The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla waved the parchment in the air to let the ink dry.

"Just writing a letter. If it ever comes to it-" She cut off. Now was not the time.

"Don't worry about the silverware, or the dog. How are you feeling?" she asked. Her full attention was not on him, but the feeling of concern was genuine. She folded the parchment up before setting it on the table.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"Don't worry about the silverware, or the dog. How are you feeling?"

Westley shrugged. In truth he was very tense because of the vampire, but Kayla didn't need to know.

"I'm fine, I guess. I admit I'm a bit stressed out, with everything that's been going on since I got here. But in general? I'm doing good."

Westley leaned back against the wall "I just felt like I had been use for storming off without a word earlier, and I'm sorry if I offended you." Westley averted his eyes for a moment, and thought hard about telling her about Drakothemir. He decided to bend the truth.

"Kayla...." He paused. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to tell her. She was safe. Kayla said she was raised by nords. They most likely trained her how to fight well. Westley decided to change the subject. "You just seem a bit tense. Ate you sure you're alright. I'm sorry if I caused you any stress, I was just in a crappy mood. I shouldn't have taken my anger out in you or Ylenno."

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 6 2013, 07:13 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"You're not the cause."

Kayla glanced at the letter briefly before tucking it in her bag. She turned back around to Westley, her face neutral.

"It's personal issues. You don't want to hear about it." She gave him a half grin. "Besides, I want to know where you learned how to strangle a dog. I didn't think it appropriate to shove a fireball down its gullet." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight on one long leg.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"You're not the cause."

Westley sighed in relief. It lightened the amount of stress already on his head to know he wasn't causing her stress.

"It's personal issues. You don't want to hear about it. Besides, I want to know where you learned how to strangle a dog. I didn't think it appropriate to shove a fireball down its gullet."

Westley shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Personal issues eh? If you ever need to talk about it, I'll listen. That's what friends are for, right?" Westley smiled before continuing. "And about the dog. When my father died, I ran away. I ended up here, in Anvil, and the fighter's guild took me in. I specialize in hand to hand fighting techniques, and I'm handy with a blade. I'm better with longswords, shortswords, and daggers than with greatswords though."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's half grin turned into a full one.

"You SPECIALIZE in hand-to-hand, eh? We should spar sometime. I can throw a decent right hook, but my choke-holds need some work. Obviously." She let out a small chuckle.

She gestured to the chair where she previously sat. "Sit down, don't feel awkward." She sat on her bed and crossed her legs.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley sat down in the chair Kayla pointed at.

"Thank you for the seat. Yea, I specialize in hand to hand. And with the chokehold, it all matters what position you have your opponent in. If you have your opponent in a good position to keep them from getting loose, all you have to do is strangle away. If your opponent is in a position where they can manage to slip away, well, you better be able to throw a good punch or use your weapon" Westley snickered at his own statement.

"The position you're in also matters. You want to be on top of them to a point where you can put all of your weight down on them. The less room they have to squirm, the easier it is to strangle. At least that's how I was taught." Westley put his arms behind his head. "Tell me what you know about hand to hand combat Kayla. Since you were raised by nords I'm guessing you can throw quite a nasty punch?"

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 6 2013, 07:59 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla shrugged.

"I can throw a decent punch. But I could always get better. I wasn't allowed to use magick growing up, so I'm not as skilled at that as one would expect me to be. I can use fire great, and am working on something called 'Mouthful of Pain.'" she winked. "I combine a punch with a fireball. It's only a theory right now, but until I get it right, I'll use my fists and fire separately." She smiled.

"Do you fight dirty or fair? I know some dirty tactics and fair tactics."

[Darkness Eternal]

Drakothemir.

Drakothemir's elegant face, as pale and white as Secunda, was his real expression of coldblooded concentration. He stared at his reflection in the mirror of his locked room, carefully eyeing the small veins that were slowly creeping into his pale skin and how slowly his skin-tone shifted from pale to even paler. His eyes shifted into a mixture of radioactive yellow and red and black. His teeth—not quite filed into fangs—was still sharper than usual. His youthful countenance replaced with something a bit older and wiser, but yet retaining somewhat of a regal look.

He felt stronger, more agile, more alert and focused. More powerful. He knew he had new abilities at his disposal, powers that can rival even the highest of mages. But in return for that power, he sacrificed his human guise. The clothing a lion would wear to walk amongest the sheep. His hungry and ageless eyes, pale complexion and sharpened teeth gave away his secret. And secrecy and discretion is the most vital virtue amongst the members of the clan. Maintaining that secret is imperative.

The vampire, after drinking too much wine and not even sating the barest of the thirst, felt the need to hunt. As all the other of the Night's Children, he felt hungry and thirsty at the same time. His throat was parched as the infamous Alik'r desert. His breath cold and dead, needing the warmth of fresh crimson blood. His true face needed to be veiled once more. Drakothemir knew, however, even if he donned his fleshy cowl he would still be the same man.

Ruthless, efficient, and unmerciful and pragmatic. The very traits needed in one man to secretly enforce the more draconian methods of his clan's agenda. But it was not always so. He had his weakness, his emotional stress and responsibility that threatened to claim his life and that of his people. He looked at his own reflection once more and wondered: This is the face that my victims have seen. The last face on Tamriel.

This recent Oblivion Crisis reminded him of a time where he was the bane of mortals. His mind returned to the past to pluck out the bloody memories of the centuries gone, recalling many moments that came to him as shadowy recollections, as a man trying to recall images from a shady dream. One stood out the most, though.

In the start of the year 3E 267, he remembers the war against Camoran the Usurper. The legendary mage was so powerful that he sacked Kvatch and High Rock and many other places with an army of undead and Daedric hosts. A menace to mortal society and a threat to Drakothemir's clan if he ever set foot on Cyrodiil to claim it.

There was a legendary weapon. The Vampire's Mace. A tool made by the Hated One: the Lord of Rape and Domination. It was a favorite for vanquishing wizards and warlocks, and Drakothemir would be the one to wield it.

He smirked widely as he remembered acquiring the artifact and his true pureblooded gift. This memory, unlike the rest, was clear as the mirror he was staring into. He saw them in recollection. The women and the weeping children and the blind village men that cowered beneath his presence. And Molag Bal's voice echoing in his mind in similar but not exact words. "The mace must drink. Restore it to glory with the blood of the feeble and the innocent and my blood shall be given to you as a reward . . .as well as my mace."

And his reply? Disspasionate but certain. "As. You. Wish". He Raised the rusted mace with clenched fangs and a pinch of reluctence but with a passionate spirit of commitment. And then the dark deed was done. The mace was his to claim. The war was fought. Camoran was defeated, though not by his hand and in the end Drakothemir spirraled into the Maelstrom of Bal in the Abecean and thrown into Oblivion.

But now he stood there, as a simple religious man wearing a black robes preaching about a non-existent former monk-hood. Still debating on whether or not he should undertake this perilous task with a chaotic group of misfit mortals who would sooner find themselves killing each other than their enemies. How things have changed . . .and how things stay the same. Death is a natural part of life, and with every breath lost there is one formed. If those around him would lose their lives for whatever reason then so be it. The universe would throw new cattle into his path. It happened for centuries and it would not stop until he was a pile of ash.

Drakothemir threw out his hand to the side toward the wooden furniture of his rented room. A strange bottle of human blood, large enough to fit over a pint of blood, was called to his fingers. The bottle floated in the air, sped across the air as if carried by an unseen force and into his clutches. The vampire opened it, drank away the stored blood and watched with disinterest as his face returned to that of a human. The exact copy of a mortal man. With no flaws. Impeccable. Perfect. And at last, Drakothemir's smile came. Not a sham of a grin, but a genuine one.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"Do you fight dirty or fair? I know some dirty tactics and fair tactics."

Westleynraised an eyebrow and chuckled "That depends on how my opponent is fighting. If my opponent if fighting fair, I'll fight fair. If my opponent decides to fight dirty, I'll fight dirty. I'm better with fair tactics though. I know the 'throw dirt in your eyes' dirty tactic, but that's....."

Someone entered thier room and slamme she door. Westley flinched a little, and turned his attention to the door for a moment before continuing the conversation. "That's about it. Usually my brute strength combined with good hand to hand tactics wins me fights when I don't have a weapon."

Westley pulled one of the two silver daggers strapped to each of his legs off and threw it at Kayla. "Here. In case you ever get disarmed during a fight, having a dagger or two strapped to your legs comes in handy if you amt manage to throw a good punch. You can take your opponent by surprise, if you know what I mean."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla caught the dagger by the hilt as Westley gently tossed it towards her.

"Here. In case you ever get disarmed during a fight, having a dagger or two strapped to your legs comes in handy if you can't manage to throw a good punch. You can take your opponent by surprise, if you know what I mean."

"Thank you," Kayla replied, completely sincere. Her face twitched with humor.

"You know, in Skyrim, when a man is interested in a women, he often gives her a weapon as a token of affection. It symbolizes he will protect her against danger."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"You know, in Skyrim, when a man is interested in a women, he often gives her a weapon as a token of affection. It symbolizes he will protect her against danger."

Westley sniggered " Honestly, I only need one dagger. I've never needed to use either dagger in a fight, and might as well give it to someone who will if they can't succeed in beating their opponents to a bloody pulp. I've never had to fight dirty with a hidden dagger, and I usually lose mine because I never use them. I usually just throw dirt or rocks in people's eyes, and it usually works."

Westley smirked "Besides, I suppose I should pay you in some way for saving my a** from that dog. I need all the gold I can save up, so I can't pay you with money. By the way, is Skyrim nice? I'm pretty sure it's freezing there, but I've heard it's a nice place."

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 6 2013, 08:46 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla laughed a little.

"I was kidding, that's not how men show their affections in Skyrim. It's much more brutish."

She scratched her neck absentmindedly as she answered his question. "Imagine a block of ice. Throw some dirt and leaves on it, and you've got Skyrim." She laughed at her own joke.

"It's beautiful. I grew up in one of the warmer areas, so I wasn't always freezing." She rested her head on her hand as she leaned her elbow on her leg. She rubbed the hilt of the silver dagger with her thumb as she reminisced. "It's cold in more ways than one. Unforgiving. Everyone here is so soft," she murmured. She caught herself. "Present company excluded," she laughed.


"In Skyrim, there aren't many healers." She held out her arms, hoping to distract Westley from the long scar poking out near her collarbone. "I had to learn alchemy very young to compensate for that."

She bit her lower lip before looking back to Westley. "What about you? Ever been anywhere else besides Anvil?"

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"What about you? Ever been anywhere else besides Anvil?"

"I actually...um...live in the Imperial City on the waterfront district. I'm quite poor. That's one of the reasons I wanted to go on this expedition."

Westley noticed the long scar on Kayla's collarbone. She was trying to distract him from it a moment ago, but that didn't work. He decided it would be best not to ask about it.

Westley scowled "There should be more healers in skyrim. You have quite a few scars. I'm guessing that the healers that are there aren't good at their jobs? I don't think I'd lat long in Skyrim. I have a healing spell, but its weak to the point that it can barely heal a papercut, and I don't have enough magicka to cast a stronger one. I'm not too much of a Mage."

Westley rubbed his chin "I'm an adventurer though, so I've seen quite a few Ayliec ruins and caves. I never leave Cyrodiil though. I'm not sure if I have the supplies to."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla perked up.

"Ayleid ruins? What are those like?"

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"Ayleid ruins? What are those like?"

"I bet I you were to fix one up it would look nice, but in the current state that Aylied ruins are in? Horrible. There's traps everywhere. It's not safe to walk around. Some spots on the floor are death traps. They will shoot up into the ceiling, and crush you to death. It happens to me all the time." Westley rolled his eyes "And its really dark. you can't get around without a nighteye spell. But the treasure is definitely worth it. An ancient Aylied artifact can fetch a good price with a collector or a scholar. I've never seen an Aylied ruin in good condition though, so I've already told you all I know"

[Colonel Mustard]

Tarrick

Westley was, in Tarrick's estimation, mad. There was no doubt about it. The Imperial had clearly skipped off to worship at Sheogorath's shrine some time ago and then waltzed back to civilisation to wreak havoc with the rest of civilised society. First it had been the incident with the fork throwing and his subsequent showdown with Ylenno (who Tarrick suspected was equally unhinged in in his own way), and then he had left the tavern only to pick a fight with a dog and come crying for help.

By the time Buffy had stepped in to resolve the situation, Tarrick was quite sure that there was something wrong with Westley. Nobody sane could act in so unpredictable and erratic a manner, he was sure. He made a note to stick close to Buffy though, seeing as she was also taking part in this expedition; someobdy who was both skilled in healing and in possession all their mental faculties would be useful to have around.

Drakothemir seemed alright as well, as far as Tarrick could tell; maybe rather aloof and superior, even if he tried to act like he wasn't looking down at everyone else, but that was probably due to him being a monk and thus above the decadent ways of normal men or something of that sort. At least he seemed to have a sensible head on his shoulders.

Ylenno was crazy, it seemed, but it was the standard sort of dangerous crazy; you got that sort of madman in the Thieves Guild every now and then and by and large he knew how to read them and how to react (usually by smiling, nodding, getting out of their reach and having an escape route planned). Provided he kept Ylenno friendly and he didn't do anything stupid, Tarrick felt pretty confident he would probably be alright around him.

By the time the drama with Westley had been resolved, Elinande had excused herself to her room; Tarrick didn't blame her, especially seeing as she seemed like the shy type. Still, she might have the right idea, seeing as the remnants of their group were now only Buffy, Ylenno and himself, and he still hadn't returned his ill-gotten gains to his mother. All the drama in the tavern had rather spoiled the mood in any case.

He finished his tea from where it lay on the table and rose from his seat.

"I do hate to love you and leave you," he said to both Ylenno and Buffy. "But there's some things I need to sort out before this expedition tomorrow. Some things to do with my family before I go, you know how it is. I'll see you both tomorrow, though."

He waited a moment before leaving, to see if either of them had anything to say.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla bobbed her head at Westley's description of an Ayleid ruin.

"Interesting. Well, thank you for stopping by. Be safe on your walk out." She smiled at him.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"Interesting. Well, thank you for stopping by. Be safe on your walk out."

Westley rose up from his chair "It was nice talking to you. I'll see you later. If you need anything I'm staying at the fighter's guild. It's across the street from the inn."

Westley exited the room, gently closing the door behind him so he won't wake up anyone else in the inn. He made his way out of the inn, and across the street to the fighter's guild. When he entered the building, he could hear some if the guild's members snoring loudly. He went into his room, took off his shoes and shirt, and went to sleep.

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 6 2013, 09:57 PM

[Acadian]

Buffy:

The table had dwindled to only Buffy, Ylenno and Tarrick when the Redguard rose to excuse himself, explaining he had some details to attend to before the expedition. Buffy took her cue and stood as well. “Some final preparations at the stable and my guild hall are probably an excellent idea." She continued, "Tarrick, I quite enjoyed meeting you and appreciate you escorting us here to the Count’s Arms. Aside from some flying flatware, it was a fine opportunity to meet some of our prospective expedition mates.” Her smile did not fade a bit as she turned to Ylenno. “My brother Bravilian, it is wonderful to see that neither time nor hardship have dimmed your quick smile or sense of humor. I look forward, if there are quiet times in the days ahead, to learning more about your long absence from the City of Mara.”

This post has been edited by Acadian: Feb 6 2013, 11:08 PM

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno trembled at Buffy's words and her touch. When the soft hand of Bravil's pride touched his face, for an excrutiatingly short instant, all of life's tragedies vanished like ash in the wind, today was blessed yesterday, and Buffy wasn't Buffy. Instead, she was Caelefensil, cleaning up the wounds he took by fighting the other boys in the other part of the neighborhood, giving him a stern admonishing, but always beaming at him with a smile afterwards, a gentle promise of peace on her face... It was all he could do not to melt at the other Bravillian. He moaned the words, "Caelefensil," and a long, haunted sigh escaped him.

It was not heard. Westley's cries for help thundered like a shriek, Kayla responded, and not a minute did pass when her cries for Buffy shook the entire establishment. She was gone in an instant, flying across the room like an arrow from the bow of old Daenlin. Drako the Monko followed and looked outside through the window. Ylenno was left there in that moment of broken memories, and he simply sighed yet again. He took to his steak He ate the sauced cuts with somberly, and as he chewed without energy, he took a look around the Inn and gave a half-hearted smirk Today's patrons seemed to familiarize themselves with the antics of their group; all of them were into their own businesses and not an ounce of attention was sent their way. After a minute or two, they all returned, but only Buffy remained at their seat, quipping with a wekk-placed remark. Apparently, Westley was attacked by a dog. What the hell. He was attacked by a stray dog in the middle of the afternoon road, and he couldn't defend himself. He resorted to calling for help. [i]Maybe he wasn't cut out for the Expedition, if a stray dog could annihilate him so[/i.] But by then, he swaggered about the place like he owned it, and made home towards the Fighters Guild. Kayla retreated to her room, and both Elandine and Drakothemir follwed her example.

It was the signal of the end of the mad they played today, and for that Ylenno was quite glad. He had enough dose of madness for a day.

The redguard stood up and declared his exit. Buffy did so too.

Ylenno finished the last of his steak and wiped his greased mouth. He stood up, took a gulp of water, and set the glass down as he looked at the two,

"I gotta get the sign-up forms back at my room in the Flowing Bowl. So this is a temporary farewell; it still breaks my heart for us to be separated though. Indeed, I had fun today. I enjoyed meeting all of you, truly I do. But since we're all headed for the same Huild Hall, what say we meet up before signing ourselves to the Expedtion? I'd really prefer going in with familiar faces and friends, rather than a cliche angsty, socially-awkward anti-hero you read in novels. Haw-haw! What say you, Tarrick?"

He turned to Buffy.

"How about it, sister? And I'll give you the story once we're back from the Expedition. Too long though, and full of cliches."