lying on her stomach with an arm propping up her head, her free hand played lazily with the water. Her expression happy, with a faint smile spread across her lips. But in truth, there was more going on behind her eyes. She was lonely, and lost. But even so, how could she not smile at the beauty of nature? She always felt it resembled someone she held dear.

    She missed her mother. But didn't regret her decision to leave. She was tired of being confused about her world. Why was it that when she thought of herself, she thought of happiness, yet when she looked deeper into her heart she saw an abyss? Surely her mother would understand. And her nameless friend, would he help her heal this black scar on her heart?

    These thoughts were some of the only thoughts she had the past several days.

    Another that plagued her was of something she carried.
    In her pocket resided a crumpled up note. One she didn't recall having. How it got there, she didn't know. And that haunted her. It made her want to throw it into the lake and never think of it again, just like the rest of her troubles. She just wanted to be happy.

    But this note, it was an offer she couldn't turn down. She left her mother for a reason, and this note may have the answers she desired. This might be the only way she could be happy. Reaching in her pocket, she retrieved the note to read it one more time.
     
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    Rinsu33

    New Member
    The frigid air upon Quilian’s skin would have irritated him, had he not been used to it. Living in the province of Skyrim for over 300 years tends to make the freezing cold hardly a problem at all when going out into the world… A world which, Quilian had learned by now, was full of darkness, evil, and cold. He preferred the cold rather than warmth, because warmth meant the sun was out, which meant the effects of vampirism were more severe… Oh, how he despised the sun….

    Quilian happened to be returning to the Dark Brotherhood’s sanctuary—he had just eliminated another contract. Years ago, he would keep track of how many kills he had made for the Dark Brotherhood, but after about the fiftieth, he began to lose count. He reached the Black Door and opened it, swiftly striding down the entrance hallway of the sanctuary, and, ultimately, reaching his living quarters. He sat on his bed and took a deep breath. Now where’s Fjorla…. he wondered.

    First Quilian thought it sensible to check his daughter’s bedroom, which was right next to his. But, sticking his head into the room through the ajar door, it didn’t look like she was there. The next place she was probably at was the alchemy lab.

    And there she was, making potions with Babette.

    “Oh, hello father,” Fjorla greeted when she saw Quilian entering the alchemy lab. “How did it go? The contract.”

    “As successful as ever,” Quilian replied, picking up a nearby book out of boredom.

    “Good… I believe the Night Mother has a few more contracts for us, so perhaps—”

    In a state of confusion and fascination, Quilian began reading a note that he had found in the book he picked up. Fjorla noticed this, which was why she stopped.

    “What's that?” she inquired.

    “I don’t know,” Quilian said, “but I’ll read it.

    “To Quilian Elsineus,

    “Perhaps you’re reading this note in a cave, on the road, lost in a dungeon, locked in prison, tucked in the warmth of a tavern, even atop the throat of the world. Wherever, or must I say, whoever you are I have something worth your while. Something YOU specifically need. Your quest for eternal bliss has just begun; however, the trials that await you may in fact manipulate your fate so that your goal is not achieved. You have the opportunity now to leave this note in its rightful place and if you do then don’t worry, you were not my intended audience. But...if you’re reading this note and a fire has been lit in your heart, one so powerful you will face those awaiting trials with courage, then you are whom I need. Few others have received a note like this, and those few you will meet soon and therefore take this journey by their side. Risk what you have and become something you’ve dreamed of or keep dreaming. I will make myself known to you soon, for notes can only display so much of what I possess—”

    “Father…” Fjorla interrupted. “You must admit that this sounds a little, well, suspicious?”

    “I wholeheartedly agree,” Babette said.

    Quilian just looked at the two of them blankly. “Can you at least allow me to finish?”

    “Very well…” Fjorla sighed.

    “Take the southern exit of Riverwood and travel down the road until you find three large standing stones. These are the Guardian stones. Perhaps you know of them, yet they have no significance to you currently. There you will receive a gift upon touching the stones granted to you specifically for your own individual qualities. There your journey will begin.”

    “Personally, I’d bet a whole gang of bandits are camped at the Guardian Stones right now, waiting for your arrival so they can spill your guts,” Babette said.

    “Oh Babette, always pessimistic… Clearly, this note is my destiny! Don’t you see? My fate lies at the Guardian Stones. Besides, what would a group of bandits want with me?

    Almost giddily, Quilian started packing his belongings as if he would be gone for a long time. Fjorla just stared at him, bewildered, and Babette simply looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

    “Father, what are you doing…? I must say, Babette is probably right. I mean, I don’t doubt that you can take on an entire gang of bandits by yourself, but let’s just ignore this note and continue our lives as if you never saw it, hm? What do you say??”

    Quilian just continued packing his belongings into his satchel as Fjorla desperately looked back and forth between her father and Babette, who still had her one eyebrow raised. Something about the sight of Quilian packing the note carefully into his satchel, as if it was extremely fragile, threw Fjorla over the edge (so to speak).

    “Please just stay here? Please…?”

    “Fjorla, dear, I don’t expect you to understand the ambition I feel right now. But know that I will be alright - even if there are bandits awaiting me at the Guardian Stones, you’re right when you say I can take them on my own. Now, I should be back soon, but of course, who knows what I’ll find there?” Quilian finished, clearly excited for his journey. He went downstairs and approached the Black Door. Fjorla and Babette watched from the balcony as he went outside.

    “Wonder what’s gotten into him…” Babette said, rather unphased by Quilian’s sudden departure.

    “I don’t know…. He didn’t even say goodbye."
     
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    Pufftuff

    Well-Known Member
    Water splashed around making a mess in the dirt. The smell of death and decay, blood floating down the river. A deer lay mangled and rotting in the sun. Raz saw the crude butchering job and knew he was on the right path. A contract out of Whiterun had him searching for a group of what people thought were Forsworn. Even he had never seen such savagery from them before. Farms burned to the ground people used as food and leather.....people....ravaged. Raz'gul would have killed this group for free, but a contract is always a plus.

    He came across a camp at he base of the mountains near Falkreath. He looked in awe at this disgusting small tent town that these "people" had created. So he waited till the dead of night when fires burned low and most slept. As a large Orc he was far from stealthy but a drunken unconscious, but of savages isn't the biggest test of skill. He walked with purpose brutally breaking necks. Slowly lighting the village on fire. He approaches the main area around a big bonfire. Two small men jump through the flames. Raz catches one slamming his head into the ground, the second sinks a dagger deep in to the Orc's shoulder he hold him down with his foot removing the dagger and sliding it through the mans neck. People run in all directions from the fire and commotion. Two more men step forward one adorned with a large tribal head dress the other a large tree of a Nord. Before he can react the shaman turns the bonfire into a bomb blasting Raz'gul back and to the ground. The large Nord used this opportunity to unsheathe his sword and shield walking forward stabbing into the ground as Raz struggled to block this swift attacks from his back with his large two handed axe. Finally able to return to his feet, he began to fight back but this man was able to absorb even the strongest swings of his axe. It was the mage he was granting the fighter strength and protection. In a strong fluid motion dropped low and tripped the Nord, throwing his axe it hits the adorned man in the leg removing it at the knee, disarming the large man of his shield he was able to parry several attacks backing up to his weapon. With a large down swing the Nord pierced the shield further damaging the shoulder which was already injured dropping to a knee and wincing Raz'gul held the shield on either side with his hands and thrust the hilt back into the mans face. As he stumbled to regain his balance the Orc had a mighty swing of his axe upwards and cleaved the man straight through from groin to shoulder. Still on the ground screaming and bleeding profusely the mage lay begging for an end Raz'gul stepped over the man dragging the blade of the axe across his torso eviscerating him as he latched to to his back once more.

    While tending his wounds on the Falkreath side of the river a small mill town not to far away he felt a massive discomfort in his shoulder he let out a loud shout as he dug deep and removed a piece of cloth....on it, stained in blood was a message.....

    The next afternoon the Orc was coming to the stones and there he saw a most peculiar man. Seemed to be speaking to himself. With a loud boom he stepped closer saying "Friend or fiend?" As he held his axe in one hand....
     

    Wauten Dayhil

    Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
    "I could leave the area, wait for everyone to gather, and then make a grand entrance," Wauten said aloud, tracing the symbols and images that had been carved upon the center stone with his middle finger, "but I could also stay here, and play my fiddle before giving out riddles. Everyone loves riddles. Except for brutish bastards who've no appreciation for-"

    "Friend or fiend?"
    A voice called out from behind him. Dayhil stopped tracing the markings, and slowly turned about to face the newcomer, but kept his finger up as he did so. "Why, yes I am!" He called back cheerily, giving a lopsided grin as the green Mer kept his axe in hand. He studied the vicious weapon, noting its blood-encrusted blade, the wood worn from countless battles and white-knuckled handling. No doubt he knows how to fight, Dayhil thought to himself, I'd best keep out of reach of this one, lest he throttle me in a less-than-pleasurable fashion.

    The Daedra hunter jumped and twirled about, landing in a mock half-bow directed at the Orc. "That's a mighty shaft you have, sir! Not nearly as magnificent as mine, of course," Dayhil released his crossbow from its holding upon his back, and held it at his side, pointing skyward, "though..." he looked at the bolts locked into the crossbow, comparing them to the handle of the Orc's axe, "Hmm.... All right, you win this round, my green friend! I should have packed my BIG ones today, it seems. No matter." He turned his head to look at the Orc once more, and nodded vigorously, "Welcome, friend, to my humble abode. I claimed this spot as my home just now, so please do not wreck it. And also I would appreciate it if you didn't try to kill me until after I try to kill you... should that day come. But it won't, cause you and I are bound to be the best of friends, I assure you!"

    Dayhil waited, smiling, for the Orc's response, doing his best to be as pleasant as possible... if that were possible for the hunter.
     

    kenia153

    Member
    The next day, Eira was back to her usual self. Humming softly, she had made her way further up stream with a skip in her step as she ventured towards the Stones. Luckily bad moods came and went pretty fast.

    She was growing quite excited, she'd been awfully lonely... This would be her first time talking to anyone besides herself in like... well, she didn't know. She didn't keep track of time very well. But that didn't matter, it'd still been a long time!

    Slowing down, she realized she might even be meeting a man. Covering her mouth, she grew conscious of her appearance and darted over to the river, gathering up some flowers on the way. She checked herself over, and sat by the shore as she ran her fingers through her messy blonde hair. "Just in case..." she muttered to herself, looking at her reflection in the water. Yeah, there was a chance this all might have been in vain... But that didn't stop her from getting her hopes up. Dipping her hands in, she wiped any patches of dirt on her face off. "...That's better..."
    Pulling old, dried flowers out of her hair, she gathered it into a loose braid. Gathering up a few of her new colorful flowers, she nestled them into her hair. I think that looks nice, she thought, examining herself in the water.

    Giggling, she decided that was good for now, and she half skipped, half ran, back on her trail with her arms spread out to feel the wind.
    -----------

    Arriving at the Standing Stones, Eira quietly approached. She'd learned from her mother to assess situations before jumping in, it was something that kept her alive all this time. Unfortunately, she still wasn't that great at it.
    Quietly maneuvering around bushes and trees, she peeked out from behind the wildlife. Immediately what she saw was two figures below her, one a beast of a man with green skin (an orc, she thought), and the back of another normal man. From what she could see, they both looked like what her ma might call trouble... She wished she was as good of a judge with these sorts of things... And she might have been smarter about this if she wasn't staring in awe at both of their male forms.

    They were distracted talking to each other so Eira tried to look closer and maybe even greet them. Moving forward, she was just about to speak to the two.

    Unfortunately, trying to move down a rock formation while watching anywhere other than where you are stepping, can lead to disaster pretty quickly. And Eira being Eira, did not plan or think this through well.

    Misplacing her left foot, and then her right, she soon realized she was losing balance quickly, and involuntarily shrieked as tumbled down the rocks before falling a solid five or six feet. Landing not-so-gracefully on her back, the fall winded her and took it a moment to regain her senses. Blinking, she stared at the sky as she tried to process what just happened.
     

    Wauten Dayhil

    Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
    "In any case, I assure you that -" a shriek from above and behind Wauten caught his attention, and he turned about to see a young woman fall down the slope, and slam into the dust on her back. Sidling over to the fallen woman, the Daedra hunter bent over at the waist, peering straight down into her face. Dirt and dust that had been kicked up in her tumble now stuck to the woman's wet face, and Dayhil cocked his head to the side, studying her.

    "Friend of yours?"
    He called out to the Orc, looking back over his shoulder. But without waiting for an answer, Dayhil stuck his hand out to the woman to help her up. And then realized he still held his crossbow.

    "Whoops," was all he said, as he shifted the weapon to his left hand, and hefted the woman up from the ground with his right. "Uppsy-daisy! Speaking of daisies, those flowers may well be poisonous. I've heard of a number of people dying because flowers got the better of them." Dayhil pondered for a moment, then shrugged. "But that was mostly in Black Marsh. Nasty place, that."

    After he set the woman back on her feet, Wauten backed up a step, and returned the crossbow to his right hand, looking from the Orc to the woman, and back to the Orc. Then to the woman. Then to the Stones. Then to the woman. Then to the Orc. Then to his crossbow. "Wait!" He cried out, holding the weapon away from his body, staring at the contraption. "This thing is dangerous!" He looked to the Orc, and made a point of nodding at the Orc's axe. "And so is that! You shouldn't play with dangerous things, sir! Neither should I, but I've received training from years of not hitting what I intended. That, however, looks much easier to hit things with, and is therefore more dangerous because you don't know how to not hit a target with it. Be very careful with it, if you please."
     

    Rinsu33

    New Member
    In Quilian’s mind, there was no point in pondering all the negative outcomes that could result from blindly journeying to the Guardian Stones, simply because the note said he should. In reality, the unknown is frightening, and most of the time Quilian acknowledged this, but as he finally reached Riverwood, the thrill of finding out what was waiting for him at the Stones became his only thought.

    He passed a man who said, “Don’t like those eyes you’ve got… There’s a bad hunger to them.” Ignoring him, Quilian continued on passed Riverwood and into the wilderness. He came upon a pair of wolves, which he quickly exterminated with a chain lightning spell.

    Eventually, the Stones came into view, but before Quilian went up the hill to them, he saw two men, one clearly an Orc, the other helping a young woman up, and all three at the base of the hill. What’s this…? Quilian thought. Their backs were facing him, so it did not seem as if any of them had yet noticed Quilian’s presence.

    Quilian cautiously approached them, not wanting to speak just yet. No, he would first make himself known to these people, just to confirm that they weren’t bandits, as Fjorla and Babette warned they might be. Quilian was certain they weren’t, but just to get that very slight, hardly significant chance that they were out of the way, he thought it best not to make himself known by introducing himself or saying anything that would make him look like a fool.
     

    Pufftuff

    Well-Known Member
    The Orc stood there as this man rambled on. 'Marvelous a damned jester' he thought to himself. As he listened and watched this....joke of a man. His eye brow raised as a young woman fell to the ground. The imperial turned and said "Friend of yours?" He grunted under his breath "What is this mess?"

    Raz'gul began to put his axe away after the man made a odd mention about the weapons. Raz was pretty comfortable he'd be ok without a weapon if these two decided to do something....stupid. He walked forward ready to shake the man into maybe answering a question. He stopped mid stride, stuck his head to the sky turned slightly. *sniffing the air* 'Decay?'
     

    kenia153

    Member
    Eira soon saw a young man's face peering down at her. Face heating up in embarrassment, fumbled over what words to say. "Uh... I... Hi."
    He cocked his head to the side, and she grew more self conscious. "...I'm sorry, I--" Eira was interrupted by a weapon stuck in her face. Eyes widening, she tried to move away. "W-wait!!"
    "Whoops," The man said before switching armed hands, then lifted her off the ground. Squeaking in surprise, her eyes remained terrified.
    "Uppsy-daisy! Speaking of daisies, those flowers may well be poisonous. I've heard of a number of people dying because flowers got the better of them."
    Looking at him with a face of pure confusion, she pushed her loose tendrils of hair back and attempted to wipe the dust from her face. She was still trying to comprehend what just happened. What flowers?... Oh, my hair! Eira remembered her braid and felt it to make sure it was still together. She saw the man shrug, "But that was mostly in Black Marsh. Nasty place, that."

    After being set down, she quickly moved away from him. The man began looking erratically between his weapon and the three of them, and the stones... Then he suddenly yelled, making Eira jump. Holding the weapon away from him he said, "This thing is dangerous!" Then he looked to the Orc, and nodded at the Orc's axe. "And so is that! You shouldn't play with dangerous things, sir! Neither should I, but I've..... of not hitting what I intended.... however, looks much easier... and is therefore more... don't know how to not hit a target... Be very careful with it, if you please."

    As he rambled, eventually she stopped listening to him as nothing made any sense. Her face clearly said she was uncomfortable. ...Huh..?

    Shifting further away from this spastic man, she soon saw another person approaching. How many people were meeting here?

    "Hi!" Eira greeted the newcomer with a smile from afar. Her smile would've been wider, had she not just recovered from the strangest encounter she'd ever had.
    Regardless of how dangerous these people seemed, she was too excited about talking someone that wasn't herself. They weren't attacking her yet, so she was okay, right? Maybe the first one was a bit crazy, and pointed a weapon at her, but it looked like an accident? She still wasn't sure what to think about that...

    Before things could get awkward, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled note to show to them. "I found this the other day," she began. "Well... more like I realized I had it?" Blowing a lock of wild blonde hair out her face, she then looked between the strangers expectantly.
     

    Wauten Dayhil

    Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
    "Hmm..." Dayhil stared at the note that the woman held, studying it, "that is, indeed..." he paused, "a piece of paper!"

    He grinned, and stuck a finger into the air, "And not just any piece of paper - no! It is a piece of paper that likely reads something like.... what was it... um.. anyways, it says stuff that lead you here! To this place. With us. With me. No, not me. Not yet. But soon. With me, that is. You're already here with us, after all." He turned to look at the other Orc, and the newcomer that the woman had noticed moments before. "I assume you also have such a piece of paper in your holding?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Ah, but first! Introductions! The Orc here already has the pleasure of knowing my name, but it never hurts to hear it twice, I find. It's just that amazing a name," he cried out, nodding vigorously as if agreeing with what he'd just said - and he did, "so I shall go first!"

    Without a moment's hesitation, the hunter clambered up the side of the middle Guardian Stone, and stood atop it, looking down. He spun about on his heel, and came to rest facing the wall. "Huh?" He stammered a moment, looking about, and then saw the group beneath him to the side. Turning once more, he came to a stop facing them all, and gave a deep bow. "Hello, hello! I am the famed Daedra Hunter whom you've not heard of. Wauten Dayhil's the name, slaying Daedra's the game, and I have the highest score of us all! That's right! I've slain at least....! Uh..." he took a moment to count on his fingers... and then removed a boot to count his toes before replacing the boot and using his fingers again, "...one! Ha-ha!" He laughed triumphantly, grinning expectantly at the gathered wanderers, fists resting on his hips.
     
    Last edited:

    kenia153

    Member
    "that is, indeed..." the crazy man paused, "a piece of paper!"
    Eira tilted her head when stated the obvious, giggling. Then he started to do that weird ramble thing again. His mistake of accidentally threatening her had already been forgiven, as it was too hard for her not to when he was so playful.
    While he kind of scared her, he was entertaining and she was enjoying having any company at all. She could definitely put up with this, as long as he stopped putting crossbows in her face.

    He had climbed a stone and was now pulling off his shoe to count his... toes? Chuckling at the absurdity, her laughter almost went out of control before she quickly pulled herself together. Rubbing her eyes, she decided she probably should introduce herself now. "I'm Eira," she said through restrained giggles. "I don't know what a... day ruh... day-druh is, but it's nice to meet you!"

    Clasping her hands behind her back, she spun around to face the other two strangers, again looking at them with curiosity. Her blue eyes were friendly and welcoming.
     

    Nehelenia

    New Member
    Fadara gazed at her newly sharpened sword, quite proud of the edge she was able to give to it. She was happily walking away from Riverwood and towards the Guardian Stones where she was supposed to stat this new adventure. She sheathed her sword and pulled out the note from one of the little leather pouches that hangs from her belt. She slowed her pace as she read it over once more, mouthing out the words as she read them. She was very curious to find out who sent her this letter and how they were able to get it to her. She chuckled as she thought of how she received this note.

    After a long day working on fixing dented shields and wonky swords, Fadara was ready for a hot meal and then a good night's rest. After eating the meager rations this current bandit leader gave her, she lead in her bedroll near the fire ready to sleep. She was just about to drift away when she heard someone mention her handiwork.

    "Pretty good work for that Gray Skin. Would have been if a real smith had done it." One said, laughing as she said it before taking a deep drink from her cup. The next moment mead was spilling and the Nord had her face in the dirt before trying to get up and figure out what just hit her.

    "So I'm not a real smith, eh? Guess I'm not a real fighter either." Fadara yelled as she kicked the Nord to the ground. The Orc the Nord had been talking to then tried to swing at her with his warhammer. The Dunmer was just able to side step the blow, hearing the rush of air go by her left ear. As this skirmish continued, the chief who had hired her ran over, thinking they were being attacked.

    After hearing both sides of the story, the bandit chief believed his followers and the group proceeded to thoroughly beat Fadara, leaving her bruised and bleeding in the snow. She didn't remember anything after that, though she does remember waking up sore in pretty much every place in her body. The bandits were gone leaving her with her things and the cold remnants of a fire. Under one of the logs was a piece of paper she assumed was from the bandits telling more about how stupid she was. She picked up the not and held it up to her one eye, the other being swollen almost shut.

    She laughed a bit as she read it, thinking it must have been some kind of trick someone was playing on her. She also thought how much of an asshole they were for having found her, leaving a note, and then just left her in the snow, not caring to help her in any way. She read it once more and something sparked in her mind as she read "Something YOU specifically need..." Maybe this was her chance to find out the secret techniques of the Skaal... She really didn't have anything else to lose, and besides, if this was some sort of group that was coming together, they would probably need a blacksmith, right?

    And that is how Fadara ended up walking along this path a week later. Her lip was still cut and her face a bit bruised but at least her eye was no longer swollen. Up ahead she could see the three stones and the figures of people near them. She took a deep breath and walked confidently on, ready to face this new adventure.
     

    Gregor Moon Fang

    Champion of Azura
    "Dian'Mie! Wake up!" said a voice orphaned from it's body. Dian'Mie slowly opened his eyes, trying to blink away the fatigue. Looking around he realized that he was in a small house laying on a bed. "How did I end up here?" Dian'Mie thought to himself. "Thank Talos you're-" The voice caught Dian'Mie off guard as he launched a tight-wound left fist towards the source only to stop inches in front of the man's shocked face when he realized who it was. "Rustleif? Is that you?" Dian'Mie slowly lowered his arm and rose up from the bed, only for Rustleif to restrain him by pressing his hand on his chest. "Whoa easy there my friend. You're still injured and I'd rather not patch you up again. We have few enough bandages to spare." He gave Rustleif a brief stare before a sharp pain resonated in his side. Dian'Mie lifted the cotton shirt he found himself wearing and found a small, curvaceous wound resting just above the side of his bottom rib. He grimaced as he touched it. Why did he touch it? Only Tall Papa would know. "We found you by chance passed out in the snow just outside of town." Rustleif's words broke Dian'Mie out of his trance. "The snow around you was painted deep with blood. I don't know what happened. I'd tell you if you I did." He looked down at the bed and took a deep breath.

    "We were on our way from this place called Whiterun to come and see you and Seren but on the way we were attacked by this group of hooded figures. They kidnapped Qiana and I was stabbed when I tried to get her back." Dian'Mie grabbed the sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Just relaying what had happened was enough to upset him. It felt weird telling this to Rustleif but he had to tell someone and he felt that Rustleif was trustworthy. "This...Qiana. She's the one that you told me about in the past. The one that's part of that group of gypsies?" Dian'Mie nodded. "Now she's nowhere to be found and I haven't the foggiest idea on where to start. I don't even know where Kirah is either." Rustleif gave him a look of confusion. "She has a pet raven named Kirah."

    "Ah. So that's the name of this little one." The two men looked toward the door as it swung open with a Redguard woman walking through nestling a raven in the fold of her left arm and a small crystal bottle in her right hand. "I came back from Frida's store to get some medicine for the bird. She's dangerously sick, but she refuses to drink it." Dian'Mie all but jumped out of the bed to check on Kirah. Her breathing was slow and ragged. He searched around the house and picked up a small wooden bowl setting it on the table. "Lay her on the table Seren. I think I can get her to drink it." With a slight shrug Seren walked up to the table and gently lay Kirah onto a small cloth, setting the bottle right next to her. Dian'Mie reached over to grab the bottle, uncorked the top and carefully poured it into the bowl as not to splash it all over. He motioned to Kirah towards the bowl. Slowly but without question Kirah hobbled over to the bowl. She hesitates for a second but dips her beak into the liquid lapping it up. after a few moments she retreats to the edge of the table and stands there in silence before she starts making choking noises. Dian'Mie takes a step forward in concern before Seren holds out her arm and points at Kirah. She starts to cough out what looked like a piece of parchment. When the last of it leaves her body, it drops on the table with a loud thump. Overjoyed, Kirah starts to fly around the house with renewed vigor. "How did that little bird eat up a paper that big? It's twice her size." Dian'Mie walked over to the regurgitated parchment and slowly opened it as Kirah perched herself on his shoulder. He read it over carefully with Rustleif and Seren looking on. The more he read the note the bigger the smile on his face got. "What's it say brother?" He looked at the two of them with the biggest grin on his face. "It says that whoever wrote this can help me find Qiana. But I gotta leave for Riverwood right now." Dian'Mie ran over to the side of the bed and found his belongings. He quickly grabbed everything and ran out of the door. Shocked, Rustleif and Seren ran after him. "Are you crazy Dian'Mie? You're still injured!" Kirah flew off Dian'Mie's shoulder and landed on the ground. She became enveloped in a white aura and grew 20x her normal size. The two looked at this huge version of Kirah with astonishment. "I'll be fine! Don't worry. When I find her I'll come back and we'll really spend some time together." Dian'Mie hopped on Kirah's back and rubbed her neck in praise. "Alright Kirah. We're off." Kirah let out a loud caw of approval and set off into the sky.

    "Now I've seen everything."
     

    Rinsu33

    New Member
    Seeing as neither the Orc, the young woman, nor the man who had helped the young woman up—who Quilian sensed was a little… off—attacked him on sight, Quilian’s assumption that they weren’t bandits or some other group of the like was confirmed. In fact, the young woman greeted him with a smile and a “Hi!” to which he responded with a smile back. When the woman revealed her piece of paper, Quilian removed his note from his satchel and asked the woman, showing her his own slip of paper,

    “Does that by any chance resemble this?”

    “Hmm… That is, indeed… a piece of paper!” the man exclaimed.

    Another of Quilian’s assumptions—that the man who had helped the woman up (he assumed she must have tripped or perhaps fallen down the hill) was an eccentric and potentially in-your-face type of person—was, it seemed, proven correct.

    "Ah, but first! Introductions! The Orc here already has the pleasure of knowing my name, but it never hurts to hear it twice, I find. It's just that amazing a name,” he said, “so I shall go first!”

    Atop the Mage Stone, he introduced himself as Wauten Dayhil, and then the woman introduced herself as Eira.

    “Well, I’m Quilian… A pleasure to meet you all."
     

    Gregor Moon Fang

    Champion of Azura
    No matter how long Dian'Mie had been traveling in Skyrim (it's been about a month last he's checked) he could never get used to how freezing cold it was here. He wondered how the Nords are able to stand it. Oh how he longed to be back enjoying the warm sands and salty seas of his native Hammerfell. But he figured it was a moot point to complain about. This was part of his initiation to become a full fledged Jiango Raga, or warrior of Sun Fang. He would brave whatever came his way to be given that honor.

    "I probably should've slowed down back at Dawnstar so I could properly put on my armor and gear but again I got too excited and did things without thinking again." Dian'Mie twisted his body slightly so he could properly fasten his second sword's scabbard on his right hip. While he wasn't looking Kirah took a sharp left to avoid an incoming hawk, causing his bow to fall off her back. Without a second thought, Dian'Mie leaped forward to just barely catch the bow by its' string but doing so aggravated the wound on his side causing more discomfort for him. "At least warn me when you're gonna do that! You almost made me lose Master Ku's bow!" Kirah realized what she did and let out a soft howl of sadness. Dian'Mie sensed Kirah's sadness and reached forward to console her. "I'm sorry for yelling. It wasn't your fault." Kirah's sadness turned to excitement as she let out a loud caw. Dian'Mie searched around to see what she was excited about. Sure enough he found out the source after a few moments: they'd reached the Standing Stones. But what he didn't expect was all the bodies standing around them. He expected to be the only one here. What was their reason for being here? He figured there was only one way to find out. Dian'Mie climbed up on Kirah so that he could balance himself while standing on her back. With a deep breath, he jumps off of her and freefalls through the sky doing a couple of somersaults before gracefully landing in the middle of the stones. Noticing his perfect descent, he turns his body towards the sun and holds out his arms at 11 and 1. "Safe!" While giving his praises to the sun, Dian'Mie noticed the sets of eyes possibly startled by his little entrance. He turned towards them and gave a little bow. "I apologize if I startled any of you. I wasn't exactly expecting anyone to be here. I greet you. I am Dian'Mie of the Sun Fang Clan of Hammerfell."
     

    Pufftuff

    Well-Known Member
    The Orc turned head full shoulder as this very pale Altmer walked up to Wauten, the eccentric man and the younger woman that introduced herself as Eira. Quilian joined in showing his note with the others..... "Raz'gul, my name is Raz'gul Bloodfist." he through the bloody piece of cloth down to the ground as he growls "Now what is this and how did it end up in my wound? How about you Wauten, you were the first here?" looking cross at the Altmer sniffing "And you....ELF, something about you isn't right."

    Raz'gul began to remove his helmet revealing the tattoo on his face as he calmed down. He felt a slight wind blow and to his surprise a Redguard man lands in front of him. "Safe!" he looked around "I apologize if I startled any of you. I wasn't exactly expecting anyone to be here. I greet you. I am Dian'Mie of the Sun Fang Clan of Hammerfell."

    The Orc started shaking his head..."What circus from Oblivion is this?" Raz'gul stepped back and leaned against the warriors stone. He began to wonder if this was a waste of time. 'I'll wait and see you in behind this meeting'
     

    Wauten Dayhil

    Demon Hunter and Wordplay Extraordinaire
    Dayhil watched, guardedly, as the Orcstrode over to growl at him and the other gathered note-wielders. The muscled green man even threw his blood-stained note to the ground before Wauten, and made a point of insinuating his involvement with whatever force had called them all here. Definitely dangerous, the Imperial thought to himself, studying the Orc and his movements. At the first sign of real trouble, the Daedra Hunter planned to make full use of his skills, and would do whatever possible to fell any danger that presented itself to him.

    Before he could reply, though, a Redguard fell from the sky, landing smack in the middle of them all. He turned to face the others, back showing itself to the Imperial, and cried "Safe!" before apologizing to them all for his grand entrance. The Orc, ever dull in his view of the world, shook his head and stepped back from them all, "What circus from Oblivion is this?"

    Dayhil sat down upon the stone, staring down at them all as he fiddled with his crossbow. "A very highly paid one, of course!" Dayhil called down. "In any case, no. I've no idea what it is that caused all of you to receive notes. My own reason is obvious - 'tis a love letter," he crooned, and unsheathed his blade from its scabbard. Pointing the sword to the sky, he began making circles in the air with the tip, and then swung the blade down to point at each and every face that had gathered. "But they would not send a love letter to all of you - no. That would simply breed jealousy and in-fighting. And I'm not the in-fighting type."

    He replaced the sword into its scabbard, and took up his crossbow once more. Rising to his feet, Dayhil studied the faces of those gathered. "I have an idea!" He cried out, grinning to them all. Rummaging around in his pack, Wauten pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out in the light for them to see. "I sometimes choose my path like this, when nothing's particularly clear." His face took on a serious facade,as he tied the cloth over his eyes. Holding the crossbow straight out from his body, the Imperial began to turn in a circle. Spinning fast and faster, he relied on his sense of balance and momentum to keep his perch upon the Guardian Stone. "Don't worry!" He called out, starting to get a bit dizzy, "I'm sure it'll be fine!"

    Finally, Wauten pulled the trigger, and the crossbow jumped in his hands as the bolt went sailing... somewhere. Before he could even halt his spinning, let alone pull off the mask, a peculiar sound reached his ears. A wet thump, followed by a groan and the sound of something hitting the dirt. "Eh?" Dayhil stammered. He pulled the cloth off of his eyes, and looked around. And there, at the base of the slope leading up from the Guardian Stones, lay a figure. Cloaked entirely in white, they were face-down in the dirt, a pool of blood beginning to form and fill in the cracks and crevices of the dirt and stone beneath them. Dayhil's face scrunched up in confusion, and he leapt over the heads of those gathered at the Stones, and rushed to the figure's side. Turning the body over, Dayhil came face to face with... a face-less figure. The robe's hood kept their face in shadow, but when it fell away, all that Wauten saw was an almost featureless head. Like a mannequin covered in flesh, a single slit making up their mouth. Their stomach was covered in blood, and a crossbow bolt protruded from their gut.

    Clammy hands reached up to Dayhil's face, tips painted with blood, and came to rest on his cheekbones. "Hunter..." the person whispered, voice a wisp on the wind, "h-help...." they pleaded, fingers shaking from blood loss. "I understand," Dayhil said solemnly, opening his coat. Lining the inside of his cloak was an impressive array of healing potions, healing scrolls, and bandages. The person's hands shakily reached for one of the potions, but Dayhil closed his cloak suddenly, confusion on his face, "I was sure I put it there..." he murmured confusedly. "W-Wha..." the white-robed person exclaimed quietly, mouth working to gulp down air. "Ah, here it is!" Dayhil cried, as he whipped a dagger from its sheath and plunged it into the person's heart.

    "I-Idio..."
    they died, unable to finish their final message to the world.

    "All right,"
    he said, replacing the dagger and rifling through the person's robes. "I'll need to scold whoever shot this poor soul. They need to know that crossbows are dangerous weapons, not simple toys."

    From inside the folds of the white robe, Dayhil produced a number of letters, though none were addressed. Opening one of the letters, Dayhil quickly scanned the page as he rose from his crouch and headed over to the gathering, noting that it was the same person's handwriting as was on the initial note. "Well, I found these!" He said triumphantly. "But... wait... there's enough for all of us, plus several extras..."

    Maybe we're not the only ones? he thought to himself, looking at the others in confusion. "This one's going on about a cave in the Northwest, somewhere north of Dragon Bridge..." He said aloud, re-reading the page.
     

    Nehelenia

    New Member
    Many different things happened before Fadara's eyes as she reached the stones. A man dropped from the sky, a crazy looking man ended up killing someone she hadn't even noticed was there, and now she realized they really had all received the same note. She thought for a second maybe this was all a mistake when the words of the note came back to her and the last beating she took from those ungrateful bandits flashed into her mind. With a deep breath she stepped closer to the group, her note in one hand and the other on the hilt of her sword.

    "Well I guess we won't be getting any clues from the guy who apprently gave us these notes." Fadara said with a bit of a scowl. She looked around the group of people gathered around her. There was the crazy one that shot this poor, but very disturbing, looking lad, a young looking girl, the one who came from the sky, an Orc, and an Altmer. Fadara tried to piece together why in the name of Azura this dead fool would have brought them all together.
     

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