TES RPG

Discussion in 'Roleplaying Forum' started by Wolfsbane, Oct 16, 2007.

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  1. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    The sturdy Imperial vessel steered its way through the quiet, clear water, well on its way to Ebonheart. The bright starlight reflected in the black sea, making it look like the ship was floating through the sky. A faint thud broke the silence, and was followed by a second, third and a fourth one. Curio stopped by the reeling and tried to make out any signs of the oncoming Vvardenfell, but there was nothing but darkness ahead of them. He took a few steps towards the mast, and sat down against it. He hadn't spelt well since they left the mainland, partly because he hated the hammocks on board. He was also nervous about going to Vvardenfell; he'd heard so many frightening stories about the natives there, and their ways with outlanders that he'd grown suspicious about the whole island.

    There was a series of faint thuds coming from inside the ship, so Curio concluded that someone was coming up from downstairs. Curio couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not, so he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep in case it was someone he didn't like.
     
  2. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    Of course, juggling three burning circus clubs while onboard an Imperial ship arguably wasn't the cleverest thing one could do should the captain ever deign to visit the lower decks, but the Nord seamen had had one jug of mead too many and where quite happy to throw this week's salary at him in amazement at even the simplest of tricks, so it was a risk well worth taking.

    Ragnar, a huge, bulking Nord with a bearpaw tattoo covering most of his face, sighed heavily at the realisation that he'd grossly overpaid the dark elf jester, and mumbled something about "waking up that damn Imperial" and trotted off up the stairs. The other Nords took this as a signal to resume the duties they had this evening, excused themselves and left the jester alone in his corner.

    Padraig had a sip of his now lukewarm mug of Earl Grey (with a generous amount of Valenwood honey) and smiled crookedly - he was finally going to see his home.
     
  3. wobbler

    wobbler Well-Known Member

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    He had taken this job as he needed the money and he had heard that there should be plenty of job in Vvardenfell. But sitting in a corner in a storm and watching a jester juggling three burning sticks on the lower deck with drunken norsemen, he almost regretted doing so.

    But Jarthlanie wasn't the on that thought to much of his mistakes, they where to many to burden oneself with.
    So now he just sat and waited for the dam ship to reach shore so he could get off and have a proper look at his equipment..
     
  4. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    The way the door was forced open, the heavy breathing, but most of all the smell gave the identity of the incoming individual away; it was most certainly a Nord who now walked towards Curio with heavy, looming steps, over the deck. Curio disliked Nords, and the barbaric behaviour of the ones on this ferry hadn't changed his feelings towards their kind at all. If anything, they'd served him as a reminder as to why he disliked the norse nedes so much. Curio really tried to pretend to be asleep, but the Nord didn't seem to care. An enormous hand gripped Curios shoulder, and shook him hard back and forth.
    "Oi, Imperial. Where's yer kinsman the captain? Got a little word ter him 'bout that elf down below."
    Curio met the drunken Nords gaze with an irritated, yet calm, stare.
    "Just because we happen to be kinsmen doesn't make me know where he's at all the time. Ask the crew if you're looking for him, and leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep here."
    The Nords expression hardened, him being visually taken aback by Curios answer.
    "Well, you should look after your kinsmen, Imperial, 'cause soon they'll be everything you've got."
    Then, before Curio could come up with a satisfying answer, the Nord left him alone to think about what he'd said. He obviously talked about the recent series of letdowns in the Imperial army, or rather in the entire Empire. Countries rallied against the occupant legions, and the Emperor grew weaker for each passing day. Curio was sure, though, that the Empire would come through it, just as it always had. He suddenly felt cold and lonely, and decided to go downstairs below deck to seek out some company.
     
  5. dstanzler

    dstanzler New Member

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    The man against the bar was trying to listen to the rain outside. It showered across the deck and formed puddles on the stairs. The creaking wood eased his chest and occasionally caused him to drift back onto the black ledges of his memory.

    The oil lamps were swaying gently below, directing the dim light away from the bar, lapsing into the sound outside.

    He chewed on his pipe looking into the faint stream that drained out from it; and then a gust of air sucked it away into the darkness. An Imperial soldier, soaked and cold, slinked in from the deck.

    Ralel passed from the bar towards a lamp. Eschewing the light into his face, he took in the scent of grease, and spoke, perhaps to the darkness. He faced no one.

    "I've been meaning to ask, have you recieved word of Ebonheart since our departure?"

    And then he let go of the lamp and reclined into the soft wooden pillar at the center of the room. A familiar smoke warmed the darkness.
     
  6. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    "I've been meaning to ask, have you recieved word of Ebonheart since our departure?"

    Curio looked up with a surprised expression, and spotted an Imperial.
    "Who, me? Unfortunetly I haven't. I spied ahead of us for any signs of land, but I couldn't see anything. It's too damn dark."

    He remembered what the Nord had said, and continued.
    "I don't think we've met before. I'm Curio. It's a pleasure to meet you."
    He extended a hand as to greet his Imperial kinsman. At the same moment, the door to the deck burst open and the huge Nord with the bearpaw tatoo tumbled down the stairs, missing Curio and the other Imperial by inches. He had several broken arrows in his back. An Imperial soldier appeared in the doorway.
    "We're under attack! All men on deck! All men on deck!"
     
  7. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    While reaching Morrowind was undoubtedly exciting, this was just a little bit too much. He'd heard many stories about Morrowind, about diabolic wizard lords scheming and plotting to wriggle free from the Empire, by daedric means if need be, ashlander barbarians who'd stab and rob you just for not being one of them and religious zealots with more blood on their hands than any god would be willing to forgive. Yet, he never would have imagined that the vessel he'd venture there on would be attacked.

    Just my luck, really.

    He gripped his ornate longsword, studied the elaborate carvings and razor-sharp blade for a brief moment; an intimidating piece of craftmanship that had prevented more action than it had seen.

    Oh well, no time for fooling around.

    He ran up the stairs and reached the two imperials...
     
  8. dstanzler

    dstanzler New Member

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    Ralel joined the two at the top of the storm battered stairs. He touched Curio on the arm and spoke.

    "Gentlemen, my name is Ralel Halleeb. If you wish, we should stick together. Curio, I am right behind you..."

    The howl of a white wind drowned out his voice. The ship bowed into the sea spraying cold water all over the deck, and Ralel felt it run between his sandals.

    Arrows ripped the Nords to pieces, splashing them down onto the shivering deck. The masts fluttered helplessly uncoiling from the hands of the dead Nords.

    From behind the travellers a handful of Nords armored with shields pushed onto the deck and began to ring in the masts.
     
  9. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    "Again, Ralel, it's a pleasure to meet you." Curio said, and dashed up the stairs. He quickly drew his ornate dwemer longsword, and joined the shieldbearers by the reeling. It was a Dark Elven vessel that had attacked them, and the two boats now drifted side by side, getting closer by the minute. Most of them were clad in nothing but ordinary clothing, while a select few wore a kind of armour Curio had never seen before; it definitely wasn't metal. The ones clad in armour was also better armed than the rest of the crew, and Curio made a mental note to not get to close to one of them, if he could avoid it.

    The two ships finally got close enough for the Dunmer crew to board, and so they jumped right at the Nords with unexpected ferocity, swinging their thin blades in wide arcs. Some of them let out battle cries like "Hai Resdaynia!" or "Slay the n'wah!" when they leapt, words unfamiliar to Curio. He managed to dodge a deadly swing at his neck, and answered with a well-placed thrust, straight into the dark elfs stomach. The Dwemer blade flashed with a blinding light, and the dark elf fell to the floor, black smoke pouring out of his mouth.
    "For the Emperor!" Curio cried, "Drive them back!"
     
  10. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    He'd clashed swords with orcs during his journey across High Rock, fenced in a competition against elite Redguard swordsmen and even protected himself with abjurative magics from the vicious attacks of a deranged golden saint, a confrontation he'd just barely managed to escape from. But he'd never fought against his own kin.

    The attackers were probably just as unexpecting however, as the band running past him when he stepped up on deck didn't pay him any attention. They should have. A low arc against the lower back of one of the running pirates ripped out his kidneys in a terrifying display of blood and gore. The dark elf screamed in pain and agony as he fell down in the pool created by his own blood.

    Damn, fighting felt good.

    He noticed the glance of a Nord morningstar coming in from the side...

    ... and then all went black.
     
  11. wobbler

    wobbler Well-Known Member

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    Jarthlanie notcied that he had fallen asleep when he woke up hearing the sounds of a battle comming from the top deck of the boat, and he rose and shook himself and reached for his familiar longsword. He got ready for battle and started to walk up to get out, and when he was nearing the door it flung up and an Dunmer charged throug it, thou unprepared so he ran right into the masterpiece that was held in the hands of the Redguard.

    He quickly finished the dunmer and went out on the deck and saw the bloody battle that was raging, everyone fighting the dunmer attackers.
     
  12. dstanzler

    dstanzler New Member

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    The ships collided and Ralel was tossed over the railing into the dark sea. Blackness surrounded him in the cold water. In the darkness he descended into himself. His ears became flooded with the dead voice of the sea, and his clothing became entrentched in her cold touch.

    And when he came up for air he heard the whistle of arrows and cries of the Dunmer soldiers and the sky was bright red for the monk and he shed his robes and soared from the sky with pure hatred onto the Dunmer deck.

    He cut through the archers: he tore open their backs and unravelled black smoke from their hearts into a pile of cinders left to burn on the empty deck and his fists struck with sheer remorselessness and fury and gasping he cried for Ebonheart.

    The armored Dark Elves now drew their swords towards him and he heard the Nords beating back the minor infantry over his own gasping. He had not learned a path through weapons or through armor, just a path through the body. He was afraid as they edged closer their shadows slinking up against the red sky and he could feel the Nords collapsing and the arrows that broke them down and he leapt into the rigging frantically struggling up the first mast. The rope behind him shook and he grabbed the crows nest and tore the ladder lose in fear. The archers gouged him in the sides and he ripped their lives away from the ship.

    He heard Curio shouting below, leading whatever was left of the Nords onto the ship and the shrill banging of steel weapons.

    It is written and memorized by all disciples of this practice: Un'kvah del vioreth, helek havan marah...he whispers these words to himself now then bleeding out into the crows nest and away from the men he was travelling with. Ralel is so afraid to die alone and he knows that this much blood might be the end to a man. The rain hardly cleanses his skin but he takes it. He turns the sky red again from black and leaps from the crows nest onto a balance rope below, he throws himself up into the next crows nest and grabs the archer from the sky and holds the Dunmer eyes shut shaking and he presses his palms into the Dunmer and takes from the elf, life, back into his body...more archaic words... he has never learned this practice either but he wants to believe that he can survive from it. The elf is gone, the sky is black, the rain is heavy and there is no more fighting below.

    Just the wicked voice of Dunmer captain against the voice of Curio. He could hear Nordic breathing and the creak of Dunmer armor. And the fog draws a thin line between them all.
     
  13. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    It had been a long time since he had fought like this. Curio was drenched in blood and sweat, the latter his own and the first, luckily, his opponents. He'd been scarred on his right shoulder, but other than that he was fine save for some bruices. The armored Dunmer were different from the other pirates. They were'nt your ordinary thug; they were warriors. And to make things worse, they were skilled. He watched in horrified amazement as they cut a bloody swathe through the Nords, pausing only to find a new opponent.

    Suddenly, one of the Dunmer shouted for the others to stop. They immedietly ceased their brutal onslaught, and backed off a few steps to get away from the grudging Nords.

    "People of Skyrim, hear me. I will spare your lives if you lay down your weapons and surrender. If you choose to fight, you will die right here, on this boat, and we will leave your corpses to the seaguls. If you wish to hold onto whatever honor you still have, lay down your shields and spears and give up. You do not have to die this day."

    Curio knew all too well what this meant; they were going to be captured and sold as slaves by the Dark Elves. He quickly looked at the Nords, who seemed to be hesitating. Curio knew little about Nordic culture, but he knew of their strong belief in honor. The armor-clad Dunmer held their ground patiently, balancing their red-dripping swords in their palms.

    "What say you, Nedes of the north? What is your decision?"

    Curio felt that he had to act. They could win this, they didn't have to end up as slaves. He'd heard stories about the Dark Elves and their slaves, and he didn't want to end up cleaning the loo of some arrogant point-ear.

    "No!" he cried, "No! Don't give up! They'll turn you all to slaves! If you give up now, all that you're friends fought for will have been for nothing! What honor is there in a life of slavery and mocking? What honor is there in shackeled wrists and the merciless beatings of evil masters? No! Stay with me and fight, my brethren! Let us drive these point-eared brigands back to where they came from! For the Emperor! For freedom!"

    He held out his sword against what he thought was the Dark Elven leader, and cried for him to face him in a challange. Then, he charged.
     
  14. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    He opened his eyes, or at least tried to do so. The world was red and blurred, the sounds distorted, a numb pain in his head searing through the rest of his limp body, he felt the rich iron taste of blood in his mouth. He wanted to throw up, but since doing so would require him to sit up he remained as he were.

    He couldn't for his life remember what the hell he was doing, or where he was. In any case, he was in too bad a shape to actually ca...

    CHARGE!

    Ah yes, they were onboard a ship, fighting his kin. Lovely.

    So there was still fighting going on, eh? Better pitch in then.

    He tried to clamber back on his feet, turned around on his stomach, tried pushing himself up with his arms. Too weak, too nauseous, he felt his throat thicken from the strain almost immediately.

    This simply wasn't one of them good days.
     
  15. wobbler

    wobbler Well-Known Member

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    Jarthlanie had stood in the door frame watching as battle raged, with the norse being slaughtered by the more efficient dunmers. It was a hopeless cause, that only would serve in giving them a painless death instead of years in slavery.
    Then the Dunmer leader stopped everyone, and offered them to lay down their weapons and they wouldn't kill them.
    Jarthlanie knew that this was not to be trusted, and apperently so did not one of the Imperials onboard the ship, whom screamed and charged the dunmers, followed by the rest of the crew.
    He thought that now was the oppurtun moment to engage the dunmers, so he picked up the sword of a fallen dunmer and started to walk into the midst of the battle.
     
  16. dstanzler

    dstanzler New Member

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    ...and Simonisis was held down to the pit
    by his own blood and exasperation
    they drained from his wounds
    between the stone in the sunken floor
    and the Architect circled him carefully, my friend,
    and he was perfect with each step
    with his sword he pierced the Monk's
    heart; perhaps it was blacker than the room
    and the blood and the metal coalesced...
    and the Monk arose from the hole and faced
    the Architect...
    -- Page 16, Soiel's Grimore

    While highly unlikely to be proven true (despite common practices of Magick), it is believed that souls possess different gradients. It is possible for a Monk to bind his/her own soul to another as a means of self-preservation. Of course, I cannot openly write about these practices, but in the Lore practiced in dark arts culture, one Monk may channel a soul to reinvigor himself to mend his wounds, or possibly even revive himself via meditation in a posthumous state. However, the Monk's words must coalesce with the gradient of the soul he wishes to channel. The gradient of the soul and prayer are supposedly able to produce a massive jolt of energy. Although, this is highly unlikely. I have tested these theories extensively with my own knowledge of Healing practices as well as Alchemy. I would not consider this any type of direct threat to our soldiers. --Ozzirt Bel, Letter to the King.



    Jarthlanie followed into battle and a brutal clash woke the monk who felt death weighing on his eyes. Everything was blurred with blackness so he did the best he could to listen. Although, Ralel was very exhausted.
     
  17. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    "Trouble old man! Best find some place to hide."

    Burlow stared with mouth open and eyes wide as the sailor grabbed his cutlass from where it leaned in the corner and ran back out the door. He adjusted his spectacles, dipped his quill in the ink well and continued writing... then the sailors words sank in. He shot up from the bench, knocking over the ink well. "Good heavens!" he cried, quickly snatching up his parchment from the table, barely saving it from the expanding puddle of ink. He shoved it unceremoniously into his leather bag and shuffled out the door after the sailor.

    As he emerged from the aft cabin, Burlow was greeted by the sounds of battle and a hellish sight. Dark-skinned devils were swarming the ship, their demonic shrieks ringing out over the screams of dying sailors. He glanced to his left just in time to see one of the devils lunging at him, red eyes gleaming. Burlow turned to flee but made it only two steps when, "THUNK!" an arrow pierced the hem of his brown robe, pinning it to the deck. He stumbled as the fabric ripped and, off balance as he was, he could do nothing to stop himself. His momentum carried him to the rail and pitched him headlong over the side...

    ...and into the lifeboat. He landed in a heap, the impact jarring his spectacles loose. He lay there groaning for some time before he could muster the strength to stand. His old muscles, weak from the sea voyage, did not appreciate the abuse. He peered over the rail, and though he could only make out murky shapes, there seemed to be a lull in the fighting. Burlow scampered up the cargo net and over the rail, quickly scanning the deck for any wounded who could use his healing arts or any dark ones waiting to skewer him. As he knelt by the nearest body he heard somebody give a shout, then the fighting resumed in earnest.

    Seeing that there was no life left in the body, he moved on, crawling on hands and knees hoping to avoid notice. The next casualty was not in much better shape than the first. He lay slumped against the mast, pierced through the chest with an arrow, blood oozing from his mouth. Burlow had seen such wounds before, and he knew the man was as good as dead. He made a quick incantation and the sailor closed his eyes in sleep, never to wake again. He moved on, closer to the sounds of battle.

    There were a number of dark-skinned bodies laying about, and these he passed by save one who didn't appear to be a pirate. This one was struggling to rise. Burlow moved closer and squinted. "Good heavens, it's the dark-skinned dunce!" He placed a hand on the dunmer's neck and began an incantation...
     
  18. Dark Elf

    Dark Elf Administrator Staff Member

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    It was kinda fuzzy really. And cuddly. And absolutely wonderful. He was clad in a toga, sitting on a comfortable throne, overlooking the exquisite splendour of his palace. The walls were marble with gold inlay, precious gems were inserted with painstaking precision to depict his favorite passages from myth and legend. On the stage, the Imperials Siegfredius and Roius performing with their tame Khajit, while topless Bosmer women juggled with daedric firebrands, all there to please him. On the other stage though, two nude altmer women were engaged in a mudwrestling contest, which for the moment was rather more interesting.

    His favorite Dunmer concubine appeared in front of him. "The same as always, Master?", she asked, with a look so full of lust and temptation he would have drooled into his vintage wine hadn't one of the midget eunuchs been observant enough to catch the offending saliva with his hand before it reached a goblet worth many times his own life.

    O... of course! He said, nearly falling off the throne as he said it. Damn, she's hot!

    "Yes Master". She smiled, and gracefully got down on her knees, still looking him in the eyes...

    ... all interrupted by the jolting pain of a revival spell being cast by some stupid Imperial dumbfuck who should have had the common sense to leave him alone!

    He stood up, looked the disturber stintly in the eyes and yelled:

    WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, MAN?
     
  19. Jungle Japes

    Jungle Japes Well-Known Member

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    Burlow climbed to his feet. "Well, that should do the trick-" The dunmer suddenly shot to his feet looking very alive and very angry.

    "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, MAN?" Burlow flinched back, but his retreat was prevented by the mast directly behind him. The dunmer began to slowly raise his black hands to Burlow's throat, seething hatred in his eyes.

    "Behind you!" Burlow shouted. The dark elf seemed to suddenly remember where he was. He ducked just in time as a sword cut through the space his head had just occupied. He picked up his fallen longsword, using both hands to direct the blade under his right arm. In a single motion, he stood up and thrust the sword into the abdomen of the pirate behind him.

    Just then, a horn sounded from the decks of the pirate vessel. The surviving pirates began retreating to their ship. Burlow thought he heard someone cry "Legion!" Within minutes, the pirates were making good their escape as two sails grew larger on the horizon. Sails bearing the insignia of the Imperial Legion.
     
  20. Wolfsbane

    Wolfsbane Well-Known Member

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    Curio lay still in his room in the Imperial barracks of Ebonheart, silently staring into the ceiling. He was still going through yesterdays events in his head, leaving him unable to sleep. It had been a long time since he had fought like that. It had been a long time since he had seen so much death. He remembered the dead faces of the sailors staring blankly into space around him. He remembered the hateful gaze of the Dunmer leader, piercing him like a spear.

    He had expected Morrowind to be tough on outlanders, but this... This was simply too much.

    He was disturbed in the middle of his pondering by a voice from outside the room.

    - Sir?

    It took him a few seconds to completely empty his head of the thoughts on yesterday, so that he could answer.

    - Yes, what is it?

    - Sir, you have been asked for in the grand chambers. It was somewhat urgent.

    Curio sighed.

    - I shall be there shortly. Was there anything else?

    - No sir.

    - Good day to you, then.

    - Thank you, sir. Good day to you too, sir.

    After having waited out the servants steps outside the door, Curio managed to get himself up from the bed and prepared himself for the meeting in the grand chamber.
     
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