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*

[King Of Beasts]

Westley:

The wind was howling ferociously, and the land was ensnared in darkness. With no light but that of the moon and stars to guide his path, Westley cautiously walked down the main path to Anvil. He had traveling since the wee hours of morning, when the sun barely crept over the horizon, and with no horse or carriage to take him to his destination, Westley was exhausted from the long journey. Oh, how he longed to smell the salty air of the Anvil docks. He dreamed of socializing with the good-natured people of Anvil, and laughing along with his new friends over a mug of ice-cold beer at the tavern, but alas, this dream would never come true.

Westley was different. He was not like the mortals. They were so fragile and sensitive. Westley was given the blessing of his master Hircine, and despite the tremendous increase in his strength, stamina, and senses, deep inside Westley could only feel hatred for himself. In his eyes, he was a soulless monster, who merely craved the taste of human flesh to sate his unnatural hunger. The ring of Hircine may have prevented his forced transformations on the day that the moons rose in the sky, full and glorious, but it did not silence the inner-wolf, and Westley's sanity was slowly degrading, day by day.

Westly stopped, and took a deep breath. He looked up at the star-filled sky. Memories of sitting in the grassy plains by the Imperial City with his father Corvus, listening as he was told tales of how every great hero became a star, and thet the greatest heroes became constellations. Each constellation told a different story. A different struggle. A different battle.

Those painful memories died in the dreaded fire with Corvus though. Westley could still remember that horrible day. Smoke rose from every part of the forest he was ensnared in, and the flames ate everything in their path. His father had rushed to his aid, and saved Westley from the fire, but was dragged back into the horror. His father had thrown himself up into a dirt hill, but was thrown back down to his death by thier so called family friend. Westley could still hear his father's screams as he plummeted to his death, and the cold, hard, unforgiving ground killed him upon impact.

Corvus had a dream. He wanted to become an adventurer, make his name noticed out there. He wanted to provide money to feed his son. But that was all stolen away from him, and even though he was dead and gone, Westley carried on the memories of his father. He had read in the Black Horse courier about how the adventurer's guild was recruiting, and how they were planning to go on a journey to the lost city of Sutch. He wanted to fulfill his father's hopes and dreams, and he had found himself here, walking along the road to Anvil.

Westley snapped back into reality, and continued down the dusty trail. The soft beams of the moonlight were cold against his light skin, and the wind wasn't helping. Every step he took kicked up dust, causing him to cough and take desperate gasps for air. He fiddled with the ring of Hircine, but didn't take it off of his finger. It was too risky, but he was so far from Anvil still. Surely a willing transformation wouldn't do to much harm.

Westley slipped the ring off of his finger, and slid it into his pocket. He let the inner-beast break free, and became one with the wolf. He had control over the beast, at least when it wasn't full moon, so not a worry went through his head. Thick, black fur began rapidly growing all over his body, and he cold hear a sickening cracking sound as his bones shifted shape. All of his muscles bulged out, and became larger, and four Large fangs rapidly extended in his mouth, and all of the rest of his teeth became sharp. A pointed muzzle grew from his face, and he ears became pointed. His eyes began to glow a brilliant shade if bright-blue, and claws as sharp as daggers sprouted from his fingers. He could feel the strenght coursing through his veins, and he let out a blood-curdling howl as he stood in the moonlight.

Westley took off at the speed of lighting, and continued heading down the dirt path to Anvil. He hoped he wouldn't cross paths with anyone, he had no intentions of frightening innocent bystanders. He kept his breathing rate steady so he wouldn't slow down from loss of stamina, and carefully observed his surroundings to make sure there were no fiends with malicious intentions towards him. Then again, everyone wanted to kill the werewolf. After all, since when are werewolves the 'good guys'?

He was so busy with his head in the clouds again, that Westley didn't notice he had halted to a stop, and a Redguard woman was pointing a pitch fork at him and screaming for help. He took note of his surroundings, and noticed the large city gates, bearing the emblem of the city of Anvil. The woman began screaming even louder, and that was his cue to hide for cover. Westley bolted through the gates of the city, there were a few drunk men making attempts to navigate through the city, and they noticed Westley and screamed for help. Westley ducked behind a house, turned back into a human, and snuck into the chapel as if nothing happened. Hopefully the guards will dismiss this werewolf sighting as hallucinations from the excessive amounts of alcohol that the men had been drinking last night. One sober witness wasn't enough to justify the story....

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Jan 23 2013, 01:20 PM