The War of Necromancy
4E 1: The Champion of Cyrodiil puts an end to the King of Worms and the Order of the Black Worm falls apart following his death.
4E 73: The Mede Empire falls apart, leaving chaos in the power vacuum. Tamriel is quickly conquered by the long, lost son of Martin Septim.
4E 212: A lich known as, “Gulas Myneld” slays Arch Mage Aron Gothren for the murder of Raynil Dralas, a dear friend of Gulas.
4E 215: The successor of Gothren, Colin Draconis bans necromancy within the Mages’ Guild and coerces Emperor Reman Septim to make the practice punishable by death by using threats of war with the Mages’ Guild.
4E 223: Gulas Myneld meets a lich who is more magical than mortal. The lich offers to help Gulas against the Mages’ Guild, he asks for nothing in return. Gulas fears this lich more than any other being on Nirn.
4E 225: The Order of the Black Dragon is formed by the lich.
The undead grunts of the Order of the Black Dragon have no rank or status within the Order, and are merely undying soldiers ready for battle at the command of their superiors.
The Order of the Black Dragon is split into three tiers...
The Caste of the Black Skull is the first tier, and is made up of Necromancer Initiates and Shadow Knight Squires.
The Caste of the Black Rose is the second tier, and is made up of Necromancer Adepts and Shadow Knights. Several Nightblades are also in this tier as spies for the Order of the Black Dragon.
The Caste of the Black Soul is the third tier. Only the most elite ever come to this tier. It is made up of Liches and Shadow Knights who have distinguished themselves in battle by showing extraordinary ability or leadership.
4E 232: The hostilities between the Order of the Black Dragon and the Mages’ Guild are no longer considered skirmishes, but rather war between the factions.
4E 240: Most of Tamriel has been lost to the Order of the Black Dragon.
The Order of the Black Dragon
The Castes
The Caste of the Black Skull
“The aspirants blood will paint the walls of the gauntlet,” an anonymous Shadow Knight.
The members of the Caste of the Black Skull are called ‘aspirants’ by the members of the Caste of the Black Rose. To the Order, they’re little more than grunts.
The aspirants live in barren quarters with five other aspirants. They eat scraps and whatever they can find. Out of ten aspirants, only one survives to the Caste of the Black Rose. Traditionally, to rise above this caste, they must complete the gauntlet, survive a duel against a member of the Caste of the Black Rose, or impress a member of the High Council.
The Gauntlet is a large labyrinth that the liches formed below Mournhold’s sewers. Hundreds of undead soldiers that are little more than animated husks filled with rage defend it. The artifact that they’re sent to retrieve is guarded by a wraith. Few ever attempt this, even fewer survive.
The Caste of the Black Rose
The Caste of the Black Rose is home to Necromancers, Necromancer-Adepts, Nightblades, and Shadow Knights. They live in comfortable quarters. The Necromancer and Necromancer-Adepts are often found supporting the Shadow Knights in battle. The Nightblades are often spies and elite assassins.
It is nearly impossible to join the Caste of the Black Soul. Those that do are revered as living gods by those beneath them. Gulas Myneld personally challenges any who try to become a member of the Caste of the Black Soul to a duel. Any who survive a duel with him are welcome to try several herculean tasks.
The Caste of the Black Soul
The most elite of the Order of the Black Dragon are in this caste. Liches, the most elite Shadow Knights, and a few Nightblades who have assassinated extremely high priority targets join this caste. Those in this caste live in lavish quarters, often holding towers or castles with many undead thralls.
The liches are battle-field commanders as are the Shadow Knights. The Shadow Knights serve as generals, leading thousands of soldiers into battle. The Nightblades often are part of an elite strike team.
Those in this caste are feared and exalted amongst those beneath them. Many aspirants will obey any order they give, either out of fear or loyalty, even if it could mean their own suicide.
The Provinces
High Rock: The necromancers and their shadow knights were pushed back by the Breton Mages of High Rock. However, many Bretons died during the battles that were located in High Rock.
Hammerfell: The Redguards of Hammerfell resiliently held out for months against the armies of the Order of the Black Dragon. Eventually a nightblade assassinated the rebel leader, a Redguard with the name of “Cyrus Shinji.” They crumbled after Cyrus died, because their leadership was gone.
Skyrim: The mountainous terrain of Skyrim protected it from the armies of the dead, however none doubt that nightblades and necromancers are deep within Skyrim’s borders just waiting for the moment to strike.
Morrowind: The mainland was razed by a Telvanni Lich and his army. The Lich devastated the jungle-mainland leaving only death in his wake. The Lich didn’t dare touch Vvardenfell, because his lands, Tel Vos were there.
The Black Marsh: When the Argonian Marsh Warriors resisted the influence of the Order of the Black Dragon, a lich poisoned the land, killing most of the flora and nearly all of the fauna.
Elsweyr: The khajiit left their desert home when the Order of the Black Dragon came, where they went was unknown. All that was known was that they left for the seas, hoping to never return to Tamriel.
Valenwood: The Bosmer defended with ferocity that you would expect of an animal. Some even participated in the Wild Hunt, turning into vicious animals. Valenwood was destroyed, as were the Imga. Great casualties came to the Order of the Black Worm, but with each death led to another soldier.
The Summerset Isles: Contact was lost with them during the War of Necromancy.
Cyrodiil: The Imperial City is the only true safe haven in Cyrodiil. Only the Royal Family, the Mages’ Guild, and the Blades are allowed in the Imperial City. Bravil and Leyawiin are the first cities to fall. Chorrol, Anvil, Skingrad, and Cheydinal are all attacked simultaneously and fall hastily.
Shadow Knights lead patrols across Cyrodiil, hunting for any survivors.
Zalphon
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Name: Nym Dralas
Race: Dark Elf (Dunmer)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Lady
Alignment: Lawful Good
Skin Color: Ashen-Gray
Eye Color: Deep Red
Hair Color: Black as night.
Hair Length: To his shoulder blades.
Special Appearance (Tattoo, facial hair, etc): His body is scarred.
Class: Shadow Knight
Class Description: A Shadow Knight is one of the elite trained necromancers who’re skilled in magic, as well as in physical combat.
Skills (Morrowind Skills)
Major Skills (5): Long Blade, Heavy Armor, Conjuration, Destruction, Speechcraft
Minor Skills (5): Restoration, Block, Marksman, Armorer, Hand-to-Hand
Armor: A Suit of Blackened Steel Armor without a helm. As well as a kite shield that is made of the same material.
Weapon(s): A long sword made of blackened steel. The hilt is white, and the pommel has a ruby.
Food/Drink: A wrapped up loaf of bread and a bag of nix-hound jerky.
Alchemical (and Potions): A Mortar and Pestle and several herbs.
Literature: A journal with a quill and vial of black ink.
Personal Items: None.
Gold: None.
Biography: Nym was born to two peasants. Raynil and Drusilla Dralas were his parents. Raynil was a farmer who worked on a farm right outside the gates of Skingrad. Drusilla was the caretaker of Nym and his younger sister, Saraya.
Raynil’s body couldn’t suffer the abuse of the farm any longer when Nym turned twelve. The broken old man died a few weeks later from Blacklung. Drusilla fell into a spiraling depression after the death of her soul mate.
During Nym’s later adolescence, Drusilla took a knife to her own heart so she wouldn’t have to bare the suffering of life anymore. Forced to take actions, Nym joined the Fighters’ Guild so he could support himself and his younger sister.
Nym quickly became revered by his fellow guild members. Saraya eventually left Skingrad for a new home. Saraya didn’t tell her brother where she was headed; she just vanished from his life.
In search of his sister, he left Skingrad. A few miles outside of Skingrad, he was ambushed by several nightblades. They brought him to Mournhold; a city that was once filled with life was now filled with necromancers, skeletal soldiers, and shadow knights.
He joined the Order of the Black Dragon and became a Shadow Knight Squire. His superiors found that he had a natural talent with the blade and an innate aura of fear. Knight-Lord Gray commended him for his extraordinary talents.
He became a full Shadow Knight. He led the Death’s Fist legion in Hammerfell, which wrought havoc across the province. Nym ordered his top nightblade to assassinate the leader, when it happened, the Order of the Black Dragon was in complete control.
For taking over Hammerfell using only his legion, he became a member of the Caste of the Black Soul. He was then charged with taking Cyrodiil by Knight-Lord Gray. When the Death’s Fist legion was destroyed at Skingrad by the Colin Draconis and an army of battle-mages, he was to be executed.
He escaped and headed to Elsweyr to hide. The desert was in control of the Order of the Black Dragon, but he managed to hide in the dunes. For months, every time he went to sleep he had nightmares about his time with the Order of the Black Dragon.
Every time he slept, he remembered seeing the faces of those that met with his blade or were slain by his spells. He felt a sense of deep remorse for his gratuitous violence in the name of the Order of the Black Dragon.
He swore an oath to repent. The Shadow Knight was going to use his power over the dead and his training to battle the Order of the Black Dragon…
Jack Cloudy
----------------
Name: Swift-like-Fish
Race: Argonian
Age: 42
Gender: male
Birthsign: Serpent
Alignment: lawful neutral
Skin Color: rusty brown
Eye Color: red
Hair Color: none.
Hair Length: zero
Special Appearance (Tattoo, facial hair, etc): He's got a double row of short spines running from his snouth and down his spine. Also a few minor scars from when he got bitten by carnivorous fish. Other than that, he looks like any regular Argonian. Scaly, thick muscly tail, blunt claws at the end of each digit, gills etc.
Class: Fisherman
Class Description:
A fisherman is just that, someone who fishes. Whether it is by harpoon, bare hands or using the pole, fishermen are a patient lot and often as adept at swimming as the prey they hunt.
Skills (Morrowind Skills)
Major Skills (5):
spear (Only light ones used for fishing. Don't expect him to hold a macedonian pike for long)
swimming (was this in Morrowind? I remember it being in Daggerfall at least)
short blade (for preparing fish mostly)
hand-to-hand (if you don't have any tools, you can always try grabbing them)
athleticism
Minor Skills (5):
unarmored
sneak (not moving, but he's pretty good at waiting quietly)
Ok...I'm really just trying to come up with something to fill out the list at this point
speechcraft
armorer (not much, but he knows how to fix his own stuff at least)
alteration (for swimming really damn fast)
Armor: none. He wears a simple set of pants, and a belt and harness (as in, set of belts strapped across his torso, not the weapon-stopping kind) to hang stuff from.
Weapon(s): A fishing pole, a small harpoon and a tiny knife for gutting fish
Food/Drink: He found some fruit that didn't look contaminated. No canteen though as his profession brings him close to all the drinkable water he needs...up till now at least
Alchemical (and Potions): none
Literature: none
Personal Items: Only what is already listed.
Gold: none
Biography:
Swift-like-Fish was a normal Argonian fisherman, living at the edge between Cyrodill and the Black Marsh where he spent his days fishing and doing nothing really worth mentioning.
This changed when the Black Marsh became contaminated by some sort of plague and started dying. Being an Argonian and having taken regular trips down south, Swift-like-Fish noticed the change before the disease started claiming lives. Over the past few months he has watched the lands of his people die without knowing what caused it or how to stop it.
Now that the plague is creeping up to his home on the border, he has decided he can't watch it any longer. He planned to trek north, hoping that if he could just get the ear of someone important, preferably a mage, something might be done. He hoped to be back home in a week or so, but right as he was packing his bags, an armed gang appeared at the edge of town. They didn't even make any demands or anything but just started murdering the inhabitants. Panicking, Swift only grabbed the tools of his trade on instinct before escaping into the river.
Grif11
-----------
Name:Falius (pronounced fail-ee-us)
Race:Bosmer
Age:19
Gender:Male
Birthsign:The lady
Alignment:Good, not perfect
Skin colour:Lightly tanned
Eye colour:Sky blue
Hair colour:Dark brown
Hair length:Shoulder length, tied into a ponytail
Special appearence:Left ear has the top cut off and has a tattoo of a bow firing a flaming arrow on his back
Class:Explain about DnD please before I do this
Major skills (will put obivion skills here):Marksman, blade, sneak, athletics & acrobatics
Minor skills:Restoration, Alchemy (poisons), mercantile (selling skins, hides)
Armour: the leather set that was his fathers. it steady's an archers hands
Weapons:An elven bow and his brothers hunting knife
Food/drink:A loaf of bread, apple and his flask of mead
Alchemical: An apprentice mortar & pestle and some drain health poisons
Literature:Mixed war tactics
Personal Items:The armour, flask and knife from his family chest
Gold:Keeps at least 50 gold at all times
Biography: Falius was born and raised in a small village in the heart of valenwood. From as early as 8 years old, Falius showed great skill with his fathers old bow. He could hit the dead centre of a straw target as far as 20 metres away.At the age of 13, Falius's dad took him deer hunting, where he managed to kill and skin 3 large deer.
On their way back from hunting, Falius and his dad were attacked by a lich. The lich killed Falius's dad instantly and lunged at Falius's head with a bloody, rusted knife. Falius rolled out of the way but was too slow and a third of his left ear was cut off. Ignoring the pain, he quickly notched an arrow and shot the lich the the lich through the head, killing it instantly.
Sprinting home, he arrived at a heartbreaking scene. The entire village had been set ablaze. Running over to his house at the back of the village, he found the corpse of his mother, raped and blood-soaked. At first he thought it was bandits, but then renembered the lich. It couldn't have been a coincidence, necromancers had destroyed his life.
He looked through the wrecked house for anything useful and found a chest. inside he found a flask of his mothers homemade mead, his deceased brothers hunting knife and his dads armour.
And so Falius, 6 years later found himself going to cyrodiil.
Rules
• I control important non-player characters.
• Do not kill or steal from other players.
• Do not create your own birth sign or race.
• Please have an original back story.
• Have fun.
Full Version: The War of Necromancy
Nym looked at the others in the Council Room of the White-Gold Tower. A rusty-brown scaled Argonian and a Bosmer. The Arch Mage was a tall breton man of a young age. He had shoulder-length blonde hair and was pale. "You, Ashenborn," He spit in Nym's face. "You were at High Rock."
"Indeed I was," the Dunmer replied. "I made mistakes, Mage. That's why I'm here."
The blue-robed wizard slammed his fist on the round table. "We need to take back Cyrodiil, it's their base of operations."
Nym sighed, "Anyone have any ideas?"
"Indeed I was," the Dunmer replied. "I made mistakes, Mage. That's why I'm here."
The blue-robed wizard slammed his fist on the round table. "We need to take back Cyrodiil, it's their base of operations."
Nym sighed, "Anyone have any ideas?"
"well first of all, were going to need an army," The Bosmer said while fletching some arrows. "A division of legion guards and a few wayward mercs aint gonna frighten those bone-raisers".
Swift-Like-Fish could barely keep himself from openly staring at everything around him, whether it was the room, the furniture or the people. He had been thinking about it for the last few hours yet he still didn't know how he got here in the first place. All he remembered was that after the gates turned him away, he swam through a crack in the citywalls just below the waterline. When he tried to get someone to hear his problems though, he was instead dragged to this place.
Just what did people want from him? The young elf just started talking about armies. Did they want him to fight a war?!
"This one hunts fish, not people. What advice is there to give when this one doesn't even know what these 'bone-raisers' are? Would you ask a maker of houses how to farm?" The Argonian objected before giving it some more thought.
"But no, this one does not suggest an army. The great school of fish feels secure in the company of its brethren. It has many eyes to find the careless hunter who stays in the open. But when the light harpoon strikes from cover, it will respond slowly and the fish will get in each other’s path. That is why the hunter acts alone. Many hunters in a great school of their own would merely mean more chances for the school to find the danger and flee. The ones who attacked this one’s village were not an army. They were a small group, a dozen strong at best. How can an army respond to the swift movements of these hunters? By splitting up and searching in many places? An army that splits up is no longer an army and like the hunter who works with the bow on the open field but is unfamiliar with traps in the woods, it would lose all of its effectiveness.” He said slowly, speaking the words as he found them.
“The army, if it can be gotten, let it be gotten. But keep it here, to ensure the safety of at least this place. For the hunt, this one suggests small packs of hunters used to laying traps and the deception of shadows. But where to find them? A mere laborer, craftsman or merchant would take months to learn the basics. Are there any hunters in this city of stone?”
OOC: Third-person speech is though. I keep writing in first-person and then have to correct myself.
Also, I probably made a mistake by having Swift describe the whole thing as if there are a bunch of guerillas running around and no big armies. The best excuse I can give is that his experience was restricted to a small group. He doesn't know that there are big armies of undead. (Maybe his village was attacked by a pack of black skulls trying to impress their superiors.)
Just what did people want from him? The young elf just started talking about armies. Did they want him to fight a war?!
"This one hunts fish, not people. What advice is there to give when this one doesn't even know what these 'bone-raisers' are? Would you ask a maker of houses how to farm?" The Argonian objected before giving it some more thought.
"But no, this one does not suggest an army. The great school of fish feels secure in the company of its brethren. It has many eyes to find the careless hunter who stays in the open. But when the light harpoon strikes from cover, it will respond slowly and the fish will get in each other’s path. That is why the hunter acts alone. Many hunters in a great school of their own would merely mean more chances for the school to find the danger and flee. The ones who attacked this one’s village were not an army. They were a small group, a dozen strong at best. How can an army respond to the swift movements of these hunters? By splitting up and searching in many places? An army that splits up is no longer an army and like the hunter who works with the bow on the open field but is unfamiliar with traps in the woods, it would lose all of its effectiveness.” He said slowly, speaking the words as he found them.
“The army, if it can be gotten, let it be gotten. But keep it here, to ensure the safety of at least this place. For the hunt, this one suggests small packs of hunters used to laying traps and the deception of shadows. But where to find them? A mere laborer, craftsman or merchant would take months to learn the basics. Are there any hunters in this city of stone?”
OOC: Third-person speech is though. I keep writing in first-person and then have to correct myself.
Also, I probably made a mistake by having Swift describe the whole thing as if there are a bunch of guerillas running around and no big armies. The best excuse I can give is that his experience was restricted to a small group. He doesn't know that there are big armies of undead. (Maybe his village was attacked by a pack of black skulls trying to impress their superiors.)
"your asking the wrong guy, but im guessing not. that leaves you and me" Falius said,finishing his arrowmaking and collecting the strips of wood off the floor. "From the look of it, the Legion doesn't specialize in sneaking around and mages aren't ones to hide in shadows." He took the hunting knife he had been carving with off the table and started flipping it around with a simple telekinesis spell. The blade was steel with a blue, metalic hilt. "Are you the sneaking kind... Nym was it?
Nym glanced at him, "I'm a Shadow Knight, my word is my oath and I fight with honor. I'm not a cowardly and pathetic assassin, I fight to the death when my enemy knows it."
"Honorable, huh?" Colin snorted. "And the Gray Fox never stole a thing."
"Watch your tongue, or I'll rip it out," the Dunmer growled.
"I have an idea," Nym continued. "Bruma is their least-defended territory, so if we send a small strike team to Bruma, us, they'll be distracted so the Mages' Guild can strike another city. Thoughts?"
"Honorable, huh?" Colin snorted. "And the Gray Fox never stole a thing."
"Watch your tongue, or I'll rip it out," the Dunmer growled.
"I have an idea," Nym continued. "Bruma is their least-defended territory, so if we send a small strike team to Bruma, us, they'll be distracted so the Mages' Guild can strike another city. Thoughts?"
Cyldreen observed the trampled ground beneath him with intense focus. He was heading towards the Imperial City when he stumbled upon the tracks which he was now studying. His instincts told him to check on it, just in case. The woods around him were quiet and even the wind dared not blow a gentle breeze. Magnus' rays filtered through thick legions of leaves, creating a deceptively beautiful sight. The golden masked breton kept cautiousness as he studied the mark left by some thing or someone. After all, there could be a squad of shadow knights patrolling. He relished at the thought.
... and judging by how deep it goes, I'd say barefooted or wearing light boots. That's it then. This was made by either man or mer several hours ago and they either wore boots or none at all. Strange for this to be the only track, though.. Oh well, time for a more thorough search then.
He inhaled deep and closed his eyes. In his mind, he imagined the scenery before him and touching the trampled ground, he cast the spell he was readying. He let out a shaky breath as the feeling of magicka surged through his arms like a serpent and his skin becme pricked at the tingling sensation.
Finally, he opened his eyes to see..
Nothing.
Momentarily baffled, he tried again, this time though with doubled amount of magicka. Still, he saw only bleak and the colorlesss void, rather than the usual pinkish glow of sacred life.
Minutes of thinking theories of why his spell failed coursed through his mind like the River Niben. Then, realization hit him hard across the face.
"Undead."
He reached out for the halberd in his back and scanned his surroundings wiith a leering eye. Silence only replied to his piercing gaze. The breton hmm-ed, before casting a spell that detects signs of life. He smiled sadistically as five pink glows were on top of trees, cunningly hiding them from any unsuspecting eyes.
Must have been following me. Sleeping Beauty is going to shed some blood today, how lucky for me.
Ideas and strategies already formed on his head when he drew a knife and threw it at one of the glowing shapes. He felt a satisfying sound of metal piercing flesh, followed by a hiss and a thud.
Simultenously, the remaining figures dropped down and surrounded the smilling Cyldreen. The breton dispelled the spell and he got a good look at his hunters. They were all clad in black leather that covered all of their bodies and the stench of death and decay hung around them as if incense.
There was no denying it.
They were of the Black Dragon. Cyldreen toook a defensive stance and studied his hunters. By the way they gripped their weapons, they were obviously trained amateurs. Aspirants. Their offensive stance also spoke volumes of their skill. This would a massacre.
A battlecry erupted from behind Cyldreen and the breton immediately swung around with his halberd to face his opponent while simultenously crouching. Blood soilled the ground as both of the nercomancer's legs were cleaved off and he fainted when he witnessed his leg land beside his head.
One of the aspirants charged from the left, his shortsword raised high in the air with bloodlust on his eyes. Cyldreen waited for the moment when he would strike, and when that came, he leapt at his feet and his halberd tore the aspirant into twos. His intestines flew like birds.
The remaining aspirants warily took a step back from the laughing Cyldreen. The aspirants didn't know what to be afraid of more; his skill with a halberd or his spine-chilling mirth. One of the aspirants, probably the leader, made a gesture with his hands and the two began circling the Breton, stopping at his left and right side.
They plan on rushing me, then?
The two charged and one of them, the one on the left, jumped to quickly close the distance between his shortsword and Cyldreen. Sadly, his plan failed as he was impaled between his ribs. But the execution of this particular aspirant wasn't over yet. With immense strength, Cyldreen swirled and threw him of the spear and into the other aspirant charging. They both flew and landed in a crumpled mess.
Cyldreen turned his attention to the leader, and his golden eyes overwhelmed the leader's green ones. The black armored recruit held his sword in front of him in a pathetic excuse for defense. A throaty laugh came out of Cyldreen's mouth.
The aspirant, filled with his desire to surve and flee, panicked and charged Cyldreen with suprising speed. The breton was hardly bewildered, and let the aspirant swing a few wild slashes before knocking him to the floor with the blunt end of his halberd. The aspirant gasped for air and scrambled to reach the handle of his sword but a bone-wrecking kick to the chest prevented him from doing so.
Wide-eyed, he can only stare as the golden-masked monster in front of him raised the halberd. That was the only thing he saw before his life ended by his skull being splited in two. Gray matter and bone fragments flew into the air.
As Cyldreen turned to resume his travel to the Imperial City, he heard a pained grunt and a string of curses. He remembered that one of the aspirants survived.
He went to the aspirant struggling to push his dead ally on top of him and putted him out of his misery by decapitation.
"Another day in the depraved world we live in," he laughed as he resumed his walk to the Imperial City. being hired by the Emperor of Cyrodiil as a mercenary should be interesting, he thought.
... and judging by how deep it goes, I'd say barefooted or wearing light boots. That's it then. This was made by either man or mer several hours ago and they either wore boots or none at all. Strange for this to be the only track, though.. Oh well, time for a more thorough search then.
He inhaled deep and closed his eyes. In his mind, he imagined the scenery before him and touching the trampled ground, he cast the spell he was readying. He let out a shaky breath as the feeling of magicka surged through his arms like a serpent and his skin becme pricked at the tingling sensation.
Finally, he opened his eyes to see..
Nothing.
Momentarily baffled, he tried again, this time though with doubled amount of magicka. Still, he saw only bleak and the colorlesss void, rather than the usual pinkish glow of sacred life.
Minutes of thinking theories of why his spell failed coursed through his mind like the River Niben. Then, realization hit him hard across the face.
"Undead."
He reached out for the halberd in his back and scanned his surroundings wiith a leering eye. Silence only replied to his piercing gaze. The breton hmm-ed, before casting a spell that detects signs of life. He smiled sadistically as five pink glows were on top of trees, cunningly hiding them from any unsuspecting eyes.
Must have been following me. Sleeping Beauty is going to shed some blood today, how lucky for me.
Ideas and strategies already formed on his head when he drew a knife and threw it at one of the glowing shapes. He felt a satisfying sound of metal piercing flesh, followed by a hiss and a thud.
Simultenously, the remaining figures dropped down and surrounded the smilling Cyldreen. The breton dispelled the spell and he got a good look at his hunters. They were all clad in black leather that covered all of their bodies and the stench of death and decay hung around them as if incense.
There was no denying it.
They were of the Black Dragon. Cyldreen toook a defensive stance and studied his hunters. By the way they gripped their weapons, they were obviously trained amateurs. Aspirants. Their offensive stance also spoke volumes of their skill. This would a massacre.
A battlecry erupted from behind Cyldreen and the breton immediately swung around with his halberd to face his opponent while simultenously crouching. Blood soilled the ground as both of the nercomancer's legs were cleaved off and he fainted when he witnessed his leg land beside his head.
One of the aspirants charged from the left, his shortsword raised high in the air with bloodlust on his eyes. Cyldreen waited for the moment when he would strike, and when that came, he leapt at his feet and his halberd tore the aspirant into twos. His intestines flew like birds.
The remaining aspirants warily took a step back from the laughing Cyldreen. The aspirants didn't know what to be afraid of more; his skill with a halberd or his spine-chilling mirth. One of the aspirants, probably the leader, made a gesture with his hands and the two began circling the Breton, stopping at his left and right side.
They plan on rushing me, then?
The two charged and one of them, the one on the left, jumped to quickly close the distance between his shortsword and Cyldreen. Sadly, his plan failed as he was impaled between his ribs. But the execution of this particular aspirant wasn't over yet. With immense strength, Cyldreen swirled and threw him of the spear and into the other aspirant charging. They both flew and landed in a crumpled mess.
Cyldreen turned his attention to the leader, and his golden eyes overwhelmed the leader's green ones. The black armored recruit held his sword in front of him in a pathetic excuse for defense. A throaty laugh came out of Cyldreen's mouth.
The aspirant, filled with his desire to surve and flee, panicked and charged Cyldreen with suprising speed. The breton was hardly bewildered, and let the aspirant swing a few wild slashes before knocking him to the floor with the blunt end of his halberd. The aspirant gasped for air and scrambled to reach the handle of his sword but a bone-wrecking kick to the chest prevented him from doing so.
Wide-eyed, he can only stare as the golden-masked monster in front of him raised the halberd. That was the only thing he saw before his life ended by his skull being splited in two. Gray matter and bone fragments flew into the air.
As Cyldreen turned to resume his travel to the Imperial City, he heard a pained grunt and a string of curses. He remembered that one of the aspirants survived.
He went to the aspirant struggling to push his dead ally on top of him and putted him out of his misery by decapitation.
"Another day in the depraved world we live in," he laughed as he resumed his walk to the Imperial City. being hired by the Emperor of Cyrodiil as a mercenary should be interesting, he thought.
Swift-like-Fish flinched at the Dunmer's outburst.
"As this one said before, fish is what he hunts, not people. That said, this one requires the mages guild to heal the disease that kills the land, before it can spread further. If the mage guild is preoccupied by this matter, they cannot go to attend to this one's problem." He said after the Dunmer had seemingly calmed down a bit.
"So this one shall go to this place called Bruma and offer what help this one can give. But this one must restate that this one hunts for food, not for ideals. So this one will help provide food for the travellers, but likely be of little use in a...confrontation of steel."
"As this one said before, fish is what he hunts, not people. That said, this one requires the mages guild to heal the disease that kills the land, before it can spread further. If the mage guild is preoccupied by this matter, they cannot go to attend to this one's problem." He said after the Dunmer had seemingly calmed down a bit.
"So this one shall go to this place called Bruma and offer what help this one can give. But this one must restate that this one hunts for food, not for ideals. So this one will help provide food for the travellers, but likely be of little use in a...confrontation of steel."
"well, I guess were gonna make a good team. We got a knight, hunter and fisher." Falius announced, excited to finally see some action. "thing is, I understand your idea of small, stealthy groups Argonian, but 2 fighters arent enough. The black dragon are highly skilled soldiers, and I've never been in a real fight. Killed a lich but thats all."
"None may enter into the White Gold Tower, only those with authority or authorized from the higher-ups can," the lone Royal Guard mechanically declared as Cyldreen neared the entrance of the great building.
The way he said it told Cyldreen's insticts that this particular guard experienced more than one intrepid adventurer trying to get into the sacred tower.
"I have this paper of the contract," the breton replied while fishing for the envelope that he received months ago. When his hand felt something rough, he pulled it out and seeing that it was the contract, handed it to the passive guard. The Imperial scanned it nummerous times, probably to check if it was a fake, and when he was done he returned it to Cyldreen with a shaky smile.
"Your one of the mercenaries hired by His Majesty? Well then, please enter and try not to be loud. There is a meeting in the council room and all of the mercenaries are expected to be there," he then raised a closed fist over his chest. "Vale."
Cyldreen returned the sentiment with a nod. Before he could open the great oaken doors to the Tower, a thought occured to him. This guard might have some information about the other mercenaries.
He faked a cough to gain the Imperial's attention, and when he did, Cyldreen asked.
"How many mercenaries did His Majesty hired?" The guard suddenly turned his eyes away from Cyldreen's and the breton caught a glimpse of shame and anger on it before it disappeared.
"Three arrived earlier than you, so that makes four."
This is just getting better and better. So the long lost son of Saint Martin is a genius that hires four people to reclaim his shattered Empire. I need him to double my award when this is all said and done.
One of them is a Dunmer named Nym Dralas. Something . . about him feels wrong, though. Everytime I see him, I feel this unusual feeling creep over. Probably just my imagination. The second one is a bosmer named Falius. His shady personality reminds me . . never mind. And the last is an Argonian," he then leaned over as if the thing he would say was a secret. "Between you and me, I don't think that Argonian is a proper sellsword. He doesn't even have proper equipment!"
The breton processed this with a mind that conceived several ideas. But for now, he can put aside them for a time when they were needed. He thanked the guard with another nod and with a deep breath, pushed opened the gates that lead into the very confines of the Royal Palace.
The first he noticed was how dark it was. The torches that lined against the wall did little help to illuminate the hallways. The second thing his eyes laid upon was the gigantic door infront of him, and streaks of light escaped through cracks.
Not wasting another time, he grasped the surface of the gate and just before he can apply force to push it, he heard several voices talking about attacking Bruma so the Mage's Guild can attack another city, but one caught his ear.
"Well, I guess were gonna make a good team. We got a knight, hunter and fisher. Thing is, I understand your idea of small, stealthy groups Argonian, but two fighters aren't enough. The Black Dragon are highly skilled soldiers, and I've never been in a real fight. Killed a lich but that's all." Judging from the voice, Cyldreen suppposed the speaker was an elf.
Time to make my dramatic entrance.
With a grunt, he opened the door and blinding light fillled his vision. His vision was lost to him for several seconds, before it disappeareed and showed large round table with several people sitting. He smiled beneath his mask, which is undoubtly shining, and shot a glance at the occupants of the council room.
One was an Argonian, with his scales being brown rather than the usual red one would come to expect from the Argonians. A harness of somekind was wrapped around his torso and various tools and utensils was hanged. Cyldreen recognize those tools, they were of use for fishermen.
The second one he noticed was a fellow breton. His appearance was normal for anyone who dwells in High Rock; skin pale as the moon, blonde hair that signifies royalty, pronounced cheekbones, pointy nose and piercing blue eyes as sharp as a dagger. His body was covered by the robes of a mage.
The third one was a tanned skin bosmer and a set if leather protected his body. His brown hair was tied into a pony tail and his sky-blue eyes was currently checking arrows.
There was also another one, but it's back was facing Cyldreen so the breton didn't know what race or gender it is. But the heavy plate armor it wore confirmed it a male.
"I agree. Such a small strike force would be futile and ultimately be massacred. And from what I gather, the Legions are too busy guarding the Imperial City to do help. What I propose is this;
We acquire a set of disguises and fake identities to go inside Bruma. Once inside we need to find the high-ranking members and eliminate them. Once the powerful ones are dead, we can then deal with the weaklings. A twisted version of divide et impera. I do not care if you despise sneaking around. You need to take back Cyrodiil, then you use your mind and not always rely on your brawn. Thoughts?"
The blonde mage raised his hand.
"Yes. Who in the blazes are you?"
"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service."
----------
EDIT: Why don't you create a Planning Thread, Zalphon?
The way he said it told Cyldreen's insticts that this particular guard experienced more than one intrepid adventurer trying to get into the sacred tower.
"I have this paper of the contract," the breton replied while fishing for the envelope that he received months ago. When his hand felt something rough, he pulled it out and seeing that it was the contract, handed it to the passive guard. The Imperial scanned it nummerous times, probably to check if it was a fake, and when he was done he returned it to Cyldreen with a shaky smile.
"Your one of the mercenaries hired by His Majesty? Well then, please enter and try not to be loud. There is a meeting in the council room and all of the mercenaries are expected to be there," he then raised a closed fist over his chest. "Vale."
Cyldreen returned the sentiment with a nod. Before he could open the great oaken doors to the Tower, a thought occured to him. This guard might have some information about the other mercenaries.
He faked a cough to gain the Imperial's attention, and when he did, Cyldreen asked.
"How many mercenaries did His Majesty hired?" The guard suddenly turned his eyes away from Cyldreen's and the breton caught a glimpse of shame and anger on it before it disappeared.
"Three arrived earlier than you, so that makes four."
This is just getting better and better. So the long lost son of Saint Martin is a genius that hires four people to reclaim his shattered Empire. I need him to double my award when this is all said and done.
One of them is a Dunmer named Nym Dralas. Something . . about him feels wrong, though. Everytime I see him, I feel this unusual feeling creep over. Probably just my imagination. The second one is a bosmer named Falius. His shady personality reminds me . . never mind. And the last is an Argonian," he then leaned over as if the thing he would say was a secret. "Between you and me, I don't think that Argonian is a proper sellsword. He doesn't even have proper equipment!"
The breton processed this with a mind that conceived several ideas. But for now, he can put aside them for a time when they were needed. He thanked the guard with another nod and with a deep breath, pushed opened the gates that lead into the very confines of the Royal Palace.
The first he noticed was how dark it was. The torches that lined against the wall did little help to illuminate the hallways. The second thing his eyes laid upon was the gigantic door infront of him, and streaks of light escaped through cracks.
Not wasting another time, he grasped the surface of the gate and just before he can apply force to push it, he heard several voices talking about attacking Bruma so the Mage's Guild can attack another city, but one caught his ear.
"Well, I guess were gonna make a good team. We got a knight, hunter and fisher. Thing is, I understand your idea of small, stealthy groups Argonian, but two fighters aren't enough. The Black Dragon are highly skilled soldiers, and I've never been in a real fight. Killed a lich but that's all." Judging from the voice, Cyldreen suppposed the speaker was an elf.
Time to make my dramatic entrance.
With a grunt, he opened the door and blinding light fillled his vision. His vision was lost to him for several seconds, before it disappeareed and showed large round table with several people sitting. He smiled beneath his mask, which is undoubtly shining, and shot a glance at the occupants of the council room.
One was an Argonian, with his scales being brown rather than the usual red one would come to expect from the Argonians. A harness of somekind was wrapped around his torso and various tools and utensils was hanged. Cyldreen recognize those tools, they were of use for fishermen.
The second one he noticed was a fellow breton. His appearance was normal for anyone who dwells in High Rock; skin pale as the moon, blonde hair that signifies royalty, pronounced cheekbones, pointy nose and piercing blue eyes as sharp as a dagger. His body was covered by the robes of a mage.
The third one was a tanned skin bosmer and a set if leather protected his body. His brown hair was tied into a pony tail and his sky-blue eyes was currently checking arrows.
There was also another one, but it's back was facing Cyldreen so the breton didn't know what race or gender it is. But the heavy plate armor it wore confirmed it a male.
"I agree. Such a small strike force would be futile and ultimately be massacred. And from what I gather, the Legions are too busy guarding the Imperial City to do help. What I propose is this;
We acquire a set of disguises and fake identities to go inside Bruma. Once inside we need to find the high-ranking members and eliminate them. Once the powerful ones are dead, we can then deal with the weaklings. A twisted version of divide et impera. I do not care if you despise sneaking around. You need to take back Cyrodiil, then you use your mind and not always rely on your brawn. Thoughts?"
The blonde mage raised his hand.
"Yes. Who in the blazes are you?"
"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service."
----------
EDIT: Why don't you create a Planning Thread, Zalphon?
Aerona walked the lifeless streets of the once proud Imperial City, heading towards its center. Ahead of her walked a man, Imperial or Breton, she could not tell, but he wore heavy chainmail and a golden mask. She made an effort to walk slowly enough so that she would not catch up. It wasn't that she was afraid, simply wary of the stranger.
She watched the man enter the tower after a short conversation with the guard and the presentation of papers. She had papers too, but she doubted they were the same.
"Hello, Inius," she greeted the guard at the door once the strange man went inside.
"Aerona, there is no call for a healer right now. There is important business being discussed inside. You cannot disturb them."
"And yet you know I must," she said flatly, but not unkindly.
Inius sighed, "Still speaking for the refugees, huh? Well the Emperor has called for mercenaries. There aren't enough troops to manage anymore. You know we can't let the refugees in. We are burdened enough as it is."
"Mother Mara abandons no one. Why should we? Besides, there are skilled ones among the refugees. Blacksmiths, hunters, farmers, builders. We need to be working together, not leaving each other to the wolves."
"You have a kind heart lass, but I can't help you this time. This goes above me."
"These papers allow me access to the tower, as you know. Let me pass, please, Inius."
The guard shook his head, "Those papers are no good today. Farewell."
Aerona crossed her arms and assumed a stubborn stance, "I enter this tower nearly every day."
"I know. Just not today."
She narrowed her eyes, "There is nothing I can do to get inside right now?"
"Not without the papers."
"Where do I get these papers?"
The two stared at each other for a few long moments before Inius finally caved, "I knew this would happen as soon as these went through the ranks," he said, producing some parchment from underneath his breastplate.
"Knew what would happen?"
Inius explained, "These came from higher up the chain. Told us to give them to talented warriors or otherwise promising people we may happen across. You're the only one of those I know that doesn't already have an official task here in the city."
"I see. No turning back once I go inside, then?"
Inius shrugged, "All I know is that it's up to you. And if you do go inside, be careful. Those other mercs aren't exactly the saintly type."
She took a deep breath and snatched the papers from his hand, "Let me in, then. I'll speak my peace and if I must go hunt down a lich afterwards, may Mara watch over me."
She entered the tower without waiting for Inius' response. The huge doors that guarded the Council Chambers were swung wide open, and the man she had seen earlier stood between them. She approached in time to hear his name.
"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service," he announced.
Aerona stepped in a bit sheepishly, "Um, excuse me? Am I in the right place?" All of her confidence seemed to have been left outside.
She held her newly-acquired papers out for some sort of approval. The head of the Mages Guild was here, but the other faces were unfamiliar, scary even, except for the argonian, and maybe the bosmer, but he seemed difficult to read.
Oh, Mara, what have I done?
She watched the man enter the tower after a short conversation with the guard and the presentation of papers. She had papers too, but she doubted they were the same.
"Hello, Inius," she greeted the guard at the door once the strange man went inside.
"Aerona, there is no call for a healer right now. There is important business being discussed inside. You cannot disturb them."
"And yet you know I must," she said flatly, but not unkindly.
Inius sighed, "Still speaking for the refugees, huh? Well the Emperor has called for mercenaries. There aren't enough troops to manage anymore. You know we can't let the refugees in. We are burdened enough as it is."
"Mother Mara abandons no one. Why should we? Besides, there are skilled ones among the refugees. Blacksmiths, hunters, farmers, builders. We need to be working together, not leaving each other to the wolves."
"You have a kind heart lass, but I can't help you this time. This goes above me."
"These papers allow me access to the tower, as you know. Let me pass, please, Inius."
The guard shook his head, "Those papers are no good today. Farewell."
Aerona crossed her arms and assumed a stubborn stance, "I enter this tower nearly every day."
"I know. Just not today."
She narrowed her eyes, "There is nothing I can do to get inside right now?"
"Not without the papers."
"Where do I get these papers?"
The two stared at each other for a few long moments before Inius finally caved, "I knew this would happen as soon as these went through the ranks," he said, producing some parchment from underneath his breastplate.
"Knew what would happen?"
Inius explained, "These came from higher up the chain. Told us to give them to talented warriors or otherwise promising people we may happen across. You're the only one of those I know that doesn't already have an official task here in the city."
"I see. No turning back once I go inside, then?"
Inius shrugged, "All I know is that it's up to you. And if you do go inside, be careful. Those other mercs aren't exactly the saintly type."
She took a deep breath and snatched the papers from his hand, "Let me in, then. I'll speak my peace and if I must go hunt down a lich afterwards, may Mara watch over me."
She entered the tower without waiting for Inius' response. The huge doors that guarded the Council Chambers were swung wide open, and the man she had seen earlier stood between them. She approached in time to hear his name.
"Cyldreen Mon'Cheri, at your service," he announced.
Aerona stepped in a bit sheepishly, "Um, excuse me? Am I in the right place?" All of her confidence seemed to have been left outside.
She held her newly-acquired papers out for some sort of approval. The head of the Mages Guild was here, but the other faces were unfamiliar, scary even, except for the argonian, and maybe the bosmer, but he seemed difficult to read.
Oh, Mara, what have I done?
Swift-like-Fish turned to the doors when they were opened, quite loudly even to his less than excellent ears. In the opening stood a man with a face of metal, or one who was simply wearing an elaborate mask.
"The latter" The Argonian decided. That still left the matter of what blood the man possessed, or whether he was a man at all. All Swift could conclude was that he most certainly wasn't looking at either Khajiit or Argonian. The shape of the stranger was definitely more human or elfish.
Apparantly unaware of how sudden his entry was, the man immediately got himself involved with the council, listing a plan that was both brutally honest as it was terrifying. Disguises and murder. Truthfully, it was close to what Swift himself had proposed, but to have it put so bluntly was something else.
"Why are..." The Argonian began to ask, but interupted himself when he noticed there wasn't one newcomer, but two. The fisherman leaned back on his stool so he could gaze around the shiny-faced Cyldreen and observe who was with him.
OOC: I'm gonna shut up for now. I don't think Swift would really take the lead in conversing with anyone at this point.
"The latter" The Argonian decided. That still left the matter of what blood the man possessed, or whether he was a man at all. All Swift could conclude was that he most certainly wasn't looking at either Khajiit or Argonian. The shape of the stranger was definitely more human or elfish.
Apparantly unaware of how sudden his entry was, the man immediately got himself involved with the council, listing a plan that was both brutally honest as it was terrifying. Disguises and murder. Truthfully, it was close to what Swift himself had proposed, but to have it put so bluntly was something else.
"Why are..." The Argonian began to ask, but interupted himself when he noticed there wasn't one newcomer, but two. The fisherman leaned back on his stool so he could gaze around the shiny-faced Cyldreen and observe who was with him.
OOC: I'm gonna shut up for now. I don't think Swift would really take the lead in conversing with anyone at this point.
"heh heh heh,"Falius chuckled. "looks like our little group of soldiers just grew by two."
maybe this wouldnt be so hopeless. The guy in the mask looked like a strong fighter and the dunmer definately looked like a mage.
"I like the plan, thing is, how are we gonna get the outfits. If we want in, we gotta look like one of the high rankers. Thats a real fight. not to mention were gonna need at least three. also, theres going to be some password to get in."
maybe this wouldnt be so hopeless. The guy in the mask looked like a strong fighter and the dunmer definately looked like a mage.
"I like the plan, thing is, how are we gonna get the outfits. If we want in, we gotta look like one of the high rankers. Thats a real fight. not to mention were gonna need at least three. also, theres going to be some password to get in."
Cyldreen turned around and his eyes met those of a Dunmer. A female dunmer. It wasn't her gender that confused the breton though, rather it was her attire and lack of a weapon. She wore a simple robe that signified her as priestess of a church. What religion she placed her faith in, Cyldreen did not know but being in Cyrodiil, the spy supposed the Nine Divines is her patrons.
His eyes narrowed into cat-like slits, serpentine concentration took over his mind and using his past skills as a spy, quickly analyzed the mer in front of him.
If she is a priestess, then she must know some healing magick. The way she holds her posture tells me that some kind of discipline is taught to her. I know not why is she here, but my instincts tell me that she my be of help.
"If you want to help us retake Cyrodiil, then welcome." He then gave her a bow and his attention switched from the Dunmer to the Wood-Elf as the bosmer spoke.
"I like the plan, thing is, how are we gonna get the outfits. If we want in, we gotta look like one of the high rankers. That's a real fight. Not to mention were gonna need at least three. Also, there's going to be some password to get in."
Cyldreen leaned his head backwards and released a laugh that spoke volumes about his insanity.
"That's why you need a spy for that. That's why you need me."
Aerona cleared her throat to get some attention before she fell too far behind, "What do we need to get into, exactly?"
Another thought crossed her mind in that instant, and she didn't wait for an answer, "But no matter where it is, why would you risk dressing as an official? Their faces are known among many. I'm no spy," she gave a polite nod of deference to Cyldreen, "But wouldn't you garner less attention by blending into the ranks?"
She wasn't ready to agree to helping just yet, but somehow it seemed that she was already expected to. They must have been desperate for help, she thought, for they hadn't even determined what, if anything, she had to offer them.
Another thought crossed her mind in that instant, and she didn't wait for an answer, "But no matter where it is, why would you risk dressing as an official? Their faces are known among many. I'm no spy," she gave a polite nod of deference to Cyldreen, "But wouldn't you garner less attention by blending into the ranks?"
She wasn't ready to agree to helping just yet, but somehow it seemed that she was already expected to. They must have been desperate for help, she thought, for they hadn't even determined what, if anything, she had to offer them.
Falius was getting impatient. All talk about plans and no action. Besides, He felt claustrophopic. not that the council chamber wasnt big, He just hated being inside places with big walls. He loved wide open planes and forests, not high walled cities.
"Look, Im outta ideas. Im just gonna get a head start and travel to bruma. See you there!"
He got out his seat and ran past the spy and mage.
"Look, Im outta ideas. Im just gonna get a head start and travel to bruma. See you there!"
He got out his seat and ran past the spy and mage.
Cyldreen was about to answer the dunmer girl before the Bosmer spoke about having not any ideas anymore and scouting the city of Bruma ahead of them.
"Hey! Don't," by now the young elf ran past him. "go ahead of us."
Damn it all to Malacath's realm.
"Well? Since the fool gave in to youth's impatience, I suggest we follow after him. Heaven knows that if ventures out alone in a city full of necromancers, he would certainly be captured or worse." he said. "Kids these days.."
Swift-like-Fish nodded. Falius running off had caught him by surprise and he had been tempted to run after the young elf. But he was no runner and knew he would not catch up with him. Water was his terrain, not cobbled streets or dirt roads.
"This one agrees. To rush off without a plan is foolish. However, we should not do the same. Let him run for now. Soon enough, his legs will tire. Let us ask for a wagon and a fine horse to pull it. Let us obtain maps, food for the road and any other small items one deems needed. Even with the time spent aquiring all of these, we should still be able to catch up with one lone elf who walks by his feet." He hissed.
"We could leave now and finish creating a plan of action while travelling. If special clothes and stolen identities are needed, this one doubts they shall be found here, in this city that claims not to harbor any of the ones we seek."
"This one agrees. To rush off without a plan is foolish. However, we should not do the same. Let him run for now. Soon enough, his legs will tire. Let us ask for a wagon and a fine horse to pull it. Let us obtain maps, food for the road and any other small items one deems needed. Even with the time spent aquiring all of these, we should still be able to catch up with one lone elf who walks by his feet." He hissed.
"We could leave now and finish creating a plan of action while travelling. If special clothes and stolen identities are needed, this one doubts they shall be found here, in this city that claims not to harbor any of the ones we seek."
"This one agrees. To rush off without a plan is foolish. However, we should not do the same. Let him run for now. Soon enough, his legs will tire. Let us ask for a wagon and a fine horse to pull it. Let us obtain maps, food for the road and any other small items one deems needed. Even with the time spent aquiring all of these, we should still be able to catch up with one lone elf who walks by his feet.
We could leave now and finish creating a plan of action while travelling. If special clothes and stolen identities are needed, this one doubts they shall be found here, in this city that claims not to harbor any of the ones we seek."
It was the Argonian who spoke this time, his reptillian voice hissing as he said each word. Cyldreen could only reply with an appraising nod.
"Agreed." He then turned around to the remaining people at the Councilroom; which was the Argonian, the lady Dunmer, the Breton and the mysterious one who was clad in plate armor.
"Is it settled, then? We gather the essentials and give pursuit at the young Woodmer?"
Falius breathed in the fresh air. Not even an army of necromancers and undead could mask the smell of the forest. Falius climbed the nearest tree and headed North, leaping from tree to tree.
He had been travelling for a while now and had covered a lot of ground, but something had started to make him feel uneasy. He lept down from a tree and drew his bow. Suddenly, an ice cold blast hit him. He went to draw an arrow but found he couldent move."dammit, he thought,"paralysed!"
He had been travelling for a while now and had covered a lot of ground, but something had started to make him feel uneasy. He lept down from a tree and drew his bow. Suddenly, an ice cold blast hit him. He went to draw an arrow but found he couldent move."dammit, he thought,"paralysed!"
"hmmm, this one will make a good worm thrall."A chilling voice said. Falius would have shiverred if he could."young, fit, and has a strong pulse."
"perfect," Falius thought "A necromaner AND a vampire. They better hope I dont recover soon."
"Throw him in the back with the others, Wart-rag!" The vampire shouted.
"Y-y-yes master." Wart-rag cowered. Next thing he new, someone had picked him up and thrown him into the back of a rotten cart.
OOC: not back yet, stopped by friends for a day
"perfect," Falius thought "A necromaner AND a vampire. They better hope I dont recover soon."
"Throw him in the back with the others, Wart-rag!" The vampire shouted.
"Y-y-yes master." Wart-rag cowered. Next thing he new, someone had picked him up and thrown him into the back of a rotten cart.
OOC: not back yet, stopped by friends for a day
Things were not looking great, Aerona thought. One of them had impatiently ran off, while she and the others still tried to plan a course of action.
"We should make the preparations soon," she said, "You may be surprised at how fast a bosmer moves through the forests."
"We should make the preparations soon," she said, "You may be surprised at how fast a bosmer moves through the forests."
Colin Draconis sighed; this plan was already falling apart, and yet it was their only hope.
"The lady is right. Time is of the essence. Galius," he said, pointing to a nearby guard, "Prepare horses and give them each three food rations. Whatever we can spare."
The guard left obediently and Draconis turned to face the unlikely companions.
"Infiltrate Bruma. Find out what you can about their defenses, and weaken them where you may. When you discover something to report, you will find a Mage's Guild contact in Cloud Ruler Temple."
Galius returned shortly, "The preparations have been made."
"Go now then, friends, and may the Nine guide you."
"The lady is right. Time is of the essence. Galius," he said, pointing to a nearby guard, "Prepare horses and give them each three food rations. Whatever we can spare."
The guard left obediently and Draconis turned to face the unlikely companions.
"Infiltrate Bruma. Find out what you can about their defenses, and weaken them where you may. When you discover something to report, you will find a Mage's Guild contact in Cloud Ruler Temple."
Galius returned shortly, "The preparations have been made."
"Go now then, friends, and may the Nine guide you."
Swift-like-Fish slipped off his stool and bowed to Draconis.
"Then this one shall take leave and go to the city of snow. Nine guide you as well, sir." He said before turning towards the guard who had taken care of the arrangements.
"This one fears his knowledge of the paths in this place are lacking. This one would humbly request to the steel-covered man to guide this one to the place where horses await."
"Then this one shall take leave and go to the city of snow. Nine guide you as well, sir." He said before turning towards the guard who had taken care of the arrangements.
"This one fears his knowledge of the paths in this place are lacking. This one would humbly request to the steel-covered man to guide this one to the place where horses await."
OOC: I liked jack's wagon idea, and threw in an extra horse in case ureniashtram didn't.
The guard led them outside, and Aerona fell in step behind the Argonian. They were brought to the stables, where two horses awaited them. One of them was hitched to a small wagon. It had a seat in the front, wide enough for two, and the back could hold another two lying down, if their rations hadn't been loaded in.
"You'll need to have the horses take turns pulling the wagon, or one won't live long," the guard advised, "All the food we could spare you is in there, along with a few waterskins."
"Thank you, sir," Aerona said as she took her small knapsack off her shoulder and dropped it in the wagon. The guard bid farewell, leaving the three (ooc: is that the right number now?) of them alone. The gravity of the situation struck her very suddenly; she was traveling halfway across a war-torn country with complete strangers, and only the one called Cyldreen seemed to be a warrior. She remembered a dark elf from inside (Nym was it?) and wished he was coming along as well. Even though she had been a bit unnerved by him, another able fighter could do a lot of good.
He must have his own business to attend. she thought, And now we have ours.
"So..." she said before taking a deep breath, "I guess it's time."
The guard led them outside, and Aerona fell in step behind the Argonian. They were brought to the stables, where two horses awaited them. One of them was hitched to a small wagon. It had a seat in the front, wide enough for two, and the back could hold another two lying down, if their rations hadn't been loaded in.
"You'll need to have the horses take turns pulling the wagon, or one won't live long," the guard advised, "All the food we could spare you is in there, along with a few waterskins."
"Thank you, sir," Aerona said as she took her small knapsack off her shoulder and dropped it in the wagon. The guard bid farewell, leaving the three (ooc: is that the right number now?) of them alone. The gravity of the situation struck her very suddenly; she was traveling halfway across a war-torn country with complete strangers, and only the one called Cyldreen seemed to be a warrior. She remembered a dark elf from inside (Nym was it?) and wished he was coming along as well. Even though she had been a bit unnerved by him, another able fighter could do a lot of good.
He must have his own business to attend. she thought, And now we have ours.
"So..." she said before taking a deep breath, "I guess it's time."
Cyldreen simply remained silent as the rush of things took its momentum.
He followed the guard and the other two where the stables were at and simply nodded a thanks to the guard when they approached the wagon. It was rickety and the horses seemed frail. It was unbecoming of the Empire, but then again the Empire consisted only of the Imperial City nowadays.
His attention drifted to the task that lay ahead of him.
He would've laughed at the absurdity of it all; three strangers who barely know each other are tasked to bring a city down. But this was the chance to strike at the order of the Black Dragon. And he would grasp this chance no matter what, even if the situation was dire.
The voice of the elf shook him to the present.
"Yes. This stark dream that we call reality is slowly turning into a nightmare. Let's go."
OOC: Is this a good time to create a new RP? Jus' askin.
Swift-like-Fish climbed onto the wagon without a word. He knew it wasn't perhaps the politest thing to do, claiming a place without asking. On the other hand though, he did not know how to ride a horse and would only slow them down if he were to walk. Walking for long periods of time wasn't impossible for him, but something quicker than that, such as a military march or equivalent, was.
Both his companions expressed their sentiments about leaving. The Argonian bowed his head at the departing guard.
"Then we shall depart. This one thanks you for your aid and wishes safety to you and your kin in the coming days." He spoke and shifted in his seat. His tail was bend against the back of the seat in a distinctly uncomfortable way.
"Who wishes to read the map? This one is afraid that this one's knowledge of the northern province is as lacking as this one's skill at reading." He asked and at the same time gently coaxed the horse drawing the wagon to begin walking. Handling a horsedrawn wagon was also a new experience for him, but the horse was timid and he had seen it done often enough to manage.
Both his companions expressed their sentiments about leaving. The Argonian bowed his head at the departing guard.
"Then we shall depart. This one thanks you for your aid and wishes safety to you and your kin in the coming days." He spoke and shifted in his seat. His tail was bend against the back of the seat in a distinctly uncomfortable way.
"Who wishes to read the map? This one is afraid that this one's knowledge of the northern province is as lacking as this one's skill at reading." He asked and at the same time gently coaxed the horse drawing the wagon to begin walking. Handling a horsedrawn wagon was also a new experience for him, but the horse was timid and he had seen it done often enough to manage.
"I can read it," Aerona volunteered, taking a seat next to the argonian. It was unnecessary at this stage of the journey, but she took a look at it anyway, wondering how long it would be safe to travel along the roads. She didn't voice her concerns just yet; the mood was somber enough as it was.
The wagon moved, and they were headed west, towards the fork in the road that would allow them to turn northwards. It should have been a beautiful day, but somehow the land seemed ominous. She couldn't put a finger on it, but it was as if a sickness had spread through the ground, affecting the grass, the trees, and even the sky. She looked over at Cyldreen, who rode alongside them, and then to the argonian, trying to tell if they had the same feeling or not. It wasn't until they reached the fork that she spoke again.
"Turn to the right here," she said to her scaled driver, "My name is Aerona, by the way, I don't believe we've actually met."
ooc: fort empire actually made perfect sense; you kinda have to leave the city on the western side because of the lake.
The wagon moved, and they were headed west, towards the fork in the road that would allow them to turn northwards. It should have been a beautiful day, but somehow the land seemed ominous. She couldn't put a finger on it, but it was as if a sickness had spread through the ground, affecting the grass, the trees, and even the sky. She looked over at Cyldreen, who rode alongside them, and then to the argonian, trying to tell if they had the same feeling or not. It wasn't until they reached the fork that she spoke again.
"Turn to the right here," she said to her scaled driver, "My name is Aerona, by the way, I don't believe we've actually met."
ooc: fort empire actually made perfect sense; you kinda have to leave the city on the western side because of the lake.
OOC: Fort Empire then. We still have to think about.. Never mind. I'll just PM Ahren.
The argonian said something about a map and the dunmer volunteering to read it for him. With the elf taking a seat behind the reptillian, it made Cyldreen ride the old nag of a Chestnut breed. The beast at first felt uncomfortable, the breton supposed that the horse didn't had a rider since now, but promptly calmed down with a few soothing words and an apple.
As they reached a fork on the road, the dunmer instructed the Argonian to take right and also introduced her name.
Aerona, she said.
He was about to remark a comment about it being a strange name for a dunmer and hopely have a conversation, when the burning smell of warped wood and the unexpected rotten pragrance of blood intruded upon Cyldreen's senses.
He looked at the others. They didn't seem to smell it.
Cyldreen drew Sleeping Beauty and cast the spell of sight-enhancing magick. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, only the ruined walls of a fort long destroyed. That made Cyldreen grip his halberd tighter and keep cautiousness at his side.
He considered scouting ahead, but with a mage and a barely equipped argonian guarding their supplies, whatever made Cyldreen anxious would target those who appear to be armless.
"Be more perceptive of your surroundings, my fellow ... mercenaries. Be more aware of what you hear, what you see and what you smell. For keeping cautiousness on your side will always save your lives."
^^^^
EDIT: I allmost forgot to say that the fort I mentioned here is Nikel. That's where we'll get our disguises.
The argonian said something about a map and the dunmer volunteering to read it for him. With the elf taking a seat behind the reptillian, it made Cyldreen ride the old nag of a Chestnut breed. The beast at first felt uncomfortable, the breton supposed that the horse didn't had a rider since now, but promptly calmed down with a few soothing words and an apple.
As they reached a fork on the road, the dunmer instructed the Argonian to take right and also introduced her name.
Aerona, she said.
He was about to remark a comment about it being a strange name for a dunmer and hopely have a conversation, when the burning smell of warped wood and the unexpected rotten pragrance of blood intruded upon Cyldreen's senses.
He looked at the others. They didn't seem to smell it.
Cyldreen drew Sleeping Beauty and cast the spell of sight-enhancing magick. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, only the ruined walls of a fort long destroyed. That made Cyldreen grip his halberd tighter and keep cautiousness at his side.
He considered scouting ahead, but with a mage and a barely equipped argonian guarding their supplies, whatever made Cyldreen anxious would target those who appear to be armless.
"Be more perceptive of your surroundings, my fellow ... mercenaries. Be more aware of what you hear, what you see and what you smell. For keeping cautiousness on your side will always save your lives."
^^^^
EDIT: I allmost forgot to say that the fort I mentioned here is Nikel. That's where we'll get our disguises.
Swift-like-Fish lowered his head at the introduction.
"This one is known as Swift-" He began when Cyldreen interupted him, asking of them to be more aware of their surroundings. The Argonian let his eyes wander along the trees on each side of the path, and the ruins up ahead.
"Does the gleaming-faced man see any danger to us?" The fisherman asked anxiously. Nevertheless, he steered the wagon down the fork Aerona had indicated.
"This one admits that the lack of guardsmen on the road is disturbing, but sees no sign of bandit or wild animal." His head swung from side to side once more. Still he saw nor heard anything. No people, or signs of their passing, no birds fluttering among the trees, no mice rustling in the bushes, nothing.
"The animals are silent, a sign that a hunter is near. The metal one is right, danger approaches."
OOC: since we aren near a point of conflict, might as well ramp up the tension a bit further.
"This one is known as Swift-" He began when Cyldreen interupted him, asking of them to be more aware of their surroundings. The Argonian let his eyes wander along the trees on each side of the path, and the ruins up ahead.
"Does the gleaming-faced man see any danger to us?" The fisherman asked anxiously. Nevertheless, he steered the wagon down the fork Aerona had indicated.
"This one admits that the lack of guardsmen on the road is disturbing, but sees no sign of bandit or wild animal." His head swung from side to side once more. Still he saw nor heard anything. No people, or signs of their passing, no birds fluttering among the trees, no mice rustling in the bushes, nothing.
"The animals are silent, a sign that a hunter is near. The metal one is right, danger approaches."
OOC: since we aren near a point of conflict, might as well ramp up the tension a bit further.
Gillyed crouched behind the crumbling remains of a guardhouse wall as he watched his attackers pick through the remains of the caravan he had been travelling with. He had met up with the refugees on his way down from the mountains and had kept them company. He was just sorry he could not have kept them better protected.
When the first hail of arrows had hit the side of the wagon and taken down the horse pulling it he had called for them to take shelter, but they had been too interested in trying to gather their meager belongings, and had been cut down as the small troop of dark clad men had burst from their hiding in the rocks. Now they picked through the remains searching for a corpse they would not find.
In his head Guilid began to chant, a simple mantra to help him focus, as he did so he reached deep within his enchanted warhammer and drew forth the power kept there.
"Come all ye weak, come all ye Brave
Come all ye faithful, came all ye knaves
Cry out for the battle, cry out in your pride
Brave hunters and soldiers, we shall not hide!"
Gillyed cried out the final line of his simple battle song as he burst from his place of hiding. He caught his first would be killer in the face with the side of his shield, the solid metal holding as his supernatural strength dented the skull of the man inside, the Nord could tell as he fell that he would not rise again. He barrelled into the second man and grasped his sword wrist and shield. Focusing his will Gillyed sucked the warmth out of the air and the man, causing frost to form on the dark steel that he wore. As the man began to slow and slump Gillyed focused the gathered heat and bellowed a gout of flame through his oppponent's visor, searing the face behind.
The Nord turned and barely blocked an arrow with his shield, hearing it hiss off and clatter against the ruined stone wall behind him. Gillyed settled down into a low stance and prepared himself for the charge of the surviving 7 men. He may die in battle, but he'd leave a song worthy to be sung.
When the first hail of arrows had hit the side of the wagon and taken down the horse pulling it he had called for them to take shelter, but they had been too interested in trying to gather their meager belongings, and had been cut down as the small troop of dark clad men had burst from their hiding in the rocks. Now they picked through the remains searching for a corpse they would not find.
In his head Guilid began to chant, a simple mantra to help him focus, as he did so he reached deep within his enchanted warhammer and drew forth the power kept there.
"Come all ye weak, come all ye Brave
Come all ye faithful, came all ye knaves
Cry out for the battle, cry out in your pride
Brave hunters and soldiers, we shall not hide!"
Gillyed cried out the final line of his simple battle song as he burst from his place of hiding. He caught his first would be killer in the face with the side of his shield, the solid metal holding as his supernatural strength dented the skull of the man inside, the Nord could tell as he fell that he would not rise again. He barrelled into the second man and grasped his sword wrist and shield. Focusing his will Gillyed sucked the warmth out of the air and the man, causing frost to form on the dark steel that he wore. As the man began to slow and slump Gillyed focused the gathered heat and bellowed a gout of flame through his oppponent's visor, searing the face behind.
The Nord turned and barely blocked an arrow with his shield, hearing it hiss off and clatter against the ruined stone wall behind him. Gillyed settled down into a low stance and prepared himself for the charge of the surviving 7 men. He may die in battle, but he'd leave a song worthy to be sung.
Swift-something had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before a loud battle cry broke the eerie silence. A magickal glow followed, along with the sound of steel.
Aerona looked to Cyldreen as she jumped from the wagon, "If you can stick by me and keep anyone from getting too close, my spells can do a lot of good."
They could see no details of the fight from where they were, but on the other side of a crumbling stone wall it seemed that all Oblivion had broken loose again. Aerona had little real battle experience, but she knew enough to realize that concentration would be difficult while trying to avoid melee attacks. She just had to trust in Cyldreen's battle instincts, as he would have to trust her spells.
And what of the fisherman? Will he be an aid or a hindrance? her concern was real enough, but there was little time to dwell on it. He would simply have to find his niche.
Aerona looked to Cyldreen as she jumped from the wagon, "If you can stick by me and keep anyone from getting too close, my spells can do a lot of good."
They could see no details of the fight from where they were, but on the other side of a crumbling stone wall it seemed that all Oblivion had broken loose again. Aerona had little real battle experience, but she knew enough to realize that concentration would be difficult while trying to avoid melee attacks. She just had to trust in Cyldreen's battle instincts, as he would have to trust her spells.
And what of the fisherman? Will he be an aid or a hindrance? her concern was real enough, but there was little time to dwell on it. He would simply have to find his niche.
The Argonian bared his teeth, an unconscious response to the fear he felt. He was no fighter and harbored no illusions of his usefulness in battle. He was no hero of legend, who could instantly master the art of war. No, his place was not on the other side of those walls.
"These are not the steeds of a knight. Meek they are, yet meeting blade or spell would cause panic. This one shall take horses and wagon off the road, hide them within the bushes where they're more safe. As to you, this one can offer only prayers of fortune and safety." He therefore said as he brought the wagon to a halt.
Just to the left side of the road and scarcely five steps further ahead was an opening within the trees which seemed to lead to the kind of small clearing deer would seek when resting from the night away from hunters. All in all, that was five steps closer to the battle then he wished, but reaching the cover would be faster than turning the wagon around.
"Good fortune to you, be safe." He repeated, hoping that his companions would not find their doom within the ruins.
OOC: Well, Swift-like-Fish would probably be either a hinder or dead if he tagged along, so I figured it would be better for him to handle the horses and stay out of the way.
"These are not the steeds of a knight. Meek they are, yet meeting blade or spell would cause panic. This one shall take horses and wagon off the road, hide them within the bushes where they're more safe. As to you, this one can offer only prayers of fortune and safety." He therefore said as he brought the wagon to a halt.
Just to the left side of the road and scarcely five steps further ahead was an opening within the trees which seemed to lead to the kind of small clearing deer would seek when resting from the night away from hunters. All in all, that was five steps closer to the battle then he wished, but reaching the cover would be faster than turning the wagon around.
"Good fortune to you, be safe." He repeated, hoping that his companions would not find their doom within the ruins.
OOC: Well, Swift-like-Fish would probably be either a hinder or dead if he tagged along, so I figured it would be better for him to handle the horses and stay out of the way.
Nathan
OoC: I'll go into battle in my next post, just want to place him near the action right now.
After hiking many miles, the Redguard set up camp in the shelter of a rocky outcropping. Although Nathan had become accustomed to the cold, it did wonders to feel Cyrodiil's temperate climate. He shed his pack and busied himself collecting some timber for the night.
As Nathan began to circle back, he felt a warm pulse against his chest. The Redguard frowned, knowing the kind of energy his master's gem reacted to. Nathan ran back to camp, depositing the wood, and snatched his potion satchel.
OoC: I'll go into battle in my next post, just want to place him near the action right now.
After hiking many miles, the Redguard set up camp in the shelter of a rocky outcropping. Although Nathan had become accustomed to the cold, it did wonders to feel Cyrodiil's temperate climate. He shed his pack and busied himself collecting some timber for the night.
As Nathan began to circle back, he felt a warm pulse against his chest. The Redguard frowned, knowing the kind of energy his master's gem reacted to. Nathan ran back to camp, depositing the wood, and snatched his potion satchel.
"Oh, gods,"Falius groaned.
The paralysis had worn off, but far too late.
He had been blindfolded and thrown into a dark cell. when He could move again, he ripped the blindfold off. So, my new home huh? Falius thought.
ooc: internet still not on, stupid company say it should be on next week
The paralysis had worn off, but far too late.
He had been blindfolded and thrown into a dark cell. when He could move again, he ripped the blindfold off. So, my new home huh? Falius thought.
ooc: internet still not on, stupid company say it should be on next week
Nathan
The source of the disturbance turned out to be a derelict fort. Nathan watched a wagon piloted by an Argonian peel off into the forest. He scrutinized the fort's crumbling walls and found a convenient pile of masonry to climb over.
Rather than charge toward the sounds of battle, the redguard withdrew his amulet. The gem shard pulsed and weakly guided him to the necromancer at work.
The source of the disturbance turned out to be a derelict fort. Nathan watched a wagon piloted by an Argonian peel off into the forest. He scrutinized the fort's crumbling walls and found a convenient pile of masonry to climb over.
Rather than charge toward the sounds of battle, the redguard withdrew his amulet. The gem shard pulsed and weakly guided him to the necromancer at work.
Rage boiled on Cyldreen's veins, nihilistic thoughts slow slithered its way on his mind, muscles and sinews bound for bloodshedding flexed and untensed, shallow breathing became rugged echoes whispering for vengeance, his eyes became smouldering orbs of hatred that only justice can douse and if not for the tactical words that Aerona said Cyldreen surely would've charged headlong with reckless abandon, damning the consequences just to sate his lust for the thrill of brushing with death.
He merely growled with impatience.
The breton's skin crawled everytime when battle was joined, today was no exception. His hands shook with barely restrained craving for flesh being torn asunder and even then they persists. The Breton's attention were fully on the battle several leagues ahead of him, not once did it falter on its observation. But his patience were being strained now; everytime metal clashed each other in a tempo of violence, amounts of his self control went with it. Soon, the red mist will ascend and all he would see will only be crimson.
But what is this? Do my eyes deceive me?
On the north horizon were three figures completely cloaked in feldgrau grey and ebony, daunting was their height and in their mail-covered hands they bore terrible swords which was burning in a light of palatinate purple. Beneath their hoods, only Void can be seen and two raging fires. The keen eyes of Cyldreen never failed him, this time it served him well. He detected an outline of something heavy beneath the creatures' loose robes. With his heightened sight, he discovered it was a breastplate forged with fey skill and ut glittered silverite, cold and unforgiving. A temporary terror seized Cyldreen's supposedly brave heart, and for once the fire inside him flickered weakly but returned again.
They were the Shadow Knights, and dread is what they bring for the enemies of the Black Dragon. And currently, they ignored the battle infront of them and their attention was focused on the two mercenaries; Cyldreen and the dunmer. The breton supposed with a sparse bit of arrogance that they recognize them as a threat; how did they sensed their presence instantly on a mile radius was a mystery left to be answered later.
Probably detected us by the School of Mysticism.
He briefly considered riding the horse in combat, but quickly strangled the thought. He had a few illusions of how this beast's bones would fare against undead steel. He dropped down and after being stricken with an idea, discarded his halberd in favor for his yew longbow slunged over his shoulder. The weapon felt odd at his hands for it was a long time since he held a death-dealer from afar. He could worry about his skill later; right now he reached for an arrow tucked away on a quiver by his right hip. He nocked an arrow, aimed at a particular Knight's face and let loose a bird of death. Unfortunately, the wind was hostile and the distance ate away the arrow's momentum; thus it only clinked against its armored chest. By now, the Knights were quickly closing the gap and Cyldreen rained a few more. He got a lucky hit as one arrow pierced an undead arm, sinew torn by the orcish tip.
Not a wail, not a snarl; it did not stop the fell creatures in the slightest. The Breton instantly knew that this was a foe that he dared not to underestimate and grabbed his halberd. Before the melee commenced, Cyldreen thought he would die today. But that dread feeling was crushed as he gave in to his berserking qualities. Within minutes, bloody Oblivion reincarnated in a skirmish between a raging spy against three undead Knights.
Two quickly fell, and Cyldreen did not know if they were simply lesser warriors or were brought sheer luck. But the other that remained; he who was taller than the rest and wielded a sword of immense weight, engaged the Breton in a gruesome display of their individual skill; if there was a crowd, they would've surely jeered at the scene before them. Cyldreen's mind was full of excitement and he feasted upon the adrenaline of this battle; a complete contradiction of what his cautious side warned him about.
A feral swing was parried, an elegant stroke was thrown off it's slithering course, an upward slash was firmly blocked by a horizontal blade. Cyldreen ducked under a lethal swing and routed the knight until he was beside him. Before he could deal the mortal blow, the knight swiftly swirled and using its momentum, it backhanded the breton with a clang of metal against metal.
He briefly saw stars, but it quickly faded as the man-mer regained his senses and dropped into a defensive position. It was a good move on his part for it allowed him to dodge several strokes and chops of the blade, and counterattack with his own volley of thrusts and sweeps. Of which the fell undead blocked expertly. This time, Cyldreen persisted in his attack and almost got the undead off-guard with a wide swing metamorphed into a low sweep, but the Shadow jumped and landed on the haft of Cyldreen's halberd. He immediately let his hold on Sleeping Beauty slip and backed away; if he clutched his favorite weapon before the creature landed it would surely break the halberd. So instead by backing away, he drew his axe and shortsword both and held them pointed at the fell abomination, a wordless taunt.
He was rewarded by a charging knight, sword pulled to ready a lethal thrust the other hand pointed out to him as if to freeze Cyldreen in place. And it came accompanied by a shrieking wind and with an agility that could only be expected from a colovian cobra, the spy ducked and jumped; and in mid-air he sent his shortsword and axe in an 'X' shaped slash. Both of which was stopped by the dread blade of undeath.
Cyldreen landed a few feet away from the monster and their duel began once more as they charged one another.
The two exchanged blows of which it continued for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them gaining the upper hand against the other. But it was the dread creature who finally turned the tide against Cyldreen's favor by feigning to the left. When the Breton took the bait, a ferocious kick landed on the side of his head and he was sent flying several feet away. He managed to land on his feet, albeit a little wobbly and dazed, and swiftly turned around to face the silent brute.
A burning blade aimed to eviscrate his neck greeted him, and he narrowly dodged the blow but even then he felt the sting of the tip on his neck. Much to his advantage, however, the creature staggered forward, balance lost. Cyldreen rushed with a manic gleam in his eyes, his axe and shortsword aiming the creature's neck at both right and left.
Perfect angle and undeniable strength was all it needed for a decapitation, today was not different. The headless body of the knight, which was revealed to be an Altmer, lumped forward and showered Cyldreen with the velveteen liquid. He did not mind the mess he created, his thoughts were on the skirmish several leagues of him. A nord against seven aspirants. That would be easy, if the fur-clad northener knew the weak spots of the aspirants' armor.
Cyldreen absorbed air that his lungs desperately needed and when it was satisfied, he reached for his discarded bow and once again took aim. He did not know if the Nord was an enemy and he needed to be wary of this one, even though fighting against the Black Dragon guaranteed Cyldreen's guts that he was an ally. Never hurts to be sure, he thought with a smile, and let loose an arrow headed for an aspirant's head. It miraclously embedded itself at its target and the aspirant landed with a thud.
Gillyed had been patiently hiding...No he had been patiently preparing behind his shield as the aspirants maintained their onslaught of arrows. They seemed more intent of keeping him in place rather than doing much damage, and the reason became obvious as a Breton joined the frey.
The man's ferocity and skill impressed Gillyed, but there was something off about the man. Something wild and dangerous, like summoning a creature too powerful for your control. It might take joy in your cause or offence at your gall.
Gillyed turned his attention back to his dilemna. There were only a few remaining opponents now, and they were getting frustrated, making mistakes. Some he could probably use to his advantage. All it would take would be the right time to strike.
Suddenly there was a ring of metal behind him and he turned just in time to see a Dremora burst forth from the ruins.
Mages, I always forget the mages Gillyed though to himself as he weakly parried the supernatural strength behind the Dremora's axe. He would have attempted to blast it away with a spell but his magicka was low, he had been hoping to have been bombarded by spells he could have absorbed but he has used his reserves too fast and too soon.
Kicking out with the desperation of a cornered man he slammed a booted foot against the armored knee of his opponent. The Dremora went down with a cry of hatred and Gillyed forced a bolt of lightning through the Deadra's neck, not enough to kill it but the shock going through it would stun it for a second or two. In this time Gillyed made a break for the cover of a nearby wall.
Just as he reached it and was vaulting over a heavy tipped arrow slammed into his shoulder, throwing him the rest of the way over. Luckily his armor has taken most of the penetration power out of it but the pain that rocked his already tired shield arm caused him to cry out. With dwindling mana, and a fight still going on he didn't risk healing it straight away. He just hoped the new combatants would be friendly and useful.
The man's ferocity and skill impressed Gillyed, but there was something off about the man. Something wild and dangerous, like summoning a creature too powerful for your control. It might take joy in your cause or offence at your gall.
Gillyed turned his attention back to his dilemna. There were only a few remaining opponents now, and they were getting frustrated, making mistakes. Some he could probably use to his advantage. All it would take would be the right time to strike.
Suddenly there was a ring of metal behind him and he turned just in time to see a Dremora burst forth from the ruins.
Mages, I always forget the mages Gillyed though to himself as he weakly parried the supernatural strength behind the Dremora's axe. He would have attempted to blast it away with a spell but his magicka was low, he had been hoping to have been bombarded by spells he could have absorbed but he has used his reserves too fast and too soon.
Kicking out with the desperation of a cornered man he slammed a booted foot against the armored knee of his opponent. The Dremora went down with a cry of hatred and Gillyed forced a bolt of lightning through the Deadra's neck, not enough to kill it but the shock going through it would stun it for a second or two. In this time Gillyed made a break for the cover of a nearby wall.
Just as he reached it and was vaulting over a heavy tipped arrow slammed into his shoulder, throwing him the rest of the way over. Luckily his armor has taken most of the penetration power out of it but the pain that rocked his already tired shield arm caused him to cry out. With dwindling mana, and a fight still going on he didn't risk healing it straight away. He just hoped the new combatants would be friendly and useful.
Aerona couldn't be sure if Cyldreen had even heard her earlier statement or not; he had pulled out a bow, fired shots, then rushed into battle in the blink of an eye.
Gods, he's unpredictable.
Cyldreen finished the three enemies in their proximity with little problem and no help at all from her. He'd even begun firing arrows in the direction of the real fight. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be in some sort of battle craze.
"Stay with me, Cyldreen, please!" she shouted, "It's more that just you here!"
She wove together two separate shield spells, then, one for Cyldreen, and the other for the strange Nord. It was done as a sort of peace offering, which she hoped would inspire enough trust to at least get through this ordeal alive. The Nord was pinned behind a stone wall by a group of archers, and was being harassed by a dremora. He dealt with the dremora well enough on his own, but Aerona recognized the work of a mage when she saw it.
That mage was her target. But where was he? Definitely not standing in the open as she was.
"Are you with me Cyldreen?" she shouted again, trying to penetrate the mental haze her comrade seemed to be entangled in, "We have to spot their mage!"
Her shouting attracted the attention of the archers, though, and a few began firing shots her way. She ducked one arrow, and another went clean through the loose folds of her sleeve. There was a short moment of panic, where she really thought she had been hit, could almost feel the arrow in her arm and the blood trickling down, but after looking found that she was fine.
Keep it together, you're fine. You're fine. You're fine. Find cover from the arrows, find the mage. Cover, mage. Come on, Aerona!
She ran towards the wall where the Nord was pinned, and dove behind it. She glanced back to make sure Cyldreen was still standing.
"We have to help each other out of this," she blurted out between heavy breaths, "Tell me, did you see the one summoning that dremora?"
Gods, he's unpredictable.
Cyldreen finished the three enemies in their proximity with little problem and no help at all from her. He'd even begun firing arrows in the direction of the real fight. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be in some sort of battle craze.
"Stay with me, Cyldreen, please!" she shouted, "It's more that just you here!"
She wove together two separate shield spells, then, one for Cyldreen, and the other for the strange Nord. It was done as a sort of peace offering, which she hoped would inspire enough trust to at least get through this ordeal alive. The Nord was pinned behind a stone wall by a group of archers, and was being harassed by a dremora. He dealt with the dremora well enough on his own, but Aerona recognized the work of a mage when she saw it.
That mage was her target. But where was he? Definitely not standing in the open as she was.
"Are you with me Cyldreen?" she shouted again, trying to penetrate the mental haze her comrade seemed to be entangled in, "We have to spot their mage!"
Her shouting attracted the attention of the archers, though, and a few began firing shots her way. She ducked one arrow, and another went clean through the loose folds of her sleeve. There was a short moment of panic, where she really thought she had been hit, could almost feel the arrow in her arm and the blood trickling down, but after looking found that she was fine.
Keep it together, you're fine. You're fine. You're fine. Find cover from the arrows, find the mage. Cover, mage. Come on, Aerona!
She ran towards the wall where the Nord was pinned, and dove behind it. She glanced back to make sure Cyldreen was still standing.
"We have to help each other out of this," she blurted out between heavy breaths, "Tell me, did you see the one summoning that dremora?"
For a moment Gillyed had been prepared to take the opening the archers provided when they changed targets to the battle crazed Breton and his companions. But then one of them charged over to his cover and dived behind it, prompting a new hail of arrows to hiss over the top and clatter on the overgrown stones around them. He wasn't too annoyed though, at least this one had the sense to fight in a group, and he was appreciative of the shield spell she must have sent him, it was doing the three fold job of deflecting several arrows, keeping the majority of his blood in his body and restoring part of his magicka.
"The Mage? No idea as of yet" he growled "But if I had to hazard a guess, he'll be behind where their line is strongest, somewhere with a good view for him, but not for us."
The Nord paused for a moment, to reajust his shield on his arm and tighten his grip on his warhammer. "I'm going to assume your not good in a melee, but I have an idea. If we push forwards, the closer to the mage we get the more desperate he'll become. And eventually he'll give himself away. If you can keep me alive as we move forward, then I can stop anyone getting too close to you."
"The Mage? No idea as of yet" he growled "But if I had to hazard a guess, he'll be behind where their line is strongest, somewhere with a good view for him, but not for us."
The Nord paused for a moment, to reajust his shield on his arm and tighten his grip on his warhammer. "I'm going to assume your not good in a melee, but I have an idea. If we push forwards, the closer to the mage we get the more desperate he'll become. And eventually he'll give himself away. If you can keep me alive as we move forward, then I can stop anyone getting too close to you."
With a little trace of magicka flowing through his veins, Cyldreen found out earlier in his life that he could 'see' and 'feel' surges of magicka on his surroundings.
The strongest one he is currently 'feeling' was full of malign and dread and the Dunmer, although a mage, was not the one who harbored such feelings. That leaves him to pinpoint that there was another mage nearby.
If that wasn't proof enough; a trace of Oblivion being opened and a Dremora suddenly appearing closed the deal.
"Are you with me Cyldreen?"
The shout of Aerona brutally torn him from his reverie and just as he was about to answer 'yes', the dunmer ran and took cover beside the Nord. They briefly spoke but with Cyldreen's heightened hearing he heard some of the words.
It involved finding the mage and drawing him out. But how could they do when seven archers were near them?
A diversion, of course. And Cyldreen supposed that he could play the role. With renewed vigor, he rained several arrows at the aspirants in rapid succesion. He knew some of the arrows would just land several feet off their intended targets, but that was purposeful. Its intent was to supress them long enough for the nord and dunmer to rid of the troublesome mage.
"Go," he shouted at them. "I'll keep them occupied so you could do what you intend to do!"
He was careful with his words and just as so; if he blurted out their intent the enemy would surely hear and tighten their defences.
The strongest one he is currently 'feeling' was full of malign and dread and the Dunmer, although a mage, was not the one who harbored such feelings. That leaves him to pinpoint that there was another mage nearby.
If that wasn't proof enough; a trace of Oblivion being opened and a Dremora suddenly appearing closed the deal.
"Are you with me Cyldreen?"
The shout of Aerona brutally torn him from his reverie and just as he was about to answer 'yes', the dunmer ran and took cover beside the Nord. They briefly spoke but with Cyldreen's heightened hearing he heard some of the words.
It involved finding the mage and drawing him out. But how could they do when seven archers were near them?
A diversion, of course. And Cyldreen supposed that he could play the role. With renewed vigor, he rained several arrows at the aspirants in rapid succesion. He knew some of the arrows would just land several feet off their intended targets, but that was purposeful. Its intent was to supress them long enough for the nord and dunmer to rid of the troublesome mage.
"Go," he shouted at them. "I'll keep them occupied so you could do what you intend to do!"
He was careful with his words and just as so; if he blurted out their intent the enemy would surely hear and tighten their defences.
Aerona was a priestess, not a battlemage, so her heart was pounding, her breaths were heavy, and her hands were shaky. It took all of her willpower to overcome the mixture of adrenalin and fear coursing through her veins.
She gathered her wits as the Nord described his plan. Cyldreen was thinking cooperatively now too, and volunteered to be their diversion. Aerona was forced to take a deep breath and steady herself. Shaky hands cast shaky spells, and she was determined not to be the weakest link today.
"Let's go," she said to the Nord, as soon as there was a short break in the arrows being shot their way. They ran, and Aerona did her best to keep her companion's shield up. An arrow came in her direction, and she used a quick telekinetic pulse to hurl it away from her. They kept moving. More arrows, but this time they fired at Cyldreen. They were gaining ground, but her magickal shields were not impenetrable, and she was not an endless well of mana.
We only need to get close enough for their bows to be useless.
She gathered her wits as the Nord described his plan. Cyldreen was thinking cooperatively now too, and volunteered to be their diversion. Aerona was forced to take a deep breath and steady herself. Shaky hands cast shaky spells, and she was determined not to be the weakest link today.
"Let's go," she said to the Nord, as soon as there was a short break in the arrows being shot their way. They ran, and Aerona did her best to keep her companion's shield up. An arrow came in her direction, and she used a quick telekinetic pulse to hurl it away from her. They kept moving. More arrows, but this time they fired at Cyldreen. They were gaining ground, but her magickal shields were not impenetrable, and she was not an endless well of mana.
We only need to get close enough for their bows to be useless.
Gillyed charged infront of the mage, he bellowed as he ran, a barrage of curses and battlecries designed to make himself more intimidating and imposing than the fragile mage who followed him. He kept his metal shield as high as he dared to try and protect himself, and not end up tripping over a stray stone at the same time.
They were drawing closer to the archers now, and some had begun to discard their bows for shortswords and daggers, but none of them seemed too happy about making the change. Something that filled Gillyed with confidence. A group split off from the main body and took position between Gillyed and Aerona, and a cluster of rocks.
"That'll be his spot then, he'll either break for a fresh spot or join the frey." Gillyed growled. With one final bellow he slammed into the cluster of attackers turned defenders. Swords and daggers swung at him, but his thick armor and the added shield provided by Aerona took the edges off, and the strength wasn't enough to daunt the giant Nord.
Grabbing the hand of one knife wielding Aspirant, Gillyed slammed his shield into the man's face, stunning him, before spinning him around to take a sword blow from a second. They weren't used to fighting in a group, and definately not a skilled band of warriors. Gillyed's human shield cried out as the shortsword bit into his shoulder.
The heavy Nord turned his hammer so the armor piercing beak was ready and slammed it into the sword wielder's head with a sickening thud, dropping the man like a stone. A Bosmer with a pair of long knives leapt at Gillyed only to be smashed away by his shield, reinforced with the last of his boosted strength, sending the little mer barrelling down the hill, the body broken like and limp like a ragdoll.
As Gillyed finished his wounded shield with a swift shield bash to the temple, he spun, trying to catch sight of the Mage he had been sure was nearby, it was possible in the battle he had simply not noticed the caster move. Or he could still be waiting.
"Be ready, and stay behind me" Gillyed hissed, motioning to Aerona to drop low. "He'll be preparing something back there..."
(OOC:I've left it here to give Revan a chance to flush the mage out from his hiding spot.)
They were drawing closer to the archers now, and some had begun to discard their bows for shortswords and daggers, but none of them seemed too happy about making the change. Something that filled Gillyed with confidence. A group split off from the main body and took position between Gillyed and Aerona, and a cluster of rocks.
"That'll be his spot then, he'll either break for a fresh spot or join the frey." Gillyed growled. With one final bellow he slammed into the cluster of attackers turned defenders. Swords and daggers swung at him, but his thick armor and the added shield provided by Aerona took the edges off, and the strength wasn't enough to daunt the giant Nord.
Grabbing the hand of one knife wielding Aspirant, Gillyed slammed his shield into the man's face, stunning him, before spinning him around to take a sword blow from a second. They weren't used to fighting in a group, and definately not a skilled band of warriors. Gillyed's human shield cried out as the shortsword bit into his shoulder.
The heavy Nord turned his hammer so the armor piercing beak was ready and slammed it into the sword wielder's head with a sickening thud, dropping the man like a stone. A Bosmer with a pair of long knives leapt at Gillyed only to be smashed away by his shield, reinforced with the last of his boosted strength, sending the little mer barrelling down the hill, the body broken like and limp like a ragdoll.
As Gillyed finished his wounded shield with a swift shield bash to the temple, he spun, trying to catch sight of the Mage he had been sure was nearby, it was possible in the battle he had simply not noticed the caster move. Or he could still be waiting.
"Be ready, and stay behind me" Gillyed hissed, motioning to Aerona to drop low. "He'll be preparing something back there..."
(OOC:I've left it here to give Revan a chance to flush the mage out from his hiding spot.)
Nathan
The sounds of battle intensified as he skulked through the dillapedated fort. Nathan deduced whoever was fighting the Order's minions was faring pretty well; if the latter had the advantage it would be growing quieter. The amulet shard pulsed more frantically.
He paused, straining to hear over the frenzy nearby. There Hushed voices from behind the next wall. Nathan conjured an bound axe to his left hand. The redguard burst through a rotted doorway and spotted a Black Aspirant helping a robed woman pack up. "Fetch, mongrel!" The aspirant turned toward him. Nathan threw the summoned axe as his opponent rose, which buried itself into the Aspirant's breastplate.
The mage bolted with a carpetbag as her companion stumbled back into the wall. Ignoring the injured figure, Nathan gave chase.
The sounds of battle intensified as he skulked through the dillapedated fort. Nathan deduced whoever was fighting the Order's minions was faring pretty well; if the latter had the advantage it would be growing quieter. The amulet shard pulsed more frantically.
He paused, straining to hear over the frenzy nearby. There Hushed voices from behind the next wall. Nathan conjured an bound axe to his left hand. The redguard burst through a rotted doorway and spotted a Black Aspirant helping a robed woman pack up. "Fetch, mongrel!" The aspirant turned toward him. Nathan threw the summoned axe as his opponent rose, which buried itself into the Aspirant's breastplate.
The mage bolted with a carpetbag as her companion stumbled back into the wall. Ignoring the injured figure, Nathan gave chase.
OOC: Drat, too much stuff is happening for me to keep track of it all. Good news is, I don't need to, playing the guy who bravely ran away and all. 
The masked man's dismounting was rather more abrupt than his horse would have liked and Swift-like-Fish had to climb off the wagon himself to go and calm Cyldreen's horse.
"Ease your nerves, horse. No harm shall come to you." He hissed to it, before leading both horses off the road by hand. The only good thing to Cyldreen's aggressive response was that no one would have time to miss a fisherman and the wagon till after the fighting was done. The Argonian could only hope that the ones left standing were on his side.
The clearing he'd expected to find was empty and cast ina perpetual shade from the trees and bushes blocking the sun. The only real source of light came from the gap he'd used to enter which suited him just fine. It meant that he would be able to spot anyone coming in before being spotted himself. Before he did anything else, he tied the horses to one of the trees. Getting out of the clearing was only possible by going the same way he'd taken to enter in the first place and it would take considerable time. Too long for an escape. The best purpose the beasts of burden could serve at this point was to draw the eyes of any approaching hunter. Meanwhile, he would hide somewhere else, weapon in hand.
"This one's harpoon is a poor weapon, but it is all this one has." Swift-like-Fish grumbled to himself as he dropped to the ground, covering himself as much as he could with the plants and mud, essentially becoming an indistinct bump in shadows.
The masked man's dismounting was rather more abrupt than his horse would have liked and Swift-like-Fish had to climb off the wagon himself to go and calm Cyldreen's horse.
"Ease your nerves, horse. No harm shall come to you." He hissed to it, before leading both horses off the road by hand. The only good thing to Cyldreen's aggressive response was that no one would have time to miss a fisherman and the wagon till after the fighting was done. The Argonian could only hope that the ones left standing were on his side.
The clearing he'd expected to find was empty and cast ina perpetual shade from the trees and bushes blocking the sun. The only real source of light came from the gap he'd used to enter which suited him just fine. It meant that he would be able to spot anyone coming in before being spotted himself. Before he did anything else, he tied the horses to one of the trees. Getting out of the clearing was only possible by going the same way he'd taken to enter in the first place and it would take considerable time. Too long for an escape. The best purpose the beasts of burden could serve at this point was to draw the eyes of any approaching hunter. Meanwhile, he would hide somewhere else, weapon in hand.
"This one's harpoon is a poor weapon, but it is all this one has." Swift-like-Fish grumbled to himself as he dropped to the ground, covering himself as much as he could with the plants and mud, essentially becoming an indistinct bump in shadows.
what Is going on? Falius thought.
Sounds like the battle for Bruma up there. The only reason there could be fighting around here would be some bandits or... a rescue party? Now he felt stupid. Falius was never patient, and he just had to run off into necromancer territory without anyone to protect him. Now, those guys were probably going to get killed by the army of soldiers in the fort.
OOC: Praise the divines, My internet's back on!
Sounds like the battle for Bruma up there. The only reason there could be fighting around here would be some bandits or... a rescue party? Now he felt stupid. Falius was never patient, and he just had to run off into necromancer territory without anyone to protect him. Now, those guys were probably going to get killed by the army of soldiers in the fort.
OOC: Praise the divines, My internet's back on!
Blood was everywhere. It was on her robes, the ground, the ancient stone walls. There was even a splatter on her face, though she didn't dare touch it. The mess her new-found ally created made her want to hurl, but she crouched low as she was told, watching for her target. It wasn't long before the mage was flushed out, and along with her appeared a new redguard ally.
It seems that there is resistance to the Order everywhere...this whole ordeal may be easier than we thought.
She was forced to bring her thoughts back to the present, though, and cast a silence spell over the fleeing mage. She would likely be easy pickings for the redguard, now. Aerona looked away, then; she wasn't sure how much more gore she could see today while still keeping her breakfast down.
It seems that there is resistance to the Order everywhere...this whole ordeal may be easier than we thought.
She was forced to bring her thoughts back to the present, though, and cast a silence spell over the fleeing mage. She would likely be easy pickings for the redguard, now. Aerona looked away, then; she wasn't sure how much more gore she could see today while still keeping her breakfast down.
On open ground, Nathan's steps devoured the distance the mage had managed to gain. The redguard honed in on her, ignoring the figures still standing. The amulet throbbed as if it were his heart. Nathan spun his axe's blunt end around, taking the haft with both hands and leapt. The mage woman did not turn and the blow landed on the back of her skull.
She crumpled without a sound. Nathan slid to a stop beside her, gasping from exhileration. The black shard stilled and went dim. The first of many to fall Gathering his wits, he summoned a shield and took his first look at the situation outside the ruins.
She crumpled without a sound. Nathan slid to a stop beside her, gasping from exhileration. The black shard stilled and went dim. The first of many to fall Gathering his wits, he summoned a shield and took his first look at the situation outside the ruins.
The fight ended when the troublesome witch had her head split open. Cyldreen let a throaty guffaw as he relished at the sight; he was only dismayed that a Redguard did it and not him. Still, the disappointment was there.
There were new allies to be found too. Firstly there was a nord clad in their trademark bearskin hides. Tremendous of height and barrel-chested, he wielded an enormous warhammer that had the trace of magicka in it. Cyldreen supposed it was enchanted and the Northener was probably skilled at it.
The second one was a Redguard who also had a trace if magicka in him; this time stronger. A poncho of Hammerfellian design covered a boiled leather cuirass and he held a summoned shield. Cyldreen observed that he was some sort of war-mage.
He approached the Nord and Aerona.
"Damn short for a battle, eh? 'Least we got their captains," he gestured at the three dead Shadow Knights. "Name's Cyldreen."
He considered what he would say next. Would he blurt out their purposes to this one or should they be wary and find out if this Nord was truly on their side? He chose the former, although he would be careful.
"It seems that," he took a glance at the burned caravan and its dead raiders. "That you and your caravan got hit by the Black Dragon. Would you happen to know if there are any more nearby? We were expecting a supply run and the last reports we had was that our group of caravans are at Fort Empire, due north of here."
Gillyed didn't turn to face the Breton but instead kept his attention on the Dunmer he had been accompanying. However he did not ignore the man out of hand, he was just more focused on making sure the woman was alright. She was certainly not used to this sort of battle, though she had kept her head literally and symbolically which boded well.
"Gillyed, and I was just accompanying these refugees, didn't see any caravans on our way down here. But we didn't stop at any forts, kept moving throughout the nights. It's possible that your caravans had stopped in at a fort and we passed them without noticing."
After convincing himself that the priestess was fine, he turned to face the Breton and tentatively felt the arrow wound in his shoulder. It hurt, but hadn't hit anything important. With a grunt he jerked out the arrow head.
"Good thing it wasn't barbed." he muttered to himself before rolling his shoulders experimentally. The muscle wasn't tightening as much as he had expected which was good, and the wound wasn't worth any of his precious magicka. "Anyone got a needle and thread? I'd prefer to get this sewn up sooner rather than later. Especially if, as I see it, we'll be running into more opponents."
He looked around at the group, two people, possibly three if the Redguard was with them, wasn't much of a force. But it was the beginings of a story, a legend. It could be a glorious victory, or a heroic death, and Gillyed relished the idea. "I'll be joining you on your journey, unless of course you don't think you need a massive magick hurling behemoth."
"Gillyed, and I was just accompanying these refugees, didn't see any caravans on our way down here. But we didn't stop at any forts, kept moving throughout the nights. It's possible that your caravans had stopped in at a fort and we passed them without noticing."
After convincing himself that the priestess was fine, he turned to face the Breton and tentatively felt the arrow wound in his shoulder. It hurt, but hadn't hit anything important. With a grunt he jerked out the arrow head.
"Good thing it wasn't barbed." he muttered to himself before rolling his shoulders experimentally. The muscle wasn't tightening as much as he had expected which was good, and the wound wasn't worth any of his precious magicka. "Anyone got a needle and thread? I'd prefer to get this sewn up sooner rather than later. Especially if, as I see it, we'll be running into more opponents."
He looked around at the group, two people, possibly three if the Redguard was with them, wasn't much of a force. But it was the beginings of a story, a legend. It could be a glorious victory, or a heroic death, and Gillyed relished the idea. "I'll be joining you on your journey, unless of course you don't think you need a massive magick hurling behemoth."
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