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]

Lord Drakothemir.

Drakothemir took the time to study the people that sat before him. Each of them all different in appearance with elvish similarities. The only exception was the Redguard.

The woman named Buffy seemed one of the oldest, though the Bosmer male who called himself Ylenno with the exotic hairstyle seemed to be in his late twenties, as was the High Elf woman that accompanied them. They, unlike the other Imperial, seemed more mature. But it wasn't maturity that Drakothemir was looking for. Not only that. It was the individual skill each and everyone of them possessed that was of concern.

Buffy. The first thing Drakothemir noticed about her was her size. She was small. And her lovely blond-hair. vivid blue eyes and large ears gave most the impression that she was a simple Bosmeri woman. But in their culture, Wood Elves learned how to use the bow at a young age, and she certainly appeared to be able to wield the bow she carried with deadly precision.

“I cannot speak to the abilities or choices of others here, only my own."

Drakothemir waited for her response. He was eager to find out what her craft was, and what she was capable of. This is precisely what he longed to hear.

"I fought under the command of Guildmagister Sigrid Firewalker as we helped Captain Savlian Matius’ army recapture the city of Kvatch at the beginning of the Oblivion Crisis.” She said, her tone even and fair, not as passionate as say, the Lycanthropic hound or the hungry High Elf. “I am, unfortunately, well-practiced at healing the carnage of combat. My gift is not one to be rationed though, nor does the treatment of minor cuts and bruises dilute my ability to heal grievous wounds.”

She fought under a Guildmagister and aided an Imperial captain in retaking the city of Kvatch from the Daedra? Impressive. Most impressive with the fact that the city was retaken. And no doubt she played part in the recovery. Drakothemir has heard of such things happening, but not in great detail. It had been a short time before he returned to the land of the living, and thus he was given little time to discover the facts of the war against the Daedra invasion. The name Savlian Matius was familiar to him, but he doesn't recall the man. Sigrid Firewalker, on the other hand, completely escaped his knowledge.

So . . .she is a healer and an archer, concluded the vampire. She will certainly make sure no one dies in combat or passes out from bloodloss.

Drakothemir had no intention of feeding off of any of them. In fact, he was well aware they wouldn't be the only adventurers there with him. There will be others, who are destined to die in the forgotten halls of Fort Sutch, but among this group? Possibly, but not by his hand. The traps and snares and possible spirits and monsters that lingered there would be the ones to worry about.

“This is Ylenno, Elaninde, Westley, Tarrick, and Kayla.” Buffy added after introducing herself. Drakothemir smiled and bowed his head slightly, taking the time to analyze them each carefully and quickly in a normal fashion.

Ylenno had a mischievous air about him, and the menacing axe he carried and his appearance told Drakothemir he was some kind of roguish warrior or carried himself as such. There was an aura of magic about him that Drakothemir could sense, and he came to the conclusion that perhaps this man had some knowledge of the arcane arts. He looked dangerous, and his roguish qualities was something that he would have to watch out for. Though he knew how to avoid a confrontation when he could, especially with the hot-headed hound named Wesley.

The second High Elf, Elaninde, was even more of the standard appearance of a High Elf. With golden locks of hair, two golden eyes and moderate lips. He suspected that under her armor, she was a thin girl in body size judging by the width of her throat and her arms. Aside from these, he couldn't gather much information on her. But her race alone was enough to know that she may be talented in the arts of the arcane.

Drakothemir was somewhat aquainted with Westely. The Imperial werewolf who nearly throws a tantrum every passing minute. Not much could be said about him. His personality has shun quite well in the very short time Drakothemir had been around him. He was impulsive, angry and bitter. According to him, he possessed no manners because his father had passed away, which could explain his negative qualities and current emotional state of mind. The fact alone that he was a werewolf, an angry one, no less, was of much concern to Drakothemir. He was a threat. His Lycanthropy alone could get others killed, and above all, he certainly knew Drakothemir was a vampire. There was no doubt about it. Their supernatural sense of smell and awareness was the reason for that.

He could tell Westley did not like him from the start. No matter how futile his attempt was to mask it; the silent growl, the hairs sprouting in the back of his neck, the mocking smirk and the twitching lips and the intense gaze. All signs that he felt challenged or threatened. Like a common wolf, Drakothemir thought. The vampire actually suspected he might be wanting to devour these people, and felt that Drakothemir was no more than a rival in his territory. But he saw no ill-will coming from the werewolf toward his new comrades. Not after he got into a fight with the Bosmer. Out of all of them, he could very well be the most dangerous. Maybe. His reckless nature is testament to that.

Kayla was the High Elf woman perhaps over the age of thirty whom he noticed was lithe in appearance, and had auburn hair on her head. She came off as a typical Altmer. What Drakothemir learned from her the moment she got into a heated argument with Wesley was that she was married. Though regular in appearance, her strange Nordic accent and of course, her own words to Wesley told Drakothemir she was born and raised in Skyrim, possibly raised by Nords considering her husband might as well be one from his description. There was the possibility she was lying to cover her true heritage for whatever reason, but Drakothemir wasn't counting on it. There were scars alongside her arms that could have been there from a fight or maybe even self-inflicted injury. There still could be much to learn from this woman, and the way she looked at him sharply told him she could suspect something . . .but all Drakothemir did was smile back to her as her name was said.


Tarrick was the Redguard who led the group into the tavern and ordered tea for them. The only real human in the group. He had a clean-shaven look, short black hair and dark skin, as the countless other representatives of his race. Place him among the other Redguard of Anvil, and he would blend in quite well. He struck Drakothemir as a likeable man, by mortal standards. The way he opened the door and behaved around women was a sign that he was somewhat of a gentlemen.

All in all, they were a team of adventerers who, judging by what Drakothemir had heard them say, were eager to set foot under Fort Sutch. Each of them could have different skills, and not many of them seemed at all dangerous. But Drakothemir underestimated people before, and it nearly cost him his (un)life.

"What is it you wanted? It's nice to meet new people." Westley said to him in a dark tone. Drakothemir was not moved, nor did he even show any signs of anger or annoyance as he looked at the man. He was going to make a comment regarding his small gesture of kindness toward him, but it was not to be mentioned. That was one thing Drakothemir knew was just between the two men. There was tension there, and both Imperials knew what each other were, and what harm could be done to not only one another, but those around as well.

Drakothemir grabbed Kayla's hand with his own cold one, and shook is firmly, but not as strong as he would have done to a man. He then pulled away from her. "A pleasure to meet you all."

He looked at Buffy. "Well met, Buffy. Why unfortunately, may I ask? To be able to help others and save lives, especially in something as horrific as battle is a gift. Something I always wished to learn."

And he never did learn anything from the schools of restoration. He could heal himself from drinking blood alone and draining the life-force of others, healing all manners of wounds while his foes turn into a lifeless husk. It was selfish, indeed, and destructive. But nescessary. And he was proud of it.

He stopped, looked at Wesley, and nodded in agreement. "It always is a delight to meet strangers. You all seem quite . . .well-mannered. For hostility to end in handshakes and exchange of names tells me you're all friendly." He steeled himself. "A welcome change in this city. Not many sailors like us land-walkers. Ah, and I prattle about. Forgive me. My name is Drakothemir."

He turned to Buffy, the one who took the liberty of introducing him to the others. "May I sit and join you?"