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]

Drakothemir, Count's Arms.
The second cup of wine was a trap. A trap for any curious fool eager to bite the bait of a free drink. And he knew women well. Men in taverns always sought to impress them with a free drink in hopes of getting the women to lift their skirts and spread their legs. And it seldom worked. But for Drakothemir, a free drink in exchange for information was always something that was succesful. For the simple pleasures of a man he could get anytime and anywhere . . .at any cost. But information can be bought, and it can be traded, and it can be earned. He needed to know if this woman was a Vigilante of Stendarr, and if she was, what in Oblivion do they want with this expedition . . .and if they are involved and she was their sole agent . . .perhaps she is corruptable.

The woman beside him somehow took interest in him, and created an opporunity for conversation. Drakothemir poured the wine in both of the cups, and then in an instant, pushed one of them toward the lone woman.

"The occasion is change," he said with a deep inhale along with a sip of wine that was passionate. "And knowledge." He added whilst savoring his wet lips, and the washed throat as the wine went down. "I am quite sure you have heard of Fort Sutch and the rumored mysterious lying beneath it. You see, I am to undergo a search, one that would be the most fruitful among my adventures. I am gathering a crew. Wlling young men and women such as myself who are eager to learn more about the history of our province."

Before he could add anymore, he paused to take a sip of wine, but not for the sake of drinking. He did it because he felt . . . he smelled . . .a disturbance. He could not see him, but he could hear and detect him from afar. It was a man, but not just any man, it was a werewolf. The scent of dog, that canine musk . . .undoubtedly a Lycanthropy had entered the Count's Arms. Drakothemir didn't know werewolves came to Anvil much, for most of them never favored the sea as transforming unwillingly onboard a ship would be chaotic and suicidal. Unless of course, the man had a way of controlling his Lycanthropy, now that would've been interesting.

There were giggles in the backround, and Drakothemir turned toward the root of the comical sounds, but his eyes, however, went directly to the man. Not a man . . .a child? At least he appeared as one. Black hair, blue eyes, a youthful look to him. But even looks can be deceptive, Drakothemir knows, for he stands as a twenty year old man but is the age of over four centuries. Indeed, this Lycanthrope could be well over a hundred years. But there were no scars, no bruises . . .which explained to Drakothemir that this gifted Imperial was young. Perhaps inexperienced.

He waited and saw as the young man approached the counter, and made an order of venison steak and proceeded to choose a depressing corner to skulk in while he waited for his food. Drakothemir looked at the woman beside him and smiled, offering a hand. "Drakothemir is my name. I do not believe we have met before. Are you from around here?"

And while he was going to hear her out, he couldn't take his attention away from the other Imperial sitting alone, obviously distressed at the snide comments and the scoffing some of the nobles were whispering about him, which only gave Drakothemir the more reason to realize that this man was too young. And a young werewolf is a reckless one. They always are. And Drakothemir could not afford to stand near any reckless creatures who could potentially reveal his secret.

Drakothemir weighed the options: He could poison his food, but his enhanced sense of smell could easily detect the harmful ingredients. Or Drakothemir could kill the man as he slept in his room, but he knew that werewolves never truly slept due to their intense hearing, and even the smallest of sounds would wake one up . . .or perhaps he could goad the woman beside him into killing him. Or maybe he didn't have to resort to killing him at all. Drakothemir met werewolves before, and even employed a bounty huntress to take out a political target for him. Many of them are loyal creatures, and very secretive. But those werewolves were experts at their craft. Gifted hunters. And because this one confirms the gossip of a werewolf running afoul, it means that he is careless and rather, possibly, quite stupid. Still, he would not get on his bad side.

Drakothemir took half of two seconds to study the man before he turned to a local maiden. "My dear," he said with a charming smile. "Would you be so kind as to give that young lad a bottle of Surille Brother's wine? Do not worry about the price, for I will cover it. Add a bit of vegetables and fruits to his plate, too, please."

"Right away, sir."

He turned to the woman. "Sorry. I just cannot stand seeing a beggar only order a slice of venison when he deserves so much more on his plate . . ."