The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[Uleni Athram]

The Shadow Under Fort Sutch
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Things were slowly going back to normal.

The momentous events of the Crisis were undeniable and unforgettable, but as time marched on ever forward, so too did the memories of fire and Oblivion slowly fade. The Empire, battered and bruised, laid low the Prince of Destruction and His unholy legions with the help from her sons and the Divines. They paid a heavy price, for the glorious line of the Septims ended with the shattering of the Amulet, and Martin's ascension to the splendors of Aetherius. The Ruby Throne lies unseated, the Crown unwore. The Scepter that commanded red legions to conquest commands them no more. The last divinity of Tiber's line stands petrified in the bloodlines' last moment of glory. A grave price indeed, one that would echo and change the Empire's fate forever, but it was a price they willingly paid. To maintain balance and order in the world of mortals. The populace all over the Empire contributed heavily into itz rebuilding. The toils of restoring the glory that was Cyrodiil slowly helped ease the shock and the horror. The Crisis would never be forgotten, yes, but in time it would be fade.

Things were slowly going back to normal.

From Bruma to Leyawiin, from Cheydinhal to wounded Kvatch, news spread of the collaboration between the three Guilds of Anvil. Even wounded Kvatch has heard, and the Empire bristled with curiousity and excitement. Even the other provinces took ear of the Expedition, headed by the famous Oedipus Nebraska, he who is renowned in the land for his deeds of daring. The eyes of this veteran adventurer has seen something in the darkness below Fort Sutch, and is eager to drag it into the light of discovery. All manner of characters and personalities are drawn to this expedition. The thrill of journeying forth in a strange land? The riches and rewards of fame it allures the world with? The discovery of secrets long buried by the ancients, whether it be damning or enlightening? Or the chance to create history with their own hands?

The Shadow under Fort Sutch detests the light from above, and will test those who invade if they are strong enough to even uncover its barest of secrets.....

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OOC: Okay, the introduction is finished. Since DE is the first poster, please, do your magic and let's get this show on the road! *roars*

[Darkness Eternal]

Character Intro: Lord Drakothemir.

The sky was overcast and foreshadowed a storm and the sun, rather uncharacteristically for a port town, hid behind the dense black clouds. Strikes of lightning could be seen in the distant horizon above the sea, and white seagulls croaked their shrieking songs as they flew by in despair.

Drakothemir stood at the balcony of Castle Anvil as a noble guest for the royalty there. He’d been in the presence of the rich and the influential more times than he cared to even possibly remember. It wasn’t surprising. He is his own ancestor, archduke of towns, owner of lands(of those not his own). He is what others should be. He is analytical and without pity, but also pragmatic. Intelligent. Reasonable. Once he was the political heart of Empire, Draken Decumus, once known for his integrity, his principled fight against corruption and festering diseases of rebellion. Now, he is a simple nobleman watching the sun set as night was ready to arrive once more.

Centuries ago, Anvil was a short collection of ramshackle huts famous for standing as a violent haven for pirates, refugees, thieves, thugs, and men and women of ill intent who happened to wash up as weeds in Anvil Bay. The once glorious Empire, distracted by the activities of the Camoran Usurper and his Undead horde, seemed unable to stop the relentless pirates of Anvil as they assaulted merchant ships throughout the Abecean Sea. Those were the times where pirate captains stalked the seas. Where a certain Toradan ap Dugal and his organized crime called the Red Sabre relentlessly drilled their nefarious campaigns.

It was the glorious days where Drakothemir was commander of the navy, and fought alongside Commodore Fasil Umbranox in a famous battle along the coasts. The blood flowed as water in those days, and Drakothemir was one of the men responsible for torching the entire town and forcing the population of the un-lawless out into the wilderness . . . as animals. The days where his ship fell into the Malestrom of Bal and his entire crew sent into Oblivion. The old days. The ancient times. Times long past.

Lord Drakothemir allowed himself a cryptic smile. His courtesy—the hallmark of a legit nobleman—was effortless, yet somehow it seemed always to fascinate the low-class mortals. He folded his arms at his chest and stared into the horizon. The world is changing. Tamriel is changing. The Oblivion Crisis had struck a blow to the very heart of the Empire. In one fell swoop the Septims had lost their lives through assassination and sacrifice. And Drakothemir missed most of it, slumbering under the earth for twenty years as the gates opened throughout the provinces.

Things were not going back to normal, despite what people believed. After Uriel and Martin perished, the septim line is forever gone. Drakothemir never imagined he would live to see the day, then again, it wasn’t beyond impossible. But those insects who believe Cyrodiil will be safe and peaceful for long are ignorant. Such children they are. Drakothemir shook his head. It was almost too ridiculous. Even for a man like him.

This is Lord Drakothemir, Nobleman of the Vladmirius family:

Once a great dark crusader in the early centuries of the Third Era, and an even greater vampire,
Drakothemir is a black shadow walking the province. Secret nemesis of the Knights of the Nine, shadowy villain of the Vigilantes of Stendarr, oriflamme of his clan, and to the known world a simple nobleman with riches and wealth beyond counting. He is the very personification of awe.

Today marked the day where the new guild would be recruiting a mass congregation of creatures from all backgrounds and races and colors and stripes. It wouldn’t surprise him. The Heart of the Empire seem to have invited an unwanted group of tourists ever since the Martin gave his life to send Mehrunes back into his hellish realm of Oblivion. Even more appalling other than the fact that some would sooner taint the Imperial name with their very presence, was that they would tarry moe than they should and seek to grasp some measure of fame only to disgrace Cyrodiil's soil with their rotting corpses.

“All I can say, however, is that after this Expedition is done, the Adventurers Guild would never be the same!"

Drakothemir remembered reading about the interview. The people were buzzing about it like flies drawn to a flame. Of course, nothing in this world will be the same, Drakothemir mused. While the scattered cattle look to the stars for hope, Drakothemir sets his age-old gaze to the bottomless pits and dark caverns of the earth. Not for respite, no, not this time. But for the hidden secrets buried deep within Fort Sutch. Secrets that had been laid there since the times of Alessia, long before Drakothemir was even conceived by the blessed(and damning) powers of Molag Bal.

Tulas Feramo knew of these secrets. Drakothemir heard of him years ago, when the man was but a simple apprentice to the arcane arts. But the One-Gazer not only knew of these secrets, he exposed and wrote about them! And the blind academics, riled by his claims, had saw fit to put the man in chains for heresy and contempt. Drakothemir found it truly amusing. It was a sad turn of events when the man who saw fit to share with the world his discoveries, or perhaps, a fabrication, would be soon await his own death for flapping his tongue. Of course, such things happen. He would be the perfect candidate to die. Just as all the other adventurers who would venture into the depths of darkness to uncover their mind’s desires. Drakothemir's sole and only regret was if the man died without serving his purpose. But the truth is: Better him than me.

Like Tulas, many of these thrill-seeking apes would sooner get themselves trapped in a cave of flesh-eating zombies or their souls stolen by Daedra for entertaining their rather simple-minded tastes for adventure and glory. And their bones would simply decorate the forgotten cob-webbed corridors and trap-laced rooms. But for Drakothemir, it would simply be an endless buffet that would serve him well until he resurfaces back with the secrets he himself believes may also be hidden there. If there is anything of worth truly hidden there. It is possible and likely, but not certain. As most knew, there was only way to find out.

The tyrannical sun and its blinding light had been devoured by the darkness of night, and Drakothemir scanned the stars for opportunity. Not like the hopeless children, no. But as a man with a vision. He would set out for Anvil, not to burn it to the ground as he did centuries ago as an Imperial commander and not as a nobleman. He would do so as a common man. A lion dressed as the sheep . . .to walk among the sheep . . .into what possibly could be a great slaughter.

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Jan 23 2013, 12:24 AM