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The Lords of Skyrim

Discussion in 'Roleplaying Forum' started by Wolfsbane, Aug 24, 2012.

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  1. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Arngeir awoke and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the ruin of last nights fireplace. After that he noticed the cold grey sky, and then a dear grazing the plains underneath said sky. He was able to raise himself to a sitting position with only a small surge of strength, grabbed his waterskin and quenched his thirst. Then, after a few moments of staring into oblivion, he stood up and took a deep breath.

    Where would he go today?

    He knew that the small settlement of Rorikstead lay not far from the little roch he'd slept under this last night. He also knew the chances were he wasn't very welcome there since his last visit, when he'd been caught fooling around with the eldest of Mralki the inkeepers daughters, resulting in him getting thrown out from the village. Then again, at least a year had passed since that incident and he was in desperate need of more food. Besides, he had new stories to tell. And he had to try that new tune of his on the flute. Might be worth the risk of a beating.

    What the hell.

    The young traveller reached a decision and started collecting his things. Then he started moving across the grassy plains towards Rorikstead.
     
  2. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    He thought about the dream as he set the pitchfork aside and allowed himself to rest his aching back for a few minutes. According to what mer, man and beast called "the dream", a man could work himself up in the world. Even a mer from the humblest of beginnings could develop and refine his skills and talents, make some good investments, and then, ancestors and good Daedra be willing, live out the rest of his days as a rich man. All it took was the willingness to work hard.

    Saryn had been shovelling manure in the Windhelm stables for a century now. All it had given him was a propensity for lumbago and probably the most callous hands in history. The riches, he noted, had yet failed to find its way into his pockets.

    That's why they called it the dream, because you had to be asleep to believe in it.

    He could hear Ragnvald making his way towards the stable, and knew that the big Nord would beat him over the head and reduce his already meager salary should he find him slacking off. He took a swig of skooma from the flask he kept hidden in the furs he wore to keep the cold out, and sighed as the pain in his back and the problems of this world momentarily retreated. As his gnarled and sinewy hands grabbed the pitchfork, he thought about the meeting he would attend this evening at the New Gnisis Cornerclub and prayed to Azura that everything would work out as planned.
     
  3. werozzi

    werozzi Member

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    From the depths of an endless dream, Werozzi felt a pinch, then pain.
    As his consciousness came back to tamriel, he noticed that a cold water drop had fallen over his forehead and froze there, a headache was it's product.
    Werozzi sat, his leather cloak, used as a bedroll, had made him warm all night long, and the small cave had sheltered him from the cold mountain air.
    He opened his pouch and found that some of the guar jerky he bought back at silgrad remained intact, so he had half of it, he rose, fastened his cloak, and walked towards the entrance of the cave, with his mind lost in those legends of old about trolls made of ice, that lied in the very mountains he was walking.
    Very careful, as he reached the entrance of the cave, he looked for signs of life; no one was following, but last night's blizzard had covered his victim's trail, and he was as good reading maps as he was at woodcutting, so he went against the sun, to the west.
    As he descended trough the mountain, he started seeing fire smoke, to the northwest it seemed, so he grabbed his bow, an arrow and proceeded that way.
     
  4. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    Buliwyf paused at the crest of a tall hill to admire the view. Also to catch his breath, though he wouldn't admit it. Before him was a majestic panorama of hills and valleys, rivers and high mountains, and towering above it all, the Throat of the World. He wished his late wife Neminda could have seen it, so different from her native Hammerfell. Maybe then she would have really understood him. This was home, he could feel it in his bones.

    He could also feel the cold in his bones, though he was too stubborn to admit that years spent in warmer climates had cooled his blood. Thus, his fur-lined cloak stayed tidily packed away in a saddlebag, one of many strapped to his beast of burden. Buliwyf didn't like horses and wouldn't ride them, though he did find them quite useful for hauling possessions across Tamriel.

    As he resumed his trek, he imagined climbing the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar atop the Throat of the World. What a view there must be from up there! This fantasy soon gave way to one of arriving at Falkreath and resting his aching feet in front of a warm fire.
     
  5. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    From the moment he spotted the village, he could tell that something was wrong. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was at first, but as he approached it dawned upon him; he couldn't see neither people nor livestock anywhere, and even though all his internal alarmbells were ringing his curiosity drove him on.

    It was too late to turn back when he saw it.

    The villagers were there all right - or at least what was left of them. Their mutilated bodies had been piled together with the remains of the villages animals. It was a gruesome sight, a carnage beyond anything that the young traveller had ever seen. Arngeir inspected the mound from a distance, paralyzed with fear and disgust. When his eyes met those of Hraltis eldest dead daughter he lost control, sank to his knees and vomited audibly.

    When he'd stopped shaking, he once again dared a glimpse of the unthinkable and let out a shriek when he saw the perpetrator; a tall muscular man wearing strange clothes and a leather mask, a great bloodstained curved blade in his hands. The beast was holding another man by his hair, looking at the person in his hands with a searching, almost questioning gaze. Then he seemed to lose interest and almost casually cut his head off. The head rolled down the road towards where Arngeir was sitting. And thus, the slayer of Rorikstead noticed him. The man immedietly started walking towards him, the big blooded blade resting upon his shoulder. Arngeir wanted to get up and run, but his muscles didn't respond. He watched in horror as the mountanious man stopped in front of him and put the sword on his shoulder. There they stood for a few moments in complete silence, until the masked man finally spoke.

    You will not die today. In return, you will carry out a task: tell the land of what has happened here. Tell them also that the Great Queen is returning, and that those who wish to live should search her out and bend their knee before the day of her vengance is come. Go now and tell the world.

    Arngeir dared not speak, and simply watched in disbelief as the man left him there with the corpses and his task. He fell unconscious right there and then and woke up in a completely different place...
     
  6. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    Buliwyf idly prodded the embers of the camp fire. The sun was an hour down, and it was looking to be a cold, damp night. There was a mist of rain in the air, but blessedly little wind.
    The camp site was a stone's throw from the road, a day's travel northwest of Falkreath. Buliwyf had spent one night in the Dead Man's Drink, then knocked the dust of that town off his boots. It would be a hard life, retiring in a place like that, even with the coin he had saved up. Too small, too backwards, too little commerce. So it was onward to Markarth, or Solitude perhaps. There were still many hours of travel ahead before he would have to choose a specific destination.
    For now, he was more interested in the young man lying by the fire. A Nord, by the look of him, barely out of his teens. A commoner judging by his garb, and a traveler by the pack on his back. Buliwyf had found him lying in a thicket by the road about two hours past. It was only by luck, or maybe fate, that he had noticed a boot sticking out of the brambles. It had taken some doing to free him from the vines, and Buliwyf's hands and arms bore the marks of the large thorns.
    The youth was out cold and deathly pale, but alive. A hasty examination failed to reveal any outward injury, though he did have a smear of blood on the shoulder of his garment. Unable to wake him, Buliwyf had carried him to this small copse and set up camp.

    The boy stirred and appeared to be waking. Buliwyf hoped this mystery would soon be resolved...
     
  7. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    The New Gnisis Cornerclub was filled with capacity, packed with the poor and the destitute spending their meager income on fermented and otherwise prepared release. A sanctuary from chill both atmospheric and emotional, this was the place where Redoran and Telvanni alike would voice their grievances and raise a cup to hail the Imperial banners that hung from the walls. Ironic, Saryn thought, seeing as those houses had rejected the Empire during the Third Era. But now Morrowind was more of a wasteland than it had ever been, and the Nordic chokehold on the Dunmer refugees was getting unbearable.

    "We should make for Solitude", Velas Baram declared as he took a sip of alto wine. "We are still Imperial subjects, and my cousin in the Company would surely help us out".

    Velas' plan was simple enough. Leave Windhelm, travel to Solitude, find work within the East Empire Trading Company. Letters of indentured servitude be damned, if the Empire couldn't enforce laws against discrimination, they damn well shouldn't prosecute breaches of contract either. All it took was some daring, and the willingness to travel miles upon miles in the cold before reaching Imperial territory.

    "We'll leave tonight", Saryn said, checking that his knife was still in his belt.
     
  8. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Arngeir opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into a fire. He was cold and felt weak, but he was alive. Judging by the sky he had awakened in the middle of the night. Perhaps it had all been a nightmare, and he was still safe beneath his rock outside of Rorikstead? Perhaps Hraltis eldest was still alive? He regretted thinking about her even before he'd finished the sentance in his head; the vision of her dead, bloodsmeared face crept up from the deeps of his memory to haunt him once again, and the picture was so vivid... he would have vomited right there and then if he'd had enything left in his belly to spare, but alas, he had to make do with a disgusting gurgling sound. Holding his head in his hands, his wrist brushed against his shoulder and all of a sudden he froze. Something felt terribly weird, so he decided to inspect the shoulder and almost screamed. Blood. So it had been real after all. The entire village was dead. The memories started to come back from the fog, and his eyes widened with insight. He had to warn people. He had to warn them now! But where was he, and-

    -he spotted the stranger in mid-head-sentance and threw himself backwards, or would have if he hadn't been so weak. The result was more of a violent shuffle in the opposite direction of the stranger.

    IIIAAA! Who are you? Where am I?
     
  9. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    "WHOA there!" shouted Buliwyf. The boy's scream had given him a fierce start, and he was reaching for his belt. There was no sword there, hadn't been for years; but old habits die hard. "Cease your racket boy, you'll wake every dog, draugr and dragon in a hundred miles!" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing his nerves to settle somewhat. "By the Nine." he mumbled. "I am Buliwyf, and you are in my camp!"

    The boy simply stared at him, eyes wide, looking frightened and bewildered.

    "Put your eyes back in your head boy, I'm not that pretty. Here." Buliwyf tossed a wineskin at the boy's feet. "Take a drink, get your wits about you. Then you can tell me who you are and what you were looking for under yon thornbush!"
     
  10. werozzi

    werozzi Member

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    Werozzi took a deep breath, the sweat inside of his gloves made him uncomfortable, also, the bow string was cold, and it would shrink with any sign of humidity.
    His head was full of thoughts; the words of his master, those anatomic books of old, his own experience, all coming back to him in order to analyze this situation, so he took a really deep breath and took a step forward, then another, and so on until he found the hill's top, and looked downwards. The sight that followed almost made him emit a grotesque laugh, because down, in the camp, there were two people; a man, frozen and stabbed to death, covered with a layer of red ice, and another man, seemingly asleep, with a thin layer of frost covering his body.
    Werozzi stored the arrow, hung the bow on his back and stretched his hand in order to reach the hilt of his dagger.
    It was a cold morning, Harnud Odyyrfin was comfortably sleeping, yet inside of his dreaming, snowy steps were sound, he heard the characteristic sound of a blade unsheathing, and then, Pain. cold, bladed pain, striking his chest as he heard a mute voice mumbling something about solis, or selis, no, Sithis, he understood it, and he managed to open his eyes, just to see a black-eyed man, wearing a hood, staring at his own eyes as his life force was sucked into oblivion.
    Werozzi stood, and admired his own work, the man lied down, his face in a horror expression. he was a nord, his hair was short, as his beard, he could guess his age was around 17 years, and yet he bled so profoundly, his blood so red that he knew he wasn't badly fed. Looking around the encampment, Werozzi found some things of interest; a bowl and a half of stew remained in a pot, still in the fire. A cloth sack with clothing had some peasant clothing that might prove useful in order to successfully enter a city undetected.
    As he ate all of the stew, and drank the quarter bottle of wine, Werozzi roamed the area, searching for a rose, his own devised signature; in every assassination he committed, the victim had a red rose over it's chest, and this wasn't going to be the first time without the fulfilling of that so intimate tradition.
    After the rose was in place, Werozzi having eaten and the clothing over his armor, he stood and looked west, because according to this map he found in the young nord, the city of Riften stood in that direction.
    Werozzi headed west into the cold morning, looking forward to find the last Morag Tong target and fulfill his contract entirely.
     
  11. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Arngeir picked the wineskin up, looked at it suspiciously but decided to drink anyway. He needed something to calm himself. Anything.

    My name is Arngeir and... did you say you found me in a thornbush? I... I don't have any memory of...

    He fell silent for a few moments. Then he looked the stranger in the eyes, as if trying to judge him, and spoke.

    Look, I... I need to get to a city. Perhaps Solitude, yes, that would be best. You don't happen to be travelling aywhere near there, are you? I could really use some company.
     
  12. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    And so it was that Buliwyf found himself trekking northward across the open plain. Arngeir had insisted that they veer off the road some miles back. If memory served there was a small village somewhere in the vicinity, marked on the map with a symbol but no name. Buliwyf supposed his traveling companion must have run afoul of the law or locals and didn't fancy being locked up or beaten. His younger, more reckless years had given him enough experience with these things that he could sympathize, and so didn't press for an explanation. Besides, out here on the plains the going was nearly as safe and easy as on the road; the giants kept most of riffraff relegated to the hill country.

    Arngeir had not been very forthcoming with details about himself or his motives. He claimed to have no memory of the events preceding his arrival in Buliwyf's camp, and while that may have been partially true, it was apparent that there was something being held back. Buliwyf supposed the boy would spill it when he was good and ready. Or not; it made little difference to Buliwyf.
    Many would question the wisdom of trusting and traveling with strangers, but Buliwyf had sized the boy up and wasn't overly concerned. Arngeir didn't have the look of a hardened criminal or deranged lunatic, so there was little chance of Buliwyf being knifed in his bedroll. Neither did he have the look of a fighter, and Buliwyf had trounced plenty of those in his day.

    Their time together had been mostly pleasant thus far, though the boy did have something of a rambling tongue. Each time Buliwyf thought the boy's repository of fanciful tales must surely be exhausted, Arngeir would launch into another. Buliwyf was beginning to suspect him of making them up on the fly.

    The sun was nearly down when they spotted the cave. The opening was in the lee of a rocky hill, and looked like it would provide fine shelter from the strong prairie winds. There was no animal sign, so Buliwyf judged it a safe place to make camp for the night...
     
  13. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Sitting across the campfire from Buliwyf, his eyebrows locked in a serious frown, Arngeir appeared to be thinking. His eyes were fixed on the dancing flames, the features of his face changing with every passing moment. A wet log in the fire had begun to sound with a high-pitched whistle, constantly increasing in frequency until it finally popped. As if awakened from a dream, Arngeir shook his head slightly and looked up at his companion. The man sat there just like himself, staring into the fire, until he sensed Arngeirs gaze and he too looked up. Staring into his eyes, Arngeir decided to tell the stranger of what had happened. He told the story from beginning to end as best he could, sparing the man the worst of the details but never the less trying to give the man a clear picture of what had happened. He stopped when he came to where he'd fainted and fell silent for a few moments, his gaze fallen once again to the fire.

    ...And then you found me, he said, and... that's why I need to get to Solitude. To warn people. I'm sorry for not telling you until now but I... I wasn't sure I... I didn't know if... I just needed some time to, I don't know, prepare myself.

    He once again fell silent, face illuminated by the orange glow of the fire. He dared a quick glance at Buliwyf, to see how the man had reacted.
     
  14. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    It was a disturbing account. Buliwyf was no stranger to violence or the grisly aftermath thereof, but the wholesale slaughter of hapless villagers made him feel queasy. Certainly, the blood of the innocent demanded justice, and Solitude seemed a logical place to seek armed men to achieve it. He felt confident that the masked murderer wasn't the harbinger of doom that he claimed to be; more likely a lunatic with a penchant for butchery and theatrics. But he and Arngeir made a poor posse for a manhunt. They were undermanned and under-equipped for such an undertaking.

    Buliwyf assured Arngeir that this thing would be made right. The boy was clearly convinced that the fate of the world hung in the balance, and Buliwyf didn't feel inclined rid him of that persuasion; there were still many miles between them and Solitude, and moving with a purpose would get them there that much faster.

    They broke camp at first light and made their way back to the northward road...
     
  15. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    In every sense of the word, Windhelm had been a cold place to live in. Some mornings, when they had been to poor to buy firewood or too exhausted from toil to stoke the fire during the night, they woke up with their hair frozen to the pillow. The surrounding mountains and highways were even colder, they knew. But no chill they had ever known could have prepared them for the supreme algidity that ruled Skyrim tonight. It had seemed such a good idea while the spirits and moon sugar had their hold, now the bone-shivering chill made the assassination of a guard and the ensuing wall-scaling and harried snow-running seem like the worst idea in world history. So, here they were, freezing their balls off in the middle of nowhere with not as much as an inkling as to where the hell they were going and a growing suspicion that the murder they had committed would result in summary executions in the Grey Quarter.

    > "... I don't care if they catch us", Saryn said. "In fact, I'm looking forward to it. Might be they put us somewhere warm before they hang us".

    - "Will you shut up?"

    > "Why not? Bloody cold has already taken my fingers, my jaw will freeze shut next. I swear it, I'll ... oh, lookie here.

    They had stumbled out on the high road, no doubt this could take them to Solitude.

    Suddenly, a wagon emerged from the frozen night.
     
  16. werozzi

    werozzi Member

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    The day was cold, and a bosmer, used to live in warm forests, would find it yet colder.
    The walls of Riften could be seen now far ahead, Werozzi checked that his clothing would hide most of his armor, removed both his leather cowl and the cloak's one. After acquiring the expression of a troubled peasant, he entered Riften.
    As the gates were opened, no guard seemed to recognize Werozzi, an advantage.
    After leaving Morrowind, Werozzzi was instructed to go to Riften, and search for Delvin Mallory, he might knew where the target was headed.
    As his custom was, a visit to the cemetery was almost forced, and in silence, and staying in the shadow, he took a walk around it, contemplating those old and not so old gravestones.
    Suddenly, the sound of a slab of stone displacing, like that of opening a grave, was heard, just inside of a crypt, Werozzi quickly jumped backwards, crouched and grabbed his blade.
    Running from the crypt and climbing a tree adjacent to the wall, a leather outfitted figure saw Werozzi, that after looking down from the treetop, jumped towards the wall and descended on the other side.
    As a lightning, Werozzi ran towards the crypt, just to find it closing,so he started looking everywhere for a switch, that after found and activated, showed the way into a tunnel, illuminated with torch and stinking of cabbage and ale.
     
  17. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    They had been walking for quite some time now, across the plain towards Solitude. As of yesterday the odd couple was travelling along the river Karth which divided the counties of the Reach and Haafingar. Soon, Arngeir knew, they would pass through the village of Dragon Bridge. He'd been there many times before, but never for long. Being on the doorstep of Solitude, the town had become nothing more than just that, a doostep. You stayed the night and then went about your business in Solitude or beyond. There wasn't anything interesting about the village anyway, apart from the bridge it was named after. The locals didn't know much about that though, which Arngeir had learned to his great disappointment. The question right now, though, was: do we tell the villagers about the fate of Rorikstead or don't we? And the great fear: what if the murderer has already dealt with Dragon Bridge? The thought of having to behold yet another such awful sight was too much for Arngeir, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. And yet he suspected he would have to, if the monster had been in earnest. And that he had seemed to be.

    They had been walking in silence this far today, and so Arngeir decided it was time to break the spell with the very question that gnawed on his mind. He hurried up to Buliwyf. When we reach Dragon Bridge, he began, do we tell them about Rorikstead? Or should we tell the Jarl first?
     
  18. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    "I'd rather not start a panic. You know how excitable these country folk can be. And unless Dragon Bridge has grown considerably since the last time I passed through it, they are unlikely to have the manpower and resources to track this murderer down. Wouldn't do, sending pitchfork-wielding farmers after a hard killer. Still, they should know there may be trouble afoot; have them to understand that there is a band of thieving highwaymen in the area. That should get their guard up."

    Soon, the footsore pair were passing under the great dragon's-head arch into the quiet little village of Dragon's Bridge, though they quickly realized that the place was in a very unquiet state at the present time.
    A trio of horsemen, all in blue cloaks, sat their horses amidst a congregation of what must have been the entire population of Dragon's Bridge. One was standing in his stirrups with hands raised, and was about to speak...

    "PEOPLE OF HAAFINGAR! HIGH KING TOREG IS DEAD!" he shouted, then paused a few moments to let the words sink in. Once the murmurs of the crowd intensified to shouts, he began again. "HEAR ME PEOPLE OF SKYRIM! HEAR ME! JARL ULFRIC OF WINDHELM HAS CALLED FOR ALL TRUE NORDS TO SUPPORT HIS CLAIM TO THE THRONE, AND THROW OFF THE YOKE OF YOUR IMPERIAL OPPRESSORS. THE TIME FOR AN INDEPENDENT SKYRIM IS NOW!!!

    With that, the three kicked their horses to a gallop and sped past Buliwyf and Arngeir, across the bridge and out of a town in an uproar.
     
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