The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[King Of Beasts]

Westley


"Then maybe all you need is a good fight. Sometimes knocking parts together doesn't do the trick. So...An albino Khajiit is pretty rare to see, I've heard. I wonder if she lives here?"

"A brawl sound pretty good. And I doubt that Khajiit lives here. You can tell when someone lives in Anvil. They have a certain look, and smell to them. I hope I don't end up in a brawl with that Khajiit though. I'm guessing she knows how to use her claws very well, and the last thing I need is to end up being gutted because I upset her." Westley kicked up some dust.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's face took upon a look of curiosity. "And how does one smell if they live in say, The Imperial City? Does everyone smell like you?" she teased.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"And how does one smell if they live in say, The Imperial City? Does everyone smell like you?"

Westley rolled his eyes. "Nope. I smell special. Everyone in the imperial city smells like scented soap. Except for the people on the waterfront district. They smell like me. Here in Anvil, everyone smells like sea-salt."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"What is the Waterfront District? I've heard different things. all I can gather is that it's outside of the Imperial City walls."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley


"What is the Waterfront District? I've heard different things. all I can gather is that it's outside of the Imperial City walls."

Westley sighed "it's where the Imperial City dumps all of the poor people and criminals."

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla looked away. "Oh." is all she could say.

[Darkness Eternal]

Drakothemir smiled after Westley spoke. That is all he wanted to hear. In fact, he was more than glad the conversation was short and to the point. He knew he wouldn't have to kill the man right away or any of his friends.

He stood there alone and flashed a smile to everyone, and began starting conversations with people he did not know. One person out of all of them came to mind, however. Macalla. The Vigilante. She seemed to be a worthy opponent and a wonderful pawn. Drakothemir looked around him and came to the conclusion that he had to depart. There were other ways to pursue this adventure, and walking with a pack of jesters would not be the way to go.

Quietly, Drakothemir slipped out and left.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla shuffled her feet awkwardly. The conversation had taken an odd turn. She had run out of thing to say, and quite frankly, desired the familiarity of a group. She hooked her arm in Westley's and walked back to the rest.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley watched as Kayla shuffled her feet in an awkward way. He knew what had happened. She couldn't think of anything to say. He knew how that felt. Kayla hooked her arm with Westley's and they headed back to the group.

I hope that Ylenno is done with those jokes. In not in the mood to vomit...

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius.

The room of the Adventurer’s Guild was large and sparse, with rich tapestries on the magically polished walls, expensive rugs on the marble floor, and with the ceiling dressed with marvelous carvings of silver. Behind an wooden, gold-inlaid table sat a man named Lycus Desselius, whose broad shoulders, defined arms, hard pectorals, sculpted abdominals and sun-kissed skin(that hid under a simple brown shirt)seemed rather out of place among the luxurious hall. He seemed more a man that is part of the wilderness and the forests and hills and plains. His small movements bespoke of steel-bred muscled warrior to a sharp mind. His speech is that of a wise man. There was nothing deliberate or forced about his mannerisms.

His garments were of simple fabric. His roughspewn shirt was brown and almost tattered, his pants were of the same color and less extravagant. His black traveler's boots were new, however, and shiny. He wore no expensive rings or jewelry save for a necklace made of lupine teeth that hung around his neck. A black cascade of hair tumbled to his back above his shoulders and his face was heavily darkened by growing facial hair. Written in his arms were scars of past battles, which told to most this man had seen his share of fighting. More than most.

Set aside nearby was his spear, made of silver and adorned with Daedric lettering that seemed to have been burned alongside the sharp tip. Concealed in his boot was a sharp primeval-looking dagger, and sheathed on his sides is a jewel-encrusted scimitar and a wicked-looking Orsimer sword, both edges crafted to the sharpest of points.

He stood alone, partaking in the local dish that was on display and presented freely to thrill-seekers. He sampled the various foods. He popped grapes into his mouth, cut away the pieces of roasted boar and venison and broke an oven-baked loaf of bread in half and filled both with melted cheese. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, for he already had scoped it out the moment he walked in. He heard different conversations come and go, and even cracked half a smirk at some of the crude jokes that were told. But he minded his own business for now.

That was, of course, to say that others didn’t respect his sense of privacy. A young High Elf girl, no more than the age of seventeen, approached his side to try out some of the succulent meats and fruits and sweets that were presented. She was undoubtedly a servant girl, but was willing to sneak in some mouthfuls. She glanced at Lycus indifferently and looked back to her plate, only to look back at him once more to stare. Lycus pretended he didn’t see her, and remained that way until her glaring was far too extreme for his own liking. Slowly, he turned to meet her gaze.

She squinted her eyes to try and discover something. As if she was trying to capture a memory that was lost to her. The woman suddenly widened her eyes and gasped lightly. “I know you! I’ve seen you before!”

“Woman. You are mistaken,” he told her. “I have been abroad for many years. It has been sometime since I returned to Cyrodiil.”

“Six years ago!”

Lycus remained silent. He knew where this was going.

“The arena! You are Kraven Desselius! Beast of Kvatch! Slayer of Beasts! The Undefeated Cyrodiil! Champion of the Imperial City Arena!”

There was no denying it. “I stand the man.”

“Yes! I knew it! Oh by Azura! I am such a fan! I was a girl back then but I still remember your face from the posters. I can’t believe your standing here! Next to me! Can I . . .join you?”

“If you could bestow upon me a simple favor.”

“Anything.”

“Do not make mention of my presence in this city to anyone. I would be pleased if I was given the privilege to walk unhindered.”

She looked disappointed. “Well, uh, that’s fine. My friends wouldn’t believe me anyways.”

“Gratitude.”

“Would you want anything else? For me to rub your back? Your feet? Carry your gear into battle? Shine your boots! Give you a kiss . .. “

“Woman.” Lycus said again, a bit more sternly this time but with a measure of gentleness. “I require no servants. Especially not from a fellow admirer.”

“Oh.”

“I must leave now,” he said to her. “For I am in a hurry. I wish you good fortune in your life. May fate smile upon you one day and you to it. Farewell” With those words, he gave her a loaf of his bread and smiled without showing any teeth.

The star-struck fan was left with her mouth gaped open. “But . . .one kiss!”

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla led Westley to the group, then announced that she hadn't had anything to eat.

"I think we all know how ravenous I can get," she joked. "I'm going to see if I can get a small plate."

She picked her way through the crowd and heard a young elven girl pestering a man about a kiss.

"But... just one kiss!" she pleaded.

Kayla rolled her eyes and snorted, pushing the elven girl aside.

"Young lady, do not throw yourself at men. You let them come to you." She chastised. "Now please, step aside, before my appetite makes me less choosy about my meat."

The girl slunk away before shooting Kayla a cold look. Kayla turned to the man.

"I apologize. Not all elves are like that."

And with that, she began filling her plate. Various fruits and meats were piled on as she silently stood next to the man. She stepped aside so others could fill theirs, and began to snack.

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno stared at the claw that was being brandished about by a white-furred Khajiit with red hair the color of pure magma. His knees became water and his stomach liquified as his eyes followed the claw here and there.

When the Khajiit left, he breathed an immenslely relieved sigh.

"Dear gods, that cat was crazy! Threatening to proctologize the mighty Bush Tickler! Hagh! I think not, love! He still has many more... ehh, you know what, no, I won't continue that sentence."

He pointed at Westley, coming back from somehere with Kayla.

"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."

He gave the lad another smile as he turned towards Buffy. He had a serious and grim look etched at his face.

"Oh, yes. In all seriousness, things like that did happen and WILL happen. I once stabbed a guy in the eye with Tickler here, and the eyeball got stuck. Nasty business, that."

He suddenly clapped his hands, and he had that omnipresent smile that was quick to be followed with his laughter. He gestured at Kayla who already entered ahead of the rest.

"Kayla the Insatiable Hunger has led the way! We must follow!"

Truth be told.

When Ylenno trailed after the nordic Altmer inside, his jaw almost fell from his face. All around him was beauty that belonged in a very rich castle rather than a Guildhall for mercenaries. It was large, it was wide, and it was classy beyond reason. Ylenno once visited the gilded halls of Cheydinhal's castle. He is willing to admit that the richness flounted over there utterly pales in comparison to here.

There were mercenaries strewn about, minding their businesses or signing up forms in rich mahogany tables inlaid with gold. Here and there were people with green bands around there shoulders; Adventurer Guildsmen, no doubt, acting as security. There were even a few Fighters Guild men smudged here and there.

He walked along the smooth, black marble floor, and followed the scent of free food while admiring the glories of the Guildhall. He stopped once and examined a butterfly-looking jug on a pedestal with a soft, velvet pillow underneath it. A single description says that this jug was recovered by one Celdryn Minan'Kherus, in the ruins of a dangerous Ayleid ruin near the Valenwood border. A wretched and hateful dagger of Daedric metals was caged in a display case, and a glass container above the case held a humming orb of pure darkness. Both were the loot of another Adventurer as he dared the bowels of Oblivion.

Trophies of the Adventurers, both unseeming and epic, were placed here in the Spot of Fame, a ten-feet large shelf with all of their accomplishments in view for those who wished to see. Needless to say, all of them were glorious.

He resumed following the scent and spotted Kayla picking from an abundant table with... with... with....

Kraven Desselius. There was no denying it. Ylenno has got to say that the posters didn't do him any justice. The stones on this guy impressed even him, but the streak he enjoyed in the Arena and the euphoria of Cyrodiil moaning his name six years ago impressed him more. Some would even go far as to say that he was an equal of Shinji.

He approached Kayla, and sat between her and Kraven. He took a silver goblet and filled it with honeyed wine.

"This Oedipus Nebraska must be a stinking rich noble-rat! Look at all this stuff! Its practically a thief's wet dream!"

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"It IS beautiful," Kayla admitted. "But it seems like a lot of waste to me. I hope they give the leftovers to the workers and the poor on the streets," she said, casting a sideways glance at Westley. "The coin from one of these artifacts alone could shame a jarl into hiding."

She brought a cool glass of water to her lips. She leaned back slightly in her seat, stomach satisfied.

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno gave a shrug as he reached out for silverwares. He added to his plate several cuts of venison, a spoonful of vegetables, a large smoked fish and a bowl of steaming rice. He dipped the rice with some soy sauce and twinkled it with various herbs.

"I'm feeling Akaviri cuisine today," he remarked. "Its a good thing they serve some acceptable replacements here."

He then turned to Kraven.

"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?"

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius.

Lycus moved to the other side of the table and away from the young lady when she called out to him for a kiss. It was then that another High Elf woman, much older than her but looking the same with her auburn hair and yellow eyes, rebuked the young woman with womanly advice. One that Lycus was all too familiar with. She then apologized to him after the young lady vanished from sight.

"I apologize. Not all elves are like that." The stranger said to him.Lycus appraised her with his solemn bright hazel eyes and kept a neutral expression. The first thing he noticed about this woman was not good looks, for most Altmer women looked the same to him. But there was something that seperated this one from the others. Her hardened appearance and of course, that foreign Nordic accent.

Living in Skyrim for three years Lycus had integrated himself to their warrior culture. Those were hardened people. Honorable men and women, who grabbed life by the throat and made it sing with a combination of blood, sweat, tears and mead. Even the farmers themselves knew a thing or two about living by the sword or the axe. It wasn't everyday that a Elf, especially an Altmer, would adopt their culture. She was an obvious one.

Lycus added some extra food to his plate. "I would disagree. Most of the Dark Elves are. Certainly not the High Elves. I feared you were her sister when my eyes first set upon you. I am pressed to believe you are different from the other questionable Mer women that crossed paths with me."

He debated on the types of drink he could get. Most were alcoholic beverages to cool the tongue and wash down the food, but somewhere in there there was a jug of fresh water that Lycus felt tempted to get. Wine was good, indeed, but water was also good for the body. In quiet moments or when in the company of friends, he would drink wine. But it wasn't always good to drink it before battle. And he knew that Fort Sutch would be a challenge with all of the armed men that were eager to set foot upon its forgotten soil.

Looking for a place to seat himself, Lycus heard one of the loud Bosmer's enter his field of vision. It was the one with the roguish qualities, who sported a wicked axeblade and was garbed in padded jerkins. His exotic hairstyle, boasted to the extreme for tickling women's treasured parts, was one of the things that made him stand out. The rest was his jeweled necklace and other assortments. Lycus did not know this man but he could tell easily that he was thief. The Wood Elf's later comment about the place being a thief's paradise only reinforced the idea. He was a comical one, Lycus knew. He reminded him of a friend he once had back in his slave years, Daenlin, who once bragged about having a magic cöck.

He was already aquainted with the High Elf woman, who somewhat confirmed she was Nordic when she made a mention of jarls and not Altmeri rulers. And unlike most of her brethren, she was not impressed by the grand display of art by the fellow Nebraska. "But it seems like a lot of waste to me. I hope they give the leftovers to the workers and the poor on the streets."

"They'd sooner feed it to the hounds." Lycus mumbled, mostly to himself, in a gruff voice.

"Generous people, these Adventurers, eh?" The rogue said to him right after he said that. Lycus, already seated, raised his head to look at the man as he chewed down his food.

"The food does fill the belly. It is well received." Lycus remarked. He stared at the man for a long two seconds before turning elsewhere. He looked at all the mercenaries and soldiers, both fresh and seasoned, walk the building grounds. But he was far more concerned about the young men that walked in wearing rusty armor or gear stolen from their wealthy parents. Young boys seeking to brave the harsh world and to live a perilous life of adventure.

"This places promises much. Honey for the eyes, wine for the tongue and promise of future glories. The storied pleasures of life." he cracked a smile. "It brings in too many young ones though. Boys playing at being men."

This wasn't an insult to the Bosmer, though. Lycus could see that this man was street-smart and possible had a nose that had been broken at least two times. His scars told of a violent life, which Lycus understood completely. Though he could not truly judge the character of the man right away, he felt he would get along with him.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"It brings in too many young ones though. Boys playing at being men."

Kayla nodded. "That's what the word 'adventure' does to young ones. You're only showed the glory, never the hardship." She turned in her seat towards the man and extended her hand.

"Kayla."

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius.

"It is through hardships that glory can be attained. One day or another they will discover this. But what they do with such discover is the true test of character." Lycus replied to the woman who introduced herself as Kayla. Lycus brought the expensive cup to his lip and drank the water away before setting it down slightly. He turned to the Altmer and shook her hand with a slightly firm grip.

"Lycus," the former gladiator said as he released her hand. He turned back into his food and finished his last portion of vegetables and spices by shoving a forkful into his mouth.

[Acadian]

Buffy:

The snow white Khajiit with flaming locks and brandishing a single extended claw, slipped away almost as suddenly as she had appeared. Her size – almost as small as Buffy – and exotic coloring perfectly matched the description given by Delphine Jend of a friend of hers. Had Buffy read the Khajiit’s name somewhere, she would have instantly been able to recall it, but she struggled sometimes to recall the words of distant conversations. Then it hit her: Maxical. But again, the Khajiit was gone before Buffy could react.

The group around her was sparse now, as most had wandered into the guild hall proper. Shouldering the bow she had been pretending to inspect, Buffy’s buckskin boots moved noiselessly from the fine stone front alcove onto the smooth black marble inside. She plucked several strawberries from the bountiful tables inside and nibbled while wandering among the exotic treasures on display upon shelves or protected inside opulent glass fronted cabinetry. Tapestries lined the walls and, as Buffy looked up, a massive chandelier of wrought iron hosted countless glowing stones – the kind found growing from the walls in some Ayleid ruins. Higher still, decoratively stamped copper panels were inlaid into the ceiling.

Turning her attention to those who populated the room, it was Kayla’s auburn locks that caught her eye. As Buffy approached, the Altmer shook hands with a muscular man dressed in a tattered shirt. His complexion had a swarthy tone that perhaps marked him as Nibenean, as did the long black hair that trailed down his back. The bladed weaponry he sported appeared to be of high quality, but such things were lost on the mystic archer. The only blades she knew how to use were small hunting knives that she summoned for cooking, field dressing game or cutting her own arrows from foes. The human’s pants matched his humble shirt, and even bore the patches of several repairs. They were tucked into surprisingly high quality black leather boots.

When Buffy got close enough, she heard the man say, “Lycus,” as his hand parted from Kayla’s.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Feb 14 2013, 01:35 AM

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley headed into the guild hall with Kayla and Ylenno for a bite to eat.

"Virgin-boy here doesn't approve. Yeah, I saw you kick that pebble at that lamp-post. You shouldn't really kick things at lamp-posts y'know; instead, why don't you lick 'em? Particulary in winter. Yes, winter. Licking lamp-posts in winter is always a good way to relieve yourself of that ever-heavy tension you got there."

Westley ignored Ylenno's joke. He was busy eyeing the food on a nearby table. He lurked in the background while Kayla had a conversation with tan-skinned, muscular Imperial man dressed in tattered clothing. He had lost interest in the conversation the moment it started. He started feeling claustrophibic. There were quite a few people in the guildhall, and it made him uncomfortable. He needed some fresh air before he ended up in anterrible mood and started snapping at people. Westley briefly interrupted the conversation.

"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall."

Westley exited the place and sat on a nearby crate while he watched Buffy enter the building.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius.

Lycus tilted his head slightly, eyes widening quite brief that only those with the sharpest of vision would have noticed. He focused in on the Imperial man who he had seen before, but never bothered to speak to. His hazel eyes gazed upon unsavory-looking man making his way behind Kayla.

He noticed from quite a distance that he avoided any social conversations. His facial features sprinkled with anger and bitterness was evident to even those with the untrained eye. His mannerisms and gestures were hostile and aggressive and there was an animalistic touch to it.

When Lycus arrived in Anvil he had he had heard gossip of a werewolf sighting. A rumor that filled his ears last night. He didn't suspect it was false. In fact, he knew the rumors were true. There were many reasons he was aware there was a werewolf among the people. One of those reasons was the smell alone.

The Imperial knew what the other Imperial was by the following; the scent and the behavior. Even in human form, Lycus could tell when a man was also a beast. His present shape could not deceive him; he knew full well that the short-haired, blue-eyed man was not really a normal man at all but a Lycanthrope. A werewolf.

"Kayla, if you need anything I'll be outside in front of the guildhall." He spoke and headed out, vanishing from sight. Lycus did not remove his eyes from the man sometime.

They are aquainted. Friends, maybe . . . Lycus reflected.

He turned to Kayla and saw a woman of small stature approach. He immedietly figured her for a Bosmer. The big ears, azure eyes, and petite face was among the things Lycus noticed right away. Like him, she wore simple attire that came in shades of brown and olive. The way she stood behind the Altmer told Lycus that they also were somehow aquainted with each other.

Lycus was much taller than the Bosmeri woman, who to the average man was very short. To her he might have seemed like a brute giant. His eyes lowered toward hers and he took on a serious look. "You all are known to each other?"