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Post by Neo on May 23, 2014 7:02:09 GMT -6
800 years have passed since the slaying of the World Eater, Alduin.
It is now the first year of the 5th era, and with the dawn of this new age, a blight has spread across the land of Tamriel.
The Dread Lord Sithis has risen. The Empire has fallen. The Gods are no more. Hoards of demons roam freely across Tamriel. And the Dark Brotherhood now rules the world from the seat of the old Empire, now called the Whispering Tower.
Only pockets of resistance still remain, and those will not last much longer. The time for the final battle draws nigh. What side will you choose? Will you become the savior of all mortalkind, or will you choose the mantle of darkness, and become The Dread Lord's champion? Step into the gates traveler, and behold a land teetering upon the abyss. One way or another, the Elder Scrolls will decide the fate of Tamriel.
The race to find the Elder Scrolls is on, and Tamriel will never be the same.
The Shards of Akatosh have been scattered. The legions of Sithis are unstoppable. The Dark Brotherhood roams the land freely, killing at will. Sithis has entered Tamriel in his true, and terrible form. Now, the final die has been cast. Either the Shards reunite and band together to banish this threat, or all will be lost. Welcome, traveler, to the most dangerous of chronicles. The Chronicles of Akatosh.
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Post by Neo on May 23, 2014 8:08:33 GMT -6
4E 998, 26th of Evening Star, 12 Months ago...
The two great armies met one last time, for one final confrontation, on the fields of Solstheim. Beneath the foot of the old age, upon the island frozen in time, these two massive entities waited. They waited for the final dawn, the final day that would decide the fate of all Tamriel. A lone man waits upon a large hill, looking down at the Ash Fields below , his midnight hair billowing in the harsh wind, his dark ebony armor glistening in the dim light. Behind him lay the armies of the Aldmeri Dominion, nay, all of Elvenkind. A single, mighty force, comprised of High Elves, Wood Elves, Dark Elves, Kahjiit, and even Argonians. True, the army had seen better days, and all the soldiers were restless and nervous, but the army of the elves was still a frightening force.
But even they, in all their glory and splendor, paled in comparison to their adversaries. A force of such destructive power, a force only bred for one purpose: to obliterate man, elf, and beast alike. It was a force designed to dominate all of Tamriel.
"My Liege! I bring urgent news!"
A squad of calvary scouts suddenly crest the hill where the Elf King stands, riding at a dead gallop. The Elf doesn't even bother to dismount. He clutches the reins and his horse rears up on it's hind legs, and behind him, the sun creeps over the horizon, highlighting the scout's glass armor. So then, the Elf King thinks, we come to it at last. The great battle of our time.
"The enemy is on the move! The sun has risen! The sun has risen!"
The report ripples through the army of elves, starting as a nervous mumbling, and rising to a deafening chant. The King's longtime friend and steward leads his horse to him, a beautiful white stallion and majestic war horse. He smiles before handing over the reins. The King swiftly mounts, and turns to face the army at his back.
"Sound the horns!!! We ride!! Without fear, without doubt!! We ride!! To ruin, and to the Vale!! Let us show these invaders the power of the Dominion!! No... LET US SHOW THEM THE MIGHT OF TAMRIEL!!!!"
A symphony of horn blasts soon follows, and the battle cry of a hundred thousand defiant souls breaches the very heavens themselves. "CHARGE!!!!!"
The thunder of thousands of galloping hooves shake the land, as wave upon wave of calvary crests the hill, riding to meet the sea of darkness head on. There, on those desolate fields, amidst the falling ash, the two greatest armies in history wage the greatest battle ever recorded. Steel clashes against steel, magic wars with magic. The sheer chaos of the battle is indescribable, and Varren loses himself in the dance. Horses and riders alike are impaled on a sea of spikes, but the frontline of the enemy crumples, and the elves cut a swath of destruction straight through the enemy's ranks. Demons swoop down from above, only to be blasted out of the sky by a volley of lightning bolts. Wielding the sword of his ancestors, Lightrend, in one hand and the power of a thunderstorm in the other, the Warrior King sweeps through the enemy like a plague, leaving only destruction in his wake. Hundreds upon hundreds of Elves fall in the initial assault, but for a while, it seems like Elvenkind is on the verge of victory. At least, until, the Listener enters the fray.
She is like a goddess of old, Varren thinks to himself, admittedly impressed. She flies through the battlefield like a tornado, leaving thousands dead in her wake. Varren urges his horse faster, and rides to meet her, and thus, the battle between the Listener and the Elf King begins. The two titans clash for hours straight, each unable to gain the advantage over the other. The armies on each side give them a wide berth, and even cease fighting to watch. Then, finally, it seems as if the end has been decided. Varren catches the Listener off guard, sending her crashing to her knees from a full power Lightning Storm spell. He brings his sword around instantly, in a single fluid motion, preparing to decapitate her. But the blow never lands. What would have happened that fateful day will never be known, not now, now that He has risen.
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 9:15:10 GMT -6
Slightly cold,the only thought going through a mans head. His eyes opened slowly, trying to regain their focus.
A flutter,and a gentle groan. The figure flipped himself over and axes at the Ice he found himself on.
"Who....am I?" He thought. He racked his brain for answers as he put one foot forth and tumbled harshly on the ice field.
Red hair and blue eyes moved as te figure attempted to repea this action.
"Stand." A voice whispered softly and the man turned around bemused.
"W-where are you?" He slurred. A flash of black and red caught his attention.
"Sieg...mund." It whispered. "Is that my name?" The boy wondered and mad his way over to the light.
A lance and sword with matching red and black color schemes lay crossed over each other.
The sword was of regal looks and on the blade contained writing in some language siegemund could not understand.
The hilt was a midnight black that matched the shaft of the lance. The lances three pronged blades were a crimson red.
Siegmund picked them up carefully,his arms trembling from the sudden energy he was filled with.
Siegemund looked down to see he was dressed in tattered remains of a grey tunic and blue pants. They was no place to place these weapons if he tried.
"I need to find a way out of here." He thought. The weapons on the ground began to float,startling him.
They attached themselves to his tunic,clinging on for life.
"Magic? Impressive. First thing, find a village and new clothes." The amnesiac thought to himself.
Yet one thought rung through his head as he trudged through the ice.
"Who am I?"
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Post by Neo on May 23, 2014 9:20:46 GMT -6
5E 1, 3rd of Last Seed
Am I... Dead? How long have I been trapped here...?
These questions rage in his mind, as he floats through the Void, formless and soulless. A memory stirs within, of a great white dragon bathed in light, and of a great battle, and then the memory is gone. And, so eventually, are the questions. He, the being who has no body yet is not dead, embraces the calm silence, and the quiet eternity of his new existence.
Some time later-perhaps seconds or years, who can tell when time does not exist?- a voice drifts through his conscious. It is an odd voice, one that chides him for a question from so long ago... "Oh, you poor soul. Don't fret, you aren't dead yet. Now wake. You have far too much to do to be lazing around."
Varren's eyes shoot open, and he bolts upright, only to find himself beneath the blankets of a grand canopy bed. His eyes dart around the room, settling on the lone figure sitting casually in a wooden chair next to the bed. It is a woman he decides, and a beautiful one at that, though most of her features are hidden by long ornate purple robes. Well, her robes do leave some air, but not exactly around the body parts he expected... Unless he's in a brothel. "Who are you?" He croaks, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
The enigmatic woman grins slightly from beneath her hood. "You may call me Nocturnal. And this, my pet, is the Evergloam. Welcome."
A tide of memories suddenly rushes to the forefront of his mind, and Varren almost hurls. He leans over the edge of the bed, but nothing comes out, and he groans. Damn... "What the hell am I doing alive?"
The Daedric Mistress of Night arches a single, perfectly formed eyebrow. "Pardon? How rude. I would have at least thought you would be grateful."
Varren rolls his eyes. "Then you thought wrong, my lady. I'd rather be back in the Void than this rotten world."
Her eyes narrow slightly, and her joking manor falters. "I'm afraid that isn't an option. I didn't risk my own existence to bring you back just for you to tell me to f*** off. Whether you like it or not, you're here now. And you're going to kill Sithis for me."
Varren feels his eyes widen. "Kill Sithis?! Are you freaking nuts lady?! Is that even possible?! Besides, you have a far better chance at that than me!"
The dark Empress sighs, visibly stressed, though he isn't sure how much is an act. "While it pains me to admit this, I don't stand much of a chance against the Dread Lord on my own. But you just might. You were granted a gift from Akatosh before he fell. And with my help... You might be able to remain invisible to Sithis until you gain the power required to defeat Him. And besides... Aren't you supposed to worship me?! Whatever happened to the old ways, huh Elf?!"
Varren scoffs. "I'm not much of a religious man milady, nor am I the skulking type. And you know as well as I do my kind hasn't worshipped the Daedra in over 500 years. Nice try though, I'll give you that. But then again... I don't see how arguing with you will get me anywhere. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave vengeance. So I'll play along, for now."
Nocturnal's eyes sparkle with mirth, and she grins widely. "Good. That's what I like. Obedience. Now, I hope you're ready, because we have a lot of work to do."
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 11:12:24 GMT -6
The amnesiac man shivered. He had been walking through this ice field for 6 hours straight.
The cold had recently begun to affect him about two minutes ago.
He looked up to see a small village surrounded by a lush forest and sighed.
He hissed as his feet touched the sun beaten earthly soil.
He made his way inside the village looking around. A hooded man passed him and he turned clutching the figures shoulder.
Where am I?" He croaked wearily. The figure turned around to reveal the face of a Cat and piercing yellow eyes.
"Remove your hand from me." The khajilt growled,eyes shining with distrust
"A talking...cat?!" Siegemund said bemused. The cat snarled as it bared its teeth, or rather fangs.
"It's Khajilt." The khajilt snarled before. Throwing Siegmund into a nearby merchant stand.
Siegemunds grunted as his back landed roughly,before the stand split in half.
The merchant came around the front an angry look etched on her face," get out of here." She hissed to the khajilt.
Siegemund took the time to glance at her. Her hair was a sunny blonde and she had piercing emerald eyes. She was dressed in some sort of grey light armor.
The khajilt sneered before walking off behind a small hut.
"Thank you." Siegemund whispered. He stood to his feet and looked bashfully at the broken stand.
The merchant smiled revealed pearly white teeth.
"Don't worry, my name is Nephle by the way. Although, you might want to work at my shop for awhile to pay off.... This." She motioned towards the after mentioned stand.
Siegemund glances at her and nods. "I need the funds anyway." He thought.
Nephle makes her way around the stand and looks him over.
"I've got some clothes back at my place. Come." She demands.
With nary a word the amnesiac follows her,his thoughts on his memories.
"Great, I wake up without a clue of where I am and what my life is like and now I'm being thrown into stands."
He let's out a chuckle at the thought.
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 23, 2014 12:06:45 GMT -6
Knock knock.
The door to Avenicci's room in the inn sounded as two burly men, a Redguard and a Breton, tapped on the door to wake the sleeping Imperial.
"Avenicci! You owe the big man some money! Pay your debt and we'll leave you alone!" The Breton called as he shuffled with the locked door.
"Just tell him not to leave a shiny ebony sword lying around then!" Avenicci yelled back through the door as he rolled in his bed. "I didn't take it anyways! It was probably just some stupid pickpocket who was way in over his head."
"We have a witness saying that he saw you take it!" The Breton shuffled with the door once more. "Now pay up!"
"Bollocks!" Avenicci shouted as he fell out of bed and scrambled for the ebony sword in question under his bed in a desperate bid to hide it. "I said I don't have it! Come back later please!"
"Trogdor! Get the door!" The Breton told his Redguard companion before he kicked the door down.
"Yer gonna have to pay me fer that, ya know!?" The Nord innkeeper yelled from behind the two.
"Uhh, here you go!" Avenicci cried as he tossed the blade at the two angry men along with a staff. "The staff's free. It shoots fireballs, don't hurt me!"
"Well that was short, coward." The Redguard spat on Avenicci before leaving with the Breton.
After a few minutes had passed, Avenicci looked back under his bed to see a very shiny golden amulet and matching ring where the ebony sword once was.
Classic. They get the sword, I get the jewelry, and they get a free Dremora Lord.
Avenicci soon heard screams from outside the inn as he got his fancy clothing on and his favorite staff before walking outside to see the two men from before dead on the ground with burn marks where their heads were given a vacation from their bodies.
"I hope you won't mind." He smiled as he knelt down and picked up the sword before finding the staff he gave them and putting it on his back next to his favorite one.
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Post by Neo on May 23, 2014 13:42:12 GMT -6
"So, how do you like your new home? Evergloam is by far my favorite realm."
Varren merely blinks, unsure what to make of this Deadra. From all the stories and myths of Nocturnal, she always seemed so... Unfeeling. Indifferent. Completely devoid of emotion. But in person, she's so much more... Interesting. Still, that doesn't mean he's keen on living here. "I'm sorry? I think I misheard you, my lady."
Nocturnal chuckles. "Oh, you heard me correctly. You were far too expensive, my pet. I can't exactly have you living out in the wilds, now can I? What if someone recognised you? Or if you were captured... If Sithis caught wind of our scheme... Well, it would be bad for both of us. No, it's best you stay here."
Oh, hell no... Like that's gonna happen. "No offense Nocturnal, I bet you aren't used to providing hospitality. But I can't stay here. We can do all the training in the world here, but it won't make an ounce of difference. The real answer is out there, I know it. My people need me. And I need vengeance."
Nocturnal suddenly stops dead in her tracks. She turns, slowly, and all the emotion has fled her face. Varren's blood cools. Okay... Maybe he pushed her a bit too far... "You just don't get it, do you? You don't seem to quite grasp your situation. Follow me."
Not wanting to push her further, he obeys the goddess's command. Nocturnal leads him down a long hallway, into the lobby of her palace, and eventually into a grand indoor garden, the size of a small forest. At the very rear of the garden is a stone pedestal, upon which lies a particularly large Soul Gem. And that is...?
"Your Soul," Nocturnal replies cryptically.
Varren's eyes widen with surprise. "But... How? Sithis Himself killed me! How in the name of the Divines did you..."
"Oh, it's not the whole thing obviously. It's only a fraction."
Varren gives her a confused look, and Nocturnal actually sighs. "Look, there's something you need to understand. Nothing happens in the Void without the Dread Lord knowing. It was literally impossible, even for me, to take you from there unnoticed. So I had to come up with a convincing lie to bargain for your soul. Basically, I bought the rites to part of your soul, and by extension, you. Understand? You belong to me now. Work for me, I'll give you your soul back. Defeat Sithis..."
"And I'll get all my soul back," Varren finishes. "Fine, fine. I'll do as you say. But I still think you'd be a fool to keep me locked up here."
Nocturnal grins. "Who ever said I intended to keep you locked up?"
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 23, 2014 15:12:55 GMT -6
After relishing in his work, Avenicci went back to the inn, the Four Shields Tavern, and set the ebony blade on the counter where the innkeeper, Helga, was passing out drinks.
"Sorry about those men, this should cover my payment and the door." Avenicci smiled as he tapped his fingers against the hilt. "Don't worry, it's not stolen, at least from an honest man. If you want me to leave and spare you the trouble, don't think twice about asking."
"Didn't ye tell me that yeh couldn't speak to ladies?" Helga replied as she scrubbed a dirty mug.
"Did I say you were a lady?" Avenicci cracked a smile before pushing the sword aside. "Seriously though, I'll leave if you need me to in order to keep this inn."
"Now ye bring me more Septims than the inn does!" She exclaimed as she took the sword and put it in a locked drawer. "Pah, I could probably buy another inn in a few weeks. I'll tolerate ya, but only if ya keep them jokes on the low, ya hear?"
"Of course, lady." Avenicci responded with a note of sarcasm as he bowed and headed back out of the inn. "Whatever you do, please don't touch any staves I have in my room. You'd probably burn the bloody inn down in the time it'd take to down a bottle of Alto."
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Post by Osranger on May 23, 2014 16:04:15 GMT -6
Dorian fought the urge to whistle, to tap the branch, or scratch his nose. He fought the urge to do anything as he sat on his perch in the branches of the thick-trunked pine tree he decided to hide on. He knew it was a bad idea coming to Riften, but he got a tip from a supposedly trustworthy source that Crystaldrift Cavern had some treasure in it. Dorian desperately needed some gold in his pocket if he wanted enough rent to secure a room for the off season. This one trip should have saved him the trouble of heading to the Pals to hunt Horkers. The Horkers aren't so bad. Their meat sells well, and their slow, fat bodies make for easy targets, but out on the open ice Dorian can't help but feel exposed, not only to the elements, but to whatever hides themselves in the icy winds. If the cold winds and thin ice weren't enough, up north one must beware sabre toothed cats with pelts the color of freshly fallen snow with spackles of black to hide in plain sight, and Ice wraiths, which can freeze am a solid just by passing through them. Spiders, wolves, and even the occasional troll He can handle, but his archery skills are useless against enemies he can't see or touch.
And now he was in a tree, hiding from the Thieve's Guild. Frankly, it wasn't much better of a situation. When Dorian made it to the spot marked on the map he was given (marked with an X of course), there were two not-so-friendly archers waiting for him. Dorian put two arrows in them and relieved them of their own, but there were more guild members outside. He still doesn't know how he managed to get away. Some arrows flew, certainly, but it was all a blur.
Since then, he took a jump in a lake, was attacked by a mud crab, and three spiders. He snuck by a bear and didn't sneak by four guild members. He disarmed two, maimed a third (his adventuring days are probably behind him), was knocked out by the fourth. Then, he was thrown in jail, so he had to pick pocket a guard to escape from jail, knocked out a different guard and stole his uniform, his short sword, his shield, his bow and seven arrows, to escape from the city. The guild was probably already informed of his escape, so he ditched the sword and the shield in the nearest body of water he could find and climbed a tree a quarter mile west of it.
So he was there, in a tree, without his hunting gear, or his knife, or most of his arrows, stuck up in a tree that would hold his weight, where he would inevitably get captured if he didn't figure out what to do next.
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Post by Neo on May 24, 2014 15:03:30 GMT -6
Sometime later, Nocturnal's words still bothered Varren. Not the part about her keeping him prisoner, or not keeping him prisoner rather, as he simply linked that to her almost insatiable need to play puppet master. After all, it was common knowledge the Deadric Lords enjoyed playing with mortals. No, it was what she said about the Void that truly puzzled him. According to Nocturnal, nothing happened in the Void with the Dread Lord's explicit consent and knowledge. And yet... Nocturnal mentioned Akatosh granting him a gift, and he specifically remembers having a vision about a giant dragon made of light. That must have been Him. But something doesn't quite add up... If Akatosh Himself truly visited me, then why would Sithis agree to let me go?
Akatosh and Sithis are archenemies. If Akatosh took an interest in someone, that usually meant they were very powerful, and had a crucial destiny. Why would Sithis so casually dismiss a potential threat? Is he that arrogant, so sure of his reign? Or...
"Hey! How about you stop daydreaming and pay attention!" Nocturnal snaps, clearly annoyed.
Oooh, someone's cranky... Varren can't help but grin. Call him crazy, or maybe suicidal, but it's kinda fun annoying her. "Fine, fine. What were you going on about? Lecturing me about the Thuu'm, or some similar nonsense? Look, I appreciate the effort. I really do. But I'm no more a Nord than you are a loving housewife. It isn't gonna work, baby."
Nocturnal actually growls. "Oh, you are so lucky I can't kill you. But I can make your life here a living hell."
A sudden intense pressure develops in Varren's chest, squeezing his lungs like apples. He gasps for air, and his eyes bulge. Thick obsidian chains manifest around his body, forcing him to his knees faster than a right hand from a Frost Giant. He gasps in agony as the chains squeeze tighter, and his vision begins to fade. Nocturnal vanishes into mid air, materializing right next to him. She kneels behind him, wrapping her arms around his throat, and breathes into his ear, her voice colder than ice. "Listen, baby. You need to learn who's the boss around here. Let me give you a hint: it isn't you. Now, you can be good, and I promise you your time here will be quite... Enjoyable. Or, I can leave you like this for days on end, and give you just enough oxygen to survive. Your choice."
"I... I'll cooperate," he stammers, self preservation winning out over defiance.
Nocturnal releases him from her embrace and rises to her feet. As soon as she does, the pressure abruptly vanishes, as do the chains, leaving the once proud King of Elves gasping for air at Nocturnal's feet. She smiles in satisfaction at the sight.
Varren grits his teeth as he slowly, carefully stands. To think, the great King of the Dominion so easily brought low... Oh, how his people would laugh at him now. "Fine Nocturnal, you win. But don't expect me to be submissive. It's not who I am."
Nocturnal only smiles. "Good. You're more fun that way. Now, since my 'lectures' seem to bore you, how about we move on to a more practical lesson, hmm? It's time I teach you how to Shout."
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 24, 2014 15:48:40 GMT -6
Avenicci stopped to spit on the bodies of the two men as he passed by them on his way across the bridge.
They shouldn't have messed with a mage, especially one born into the Thieves Guild of Cyrodiil.
Thoughts of his family dwelt in his mind as he crossed the Dragon Bridge that the town was named after.
Most of them are probably dead by now. Father couldn't stand the cold and mom was more of a sneak then an adventurer. Adrianna might still be alive, probably working for or against the Guild here. Dorian went with her, so who knows where he is right now. He made a good spot of tea, that one.
Avenicci didn't even flinch in thought as he flung a Withering Bolt at a wolf who had begun to run towards him.
Charles is definitely dead. Bloody eejit couldn't even open a bottle of mead. D'zahad is probably acting as a guard for a merchant. Only Khajiit I knew with a sense of honor.
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2014 16:24:01 GMT -6
Siegemund shifted. He couldn't get to sleep no matter how hard he tried. "Maybe I should talk to Nephle." He thought.
Screeching from downstairs made him think otherwise.
Nephle was moving something he concluded as tossed to his right side.
"I can't believe I learned to fight like that." He thought, Smiling. Earlier that day he had been surprised when Nephle brought him to her private training grounds.
She had given him a sword and wa just as surprised as he was when he ripped apart two training dummies in less than a minute.
"I must have been a great warrior in my previous life." He laughed.
"A great what?" A voice asked.
Siegemund jumped at the sound and was on his feet, Blade drawn. He relaxed when he saw it was Nephle.
"Sorry." He muttered and threw his sword into the corner.
Nephle rose a small eyebrow and grinned.
"Watch it wonder boy, I may be a merchant but that's by the only thing I can do."
Siegemund wasn't sure if she was threatening him or jesting. "Are you flirting?" He said taken aback. Although, he had admit she was beautiful.
The woman rolled her eyes," not flirting , but I have a job for you to do. Tomorow I'm traveling past this village and...
"You want a bodyguard?" Siegemund interjected.
She nods, a serious look on her face.
Siegemund wasn't so sure about her offer,but he did need the money and she was te only person he knew so far.
"I'll be your bodyguard,but first can you get me some new clothes?" He asked sheepishly.
Nephle claps her hands as she makes her way over to him. "Good we leave for tomorrow now chop chop we need to get there before the Khajilts start roaming the streets."
Siegemund pursed his lips. Why dod no on like khajilts,sure or had threw him into a stand but he didn't see anything besides that.
"Why are you scared of khajilts?" He asked quietly.
Nephle gave him a confused look before sighing.
"I'm not scared of them,but...they don't exactly have the best reputation out there and most I see, are doing crime."
She explained. She was already walking downstairs before Siegemund did.
"I'll investigate myself." He vowed. He scurried over to his sword and followed her down.
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 25, 2014 13:14:59 GMT -6
Avenicci yawned as he continued southward to an end that he had forgotten.
Why did I cross the bridge again? Oh yes, soul collection. Nasty business, that is. Chillwind Depths should have some Falmer and spiders left.
He stopped as he saw a young Dunmer woman lying dead in the road with a chitin arrow in her back.
Why the bloody Oblivion don't they learn? Falmer just appear near here with no explanation. I've cleared out Chillwind multiple times and tell the caravans that they just keep appearing, but they come here anyways! The Falmer learn more than these bloody idiots! Apotheosis, I hope you're ready for some ugly souls.
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2014 14:01:04 GMT -6
Siegemund sneaked past Nephle who was running over to buy some things for her convoy.
He turned down an alleyway and walked up to the nearest Khajilt,
" why are you hated?" He asked bluntly. The khajilt turned to face him and bared its teeth.
"Why are you bothering?" It sneered. Siegemund took a step back as it rose to its Hind legs.
"I just need questions answere, I'm an amnesiac see." Siegemund answered.
His heart was rapidly accelerating.
The khajilt stared at him for a moment before stalking off.
"Humans fear us because of our bestial appearance. Now get lose Nord." It replied.
Siegemund stood there not knowing what to do.
"And I still don't know what a Nord is and what I have to with it." He thought.
"Well tiger, you sure are sneaky." Nephle's voice called.
He knew that now he was royally screwed.
"And by the grace of Stormcloak." He thought sarcastically.
It never crossed his mind that he didn't even know what a stormcloak was or who.
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 25, 2014 15:44:30 GMT -6
Avenicci grabbed his favorite staff as he headed toward the cave entrance, only to feel someone tug at his Daedric staff as he stumbled on a small rock.
"You've gotten sloppy." A gentlemanly voice called from behind him as he straightened his form. "You didn't even bother to check the body."
"I know." Avenicci spoke rigidly as he slowly bent down to pick up his staff that was taken from him.
"You don't have anything to say to me, Avenicci?" The voice spoke again with an inquisitive tone.
"Nothing that you don't probably know already." Avenicci answered as he breathed in. "You still have it, correct?"
"Ah, yes, the ring." The voice responded as a small golden band landed in Avenicci's now open palm. "I take it that you understand what it means now."
"I should once I examine it, Dorian." Avenicci turned to hug the figure who was revealed to be a somewhat elderly Imperial dressed in fine clothes with a neatly trimmed beard. "How'd you find me, you blimey, man you? You could have sent letters!"
"Mistress Adrianna forbade me from doing so." Dorian answered as he pushed out of the hug. "She released me from service, so I thought I'd make my way to you. Adrianna has also requested to me to keep her location as a secret from you."
"Witch." Avenicci muttered his breath as he looked at the ring again before putting it on. "Anyways, I don't have any business for you right now. Perhaps you could do some research for me on the nature of Ice Wraiths. I'm not familiar with them, so I should study lest I face one unprepared."
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Post by Neo on May 27, 2014 9:52:17 GMT -6
As it turns out, Shouting isn't really all that difficult. At least not for Varren. Nocturnal assures him it's infinitely more difficult for a normal person, and it takes years, if not decades of practice but... Well, he hasn't exactly met anyone else who can Shout, so he can't really say if that's true or not. The last person who was known to Shout died centuries ago. Still, it's an odd feeling, Shouting. It's like focusing the very power of one's own soul. According to his peculiar instructor, his Shout is called 'Bend Will' in mortal tongue, and is used to force others to do your bidding. Ironic really, considering he's been doing that for most of his life anyway. Once he's mastered all three words, and can effortlessly bend nature, Nocturnal decides it's time to up the stakes.
"You want me to do what?" Varren asks in disbelief.
Nocturnal rolls her eyes and gives him a look that makes him think she's suddenly doubting his intelligence. "I didn't stammer, did I? Now that you possess total understanding of your Shout, you can even command Daedra to do your bidding. I happen to be a Daedra. So order me to do something. I don't know, use your imagination. Make me undress or something."
Varren merely blinks for a moment. Why does he get the feeling she's baiting him... Well, he can't just stand here gaping all day... Hmm. Imagination huh? Hmm... Varren suddenly grins. "Gol Hah Dov!" He Shouts, using all the force he can muster.
Varren fully expects to see the goddess strip down to her underclothes and start prancing around like a pony. Unfortunately, much to his dismay, it never happens. After a few minutes, Varren sighs. Well, so much for that idea.
Nocturnal gives an uncharacteristic smile. "Don't feel too disheartened. You came quite close to succeeding. Closer than any before you. The power of your Thuu'm is not to be trifled with. In fact, a lesser Daedra would be your willing slave right now."
Varren blinks... Again. Did Nocturnal just... Compliment him? "Yes, I complimented you. Don't get used to it. And close your mouth. I don't like men who drool over me."
He does as she says, still a bit stunned. "So, does this mean we're finished with my training?" He asks hopefully.
Nocturnal gives a very unladylike snort. "Don't bet on it. Give it a couple more weeks, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be ready to serve as my Champion. What did you order me to do, anyway?"
Yeah... He knows better to answer that. "I... Used my imagination," he replies simply, and Nocturnal gives him a curious look before dropping it.
Little did he know then, what kinda hell awaited him those next two weeks.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2014 11:57:53 GMT -6
"I can explain." Siegemund started, but was caught off by Nephle grabbing his arm.
"I'm sure you can, Tiger." Nephle snorted.
"Stop calling me that." He demanded, Trying to remove his arm from her bull-like grip.
A horse near the convoy turned and snorted at them.
"You bought a horse?" He said flabbergasted. Nephle shrugged and climbed in.
"Faster travel." She said simply. Siegemund had no time to reply as she cracked the reins and they were off.
He clutched the sides of the convoy desperately trying to hold on. He paled as he heard a long howl into the night and from the distance twelve pairs of red eyes opened."wolves." He groaned aloud.
he could here the pitter patter of their feet as the sprinte towards them.
"hey Siegemund do something." Nephle yelled back.
What he thought was wolves actually turned out to be Khajilt dressed in dark clothing. And red masks.
"Must be a rare breed." He thought. They were getting closer and now mere inches from his feet. Siegemund drew his sword and begin wildly hack and their noses.
"Back! Uh, that's right scatter." He yelled. The khajilt seemed to growl more before it lunged into the convoy.
"Gold!" It crowed. It's face met Siegemunds feet as it tumbled from the convoy. Siegemund was uncertain what to next and felt an unfamiliar warmth wash over him.
"Fo Krah Diin," a Serene voice said in his head,"say it and then inhale and exhale child."
"Fo Krah Diin!" Siegemund repeated at the top of his lungs. He breathed in and then let out a powerful breath of frost much to his surprise. The khajilt growled as the icy wind blew it back. it shivered and let out a snarl before it and the others ran off. mere seconds later the frosted Khajilts dropped to the ground dead.
Siegemund dropped to his knees and stared at his hands. The power he just felt was invigorating.
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Post by GX1997 on May 27, 2014 14:47:16 GMT -6
Lorelei had been tracking a group of elk through the area near Dragon Bridge. Staying close to the water, she knew it was only a matter of time before she located them.
Well, this is a good way to waste some time and make some extra money before I leave to help that guy search for Auriel's Bow.
Once she saw the elk, Lorelei quickly decided to target the largest one. But she saw two men talking to each other, and they weren't moving, which made things slightly more complicated since they were fairly close to her target. Still, she knew that as long as she got to slightly higher ground, she could easily kill the elk without the chance of even grazing the men.
She climbed up to the lowest branch in a nearby tree, and readied the arrow. Just a second later, she sent it flying at the unsuspecting elk as it grazed.
It should go beside the one nearest to the elk, but stay about a foot and a half away from him. Close enough to get their attention, but far enough that they'll know they're not my targets.
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Post by Golurkcanfly on May 27, 2014 15:17:38 GMT -6
Avenicci's instincts activated as he caught an arrow flying in front of him with a Telekinesis spell.
Assassin? No, it's steel. Bandits aren't that stealthy, so...
"Hunter, you shouldn't shoot that close to civilians!" Avenicci shouted as he grabbed the arrow and tossed it behind him. "Especially near an old butler who may or may not die of heart attack soon."
"Master Avenicci, I'm not that old." Dorian whispered in the magician's ear.
"I know." Avenicci replied as he turned his head to face Dorian before looking near the arrow's point of origin. "Elk are harder to find now, but I'm sure you'll find one again soon."
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Post by GX1997 on May 27, 2014 15:58:25 GMT -6
Let's see if you're powerful enough to stop a few bound arrows...
Lorelei summoned a Bound Bow, making very little noise as she did because of her experience with Conjuration magic. It was one of the few spells she still used, or maybe one of the only ones she still could use. Regardless, she wouldn't have been using magic if she wasn't very annoyed with the man's actions.
She fired three arrows right at the man's feet, carefully aiming so they would end up as close to his feet as they could without actually hitting him.
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