• Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
  • Hey there, and welcome to our roleplaying section. Please take some time to read two of these useful resources below, if you're already a roleplaying expert, then there's no need to read the following beginner's guide, but be sure to read the rules.

    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
    JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    The civil war in Skyrim is over, the dragons are gone, and the Dragonborn has gone into seclusion, though nobody really knows where. However, this has very little do to with our story. In the realm of High Rock, a noble lord, of low standing but high wealth, has put out a summons to able bodied adventurers. They are to travel, by land or sea, to the city of Northpoint. From there, they are to make their way to an abandoned castle, a ruin, really, and retreive an ancient artifact and family heirloom. However, not everything is as it seems, and the adventurers may soon see themselves beset by threats from within the ruins....and without.
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Sea spray, blown by a chill wind splashed into Cassius Brantius' face as the merchant ship made its' way towards the harbour of the breton city of Northpoint. He wiped the droplets of water away and noticed that he was no longer alone at the railing. The merchant captain, a bearded nord, with a heavy brow and pockmarked cheeks, nodded towards the harbour. "There it is. Northpoint." He glanced over at Cassius, "you haven't said why you want to be here so badly, friend." The imperial worked to keep from sighing in exasperation. He was doing nothing illegal, and High Rock was part of the Empire.

    "I paid you a lot of coin for passage to Northpoint, captain. And to mind your own business."

    The captain held his hands out placatingly. "Alright, alright. No need to get testy" he said gruffly, "it's just...not many imperials get out this way, and usually not by ship."

    The former legionarry shrugged "it beat walking. Or wagon."

    "Aye, sure enough. Heard about a lot of bandit activity in the wilds around here. Roads are getting unsafe." The captain explained, watching Cassius out of the corner of his eye. When the imperial didn't react in any outside way to the news, he shrugged. "Whatever your reason, the crew and I thank you for the drinks your coins' bought us. And good travels to you."

    Cassius was only half listening. His attention had fastened on a ship that was already docked, not too far from the merchant vessel he was currently on. Black sails rippled in the breeze, and a flag with some sigil that Cassius did not recognize flew from the main mast. He pointed; "what ship is that?"

    "Eh?" The captain followed his finger to the black sailed ship, and scowled. "Can't say I know. Doesn't look like a merchant vessel." He scratched at his beard, "at least, none that I've ever seen." They were close enough now that figures on the ship could be seen, moving about the deck or standing at the quarter deck. The overcast sky threatened rain, or perhaps snow, Cassius amended as another blast of frigid ocean air hit him.

    As the ship he stood on came alongside, Cassius looked across to the mysterious vessel. The captain of the other vessel didn't so much as glance at them. Yet...something was strange about the man. He was pale, the flesh around his mouth an almost bluish tint. Cassius shook his head, dismissing the appearance as the poor light. Even in the middle of the day, the clouds above were dark grey, almost black.

    The merchant captain turned away from the rail and started shouting orders, preparing to dock and start offloading cargo. That was when the unbelievable happened. Smoke, faint at first, but steadily growing in volume, began to billow from the hold of the black sailed ship. Shouts, from the dock workers of Northpoint and from crews of other ships, rang out. Cassius watched, wide eyed, as flames started to climb up from below decks.

    "Drop anchor!" The merchant man bellowed, "if that fire spreads..." he never finished the sentence, as the fire roared ravenously, beginning to climb up the ships' mast, igniting the sails as they went. Yet...there were no screams from the doomed vessel. In fact, the crew seemed to have stopped where they were, watching the flames as if enthralled. Horrified, Cassius tracked the progression of the flames up to the quarter deck, where they began to consume that area as well. It was then that the captain moved, his head turning, and his eyes, sunken deeply into his face, seemed to lock onto Cassius' own. Then the man mouthed a word, but the smoke and flames made it difficult to make out what he'd said.

    Less than an hour later, the mysterious vessel was little more than a smoking wreck, and the merchant vessel cautiously docked while vessels from Northpoint approached the wreck to rescue survivors and determine what, exactly, had happened. Cassius said his farewells to the captain, and started walking down the streets of Northpoint, stunned by the recent disaster. It was only then, that he realized what the captain of the doomed vessel had mouthed to him: "run".
     

    Morbidbread

    Fight for the lost
    The icy wind promised rain, or perhaps snow sometime later in the day. The steel grey clouds above were more than a little forboding, hanging low over the city of Northpoint. Firior Gaerathion, an altmer bloodhunter, kept his hood up and face masked. Northpoint wasn't quite as populated or 'civilized' as some of the other cities he'd been in, but taking the chance that his...unique abilities would be welcomed, was a fools game. Already, the crowded streets made him uncomfortable, but he did his best to hide it. Instead, he scanned the crowd, watching and listening for any news.

    His subtle eavesdropping paid of quickly. A group of excited merchants, headed in the opposite direction he was, were speaking loudly. Apparently, a ship that had caught fire in the harbour, less than an hour ago. From what he'd heard, there were no survivors, though the authorities were still combing the waters. The lack of survivors surprised Firior. The ship hadn't been on the open sea, and there must have been a few ships docked nearby, not to mention any patrolling ships in the vicinity. Sabotage, then. Someone either from Northpoint itself or onboard the ship, had decided to commit murder on a grand scale.

    The blood hunter narrowed his eyes as he sidestepped a pair of guards, their armour clanking as they marched through the main street. It seemed a fortunate coincidence that he had been asked to Northpoint. He was suddenly much more eager to meet the mysterious lord who'd called for help. Of course, there had been no mention of the city itself, but Firior had questions. Questions that needed answering. If the lord didn't know aout the goings on, he surely had an idea of someone who did.

    He returned to scanning the crowd, looking for any who seemed out of place, and was once again resorted for his vigilance. A man, walking from the direction of harbour, towards Firior, stood out from the citizens. The leather and steel mixture was different than the gear of the guard, and he had a slightly disturbed look about him. "'Scuse me." He said, deftly stepping into the mans' path. "I don't suppose you'd be one of those summoned by a certain lord, would you?"
     

    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    Argonians were not very common, Aurem-Dei had discovered early on. Most of the stares he received were curious rather than hostile, but there were plenty of those, as well. The navy blue scaled argonian made his way through the streets, feeling the cold creeping under his scales. He had never been to the breton homeland before, and certainly never this far north. He found himself wishing he'd brought a warmer cloak. The wagon wide to the city of Northpoint had been quiet, and more than a little boring. Still, if what he had heard was correct, his help was needed.

    He was no stranger to clearing ruins of dark and dangerous creatures. He was by no means a paladin or cleric, but that didn't mean he could ignore the existence of darkness. Whether it be supernatural, or the darkness that dwelt in the hearts of men and mer. And beast races, of course. The warrior had seen more than a few of his own kind fall to corruption. Aurem-Deis' lack of tolerance for such foolishness had gotten him in trouble more than once, and often seen him chased out of a city with angry guardsmen on his tail.

    Here, at least, no one seemed to recognize him. Most of them seemed much more concerned with their own issues, as they made their way through the streets. Above, the clouds were a steely grey, promising at least a little snow. As he moved closer into the city, he noted a commotion near the docks. The scent of smoke on the wind met his nostrils. Not just wood smoke, but burning meat and pitch as well. The argonian lengthened his pace, noting that more than a few people were speaking in urgent, hushed tones.

    The flow of people, mostly richly dressed merchants, became so thick that he had to start pushing his way through, trying not to jostle anyone too much. This still earned him more than a few dirty looks and muttered curses, but that was the extent of it. He was nearly to the water when he saw it. The ruin of a once mighty ship, only a few pieces of decking, mast and tattered, charred sail sticking out of the water. "By the hist" he murmured, eyes wide with shock, "what happened here?"
     

    fellowknight

    The Devil In The Details
    The waters at the harbor of Northpoint swirled darkly and bits of charred wood, singed cloth, and melted skin washed ashore. Hints of rain and possibly snow were carried on the wind, true, but were easily overwhelmed by notes of smoky, burnt wood and rubble. What had been a fine, sturdy ship was now a blackened, ruined husk among the choppy waves. Its crew, numbering around a dozen or so, had apparently perished in the flames, as rescuers could find none alive.

    For the old knight helping salvage teams recover cargo, if only to quench his curiosity, the fire wasn't the strangest part of the “accident”. Several witnesses, including dock-workers and neighboring ships, repeated the same thing: none of the onboard crew attempted to flee or extinguish the flames, not even the captain. Had it been planned, and was the crew put under some sort of spell? More than likely. But the question of who, what, and how would go unanswered, as clues were either charred with the ship itself, or washed out to sea.

    Loyalty to a vessel was common, especially for port cities like Northpoint where it was a fact of living. Facing death on a coin’s toss without struggle, was not. An unmistakable glimmer of euphoria creased Baroth's features, if only for a fleeting moment. High Rock just got more interesting.

    Not long after he shook hands with a team leader, pocketed some compensation, and made his way back into Northpoint, he spotted what was definitely a tourist. A blue-speckled Argonian in heavy plate was, as Baroth figured, the closest thing to an outsider that the city could conjure up. And outsiders didn't often venture in without the promise of coin, or blind virtue judging by the great blade clasped to the warrior's back.

    Slipping from the crowd and to the reptile's flank, Baroth watched him for a few seconds, an intense and primal silence, before speaking pointedly. "Not often a sight one expects in faraway lands, hm? High Rock always struck me as a 'burn-flags-not-ships' province, but.." As the plated man noticed Baroth, he tipped his head to the wreckage in question, still swarming with rescue boats, searching for survivors the sea had already buried.

    "Bit of an accident I'd imagine, oil lamp or candle gone rouge, just after they arrived. Such a shame too, it was a fine ship.. Hjarksson,"
    He extended a hand out nonchalantly, that glimmer still lingering in his eyes as he propped up a sideways smile. "Baroth Hjarksson, at your service. Or, the lord who summoned us here, eh?"
     

    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Norvos stalked the streets of Northpoint, his deep crimson cloak swirling in the frigid wind. His order had sent him to join whatever group come to the city answering the lords' summons. The masters of the Vermillion Shroud were concerned they hadn't heard of this wealthy lord in northern high rock. Information was just as useful as a blade, any assassin worthy of the title knew. So they had dispatched Norvos with orders to find out what he could, both of the lord, and these 'ruins' that needed clearing. The vampire had arrived the previous night, sweeping in like the stormclouds above.

    He had contacts in the city, but very few of them knew anything of value. It was vexing, to be sure. So, Norvos had lurked about the city for most of the day, grateful for the dark clouds above. He had noticed a clear outside, wearing a long coat, and taking pains to keep his face hidden. Northpoint knew its fair amount of strangers, but most of those had come from the docks, traders and merchants. Sometimes mercenaries. This man, if he was a man, the vampire corrected himself, had entered from the gates at the southern end of the city.

    Following the newcomer, he watched as they met up with a rugged looking imperial man. The man had the look of a blade for hire, and was obviously well armed, with at least two blades on his person. His armour was reminiscent of the imperial legion, but pieces of it were clearly from other gear. The hooded man spoke to him, but it was clear they didn't know each other. Wondering if these two were the start of the group he had been ordered to link up with and monitor, he slipped closer.

    Norvos wasn't exactly sure how he would gain their trust, but the guise of a wandering blade for hire was clearly not far fetched. He shoved through a group of excited merchants, ignoring their protests, and joined the pair of mercenaries. "Good day" he said, inclining his head very slightly. "I suppose you are here on the same business as myself. This lord that no one seems to know anything about, yet can afford mercenaries to clear out a mouldering ruin. Strange, is it not?"
     

    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    Aurem-Deis' musings were interrupted by a human man, breton, perhaps with dirty blonde hair and wearing armour similar to his. The man seemed amicable enough, and introduced himself as Baroth Hjarksson. The argonian turned back to watching the remnants of the ship, and the rescue ships pulling corpses from the water. He had heard of shipwrecks, of course. Many times vessels were destroyed at sea, or run aground, either through an honest miscalculation or sabotage. But for a ship to have no survivors whatsoever? "Some accident" he murmured, scanning the waterline. A few dockworkers not out on the water searching for survivors had stopped to watch, but were quickly whipped back into working at the harsh words of their supervisors.

    "Aurem-Dei. I suppose we are both at the service of this lord you mentioned." The lord in question, the argonian knight noted, was nowhere to be seen. Of course, from what he'd heard of breton nobles throughout his travels, they didn't tend to stick around docks and their workers. "Do you have any idea of where we are to go? I imagine we won't be found anywhere near the docks themselves." Aurem-Dei turned on his heel, wondering if any besides the two of them had been summoned into the service of this lord.
     

    Screeching Spasmodically

    Spasmodic Screecher
    The woman in a worn brown traveling cloak would not have normally stood out in a crowd. She was not particularly curvy, tall, or astonishingly good looking. The only thing that made her unique was her race. Redguards, or at least redguards who weren't looting and pillaging the coastlines, were fairly rare in High Rock. A commotion at the docks further reduced her odds of being noticed. She slipped and pushed her way through the merchants, guardsmen, and dock workers that had crowded around the water to take a look. Normally, she wasn't the most curious type, preferring to keep to herself unless specifically tasked with hunting someone or something down. Of course, there was always exceptions to the rule.

    The muttered exchanges between locals and traveling merchants told her whatever had happened was neither usual nor expected. She finally cleared the crowd, and her eyes widened slightly. A ship, or more accurately, the remnants of a ship, were sinking beneath the gentle waves of the harbour. Here and there, flames still burned persistently, and she could see bodies bobbing up and down. A few ships circled the wreckage like sharks, their crews scanning the water for survivors, or calling out to one another.

    Seren wondered who or what had caused the vessel to come apart. From what pieces of boat she could still see, it had not been small. Though she'd only arrived in Northpoint recently, she hadn't heard of any storms or raiders. Certainly not so close to the city. Sabotage, then. Or a catastrophic accident. Neither of which answered why there were no survivors. Had the accident been sudden, with no chance to abandon ship? Or had the sabateurs made sure to leave no witnesses? More importantly, how did this tie into the job she'd come to do? She had seen no sign of this supposedly wealthy lord.

    Scanning the crowd at the waters' edge, she did notice two unusual individuals. An argonian and a human male,both wearing steel armour and armed with weapons that suggested they were no strangers to battle. Deciding at least one of them would know this lord, or at least have some idea where to find him, she made her way over. Wasting no time on introductions, she said "gentlemen. I assume we're all here because of this job posting. I don't think standing around gawking at a sinking ship will get us our pay any faster."
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Cassius restrained himself from reaching for his weapons when the hooded figure walked up to him, bold as day. Of course, neither Cassius nor the stranger had any reason to sneak around the city. Whoever had set the ship on fire was doubtless long gone. The stranger, an elf by the look of him, revealed that he was looking for a certain breton lord. More than likely, both he and Cassius were looking for the same man. Before he could answer, a second man joined them in the street. This one looked more like a local, but there was something about him that put the veteran imperial on edge. His armour reminded Cassius of the knightly orders that were said to be sworn to the petty kings of High Rock, though he saw no insignia to give away an allegiance. A wandering blade then, in the garb of a knight. Coincidentially or purposefully, he wasn't sure. "I'm willing to wager we're all waiting on the same lord. But it's not a good idea to stand out in the open. Especially not in this weather" He nodded towards a nearby building where a small stream of locals were entering and exiting. Some, less steady on their feet than others.

    Leading his new acquaintances inside, he looked around, noticing that more than a few of the patrons were staring back at him. The interior of the tavern was dimly lit, and stank of smoke and stale ale. The noise was loud but not overwhelmingly so.Most of the tables were occupied by dock workers, off duty guardsmen, or the type of individuals that one tried to avoid. Especially at night, or in dark streets. The latter category eyed the three men warily as they entered the place and made their way to one of the unoccupied tables. Once they were all seated, Cassius looked at each of them. "Yes, I am here to enter the service of this lord we've all heard about but not yet seen. But stranger things are happening here. When my ship came into the harbour, another vessel burst into flames. Sabotage or an accident, I'm not sure. It seemed as though the captain was trying to tell me something, shortly before he burned alive."
     
    Last edited:

    Morbidbread

    Fight for the lost
    Sitting down at the table with the breton and the imperial, aware of the rough looking types, dock workers...or perhaps not, watching them from the shadows of the smoky taverns. Firior wasn't sure if they had any quarrel with him and his companions, but he knew better than to let his guard down. People in taverns like this were seldomly friendly, and they usually were hungry for gold, and ready to do some unsavoury things for it. Looking to the imperial, he said " so, there has been no sign of this lord, but you said a ship burned down in the harbour as you arrived?" He paused to glance at the door, "are we sure this lord wasn't aboard the ship?" Then he frowned, "you said the ships' captain was trying to speak to you- what was it he was saying, do you think?"
     

    Drahkma

    Dashing Imperial Officer.
    Norvos narrowed his eyes at the imperials' retelling of recent events. He was no sailor, but it seemed very unlikely a ship would be lost with all hands, accident or not. The altmer spoke up first, wondering what the captain had been trying to say to the man. "Maybe a warning, maybe begging for aid." The breton suggested, musing that burning a ship and murdering the crew would be something he would do, if he wanted to ensure they would be kept quiet. "It's unlikely they'll know for sure until all the bodies have been recovered from the harbour."

    He glanced back to the imperial, "I'm more concerned with this lord. Why would a noble summon a group of random mercenaries, just to leave them sitting in a tavern to get drunk?" Possibilities flashed through the vampires' mind, but none seemed likely. He'd made his fair share of enemies in his life and unlife, but he'd never left any of them alive long enough to take action against him. Certainly no lords, at least that he was aware of.
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    The muddy road leading up to his old haunt of Northpoint splashed in Hale Loneshadow's mouth as he reached his arm up to bash his foe once more.

    Damn, and I was almost in the city, too!

    Not content to waste time at this point, Hale grappled and twisted his assailant so that he could stand up, and that the hired thug-looking guy was pushed against the muddy dirt road.

    "Sorry friend, usually I'm not just a fecking murderer, but I'm me, and you are you, and that is that," said Hale as he stepped on the thug's neck before he could utter a "wait."

    Kicking the body to the side of the road, Hale quickly searched through the minimal pockets. Not destitute...he had work. Not rich, but who is?

    Nothing. With a shrug that seemed to acknowledge that all of that had or would work itself out, the Breton knight walked back into the city, back to the inn where both he and his horse (well, on the outside anyways) were staying. He couldn't help but notice the general panic and dismay resounding throughout this part of the city right now, and had trouble pulling aside several roving bystanders before garnering a proper answer.

    "What do you mean a fecking ship has exploded? Is that what's got everybody all riled up?" Hale said with no small abruptness to the merchant he had managed to corral, who had just told him that some doomed and cursed ship had, whilst engulfed in a conflagration, either told one person to run, the whole town to run, or had just nearly exploded the whole part of the city in a huge ball of flame.

    Now more determined than ever to get more than a few drinks, Hale took off in an expedited hurry towards his inn. As he rounded the corner to where the inn was, he caught the last earfuls of conversation between an older man - who held the poise of a warrior - and an argonian.

    "I think that would be the lord who summoned us all here, indeed old warrior. I say though, you seem familiar, don't we know each other? In any case, has anyone heard or seen anything more concrete about that whole ship explosion? I'd sure like to talk with someone firsthand." With a quick smile, Hale extended his hand to the group in general.

    "Sir Hale Loneshadow. Damn good to meet each of you."
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Cassius looked from the breton to the altmer and shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea what he was saying. Never been much of a lip reader and the boat was on fire." That fact alone still stumped him, but dwelling on it would bring no answers. As the breton has said, they would know nothing until the bodies were fished from the water. He frowned as the man brought up the question of the lord that had summoned them all to Northpoint.

    "I assumed he would meet us at the harbour, or one of his servants would. Perhaps the accident spooked him, or he's waiting until we've gathered in one place to address us all." He spared a moment to glance around the tavern once more. They were still drawing a few odd stares, but no one was making to approach the table they sat at. "I suggest we go looking if no one has come to us in the next little while."
     

    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    Aurem-Dei glanced at the redguard woman who'd approached with little fanfare. She looked like she was no stranger to fights and she stood in a way that suggested she knew how to wield the axe at her side. He also noticed a crossbow, smaller than any other he'd seen. Possibly used one handed. She seemed more interested in finding this apparent lord that had summoned them all to the city. The armoured argonian nodded his agreement, before glancing at the man who had first approached him. "She's right. If this lord or one of his servants is waiting for us, he won't be pleased if we're late." Movement, purposeful and directed towards the trio caught his eye. Another man, this one a breton and several inches taller than Aurem-Dei joined the group.

    He didn't look like a commoner but he wore gear that suggested he was some kind of adventurer. He looked to the other human male, seeming to recognize him but the other man had not yet responded. "I do not know if this one is a friend of your, but I am Aurem-Dei." He shook the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir Loneshadow." He turned back to the redguard "do you have any idea where to find this lord? I was only told to come to Northpoint, and then saw this" he gestured to the remnants of the ruined ship.
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    Taking in each one of his new potential companions with a brief but thorough ocular patdown, Hale shook the Argonian's hand.

    "A pleasure to meet you, Aurem-Dei. No, I'm not altogether positive about where to find him, but I agree with her," he said nodding to the Redguard woman sitting on the opposite edge of their little circle from him. Pulling a large pinch of pipeweed out and into his rosewood pipe, also marked with his falcon-and-arrow familial crest. With a quick flash of fire magic, Hale lit his pipe. "We ought to not entirely focus on the ship right now, it could be a distraction. Let's keep mind of it, but for now I'm of the mind we stick to the given plan. If he doesn't show up here, my guess is he'll show up at the outskirts of the ruin."

    With an inspired smile to the barmaid and a wave of his hand, Hale summoned a round of strong drinks for the group.

    "Maybe we all quickly introduce ourselves, have a drink, and if this lord or a representative of this lord doesn't show soon, we just take off for the ruin ourselves?"
     

    Aspen

    Member
    The dark clouds seemed to cast a pall over the mood of the people of Northpoint. Lathriel Snowbough drew her hood up against the chill wind, concealing her golden skin and pale eyes. The guards at the gate stared at the sorceress and her tall, menacing companion. The duo could not be less alike. While Lathriel was typically golden skinned, her companion, Imrior, was pale- unusually so. The elfs' skin was corpse white, with black hair that descended down to his shoulders. His face was hidden by the mask he always wore, but she could almost hear the sneer in his voice as they passed through into the city. "The guards are sloppy. A horde of bandits could pass through before they got these gates closed."

    "Perhaps that is why this mysterious lord is requesting mercenaries. They feel they cannot rely on the local forces." Lathriel suggested, leading the way through the crowds of bretons. Imrior stuck close to her, his hand resting easily on the hilt of the Mournful Blade. While there didn't seem to be any threats in the vicinity, her friend and bodyguard was always ready for danger. "I wonder where we're supposed to find this 'lord'. I thought bretons' were supposed to put their nobility out in the open, for everyone to see." She scanned the crowd, noting that a great many of those in the crowd seemed at least a little concerned. She could smell smoke on the breeze and thought she heard shouting.

    "A tavern, perhaps." Imrior suggested, "at least, we will find mercenaries drawn by the same noble as we were." The pale elf, looked around able to see over the heads of most of the people in the immediate vicinity. After several moments, he pointed to a building where an argonian and three humans were headed inside one of the buildings. "They seem likely."

    Lathriel nodded and lead the way, the crowd instinctively parting before her and her intimidating bodyguard. It did not take them long to reach the tavern and head inside. Three others were inside, two humans and another high elf, though Lathriel was relieved to see that he had no signs of Thalmor loyalty. She noticed Imrior's quick glance and slight adjustment of his stance, but the elf gave no other indication that he'd noticed the elf.

    "Good day" the sorceress said, "I assume that we're all here for the same reason; this nobles' task that he has went through so much trouble to draw all of us from all corners of the land." She made a point of looking around, seeing only the usual patrons of most taverns. "Would any of you happen to know where this lord happens to be? I assume he would want us knowing what we have to do before we leave to do it."
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Cassius glanced up as the door was opened and a large group, six in total, an argonian, three humans, and a pair of elves joined the table. One of the humans and the elven woman spoke at the same time, both seeming interested in heading out sooner rather than later. Looking to the human, a breton, unless Cassius missed his guess, he said "would you happen to have information the rest of us don't, friend?" He knew he sounded hostile, perhaps a little demeaning, but he suspected he was still slightly in shock and he knew he was tired from the long journey. "I'd guess there's no less than four ruins in any direction in the blasted province." He clamped his mouth shut before he said something he was sure he'd regret.

    It was just as well, because a moment after he'd stopped speaking, the frequently used door to the tavern was thrown open, bringing in yet another gust of cold air, and a man in a ragged overcoat with it. At the bar, the innkeeper grumbled something about letting all the hot air out, before going back to wiping down the counter top. The newcomer looked around for a moment, before his gaze settled on the large group at the table. A gleam entered his eye, as he walked purposefully over to the table. He snatched up a free chair, taking a seat almost directly across from Cassius, beside the breton who was now smoking a pipe he'd only just recently lit. "Well,well,well!" The man said with a chuckle, in a gravelly voice, eyes alight with what seemed to be merriment. "Don't you lot stand out like a bleedin' jester in a funeral procession."

    It was immediately clear to Cassius, and probably everyone else at the table as well, that this man was no lord. His face was rugged, his scraggly beard ill kept and tangled, and teeth were more yellow than white. The well worn hilt of a sword could just be seen at his belt. A mercenary or hired thug, then, though whether he'd been hired by this lord was still in question. Whatever the case, Cassius didn't care for his attitude. "It may be different here, but in Cyrodiil, it's rude to sit at a table you weren't invited to."

    The man grinned a crooked grin and pointed a gloved finger at him, "no, no, I wasn't. But you lot were" at that, the man stood and out of the perhaps fifteen other people in the tavern, eight others joined him, standing from various tables around the inns' common room. All were armed, each sharing the same grubby mercenary look of the man in the overcoat. "His lordship sent us to eh...'fetch' you. We've carriages waiting to take you to him at the south gate." The man bowed theatrically, sweeping one arm towards the door. "If you fine people would do us the honour...we are on a time limit here." Around the room, the other eight men shared a laugh, but their eyes never left the assembled adventurers.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Cassius caught sight of the inkeeper watching the conversation, knuckles clenched around a tankard he'd been cleaning. The remaining regulars were either watching as well, or paying a little too much attention to their drinks. The barmaids had stopped doing their rounds, keeping close to the walls as best they could. The former legionnaire realized they really weren't being offered much of a choice. He didn't understand the tension in the room, but he didn't trust the strangers he'd met less than an hour ago and he certainly didn't trust the mercenaries sent to fetch them.

    He nodded and stood "you haven't told me your name, by the way" he mentioned idly.

    "Name's Miller. But don't you worry about that. After you, noble adventurer," he nodded to the door. As Cassius went to leave, Millers' hand clamped onto his right bicep. "One more thing," the mercenary breathed in his ear, breath fouled by the sour stench of ale, "you're not in Cyrodiil anymore." The mercenary leader clapped him on the back with his other hand, sending him out into the cold, cloudy afternoon air once more.
     
    Last edited:

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    Tsara shivered as the cold winds shredded through her leather armour and the clothes she wore underneath. Even her cloak was doing little to keep her warm. The city of Northpoint was just ahead, it's walls loomed up over her, a man made bastion in the wilderness of northern High Rock. Her lip curled, her own preference for the outdoors warring with her need to go and find this breton lord who'd asked for her assistance. Well, not only her assistance. It seemed like whoever this lord was, he wanted help from whoever he could summon. Strange, for a lord to call upon adventurers when he could have his soldiers and knights do his bidding.

    But then, Tsara didn't pretend to understand the minds of men and their politics. "Give me a quiet little cabin in the woods, and I'll be happy the rest of my days" she murmured dreamily, before sighing and making towards the gates of Northpoint. The guards watched her with the attitude of two men who were just doing their jobs and not particularly interested in anyone coming into the city, so long as they didn't cause trouble. Of course, she almost certainly wasn't the first to arrive- perhaps she wasn't even the first khajiit to arrive. She nodded politely to the pair and they nodded back, one of them mumbling "miss" as she passed.

    She had barely gotten through the arcing gateway when someone whistled sharply. Keen ears pinpointing the direction, she turned her head and saw a scruffy looking human woman nearby. She had the look of a mercenary about her, with dull links of chainmail just barely visible under the tattered cloak and leather vest she wore. The human nodded to indicate that she had, in fact, been whistling at Tsara. Curious, she joined the woman at the side of the road, letting a worried looking huddle of merchant types rush past. "You here on the lords' summons?" The whistler asked.

    "I am" the khajiit cleric confirmed, seeing no harm in answering honestly. Worse came to worse, there were guards not far away and she was far from defenceless herself. "Where would I find this lord?" She wondered out loud, looking around as if expecting to see some noble breton striding around in the mass of peasantry.

    The mercenary, if that's what she was and not some bandit looking to lure the unwary into an ambush, shrugged. "He's sent myself and some of my friends to escort any mercenary- sorry, adventurer types to him. Just stick here with me and we'll be away in no time." Not wanting to spend too much time wandering the streets of a strange city, she shrugged and settled in to watch crowds of people make their way into and out of the city, doing her best to keep warm.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    Lorius Harkin wasn't very impressed with the weather, so far. It wasn't that he was unused to such harsh weather- he had traveled from one end of the empire to the other, in all kinds of conditions. It was that this 'minor lord', presumably native to the area, had decided to bring in Lorius and however many other mercenaries and adventurers to Northpoint just as the whether was turning foul.

    The argument could be made that it was Lorious' own fault that he'd decided to head out in the first place. That wasn't entirely false and that knowledge only contributed to the witch hunters' foul mood. Wrapping his cloak around him tighter, not that it would do much good, he trudged onwards, head bowed into the wind.

    Finally, after what seemed like far too long of a walk, the walls of Northpoint were in view. Grumbling to himself, he made his way through the gate. The guards gave him no trouble, but they did watch him with some interest. Lorius didn't care. He was in Northpoint to make money, not have people judge him on his choice of commentary.

    Just inside the gate, he noticed an odd sight. A khajiit woman was standing beside a distinctly mercenary looking type. He guessed they were waiting for someone, or multiple someones'. He made his way over to them, catching the appraising look the mercenary shot him. Definitely expected, then. "This where we're all supposed to meet?" He directed the question to the human, but his eyes roamed to the khajiit.
     

    Rell

    Champion of Malacath!
    Arbjorn approached the gates of Northpoint with a steady gait, great axe resting comfortable against his right shoulder. His tattered, hooded traveling cloak was wet with rainfall, but the cold did not bother him so much. He was used to the frigid temperatures of Skyrim, his home, so a little chill was nothing to him. The former executioner chuckled softly as he thought of dismissing the cold and then dying of the elements. "That would be something" he murmured to himself, as he glanced up at the sky. It was dark grey, almost black in places, threatening a storm, though of snow or more rain, he did not know.

    Outside the city, a pair of very unhappy looking guards were at their posts. They watched Arbjorn approach with a distinct lack of interest. Doubtless their minds were on warm meals and cold ales. He guessed there had been at least a few other adventurers and mercenaries answering the lords' summons. They nodded at him as he passed through, allowing him access to the city unchallenged. The streets were crowded, with townsfolk, merchants, and the occassional guard making their rounds.

    Off to the side, he noticed a small group, not far from the gateway. Two women, one a khajiit and the other a human, but he couldn't tell if she was a breton or imperial. Perhaps a nord, not that it really mattered. The third member of the group was a human, imperial, perhaps. He carried a heavy crossbow, with a blade at his side. All three had the look of adventurers about them. "Good day," Arbjorn greeted them. "I am looking for a lord. Would you know where to find him?"
     

    Recent chat visitors

    Latest posts

Top