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Lost Knife Playground |
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Grits |
Sep 15 2013, 03:27 AM
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Councilor
Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast
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. The Lost Knife Hideout AdventureHere we have the expedition from the Wobbly Goblet Inn to Lost Knife Hideout across the border in Skyrim. The plan was hatched in the Goblet somewhere right around here.
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Grits |
Sep 15 2013, 03:28 AM
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Councilor
Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast
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Darnand
They made camp in an old troll hollow overlooking a broad valley. A rocky cliff rose unevenly into hills above, and the overhang would shelter them if it rained and yet not trap the smoke from their campfire. Tall fir trees clustered around the cliff’s base, scattered more thinly as the land dropped away to the valley’s open meadow. A thin stream of water fell somewhere over the rocks nearby. Darnand could see where the creek snaked out into the valley. Snow lay on the opposite hills in the crevices where the sun wouldn’t reach, even though flowers bloomed in the meadow.
Trolls pick the best places to lair, he reflected. I suppose because they can.
The sun had set somewhere behind the hills. Mid-level clouds blanketed the sky, lit blood-red from below. He wondered if it might snow. Skyrim’s seasons and weather remained a mystery to him.
Darnand spent a moment poking around the back of the hollow, looking for trouble. He found none. The discarded bones and litter had fallen nearly to dust in some places, and he could not detect a trace of rotten meat or pungent troll dung. Unidentifiable metal plates and weapons had gone to rust. This site had been abandoned for a long time. Nothing was left to sustain even the smallest of vermin. Still, he would place his bedroll way out at the edge.
He dropped his packs and began to gather fallen wood. No matter what their final division of labor, they would surely want a fire.
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Darkness Eternal |
Sep 15 2013, 06:00 AM
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Master
Joined: 10-June 11
From: Coldharbour
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In the wilderness, away from the campsite, Vera’s ears pricked forward and caught what her eyes could not see—the thumping of an owl’s wings in flight, the high-pitched cries of recently-awakened bats swooping in and foraging for insects in the chill dusk-filled air.
It was the busy rush of the hunters and the hunted, predators and prey, silent until the end. The death cry of a baby bird, taken in sleep on the nest by a marauding hawk, rocked her ear. There was a cut-short cry of a rabbit dying in the talons of the same owl from before that followed. Those and many others were captured by her senses in an unending variety of sounds of nature.
She also smelled many things around her; honey within a beehive just a few feet away from her head, or the smell of rotting fish being devoured by mudcrabs just down the river. She also scented a deer nearby; its musk as detailed as a spoken word, but that was game she didn’t have the desire to hunt at the moment.
Vera admired the sounds and the smells, savoring the familiar landscape of the north once again. She continued onward with a sack hanging over her shoulder that held three dead rabbits and a pheasant she personally killed an hour ago.
But that wasn’t enough. There was still one more pheasant to go, and this would be relatively easier, as it was being hunted by something else.
From afar, hidden behind a bush, she could see a red fox chasing a pheasant and before the avian creature could make flight, the fox was able to drag it down.
Vera casually left the hidden position and walked over to where the fox was. The creature, too occupied with the flapping animal in his mouth, paid no immediate attention to her until she was just a few feet away.
The fox, spooked once he spotted her, went into a full run. The presence of a superior hunter was so great that it left the injured pheasant behind.
Before the bird could run she put an end to it swiftly with her blade. They were naturally poor-sighted at dark, and with the dangerous animals about she knew it was already good as dead. The fox, on the other hand, could find something else to hunt. He had all night.
You'll have to make due with what the wilderness throws your way, Vera murmured inwardly.
After killing the bird, Vera filled a bottle with fresh water from the river, and then scoured the area and plucked away a family of jazbay grapes from a bush, holding them by the handful. She stored them away in her satchel instead of mixing them with the fresh game in the sack.
She was sure the emperor wouldn’t mind her taking these from the land, now. Those ridiculous laws held no power in this day and age. Now she could use them as appetizers. The ironwood nuts too, undoubtedly, was a great and easy snack that she was able to retrieve from the trees.
The sun sank just below the horizon and night was sometime away. Vera knew she had to get back to the group soon enough, after all, she was paid a great sum just to be present to make sure no outlaws or bandits would assault the group or anyone would get fatally wounded.
But in these lands it wasn’t just men and women with arrows and steel that could pose a threat. It was the wildlife, too. Sabrecats, bears, trolls and other natural creatures.
This much was certain to Vera, who headed on the trail back to where Darnand and the others had set up a makeshift camp. It was just in the Cliffside. Not only would it protect them from the snow or the rain, it would also serve as a high-point lookout.
There she also had a view of the miles-long distance; she saw high peaks, standing white-pure and unapproachable as a dream. The tall precipices mantled in rock and blankets of snow. She remembered the last time she was there. The moving sun sometimes cast rainbows and at other times, the peaks were covered with storm clouds or draped in morning mist. Then, the fog was naturally burned away by the light of the sun after eight in the morning.
The valleys were like bowls of flowers set in the snow that upon a certain time slowly turned to green in the long, summer days then brown with thick, rich leaves in autumn when the cold winter of the heights came down and reclaimed them.
All this she remembers when returning to the peak where the Breton and the others were. Along the way she came across a pack of wolves who set up territory nearby, six of them following each other until the alpha wolf stopped mid-stride and saw Vera’s fully ebony-armored figure walking in that direction. They didn’t attack, nor did they flee, instead they stared curiously as she carried a bag of meat over her shoulders.
Vera stared back at them and there was a kin-like moment in that communication of the eyes. She knew they wouldn’t bother the others, as long as she was there. They weren’t going to seek out a quarrel with people. They’d sooner pick off cattle and sheep from unsuspecting farmers than stalk a group of people camping out in the Cliffside.
One of the wolves howled, and the other sniffed with a whimper that followed shortly.
"Oh there's plenty for you out there, too." Vera said with a bare smile to the wolves as she walked twenty feet away from them. "You'll just have to work for it."
The huntress climbed up the steps of the hill and trekked into the path that led where the others were. She arrived just in time to see Kayla toss a snowball at the Breton.
She didn’t say a word as she passed by the woman and the targeted man. She needed to put the luggage down and get a fire started. Personally she'd eat the food raw. Making a fire did draw unwanted attention at times, but if they wanted to sacrifice a bit of safety for comfort, that's fine by her. She's not getting paid to sit around eating, that's for damn sure.
The Imperial sat down and pulled away the dead rabbits and pheasants from the sack, and set them all aside near the cave wall. Each of the furry and feathered animals had arrow holes in their body, marking the reason for their demise. Except for the last pheasant.
She took her gauntlets away and began skinning the rabbit with her bare hands. Everyone else could take the hint to build a fire. She could see the Breton had already started before he was interrupted by a snow-ball to the shoulder.
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And yet I am, and liveā€”like vapours tossed. I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass belowā€”above the vaulted sky.ā€¯
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Colonel Mustard |
Sep 16 2013, 07:26 AM
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Master
Joined: 3-July 08
From: The darkest pit of your soul. Hi there!
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A little way behind the group, Salyan laughed as she saw the impromptu snowball fight break out between the others. She hung back a little until it died down as swiftly as it had begun, worried about getting her lyre wet and potentially damaged, and she instead helped gather and stack the wood for a fire.
Once it started burning, helped by a spell from Darnand, Salyan took a seat on conveniently placed treestump, pack at her feet. She took stock of the group; Darnand and Aravi were the two she knew best from their group, and it had been Aravi who had invited her along. She liked them both, Aravi's innate friendliness and Darnand's pleasant nature meaning she got on well with them. From what she had managed to learn about Kayla, the Altmer seemed alright, though she needed to speak with her more to learn for certain. The only unknown factor was Vera, the bounty hunter that Aravi had hired along for the expedition. There was something about the woman that left Salyan leery of her, something distant, cold and aloof. It was not something about her that was necessarily cruel or evil, but it left Salyan feeling wary of her all the same; it was a talent she had picked up at home, where a misstep over an arbitrary line could risk violence. It was not the same, but Salyan got the feeling that if it benefited her, Vera would not hesitate to abandon them or pursue her own goals. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on her.
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Darkness Eternal |
Sep 16 2013, 06:22 PM
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Master
Joined: 10-June 11
From: Coldharbour
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Vera looked behind her at the commotion and saw that Aravi, Kayla and Darnand were involved in a playful confrontation that resulted in snowballs being tossed at one another. It went from loud to louder even when the two women held down the Breton and filled his pants with snow. The Imperial woman sat that one out, and Vera noticed she had her instruments with her. Perhaps this was the reason she didn't want to get involved, that or she was like Vera and didn't want to get involved in the child-like fun the others were having simply because she didn't feel a reason to.
She turned away as the Breton called for the help of the imperials. A snowball landed somewhere beside her, thankfully, not in the back of her head. She turned to see who the thrower was and saw Aravi standing not too far off. She offered Vera a smile and joined the rest for firewood. It was obvious she was enjoying herself and Vera had no issue with that. Everyone had a way of doing something they like at their leisure. She was no exception.
She grabbed a dead rabbit, poked its bone through his hind leg and began peeling the fur off its skin. She pulled the skin apart with ease and set the unwanted pieces aside. Vera picked up the pieces of wood she made into sharp skewers, and grabbed the snowball Aravi had thrown near her to use it to moisten the wood before using it for the flames. The fleshy remains of the rabbit was then skewered to be roasted in the fire. She set it aside near the stone wall.
She waited until the others began a fire and skin the rest of the animals as they searched for more firewood. She was beginning to get hungry but she was willing share he meal with everyone else. There was more to go around.
The spoils of a kill should never go to waste. She’d be giving the dead creatures a bit of dignity by eating them and not letting their remains go to waste. Even their pelts could be used for something.
The fire had begun when Darnand cast spell against the wood and the entire thing was set ablaze. Vera picked up the fattest of the impaled rabbits and sat by the fire, placing the red rabbit just above the crackling fire, spinning the meat around as the flames licked the meat with its heat.
“If you’re hungry there are pheasant and rabbit over there,” she pointed at the side of the wall where she placed the impaled skinned animals standing along the wall. “There’s no salt . . . you’ll have to make due however you can.” She said this to no one in particular as the meat was just well enough to eat. She brought the partially cooked meat to her face, blew against it, and bit into it.
Just in the distance of the peak the wolves began to howl to each other and sing.
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And yet I am, and liveā€”like vapours tossed. I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass belowā€”above the vaulted sky.ā€¯
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Grits |
Sep 16 2013, 11:27 PM
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Councilor
Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast
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Darnand shook the snow out of his drawers as soon as Kayla let him up, turning his back for the sake of decency. It would not do to get his balls out in front of four females, even if one had just practically juggled them.
Vera had the game ready to cook. Darnand nodded his appreciation, taking a skewer to prop over the lower flames. He dug in his pack, producing a round, wooden salt box. The lid was held on by a single pin tightly enough to stay dry when closed. It swiveled aside when twisted in the hand.
“Seasoning,” he said, placing the box where anyone could reach it.
Next he retrieved a pressure vessel of Dwemer make. It held a stew of potatoes, onions, tomatoes, carrots, and peas already sliced for fast cooking. He added a small amount of water and clamped the lid back on.
“This should be ready by the time the meat has cooked,” he said. Pressure would make the vegetables cook more rapidly than possible with simple boiling. The pot would need to cool again before he would be able to get the top back open, but a judicious use of Frost accelerated the process. He made it thick enough to be eaten from even a shallow bowl or plate in case anyone had packed lightly.
“It will be good to taste a meal of proper game,” he said to Vera. “I travel most often with another who is not a hunter. We dine haphazardly on whatever creature last tried to make a meal of us.”
The mercenary had kept up her reserved, professional manner. Darnand respected her choice. Abiene had offered little information when he had questioned her about Vera. Only that she had joined Aravi and Kayla in a vampire hunt, and all three of them had returned. That and Aravi’s judgment in hiring her were enough for Darnand.
Wolves began their night song across the valley.
Darnand opened a bottle of wine, took a swig, and passed it to Salyan. His lack of armor or weapons gave him extra room in his pack, but dragging a set of travel goblets to Skyrim seemed excessive. He had left them with the rest of his things at the inn.
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