SpellSwords Fury, The Tale of Ibis Raze Options

[Black Hand]

The twin moons of Secunda and Masser reflected off the restless waters of the Inner Sea. A nondescript schooner made its way through the waters between the Mainland and the Island of Vvardenfell. On board, looking over the horizon to the Grand Pharos of Seyda Neen, was a mysterious figure wrapped in a dark blue silk cloak, a hood completely covered her face, save for the glint of her sharp green eyes that took in all things around her.

The Census and Excise office was not happy to awaken at the late hours to process yet another visitor to the Vvardenfell District, and Socious Ergalla grumpily adorned a simple robe to make his records.

Looking up at the beautiful Breton, he was glad that he had woken up. Perhaps in her late twenties, the blond hair was neatly tied in back of her hair with a Nord-Style decoration. The green eyes seemed to peer through his very soul, he couldn’t but help stare at her moist pink lips, desire clutched him, as he fell to his baser instincts.

“N-name?’ he asked, as she smiled slightly, she was all too used to the reaction from men. It seemed that they were all the same. Well. Almost all.

“Ibis Raze, of the Kingdom of Camlorn, High Rock Province.” She said in a singily hypnotic voice.

His eyes traveled the expanse of her shimmering cloak, the dark blue contrasting perfectly with her yellow hair.

“Class?”

“I am a SpellSword, sir.” She replied politely, as his eyes caught the hilt of what seemed to be a glass longsword from an opening in her attire, except that it was the color purple. Amethyst it would seem. Indeed, she even had a quiver of arrows, and a bow that looked Daedric, except that it was constructed of glass, all a strange Amethyst purple.

”Reason for visiting Vvardenfell?” he asked.

“Business.” She stated tautly.

“Oh, um, what kind….never mind!” He said laughingly, finishing his notations.

“Now then if you’ll just sign here…” he pointed to the bottom portion of the document, and as her lithe soft hand grabbed the quill from his, he gulped, and saw that the Bracer on her hand was also the purple glass amethyst. Indeed from neck to foot, she was adorned with the unique armor. She scratched out her signature, and handed the quill back. Without asking she took her leave, the cloak billowing behind her. With a very stunned Exciseman watching her leave.

Then the name suddenly struck him, was’nt that the name of a woman from a book he read? The Mystery of Princess Talara? Wasn’t that in the Kingdom of Camlorn? It seemed too odd of a coincidence. If she was her, or related to her, she was no doubt royalty.

The morning hours of Balmora brought the life and sounds of human traffic, and merchant shops opened there doors to hopes of another days pile of gold. And like clockwork, the Silt Strider arrived to the port, the Dunmer caravaner, graciously grabbed the hand of the lady that rode with him, and helped her to step off. She smiled sweetly and paid him a modest sum of gold, that he was delighted to receive, and bade her a cheerful good journey.

First thing’s first. And I need a room, and information. Hopefully the two go hand in hand here. Ibis thought to herself as she made her way to a local popular tavern.

The Eight Plates regulars looked up with their red eyes at the sight of the Breton woman walking in and making her way to the Publican before returning to the slump of their ritual drinking.

“I need a room, Sera.” Ibis said handing over a small sack of gold. Which the publican made disappear. “I also need to know if you’ve heard of any rumours?”

The lady Innkeeper looked up at her with a questioning gaze.

“Have you heard of any….Menaces?”

“My good lady, this is Vvardenfell, the only thing not a menace here is the scribs, you’ll have to be a bit more specific I’m afraid.”

“This one would be distinctive, it is said to appear friendly, but it gives a deadly disease that freezes its victims in their tracks,…some call this menace,…the Forumus Officialis..”

The publican gasped at the name. She had clearly heard the name before.

“Sadrith Mora, I can say no more.” She said looking around, as though afraid some unseen force would hear her and ban her to Oblivion.

Her brow knitted as she realized her quarry lay nearer than ever. In the Morning, she would depart.

[milanius]

Neat. Needed more Endgame Drama, though