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Private [TRoA] The Remnants of Akavir

Discussion in 'Archived Stories' started by The_Deadliest_Troll, Apr 24, 2012.

  1. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    -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
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  2. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    Crow entered dead mans drink for the third night in a row, after yet again failing to find the creature that was plaguing the forests of falkreath. Word of the killings had spread throughout skyrim, of something in the woods of falkreath and many adventurers had come to try and catch the beast and claim the reward offered by the Jarl. However It seemed useless as there was no patten to the killings, no motive and crow was ready to give-up. No reward was worth stumbling through the foggy forests and murky swamps searching for something that may just be the case of a Mad Mage instead of a dredic cult.
    He gazed across the tavern, seeing the same boring and dull faces that where here every night. He began walking towards the bar when he noticed a Young imperial woman sitting there, wearing heavy armour and carrying a sword. He was interested in her straight away, what was a young, beautiful adventurer doing in a town like this, perhaps searching for the same creature as him.
    He walked up to the bar and sat down next to her "greetings imperial, what brings you to falkreath?" he said sounding as cool and confident as possible.
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  3. FlickerWick

    FlickerWick El. Psy. Congroo.

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    The ricketty rhythm of the carriage came to a sudden halt. Alphonse, who was asleep on one of the wooden benches in the back, was violently brought back to reality by the shrieking of the rusty wheels. Still not entirely awake, he somehow mustered up the energy to talk to Bjorlam, the man behind the horses.

    "You should oil this thing up, you know." he remarked, with an intent to genuinely help the man. "If you'd like, I have a variety of things that could do the trick in my satche-"

    "That'll be 50 gold for the ride." Bjorlam abruptly replied. Alphonse detected a slight quiver in his voice, as if he was nervous of something, or someone. Was he afraid that he wouldn't get his fare? Was he expecting an assassin to jump out of the bushes at any moment? Regardless, Alphonse decided not to encroach on his privacy and reached for the coin wallet in his satchel. After a few minutes of rustling through various potions and plants, his hand laid siege to the small leather pouch.

    "1...2...3...there you go, take 60. Consider it a small token of gratitude for driving me all this way." said Alphonse, as he dropped the septims into the man's hand before climbing down off the back of the carriage. "Thanks again for the ride." he smiled, as he slung his satchel over his shoulder and turned to walk down the path.

    "I'll be off then. Be sure...be sure to keep your wits about you, friend." replied Bjorlam hesitantly, before cracking his reins and riding off into the fog. Whatever was the meaning of that last statement? Was it a friendly piece of advice, or something more sinister? The man's behaviour has piqued Alphonse's interest. Firstly, there was the abrupt demand for his fare and the shake in his voice. Secondly, as he handed the money over, the man's hand was shaking, too. And then there were those parting words - what did it all mean? Nevertheless, although he had only just woken up, Alphonse was tired and began making his way to the Inn. He wouldn't disregard that last statement though and kept it firmly in the back of his mind, just in case.

    As Dead Man'a Drink drew nearer, the fog grew thicker. It was almost as if it was bidding him not to get any closer, but Alphonse was beyond the point of caring and simply wanted his bed for the night. He proceeded to walk down the path, before arriving at the town's entrance. Before entering, he paused and looked behind him. Part of him wanted to see Bjorlam to make sure he was safe, but he was long gone. He turned back around and continued to push forward. It was then that a ghostly figure emerged through the fog right in front of him - the sheer thickness of it had tampered with his perception, and he was startled, if only a little bit. It was a town guard.

    "What business do you have in Falkreath, Breton?" the guard demanded. He was being deadly serious, so Alphonse wasted no time and gave him his answer.

    "I'm here to see Zaria about a recipe book she has, on the recommendation of Arcadia, the alchemist in Whiterun. Before that though I'm heading to the inn, as it's getting dark and I fear that I may get lost in this fog should I stay out for much longer." was his reply. The guard's eye were like those of a hawk - unnervingly searching and burning. After about a minute of silence, he responded.

    "Alright then, but I'll be keeping my eye on you. Falkreath has enough trouble on its plate at the moment - the last thing we need are yet more strangers." he said, begrudgingly.

    "More strangers? Have you had a lot of people pass through here lately?" Alphonse inquired, his interest piqued once again. Was there a connection between Bjorlam's worries and whatever Falkreath's troubles were?

    "We had a strange hooded figure arrive a week ago, and a few visitors since, but that's none of your business. Move along now traveler. No lollygagging." said the guard, before he hastily turned and vanished back into the ghostly veil. It now was clear to Alphonse that there was definitely something going on in this town. Perhaps somebody at the inn would be more willing to satisfy his hunger for answers (and food). A creaking sign soon came into view, which was odd, considering that he couldn't feel even the faintest traces of a breeze. Emblazoned across the wood read the letters 'DEAD MAN'S DRINK.' He walked up the rotting steps, which bent underneath his feet, and reached for the door handle. The deathly silence was soon shattered by the merry sound of music and drunkards as the door swung open.


    (OOC: Apologies about the standard of my writing. It's currently 1am and I should really be asleep - I'm shattered!)
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  4. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    Sabrina's heart soared as a young Bosmer walked through the threshold into the tavern. He was handsome, which was odd to Sabrina. She usually found elves to be ugly, but this young wood elf was tall, strong, and actually good looking. She hoped that he would be able to guide her to Shriekwind Bastion. That is, as long as he wasn't competition.

    She glanced over at the hooded man to see if he looked like he was expecting anyone else, but he was gone. There was an empty table and an uneaten sweet-roll where he had once been. He obviously wasn't expecting any more company. She turned her attention back to the elf who had recently come in to the inn and was surprised to see that he was taking a seat next to her.

    He spoke, his voice soft but strong, "Greetings Imperial, what brings you to Falkreath?"

    Sabrina blushed. She never was any good at talking to men, and this elf was no exception, "Um... well I'm actually going to..." she paused, unsure of how much she was permitted to say about the job she had been given, "I'm going to investigate Shriekwind Bastion." She smiled and giggled at him, playing with her braided, brown hair over her shoulder.

    "Hey, you don't happen to know how to get there do you?" she took a sudden interest in her knees, feeling like a fool, "I don't know the area too well. Honestly, it's a miracle I found Falkreath." She was waiting for him to answer when the door to The Dead Man's Drink flew open again. Oh now what?
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  5. Ilya

    Ilya Article Writer

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    She stood still behind a nearby tree with a bottle of mead in hand, gingerly sipping its contents. The morning was beautiful; dark and ominous, almost on the verge of utter chaos. The people of Falkreath were uneasy and she could feel it. Many thoughts flooded her restless mind; as they always do when she's between jobs. The most pertinent, however, were thoughts of who would be next to fall victim to her deadly blades!

    Her green eyes narrowed as she focused on the gravedigger who was hard at work putting two unfortunate souls in their final resting place. How ironic it will be when his body lay lifeless beside them! She gave a slight chuckle and started to make her way through the fog when out of nowhere a beautiful Imperial woman appeared in front of her. Shade almost fell over in surprise when the jaw dropping beauty didn't notice her, but thankful none the less! She crept back into the shadows cursing herself for not being more careful. Shade watched as the woman stopped abruptly turning back as if to confront her, but instead addressing the gaurds saying, "Excuse me, which way is the inn?". "Right down the road, it's the third building on the left.", one of them hastily replied.

    As the woman headed for the inn, Shade couldn't help but wonder....What business does a woman of her class have being out and about during times like these? She looked too vulnerable to be out roaming the streets alone. This put a smile on the Dark Elf's otherwise emotionless face and she strode towards The Dead Man's Drink in pursuit of this woman. Once inside, Shade took a seat in a dark corner and watched as the beautiful Imperial woman spoke to the bartender. She took note of the bartenders uneasiness immediately and saw her point to a man sitting across the room in dark robes with bandages on both of his hands.

    The woman looked hesitant as she walked towards this mysterious man, but sat down at the table anyway. There was something very odd about him that had Shade on edge. She needed to know more!! When they were done with their chat she got up from her table and headed towards the door, watching the robed man all the while. She was hot on his heels, or so she thought but when she opened the door to step outside, she ended up stepping face first into the chest of a Breton with some of the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen!
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  6. FlickerWick

    FlickerWick El. Psy. Congroo.

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    (OOC: My character's chest does have lovely eyes, doesn't it?)

    As Alphonse opened the door to the inn, a wave of warmth and merriment engulfed him. This was a completely different atmosphere to what he had already experienced on his first visit to Falkreath. He didn't have much of a chance to revel in it though, as as soon as he stepped into the inn, a mysterious stranger bumped into him! Startled, Alphonse took a minute to regain his composure. She was a Dunmer, no taller than the height of his shoulders, with fierce eyes that reflected the raging hearth like mirrors They seemed to be guarding something. But then again, who wasn't in this town? Although he felt no evil, he was sure that there was more to this woman than met the eye. Alphonse realised that he was staring aimlessly at the stranger. After he had recovered from the initial shock, he apologised, before stepping to the side and heading for the counter. He sat down on one of the few available wooden stools and proceeded to draw the bartender's attention.

    "How much is one of your rooms for a week? I'm not after luxury, just a good bed. " he asked. The woman behind the bar was busy cleaning a dirty tankard and it was not until after it was dazzlingly clean did she turn her attention to the inquiring Breton.

    "Sorry traveller." she apologised. "My mind was wandering. So much going on at the moment you know? It's hard to keep up. Sometimes I feel as if my job's the only thing that keeps me from going completely insane. Anyway, enough about me." she joked, sounding decidedly more upbeat. "What can I get for you?"

    "A room, please. For a week. I plan on staying in the area for a little while, so I need a bed. I too might go insane should I stay awake much longer!" he answered. She laughed, before replying that the cost for a week's accommodation would be 160 septims. "That seems reasonable enough. Let me just see...100, 120, 140...ah, it would appear that I'm lacking the coin." Alphonse said, as his cheeks began to burn a little. "If you'll just hold on to that room, I'll be back in a short while. I've some potions I've been meaning to sell to Zaria across the road." he said, still feeling slightly embarrassed. The additional coin that he had earlier gifted Bjorlam was meant for his room. The barmaid gave him a bemused look, before agreeing to reserve the room.

    Alphonse got up and proceeded to make his way to the entrance. On his way there, he noticed two people to his side who seemed more out of place than the other bar goers. A Bosmer and an Imperial - they were locked in deep discussion, completely oblivious to their surroundings. He had already had a number of odd encounters today and cared not for two more. He walked past the simmering fire and headed straight towards the door.
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  7. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    "I'm going to investigate Shriekwind Bastion." She smiled and giggled at him, playing with her braided, brown hair over her shoulder. crow smiled too, thinking on how long it had been since he had seen a smile in this town."Hey, you don't happen to know how to get there do you?" she asked, before suddenly looking down at her knees. suddenly the door of dead mans drink flew open and the imperial glanced towards the door.

    He followed the imperials gaze towards the door to see a Breton walk into a dummer, both of which were not regulars here. he turned his attention back to the imperials question.
    "Shriekwind bastion? of course I know the way." he said grinning. The bastion itself, which he had discovered on his second day of exploring was actually very close to the town. It would probably have been visable from the town were it not for the fog.
    "How about I buy us some drinks and we can talk about it?" he then turned to the barkeeper "Two of your finest meads please." he then turned back to the imperial "I don't believe, I caught your name."
    (ooc i managed to borrow my friends computer for this post so i can highlight the words :) )
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  8. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    Quickly forgetting about the scrawny looking Breton that had left as quickly as he came, Sabrina looked at the elf. She was thankful that someone in this gods-forsaken town was so eager to help her. "My name is Sabrina. It is very nice to meet you." She extended her hand warmly and shook his as the bartender placed two bottles on the counter gingerly.

    Sabrina picked up her bottle and examined the contents, but didn't drink it. "Ah, I'm not exactly sure how much I'm at liberty to tell you. The job I have been given is sort of a secret. But, if you will help me I would be more than happy to compensate!" Sabrina turned and smiled at him, hoping he would still be willing to help her despite her secretive attitude.
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  9. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    So she's a secretive type, interesting. Well if that's how she feels fine."I didnt mean to pry, if you don't want to tell me fine, that's your business." said Crow. He then gulped down some of his mead, before immediately spiting it out on the floor. "Damn Nord mead!" he coughed, before reaching into his satchel for a bottle of water. He always wondered why Nord mead was banned in cyrodil , and now he knew why. "I guess mead isn't for everyone" said the barkeeper as he took the gold for the meads. He realizsed he hadn't told Sabrina his name. "I'm Crow by the way" he said after a long gulp of water. "What kind of compensation are we talking about?" said
    Crow wondering if the job she was doing paid well.
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  10. Ilya

    Ilya Article Writer

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    Shade could not believe her clumsiness this day; first the Imperial woman, now a Breton! What next? She took a minute outside to regain her composure before slipping off into the shadows again where she felt most comfortable. She crept back over to the tree she had been standing by earlier and decided to sit and reflect on the events of this peculiar morning. Everything seemed so out of place, from her actions, to the people she kept inadvertently running into. She soon decided that her best course of action would be to keep out of sight and to quit drawing so much unwanted attention to herself! Afterall, she was an assassin! Her father would be rolling over in his grave, had he not been burned alive!

    Although she was thoroughly disappointed in herself, she shook it off as she walked into the woods to her camp. With every step she grew more confident that she would not let herself slip like this ever again!

    Must've been that damn mead! She grumbled to herself and kicked a rock out of spite. Shouldn't have been drinking in the first place! If only I could liste- Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts as she felt something swoop behind her. She swung around in an instant only making a whisper. Weapons at the ready crouched in a deadly stance. Eyes beckoning man or beast to come taste her wrath! She stood perfectly still until she heard movement above her. Up she went as she cast her levitation spell bringing her sword and dirk in close to avoid stray branches. Deftly, she stepped onto the limb in front of her, eyes flashing with excitment and a wide smile stretched across her face. She could see the purpetraitor! It was neither man or beast, but a harmless, and rather nosey hawk! She slid her weapons back into their sheaths and said, "So we meet again!.... More charred skeever?"

    Shade took a roll from her knapsack and sat on the limb with her back propped up against the trunk. She thought of the first night the hawk had introduced himself to her. She was fast asleep beside a dim lit fire when all of a sudden he swooped down inches from her face waking her from her peaceful slumber. He continued to dive bomb her until she finally got up and started shouting threats his way while shaking her fist in the air. When she awoke the next morning, he was perched on a nearby branch cleaning his delicate gray feathers. Since then, she has seen him every night except when she goes into the city.

    He must prefer it out here. But then again, who wouldn't... She let her thoughts trail off as she studied the pretty birds silvery gray back and white with orange speckled front. "You really should rethink your introductions!! One doesn't go making friends by trying to peck the others eyes out!!"
    Feeding him piece by piece the last bit of the skeever she had cooked the night of their first encounter, she wondered where the next road would take her.
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  11. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    "Oh. Haha... well," Sabrina stopped to think. The man hadn't actually told her how much she was getting paid, if anything. For all she knew, the man was a washed up bum. He certainly looked the part. She laughed nervously, "The reward for the job is substantial." She lied, not wanting to lose her only real hope of finding Shriekwind Bastion.

    Her mind was racing, looking for something else to distract him with; to take his mind off the money. She caught his eye and felt her stomach tie itself in knots. "Listen, you can have every bit of gold I'm getting paid. I just need to get there." Her pride took the better of her, and she decided money didn't matter. All that she cared about was being known as the one who was able to retrieve the prize first.

    She was becoming impatient, "So, when can we leave? I don't want to waste too much of your time, Crow."
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  12. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    "Leave? Well If you are really that eager then we could go now, but I would recommend we wait till morning seeing as it's hard enough to see in the fog when there's light and as for the gold, I couldn't possibly take all of it, helping a fellow adventurer is reward enough." said crow, thinking to himself especially one as good looking as you.
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  13. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    "Well I'm not really sure..." she felt foolish again. Sabrina hated having to rely on someone else, but it was nice to have a companion at least for a little while. She had been travelling Skyrim alone for months now. However, she wouldn't let his smooth talking and apparent concern get in the way. "But, I really need to get there as soon as possible. So if you are staying here for the night, at least tell me which direction I need to head to get to this place."

    She was determined not to allow fear of the night to get in her way of accomplishing her goal. She had come too far to rest now. Standing up, and patting the sword at her hip, she said, "I have to go see the alchemist in town first anyway. I want to bring some potions with just in case." Turning to the door, she addressed the elf over her shoulder, "Are you coming or not Crow?" With that she began walking toward the exit and back out into the foggy streets.
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  14. FlickerWick

    FlickerWick El. Psy. Congroo.

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    Alphonse stepped outside and shut the old wooden door behind him. The fog was now even worse than before - if it weren't for the shuffling of the guard's feet along the cobblestone, and the trickling of the nearby river, he wouldn't even know he was in Falkreath to begin with. A deathly silence hung heavily in the air, only occasionally being broken by the cry of a nearby crow. Night was beginning to fall - for fear of getting lost, he decided that his business with Zaria would be swift. He would get to the shop, ask about the book, pay her in advance for tomorrow's alchemy lesson and return to the inn. In his mind, it sounded like a simple plan. However, the merciless fog made it a challenge to even know where you were walking. To ensure that he didn't get lost, Alphonse decided to ask guard near the inn's entrance for directions.

    "Excuse me. Could you point me in the direction of Grave Concotions?" he asked. The guard didn't respond. It appeared as if he were focusing on something and was deep in thought. Just as the young Breton drew breath to ask again, the guard turned to face him.

    "It's getting rather late, isn't it? Why would somebody be wandering around at this time? Most of your kind are already in the inn, drowning their sorrows in mead. If you ask me, that's probably the safest place to be right now." he remarked. Then stood there, engulfed in silence, for what seemed like two minutes. Knowing that this man was going nowhere, he regrettably added - "Alright, alright. If you walk to the left until you reach the main thoroughfare and then take another left, it's the second building on your right. Best hurry though, it's getting dark. Getting caught in this white mire at nighttime is the last thing you want to do."

    Alphonse thanked the man before making his way to the shop. His steps were small and steady, his eyes focused on the path like a hawk. Time seemed to slow down as he carefully walked along the cobblestones. In what seemed like an hour, yet was actually no more than a minute, he had arrived at this 'throughfare', or what he thought to be this at least. A pole stood in the middle of the intersection, with a faint oil lamp dangling from the top. Beneath it was what looked like a sign. Alphonse edged closer to see what it said. It was made of a wood, perhaps oak, and a lot of it had rotten away. Surprisingly, the deeply carved letters were still legible. From what he gathered, he only had to take a right and as soon as he hit the end of the path, he would be at his destination. Not wanting to waste any more time, he headed in that direction straight away.

    Before long, the shop was in front of him. Feeling slightly relieved, he climbed up the steps and took a deep breath before preparing to open the door - yet the door was already open. Only ajar, and only a tiny bit, but enough to catch his attention. Something was wrong. Even though the door was slightly open, not a single sound was heard, save for the flickering of a torch. Alphonse at least expected to hear the familiar crunch of a grinding pestle and mortar, or the bubbling of boiling liquid. Yet there was nothing. Even the crows were silent. Perhaps she had just gone out for a moment? Yeah, that must've been it. Alphonse decided that he would wait inside for her return, as it was getting cold and the darkness was quickly thickening.

    He opened the door and froze on the spot.

    Blood. There was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the counter, on the walls and even on the roof. The entire shop was painted a brilliant crimson hue. The smell of flesh wafted through the air, penetrating every conceivable nook and cranny. Alphonse's stomach couldn't handle the sheer revulsion - it felt as if his insides were being crushed. He turned around, put his right arm on the doorpost and threw up. He kneeled down and threw up again, his arms tightly clenching his waist.

    "Keep your wits about you, friend."

    After the vomiting fit had climaxed in an especially violent fashion, Alphonse fell down and led there, petrified. His body was shivering, yet the air was warm and moist. His face was as white as the fog that shrouded the village. Out of the very corner of his eye, he noticed a large pile of potions, which must've fell from a nearby shelf. Some were shattered and leaking, others mysteriously intact. He shifted his body around to get a better view. In the middle of a puddle of potions and poisons was a thick strand of hair. Was something trapped underneath? Desperately, Alphonse crawled over to the wreckage, adrenaline pumping and panic rising. He furiously dug at the pile, sending glass flying all over the place and shattering with an awful crescendo. It was at this moment that time slowed down once more. As he removed one final bottle, everything stopped. There, inches away in front of him, was a severed head of what looked like a woman. The face had been completely shaved off and there were deep, oozing lacerations on what little of her head remained intact. Alphonse felt a little light headed. He fell backwards. Everything turned black.
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  15. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    Crow sighed "No rest for the wicked" he muttered to himself before rising from his seat. Why do people always need to hurry every where? He thought to himself as he gathered his stuff from his room. He stoped by the bar to pay his room fee, something told him he might not be back for a while. As he exited the tavern he saw Sabrina Walking down one street before stopping, looking around and turning back."The alchemists is this way..." Crow said before turning and walking towards the Grave Concoction.
    (ooc troll I hope you don't mind me doing that, you said she didn't know her way around Falkreath so I thought it suited :) however I have no problem changing it if it's a problem.
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  16. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    "Oh, I knew that." Sabrina felt her cheeks becoming warm and turning crimson. It was a good thing the fog was so thick so Crow couldn't see her entire face turning the color of a cherry. "I was just testing you, Crow," she panted as she caught up with him on the way to Grave Concoctions.

    They walked the rest of the way to the small shop in silence. The town seemed to breath with sorrow as a breeze rolled gently through it. What was going on here? Sabrina felt goosebumps creeping up on her skin, and she got the feeling that maybe the superstitions weren't so crazy after all. Sabrina stole a glance to her right at Crow. He was silent, his eyes glued to the path; intently focused on not getting lost. Her breath felt short, and her heart raced. She felt uneasy about everything that was happening here.

    Then it came in to view. Grave Concoctions. But something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The door was wide open, but Sabrina couldn't see inside. "That's it right?" She asked the elf beside her as she picked up her pace to get there faster. He didn't have time to respond before Sabrina saw it.

    "Oh gods!" She gasped, placing her hands over her mouth. Her fingers quivered. It was a scene straight out of Oblivion. The walls and floors of the shop were painted with blood, and the once tidy bottles that lined the shelves were scattered around the floor. Sabrina's ears were ringing. She couldn't breath. Fear was choking her, and she wanted to leave everything behind. She wished she had never decided to come to this damned town. She wished she was still in her comfortable be in Imperial City. She longed for her father's arms.

    But then she noticed something. The small Breton who had raced in and out of The Deadman's Drink was there, on the floor lying in a puddle of what could only be his own bile. He was gasping for breath and clutching his waist. She didn't think twice. Grabbing his shirt, she dragged him out of the shop. When she did, a disembodied head rolled across the floor. She nearly lost her mead, but held it in and sat the man up against the wall outside the shop. He couldn't be the killer could he?

    She turned to Crow, who looked just as shocked as she. He was holding his head and mumbling something to himself. Even he, in all his experiences must never have seen anything like this. "Hey, go find a guard!" She finally got out through her dry mouth. And he was off without a word. Sabrina turned her attention to the shell of a man in front of her. He didn't seem with it, and she didn't feel like any more words could come from her mouth.

    Sighing, she uncorked her water flask and poured some into his mouth. He didn't take it, and it all ended up running down his front. She was trying to clean him up a bit when she heard footsteps behind her. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword before she could think. It was a guard. "What's going on here?" He demanded. All Sabrina could do was point toward the door.

    After he had examined the scene, the guard stormed out of the doorway, furious, "Is he the killer? What did you see?!"

    "Dammit you bastard," Sabrina suddenly felt defensive of this man she didn't know, "does he look like he could kill anything?" She pointed down at him, covered in vomit, blood and dirt, "He doesn't even have a weapon!" Where was Crow? She didn't know what to do or say anymore, and she fell to her knees on the cold ground.
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  17. FlickerWick

    FlickerWick El. Psy. Congroo.

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    Where was he? What time was it? What happened? All of these questions, and more, raced through Alphonse's head as he slowly came around. His head was spinning and his vision was blurred. It felt as if he were rapidly rolling down the side of a ragged mountain. Touching the floor with both hands to reafirm his position in reality, he mustered what strength he had and sat up. Once he had regained his sight, he noticed that to his side was an Imperial and in front of him was a guard. If it weren't for the hungry flames of the torch, the night would surely have prevented him from seeing anything, let alone these two people. The Imperial, a woman, had a look of relief plastered across her face. He knew that he had seen her somewhere before. The guard stared at him for a little while, before he opened his mouth.

    "What happened to you, citizen? What do you remember?" he interrogated, with a sense of urgency. Switching her focus from Alphonse to the guard, she stood up, before flashing him the fiercest of glares. Sensing that harsh words were on the horizon, he raised his hand as if to signal 'stop' as the woman drew breath.

    "It's ok, I'll tell him what I know." he calmly said, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. "I don't remember much, and I'm unsure why you even want to know. I had just ran out of money, so I was heading over to the alchemist's place to sell some potions. I had business anyway with Zaria, you see-" he explained, before he stopped. A million pictures came rushing back into his head. The fog, the sign, the open door...everything. A mixture of emotions simoultaeneously coursed through his veins like lightning. Sorrow, at Zaria's gruesome death, confusion, as to why this had happened, anger, at being so helpess...what if he had got there earlier?

    "It's ok." the woman smiled, compassionately helping him to his feet. She explained how the Breton had nothing more to say, as he was obviously in distress, before the guard nodded in agreement and went inside to investigate. The guard gasped as he walked in to what could only be described as Oblivion - "Shor's bones...

    "What do you want to do now?" she asked. Alphonse explained that before he did anything else, he wanted to wash$ partly to clean and partly to clear his head. At the back of his mind, a part of him hoped that he could was this situation situation away in the wahe knew that this was very real. He asked if she could go inside to retrieve his bag, as along with miscellaeneous potions, he had a spare change of clothes in there. She agreed, before heading in and emerging with his satchell no more than a minute later.

    "Thank you. Perhaps once I'm feeling better, you'll join me for a mead? I could certainly do with one, or two, after everything that's happened today." he asked, jokingly. She nodded, before he thanked her and walked towards the waterfall. The fog was lighter now - still heavy, but light enough to see where he was going.

    * * *​

    An hour and a half later, a refreshed yet concerned Alphonse walked through the door to Dead Man's Drink once more.[/Color]
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  18. Flint firestorm

    Flint firestorm The leading man, who else?

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    Crow could not believe it. The attacks had always been close to the town but never within the walls. As Sabrina pulled the Breton from the building Crows head went to his hands."No, no this ends now!" Crow muttered to himself. Sabrina said something to him but he wasn't listening, he was already turning and running in the direction of the small droplets of blood that led to the forest. He had to stop this now before anyone else was hurt. As Crow rushed though the trees he felt the wood elf in him take over, he was like a predator, darting left and right looking for the slightest trace or marks.
    It was difficult in the fog, but he knew he was getting closer, he knew that this was where it ended. As Crow turned around the next tree he was struck in the face and sent flying. He crashed into a tree, stunned.
    As he regained focus he looked up to see his attacker, a tall, menacing figure stood above him laughing."Ha, so this is this holds best defence. Taking this place, for my own, will be easier than I thought." Crow sprung at him at him, enraged, "No one doubts my skill!" crow shouts, drawing his rapier and striking at him in a flurry of attacks.
    Yet despite Crows speed he managed to dodge the blows with his unnatural speed. Crows enemy leaped away from him, preparing to strike back when a ray of sunlight broke through the fog. Crows attacker screamed before fleeing, right into shriekwind bastion. Crow was about to follow when he collapsed, spitting out blood. He was in no state to pursue him now. Crow turned and slowly made his way back to Falkreath, exhausted.
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  19. Ilya

    Ilya Article Writer

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    She awoke early the next morning to what sounded like faint screams riding the wind. It swept through her hair and ran throughout her body as if they were calling out to her. Shade was disliking this place more and more each day she stuck around. It intrigued her, however, and it was probably because she knew her sword would soon be sucking the life out of some unfortunate bastard! Ever the thrill seeker, she packed up her things and rushed off in the direction of the screams.

    Her light feet carried her swiftly through the woods just north of Falkreath. She couldn't hear the screams anymore; in fact, she couldn't hear much of anything at all except a few birds chirping in the distance behind her. Shade knew she was getting close so she slowed down to a cautious but quick walk. All of her senses alert and her eyes focused through the foliage.
    Well this is a sordid sight, indeed! she thought to herself as she approached what appeared to be a Nordic ruin.
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  20. The_Deadliest_Troll

    The_Deadliest_Troll Melon Lord

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    Sabrina looked up as the door to the inn creaked open, allowing the dreadful fingers of the fog to stretch across the floor for moments; only to disappear once the portal was slammed shut. A small, scraggly looking Breton stumbled in and waved at her. Returning the gesture, she raised two flagons of mead she had already ordered to keep her promise of sharing a drink with him. She waved them in the air and smiled as he sat down.

    "Feeling refreshed?" Sabrina asked him warmly, hoping not to bring up the hell they had been in merely an hour ago.

    He smiled at her and nodded, "I am, thanks." He took a moment to look around the room with his blue eyes, "Where's your wood-elf friend from before? I was sure I would see him here." The man took a large gulp from his glass then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

    "Oh, Crow is already sleeping. He's had a rough day, and he isn't much of a drinker." Sabrina avoided drinking her mead, but instead watched the Breton in front of her take another long drink of his, "I don't think I caught your name before. I'm Sabrina."

    "Alphonse," he stretched out his hand and shook hers as he raised his glass to his mouth again. The two sat in silence for some time, neither knowing what to say to the other. The hush in the air was nearly deafening. The bard had given up for the night, and everyone else had gone home; aside from the bar-maid who sat behind the counter with an empty look on her face, twirling her hair.

    Sabrina finally decided to cross the gap, "So Alphonse, what brings you to Falkreath when everyone else is running away from it?" She was only half joking. She felt like she could understand why people where running now.

    He looked at her for a moment and then his eyes turned to his feet. Sabrina knew she had asked the wrong question. "Well I was here to see Zaria, bu-"

    "So you're an alchemist then?" She interrupted, desiring to avoid making him relive those memories; knowing all too well that he would have enough trouble sleeping tonight as is. She eyed him hopefully, "Am I wrong?"

    He sat for a moment staring at her with his mouth open, not sure what to say. "No, you're right. I am an alchemist... Here," Alphonse dug inside his satchel for a moment and pulled out a small red vial, a white ribbon wrapped around it and handed it to her. "Take a sip of that if you ever get sick. You wont regret it." He smiled at her, and Sabrina was glad to have taken his mind off of the Grave Concoctions incident. "Listen, thanks for this, but I think I need to say good-night." He stood and frowned for a moment, "Long day, huh?"

    Sabrina nodded in agreement and gave him a half-smile, then watched him walk up the stairs until he was out of sight. It had been a long day indeed. Sabrina sat back in her wooden chair and stared at the ceiling as the weight of it all nearly crushed her. The fog. The blood. The uneasy feeling she got from "The Tiger's Paw." Who was killing these people, and where had Crow gone off to most of the night? Nothing was making sense, and it overwhelmed her. She nearly cried, but she held herself together. She'd never cried in front of anyone, and she wasn't about to start with this bar-maid.

    "Can I get you anything else miss? I'm about to turn in for the night." The woman had suddenly appeared beside Sabrina. Caught off guard, Sabrina just shook her head. "Alright then, goodnight." She chirped and skipped of to a side room, blowing out candles as she went.

    "I guess I better get some rest too." Sabrina grumbled at herself. She stood, grunting as she did. Her knees and back ached with the sorrow of this old town. But for now, she wanted to let the warmth of a bed consume her. She wanted to let dreams take her away from here. She knew all too well what tomorrow would bring.

    ****​
    "Crow! Are you awake?!" Sabrina kicked in the door to his room and saw his bed empty and his things missing. She didn't want to waste any more time than she already had. Nightmares filled with dark creatures beyond the mist and headless shopkeepers had kept her turning in bed longer than she intended. She sprinted down the stairs into the bar to see Crow and Alphonse sitting at a table, chatting over breakfast.​
    "Morning sunshine." Crow laughed as he took a bite out of a sweet-roll and offered her one. She took it and nearly swallowed it in one bite. "Why don't you have a seat? I was just about to tell Alphonse about the time I fought ten Orc Warlords in High Rock!"​
    Sabrina tapped the chest-plate of her armor impatiently, "I really wouldn't like to waste any more time Crow. I don't mean to be rude, but if you are done with your breakfast, can we leave?" Veins were visible on her neck and she took a deep breath to cool off.​
    The wood-elf nodded nervously and stood up as Alphonse chimed in, "Where are you two headed so early this morning anyway?" He took to a sausage on his plate with vigor.​
    "We're headed toward Shriekwind Bastion. I have a job to investigate it."​
    "Wo' Sriekwin' Batsio'?" Alphonse was trying to talk with a mouth full of sausage now, "I love those old ruins. And I haven't seen that one with my own eyes yet. Well, I might have if this fog wasn't so damn thick." He was waving his fork around like a wand.​
    "Well would you like to come with us?" Sabrina found his attitude this morning amusing. She figured it might be handy to have someone with his knowledge of potions along.​
    But he seemed hesitant. Alphonse turned his focus back to his plate, "No, I don't really think that's a good idea. But thanks for the offer." He scowled and continued shoveling meat into his mouth.​
    "I see. Well, if you change your mind, you can probably catch us before we get there." She wasn't so sure of the certainty of his answer. "Well, we better go. Crow?" At that, she turned and walked quickly out the door.​
    The two of them walked most of the way in quiet. Crow, focusing on the path and Sabrina focusing on his back so she wouldn't lose him. He had told her that it wasn't far, and she was eager. Her stomach dropped a bit however when they began up an incline and Crow mumbled something about it being very close. What if someone had already retrieved the artifact? What if there was no prize to be had?​
    Then, she remembered that she still had no idea what her goal even looked like. In a nervous fit, she reached for her bag and scrambled around inside it. She couldn't find it. She couldn't find the drawing. They'd come all this way for nothing. Sabrina didn't even know what she was looking for. But then she remember that she had hidden it in the pages of her journal to keep it safe. She felt relieved.​
    But when she looked up, she had lost Crow. Her heart skipped a beat. All of a sudden she was lost in between four walls of endless fog and the silence was killing her. She was sure she would die here. Then, she almost walked in to someone, but it wasn't Crow. It was a dark-elf woman.​
    She was standing in the fog, her eyes fixed to something in front of her. Sabrina wanted to say something to her, but instead followed her gaze to what looked like just another rock on the mountain side at first. But it wasn't a rock.​
    It was a steaming pile of bodies. Some where burnt and others were torn apart. They were all stripped of their clothes and dripping with blood and puss. Sabrina was in the alchemist's shop again. Her head was spinning. Where was Crow? Then she noticed something.​
    One of the bodies was perched upright, in a standing position, and a sign of sorts was hung around its neck. Sabrina walked forward to inspect it, disregarding the dark-elf who was now behind her. She looked closely at the sign, nearly vomiting from the smell of rotten flesh that was permeating the gauntlet she held over her nose and mouth.​
    Written in blood across a scrap of wood, it read: "This is what happens to those who try to steal MY artifact!"
    "Sabrina? What's-?" Crow had come up behind her, but was cut short when he saw the heap of corpses. Sabrina turned and looked at him, then at the elf woman who still hadn't moved. She didn't know what to do. She felt everything cave in as she looked to the entrance of the Bastion.​
    She mouthed the words, "What now?" at Crow and then everything went black and she fell on the cold ground.​
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