The War of Necromancy, The Roleplaying Thread Options

[Zalphon]

The War of Necromancy

4E 1: The Champion of Cyrodiil puts an end to the King of Worms and the Order of the Black Worm falls apart following his death.

4E 73: The Mede Empire falls apart, leaving chaos in the power vacuum. Tamriel is quickly conquered by the long, lost son of Martin Septim.

4E 212: A lich known as, “Gulas Myneld” slays Arch Mage Aron Gothren for the murder of Raynil Dralas, a dear friend of Gulas.

4E 215: The successor of Gothren, Colin Draconis bans necromancy within the Mages’ Guild and coerces Emperor Reman Septim to make the practice punishable by death by using threats of war with the Mages’ Guild.

4E 223: Gulas Myneld meets a lich who is more magical than mortal. The lich offers to help Gulas against the Mages’ Guild, he asks for nothing in return. Gulas fears this lich more than any other being on Nirn.

4E 225: The Order of the Black Dragon is formed by the lich.

The undead grunts of the Order of the Black Dragon have no rank or status within the Order, and are merely undying soldiers ready for battle at the command of their superiors.

The Order of the Black Dragon is split into three tiers...

The Caste of the Black Skull is the first tier, and is made up of Necromancer Initiates and Shadow Knight Squires.

The Caste of the Black Rose is the second tier, and is made up of Necromancer Adepts and Shadow Knights. Several Nightblades are also in this tier as spies for the Order of the Black Dragon.

The Caste of the Black Soul is the third tier. Only the most elite ever come to this tier. It is made up of Liches and Shadow Knights who have distinguished themselves in battle by showing extraordinary ability or leadership.

4E 232: The hostilities between the Order of the Black Dragon and the Mages’ Guild are no longer considered skirmishes, but rather war between the factions.

4E 240: Most of Tamriel has been lost to the Order of the Black Dragon.

The Order of the Black Dragon

The Castes

The Caste of the Black Skull

“The aspirants blood will paint the walls of the gauntlet,” an anonymous Shadow Knight.
The members of the Caste of the Black Skull are called ‘aspirants’ by the members of the Caste of the Black Rose. To the Order, they’re little more than grunts.

The aspirants live in barren quarters with five other aspirants. They eat scraps and whatever they can find. Out of ten aspirants, only one survives to the Caste of the Black Rose. Traditionally, to rise above this caste, they must complete the gauntlet, survive a duel against a member of the Caste of the Black Rose, or impress a member of the High Council.

The Gauntlet is a large labyrinth that the liches formed below Mournhold’s sewers. Hundreds of undead soldiers that are little more than animated husks filled with rage defend it. The artifact that they’re sent to retrieve is guarded by a wraith. Few ever attempt this, even fewer survive.

The Caste of the Black Rose

The Caste of the Black Rose is home to Necromancers, Necromancer-Adepts, Nightblades, and Shadow Knights. They live in comfortable quarters. The Necromancer and Necromancer-Adepts are often found supporting the Shadow Knights in battle. The Nightblades are often spies and elite assassins.

It is nearly impossible to join the Caste of the Black Soul. Those that do are revered as living gods by those beneath them. Gulas Myneld personally challenges any who try to become a member of the Caste of the Black Soul to a duel. Any who survive a duel with him are welcome to try several herculean tasks.

The Caste of the Black Soul

The most elite of the Order of the Black Dragon are in this caste. Liches, the most elite Shadow Knights, and a few Nightblades who have assassinated extremely high priority targets join this caste. Those in this caste live in lavish quarters, often holding towers or castles with many undead thralls.

The liches are battle-field commanders as are the Shadow Knights. The Shadow Knights serve as generals, leading thousands of soldiers into battle. The Nightblades often are part of an elite strike team.

Those in this caste are feared and exalted amongst those beneath them. Many aspirants will obey any order they give, either out of fear or loyalty, even if it could mean their own suicide.



The Provinces

High Rock: The necromancers and their shadow knights were pushed back by the Breton Mages of High Rock. However, many Bretons died during the battles that were located in High Rock.

Hammerfell: The Redguards of Hammerfell resiliently held out for months against the armies of the Order of the Black Dragon. Eventually a nightblade assassinated the rebel leader, a Redguard with the name of “Cyrus Shinji.” They crumbled after Cyrus died, because their leadership was gone.

Skyrim: The mountainous terrain of Skyrim protected it from the armies of the dead, however none doubt that nightblades and necromancers are deep within Skyrim’s borders just waiting for the moment to strike.

Morrowind: The mainland was razed by a Telvanni Lich and his army. The Lich devastated the jungle-mainland leaving only death in his wake. The Lich didn’t dare touch Vvardenfell, because his lands, Tel Vos were there.

The Black Marsh: When the Argonian Marsh Warriors resisted the influence of the Order of the Black Dragon, a lich poisoned the land, killing most of the flora and nearly all of the fauna.

Elsweyr: The khajiit left their desert home when the Order of the Black Dragon came, where they went was unknown. All that was known was that they left for the seas, hoping to never return to Tamriel.

Valenwood: The Bosmer defended with ferocity that you would expect of an animal. Some even participated in the Wild Hunt, turning into vicious animals. Valenwood was destroyed, as were the Imga. Great casualties came to the Order of the Black Worm, but with each death led to another soldier.

The Summerset Isles: Contact was lost with them during the War of Necromancy.

Cyrodiil: The Imperial City is the only true safe haven in Cyrodiil. Only the Royal Family, the Mages’ Guild, and the Blades are allowed in the Imperial City. Bravil and Leyawiin are the first cities to fall. Chorrol, Anvil, Skingrad, and Cheydinal are all attacked simultaneously and fall hastily.

Shadow Knights lead patrols across Cyrodiil, hunting for any survivors.

Zalphon
-------------

Name: Nym Dralas
Race: Dark Elf (Dunmer)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Lady
Alignment: Lawful Good

Skin Color: Ashen-Gray
Eye Color: Deep Red
Hair Color: Black as night.
Hair Length: To his shoulder blades.
Special Appearance (Tattoo, facial hair, etc): His body is scarred.

Class: Shadow Knight
Class Description: A Shadow Knight is one of the elite trained necromancers who’re skilled in magic, as well as in physical combat.

Skills (Morrowind Skills)
Major Skills (5): Long Blade, Heavy Armor, Conjuration, Destruction, Speechcraft
Minor Skills (5): Restoration, Block, Marksman, Armorer, Hand-to-Hand

Armor: A Suit of Blackened Steel Armor without a helm. As well as a kite shield that is made of the same material.
Weapon(s): A long sword made of blackened steel. The hilt is white, and the pommel has a ruby.
Food/Drink: A wrapped up loaf of bread and a bag of nix-hound jerky.
Alchemical (and Potions): A Mortar and Pestle and several herbs.
Literature: A journal with a quill and vial of black ink.
Personal Items: None.
Gold: None.

Biography: Nym was born to two peasants. Raynil and Drusilla Dralas were his parents. Raynil was a farmer who worked on a farm right outside the gates of Skingrad. Drusilla was the caretaker of Nym and his younger sister, Saraya.

Raynil’s body couldn’t suffer the abuse of the farm any longer when Nym turned twelve. The broken old man died a few weeks later from Blacklung. Drusilla fell into a spiraling depression after the death of her soul mate.

During Nym’s later adolescence, Drusilla took a knife to her own heart so she wouldn’t have to bare the suffering of life anymore. Forced to take actions, Nym joined the Fighters’ Guild so he could support himself and his younger sister.

Nym quickly became revered by his fellow guild members. Saraya eventually left Skingrad for a new home. Saraya didn’t tell her brother where she was headed; she just vanished from his life.
In search of his sister, he left Skingrad. A few miles outside of Skingrad, he was ambushed by several nightblades. They brought him to Mournhold; a city that was once filled with life was now filled with necromancers, skeletal soldiers, and shadow knights.

He joined the Order of the Black Dragon and became a Shadow Knight Squire. His superiors found that he had a natural talent with the blade and an innate aura of fear. Knight-Lord Gray commended him for his extraordinary talents.

He became a full Shadow Knight. He led the Death’s Fist legion in Hammerfell, which wrought havoc across the province. Nym ordered his top nightblade to assassinate the leader, when it happened, the Order of the Black Dragon was in complete control.

For taking over Hammerfell using only his legion, he became a member of the Caste of the Black Soul. He was then charged with taking Cyrodiil by Knight-Lord Gray. When the Death’s Fist legion was destroyed at Skingrad by the Colin Draconis and an army of battle-mages, he was to be executed.

He escaped and headed to Elsweyr to hide. The desert was in control of the Order of the Black Dragon, but he managed to hide in the dunes. For months, every time he went to sleep he had nightmares about his time with the Order of the Black Dragon.

Every time he slept, he remembered seeing the faces of those that met with his blade or were slain by his spells. He felt a sense of deep remorse for his gratuitous violence in the name of the Order of the Black Dragon.

He swore an oath to repent. The Shadow Knight was going to use his power over the dead and his training to battle the Order of the Black Dragon…

Jack Cloudy
----------------

Name: Swift-like-Fish
Race: Argonian
Age: 42
Gender: male
Birthsign: Serpent
Alignment: lawful neutral
Skin Color: rusty brown
Eye Color: red
Hair Color: none.
Hair Length: zero
Special Appearance (Tattoo, facial hair, etc): He's got a double row of short spines running from his snouth and down his spine. Also a few minor scars from when he got bitten by carnivorous fish. Other than that, he looks like any regular Argonian. Scaly, thick muscly tail, blunt claws at the end of each digit, gills etc.

Class: Fisherman
Class Description:
A fisherman is just that, someone who fishes. Whether it is by harpoon, bare hands or using the pole, fishermen are a patient lot and often as adept at swimming as the prey they hunt.

Skills (Morrowind Skills)
Major Skills (5):
spear (Only light ones used for fishing. Don't expect him to hold a macedonian pike for long)
swimming (was this in Morrowind? I remember it being in Daggerfall at least)
short blade (for preparing fish mostly)
hand-to-hand (if you don't have any tools, you can always try grabbing them)
athleticism

Minor Skills (5):
unarmored
sneak (not moving, but he's pretty good at waiting quietly)

Ok...I'm really just trying to come up with something to fill out the list at this point
speechcraft
armorer (not much, but he knows how to fix his own stuff at least)
alteration (for swimming really damn fast)

Armor: none. He wears a simple set of pants, and a belt and harness (as in, set of belts strapped across his torso, not the weapon-stopping kind) to hang stuff from.

Weapon(s): A fishing pole, a small harpoon and a tiny knife for gutting fish
Food/Drink: He found some fruit that didn't look contaminated. No canteen though as his profession brings him close to all the drinkable water he needs...up till now at least
Alchemical (and Potions): none
Literature: none
Personal Items: Only what is already listed.
Gold: none

Biography:

Swift-like-Fish was a normal Argonian fisherman, living at the edge between Cyrodill and the Black Marsh where he spent his days fishing and doing nothing really worth mentioning.

This changed when the Black Marsh became contaminated by some sort of plague and started dying. Being an Argonian and having taken regular trips down south, Swift-like-Fish noticed the change before the disease started claiming lives. Over the past few months he has watched the lands of his people die without knowing what caused it or how to stop it.

Now that the plague is creeping up to his home on the border, he has decided he can't watch it any longer. He planned to trek north, hoping that if he could just get the ear of someone important, preferably a mage, something might be done. He hoped to be back home in a week or so, but right as he was packing his bags, an armed gang appeared at the edge of town. They didn't even make any demands or anything but just started murdering the inhabitants. Panicking, Swift only grabbed the tools of his trade on instinct before escaping into the river.

Grif11
-----------

Name:Falius (pronounced fail-ee-us)
Race:Bosmer
Age:19
Gender:Male
Birthsign:The lady
Alignment:Good, not perfect

Skin colour:Lightly tanned
Eye colour:Sky blue
Hair colour:Dark brown
Hair length:Shoulder length, tied into a ponytail
Special appearence:Left ear has the top cut off and has a tattoo of a bow firing a flaming arrow on his back

Class:Explain about DnD please before I do this

Major skills (will put obivion skills here):Marksman, blade, sneak, athletics & acrobatics
Minor skills:Restoration, Alchemy (poisons), mercantile (selling skins, hides)

Armour: the leather set that was his fathers. it steady's an archers hands
Weapons:An elven bow and his brothers hunting knife
Food/drink:A loaf of bread, apple and his flask of mead
Alchemical: An apprentice mortar & pestle and some drain health poisons
Literature:Mixed war tactics

Personal Items:The armour, flask and knife from his family chest
Gold:Keeps at least 50 gold at all times

Biography: Falius was born and raised in a small village in the heart of valenwood. From as early as 8 years old, Falius showed great skill with his fathers old bow. He could hit the dead centre of a straw target as far as 20 metres away.At the age of 13, Falius's dad took him deer hunting, where he managed to kill and skin 3 large deer.

On their way back from hunting, Falius and his dad were attacked by a lich. The lich killed Falius's dad instantly and lunged at Falius's head with a bloody, rusted knife. Falius rolled out of the way but was too slow and a third of his left ear was cut off. Ignoring the pain, he quickly notched an arrow and shot the lich the the lich through the head, killing it instantly.

Sprinting home, he arrived at a heartbreaking scene. The entire village had been set ablaze. Running over to his house at the back of the village, he found the corpse of his mother, raped and blood-soaked. At first he thought it was bandits, but then renembered the lich. It couldn't have been a coincidence, necromancers had destroyed his life.

He looked through the wrecked house for anything useful and found a chest. inside he found a flask of his mothers homemade mead, his deceased brothers hunting knife and his dads armour.

And so Falius, 6 years later found himself going to cyrodiil.

Rules

• I control important non-player characters.
• Do not kill or steal from other players.
• Do not create your own birth sign or race.
• Please have an original back story.
• Have fun.

[Zalphon]

Nym looked at the others in the Council Room of the White-Gold Tower. A rusty-brown scaled Argonian and a Bosmer. The Arch Mage was a tall breton man of a young age. He had shoulder-length blonde hair and was pale. "You, Ashenborn," He spit in Nym's face. "You were at High Rock."

"Indeed I was," the Dunmer replied. "I made mistakes, Mage. That's why I'm here."

The blue-robed wizard slammed his fist on the round table. "We need to take back Cyrodiil, it's their base of operations."

Nym sighed, "Anyone have any ideas?"

[grif11]

"well first of all, were going to need an army," The Bosmer said while fletching some arrows. "A division of legion guards and a few wayward mercs aint gonna frighten those bone-raisers".

[jack cloudy]

Swift-Like-Fish could barely keep himself from openly staring at everything around him, whether it was the room, the furniture or the people. He had been thinking about it for the last few hours yet he still didn't know how he got here in the first place. All he remembered was that after the gates turned him away, he swam through a crack in the citywalls just below the waterline. When he tried to get someone to hear his problems though, he was instead dragged to this place.
Just what did people want from him? The young elf just started talking about armies. Did they want him to fight a war?!
"This one hunts fish, not people. What advice is there to give when this one doesn't even know what these 'bone-raisers' are? Would you ask a maker of houses how to farm?" The Argonian objected before giving it some more thought.

"But no, this one does not suggest an army. The great school of fish feels secure in the company of its brethren. It has many eyes to find the careless hunter who stays in the open. But when the light harpoon strikes from cover, it will respond slowly and the fish will get in each other’s path. That is why the hunter acts alone. Many hunters in a great school of their own would merely mean more chances for the school to find the danger and flee. The ones who attacked this one’s village were not an army. They were a small group, a dozen strong at best. How can an army respond to the swift movements of these hunters? By splitting up and searching in many places? An army that splits up is no longer an army and like the hunter who works with the bow on the open field but is unfamiliar with traps in the woods, it would lose all of its effectiveness.” He said slowly, speaking the words as he found them.

“The army, if it can be gotten, let it be gotten. But keep it here, to ensure the safety of at least this place. For the hunt, this one suggests small packs of hunters used to laying traps and the deception of shadows. But where to find them? A mere laborer, craftsman or merchant would take months to learn the basics. Are there any hunters in this city of stone?”



OOC: Third-person speech is though. I keep writing in first-person and then have to correct myself. Also, I probably made a mistake by having Swift describe the whole thing as if there are a bunch of guerillas running around and no big armies. The best excuse I can give is that his experience was restricted to a small group. He doesn't know that there are big armies of undead. (Maybe his village was attacked by a pack of black skulls trying to impress their superiors.)

[grif11]

"your asking the wrong guy, but im guessing not. that leaves you and me" Falius said,finishing his arrowmaking and collecting the strips of wood off the floor. "From the look of it, the Legion doesn't specialize in sneaking around and mages aren't ones to hide in shadows." He took the hunting knife he had been carving with off the table and started flipping it around with a simple telekinesis spell. The blade was steel with a blue, metalic hilt. "Are you the sneaking kind... Nym was it?

This post has been edited by grif11: Jan 2 2011, 12:25 AM

[Zalphon]

Nym glanced at him, "I'm a Shadow Knight, my word is my oath and I fight with honor. I'm not a cowardly and pathetic assassin, I fight to the death when my enemy knows it."

"Honorable, huh?" Colin snorted. "And the Gray Fox never stole a thing."

"Watch your tongue, or I'll rip it out," the Dunmer growled.

"I have an idea," Nym continued. "Bruma is their least-defended territory, so if we send a small strike team to Bruma, us, they'll be distracted so the Mages' Guild can strike another city. Thoughts?"

[ureniashtram]

Cyldreen observed the trampled ground beneath him with intense focus. He was heading towards the Imperial City when he stumbled upon the tracks which he was now studying. His instincts told him to check on it, just in case. The woods around him were quiet and even the wind dared not blow a gentle breeze. Magnus' rays filtered through thick legions of leaves, creating a deceptively beautiful sight. The golden masked breton kept cautiousness as he studied the mark left by some thing or someone. After all, there could be a squad of shadow knights patrolling. He relished at the thought.

... and judging by how deep it goes, I'd say barefooted or wearing light boots. That's it then. This was made by either man or mer several hours ago and they either wore boots or none at all. Strange for this to be the only track, though.. Oh well, time for a more thorough search then.

He inhaled deep and closed his eyes. In his mind, he imagined the scenery before him and touching the trampled ground, he cast the spell he was readying. He let out a shaky breath as the feeling of magicka surged through his arms like a serpent and his skin becme pricked at the tingling sensation.

Finally, he opened his eyes to see..

Nothing.

Momentarily baffled, he tried again, this time though with doubled amount of magicka. Still, he saw only bleak and the colorlesss void, rather than the usual pinkish glow of sacred life.

Minutes of thinking theories of why his spell failed coursed through his mind like the River Niben. Then, realization hit him hard across the face.

"Undead."

He reached out for the halberd in his back and scanned his surroundings wiith a leering eye. Silence only replied to his piercing gaze. The breton hmm-ed, before casting a spell that detects signs of life. He smiled sadistically as five pink glows were on top of trees, cunningly hiding them from any unsuspecting eyes.

Must have been following me. Sleeping Beauty is going to shed some blood today, how lucky for me.

Ideas and strategies already formed on his head when he drew a knife and threw it at one of the glowing shapes. He felt a satisfying sound of metal piercing flesh, followed by a hiss and a thud.

Simultenously, the remaining figures dropped down and surrounded the smilling Cyldreen. The breton dispelled the spell and he got a good look at his hunters. They were all clad in black leather that covered all of their bodies and the stench of death and decay hung around them as if incense.
There was no denying it.
They were of the Black Dragon. Cyldreen toook a defensive stance and studied his hunters. By the way they gripped their weapons, they were obviously trained amateurs. Aspirants. Their offensive stance also spoke volumes of their skill. This would a massacre.

A battlecry erupted from behind Cyldreen and the breton immediately swung around with his halberd to face his opponent while simultenously crouching. Blood soilled the ground as both of the nercomancer's legs were cleaved off and he fainted when he witnessed his leg land beside his head.

One of the aspirants charged from the left, his shortsword raised high in the air with bloodlust on his eyes. Cyldreen waited for the moment when he would strike, and when that came, he leapt at his feet and his halberd tore the aspirant into twos. His intestines flew like birds.

The remaining aspirants warily took a step back from the laughing Cyldreen. The aspirants didn't know what to be afraid of more; his skill with a halberd or his spine-chilling mirth. One of the aspirants, probably the leader, made a gesture with his hands and the two began circling the Breton, stopping at his left and right side.

They plan on rushing me, then?

The two charged and one of them, the one on the left, jumped to quickly close the distance between his shortsword and Cyldreen. Sadly, his plan failed as he was impaled between his ribs. But the execution of this particular aspirant wasn't over yet. With immense strength, Cyldreen swirled and threw him of the spear and into the other aspirant charging. They both flew and landed in a crumpled mess.

Cyldreen turned his attention to the leader, and his golden eyes overwhelmed the leader's green ones. The black armored recruit held his sword in front of him in a pathetic excuse for defense. A throaty laugh came out of Cyldreen's mouth.

The aspirant, filled with his desire to surve and flee, panicked and charged Cyldreen with suprising speed. The breton was hardly bewildered, and let the aspirant swing a few wild slashes before knocking him to the floor with the blunt end of his halberd. The aspirant gasped for air and scrambled to reach the handle of his sword but a bone-wrecking kick to the chest prevented him from doing so.

Wide-eyed, he can only stare as the golden-masked monster in front of him raised the halberd. That was the only thing he saw before his life ended by his skull being splited in two. Gray matter and bone fragments flew into the air.

As Cyldreen turned to resume his travel to the Imperial City, he heard a pained grunt and a string of curses. He remembered that one of the aspirants survived.

He went to the aspirant struggling to push his dead ally on top of him and putted him out of his misery by decapitation.

"Another day in the depraved world we live in," he laughed as he resumed his walk to the Imperial City. being hired by the Emperor of Cyrodiil as a mercenary should be interesting, he thought.

This post has been edited by ureniashtram: Jan 4 2011, 08:37 AM

[jack cloudy]

Swift-like-Fish flinched at the Dunmer's outburst.
"As this one said before, fish is what he hunts, not people. That said, this one requires the mages guild to heal the disease that kills the land, before it can spread further. If the mage guild is preoccupied by this matter, they cannot go to attend to this one's problem." He said after the Dunmer had seemingly calmed down a bit.
"So this one shall go to this place called Bruma and offer what help this one can give. But this one must restate that this one hunts for food, not for ideals. So this one will help provide food for the travellers, but likely be of little use in a...confrontation of steel."

[grif11]

"well, I guess were gonna make a good team. We got a knight, hunter and fisher." Falius announced, excited to finally see some action. "thing is, I understand your idea of small, stealthy groups Argonian, but 2 fighters arent enough. The black dragon are highly skilled soldiers, and I've never been in a real fight. Killed a lich but thats all."

[ureniashtram]

"None may enter into the White Gold Tower, only those with authority or authorized from the higher-ups can," the lone Royal Guard mechanically declared as Cyldreen neared the entrance of the great building.

The way he said it told Cyldreen's insticts that this particular guard experienced more than one intrepid adventurer trying to get into the sacred tower.

"I have this paper of the contract," the breton replied while fishing for the envelope that he received months ago. When his hand felt something rough, he pulled it out and seeing that it was the contract, handed it to the passive guard. The Imperial scanned it nummerous times, probably to check if it was a fake, and when he was done he returned it to Cyldreen with a shaky smile.

"Your one of the mercenaries hired by His Majesty? Well then, please enter and try not to be loud. There is a meeting in the council room and all of the mercenaries are expected to be there," he then raised a closed fist over his chest. "Vale."

Cyldreen returned the sentiment with a nod. Before he could open the great oaken doors to the Tower, a thought occured to him. This guard might have some information about the other mercenaries.

He faked a cough to gain the Imperial's attention, and when he did, Cyldreen asked.

"How many mercenaries did His Majesty hired?" The guard suddenly turned his eyes away from Cyldreen's and the breton caught a glimpse of shame and anger on it before it disappeared.

"Three arrived earlier than you, so that makes four."

This is just getting better and better. So the long lost son of Saint Martin is a genius that hires four people to reclaim his shattered Empire. I need him to double my award when this is all said and done.

One of them is a Dunmer named Nym Dralas. Something . . about him feels wrong, though. Everytime I see him, I feel this unusual feeling creep over. Probably just my imagination. The second one is a bosmer named Falius. His shady personality reminds me . . never mind. And the last is an Argonian," he then leaned over as if the thing he would say was a secret. "Between you and me, I don't think that Argonian is a proper sellsword. He doesn't even have proper equipment!"

The breton processed this with a mind that conceived several ideas. But for now, he can put aside them for a time when they were needed. He thanked the guard with another nod and with a deep breath, pushed opened the gates that lead into the very confines of the Royal Palace.

The first he noticed was how dark it was. The torches that lined against the wall did little help to illuminate the hallways. The second thing his eyes laid upon was the gigantic door infront of him, and streaks of light escaped through cracks.

Not wasting another time, he grasped the surface of the gate and just before he can apply force to push it, he heard several voices talking about attacking Bruma so the Mage's Guild can attack another city, but one caught his ear.

"Well, I guess were gonna make a good team. We got a knight, hunter and fisher. Thing is, I understand your idea of small, stealthy groups Argonian, but two fighters aren't enough. The Black Dragon are highly skilled soldiers, and I've never been in a real fight. Killed a lich but that's all." Judging from the voice, Cyldreen suppposed the speaker was an elf.

Time to make my dramatic entrance.

With a grunt, he opened the door and blinding light fillled his vision. His vision was lost to him for several seconds, before it disappeareed and showed large round table with several people sitting. He smiled beneath his mask, which is undoubtly shining, and shot a glance at the occupants of the council room.

One was an Argonian, with his scales being brown rather than the usual red one would come to expect from the Argonians. A harness of somekind was wrapped around his torso and various tools and utensils was hanged. Cyldreen recognize those tools, they were of use for fishermen.

The second one he noticed was a fellow breton. His appearance was normal for anyone who dwells in High Rock; skin pale as the moon, blonde hair that signifies royalty, pronounced cheekbones, pointy nose and piercing blue eyes as sharp as a dagger. His body was covered by the robes of a mage.

The third one was a tanned skin bosmer and a set if leather protected his body. His brown hair was tied into a pony tail and his sky-blue eyes was currently checking arrows.

There was also another one, but it's back was facing Cyldreen so the breton didn't know what race or gender it is. But the heavy plate armor it wore confirmed it a male.

"I agree. Such a small strike force would be futile and ultimately be massacred. And from what I gather, the Legions are too busy guarding the Imperial City to do help. What I propose is this;

We acquire a set of disguises and fake identities to go inside Bruma. Once inside we need to find the high-ranking members and eliminate them. Once the powerful ones are dead, we can then deal with the weaklings. A twisted version of divide et impera. I do not care if you despise sneaking around. You need to take back Cyrodiil, then you use your mind and not always rely on your brawn. Thoughts?"

The blonde mage raised his hand.

"Yes. Who in the blazes are you?"

"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service."

----------

EDIT: Why don't you create a Planning Thread, Zalphon?

This post has been edited by ureniashtram: Jan 5 2011, 03:14 AM

[Dantrag]

Aerona walked the lifeless streets of the once proud Imperial City, heading towards its center. Ahead of her walked a man, Imperial or Breton, she could not tell, but he wore heavy chainmail and a golden mask. She made an effort to walk slowly enough so that she would not catch up. It wasn't that she was afraid, simply wary of the stranger.

She watched the man enter the tower after a short conversation with the guard and the presentation of papers. She had papers too, but she doubted they were the same.

"Hello, Inius," she greeted the guard at the door once the strange man went inside.

"Aerona, there is no call for a healer right now. There is important business being discussed inside. You cannot disturb them."

"And yet you know I must," she said flatly, but not unkindly.

Inius sighed, "Still speaking for the refugees, huh? Well the Emperor has called for mercenaries. There aren't enough troops to manage anymore. You know we can't let the refugees in. We are burdened enough as it is."

"Mother Mara abandons no one. Why should we? Besides, there are skilled ones among the refugees. Blacksmiths, hunters, farmers, builders. We need to be working together, not leaving each other to the wolves."

"You have a kind heart lass, but I can't help you this time. This goes above me."

"These papers allow me access to the tower, as you know. Let me pass, please, Inius."

The guard shook his head, "Those papers are no good today. Farewell."

Aerona crossed her arms and assumed a stubborn stance, "I enter this tower nearly every day."

"I know. Just not today."

She narrowed her eyes, "There is nothing I can do to get inside right now?"

"Not without the papers."

"Where do I get these papers?"

The two stared at each other for a few long moments before Inius finally caved, "I knew this would happen as soon as these went through the ranks," he said, producing some parchment from underneath his breastplate.

"Knew what would happen?"

Inius explained, "These came from higher up the chain. Told us to give them to talented warriors or otherwise promising people we may happen across. You're the only one of those I know that doesn't already have an official task here in the city."

"I see. No turning back once I go inside, then?"

Inius shrugged, "All I know is that it's up to you. And if you do go inside, be careful. Those other mercs aren't exactly the saintly type."

She took a deep breath and snatched the papers from his hand, "Let me in, then. I'll speak my peace and if I must go hunt down a lich afterwards, may Mara watch over me."

She entered the tower without waiting for Inius' response. The huge doors that guarded the Council Chambers were swung wide open, and the man she had seen earlier stood between them. She approached in time to hear his name.

"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service," he announced.

Aerona stepped in a bit sheepishly, "Um, excuse me? Am I in the right place?" All of her confidence seemed to have been left outside.

She held her newly-acquired papers out for some sort of approval. The head of the Mages Guild was here, but the other faces were unfamiliar, scary even, except for the argonian, and maybe the bosmer, but he seemed difficult to read.

Oh, Mara, what have I done?

[jack cloudy]

Swift-like-Fish turned to the doors when they were opened, quite loudly even to his less than excellent ears. In the opening stood a man with a face of metal, or one who was simply wearing an elaborate mask.
"The latter" The Argonian decided. That still left the matter of what blood the man possessed, or whether he was a man at all. All Swift could conclude was that he most certainly wasn't looking at either Khajiit or Argonian. The shape of the stranger was definitely more human or elfish.

Apparantly unaware of how sudden his entry was, the man immediately got himself involved with the council, listing a plan that was both brutally honest as it was terrifying. Disguises and murder. Truthfully, it was close to what Swift himself had proposed, but to have it put so bluntly was something else.

"Why are..." The Argonian began to ask, but interupted himself when he noticed there wasn't one newcomer, but two. The fisherman leaned back on his stool so he could gaze around the shiny-faced Cyldreen and observe who was with him.


OOC: I'm gonna shut up for now. I don't think Swift would really take the lead in conversing with anyone at this point.

[grif11]

"heh heh heh,"Falius chuckled. "looks like our little group of soldiers just grew by two."

maybe this wouldnt be so hopeless. The guy in the mask looked like a strong fighter and the dunmer definately looked like a mage.

"I like the plan, thing is, how are we gonna get the outfits. If we want in, we gotta look like one of the high rankers. Thats a real fight. not to mention were gonna need at least three. also, theres going to be some password to get in."

[ureniashtram]

Cyldreen turned around and his eyes met those of a Dunmer. A female dunmer. It wasn't her gender that confused the breton though, rather it was her attire and lack of a weapon. She wore a simple robe that signified her as priestess of a church. What religion she placed her faith in, Cyldreen did not know but being in Cyrodiil, the spy supposed the Nine Divines is her patrons.

His eyes narrowed into cat-like slits, serpentine concentration took over his mind and using his past skills as a spy, quickly analyzed the mer in front of him.

If she is a priestess, then she must know some healing magick. The way she holds her posture tells me that some kind of discipline is taught to her. I know not why is she here, but my instincts tell me that she my be of help.

"If you want to help us retake Cyrodiil, then welcome." He then gave her a bow and his attention switched from the Dunmer to the Wood-Elf as the bosmer spoke.

"I like the plan, thing is, how are we gonna get the outfits. If we want in, we gotta look like one of the high rankers. That's a real fight. Not to mention were gonna need at least three. Also, there's going to be some password to get in."

Cyldreen leaned his head backwards and released a laugh that spoke volumes about his insanity.

"That's why you need a spy for that. That's why you need me."

[Dantrag]

Aerona cleared her throat to get some attention before she fell too far behind, "What do we need to get into, exactly?"

Another thought crossed her mind in that instant, and she didn't wait for an answer, "But no matter where it is, why would you risk dressing as an official? Their faces are known among many. I'm no spy," she gave a polite nod of deference to Cyldreen, "But wouldn't you garner less attention by blending into the ranks?"

She wasn't ready to agree to helping just yet, but somehow it seemed that she was already expected to. They must have been desperate for help, she thought, for they hadn't even determined what, if anything, she had to offer them.

[grif11]

Falius was getting impatient. All talk about plans and no action. Besides, He felt claustrophopic. not that the council chamber wasnt big, He just hated being inside places with big walls. He loved wide open planes and forests, not high walled cities.

"Look, Im outta ideas. Im just gonna get a head start and travel to bruma. See you there!"

He got out his seat and ran past the spy and mage.

[ureniashtram]

Cyldreen was about to answer the dunmer girl before the Bosmer spoke about having not any ideas anymore and scouting the city of Bruma ahead of them.

"Hey! Don't," by now the young elf ran past him. "go ahead of us."

Damn it all to Malacath's realm.

"Well? Since the fool gave in to youth's impatience, I suggest we follow after him. Heaven knows that if ventures out alone in a city full of necromancers, he would certainly be captured or worse." he said. "Kids these days.."

[jack cloudy]

Swift-like-Fish nodded. Falius running off had caught him by surprise and he had been tempted to run after the young elf. But he was no runner and knew he would not catch up with him. Water was his terrain, not cobbled streets or dirt roads.
"This one agrees. To rush off without a plan is foolish. However, we should not do the same. Let him run for now. Soon enough, his legs will tire. Let us ask for a wagon and a fine horse to pull it. Let us obtain maps, food for the road and any other small items one deems needed. Even with the time spent aquiring all of these, we should still be able to catch up with one lone elf who walks by his feet." He hissed.

"We could leave now and finish creating a plan of action while travelling. If special clothes and stolen identities are needed, this one doubts they shall be found here, in this city that claims not to harbor any of the ones we seek."

[ureniashtram]

"This one agrees. To rush off without a plan is foolish. However, we should not do the same. Let him run for now. Soon enough, his legs will tire. Let us ask for a wagon and a fine horse to pull it. Let us obtain maps, food for the road and any other small items one deems needed. Even with the time spent aquiring all of these, we should still be able to catch up with one lone elf who walks by his feet.

We could leave now and finish creating a plan of action while travelling. If special clothes and stolen identities are needed, this one doubts they shall be found here, in this city that claims not to harbor any of the ones we seek."

It was the Argonian who spoke this time, his reptillian voice hissing as he said each word. Cyldreen could only reply with an appraising nod.

"Agreed." He then turned around to the remaining people at the Councilroom; which was the Argonian, the lady Dunmer, the Breton and the mysterious one who was clad in plate armor.

"Is it settled, then? We gather the essentials and give pursuit at the young Woodmer?"

[grif11]

Falius breathed in the fresh air. Not even an army of necromancers and undead could mask the smell of the forest. Falius climbed the nearest tree and headed North, leaping from tree to tree.

He had been travelling for a while now and had covered a lot of ground, but something had started to make him feel uneasy. He lept down from a tree and drew his bow. Suddenly, an ice cold blast hit him. He went to draw an arrow but found he couldent move."dammit, he thought,"paralysed!"