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The Talos Restoration(private)

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Mirro9@, Dec 3, 2017.

  1. Mirro9@

    Mirro9@ Mirro9@

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    In the depths of your sleep you feel yourself being drawn out of unconsciousness. It doesn't feel like a dream it feels like something...more.

    "Awaken."

    You hear a voice, low but powerful, like thunder rumbling in the distance.

    "Heed my words."

    Growing louder and nearer the voice speaks again. You are still wrapped in the darkness of sleep but you feel a light envelop you the way you know sunlight on your skin with closed eyes.

    "Talos, the god-emperor of the Empire, the Nineth Divine has been silent for too long." The voice is familiar and yet you cannot place it. Like the voice of a childhood friend who's face you do not remember.

    "Awaken"

    " For too long have the likes of the Aldmeri Dominion assaulted my empire, slandered my name and denied my divinity." That feeling of a light enveloping you grows more intense and the voice is becoming louder and demanding.

    "Awaken"

    "For too long have the likes of Ulfric Stormcloak divided my empire and sought to buy his power under the false pretense of my worship." You now feel almost blinded by this unseen light the voice thunders in your ears to the beat of your racing heart.

    "Awaken"

    "For too long have my citizens been cowed. Broken and beaten. Too long have I been denied. Rise and shout my name to a world which would forget me, an Empire which has lost me and a Dominion that should fear me."

    "AWAKEN!"

    You sit bolt upright in the darkness, sweat slick on your skin and panting raggedly. As your eyes adjust you feel something in your hand. You look down and you see, clutched between your fingers an unassuming amulet of Talos.

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  2. Mirro9@

    Mirro9@ Mirro9@

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    *CHARACTER DESCRIPTION
    Bosmer Male, 24. Pale skin with dark brown eyes. Long deep red hair twisted into braids with small bells laced in them, typically worn tied back. Black leather armor of dominion make and an Elven Sword at his hip.*

    Harsh wind cuts across the plains outside of Whiterun. The city can be seen rising up above the surrounding plains in the distance.

    Daruin sits on the ground with a thick wolf pelt wrapped around his shoulders and held close trying his best to stay warm his eyes drift up to his only shelter. Looming over him the massive stone sentinel, a carved statue to Talos stands seemingly alone.

    Another gust cuts through the furs and the elf shivers reflexively. "Where are they then, huh? I've done what you asked, I'm here. So were are the others you promised?" The elf looks at the statue inquisitively but it is silent. Daruin lowers his eyes back to the plains stretching out in front of him scanning attentively for any signs of movement.

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  3. thatguy2

    thatguy2 Member

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    Male Nord, 21. Dark blue eyes, wavy red hair, 6'4", 200 lbs

    Gerulf quietly rode towards the large, imposing statue of Talos in the plains of Whiterun. His cloak was soaked, leaving him chilled to the bone as thick grey clouds covered the heavens and rain fell steadily from the skies.

    The dream had been more of a nightmare, to say the least. He had never expected to actually hear the voice of a Divine, and if he ever did he fully expected it to be Mara, the Lady of Love. But to hear Talos was something else entirely, something he wasn't sure how to feel about, even as a Nord who believed in Him.

    "My Lord, I have heard your call. What exactly do you need from me, a servant of Mara?" he thought. Hopefully this would all be over soon enough, so he could go back to the temple, to his husband Torolf. To home.

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  4. Ellen Ripley

    Ellen Ripley Member

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    Rahd enjoyed traveling and exploring most of Skyrim. In his travels, the khajiit had discovered people hardly ever changed from city to city. You had beggars, thieves, liars, and a handful of trustworthy people. If it was one thing the Rahd learned was that he always being watched. He looked like a pickpocket and since most khajiit was indeed thieves he fit the profile. Rahd’s ears lowered as he untied his horse from the hitching post by the gates in Winterhold his lungs expanding slowly as the breath he let out was visible in the dim lit air. The guards standing by eyed the grey and white furred beast with black stripes. The black robe with red markings hid his armor but his two steel falchions probably stood out to the guards. Rahd rolled his light brown eyes and raised his hood over his black ears his tail swaying behind him.


    Walking past the guards he didn’t bother to acknowledge them as he had business elsewhere. His fur stood on end as a chill rolled down his spine as he reflected on the night’s event. He had awoken startled and in a sweat and his eye adjusted to the darkness that enveloped him. He had a dream or so he thought until he regarded what he was clutching in his hand. He had been grasping an amulet of Talos and it felt so very foreign to him. Beside him on his bed stand was his amulet of Mara. Whenever he held the amulet it always brought him a sense of security and warmth. The Talos amulet had sharp edges and the shape of the sword felt odd but it still left warmth similar to the last burning embers of a fire. The voice he heard in his dream also shared this warmth and it called out to him. His amulet of Mara was round and smooth and worn on one side where he often found his thumb stroking the amulet. His family whom he loved dearly gave him the amulet of Mara and he took it wherever he went. It was a reminder of many things and Rahd let out a sigh and lowered his ears as he directed his horse to the outskirts of Winterhold the torch his only light source.


    His hand was absently clutching the amulet of Talos that had been winded around the amulet of Mara and placed in his pocket. He worshipped Mara but if he wasn’t crazy then an actual god sought him out for some odd reason. Truly a god didn’t need him and regardless of the sense he had he felt he was doing the right thing, he felt he needed to follow this path. His tail wrapped around his waist as he rode through the cold weather and followed his instincts. Rahd had been so lost in thought about his family and friend that he didn’t realize the change in temperature and light along with the scenery. The journey left him with many questions and thought and as he rode up the trail to the shrine he spotted other warriors. It was too much of a coincidence for these other people to be here. A strange feeling crept over him as he realized his new adventure might take longer than expected. Dismounting his horse he approached slowly curious about the others but decided to be patient and let them address him first.
     
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  5. Mirro9@

    Mirro9@ Mirro9@

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    As the howling winds began giving way to a light yet biting rain Daruin wrapped his eyes every closer around himself. Cold and miserable and ready to lose hope, he saw the first sign of movement on the horizon.

    A figure on a horse rode slowly and purposefully across the plains along a path that would undoubtedly lead to the shrine. Daruin stood up from his spot on the cold ground to meet the person. As the figure rode closer he saw a tall well built nord figure astride the horse and could not help but think to himself, "Well Talos, if ever you found a follower that looks like it."

    His attention however was turned to his left towards another sound. From here another figure approached, this one was a handsome Khajiit, who also seemed to be riding towards the shrine, "That however is a bit more...unexpected."

    As the two figures grew closer anxiety gripped Daruin's chest on what would come next and when words failed him, his hands did not. Silently his hands worked down the layers of cloth and armor and pulled out his amulet of Talos, holding it in front of him like a lantern casting an unseen light. As they came closer all Daruin could manage to say was, "Were you chosen as well?"

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  6. CapObvious

    CapObvious A Rotten Scroungeral

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    A low growl escaped the troubled orcs lips as his fingers gripped the weathered edges of his sweat-slick visage. The exasperated sound rumbled in between ragged breaths, each growing less troublesome than the last. However the images that flashed before his mind’s eye lingered far longer than he anticipated. Was it only a dream? The details lingered far too long after his slumber had been broken, leaving that possibility to feel unlikely. Every image that flashed in his mind felt as if it were right before him still, every word uttered reverberating in his soul as he tried to decipher what it all meant. Or did it mean anything? Surely it was but a farce, an attempt at deception, coercion, perhaps even a trap. The divines did not speak to mortals in such a manner. Also, from discussions with his former mentor, this Talos was suspected of not being divine at all. Only a man revered so much through history his tale grew too large, the account too full of heroic deeds that could no doubt have been hearsay made flesh. History had a way of putting the victors on pedestals, turning men into legends and legends into gods. Surely this was no different. Which would leave that this had to have been done by someone who wanted to get in his head. The purpose of doing so was lost upon him, but the facts were there. What would be to gain from such a foolish trick? All this trouble for a laugh? Surely there had to be more to it than this. With that he began to ponder, his hands raking through the matted hair on his forehead absentmindedly. His mind raced as the vision itself was replaced with him tearing every inch of iit apart, analyzing every key point, in between every word for some hidden meaning, some sort of answer to the burning questions that racked his mind. If someone was attempting to play mind games with him, they would not avoid the cost of raising his ire for long.


    Then there was the matter of this...amulet. He lifted his head for but a moment to glance at the “divine” talisman as it rested on the floor. The offending emblem had been tossed to the ground in a fit of frustration that had been accompanied by a guttural roar only moments earlier, one that had brought the usual traffic of the Dead Man’s Drink to a dulled murmur. His brow furrowed once more, teeth gritting as he tried to piece it all together. Were this but a trick the man who was responsible could not have gotten far? He had not been asleep long, he had only arrived in the town an hour prior, ready to find a port to wait out the coming storm. Whoever had placed the amulet in his hand could still be on the road, holding the answers he sought. If so, there was no time to lose. His stay would need to be cut short, as time was not on his side. However that would not deter him. Kaen would not let this slight pass. Had it been a simple prank it could have been overlooked, but this stranger had violated the sanctity of his mind. An offense they needed to answer for. In blood, if need be.


    It wasn’t long after that he had gathered all his materials and placed them within his satchel, bundling once more in his suitably comfortable furs before departing. With his staff gripped firmly in calloused hand he marched out, avoiding the gazes of those who were seated about the tavern. With burdened breath he wrapped his cloak tighter about himself as the bitter chill of the wind rose to meet him on the porch, it along with the carefully layered furs he donned expelling the unwelcome cold. Taking a moment to remind himself of the lay of the land he marched to the stables, gathering his steed, preparing As he bound the saddle to the horse firmly, he felt himself grow still. He had planned on bringing his query to a local guard, gathering any information he could of this mysterious scoundrel. However, It seemed the necessary directions were important. He already knew the answer. As his mind lingered upon the invading thought from before, the sight of a rolling plain came into view, one that Kaen found quite familiar. On this plain stood a shrine of Talos, one that he had taken notice of in his travels but had never visited. It was not safe even to look upon monuments like it these days. Not with those that call themselves Thalmor championed the mandate to carry away even the innocent who wandered a hair too close with an almost disgusting piety. As his thoughts instead turned to them Kaen let out a disgusted noise, straightening himself and commanding his horse to go. He freed himself from the boundary of the town in a slow gallop, heading north toward Whiterun. As he did so his mind shifted once more to the perpetrator. He may not have known who was responsible for this, but he knew what was waiting for the bastard when he got his hands on him. He let a smirk creep up on his features,


    The sun hung low as he raced to where the vision had led him, though it had not been a long ride before the sight of this statue soon came into view. His stallion slowing to a trot he reached in his satchel for the amulet, grasping at it with clumsy fingers as the symbol came into view. He wrapped the chain around his finger, letting the talisman drop, hanging from the strand before his eyes. It swayed from side to side slowly, his eyes following it’s movements while he contemplated. Whoever had done this had dragged him out of bed and up far further north then had wanted, which on top of the earlier misdeeds only allowed the fire within him to spread throughout his chest. He would have his answers. He had to know why at least before he found a creative way to impose upon the man’s head as he had done to him. Depending upon the response of course. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to pigeonhole his vengeance. It had to be spontaneous, otherwise where was the fun in it?


    As the statue seemed to come closer into sight he picked up a few things of note, as he moved closer he could see figures posed about the shrine, but was not close enough to make them out for certain. The only one he could clearly make out was the one nearest his position, which was given away by a softly swinging tail. He deduced that it was indeed the tail of a khajiit, as it lacked the broadness one of an argonian would possess. However there was something else the orc noticed as he continued his approach, something the one who faced the other two figures held aloft from his hand. It was difficult to make out for certain, but as he drew closer it all began to click. From the elf’s fingers hung an amulet, not unlike the one he was graced with before he made his way here. As it all began to piece together his face returned to a snarl, tapping the horse with the back off his boot to pick up the pace, progressing to a gallop as he rode up to greet them.


    As he finally made it to a respectable distance he began to dismount, amulet clenched tighter than anything he had ever been handed. He strode toward the one who he believed to be in charge, slowly gathering the physical details as he approached him. A bosmer, clad in furs like himself, wearing nothing something beneath that he could not place, but seemed somewhat familiar. However it did not matter, as he had a score to settle, and nothing would get in the way of that. However as he continued to charge them he took note that the makeup of this party, while it held a nord, was not one of a typical talos cult. However, that meant little to him at this point. He had to know what they did. He had to know. When he had come to a stop he raised the amulet and chucked it aggressively at the bosmer, hitting him square in the chest, the force of it dulled by the fur that rested upon it. He spoke lowly and gruffly, not mincing words or missing the chance to say exactly what was on his mind. As that wasn't how the game was played. Not now, not ever. Fists were clenched tight at his side, ready to call forth the fire of his ire to greet them at any moment. But not until he had his answers.


    “Listen, elf. I don’t know what you or your milk-drinking cult are doing out here, and were it any other day, I wouldn’t care. However, one of you has made this my problem, and I intend to solve it.” He stepped forward menacingly, pointing downward upon the amulet that once more had found its home upon the floor beneath their feet. “One of you fools thought it was smart to use this thing to get into my head, to mess with my dreams. To invade my mind with your foolish ravings and hero worship. Tell me who it was.” He gave them a moment to come forth, but unsurprisingly they refused, only giving him questioning looks. Perhaps the looks on their faces were he in a better state of mind possibly could have emanated more of an odd understanding in their gazes than simple confusion, but he was too hot to truly care, seeing the lack of a response as yet another slight, that or cowardice. If so, they were right to fear him. They knew not what he was capable of, and while he may not be strong enough to take on three men at once, he was not afraid to try. “I won’t ask again, so think this through, gentlemen. We may be able to take care of things amicably, but you’ll need to work with me here.” The harshness of his tone betrayed the words he spoke, but he was truly at the end of his already limited patience. The time for games was over. “Who. Did. This?” He questioned once more, waiting silently for one of them to finally speak up.
     
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  7. Mirro9@

    Mirro9@ Mirro9@

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    As Daruin holds the amulet in front of him unsure of what comes next he notices movement out of the corner of his eye. Behind the Khajiit an Orc dismounts his horse and nearly seems to stomp across the ground towards them, his hostility palpable. As the Orc grows closer he brings his hand back and out of instinct Daruin drops his hand to his sword and bends his knees preparing to spring forward at the first sign of spell or steel.

    And so he was caught completely by surprise when something small bounced off his chest. The Orc clearly hostile begins speaking but Daruin's eyes drift downwards towards what hit him. There in the grass sat another amulet of Talos. His attention snaps back to the Orc as he catches the end of his words, "Who. Did. This?"
    While the words dripped with the promise of violence Daruin couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of relief. Well it looks like I'm not going to be executed as a heretic, he thinks to himself, at least not today.

    Daruin stoops down to pick up the amulet. "If I had to guess at who was responsible for this," he pauses for a moment lightly tossing the amulet back to the Orc, "I would say it was Talos." The shadow of a smile floats across Daruin's features as he speaks, the sort of look a cynic might have when he is proven wrong and everything works out fine. "I take it you had the dream too? He said there would be others."

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  8. TommyTequila

    TommyTequila Member

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    Urag Gro-Shub, the library's orsimer curator, sat behind his desk trying to focus on the book he was reading. What was making it difficult for him was Athena, who was currently wearing down the floor in front of his desk. The barefoot Breton stared at an amulet of Talos as she paced nervously.

    "This amulet proves it was more than just a dream, but.... Talos? Contact from a Divine? Impossible. This must be some sort of trick."

    Urag grunted a reply. Athena had taken to spending an exhausting amount of time at the library, and Urag had become used to being a sounding board for Athena's ravings. Luckily, this title required little effort from him, as any real responses were unnecessary, and the occasional grunt usually sated her need for a second party in the conversation.

    "Let's just assume, for a second, that I really was contacted by Talos last night." As she spoke, her eyes looked through her surroundings, and the chain of the amulet swung as she used it to gesticulate her point. "Why me? The Divines aren't even my field of study. Nor worship, or politics, or.... Why me??"

    Urag admitted it was uncommon for her to be so distraught on a subject, and felt compelled to give some sort of input. "Why not you?" He growled apathetically.

    Athena paused a moment and chewed her lower lip. I can think of a few reasons, she thought. She tapped her foot nervously for a moment, then dropped the amulet onto Urag's desk.

    "No," she said terminally. "Nothing good will come of this. Discretion is... is.... something valor and all that."

    With this she paced quickly out of the room, leaving Urag alone in the silence of the library.

    He sighed, then held up three fingers. Then two. Then one. On queue Athena swept back into the room, snatching up the amulet and stuffing it into her robe. She grabbed a few leather-bound tomes on deities, promised to bring them back, stuffed them into her messenger bag, then swept out the door again. Without looking up, Urag waved lazily at the closed door.


    Athena sat in thought as her horse cantered across the plains of Whiterun Hold. One of the Tomes she had borrowed floated magically above the horn of her saddle, open to a section on the life of Tiber Septim. A magical warmth she casted on herself fought the worst of the cold, and her telekinesis kept the pages safe from the wind, but magic could do little to control her hair. She held part of her robe against the wind so she could continue her reading, but she found it difficult to focus. Partly because of her robes and hair being whipped about her by the wind sweeping across the plains, and partly because the situation she found herself in. She was driven by curiosity, but an uneasiness remained in the pit of her stomach. She tried to tell herself the same things she told her students. "Failure is nothing to fear, for it is our greatest teacher." "Dive headlong into the unknown, no great discovery was made without first overcoming trepidation." She took a deep breath, and exhaled her inhibitions. Nothing to fear. And with that, her curiosity rose into a nervous excitement in her chest. She looked up, and noticed she was already almost at her destination.

    She was relieved to see a mixture of races congregated at the base of the statue, and further relieved to see at least two of the men held amulets. Feeling much more comfortable knowing she wasn't the one one having a less than normal day, she dismounted her horse and approached the group.

    "I see I'm not the only one who had trouble sleeping last night," she projected with a smile, holding her amulet for all to see. Curt glances from the other members of the congregation made her realize that she had grossly misinterpreted the situation. She smiled apologetically and raised her arms disarmingly, taking a step back. She could feel the tension and thought it best to let things take their course for the time being.
     
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  9. Hlíf 'Ulfr

    Hlíf 'Ulfr Nothing but a lyre

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    *

    She was a ghost, an apparition swallowed by a curtain of ominous black pines which could do no more than creak and groan in the vile northern winds. She did not exist, not yet, certainly not in the same world in which people gathered like moths to a flame under the great stone monument. She was separate, on a plane of existence running parallel to their own but never touching, never spilling messily past the shadows. Without their recognition, she preserved her peace, preserved their realities against an explosive and unpredictable collision in which observation could not stand alone. So still, Céleste lingered on the verge of existence waiting for the right moment to ease herself into their consciousness.


    Her space was grey and full of the sharp smell of the forest that clung to her clothing like smoke. It was full of memories, echoing off of each trunk and reflecting in each droplet of rain which rolled over the waxed canvas. They rose and fell in tangent with the crescendo created by the precipitation which slipped even through the dense canopy, cold and lazy in its descent They were not warm and comforting like the smooth swaying of the horse beneath her, rather they were elusive and sly and biting like a wild animal. They called to her, a sirens song in the form of a sardonic laughter. Her laughter.


    But she gave no response, no validation choosing to simply shift with a sigh as she attempted to reflect on the night before. The dream, or imposition as she had labeled it, had made little impression on her. Its importance in her world paled in comparison to the achievement that a full night's sleep had become. That the soft light of the morning should wake her rather than mark another failure to escape the night gave her the nearest sentiment to relief she had experienced in this cold land. It was nearly laughable that it had taken supposed divine intervention to give her a restful sleep.


    She had never felt so alert, yet still lifeless at her core. Necromancer indeed, she thought as the corner of her mouth lifted slightly in amusement. Thoughts of all of the small pieces of her that had been damaged, injured, maimed could not be suppressed along the struggle she had undergone to keep the tissue from becoming necrotic. Even more troubling were those that had been violently severed and remained still without blood flow, those required the most effort. It was a constant fight to keep those parts alive, viable, waiting for the point at which they could be reattached. It was lucky then that she had always been fast to recover, to push forward and to fight back.


    Breathing deeply she let the past wash over her, and then released it with every intention of moving forward. She had no illusions. Nothing she could do would keep that past alive, she could not live in what no longer existed. Experience dictated that the best way to triumph was to look to the future and anticipate each defensive and offensive movement. Tentatively her hand released the rein, hesitating within the goatskin glove before lifting itself to lay over her doublet within which the amulet she had found was now pinned. The time for action was drawing nearer.


    It was a curiosity she would admit. It had captured her imagination as to which deity or prince would best be suited to such trickery. Who would most benefit from the ruse, cloaking themselves in the name Talos? Perhaps it was to stir unrest and conflict. In any case, she was certain it would produce interesting results, ultimate manipulations, and intense conflict. It nearly sent a shiver through her body, addiction clawing at her in a way that caused her soul to ache. There was no hope for true satisfaction outside of her own pit of vipers but somewhere within the future, intertwined completely around these individuals, was a fix that she could not deny. That she could not resist.


    As her pupils expanded in memory of the theatrics, as a shout rolled over the hills in search of anyone willing to listen the crinkling of dead foliage began. She let the reins slip through her fingers setting in motion a gentle transition, giving the horse his head as she cleared her own mind. With a gentle squeeze, he began to move forward, picking his own way through the fallen logs and small obstacles. Twigs crackled, snapping in response to an uncaring footfall moving quickly as to not strain the tether of a bond that transcended death. She entered into their world as turmoil swelled amongst them, unsuspecting, unnoticed and proud.


    While the others had dismounted, rushing to the group for one reason or another the regal Breton had other plans and paused no nearer than was necessary to be heard. Perched like a crow, untouchable on some high branch, she looked down on them from her vantage point. Against the brooding sky, her outline was sharp, but her character was rather ambiguous in its trappings. Thick black wool flowed over her small frame while a hood hid all of her features in obscurity, sheltering the mystery interloper. It did nothing for her image that within moments of her arrival a second figure came to rest behind her, shifting unnaturally and breathing not a single word.


    “My,” she began her voice full of an unnerving mirth “don’t we all look delightfully suspicious. Standing around in the open, waving amulets about like banners of defiance.”


    Letting the words settle she took careful consideration of each member of the group and their reactions. She had, quite intentionally, put them in a situation in which they were faced with a potential threat or a simple traveler. Should she be an agent of the Thalmor or a sympathizer to their cause toying with the group they would have to decipher this and choose their course of action. In their reaction, or in their perception and understanding of a potential threat she could glean information about their natures, and their instincts when facing a problem. It was so simple, yet an incredibly telling trick. Knowing, however, that she was being controversial she remained ready to flee or to defend herself against any attacker. Words poised to halt them in their tracks, magic pulsing through her veins and power surging through her heart.

    *
     
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  10. Mirro9@

    Mirro9@ Mirro9@

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    Daruin let's out a dry chuckle at the Breton woman in front of him, breaking some of the tension that seemed to be building. Although quickly, dispelled the tension quickly returned as a mounted figure crested a small hill not far from the shrine and spoke. Daruin heard her words fine but began walking towards the figure across the plains calling out with a very false grin on his face.

    "I'm sorry, you are to far away and the wind must have taken your words. Were you told to meet here too?"

    He quickly walked towards this new comer his hand on resting on the hilt of his sword, unsure of what to make of the newcomer. Even the angry orc approached the group assuredly. The person on the hill kept a distance and called the group what it was, suspicious. This made Daruin nervous, as an outsider here could be EXTREMELY dangerous. His course of action was clear, close the distance and assess the threat from there where it could be dispatched if need be. As he got closer he grabbed one of the bells in his hair, playing with it and letting it chime across the crisp air. Casting a glance over his shoulder to see how the rest of the group was feeling about the latest arrival.

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  11. Ellen Ripley

    Ellen Ripley Member

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    Rahds ears twitched underneath the hood of his robe. He reached up and lowered his hood just in time to see the incoming rider on horseback. His tail swayed behind him as he observed the large orc’s behavior and watched as he threw the amulet at the one who greeted them. Truly this was an amusing situation and he honestly didn’t know what to make of it. His nose twitched as a more pleasant scent enveloped the air and his attention turned to the female who arrived at the group. Her scent had brought back memories of dusty libraries he often found himself in with his friend. He almost felt relieved at the sight of a female and his ears laid back at the thought. He missed his friend and honestly was used to having a female companion beside him. He felt uneasy traveling with a large group of men although he was sure he would have to adjust to the idea.



    Rahd let out a small sigh and was curious if somebody amongst them was talented enough to pull off such a prank. Looking at the warriors before him he didn’t know a single one and he doubted any of these people knew him. He was a person who enjoyed keeping to his self and would stop at Riften every now and again to see the orphanage. He raised both ears up as he regarded the weapons and armor of those around him. Truly he could tell a lot about a person and their armor, the tiniest detail could tell you an entire story whether it had been previously patched or recently seen a battle. He shifted slightly on his foot and his ears twitched again as another soft voice spoke up although this newcomer had been silent in approaching and his eyes focused on the woman on the hill close wearing mostly black. His nose slightly twitched and he turned his gaze away knowing she held strong magic and if she were to be an issue he would have to make it a close combat situation. He could barely pick up a scent from the newcomer and she didn’t smell quite as pleasant as books but he didn’t have the time or care to analyze any further. Plus the stranger had a point as they all looked suspicious and everyone here had to be thinking the same thing.



    Rahd finally decided speaking up was necessary here as he felt the tension in the air,” I feel all of us have answered a calling for some reason or another. Either way, this amulet seems to be the only clue any of us have. I did have an odd dream and found the amulet in my possession and I have traveled far in the night from Winterhold. Was it the same for all of us?” Rahd had kept a steady voice but he honestly hated trying to be any voice of reason. He disliked drawing attention to himself and perhaps someone else had information and everyone traveled from afar then perhaps that would be enough proof something more divine was occurring.
     
    #11 Ellen Ripley, Jan 16, 2018
    Last edited: Jan 17, 2018
  12. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Moderator
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    "Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead," Elrend's jolly voice sang, blindly traversing the terrain around him, "now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"

    He knelt down mid pace and plucked a tiny red berry off of it's branch, placing it inside the small basket he carried with him as he trekked. Berry picking was as much a hobby as anything mundane was to him. It gave him the chance to zone out of the world and it's happenings, and just be alone with himself and his thoughts. Though this was not truly why he ventured out alone on the Whiterun--for berries--but rather something else; something one of a kind.

    "And so then came clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal," his voice continued the tune lightly, as he began to hear the faint squabbles of people close by. He turned his direction and hastened his pace in the direction, powering up a small incline as the voices got progressively louder.

    "Don’t we all look delightfully suspicious. Standing around in the open, waving amulets about like banners of defiance," The stern statement was sudden and startling, not to him but to the others involved with the murmurs, "take another step towards me and out of sheer spite for your despicable manners I shall be off before you can reach me, the ears of those that should want to destroy you awaiting me with great anticipation I'm sure."

    The dry, female voice commanded attention and intrigue--whoever she was wanted to put this group on the spot... and it was sort of working. The voices that responded to her, were all of a sudden subtly inconsistent, quivering almost unnoticeably every other word. 'Tis clear stress on top of stress does not necessarily work well with my newfound friends.

    Elrend stood on his tip-toes, allowing his eyesight to carry just over the hillside to look at everyone there. A moderate sized group, a few mages to a smaller few weapon-users and a straggler or two no doubt. He could instantly put voices to faces as soon as he saw the figures as well. The woman's voice who tested the waters of peoples stability was an intriguing one, not visually but rather in personality. The "bravest" of the group, if he could so be called, or the one who chose to carry the conversation further seemed to fill the definition of average in Elrend's mind. Before he could get another second or two of snooping, scanning the others, one of their heads started to turn in his direction. Elrend ducked quickly, shaking his head and settling his body.

    "And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no mooooooooore," Elrend bellowed the final lines of the song from his voice louder, blatantly trying to gain the attention of those ahead of him. He began walking himself up the hill once more, and reached the top--eye level with the others--before his note ended. "When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

    He let a scandalous grin slide across his face, as he gained the eyes of all those gathered around the Talos Shrine. Elrend bowed a gentlemanly and proper bow, keeping his smile in place when meeting their eyes once more.

    "Well now," Elrend's proclamation was something he stuffed as much surprise as he could muster into, "had I known I'd have an audience out here, I would have dressed myself better."

    Elrend looked around slyly, then melted his face into one of sorrow and apology, "oh Talos forgive my insolence! A man only came all this way with an offering of fresh-picked berries, not to present an expert musical performance!"

    Elrend breathed a moment, scanning the eyes that were on him before returning to his feigned pleas, "You say it's alright? I sang it just right? Oh, oh bless you Lord Talos!"

    He let out a short giggle, before continuing his walk closer to the group. It was silent now, one might even call the tenseness "awkward". Elrend was not one of those who would, the mood and tone he had set for himself upon his interruption of their little pow-wow was exactly what he wanted; attention. Not that he was craving or seeking the attention itself, but rather the eyes and focus of his new-found compatriots. While watching them watch him, he could read them like children's stories.

    "I'm joking of course! Talos does not speak to me," he laughed heartily, taking the time to look at all of them individually before continuing, "I am quite displeased he does not, however, as I would have loved an invitation to this lovely little suicide party. I've always wanted 'Death by Justicar'. It's always sounded so, tragically heroic in a way. I take it none of you are here for that purpose however, and so with that I must ask: would anyone like a berry? I've been picking them all day so they're fresh, and I have a way of choosing the sweetest and ripest ones."

    Elrend stared at them all once more, with a friendly grin on his face, and his basket held out in offering.
     

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