The Roots of Svelkreen, Shards of a Broken Empire Options

[Uleni Athram]

The Posting Order


Ahrenil -> Jack Cloudy -> Uleni Athram -> Saqin -> Grif11 -> Dantrag -> Lord Revan -> TheTrueCaboose







Licensed fools and madmen, tumbling maniacs and demented entertainers. They danced to invinsible flutes, sang without words. Their noise of celebration echoed in the barren halls of the Royal Palace of Cyrodiil, where the political tension is thick and the Emperor innerly ravaged with some unknown turmoil. The Elder Council, in a rare display of affection towards their ruler, hired this troupe to thin the miasmatic fog that gripped the Palace from out of nowhere.

Of course, they might've also hired this troupe to simply hide the fact that the Mulberry Smiler, an assassin with some reknown, was among them.

The Mulberry Smiler, aptly named because of his/her blue-red-green costume, splitted away from the main group. He/She brandished a box from his/her inventories, a box with intricate carvings of birds and dragons. He/She held it to the air with reverence, held it in the air so the feasting nobles may see it.

The rest of the troupe all lined up in two lines beside the Emperor, making way as the Smiler now took steps towards Martin, who looked on with amusement. That amusement grew with curiousity as the Smiler kneeled before him, head bowed, box held out for the Emperor to take. He indulged in the act and took the box. The troup began to jitter and chatter wildly and excitedly. The Smiler made an eager motion and the young Emperor opened the box.

Its contents was a silky paper with the words 'I accept' written by a fluent hand. A smile lit up the Emperor's features as the Smiler now danced with abandon, the rest of the troupe doing the same.


And then the door opened, mercenaries and hired thugs entering.

This post has been edited by Uleni Athram: Oct 7 2011, 09:04 AM

[Ahrenil]

Blaiddalen

"Someone was lookin' for yah Wilder" the innkeeper grunted as Blaiddalen strode into the room. He stood a good head above most of the other occupants, and many refused to meet his eyes, though his woad markings drew attention from many. "I told him ya were out, an' he left to find ya. Said 'e was one of them Fighter's Guild couriers, guess they wan' yer help, or yer head"

Blaiddalen grinned at the prospect, the fighters guild only ever looked for him when they had a big fight lined up, and even a bounty hunter would be a decent fight. Either way, it had been 3 days since Blaiddalen had battled a decent challenger, the meagre bandits and highwayman in the area had long since gone to ground or now hung from trees in the deep woods. The wolves were learning the looks of them now, and learning that there was decent eating on one.

"Direction?" the wild man asked, his cyrodilic thick and alien to his tongue.
"He headed into the woods abou' eastwards" the innkeeper replied, gesturing towards the deep woods. "I warned him that the weather was gonna turn but he went anyway".
Blaiddalen simply nodded and strode back out the door, pausing only to grab his spear and bow.

The woods thundered with the sound of rain on the canopy, heavy droplets plummeting to the forest floor to soak the carpet of pine needles. The deep woods were rarely travelled, by men or beast. They were a dangerous place now, since the Oblivion crisis clanfears and other beasts had settled into the deeper stretches where Knights couldn't ride their horses and clear them out.

Here and there a broken twig, a misplaced stone, and the sulphurous smell of fire magicks lead Blaidallen deeper, despite the weather slicking his hair and blurring his vision his strides were steady and purposeful, quitened by the sodden forest floor and the pounding of rain.Before long the wind brought him the cries of battle and the ring of steel, and Blaiddalen's pace increased accordingly.

Before him the forest opened into a clearing. The floor was littered with bones of both men and animals, and more recently with the corpses of several Clanfears. In the center of the clearing a lone man stood in battle with a giant grey skinned deadra. The beast hend a claymore in each hand, and sneered in contempt at it's oponent.

Slamming his spear into the ground Blaiddalen drew his bow, knocked a broadheaded arrow and sent it whistling at the Xivilai, a second arrow flying before the first had even struck. Snatching up his spear Blaiddalen howled in anticipation as he pelted forwards, pine needles kicking up in wake. With a cry of fury the Xivilai spun, taking the first arrow in the side before batting the second away with a claymore. Blaiddalen launched himself forwards, twisting away from the beast's massive swings and dancing forward and back to skewer it with his spear. At the same time the other man struck, a gleaming katana shedding sheets of water and blood with each lightning fast swing into the beast's side and arms.

Within a minute the Xivilai was down, blood soaking into the floor as the spirit left it's eyes and fled back to Oblivion. Both men were left, out of breath and bloodied but largely unharmed. Blaiddalen looked the stranger over, the battle worn face was a mask of neutrality, even during the fight it had remained even and composed. He wore simple armor, leather sewn with metal discs, but it was of high quality and well kept. Even more so was his blade, the katana glimmered with the faint glow of magick, and the twisting designs on the guard and pommel spoke of more than a hired sword.

"Not fighters guild?" Blaiddalen inquired, leaning heavily on his blood streaked spear.
"No" replied the Blade, drawing an envelope from his pocket. "We have an offer for you."
Blaidallen regarded the letter carefully, his face balling in concentration, before handing it back to the man. "I do not know most of these words" he said, his tone mixed equal parts sheepishness and pride. "I speak, old tongue, but I accept, I go to hear what your Clanfather has to say."

Now the Wildling stood in the middle of a group of others, feeling naked without his spear and arrows. The Palace guards regarded him coldly, his woad markings and scars drawing their eyes as did his steely expression. The door before him opened, and he followed the others into a large central throne room, and stared at the man who ruled over a broken empire, smiling.

Urzul

Urzul's hands rested on the bar of the "Patriach" tavern, infront of her sat a sealed enevelope marked with the seal of the Imperial Legion. Without even opening it she picked it up and set it to the candle, the paper curling and smoking as the fire took. She turned to the Legionaire beside her and shook her head sadly.
"I am sorry friend, but I did my time. I won't go back out there and help you subdue the provinces once more. I'm done with the legion" she said sadly, resting a hand on the officer's shoulder plate.
"But without you think of how many men will die from their wounds." the Officer insited
"And if I am there they'll get back up and go out and get themselves poked full of holes again, and so will the other side. I won't help the Emperor cut and burn himself out another empire. Now please, leave."

The Soldier sighed, picking up his helmet he slid it back on and strode back out of the tavern with a clatter of metal. Urzul shook her head sadly, not a month went by now without someone trying to re-recruit her. With the collapse of the empire the mages guild had also gone to pot in many provinces. Rulers didn't like the idea of their mages answering to an Imperial institution and so a multitude of new schools had opened, and suddenly the legion didn't have a monopoly on all the healers they wanted.

Still, Orsinium gave her work enough to keep her occupied. It was a hard place to live, and the city reflected that. She resented whoever decided to make the bloody thing out of iron, a day didn't go by without some poor soul opening a limb on an edge that wasn't properly blunted, and then it was her job to sew them up again.

Somewhere in the back of her head, she heard the tavern door open again and the creak of metal and leather filtered into her forethoughts. With a grunt of annoyance she turned to berate whicever new Legionaire had come to waste her time before her breath caught in her throat. The man who walked through the door wasn't a legionaire, he wore simple clothes and carried no weapons beyond a tall black staff capped with orcish steel at both ends. His face split into a grin when his eyes found Urzul's, the orc rose from her seat and embraced the man with a happy chuckle.

"You've gotten fat Cearcil" she told her old friend and mentor once they'd broken apart. "You know thats not good at your age"
"Someones got to eat all of those sweetrolls, what else would novices have to complain about?" he replied with a grin. "Anyway, what kind of a greeting is that? If I remember correctly I still outrank you"
"Not since I left and you know it" Urzul replied with a grin, poking the old Imperial in the belly. "And you know what I won't be coming back, I doubt you've trecked have of Tamriel just to say hello."
Cearcil smiled sheepishly "Caught in the act, though I did jump at the chance to see you again" he admitted "But lets not talk business yet, i've got a day here, and thats a day i'd rather not spend couped up indoors. You always did blather on about Orsinium, time for you to show me the sights and drink me under the table in the bars"
Urzul grinned, her eyes lighting up. "You're on old man, time to teach you a few proper drinking games."

As night fell and Urzul dragged the semi-concious Cearcil back to his inn she couldn't help but reflect on the days she spent back in the Legion. None of them compared to days like this she decided. The poor Imperial had come to try and win her back with friendship, but instead he had just shown her how good her life was now that she was a free woman again. But he'd understand why she couldn't return, and it had been good to catch up. As she dropped him infront of his room his eyes flickered open once more.
"How, in the name of Akatosh, can you hold so much rum woman?" he groaned, fumbling for a key in his trouser pockets. "Ah, oh yeah, I was meant to give you this as well..." he muttered, handing her a sealed letter.
"You know thats useless Cearcil" she muttered, helping him through the door and easing him down infront of the bucket at the corner. "You never could hold your drink, and i'm not sticking around to watch you vomit yourself out of a hangover, good night, and come find me tomorrow before you leave."
"Will do" Cearcil groaned, leaning forward over his buket with telltale urgency, Urzul left at speed.

Back in her own house she considered the letter infront of her. She wasn't going to accept their terms, no amount of promotions or titles could win her back, but she did owe it to her friend to at least read the damn thing. As she broke the seal and opened the envelope her breath caught in her throat. Inside was a second envelope, unsealed, but every soldier knew the symbol of the dragon carefully drawn on the front.

As the sun dawned and a worse for ware Imperial knocked on her door Urzul pondered on what was about to happen. This wasn't a normal summons, and the terms offered were more than she could have hoped for. As far as all her friends and family would know she had rejoined the Legion, as far as Cearcil knew she had been posted outside of the Imperial city, to reinforce another barracks, and the official paper work would back it up. It had been years since she had worn her armor, but it fit her just as well as it had fit her back when she was a younger woman, and years of hard climbs and travelling had kept her fit enough to take on such a task.

She now stood at the side of the throne room, hiding in plain sight behind noble lords and glamoured ladies. Hidden even among her new friends in the palace guard. She had been trained, hired, and lived as one for the past month to give herself the proper illusion of being a guard, and to maintain she wouldn't be noticed by all except those who needed to know who she was. As the adventurer's entered, and the assembled lords and ladies leant forward to try see what was happening, she spotted the casual interest of Breton and a Bosmer. Blades Urzul though to herself, too well trained at looking innocent.

This post has been edited by Ahrenil: Sep 29 2011, 07:30 PM