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 *

Cardius didn’t seem to mind Buffy’s emotional chattering, even dismissing her concerns with a hand gesture. So she didn’t stop. “I’m relieved that you seem to share the value of solo tactics.” She then chuckled. “Yes, my size sometimes does work in my favor when trying to remain undetected. I’m not surprised that as a Vigilant, you have experience leading groups or small bands. So I imagine you’ll have some invaluable ideas about how to coordinate whatever kind of group we end up a part of. Like your idea to use me as a scout for example. Do you think that this Captain Gratian knows what he’s – “

The elf was interrupted as a lightly armored swordsman plopped onto the table shared by Buffy and Cardius. His flamboyant smile matched everything that Buffy could see about him – long white hair, violet eyes, the height of an Altmer, dark skin of a Redguard and ears that were human in size but subtly pointed at the top instead of rounded. Buffy was of mixed breeding herself but, like the result of almost all such unions, she was purely the race of her mother. Biracial children that displayed physical characteristics from both mother and father were incredibly rare. The texts on racial phylogeny that Buffy had studied at University referred to these beings as Centaurians and suggested that their rarity may in part be explained by the belief that they – at least the women – were likely infertile. Regardless, Buffy had never seen such a being – until now.

The man-mer introduced himself with a difficult-to-understand accent that Buffy could not place. She believed his name was Poryphel the Gallant and that he was a sellsword interested in the Brittlerock Cave mission.

It was a rare occasion indeed when Buffy found herself speechless but, after opening her mouth, she closed it again. She did manage to pull her eyes from the flamboyant man-mer back to Cardius. Did he know this . . . Poryphel?