Today in Cyrodiil, spoilers version, TES: 4 Oblivion character accounts & stories Options

[Renee]

Hello people, and welcome to the Chorrol > Oblivion Spoilers > Today in Cyrodiil thread, a place where one can write all about their charcters in TES: 4 Oblivion, and include spoilers in the story. I realized that the other Today thread is in General section, and this new character of mine is going to have a lot of spoilers in her story, so here goes.

Let's meet my new one!

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Morndas, 2:12 AM, Last Seed 27, 3E433

"Pale skin.... snotty expression," says the putrid voice of a dark elf, somewhere nearby.

The captive woman awakes slowly.



"Yo're a Breton", continues the voice ..."the masters of magicka, am I right? Hmm?"

"What?" the captive calls out.

"Yo're nothing but a stuck-up haahlot, with cheap pahlor tricks. Go ahead! Try yo'r magicka in here! Let's see you make those baahs disappear!"

"You know of my magicka? And how?" the captive is now confused. She does know some 'magic tricks', but her knowledge is limited to just a couple of minor spells.

"Ohhh what's the mat-ta? Not so powerful now, are you Breton? Yo're not leaving this prison 'til they throw yo'r body in the lake! Ohhh that's right, yo're going to DIE in here, prisoner. ... Yo're going to die!

Joan of Arkay, the aforementioned 'captive', begins to remember what happened to her. The faire she had attended. The challenge of her faith by a non-believer. The subsequent argument which had turned ... nasty.

"A Redguard had then come to my assistance," she remembers. "A sweet-talker, that one. Guards made a showing, the fight did gather with persistence..."

Beyond this, Joan cannot remember the rest. How did she wind up here? In a jail cell? ...

As she tries her memory, she suddenly hears voices. Footsteps. A group apparently is approaching her cell. "...we don't know that sire," says a woman's voice; a fellow Breton. "...the messenger only said .... "

"Nooo they're dead. I know it," says a man. His voice sounds deep and familiar.

"Whot's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!"

"Usual mix-up at the watch.... I ah..."

"It doesn't matter, let's get this gate open. Prisoner! Stand over by the window," commands the female Breton.

"I .. but I ..." Joan stammers.

"We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way!"

"But it was not of my intentions!" protests Joan. "I was merely one bystander caught up in needless challenge!" her voice is strong. Resilient.

"Prisoner, stand over by the window now," says a male soldier. "Do as you say, and you won't get hurt."

At these words Joan concedes, and finally does as she is told.

"Stay put, prisoner."

Joan of Arkay is not prepared for what is to happen next, as the Emperor himself enters her cell. Emperor Septim, leader of all Tamriel. His bearing so regal, his clothing so colorful. His presence both overbearing and unexpected, fills Joan's cell. She can barely breathe. Uriel Septim VII is in my jail cell? Joan of Arkay thinks she might be in one of her bizarre dreams, only this one's much more real.

"Yooooou", says the Emperor "I've seen you. Let me see your face," he says, getting closer to Joan. "You are the one from my dreams...."

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3:20 am

"... as for what you have done, that is not what you will be remembered for..."

The Emperor rambles about how he's seen her before. He seems to know her, and obviously, this leaves Joan stunned. Surprised. Surprised at this interruption of her jail sentence. The Emperor has apparently been targeted, she learns, and all his sons have been assassinated. A secret escape route which starts in her cell is being utilized, and the entire group now leaves her cell, after one of its stone walls slides into the floor.

"Stay out of our way, and you won't get hurt," says one of the soldiers as they all slip by.

Joan of Arkay initially obeys this command, even as the secret wall does not rise back up, leaving a large hole in the wall. I must serve my sentence, she thinks I should not leave. To end one's jail sentence early would not only be considered dishonorable, it would be illegal. But did not the Emperor himself provide every reason to doubt my captors? ... Hadn't he said (in so many words) that my sentence would now be pardoned? These are not ordinary circumstances, then.

Joan can see her jail cell (the iron door itself) is still locked, and she initially thinks of calling the guards so they can move her to another cell. But after much time, and a bit of hollering, no guards come. Nobody shows up. During all of this, the dark elf still stands in his cell across the hallway, silently watching her.

"What do you make of that?" Joan calls to him. "The Emperor and his personal guards just traipsed through my cell! ... How can this be?"

But he does not answer. Perhaps he is just as surprised as she is.

"Well, it cannot hurt if I follow a bit down this passage," Joan rationalizes. "If I get caught, so be it. The door is opened, as the expression goes. And did not the Emperor himself admit he had seen me within his dream?"

Dreams. The dreams. Had the Emperor been having the same dreams as she? Joan of Arkay's curiosity is piqued at this. She now makes her way out of her former jail cell, and down a dark, sloping passage towards her destiny.

This post has been edited by Renee: Feb 3 2021, 07:27 PM

[Renee]

Hello everyone, how's your Saturday going? :yawn: Now I shall share a tale of a character whom I rarely spend time with. You asked for him, now you got him.

He is derived from an idea I thought of awhile ago, but have only implemented this year. For a fuller description on the background of this character, click the Spoiler tag below.


Loredas, 3:11 am
Heartfire 1, 3E433

Race: Argonian
B. sign: The Lover
Class: Scoundrel
Level: 2

Days Passed: 6
Bounty: 96

Days Jailed: 0
Items Stolen: 8
Assaults: 1



"You're off-duty now."

"It's about time!"

Dawn breaks through the previously-rainy morning. Angular shafts of light shine clearly upon still-wet cobblestones. A note of calm and one-ness descends.

"Please sir, I've got noting to eat."

"Don't be the last to read todaaay's ... Black Horse Courier!"

The Imperial City's Market District returns to life slowly, as the morning's warmth spreads with grace.

"Do you know Maro Rufus? He specializes in Light Armor down at The Best Defense."

"I haven't spent time there, but if you're looking for light armor, The Best Defense is the place to go."

Compliance. Acquiescence. Calm interludes of conversation, which twist in a delicate manner through the avenues and alleyways. Greetings and salutations. Discourses and random perturbances.

"Oh, hullo."

"You have my ear, citizen.

The Imperial City wallows in its finest days, and dozes in its finest hours.

"Have you ever been to Edgar's Discount Spells?"

"Dissscount ssspellsss? I'd just as soon buy a slightly ussed sssshiiield".

A wilted glance. A sunny smile. A pocketful of gold. A look beguiled. These are the days when all is at its finest, the rich and the poor, nothing could be easier. Or finer.

"Naspia Cosma is really skilled with her blade. It's a shame she doesn't compete in the Arena."

"I understand her parents are against her competing. Quite a shame."

... But beneath this pleasant facade lurks a menace. A terror like none other. ....

"What. Is it?"

A pointed snout which drifts through darkness. Bird-like toes which tract and grasp. His eyesight an onus, but his hearing and nose acute. The Terror from the Imperial Sewers creeps from dark chambers and through narrow passages. Down culverts and up ladders.

"Ich habe hunger nach fleisch!! Gib mir essen, gib mir schatz!!"

His words a guttural set of growls. He climbs and clambers, and finally reaches fresh air.

"Mawning!"

"What's new with you?"

What's new with you? ... Soon, the citizens of the Imperial City would have plenty of answers for this.

~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___

"Do you want to learn about Alteration? Speak with Dovyn Aren."

"He still teaches, but he lost his passion for it after the Levitation Act was passed. Can't say I blame him."

Mandil and Simplicia share a contentious conversation. Rich and poor, now equals.

A shadow of scaly skin passes by, causing the conversants to consciously crinkle.

"It seems Summerset Isle has become a much more dangerous place...."

"Be seeing you".

"Hier finden sie? Was sie tun konnen?" the shadowy scale grumbles aloud. Unconcerned and grateful, the Terror slips from shop to shop, viewing and scenting each door as he passes. Cold stone. Sturdy oak doors. Finally he raises his snout sharply. He selects a door. Grasps its knob. And into a shop he creeps.

~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~______~

3:12 PM

"Edgar Vautrine. You don't want the very best. You want cheap. And I got cheap."

The Sewer Lizard kinks his head in bird-like fashion, not knowing the pale-skinned man's words.

"You want to buy or sell, the City is great. You want free? Go down in the holes, kill some monsters. Sell your loot back in the city!" Edgar advises.

The Terror skulks from one end of the shop to the next, careful to avoid touching anything. He knows what happens ... if he touches.

"If you have any questions about the merchandise, you have but to ask," Edgar tries, a tinge of nervousness traces through his Bretonic voice.

Edgar knows. This is the one. The one who was spotted, stealing potions from Claudette's shop. The Argonian who did not beckon or speak, but merely walked in. Selected and chose. And walked out. Claudette must have lost hundreds! Edgar thinks wildly. Hundreds of gold, from this brazen thief!

He begins to sweat, and thinks he should call for the guard. But it's all for naught. The Sewer Lizard merely glances this way and that. Seems to decide there's nothing worth taking, and leaves Edgar's Discount Spells.

"Be seeing you!" Edgar calls, trying to insert a note of cheer into his voice.

~___~___~___~___~___~___~___~___

9:08 PM

"Put on the Feed Feed Bag! I'm Delos Fandas. We got food and drink, and lots of it!"

"Ich habe hunnnger nach dem essen," growls the creature.

Abwasserkanal Eidesche, also known as the Terror from the Imperial Sewers, has been here before. Not in The Feed Bag, but in this situation. Food all around him. On tables, counters, and shelves. Food which could last many weeks, perhaps even months. Real food, clean and free of vermin. .... But a guard protects this food. A man (a dark elf) stands guard. What to do about this unfortunate situation?

Abwasserkanal, in the past, has been dealt some rather unexpected blows, after getting hungry and simply trying to eat. Without any comprehension for the concept of payment, he has (in the past) merely grabbed and gulped. And not paid. The people do not like it that he takes their food. Their potions and poisons. They chased and tried to catch him, as he fled down the Sewers. But escape? He did.

In his meager reptillian brain, Abwasserkanal sees what must be done now to avoid all of this. He reaches on his back, and selects the weapon which hangs there. Feels its weight in his grasp. And swings. HARD.

"I'm through talking to --ARRGH!!--"

The giant hammer smashes into Delos's shoulder, but the Dunmer only flinches..while selecting his own weapon.

"Agggh!" .. "Hi-yaah!" .. smuck! plink! .....the fight is on.

...bottles and silverware smashes upon the floor, wine and food splashes! as the Lizard dances around! Jumping from table to table! .."By the ARRGH!!" The Dark Elf is wounded... seriously wounded. It looks as if the fight might tip in the Lizard's favor, as Delos' health starts to wane. With the Dark Elf dead, the Sewer Lizard could eat all he wants. He knows this.

"STOP! You violated the law!" says a metal-wearing man, so similar in appearance to the last metal-wearing man the lizard encountered. "Since you lack the funds to pay the court, you must serve out your sentence. Your stolen goods are now forfeit!"

Metal-man breaks the melee, causing some grief to Abwasserkanal the Lizard. Although his emotions are primitive, he looks at all the uneaten food on the tables, knowing he'll need to wait another time.

"THEN PAY WITH YOUR BLOOD!!!!" shouts the man in the tin suit.

The Sewer Lizards balks none, and flees through the door, unable to 'put on The Feed Bag' this time.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 6 2022, 04:01 PM