Enthuz22
Member
ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ: ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
We leave it to great heroes to push back the great hostilities of the world, from Skeevers to Dragons, and when the hero is gone, we remember them only for what they have done, and then in eras, we forget all but their names. At one of the highest points in history and legend, the last Dragonborn rises to put an end to the commanding Alduin, who the old Nords distinguished as a god. When the Dragonborn disappears, fleeing into Sovngarde to fight Alduin, neither champion returns. The Forsworn fought for their old gods, and they recognize now that one of the oldest and the one most likely to return is Alduin, bane of kings, who is the prophet to creating a new world where the true gods are served. The infamous Dragon Priests are roused; the Draugr, their servants, follow and join key forced with these traitors of Tamriel.
The Greybeards fall silent. A new war is begun, causing the civil war to stumble. It is time for the people of Tamriel to reunite and save their realm before Alduin's fury causes all to crumble beneath our very feet. It is time for us to not forgive, and to certainly not forget. It is time for the people to fight.
Many will die. Those that do not will gather in forces all throughout Tamriel and, hopefully, other nations as well will hear of this monstrosity and come to Skyrim's aid to fight against the Old King. The Blades mistrust Paarthurnax to a blade's wicked edge, and they mistrust even more so the Greybeards and their ways; as the Greybeards also fear the hastiness and 'honor' of the Blades. Tamriel doesn't know much of this, but those that have learnt the lore of it would be shocked this year of 4E 202.
The Blades and Greybeards reunite, hoping above all other hopes that the menace of the war led by the Old King will be defeated by the groups beginning to form all over the lands of Tamriel as Sons and Daughter of the Storm. We must learn to coexist is we are to keep this world intact. The Dragonborn may have had the power of a thousand voices, but a thousand voices may yet have the power of the Dragonborn.
A gathering club titled the Stormkin – a reference to the Sons and Daughters of the Storm – agree to find the magic in the land of Skyrim and themselves to travel to Solsteim with the blessings of the Greybeards upon their name and blood of the dragons and other Enemies upon their blades. They look for the Dragonborn, to put a final end to Alduin's menace – the War of the Old Kingdom, as the Forsworn claim it to be, the famed legendary future war-to-end-all-wars – once and for all. The first kingdom was no land at all, and there was no peace. Is it possible for the Aedra's creation to decay under the shadow of the wings of Alduin? Even the Daedra have fallen silent. Nirn's survival lies on the edge of a blade, and all battle to control it's fate.
Please note that it doesn't matter which side you're on in-roleplay - both are important and both will be equally represented in any case. Just because you're from, for example, an SDS-allied faction doesn't mean that you must, yourself, be an SDS ally ... you would be known as a traitor or otherwise an ally to the "other team". I recommend considering this. Thank you.
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For reference, here are the factions, mastered into two massive groups that make war upon each other in this War of the Old Kingdom. This will be updated if anything changes, and if it does I will also let you guys know in future posts:
Those that are allied with Alduin, the Old King, consist of:
Forsworn
Coven of Namira – [Namira has not spoken to them.]
Glenmoril Witches
Dragons
Dragon Priests
Draugr types
Falmer
Those that are allied with the Sons and Daughters of the Storm consist of:
Companions
College of Winterhold
Thieves Guild – [only by notice of a letter to Jarl Maven and Jarl Balgruuf by a masked figure; they have shown their faces as of late.]
Dark Brotherhood – [only by notice of a letter to Jarl Balgruuf, discovered in his room in the early hours; they have not yet shown their faces, although they soon will.]
Imperial Legion
Stormcloaks
Bards College
Dawnguard
Blades
Greybeards
Penitus Oculatus – [as you can imagine, the Blades are terribly unhappy about this.]
Synod – [although they're still not happy at all to fight alongside the College of Winterhold.]
Thalmor – [still widely distrusted.]
Vigil of Stendarr – [those that remain will fight.]
Those that are neutral, are unspoken-for, or no longer are considered a faction consist of:
Volkihar Vampire Clan – [although it is likely that they have joined forced with the Old King's force.]
Blackblood Marauders – [most likely disbanded or otherwise hostile to both sides.]
Blood Horkers – [most likely disbanded or otherwise hostile to both sides.]
Psijic Order – [they have not been heard of in eras, although they may rise and join the SDS.]
Silver Hand – [hostile to both sides.]
Summerset Shadows – [have not send any letters of note or been discovered since the War began, although it is likely that they will side with the SDS if need be but would continue to thieve.]
Giant – [for nobody knows how to converse with them, although they may be seen fighting dragons and being generally neutral to others unless attacked.]
General animals of the wildlife, which are hostile to all; neutral creatures remain neutral.
Dremora and Daedra – [may be decided later in-roleplay.]
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ɪɴ─ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ: ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ
A scroll is posted next to the entrance of every city and at every sign unless torn down:
'The Stormkin want only the strongest, the keenest, the wisest, and the most stable of hearts. If you think you have what it takes to be a Champion of Tamriel, travel to High Hrothgar and ask for words with Gwendoline Leilas. May Kynareth's winds bless your path!'
Gwendoline stared at one of these posters herself, huddled in front of a frosted window inside of High Hrothgar, head lowered. She heard footsteps behind her. The Breton battlemage rose to her feet and turned towards Arngeir. She met his eyes, and spoke nothing. A silent agreement had passed, one that they both knew and regretted to comprehend. War was upon them, and neither were ready for battle. Her thoughts turned towards what stood at the Crown of the World.
“Delphine believes that Paarthurnax will turn on us.”
Arngeir shifted in posture, eyes hardening. “And do you believe her, Master Leilas?”
Gwendoline considered his question. “I believe that it is time to stop believing and start doing, Master Arngeir. Tell me if any new faces enter the main hall, will you?”
She was unsure if he had nodded. Argeir turned and began to float down the stairs away from Gwendoline Leilas. “Master Arngeir?” The grey-cloaked man paused. “Do you believe her?”
He did not reply instantly. Finally, he whispered rawly, “No. Her mind is clouded with unjust anger, and she is too hasty to take action on it.”
“We must be allies in this, Arngeir. I urge you both to lock away your hostilities. We cannot afford to break from the inside. Not when we are at war.” Gwendoline heard him sigh, as the whisperer was wont to do.
“You ask for peace where there is none.”
“There was peace once. Then there was hastiness, and then there was an empty and hollow place. There was once words spoken here, Arngeir, I can feel it in the stone.” She reached out a hand to touch the nearby wall.
“When the Dragonborn was here, many words were spoken.”
“And words must be spoken here again. It is time not only the Blades but the Greybeards, too, are enlightened, Arngeir. You lot speak nigh on nothing, now, and beforehand you turned your heads and voices from us. Once you were men; then you were still winds; and now you are stale air.”
“Words spoken in the Tongue are not for mortal ears to behold. Akatosh's prized falls, and we must fall into silence again.”
“To grieve?” Gwendoline walked right up to behind Arngeir, warily keeping her hands to herself. “People do not let good plants wither and die when a sapling fails to grow, Master Arngeir. If you do not, so to say, water your plants of power that for years you went out of your way to care for...” She lowered her voice. “Then I will.”
Suddenly, Arngeir wheeled around to face her; they were face-to-face. “You have no power over us-”
“AND YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER YOURSELVES!” she yelled, face scrunching in anger. After a second, the wrinkles smoothed and her pale grey eyes glimmered with fear.
Arngeir looked beside himself with anger, but he held it in. “You have been hasty, and in your hastiness you dare blame this on us.”
“Pardon me, Master, but men in and of themselves have more power over their actions than you lot do. You call me hasty; I call you too fearful to hear your own voices heard.” She had been studying the language of the Dovah, and although she struggled to speak it, much less remember it, it was near impossible to translate it other than working out letter for letter. She strained her mind to remember something she had been putting together to show Arngeir her determination, that she would go to vast extents to reveal her persistence as self-proclaimed head of the Stormkin.
“Zu'u fen ni dir koraav Su'um kos nahlot ahrk faal Strunkin dir ahrk faal suleyksejun funt.” She stumbled many times, but kept her eyes on Arngeir, watching as his eyes narrowed, squinted, and then slowly widened. “And before Nirn falls beneath the footsteps of the Old King. Heed what I have learned, Arngeir. It was a royal pain in the arse. I will not let this plan fail.”
She brushed past him and into the main hall. She passed one of the Greybeards along the way; Gwendoline could feel him watching her, never hostile or friendly or creepy. Just watching. Always watchful. “I really hope I didn't just embarrass myself.” She sat down cross-legged near the back of the main entrance hall, waiting for the door to open. Wondering if it ever would. Time, like this war, was not terribly on their side. Nothing could be permantly won without the Dovahkiin.
“Zu'u fen … zu'u fen ..." Translating to 'I will … I will …'
Won't I?
