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The War of Necromancy, The Roleplaying Thread |
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| Zalphon |
Dec 29 2010, 09:40 PM
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Knower

Joined: 17-March 10
From: Somewhere Outside Plato's Cave.

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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.
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"You have the same twenty-four hours as me; don't be mad just because you don't use yours like I do." -Tupac Shakur
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Replies(60 - 79)
| Ahrenil |
Feb 16 2011, 08:15 PM
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Agent
Joined: 23-February 09
From: Hertford

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Gillyed had been busy checking over his equipment, he hadn't heard of this new Dunmer and frankly he wasn't sure if he trusted him. It all seemed far too convenient from his point of view. The man rides up right after the battle, covered in arms and armor, and suddenly everyones chummy. Something just grated with the big Nord but he kept it to himself.
"Alright then, sew away friend" he grunted, sitting down and bracing himself for the needle. "We could use those suits, but something tells me you won't find one in my size, and a mismatched set probably wouldn't get me past the guards."
Gillyed paused for a moment to think. "However, I might have a way to sneak in if there are people on the inside. The walls around the city are tall, but with a bit of magical cover and a rope someone on the inside could help me climb in"
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| jack cloudy |
Feb 16 2011, 08:27 PM
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Master

Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.

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OOC: Dunno, I've got a hard enough time telling the human races apart as it is...I think I tend to refer to Cyldreen by his mask though.
"You know, all of these aspirants could provide our disguises to get into Bruma." The woman spoke true words, even if the idea of taking clothing from hacked up corpses was less than apetizing. "Indeed they wear the black garb that may be useful. Spare some of your thread. The disguises may require fixing and cleaning." He said. The smell of blood did not disturb him in the slightest, for it was one he was accustomed to. The knowledge that said blood belonged to people like him, did. "Lots of cleaning." He therefore added after a moment.
He had no real idea what else to say, so he began to randomly sniff around the battlefield instead. His hands picked up random objects and dropped them just as readily, a pebble here, bit of leather there, a small bag of coin which he kept, a half-eaten and now cold bit of meat on a stick, an arrow sticking out of the ground. The Argonian stopped and looked at the arrow he held. It looked familiar, very familiar. "Excuse this one for asking, but does anyone recognize this arrow? This one is not sure, but it looks like the one our impatient hunter was handling in the council room." He asked, hoping that the answer would be a resounding no. The arrow definitely looked like one of Falius', but the council room had been a dark place and a fisherman was not an expert regarding arrows. If it was one of his, that could only mean bad news.
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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| Dantrag |
Feb 17 2011, 07:12 AM
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Councilor

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz

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Aerona spread a bit of her green paste on the wound before she carefully sewed the gash on Gillyed's shoulder. She stopped for a moment. Aren said something about their plan to invade Bruma, but her attention was on the arrow in Swift's hand.
"Not that I particularly paid attention to his arrows, but yes, they could be his. Either Falius escaped them, or..." she glanced around nervously, "...there are more of them."
She refocused on her patient, then, not letting the idea get the best of her, "We should try to find him, though."
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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| Lord Revan |
Feb 18 2011, 03:37 AM
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Master

Joined: 6-May 06
From: Texas, USA

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Nathan
The Redguard spat upon the last knight in frustration. It seemed they had been unusually competant, nothing relevant was on their corpses. Nathan paced about, then stopped suddenly. Why is my heart racing? The amulet had begun to pulse again, weakly.
He glanced around, realizing he'd walked partway back towards the ruins. Nathan held the shard out at arms length, studying it's movements as he strode the perimeter. By the time he returned to the gathering, a cold pit had formed in his gut. For the first time, the Redguard appraised the people nearby. It had been years since he'd been in such diverse company. Perhaps he could throw in with them; with difficulty, he approached the masked man and cleared his throat. "I don't think today's work is over yet." The black soul gem shard swung in a non-existant breeze from his left hand with a flickering violet glow.
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| ureniashtram |
Feb 19 2011, 11:43 AM
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Knower

Joined: 12-October 09
From: The River Acheron to the Gates of Hell.

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The Argonian said something about Falius' arrow. Cyldreen shot a glance at the fletching and it rang a bell. He hoped that the Bosmer was not dead.
He then noticed the Redguard approaching him, a little reluctance showed in his eyes. He cleared his throat and the breton faced him with a smile, although it was hidden by the mask.
"I don't think today's work is over yet," he said and as if on cue, the amulet he wore glowed and swung in a magical breeze. A non-existent brow raised.
"Yes. It seems sloppy for the wretched Enemy to camp outside a fort and not inhabit the inside." For good measure, he cast a spell that allowed him detect life signs. Magicka enveloped his vision and he gazed at the Fort.
There were many of them and they were scrambling to and fro, tightening their defences. He simply harrumphed.
"I am Cyldreen, and it is good to see a friendly face in these dark times." He then walked towards the others, gesturing the Redguard to follow him.
With a voice that he used to manipulate minor dukes and ladies and backed by his serpentine mind, he said;
"Do not plan for the future when the present is our current problem. Many kings made the same mistake and resulted in their downfall. No doubt you are weary and long for a rest. Regrettably, we must push onward. The Fort houses the bulk of this area's garrison and believe me when I say that they are many."
He let that sink in for a few seconds.
"Brute strength and cunning minds we shall use in this situation. Someone with the patience of hiding must find a way to enter the Fort without gaining unwanted attention. The rest of us must storm the front gate to buy that certain someone some time.
First things first. We must find a backdoor entrance, one that the enemy does not know about."
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Djinn: What wish would you like to have, young master? Random dude: SUPA POWAZ! -- Djinn: Is there anything I could make true, lord? Old guy: .. Youth and charisma. -- Djinn: Your heart speaks of wanting. I could make it true, milord. Me: Hmmm. I wish to know what I want. Then you could hook me up in some insidious deal, spirit.
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| jack cloudy |
Feb 19 2011, 03:36 PM
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Master

Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.

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Cyldreen was either a born leader, or he simply felt that someone had to take charge for the moment and he would be as good a choice as any. Regardless, what the masked man said made at once sense, and at the same time it didn't. That there were more inside the ruins belowground was a reasonable assumption and Swift-like-Fish berated himself for not realizing that himself. After all, with the rainy climate of Cyrodill, few would camp outside if they had a choice in the matter, something that had escaped him before as he personally had no problems with either water from a pool or water from the sky. Further evidence was all around.
The shoddy benches and state of the campfire revealed that there had been plenty of activity for these last few days and that the dead hadn't just stopped here for a short rest. Yet there were no tents or other signs that people had actually slept here. Ergo, there was more of the camp in a place with a ceiling and the interior of the fort was the only nearby location that fit the bill.
As for Cyldreen's suggestion of storming the gate however while someone else found a backdoor, that made less sense. The masked man himself had implied that they would be outnumbered in such a fight and the Argonian saw no reason why they couldn't just make themselves scarce while they had the chance. Except for the possibility of Falius being a captive.
He weighed the arrow in his hand. If the Bosmer hadn't ran off, then the choice would be easy. But even with the current situation, Swift couldn't run away with an easy conscience. Cyldreen seemed confident enough, so perhaps he should just put his trust in the man.
"A backdoor forts always have, a way of getting out unseen. This one is a ruin though, and if the backdoor still exists, it will be guarded. An unknown backdoor is unlikely, except for one that is no door at all." He said slowly, saying the words as he followed his one line of reasoning. "The ground we stand on is wet, very wet. There is a lake nearby, no? If the interior is belowground, it would be dry, unless the walls have cracked. You say there are men inside, so the fort is not flooded. But forts must withstand a siege for a long time. THey will have a well. To ensure clean and ample water, the well will go deep, with a direct connection, a tunnel to the lake."
"If a tunnel to a well exists, this one can find it. If it exists, this one can enter the fort. However, what should this one do once inside? This one is no hunter of men."
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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| Ahrenil |
Feb 19 2011, 06:21 PM
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Agent
Joined: 23-February 09
From: Hertford

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Gillyed was perplexed by what was happening, suddenly they were about to storm a fort, a fort, filled with hostile men and women, most likely well trained and better equipped, while a second man attempted to secretly sneak in, alone, for...no real reason.
"Hold on a minute" Gillyed growled. "What you're suggesting makes very little sense at the moment. Storming a fort is suicide. The front gate is made to be defended, and our small group cannot take on a garrison. We've got skill or arms, but not that much. Stealth will better suit us here."
He stood up, gently rolling his shoulder to test the stitches, before nodding a thank you at the priestess who had helped. "Could I propose a solution? Obviously we've got means of detection. If we've got an objective inside the fort, then we need to focus on that and not take on anything more than we need too. If our Argonian friend here can make his way inside unseen, it'd be better for him to help us in through a side passage, and from there we have to make our way through, with as little commotion as possible. I suggest that the most silent of us takes point, and we neutralise any guards we encounter quietly, or we'll bring the whole place down on us."
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| ureniashtram |
Feb 19 2011, 09:36 PM
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Knower

Joined: 12-October 09
From: The River Acheron to the Gates of Hell.

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OOC: Bloodlust is difficult to restrain and in Cyldreen's case, its almost impossible! He's getting more of a luggage than help, eh?
He was getting impatient by the passing seconds. If the others were so keen about going by the shadows, fine. They could be that way and miss out on the image of blood splattering the floor, limbs flying with red wings, cries of the damned forever echoing and their eyes showing fear as Cyldreen hacked them to pieces... He relished at the idea and his eyes took a distant gleam.
To just pass that chance, chance to unleash their inner demons and wreak havoc on the battlefield like gods among mortals.. It was pure madness in Cyldreen's mind. On the other hand, his spy instinct berated him and told the breton that the others were right. Two distinct personalities battled for control, for decision. Cold air passed from the West and with it, the bloodthirst was temporarily sated by reason.
"Fine," he growled back at the Nord. "But if we encounter the first guards, they're life is mine for the taking."
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Djinn: What wish would you like to have, young master? Random dude: SUPA POWAZ! -- Djinn: Is there anything I could make true, lord? Old guy: .. Youth and charisma. -- Djinn: Your heart speaks of wanting. I could make it true, milord. Me: Hmmm. I wish to know what I want. Then you could hook me up in some insidious deal, spirit.
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| Dantrag |
Feb 20 2011, 11:02 PM
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Councilor

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz

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Aerona put her sewing tools away and listened. Cyldreen wanted a fight, while the others wanted to avoid it. She agreed with the stealth approach, but was unsure of how easily it could be achieved. Those inside the fort had to be aware of their ragtag band of fighters, and she wasn't very sure of where she would fit into either plan.
"Only a few of us should go inside," she finally said, "The others should find a rendezvous point away from here and wait. That way if one of us dies, or those inside fail, Nine forbid, our mission continues."
"If Swift can find that tunnel, I can go inside with him. I can breathe underwater with spells, and keep us booth unseen. There just isn't much I can do if it comes to blows."
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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| jack cloudy |
Feb 20 2011, 11:44 PM
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Master

Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.

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Swift-like-Fish shrugged. "Those who wish to come, come. This one has no problems with this, as long as the numbers don't grow so large that an unwished for retreat becomes impossible. Three can overcome more obstacles than one. For instance, if the well is covered with a grate, then this one may need help in removing it. Fire to melt the iron, or strong arms to help shift it. In any case, speaking of plans here is perhaps not the best course of action. Now the hostile ones are hiding within their lair, but they may choose to come out and attack at any moment. This one would rather not be here if such an event came to pass." He said, nodding to both Aerona and Aren.
"This one will be down by the water. Prepare swiftly, then come." He added and hurried away to where he felt the ground was most wet, lower and as such, closer to the lake.
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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| Dantrag |
Feb 21 2011, 07:58 AM
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Councilor

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz

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QUOTE(Ahrenil @ Feb 20 2011, 06:06 PM)  Gillyed agreed with the group. "3 sounds like a good number to me, you've got your way in, your defence, and general help. I'm far too big to sneak around, and in a fight those close quarters will not do me well. Not even mentioning it might break these stitches so early."
He paused for a moment and pushed himself to his feet, looking around the area they had stopped. "We need to agree on an area not too far away, easily defendable incase you are chased, but with an escape route if we need one. Also it's just a little bit corpsey here."
Aerona unfolded a piece of parchment pulled from her bag, "Take the road north. There is a loop in the road here," she said, pointing to the place on the map, "There is an old Ayleid well along that loop; we can meet you there. Oh, and if someone could carry my things to the wagon, I would be grateful." She left the map in Gillyed's hands, and began securing her belongings. It would make no sense to bring any of it. It would ruin her equipment and ingredients, not to mention weigh her down underwater. A glance towards the lake told her that Swift was heading into the water. There were a few more moments before he found the tunnel, if it even existed. She took a deep breath, "Stay safe, everyone, and wish us luck. Shall we go, Ser Aren?"
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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| ureniashtram |
Feb 21 2011, 09:32 AM
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Knower

Joined: 12-October 09
From: The River Acheron to the Gates of Hell.

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"Somebody said that the corpses of our friends, can be used here right?" Cyldreen mused, to himself rather than others. "If maybe those who sneak in can wear those, the chances of sneaking in may improve by a small percent. The aspirants' uniforms are uniform black; one could easily detect what I'm implying here.
And if one DOES get caught, one will just have some scolding rather than death," he then looked at the others.
"Do you know what I mean?"
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Djinn: What wish would you like to have, young master? Random dude: SUPA POWAZ! -- Djinn: Is there anything I could make true, lord? Old guy: .. Youth and charisma. -- Djinn: Your heart speaks of wanting. I could make it true, milord. Me: Hmmm. I wish to know what I want. Then you could hook me up in some insidious deal, spirit.
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| jack cloudy |
Feb 22 2011, 07:05 PM
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Master

Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.

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At the lake's edge, the Argonian lowered himself gently into the water. For a moment, he wondered if he should wait for the two Dunmer to join him but then decided not to. They had both claimed to have some means of breathing underwater but neither had told him for how long they could do so. Without knowing how long the search for an entrance, if there indeed was one, would take, it would be best to start looking while they prepared. There was no need to tax their reserves.
"The water is quite clear. Good, that makes the search easier." He thought as he dove for the bottom of the lake. Again he went over his own line of reasoning. It seemed sound to him, though he also realized that he was not the most knowledgeable person regarding fortifications. "Don't ask the siegemaster to fish, don't ask the fisherman to design a fort. Nevertheless, the rules of minimum effort and maximum results still apply. The entrance should be nearest to the fort as possible, to reduce the length of tunnel and such the possible points of collapse. It also should be deep and due to erosion, it will no longer be right at the edge. The entrance should be hidden to avert the eyes of hunters...but."
With a quick sweep of his tail, the Argonian brought himself to a halt. There, were the gentle descent of lakeside ceased, he'd spotted a small inlet in the lake's edge. Now those were nothing unusual for a lake like this, often the result from erosion and plantgrowth. This one however, was just too regular to be natural. The weeds growing from the sand were also clustered thicker here than anywhere else. Swift-like-Fish moved in for a closer look. He pushed the swaying weeds aside and proceeded further into the thick growth till the light of the sun above him made place for the shadow cast by a stone ceiling. He had found the entrance.
Swift-like-Fish returned to where he'd started out and returned to the surface. He would wait with following the tunnel till he'd been joined by Aerona and Aren.
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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| Dantrag |
Feb 22 2011, 09:01 PM
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Councilor

Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz

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QUOTE(ureniashtram @ Feb 21 2011, 03:32 AM)  "Somebody said that the corpses of our friends, can be used here right?" Cyldreen mused, to himself rather than others. "If maybe those who sneak in can wear those, the chances of sneaking in may improve by a small percent. The aspirants' uniforms are uniform black; one could easily detect what I'm implying here.
And if one DOES get caught, one will just have some scolding rather than death," he then looked at the others.
"Do you know what I mean?"
"The Temple put me to work studying the Order when I was in Bravil," Aerona said, "As I understand it, aspirants live to die. They are the fodder of the upper ranks. Very few of them move up, and only do so by killing each other. These clothes lying around may get us past a town gate, but I'd venture to say that they'd sooner kill us than scold us. Disguises couldn't hurt, I suppose, but I suspect wet clothing would only weigh us down." She looked towards the lake, and saw Swift emerging from it. There was a look on his reptilian face that told her that he'd found something. Looking to Aren, she spoke once more, "We don't have much time. If you think we should wear them, then we will. I leave it up to you."
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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