Kidnapped! (Playground), RP Playground Options

[Uleni Athram]

Evil never dies. It simply evolves into another form of monstrosity. It's like a never ending tapeworm with one million faces that could transform into another million shapes, a repugnant and persistent predator that never stopped finding cracks to manifest itself. He always questioned himself how it could be done. How evil could finally be vanquished. The sheen of the wine glass, its shape made beautiful by the whispers of candlelight, gave him no answers for that, only a burning and shadowed reflection. He dug his eyes there, drinking deeply for visions as much as he did for relief an hour ago.

He let his eyes droop, and his calloused fingers massaged his wrinkling temple.

Times like these make him question whether he had the energy to lead. He was weary to the bone, and his world had no color anymore, only a distressing sepia of what ifs, could'ves and should'ves. When you run a marathon, and you see yourself run, run, run, there comes a time when you make a certain amount of distance.... when you make it further than you realized, you ask yourself if you could get a little bit of a breather. A little bit of a break.

He deserved it, didn't he? He survived the Crisis, didn't he? He fought against the baying hordes of Dagon and came out the triumphant one, didn't he?

The last thought broke all of his inhibitions and he roared a primal roar that bespoke of unending grief, inescapable confusion and unquenchable rage. With pitiable desperation he reached for the whole bottle instead of the glass, and gulped it all down, savoring the burning trail it made on his throat and chest.

He just turned 20 this morning and he already knew why men twice his age drank.

Damn the Crisis, damn the Daedra, damn the Dawn! Damn them all to a black, ancient void bereft of anything resembling hope! Damn them all!

With a surge of inner hatred and borrowed determination from the bottle, Aenius Gratian rose from his chair and stormed out of his tent-office hybrid, a gleam in his young but hardened eyes.
**

The Rebuilding of Kvatch, as was usual with anything associated with Imperial bureaucracy (particularly after a massive Crisis that left the Empire a bloody mess), was slow as a testudo formation on thin ice. The veterans, foremost among them the indomitable Savlian Matius, was busy in the Imperial City petitioning the Elder Council for real assistance, not promises that gets crucified the moment it leaves lips. The ones that were left for Kvatch's protection was mish-mash of hardened guardsmen and green horn recruits.

And they simply weren't enough to go around.

Thirty eight guardsmen tasked in the protection of several hundreds. It was head-bursting as much as it was laughable. It was fortunate that all of them were linked in this tragedy's aftermath and went beyond themselves to help each other; if it weren't, the guardsmen would simply be crushed under the pressure of protecting people several times their number. To help the beleaguered Watch, the civilians established an enclave of sorts, basing their headquarters in the collection of tents on the foot of Kvatch's hill. From his vantage point on the surrounding hills, the sun behind him, Acilius could see that there were several proper buildings erected there now, too. Probably halls of some kind where everyone would meet and gather around in.

Acilius memorized every detail and made notes.

He then joined the mass of humanity gathered there, on the lookout for the young Captain that was hiring mercenaries.

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OOC: Its been a while since I RP'ed, or wrote for that matter, and it shows. UGH! But anyway, let's do this!

[Acadian]

* Buffy *

The facility wasn’t fancy – in fact the horses were tethered outdoors under limited canopy provided by several trees. The dry feed, tack and other supplies were stored in tents. The trough was full of crystal clean water and the horses stabled here seemed in good condition and comfortable enough. The young hostler that helped Buffy to strip the tack from Superian and groom the mare had a good hand and heart with horses.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be in Kvatch and,” Buffy paused awkwardly as she produced a very light coin purse, “well, I’m afraid this is all I have for payment at the moment.” She dumped the contents of the pouch into the man's hands and quickly added, “Ship passage from Solitude used most of my assets, but the guards in Anvil said there might be work here for a scout or bounty hunter.”

The Imperial pocketed the coins and said reassuringly, “This’ll take good care of your mare for several days. Scout or bounty hunter work, eh? I didn’t see any weapons in yer gear. . . you some kinda mage?”

“Some kinda, yes,” Buffy replied with a crooked smile.

After looking the elf up and down a bit dubiously, the stable hand offered, “The guard captain here, Aenius Gratian, is hiring mercenaries I hear. Dunno what for though.”

“Thanks,” Buffy replied earnestly. She turned on her heel, blew a kiss over one shoulder to her mare and headed out into the sea of tents that was punctuated by small columns of smoke from numerous cooking fires. She was saddened, but not overly surprised, how slowly progress toward rebuilding Kvatch seemed to be going.

Buffy hadn’t gone too far when a tattered banner marking the local guild of mages came into view. She whispered, “Acadian, I’ll keep an eye out for this. . . Aenius Gratian but, since I’m broke, we’ll probably stay in the guild tonight. I hope Sigrid Firewalker’s still the guildmagister here. Perhaps she can craft some new potions and poisons for me if I offer to provide a bit of conjuration training to her apprentices.”