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.

*********************************

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

[Uleni Athram]

Sleepy Magnus in the West was slowly giving way to the Twins from the East, and the skies were a tender indigo that had twinkling shadows here and there. Acilius was now seated on a log, in front of a campfire that had a bubbling pot of Colovian Gumbo. There were other fares to be had too, like goat's cheese, cans of liver spread, boiled eggs, and a healthy helping of fried rice. It was not a palette for kings, to be sure, but the Stars be damned if they weren't filling. The young half blood had already finished his fourth helping and was about to pig himself on a fifth one when he dimly spied an Imperial dressed in black attire. Acilius would've passed him for any other fool... were it not for the fact that he had an Akaviri katana strapped to his horse.

Immediately Acilius' hackles were raised as he jumped to the conclusion that the Order had sent another Blade to 'supervise' him. It rankled him to know that after all the blood, sweat and tears he shed, they still considered him a reckless Apprentice. A young blood inflamed by the passion of his early age.

But there was something off about this.. Imperial. Grim get-up notwithstanding, he carries himself like a lord or a prince, his gait suggesting power, but power of a different kind. His eyes were also... Intensely pale. From this distance he almost looked like he didn't had any pupil, colorless as they were.

Then, after a moment of careful observation, Acilius immediately settled into a calm trance and let the environment blend him.

There was no doubt about it.

This one was an Agent of the Empire, yes that much was obvious, but of a different department than Acilius.

He was... Cardius, if the young Blade remembered correctly from the files in Cloud Ruler, but Acilius doubted if that was his REAL name. He was no Blade; but an Inquisitor.

If Acilius' Order were the Empire's knives in the shadows, then the Inquisitors were the terrors lurking in darkness. They stamped out the Empire's enemies just as the Blades do, but some of their methods are... morally questionable at best.

And here was their poster boy, strutting about in Kvatch with purpose behind his steps. Acilius could guess what that purpose was, and if he was correct, then he dreaded it. He had no love for the Inquisitors, like some of his contemporaries, but if they were sent here to squash the Remnant of the Dawn... then there's nothing to do about it but accept it.

It left a bad taste in his mouth, but Acilius understands the concept of using monsters against other monsters.

He scanned Cardius and saw him enter the Mages Guild. Acilius sighed; since he now had a new target to inspect, he must stalk him.

Acilius had just left the Guild after eavesdropping on the boring conversation between the Captain and the elf called Buffy, and he was loathe to enter a place twice. It garnered unwanted attention.

Setting down his plate he followed the Imperial inside the Guild, all the while being careful not to broadcast his presence.

When they were inside, Acilius iniated a conversation about transliminal bridges with a cute little Imperial that had high cheeks, all the while keeping his other focus on the Inquisitor.

Acilius then laughed; partly because he wanted to see what would happen if he slapped the cheeks of the Imperial in front of him, and partly because Buffy seemed to be a magnet for clean shaven men with exotic swords.

When there was a lull in this arcane talk of bridges and aetherial rules, Acilius bid his Imperial au revoir and headed straight towards where Cardius and Buffy were seated. It was hard to listen in to their conversation, no thanks to the motor mouth with the high cheeks, but Acilius heard enough .

He sat on there table and gave them his most charming smile.

"Sawree tu inderapt," he said, the Hammerfellian accent rolling easily on his tongue. "But Ei herd dat'choo ver seining ahp fur dis Britalrak bizneez. Ar'choo mertenariz, az vill?"

He gave them a vague salute.

"Eim Poryphel dah Gaelent! Silsard fur air!"