1. 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!
    Dismiss Notice
  2. 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
    Dismiss Notice

18+ Rise of the Draugr

Discussion in 'Archived Stories' started by Skyrimosity, Feb 13, 2014.

  1. CapObvious

    CapObvious A Rotten Scroungeral

    Joined:
    Mar 29, 2013
    Messages:
    1,385
    Likes Received:
    648
    Reputation:
    663
    Do'Vassal's eyes scanned the group he stood with after the battle had finally come to an end. He soon found that they were all doing the same.

    He was wary, unsure of how to react to such a large group of people, especially a group full of such strange people.

    All of them capable, but still rather strange.

    "Thank you all for your help" said one of the men. "I had never thought there would be so many." The man paused, looking at each of them. "We should form a group. All of us are capable of surviving alone... surely we'd be better at it together."

    This was a good point. But was a group such as this great for Do'Vassal? Especially since he was already trying to find the group he lost prior.

    The man continued, possibly spurred by the silence.

    "Sunset shall be upon us shortly... the Breton is still knocked out so if you're going to stay, I suggest getting ready to set up camp." No one said a word, and instead all looked to the man as he continued to speak. "Fort Greymoor is only a short walk from here. If we capture it, we have a safer place to stay. I'm sure that's something we all miss. Safety."

    This man had a way of speaking, one that made Do'Vassal feel at ease. Others were feeling this too, as they looked a little less tense.

    The breton who had been knocked unconscious finally came to her senses and spoke to the man, surprised she wasn't dead.

    "Well, you're clearly not dead unless this is the Divines' idea of a joke. Anyway, that thing you summoned helped us get rid of the remaining draugr. Not bad for a mage. The name's Dagvar."

    Do'Vassal kept a tab of the man's name, in case he decided to join him.

    "We will set up camp for the night, then head to Fort Greymoor at dawn."

    "Now obviously, in the meantime," The man called Dagvar said moments later, "we should establish a watch. I will take first duty, of course. There should be two guards per night, one takes the first half of the night and the other takes the other half. I volunteer myself, and whoever else wishes to help may speak so now."

    Do'Vassal assumed they all were staying, as no one had turned to leave. Do'Vassal wasn't sure if he wanted to be the first. Or only.

    The fact of the matter was, he wasn't going to survive on his own. He would wander the hills until another wave of Draugr attacked, and he wouldn't have this group to help him out.

    Do'Vassal thought for a moment, then spoke up.

    "This one will take the second half of the shift. This doesn't need much sleep anyway, and it is easier for my eyes to catch potential danger in the darkness."
     
    • Like Like x 1
  2. AS88

    AS88 Well-Known Member
    Staff Member

    Joined:
    Jul 31, 2012
    Messages:
    2,489
    Likes Received:
    1,336
    Reputation:
    1,192
    The last of the light was fading quickly over the tundra to the west of Whiterun as Hrogmar continued to make his way towards Skyrim's central city. His feet dragged and he tripped over loose stones on the road as he battled with fatigue and hunger. After being cornered by the lone Draugr at his secluded camp, Hrogmar no longer felt like sleeping, and headed down the hill, away from the mountains and towards the White River. After refilling his water skin and having a quick wash to liven his senses, he had walked against the river's current in a steady incline, with half an eye on Whiterun which would hopefully be able to provide some sort of solace.

    It was dusk by the time Hrogmar reached the bridge spanning the river, which was thankfully still intact, and crossed to see the farms near Whiterun abandoned and destroyed. Most of the buildings were damaged in some way, and many of those which looked to have been fortified somehow had been burned down, some more completely than others. It was a grim sight, as Hrogmar had hoped to see any sign of prolonged resistance from Balgruuf and his men, but all seemed to be lost. Even the view of the city itself exuded death; no smoke from the fires, no pleasant smells on the wind and no sound as Hrogmar left the road and walked closer to the city walls for cover. The shade provided by the walls made the fields caught by the day's remaining look beautiful, but a harsh, still beauty rather than the rich and bountiful kind the farmers were used to seeing not long ago. The walls offered protection from the wind, too, but Hrogmar still felt the chill of ruin all around him and he huddled further into his cloak. He would have to find shelter soon, or else be left wandering the dead city at night.

    It was almost pitch-black by the time Hrogmar got to the other side of the city and found the old stable buildings, damaged and singed, but still standing. He paused for a second and considered entering the city, but thought better of it and began to look for somewhere suitable to rest for a while. The main stable buildings themselves were a mess, with wood strewn about and signs of some kind of battle, with the odd sword and arrow peppering the ground nearby. Hrogmar clambered quietly around in the wreckage and eventually settled in a stall where horses would have been kept just weeks before. The place smelled of horses, but the Nord took comfort in being able to smell something that had been alive rather than the stench of death and decay. With this much cover he wouldn't need a fire, as he nestled into the corner of the stall and effectively buried himself in the wreckage made of light planks of wood and straw. Nobody would find him here. Perhaps tomorrow he would be able to take a careful look at Whiterun herself, and see if there was anything, or anyone, to salvage.
     
    • Like Like x 1
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    Dradin: 7 Points (Hai) Jun 22, 2014
  3. Dradin

    Dradin Tribunal Temple Acolyte

    Joined:
    Jan 13, 2013
    Messages:
    371
    Likes Received:
    239
    Reputation:
    270
    It had been a long while since Faleyn had heard the noise of battle. Turning slowly towards his starting location, he saw no signs of life in general. Scowling, he progressed onward, marching in melancholy.

    I'm no craven... As if anyone cared. He fled a glorious death in the name of his god of choice, Hiricine. Not that the hunting grounds would accept his sorry soul anyway.

    I only fled a meaningless death in order to grant a meaningful death in service of the King of the Reach. Again he doubted himself. Wouldn't surprise me if he perished already.


    As he crested the final hill, he saw the ruined city of Whiterun stretched before him, the sweet scent of charred flesh filling the air. Already he lamented at the loss of possible companionship. Not that the Nords would help him anyway...

    The stables would serve as a suitable shelter. He tried to search the charred surroundings for food. Finding a suitable, only partly rotted gourd, he carried it with him, his stomach rumbling. Not that maggot a would soothe his hunger. Sometimes he thought that only the flesh of humans could soothe him.

    The thought made him shiver. The path of Namria was a dark one. Save that road for another day.

    Suddenly he smelled the distinct scent of burning firewood. Crouching he saw a bleak light coming from a stall. How he missed the thing in the first place he knew not. His hands meekly light up, electricity flowing in tendrils from his fingers, he made his way to the fire.
     
    • Like Like x 2
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    AS88: 15 Points (Oh no you didn't... You read that Hrogmar didn't make a fire for himself in my post right? Ask Admiral Ackbar what you've let yourself in for :P) Jun 22, 2014
  4. Skyrimosity

    Skyrimosity Fine Southern Gentleman

    Joined:
    Dec 20, 2011
    Messages:
    2,786
    Likes Received:
    1,218
    Reputation:
    644
    It seemed that the rag-tag group would be sticking together. Nobody left, and the Khajiit even volunteered to make up the second half of the night-shift. It seemed to Dagvar that the group would be able to come together and survive. There were some who were talking to each other, some who were talking to themselves. Each person unrolling their bedroll and most praying to some Divine to protect them while they were asleep. The sun had dropped low in the sky, and it wouldn't be long before the total darkness of night was upon them.

    Dagvar laid down for a moment to consider everything. Earlier, he had been totally alone and feared every sound he heard. But now he was with a group, and oddly enough a group he appeared to be the de facto leader of. Dagvar had never been the leader of anything throughout his entire life. It kinda made him nervous. It didn't make him as nervous as the thought of more Draugr in the night, though. Secretly, he hated the thought of having to watch out for others. But he had known if he didn't volunteer then others might not want to. The last thing anyone needed was a major issue just after the group formed.

    The darkness became a heavy blanket, covering everything in the area around them. A thick layer of clouds prevented any form of moonlight, and truth be told, Dagvar became terrified once everyone else was asleep. Everything he heard was a Draugr that had come to kill him. Every movement, no matter how slight, was that of a Draugr. Within hours, Dagvar's eyes had become wider and he was on the point of shaking. Dagvar felt horrified, though he knew that he shouldn't be horrified. Dagvar couldn't take it anymore. He went to the tent and awoke the Khajiit. It was his turn to take watch.

    Dagvar quickly went to his bedroll and closed his eyes. It took him a couple of minutes for his heart to resume its normal beating. Dagvar couldn't explain it, perhaps it was actually normal, but ever since... it... began he would have massive panic attacks. But soon enough he had drifted off to sleep, just like all the others. Hopefully things would get better in the coming days.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  5. Dradin

    Dradin Tribunal Temple Acolyte

    Joined:
    Jan 13, 2013
    Messages:
    371
    Likes Received:
    239
    Reputation:
    270
    The bleak light from the stables quickly ceased, it dying with a pitiful flicker and and light thud. Faleyn scampered his way towards a portion of a ruined lowlying wall and peered carefully over the crest.

    Two figures sprinted out of the ruined building, both carrying large weapons, a greatsword and warhammer respectively. One took a wild swing at the other, his greave appearing to cut deeply into the other's brow.

    "You idiot! Why in the world would you light a fire? Do you want to alert us?"

    Bandits. Faleyn leaned back down, ceasing the spell in his hands to conceal his presence. With his body strategically placed behind the wall, he leaned slowly around the structure to get a better view of the ruffians.

    "I'm the idot? You're the one that got us on guard duty while the rest of them get to be inside the city!"

    There's more. Great...

    "The Master said for us to do this and that it was a great honor." And with that the one bandit turned towards the city gates.

    Master?

    The other man withdrew his hammer, burrying deep into the skull of his apparent rival, the shower of fluids raining down and the sickening sound of bone crushing caused Faleyn to shiver violently. "I was always his favorite."

    That is when the ruffian turned. His skin was deathly pale and his eye locked in some sort of a trance. His brow, still bleeding from the assult earlier, narrowed as he started marching towards the Reachman, his hammer lifting itself ready for an attack.

    Cursing Faleyn let loose a blast of lightning, sending the man flying back. He staggered to get up, leaving Faleyn a chance to climb onto his chest and send repedative bolts into the Nord's face, leaving it charred and disfigured.

    See, not a craven. Faleyn took a step off the brute, smirking at his apparent skill at magic. Glancing carefully behind him, he took a step around the corpse and started towards the city.

    Suddenly a cold grip grabbed his ankle as the thrall quickly grasped his legs in an attempt to pull him down. The signs of Necromancy took ahold of the dead man as he tried to keep the mage in a makeshift prison.

    Then a bolt of pure energy hit Faleyn in the chest, it's red mist literally siphoning blood from his body and carrying it towards a newfound figure. A light breeze skirted through the air, removing the hood of the dark figure.

    Red eyes stared at him as fear surged through the Forsworn...

    Vampires.
     
    • Like Like x 2
  6. AS88

    AS88 Well-Known Member
    Staff Member

    Joined:
    Jul 31, 2012
    Messages:
    2,489
    Likes Received:
    1,336
    Reputation:
    1,192
    "You idiot! Why in the world would you light a fire? Do you want to alert us?"

    Hrogmar woke from his partial sleep and clung to the side of the stall as he remembered where he was with a start. The sounds that came next were equal parts perplexing and worrying; the sound of raised voices and a sudden strike, which sounded like a death-blow. The Nord racked his brain for inspiration on what to do, but it refused to co-operate, having barely had anything with which to fuel itself for the past several days. He continued to listen as the footsteps seemed to trail away slightly, one ear pressed against the wall of the stall help him sense movement on the ground, and one with a clear path into the night, as he began to silently move the debris which had camouflaged him out of the sight of those who had been so close.

    Hrogmar mouthed a silent veneration to Talos that his uninvited guests had not searched in his stall for kindling, as a sharp crack of lightning shot through the air and lit up the area immediately above the stables. The sound was followed by a scream, and the sound of a struggle, then more bolts. Hrogmar took his opportunity in the noise and attention that the mage had brought upon himself as he swung himself deftly over the back wall of the stall and into the night.

    Ysmir's beard, what is going on here?!

    Ducking down into a crouch, Hrogmar quietly padded towards the back of what remained of the old stable owner's house. As he glanced down the divide between the buildings, he saw an ankle being grabbed by what looked like some kind of highwayman. The sight of his face, though, chilled the Nord even more so than he had become accustomed to by growing up in snowy Windhelm. The bandit's face and arms were charred and smouldering, presumably from the lightning bolts that had just illuminated the night, and yet the man still persisted with an almost... unceasing, unnatural effort. Then it came. The siphoning. The breeze. The chill. The soft sound; a mixture of a chill wind finding a crack in a window frame and a maiden whispering a quiet hush into a drunken ear.

    He had heard the stories, everyone had. The Windhelm barracks often descended into a ghost-story contest at night, which would often end with Joric the Eldest telling the tale of the time he saw a vampire kill a child and her mother on a dark road one night, and how he and the Guard Captain had ran back to town to call for help, leading to the Guard Captain being dismissed in disgrace and Joric taking another four years to get his full guardsman colours. Everything was exactly the same as Joric described; the breeze, the chill, the sound. He had to do something.

    The Windhelm Guardsman had no idea who he was helping, except that they were a mage of some kind, and still was none the wiser as he peered around the far side of the stable. He saw the vampire, though. Long, flowing silvery-white hair emerged from under a black cloth hood, and Hrogmar estimated by the height and figure of the fiend that it was, or had been, a woman, most probably a Nord or Imperial. It had all of its attention focused on its target, sending pulsating waves of magic into the figure scrambling frantically on the floor.

    With a deep breath, Hrogmar gave the head of his axe a faithful glance and stepped out, directly behind the foul creature. With about thirty feet to make up, Hrogmar padded silently towards the vampire, increasing his pace roughly as quickly as he was losing his nerve, bringing his axe closer to the start of his swing. Before he knew it Hrogmar was almost upon the creature, and timed his steps so as to maximise the leverage on his swing. His shoulders and back flexed to give the axe a fairly sizeable back-swing as he took a final step and released all of his energy into a monstrous swing. The axe ducked narrowly under the vampire's right elbow and cleaved through its leathery flesh into its ribcage. The blow bit so hard into the creature, the head of the axe lifted the vampire off the ground before it crumpled into a writing heap about five feet from where it was stood a mere second ago. Without a second thought, he took another couple of steps before leaping onto the creature's arm, which it was raising with the aim of casting more dark magic. With a vicious downward swing, the arm was lopped off just below the elbow. The vampire leapt up and desperately lunged at Hrogmar, sending an agonising screech from its fanged mouth, and he sent the blunt part of his axe into its face as he side-stepped. With one more swing and a typical Nord roar, Hrogmar's final swing cut deep into the vampire's neck, more of less severing the head.

    The blood-lust had set in, and Hrogmar wheeled around to see the vampire's victim trying to stand. The furs, tiny skulls, trinkets, claws and even the mis-shapen stitching keeping them all together, all of them caused more anger to well up in Hrogmar's throat. He'd done all this to save a Forsworn?! A damned Reachman?!

    "Stop there you savage!"

    Hrogmar chased the figure down and kicked him back down into the dirt, next to the charred bandit. Standing over the quivering Reachman, the Nord clutched his axe and barked at his damsel in distress.

    "Sit there and tell me why you're so far from your hut or by Talos I'll cut you up worse than I did to that blood-sucker."

    A sudden panic came over him as he checked over his shoulders and peered into the night.

    "Is there more of you? By Shor, I should've let that thing have its way. Speak!"
     
    • Like Like x 2
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    Skyrimosity: 4 Points (You sure know how to treat a Forsworn) Jun 24, 2014
  7. Dradin

    Dradin Tribunal Temple Acolyte

    Joined:
    Jan 13, 2013
    Messages:
    371
    Likes Received:
    239
    Reputation:
    270
    The vampires attack was brutal, unrelenting. First every muscle In his body started shaking, a deep set soreness inflicting his soul. His vision started to fail him, flashes of black scenes from Coldharbor and the true world haunting him.

    Between swift confusing tantrums of delusions, he could see the outline of another figure swiftly approaching his captor and her loving embrace. It was as if she was trying to liberate him.

    A swift attack ceased the deluge of dark magic upon Faleyn, his mind returning to its normal state. A barbarian tore through the fiend, like a hot knife through a sweetroll.

    Within seconds the vampire lay dead; her frail body turning to ash. The Reachman staggered up a feeble attempt to outrun his savior.

    "Stop there you savage!"

    He was upon him before he could choke out a reply. A foot dug into his spine, sending the Forsworn into the dirt.

    "Sit there and tell me why you're so far from your hut or by Talos I'll cut you up worse than I did to that blood-sucker."

    Great, it had to be a Nord, and a Stormcloak at that.

    Before Faleyn could mutter a response from his dry throat, the cocky barbarian growled out orders again.

    "Is there more of you? By Shor, I should've let that thing have its way. Speak!"

    "Right, Son of Skyrim. We all set this up to catch you. I'm not alone, we've got three-thousand down that hill." Faleyn paused, unsure if the troll could understand him. "Sarcasm. I'm alone. I'm hungry. And I mean no harm."

    The Bretons throat was raspy. He managed to barely say the last sentence, let alone more. "Got separated from the resistance when the Draugr came. Been running ever since."

    He looked around. The Sun was just peeking out of the Sky, a signal of dawns approach.

    May Hircine give me strength...
     
    • Like Like x 2
  8. Epic Keith

    Epic Keith By Ysmir you're going to FREEZE to death!

    Joined:
    May 26, 2012
    Messages:
    1,774
    Likes Received:
    328
    Reputation:
    290
    Captain Waylas (Lairah)
    The cold wind blew as Lairah tried to keep herself warm from the small fire their group had managed to put up. They were 5 in total, only 5 out of the 150 pirates at their fort near Winterhold. The past few days were terrifying for Lairah. One day they were just laughing and singing and the other they were scrambling around, trying to survive. She was a notorious and rich pirate, and now she was just fodder for the draugr. She remembered the shock when she walked onto the port to find a hundred pirates bodies lying about. They were ambushed in the fort by a ridiculously large amount of dead men. Lairah managed to escape with 10 of her best men, who knew how many of the Red Dogs were alive. Maybe some of them managed to escape. Lairah did her best to be positive, right now, all they needed was hope.

    Lairah sat there by the fire, sharpening her scimitars when she heard a loud grunting from an abnormal figure in the distance. She readied her weapon before realizing in was her fellow crewman Tralen. Tralen was a large man, a big brute. During the ambush he managed to smash the draugrs heads with just his Warhammer. A deadly pirate, and he had arrived with some deer. "Any problems?" Lairah inquired.

    "Nothin' I couldn't handle Cap'n." the Redguard remarked as he started skinning the catch. "Some stupid people managed to get a whole lot of the dead men. The catch was easy."
    Lairah's eyes widened. "People? We should find them!"
    "They're probably dead by now, we don't need to go near a group of meat heads. Besides, we're fine on our own." Tralen snapped. He stopped skinning the animal. "I don't get it Cap'n, you refuse to go near any signs of civilization but you want to go find of a group of milk-drinkers."
    "You saw how many draugr there were in the North! We can't fight through all of them! We need to go south! Out of Skyrim! Away from these Nordic tombs!"
    "Then let us find a ship!"
    "Where will we find a bloody ship? Back at the fort? You want to die at the hands of those bone walkers?"

    Their argument was interrupted by a rustling sound in the distance. "I need to get dinner up." Tralen said coldly before continuing his work. Lairah ignored him and walked towards the White River nearby. They were still in Eastmarch, making their way to the pass to Cyrodil. Lairah sat at the banks of the river before being approached by Kalort. Kalort was a timid young boy almost reaching adulthood. He was clumsy, yet the only thing he could use well was a bloody crossbow. He was about 5 years younger than Lairah and he was supposedly the illegitimate son of her dead husband. It was funny how Lairah was the stepmother of a kid 5 years younger than her. She glanced back to look at him, to notice he had his knapsack ready and was holding Lairah's as well. "Kalort? What are you doing?" Lairah asked the shivering boy. He whispered back, "Tralen and the others are plottin' to kill ya Captain Waylas!"

    Lairah wasn't surprised. Tralen was a thorn in her side even since they escaped the fort, he was known to turn on his allies. As weak and timid and Kalort was, he was loyal and resourceful. Lairah took her knapsack and started making their way along the banks. "Thank you Kalort."


    x-----x---x-----x-x-----x---x-----x
    "KALORT!" Lairah screamed as she saw her only companion slayed before her eyes. Draugr in large numbers attacked just outside Whiterun. The duo managed to get a few, but Kalort didn't notice the one behind him until it pierced his back with a longsword. Lairah ran from the scene. How could this happen? Everyone close to her had to die at one point. Her father, her mother, her husband, her crew and now Kalort, her stepson. She dodged a number of the dead men before receiving an arrow to the knee shoulder. She clenched her right shoulder, trying to subdue the pain, but she had more to worry about. Two more arrows followed, finding a place in her shoulder-blade. She couldn't move her right arm anymore.

    It was a while before Lairah could find a safe spot. She was faster than any person she knew and managed to get away this time. She managed to get one of the arrows out of her shoulder, but the two in her shoulder blade wouldn't budge. Lairah breathed heavily as she got a bottle of mead from her knapsack. Drinking mead was what calmed her down in such situations. She took a swig before wiping her mouth. The sun seemed to appear as shades of red started to color the sky. I've rested long enough, time to keep moving. She was west of Whiterun at the moment. She couldn't go towards Riverwood because of the Draugr. Her only option was to keep going West until she reaches High Rock or Hammerfell. Maybe even get a boat at Solitude.

    Lairah kept to the road until she saw some figures in the distance. Was it more Draugr? Or some actual living people? She readied her weapon as she cautiously neared them.
     
    • Like Like x 2
  9. AS88

    AS88 Well-Known Member
    Staff Member

    Joined:
    Jul 31, 2012
    Messages:
    2,489
    Likes Received:
    1,336
    Reputation:
    1,192
    "Right, Son of Skyrim. We all set this up to catch you. I'm not alone, we've got three-thousand down that hill. Sarcasm. I'm alone. I'm hungry. And I mean no harm."

    "Got separated from the resistance when the Draugr came. Been running ever since."

    Hrogmar's battleaxe swayed in his hands as the Nord checked over his left shoulder, right, and left again. The Reachman was in a bad way, no doubt, but the way he had handled the vampire's thrall was encouraging and unsettling in equal measure. Was siding with a Reachman really a good idea? He would be stripped of his guard colours if he was seen by one of his own, sauntering around the tundra with a savage, but what chance was there of that, Hrogmar hadn't seen a friendly face in what must have been weeks, and Reachman or not, another pair of eyes to watch his back was a welcome prospect. The Nord had come across dead Stormcloaks by the half-dozen, chainmail and blue-dyed cloth scattered on the blood-soaked ground at every camp of True Nords Hrogmar knew of. Either that, or they were completely abandoned, except for anything too heavy to carry quickly. Still, he wasn't prepared to let his guard down easily.

    "Ah, I might have known. Not only a savage, but a coward. I'm surprised you people aren't in your element, walking around hand in hand with corpses like you usually seem to be."

    His tone changed slightly as his scorn began to fade.

    "If you're heading east, you'll find nothing but more Draugr."

    Hrogmar turned and pointed up to the ancient stonework poking just above the darkness enveloping the mountains, miles away.

    "And if you head south, you'll probably walk straight into Bleak Falls Barrow."
     
    • Like Like x 3
  10. Dradin

    Dradin Tribunal Temple Acolyte

    Joined:
    Jan 13, 2013
    Messages:
    371
    Likes Received:
    239
    Reputation:
    270
    The Nord was uneasy. Faleyn could see that was obvious. However, there was a deep set feeling that the Reachman would walk away from this one.

    "Ah, I might have known. Not only a savage, but a coward. I'm surprised you people aren't in your element, walking around hand in hand with corpses like you usually seem to be."

    Ha! Laugh now, Troll-kin. When Ulfric learns of the quite possible death of his so close friends, the Silver-Bloods. The Reachmen hold a grudge deeper than you, Nords.

    The Nord continued.

    "If you're heading east, you'll find nothing but more Draugr."

    Then the Stormcloak Turncloak turned towards the mountain to the South, the great ruin of old standing as a testament to the times.

    "And if you head south, you'll probably walk straight into Bleak Falls Barrow."

    The sun was already climbing in the sky, the light burning the skin of the Forsworn, as if his tan skin was of sunburnt origins, not genetic. He pulled the threadbare rags around him, proof of his need for a new set of armor.

    Coughing greatly, he started to speak.

    "Maybe Bleak Falls Barrow would be the best choice... After all, the closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm."

    He turned away from the mountain. "Or we one can go West. Markarth would be the safest place in all of Skyrim, if not Tamriel at this point."
     
  11. Melee

    Melee I'm back, bitches

    Joined:
    Feb 11, 2012
    Messages:
    1,598
    Likes Received:
    633
    Reputation:
    445
    Wind tore through her hair and whistled past her ears as she ran blindly through the dark, stumbling over what she could only assume were rocks jutting haphazardly from the ground. Her footfalls echoed eerily around her, and she couldn't remember just how she had come to be in the cave she was now trying so desperately to escape. She felt as though she had been running for an eternity, but in reality she had no idea how much time had passed.

    Ghostly voices carried on the wind were slipping into her mind as she ran blindly, a wailing that grew louder the farther she ran and seemed to wind around her and constrict her to the point that she could barely breath. A rock finally caught her foot enough to make her tumble to the ground, falling painfully as she hung her head and attempted to catch her breath.

    She couldn't stop the tremors coursing through her body as she brought herself to a kneeling position and stared down at her hands resting on her lap, attempting to will the shaking into submission. What's going on, she silently cursed to herself. This isn't like me. I've gone through worse. I've stayed strong. Why can't I stop shaking.

    The wailing that had been going on around her was growing steadily, and she couldn't take it anymore. She pressed her hands against her ears, trying in vain to shut out the noise screeching around her. Her eyes grew wide in panic as faces she had not seen in years leaped into view. Gaunt faces, dark, drooping eyes and leering mouths with twisted smiles rushed toward her; seeing the faces of the younger siblings she had left so long ago as Draugr was almost too much to handle. She could feel a scream welling up in her throat, threatening to break free as the faces moved closer and closer and closer until--

    Solenne's eyes flew open, frantically looking around her while keeping her body perfectly still on her bedroll. She slowly sat up, taking in all the sights of others sleeping around her. Memories of the encounter with Draugr and the general agreement among all of the straggling fighters that they should stick together were slowly being put back together in Solenne's mind.

    She had chosen to stay quiet during the earlier discussion, mostly because it was just how she was with people, and she didn't have any real objections to the formation of a larger group. Solenne recognized that there was strength in numbers, and as long as the others pulled their weight (she had no doubts they would, considering the fighting she had seen) and didn't do anything stupid (admittedly she was a bit concerned about this, but it didn't seem like anything too perilous would come from it), then there would be no problems.

    After a few minutes of debating whether or not she should try to go back to sleep, she decided that she would rather sit and keep watch. Her breathing and heart beat had calmed, and she was silently berating herself for letting something like a dream upset her so much. I'm not a child, Solenne told herself sharply, walking slowly toward the man sitting at the far edge of their makeshift camp. It's the man who alerted all the Draugr earlier. His rash actions actually worked out in everyone's favor, it seems. She settled herself on to the ground next to him, quietly gazing up at the stars that had appeared overhead. "If you'd like, you can go get some rest," Solenne spoke quietly, not wishing to disturb any of the others sleeping nearby. "I can keep watch until the next person wakes up, since I'm finding it hard to sleep."
     
    • Like Like x 2
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    AS88: 26 Points Jul 14, 2014
  12. AS88

    AS88 Well-Known Member
    Staff Member

    Joined:
    Jul 31, 2012
    Messages:
    2,489
    Likes Received:
    1,336
    Reputation:
    1,192
    "Maybe Bleak Falls Barrow would be the best choice... After all, the closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm."

    He turned away from the mountain. "Or we one can go West. Markarth would be the safest place in all of Skyrim, if not Tamriel at this point."

    "There's no food or water at Bleak Falls, the place used to be a bandit camp, and in those rags you'd probably freeze to death in less than a day up there. Not that it'd bother me too much. But, it'd be like hiding up a tree to get away from a bear - pointless."

    Hrogmar considered the other options. Markarth was halfway across the province, and was Imperial-controlled. There was a chance that the Silver-Bloods had taken control in the chaos, but there was just as much chance that the Forsworn had done that same. Besides, the roads to Markarth were the perfect place for an ambush by bandits, Draugr, animals or whatever else.

    "No, not Markarth either, it's too far. You said yourself that you've not eaten, and just getting there is a thousand problems waiting to happen. What of the plains you just crossed, did you notice any forts or caves? Any hidden defensible places near water?"

    He hated this, but what choice did he have? Consorting with a Reachman on where to hide from a shared enemy, by Talos. It could only be worse if he came across a blasted elf next. The Stormcloak, the Reachman and the Elf. Sounds like a bard's tale. Hrogmar knew that his chances of getting to Windhelm soon were slim, to none. All the bridges in the Rift were ruined, so he had to assume the same of the ones near Windhelm. The only glimmer of hope in that instance would be to trek over the mountains between Whiterun and Windhelm, and then try to get across the White River somehow when he reached Eastmarch, but he was in no state to attempt anything like that. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to his unlikely new acquaintance.

    "Anywhere at all?"
     
    • Like Like x 2
  13. Skyrimosity

    Skyrimosity Fine Southern Gentleman

    Joined:
    Dec 20, 2011
    Messages:
    2,786
    Likes Received:
    1,218
    Reputation:
    644
    Dagvar awoke at the behest of Do'Vassal, whom had finished out the night shift. Dagvar groggily sat up, looking around to gain his bearings. Do'Vassal went off to perhaps do some packing of his own. Dagvar could see everyone else packing, and the sun just beginning to rise. He got up, to pack his tent and bedroll. The small tent was barely big enough to cover him, but it had to be light enough to carry around daily. It was a hunter's tent, just like Anoriath had used on his many hunts. Except less worn down, of course.

    It took Dagvar more than a few minutes to pack, still being so tired from the harrowing day yesterday and from taking part of the shift last night. The sun had risen a bit more, providing a decent amount of light but not quite eliminating the night. Dagvar surveyed their surroundings, taking note of the fort not too far off in the distance. It was then that Dagvar noticed something not far in the distance. A figure approaching them. "There is something approaching!" Dagvar yelled to the group. "Wood Elf, Khajiit, come with me" for it could not be told if it was a human or a Draugr. Solenne and Do'Vassal left with Dagvar to investigate.

    The three of them approached, uncertain of what to expect. They were all quite relieved when they heard "I'm not one of them!" from the person. "Then who are you?" asked Dagvar.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  14. Epic Keith

    Epic Keith By Ysmir you're going to FREEZE to death!

    Joined:
    May 26, 2012
    Messages:
    1,774
    Likes Received:
    328
    Reputation:
    290
    Captain Waylas (Lairah)
    Lairah noticed 3 figures approaching from the campsite. This could go either way, there was no telling what kind of people they were. Could be killers, ready to loot her stuff or just some normal people. "Then who are you?" She heard from the three figures. "Cap-" She bit her tongue, reminding her self she was with people now, people who disregard pirates. "Waylas..." She shuffled towards them, holding her shoulder which still had two arrows stuck in it. She could see them more clearly now. A Nord with large arms, a surprisingly large cat and a wood elf. She was outnumbered and intimidated by this group. "I...I just need some help...I've been hurt...." She whimpered as she approached to show them her injury. I have to stay calm and get along with these people if they are friendly...otherwise, I have to make a run for it...

    The wound had festered already and looked slightly yellow. It felt more painful than ever. Lairah couldn't even touch it without flinching. Her eyesight seem to go blur as she collapsed to the ground. "Heeellllpppp......

    (Don't worry, I won't let this drag the fort thingy. Also short post :sadface:)
     
  15. Seanu Reaves

    Seanu Reaves The Shogun of Gaming

    Joined:
    Aug 16, 2012
    Messages:
    3,016
    Likes Received:
    1,089
    Reputation:
    1,885
    Vergilious came back with his “acquired” stash, to find a newcomer to the group. He stayed quiet, almost taking a sip of his wine but deciding against it. He heard the commotion and magic being discharged, on reflex he fell into a crouch. He may not be a coward, but Vergil knew his limitations as a warrior. Noticing that the group had grown yet again, Vergilious didn not relax. He kept his hands away from the sword and dagger at his hip, but they could be in his hands in an instant. He strode up quietly not to surprise anyone, least of all a mage.


    This group is at least not a bandit clan, Vergil thought with a sign. He may have wanted to find his brother and Ria as soon as possible, yet he knew surviving was the first priority. He approached the fire, and watched as someone collapsed asking for help. He had to sigh, knowing he likely took a potion that could help. But he guessed it has not his place to speak, after all he didn't really do much to earn the trust of the other people he happened upon. He watched silently, wondering if he should bother to take another drink.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  16. Dradin

    Dradin Tribunal Temple Acolyte

    Joined:
    Jan 13, 2013
    Messages:
    371
    Likes Received:
    239
    Reputation:
    270
    "Anywhere at all?"

    Faleyn turned, his body now facing the open plain, the wasteland of grass and death. Scowling at the premise of working with the barbarian, he once again turned to face the Nord.

    "Listen... I might know of a couple of people that could be alive. Granted I was set upon a Draugr horde before I could set up any communication with them. If they're dead, at least a change of attire can be arranged."

    His tattered furs, bloodstained and threadbare, hung haphazardly draped across his body. Various totems lay carelessly thrown over his shoulder. His gauntlets, torn and useless, only seemed to carry a sliver of the previous magic imbued in them. His boots lay in ruin, the soles already worn thin.

    "As far as I am a reputable source for a man of culture, like yourself, I feel like it would be in your best interest to trust me, Son of Skyrim. I'm heading towards the watchtower over there." Faleyn paused to point to the stone monolith in the distance, a awkward end to the sudden emptiness of Whiterun Hold. "Feel free to join me, but I doubt your Ulfric would approve."

    As he set out to the ruin, he gave a final glimpse to the Nord. He smirked, his ferocity once again showing.

    "The Reach will be ours again..."
     
    • Like Like x 1
  17. AS88

    AS88 Well-Known Member
    Staff Member

    Joined:
    Jul 31, 2012
    Messages:
    2,489
    Likes Received:
    1,336
    Reputation:
    1,192
    "The Reach will be ours again..."

    "Pahh... You've got a lot of cheek for someone who was about five seconds away from being a bloody buffet before I turned up. And you know you only thought of the watchtower because I was looking at it when you were rambling just then."

    Hrogmar shook the confusion from his face as he realised that he was about to take the first step in consorting with a Reachman. A witchman. A Daedra-worshipping, blood-drinking, skull-wearing savage. But, as his boot rose and fell back onto the path before them, he knew he had no other choice. He had tried to go it alone, and was in a desperate situation. This... acquaintance was the closest thing to good news since the Nord couldn't remember when, but by the Nine the Divines work in mysterious ways.

    "Where are you from, Reachman? You people are all over the hills. Like insects, for damn sure, just worse."
     
: Rise, Draugr

Share This Page

  • Like us on Facebook