» Sat Jun 12, 2010 9:26 pm And what happens when a soul gem is broken?
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The chirping of birds had stopped. The tracker, breath misting in the cool morning air, paid no mind--his mind was concentrated on a more important task. The trail of blood before him warped around a spindly evergreen, lukewarm and coagulated red splattered across its black trunk. It scattered into a holly, across a patch of grass, and through a small opening in a vast patch of briars. The deer was dying, slowly--he had been surprised his arrow hadn't dropped it where it had stood. Now, the thing could barely crawl, and he was beginning to feel pity for it. Better he caught it soon and put it out of its misery--not to mention begin preparing a meal. He drew a shortsword--dulled by rust and continued use--and began hacking his way through the undergrowth. It took little time, and soon the wall of thorns opened up upon... a road? The deer was dead, arrow protruding from its shoulder and surrounded by a pool of fresh blood. The road was a lucky break, he thought to himself, dragging the carcass from the road and to a more secure location in which he could finally prepare his breakfast. He checked his maps--handmade, but with most of the smaller towns marked--there was no sign of any road that should be here. It was little more than a dirt path, and was rather overgrown, but it was noticeably a road on any glance. He skinned the deer, leaving the hides out to dry over a nearby limb--and put the meat into a pot with a fair sprinkling of water and a powder of the bones. It would make a fair broth--nurishing enough for a day's exploration.
With his meal settled, the tracker returned to the road, calmly walking the path. The evergreens that lined the path grew into a thick patch, blotting out most of the light--the tips of the trees turned down towards the path as though attempting to form an arch over him as he walked--but the tracker thought nothing of his surroundings. He was used to the woods--unafraid of the many beasts and dangers--and evergreens were quite common in southern Skyrim. They grew thicker until, at some point--maybe an hour after walking in the shadow of their boughs--they began to thin out. There were houses hidden among the trees, overgrown and in disrepair. Curious, the tracker pressed on, until at last the trees ended and he came upon a village proper. Weeds had overgrown the many places that--in his mind--gardens would have lain. Vines and creepers had overgrown windows, puncturing glass and mortar. A few trees had even begun to sprout in the shadow of the village. Without any signs of fire, he ruled out any chance of the town having been overrun six years past during the Oblivion Crisis, but his mind was aroused. Why was this village abandoned? Why wasn't it on any maps? He began his search--starting with a small inn, and found little out of place. Bottles still in their racks, chairs still under the tables, trash still littering the floors. Nothing had been taken when the villagers had left. The search unsuccessful, he tried another building, a blacksmith's, by the huge furnace in the building's side, and to his infuriation, the wares were still in their proper holsters upon the walls and tables. His search lasted for several hours, but as the day began to wax, he grew dissapointed in its fruitlessness, and he departed, walking back down the empty trail to the makeshift campsite he had erected.
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The story: An abandoned village has been found in the wilderness of southern Skyrim. What secrets does it hide?
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Does this interest anybody? It will be a horror roleplay. With some survival required.
I've never hosted before, so if you have any tips, I'd very much appreciate them. Thanks for taking the time to read this post, by the way.
What sort of Chars do you recommend? Could you tell us in which province the village is? 
(Though most seem to be nowadays... Curse you highschool!)
