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Chorrol.com _ Role-playing _ To The North

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 20 2012, 01:18 PM



oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Chorrol, 4E 200


Orange.

That was the color of the skies as Magnus drowned in the west, the final sunburst reaching its extremes in an effort to reclaim its seat in the highest heaven. From behind a veil of space in the east, Celdryn could see the Twin Moons usurping, slowly vanishing the orange with the blue touch of the incoming eve. Such a strange day, or dusk, indeed, to see the three observers in one, vivid moment. Suspicious townsfolk took this as an omen of things to come; indeed, from his conquered spot in the dome of one of the watch-towers, he could hear old naysayers preach on about momentous events that scour and scar all of Tamriel. He could also hear the buzzing of Chorrol.

Even as night stalks the skies, this city was busy as bustling Daggerfall in her drousy day. He turned to glance down and observed the ants as they carried on with their duties; one particular ant caught the green-piercing stare; a fat dunmeri clothed in fine silks, flanked by bored-looking Thalmor, the trio pushing their way towards the Castle. Celdryn watched the dunmer looked wearily at a certain spot in the courtyard; the Breton marked it in his mind and waited until the Twin Moons finally shared a seat on the throne of Magnus; watching from above as Celdryn finally made his move.

The midnight veiled the Breton as he jumped down the tower in one leap, landed expertly on the battlements. The guards posted here drunked themselves to a stupor; at least that would be the explanation they would have after they woke up from their spiked drinks. The ones that walked would no longer recognize the form of Celdryn; to them, he was just a brown lump in a dark setting. A harmless nothing. Fluttering of cloaks as he scaled the outer walls of the castle's closed gate. Reached the top, and glanced down at the courtyard.

There he was.

The dunmeri, now cloaking himself with a nondescript cowl and robe. The guards weren't there; probably bought off to disappear. The green eyes narrowed as the elf flailed his arms about like a madman, muttered some phrases in an alien tongue. The calm wind became enraged, shrieked like a banshee. Torches in the courtyard blew themselves out. Darkness now. Even the light of the Twins faltered as the courtyard became a pit of brooding blackness. Celdryn recognized it immediately as black magic. But to what purpose? And why here, in this very compromising spot?

He got his answer as white tendrils rose out of the courtyard's well, and hovered like hackle-lo smoke around the dunmer wizard, who now looked as if he snorted the sweetest skooma. From this distance, Celdryn saw the elf's nostril flare wide and the tendrils sought it out like it was being pulled... A long, audibe gasp of pure ecstasy from the dunmer. He flailed his arms again, muttered in that dark tongue, and the black mist disappeared along with the banshee wind. The dunmeri shuffled into the confines of the castle, and locked the entrance behind him.

Celdryn, seeing this, could not help but be interested. What manner of thing rose out of the well that the dunmeri snorted? Is it something sinister?

Or what?

He decided to find out. He jumped down with wraithlike grace and tiptoed to the well. The air around it seemed thicker; breathing became labour, as if something covered his nose. The brave breton fiddled with the well's lock for sometime, before he cracked it open and set aside the iron covering. He peered down. Pure darkness. From his satchel, he produced a glowstone; one of those useful tools made by the Dwemer. He dropped it in to test the drop; considerable, but not beyond his skill. He stood his bow against the well and his quiver also. No use for those ranged death-dealers to where he's going. He readied himself for the jump...
----------------

".. himself for the jump... And that is the end of the tale. I should reall-"

The enraptured crowd quickly voiced their complaints against the bard, demanding closure from the cliffhanger he cruelly set upon their curiousities. The owner of the Oak and Crosier had to rely on his loud voice and threats of expulsion to quieten them down on this fine evening. The poor bard, who was on the verge of being manhandled by the mob, shot him a grateful look. He then announced that he would continue the tale of the dashing rogue Celdryn Minan'Kherus tomorrow eve. And until then, here he scooped up his colovian fur helm that full of coins, he bid them au revoir. With the mob now turning to their drinks, the bard approached the counter and sat on a stool closest to the khajiit owner.

He flashed the cat another grateful smile.

"Thanks," he said, breathless from his tale, "I owe you one!"

The Khajiit shrugged and produced a frothing mug of chilled ale. The young bard took it and drank it to the last drop. The khajiit made a remark that had the bard laughing.

"Come now, Tal'Jhiro. A bard is born to seduce; but in order for his tales to have effect, it must sometimes rhyme with the bells of truth. And truthfully? I really did scaled the walls of a castle."

Tal'Jhiro looked at Celdryn with those amber orbs. He then decided that this breton can white-lie all he wants as long as he pays. The cat scooped up the payment and went to service another customer. Celdryn stood up, walked around the counter, and took a bottle of wine from the shelves. He returned to his seat and just as he was about to enjoy being stoned, a young teen of no less than eight winters approached. The kiid tugged on Celdryn's cloak. The Breton turned to face him, annoyed, but it vanished as he looked upon the enquiring eyes of the youth.

"Weh der dwagons undah dah well?"

"Tomorrow child. All shall be revealed.. Tomorrow."

The child didn't took the hint. He stayed, rooted to the spot, puppy brown eyes engaging the greens of Celdryn.

"Ohkay. But.. can I as' you a kweston?"

"Fire it up like you're a professional archer, boy."

A brief confusion on the child's grimy face before it was replaced by the undeniable curiousity found only in the innocent. But before the child could speak, what Celdryn could only guess as the mother appeared from nowhere and pinched the child's ear. Apparently, this child, name of Timothy, slipped out of the house JUST to listen to the tales of the local bard. Celdryn also received a verbal-lashing from the mother bear, who made sure Celdryn wouldn't 'preach his daedric lies' when little Timpthy was in the area.

When they both took their leave, Celdryn sighed. When he turned to his drink, he found it not on his hand, but on the hands of the stern-faced Tal'Jhiro, whose eyes spoke of much amusement at the Breton's suffering.

"Damn it," he cursed.

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 21 2012, 11:20 AM

Kogobal applauded politely over his meal as the bard finished his tale. He had hoped for more. While mindless in its goal to entertain, the story had been captivating. He wanted to know what Celdryn found in that well. Had it been some foul secret, the dark magic the Dunmer had employed? Or were they simply some fuming plants with hallucination-inducing properties? Did the mer really sniff skooma and had the dark magic been nothing more than simple telekinesis? He wished to know but the Breton had made it clear he desired to gain as much with his story as he could.
“Perhaps tomorrow. I can always come back here in a flash and a snap.” Kogobal thought and made his own contribution to the donation-hat. Then he smiled and returned his attention to the rapidly cooling slice of venison. It was all fiction of course, nothing that truly deserved his interest.

Earlier that day

Finally, Kogobal thought, his feet had brought him to Chorrol. He didn’t stay for very long. Everyone treated him as if he’d loudly proclaimed a desire to eat their children. The library wouldn’t admit him, neither would most bookstores. And the people, they terrified him. By the time he was constantly looking over his shoulder to avoid the inevitable lynching, he figured he’d had enough. So he went north. North to Skyrim. Skyrim where the Nords lived, with their magic of yelling. Or so he’d heard.

So now he stood at the gates of Chorrol, though behind a bush and just out of view. Out of habit he checked the misted and scratched surface of his staff’s little glass cap. The sphere was dull and lifeless, as it always had been. With a sigh he shook it and angled it for a better look but nothing stirred within. It was a ritual that had become more than just an aspect of his quest. It had become a part of himself. He simply wouldn’t feel whole if he didn’t peer into the orb at every junction in a road, at every landmark he passed, every morning and every evening. So now he watched, searching for that elusive glimmer of light. But nothing stirred.

Kogobal sighed once more and turned to the second ritual that made him Kogobal, the wandering heretic. He closed his eyes and sought the world, the oneness that united each place with each place. Separate yet connected. From the world he found himself, the grass he stood on. He felt its place, its weavings and its song. With a mental flick of his fingers, he bent one of the weaves, pinched a note, folded them into a complicated and stable knot. Then he fled the oneness and opened his eyes. From now on, whenever he wished it, he could recall that knot and return his flesh and soul to this place. Right here, behind the bush.

With both rituals completed, the encroaching night was free for him to do as he pleased. Kogobal stepped out beyond the bush and walked for the gate. While the guards looked at him sternly, they did at least not reach for their weapons. The people of Chorrol were the same. They looked at him, but without murder in their eyes. Kogobal decided he liked the quaint little city.

He walked around for a bit and then entered a nice looking tavern. A bard had just begun spinning a tale. Kogobal ordered a meal and sat down to listen.

Back to the now

The fun of the evening was spoiled by a child’s mother. Quite loudly she ranted about how the bard’s stories were evil, corrupting and dared she say it, heretical. He would do best not to tell his lies in her city anymore. Kogobal’s face became a stony mask of disgust.
“Ignorant hag.” He thought. He couldn’t let this slide and when the woman dragged the child passed his table, he spoke.

“How can we ever obtain knowledge if we blindfold ourselves to the world with a pleasant fantasy? This land is not made of pure good, sunshine and cute little ponies dancing in flowerfilled fields. To learn is to question, to seek truth by thought. Minds are there to be nurtured, not shackled down. Do not deny the child this by forcing ignorance upon him.” He said softly while trying to keep both his face and his voice under control. He thought he managed better than the child’s mother.The woman faltered in her step, the child looked up at the tall, oh so very tall man with the golden skin, his eyes growing big. The mother glared at him and tried to form words. But in the end she said nothing and dragged her son out of the inn.

Kogobal watched her go and shook his head. Perhaps he did more harm than good.
“In any case. If the Dunmer had truly managed to shove a dragon down that well, it would have an awfully hard time scratching its back down there.” He muttered to himself and laughed.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 21 2012, 05:14 PM

~ Vaultren, Chorrol Inn. ~


***


Night birthed above the town of Chorrol, gracing the sky with the twin celestial bodies known to most as Masser and Secunda. Stars filled the void of the dark skies above, bearing scattering twinkles around the black blanket that stretched out into city and beyond. At this time, Bruma was filled with all sorts of men and women of all ages, titles and differences. While a Imperial-influenced town, Bruma was no stranger to Mer nor Beastfolk. At this time, especially. Most in the streets retreated to the inns and into the taverns.

It was a perfect night for a nocturnal leisurely stroll, a quite moment of skulking around the town, maybe even to meet a lone wench or lass to meet, court and seduce. But to Vaultren, these things were simply a distant memory. It was as if trying to recall fragments of a dream upon awakening. The mind of an adolescent man was filled with all sorts of things born of that age, lust, young love, adventure. But for Vaultren...it was a dream of a time long past.

Vaultren sat up in his bed, awake for minutes now as he was roused by the laughter and shouting of the motley crowd of unruly men and women imbibed with ale and all sorts of mind-altering beverages. Grabbing the sides of his head with both of his hands, the enraged Imperial seethed at the interruption. Accursed feline, liar! Vaultren complained silently. I rented the place for a day and he told me there would be no interruptions!

He picked himself up, swinging his legs from the pathetic excuse of a bed. It cried and squeaked as he removed himself from its near comfortable presence. He took himself to the drawers where he swiftly removed the clothing from within; fancy extravagant black and burgundy outfit, silver and ruby ring along with gold-trimmed boots. As he was about to dress himself, he heard clapping and laughter from the floor beneath.

All these men and women, drunkards and bards...if I dressed like this, they would surely notice my status. And it would bring too much attention, Vaultren caressed his smooth hairless chin. He would have to blend in. I always blend in...always.

And so he did, grabbing a pair of regular shoes, a simple white shirt that was a bit tight, but nevertheless fitting, and regular black pants. He tucked away his personal belongings in a large sack, and marked it with some ink, spelling his initials. D.V. He later tucked it away under the bed, hidden from thieves and men whom could possibly come upon it.

He left the room, locking the door before heading down the stairs to the heart of the commotion and the cacophony of belches, cheer and praise. As he left the hall to walk into the main tavern, he saw what was happening. A bard just finished his tale, which was the cause of all this mess in the first place.

The aggressive-looking Imperial leaned on the wall, folding his arms at the roguish bard. He watched from the shadowed hallway as he happily picked up his helm full of coins, only to head to the blasted khajiit owner. It wasn't long before he was approached by a young boy who seemed to pester him with a question, which was put on hold as a maternal figure materialized from the crowd only to discipline her son and vilify the bard for his tales. She, in turn, was scolded by a High Elf who seemed to have driven her out of the inn after a brief exchange of words.

Vaultren was feeling a bit thirsty and at the same time, hungry. He approached the counter, taking a seat on the stool. As the Khajiit was busy serving another, Vaultren simply formed a triangle with his fingers as he stared from behind it with malice. The feline owner eventually took notice of him. Slightly wary of the angry-looking Imperial. But tonight, Vaultren was in no mood to begin a quarrel or an argument. He simply grinned and made his order.

"I desire a plate of bloodied venison and boar meat. Add a bit of clam meat as well."

"And, to drink?"

Vaultren slightly shook his head. "I would have nothing to drink."

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 21 2012, 07:07 PM


Celdryn struck the first blow. He narrowed his green eyes, glowing it up in a provoking manner. His eyes said the insults, the contempt, and the longing. There was a stillness of time between the two as Tal'Jhiro and Celdryn engaged in a total war of glares. For a minute, none showed any weaknesses. Untl the Khajiit's right eye twitched, and in the fires of the unrelenting green-stare, almost-blinked. Smelling the blood on the water, Cekdryn intensified his efforts, and the results were to his liking.

"Fine," the cat all but snarled. "Take this one free on the house. There wouldn't any in the future, so beware!"

The young rogue roared out his triumph, adding to the general hubbub of the Oak and Crosier, and snatched the wine bottle like it was his lost lunch money. With a beautific smile and glimmering eyes, Celdryn poured the velveteen blessing on the chilled mug, with passion so hot it was almost strange to behold. With both hands, he grasped it, eying it reverently, and put it to his lips. He opened, the crimson wave flowed in, and he kept the liquid on his tongue, savoring the taste of his battle-won drink. It trailed a graceful line of cold and bitter fire to the pit of his stomach, and he welcomed the beautiful and contradicting sensation. He closed his eyes. A gasp of pure ecstasy. The khajiit looking at him strangely.

He could care less. Tonight, he was looking to get wonderfully stoned.

But the feeling of being watched got him straight into alert mode. Oh yes, Celdryn is no stranger at being looked at; in fact, he even enjoys it. But there was a big difference between being awed at in broad daylight, and being watched in the shadows. He sensed him before he began his observation. Imperial. Would look like a prince if he was younger. Celdryn would bet tonight's earnings that he was. Aristocracy can smell each other's blue-blood a mile away. When he stepped into the light and revealed his unnaturally pale skin, Celdryn congratulated himself. This one was from a noble blood, no doubt about it. Not many Imperials had the skin that would rival an introverted Breton.

That was his only thoughts about this angry-looking Imperial, before Celdryn took a huge gulp of his chilled wine. And as he finished his beverage, he remembered the tale he would weave in the eve of tomorrow. Pffft. He decided that he could form about the continuation tomorrow afternoon. He wasn't really a bard anyway. Just trying this for the extra windfall. And truthfully, windfall or no, it was getting rather boring. He had to make some money in order to get to the Companions of Whiterun, but barding was not it.

He stood up. He gave the pale Imperial a passing look of disnterested curiousity before heading upstairs to his room. On the way, he passed the Altmer who gave the mother of Timothy a verbal-execution. Hmm. He was also one of the enraptured mob who listened to his hastily made 'tale'. He thanked him for his donations with a smile, and resumed his journey to his room. When he entered the sanctuary of his temporary room, he immediately sought out the chest which contained his belongings. He ruffled through it, searching for his diary, when there came a knock on the door.

It was Tal'Jhiro.

"Retiring so soon?

Celdryn turned to him.

"Yes. Suddenly tired. I was supposed to write in my journal before retiring, but what is it?"

"Some of the customers are requesting for some ambience music. The music troupe we hired are already here and they're all set up by the hearthplace, but apparently, their 'skald' has met an unfortunate accident regarding a plant vase and the peel of a banana. Since you're not half-bad, can I count on you on replacing the skald for tonight?"

"Do I get paid?"

"Depends on the crowd. How generous they feel and the scale of your performance. Come now, Celdryn. The Oak and Crosier is known for its hospitality since the Third Era, I do not plan on tarnishing that reputation my ancestors built!"

"Easy there, cat. I'm gonna do it, but I'll have some.. collateral, if you may call it. 25 septims up front, and I'll do it."

"Deal."

A jingling pouch exchanged hands in the dim candelight and the breton followed the khajiit dowstairs to where some of the crowd gathered infront of two Nords, both them having a musical instrument. A drum and a lute. Tal'Jhiro gave an encouraging pat on the breton's shoulders and returned to his place at the counter. Celdryn stepped between the two giants and looked uncertainly towards the listeners. He may not know how to be a skald, but he knew how to please people.

He clasped his hands and gave them a smile.

"OK, since I love you folks so much," here he looked at the Nords by him each in the eye, pleading them to just flow with him, "we shall start with a customer-service! Yes, I am open to requests for a specific ballad! So! What shall it be, my listeners?"

He looked at all the customers.

"Well?"

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Mar 22 2012, 09:52 PM

The velvet blanket of night was beginning draw closed the thinning line between day and night as Alvara found her way to the gates of Chorrol. It was a fine evening, despite the approach of nightfall, and her hood was down, grey-white hair knotted in a rough tail. Two guards stood at position just outside of them, each one holding a torch with a longsword in the holsters at their belts.

"Evening, ma'am," one of them said as Alvara approached. "Good thing you came when you did; we were just about to shut the gates for the night."

"Evening to you too, serjo," Alvara replied, stopping for the moment and leaning on her staff. "Say, you know of anywhere a traveller can go to get a good meal and a warm bed for the night?"

"You can do worse than the Oak and Crosier, if that's what you want," the guard said. "Just look out of the signs, you can't miss it."

"I'll be sure to," Alvara said. "Thank you very much, serjo."

"Not a problem," the guard said. "You stay safe now, ma'am."

Alvara raised her staff in a mock salute to the man as he left, and soon enough found the tavern. It was crowded and noisy, bursting with patrons, and as she opened the door she could feel the warmth of crackling hearths and dozens of bodies all pressed in one place wash onto her skin.

She made her way towards the bar, drawing little notice from the other patrons, uninterested as they were in a dark elf in simple traveller's gear. She had to wait a moment for the Khajiit there to finish talking to an Imperial who was ordering some food, and once he was done set about dealing with the usual business of food and board.

Once that was resolved, she took the plate of beef stew that was ladelled out for her and the small bottle of Balmora Blue she had purchased, and found her place by the table. Placing her bags to one side, she drew forth a pipe and a small pouch of Hackle-Lo leaf. She filled it and struck the thumb flints she used for lighting fires over the dried herbs, inhaling as they began to gently smoulder. Soon enough, a thin haze of finely scented smoke surrounded her.

A group of players were setting their instruments up on one side, and what looked to be their lead bard, a Breton by her guess, strode up to the front and announced; "We shall start with a customer-service! Yes, I am open to requests for a specific ballad! So! What shall it be, my listeners? Well?"

After a moment's thought, Alvara decided that it would be nice to hear an old classic and called from the back of the tavern; "Let's hear the maiden and the bear!"

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 23 2012, 05:31 AM

It wasn't long before a new sight came Vaultren's line of vision; a Dunmeri woman. Ah, what is this? He watched her from the corner of his eye as she waited until he was finished with his order, and as she took a seat on a nearby table ordering a plate of beef stew. Soon after the savory meal and drink had arrived, she removed a pipe from her sack and began to make the nescessary preparations to make the miniature contraption work.

He discerned what he initially could from the woman. First and foremost her heritage was obviously Dunmeri. The tattoo which crawled from her right ear down to her cheek reinforced his speculation profoundly. Secondly, she was a traveler by the trappings and attire, as well as the staff. Though he took a closer look at the staff and came to the conclusion it served as a magical tool. She bore white-grey hair that seemed to have peeked through her hood, though she certainly was not old at all. Vaultren saw she had a youthful aura to her, a freshness that notified him she was younger than some of the Dunmers in this town. She was also of decent shape, though not perfect in societies' standards.

From the halls of the Inn, returned the Breton bard, much to Vaultren's chagrin. He came down, with a loud shout, he roused the attention of most the tavern's patrons. By Oblivion's pits, what now? Vaultren seethed silently.

"We shall start with a customer-service! Yes, I am open to requests for a specific ballad! So! What shall it be, my listeners?" Proclaimed the Breton.

Just then, a plate was slid beneath Vaultren's chin. He gazed back to see his food, freshly made just as he requested. The beautiful dish made his mouth water, so much that he managed to impale the pieces of bloodied deer meat with his eating utensil, slightly shoving forkfuls of it into his mouth. Though he did it in a way no one would stop to notice. And he was sure no one would even bother, since they had their undivided attention on the Breton bard. B

Vaultren considered asking for a song, but the Dark Elf woman had beat him to it with a request of her own. "Let's hear the maiden and the bear!"

Usually, he was in no mood to listen to bards tales and songs of heroic adventures and mysteries. He was more inclined to the classical feel and soothing sound of palace instruments and the likes, though in a semi-chaotic and yet cheerful enviorment such as this, he could get away with certain things which he could have a hard time doing, providing he did them at his convenient place of leisure. Looking at the Dunmer, Vaultren protested against her wish immedietly after, raising his voice to challenge hers.

"Naarifins Fall!" shouted Vaultren. Surely his voice would at last be heard. He turned slightly to the Dunmer woman, adding with a slight smirk: "The maiden and the bear has been done to death a thousands times over. I would turn on my grave if such a ballad filled my ears once more."

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 23 2012, 10:26 PM

Kogobal


He finished his meal with a bit more hurry than he would have liked. Fear that the foolish woman would return, or that armed guards would burst in, made him devour what was left on his plate rapidly. In the end though, only a young Dunmer entered. He gave a greeting nod as she passed by his table on her way to the bar. Afterwards he leaned back and enjoyed the weariness slowly dissipating from his legs.

"Ten minutes now, I guess there won't be any overzealous guards ruining my evening. Good, I don't know how to fight and I'd rather not spend the night under the stars again."
The Altmer noted to himself and grimaced as he realized that his only method of dealing with an angry mob was to either teleport away or summon his Atronach. The bloodbath the latter would cause made him shiver just thinking about it. Yes, he counted himself lucky that Chorrol was less anti-Altmer as Cyrodiil had been.

A small band took the stage now, among them the bard from before. When the light of the fire washed over the Breton's face, Kogobal noticed with shock that it wasn't so much a face as pile upon pile of misshapen scars.
"What a life has that man led?" He couldn't help but mutter.

For a moment he was lost in thought, wondering if the man's past might have been his muse for the earlier story. Then a voice called out, requesting a song. Another rang out, protesting the choice and suggesting another. Kogobal didn't know who had shouted, so he looked at the band as he gave his two cents.
"The night is too young and the audience too merry for a song as grave as one of war, bloodshed and betrayal. I am personally rather tired hearing of the Thalmor, whether in the role of hero or the role of evil. The maiden and the Boar sounds rather more uplifting, if only in title." He said in the short lull that had followed the two requests.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 24 2012, 10:05 AM

There were some mumbling and rumbling from the crowd, arguing amongst themselves over what song the trio should play. Celdryn gave a mental sigh of relief as he waited for the diners and drinkers to make up their mind. At least the mob's differencing preferences gave time for Celdryn to dug into his memory about songs he knew. Sadly, the ones in his mind were of Fighters Guild's origin. He wondered if they would listen to the Ballad of Oreyn and the Company. They probably don't even know that one, chances are. He beheld the entrance of a stranger in cloak, and when he saw that she was a dunmer, his interest piqued. Not about her origin or whatnot, but because of the hackle-lo pipe she smoked from. Instanly, the breton envied her. His own pipe was lost during his journey from the City to Chorrol, and the comfortable paralyzation it gifted was sorely missed by Celdryn's body.

And then he gave her a grin when she made a request. A request of his childhood song.

"Mistress elf, I thank thee! To sing a song of Daggerfall's taverns is unexpected, but it is a wonderful request nonetheless! In fact, that was the first song I learned!"

And before he could regale the whole tavern with the famous tale of the bear and the maiden fair, the angry looking Imperial roared out something that completely deadened the livelihood of the whole establishment. Naarifin's Fall, he yelled. And in the volume of war-cry, too. There was an uneasy silence as the diners and drinkers looked at each other warily. Even the hearth seemed to quieten down its crackling at the Imperial's request. Celdryn stared at him. Someone in the crowd stood up and made a quick exit. Celdryn, done staring blankly at the Imperial, made sure there were no Thalmor hanging about in the vicinity.

He cleared his throat.

"Uhm.. Naarifin's Fall, you say?" Here he chuckled nervously. "I... do not really know if that is wise, friend. I briefly remember hearing about a bard who sung that ... tale, and the next day, he was crucified. I do not relish my hands being impaled to a stick, thank you very much."

It was the truth. Or atleast the Handbook for Starting Bards- Fourth Era Edition, page 23, said so. It was not the Imperial's gall that took Celdryn in a very interesting mood. No. The fact that he even he knew it, an outlawed ballad thirty or so years ago, was what hooked Celdryn's attention. He wasn't that old, apart from the dark rings under his eyes. In fact, he wasn't that older than Celdryn himself! There certainly more than meets the eye on this man... Celdryn regarded him with the green, suspicious stare yet again before its emerald rays were drawn towards the earlier Altmeri, whose lullaby voice brightened the general mood a bit.

Celdryn gave a bow.

"All hail our Thalmor overlords. All hail the superiority of elves over us humble men." The sarcasm he dripped forth was saccharine. It almost looked as if he truly believed what he said. "Unfortunately, they will not have a place amongst us this day. It saddens you a lot, I'm sure." He clapped his hands sharply and the two nords began the ambience song. Celdryn let his body respond to it. His sober bretonic voice was a sharp contrast to the ribald ballad of the hairy bear of which he now sung. He made a few adjustments to some of the notes to bear with his almost-countertenor voice. With time, the mob sang with him. The establishment roared with the silly song.

"A bear there was,
A bear, a bear!
All black and brown,
and covered with hair!

Oh come they said,
Oh come to the fair!
The fair? said he,
but I'm a bear!
All black and brown
and covered with hair!

And down the road
from here to there,
From here to there,
Thrree boys- a goat,
and a dancing bear!
They danced and spun,
all the way to the fari!

Oh sweet she was,
and pure and fair,
the maid with honey
In her hair! her hair!
The maid with honey
in her hair!

The bear smelled the scent
on the summer hair!
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown
and covered with hair!
He smelled the scent
on the summer air
He sniffed and roared
and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!

Oh I'm a maid
and I'm pure and fair,
I'll never dance
With a hairy bear!

The bear the bear
lifted her high
into the air!
the bear the bear!

I called for a knight
But you're a bear!
A bear! A bear,
All black and brown
and covered in hair!

She kicked and wailed
the maid so fair,
but he licked the honey
from her hair!
her hair her hair!
He licked the honey
from her hair!

Then she sighed and squeeled
and kicked the air
she sang; my bear so fair,
and off they went,
The bear! The bear!
And the maiden fair!"

It ended with a loud roar of 'Cheers!' from the mob and the two nords began to play another usual tavern ambience. Celdryn, breathless from singing that rowdy song, went to the counter and sat on a stool, oblivious to the fact that he sat with the Imperial, who mus've been mightily displeased. He ordered another ale from the Khajiit owner, and got it and then some. The mug of over-flowing ale was accompaied by a large coin pouch that jingled very loudly. With a smile, he took both. He quaffed the ale to the bottom and looked around for some suitable partner for some small talk. The maiden and the bear gave him some wasteful energy, and he wasn't ready to retire yet!
---------


OOC: Is that the Maiden and the Bear you guys requested? I mean, there is only one song that has THAT unique title, but you can never be sure.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 24 2012, 05:11 PM

The upset Imperial sat idly on his seat as his desire of a song was voted out, but certainly not ignored. He looked to the side as a High Elf notified him that such a song of battle and bloodshed was too grave to be sung in a night to so young. That the people deserved a more uplifting tale to cheer the spirit. Vaultren crossed his arms at his chest, exhaling frustratingly.

He narrowed his eyes, as his eyebrows furrowed at the sight before him; the entire tavern was silent. In a single sentence, he was able to temporarily quash their merry spirit of glee and festivity. He took in his surroundings with a studious glare, eyeing each and every individual. He even spotted a man leave the inn, one who was causing as much of a nuisance with his loud laughter as the other. If only I had mentioned this earlier, I wouldn't have been awakened by these blubbering fools and their "uplifting" songs.

Uplifting?Surely the fall of the most notorious menace would be beyond gratifying, to tell the people that the Thalmor are made of flesh and blood, and that they can die and rot as everyone else. What in Oblivion is uplifting about a wretched bear? Is this man a Thalmor in disguise? Sent to sniff out the embers of rebellion or Talos worship even among the ash-skins?

This Altmer who had spoken out first was an odd one. Like the Breton, but unlike the Dunmer woman, his face was cracked and worn, as if had lived in a harsh environment. Strangely enough, most of the Thalmor Vaultren came across were not so...physically "maimed". Each of them had an unblemished face and a pathetic sense of superiority that came along with their snotty demeanor. This man, Thalmor or not, had obviously seen battle in his life.

Not long after the High Elf spoke out, his voice was accompanied by yet another individual who agreed that the song requested by Vaultren would be unnecessary. The Breton himself, the roguish bard. Vaultren shifted himself comfortably in his seat as he stabbed the last bit of venison with his fork, slowly putting it into his mouth before chewing it with an aggressive touch. He then turned to study the Breton as he spoke with an unblinking stare.

The Breton, who surely had a jolly aura about him as he effortlessly roused the flame of joy and mirth on the others, was actually susceptible to the very thing that kept order in the world; fear. By the tone of his voice, and the pause between words, Vaultren could detect that he feared the Thalmor just as much as everyone else in the tavern. And why shouldn't he? The Thalmor did prove themselves as ruthless and cunning overlords who mercilessly set out on their goals and accomplished them in the end. If only the Empire was as the Thalmor, if only we used fear to keep those in line, not petty agreements. We could of crushed the Thalmor under the heel of our boots and smile as their necks snapped.

He turned in his seat, trying to make of what the man said. Fear of being crucified, or even tortured at the hands of the Elven Dominion. And even after he expressed his distaste of the idea of being at their mercy, he spoke out to glorify them and their "superiority". The Breton's words left a sour taste in Vaultren's mouth. He made the inside of his chest feel as if he was suffering from nausea. Though as convincing as the bard tried to make himself be, Vaultren sensed sarcasm masked in candor. He tried to conceal his dislike for the Thalmor, as most did in these present times. Who would love an organization that banned a few precious songs? He was well aware of the stories of the man being taken after he sang a song that was banned over three decades ago.

Vaultren was disgusted, peeved and angry beyond imagining. As if yesterday he was in an honored position in the Pentelus Oculatus, and before that a Praetor in the Imperial military. Until he was stripped from rank by the men supposedly on his own side, at the request of a damn High Elf! He shoved his empty plate forward away from his presence. This all reawakened a slumbering hatred within him, even more so than before.

The Thalmor in power. The Empire a pathetic excuse of a force...I, stripped from my power and glory. I have awakened into a world of excrement.

The song which Vaultren tried best not to hear was sung, it's conclusion as loud as it's beginning. A cry of cheer erupted from the tavern's patrons, causing Vaultren even more distress. They try to fool themselves into believing they are truly happy.

Next to him, sat the very man who caused all this ruckus to begin with. Though he must of been oblivious to Vaultren's place next to him. He ordered a jug of frothing ale, while receiving a bit of coin for his services. It was well-earned, considering he did bring back to the tavern into it's ever maddening state of partying. Enough to make Sanguine crack a smile, Vaultren supposed.

He wasn't sure he wanted to speak to the man. Truthfully, he wanted to go out into the night, or into the wilderness. But, he could learn a thing or two from a brief exchange of words. He didn't bother looking at the Breton, but his voice was directed toward him.

"Your coin is well-earned, bard. You lifted the spirits of a motley crew of dancing dregs. In an hour or so, they will be too imbibed to even fall into their own beds. Tell me, how long have you sang and danced with giggling loons?"

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 24 2012, 10:09 PM

Kogobal

The song was disgusting in its banality, the kind of thing peasants would create during a harvest festival at the height of their drunkenness. Kogobal loved every verse at it and laughed out loud.
"Bravo, bravo!" He cheered at the end and clapped his hands. The disfigured bard bowed and stepped off the stage to collect his earnings. He had put an amazing amount of energy into his performance and Kogobal didn't mind the man taking a break. Meanwhile the rest of the band initated another song.

Kogobal listened for a moment, realized he'd heard the song before, and his attention turned elsewhere. He looked within his lifeless staff and then took out his journal. As he was reviewing the few scattered notes he had on Skyrim, The Khajiiti bartender came his way.
"Have you enjoyed your meal, most graceful sir?" he purred. The Altmer looked up from the thick journal, then stooped to snatch a page that had fallen out. He was surprised the cat had come to him. All the other guests in the establishment had to go to the bar if they needed something.
"If they aren't about to kill you, they try to lick your heels. What has the land come to since I last travelled here?" He thought. The bartender scooped up the empty plate and after some hesitation, held out a paw in a silent request for payment.
"Oh yes. It was quite appetizing. By the way, is there a room available in your establishment?" Kogobal asked the Khajiit after handing over a few coins for the meal.

The furred being blinked, his ears twitched.
"The king's suite is still free." He then said. Kogobal couldn't help but frown ever so slightly. The inn was large and well established, but it hadn't looked luxurious enough to hold a suite, especially one holding the name of king. Besides, he figured that the scarce money he had left was better spent elsewhere. What good was a luxurious suite to him if he planned to continue his travels in the morning?
"Yes, that sounds nice. But I would prefer a smaller, more simpler room. Merely a bed and four walls would be enough to serve my needs."

For a minute or so he haggled with the bewildered Khajiit that seemed unwilling to believe he didn't want the suite. Finally however, Kogobal got his simple and most importantly, cheap, room. The bartender walked away and the Altmer returned to his journal.


Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 25 2012, 02:24 PM

Celdryn watched with amusement as some of the revelers set aside tables and chairs to form a space from which they danced drunkenly. They were terrible in their grace, simply shaking and kicking and flailling, and it almost looked as if they engaged themselves in a massive brawl. But the laughter and cheers signified their joy, and Celdryn had half a mind to join them.. In fact, he was about to, when the cold words of the Imperial heralded an offer of conversation. The man was looking straight ahead. The breton looked at the Cyrodiilic and the anger that radiated from him was intense, the air around him seemed hot. Strange, thought Celdryn. He is THAT upset because the two elves veto'd his request? Much more sensitive than I thought then.

Deciding that anyone should have the mercy of at least a talking partner in a rat-packed place of socialization, Celdryn made himself comfortable on his stool and turned it to face the Imperial. He crossed his legs over the other and leaned on the bar, ordering yet another mug of ale. If he was not mistaken, this would be his third. Good. This'll be last he would drink of the groggy substance, and experience tells him that it would be enough to allow him an uninterrupted sleep.

When it came, he sipped, before setting it down. The green piercing stare never left the side of the Imperial's pale face.

"How long? Not many years, really. Gave it a try when things started going... down. Turns out my breton voice could net a few coins, so why stop when it works, yes?" Here he grabbed his mug and downed a considerable portion of the burning liquid. He wiped the foam tickling his mouth. With his question answered, Celdryn thought it fair that he would like some answers for his own.

He began with the formalities.

"I am Celdryn Minan'Kherus, a poor bard that weaves tales about himself just to get coin. Heh. May I ask who I am speaking with?"

He quaffed his ale and noted that it is nearing the bottom. He looked at the Imperial. He then ordered another ale.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Mar 25 2012, 03:42 PM

It wasn't challenging, it wasn't smart and it wasn't particularly classy, but a stupid, silly and fun song was exactly the sort of thing that Alvara wanted to hear after a long day of travelling. Judging by the applause and coin the bard and his fellow minstrels got in return for singing it, it seemed that she wasn't the only who did, either. Only one person had tried to suggest an alternative, an Imperial who suggested Naarifin's Fall, which was an interesting request; that was a dangerous song, and the bard had quite sensibly opted to not sing it in fear of crucifixion. The Imperial had, at that point, skulked at the back of the tavern with a face that suggested that someone had pissed in his ale, and that had puzzled Alvara slightly; while it was hardly one of the greatest classics ever to be sung, it wasn't that unbearable, surely?

The floor had been cleared at that point for a dance, and Alvara finished her meal and pipe, heading to the bar to return the pewter bowl and cutlery that had contained her stew. She reached it in time for the Imperial to challenge the bard over his choice of song, and paused by them, listening as the Bard introduced himself as a "Celdryn Minan'Kherus". Considering the sheer hostility of the Imperial to the song he had sung, Alvara hung around for a moment on the pretense of waiting to order a drink; with luck, things might boil over and she'd be able to charge some coin to fix the inevitable bruises, black eyes and bloodied noses that would follow.

-----------

OOC: Wasn't necessarily the Maiden and the Bear that I had in mind, really; I just thought "what's the most generic tavern song I can think of? Something with a maiden, that's always the case, and some kind of animal. Like, I dunno, a bear. Then add in some hey nonny-nonnies and some fiddlle-de-riddle-de fol-de-rol stuff and hey presto, tavern song!"

It was about 20 minutes after I posted that I realised what I did...

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Mar 25 2012, 06:45 PM

Time had passed that the Breton had already drank more than a second mug of ale already. Vaultren came to wonder when he would stop. Truthfully, most perhaps wondered the reason why he sulked and saw angrily. If looks could indeed kill, then Vaultren might as well already committed a severe case of genocide. It wasn't the mere fact that another song was chosen over his, it was why his song was chosen.

Simply enough, this had awakened a slumbering malice within him, reminding him that the world was no longer his to control, it no longer was under Imperial rule, but the Thalmor. And that fear had kept these people from saying heretical things, fear not of his Empire, but a force undeserving of it's power.

He slightly turned to the Breton, who had adopted a more comfortable position to engage in basic conversation. He shared his story. Apparently, he did not work as many years as Vaultren thought he would. Then again, he did not explain in great detail how long of a span those years were altogether. In any case, he took advantage of his voice to make himself a name by singing...about himself? Vaultren could only crack a very subtle amusing smile. It was comical, in a way. He doubted the truthfulness in some of the songs that the bards sing, especially when it comes to themselves. Most people, at lest the intelligent ones, know that the songs of bards are beyond exaggeration.

And so a name was finally revealed: Celdryn Minan'Kherus. Ah, the name of the character in the first song, Vaultren recalled.

"So he did survive the fateful jump to the well," Vaultren remarked suddenly. Now, however, the Breton requested the same. He wanted to know his name as well. Vaultren did not take awhile to answer. He was called by many names and nicknames, though recently to spare his humiliation, he adopted a simple name that he now carries temporarily.

"Vaultren." he said. That was all that he said. He wasn't proud of the name. It wasn't the name that he was born with, but it sufficed. He was going add more, irrelevant information on the name, until something in his line of sight halted him. He felt a presence near him, but even more was the scent.

The strong smoke which contained all sorts of ingredients. He didn't dare look behind him, but instead he looked at the front of the bar, past the counter, straight at a group of newly cleaned drinking glasses. In the reflection, he could spot the dark form of the Dunmer woman standing behind him and Celdryn. His eyes suddenly widened attentively, but only to an extent.

Eavesdropping, perhaps? Vaultren only found it necessary to add her to the conversation. It was the civilized thing to do, even in such a barbaric place which he had found himself into.

"Eavesdropping is a bad habit. Perhaps the Dunmer lass can join us rather than just listen in to our conversation." The Imperial suddenly called out, turning his body to finally look at the Dunmer woman. Ah, she is a fine one. Voluptuous, young and fresh.. She was unlike the others who came to the tavern, worn out by weather and the general troubles of life. They smell disgusting and overall they are close-minded individuals. This one, however, appeared younger in Dunmer standards, and was much more acceptable than the common rabble which is composed of the representatives of her race.

He would definitely have attempted to woo her, as in the days before he was a member of the Oculatus. The good adolescent years, he recalled them. No reason I cannot relive the past. But with the Breton bard standing nearby, Vaultren wouldn't raise the possibility to even try. It was trouble enough that the Thalmor are around. True, it was a tavern after all and such things are welcomed, yet it was not an option to him.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 26 2012, 05:19 PM


Vaultren, he said his name was. The breton's experience in dealing with other rogues told him that the Imperial was holding something than he let on, and that interested him. He seemed to form words about the name, but then came the dunmeri maiden. In his comfortable position, Celdryn was able to sense her presence quickly than Vaultren, but only for a fraction of a second. The breton merely watched in silence as Vaultren announced, quite loudly, that she join them instead of eavesdropping. He also observed how Vaultren gave her an appraising stare. Celdryn knew that look all too well. He didn't want to be around when someone wanted to court someone. He valued privacy. And besides, it was all icky for him. Deciding that he didn't want to be tethered into an awkward situation, he rose and downed his third ale. He bid them both au revoir, saying to them that he would now do the sweeping run for 'additional donations, or tips, starting from that High Elf over there' and that he would converse with them later.

Anyone with a sharp mind would know that this was just an excuse to get away. But Celdryn liked to use a stone against two birds. He would go away and let the two have their interactions and he would see if the Altmeri, who now wrote on a journal after chasing off Tal'Jhiro, would have some additional donations and if not, that's good. Celdryn would have the justified reason just to engage him in conversation. With this in mind, he gave the Imperial and the Dark Elf a courtly bow and strutted towards the Altmer, who really seemed focused on his journal. The breton waited respectfully when he was done, and when he was, Celdryn plastered a genuine, if not drunken, smile on his face.

"Master elf! I must thank you for requesting the Maiden and the Bear; I hope my performance was to your liking? Enough to actually net me a few coins of donation?" Here he stopped and remembered that this elf already had. "Ahh, but you already had, haven't you? Yes, quite generous too, compared to the singles the other patrons gave me! Allow me to thank you by introducing myself! I am Celdryn Minan'Kherus, star of the earlier tale, and I am sorry to disappoint you that no, there were no 'dwagons' under the well!"

---

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 26 2012, 09:29 PM

Kogobal

Someone was standing at his table again, possibly had been standing there for a while even. Kogobal looked up from his journal to see who it could be. It was the bard, his carved visage drawn into an inebriated grin. The man introduced himself and made a little joke about the earlier incident with the boy. The Altmer chuckled.
"And a good thing that was. The value of a well tends to go down when things start living in it. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir Minan'Kherus." He said and made a motion to tip his hat at the man but then he remembered he didn't have one. Not since that miserable pup of a wolf ran off with it.
"My name is Kogobal. I hope the night has treated you fairly so far. I for one did enjoy your tale, as well as the folksong."

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 30 2012, 02:41 PM

Celdryn chuclked with the High Elf, a sound of joy that co-mingled with the general noise at the establishment. He thanked Kogobal for his words, and watched the customers who danced. The two nords who Celdryn played 'The Maiden and the Bear' seemed quite content to play the endless tune that these drunkards loved to hear; considering the coin they're receiving, Celdryn wasn't suprised. Tonight was a generous night indeed. And Celdryn was quite pleased with himself, because after all, he was the pillar that helped this situation become what it was. He became thoughtful and wondered if the life of the bard was suited to him. But then he remembered the thrill of tempting fate. No. This life of drunken merriment wasn't for him.

"Yes. Indeed. This night has treated us with the joy of companionship, even though we might forget it after we sleep. But I guess these humble workers try to forget the crisis we're having these days. Did you hear that there was some rumors of civil unrest in Skyrim and that the Legion could be called in? And that some soothsayers that some powerful god is returning?" He turned to the mob who now seemed lost in the dance they were having. He shook his head. "Yes. We really do need merriment in these dark times."

Posted by: jack cloudy Mar 30 2012, 09:06 PM

Kogobal

The band's play was getting rather monotonous, but went easily ignored in the general noise. To his surprise the bard mentioned Skyrim. That and rumors of a god. Which was precisely the reason why he'd decided to go to Skyrim. The province had always been on his list of places to search, this just bumped it into the top spot.
"But of course, that's what all the news is about and he is a bard. Why shouldn't he know?" The Altmer nodded to himself. His eyes slid habitually to the glass orb atop his staff as he replied.

"Rumors of a god, you say? Forgive me, but I have walked the world too long with sight of neither god nor mere saints to believe such talk on mere rumor. Likely it is just bluffing of one side or another trying to scare their political foe into submission." He said then continued with a wry grin.
"I'll believe it when I see it, which is exactly what I intend to do. I just figured I'd stop by here first to get some more recent news. Bruma is a tad too close to the frontlines, if you get my drift."

A quick glance at the bar told him that the Khajiit host was currently unoccupied. Kogobal lifted his hand, his eyes back on Celdryn.
"But all that work before must have made you hungry as well as thirsty. Let me order you a meal. I feel generous tonight. Tender, over here!"

Posted by: Uleni Athram Mar 30 2012, 10:58 PM


Celdryn gave a shrug.

"Politics is a dirty game. It seems that even the Gods are pawns in the great and wretched game those politicians play. But I digress. I shall not ruin this night's joy by blaspheming. And talking of politics while deep in our cups is never a good idea." He then watched the altmeri as he looked upon the glass orb of his staff. Celdryn briefly wondered how much that cost the elf (it was a really fine gem, his career as a rogue told him) before he returned his attention at the elf.

"Sad, isn't it? The last thing we need right now is a civil war. It'll stop the recovery of Tamriel; the infamous crisis 200 years earlier has left damage, damage that we have not recovered from. And this recent war with the 'mighty' Dominion just added another set of scars. But men are men. Chaos seems to be in our blood, for good or for ill, and we heed its calling."

His stomach then grumbled. He felt his face warm and scratched his head. He gave the elf a sheepish smile.

"Really sir. You have already gave me much coin. Do not waste it on a bard such as me."

He then placed a thoughtful finger on his chin. The formalities of places such as this confers that you at least have to accept another's offer of generosity. At least.

"Well, I won't mind a drink. The hunger will pass when I sleep, and when I wake, it will return. That way, it'll make my breakfast all the more tastier. So yes, I'lll just have another cup of ale. Cheaper for master elf, that way.

Tal'Jhiro came, and with him, another chilled mug of the divine substance. And also a notification that this was Celdryn's last. The last thing the Oak and Crosier needed was a bar fight, after all. Celdryn huffed.

"Young I may be, but not that young!" He then said the next part with a very loud voice.

"I can handle my liquor better than a battle-weary Nord! And these lot who dance and sing, no match for my iron liver! Anybody who has the stones to challenge me in a drinking duel would probably lose! Terribly!

He let loose a very scandalizing laughter. He stood up, climbed on his chair, and in front of the crowd who now watched him, drank his given ale in one long gulp. The crowd cheered and searched for someone sober to duel the insolent breton. Celdryn roared out a challenge for that someone.

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 3 2012, 09:07 PM

Kogobal

The bard bringing up the Oblivion crisis had shocked him, more than his earlier remarks about Skyrim. Few people he'd met had been willing to talk about that period if he asked them, even fewer spoke freely about it. It was old news, boring, an embarassment or the start of everything bad that happened since.
"We should have banded together over it. Common enemies usually have that result, but not this time. Why? Why did everyone instantly decide to bash in each other's head in a struggle for the throne?"

His thoughts drifted off and he only barely regained his senses when a very drunken Nord shoved him out of his seat.
"Yo, outta my way, sparkleskin! Big Olaf here is gonna show scarface how a real man takes his liquor!" The man yowled, spittle descending on Kogobal. The Altmer grimaced and telekinetically warded off a second wave of spit. The first wave had caught him by surprise however and he found himself forced to wipe his face of the distasteful wetness.

"By all means, don't mind me." He grumbled, grabbing his pack and staff. Most of the folk had centered around the bard and the Nord, leaving the bar as a welcome oasis of personal space and peace. Kogobal pushed through the crowd and went for the bar. The further away he got from a damn drinking contest, the better. The simple banality of this place had amused him but there were limits to his tolerance. Behind him the Nord dropped himself on the chair in front of Celdryn and taunted the man.
"Alright, whistletong. We know you can sing and bark, now let's see if there is a belly behind those brave words! Bring the drinks!"

Kogobal shook his head, his thoughts already returning to the Oblivion crisis. He had spent a few years researching it, but there had been little information he'd been able to obtain. All he truly knew was that the Daedric legions came through charred portals. Portals that now all lay buried on forbidden ground. All that was, except for one he had found in the wilderness. The stories claimed that the portals had been created by a cult to attack the cities they spawned by. So then why had he found one way out there north of Cheydinhall?
"Perhaps it had been as I surmised, that the portal I found was merely a test. Or maybe it was never found before because it now resides at the bottom of a deep and dark lake."
He retrieved a black fragment from his pouch. Scarcely the size of his thumbnail, it had been chipped from the portal by his Atronach. He stared at it, as if he could will it to give up its secrets. He'd often thought about returning to the portal and give it a more detailed investigation. Yet he never had. He feared that he might accidentally activate the beast. While the legend of the last Septim claimed that the lands of Oblivion had been forever sealed in the last act of the crisis, he didn't believe it. Standard conjuration still worked, so why would a large-scale and more permanent tear be impossible?

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 4 2012, 03:56 AM

The Breton left his presence when Vaultren first opened his mouth to engage the Dunmer woman with conversation. Vaultren understood the reason why he left, probably mistaking him for trying to court the woman. His eyes flew back to the shiny cups along the wall, and to the small mirror. He saw the reflection behind him, and watched as the Bosmer went to speak to an Altmer. Though while his eyes acted as if he was inspecting them, his ears were listening intently to the conversation around him. He was able to pickup various topics, ranging from children, to better brands of alcahol, to sex. Yet what interested Vaultren the most out of all of these was the exchange between the Breton and the Altmer.

He learned that the Altmer was named Kogobal. Even though it was new information, the following knowledge was enough to even bore Vaultren to tears. Talks from nightly companionships, rumors of war with the Legion and Skyrim's soldiers, and even a god of sorts returning. He heard as the Breton spoke about politics as well, not entirely agreeing to their customs. A trait we both share, Vaultren had to admit, I've been with enough of those parasitic leeches who call themselves politicians.

Now the conversation went to the Oblivion Crisis that happened two centuries ago. This had caused Vaultren to stiffen. He remembered the tales of that time period, horrors and stories of the Daedra Horde of Mehrunes Dagon laying waste to everything and everyone, until they were driven and sent back into Oblivion. It was a time where Vaultren did not wish to think about, mostly due to the damage that had been done. He tuned out of their midst and gazed back at the Dunmer woman, remembering that she had been there the whole time.

"You strike me as a healer," Vaultren began.


Posted by: Uleni Athram Apr 7 2012, 06:20 AM


Celdryn, standing tall like an observing tower, peered and searched at those who would rise to the challenge. And when he did, a slow and predatory grin carved itself in his scarred visage. The Nord could easily be labeled as a giant; indeed, even as Celdryn stood on his chair, the Northener reached the Breton's jaw with his dome sprattled with thick, messy blonde hair. He also had some nice words to give Celdryn too. A disgusting wave of spittle burst forth and Celdryn vowed revenge as he wiped the disgusting saliva off of his face. Nearby by-standers were affected too. Kogobal muttered some mumblings, and made way to the back of tavern. Had to push through some of the other customers who now swarmed at the two duelists. Celdryn paid neither the Elf nor his surroundings with his attention.

All of it however were focused on this giant.

Celdryn leaned in, his balance permitting him to do such a risky move, minding the fact that he stood on wobbly wood.

"I'm gonna enjoy your defeat," he whispered at the Nord's ear. With an outraged roar, the Nord bellowed out for the bartender to bring out the drinks and sat down in front of the Breton, who now laughed like a hyena. Celdryn then dropped on his chair and stared at the Nord hungrily, savoring this one's approaching defeat. Tal'Jhiro tried one last time to disband this foolishness, but the glare of the whole establishment silenced him. Impotently angry, the Khajiit could only do as he was ordered to, but the withering look he threw at the Breton sealed the deal that he was out.

Celdryn sent him off with a dismissal wave of his hand and commenced once again the duel of the eyes.

The cat set the mugs down with more force than was necessary, but no one paid the cat any heed. All eyes were on the two. The atmosphere was not unlike the Arena when two gladiators were sizing each other up. One could feel the electricity on the air beginning to crackle. Someone in the crowd coughed. Celdryn's arm snaked towards the chilled mug and stared at the nord over the foaming rims. His opponent did likewise, engaged each other in a duel of eyes again, before they simultaneously drank their mugs down. There came the second and the third and the fourth and the fifth and the watchers exclaimed their awe. The Nord's prowess was tested to the limits, and he had trouble concentrating on the shimmering visions of so many Celdryns. Said Celdryn meanwhile, was still staring at the Nord with sober eyes. A cheater's smile drew itself on his scarred face, but he had no idea what trick he used to win this one. He doesn't know why he cheated, probably for cheating's sake, but he didn't care. When he was REALLY drunk, he tend to mistake situations for the wrong ones.

At the 24th mug, the Nord went down. Loudly. A cheer erupted and Celdryn was triumphant. Through a daze of drunkenness, he somehow managed to stand on the chair and raise his hands in victory, before his balance broke, and he fell on the table, and crashed against the prone form of the Nord. The crowd laughed and began to disperse, and the eyes of Tal'Jhiro were fixated disapprovingly upon the Breton who lied cheek-to-cheek with the northener. He gestured for the two bards, the large duo, and together they manhandled the Breton to his room and Big Olaf outside.

Tal'Jhiro thanked the two, gave them some money that was supposed to be Celdryn's, and attended to his other remaining customers.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 7 2012, 12:09 PM

OOC: Apologies for my absence; I was away unexpectedly all of last week and was unable to get to a computer. That's now out of the way and there should be no major issues forthcoming in the next few weeks at the very least.

Sorry once again.


Alvara:

"Eavesdropping is a bad habit. Perhaps the Dunmer lass can join us rather than just listen in to our conversation."

Alvara blinked in suprise at that comment, somewhat taken aback that she could have been spotted so easily. Then again, she was hardly trained or experienced in the arts of stealth, so perhaps it was foolishness to try her hand at it.

"These are suspicious times if waiting for a drink is seen as eavesdropping," Alvara replied to the Imperial, deciding she may as well disarm the situation a little as she turned to face him fully. "But I'll admit I couldn't help but overhear you a little."

The Breton took his leave, and she nodded him a farewell before looking over at the Khajiit behind the bar and saying; "Another mug of ale, please."

The barkeep nodded, and Alvara glanced back at the Imperial. His gaze had wandered for a moment, seeming to be focussed on Celdryn as he conversed with an Altmer. She frowned at this, just as her drink arrived, and took a sip of it before his gaze returned to her. He glanced her over again, and there was something in his eyes that seemed interested, she noted; he was, perhaps, a little old for her tastes if that was what she had in mind, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered that someone might find her worth their time if she was still dirty from a day's solid travel. Then again, considering the rest of the crowd, this taveren housed, her fairly plain looks marked her out, it seemed.

"You strike me as a healer," the Imperial said.

"That I am," Alvara said. "I'm afraid I'm hardly the most skilled you'll ever meet, but I know my craft well enough to make a good living off it."

She realised she hadn't introduced herself properly, and added as some kind of commotion began to brew in the background; "Alvara Hataan, by the way. And I don't think I caught your name."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 7 2012, 09:39 PM

OOC: Don't worry about it wink.gif


Vaultren:

"These are suspicious times if waiting for a drink is seen as eavesdropping. But I'll admit I couldn't help but overhear you a little."

If you overheard, then you surely were eavesdropping, thought the man. He heard her order a mug of ale, which seemed to be the most common drink in the building. He couldn't imagine drinking it. Such things had never fell past his lips in years. He didn't remember the last time he tried beer or even ale for that matter. Wine, however, was a completely different story.

Following his assumption of her being a healer, the Dunmer lass confirmed his suspicion by announcing the truth herself. Though she seemed to criticize her own skills in the arts of healing, stating it was enough for her to get by in life. Vaultren shot his head to the side whilst replying: "Not everyone can be perfect. I'm sure your talents are almost acceptable."

Behind him, was a large commotion. Sounds of screaming and shouting that made ears twitch. Why in Oblivion did I choose to come here, of all places? It seemed a contest of sorts were happening behind him, but he did not look.

The Dunmer woman then revealed her name to him, calling herself Alvara Hataan. And then in turn, had asked about his name. He looked at her now, eyes inspecting hers. "I am Vaultren De--"

As Vaultren was about to finish, he heard a large crash behind him. He turned slightly to see what all the fuss was about, and sure enough he glimpsed the sight of a large tall Nord fallen on his back. The entire tavern shouting and screaming at the fallen giant, while the Breton himself raised his arm in triumph, before joining the Nord. It was painfully obvious he was drunk, too imbibed to even stand right. Vaultren's lip curled in annoyance. Savages, he thought, barbarians. He looked back at the Alvara.

"My name is Vaultren." he said flatly. Still feeling unconfortable.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 7 2012, 10:44 PM

The Imperial managed to give his own name, Vaultren, before there was a crash beside them. Alvara glanced around in time to see a Nord crash down to the floor, and the Breton that Vaultren had been talking to earlier stood above him before he too fell to the ground, sending various empty flagons clattering about him. A drinking contest, no doubt, and by tomorrow the two contestants would be groaning with hangovers. As would most of the other patrons; no doubt they'd be willing to pay a few septims for a well-placed healing spell or two, a service she would be happy to provide.

She saw Vaultren's lip curl into a sneer of what she assumed was distaste, and it was clear that he wasn't at home in this place. What are doing in here, then? she wondered to herself. She decided that the best way to get at least some kind of answer to that question would be to ask him, and he seemed fairly uncomfortable witht he conversation at the moment. Probably wasn't much of a talker.

"So what brings you to this place?" she asked.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 7 2012, 11:48 PM

Vaultren:

Often times Vaulren would question himself in many scenarios throughout his lifetime. Why are you doing this? Who do you trust? Why do you do what you do? But the question that kept being repeated over and over was what are you doing here? And as if Alvara read his mind, she had to ask the same question.

"So what brings you to this place?"

The Imperial shifted in his seat once more and he gazed around. His eyes finally had set on her. He didn't quite trust a Dunmer, but then again, she was a healer. She didn't strike him as an agent of the Thalmor, for he can sniff them out in an instant. He understood their mannerisms, their behavior and their nature in general, cause he could easily relate to them. This Alvara was no Thalmor.

He formed a triangle with his hands atop of the counter. "Well," he started. "I left the Imperial City in search of something. I wanted to be away from the damned Thalmor, away from the politics of my Empire. This town seemed appropiate." the tavern's patrons roared loudly once more "But I have been wrong before."

"I think this town is more to your liking. The Dunmer population here is great. No place for an Imperial such as me."

It was the truth, a certain extent. He did come to Chorrol to be free from the Thalmor's presence. And to find a measure of stability. Soon, he swore, I'll fight the Thalmor, but in the shadow. Until then I shall stay my hand.The Emperor had stolen his title from him, taken his position of power away. Vaultren was more than angry, he was infuriated. But he did not wish to burden the woman with such stories. He did not care much for it.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 8 2012, 09:42 AM

So Vaultren had left in search of 'something', then? Either he had some kind of mission or he was simply lost. And, she noticed, he mentioned the Thalmor once again; seeing as he had called for Naarifin's Fall clearly he had some kind of vendetta against them, though whether it was personal or patriotic Alvara had no way of telling. She generally avoided the Thalmor when she could, choosing, like most people, to keep her head down and keep out of trouble in order to avoid visiting the torture chambers of the Justiciars; she didn't like them, but she had bigger concerns in her life than fighting for an abstract freedom.

Instead, she opted to answer his second question.

"I've visited Chorrol before," she said. "It's nice enough in its own way, and there are a few Dunmer here that I know reasonably well, but I'm not planning on staying here too longer; I travel for my work, so I was mainly planning on resting here for a night or two, picking up some supplies and then moving on once again."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 11 2012, 06:08 PM

OOC: http://images.sodahead.com/polls/002481917/324227740_angry_kid_xlarge.jpeg, I got my internet connection back. And I have no clue on how to proceed, but I'll try.

Vaultren listened to her story, word for word. He leaned on the counter, his ears picking up every detail. His index finger slightly circled a black ring. As his first impression of her, he came to learn that she was a drifter. Perhaps staying a night or two in Chorrol. A traveling healer, he reflected. Not much of those in these times. Then again, when was the last time he had ever crossed paths with a nomadic medic?

He felt his hunger grow again, so he decided to raise his finger and order a plate of rare meat, fresh and pink, to sate his palate. He tapped his fingers on the counter as he waited, turning to face her again. "You would better fare in a temple at a time of war. Wounded men and women could provide much coin, if your seeking to spend grueling hours tending to the lamenting victims."

Finally, his order arrived after a moment. He heard the plate placed before him, but he kept his hungry eyes on Alvara. "You would be the first Dunmer woman I have met in this town, though you might be the last as I am considering leaving as well. Perhaps we could travel together? I have some knowledge in the restoration arts as well. We could be of mutual benefit to each other."

He smiled to her now, teeth white and gleaming. It wasn't meant to be charming, but rather a sign of possible friendship, at least. He wanted to gain her trust. Not to appear as overly indignant as he would come across. He pierced the soft steak with his fork, bringing it to his mouth slowly to savor the taste as he awaited for her answer.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 13 2012, 08:19 PM

Alvara considered Vaultren's offer for a moment as he started to eat the meal set down before him. His statement about the temple was accompanied with him fiddling with something on his finger and as she glanced down she noticed it was a ring, made of some kind of dark metal or cut from onyx. He gave her a warm smile as his offer was made.

He looked like he certainly knew what he was doing, and he had the look of a warrior of some kind about him; possibly he was a member of the Legion or the Fighter Guild, or perhaps something else. Whatever it was, she wouldn't be surprised to find he could handle himself in a fight, and certainly do so better than she ever could.

"I can certainly see some merit in the idea," Alvara said, nodding. "Where were you thinking of travelling to? I've been considering heading north, into Skyrim, personally; from what I hear the people there are in need of healers, like you said, and it looks to be rather lucrative."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 13 2012, 11:23 PM

The Imperial tilted his head, offering an amusing smile to Alvara as she considered his offer. His face then went neutral after a moment. He hid his sudden joy at her choice of location; Skyrim. He kept silent, nodding as well. She mentioned people in there would be in need of healers, as he claimed. Vaultren could only attempt to hide a smirk this time. He did retain a measure of knowledge in the healing arts, but none he would care to use or to involve himself in. It was contrary to his beliefs and a waste of his time.

He looked around the tavern a bit, inspecting the population. He was surprised, and pleased, to find that it had quited down a bit. He turned his attention to her, clearing his throat. "We are of a singular mind, it would seem. Skyrim is mirred in chaos. A civil war threatens to engulf the province. Your services would be well-met with praise."

As would mine, he thought to himself. Out loud, he said: "A splendid opportunity to aid those in need."

As soon as he said it, he couldn't help himself but gaze on Alvaras' distinctive features. More specifically, her tattoo. He reached for Alvara, slowly. The cold back of his hand caressing her face before pulling back quickly. He squinted his eyes, staring at the mark on her. He then had to ask. "That marking. Does it hold any meaning?"

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 14 2012, 06:08 PM

"The tattoo?" Alvara asked. "That's..."

For a moment, she hesitated. Normally, saying that it was an Ashlander marking was enough to put most people off, immediately making them think of her as some kind of anti-Imperial savage. That wasn't true, Alvara felt; her ancestral people had been far from any kind of savages, but the stereotypes people held weren't easily shaken by her protests.

Instead, she merely settled on half the truth.

"That's an old family marking," she said. "A tradition of ours."

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 14 2012, 09:32 PM

Kogobal

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a loud crash. Turning on his stool, he saw that the crash had been caused by the bard and this big Olaf fellow. One was carried upstairs, the other unceremoniously tossed out the door. The Altmer frowned at the latter. Leaving a drooling wreck on the porch was a rather unsightly habit and one likely to turn away guests. Not that the inn was lacking in patrons.

Kogobal shook his head and then froze when his ears picked up something else. Over there at the other end of the bar. Had he heard it right? With a shrug, he decided to seize the initiative, took up his pack and staff and walked to the two conversationists.
"Excuse me, but did I hear you are planning to journey to Skyrim?" He said to them and looked at both their faces.

One was the Dunmer lady with the oddly familiar facial markings he had greeted before, the other was a man. Imperial most likely, though the Altmer had never felt comfortable trying to tell them all apart. Only Redguards and Nords stood out, and even then he had been wrong more than once.
"The name is Kogobal by the way, I hope I'm not intruding."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 14 2012, 11:36 PM

Vaultren gave her his ear when she was about to share the origins of her tattoo. She asked herself, and partly him, about the tattoo. She then paused, considering what to say. The Imperial's eyebrow raised as he detected a hint of hesitation on her part. Immedietly, he assumed she was hiding something. No one would forget the markings on their body, especially the Dunmer who are a cultured group of individuals. They were very traditional, as well. A marking such as that on the face would indeed not be ignored, nor forgotten. Perhaps she was embarrased by her past? Or perhaps she was given the marking agaist her will? Vaultren could not tell.

The woman answered him by claiming it was 'old family marking' and a tradition of theirs. Just as he imagined. Traditional markings, he reflected. He rested his fist beneath his chin as he went and gazed at her as if trying to discern anything of note. "That is rather vague, wouldn't you agree?"

He paused, not giving her time to reply. But simotaneously, nor did the intruder to the conversation allowed Vaultren to continue either. He excused himself, only to add the fact that he had heard about their idea to go to Skyrim. Damn these High Elves to the lowerst pits of Oblivion, Vaultren thought angrily. Though his face registered a genuine smile. Things just got more complicated. I might have to retreat for the night now that a second one is here, he told himself. But I can affort to remain here awhile longer. The Imperial studied the man, noticing his staff and his travel pack, as if he was ready to go. He already learned of the man's interest in going to Skyrim. He spoke about it with the Breton, but Vaultren only got brief snippets of their conversation.

Instead of being rude, Vaultren turned to look at the man closely. He indeed appeared ragged and had bloodshot eyes, much like Vaultren's. He introduced himself as Kogobal. An odd name for a golden-rod.

"Sit," Vaultren said suddenly. "Grab hold of a chair and join us."

He looked at Kogobal intensely, running his index finger under his bottom lip, not quite eager to reveal his or Alvara's intentions of going to Skyrim, though it seemed his silence would be in vain. "You show interest in Skyrim. Any reason you would undertake a journey there?"


Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 15 2012, 09:27 PM

Kogobal



The tired looking man smiled welcoming at him and gestured to take a seat.
"Don't mind if I do." Kogobal muttered and waved at his stool with the staff, sending the furniture gliding across the floor towards them.

"You show interest in Skyrim. Any reason you would undertake a journey there?" The man, Imperial or Breton, asked him once he'd taken his seat. Kogobal leaned both hands on the bar, tapping the fingers together.
"It's not just Skyrim. I plan on visiting all the provinces in due time. Simple circumstances made Skyrim the greatest priority. I was in Cyrodiil, the city, not too long ago where I heard some rather far fetched rumours. About a god or gods appearing in Skyrim. Normally I'd be sceptical about mere rumour, but when that Nord started talking about Elder Scrolls..." He began and at the mention of the word 'god', his eyes flicked to his staff. He shrugged and returned his gaze to the man and woman.
"I figured it would be worth looking into. If a god really will reveal itself in Skyrim, I want to see it happen. If there isn't, then I want to know what unkind person spread those rumours."

He smiled and ordered himself a glass of applejuice.
"The only problem is, I'm not very good at finding my way with a map and this time I don't even have one. So I figured my chances would be best if I found some more roadwise travellers to join up with." Kogobal finished explaining. He did not mention that he could get to Skyrim by taking a straight path and levitating across all obstacles. But if he actually wanted to find a good city, then finding allies was indeed his best bet. He'd heard many things about the roads in Skyrim and none of them were good.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 15 2012, 09:38 PM

Alvara raised an eyebrow at the claim that Kogobal had just made. He seemed to be a slightly strange one, and the name Kogobal certainly wasn't typical of the Altmer.

He waved a stool over to him as he spoke, gesturing with a crystal-topped staff he carried, and Alvara recognised a fellow mage, one probably more adept than her. No surprise, she supposed, considering he was High Elf.

"I'll admit that this is the first time I've heard of gods returning to the land," Alvara said. "Though there's certainly enough war and chaos in Skyrim at the moment for some wild rumours to come from there."

She smiled at him to show she wasn't trying to mock him.

"No disrespect due," she said. "But it sounds to me like wild speculations and not much more. Still, if you want to travel there then I suppose our goals align. I'd have no objections to going with you, at least as far as Helgen; I'd enjoy the company, that's for certain."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 16 2012, 01:10 AM

Vaultren was little concerned about rumors of gods or a god appearing in a certain province. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't much of a big deal to him. He could easily perform a ritual in the dark confines of his own home that would summon one of the Daedra to his service. Just a child or two would be enough, he reflected, smirking. Clearing his throat at the man's response, he could only settle a bit more in his seat for the last time, thinking about what this Altmer was saying.

From his display of power with the staff and his interest in supernatural deities, Vaultren came to the conclusion that this man was a mage of sorts. Not unfitting, considering he was an Altmer and his kind are always adepts in magic. And all of it struck Vaultren as an oddity. Why would an Altmer mage want companions to travel with him? If he cannot make his way with a simple map, how in Oblivion does he expect himself to travel to other provinces? His taste for drink is rather bleak as well.

Alvara spoke this time, offering her own opinion on the matter with what seemed to be an insult. Then she tried to soften the blow by adding that she meant no disrespect. She considered it all speculation in any case. Though she freely expressed her attitude in allowing the man join in for a trip to Skyrim.

Feeling tired, hungry and thirsty, Vaultren tried his best to put his temptation of leaving to rest. He did not want to spend more of his coin on food. He rather retreat into his room for the night. Instead of actually leaving, however, Vaultren remained seated.

"It is settled. We shall wait until nightfall tommorow to depart," he said to Kogobal. He turned his attention to Alvara, speaking in regards to her idea of going as far as Helgen. "I believe we can arrange something, perhaps. I have contacts in Morthal I would absolutely adore to get in touch with. I also have a friend in the Blue Palace as well."

He turned to Kogobal. "Alvara is right. We all share our interest in the matter. A splendid chance for a fruitful lifestyle."

A smirk slid across his features at both of his likely companions. "If there truly is a god or more ready to make a theatrical apperance in Skyrim, then it would be wise to make our way there. There is a chance to be part of history...and not sit by and observe it."

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 16 2012, 09:35 PM

Kogobal

"Excellent!" Kogobal exclaimed when the woman expressed her acceptance of his proposal. He still felt intrigued by the tattoo.
"I swear I've seen it before, or something very much like it. It has the air of an old House marking, very old. But none of the Houses use this specific variant and the differences are too large to be mere failure on the artist's part." He thought to himself and decided to look it up in his journal later. It was only after that when he heard the remainder of what she'd said. That the gods were likely false, the result of civil unrest.

"That was what I told our rather unsober bard earlier. The gods are most likely a ploy from one side or another trying to get a bit of a moral advantage. But I stay by my decision. If the Elder Scrolls are in play, and I've got the feeling they are, then I wish to investigate. In any case, I thank you for accepting my company on the road." He told her.

"It is settled." The man with her said, and added his own suggestions and plans. He also mentioned the Dunmeri woman's name in passing. Alvara. The Altmer was pleased to have learned one name and even more to hear about the strangers' contacts in Skyrim. The good news however was tempered by a growing feeling of unease.
"Why leave at night? Isn't daytime the traditional time to travel, when one can see the stones under one's feet?" He asked himself.
"Could he be a bandit, trying to get us vulnerable in the darkness? It is not that I fear for myself. I can easily relocate away from him and any of his allies. But the woman, Alvara. Can I draw her with me? There might not be enough time to explain. If he is a bandit of course, instead of simply a starloving person."

He tried to hide his thoughts behind his cup and forced a smile.
"That sounds good to me. All except for the history-making. I believe I'd prefer to stand back and watch from a safe distance." He joked.
"There's little ever written about the influential ones after they made their mark on history, and I'd rather not find out the reason why."


Posted by: Uleni Athram Apr 20 2012, 05:21 AM


SASFIEL

Tonight, Sasfiel decided as she deposited mugs upon mugs upon the lively customers, would be a very fun night. Her giddiness did not stem from the knowledge that she would make money in the scale of which she haven't experienced before... Well, maybe it does, but it doesn't make her grin like a predator like the oh-so handsome Imperial sitting and conversating with a dark elf. The noble-looking man was imprinted on her head that the surroundings became a blur to her; the bard and his songs were a distant music, so too were his body crashing against Olaf's. The loud, deafening cheers were simply a buzz in the back of her head. Indeed, she thought with a dark hunger, he will make the most beautiful sight if-

The loud, feline voice of Tal'Jhiro cut through her train of thought and she went over to him to receive her orders. A plate of raw meat was seaat before him, and his furry hand pointed towards someone behind her. She turned around. Her heartbeat increased. A slow smile erupted on her face. With dreamy steps, she took the plate and delivered it to the Imperial. It seems he was focused solely on this other elf, and Sasfiel gave her the once-over. Certainly a farm-faced lollipop, this one. And her dress lacks the vibrant colors that would've complimented her skin and eyes. She looks much more better suited in the kitchens as an assistant to the chef.

When the Imperial showed no further interest to her, she retreated to her job and time passed. When the Oak and Crosier became silent save for the soothing flute and drums of the two Nords, and the conversations of the remaining patrons, she turned her attention once again to the Imperial and found that another had joined the table. A rough-looking Altmer that reminds her of her father.

That does it.

She'll net his attention, whether he liked it or not.

With marching steps that could've made a legionary proud, she strode over to their table and stood over them, the flicking candlelight and chandolier casting worming shadows on her face, but the golden eyes unaffected. The golden, hungry stare pierced the Imperial's.

"Do you require any more refreshments or food, sers and ladies? The Oak and Crosier takes care of it patrons very well."

---------


OOC: Eternal Darkness, I hope you're not creeped out by the fact that Sasfiel targets Vaultren like a damn trophy. In her eyes, he seems to be the most wealthy and the most easy to take money from. *Le Shrug*

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 20 2012, 06:30 AM

OOC: No problem. That's Vaultren's type of gal! laugh.gif

The Altmer was pleased by the plan, exclaiming the excellency of the task. Truthfully, night would be the more convenient time for Vaultren. Leave at night, arrive in the morning or so in a settlement and just sleep the entire morning and perhaps depart in the afternoon. If they stayed in the roads, they would face little to no trouble. Depending on the area, of course. With a mage and a healer in his company, he had no doubt it was going to be safe.

With his thoughts suddenly straying for awhile, he payed little attention to the Altmer. All he heard was "Elder Scrolls" and an investigation. He was too busy looking elsewhere. A particular tavern wench caught his attention for a brief moment, but he thought nothing too much of it. He was too busy in his own thoughts to be worrying about chasing skirts. Looking back at Kogobal, Vaultren nodded as he replied to him about being part of history. He rather stay away from all of the trouble himself rather than to engage in it. The Imperial cracked a smile. What he said reminds me of my sister, he thought.

"Influence history, witness it, and remain safely away." he said to them leaning back. "Fame, fortune, all these things are meaningless. It is the seeds that you plant that shall grow into something--for better or for worse, that truly stands significant. And at times, it can echo throughout the centuries. Who can know? Perhaps all three of us can write ourselves into history."

Just then in that moment, Vaultren and the two others were approached by an Altmer. It was the foxy tavern wench. For the first time, it seemed, that he truly set his eyes upon her. He froze. Her eyes met his, and he was lost for a moment in a daze. A wonderland. She is remarkably beautiful, he realized. In his peripheral vision he could catch a glimpse of her smooth legs from her lubricious attire. She walked to them with a sensuous grace that set his eyes ablaze. He tried not to set his coveting gaze too much on her obvious bosom. Everything about this Altmer lass was provocative. And there was something else about her that made him unbelievably high in good spirits. Perhaps the smell of perfume she uses? Or her youthfulness compared to Alvara? It would seem he was going to have a good time tonight, considering the way this wench stared at him. When he found himself dwelling too much on how good they could share a private moment, he spoke out.

"Indeed," he began with a charming smile of his own. "Yet I'll admit, you do stand above the others in your services. The coin you receive is well-deserved. I am inclined to ask, what is thy name?"

Posted by: Uleni Athram Apr 20 2012, 03:59 PM


A smirk as the Imperial steadily falls for Sasfiel's trap. Hands on hips, hips on the side, and the divine innoncence of her eyes, the elf spoke slowly; her voice reached out to this man's desires, and stoked it even further.

"I am quite sure milord will have nothing to do with a lowly serving girl such as me." Here she brushes strands of golden hair from her face with subtle exaggeration; just enough to give the Imperial some view of her skin. "I am not worthy. I only live to serve."

She let her eyes wander and the golden stare stopped at the Imperial's powerful jawline. She licked her lips. And then the stares met once again.

She smiled.

"If you have no need for some refreshments, then I think I will excuse myself." Never once did her eyes leave the Imperial's. "My shift has come to an end." With those words, she turned and headed towards the backrooms of the staff, purposely swaying with the sensous grace she learned back in the days. But before she could enter, she turned and gave the Imperial an inviting stare. Around this time, the kitchens should be empty save for the chef and her assisstant. And those two probably left anyway.

She smirked again.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 20 2012, 04:18 PM

Alvara nodded at Kagobal's comment of staying at a safe, sensible distance for the unfurling of history. Vaultren's keeness to throw himself into such proceedings, on the other hand, unnerved her somewhat, and she quietly wondered if it would be all that wise to stay with him for too long; as useful as an extra person with her on the roads might be, she hardly wanted some who might risk his neck and, by extension, hers, through some kind of foolhardiness, whatever it might be.

She could wait and see how things went, if necessary, and perhaps he might manage to keep urges such as his dislike of the Thalmor and his ambition in check. Worst case scenario, they could always simply part ways.

A serving wench came over and asked if they needed anything, to which Alvara shook her head. It was clear by the next moment that the dark elf wasn't the focus of the girl's attention, which was instead focussed on Vaultren. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she was eyeing him up, and from the wink she gave the man as she returned to the kitchen, Alvara guessed that Vaultren was probably going to be somewhat distracted. Instead, she decided to find out a little about the mage who had joined with them.

"So, Kogobal," she said. "I'm guessing by this interest in gods and history that you have that you're some kind of scholar."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 20 2012, 04:50 PM

The Imperial was slighty taken aback at her open invitation. She barely even tried to contain her intentions. The manner in which she flicked her blond hair aside, the gentle biting of the lips, the longing gaze and the sweet words absolutely dripping with honey. Any man could be swayed by a young lass with a lecherous knack for being overly lascivious.

He felt himself swallowing hard at the sight. It has been awhile since I've felt the proper touch of a woman, he thought joyously. Perhaps...perhaps tonight I can oblige.He heard as she meekly showed herself as a humble servant attending the needs of her patrons. From her comment about reffering to as 'my lord', he understood that she knew he had title of of a wealthy nobleman, or a fellow of upstanding reputation. He also noticed how she chose to outright assume that no one else required anything to drink or eat. She excused herself, having Vaultren stare at her from the distance as she departed to the rooms.

Hearing Alvara speak to Kogobal, the former tribune only assumed that she was more interested in hearing from him. Of course, he couldn't blame her. He allowed his distaste of the Thalmor to show, spooking everyone else. But he hoped he could rectify his previous error, perhaps even form an alliance with both of them. Yes, there was plenty he could learn from the Altmer. To his advantage, there were two. Knowledge from the mage, and a more intimate relation with the lass. Making a poor excuse, which he was aware of, he stood from his seat to adress both of them.

"I must retire for the night, the lack of sleep is truly catching up to me. I am exsausted." he dropped a tip atop of the counter, trying to see if he could find the girl again. He looked over at the corner, but she was already gone. He returned a stare at Kogobal and Alvara, bowing slightly.

"It has been a true pleasure. I am quite happy that I have met both of you. Perhaps we can change to schedule and depart first thing in the morning? I was never fond of traveling during the day for the sole reason of arriving at night, which by the time I am tired. Though I trust you both shall keep bordom at bay, yes? It will keep the hours nore exciting."

With that said, he left to perhaps try his "luck" as some would call it. He was too interested in this young woman, perhaps she could be worth his time.

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 21 2012, 06:28 PM

Kogobal

One of the waitresses asked them if they needed anything. His glass was nearly empty and his throat still a bit parched. But before he could order anything, Arvala asked him something.
“A scholar?” He repeated the question and glanced at his glass. Vaultren seemed to be keeping the lass busy, so in the end Kogobal decided to answer Arvala’s interest first.

“I’m not sure if I would call myself such. I don’t have an expansive library, or a lab or even a definite plan of inquiry. If I’d call myself anything, I’d title myself as a developer of translocation magic. I do have an interest in the gods though, a simple one. I want to meet them.” He smiled and theatrically waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture as he continued.
“Temples to the Aedra, discreet sites of Daedra-worship in the wilderness, wayshrines for the Divines along the roads. So many prayers are directed at them, so many things attributed to their influence. But is there actual prove of their interactions with us mortals? We talk about heroes sent by them, but could that not just be a lucky man taking credit for coincidence and the hard work of many? When exactly has an Aedra, a Divine or a Daedra actually walked down the street and said “Here I am?” Well, except for the Daedra of course. They proved their existence well enough and look where that brought us.”

He emptied his glass and then looked up for the waitress.
“Ah yes, another applejuice please….Oh, gone already?” He looked left and right, but there was no server nearby. The Imperial had left as well. So with a shrug, he returned to the subject of their conversation.

“I say that I want to meet the gods, see if they’re real. But to be honest, I’m practically terrified of finding them. If I have to make my mark on history, I’d rather it not be as the fool who unleashed a second Oblivion crisis, just because he wanted to see if Dagon really had four arms. Or see someone else become that fool. I hope its nothing but bluffing going on in Skyrim, but I can’t discount the possibility of there being a new Mythic Dawn or a similar cult.” He drifted off into silence. He desperately wanted to believe that his gods were waiting for him in Skyrim. But his mind said with cold logic that finding a new cult of suicidal world-ending madmen was more likely.

He did not see himself as a hero, or even someone who would want to be one. But if his worst fears came true, he would go to the proper authorities to put a stop to it.


OOC: Did Kogobal get Vaultren's name? I don't remember but I think he didn't.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 22 2012, 02:09 AM

OOC: No, he did not. And how do you guys feel of a time skip? Maybe to the following morning?

Posted by: Uleni Athram Apr 22 2012, 12:42 PM

OOC: I vote for that. The adrenaline-junky needs to wake. I wanna use him again, LOIKE SERIOUSLEY.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Apr 24 2012, 07:22 PM

OOC: A timeskip sounds fine for me. We've hit a potential lull in conversation so I'll send Alvara off for a kip and start things again in the morning.

IC: Alvara nodded at his explanation, before she said; "I can't say I've met somebody with the ambition of meeting the gods in person before. It certainly sounds like an interesting goal, and a subject worth investigating."

She yawned, blinking as she began to feel heaviness weighing on her eyes, no doubt the effect of her day of travelling and covered her mouth before she said; "I'm sorry, Kogobal, but I think we might have to continue this conversation in the morning; I've been travelling all day, and I think it's finally beginning to catch up on me."

She picked up the bag she used to carry her things and nodded to both Kogobal and Vaultren.

"I'll meet you both in the morning," she said. "But now I really need to get some sleep."

Posted by: jack cloudy Apr 27 2012, 08:56 PM

Kogobal

"Of course. Have a good night, lady. I shall seek out my own room as soon as it quiets down here." Kogobal said to Alvara and bid her farewell.

Though Kogobal found the room he had been given to be satisfying, he got only little rest that night.
He couldn't help but keep worrying. About Vaultren, who despite seeming innocent enough, kept that hint of trouble. And there was Skyrim. Skyrim that called for him.
"And I'm not the only one who seeks the Tribunal. With stories as loud as these, the Loyal will send someone to investigate. I'm supposed to be dead and can expect no mercy or patience from them."


As he couldn't sleep, he got up sooner than planned. The following morning Kogobal sat by a window, enjoying an early breakfast and wondering if he had enough money to take him to Skyrim or if he would have to find some source of income. It mostly depended on the desires of his traveling companions, he realized.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Apr 30 2012, 01:36 PM

OOC:Ah, this is a post of the weird and semi-creepy Vaultren about to leave. You guys can catch up to him on the road or something later. I got stuff to do in real life, so I just thought I'd make this post to get the ball rolling.

Vaultren cleaned his face in the wash basin of his rented chambers. After a thorough scrub and a gently pat on each side, he stared at himself in the mirror. A smug grin on his face. In the silence of his room, as the young Altmer wench slumbered on his bed, the Imperial pulled up his undergarments and placed on a shirt over his body. Indeed, it was a wonderful night. He had released all of his carnal desires and the sleep finally had given him the rest he was seeking. What man wouldn't be delighted at having a female to warm his body during a cold night? Only the insane, surely. The more he looked upon his own face, the more he realized. I am truly handsome, am I not? His slightly amber eyes, his pinkish white skin, and his unblemished face was surely a sight to behold. He admitted to himself in pride.

And as always, he overstayed his welcome. And so he silently began preparing his personal belongings, doing his best not to awaken anyone nearby. He slid his pants onto his legs and his waist, buttoning them up. He retrieved his sabre from under his bed, slightly sliding it toward him. Later, he clothed his feet with his black boots in preparation of the travel he was going to undertake. As he proceeded to sneak past the bed, he gazed at the saucy tavern wench once more, smiling as she was tucked away in the soft and thin sheets. He remembered the moments he shared with her when she lured him into the room, and the wonderful night they had right after. If only it was that Alvara woman, she is beautiful as well, Vaultren reminded himself. But this girl was younger and far more lively in the more intimate activities.

Before he left his chambers, he leaned over to her as she slept. He closed his eyes, kissing her gently on her naked thigh and her neck. His hand slowly caressing her hair. "Sleep well."

Smiling in satisfaction, he left his room, leaving the girl behind. He felt he would be blamed for leaving without saying goodbye, but if Alvara or Kogobal were still around, the Altmer could explain why. His schedule was tight and he was always traveling. He had no time to remain behind and chat. He wanted to bring Alvara along with him, but he had to leave. Kogobal could keep her company. He felt the Altmer distrusted him for some reason. But he did not care, not one ever trusted an Imperial in these times.

As he slipped out of his room, he slightly closed the door behind him. The tavern was dark and silent, save for the flickering of the candles in the corridor and the creaking of the floorboards. He stepped into the main lobby, the twilight hours still upon the land. It was still dark, but a small speck of light was seen in the distant horizon, telling him it would be a good time to leave. Perhaps he would reach the Jerall mountains in the afternoon. He hoped so. He would want to be in Skyrim as soon as he could.

He walked off past the bartender to reach the exit, but he heard the proprietor call out to him. "Did you enjoy your night? You looked upset yesterday. You did not drink as the others did."

Vaultren stopped, turning to the man. Why is he up in these late hours?Indeed. It was a wonderful night. It will keep me wide awake on my travels. I am not much of a heavy drinker of alcohol."

The innkeeper fixed a curious stare at Vaultren, a suspicious gaze. The Imperial could only smile. He must of guessed what transpired between me and the lass, or he merely does not not trust me either, Vaultren notified himself.

The Imperial approached the counter, staring intensely at the man. His eyes fell to the bowl sitting atop of the counter, holding a few fresh apples. He pointed his finger to one. "These are free?"

"They are for sale," the Dunmer said, keeping his expression. "But for you, I'll make an exception. You paid good coin these past days. I will not burden with the sale of a fruit. You need more energy for your travels anyway."

Vaultren smirked, averting his gaze from the green fruit. "Gratitude."

"Plenty of women out there, Imperial. Did you not enjoy the company of our wenches? I saw you, last night. Trying to seduce that Dunmer woman." He did laugh a bit this time, showing Vaultren that his initial mistrust finally was replaced with a mutual, less tense, conversation. But he was not convinced.

Vaultren leaned on the side of the pillar with his elbow, his hand hanging near his head as he replied. "In these times, friend, even the opposite gender can be dangerous. Females in general can be a handful."

"Women who appear a certain manner, they..." Vaultren's hand curled to a fist beneath his mouth as if he was going to cough. But rather, he muffled a chuckle. His eyes kept darting to the side, not directly staring at the proprietor. The corners of his mouth expanding on each sides to form a charming, yet sarcastic smile. In the process, he adopted a more serious tone and a more careful stare. "They need to be controlled."

The proprietor kept held his tongue, partially intrigued by the Imperial. But before he could respond, Vaultren took control of the conversation once more. "Women should be the least of your concerns, friend. I should not warn you of the Thalmor out there."

Vaultren looked about, back and forth, left and right. His eyes jumping to the side of his face as he gazed all over suspiciously from time to time, as if he was tryng to make a point about being cautious. He suddenly nodded. "You don't mind my saying, but you have much on your shoulders for proprietor. You don't see it, or perhaps you do but...there is more to just bartending. Especially in these strange times with the Dominion out there. Everyone has to look out for their own necks."

There was a silence lingering about. Vaultren regarded the middle-aged Dunmer with a prolonged stare. His eyes slowly squinting, as if trying to discern something. In the end, they widened a bit as Vaultren picked up the green apple without staring at it. He took a large bite out of the fruit, smiling without showing his teeth. He winked at the innkeeper right before he departed. "Thanks for the apple."

Posted by: Uleni Athram Apr 30 2012, 11:45 PM

During his stay at the Oak and Crosier, Celdryn established a firm alliance with the kitchen staff. He gives them money or song (the latter being more preferred), he gets a free meal, and the two parties are hush-hush about it. Tal'Hiro valued money really really bad, and didn't appreciate deals behind his back. Besides, Celdryn liked the chef too much to endanger her job. Maybe getting a little old and brittle, but she still has that warm spark in her eyes. That familliar warm eyes that could only come from a mother. Today's price, Celdryn guessed, would be a final song. The hangover of the night before had been vanished with a potion Celdryn kept in reserve; since then he has been playing around with his mind about the lyrics of the farewell lullaby. With soundless footsteps, he descended the wooden stairs and immediately went still, foot paused in mid-step. Tal'Jhiro had his back turned and was cleaning up yesterday's mess with more force than was necessary, and he was probably pissed off to concentrate on anything else, but the Khajiiti had demon ears.

Fortunately, however, there sat the elf Kogobal and Celdryn decided that the cat's anger would be hidden in a veneer of trash-cleaning irritation; after all, it wouldn't really help the reputation of your establishment if you looked ready to kill someone horribly while simply cleaning the mess of the earlier night. So with this in mind, Celdryn straightened up his posture, resumed his descend and confidently sauntered towards Kogobal, paying Tal'Jhiro (and his death glare) little heed. Sitting him himself like he had every right to be there, and plastering a smile on his face, Celdryn took the first blow in the temporary small talk he planned before going to the kitchen.

"So, sir Kogobal, I see you are the first among the sleepers to rise." He gave his current smile a rueful aura. "I suppose that is to be expected, since you didn't quaff any strong beverages. Altmeri tongue not really mixing with the common taste?" Here he laughed to soften the blow if Kogobal took offense at the jibe. It is universally acknoledged (at least, Celdryn thought so) that a High Elf drinking with nords, or any other mortal for that matter, is as rare as veins of ebony outside Morrowind; after all, that could essentially be summed up as a member of race, so haughty and perfection-seekers to commit infanticide on 'flawed' infants, lowering himself with the supposed 'lesser' races and engage with them most of the high elves consider barbaric; quaffing.

Celdryn saw that even though Kogobal is a member of that race, and the open-minded minority of it, he still had some 'standards' to keep. And apparently, quaffing wasn't one of them. The breton gave a mental shrug. Wasn't suprised really.

What did suprise him and potentially the whole establishment was the blood-curdling shriek of a woman.

Sudden was the sonic attack, Celdryn flinched and instinctively reached for his orcish dagger, the oricalchum metal warm in his hands. The scream came from the upper quarters, said instincts told him. He rose from his chair, joyously but shamefully aware that adrenaline was beginning to rage in his veins. He took cautionary steps wherfe Tal'Jhiro simply decided to jog. When the cat entered the offending room and vanished in its innards, there came another horrified scream.

Celdryn followed them with haste.

Entered the room where the scream resonated.

Saw the room-cleaner, good old Gertrude, her warm eyes now enlarged and dilated, fear constricting her already uneven breathing, knelt beside an open door where darkness dwelt.

Saw Tal'Jhiro, whiter than an albino Khajiit, clutching a nearby table with strength born from ... What? What is going on? What happened?

The door to the room is open. Darkness inside. Beckoning with shadows that moved, even though there is light outside. Beckoning with its shadows that swayed for Celdryn to enter...

Enter.

Enter he did. Knife in hand. Heart beating outrageously. A slow smile carving its way on his face.

A full grin as he entered fully. Looked around for the source of the scream.

Found... it. On the bed.

His smile vanishing. Eyes that widened in anxiety and in battle-thrill now widened in disgust and horror.

There. The form of a woman,

Her visage torn asunder. Neck slashed in spiteful sizes. Bones in unnatural angles.

Blood everywhere. Everwhere.

The form of a woman, fully destroyed not by man, but by something demonic. Something so hateful.

Celdryn looked at Sasfiel's remains, and resisted the urge to heave. Blood embraced everything, but the immaculate body, no matter how rent it is, is easily indentifiable to belonging to Sasfiel. Nasuea, along with it the vanished hang-over and other assorted head-pains, threatened to return. He exiled himself from the room- no, that slaughterroom, and sat beside Getrtrude, took comfort that she was not harmed by whatever madman attacked in the night. He gave her shoulder his hand, and as he tried to sooth her with his voice, he noticed that in her trembling, wrinkled hands, she held a bloody pouch.

The late Sasfiel's pouch.

Celdryn's stay at the Oak and Crosier was not long, but long enough to know that the elven wench Sasfiel was a bedfellow to all but the chaste in Chorrol, and that she valued her pouch, this pouch now in Gertrude's hands, for some reason that Celdryn cannot fathom. At first, he assumed that it was of sentimental value. But looking at the words and contents of the papers Sasfiel protected from everybody.... He guessed that Gertrude screamed because of it rather than the rent corpse of the wench.

Gingerly, with the grace of a thief, he relieved the old woman of the paper and rose to the light to read it. Igmored the Khajiit's loud call for the guards and the dunmeri healer and read, fascinated and trapped in a morbid trance.

His face turned white.

"... assassinate the former Penitus Oculatus, he who now goes by the name of Vaultren, and finally neutralize the threat he will definitely pose in the future."

This is beyond Celdryn's ken. A war, a shadow war of the Great War, still rages after 30 years. And with the horrible revelation that the Thalmor's memories are not only long, but also merciless to those they suspect of being a threat, or associated with said threat... Well.

He let the signed writ of assassination for a man he conversed with earlier and ran straight to his room.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 1 2012, 08:05 PM

Alvara woke a little later than she had originally intended, tired body readily taking to the comfortable straw-stuffed mattress that she slept on. As such, she rose both well-rested and a little tardy, pulled on her clothes and headed down to the inn's main room for breakfast.

It was a great deal quieter than it was the night before when she got there, though there was the lingering smell of sweat, stale alcohol and vomit and a member of its staff swabbing the floor with the grim determination of the damned.

She spied the bard who had been performing last night conversing with Kogobal over something, and changed course from the counter where she planned to order breakfast in order to wish them both a good morning.

She got halfway across the floor when the scream stopped her.

The breton was up the stairs first, with something approaching an eager grin on his face, and Alvara followed a moment later, somewhat slower and more cautious in her approach. She called on the somewhat mediocre destructive talent she possessed as she made her way up the stairs, just in case whatever it was that caused that scream was still prepared to strike again, taking comfort from the pins and needles sensation of the lightning spell she had summoned crackling in her fingertips.

There was already a crowd forming at a doorway, and Alvara released the hold on her magic she was maintaining as she saw it, instead pushing her way to the front of it. She gave a grimace of distaste as she saw the grisly spectacle before her, before shaking her head and muttering; "Azura's tits, this isn't good."

Posted by: jack cloudy May 1 2012, 08:52 PM

Kogobal

As he was enjoying his breakfast, the scarfaced bard from last night came up to his table.
"Good morning, sir Minan'Kherus. Have a seat, please." The Altmer said to him with a nod. Celdryn did so, then made a verbal jab, linking his early rising to a lack of drink.
"Oh, it's not that I dislike drinking, although this mead stuff is a tad too sticky for my palate. It's the hangovers I dislike, though it seems that you are not threatened by that infliction."

He wanted to say more but the words died on his tongue at the sudden scream. In the time it took for Kogobal to rise from his seat, Celdryn had already leaped up and flown to the stairs. He slowed down at that point but determinedly ventured upstairs anyhow. Kogobal slowly walked to the stairs himself, unsure of what to do.
"Whatever it is, I'll probably be the one to take the blame. As if I could summon rats." He muttered to himself but then shook his head. That scream had not been the type one used upon encountering rats, no matter how phobic one might be.

He looked over his shoulder where his staff and pack lay at the table, seemingly forgotten. With a mental pull, he drew both towards him as he continued up the stairs. Neither would be much use to him in a fight but he wasn't going to let his possessions leave his sight. A small crowd had formed on the upper level, including the lady Alvara and the Khajitti host. No sign of the Imperial though, which Kogobal did find a bit odd. Hadn't the man promised to be here in the morning? There was no way anyone of sound hearing could have slept through that noise.

"Excuse me, may I pass?" He said to a few faceless patrons as he worked his way through the crowd to the front where Alvara and Celdryn were.
"What happened here?" He asked them and looked in the room. Though it was hard for an Altmer's skin to become white as snow, his made a valiant effort upon seeing the macabre spectacle.
"ALMSIVI keep us." He whispered in horror.
"Whoever did this...is beyond insanity." He added then.

He couldn't watch this, not without going insane himself or releasing his breakfast onto his feet. His eyes instead wandered, trying to find anything that did not set off his disgust. They swept across an old lady, weeping in agony, across Tal'Jhiro, calling for the guards and a healer, even though it was clearly too late for both. He looked at Celdryn again, who was reading a letter. Without warning, the man dropped the piece of paper and smashed his way through the crowd. Kogobal was almost pushed off his feet by the smaller man, but his staff stuck in a gap between the floorboards and let him hold on.

Not knowing what else to do and still unwilling to look upon the corpse, Kogobal picked up the letter and held it up to his eyes.
"Oh, no. This is definitely not good. Vaultren, Penitus Oculatus...assassination?" He did not know the meaning of the words Penitus Oculatus, but the wording on the paper made it obvious that it was an organization someone preferred to see destroyed. This woman had been the intended harbinger of death, but had found her own grissly end instead. Presumably it was this Vaultren who had slain her then. The only two questions were, who was Vaultren and who had commanded his death?

He looked up from the letter, at Tal'Jhiro who was still screaming out of a window for the guards. Shaking his head, Kogobal pulled at one of Alvara's sleeves.
"Please come with me for a moment." He said as he made for the stairs. He did not want to be here when the guards came in. For one, he would probably take the blame and have to make a exit of the magical kind. For another, He had no interest in getting involved in a dangerous powerstruggle. He thought it best to get outside.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 2 2012, 09:50 PM

Alvara had seen some grim sights in her time as a healer, and had helped more than a few of the lethally wounded pass awayin their time. She'd been elbow-deep in the guts of others before, when a sword blade or axe head had split open or stomach or a skull, but even she found the sight before her nauseating. She shook her head after a moment, more to look away than anything else; even someone who wasn't a healer could tell that there was nothing whatsoever that she could do.

She noticed vaguely that Kogobal had picked up a piece of paper lying on the floor, the Altmer having come up there along with her, and reading it with an expression of shocked horror. She caught a snatch of the words 'Penitus Oculatus' and 'assassination', and considering that Vaultren had been the last one with her...

She shivered at the thought that the person she had taken for a travelling companion may well have been the one responsible for this atrocity.

Alvara felt a tug at her sleeve, and glanced over to see Kogobal ask; "Please come with me for a moment."

"Of course," she nodded in reply, seeing his gaze shift towards the stairs. No doubt he wanted to leave before the watch arrived, and that was fair enough. "One minute."

She hurried away to her room, grabbing her pack and staff, quietly thanking her luck that she had the presence of mind to leave most of her possessions packed. In less than a minute, she had her things readied, and hurried to where Kogobal was waiting.

"Let's go."

Posted by: jack cloudy May 3 2012, 09:18 PM

Kogobal

Kogobal was glad Alvara consented without asking for an explanation or wasting time. He was even more glad when they'd made it out of the tavern and into an alley just before the guards came running. Silently he offered a prayer to the Tribunal in gratitude for the tardy response of the sleepy guardsmen and the preoccupied taverners who'd failed to see them leave.

"I suppose I should explain why I pulled you out of there so quickly. It is simple, or so I think myself. In situations like these the locals will always want to point the accusing finger at the unknown. Better to blame a stranger than face the darkness in the hearts of their neighbours. You and I are the strangers in this case. Possibly some others as well, but I arrived here just yesterday and don't know who it might be. Now I know that I did not murder the poor lass and I'm pretty convinced you aren't responsible either, but no one would listen. Not now at least." He started talking, half tripping over the words. Taking a deep breath, he showed her the paper he still clutched in his hands.

"I forgot I had this, but I think its for the best I didn't leave it for the guards to find. Go ahead and take a look. Assuming this letter is genuine, it seems likely our ah...victim was to kill someone named Vaultren. Obviously it didn't work out that way. Vaultren is not an Altmeri name and the letter specifically mentioned a man. Regardless, if the guard found that and then heard I was at the establishment, they'll come looking for me next as a second assassin working with her. Then someone will remember me talking to you the night before and on the pebble rolls."

He leaned around the corner to check upon the tavern. More guardsmen were arriving now and began to cordon off the site. No one had come out yet though, something for which he was grateful. It meant their sudden departure hadn't been revealed to the guards yet.
"Of course, I'm not the only one who read it. Sir Minan'Kherus did before me and who knows who else. So I think it's best if we got out of the city right now. I for one would rather not get caught in the middle of a powerstruggle between two opposing groups. It's a shame we can't inform the Imperial of last night but I didn't see him in the tavern. anyway, are you still willing to travel with me?"

Posted by: Darkness Eternal May 5 2012, 11:00 PM

Women will be women. And the Thalmor will be Thalmor. A potent mix when those two clash into a single, cohesive threat. Vaultren at first figured the young Altmer woman was a regular tavern wench, wishing for the touch of a strapping Imperial man to share a bed. Of course, he suspected she wished to take advantage of him for his gold.

Yet that simply wasn't the case. It never was. Ever since he was an adolescent boy, he had troubles with women of the opposite sex. Of course, most of the times they were not making an attempt to slice his throat open. Sasfiel, as lovely as her warm body and jaw-dropping man-hood raising looks were, was nothing more than a Thalmor lackey in his eyes. For a number of years now the Thalmor wished to take his life...he only saw it nescessary that he would repay a favor.

The fall of Naarifin was an outlawed song, banned by the snobby Golden-rods. Vaultren saw a good chance in raising awareness. While he was not granted the pleasure of music to his ears, he was given a heated delights in the darkness of his room with a foxy woman, even after her last breath was exhaled. He was sure someone must of reported him, or Sasfiel was already onto him from the start. Perhaps a cell in Skingrad informed them of his departure to Chorrol, giving Sasfiel a heads up on his arrival.

Morning already breached the land, painting the sky in a faint blue. The sun was risen as well, painting Vaultren's warm body under its rays. He threw away the devoured green apple as he briskly walked off into the distance with the sack on his shoulders. He did not know if it was wise to leave without bringing the Altmeri scholar and that Dunmer healer along with him. But how much could they be of service? They would smply point fingers and label him as a murderer. He did not care much, for whatever chance he could get at the Thalmor, he would. He knew a few individuals named Vaultren in Skyrim, ones who supported the Empires...ones who could serve as perfect scapegoats if properly made to dance. Who would take the fall while he has a chance to strike once more. But excluding those people, he had a gnawing feeling that he would see Kogobal and Alvara once more, or even the traveling Breton.





Posted by: Uleni Athram May 12 2012, 03:10 PM


In a span of one minute, Celdryn's rented room was stripped clean of his possessions. The Breton's fast hands and faster mind made sure that there were no traces of his existence. Likewise, Celdryn the Bard is no longer in this world. Instead, with his brown cloak shielding his face from light, and all geared up for the death-thrill he always enjoyed, Celdryn the Rogue replaced the mediocre singer. That facet of his identity is now erased, and he returned to his former self. His beating heart, the wardrum instrument that pumped his body full of the adrenaline sweetness, was the testament of how he relished the return. The green stare sweeped across and verified that it was as it should be, sans the marks of Celdrn ever living in here. With the safeness of Wicked and Delight near his reach, the Rogue made his way towards the room's window and surveyed the alley below. A little pond of dirty water and supreme darkness; little light penetrated the dark gloom, not enough to actually reflect the orichalcum metal of his sacred twins. The screaming of Tal'Jhiro, and the general reactions of the crowd would mask the fall if it would be noisy.

It wasn't.

He made sure to close the windows before he jumped down.

In the sanctuary of the shadows, Celdryn became a clump that blended well with the blackness that surrounded him, that shielded him, and he begun to think. As much as he wanted to just run and eschew the rules of being incognito (and therefore lay upon himself the eyes of the law and possibly the Thalmor, which was a tremendous bonus for his thrill-drunk mind), the rational part of his mind glowed brighter than his desire for excitement and he sat there in the blackness, thinking and thinking and thinking. He never was much of a thinker, so he decided upon the simple plan of going to Skyrim under the cover of nighttime.

He then noticed that he no longer was alone. Quietly as he could, he drew Delight and bent to crouching position, ready to leap and drive this sword straight through this intruder's -

It was Alvara and Kogobal, and Celdryn found himself relieved that it was them and not the local watch. They didn't seem to notice him and carried on with their conversation. When he eavesdropped upon the two elves, and found that they too are willing to escape the games of politics, or atleast the city. He emerged from the blackness, soft in sound, not caring that he eavesdropped or how suprising his sudden entrance may be.

"The Imperial from yesterday, the one with the noble features, is Vaultren. I can't scarcely believe that we shared the night with a former Penitus Oculatus. And to warrant such aggressiveness from the Thalmor! I don't know what he did in the past, nor do I want to, but it must be a heavy sin against the elves for them to even send an assassin after 30 years of peace! Regardless, what sir Kogobal said is true. The Thalmor are vengeful elves, and do not care for life. They would trample innocents willingly if it meant capturing what they want. I would bet against the chance of them simply questioning us and letting us go scot free."

He gave a rueful grin.

"Some of us aren't exactly saints, after all. But regardless, I vote with master Kogobal that we flee the city. I know not where your destinations are, but I am headed for Skyrim. Until we part, I suggest we stick together. The innocents must stand with each other, and there is strength to be found in numbers."

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 13 2012, 02:09 PM

Alvara and Kogobal's brief flight took that out of the tavern and into the anonimity of a nearby alleyway, a patrol of watchmen in chainmail clanking past them a moment later as they headed for the tavern itself. Alvara could see already why Kogobal wanted to get away so quickly; with the state of hysteria the tavern was in, fingers would quickly point to outsiders, especially Elves, and if they were lucky they might spend days in a cell. If they weren't, they would probably never leave the town at all.

Breathless and shocked, Kogobal explained about a note he had found, saying that the murdered girl was a Thalmor assassin, dispatched after Vaultren who was himself a Penitus Oculatus agent. Alvara's eyes widened at that last statement, and in reply to Kogobal's statement she said; "Even if I wasn't willing, I'm not sure I'd have all that much choice. But Vaultren was the Imperial we were talking to last night, Kogobal, the one who went off with the High Elf girl; she must have been sent after him. If we meet Vaultren again, it might be a good idea to be careful. Or wise to maybe steer clear; if he has Thalmor after him we'd do well to not get involved."

She shivered at the thought that the man she had been conversing with had been able to kill another person in so savage and grisly a manner, even if that person was a servant of an oppressive, brutalistic regime. A figure suddenly stepped into view from the far end of the alleyway and Alvara whirled to see who it was; it was the Bard, Celdryn, and she relaxed her stance as she realised who he was.

No doubt thinking that they were ignorant of the note, Celdryn did not bother with introductions and instead gave an explanation of what had happened with Vaultren. He added that he was planning to go to Skyrim, to which Alvara nodded.

"Kogobal found the note marking out Vaultren for what he is," she said. "And we were planning to go to Skyrim in any case. We'd do well to stick together, seeing as there's strength in numbers."

She glanced out of the mouth of the alley, where the guards were beginning to calm the panicked crowd.

"It would be best to go now," she said. "Before someone points us out and decides that we're to blame."

Posted by: jack cloudy May 13 2012, 09:15 PM

Kogobal

"That was Vaultren?" Kogobal said as Alvara made the grand reveal.
"And here I thought I was being paranoid by thinking he might be a common roadbandit." He then muttered to himself and shook his head.

Before either could discuss their plans any further, a shadow set upon them. Kogobal followed Alvara's turn, instinctively drawing the base form of all his anchors in his mind. Fortunately however, the figure revealed himself to be the bard. Not one to waste time with introductions as usual, he repeated Alvara's confirmation regarding Vaultren's identity and agreed on the common decision to flee the city as soon as possible.

"It is good to have you with us, sir Minan'Kherus." The Altmer said with a relieved nod towards the man.
"Your presence here is one worry off my chest. But speaking of fleeing." He continued talking, meanwhile edging back to the edge of the alley to peer at the still growing crowd. Alvara was right, it wouldn't take much longer for someone to notice them.

Kogobal ducked his head back into the shadowy alley and spread his arms.
"It just occurred to me when you arrived, sir. We could leave through the gates but then the guards posted there would remember us. It just so happens however, that I have an anchor placed beyond the sight of Chorrol, just off the road. Are any of you familiar with the old art of intervention perchance? I could get us out of here without anyone seeing, or even having to walk a single step. I do need your coöperation though." Kogobal explained and already reached out for the two as if he was certain of their consent. It seemed like the most logical plan of escape to him. Why would they refuse?

Posted by: Uleni Athram May 16 2012, 01:45 PM



Celdryn grinned and whistled in admiration. The kind of magic Kogobal wielded was certainly rare in this age, where even the simplest form of teleportation is considered a great aid. The books Celdryn read back in his childhood contained a book which had some list of the deeds of the Septim Emperors. If memory serves right, then it was Uriel Septim VII, coincedentally the main factor why the Crisis started, that banned the use of such magicks. Celdryn was sure that in other parts of the Empire, without the hunting eyes of the Imperial Law, many covens practiced the art and passed it down to the generations in an effort to atleast preserve such wonderful sorcery. That brings the point that Kogobal is not a native Cyrodillian. Not that he was suprised though.

"You're certainly quite the mage," Celdryn said, sarcastically sweet. "What's next? A spell that gives all of us immortality and an immunity to diseases? I really wouldn't be suprsied if you know anything of the sort, sir."

The crowd of onlookers were certainly becoming quite the horde. Alvara the Dunmer was right. It wouldn't take long for someone in there to point out to the guards the conspiracy of three suspicious-looking individuals in an alley, just right beside a building where a crime took place. And then he realized that he hadn't much time speaking with her yesternight. He promised to make as they make their way to the north, to Skyrim.

"Au revoir, mon petit Chorrol! We shall now teleport away to someplace exotic, and I bid you goodbye!"

The Breton then placed his hand to Kogobal7s reaching one, and instantly felt the knowldege of an ancient in the wrinkly flesh. Whoever he was, Celdryn had the feeling that this was a man on quest that would really be a never-ending search for something. He gave it a firm hold, like a child holding his parents for protection. He couldn't help himself. This was a new experience, and it should guarantee a worthwile memory to look back upon. Celdryn felt his pulse quicken, but not in the smae amount he got during his flirtings with death and troule.

"Go on then. Magic us away like one of thise romance novels. Heheh, I'll give you extra points if we arrive in a field full of roses where the sun always shines and there is a fair maiden, alongside a hairy bear, waiting for us."

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 18 2012, 10:01 PM

Intervention and teleportation; despite the situation, Alvara could not help but feel impressed at what Kogobal knew of such arts. They were ancient magics, no longer studied legally, exceedingly difficult to learn even in their day; the only place she had known them to be possible were the few magical theory books that she had picked up here and there, and even then all they could offer on the subject was postulation and theory as to how a mage could harness such energies.

She made a mental note to ask if she could learn such arts with her own talents from Kogobal at some point in the future, but decided that such things would have to wait for the future; the crowd outside the tavern was swelling, and she feared that there had been one or two glances in their direction.

Alvara placed her hands on top of Celdryn's said; "No point wasting any more time; let's go."

Posted by: jack cloudy May 19 2012, 06:20 PM

Kogobal

He threw one last glance over his shoulder, half expecting an angry mob to bear down on their location. Nobody showed in the alley though. Kogobal turned back to his companions, taking their hands firmly in one of his while the other held the staff. He refocussed on the weaves of his spell and shifted into a trance.
"Indeed, let us be off." He murmured and then began to chant, slipping into the Dunmeri tongue as he formed the old mantra.

"Doors unbuilt and keys unforged I seek. Paths untrod and destinations uncharted I seek. The eye is the door, the mind the key. Cast now my flesh part of this world. Cast now my bone part of this world. Cast this world, part of my flesh, part of my bone." The knot took form. Kogobal took one end in his mental hand and pulled, unraveling the knot, drawing it from the bush to the alley.
"Strand of wisdom's hair is my chart, tongue of ancient dreams my feet. Out of memory I forge the key, with memory I open this door. Door to nowhere, door to everywhere. I step through, look up, and here I am."



Kogobal opened his eye to see a berryposessing bush that shielded them from the road. Trees hid them from the walls of Chorrol, whose stone he could see through the gaps. A bird whistled its song from somewhere nearby. He nodded to himself and spoke, in Cyrodiilic.
"And here we are. I have to admit it was a bit harder than usual. Conservation of mass and all that."

He took a habitual look at his staff then waved it in the direction of the road.
"Well then, shall we?"

Posted by: Darkness Eternal May 24 2012, 09:37 PM

The Imperial pondered on whether or not his murder of the Thalmor was efficient. He knew soon the hunt would be on for her killer, and the hounds of the Dominion would be snarling after his scent. The two Mer that saw him in the tavern knew who he was, and his identity. But then again, it did not matter, as the Thalmor would suspect he was responsible from the beginning in the light that he was a target. His calculating mind began to plot his next steps. He admitted, it was a foolish act to even exchange words with the tavern goers, but he did not expect an assassin would make an attempt on his life.

Vaultren dwelled on it, cautious that he would drive himself mad. Why would he attack the Thalmor? Because they were too firm in their ways; far too inflexible to adapt. And who else would brave the Thalmor? Very few. But he could take on them, one by one, as time went by. Where strength failed, he would make up for in guile. Vaultren figured he could escape to Skyrim by horse, and reach there much earlier than he would by foot. And so he awaited, as the shadows under the tree. To his chagrin, there was no wagons or carts passing by, no men or women on horseback. Yet, he remained there, occasionally continuing his path along the road under the growing sun.

Though as he went on, his ear captured a strange sound. It was familiar, but yet, it was alien as well. It was the music of the arcane energies surrounding the mundane realm. Vaultren stayed his position, spotting three figures along the road away from the town of Chorrol.

He hid behind a tree, peeking through the corner. It did not take long for him to realize that the trio were all too familiar to his eyes; Kogobal, Alvara and Celdryn. He did not expect to see the Breton again, but he admitted it was unexpected to see all of them. Do they know what I have done? Perhaps. Would they understand? Vaultren took his hand to the hilt of his sword. They better understamd. And so he walked toward their direction, his step confident, his face a cold neutral expression. Though he was hidden along the trees, away from the road. He awaited until he got closer.

Stepping away from the trees, his presence might of been of a surprise to them rather than an annoucement. He intercepted them from the side, stepping away from the shrubs as he approached the three of them. "It is a surprise to find you here. The three of you. It warms my heart to see esteemed company ready to embark on our quest. I suppose in numbers, our traveling conditions will be less taxing."

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 26 2012, 11:03 AM

"Doors unbuilt and keys unforged I seek. Paths untrod and destinations uncharted I seek. The eye is the door, the mind the key. Cast now my flesh part of this world. Cast now my bone part of this world. Cast this world, part of my flesh, part of my bone."

Alvara took note of the first part of Kogobal's chant, wondering whether the words were part of the spell as they were for some types of magic, or merely a kind of mantra to help focus his concentration.

"Strand of wisdom's hair is my chart, tongue of ancient dreams my feet. Out of memory I forge the key, with memory I open this door. Door to nowhere, door to everywhere. I step through, look up, and here I am."

There was the uncomfortable sensation of having every particle of her body squeezed into a miniscule space, moved very quickly and then decompressed again, all in a single instant. She stepped back, gasping at the disconcerting sensation and gathering her breath to fight the small surge of nausea that threatened to well up.

She quashed it after a moment, glancing around at their surroundings; they were in a field that appeared to not be too far from Chorrol, the city's thick stone walls in sight. The slowly rising sun was shining down above them, and the ploughed furrows of dirt were slightly damp with morning dirt.

"That was...unusual," she said after a moment. "Takes a bit of getting used to, I think."

She glanced around her surroundings, and her eyes widened as she saw Vaultren approach. His greeting was warm enough, but she immediately balked at his suggestion of travelling together.

"I'm not so sure about that," she said. "We found that note about you, Vaultren, and if it's the same to you I'd rather that you stayed away from us; I don't want you bringing the Thalmor down on our heads for no good reason."

Posted by: jack cloudy May 28 2012, 09:54 PM

Kogobal

"Takes a bit of getting used to, I think." Alvara responded which made the Altmer chuckle.
"It certainly isn't the kind of thing one picks up one morning after a trip to the market." He joked. Any further applications of humour were cut off however by the sudden approach of a man. Kogobal stared intently at the man, convinced that he'd seen him before. The Imperial's casual suggestion they'd travel together to ease the burden and Alvara's cold reply confirmed his suspicions. The man was Vaultren.

Kogobal reviewed his options quickly while Vaultren drew near with a casual gait that belied the aura of fear he cast out over them.
"Where's my next anchor? Three hours south from here. No, forget that. Dragging three people takes far too much time and effort. Then what? Fight, ignore?"
"Your err...disagreements with the Thalmor are none of my business. Still, I agree with the lady Alvara. I think we'd all feel more comfortable if you gave us at least a very persuasive reason for letting you in. Like most people, we get rather nervous around...those who have settled a violent dispute." He coughed.

"Really, if you'd just walk away right now, my heart would stop racing."


Posted by: Darkness Eternal May 29 2012, 04:44 AM

Vaultren finally was able to crack a smile as Alvara rejected the idea of them traveling together. She added that they were aware of his predicament with the Thalmor due to the note they discovered. He feigned the accusation with a cynical smile, and a brooding chuckle. He sought no reason to lie for what he had done, considering there were not many men named 'Vaultren' in the world, let alone the same town in the same tavern. Lying about his murder was out of the question.

"Love, I am a hard man to detect. I know the Thalmor just as I know myself, and you can trust me when I say that you are not a perceived threat. In any manner, were you not so eager to travel with me alone without qualm or hesitation? They will be expecting to find a lone Imperial man. If we walk together, the chances of being undetected is much greater."

The High Elf, Kogobal spoke now. Vaultren shot him a glance, with a mild expression of distaste and hostility. Is this man serious?Vaultren already had a hatred for the Thalmor, and even less the Altmeri race. But his aggressive visage softened somewhat as he searched for his own words. "If I recall correctly, it was my idea to travel. Alvara agreed to accompany me to Skyrim, yet you intruded in our conversation."

He paced around, glancing at the Breton bard briefly before looking back at the High Elf. "I will not hold that against you. Yet do not expect me to smile knowing you plan to exclude me from the travel I initially had planned. You strike me as a man that would prefer diplomacy over action. I admire that. Yet the dispute with the tavern wench was no verbal argument. It was a life or death situation and my life was threatened. I had to defend myself. You must understand."

The Imperial looked at Alvara with a brief smile befitt of a friend. He offered the same to Kogobal and Celdryn. "I can assist you. I am not a murderous monster as you consider me to be. I know contacts in Skyrim where they can offer a roof to slumber under and foods to eat. I confess that I actually own a place there nearby, if you ever consider stepping away from the field. My abode can accomodate all of us."

He stopped to consider more. "If you refuse, the offer still stands. Your academic craving for the unnatural can be sated, I assure you. I am well-versed with the supernatural. I understand gods and Daedra and I have had my share of experiences with some of them. With Alvara's healing prowess, my knowledge and yours combined, we can stand as a formidable team."

Pausing for a moment, he averted his eyes to the Breton. What use was he? "The bard can serve as entertainment for your desires, destroying boredom whenever it plans to strike."

Posted by: Colonel Mustard May 30 2012, 11:58 AM

Alvara thought for a moment as she considered the case Vaultren made. If his contacts were not some fabrication then it was true that they would be greatly useful, and the Thalmor were looking for an Imperial, and not an Imperial, a Breton, an Altmer and a Dunmer. But the way he had dealt with their agent; that spoke of a disturbing level of savagery beneath that civlised exterior, and one that it would be wise to tread carefully around.

"I was happy to travel with you when I didn't know you were being hunted by the Thalmor," she replied to his first question. "But I suppose you make some fair points. I consent to travelling with you, for now, but if you end up putting us at risk then we part ways. Understood?"

Posted by: jack cloudy May 31 2012, 04:49 PM

Kogobal


Kogobal was astonished at how easy Vaultren set aside the accusations. He didn't even try to hide who he were or what he'd done. And his rebuttal was sound, from a purely logical standpoint. When Alvara agreed to his proposition, the Altmer surrendered to the inevitable.

"I admit that your arguments hold merit. Perhaps more than mere numbers, my presence will keep the Thalmor's swift and shallow glance away. After all, why would a man of the Penitus Oculatus..." He paused as the unfamiliar name rolled off his tongue.
"Travel with an Altmer? It wouldn't be the first time I've been called Thalmor by the Cyrodillians. Besides, we're all taking the same path so avoidance would be difficult. So I shall honour the original agreement, sir Vaultren." He then continued with a bow and gestured towards Celdryn.

"As for sir Minan'Kherus, if he wishes to join us, I am certain he will be no impediment." After all, what man could attain so many scars without any fatal or debilitating injury? Kogobal reckoned that the bard was a man with luck at his side, or more skill than his light demeanour let on.


Figuring that they'd stood there for too long, he began to follow the road but did not step on it. If the Chorrols decided to send a horsebound patrol, looking for an Altmer and a Dunmer, he'd rather be out of sight.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 2 2012, 10:15 AM



The Breton felt a thousand aetherial hands slowly take hold of every fiber of his being. Gone was the dirty alley of which they had the shadows' sanctuary, and Celdryn found himself in a realm of abstract mists and colors where all of it whirled to an alien wind. No ground to stand upon. No direction whatsoever. The eldritch wind threatened to tear apart the whole being of Celdryn, but the firm grasp he had on Kogobal ensured that it would not be so. Althought there were no Kogobal, nor Alvara, to be seen in this strange plane. Only their hold and the thundering chant of what Celdryn thought be Kogobal's. The ending of the chant heralded an explosion of senses, and Celdryn's eyes were blinded by the sudden surge of Nirn's local fauna; the scent of the wind-swept grass, the musk of soil, the fruity aroma of Chorrol's forest, and the pure sunlight of Magnus. Celdryn released his hold of Kogobal and staggered, suddenly unaccustomed to his native surroundings.

He coughed out a wad, and looked at the High Elf. He smiled.

"One hell of a ride, that. Could do with a little editing, though. Feels as if though I went through several hells of acrobatics before falling from the sky. Or maybe I'm just not agreeable with magic, and she with me. Kinda like a partnership I had with some individual past; but somehow it worked, like right now." It seemed to Celdryn that his body still had a form of realm-lag, as from the bottom of his stomach, a rebellion stirred. He, trusting experience, did not choose to resist it and very quickly distanced himself from the two elves and emptied his system with his breakfast. Only that he remembered that he didn't had bre3akfast, and what he gorged out was liquor of yesternight. Another thing he remembered that the potion he drank was for headaches only, and that his body still ran its natural course. And so he kicked himself mentally while he purged himself of the night's rush. He finished, and from his pack he procured several mints herbs chew on. Say what you will about Celdryn; he still valued hygiene. Specifically, he valued his roguish looks. It wouldn't do to charm a trader if your breath smells like a Nord's on a very bad day.

And so he made his way back to the elves, intent on resuming their journey, when someone made an appearance.

Vaultren.

He kept silent during the exchange and simply hovered around them, eyes narrowed at the Imperial, hands twitching, making up his mind whether to attack or simply forgive and forget. When the Imperial focused a remark on the 'bard', the Breton scoffed (and noted that his breath smelled nice).

"Entertainer, you say? I really think that all of us here know that I'm not your usual airhead waxing poetry about flowers and maidens with bosoms the size of melons. Just as you not being an ordinary Imperial citizen, hmm?" Here his tone dropped. "I should've known in the Inn. I could smell something fishy on you the moment I laid my eyes on you. Even now, I could sniff it. You might be right in saying that the Thalmor are unlikely to find a wanted man in a party of four; but who's to say that party of four becomes a party of one? You might be formerly a Penitus Oculatus agent, but a murderer is still a murderer. The thrill of extinguishing life is sculped in his senses and that is something he can never get rid of, no matter how collected he seems to be. The greatest fiend is the brightest angel, after all."

He drew hsi twin blades, the green Wicked and Delight, and the audible sharpness of them made Celdryn smile. The rush he felt earlier at the Inn was denied to him. He could get it back from this Imperial and solve some trust-issues. He gave a sinister grin.

"Prove it to me that you conquered yourself, Imperial. Let us see if you can keep yourself when the enemy is broken down before you, bloodied and beaten. I will consent if you pass this test in my eyes. Until then, think of me as the hungry wolf and you the frail, little lamb!"

He charged.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 2 2012, 04:40 PM

The former Oculatus agent looked at Alvara with a gentle smile, before bowing his head. "Understood. It is not my intent to harm friends, Alvara, only those that are evil enough to try to make an attempt on my life."

Kogobal spoke, reluctantly but surely, agreeing to travel alongside Vaultren with the other group. Gracefully bowing, Vaultren smiled without showing anything. it was more of a grin as he spread his arm wide while his stomach was folden. "And in honoring the agreement, you honor me, Sir Kogobal."

It was over, it seemed at first. The rocky relationship between them at least had been rectified to a minimal extent. Vaultren knew they looked upon him with scorn and caution for the reason that he killed a woman. But do they not understand that this was an act of self-defense? Vaultren recalled the moment where he ehard her pull a blade from her concealed sheathe, and leaping out to attack him. He had no choice but to viciously fight back. And that he did, but he would not be stomped upon my moralists and their pacifistic ideals.

Vaultren followed Kogobal down the street, his hand slowly moving away from his sabre. He tried to make conversation, to further explain the reason why the woman named Sasfiel was slain by his hand. Yet, someone halted him. It was the Breton bard, Celdryn. The Imperial turned around to listen to the enraged rogue, who berated him with titles such as "murderer" and "fiend". It was plain obvious that among the others, Celdryn did not trust Vaultren, and was intent on using force against him!

The Imperial instinctevely reached for saber the moment the Breton brandished his twin blades. Of course, Vaultren was not taken aback and was not intimidated. If there was any skill he possessed, it was the skill in the art of the sword. Granted, Celdryn had two blades, yet Vaultren held knowledge to defend himself against a swordsman. Was it not enough to use a single blade? THe Imperial could not believe his ears when Celdryn made it clear he was testing him. Even going as to compare himself to a wolf, and Vaultren, to prey.

Unwilling to argue, Vaultren drew his sabre, forming a rapid X in the air in a flourish. Finesse. Gallantry. Efficiency, Vaultren pondered on the words. The cold handle calmed him. It was solid. Familiar. "I am no murderer, but I shall defend myself if I have to."

And so Celdryn attacked with the fury of a madman and the adrenaline of a skooma-drinker. Vaultren responded with the calm, collected motion of a dove, but within him was the concealed hate and the anger that influenced his would-be attacks and counter-attacks. He considered using a flame spell or a more grittier power, but he struck against it. Celdryn was not to be killed. As Celdryn accelerated forth, Vaultren arced his blade up, maneuvering behind it as he stepped into the defensive. He was not sure how skilled the Breton was, but he would sure find out.

With a flick of the wrist, Vaultren feined his defensive attack by piercing his sharp blade forward toward Celdryn, aiming straight at his shoulder in a quick manner.


Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 2 2012, 05:20 PM


The Imperial had a saber. A damned saber. He even let out a show of skills when he cut a quick X in the air, before falling back in a defensive stance. By this time, Celdryn has slipped into the black area of his mind where nothing mattered except for the thrill of flirting with death. Eyes awide and the emeralds burning in a green fire, from his throat a husky approval of the current situation.. Celdryn howled and laughed like a madman as he charged towards the Imperial who had the indomitable poise of a stallion, prepared to meet the bullrush of a mad tiger. What use has the steel saber against the orc-touched blade of Delight who has shed blood in gallons, let alone its serpentine-cousin, Delight, who has erased lives with shadows' aid? These two are deadly enough in the hands of Celdryn, who fights with the grace of Sheogorath, and today shall see that battle-rust he accumulated as a bard shall peel from his system.

Within twenty feet of his opponent, Celdryn ended his dash in a jump, the Twins ready to give a lethal slash, but the Imperial was suprsingly quick and thrust his saber forward. The momentum of the rush and Celdryn's brief frozen disbelief in something so fast gave clearance to the Imperial's move; a long, deep slash engraved itself on the Breton's right thigh, and from a promising start of a fight-ending move ended in a crash-landing. Fortunately, the years of scaling walls and falling from them indrilled something in Celdryn; in a second after he received the slash, he twisted his body to a clockwise sommersault in mid-air, (managing to sneak a retort with a slash to the Imperial's back also in mid-air) and landed heavily in his good leg, behind the Imperial. He wasted no time on charging him, but found to his dismay that the wounded thigh was slightly slow. The bleed was quite heavy for a glancing slice.

Celdryn hissed. And resumed his charge, this time engaging the Imperial in an intense ground duel.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 2 2012, 11:04 PM

There were many times where Vaultren admitted he was surprised by his adversary, this was one of those times. He was not expecting the aggressive bard to summersault over him, managing to cut his back in the process. While the wound was not as significant as the one he inflicted on the Breton bard, it still meant he allowed his position open. The sharp orcish blade had done minimal damage, but a well-placed blow from the opponent could be quick and efficient, for Celdryn was eager to destroy him. And even a brute with no skill or training could best an opponent who had worried too much about ettiquette in the midst of a physical confrontation.

The mad rogue laughed and howled with the insane drivel of a crazed pshycho. His true colors, through this duel, was being shown. Vaultren wondered briefly what Kogobal and Alvara were thinking. All this time they did not trust him, confiding in a man who was eager to unsheathe his blade and to spill blood.

Vaultren knew well had to deal with acrobatics. He had fought against khajiiti martial artists, fancy necromancers and even relatives in a friendly contest, but he saved his dwindling strength. He cherished the stamina he held. He would not fatigue himself by leaping off of the ground in summersaults or side flips, such things at that particular moment were uncalled for.

He had time to turn around and prepare himself for the next wave. Celdryn's braying were not in his favor, as they notified Vaultren the precise moment in which he would attack. The fine saber flourished in his hand, the metal ingrained with folded silver and an intricate handle made of strong filigree.

The Imperial glimpsed blood tainting the Breton's hips, and he maintained a stoic expression as Minan'Kherus attacked him. A seething feeling washed over Vaultren, but his voice was fair and even, absent the bloodlust of a madman. "Hypocrite! It is you who seeks the thrill of taking a life."

Vaultren saw the incoming Breton, green fire in his eyes. Using his basic movements, he parried the incoming blow with his saber, only to maneuver his wrist simotaneously as his body, twirling around to slash toward the back Breton's leg to temporarily maim him . His voice rising with concern. He attempted to stop the battle. "Do not make me destroy you, Breton. Sheathe your blade!"

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 3 2012, 09:36 AM


Celdryn laughed when the blow was parried; he laughed also when the Imperial went for the basic hamsting movement. The crippling slice was no better than the earlier one he sustained on his knee, deep and blood-letting, but the Breton was on a rush. No, that didn't quite hit the nail on the head. He was absolutely flying high. The hold of adrenaline was beginning to sink its blessed fangs on his mind. And to show how thoroughly nothing mattered for him except for the brushes of death, Celdryn used his wounded right leg to kick the Imperial on the jaw, and used his face as leverage for another spinning kick, this time from his left leg, aimed at his temple. Once again, however, it was a nanosecond slow for he was wounded, but Celdryn didn't care. He jumped away before the reach of Vaultren's saber could whip out a revenge.

"And so said the lamb to the hungry, hungry, wolf. 'Don't make me destroy you!'" The Breton let out a series of sharp, barking laughter. He drew from the shadows of his cloak six, small daggers, all of which were poisoned. With speed, he threw them, and with them, he charged straight at the Imperial. However, this time he would no longer retreat. No longer do any flashy moves. No longer be a sideshow for the two elves.

This time, he would go out in all-out grab for Vaultren's defeat, and he would have the notch on his blade be given another one. Such was the delight from which he took from that thought that Celdryn laughed like mad hyena all the way.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jun 3 2012, 10:24 AM

Alvara had expected questions and accusations from the other two when Vaultren had appeared, just as she had had questions. What she had not expected was for Celdryn to simply step forward, draw the his twin daggers and attack Vaultren.

The combat between the two was vicious and swift, Celdryn lunging towards Vaultren to stab at him before darting out of the reach of the Imperial's more disciplined counters with his sabre. The Breton was almost manic in his approacht to combat, hurling out taunts, cackles and boasts along with slashes and stabs from his dagger.

Alvara knew that if she didn't step in soon, one of them would almost certainly end up dead. She got an opportunity to step is as Celdryn drew back from the combat and hurled a set of throwing knives towards Vaultren; she didn't see where they hit, but as he charged forwards, cackling madly, she stepped forwards and threw out a sleep spell. It wouldn't be enough to put him under, not in this agitated state, but hopefully it would be enough to disorient him and to cool his irrational madness.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 4 2012, 05:01 AM

The flaw in Vaultren's fighting style was not lack of skill or discipline, but lack of malice. He held back from using force for the sole reason to keep Celdryn alive. Alvara and Kogobal did not trust him, and what would happen if he mercilessly slew the Breton? The fight was drawing on with Vaultren, and he was reserving his strength lest he be worn out by the current time. The Breton had made an attempt to kick the Imperial in the face, but failed when Vaultren knocked his head back before he was hit.

Before Vaultren could react, Celdryn opened his cloak and threw sharp daggers at him. It was this moment where fury grew within the Imperial, nearly festering. He could use his hand to halt the Breton, to suspend him and draw the life from his very body, but he held back. He could of maneuvered his blade and decapitated him, but he struck against it. Vaultren swung his sword, parrying the flying blades. Three missed him by a few inches, one made its mark by striking against his shoulder blade. The sharp tip was undoubtedly coated in poison, yet for Vaultren's resistance from his previous years, it meant nothing. Annoyed and angry, Vaultren would take on the offensive to deliver the killing blow. He ignored the mad ramblings of the psychotic creature and stood there, awaiting the charging man. The dagger still stuck in his body.

Alvara stepped in, without warning, casting a spell of sorts towards Celdryn. Vaultren took advantage of this and interefered. He did not have time to see if the spell had fell upon him or not, but he acted upon it. Two feet from the accelerating Breton, Vaultren twisted, performing a powerful leg-sweep. If he were armored, this would of been much more difficult. The Imperial was going to put an end to this fight. Now.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jun 4 2012, 09:04 PM

Kogobal


Like before at the inn, surprise made his body and mind sluggish. It was madness! Right when they'd seemingly averted conflict with the dangerous Vaultren, Celdryn recklessly threw himself into battle. And to what end? To avenge a minor insult?

Kogobal's first realization was that Vaultren may not be the only mentally unstable person in his presence. Then he set forth to think of how to stop the fight. He stepped forward to put his staff between the two but drew back again, unwilling to risk harm to his most valuable tool.

"Then what? Spells? I know how to improve a man's abilities, but not how to stop them. I know how to summon the Atronach, but that would surely escalate this nonsense, not stop it...I need to keep them apart, yes."

"Cease this violence at once! For virtue's sake, do you want to get the Chorrol guards involved?! They've got watchmen on the walls, you know!" He shouted at the two madmen. When that didn't help and Alvara moved to intervene, he decided to cast his spell. He took hold of the air between the men, squeezing it together into an invisible barrier. It was a hard task, one that required both time and a delicate touch. Celdryn and Vaultren twisted and spun, throwing off his aim, forcing him to begin anew.
"Stand still, you N'Wah!"


OOC: So yeah, I apparantly got stuck with this big brawl and Kogobal just standing there like a statue. To fix that, I made him slow. Meh, I can work with that as a character-trait.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 6 2012, 01:02 PM

Things happened too fast for even Celdryn's adrenaline induced mind to comprehend. Just as he was about to lunge at Vaultren, Alvara stepped forth and hurled a spell at him. Instantly, Celdryn felt weary and bone-tired. Veins that pumped with rage now coursed through his body in a serene tide. With horror, he realized that the spell was some kind of calm magick, and cursed the woman. And then then there was Vaultren and cursed himself when the legs underneath him were kicked with power. He landed heavily on the ground, and the air from his lings, his second wind, rushed out of him and he was left there, dazed and suddenly sleepy. He looked at the Imperial, challenging him to strike the last blow. Things went downhill when suddenly, Celdryn felt an eldritch entity pull him towards the Imperial. He struggled, and the source of the strange magic revealed itself to be Kogobal's, if his thundering voice for them to stay still were any indication.

Celdryn struggled, and the adrenaline began to course through, but to his disappointment, it suddenly died, like a flickering flame to a whisper of wind. He spat out a curse and stood still, unresisting. Alvara was certainly worthy of being healer, that much was true.

"Wel it seems that our fun has ended, eh," he said to the Imperial, who he now smiled at. "Remind me to remind you to resume this once we get in Skyrim, yes? I don't like things being left half-complete."

He then looked deep into the eyes of the Imperial. The green-piercing stare delved deep and searched for any signs that Celdryn sought for. There was cold rage there, but it is to be understood. No. What Celdryn sought, and the reason why he engaged the Imperial in a fight, was the brutal beast that led Sasfiel the wench to her unearthly demise. Make no mistake, Celdryn believed Vaultren to be a man of honor, but the sight that greeted Celdryn earlier in the morning revealed unto him a side of darkness. A side of evil that could explode at any moment.

The darkest fiend takes the form the brightest angel. To misguid the unseeing into a false light.

Celdryn was not among those unseeing ones, and his deep stare delved for any signs of that evil, and underneath his cowl, a slow frown made its way on his face. No darkness in those Imperial eyes. No evil. As if... vanished. Like it never existed in the first place. There were devilish things at work here, but for the time being, Celdryn decided that the search for that darkness would come at a later date.

He then gazed at the two elves.

A slow chuckle rippled into a peal of laughter. Not unlike the laugh of one who has played a trick on them; the sound of his laughter was mischievous, but not malicious. He continued to laugh until his sides hurt and tears formed on his eyes.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 6 2012, 07:24 PM

Vaultren listened to Kogobal, but only partially. He was far more concentrated on Celdryn, the evil madman who tried to kill him for defending himself against an assassin. The Imperial leapt to his feet at the sign of a defeated opponent, thanks to Alvava and Kogobal, he had the advantage. He was quite certain he would of continued the fight without their aid in any manner. He clenched his sword tightly as he stomped over to the man.

The Breton's green eyes stared back at Vaultren's, analyzing it, studying it intently. What is he searching for?

"You should be grateful it is not your pathetic life that has ended," seethed Vaultren, pointing his sharp blood-stained blade at the bard's throat. "Your death would only faciliate our travel and ensure our safety."

The Imperial considered striking him down that moment. One flick of the blade, or the thrusting of it would end his problem. Yet, he knew it would also create new ones. Unlike Sasfiel, this man was now unarmed and defeated. There was no advantage in slaying him, nothing to gain by removing him from existance. And Vaultren never killed for petty satisfaction of a sadistic madman. With hesitation, Vaultren sheathed his blade and exhaled as tears were seen in the eyes of the defeated.

He turned to Kogobal and Alvara, a hostile look upon his face. Earlier, he had approached them sans scorn or anger, now the negative expressions but contorted his visage into a monstrous countance of rage and hate.

"You both are fools, for not detecting a true madman when he stands not three feet from you! What I have done was in defense of my well-being," he turned angrily to Celdryn, pointing an accusing finger. "Yet that man tried to avenge the death of an evil assassin who attempted to take my life because I was one of the few who held the courage of striking out against the tyranical Thalmor, when cowards like you drown in your ocean of illusions and meandering drivel! Judging men like me without thought to what truly is at stake and who truly is the enemy."

He walked off to the road slowly, rearranging his shirt and his gear, he tried to soften his insult. " I am surprised dregs like you two are even alive. You should be careful as you sleep tonight, for that creature, Celdryn, is more than capable of slitting your throat as you slumber." He stared angrily at the Breton. "And your only memories to him would be the songs he sings in the taverns of your innocent demise."

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jun 8 2012, 08:38 AM

Bizarrely, Celdryn's reaction to both Alvara and Kogobal stepping in to the fight between him and Vaultren was not one of rage, surprise or, as Alvara thought he might do, to attack them. Instead he merely look over at the two mer and burst out laughing. Vaultren turned his attentions on them moments later; his rhetoric was harsh, chastising and angry. Considering what Celdryn had just done Alvara could, to an extent, understand why he might be upset, but there was a limit to what she would tolerate.

"Fools?" she asked. "Yes, Vaultren we are fools. We are fools for trusting somebody who, right until now, acted like a perfectly normal person. We are fools for being somewhat suspicious of somebody who savaged and mutilated a corpse and then claimed it was merely an act of self defence; in fact, that is in retrospect, a very foolish thing to do indeed. What idiots we were!"

She turned on Celdryn.

"And you...I can't even guess what in Oblivion is going through your skull right now, but by whatever gods are listening right now I don't think I want to!" she said. "You attack him out of nowhere and then laugh about it like some maniac!."

She shook her head.

"In my eyes you're both as bad as each other," she said. "And if there's any more trouble from either of you then I'm giving serious consideration to parting ways with you both."

"I'll dress that knife wound of yours, Vaultren," she said, glancing at the injury in the Imperial's shoulder. "And then we'll move on, if you're both quite done with killing each other."

Posted by: jack cloudy Jun 8 2012, 09:53 PM

Kogobal

His spell ended up drawing the two men together instead of keeping them apart. Absently he told himself to make a note of this later, along with his conjecture that it might have been the result of excessive pressure differentials. The majority of his attention however was still fixed on the madmen. And madmen they truly were. As sudden as the murderlust had claimed Celdryn, so sudden did laughter strike at him.

Kogobal's mouth fell open in a mixture of astonishment and revulsion. To think he'd actually thought the man to be goodnatured and sane. He might be the former, but definitely not the latter. As Vaultren turned on them next, thankfully with words instead of steel, he could do naught but shake his head. The Imperial had a point, a good one, if the hypocrisy of it was ignored, as Alvara pointed out. There was also a larger amount of politics in his words than he appreciated.
"I know Thalmor are your enemy, but that is completely irrelevant here." Kogobal grumbled under his breath, shaking his head again.

"Just for the record and so we don't have any more surprises. Any werebeings, vampires, liches, Daedra, ghosts, ashbeasts, robbers, moneyforgers and taxcollectors in present company, please raise your hand." He muttered to himself and then walked to the bard, though stopping at a respectful distance. The Altmer glanced at the man's injuries, then at Alvara who had offered to aid Vaultren. Her choice was simple to understand. Distrusted as he might be, Vaultren had not been the agressor in the fight. And since they hadn't seen it happen, he might actually be innocent in the savaging of the Altmeri lass. Though granted, the odds for that one were not ones he would bet money on.

"Unlike the fair lady, I am no healer. So I'll just ask you this, sir Minan'Kherus. Are you still able to travel?" He asked Celdryn and then added:"If yes, please keep in front of us all. If no, ask lady Alvara. And ask nicely."
His eyes wandered to the Vaultren's and Celdryn's weapons and he wondered if Alvara and he shouldn't demand to take them into custody for now. But he kept silent, unwilling to provoke the two killers. It was unpleasant to be sure. He was unable to trust them with their arms, but als unable to trust their response when he took them away.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 8 2012, 10:25 PM

The Imperial ran his index finger along the cut on his shoulder, picking up the red stain of crimson blood. He listened to Alvara as he inspected the hilt of his blade. Half of his attention was to her while the other half was to his blade. He did not trust Celdryn, and the Breton's comment about continuing the fight at a later time only increased his caution. But he promised himself silently that next time, he would surely not hold back.

"The woman was dead long before her body was put into such a condition," he shot at Alvara. "I was a message left, rather than a sadistic art. I can spend eternity explaining to you how innocent people of ages young and old are kept under the inquisitorial torture rooms of the Dominion with no food and no water. How their bodies were ravaged and mutilated as they were awake. Given potions of stamina to prolong their awareness, lest they pass out into a coma and into death before 'information' was ripped from them."

Kogobal, unsurprisingly, took her side. Explaining that the Thalmor being his enemy was irrelevant. Vaultren folded his arms at his chest now, leaning against a tree, awaiting until everyone was truly prepared to leave. When will it be relevant? When the Thalmor put you behind bars and press flaming iron against your genitals?Vaultren restrained himself from frowning at the man's mention of all sorts of nightmarish creatures and men of ill reputation. Last thing he needed was a paranoid Elf worrying about supernatural monsters.

He did not want to bicker any further. He made his point, and that was final. Vaultren looked at Alvara and shook his head. "I do not require your assistance, woman. I can handle myself, if you do not mind."

In the corner of his eyes, he saw the Altmer analyzing his and Minan'Kherus' weapons. It was confirmed that this Mer was somewhat paranoid, and with good reason. It eased Vaultren to know that they both distrusted Celdryn as well, for the man most certainly proved his insanity. He considered giving the man his blade to cement his trust in him, but he struck against it. It would be unwise to give away his weapon while in the company of a psychotic bard.

Vaultren awaited no further as he left the shade of the tree to walk the path of the road leading to the north.

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 9 2012, 01:40 AM



Celdryn kept on laughing while the three said their piece. He wiped the tears on his eyes, and looked at Alvara. There it was. The sole reason why he lunged at the Imperial in the first place. To butcher an elf that way... Wasn't that a little far? Granted, the breton wasn't a sadistic killer that played with dead bodies so he had no experience in such things, but he thought a simple message with the blood of the fallen should be enough.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I guess you could call it as an advanced reasuurance of sorts. Vaultren is right in one thing though; I'm a maniac and if I wanted you bunch dead, I'll slit your throats in the night, And no, I won't rip out your eyeballs, break the bones on your bodies, or bleed your cadavers dry. I seek fulfillment on the living, and the dead does not fight back. I wouldn't waste any time on your broken clays; but if I was a crazy cannibal, I'd probably eat you."

He then burst out laughing, this time much more louder in volume. When Kogobal mentioned any supernatural beings in present, he simply smirked and toned down his laughter to a chuckle. He'd been a tax collector once. Bad idea of occupation, that was. He then put a finger on his wounds and tested the damage; naught but a little gash, nothing he couldn't handle. The bleeding was heavy however, and Celdryn briefly thought that artery may have been cut.

"I suppose I could use a bandage. Any predators near might smell the sweet crimson happiness of life and decide that I would make a fine meal. Bad idea though; I'm rotten to the core and they may have some intense flatulence in the near future! Esteemed lady of Morrowind, might you be kind enough to heal an insane man?"

He then looked at Vaultren, and all manner of amusement left his face.

"Rant about the Thalmor and how evil they are; don't forget that if you stare deep in the heart of evil, you yourself may become tainted. Or perhaps you are already touched by their shadows? Who knows. Who cares."

He turned away from the Imperial and headed towards the Dunmeri.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jun 9 2012, 12:05 PM

Alvara merely gave a half-hearted shrug at Vaultren's self-righteous and judgemental defence of his actions, deciding that he was probably as much in the realm of Sheogorath as Celdryn was; the man was clearly obbsessed with the Thalmor.

Of course, it really didn't help that Celdryn kept up that incessant cackling of his, and the arguments he used to defend himself were a disjointed and bizarre as they came. It was when he asked for healing that Alvara could not help but feel a little bemused. 'Esteemed lady of Morrowind' indeed.

"I suppose I wouldn't be much of a healer if I didn't help those in need of healing," she said, reaching for the pouch in her patch where she kept rolls of linen and pulling one free in order to bandage the wound on Celdryn's leg, along with a small surgical knife in case she needed to remove any cloth that she . "Sit down and raise your leg, let me take a look at it."

The fabric around the cut was was sticky from Celdryn's blood, clinging to the gash, and she cut it away before the bard could raise any kind of protest. The injury itself was neatly made by Vaultren sabre, clean, but deeper than it might look, and by the looks of things, had nicked an artery. Celdryn was lucky; had the blade bit any deeper, he would have bled to death by this point.

She took a breath, calling upon the modest wellspring of magical energies that she had at her command and channeling it into Celdryn's wound. The abused tissue at by the channel for blood began to knit back together as the restorative energy flowed into it, and after a few moments of effort she nodded in satisfaction. The wound itself was still open, but the bleeding was now staunched, and she smeared a poultice of compressed herbs onto it before wrapping it in place with the bandage.

"Right, that's stopped the bleeding, and it's best if it heals under its own steam," she said. "You should be able to walk just fine, but go easy on your leg unless you want this to keep causingyou prolbems."

Posted by: jack cloudy Jun 11 2012, 09:09 PM

Kogobal

He kept his eyes on the bard while Alvara healed him. Just in case he tried to strangle or stab her. Celdryn didn't, but he did notice that Alvara chose not to heal him fully. Somewhat relieved, Kogobal averted his eyes.

"So non-crippling or immediately life-threatening injuries are best healed by the body? I wasn't aware of that. Then again, I try not to get injured in the first place. And well, keeping the crazy guy slowed down might not be such a bad idea." He thought to himself and slowly began to walk after Vaultren. As for the Imperial, he wasn't sure what to think of him. Yes, the man was capable of truly monstrous acts but on the other hand, he had not shown to release his constraints unless provoked. The Altmeri girl, unless the letter was planted by Vaultren himself which seemed preposterous, had forced their confrontation. Likewise Celdryn had, after Vaultren had said bluntly that he was acting in self-defence.

Kogobal glanced at his staff, seeking the clarity of mind that eluded him.
"I guess the man is no problem as long as I'm not too kind to the Thalmor. But on the other hand, he's probably just as bad if that 'message' is any indication. Ah well, at least it doesn't rain."

The Altmer looked over his shoulder at Alvara and Celdryn.
"Come on then. Unless we plan on camping in the woods, we'd better make the most of the day."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 11 2012, 10:04 PM

Vaultren, Outside of Chorrol.

Vautren did not know what to say on Celdryn's response. But he did know how to act. He frowned for he found it annoying. The bard had lost his mind. His rantings about losing blood and being attacked by predators made Vaultren uneasy somehow, as was the Breton's speech. He did not deny that he suffered from mania nor did he hide the fact that he could slit the throats of the others. It was more than enough proof that this man would have to fall one day or another. But who would deliver the killing blow? Vaultren was not sure. Alvara struck him as the typical women he had come across countless times before. A healer, not a fighter. Kogobal, while displaying skills with the arcane, did not seem one to favor conflict.

If it were any regular person with the confused mindset on philosophy, they would allow Celdryn's words about evil to sink in. But Vaultren cast them aside as irrelevant. Petty concepts of good and evil are established by the moral codes of people, who falsely dictates what is right and what is wrong in this natural world. Fate and destiny holds no regards. He knew that. Suddenly he felt himselt traveling back in time when he was in the Legion in his earlier years.

He kept silent as Alvara tended to Celdryn's wounds, not bothering to heal him completely. The Imperial held his breath and forced himself not to breath in the air. The smell of blood and even the sight of it made him squeamish.

Kogobal looked over his shoulders to speak to the Man and the Mer. His plan was to walk before nightfall, and not make camp. He agreed.

"Camping at night can be dangerous. We would all fare better in a civilized place. Celdryn's wounds would better heal at a tavern or at a healer's chapel rather than the wilderness where animals can devour him. Besides, it would be better to avoid any confrontation with highwayment or bandits."

Looking to his wound, Vaultren noticed it was bleeding more profoundly than before. His lip curled in annoyance as his brows furrowed deeply. He would have to heal himself later when he could.




Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 15 2012, 12:14 AM

Darkness was encroaching on the northern hemisphere, though signs of celestial starlight above the beleaguered territory was obvious. Well under the sky, a congration of torchbugs gathered in a midair dance, though slowly scattering off as the Imperial, Vaultren, walked past them. The group was well past the Orange Road, well past Bruma, and now standing at the Jerall Mountains. There were trees around them, but all manner of green was dressed and replaced by nature's white cloth. Lining the naked branches and the stones were crystalline snow, their exterior thick with icicles. The sounds were expected as well, the crunching noises of boots and shoes stepping over the snow was audible.

Vaultren began stomping his boot on the solid ice to better accomodate his feet. His skin was slightly pale and blue from the cold. In these past days, he was able to make purchase for himself and the others, buying supplies from Khajiiti caravans that were en route to Skyrim. Venison, drinks and other items of worth was provided.

"The land of the Nords. We are here." Whether by nature or choosing, Vaultren's words were slow, sibilantly.

He glanced at the group and exhaled, his cold breath materializing in front of him. The cold was even greater during the night, and unfortunately for everyone in the group, there were no Nords at all. A Dunmer, a Breton, a High Elf and an Imperial who were known to be supceptible to cold. For him, he carried a blackish grey robe and hood he used to cover his pants and shirt. On his shoulder was a bag filled with blankets and extra shirts. He wasn't sure if the group had purchased any, for he was eager to keep his pace the moment he exited the Khajiiti merchant camp.

On the edge of the hillside above a most frigid peak, he could spot a settlement miles away from where he stood, though a blizzard threatened to shroud them, especially in this time of the year. "If we press on, we can reach Falkreath Hold by morning and seek rest. But ultimately, the decision lies with all of you. We could make camp and remain beneath the higher ground, but I fear we will be sieged by a snow-storm."

He glanced at Kogobal, Alvara and Celdryn, more cautious and worry in his face rather than any malice or rage. He rubbed his hands together slightly. Perhaps I should of purchased gloves, he remembered. He flexed the rim of his robe's sleeve to cover his frigid hands.

Those past days he made an attempt to reconcile with them, strenghten his relationship. He understood there would be incoming headaches during the strenuous trip with the group. It was not something he desired, not at all; he would mend their broken trust soon enough, by rectyfing the situation. Celdryn's attack was a setback, and an issue in which he did not foresee. As a madman and a misguised lunatic as Minan'Kherus was, Vaultren understood that it would do him no good to form a grudge against the man. In any case, first thing was first; their current situation.

"What shall it be?"

Posted by: Uleni Athram Jun 15 2012, 02:07 PM


By experience, Celdryn knew that Alvara had pulled her real strength in the healing of his wound; he knew that the usual rituals involved focusing on the wound itself, not on the body. Plus, he still felt stiff. But that couldn't be helped. Well-intentioned extremists are rarely kept on a long leash after all. He smiled his thanks and went ahead of the group. Their journey was a tranquil one; no bandits that they met, no predators near that stalked, and most importantly, no Thalmor. As they slowly woved their way to the cold North, Celdryn retreated to his mind and became unnaturally silent. Such signs point that he was thinking. And the object of his thoughts were that of the Companions in Skyrim. Astoundingly, however, he began to rethink his plans on joining them. For him, it was a confusing matter. Ages ago, he enjoyed his flirts with death. Now, to join an organization that promised lots more, it began to.... stale. Somehow, it did not hold the sweet nectar of adrenaline as it used to.

Strange.

He would have to find out this sudden feeling of... whatever it was.
--------

They reached Skyrim in the night. The breton, red-nosed and shivering, looked towards the blanket of stars up above. Millions and millions of holes made by aedra who fled Nirn or some such religious ravings. Celdryn does not have faith in any gods or demons; but the sight of those little starlamps lighting it up with the Twin Moons was certainly etherial in its beauty. He blew a wasp of his breath and watched as it mingled mid-air before disappearing in a whisper that joined the banshee-shriek of Skyrim's harsh winds. He rubbed his hands, and blew into them.

"Better to suffer now and press on and received comfort later than sleep and be buried in snow come morning. My legs are still fine and dandy, and perhaps I can still walk a mile or two."

He turned to the elves.

"What does the fairy folk say in this matter?"

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jun 16 2012, 02:47 PM

The journey to Skyrim's borders had been a much tenser affair than Alvara had liked. Vaultren had been watching Celdryn, Celdryn had been watching Vaultren and Alvara and Kogobal had been watching them both. Fortunately for the Dark Elf, Kogobal had proven to have full control of his mental faculties, despite his somewhat outlandish appearance. They had had some respite with staying at inns, and earlier when they had met a Khajiiti trade caravan; there, Alvara had manage to exchange some coin for some of the more exotic ingredients she sometimes had need of, as well as swapping a few pieces of advice and anecdotes between her and the caravan's herbicier, an amicable old cat whose fur had lost much of its lustre and thickness with age, much to her discontent in this chill land.

Night was falling, and biting cold wind was beginning to blow. Alvara pulled her battered, weather-worn cloak tight in an attempt to ward off the chill, but even though it helped it failed to dissipate it entirely. Of course, it hardly helped that she was naturally more inclined towards living in the volcanic plains and steamy marshes of Morrowind; Dunmer were not made for the chill of Skyrim, and she wondered why such a large portion of her people had chosen to migrate to Windhelm when their homeland bordered much more hospitable lands. Then again, a refugee hardly had the luxury of being choosy.

Alvara glanced at the horizon as Vaultren what they might do next. While snow was quite far removed from volcanic ash, she remembered an old piece of advice her Ashlander mother had given her about surviving on the plains of Vvardenfel; 'When an ash storm blows in, only a fool tries to walk through it; a wise Mer finds shelter and bunkers down to wait it out.'

"We should go a little further," she said after a moment. "See how far ahead of the blizzard we can get, and if we can reach town in time then that's all well and good; if not, we should find a lee or a cave to shelter in and stay out of its way. If we try and just go through it while it's blowing, we'll probably just end getting lost and eaten by a sabre cat."

Posted by: jack cloudy Jun 16 2012, 06:39 PM

Kogobal


He hated the weather. It wasn't as if he was unfamiliar with the cold, or flesh-rending gales. Elsweyr had both, though the former only occurred at night. Skyrim was cold all day long. The fur-lined cloak and scarf he'd bought kept the worst from his body, but he still felt it in his toes, his brow and fingers.

Now with the sun setting and the first stars shining above, he felt tired. Tired of walking and tired of watching. Fortunately, both Vaultren and Celdryn had been remarkably quiet these past few days and the Altmer slowly began to relax in their presence. But still he watched them. Even as the question of continuing or stopping was asked, he found it hard to bring his eyes on the mountains around them rather than the Breton and Imperial.

They were getting close to the tree-limit, he saw. Those that remained around them were short, hardy needle-stacked ones. They stood far apart, fighting to survive against the tides of moss and ice. Beyond the sparse forest rose the Jerall themselves, tall and foreboding. Kogobal shook his head. The weather in Skyrim could change without warning, so he was told. But that change was rarely an improvement.
"I'd say we find shelter. The mountains are treacherous and the wind will only get worse as we ascend. I'd rather not stumble around over slick stone and loose gravel under moon and starlight. Not when we are already tired of a day's march."

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 16 2012, 09:41 PM

As Vaultren, Celdryn looked to the Mer to ask their opinion on the matter. Alvara expressed her desire to continue walking and depending on the condition of the weather, press on to a town or locate a safe haven lest they fall prey to ravenous predators.

He looked at Kogobal and noticed the man's obvious discomfort in the cold. High Elves were not bred for snow and ice, they were more accustomed to their tropical climate in the Summerset Isles. Kogobal wanted to find a secure abode to rest in, not directly confronting against Alvara's will to possibly find a place to sleep. Vaulren thought for a second, his hood shuffling in the blowing wind as was his sleeves. Even so, he was not as warm as he should of been. He realized they needed to find shelter soon; A place to rest his head and to eat.

He began to reflect on his earlier travels and patrols he had performed over the years against the Nordic barbarian raiders which attempted to rob khajiiti caravans for material goods. He knew the bandits themselves were slain by the Imperial Legion who guarded the roads, yet their hideout remained intact to this day. True, the cavern was looted and the stolen treasures recovered. But the there were left over barrels and crates that could serve to be made into a campfire. All he needed to use was a fireball to create heat to last through the night.

Vaultren smiled, nodded and exhaled to the three other travelers. He pointed his icy index finger toward the area north-west of the Jerall Mountains. "During my time in the Legion, we patrolled these areas to answer to a distress warning from the khajiiti merchants. There is a cavern about a mile and a half from here, left behind by Nordic raiders who were responsible for their thievery."

He wiped snowflakes that gathered on his face, blinking twice. "If we can press forth now, we should avoid any complications with the weather. All we need to do is remain as a single unit, lest we be picked off one by one."

The Imperial man treaded on the snow, making various crunching sounds as the snow failed beneath his boot. As he walked, he spoke to his companions regarding his last statement. He was not sure if they listened to him or if they never even cared, but he saw fit to warn them anyways. "There is much more to be concerned about than just loose gravel or famished felines. We also have to be careful for those Daedra worshipers and necromancers who seek to kidnap the unsuspecting for their vile experimentations."

"We would be blessed if we even found this cavern abandoned and unoccupied."

Posted by: jack cloudy Jun 19 2012, 08:57 PM

Kogobal



It was Vaultren who cut the proverbial knot when he told them he knew of a nearby cavern. For a moment Kogobal was surprised, then he remembered that the Imperial had mentioned he'd had contacts in Skyrim. There was a very good possibility that those contacts were cultivated during his tour in the legion.
"I just hope his friends aren't as outspoken as he is. I'm not sure if my nerves could handle it." He thought and cringed when a wet snowflake hit his nose.

"That sounds good. Lead the way, sir." He said to Vaultren as he followed the man's footsteps. What did not sound good however, was the expectation that his cavern had been reinhabited. If there were any occupants, he hoped they were travelers such as themselves seeking shelter, but he knew that they couldn't rely on optimism and travel guides did warn against using caves. If they didn't hold dangerous wildlife, they held dangerous men. He found himself agreeing with Vaultren's warning to stay on guard.

Kogobal did not agree with his assessment of the occupants being Daedra worshippers or necromancers. Those in his personal experience, tried to get as far from civilization as possible. But bandits were another thing. The path they'd been following was one of the major trade arteries. While their group had been able to take a slight shortcut due to not having any wagons, they were still close to the main route.

"I will be honest with you all. I am not a mer experienced in battle. I know a few theoretical approaches, but mostly I just fled the area when in trouble. But more importantly than that, what do you remember of this cavern? If we do run into a conflict, it would be best to know the lay of the land before walking into it." He declared, already going over those theories as they walked.

"The frost atronach would be our surest bet, I suppose. I'd have to find a place to hide myself first, but it can be done. However, the local temperature is rather low. That Daedra would be right in its element and quite wilful. Can I even suppress its spirit here?" He shuddered involuntarily, both from the cold and his thoughts. An out of control summon was every summoners worst dream. While an apprentice's scamp was easily subdued, an Atronach was something else. An enraged mass of living ice, striking at everything that moved and more than a few things that didn't. It wasn't a risk he'd like to take.


Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jun 23 2012, 03:01 AM

Vaultren.

Kogobal had announced his desire for Vaultren to lead the way, and so he did. In the back of his mind he thought himself leader, then he remembered he was not in the Legion and he was not on tour with the Legion. Titus Mede II had excused his title of Tribune and placed him on watch. Most would certainly be flogged or imprisoned, but not him. Having influential allies was indeed beneficial. In any case, dealing with the Dunmer or the Breton could be dangerous and he would be wise to not enforce his own ideals upon them. The manner they looked at him told him enough that they distrusted him. Kogobal on the other hand showed genuine kindness, or at least respect. He had no personal qualms with any of them, for they offered him no true harm. Save for Celdryn who was the only one who attacked thus far.

His feet kept sinking beneath the snow as he marched on toward the cave. He used the trees and the landscape to recall the location of this cavern. He breathed deeply as he continued on with the group. True, the circumstances were not favorable and were less than desirable. But even amidst this all, Vaultren rejoiced in his misfortunes. He might of been a fugitive of the Thalmor, as of that week. He might of been injured in a fight with a maniacal Breton and he might of been drowned and crushed by an avalanche or lost in a blizzard, but he kept his frigid emotions and only smirked. Life was too grand and too long to be complaining. He still held his life and still had his riches and influence somewhere else, and that was all that mattered.

As always, Kogobal seemed to offer his ideas. He explained he held little knowledge in combat and sought to use more tactical approaches to any violent situations. He also inquired on the information of the cave they were now making their way to.

Vaultren pulled back the hood to reveal his cropped black hair which was dotted rapidly by the falling snow. He scoffed as he remembered about his time against the Bosmer bandits who made the cavern their home one time after the conflict with the Nordic raiders. "You need not worry about being inexperienced, most of the bandits of these areas are weary by the cold, unless they are Nordic of nature. My men and I were ambushed here once two years ago by Bosmeri archers after the conflict with the Nords. Poor creatures had as much cunning as a school of sardines. Those cowardly little shïts, they never even bothered to leave their cave!"

He wasn't sure if the others had laughed, but he found it comical. The tree-hugging savages attempting to use their base animals and archery to bring down the Legion soldiers. It was all amusing. He looked at Kogobal with a weary stare and began to explain. "The cave itself has three corridors that lead into the side of the mountain. The third corridor to the left, as I recall...leads to the exterior exit if taken upon. There is plenty of room to set up a small camp and the left over supplies may be used as firewood in the south halls.”

He paused to reconsider his path. He scratched his hair and erected a haughty breath. "Provided it has not been looted after all these years."

The tribune continued as he recalled the path to this place. "It would be best if we encountered others who were not willing to sink their blades into our flesh. Chances are, the cave might yet be uninhabited, but I've been wrong before."

They were walking over the Jerall Mountains now, heading deep toward it. There was evidence of a small battle that had taken place in the area. Fallen broken weapons and shields littered the snow. Burnt wagons and damaged crates could be seen a few kilometers away. It appeared nobody had even bothered to clean up the remains. In this weather condition, it was obvious why. Though this was a different battle altogether, and more of a raid rather than a skirmish. It appeared as if it had been some time since it occured, considering there were no bodies yet located. It was understandable; the Jerall Mountains was an insignificant spot: too few resources and too few people for the Empire to worry about. For all intents and purposes, this particular spot was forgotten by men and cleaned spotless by natural predators.

In the side of the mountain, there was a large opening that was surrounded by naked trees. The cave opening! Vaultren pointed over toward the direction. "There!"

He rushed over to the entrance of the dark abode, only to stand on the outside. "Best get inside before the storm. Sadly, it is not the most accommodating of places to rest. I would rather be resting in my villa, plowing my fields, collecting grapes from my vineyard and copulating with my beautiful servants."

Vaultren briefly winked to the Dunmeri woman, Alvara, before extending a gracious hand to admit the trio entrance. He fortunate to purchase a bottle of wine at the Khajiiti caravan. Not that swill that could be found in the local abysmal tavern. Though he would be cautious at that very moment, for he knew not what dwelled in the cave and he wasn't sure if the others even had torches to be able to see in the dark. He would have to hold onto his blade rather than his bottle of wine. At least for now.

Posted by: Colonel Mustard Jul 1 2012, 09:43 AM

Alvara resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Vaultren's last comment as she entered the cave, shaking the dusting of snow that her shoulders had acquired from her cloak. The occasional comments that he had aimed in her direction had been somewhat tiring, and while she supposed he was attractive enough if one was into refined, older men, his insufferable self-righteousness, general lack of charm and the lingering memory of the way he had dealt with that Thalmor assassin meant that she was quite definitely not interested.

She pushed her thoughts to one side as she scanned the antechamber of the cave, and she was relieved to see it was empty, a few stalactites hanging down from the ceiling and the walls glistening with slight damp. The air within was cool, but warmer than outside, separated as it was by the threshold of stone and frosted moss that separated the innards of the mountain from the outside.

"I'll go check the southern passage you mentioned," she said to the others, raising her staff in one hand and summoning the energy needed for a fireball to the fingertips of the other. With luck, she would be able to find some of this firewood and kindling Vaultren mentioned, and all without running across bandits or a bear.

Posted by: jack cloudy Jul 3 2012, 09:54 PM

Kogobal

Kogobal wasn't exactly pleased with Vaultren's continued displays of confidence bordering on the fanatic. But he kept his thoughts for himself.
"We are also weary and unacustomed to this climate. That does not give us an advantage here." He realized.

As they followed the Imperial, the man called their attention to the remains of a raid in the distance. There were no bodies visible, but it didn't look quite as thoroughly looted as one would suspect. Perhaps the bandits had been interupted by the weather, a legion patrol, or were simply shorthanded to carry everything. The Altmer made notice of the spot for later. If the storm let up, they might be able to scavenge something useful from it.

Fortunately the cavern, or at least the entrance, was empty. Vaultren cracked a joke to ease the tension and winked at Alvara before stepping inside. The Dunmer however was not amused and resolutely made it clear that she would check one of the three passages, whether it was to ensure their solitude or to get away from the others. Kogobal thought of following but decided not to. She looked like she could handle herself and was smart enough to know when to run. Vaultren and Celdryn on the other hand. Well, he simply didn't thrust to leave those two alone with no company but each other.
"Be careful. I'll take the middle passage then." He said to her.

Once Alvara had disappeared among the stone spires, Kogobal looked at the Breton and the Imperial.
"Yes, I really don't feel good about leaving them now." He thought and sighed.
"I'm going to summon a Scamp and have it scout out the cave. Just thought I'd inform you first."


OOC: So I'm going to get dragged off to england for a week starting on Thursday. Please try to drag Kogobal along though I doubt much will happen in the meantime.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Jul 7 2012, 05:40 PM

Vaultren.

Alvara had shrugged off his minor attempt at wooing her. It seemed like most Dunmer, she was a cold one with a tempered and reserved demeanour. He watched with a frigid stare as she voted to wander the cave, implying she would like to do so by herself in solitude. She used her staff to create fire as her form dissapeared into the darkness. If she was brave enough to explore the unknown alone, then by all means no one would stop her.

Vaultren felt a familiar ire grow and fester in his breast, but his outward appearance bespoke tranquility. He nodded silently at Kogobal as he studied the cavern around him. It did not change as much as he last saw it, but there were notable differences. He resisted looking at Celdryn and Kogobal as he had his back turned to them.


He doned his former self and sighed, composing himself as a nobleman instead of a soldier. He held out his hand and brought about a flame that flickered and lived in his palm. With Kogobal pulling a scamp from Oblivion into the material world, Vaultren saw no need to summon anything of his own.

As he vanished deep into the dark tunnels, he extinguished his flame and continued his path through the corridors. He looked back to see if anyone followed. Kogobal could be a threat , even if he did not admit to being one. Vaultren grew weary of him and the others. They potentially could be just as harmfully dangerous as Celdryn. He reflected on his words: "I heard some rather far fetched rumours. About a god or gods appearing in Skyrim. Normally I'd be sceptical about mere rumour, but when that Nord started talking about Elder Scrolls..."

Vaultren had a history with Elder Scrolls, though he never remembered reading one, he knew the White Gold Tower held many of them before it was sacked and looted. What does the Elder Scroll have to do with a god returning to the world? Vaultren had to wonder as he made a turn in one of the tight tunnels to his left. And what is this man's intentions? Surely that talk about witnessing an Aedric or Daedric being manifest into the world was one of many reasons. Perhaps his curiosity was born out of the interest of amassing great power? Vaultren would be careful around this man, for even a scholar could be traitorous and a madman. Likewise for a Dark Elf who fancies herself a healer and even the mad Breton.

Still pacing toward the cave, Vaultren picked up a few strange sounds coming from the end of the tunnel in the large chamber. His nose also managed to capture a peculiar scent. His eyes adjusted as his hand resisted on the hilt of his sheathed word. His steps were eerily silent and absent sound, he melded in with the darkness in a prudent fashion.

Posted by: Darkness Eternal Aug 6 2012, 12:15 AM

Vaultren.

In the end, the sound came from a small skeever being devoured by larger ones. They were warded off by Vaultren's presence. The Imperial knew this cave extensively from his time in the Legion many, many years ago during the Great War. He understood every corridor, every path and route, and he understood the layout of every single chamber. He knew the strengths, and he understood the weaknesses.

During his time with the group, he studied Kogobal, analyzed Alvara and tried to comprehend Celdryn. They hated him, and with good cause. But hate was such a powerful thing, he knew, for his entire life was full of hate. Hate is a passion, and passion gives way to strength, thus presenting powerful opportunities, which then leads on the victory. And his victory was in his grasp. But even hate can be manipulated and self-destructive. He would use his against them, instead of allowing it against him.

Alvara, peeved and obviously infuriated with his actions, was repelled by a simple gesture of the eyes, and he thrived in the knowledge that he made her that way, for she was seperated from the rest. Being a healer, how could she possibly save herself and Kogobal from an impending collision? The ceilings were infested with armies of sharp stalactites, with a gentle nudge, could pierce the cranium of an unsuspecting victim.

Kogobal knew the tenuous relationship between Vaultren and Celdryn, and was guided by his own concept of morality and righteous nature to leave the two seperated, which in the end would be his own undoing. So Vaultren believed. With Kogobal and Celdryn together, and Alvara alone in the dark tunnels, all he was required to do was to seal their fates once and for all.

Celdryn, adrenaline-dependant lunatic and instrumentally gifted storyteller, had all the reason to believe in his instincts. Vaultren's treachery was speculated, but not expected. It was imagined, but not foreseen. With his words, they believed in him, albeit mistrusting him. And they fell into his trap as cattle to the slaughter. He would not make his mistake again as he did with that Thalmor assassin. By leading them out into the wilderness by taking a path through the Jerall Mountains, especially in this time of year, they walked into the fateful snare.

Traversing through the dark corridors, Vaultren's eyes adjusted to all of his surroundings. He saw where Alvara went, and he knew where the Altmer and the Bard went, thus he returned the way he came, certain they walked in their intended paths down a place where none of them had ever visited before. His layout, a lie. While there were seperate tunnels, there were no stable chambers, only a large chasm that led deep into the frozen abyss. If they did not watch their steps, they would fall to their deaths.

There was only a single entrance and a single exit, and they were both congruent and one in the same. Vaultren went the way he came, and crouched until he reached the exterior of the entrance. No sign of the brooding trio, for they were exploring the cavern in their own accord.

Stepping out into the wilderness, Vaultren stood at the end of the cave and pulled away the small scroll he had purchased from the trading caravan days ago. He planned to use the arcane parchment for other things, but this would serve its purpose quite well.

Such a small scroll containing such power. To his advantage, his honeyed words and sharp tongue and superior persuasion skills, he was able to barter his purchase without losing too many coin. The khajiiti were great merchants, but they lacked a touch in the art of negotiation.

Thankfully for their not-so-shrewd capabilities, he read the scroll, adopting spell with his studious eyes. Fire, indeed, was a destructive force. It licked away and devoured everything in sight. But in snow, it would serve no use, unless it was an explosion. A fiery one. By rolling the barrels onto the cave entrance, he was ready to commence his plan.

Filled with pure rum from the cart of Redguard travelers before their untimely demise at the arrows of Bosmeri archers, the barrels were a liquified explosive. He rolled them upwards and set them at the entrance of the cave. With a proper blast, the snow collected above the mountain would fall over and trap them inside, along with the stones.

With a gesture of the hand, Vaultren formed sparks in his hand which morphed into a concentrated fireball. His hands shook, his eyes were set and focused on the cavern entrance. With a long, prideful exhale, he forced the fiery blast from his fist. His teeth gritted into a terrible scowl, darkening his countenance amidst the bright light.

A raging inferno formed at his feet and formed a powerful funnel that twisted and turned through the air and toward the doomed barrels. Yellow and orange mixed in a beautiful illumination of deathly flames which exploded on impact.

The cave interior was obliterated by the blast, and continued to spasm through out, sending shock waves through the stalactite-ridden ceiling. Cracks spread like a web, triggering a tumultous rumble throughout the
interior. The slumbering snow above the cave trembled, and stones and large icy boulders tumbled down to block the path. Layer upon layer of stone collapsed within.

Vaultren's actions, however, had their repurcussions. The blast radius was enormous, that he himself was impacted by a shockwave and was sent back a few feet by the invisible hot battering ram. He crashed onto the snow with an audiably frustrated grunt. At first, he felt no injury.

Long enough, though, that when he climbed to his feet his legs quivered and some of the dust from the
blast had settled. Only when he walked back did he realize that the clash of fire, rum and stone had not left him
unscathed. At some point, perhaps when he was focused entirely on murder, a rock or some other large debris had struck the middle area of his lower back, and now the black robe he wore was drenched in blood.

Despite the dissipating dust, he took in a deep breath, eliciting a piercing pain from his rib cage and a cough that spat cold blood into the frigid air. Drawing on the moment, he numbed himself to the agony and forced his body to limit the damage as best it possibly could. When the injury stopped in its interruptive procupation, he surveyed the area, anchored in place but twisting into a full circle.

As the dust and snow cleared, he saw the door to the cavern completely blocked from the outside, and possibly even the inside as the impact was enough to sent shards of rock to barricade the tunnel. Some minor projectiles did make its way into his skin, and he felt a brief regret that the Dunmeri healer wasn't there to provide her services. In any case chose to remember and honor the souls who might have been lost in the cave.

Alvara, the one who worried about him bringing the Thalmor on their heads, when the sharpened stones of a cave's ceiling would suffice. So volumptous, undoubtedly a succulent one! But her healing would truly be wasted just as her average beauty. Unlike him, she would age and perish. Perhaps? Vaultren believed so.

Kogobal, a scholar who devoted his time in understanding and traveling, may his time in that cavern be enough for him to dream of a life he never truly lived. Feeding himself the knowledge of his fate. If knowlege is power, perhaps you can be powerful enough to teleport out of this place?

Celdryn, the mad Breton, perhaps he could sing and entertain the others before devouring them in an orgiastic abandon induced by demented cannibalism. I passed your Nine-forsaken test, mad one, perhaps you can pass mine? Think of me as the lion who outsmarted a lamb who believed itself a wolf. You now have my consent to die.

A natural avalanche, some would claim. A terrible tragedy! Indeed, a sad catastrophe, Vaultren remarked with a shrug. In any case, the incoming blizzard would impede anyone from discovering this cavern, and the snow would surely cover any trace of magic activity. By the time those inside would be discovered, they may be piles of bone settling as a reminder that hubris and lowering one's own guard can indeed be their downfall.

Raising his black cowl, Vaultren allowed himself a satisfactory smile of triumph and duty. With limping, but vigorous steps, he marched his way through the wilderness to reach Skyrim - -To the North!

Posted by: Uleni Athram Aug 9 2012, 04:57 PM



Celdryn hummed with unspeakable joy. His heart, beating with such an intensity. His veins, throbbing with mad pulses. And he couldn't supress a dung-eating grin as the cavern all around fell and screamed rocks at its own foundation. Only one man.. no, not man. To call a Vaultren a man would be an insult to alll mankind. An undead beast, is what he was. Vampire. Son of that wretched prince Molag Bal. Spawn of death. Celdryn suspected his unnatural heritage when they first met on that cursed tavern in Chorrol, and kept it in his mind as a weapon of possibility. After all, the signs were there. In plain godsdammned view, no less. But such was the royal game of deception, and as Vaultren was probably of noble birth in his past life, he was an adept at it. Years of undeath didn't help at all. He woved excuses, reasons and lies wwith such a flair, Celdryn had no doubt he would make for a fine, fat-bellied, backstabbing, decadent politician with no true allegiance but to himself and power only. His feet hurried him to the entrance of the cave they refuged in, after dodging so many falling rocks and sharpened stalactites. He was panting by the time he got there. Vaultren's treachery was deep and carefully-planned. Rocks and boulders blocked the entrance, and up above the stone ceilling, cracks began to show. Yes. The Imperial might be a vampire, but like all of his kind, he shared that cursed skill for back-stabbing. The Breton should have seen this coming. He really should have. That, or he should've just let Wicked and Delight bury themselves up his unliving gullet.

This is not a death he wished to go with.

Not. At. All.

And so it was that Celdryn, under unimaginable pain as boulders crushed his entire body, yet missing his head and upper spine by a mere inch, found himself reciting an old incantation. His blood from his smashed lower body would be the oil. His drive for revenge at Vaultren would be the flame. Celdryn was born in Daggerfall. A land of politics, espionage, magic, and witchcraft. Of magical skill, he is a master not, but he heard things. He heard things enough to know that Princes are drawn to strong emotions. What does Celdryn have for emotions right now? Hate. Undeniable, unrestricted hate. Hate so pure he muttered an Incantation of Summoning. Through great pain, he muttered them and invited great darkness.

"I... offer... my blood... and etern,, eternal servitude... to Who.. to Whoever is watching me...." He coughed up blood, began to lose consciousness, but by his hate, he held on. Vaultren was on his mind. "I am Celdryn... Minan'Kherus... and this oath.. I swear to uphold... with my soul... lest I be damned... to Oblivion's pits.. forever more."

He sucked in a breath as all around him, there pervaded an unnatural coldness. Pain became distant, but ever so did it sting. He opened his right eye, and in there, there burned an emerald fire.

"COME FORTH, PRINCES OF MISRULE! I REQUEST AN AUDIENCE BY MY BLOOD!"

Minutes passed. Nothing seemed to happen. Celdryn screamed an unholy scream and cursed Vaultren with all the fibre in his being. He screamed his hate for the vampire, and remained oblivious to a trail of blood that crept upwards from his thigh, through seeps in the rocks that crushed him, and made a puddle just before his face. When all of his energy was spent and he lay there, spent up, waiting for death, did he notice it.

A slow smile unfolded on his face as an eldritch force manipulated the puddle to make an image.

At first, the blood only curdled and churned, as if a raging sea. Then, it calmed, and Celdryn felt a malign presence around him, omnipresent and omnipotent, terrible and wicked, so overwhelming with the power it radiated. There blew a warm wind of sulfur and earth and he knew. And waited. And watched. The puddle seem to fall invertly as if there grew a sudden hole where it lay, and from the center there rose a splendind set of horns, deviously illuminated from a fire below it. A surge energy came from all directions and the boulders that crushed Celdryn crumbled to dust, and the remaining ones crumbled too; as if to make room for the entity that was approaching. He gasped, but watched in paralyzation as the horns revealed its connection to a deer-skull with the eyes of cruel Oblivion itself, and the skull revealed its extension to an unbelievably rippling, muscle-bound body of titanic height.

Celdryn raised his wide, burning eyes to the awe-insprirng figure of the Lord of Hunt.

Hircine.

The Prince looked down upon the broken Celdryn, and growled a wicked laugh that echoed with ten thousand wailling voices of the prey He consumed. He let forth his voice in this unworthy place, and it was a voice of a terrible, and almighty god.

"You have called, and I have answered. Sanguine and Sheogorath each vied for the authority over you, as you show shades of hedonistic flair and madness, but I am Hircine, and I showed them what truly lies in your heart. Do you know what it is?"

Celdryn dared his meek voice to this behemoth of power. He uttered his name with pure, unrelentig hate.

" To... hunt.. Vaul... tren..."

There was a surge of power as Hircine let out an unholy breath of confirmation.

"Yeees. The spawn of the Dirt King. The one who crushed you. The one who gave you a taste of death, the very same death he enjoys now. You desire to hunt him down is strong indeed, if you have to call on powers that be. Is it not so? Then tell me, mortal. Are you worthy of the gift I give to those who hunt the Endless Hunt?"

It was Celdryn's turn to growl. And then he damned himself.

"If I.. have to cover this earth.. with the blood of the lambs... in your name.. then so be it! I am broken, but I beg of you, my lord, my god.. Restore me. Restore me. Restore me so I can skin him alive and nail him to a cross, facing the skies, so he can feel the tyranny of the sun, and lament the glories of the night that will be denied to him! Restore me so I can drink his blood, and eat his flesh, and present his unbeating heart as a trophy to you and mockery of Molag Bal! Restore so I can show him the true hunter, who rightfully reigns supreme in the shade of the moon! Restore me, my Prince, and I WILL BE YOURS, UNTIL ETERNITY'S END!"

So spake Celdryn Minan'Kherus, no longer bound by his desire to flirth with death and the nectar of adrenaline, but now utterly consumed by his desire to hunt down Vaultren. Amd at his vow of eternal allegiance, Hircine simply let out a demonic chuckle.

"Indeed," the Daedra breathed with approval. "Indeed."

WIth a wave of his hand, Celdryn was covered in eldritch light, and the green fire of his eyes grew brighter and brighter and birghter... until there came, from the collection of lightts, an otherwordly roar. There was nothing humane in that sound; the only thing familiar for human ears is that it was full of hate. A massive silhouette rose slowly, of great height but still falling short on Hircine, and it knelt. The lights died down, and it revealed the massive silhouette as a gray-furred werewolf with green, burning eyes.

"Now," Hircine said, slowly disappearing into thin air, "you are my son."

Celdryn gave a howl and lunged at the boulders that remained to block the entrance, and clawed them out of existence. The snow came forth like thunder, like a water from a dam. but the wolf counter-avalanched into them and emerged to the other side. The wolf sniffed the air and bared its fangs in a grin. There was a small aroma of undeath dancing in the air, and the wolf traced it to a flung stone shard, covered in blood. The paws snatched it and from the mouth, came a serpenting tongue that licked the substance off the shard. It was his. Vaultren's.

It looked to the skies. Night was dimly, but clearly arriving. It gave starting howl that echoed all across the nation of Skyrim, whose wolves heard it, and repeated it.

Celdryn Minan'Kherus was no more. Only the hunt remained. And the hut has just began. But before losing himself to his desire, Celdryn had one last thought before his identity destroyed itself.

"Vaultren. I am still the wolf, the predator. You are still my lamb, my prey. Let's have some fun."

It ran off in all fours - to the grim, grim North.

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