The Shadow Under Fort Sutch, RP Playground Thread Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Well that topic fell flat.

Obviously Westley wasn't in the mood for talking. He did need to loosen up. She grinned at him mischievously.

"After we get the potions, maybe I could drop you off at a brothel and you could loosen up! Maybe then you wouldn't be so grumpy!" She laughed at her own joke.

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"After we get the potions, maybe I could drop you off at a brothel and you could loosen up! Maybe then you wouldn't be so grumpy!"

Westley smirked "Here we go with that again....that's the last thing I need. You look a tad stressed too. I thought I saw a beggar in need of some attention...."

The docks were quite crowded, and Westley had trouble seeng the way to Lelle's quality goods. He had to push through a few people to finally manage to spot the entrance. Even the small store was crowded. People were making demands for items, and screaming at the shopkeeper to lower the prices. Westley turned to Kayla.

"This place is crowded! Do you think they have anything left?"

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 19 2013, 05:09 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla punched Westley in the arm and laughed, calling him a dirty name in Nordic. She glanced around the place, shaking her head.

"I can buy the ginseng and strawberries at the inn. I'm sure the owner won't mind. We need to get our things anyways."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"I can buy the ginseng and strawberries at the inn. I'm sure the owner won't mind. We need to get our things anyways."

Westley started to get tense again, "I need potions though! Pah! Let's just try the chapel. They might have a healing spell. Besides. I'm the tallest human in this room. It awkward for me."

Westley secretly grabbed a healing scroll from a nearby table, and shoved it down his curiass. Lucky for him, nobody noticed, and he went and stood by the door to wait for Kayla.

"The chapel sells potions right? Do you know if the chapel of dibella specializes in restoration Kayla? I don't remember." Westley glanced at the nord man standing next to him

Good gods, I'm way too tall.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla shook her head. "Have you not listened to anything I've said?" She pointed at herself. "I make potions. But if you're insisting on a spell, we can go to the chapel, but you can do all of the talking."

Hmmph. Priests. Kayla wasn't looking forward to this.

"I don't worship Dibella, so I don't know if they do healing spells or not. I'd expect that any chapel will sell healing spells, though."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Have you not listened to anything I've said? I make potions. But if you're insisting on a spell, we can go to the chapel, but you can do all of the talking."

Westley tried not to raise his voice too much "How many potions can you make? I need about five or six."

Westley tried to move closer, but nearly trampled a Bosmer man in front of him.

"Sorry sir!" Westley stepped back a bit.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU OVERSIZED APE!" The Bosmer scowled, and forced his way past Westley and out of the shop.

The people here are more rude than me....

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla made a rude hand gesture at the irate Bosmer's back before answering Westley.

"If we leave right now and head back to The Count's Arms, I can get started right away. But I'd only be able to make about 4. I can get the ingredients from the kitchen."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley


"If we leave right now and head back to The Count's Arms, I can get started right away. But I'd only be able to make about 4. I can get the ingredients from the kitchen."

Westley smiled "Four is good enough. I'll help you in any way I can so we can get this done quickly. C'mon, let's go so we can get started"

Westley pretty much pushed Kayla out of the store, and fought through the crowd of people to get to the gates. Time was of the essence, and now was no time for lolligagging, or arguin with strangers. The Count's Arms was fairly empty, most likely everyone was rushing to prepare for the expedition.

"So, what ingredients do ya need for the potion Kayla?" Westley raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room.

[Elisabeth Hollow]

"I'm going to need some wheat, 4 cloves of garlic, and juniper berries. Though I don't think there are any juniper berries in Cyrodiil. Oh! And some ginseng and strawberries." Kayla pressed some coins into Westley's hands. "If the kitchen wenches give you trouble, throaw this at them" She grinned.

"I'm going to go to my room to prepare."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

"I'm going to need some wheat, 4 cloves of garlic, and juniper berries. Though I don't think there are any juniper berries in Cyrodiil. Oh! And some ginseng and strawberries. If the kitchen wenches give you trouble, throaw this at them"

Westley pocketed the gold coins Kayla gave him, and casually walked towards the kitchen. There was a cook, and a few wenches in there. One of the wenches looked at him

"YOU! You're the one who was throwing silverware! What do you want!"

"I just need four cloves of garlic, wheat, juniper berries, some ginseng, and strawberries. Enough for four healing potions please."

"Why should I give you those ingredients you...you...you utensil flinger!" The wench scowled at Westley, and he didn't hesitate to scowl back.

"I have gold. Here, you don't have to share it. Just take it and give me what I want. I'll leave you alone after that."

The wench snatched the gold from Westley's hand, and started counting it all up. She smirked with satisfaction before looking up at Westley and scowling again, but didn't answer before slapping him hard on the face. "Fine, take what you need and LEAVE THE KITCHEN!"

Westley scowled, rubbed his cheek, rushed to get what he needed, and hurried up the stairs to Kayla's room. He quietly entered, and plopped the ingredients on a table near Kayla.

"Here you go. Anything else you need?"

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 19 2013, 06:24 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Kayla's eyes were narrowed with concentration.

"Nope. Just wait a moment."

She already had the apparatuses filled with boiling water. She quickly crushed the garlic with the flat of her knife, then made it into a almost paste-like texture into the mortar and pestle. She scraped the paste into the boiling apparatus before crushing the juniper berries and putting them in the apparatus as well. As the water traveled to the dropper, she stuck a stem of wheat into the empty bottles waiting under the dropper, and set it back under.

As the bottles filled, she wiped out the mortar and pestle and chopped up the strawberries and ginseng, stopping every so often to replace the almost-filled bottle with an empty one. She was using up all of her extra bottles, but that was fine. She crushed the strawberries up, making a red mush, and scraped it into empty bottles. As soon as the bottles for the health potion were filled, she corked them and gave them to Westley.

"Shake before drinking." she said simply, her attention still on her work. She dropped the chopped ginseng into the boiling water and let it steep for a moment. She cleaned up the mess while she waited. She popped a stray strawberry into her mouth and poured the hot liquid into the bottles with the strawberry-ginseng paste. She swirled the bottles around a bit, letting the hot water touched and extract each bit of the ingredients.

She had filled 4 bottles of cure poison, and 4 bottles of health, in under 30 minutes. She was impressed with herself. She corked the bottles and tossed them into her bag. She packed up her alchemy equipment and nodded to Westley.

"Let's go."

[King Of Beasts]

Westley

Westley quietly watched as Kayla created some prions. She handed him the healing potions, and packed her stuff.

"Let's go."

Westley tightened the straps of his backpack a bit. "Do you know where the rest of the group is? Never mind. I forgot where we're supposed to meet. Any idea?"

Westley scanned the large crowds of people for the other group members. He was a bit nervous about the expedition, yet he was excited. He stopped in front of the guildhall with Kayla, and waited for any signs of the group.

This expedition better be worth my while, and I better not die. If I die, I'm haunting whatever lives in those ruins for the rest of eternity.

This post has been edited by King Of Beasts: Feb 19 2013, 07:11 AM

[PhoenixGamer]

Elaninde:

She listened coriously as the dark-skinned imperial and Kayla described these "Snow Elves". When they were done Oedipus Nebraska said that they only had one hour left to prepare for the expedtion. As Kayla and Westley hurried out the door, Elaninde thought she could go to the inn and get some food. As she entered the inn and was about to ask for some food that would last long, she heard a wench from inside the kitchen yell at what, by the sound of it, was Westley:

"YOU! You're the one who was throwing silverware! What do you want!" And sure enough, soon after she heard Westley answer:

"I just need four cloves of garlic, wheat, juniper berries, some ginseng, and strawberries. Enough for four healing potions please." Elaninde thought she should just try to ignore it for now and continued to ask the owner for some food and got more or less just some salted venison and some apples.

As she arrived back at the guildhall, she saw Kayla and Westley outside and walked over to them. She asked Westley:

"What was that yelling in the kitchen about Westley?"

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus was among the first to leave. He was not claustrophobic nor was he overwhelmed by the sense of smell. But he was in no mood to be intercepted by the Altmer fan-girl. He stepped outside and headed over to a place to restock. There were too many people there, and they were all well-armored. But even among them there were weaker ones. Children, even, who accompanied their parental figures. They made fine prey.

Every werewolf suffered from bloodlust. It was inescapable. It did not matter if they were born with the gift, bitten, ingested the blood of a werewolf or was turned by Hircine himself. Lycus knew well that the Beast within confused the mind, warped the Spirit. It blurred the lines between animal and man. The darker emotions, the raw contained desires of the flesh, are amplified beyond comprehension. For the Beast itself has no control.

He walked among the crowd, and spotted Kayla in the distance walking side to side with Westley. The two could be mistaken for a couple, for they were always together. He didn't think much of it until the word "werewolf" came to mind. His ears perked up, his interest caught as a rabbit in a hunter's snare. He quickened his pace and followed behind but remained a careful distande.

From afar he heard Kayla's sob story about a dear friend that she had to put down due to Lycanthropy. And how she pitied them. Lycus frowned. Werewolves do not deserve pity . . .for they would never give another pity when they are swallowing one's heart down their gullet.

"You shouldn't pity all werewolves. Some enjoy what they are. I don't know how, but if I was a werewolf, is hate myself ten times more than I already do. It must be horrible living like that. I don't even know why I'm so bitter and distant from everyone else. If I knew, I'd stop, but I don't know why I'm so cold. I can't bring myself to enjoy anything. Maybe I'm just depressed, I don't know."

There were many reluctant werewolves in the world. The majority of them become distant and moody. This is natural. But they soon hate themselves for their actions, for what they have become. They cannot cope with the death of others and suffer with dread that every fifteen days or even in a burst of anger they would shift and once again take an innocent life without control to thought.

But Lycus, who had seen many friends die, who had taken the lives of many people for a career, had been desensitised to death and suffering. It had been a part of his life since he first was sold as a slave in Morrowind all those years ago. He had experienced what most men would consider mind-altering. He was at the precipice of madness and where most men would take their own lives in such overwhelming states.

Killing was as natural as breathing. This was the fundamental truth to Lycus. And while he did not hate Westley for hating himself, he still knew that the boy would bring more harm to himself and others for that belief alone. The more the beast is supressed, the more it is contained, the more it wishes to be unleashed. As a man who is denied food or sex or a woman denied her desires, it will gnaw at them until they give in.

But Westley had much more to worry about than taking the life of an innocent person, or taking his own life and dooming himself into an eternity where he would be hunted for the rest of his infinite existence in another dimension. He had to worry about Hircine. Lycus sensed the ring on the man. Hircine's fabled artifact. That explained why he was in control even amidst his crazed state of mind. But what most Lycanthropes do not understand is that Hircine has no patience for the fickle. He holds no love for those who abuse the gift.

There were tales of men who, rather unsportingly, stole the ring and were cursed with it. Men who possessed the artifact but did not embrace their condition. These were marked men. Men who summoned the wrath of Hircine and were victims of a dark open season. Their souls were in danger and they would soon know what it is to be the hunted. Hircine would want them killed. And who better to deliver the deathblow than a loyal hound?

Lycus braced himself. Westley had to find a cure and recant his Lycanthropy forever or soon he would be Hircine's target. It was a dangerous game, and beyond under the Shadow of the Beast was no easy lifestyle. Lycus knew this.

He stared at the couple for one last moment before retreating into a store that sold armor and weapons.

[Acadian]

Buffy:

Kayla and Lycus believed the pale foes were falmer – snow elves. Mer or not, Buffy would pierce their hearts or command them to tear each other apart as readily as she would do with humans who posed a threat to her or those assigned to travel with her.

Oedipus then announced the expedition was to depart within the hour. Although Buffy was ready, knowing the exact departure time would allow her to make a few final preparations. She left the guild hall and made her way toward Anvil’s main city gate.

After notifying the stable of Superian’s pending departure and settling her account there, Buffy briefly dipped the foliage of Willow, her bow, in the trough and ensured her own water skin was full. She had inspected each arrow in her full quiver hours ago, before the meeting, and there was no reason to repeat the task.

Bringing a glow to both hands, she passed them slowly over the rippling muscles of her leggy black mare. Superian's tack gradually materialized and fell perfectly into place. Buffy verified that her saddlebags contained adequate arrows and poisons for resupply if needed.

Blowing a kiss to her mare, she then stepped off for the city gates again, trailing words over her shoulder, “See you in less than an hour, girl.”

The small mystic archer then reentered the city and made her way to the Mages Guild. She mentally reviewed that her pack contained a full complement of poisons. Relying heavily on spells, the only potions or scrolls she carried were a good supply of each to dispel the only thing that could stem her flow of magic – the dreaded effect of curse magic that some erroneously called ‘silence’.

She knew that if her expedition mates could keep her alive, her touch spells could unpoison, cure, restore or heal them of anything they might run afoul of.

During her brief stop in the Mages Guild, she notified Guildmagister Carahil of what she had learned so far and the expedition’s departure time.

As she stepped from her guild, Buffy whispered, “I hope I know what we’re doing, Acadian.”

“Close your eyes and open your mind,” was quiet his reply.

She did so and felt his spirit absorb some of the apprehension. Her breathing was slower as she opened her eyes and resumed the short trek to the Adventurers Guild. “Thank you, my paladin.”

Buffy recognized several faces as she approached.

[Uleni Athram]

When Oedipus blew his whistle and the meeting place exploded with people's rushed exits, Ylenno stayed in his seat and stayed for a while. He felt no need to hurry; he already had what he'd need on his person, and there was no use in buying potions or anything like that, since he bought them already. The elf made sure to triple check his gear before going here after all. The elf lit up a roll of hackle-lo and burned his lungs out for a bit, stretching his legs, calming his nerves. This expedition.... Well, he wasn't worried about the expedition, truth be told. What he thought about deeply was what what'll he do afterwards. He'll duck and avoid the Orums, that was a given, but running won't last long. Those Orcs had long reaching distance, and longer memories. They wouldn't let an asset like the Floretntine Bleeder slip their grasp easily.

A breton Adventurer Guildsman, with short cropped blonde hair, and creepily enough, deep crimson eyes, gave him a royal-red stare and a plea to take out his death-smoke away. There was something ... off about the guy, Ylenno noted as he complied and went outside. Something feral and fay and a clear aura that one shouldn't ruffle his feathers.

As Ylenno greeted the outside with circles of smoke, he spotted a grouping of a colorful bunch, anxious like, looking like they waited for someone eagerly.

The elf kept his roll on and walked towards them with a sinister smirk on his face.

Among the group was the arrogant runt he locked eyes with earlier. When he spotted Ylenno, he gestured towards him. Almost immediately, the rest of the group's eyes were upon him, bloodthirsty like maddened dogs.

"Hey there," he saluted them. "Sorry to keep you jumpers waiting!"


****


The door to Morvayn's Peacemakers opened quietly and Ylenno shuffled in.

For all intents and purposes, he looked like he was lynched by a mob and sent rolling on a hill of trash. There were several forming bruises below his neck, some scratch marks too, and his lips were busted, a slow trickle of blood staining his gray scarf. One of his eyes looked like it received a brutal hammering, and there was an ugly gash on his right ear.

The little brawl happened outside the gates of Anvil, on a secluded place so no guards would be involved.

Yet he still had that smile, that everpresent braying laughter, and there was giddy hop on his steps when he walked. He stepped up on the counter and laid his damaged leather gloves on the countertop, wanting it to be repaired as soon as possible.

"Shouldn't take long," the dunmeri armorer said after getting over Ylenno's appearance. "10 septims would do it, and I'll even add some metal coverings on it."

Ylenno nodded, and fished for a suspiciously rich-looking coin pouch that didn't go well with his debonair look. He took the approriate amount and paid the coins to the armorer.

When the armorer was gone off to sew repairs, the elf took a vial from one of his pouches and drank a small amount. He took small drips to his fingers and rubbed it on damaged places. He felt the effects immediately and soon, he looked just as a roguish as he did before. The black eye would remain though, and the buzzing aftershock too.

It was then that Ylenno noticed that he wasn't alone in the shop. There he was, the former Grand Champion from six years ago. The elf didn't really had a chance to talk with him back at the Guildshall, and since they were on the same adventure, he figured it'd be nice to know him.

"Hey, Champion," he said to him. "Wha're you doing here? Buying weapons? With your sword, saber and spear, I don't think you need anymore, you'd be a walking arensal!"

[Darkness Eternal]

Lycus Desselius, Morvayn's Peacemakers.

The weapon's store was dark and sparse, lit by the light that dimly filtered through the blue glass panels and the roaring fireplace

The Lycanthropic former Grand Champion explored the store with great interest. His exotic look attracted a few curious stares, but he was otherwise kept alone by some of the store's visitors. While the Dunmeri store owner attended one of his customers, Lycus headed straight for a set of Orcish armor resting on the counter.

It was one of the finest next to Daedric and Dwarven. He would choose this set only because the others were not available for purchase. Orcish armor was prized among the Orsimer brethren, but not exclusive to them. The armor is made with an ornate, light steel plate design which can be worn over cloth padding that results in a light and comfortable fit when put to comparison with other steel plate designs.

He removed his shirt and tossed it to the ground. Written in his bare-chest was many small cuts and bruises from recent toils but what stood out the most was a large scar that ran below his chest and over his stomach. A scar he wore with pride, for it marked the day that Lycus faced the greatest opponent a mortal man could ever face in his lifetime.

He placed on the armor over his head and shoulders, and began strapping it on when he heard a small noise.

"Hey! You can't do that!"

Lycus turned his head to see a small Wood Elf with blond hair and a short pony-tail. No doubt the apprentice to the owner of the store. The muscular Imperial turned away from the boy and continued to tie the belt of his armor around his body. "Stand down boy. I but seek to know the nature of this armor."

"But . .but . .you can't just put on armor and then-"

"You would tell me that I must first spend coin from my purse to make purchase? Then when I am faced with an opponent in proper contest I am to rely on something I am not entirely certain will save my life? I must check the craft, the size, the worth of it. I would consider buying this one. It fits me well. The craftmanship is superior and it shall not see me drained at journey's end."

The Bosmer blinked. The large Imperial placed his firm hand on the Bosmer's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I can see that you are skilled in fashioning weapons. I want the boots, the gauntlets and the helmet to match the cuirass. Your finest in stock. In return you will see your purse weight heavier with coin."

"Right away!" he chirped.

Lycus set aside his weapons; his scimitar, his Orcish blade and his spear. He stood over them and gave his weapons a somber look. Debating whether or not they needed any repairs. But they were in legendary conditions, and extremely sharp. One swing cut easily decapitate a foe or sink through flesh as if melting a butter-knife through ash-hopper jelly.

It was then that Lycus head another voice come from behind, sounding different than the man he just spoke to. He smelled blood in the air, and turned around to face the man. It was Ylenno from the Guildhall. The rogue he spoke to briefly over the dining table.

"Hey, Champion. Wha're you doing here? Buying weapons? With your sword, saber and spear, I don't think you need anymore, you'd be a walking arensal!"

Lycus looked at the man and saw the black eye and the bloodied lip still red. He didn't remember seeing him like that when he first encountered him. It was obvious he had a fresh confrontation with a person . . .or a group of people. He turned back to his weapons and shook his head.

"A man needs but one sword to cleave his fate," he whispered gruffly. "But there is no shame in carrying more. I require no additional swords than I already have. I come here for armor."

His expression was a serious one. Not a smile nor grin was offered. But to soften his rather grim countenance, Lycus' tense face lessened. "I would not face my enemies stripped down to my bare shirt and dangling manhood. Those days are past."

He tightened the Orcish armor around his waist and turned to Ylenno. "Are you handy with the blade?"

This post has been edited by Darkness Eternal: Feb 20 2013, 02:24 AM

[King Of Beasts]

"What was that yelling in the kitchen about Westley?"

Westley was a bit startled when he noticed Elaninde approach him, her steel armor brilliantly glowing when the sunlight hit it, and asked him a question. He stared at get for a minute before answering.

"The wench was mad at me for throwing utensils the other day. Wanted to kick me out, but I needed to get ingredients so Kayla could make a few healing potions."

[Uleni Athram]

Ylenno's eyebrows raised themselves outrageously as Lycus turned his game-face on and whispered his reply with a dramatic flair of a grim person burned out from social interactions.

The elf looked at the Imperial with deep-set-blue silverine eyes full of sinister merriness.

"What's so wrong about a full-frontal-assault? If you have ... that sizeable spear as those bards from six years ago says you do, then perhaps the opposition would be dumbstruck long enough for you to shank 'em good and proper, up-close and personal? Quick and dirty so you can finish them fast?"

For some reason or another, or perhaps none, he threw back his head and laughed his signature braying laughter. When his mirth died to small giggles, he drew his axe and phantomined a battle. He swished it there, chopped an invinsible foe here, struck them in a vital area there.

But beneath those playful swings, a hardened eye can see that the axe was made for Ylenno, and Ylenno for the axe. He handled those chops and swings with alarming accuracy and used economical energy, never wasting undue amounts of vigor than was necessary at all. The body danced well with the weapon, and the weapon graced the handler well. There was a poetry in motion every time there was a swing, swift and powerful, and Ylenno could be seen dreaming, glazed, a masterful thrall in the dance of death, a lethal puppet stringed on by the urge to simply decimate the opposition. He was a rush of tidal wave, raging serenely, a beautiful ugliness when he gets his momentum.

A cough from the armorer Varel Morvayn put a stop to Ylenno's demonstration, and the elf laughed an apology as he took his repaired gloves. He returned to Lycus and gave him a goofy grin.

"I'm not much of swordsman, really. Those pointy sticks kill well enough, I suppose, but they... heh, let's just say they aren't meant for the likes of me."

The goofy grin suddenly wore a mischievous feel to them as Ylenno continued on.

"But if you're asking me what I think you're asking me, then hell to the yes, I AM very handy with a 'blade'. Girls call my hair the Bush Tickler, but when things go bumpy in the night, they'll meet..... my Cavefish Shanker!"

The armorer behind the counter heard this, facepalmed, and muttered an agonized 'dear gods'.

Ylenno ignored him and continued.

"But hey, phallic sobriquets aside, if you've asked that for... a dance later on, then lemme say that I don't swing that way! I'm not that kind of 'elf', see? I don't put from the rough, or, or, Spart your Tacos, okay? Okay."

----



OOC: *evil laugh* I likey what I did here!

[PhoenixGamer]

Elaninde:

"The wench was mad at me for throwing utensils the other day. Wanted to kick me out, but I needed to get ingredients so Kayla could make a few healing potions." Was Westley's response.

"Ah, that makes sense." "I was just in the inn to get some food, since I rarely go anywhere without everything else I need, although I almost wish I had stopped by the arcane university on my way here and gotten a resist poison enchantment." Elaninde replied back.

"Anyway, do you have everything you need?" She asked.