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*

[Uleni Athram]

GM POST

Milon let the boy slip off his grasp, offended by his snubbing. From the blatant panick, and the brutally obvious lies he spun, it was clear that he hided something. His gut told him so, and common sense dictated that no matter what you do, you do not display suspicious behaviour infront of a guard, let alone the second-in-command. The boy wanted to run away when he got out, Milon saw the coilling tension himself. But Cleitus and Camilliana's presence stopped Westley in his tracks and he opted to just walk instead.

The two saw the erraticness displayed by Westley and looked to Milon with questions in their eyes when he went outside. He shook his head at them.

"I want you two and Corius at the Count's Arms early in the morning. Make sure to keep him in your sights. I want him for a questioning. For now, let the boy sleep."

They resumed their patrols.

**
Early at the morning, when people were having their breakfast, the three guards stationed at the Counts Arms finally saw their quarry. Ignoring the fact that he almost looked like a criminal being herded off to the dungeons, which in a sense, he technically was. They also ignored what protest he, or anybody had, and stonily led him to the Anvil Dungeons. The trip there didn't take long. The gates of the castle were opened for them, and down they descended into the deeps.

The room held for questioning and filling complaints was bare and practical. Torches lined up at the wall gave an orange illumination. There was a front's desk in the middle, variated by a cluster of all sorts of paperwork. To the side, a bench cushioned with soft leather. By the bench was an oaken door, ancient and spartan. They bid Westley to enter, and when he did, the guards dsipersed. The same practicality of the outside enroached on this room, but there were several trophies that honored the deeds of the dweller. The most glorious among them was a taxidermied head of a timberwolf, its face forever barred in an expression of torment. This timberwolf was an infamous menace at the roads; with the help of an esteemed hunter, Milon hunted it down and took its head.

Milon sat at a furbished oaken table, and he was a reading a copy of the Black Horse courier. He looked up and smiled at Westley, and set his copy down.

"I apologize if us Guards prove to be an inconvience for today, son," he said. "But there's been a horde of questions I wanted to ask you yesterday night, but first things first!"

He motioned towards a chair. In front of that chair was all sorts of silver plates containing hot food that seduced anyone with its exotic scents. There was a bottle of Tamika 422, ice cold, and an engraved silver cup.

"Please eat first before we begin. Once again, I apologize for this severe inconvenience, but there's been an alarming reports of werewolves entering the city. Your person was the closest to its last known location, and I've wanted to ask you about it, but please, eat first."




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OOC: Hey Phoenix, since you're going to introduce your character, we might as well interact!


Ylenno

The wood elf was smoking a roll of Hackle-Lo outside the Flowing Bowl Inn, inhaling and exhaling the blessed numbness that comes with the eastern indulgence. The wisps of his smoke hung around him, and slowly danced their way to nothingness. With each puff, it left a burining trail down his throat and chest, and he remembered his first roll with Caele- his sister. They managed to knock one off of a shop in Bravil, and their young lungs didn't take the invasion of smoke well. He remebered that he was almost paralyzed, and the panick on Caelefensil's face was absolutely unforgettable. They took a beating when the caretakers found out, but it was well worth it. Ylenno laughed at the memory.

Everything was gut-wrenchingly homely in the Anvil Docks. Those who lead lifestyles of high or mediocre regard might think him crazy to even consider this place 'homely' but they didn't see past the surface of poverty. They look here and say 'what a bunch of uncouth savages miring in their own filth,' or 'what a stain on the glories of our city'. He was familiar with the arrogance of the high-borns but for him, they couldn't smell their own waste on their knees when it comes down to it. Pompous fools that think themselves above the 'rubbish' that 'pollutes' this world. Painting themselves above morals and decency just because they have more coin on their pouches. There may be exceptions, and there might be a genuinely uncorrupted 'high-born' out there, but Ylenno hasn't met those exceptions yet.

Until then, all is normal as it can be for a former thug.

He squashed the Hackle-Lo beneath his feet and lit up a new one, welcoming the paralyzing fire. The Twins and the maiden stars from above had taken Magnus' throne hours ago, and by his estimation, it would be midnight soon. Most people are probably asleep right now. The Inn he was staying in, the Flowing Bowl, held no interesting things at the moment. There weren't any decent brawlers inside, and what women that stayed there were either poor folk or beauties well past their prime. The Fo'c's'le on the other hand was quite the opposite. There'd been a handful of cute-looking women he saw inside, and chances are there'd be more further in. Such a shame that only 'seamen' are only allowed there.

He once tried to set himself up as a retired seaman and they saw right through him. Not only are you supoosed to be a CURRENT seaman, but you had to have connections too. What a bother that the only decent brothel here was uptight in their rules and regulations.

But he guessed it was for the better. He'd need the energy for the sign up in the Adventurers Guild tomorrow. He coudln't possibly ignore the brouhaha Tamriel made when they announced the Expedition. Thee rewards promised instantly hooked him in, and the promise of an adventure unlike any other came second. Besides, he'd heard from his sources that the Orum Gang's on the prowl for him. He'd needed some way to at least catch their scent off of him. There'd probably feelers sent in at the Adventurers Guild, but he's determined to cross that bridge when it comes to it.

The last embers of the second Hackle-Lo died with a seething fog that danced itself into nothingness. The Twins and their contigent of stars watched from above as he entered the Flowing Bowl, unaware of a scream that heralded an arrival.
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The morning came with a whisper, and Ylenno spent his roaming about Anvil. The Adventurers Guildhall was opened, but he had no intentions to enter just yet. He'd decided to just wander and see what Anvil has in store for a tourist's eye. On his way to nowhere, he spotted an Imperial being escorted by three guards to somewhere.


Poor b@stard , he thought. Whatever you did, you did it amateaurishly for the guards to hound you.


He resumed his wandering, taking note of the seaside beauty that was Anivil, until the afternoon came and a fresh wave of signees entered the Guildhall. He supposed it was time for him to join, and he made his way towards the alabaster portal, when a shock of blonde hair and blue eyes passed him by and he was immediately reminded of Caelefensil. He snapped to the walking form of the woman, a wood elf like himself, and took in the sight of her longbow and a seemingly familiar gait. He was sure he saw that particular elf before, and his gut pointed to Bravil, but he couldn't place his finger on it. He once again looked towards the wood elf as she entered the Mages Guild, and the realization smacked him hard he almost gasped.

That was Buffy! Old Daenlin's apprentice! What was she doing here, he thought. But then he laughed. She's probably here for the same reason as I am. He didn't had any encounters with the other elf, but he knew enough to know that face and that blonde hair. She was the talk of Bravil after all and some of the orphans back there looked up to her as an example. If she did became a Dame in some court, then she he had to hand it to her.

He trailed off in his thoughts, lost within the nostalgia of Bravil, when he bumped into a person. The collision was sudden and strong, and he almost fell down. He catched his balance however, and looked up at the person he collided into.

He had to slightly crane his neck as the person was an Altmeri lass. Immediately he put on his roguish grin and made an attempt to help her out.

"Hey there, you alright? Didn't see you there, for a moment." He appraised her in a way that wouldn't be considered rude and clicked his tongue. "I'll be damned. A High Elf in heavy armor! That's a first! I'm Ylenno, a pleasure to bump bodies with you," he laughed. "What's yours, if I may ask?"