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Private City of the Dead

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Madrar, Nov 23, 2012.

  1. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

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    It has been over fifty years since the Civil War in Skyrim. However, a sinister force has moved into the ruins of a great city far below the surface. Strange creatures, twisted and evil looking are seen near caves rotted, skulking things. people go missing without a trace, only to be found near those very same caves, as one of the shambling monstrosities, or simply eaten. The High King, has put out a call for adventurers to put a stop to these abominations once and for all. The Candle Hearth hall in Windhelm is the meeting place for these adventurers. However, it's possible that not all of them have the best intentions at heart......

    Rules
    1) No God modding
    2)No Dragon born, no shouts.
    3) No one liners.
    4) Powerful spells are allowed, as long as they don't conflict with rule #1
    5) Keep swearing to a minimum in the actual RP.
    6) Enjoy the RP
    7) You may have two characters, but only if you're certain you can handle them.

    I'll be starting it once we have about six people. It'll remain open however. Just submit your character card here, and I'll look it over. Thanks.
     
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  2. death raider

    death raider Thalmor Ambassador

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    J'Oran arrived at Windhelm and as soon as he entered the city he was unsure why the leader of the adventurers had wanted to meet here, it was a skatty city which was quite unpleasent and he wandered why anyone would want to be there. Meeting for the start of a quest he would have thought we would have atleast been somewhere pleasent. He walked towards the CandleHearth hall and he began to spin one of his knives in his hand and he did it over and over again, not caring everyone was staring at me. He sheathed his knife and walked into the inn as it wouldn't look good if he had arrived with a knife in his hand. J'oran looked around for the leader and sat down on a chair in the reception area waiting for the others.

    (sorry for the short post I will post better when we get into the real rp)
     
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  3. Writes-Many-Posts

    Writes-Many-Posts Champion of Grottos and Gremlins

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    Leepdroon and J'Zargo approached Windhelm's gates. The argonian never liked the city he was going to, but he needed to do something about the threat of Skyrim.
    "Let's help in any way we can..." He thought.

    The city looked spooky from the environment the problems were causing. Few people were seen in the streets, if any. Blood on the walls, women crying, even the guards had mostly disappeared. A haunting fog stopped common eyes to see beyond 4 feet of distance.

    They entered the Inn, horrified with the twisted world outside it. They sat, and Leepdroon took out two bottles of Argonian Ale for them while they waited for the time the leader was meeting the adventurers.

    Whispers in the tavern about disease and hunger weren't rare. Abominations striked the city often and people couldn't leave the gates, which recently became unguarded due to the waste of lives it was to send soldiers outside. Most of the soldiers were now in the palace guarding the High King, who was the life that was most important since he was trying to fix Skyrim's problem. At least that was what J'Zargo eavesdropped.
     
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  4. Ysarth the watcher

    Ysarth the watcher High Elf of the Skyrim wilds

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    'I don't like what has been happening. Too many people gone...missing.'
    Ysarth stared at the glazed eyes of the wood elf that stood before him. Clearly the creatures had taken someone he had known, or loved. His face turned to face the breeze that scattered his flowing brown hair, looking away, perhaps in denial that originated from somewhere in his heart.
    'What creatures exactly?' Ysarth questioned with a pitying tone. He had noticed a distorted flow in nature. Fewer flowers blossomed, the sky was forever clouded and the animals hid. The world was in mourning, or preparing.
    'I do not know', the Bosmer shook his head. 'The high king has called for aid in Windhelm. It is an open invitation asking adventurers to help safeguard the land.' He shifted uneasily, looking at invisible beings that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.

    Ysarth left Morvunskar. The Bosmers' raid was over and so was their bravery- that particular one seemed disheartened and unfit to fight.
    The high elf, covered in his bear fur coat, walked calmly towards the Windhelm bridge. The air was slightly cool which caused him to tug his coat around him. The air was cold with death and Ysarth sensed a bitterness. He began humming, drawing his attention to himself, away from the death he would now have to witness as he entered the city.

    The giant doors slammed shut behind Ysarth and walked quietly, still humming to himself, yet keeping close attention on details.
    Firstly, the inn sounded active. Perhaps the meeting for the invitation was held there.
    He also noticed the lacking number of guards. The civil war had taken its toll, and the families of those lost had nothing more than the blackened future ahead of them to hold onto.
    Blood stained the walls, which were partially destroyed or broken, and silence flooded the streets. Everyone sauntered as if driven by no more than the reason to exist.

    He unhooded himself and removed his white elven helmet. Ysarth's face seemed gaunt. His cheeks had thinned to miserable indents and small veins began showing on his temples and forehead. Perhaps age was taking its toll on him, or the surplus of adventure was wearing him out. He glanced from side to side before pressing against the door of the inn, which gave way easily, and the wave of smells and noises escaped the gap, shoving against him on their way out. He shut the door, imprisoning the drone of voices, however low and mournful they sounded, and imprisoned himself amongst the company of men...fools rather.

    Ysarth seated himself at the bar counter, placing his helm infront of him and fingered at its fine curves and smoothness, picking at the tips. He waited and hummed quietly to himself, also listening for any mention of the high king's invitation.
     
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  5. Writes-Many-Posts

    Writes-Many-Posts Champion of Grottos and Gremlins

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    Leepdroon noticed a High Elf who got there recently. Elven armour and a dwarven greatsword revealed he should be good in melee fighting.

    - I think that man is here for the same reason we are...
    - Ah... The more, the merrier. But J'Zargo heard High Elves have some affiliations with the Thalmor, who I think you don't really like.
    - It's not official he is in the Thalmor's side. Let's not be risky... It could be useful to have acquaintances in this fight for Skyrim.

    Then the Argonian shouted to the Elf:

    - Hey! High elf! You look experienced in fighting. Are you here to help Skyrim's people?
     
  6. death raider

    death raider Thalmor Ambassador

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    J'Oran noticed an argonian cry out to a high elf and they both looked like they were here for the same reason he was, so he decided he better get to know who he was going to be comrades with when they go on this deadly mission which could mean the end of all their lives.
    " Hey are you here for the savior of Skyrim's people?" J'Oran asked already knowing the Argonian and the other Khajiit were.
     
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  7. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

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    Dorvath Shadowrune strolled through the ruins of the remnants of the once great city of Windhelm. He wore black leather trousers, and a rich, blood red tunic. Over this, he wore a bandolier of finely balanced steel throwing daggers, on his fingers were several rings all enchanted powerfully. A Scimitar rested comfortably on his left hip, and his belt sported a pair of wands.

    The city was silent, with a thick, sinister fog rolling over the cobblestone streets like a blanket. The Dunmer avoided the guards, not because he had committed any crimes, but because his grey skin marked him as a target for ridicule and sometimes attack. Those that were idiotic to attack didn't end up in the best of health, but he sought no violence this night. Instead, he headed for the Candlehearth hall, wondering what merriment could be had on such a bleak night.
     
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  8. Six Gun Tarot

    Six Gun Tarot Power is Power

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    Volanaro walked slowly among the snow covered streets. His white hair floated slowly behind him as he walked towards the inn. He pushed open the door and walked in. Inside was quite a few races and even one of his race. He walked in and sat on a nearby chair and listened closely to those talking.

    (Sorry about short post, im at work)
     
  9. Writes-Many-Posts

    Writes-Many-Posts Champion of Grottos and Gremlins

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    Despite all the sickness and pain outside, the Inn was just warm and cozy, reminding J'Zargo of his home as a child: The fireplace, the alcohol and the lack of concern about what was happening outside. Leepdroon also asked the Khajiit:

    - Do also want a bottle of Black Marsh Ale?

    J'Zargo felt a little lack of courage due to the city's status, but he couldn't give up of his land like that. He was willing to fight for it, no matter the fear. He played with the small ammount of ale that was still in the bottle, swirling it slowly. It was curious how the world was so twisted and evil and inside the Inn, everything appeared to be fine. The food and alcohol was still selling, family men were still seen drinking, despite oughting to spend the money on food for their families and medicines, and coin was not missing in the pockets of the Inn Keepers. Joy was just a way to avoid concerning people about a problem they could do nothing about. And they knew it.
     
  10. UnLonged

    UnLonged True to the Name

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    A still night enveloped the streets of Windhelm, its roads where ridden by snow alone. The city itself mimicked the ebon sky of its inactivity; a handful of people here and there, market stalls barely holding up, fewer guards patrolling the empty city. In the Hall of Dead however, things are not as inactive but are as lifeless.

    The dead did not stay the way they are, especially if they are in the vicinity of a necromancer. This one necromancer, however, is no more menacing than a typical mudcrab. Bodies he raised simply fall to pieces within moments of their uncalled for resurrection.

    "Are you serious? You called upon me to handle this joke of a necromancer?!" Kristoff yelled at the priest of Arkay that manages the catacombs; his uproar was both appropriate and not, for the priest is but a young man whose best attempt at magic is a ward. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I am inexperienced, I didn't know that someone like him would enter the place. Please, deal with him." The priest hid under a table, cowering in fear at the skeletons that break off at the slightest breeze. "Don't underestimate me, witchhunter." said the necromancer, his tone was shaky as for every body he fails to properly raise, his confidence dwindles. He threw a weak ice spike at Kristoff which he dodged without effort. "This is insulting." Kristoff darted towards the necromancer and delivered a swift uppercut towards his chin. The blow knocked the mage of his feet, felling him to the ground unconscious.

    "Thank you." The priest took out a coin purse and offered it at Kristoff, which he declined. "You know, the High King is petitioning a group of adventurers to investigate the matter of the citizens disappearing. Maybe you could join them." Kristoff let out a sigh as he walked up and out of the hall.

    I have heard of that. Talk of despicable creatures that take people in their sleep. Stendarr have mercy on their souls for Meridia guides my hands in their destruction. Kristoff headed towards the only active establishment in the city, Candlehearth Hall. The warm atmosphere housed by the tavern is still there despite the death it witnessed through the years. The patrons looked upon Kristoff as he made his way to the upper floor of the tavern - their curious eyes gaze at his unfamiliar get up. He took a seat in front of the famous hearth, awaiting for distinguished people that talk of the unfortunate events.
     
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  11. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

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    Dorvath spotted a man near the hearth in a trench coat, fortified by steel plates. 'Where can a Dunmer such as myself get that?' He ignored several Nords' that glared at him as he walked by, his recently polished leather boots clumping on the wooden floorboards. He sat himself directly across from the trench coat wearing Imperial. "Hello, my good sir, I trust you are well?" The Dunmer smiled widely at the man, all the while wondering whether he'd make a good acquaintance , or whether he'd end up killing him. The man had a serious air about him, but seemed like a reasonable chap.

    He ordered a goblet of the inn's finest wine from a passing serving girl. "Have you heard that there is a call out for adventurers to find the source of these abominations?" The girl arrived with his wine, and he paid with a small coin purse, many times the cost of the drink. Then he winked at her, and she departed, blushing.
     
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  12. UnLonged

    UnLonged True to the Name

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    A dunmer suddenly approached Kristoff in a suspiciously friendly manner, friendly gestures are rare at this state of the city. He is of civilian attire but possess a multitude of arsenals, most probably a mercenary. A mercenary that wish to end whatever is causing the dark plague surrounding the city, for a sizable price.

    Kristoff took off his hat and placed it over his lap, giving a nod to the stranger. "You could say that. Just came from the Hall of the Dead, stopped this ambitious person from taking over it. He already failed without my interference." He was quite surprised at how he openly discussed his personal endeavors with someone he barely knew, something Kristoff never usually do as his profession is not totally of the norm in Skyrim.

    "Aye, I have heard of it. I am quite curious as to why they waited for a bunch of people to disappear first before finally taking action. Perhaps it is because of personal security, my how the war has changed this land." Kristoff let out a soft sigh as he pass his hand across his hair, imagining Windhelm before this ordeal has happened.

    He looked upon the dunmer and spoke in a friendly manner. "You one of the adventurers? Kristoff Avidius. I intend to join myself, help cleanse this world of the scum that dirties this realm." Kristoff offered a greeting of extending his hand towards the stranger. "I know I sound self-righteous, we humans and mer soil this land even more with our own personal deeds. I'm just trying to balance it out."
     
  13. Six Gun Tarot

    Six Gun Tarot Power is Power

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    Volanaro remained seated and took everything they were saying in. He was deep in thought and decided why the hell not and join. While he was thinking, a bar maid approached him.

    "Something to drink, oh golden one?"

    Volanaro looked up at her, his golden eyes meeting her blue ones.

    "No, no thank you, I don't drink."

    He waved her off and went back to listening to the two groups now formed, it was Volanaro's specialty if anything. He got up and walked towards the imperial and the dunmer.

    "If your here for the High King's calling then we have something in common."

    Volanaro pulled his seat around to their table and sat down.

    "My name is Volanaro, Volanaro Direne."
     
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  14. Writes-Many-Posts

    Writes-Many-Posts Champion of Grottos and Gremlins

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    J'Zargo finally drank the last sip of the argonian ale. Angrily, he crushed the glass bottle with his hand. His memories of the College and the bonds he had there. All lost because of the crisis Skyrim was going through. It was going to be over soon, he believed. All the lives that have been lost, all the blood that has been shed, the crimes that had been forced due to the hunger. All that should be avenged, and somewhere near or inside the Inn should be the person who could make that possible. It was just a matter of time until that man or woman showed up.

    "Who is this mysterious person? J'Zargo is curious about this..."

    He took another bottle out of Leepdroon's satchel and took out the cork with his teeth and spit it away.
    Before drinking, he still remembered one of the last lessons he had in Winterhold:

    Toldfir was teaching in the Hall of the Elements about Undead and restoration. He had captured a Draugr Deathlord and was casting some Destruction spells on him. Then he stated:
    - Class, as you see he is injured. Now Leepdroon, could you try to heal it?
    - Yes, teacher.
    He walked near the cage and started gathering power for Fast Healing. But the Draugr shouted before he cast it.
    - Fus... Roh Dah!
    Leepdroon was thrown against the wall violently but quickly got up. The class holded some giggles, even J'Zargo.
    - Well... Now isn't this surprising? Thank you for your assistance anyway Leepdroon, you showed you know how to cast a healing spell. The point is, undead are immune to this kind of spells. I will show you.
    The elder man casted Healing on the Deathlord for a few seconds and then explained:
    - As you see, his wounds are still open and bleeding. He won't be possibly restored. If you try necromancing, keep that in mind.
    Leepdroon was already next to J'Zargo again still stretching his back from the Unrelenting Force shout. J'Zargo put his hand over his shoulder.
    - You weren't expecting it friend, no need for shame..._ J'Zargo said.

    Those memories brought a smile to the Khajiit. But then he remembered the school's rule of "Preserving the school materials" since they spared the undead, who made a terrible bloodshed when the monsters reached the College. His teacher's location was unknown. Onmund and the Arch-Mage were probably dead, like everyone else. And the last time he had seen his city, it was infested with Frost Trolls, but different. They had red glowing eyes, and were bigger and faster.
    "Vampire frost trolls?" He thought. "Skyrim has gone insane..."
     
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  15. death raider

    death raider Thalmor Ambassador

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    J'Oran saw some people all around a table talking about the adventure and it sounded like they were all there for the same things so J'Oran walked over to them and took a chair with him.
    " My name is J'Oran it sounded like you are here for the same reason as J'Oran yes?" J'Oran asked sitting down on the chair he had pulled up to the table. J'Oran waited for a response quietly.
     
  16. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Ragdul enterd windhelm and continued towards the candle Hearth he cheack his weapons befor entering to make sure they were tighly sercure so no thief can try there hand at stealing his things. ragdul took his battleaxe out as he enterd the candle hearth and went straight to a seat he took the batte axe out of his hand and rested it alongside the wall Ragdul begain cheaking his two other axes they where bent in a curve style almost as they looked like they where to be thrown then ragdul put them away and put his battleaxe in hand swinging back and forth on his chair.
     
  17. Madrar

    Madrar The Shadow in the Dark.

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    Dorvath shook the mans' hand and smiled lightly when he heard the tale about the man stopping a take over of the hall of the dead. As the clever dark elf had predicted, the man was indeed one of those that 'sought to cure the land of it's evils' Usually, Dorvath would have laughed in the mans' face and ignored him. However, there was something about this one...The mercenary decided that he was not one to be crossed...at least, not until he knew more about the man.

    Suddenly, an Altmer approached, trailed by a Khajiit. The elf introduced himself as Volanaro, and the Khajiit was J'oran. Both wanted to know if he was answering the High Kings' call. "That is correct, my fine friends.I am here to assist the High King in whatever way I may. For a price, of course" He announced, grinning at the group. Truthfully, Skyrim could be buried under a wave of monsters and the mercenary would only shake his head and chuckle. At that moment, a tall, heavily armoured Nord opened the door, and his gaze latched onto the group. He had a furred cloak that swept around his ankles as he marched towards the group.

    " In the name of King Ulfric the Second, I bid you welcome, and extend our thanks for your willingness to assist his lordship in clearing Skyrim of these foul monsters" The man had no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty in his eyes. He knew this group was answering the summons, somehow. Dorvath stood, smiling and extending a hand, which the Nord ignored. Shrugging, the mercenary withdrew his hand and said, a glint to his eyes: "Let's talk about pay, shall we?" The large Nord glared at him again, and then growled
    "His highness is willing to pay ten thousand septims...per man"
     
  18. Ysarth the watcher

    Ysarth the watcher High Elf of the Skyrim wilds

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    The world is amiss, child
    Ysarth caught himself drawn too far within- the Nature Mother was reaching out to him. The smooth voices of half-beasts had called to him, asking him what he might have deemed to be an invitation to join them on some escapade to destroy thousands upon thousands of dead. Ysarth had simply turned his head slightly to show he had heard the two.
    It seemed many people had flocked to the inn in hope of setting down some adventure concerning the same interests as the khajit and argonian. It was not only them that appeared intriguing, but also another Altmer and a Bosmer who had made their intentions clear by joining the small company in the inn. There was no point in sitting around and hoping they would invite him to their conversation. He retrieved his helm from the counter and started towards the company, his vision tunneled.
    Suddenly, he bumped into someone- a burly nord carrying two horns of mead, both of which were knocked out of his hands and slammed to the floor, spilling their contents.
    'You blasted elf! Look at this mess, you fool. I just paid twenty septims for those two horns filled with fine mead.' The nord brought his face to bear just in front of Ysarth's. His breath smelt of the overjoys and merriments of good drink, and his beard stank of it too. His blue eyes were slightly glazed and staring into Ysarth's own.
    'Just as well. It seems you have had your fill of drink already.' He smiled inside, mockingly, picking at the nord's patience like nettles on a sweaty palm. Ysarth leaned forward slightly, bringing his amber green eyes closer to the nord's blue ones. 'I could upset your entire day by smearing your blood all over the tavern's wall like wood-treatment and hollow out your skull for a tankard. I will repay you for the monetary loss of my foolishness and we can forget this ordeal quite readily.' Ysarth raised his eyebrows in question and smiled.
     
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  19. UnLonged

    UnLonged True to the Name

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    The dunmer introduced himself as Dorvath. His response of a light smile is completely far from the usual insulting laugh or sympathetic pat on the shoulder; most citizens of Skyrim at this time go about their lives making a living for themselves, it was very rare for someone to venture out to the open land and "cleanse it."

    The two spoke in a leisurely manner that others heard them, distinguished strangers approached them and gave introductions. The altmer Volanaro, and the khajiit J'Oran. Kristoff gave the two a nod, the most he could do as a friendly gesture for a smile only comes on select occasions: when wanting to make someone feel at ease. "More join the cause, 'tis a welcome thing to behold. Kristoff Avidius, gentlemen."

    Doors of the tavern opened and a cold breeze entered, along with a nord, an envoy of the High King. Kristoff was not surprised at how he knew who the group of strangers are, their assortment of looks is far from the typical tavern patron drowning their sorrows in mead. Immediately after speaking, Dorvarth intercepted the man with the question of payment. The nord did not fully took it well as he looked at the dunmer with disgusted eyes, but responded still. Payment of thousands of septims per man would only indicate that the danger is great and the higher ups are getting desperate.

    "Half is all I need, give the rest to the others who would be joining." said Kristoff, sitting comfortably still on his spot and not glancing at the nord. He only asks what he needs to get by; food, shelter, and maintenance of his equipment is his basic necessities and he would never go out of his way to have beyond what is required to fulfill them. Kristoff wore his hat and adjusted it so only the lower portion of his face is visible. "When are we to be briefed of the situation?"
     
  20. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Ragdul noticed a small party being made he got up and said "hello gentemen my name is ragdul" he then smashed his fist agaist his orc armour and said"you wouldent happen to be looking for a orc if not well i could take a battleaxe some place else"
     

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