The_Deadliest_Troll
Melon Lord
-The Remnants of Akavir-
(-This thread is closed to new members. Those involved are: The_Deadliest_Troll, Ilya, Flint firestorm, FlickerWick, PurpleShew, OldLace, and Gemini Sierra. If you wish to inquire about this RP, please post in our OOC thread-)
Heavy fog rolled over Falkreath hold in the early hours of the morning. Thunder roared in the distance, and the birds remained silent in fear that thier chirping would anger the gods further. The city of Falkreath was quiet that morning, even more than usual. The only thing that seemed alive was the town's gravedigger who was slowly burrying the unidentifiable bodies that were found in the woods outside town the night before.
"Two of them. It's terrible." He grumbled as he forced his shovel into the cold earth beneath his feet. They had been found by Zaria, the local alchemist, as she was out picking herbs the previous evening. They were cold, naked, and very certainly dead.
The man and the woman, both seemingly Nords by thier build, were torn apart. Thier faces were non-existant and thier hands and feet had been torn from thier bodies. The rest of the injuries were like nothing the old gravedigger had never seen in all his years.
Just then, he heard footsteps coming down the stone path of the city. The guards must be snoozing, just letting someone waltz into town after last night, the old man scoffed in his head. The footsteps came to an abrubt stop, and a voice that sounded foriegn to the old man's ears called out through the mist, "Excuse me sir, is there anyway for me to get a message delivered to the Jarls of all the holds?" The man paused to clear his throat, "I'm looking for the best and brightest mercenaries in Skyrim to preform a task for me."
The old man didn't turn from his work as he replied, "There is a courier staying at the inn down the road. If you hurry, you might be able to catch him at breakfast." Who was that man? The wise, old gravedigger's mind was racing. A crow's caw echoed overhead as he dropped the first body into its final resting place. Ah, well. It shouldn't matter anyway.
****
The fog over Falkreath this morning was so thick that Sabrina felt as if she was swimming in it. Rumor had it that this blanket hadn't lifted off of the hold for weeks, and people were whispering about travellers being brutally murdered in the woods. It was strange, even for this area, and the more superstitious of Skyrim's residents believed it to be the work of some molevolent Daedric cult. Few people would dare step foot near the city since the mist had fallen, and even more were leaving the area with thier families for fear of their safety.
Sabrina, however was not one of these people. She didn't understand these superstitions or why anyone would abandon thier homes and jobs because of them. But she was on a mission, and it drove her forward even faster despite the fog making her practically blind.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the letter to read it one more time. Korir, the Jarl of Winterhold had handed it to her when she had returned from doing a job for him. Sabrina leaned against a tree and had to hold the small, scribbled note inches from her face to read it:
"Dear adventurer,
You are reading this letter because you are presumably one of the
bravest, boldest, brightest and best in your hold. Your respective
Jarl has chosen you for a very important job. You see, I am feeble
and unable to dive into the caves and ruins of this land anymore.
So, I am requesting the assistance of the most skilled people in
all of Skyrim to do a job for me.
Please come see me in The Dead Man's Drink in Falkreath for
details.
The Tiger's Paw"
"Who on Nirn would call themself 'The Tiger's Paw?'" Sabrina laughed. Her amusment was brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of carriage wheels. Another family was making trails out of Falkreath with everything they owned.
Then, a man's voice called out through the gloom, "Don't go to Falkreath, traveller! Not if you value your life!"
"Thanks, but I think I'll take my chances with this fog," she mocked in reply. Was everyone in Skyrim this foolish? Sabrina couln't help but think she had made a mistake leaving Cyrodiil. She let a flame flicker warmly in the palm of her hand to light the path. The outlines of buildings were now becoming visable through the mist. She sighed as she walked through the entry into the town and one of the guards gave a half-hearted greeting.
It was clear that there was nothing moving in the streets of Falkreath now, aside from the gravdigger who seemed hard at work. "Excuse me," she called back to the guards, "which way is the inn?"
"Right down the road," echoed the reply through the thick brume, "it's the third building on your left." Sabrina wasted no time. She marched forward, finding the building without much trouble. She stared at the sign for a minute to make sure that it was the right place then pushed her way through the door.
The atmosphere inside made the tavern seem like a different world. A bard was singing tunes and a couple of the brave residents who had not yet fled from town were singing along, slurring the lyrics in a drunk state of happiness. There was a lone Redguard with a worried look on his face, mumbling things to himself seated at a table just to the right of the door. Sabrina kept one eye on him as she walked toward the bar.
"Welcome to The Dead Man's Drink," the woman behind the counter smiled cheerfully, "can I get you anything?"
"Thanks, but I'm looking for the man who is calling himself 'The Tiger's Paw.'" Sabrina spoke the words softly so no one else could here her, "Is he here?"
"Oh... oh, yes... well," the bartender suddenly seemed very distracted by her fingernails, "that's him over there." She pointed to a man sitting in a dark corner that Sabrina had not noticed when she came in. He wore hooded robes and his face and hands were wrapped in bandages as if he had been badly burned. "You're a little late though," the woman squeeked feebly, "there have already been about ten people in here to talk to him before you."
"Damn," Sabrina wouldn't forgive herself if someone else beat her to the prize, "thanks anyway!" Sabrina slapped a few septims on the counter and turned to walk toward the hooded figure in the corner.
He greeted her as she sat at the table across from him in an accent that sounded slightly like a Khajiit's, but something was off, "Hello my dear, may I please see your letter?"
Sabrina was stunned by his voice and his demeanor. Something wasn't right. Then, she snapped back to focus, "Oh, yes! Of course, here it is." She took out the letter and slid it across the table, "So you are The Tiger's Paw, right?" She felt uneasy in this man's presence. The faster she could leave, the better.
"Ah, yes. That is me." He took the scrap of paper and hid it in his robes, "Now, I suspect you would like to get to the task at hand. So, I will cut to the point." Sabrina was tapping the table nervously, but the man seemed to pay no mind, "I'm sending you to South Shriekwind Bastion. You know this place? It is just north-east of here. I need you to retrieve something for me, an artifact. It used to belong to my ancestors, you see, and it was thought to have been lost in this land two eras ago."
He became distracted by something, his sinister red eyes darting to the door as it opened and closed. Sabrina cleared her throat, "So, is that it then? Are you even going to tell me what this thing looks like?" Sabrina was becoming impatient with him.
Then, the man leaned over so that his bandaged face was nearly touching hers. Sabrina could smell his foul breath, and she had to hold back a frightened gasp. "Here," he whispered in a tone that was much different than before. He sounded... angry.
The man slid another scrap of paper that was sealed shut across the wood of the table, "This is a rough drawing of the object at hand. Please, don't open it in town. I would rather not have any unwanted eyes looking at it."
At this, Sabrina stood up. She didn't want to have to be near this stranger any longer. She nodded politely at him and walked back toward the bar. She needed a drink after that. Ordering a bottle of mead, she couldn't help but wonder how she was going to find this "Shriekwind Bastion." She had no idea where it was, or even which direction to begin.
She sighed deeply and took a swig of the mead in her hand. Letting the liquid run down her throat, she looked at the door, hoping that someone would come in that could guide her through this fog. It was then that the door swun open and her heart flew with hope. Maybe she was in luck!
Players............... their character
The Deadliest Troll.............Sabrina
Flint firestorm...................Crow
FlickerWick.......................Alphonse
Ilya.................................Shade
PurpleShew.......................Qa'Cleddau
Gemini Sierra.....................Antione