The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[Uleni Athram]

The Shadow Under Fort Sutch
---------


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.....

------------
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]

Drakothemir:

Drakothemir entered the Count’s Inn, draped in black robes and boots that rivaled the darkest of pits. In direct contrast, his skin was a regular pinkish hue and his face was that of a young man who perhaps had never seen battle before. His eyes, however, spoke quite differently. They were vivid. Alive. Hungry, even. But he wasn't thirsty, he had just fed hours ago.

He traversed through the inn all the way toward the counter where the Innkeeper stood, though as he walked by he could see a brown-haired woman seated on the far south corner of the establishment. She had green eyes, white skin, and was average in the sense of beauty. But what captured his attention was not her physical appearance, but rather, the attire of the order which she represented: the Vigilantes of Stendarr. He smiled courteously at her while deep inside he wished he would melt the woman’s flesh from her very bones.

The Vigilantes of Stendarr: their fire is going to die. Drakothemir is sure of this. For years now since the Crisis they had turned into the self-appointed paladins of the weak and the pitiful, and hunters of the various 'abomination' that plague the world. But one day that will come to an end. And the foolish idiots, blinded by their own hypocrisy, are unable to see the truth of this. It was necessary and just that this is so, just as it is necessary and just that the instrument of their downfall be the vampire. While the Vigilantes of Stendarr rise to spread their light, eventually darkness will overcome it.

Drakothemir and his people are above sad concepts as black and white, good and evil. The only true virtue of note is this: The Knights of the Nine and the Vigilantes of Stendarr saw their abilities as an end in itself; Drakothemir knew that it was a means to an end. And that end is power. In their humble lies and noble-concealed deceptions, the Knights of the Nine craved power as much as everyone else. Drakothemir understands this. They claim to serve the people, but he remembered in the past centuries how they had removed themselves from contact with the very mortals they swore to serve and how easily corruptible they were. Now they stalked the corners of their profane chapels, mouthing their false ideologies while putting to practice the exact opposite of the mercy they preach.

For four centuries since his birth, Drakothemir knew no other life. He was born in darkness, and in darkness, he would die. Because the dark is precious. The first gift of darkness is concealment: his true face remains shrouded beneath his skin, the blood-thirsty cravings of his heart veiled even deeper. But the greatest concealment dwells not in preserving covert truths, but in concealing the truth of others and the truth from them. The dark preserves Drakothemir from what he dares not know.

Oh, Drakothemir thought, how the dark is precious. The second gift is fine illusion: the caress of gentle visions in night’s embrace, the wonder that imagination yields to what would crumble in the day’s unforgiving light. But the grandest of such illusion is that that dark is temporary: that every dark night surrenders a bright day. Drakothemir knows it is an illusion because it is the day that dies. It is the day that is temporary. Day is the illusion.

Darkness is my ally, said Drakothemir as he smiled at the proprietor of the inn to order his meal.

The third is light itself: as days are explained by the nights that separate them, as magical stars are compared by the vast infinite void through which they thrive in, it is the dark that embraces the light, and brandishes away from itself. With each victory of the day‘s light, it is the darkness that emerges victorious. The darkness that is eternal. The dark is precious, and it is patient. It is the dark that breeds cruelty into righteousness, transforms revenge into justice, that grains hatred into compassion, that poisons faith with the seeds of doubt.

The dark can wait, because the slightest collapse of tears will cause those seeds to mature. The rain is near, and the seeds will grow, for the darkness is the soil which they dwell. The darkness’ patience is unending. The dark is precious and it can wait, and it always is victorious. It’s always victorious because it is everywhere. And even the brightest light can cast the deepest shadow.

So, Drakothemir mused, how can the Vigilantes drag one into the light . . .when light itself surrenders to darkness?

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Jan 27 2013, 01:22 AM