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, Count's Arms.

The young man appeared uncomfortable. Angry. Irate. Drakothemir could see from afar that the hairs on his neck raised just as a normal canine would when provoked. The vampire could practically taste the destructive emotions in the other Imperial. It was as if it was palpable. All that fury, all that might contained within a single vessel. And it was quite beautiful. But a waste.

Drakothemir snatched a glance at the tavern wench who approached him by the side, leaned down, and whispered: "He told me to tell you that he doesn't drink alcohol, and that he's had his fill of food. But he still appreciates the offer."

The vampire settled back in his chair and smiled genuinly to both of the women. Drakothemir did not understand the reason the young lupine boy was upset, and honestly, he did not care. He just had succesfully tested how he would react. He had a basic map of how his mind worked. There was rage in there, held back and boiling almost to the point of explosion. If he had indeed gave into his apparent fury, then it would probably have triggered his inner beast and such results would have been delightfully catastrophic. The tavern goers would have lost their lives, and the werewolf himself might have been overwhelmed with the rush of Imperial guards attempting to kill the rampaging beast. Drakothemir pondered on what he himself would have done.

Would he have fought? Give into his own lust and revealed his truest form? Hardly. To expose himself as a vampire, a pureblooded vampire no less, was suicidal. The world condemned his very existence. To be unveiled would be to invite certain death. Both social and physical. And he held a vast knowledge of how simple-minded the people of Tamriel can be. It was their neverending curse. To judge and allow their pitch-forks and torches to dictate their reason.

But this man, this werewolf, had shown surprising control, even though he nearly lost it for no apparent reason other than seeing a plate of vegetables. Then Drakothemir realized he perceived him as a threat. Perhaps a territorial animal? It wouldn't be the first time. For centuries Drakothemir and his people had fought to keep Cyrodiil under their control. To keep it safe from rival, barbaric clans. It would be amusing to see a new kind of animal seek to claim territory for themselves. But someone so young wouldn't be worried about territory or wealth or influence. And so, he wasn't as much as a threat as he initially classified him to be.

He made a curious sound. "Hmm," and thanked the wench and turned his attention to the woman who introduced herself as Macalla Vibecke. "A pleasure, Macalla."

He nodded and smiled as she noted him on his hospitality, and then fell silent once she asked him about his cloak and his sword and his set of rings. This was to be expected. Vigilantes of Stendarr were a curious lot and anything relating to the Daedra they would lose their minds. He sipped his wine and laughed. "Neither. I am actually a monk from Weynon Priory. A former monk, I should say. I fled from my duties for the Nine to pursue a fool's errand in some ancient place."

He paused, and considered his words carefully. "This quest at Fort Such is paramount. When I first heard I had a choice between uncovering spending my life as a monk and to be 'free' from any bonds or relationships, be it material, romantic or otherwise or set out on an adventure . . .I choose what any young man would. The desire to experience history and not sit by and watch it pass. To be free to choose. I realize I have broken my vows and my duties to the Nine . . .but I wish to help others by uncovering the secrets. The people of Cyrodiil deserve to know what is under that fort."

Drakothemir reached for his saber, and unsheathed it halfway. "About my weapon . . .This blade was given to me by father when I was a child only days before he died of a heart-attack." He adopted a solemn expression, and looked at his rings. "My mother owned these rings. They were given to her by her father, and his mother before him. It is a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. I was fortunate to keep them when I was sent off to the priory to become a monk. It is all that I remember of my family."

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Jan 29 2013, 01:12 AM