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]

The Altmer drank her fill of wine and announcing how delicious it was. She ended up emptying the goblet of wine and found it so pleasing that she might even buy some for her husband. Good that she enjoys it, Drakothemir mused. But her mind seemed to be quickly affected bu it, and like most of the inebriated she was clumsy and turning into a redish color. He felt somewhat dissapointed. This one might not survive the expedition . . .unless she put her honed Nordic talents to good use. One must have a sharp mind when going beneath the ground to face Cyrodiil's darker sides of nature. And if he was to pair with these people he expected some of them so survive at all costs until he needed what he required. If what he searched for was truly there to begin with . . .

Then, as a myth, he would vanish from their lives and never hope to come across them again. He would be mentioned as the odd Imperial or the dark-robed one. It did not matter. He would be gone, and whatever fabricated reputation would go along with him.

Kayla drank a bit and had her mind tremendously altered. Drakothemir could see that she was easily influenced by a cup of wine. And that came down as a weakness to most. The vampire looked at her with a curious gaze, both anticipating what she would do next out of interest of once more making conclusions from her actions, which seemed legit enough. But Ylenno spoke out to him, capturing his attention for a fraction of a moment.

"But monk-boy, real men drink the Surillie Borthers! No doubt you picked Tamika's for her taste, but!"

Then he was interrupted by Kayla, who had drank enough to know that it was enough. She rose to her feet, excused herself, and walked away from the table toward the front counter. Leaving Drakothemir and the rest of his aquaintences at the table. He looked at Ylenno and cleared his throat. "I am no monk. Not anymore at least." He confessed with an added smirk. "So I am perhaps just as a real man you are."

He didn't waste anymore time speaking. While his perceived former-monkhood was evident by his black robe and use of swords, his rings bespoke otherwise. It was then that Drakothemir realized that he never told him the were family heirlooms. And he never was going to tell them unless one of them asked for it. The Vigilante woman knew about them, but she chose to pester. Drakothemir found it best to hold his tongue. They can think whatever they will of him. In the end, it did not matter. There were truth to some of his words. He is of a religious order. His rings are family heirlooms claimed by him. And his swords . . .well . .that is a different story altogether. In the end, his noble heritage was obvious. Painfully so. It was rooted into his blood and radiated in his speech and mannerisms. Four centuries of walking Tamriel as such could not hide that fact. And him recently reawakening and adopting a life of a former monk simply contradicted his behavior. But Drakothemir had an answer. He always did.

While Ylenno spoke to Buffy, Drakothemir began to ponder on the albino Khajiiti woman he say walk in earlier. She did not tarry for long, and had left the inn after she came to speak to the proprietor. Though she was far from him, he could still capture snippets of her conversation and even heard her snide comment about his monk status with a vulgar comment. Hmm . . .the woman does not even know in the slightest idea who I really am and yet she doubts every word on my tongue.

It was strange to see her walk in and then walk out. She might have wanted to avoid something after she seemed eager to avoid bumping into a rather almost drunk Kayla. What did she want? And who is she? Drakothemir wondered.

He tapped his finger on the table and considered retreating into his own room for the day.