The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[Uleni Athram]

First it was Westley, and he was armored in the pricey glass armor, adding more shine to the situation than he liked. Then it was Kayla, her confident stride easily noticeable what with a fine blade riding her hips. There was a supernatural glow there, like an unheralded dawn, and Ylenno found himself shivering despite the warmness of his armor he wore. Next in line was Buffy, her longbow jutting out of her shoulder. Like her personality, it had something magical in it, but whereas Kayla's filled him with awe and a little bit of anxiousness, Buffy's bow had... well, the same energy that aura'd around Buffy. He gave all of them a smile as they chatted by the entrance of the Guild Hall, and already there other groups of adventurers who gave them their greetings.

Buffy asked him about his hair

The roguish grin almost split his face. All this constant smilling was probably aching the muscles on his face. He should probablly tone it down a little.

He gave his educated rant.

"Weeeeeelll, first and foremost, I sue some all-natural Thrassian snake oil I order from some slinky guy called Sam. I find that Tamrielian oil wears off after several hours, and even the elven stuff doesn't hold! Now, before I apply the Thrassian oil, I crush some Lavender petals in a bowl and grind them into paste with, suprisingly, two drops of Surillie wine, some Nibenean flour and troll fat. The alchemical properties of troll fat is quite nice regarding hair, I find, and the Surillie wine keeps it longer. When the flower-and-troll-and-Surillie paste is all doughy, thats when I rub it on my hair. When its all dusty and proper, the oil comes next. Now, here's come the magic. Paste and oil alone couldn't make anyone's hair as animated as mine, so I turn into the arcane for that."

He raised his hand and applied his magick. The whisperings of Alteration hummed, and the hand glowed green.

"Frost Shield. Thats the spell I use. Without the oil and paste, you'd just freeze your hair like a frazzled mane! Trust me, I know!"

Then came Tarrick with a salutation, all geared up and looking quite the wastrel, and following in his heels was the heavy armored form of Elandine. It seemed to him that she noticed his hair amidst the ragtag bunch and took it as a beacon; Ylenno laughed.

"Well! This is certainly quite the gathering! We only need another party member, gee I wonder who THAT is, and Team Pretty Unicorns With Sprinkles On Top would be complete! Hip hip hooray!"

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"Well! This is certainly quite the gathering! We only need another party member, gee I wonder who THAT is, and Team Pretty Unicorns With Sprinkles On Top would be complete! Hip hip hooray!" Ylenno declared.

Kayla snorted and laughed, turning the laugh into a cough.

"He didn't seem like the type to go dungeon-crawling to me. The fine clean robe would get dirty and the jewels would get lost." Kayla shrugged. "He probably went back to the priory, where it's nice and safe."

She grinned at Ylenno. "Lavender and troll-fat past, eh? The frost spell is a nice touch. Maybe if we both make it out alive, you can show me how to mix that properly."

[Darkness Eternal]

Straightening his shoulders, Drakothemir raised his hand. The massive door that led to his castle’s inner sanctum opened. Suppressing a grin, Drakothemir walked confidently toward a group of vampires. Members of his clan. His black boots sung as he stepped on the stone floor, echoing through the familiar room. Dark-robed figures all stood in a circle, only parting to allow him to pass by them and into the center where a tall hooded man stood. This was a vampire ancient.

“Welcome home, Lord Drakothemir. We’ve been expecting you,“ was all he said.

Drakothemir felt a coldness grow on this throat. He held his arm behind his back and smiled. I have done my task. It is completed. I have found the secrets hidden within Fort Sutch.

“I possess the ancient knowledge." He could hear the pride in his voice. “Forbidden secrets of time’s long past. My enemies have been killed. There were no survivors to compromise my plans.”

“Your task is not completed.” There was no warning in the ancient’s raspy voice, no clue whatsoever as what was to come. With an unexpected shing, someone behind Draksothemir unsheathed their blade and the ancient sighed. “There is but one final matter.”

Drakothemir opened his mouth to protest at the revelation, but had barely begun to speak when a potent silver sword stabbed through his back. and impaled past his flesh. His eyes grew wide in horror at the sight of the blade protruding from his chest. The pain was tremendous, much worse than he had ever imagined.

With a choked gasp, Drakothemir fell to his knees. The clan began to surround him. Their hungry eyes upon him. This had to be a mistake. A terrible mistake! It couldn't be happening to him, of all people!

He mustered his strength. His vampiric power. To scorch those around him into ashes, or make them tear out their own eyes with his Reign of Terror. Or escape unseen with Embrace of Shadows. But he had none. No powers, no abilities that he possessed all those decades, all those centuries. All of it gone.

The ancient’s fangs fell into his throat, and with a powerful yank all of his flesh was ripped out. Drakothemir’s final cry was heard, but not supported. Darkness and despair devoured him, and he stopped his attempt to fight them. His wailing ceased.

In the dream, but Drakothemir sat up from his bed with a powerful shout. “Ah!!”

It was a nightmare. One of the thousands he had before, and one of the many he had every week for as long as he walked Tamriel. He rubbed his eyes, swung his feet over and kicked himself out of bed.

Avoid daylight by lifestyle . . .

It was morning. He should still be sleeping. But he knew he had to make an appearance sooner or later.

He should still be sleeping. Drakothemir sighed as he washed his face in a nearby basin. He threw on his spare black robes, and fitted over a uniquely tailored black vest. and prepared his sword. He wasted no time in cleaning after himself. He left the room and entered the hallway where he was intercepted by the young tavern girl.

"Oh," she giggled. "You're up! Would you like anything sir?"

The vampire, still composing himself after his chaotic rest, regarded her with an intense stare. His eyebrows arched and bent over his nose. His eyes were bright with a fiery malice that she recoiled and excused herself, waving her finger toward the floor in a gesture of nervousness. Drakothemir stared as she left his presence, and still did even after she was gone. Then he put on his gentle mask. He was not Draken. He was Drakothemir. Former monk, aspirant scholar, young adventurer.

He wouldn't dream of tarrying more than he needed to in Anvil after the expedition. Or in Cyrodiil, for that matter. So his recent behavior was of no concern to him.

He headed out the front door of the inn and walked outside. The morning sun was hot, but not hot enough as it would be at noon. Even so it was painful. The blood beneath his skin boiled and his skin took on a redish hue. His jaw tensed and he rushed toward the adventurer's guild building as quick as he was able. A normal bystander would mistake him for a man that is late on a date or an important meeting or buisiness.

He traversed the town and into the streets and right into the building. Drakothemir felt tense as soon as the light had hit him. He walked out of the presence of the tyranical sun and right into a diabolical sham of one. The light glared at him, piercing his vision to the point of being overbearing. Nevertheless, he did respect the architecture and style. That, at least, was a welcome sight.

As soon as he entered he noticed the group of men he saw before. And even heard the Bosmer speak mid-sentence. "We only need another party member, gee I wonder who that is, and Team Pretty Unicorns With Sprinkles On Top would be complete! Hip hip hooray!"

Kayla seemed to answer him with tease about Drakothemir. "He didn't seem like the type to go dungeon-crawling to me. The fine clean robe would get dirty and the jewels would get lost." She shrugged. "He probably went back to the priory, where it's nice and safe."

"The Deadlands would freeze over if dungeon-crawling required 'types'. Robes are repleaceable. Jewels can be purchased. By the time we go under Fort Sutch, you will wish you were at the priory." He smiled as he approached the group. "It is good to stand in the company of friends. So . . .when do we begin?"

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"The Deadlands would freeze over if dungeon-crawling required 'types'." Drakothemir quipped behind Kayla. She turned easily with a smile as he continued.

"Robes are repleaceable. Jewels can be purchased. By the time we go under Fort Sutch, you will wish you were at the priory."

Kayla did not doubt his words. The whispers at the taverns in Skyrim had even the hardiest of Nord Barbarians gripping their mugs in doubt. The more conceited ones declared their intent to join, but always had excuses not to. The more foolish ones, such as herself, bought passage and were in the group.

"It is good to stand in the company of friends. So . . .when do we begin?" Drakothemir asked. Kayla shrugged.

"I only just arrived." She looked him over. "You look fancy. Dress to impress, right?" She elbowed him good naturedly, but her heart wasn't in it. The note in her pocket bore no weight against her gear, but it still weighed in on her mind. She pushed it out of her mind and kept her easy-going smile on her face.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

When Drakothemir approached the group, Westley immediately tensed up. He stood there and listened as Drakothemir engaged in a conversation with Kayla. Westley could sense that the vampire lacked any respect for him.

That's fine. I don't need some filthy night-spawn respecting me. Its best not to interact with him. If either of us end up exposing our true nature, there will be a hell lot of trouble. Besides, he could be useful to the group. We need all the people we can get.

Westley forced a warm smile,and waited for Drakothemir to finish his sentance before speaking.

"Your robes won't protect you much from traps and monsters. You should at least consider wearing a cuirass. Wouldn't want anything happening to you, though I'm pretty sure you're a capable fighter. But still, you never know what could happen." Westley gave Drakothemir another friendly smile, though deep down inside he could feel a burning hatred for the vampire.

Westley didn't want to hate Drakthemir, but he couldn't help it. He didn't have problems with vampires, but the fact that they were willing to take the lives of innocent people to feed thier lust without regretting it bothered Westley. True, his kind was no better, and he wasn't afraid to acknowledge the fact that he found his own kind repugnant, but he liked vampires even less. Perhaps that hate was just programmed into him.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla felt Westley tense beside her, but when she turned, there was nothing but an easy smile on his face. She inwardly shrugged, but mentally reminded herself to ask Westley about it later.

A familiar face caught her eye. Someone she knew from her earlier adventurer days, but he didn't know her. He lived in a village that was suffering from troll attacks. When Kayla had arrived, he had been one of the brave few to try to fend off the trolls. He was the only one to survive. His face skimmed over hers, but showed no recognition. Just as well. It was 10 years ago. His face had grown harder, but his cheeks and chin were free from stubble.

Not wanting to seem rude, Kayla turned her attention back to the group. She pinched Westley's nose for no reason and grinned.

"Weak spot! Watch that nose of yours, boy!"

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley's concentration on Drakothemir was broken when Kayla randomly pinched his nose.

"Weak spot! Watch that nose of yours, boy!"

Westley gave Kayla a wicked grin and playfully shoved her. He shoved her a bit too hard, and the tall Altmer began to stagger backwards

"Keep your balance, falling won't do you any good" Westley chuckled, and caught Kayla by the arm before she fell.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

The shove surprised Kayla, and she laughed as Westley caught her.

"You're right, wouldn't want you crushing me again!" She teased.

She straightened up and checked her sword. Good, still hidden. She planned on the sword being her surprise if any undead attacked in. She had Westley's dagger strapped to her thigh as well, for emergencies. She leaned her elbow comfortably on Westley's shoulder and put a small amount of pressure on it. She grinned.

[Darkness Eternal]

Westley's reaction to Drakothemir's arrival was not lost to him. Kayla turned to him immedietly, which meant she probably sensed it too. He knew Westley hated him ever since their last encounter the morning before back at the Count's Arms. Werewolves have a natural sense and instinct akin to that of a hound or a wolf. They can judge the character of a man or those disguised a man.

Drakothemir appraised Westley with a gentle grin. He knew his kind well. He had vampires within his clan that had heretical thoughts or doctrines such as beliving they had to be cured. Or refusing to sustain themselves for survival and cease to feed on mortals. Those were the dangerous ones. They hated themselves so much that anyone like them they would also despise.

The vampire didn't care much for morals of feeding on the innocent. He was born a vampire. He never chose to be given the Dark Gift. Like Lamae Beolfag, he just happened to aquire it unwillingly though to a much less violent degree. For the last four centuries vampirism is what he knew. It is the only thing he will ever know. He won't change his feeding habits or his ideals to survive in a prejudice world because a vampire or any other preternatural predator believes they must sacrifice their own health and nutrition to keep mortals from harm. Mortals, who would sooner condemn him than help him. The fact that some thought that way was beyond insulting.

If a hare could think it would surely label the fox as evil. If the deer could think, it would label the wolf as evil. If the sheep could think, it would call the lion the same thing. Westley was surely one who believed himself a bad person because of his condition. And Drakothemir understood that his Lycanthropy was partly to blame for the boy's hot-headedness. He was like Westley many centuries ago. Confused. Uncertain. Parental issues and all other burdens weighing down upon his shoulders that accumulated over time.

The irony is that the werewolf might do his best to control his condition and find ways he could stop harming people. But the more he supresses the beast, the more the instincts to hunt grows and the desire to kill an innocent person is bound. Almost as a man who has not felt the warmth of a woman for sometime and wishes to change that in any manner he can. Or a starving creature who longs to chase down their prey for sustenance. Werewolves are Hircine's creatures, the Chase and Sacrifice of Mortals. Sport of Daedra. Flesh and innocence must be sacrificed. It is why they are more powerful when they kill people. And Westley might just lose the battle if he keeps that way. Hircine would be displeased, and possibly send one of his loyal hounds to put him down.

Drakothemir took no sadistic pleasure in killing people. He was a vampire, and they were mortals. The two are natural enemies. Predator and prey. And sometimes the prey have been known to bite back.

The thought of prey made him turn to Kayla. "I only just arrived." She looked him over. "You look fancy. Dress to impress, right?"

He looked at his own robes and shook his head. "These are only black robes. Not worth much here in Cyrodiil." Drakothemir raised his hand to inspect his rings. "Family heirlooms. Worthless in the market, but worth something to me."

Westley spoke to him. "Your robes won't protect you much from traps and monsters. You should at least consider wearing a cuirass. Wouldn't want anything happening to you, though I'm pretty sure you're a capable fighter. But still, you never know what could happen."

Drakothemir chuckled. A laugh that actually sounded sincere this time. Because it actually was. "Oh, I don't think I will do much fighting I'm afraid. I am no mage. No warrior. My only skill is writing and studying history. I can swing a sword, but that's about it. The one I carry was a gift my father gave me. But I never stopped to practice once I was sent to the priory." He paused. "You are correct on that matter. Anything could happen. But I pray to the Nine to give me strength. I will need the gods help."

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Feb 10 2013, 08:40 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's mouth twitched in a smile.

"Mhmm, the Nine."

She held no love for the Nine. She would respect the man's beliefs, and not comment on them unless asked. Revealing her inclination for daedra worship, especially one such as Meridia, would surely bring on a fire-fight with words. She saw the individuals as gods-fearing in Cyrodil, condemning daedra worshippers to the forests and mountains outside of city walls. It was the same in Skyrim; one had to travel to remote places, far outside the safety of the walls of the Holds to seek solace in the chosen daedra.

"If the gods fail you, surely one of us might help you." she said to the solemn-looking Imperial. To show she meant it as a jest, she grinned and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

[Colonel Mustard]

Tarrick

“How does the day greet you, Redguard?" Buffy said as Tarrick arrived. "We were just trying to tease Ylenno about his hair.”

Before Tarrick could reply, Ylenno gave an account of how his hair was maintained. It was a long, complex, impressive process, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sheer over-wrought nature of it all. Once Ylenno had finished reciting his routine, he nodded in slight amazement.

"Sounds like a bit too much effort to me," he said, running his head over the fine fuzz of black hair that covered his scalp. "I'd rather keep it short like this so it's easy to manage. But whatever works for you, I suppose."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla nodded at Tarrick's statement about easy-to-manage hair.

"The shorter your hair, the less likely anything nasty can grab it," she said. "I was exploring a ruin with a young lady who had beautiful long raven hair. She was very vain about it, and spent as much time on it as Ylenno does with his hair." She smirked at Ylenno before continuing. "Her hair was to her waist, and it got caught between the bony fingers of a half-starved vampire. Nearly pulled her scalp off trying to get away." She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Keep it short and simple," She finished. She grinned at Tarrick.

[Acadian]

Buffy:

Buffy was about to share the recipe she and Ardaline used for hair conditioner, or at least mention the benefits Ylenno could get from sprinkling glow dust in his hair but was glad she stopped herself as Kayla began to speak.

The wood elf with a shining blond mane couldn’t help the warm flush that she felt creeping above the neckline of her blouse as Kayla recounted the vices of fighting with long silken locks. Kayla’s auburn hair was pretty, but not what Buffy would call pampered. She figured the high elf probably didn’t carry shampoo and conditioner in her pack. Buffy most certainly had plenty for both of them but decided this was perhaps not the best time to offer that information.

“Keep it short and simple,” concluded the Altmer.

Buffy awkwardly studied the toes of her buckskin boots. It occurred that her brother Bosmer might feel a bit convicted by Kayla’s words as well. She looked up and chirped, “But think of the damage Ylenno could do with those spikes by lowering his head and charging like a minotaur!”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

The image of Ylenno's spiked head running full-speed towards an overly-muscular minatour made Kayla cover her mouth in laughter. She turned to say something to Buffy to tease Ylenno, and for the first time realized how long Buffy's hair actually was. Her face turned red, but she kept the smile on her face.

"As long as we can use your hair as a whip, Buffy!"

[Acadian]

Buffy:

"As long as we can use your hair as a whip, Buffy!" Kayla was joking, but on her slightly reddened face was etched a look of. . . apology? Buffy realized how transparent her own awkwardness must have appeared. The smile of understanding between them said much that probably went unnoticed by others.

Buffy brought a small bowstring-callused finger up to her lips. “Sshhh! The Adventurers Guild will reject the lot of us! I’m sure they’re looking for intrepid explorers, not skilled hair stylists.” Knowing the whole hair discussion had been her doing, she slipped the leafy living recurve bow from her back and pretended to carefully inspect it.

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno gave a shrug to all of them as he said, "whatever floats your boats. But I assure you, I am the progenitor of a new age of hairstyles! Oh yes, I kid you not! Ten years from now, people would call me a new god as they gush each other about their own styles! Kids would love it!"

Then he gave all of them a scandalous giggle as.

"Besides, girls who I met love it. They call it the Bush Tickler amongst other spiky sobriquets, no joke! Hee-hee-hee-haw!"

He then looked at the Buffy, and the glint of giddy mischievousness at his eyes remained, this time much more intense.

"Oh, don't worry about that, sister. It woudln't be the first time I stuck my hair into places I really shouldn't!"

The tall bosmer gave a sharp series of barking laughter at his own joke, braying like a hyena for all intents and purposes.

[Acadian]

Buffy:

Ylenno enlightened the group about the dual nature of his hairstyle – which he called a Bush Tickler. When not being used for fighting, he stated it could be used for fun. Did the Bosmer really try to use his hair like that? It would seem more likely that Argonians might use their head spikes in such a manner. Maybe. Guildmagister Kud-Ei had never mentioned it though.

She continued to allow the inspection of her bow to be the apparent focus of her hands and eyes as she pondered his words. The little wood elf didn’t exactly have a bush. In fact she had very little body hair – not unusual for her race. Her guild sisters teased her that her soft patch of nether down was barely enough to verify she was a natural blonde.

Finally Ylenno’s laughter subsided enough for Buffy to remark as she looked coyly up at the taller Bosmer, “Do you intend to tickle or stab our foes with your popular spikes?”

This post has been edited by Acadian: Feb 12 2013, 04:08 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"They call it the Bush Tickler amongst other spiky sobriquets, no joke!" quipped Ylenno.

Kayla's eyebrows nearly shot off her face, but the real kicker for her was when Ylenno looked at Buffy and continued on with, "Oh, don't worry about that, sister. It woudln't be the first time I stuck my hair into places I really shouldn't!"

Her own laughter was noiseless, rather than loud and braying like Ylenno's. She brought her hand to her mouth and bent over and made small squeaking noises occasionally. She laughed so hard, tears filled her eyes and her face turned red.

"Mara's teat, that's disturbing, but funny!" she gasped.

[mALX]

Maxical

As she stepped out the door of the Peacemaker shop Maxical’s attention was caught by the same group of people that had been inside the Counts Arms last night, all gathered in the street outside the newly built Guild Hall.

The tall Bosmer was speaking and gesturing so animatedly that Maxical slid in, weaving amongst the others to hear what he was talking about. He had one hand jammed into that beautiful white-gold hair, which was now a wild mass of spikes on one side of his head. His hand was glowing green as if a spell was being cast.

As Maxical gaped at the sight, his hair began to rise till it stood straight up, defying gravity! “GAAAAH!”

The Bosmer‘s mischievous eyes were lit with laughter, they danced over the two girls standing in front of him and his voice cracked on a laugh. “Besides, girls who I met love it. They call it the Bush Tickler amongst other spiky sobriquets, no joke! Hee-hee-hee-haw! Oh, don't worry about that, sister. It woudln't be the first time I stuck my hair into places I really shouldn't!" He continued his braying laugh as the two girls glanced at each other.

The one I’m sure was Buffy from Bravil said something I couldn‘t hear, then the pretty Altmer girl spoke before I could move in closer to hear.

I slid to a stop in front of the braying Bosmer. In a smooth flip of my hand I unsheathed the claw on just my middle finger and waved it at him as if swishing a sword.

“If I catch you trying to tickle my bush with that thing, you’ll meet my Khajiit Castrator here. Then the only thing those spikes will be tickling is the pavement.”

I winked up into his laughing eyes and continued on my way to hear the Prophet Azzan had been telling me about.

This post has been edited by mALX: Feb 12 2013, 04:25 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

When the beautiful Khajiit unsheathed her claw and said, “If I catch you trying to tickle my bush with that thing, you’ll meet my Khajiit Castrator here. Then the only thing those spikes will be tickling is the pavement.”

Kayla howled with laughter as the Khajiit with white fur simply walked away, tail swishing, leaving the warning hanging in the air.

"Ylenno," she gasped, "You better keep your hair to yourself, otherwise it might not be the only thing being cut off!"