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    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
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    Shew

    Account closed (at sincere request).
    Welcome to Markarth.


    The tavern is open for new meetings.


    This area should be treated as a neutral and free-form story area. Mainly for when you need more characters, or are trying to start a RP Story, need to drop some characters off for a side story...

    For a example see here: Open - [Skyrim Freeform RP] The Bannered Mare - Beginning | Skyrim Forums

    Add a character card here: Open - [Skyrim Freeform RP] Post your character card | Skyrim Forums

    Read a convienient guide here: Info - [Skyrim Freeform RP] A Comprehensive Guide to Free Form Role Play, for Beginners. | Skyrim Forums

    A handy F.A.Q. here: Info - Role Play F.A.Q. | Skyrim Forums

    And the public rules for neutral common areas of the rp section. here:Info - Rules & rules discussion for: *Public RP Areas* | Skyrim Forums


    I recommend patience we are a 24 hour, 24 times zones kind of forum. The people watching and willing my have different schedules. And enjoy, your character.
     

    WerewolfofSkyrim

    Night Mother's Beloved
    Will we be able to roleplay here?It is in the roleplay area,after all.
     

    Shew

    Account closed (at sincere request).
    Yes treat it like the Bannered Mare thread feel free to freeform here and mix together here.
     

    WerewolfofSkyrim

    Night Mother's Beloved
    Thank you.for telling me.
     

    Salamander

    Member
    He pushes the door ajar just alittle, the handle of his ebony axe slightly scraping the door as he slides through the gap and keeps his mages hood up, shutting the door and walking over to the fire, sitting at a chair there, listening to the bard sing the 'Age of Oppresion'
     

    The Hungry Orc

    Master of the Pyre
    Borsen felt as if his senses were slowly being impaired. Of course, he knew the cause of this, as he had been drinking a considerably large mix of wine and mead to take his mind off the matter at hand: his prized silver necklace had apparently been stolen by bandits, which was one of many family heirlooms: the necklace was originally passed down on another side of the family which would be Borsen's cousins, yet somehow the necklace worked its way over to his side of the tree. He got up off of the stool he was sitting on and managed to stumble over to a cushioned seat where he could drink in peace.
     

    Zhouyufei

    Holder of Arrows
    Paenir walked into the Silver-Blood Inn, planning to stay for a week or two in Markath as a nice break from killing innocent civilians and running from mountain bears. With her new outfit firmly worn, though in a bit of an uncouth manner, she entered the booming inn with an air of innocence. No one would suspect any secrets from the aura that she exuded, though the tell-tale pointed ears of her race would inevitably cause suspicion to rise in the comfortable establishment. Her Bosmer blood might give her trouble in a city of Nords, though

    Plastering a kind smile - slightly diminished by the almost malicious glint of steel in her eyes - she headed to the counter that lay to the side of the cozy inn. Taking a seat upon one of the wooden stools lined up by the counter, she faced the innkeeper, a Nord who looked to be kind enough.

    "I'd like to rent a room for two weeks; preferably the room closest to the door if it's available. I'm willing to pay in advance, instead of for each individual day," Paenir told the man, a sweet smile upon her tanned face.

    "That'll be 140 septims. If you'd like, I'll show you to your room," the man, named Kleppr, as she'd learned from the woman who'd insulted the man just seconds ago. Paenir declined, and paid the allotted amount and a few septims extra. After that, she ordered a goblet of ale, an apple, and some tomato soup. Though it wasn't a grand meal, it would last her the day good enough. After all, it was best to start simple. Paenir planned on training and increasing her crafting skills in Markath, as well as earning a fair bit of coin for her pockets.

    Even though the inn didn't seem to be completely filled just yet, there were only a few seats available. After finishing off her meal, Paenir quickly called for another bottle of ale to sooth her mind. Spotting a cushioned chair at a table for two, she walked over to it, having taken note of the man that sat in the chair corresponding the one she planned to occupy.

    "What worries your mind? A tale for the weary, or a broken heart?" she playfully asked, raising a finely arched brow before taking a swig from the already draining bottle in her hand. Paenir found that people drowning their sorrows in alcohol were usually the best company. Plus, if anything went wrong, she could always have fun in the brawl that would usually follow.
     

    The Hungry Orc

    Master of the Pyre
    His impaired senses slowly diminishing, Borsen took swift note of the woman that sat in front of him. It took the warrior a second to process the question she had just asked him, and then realized it was a joke. He put his best smile on, expecting her to think of him as one of those old drunkards passing the time by drinking. "I'll have to say neither, friend," he said as he put down the bottle of wine he had picked up, but then decided against drinking out of it and put it back down. "I'm too old to have fantasies of romance, or to tell tales of adventure and explorations." He looked around the inn, and only a handful of citizens sat around at the tables, but he expected more to be up in the rooms, sleeping.

    "An event that does sadden me, though, is the theft of my family's silver amulet. Some riffraff they call a bandit no doubt made off with it while I was sleeping just two days ago." Borsen thought back to the day he found out the necklace was stolen, and how the local guards reacted to the urgency of the situation. "Just more ramblings of an old man," one of the guards muttered to his comrade, thinking that I was out of earshot. "It seems that no one hardly cares to take me seriously enough." He remembered what the woman probably thought of him as, and decided to clear that matter up firsthand.

    "You may be thinking I'm one of those lowly drunkards who spends all their time gulping down mead to erase their sadness, but I'm not. In fact, I hate most kinds of mead." He held up the empty bottle that was on the table. Awkwardly, Borsen forgot the name of the specific mead, so he took a split-second to study the label. "...Black-Briar. That is the ONLY kind that seems satisfying to me." A young man, a warrior the same as him yet considerably younger, looked over from the table he was sitting with a disapproving look, shook his head, then turned back to his table. "Now you see why I don't talk about it that openly, hahaha."
     

    Zhouyufei

    Holder of Arrows
    Arching her brow, Paenir looked the figure over. He appeared to be more sober than before, an event in which she couldn't figure out was good or bad. Scanning this man's appearance, the Wood Elf scoffed, her tone solid, but a twinkle in her eyes.

    "To be honest, you're in better condition than most of this age, and possibly surpass those of maybe only twenty-five years. Though, a strong heart could possibly put you through a lot of challenges in Skyrim, I've been told," she told him, leaning in with the last words as if she was sharing with him a conspiracy of sorts.

    "Family amulet, you say? I'd be willing to hunt for it, if you've got the coin," Paenir suggested with a light laugh. She probably could find it, given some time, if the bandit wasn't dead already. There were maps of bandit camp locations littered across almost every general store - you just had to know what to ask to get them. Glancing at the bottle of mead, a slight grimace flitted across her face before once again settling into a pleasant grin.

    "To be honest, I don't favor Black-Briar that much. I tell you, there's something fishy about Maven Black-Briar, and the sad thing's that people know that, too. They're just too scared to say anything about it. A few more years here, and I'll probably be like them," the Bosmer remarked, with a slight mumble to her statement as she neared the end of it. After venturing into the meadery in Riften, Paenir had never quite right after the encounter with the barkeep. She favored the classic Nord mead anyways, despite what others said about it. After all, a sweet tooth wasn't something to be ashamed of.
     

    Gemini Sierra

    Pre-emptive Salvage Specialist
    [Markarth Stables]
    The carriage rolled into the entrance way outside the gates of Markarth pulling up in front of the steps. The lone figure stepped down from the carriage and walked to the driver handing him some coins. He was dressed in a dark leather jacket with a hood attached, a bandolier of small pouches running across his chest, a dagger strapped to his belt along with a small pouch. He wore gloves that had open palms, guantleted bracers were strapped to his forearm and upper arm and shoulder guards were laced across his shoulders. A large satchel hung across his chest running opposite the bandolier and his hood was pulled low over his eyes. He wore matching leather pants with knee and shin guards over tall leather boots that were laced up the sides.
    The lone figure was a little taller than average, but not quite six foot. He looked like he was broad in the shoulder but that could be an illusion caused by the thick but suple leathers in the armor.
    As he approached the gate, the guards blocked his path, "We don't want any trouble mister, we have enough with the Foresworn in these parts. Declare your intentions in the city!"
    "Oh for the love of Akatosh, don't you 'ave anyt'ing better ta do than 'arass a weary travel? I've 'ad a long day on that ricketty bucket of a carriage and jus' wantted a place to sleep and a drink." He brushed up against the guard as if to pass but then stopped as a dagger, the guards dagger fell to the ground. "OH, Pardon me, I'm sorry, my legs are still stiff from the ride... Oh hey, is that your dagger on the ground t'ere?" He said pointing and as the guards turned to look for it he nimbly stepped passed them and through the gates. Closing them and stepping into the shadows.
    After a moment in the shadows, he briskly stepped over to the Silverblood Inn and stepped through the door. He stepped through the door so quickly and quietly that the Innkeeper standing at the counter directly across from the door didn't even notice the stranger standing there until he spoke up. "Innkeeper, I'd like a room for the night and a meal."
    The Innkeeper jumped from his wiping down the counter and looked up with startled eyes. "By the gawds man, don't sneak up on me like that, you want to give me a heart attack!"
    "My apologies sir, I didna mean ta scare ya. About that room though?"
    "Right, that'll be 10 septims for the room and another for the meal, unless you want something fancy."
    "Nope, just your house special."
    "Fine," taking the offered coins, "end of that hall there is your room," he pointed down the long hall. "You want the meal there or will you be sociable and sit out here?"
    Looking around the Inn, he spotted a Bosmer and another fellow, a warrior, by the looks, although he wasn't sure of the race just yet. He spotted the fireplace and the slightly shadowed corner next to it with a table and a chair. "If'n you don' mind, I'll take t'at table in the corner by the fireplace." Without waiting he made his way over to the table, bumping the young man, a warrior hopeful no doubt, and lifting his coin purse as he did so. "So sorry young master, I just got off the carriage from a long days ride. My legs are still stiff." He dropped a couple of coin from the purse on the table. "For my inconsideration of disturbing you." He then turned before the lad could say anything and sat down at the table with his back against the wall so he could watch the tavern.
     

    Shew

    Account closed (at sincere request).
    Qa'Cleddau saunters into the bar. It was a long scouting mission, locating and sizing up the resistance of Forsworn near the old Blades Temple... Looks Klepper up and down as Klepper does the same to him. Dressed in oily grey leathers, an Akaverian katana on one hip, and a short tanto dagger on the other. Qa'Cleddau thinks to himself as he looks around "One of these will be my contact for the blades." then "Klepper?, Anyone ask for Cleddau, since Cleddau has been gone." approaches the bar "None have asked for you or any khajiit, What can I serve you?" then under his breath "Filthy cats, always bring trouble. Even that fancy one the other day." Claddau responds "Oh Cleddau wants his usual, and a room. The food and drink Cleddau will take over here." and goes to the chair closest to the fire. This northern area of Tamriel called Skyrim was a cold place to the warm loving khajiit.
     

    Shew

    Account closed (at sincere request).
    occ: means out of character, and anything not related to story should be posted in a occ. As the stories have started its just polite. Also Stormcloak007 your font the dark blue is a touch too dark to read. At least for those using the default colors.
     

    Shew

    Account closed (at sincere request).
    (Silverblood Inn : Markarth)

    As Cleddau is enjoying his food and drink finally warming-up thanks to the fireplace, a non-discript man enters looks around and makes a beeline for Cleddau's table. Seats himself and below the table top signs to Cleddau in blades script..

    "Master I have sealed orders for you" Cleddau signs back "Leave them and go" the blades courier leaves and in his seat is a sealed parchment.

    Cleddau finishes his meal, sits back and prepares a pipe. makes a scene of dropping his pouch and picks it and the parchment up so noone is the wiser. And as if by cue Klepper calls out "That if the khajiit wants to smoke he will have to go outside" standing and making a show of his disgust, Cleddau heads outside. Lights his pipe in the door way shielding his eyes and using night eye wanders the streets as he unseals the parchment satisfied he is not followed he opens the letter and reads.

    You are to head to Falkreath, the Deadman's Drink with all due haste and meet with a rumored agent of the Dragonguard. Find out his mission he has been sending the following note to all holds,
    "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"
    infiltrate and assist or if the danger is too high sabotage the mission. There is a dead letter drop in a small overgrown cairn north and west of the village back toward Riverwood. Your first report is in two days.
    E.
    Til the day of the Dragonborn...
    Blades always.

    now on the same level as the abandoned temple of Talos, Cleddau summons a flame and destroys the letter. Then as he winds his way back to the tavern, he looks over the walls to make sure a carriage is near the stables. Thinks to himself..."Good thing I never unpacked, bet Klepper keeps the money for the room."sigh "The odds against are at least 99-1. And still no payment. Great another oversight. Hope I have enough for the ride." as he reenters and walks to the counter "Tiger'sPaw.... has the advance landed? Or could it be my relief? Or is it something else? Well get yourself to Falkreath and find out Cleddau."

    "Well cat what do you want?

    Cleddau thinks very seriously about taking his sword and scaring this disrespectful man. "Sir Klepper, Cleddau has no need for your room, and Cleddau respectfully asks for a return." He bares his teeth in a semblence of a grin and his paw goes and fingers the top of his hilt.

    Klepper while watching Cleddau's face and glancing nervously at his paws counts out 10 septims then as Cleddau pockets them and turns to leave states "Sleep your mangy carcass in the streets for all I care."

    Cleddau continues into the night and a date with a far off hold. Thinking "Someday Klepper someone is gonna teach you manners."
     

    Gemini Sierra

    Pre-emptive Salvage Specialist
    Hey all!
    Use this thread to start your RP's if you want to base out of Markarth.
    Use it like the Bannered Mare thread stickied at the top.
    Have fun RP'ng
     
    He opens the door,behind black leather armor and a cowl...he has a backpack with him as well.He sits down on a chair in the corner drinking some mead,a man comes up to me with a drunkish face..."Damn IMPERIALS! Stormcloaks! FOREVER! the drunk breton hicups I didn't get offended because I'm a imperial,I didn't care about the war anyway "Watch your tounge drunk breton" I replied "AH,WE GOT OURSELVES A HERO! COME AT ME! A GOOD OL' bar BRAWL!" "Wrong choice of words,breton" I punched him in the face,grabbed his arm and flipped him over,his back landed on the table hence making the table break,I picked him up and broke his nose and then spilled a load of mead all over his face then kicked him out the inn
     

    Gemini Sierra

    Pre-emptive Salvage Specialist
    Tristane Copperhart, Breton, Battlemage turned espionage agent, sat in the shadowy corner of the Inn sipping his mead and watching the people come and go. There was a Khajiit that came in and looked like he was about to enjoy a quiet evening when some courier came in presented a letter to him and left. After reading it the Khajiit had left as well.
    Then in came an Imperial, dressed in black leather armor and matching cowl, carrying a backpack. He took a chair and ordered a mead. He was mid drink when a drunken customer came over and tried to insult him. The Imperial apparently didn't get offended when he was cursed at, but took quite an offense to the drunkard when he yelled out about a bar brawl. At which point, the Imperial flipped the drunkard over a table and soundly beat him before marching him out the front door.
    Tristane ignored the rest as he started listening to other rumors and idle chat from the tavern hoping to pick up on some tidbit of useful information.
     
    He hoped no one saw that...and hopefully no one would ask how he got those brawling skills.He asked the inn keeper for a room to sleep in and then locked himself in there reading the letter he was given by the dark brotherhood...that was written in blood "Kill the so called woman Senna and she'll learn what the true beauty in life is...death...we will pay handsomely if you do,Drake...and you don't have to join...we just want her dead...and her life in the void" he was contracted by the dark brotherhood several times,this was his chance to join...but he didn't have to...he asked the inn keeper where the temple Dibella was "You...YOU want to go to the temple of dibella? by talos...are you the son of Haelga? how much fathers do you have?" replied the inn-keeper "Its just that way" he pointed outside where it was,I thanked him,I looked at the breton that entered before I beated up the drunken man...he looked like a battle mage,I sat next to him reading a book,Immortal Blood
     

    Levi Barenjager

    The Drunken Battlemage
    Levi cracked open the door to his room, just slightly, and surveyed the rest of the inn. A man in black leather armor appeared to be just finishing up with Quent, the old Breton drunk who'd been ruining himself on cheap ale every night since Levi had taken a room, nearly three days ago now. He hated seeing such a one-sided fight, but one must assume Quent had it coming considering the things he liked to say after a couple of pints. More importantly, it was the distraction he needed.

    As the man in black walked away from a smashed table and bloodied Breton toward the innkeeper, Levi opened the door a few inches farther. It was just enough to let a much smaller barmaid slip under his arm and through the opening, her shoes still in hand. He shut the door again, taking a deep breath, and then a swig of mead. He couldn't remember how many weeks it had been since the Forsworn had taken Aleksia, his only love, from him, but since then it had been a blur of hard drinks and strange women, culminating in this most recent act of debauchery. "Some comfort this is..." he thought to himself, taking another pull from the bottle still in his hand. "If I had parents, I bet they'd be proud."

    On the bedside table sat a map, old and tattered from having been carried for decades. In the upper-right corner of it was an "X" marking the city of Winterhold. On the opposite side, mere inches away in his hand yet an impassable distance in his head, was Markarth, where he stood. He hadn't looked at it since Aleksia had died. Next to the table was his bag. It, like himself, had not left the city since "The Incident".

    Levi wiped the mead from his chin, slipped his dagger into the breast of his robes, picked up his few belongings, and reached for his door.

    "I can't stay here anymore"

    Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd told himself that.

    Character Card
     

    The_Madgod

    LordLlamahat
    M'Ratka walks inside and surveys the area. He orders a couple of skooma and drinks them quite quickly. He announces that he will do any mission for dirt cheap, as he is just looking for the thrill. He orders another couple of skooma and rents a room indefinetly.

    [Skyrim Freeform RP] Post your character card[/URL] <--Character Card
     

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