Private The Trials

[Drahkma]

The year is 4E 322. The war is over, Ulfric is dead, although his legacy remains, and Skyrim in Nord hands. However, in the far north, deep in the mountains, a fortress, shrouded in mystery has sprung up, rumored to be ruled by a mysterious Breton. The man is said to be wealthy beyond measure, and of a mysterious nature almost more so than his home. For reasons known only to the Count Maldred himself, he sends six invitations to warriors, nobles, and mages of great prestige and power. Each letter is stamped with the black Fleur-de-Lys of his house. However, there is something sinister about the fortress-mansion that speaks to the primal side of each and every guest as they arrive. Still, the guests, thinking that they've been given a great honour, do not even think to suspect as they arrive in the courtyard.

 

[Drahkma]

Count Maldred de Jehanna stepped down the marble staircase of his mansion fortress, his illusions in place to keep his prey from seeing the truth of his Oblivion warped body. His skin was perfect, without a single scar so much as flawing the pale white flesh. His black hair was cut in the latest fashion, stopping just short of his shoulders he had pleasant, although piercing grey eyes. He wore fine red silk tunic, with dark grey trousers, and a golden chain, mixed with small rubies hung about his neck. His hands he kept clasped behind his back, obscuring his numerous rings that he wore on almost all of his fingers.

Despite the counts' pleasant appearance, he could kill any of his 'guests' with but a word. Both his necklace and rings were powerfully enchanted, and the sinister Breton was a master of poisons, as were all those in his...employment. Entering the kitchen, he nodded to the chef, a creature that had four, black scaled arms, a snakelike head and body, along with poisoned claws, and fangs. At the moment, the serpentine Daedra was stirring a lovely smelling stew, that bubbled and smoked gently. "My dear guests will be arriving shortly, Sath'azzar, I trust they will not be waiting for their dinner?" The snake turned it's scaly neck to regard it's lord. "It ssssshall be ready, your omnipotence. I assssure you" the creature turned back to his work, adding pieces of meat that were probably best to not think about. The count, satisfied that his guests would not go hungry, he moved into the dining room taking in the servants. They were also Daedra, but the guests wouldn't know that. The women were unnaturrally beautiful and the men handsome, but both genders had powerful illusions in place to prevent non-Daedra from seeing their true form. The grand table was set, with gleaming silverware, goblets, and pitchers of wine.

Nodding his approval, Maldred moved to the main entrance hall, decorated with portraits of his fore-fathers, and glorious battles against the Daedra. 'That was when we thought we could prevail...before we realized the power the dark ones offered' the count had sworn himself to the dark powers at the age of thirty, and to prove his fealty, had murdered his parents, brothers, sisters, wife and children at their estate in High Rock. Then he'd been blessed with Daedra-hood. His true form, was a six foot tall creature, with glowing red eyes, onyx black skin, long talons, and slightly curving horns protruding from his fore head. The portal to Oblivion, hidden away in his private chambers, allowed the count to move between the plane of Oblivion and Nirn at will.

Noticing his Castellan, Alfred de Grimoire, another Daedra, only slightly less powerful then Maldred himself, stood just inside, ready to greet the guests. His illusion portrayed him as a tall, handsome older gentleman, perhaps in his early fifties. He has short grey hair, friendly blue eyes, and warm, if somewhat condescending smile. He wore dark blue silk, and black trousers, with a single gold ring. "Everything in readyness, De'shann? " the Castellan-Steward bowed, his mouth in a sinister smile.
"Everything in readiness, sir. Your guests approach" smiling back , Maldred headed back up the stairs, ready to make his entrance when the guests showed up.

 

[fellowknight]

(OOC:Where is the list of participants,and btw i upgraded my CC,i only added a pic though, Info - Character Profiles | Page 31 | Skyrim Forums )

 

[Drahkma]

(OOC:Where is the list of participants,and btw i upgraded my CC,i only added a pic though, Info - Character Profiles | Page 31 | Skyrim Forums )

(They're on the first page of the OOC.)

 

[TheShadedOne]

Shadari growled to herself as she stumbled out of the carriage, unaccustomed to the long dress around her furred ankles. True, she wore her form fitting dark grey leather armour underneath the dress, but the cloth stopped her from stepping at her usual pace, and therefore had her stumbling like a fool. Her dark grey fur already had snow gathering in it, but she was still warm, for now. 'I feel like an idiot' she thought to herself, looking down at her clothing. Only the tips of her boots protruded from the hem of the dress.

At least the pay was good. Her employer, Salthar Vivarian had bought her services with a down payment of twenty thousand septims, and had promised another twenty thousand when the job was done.The job was simple, be the vampires' bodyguard for the night, pretend not to be, and if the Altmer didn't like the look of this 'count' then Shadari was to take him down. Simple enough, and the payout was more than acceptable. Still, it required she leave her beloved falchion at home, and wear a ridiculous dress. Sighing, she patted her sides, ensuring that the elven daggers were still concealed there, and waited for her 'date' to so himself.

 

[Madrar]

Madrar left the carriage he'd traveled in, stepping out into the cold winds and lightly falling snow. He took in the magnificent building, that seemed to be a merge of both castle and mansion, that stood out like a great mountain among hills. Idly, the vampire wondered how long it had taken the count to construct the thing. Surely paying for the labor alone had cost a fortune. The vampire wasn't wearing his usual dark Thalmor robes, instead sporting a black tunic with gold and red trimmings and designs. He'd had his finest boots polished, and wore a pair of black pants. His right ting finger bore a gold-ruby ring, that remained warm even in the cold Skyrim air. His cold, red-gold eyes took in any potential threats as he approached his 'protection' for the evening.

A Khajiit woman wearing a splendid red dress, and looking remarkably uncomfortable in it. Deciding to put her at ease, he approached, coming to a stop directly beside her. "My dear woman. You look ravishing." nodding to the castle-mansions front doors, and offering his arm, he inquired "Shall we?" Unlike the Khajiit assassins unarmed appearance, Salthar wore his ebony sword on his left hip, although he hardly neeeded the weapon to kill. He'd...corrected the misinterpretations of fools that thought a vampire needed a blade to be lethal. However, the Altmer vampire hoped it wouldn't come down to killing. He was planning on a pleasant evening, and then departing either the next morning, or sometime during the night.

 

[Aerin]

Alara kicked at the steed beneath her, her hands gripping the reigns tightly as the beast picked up speed. Finally the mansion was in sight after days travelling. She was certain she looked a mess, resolving to assess the grime of travelling before entering the luxurious abode. Before long she heard the crunch of stone under the horses hooves and she pulled back, the horse obediently slowing to a halt. Atop her moutn Alara's cold eyes surveyed what awaited her. She spotted a khajit in what appareaed to be a fine red dress, beside her an Altmer who appraised the building with keen eyes.

Swinging her leg from the stirrup Alara landed gracefully, taking a moment to check her appearance in the reflection of one of her daggers. Her face was clean, and her hair, though windswept was acceptable. Sheathing the blade she straightened the cloak that hung over her shoulders, not bothering to cover the black leather armour beneath. She was a killer, one which liked to be prepared for any event, and that meant dressing for the occasion. Pulling the invitation from the pack strapped to the horses saddle she read over the fine writing once more, still intrigued as to why she had received such a letter. Sending the horse over to the house stables she hitched her pack over her shoulder and made her way to the entryway with long, bold strides. She was confident, and though she was still wary of what lay behind the ornate doors, she was certain her abilities would see her through.

 

[Bropo]

Doh'Sir Had awoken early from his bed inside the bannered mare tavern inside Whiterun. The night before he had played the role of merchant, selling the potions he crafted from gathering during his weeks long hunt and keeping his various poisons. He had also stumbled across more than a couple of Iron veins throughout his earlier adventure and made 5 Iron daggers. He had also thought up a holster he had imagined while smithing.

This particular holster had 5 slots, no doubt for the daggers he hade crafted earlier, as well as a sort of tube like entrance through the side that would rest on the front side of his shoulder. This was where he would put his poison of choice, and the way he had made it, was so the liquid could only pass after one blade so the blade chamber it was currently in soaked in the poison absorbing most of it leaving little residue, not enough to hurt a mouse, when that blade was removed the next chamber opened and so on. At the end of his ingenious mechanism, He was going to sew an almost star like pattern to close the hole that allowed the poisons to flow through it, this closing was to be sewn in a way that it could be opened by an object like a quill for easy cleaning and release the poisons. It was also sturdy enough that he would not have to worry about the liquids spilling out while running or doing anything labor intensive.

The next day he began work on his design. He planned to use these daggers as throwing knives, simply because they were Iron daggers and it would be foolish to run at an enemy with such a feeble weapon. Of course he had to give some credit to the two blacksmiths in that town because they were the ones who had helped him with the initial design and planning as well as aided him during the crafting of his new accessory

With most of his leather now gone and used up, he decided to craft a much more comfortable grasp for his bow and gifted what little scraps he had left to the blacksmiths who had helped him earlier, no sense in it weighing him down for whatever journey was next. He was very surprised at how long he had been in this town, and was worried at what attention he might be drawing. He had been there since late last night and it was now just a little after noon. Although he felt very accomplished, he had crafted a few health potions, some variety of poisons, new armor, a new accessory, a now much more appealing bow, and also gained a tidy little profit from selling his not-so-useful potions to the local alchemist.

He went back to the tavern for a meal and to collect his things when a man had said his name, he was quite astonished as anyone recognizing him was likely bad news. He quickly turned to meet his inquirer and noticed that it was a very well dressed man. The man handed Doh'Sir a letter and waited for him to read it. Doh'Sir took special notice to the flower-like symbol on the front and studied it for a few seconds, he knew that the empire used no such symbol, at least not to his understanding. He quickly scanned through the letter and looked back at the man inquisitively. The courier said " I can take you there now if you wish" Doh'Sir gave him a gesture to wait, and went back to the room he had stayed in before and gathered his belongings and armor as well as his dagger, he already had his bow and holster from earlier.

Walking back towards the man, Doh 'Sir told him eagerly that he was ready and the man told him to shut his eyes and take his hands. Doh'Sir was unsure of his intentions but buckled down and obeyed the man. After a few seconds the man released his hands and told him to open his eyes. To his surprise Doh'Sir was no longer in the tavern or even inside, he heard horses behind him and turned around to see a carriage as well as a Khajiit woman and a High Elf. He walked over to them to inquire where they were and gather his bearings.

(If I'm not on after about 5-6 P.M. go ahead and do the dialogue for my character, or even walk him towards the building)

 

[GuardianCren1812]

The Northern wilds of Skyrim were never known to be forgiving. Blizzards and storms were often, and one bold enough to combat the weather would be beset by beasts such as bears, wolves..and worse.

In the heart of the wild tundra, a massive figure dragged himself through the snow, using his equally large axe to pull through like a walking stick. He felt the need to take a scenic route, the wilds always keeping him on his toes, which he would need today.

Crengar had received an invite from a strange breton Nobleman. The fact the Nord was invited to something by anything but his own kind was astonishing. Crengar had little problem with the other races of Tamriel, but considering how less popular Nords were becoming thanks to the Stormcloaks' prejudice influence it probably didn't matter much. Still, he was invited, and felt by his honor that he should at least answer it.

He wasn't well dressed, mostly in rough furs and hides instead of his regular armor, considering this wasn't a battlefield but a friendly gathering. At least, he hoped it was friendly. Besides, he was no noble, merely a warrior of great prestige in Skyrim.

He climbed steeply up the mountain where the great fortress mansion stood in it's awe-inspiring glory. Though the "fortress" part made Crengar on edge, studying it closely. He settled down when other guests arrived in carriages and horses, the carriage driving a Khajiit woman in a red dress and a pale elf in mostly black clothing. He stepped forth to greet them when an Argonian appeared from nowhere with a rather familiar Courier. Now he understood what his Courier meant when he asked if he could take him here. Part of Crengar was glad he declined the offer...

 

[Drahkma]

The count smiled to himself as he sensed the guests arrive. All five of them. Motioning to his 'butler', he nodded for him to open the doors and welcome the guests inside. Alfred opened the doors, giving the five people outside his best smile. "Please, won't you come in? The master awaits you within" then he stood back, making way for the first of the guests who might enter.