*apologies on the name, i havnt decided yet*


Trials
&
Trails


It's the end of the Third Era, and if it was not for the one called the "Champion of Cyrodiil," the empire would be in ruins. After Martin's sacrifice banished Mehrunes Dagon, Ocato tried to take control. However, he soon tried to change the empire drastically and caused many under his rule to rebel and deny his right to rule. Even the Champion of Cyrodiil severed all ties to the empire--even he despised Ocato, after being ordered around like a lapdog.

By the end of the era each of the guilds had changed hands, appointing new leaders. The rash of inexperienced leadership led the guilds in general to be weak and unorganised. They were kept in check by the Champion of Cyrodiil, who would occasionally converse with each of the leaders--even the Gray Fox and the Dark Brotherhood Listener.

Everyone still revered the Champion as their saviour. As long as he was around, Cyrodiil felt safe.

However, the Champion eventually disappeared, leaving nothing but the memory of his title. Oddly, everyone in Cyrodiil remembered and honoured his great achievements, yet no-one could remember who he was. It was as if he had never existed, beyond the records of his accomplishments.

With the Champion out of the picture, a massive flux of rebels felt free to emerge out of the shadows to move against the beheaded Empire. However, their disorganized attempts always ended with lots of innocent blood spilt and a long hike back into hiding.

The guilds also suffered at the loss of a unified Leader, without the emperor, Ocato or the Champion; they began fighting amongst themselves, they still functioned in the way they once did but they had forgotten why their guilds were founded in the beginning. They had become greedy, focusing on skill, power and money, right and wrong. They hadn't forgotten the morals they were once taught.

Rumours began to spread about a Khajiit travelling the land in search of people who wanted fairness and equality back, with the promise of rewards and a brighter future for all. Though many believe it to be nonsense and hearsay; some believe it to be true and have gone in search of this Khajiit in hopes of joining his cause. Others however seek to put him down.

Whispers also tell of many guild related incidents such as theft and kidnapping but also counts of murder, little is known about the cause of such violence but many can't help but assume it is related to the Khajiit rumoured to be the new saviour.

Recent Happenings

- Sixteen strangers met up outside Fort Blueblood, led there by rumours of a meeting that would lead to meeting "The Khajiit".
- They entered the fort after a dramatic magical light shone out as a signal to enter.
- The first room they found was filled with a wide range of treasure from around Tamriel, as well as a riddle.
- After a while, they all reacted differently, some took nothing, some looked but put back, and others took various object for different reasons.
- The lights went out leaving the room dark and a new door opened up, which they all walked through and down the passage.
- When they reached the second room, they were met with yet another riddle involving two skeletons and a corpse.
- The eventually solved it but to do so they all had to give up something they cherished, but as they finished the door closed and sealed them in.

Summary

You play one of many people that have heard the rumours or are soon to hear of them and seek out the answers, whatever your personal reason is whether it for the future, the rewards or just plain curiousity.

This RP is for anyone. Many characters will have been people who were exiled from society or rejected by the guilds. However, it is more than acceptable for a character to join even if they are just normal person or go-lucky adventurer.

This RP takes place after every mission in the Oblivion Game has been completed. If you've completed the game, you'll be aware of how it ended up.

This RP will be story driven; however, it will not be overrun with orders to "go here and do this, then go there and do that." It will be about building your characters up and developing their own side-stories, and about character interaction. You are encouraged to develop your own storylines, but with moderation. You may include other players in your side-story, but don't distract everyone from the main quest for too long or I might do something drastic.


Rules

-First and foremost, roleplay sensibly and keep your character consistent.
-No weird typing of any kind! Use normal plain English, and try to spell to the best of your ability. I won't have a go at you for simple mistakes.
-No character control. Be respectful and courteous to other role players, and don't do anything that would affect their characters without discussing with them through PM first.
-No random armies appearing at our doorstep without confirmation from me first.
-Be realistic if and when you might acquire loot during a mission: most of your best equipment should be awarded to you or bought, this also means you cant start as some rich noble with 1,000,000 septims as that would be unfair.
-This will be more fun if your character has his/her own personal goal/story... but will be ruined if you focus on it too much. Just use moderation.
-I will work on a nearly no-tolerance system. I expect everyone who joins this to know how to RP. So if I am disobeyed, I will give one warning. If it happens again, your character will be killed.
-Last but not least... HAVE FUN. You know all the rest.


Character sheet template (for those of you who don't have your own)

Name:
Nickname:
Gender:
Race:
Age:
Birthsign:

Height:
Build:
Eye Colour:
Hair Style:
Skin Colour:

Class:
Focus:
Skills:

General Appearance:
Tattoos/Scars:

Clothing:
Accessories:

Armor:
Weapon:

Pack/Pockets:

Magic:

Mentality:

Misc:

History:

[APOLOGIES IF I MISSED ANYONE]


1
Korroded-Korpse (me)
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Name: Narkiorrou (NAR-key-are-Roo)
Nickname: Korro
Gender: Male
Race: Khajiit (Imperial Father)
Age: 26
Birthsign: The Warrior

Height: 5 ft 9
Build: Quite muscular but not overly bulky.
Eye Colour: Yellow
Hair Style: Medium length mane up in spikes. (see pic)
Fur Colour: Yellow/Orange with brown stripes. (see pic)

Image: http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t244/klown-korpse/My%20Art/Narkiourru.jpg

Class: Thief, Smuggler and just plain good for nothing.
Focus: Stealth with aspects of combat.
Skills: Dual Blade fighting, Sneak, Security, Acrobatics, Athletics, Mercantile.

General Appearance: His face and torso could easily be Imperial, yet his ears and claws are definably that of a khajiit, let alone all the fur. His stance shows his arrogance yet his expression shows his kind-heart.
Tattoos/Scars: N/A

Clothing: (See Pic)

Armor: None
Weapon: Two Massive Combat Knives.

Pack/Pockets: Has a Large shoulder sack that usually contains Moonsugar, Skooma, Telvanni Bug Musk and various Dwemer objects. His pockets usually have a few Coins, Picks and Probes jingling about.

Magic: N/A

Mentality: Cool, Calm and Collected sums him up. Never heard of the word 'Consequences' as he is always doing things he is sure to get into big trouble for, but because he goes about it so casually he is hardly ever caught. He has been known to frequently taunt armed guards just so they will chase him for a bit. He sees life as a game.

Misc:
-: Although he can fight with two blades, he isn’t very skilled and so can’t pull off any amazing moves. He fights with very simple yet effective attacks and never rushes in headstrong.
-: His shield is his sense of humour, any threats aimed at him will go unnoticed and he will usually come back with something witty.
-: Had a hard life to begin with due to his father, until he ran away and now he takes it all in his stride without letting anything get to his head.

History:
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2
Emperor Jim
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Name: Aryon Sarethi
Nickname: Aryon
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Age: Unknown
Birthsign: The Mage

Height: 6ft 1
Build: Not very muscular. Average build, not too skinny or too fat.
Eye Colour: Red
Hair Style: Long black hair reaching down behind his shoulders
Skin Colour: Dunmer gray

Image: http://img520.imageshack.us/img520/6610/55166333.png

Class: Wizard
Focus: Purely all arts of magic with main emphasis on Destruction and Conjuration
Skills: All of the schools of magic

General Appearance: He has a long sharp face, showing the signs of years of worldly experience. He stands like that of an arrogant man, one who would rather trust himself to do something than another.
Tattoos/Scars: N/A

Clothing: Dunmer Armun-An Bonemold Armor, excluding the helmet. http://www.uesp.net/wiki/File:MW_Armor_BonemoldArmun-AnM.jpg

Armor: Armun-An Bonemold armor
Weapon: None, he needs no weapon.

Pack/Pockets: Small sack of coins attatched to his armors hip plate.

Magic: Many different spells learned over his long life though he is most fond of destruction and conjuration spells which he is most skilled in.

Mentality: An extremely calm and centred man, always thinking first about the consequences of every action. His wise mind has helped him much in the past in every situation. His arrogance on the other hand has often got the better of him. However his patience does have a limit when around people he deems as fools, not that he would burst into anger over it though. He would see it as a waste of his time.

History: He has had a long history and even he has forgotten some of his most earliest memories. He does not care much for his youth years as he saw himself as a fool back then and headstrong, never thinking of his actions and what consequences it could of, and had brought about. His life is not nearing its end yet, a Dunmer lives long and there are many years to go yet for Aryon. However he himself thinks there is little else to see in the world.
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3
Perapsam
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Name: Arnand Erelue
Nickname: Arnand
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Age: 31
Birthsign: The Mage

Height: 5 feet, 8.7 inches. I used the average height of French people for this one.
Build: Skinny, with hardly any strong muscles at all, but he is generally a healthy person.
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair Style: Oiled
Hair Colour: Golden Blonde
Skin Colour: White

Class: Mage
Focus: Magic - Chronomancy
Skills: All standard Magic (Alchemy, Destruction, Restoration, Conjuration, Alteration, Mysticism and Illusion), as well as a few dabblings in Daedric magic and Necromancy, but not on the same level as ordinary schools. He also studies Chronomancy, the alteration of time.

General Appearance: Quite lean and skinny, he has very pale skin. His hair is Golden Blonde. He is quite weak, relying on his summons or magical fortifications for physical challenges.
Tattoos/Scars: None

Clothing: Blue Silk Shirt, Blue Silks (pants), White Mage's Shoes, and Wrist Irons - All are enchanted.
Accesories: A Mundane Ring, a Ring of Perfection, and the Necromancer's Amulet (Read history as for why)

Armor: None, unless you count summoned.
Weapon: Silver Dagger, Mages Staff of Paralysis.

Pack/Pockets: A small blue satchel, a little bigger than a hand, which is clipped to his Robe belt. Inside it is a Strong Potion of Restore Health, a Strong Potion of Sorcery, an empty Grand Soul Gem, a Mages Guild Key and a folded up Mage's Hood which is enchanted with both Night-Eye and Detect Life which he wears in caves, at night etc. There are also many coins in the satchel strewn around the rest of the items.

Magic: A Master level in Conjuration, Alchemy, Mysticism and Illusion, whilst an Expert level in Alteration, Destruction and Restoration, and he also knows a thing or two about Daedric magic and Necromancy. His most favourite magic is the unique Chronomancy, the alteration of time, of which only two practicers are known of including Arnand.

Mentality: In general, Arnand is a nice, neat and intelligent person. He takes magic and learning seriously and sometimes spends days researching topics, especially magical ones. He sometimes comes across as fairly ecstatic and exitable at times. Having grown up with Elves, Arnand has inherited a lot of their calm, condescending attitude but not on a large scale. Arnand uses very good language and is a large fan of reading, having an enormous collection of books at his home in Frostcrag Spire.

Misc: Arnand was a Master Wizard in the Mages Guild before he left, and at his home in Frostcrag Spire he had several Imp guardians and a faithful Storm Atronach.

History: Arnand was born in High Rock with an intricate disease that was rare but fatal. His parents tried all sorts of cures, but not even the Church altars could save him. Desperate, they sought the help of the Daedric Prince of knowledge, Hermaeus Mora, hoping that his vast library would include a secret remedy. Hermaeus Mora knew of the cure, but in return he wanted the souls of Arnand's parents. They reluctantly agreed, and Arnand was left to be raised by a family of Altmer on Summerset Isle who had been close friends of the Erelues. Arnand was raised to be a powerful Mage, skilled in Alchemy, Destruction, Restoration, Illusion, Mysticism, Conjuration, and Alteration. At age 18, he moved to Cyrodiil, joined the Mages Guild, and obtained his reccomendations with surprising ease. At 21, after acheiving the rank of Warlock, he became quite adventurous and went on many explorations. Five years later, he acheived the rank of Master Wizard and became the fifth member of the Council. At age 29, he inherited Frostcrag Spire from a long-lost relative of his. After it was retrieved, Arnand learned of the Necromancer's Amulet, and borrowed it to 'study' at his Spire. After the third Era ended, with Mehrunes Dagon defeated and Mannimarco dead, guild regulations became much more restricting as the Empire fell to it's knees. It was unfortunate that at this time Arnand had been researching and practicing the darker magicks. Furious at the guild's arrogant reaction and seeing nothing wrong with a bit of 'Harmless research', he stole the Necromancer's Amulet and left the guild, convinced the entire Empire had gone mad and wondering if anybody would ever do something about it...
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4
Cirith
[-------------------------------------------------------------------]
Name:Jack Vedeos
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Age: 29
Birthsign: The Ritual

Class: Grave Cleanser
Focus: combat with aspects of magic
Skills: Destruction, Blunt weapons, Bladed weapons, Restoration, Illusion, Block, Heavy Armour
Class description: Grave robbers are strong treasure hunters not afraid to disturb the dead or to get their hands dirty, capable of batteling the undead with spell and axe and able to survive long with their healing abilities

Height: 6 ft 1
Build: tall and a slender build but still with quite muscled arms due to heavy labour and training in heavy armour
Eye Colour: brown
Hair Style: dark brown hair of average length
skin colour: a bit pale in the face but otherwise normal
Image: work in progress

Clothing: sturdy black trousers, a brown shirt, black vest and a grey coat and dark green cloak and hood

Armour: iron armguards, shinguard and kneecaps
Weapon: an enchanted metal shovel capable of blinding anyone struck by it for several seconds and a special ring called Sealbreak, which gives Jack a very powerful dispell power which can sever the magical link between undead or daedra and the mortal realm (very effective against Necromancers)

Pack/Pockets: some supplies and rations and a lot of potions to restore his strength because he doesn't get much sleep

Magic: he specializes in the use of firespells and knows a variety of effective spells, he tends to use illusion magic to incite fear in his enemies through blinding spells and demoralizing spells

Mentality: Jack is a kind person, very friendly to people, but still it takes a while for him to fully trust someone. Although he appears quite open and social he often meeps some details about himself unmentiones, such as the power of his ring or the fact that he is a skilled magician in the schools of Restoration, Destruction and Illusion.

Short History:
-born in a poor breton family in Sentinel
-was able to travel with family to Cyrodiil and got home in Waterfront District
-during Oblivion Crisis Jack, his father and his older brother helped defending the waterfront district in the final attack of Mehrunes Dagon in the Temple
district
-he was part of the fighters guild for a while but jumped out the business when Blackwood Company showed up, he didn't however join Blackwood company because they did not have need of his magical abilities
-became a worshipper of Meridia and was sent out on a mission to cleanse the burial sites of Cyrodiil
-nowadays he is free to go his own way and sees himself as a paladin of sorts, he travels across Cyrodiil from city to city to worship the nine and in search of job or necromancers to vanquish for his mistress Meridia.
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5
Olny
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Name: Larth Stryker
Nickname: Larth
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: 26
Birthsign: The Tower
Height: 6'1"
Build: Muscular, square shouldered and stout.
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Style: It runs half-way down his neck with no sign of ever being kept neat.


Class: A mercenary who came to find wealth in Cyrodil. He got stiffed.
Focus: Hack, slashing, a bit more hacking, and perhaps a jab just to keep you guessing. He also shoots people but it's markedly less fun.
Skills: Athletics, Hand-To-Hand, Axe (or blunt, however you're working it), Marksmanship, Blade, Medium Armor, and Hunting/Foraging.

General Appearance: Tall, blond and scary.
Tattoos/Scars: The left side of his face is dominated by faded blue Nordic war paint in an design.

Clothing: A huntsman's jacket over a white cotton shirt. White satin pants with a brown sash, and fur boots.

Armor: Chain mail
Weapon: A Nordic battle axe and yew long bow on his back.

Pack/Pockets: A quiver of 25 chittin arrows, 50 septims in his pocket, and a cask of Mead tied to his sash.

Magic: Unlock (Birthsign ability), Cold Hands (Racial ability)

Mentality: While slightly a brute, he's calmed down since his youth. He doesn't kick down doors and bang heads, but he's a slumbering dragon awaiting a foolish midget to dare to take his gold.

Misc:
-: His berserk assault is generally only used when he expects it to route his enemy. He likes to get a solid shot or three in with his bow and know whose where before dashing into a melee.
-: He dislikes elves in general, but if he had to list them Dunmer would be his favorite, because they don't presume as much superiority as the Altmer, aren't as fruity as the Bosmer, and have one his respect during some of his escapades.


History:
After spending three years working in western Skyrim, doing work in Hammerfall and working for anyone with gold, his path took him across his nation in a trek he will never forget. He ended up in Solstheim, in a gorilla war against the Imperial fort there. After a particularly remarkable Dark Elf continued to hack at his shins to defend his fleeing comrades, he began to rethink what he was doing.

He returned to his homeland to realize he had no money. What he had amassed he gave to his kin, who were in dire need. He stayed with them for a time, learning to hunt and forage to help them survive. But the time came when he realized there was simply no room for them in their little corner of Skyrim.

In search of money and a new home, he set off alone for Cyrodil with dreams of one day bringing his family with him.
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6
Crimson Paladin
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Name: Tucharon
Nickname: None
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Age: 84
Birthsign: The Atronach

Height: 6'6"
Build: Slightly more muscular than most other Altmer (although that isn't saying much); otherwise, average for an Altmer.
Eye Colour: Green
Hair Style: Brown
Skin Colour: Gold (or whatever that typical Altmer skin tone is called)

Class: Spellsword
Focus: Enchanting
Skills: Tucharon possesses the skills typical for a Spellsword; Blade, Alteration, Block, Destruction, Illusion, Heavy Armor, and Restoration. Because of his birthsign, he has given particular focus to the swordplay aspect of his profession.

He specializes in Dwemer engineering and enchanting, and possesses intimate knowledge of Dwemer Animunculi. In addition, he also has a lesser degree knowledge on other elven enchanted devices, such as Propylon Chambers and Dark Welkynd stones. However, he has almost no knowledge on the Daedric devices at this time, although he's figured his lifespan should allow him to get around to it provided he doesn't get in anything over his head.

General Appearance: He appears to be just any Altmer, unless he's in his armor. Only the Mages Guild members know that he's more than just any Altmer.

Tattoos/Scars: Although he's been wounded many times in many places, he has used his skill in Restoration to ensure that he remains scar-free.

Clothing: He wears a Mournhold-style shirt and pants, as well as gold-trimmed shoes, when not in his armor. More often than not, his clothes are stained with oil and dirt from all the tinkering he does.

Accesories: He carries various tools, as well as alchemy apparatus, in a satchel.

Armor: Ebony armor custom-crafted for him by the Mournhold craftsman Bols Indalen, including specially ordered gloves instead of bracers (Given the risks of a Spellsword and the importance of his hands to his specialization, he felt the extra protection warranted the extra cost), topped off with a Morrowind-style Ebony Shield.

Weapon: Ebony Longsword (he's wanted to enchant it, but he hasn't been able to decide on what to enchant it with).

Pack/Pockets: He has a satchel that he uses to carry things.

Magic: He possesses various spells of all schools, although most are Destruction or Alteration spells.

Mentality: He's a bit of a mad scientist and a bit of a crackpot who's always tinkering with something and always thinking of something new. He puts almost no value in money, and spent away a fortune for his gear and knowledge. He prefers to remain indoors and tinker, unless he's off doing field research. Aside from his eccentricities, he is reserved and mild-mannered.

Misc: He isn't much of a lockpicker, but his knowledge make him an expert in magic-based security. He can build guardians, magical traps, and even teleporters.. Unfortunately, his track record shows that most of the things he has built are dangerous or unreliable, but it's given him ample time to iron out almost all of the hiccups.

History: Tucharon was the only child born to a wealthy couple in Summerset. He was tutored in magic and swordplay at a young age, due to his parents' fear of their lineage being lost. This fear proved founded when his parents were both poisoned by an unknown assassin, likely working for a rival family.

Tucharon, only 26 at the time, took all of his wealth to a place where the assassination business was regulated; Vvardenfell. While there, he joined the Mages Guild and took part into their Dwemer research efforts for a very long time. When the Dwemer ruins beneach Mournhold opened, he relocated there, at great expense, to study the new devices and centurions that were there. Given the increased danger, he invested the rest of his wealth into acquiring his ebony armor and weapon (between buying enough raw ebony, ordering the armor, and getting through the red tape, it was pretty expensive). It was around this time that he unveiled a rebuilt Centurion Archer at the Almalexia Mages Guild. Unfortunately, he had made a mistake rebuilding it and it attacked, killing three Mages Guild members. He was expelled from the Mages Guild after that, with no chance of rejoining.

Tucharon moved to Cyrodiil to engage in research in Ayleid enchanting, as well as move to a place where he wasn't seen as a mad scientist. He drifted from place to place, researching Ayleid ruins when he could, even during the Oblivion Crisis.

When the post-crisis problems started, Tucharon became worried he'd have to leave Cyrodiil. When he heart, however, of a Khajiit gathering other outcasts, he decided that he will no longer let the rest of the world push him from province to province any more.
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7
Manu
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Name : Elissandre
Race : Breton
Gender : female
Age : 25

Class : healer - sort of
Skills : Illusion, restoration, blade, speechcraft, alchemy, alteration, light armor
minor skills : a bit of practice at sneaking, acrobatics and hand-to-hand fighting from her years of hiding

Spells
Restoration : assorted healing spells (self and others), fortify stats spells, absorb health, absorb fatigue
Alteration : Ondusis’s open door, Timur’s hoptoad, lock, burden, first to third barriers spells
Illusion : night eye, calm humanoid, calm creature,invisibility, silence, paralyze, demoralize
Mysticism : soultrap, soul vision, dispelling
Destruction : enough knwoledge to light a campfire, electrocute a stray dog into running away or put a bit of ice in a water cup and that's about it.

Equipment :

dwemer vampire blade (dwemer shortsword, cast on strike absorb health and fatigue, not very powerful nor many charges)
leather cuirass and boots worn over a linen skirt and tunic.
Cadra signet ring : enchanted with a low-level constant restore health and fatigue effect. Not enough to alter the outcome of a combat, but handy for long travels and quick recovery. The original gold and ruby ring is disguised to appear as a cheap copper signet ring.
traveller's robes over the armor - an ample brownish robe of sturdy fabric. An oiled linen hooded cloak for rainy days and a pair of somewhat worn walking boots.
linen skirt and tunic under the armor
a thin bronze chain enchanted with a low level frost or fire damage enchantment - just the thing to wrap around a glass to keep it cool or dump into into to warm it.

Several restoration potion (fatigue, health and magicka, 3 of each), one fire shield potion
Some basic alchemy equipment (apprentice mortar and pestle)
two petty, lesser and common soulgems (empty)

Background : Elissandre is the daughter of the now-defunct baron of Cadra, a minor breton domain and therefore the proud heiress to a smoking ruin, since the domain was invaded by a neighboring baron, most of her family getting killed in the process.

She ran away from Highrock and ended up moving around Cyrodill, peoples being more concerned with the Oblivion crisis and it's sequels than the feuds of some minor Breton lordling. With thugs on the lord of Arsange's payroll nosing around for her, she went into hiding into less than reputable places along with less than reputable peoples. There she earned a living by selling her magical skills, improving her mastery of illusion and alteration with unguilded mages - the Mage guild didn't want anything to do with a gal of unknown parentage and equally unknwon masters. Which means she's selling her skills or a pittance, with the ever-present risk of the Thieve's guild racket or the mage's displeasure. As she heard about an odd khajiit looking to gather various misfits and outcasts to built a better future for themselves, she jumped at the occasion. Even longs odds for sucess seemed better than the dead-end she's currently living in.

Appearance : Elissandre is a rather short but good looking redhead, though not much of it shows up from under the ample brownish robe she's wearing. One dwemer shortsword is sheated at her belt.

Personnality : rather easygoing and with a bit of a lazy streak, Elissandre prefers calming issues or finding ways around them than open confrontation. Though definitively not overly worried about the law, she draws a strong line at what she deems bad. Her usual concern about a questionable action would be 'is that only illegal or is it nasty' - the second options meaning 'without me'.
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8
Lord Veneficus
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Name: Acerbus Occisor
Race: Imperial/Vampire
Age: 382, but looks like he is in his early sixties
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Thief

Focus: Stealth
Main skills: Hand-to-hand, Short Blades, Light Armor, Speechcraft
Class: Martial Artist
Class Description: Calm well-spoken people and masters of martial arts. Flexibility is key to success in martial arts, being able to contort your body to dodge an incoming attack.

General appearance: He is of medium build, muscular arms and legs. His flesh is pale and his face is gaunt due to his 'condition'.
Hair: Natural. Shoulder length, jet black
Eye Colour: Bright Red
Height: 6'0"
Tattoos/Scars: A long scar that runs diagonally down his back

Primary weapon: Hands and feet
Secondary weapon: Silver shortsword
Clothing/Armor: A sapphire blue cape and hood which is constantly covering his face and a full suit of tight black leather armor; no helmet.

Inventory: Map, Compass, Small pouch full of gold, Quill and Ink , and a Lute

Misc:
-- Acerbus began practicing with a lute several years ago and has become quite good at it.
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9
Person from Anticlere
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Name: Heinrich Plauen
Gender: Male
Race: Breton (Wayrestian)
Age: 30
Birthsign: The Ritual

Height: 5’5
Build: Rather stocky; a good amount of muscle on his hands due to the amount of work he has to do.
Eye Colour: Dark green
Hair: Dark brown, tied into a ponytail that reaches slightly past his shoulders.
Skin Colour: Rather pale, due to his race more than anything as he spends a good amount of his time under the sun.

Class: Yeoman
Focus: Archery
Skills: In the way of combat, Heinrich is very skilled with a longbow or a staff, also being quite a wrestler, although he lacks technique. He also knows how to work in and manage a farm, having been a quite wealthy yeoman back in High Rock and thus having the luxury of hiring helping hands.

General appearance: Heinrich’s looks correspond to his personality and place in society – he looks like the kind of ‘jolly farmer’ you would expect to find somewhere in the farms of Cyrodiil, although being a Breton, he’s paler than one would expect from a man who spends nearly the whole day outdoors. Rather short and stocky, he has a good deal of physical strength, particularly in his arms. He’s not much of a runner, though.

Heinrich’s face is nothing special. His eyebrows are lush, rather protracted; there’s not much of a gap between them and his dark green, medium sized eyes. His nose is big and slightly snub, lips are quite fat and wide, usually smiling. A short but lush beard is his only facial hair, as the yeoman chose not to grow a moustache.

Tattoos/Scars: Some bruises and several small scars, mostly on his left hand.

Clothing: http://www.dkimages.com/discover/previews/932/55080545.JPG

Weapon: Heinrich’s primary weapon is a yew longbow slung over his back, where can also be found a simple leather quiver with 30 iron-tipped arrows. In his hand he usually carries a long staff, usually acting as a walking cane (even though he doesn’t have much need for it), which can quickly double as a weapon for close combat.

Pack/Pockets: In his pack Heinrich carries a couple of apples, two loaves of bread and a flask of water.

History: Born not too far away from the city of Wayrest in High Rock, Heinrich inherited his father’s farm, where he had worked for the majority of his childhood, and along with it the rank of a yeoman, a free farmer. He lived and worked in the farm for most of his life, until being forced to sell it to a noble by a corrupt Imperial officer, who was bribed to force him out of there. Why exactly was he forced out Heinrich didn’t know, nor care; he suspected the noble wanted to build himself another manor or something of the sort. What the yeoman knew, however, was that he hated Empire the way it was right now, and that there would be no life for him in High Rock. So, for the money he got from the farm’s ‘selling’ he bought passage to Cyrodiil via a ship, where he was forced to turn to banditry after failing to find a place for himself.
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10
JDKilla
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Name: Alkhillion (pronounced All-kill-yun)
Nickname: Alkhil (pronounced all-kill)
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 25
Birthsign: The Thief

Height: 5'6
Build: Lean, not very muscular, but the muscles he does have are very defined and are quite powerful for their size.
Eye Colour: Grey-ish blue
Hair Style: Rogue knot
Skin Colour: Darker than most of his race, but no where near as dark as a Redguard.

Image: (N/A)

Class: Assassin
Focus: Close-up assassination missions and Infiltration
Skills: Short Blade, Marksman, Light Armor, Security, Sneak, Illusion, Alteration, Hand-to-Hand

General Appearance: Alkhil stands about five feet and six inches, which is more on the shorter side of average for the height of the Imperial Race. However, his body isn't stocky, like many of the shorter Imperials, for he has kept his musculature lean, yet strong. Atop this body sits a head that is always calculating, yet rarely seen, as it's usually covered by a cowl, but on the rare occasion that it's not, the light brown hair is pulled back and tied in a knot, which is known as a Rogue Knot. Below the hair sits a pair of eyes that have enraptured many people before they were killed. They have a peculiar, grey-ish blue color, but when they are looked directly into, the irises seem to be swirling, as if a massive hurricane raged within each. However, when Alkhil walks among the public, he slips on a small ring which is enchanted with a small, illusion enchantment, which hides these unique eyes and show's the general public just a regular set of blue eyes.
Tattoos/Scars: A long tattoo, which resembles a thorny vine, twists around his left arm and disapates at the wrist, so not many see it. It is one of the only reminders he has of where he came from and the family which thrust him onto a path he had no intention or want of following.

Clothing: Under a dark red robe and cowl, Alkhil hides a cuirass of Mithril and a matched pair of greaves to go along with it. On his feet, he usually wears a pair of black moccasins.

Armor: Mithril Cuirass, Mithril Greaves
Weapon: An Elven dagger, which he uses for every assassination mission, other various fine steel daggers, a Black Bow(if allowed), and twenty(20) Silver arrows in a quiver on his hip.

Pack/Pockets: Multiple potions of healing, several poisons of varying strengths, a flask of water, and approximately twenty feet of rope.

Magic: Particularly skilled in the schools of Illusion and Alteration, but knows a few particular Destruction spells and can use them very effectively.

Mentality: Is disgusted by what the Empire has become, and see's it as his duty as an Imperial to do whatever is possible within his power to restore an Emperor, chosen by the Nine, to the throne and have a peaceful Tamriel once again.

History: Alkhillion was born as Varrus Mercurius and to a family that was well-known for producing legendary Knights of the Imperial Legion. As soon as he was born, the duty was placed upon him to follow in his family's footsteps and take up the mantle of the Imperial Legion. He never liked it, but he was forced to train to be the best soldier to ever walk the face of Nirn, just as his father, his father's brothers, and every male-child of the Mercurius family before him had. Alkhil hated this with a passion, but did it anyway, to please his mother, who was one of the only people to ever understand why he disliked what he did. He even joined the Legion itself, and served in three outposts, the final one near the Valenwood. It was there that he learned of his mother's death. She had been the one thing keeping him in the Legion, so when she was gone, he shocked his whole family and every person living he had ever known, and he deserted into the Valenwood, where he was captured by a roving patrol of Bosmer. At this time, he had only seen about nineteen(19) years pass, so he was fairly young by human standards, and almost a baby by Mer standards. Having shed himself of the trappings of the Imperial Legion upon desertion, he was clad only in a few simple garments when he was picked up by the patrol, which was probably a good thing, considering the dislike of the Legion by the local Bosmer, who were subject to much verbal abuse by the soldiers. After two(2) full years in captivation, he was released by the Bosmer who held him, and upon his release, he was taken in by a Bosmer who was almost old enough to be considered an elder and had been a well-known thief and assassin during his days. The Bosmer gave him the name Alkhillion, and taught Alkhil almost every thing he knows pertaining to stealth and the skills that fall into that category. Less than half a year ago, the old Bosmer was assassinated while he slept. Alkhil and most of the Bosmer's associates have placed blame upon the Dark Brotherhood, but the actual assassin has never been found, due to the total chaos in Tamriel, and it sticks like a thorn in the back of Alkhil's mind, as he wanders the country-side, attempting to find a way to save Cyrodiil from itself and to find the killer of his master and true friend, who had bequeathed to him not only most of his material possessions, such as the Mithril cuirass and greaves, and the Elven dagger, but many immaterial things, such as memories, skills, and even principles, which he follows to the utmost, even now.
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11
Jonasvault101
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Name: Varar Rendas
Nickname: Rend
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Age: Unknown but possibly over 100
Birthsign: The Steed

Height: 5'8"
Build: Very defined muscle, bigger than most dunmer.
Eye Colour: Red
Hair Style: Long grayish-black hair in dreadlocks reaching just past his shoulders. And a long braid of a goatee.
Skin Colour: Dunmer gray

Class: Dunmer Pirate and Mercernary
Focus: Combat
Skills: Heavy/Medium Armor, Marksman, Spears, Blades of all kinds.

General Appearance: Has a weathered looking face, but something mysterious and dark about it, and yet there is hope in it.
Tattoos/Scars: The Tribunal Hand covers the right side of his face, his body is adorned with many native Dunmer tattoos as well. Varar also has many Daedric runes that were branded into his skin, to show his devotion to them.

Clothing: http://www.uesp.net/morrow/preview/redoran.jpg Underneath is a fine robe and Expensive pants and shoes.
Accessories: 2 gold earings in his left ear, a Ring of Strength, and an Amulet of Telekinesis. Also carries a large satchel on his back.

Armor: see above picture
Weapon: A native Dunmer scimitar with Daedric runes adorning it. (see above picture, its in the scabbard) As well as a Bonemold Longbow and 30 Bonewold Arrows.

Pack/Pockets: In his pack he carries Flin, Matze, Bread, Scrib Jerky, and 2 cure disease potions.

Magic: Destruction, mainly fire and lightning spells of a higher power. But hardly used as Varar prefers close combat, but when fighting a Daedra or some paranormal being, he resorts to Magic

Mentality: Adamantly patriotic to Morrowind. Very calm in harsh situations. Friendly to those he knows well, and to his enemies he has a hatred for like no other.

Misc:

-Was an ex-Telvanni guard turned pirate.
-Hired by House Hlaalu as a Privateer to raid Black Marsh and bring slaves to Vvardenfell.
-Trained by an ex-Blade in the arts of combat as well as diplomacy.
-Skilled in sailing, ship combat and boarding, guerrilla warfare, and open combat.

History: Grew up as an Ashlander of the Urshilaku tribe. He learned how to live off the land as the others did, but one day a group of Nordic slavers raided the camp. With nearly the entire tribe dead, Varar was sold to the Telvanni in Sadrith Mora and given a Telvanni name. He grew up in a life of servitude, at only the tender age of 10. He tried escaping, but the Telvanni had puts spells on him and soon he was taken again.

The Telvanni mages kept him in a constant drugged state for years, yet still able to function, Varar never knew exactly how long. After the mages took him off the drugs and spells, Varar was finally taken under the wing of the Archmage, and became a High Guard of the Archmage in Sadrith Mora. But Varar hated his new "Father" so he killed him in the middle of the night, took all his possessions, rallied some of the other guards, and stole a ship.

From then on he led a life of piracy, slave trade, guerrilla warfare, smuggling, and privateering. When the Empire fell and rumors of a new "champion" roaming the lands reached Morrowind, Varar and his men saw a chance. They weren't bad men, just desperate. After all, they had been slaves, and they freed themselves.

So they go now in search of the lone Khajiit.
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12
Chriso123
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Name: Dandel Milar
Nickname: Doesn't have one
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Age: 79 (young for a Dunmer)
Birthsign: The Tower

Height: 5'11''
Build: Is thin due to lack of food seeing as he is poor and can barely afford anything, has quite defined muscles on his body from lots of exercise over years, even if he doesn't have much fat.
Eye Colour: Red
Hair Style: Quite short, tries to keep ot neat but doesn't really work very well. It is mild brown.
Skin Colour: Typical Dunmer, ashen but slightly darker.

Class: Hunter
Focus: Stealth
Skills: Marksman (Bows and throwing stars), daggers and being moody and aggressive.

General Appearance: Always seems to have a frown on his face, tries to look tough but it's mainly all an act, has large eyes that are quite noticable, has a normal sized nose but is a bit crooked.
Tattoos/Scars: Scars on his back from being wipped.

Clothing: Brown T-shirt under armour, long baggy pants and heavy boots. When in the wilderness he wears gloves.
Accessories: None

Armor: Only a leather cuirass, everything else is his normal clothes.
Weapon: Iron bow, throwing stars and a crude dagger.

Pack/Pockets: In his pack has an apple and five septims.

Magic: Was never taught how to cast spells, but can brew an average poison.

Mentality: Very aggressive and doesn't trust anyone (will be explained in history). Has the tendancy to snap at people who doesn't deserve it. Nonetheless if you can become his friend, he is loyal and will change it to a more calm man, but this is rare as like I said he rarely ever trusts anyone.

Misc: Swears frequently due to always being in a bad mood. Has a raspy voice but not to the extent of Vvardenfell Dunmer.

History: Grew up normally, no problems what so ever, just like any other boy. However once at the age of 7 he and his friend Delryn were waiting in the castle (his father was the cook there). They were waiting in the great hall, it was late and no-one was around, not even any guards, Dandel spotted an amazingly crafted dagger in an unlocked display case (rather strange). With him being so young he didn't think of his actions and took it and ran back to the house his Delryn. It was the next day that word had gotten around the entire city of Bravil that the dagger had been stolen. The punishment was a life sentance in the prison, and there was an enormous reward for anyone who found the dagger and the theif. Dandel and Delryn burried the dagger deep outside the city walls and swore that they would never rat each other out.

Later on in life when everyone was suffering in Bravil with poverty, Delryn had enough of being poor and ratted out Dandel to the Count. Dandel was thrown into the prison and Delryn offered rich's and prizes, he moved to the Imperial city (this was what caused Dandel to never trust anyone). After many years in prison of being beated, whipped, starved and totured, his father made enough money to release Dandel. Normally money wouldn't matter but with the current state it was muchly needed. Dandel and his father lived horribley, 1 meal a day and only small things to eat between it. When his father died Dandel felt his life was pointless, and was close to commiting suicide, but didn't have the mental strength. He settled to smoke skooma whenever he could, which was easy in Bravil, you didn't even have to pay much for it. But he also tried to keep himself physically fit, just as there was nothing to do. It was until one day that rumours were spead about a Khajit helping people who were poor and needed help. Dandel saw no reason not to follow these rumours to Fort Blueblood, he didn't have much to live for and it was something to do. But more importantly.... hope.
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13
Firenze
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Name: Firenze
Nickname: Fir (say: Fur)
Gender: Male
Race:Ka Po'Tun
Age: 27
Birthsign: The Steed

Height: Average 5 ' 10
Build: Slight but muscular, good abs and chest muscles, and strong in the arms.
Eye Colour: Yellow, cats pupils
Hair Style: White, rather messy, http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn%3a%44t8Um-NX0x0rDM:http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g212/lilgujugurl2120/zac_efron.jpg
Skin Colour: Average white mans skin, quite tanned.

Class: Captain, Fighter and Marksman.
Focus: Stealthy combat.
Skills: Long blades, short blades, bows (preferably crossbows) athletics, acrobatics, climbing, light armour.

General Appearance: An attractive man who tends to care about his appearance more than most men in Cyrodiil. He has a light stubble around his chin and under his nose. His yellow eyes seem to glow in the dark.
Tattoos/Scars: One scar that's 1cm below his heart. A dark blue three layered pyramid tattoo on his right cheek.

Clothing: A black pair of coarse linen trousers with leather boots and a grey collared shirt.
Accessories: One silver ring with a blue jem embedded in it, and a silver necklace with a blue jem in it.

Armor: A hooded black travelling cloak and pure black mithril armour, no fingers on the gauntlets, with red F’s emblazoned lots on the back of the gloves, the chest, shoulders and feet.

Weapons: A double-sided black silver long blade and a hand crafted black silver crossbow with 50 silver bolts in a waist quiver.


Pack/Pockets: Many healing potions, an old map, antique compass, a glass dagger and 200 Septims all carried in a brown frayed satchel bag that is hidden under is cloak.

Magic: A toggled night-eye ability that is a ratial trait.

Mentality: Strong, bold and pure of heart, he occasionnaly goes too far and needs companions to stop him.

Misc: N/A

History: Works as an apprentice smith in The March Rider, but by night he has another job. He belongs to the Dark Brotherhood and is at the rank of Executioner. He served in the Brotherhood after him and his companion Jyrath left each other for a while. Firenze joined a month after the Purification and rose through the ranks quickly, showing a lot of prowess. He doesn’t know much about his past, just that his mother was killed by bandits and his father was a drunkard. He left home when he was 13 and learnt to fend for himself.
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14
Dragon Reaper
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Name: Luna
Gender: female
Race: imperial
Birthsign: warrior
Age: 30
Apparent age: 25
Eye Colour: blue
Hair colour: silver
Hair style: short and scruffy
Physical appearance: average height and build
Skills good at: blade, acrobatics, light armour, athletics, stealth
Skills bad at: blunt, illusion, mysticism, destruction, alteration
Equipment:
Apparel: black cloak with hood, shrouded armour, black mask covering lower half of face
Weapon: silver short sword (although favours katana)
Mental appearance: strong willed and puts honour above all else, except her mission, and prefers giving her opponent a fighting chance. When she is not in danger she can sometimes act a bit childish and seems relatively carefree.
Brief history: honed her skills with the blade for 10 years allowing her to dual wield several one handed blades. She was a low ranking member of the dark brotherhood but left after she felt her debt to another member had been paid. She is often thought to be male by strangers when her face is covered. She is incapable of using magic.

Just as everyone was about to get angry and likely pounce Korro and beat him to a pulp, there was a few smart words shared about not panicking or doing anything drastic in case they wasted air. A sigh of relief played from Narkiorrou's face as he strolled down the steps toward the back of the room, all the commotion had worn him out, and the fact he had just given up his stuff alongside his urge to go pick it back up again made him need to sit down somewhere. As he reached the back left corner of the room he sat on a rather moist raised stone, thinking it an ideal place to have a breather, but unbeknown to him as he sat on it, it lowered into the floor causing him to fall lower than expected. Without realising he had activated something. A final grinding noise ensued as a false wall along the left hand side; near the foot of the steps up to the sacrifice tomb, opened.


Korro let his mouth hang in shock before jumping to his feet, running up to the opening and saying " Swweeeeet!"

Having turned around to look the other walls, Elissandre saw what happened to the khajit as well as the unexpected result. Which resulted in a not especially dignified burst of laughter. "Fine job. Most would find that sort of things with eyes and hand rather than your way. But as the saying go 'if it works, it's not stupid'."

As Korro rushed for the passage, Elissandre followed, though at a slower pace as the large changes brought to the fort's underworks were large enough that even a lot of traps could have been added. With this place being a test, if there are traps they're probably of the embarrassing and/or painful rather than lethal sort. But its not a reason to jump on them...

Seeing the khajit about to pas the door she didn't yell but spoke loudly enough for him to hear "Keep you eyes open. With the amount of work done there, adding a few traps would be easy."

Dandel found zero success in trying to find a secret opening on the wall. He looked everywhere, trying to make out every little detail, but there was nothing. Eventually he just gave up and sat on the ground cross legged, sulking. ''F*** it.'' These were the only words that he could be bothered to let out. He had no energy and was very tired and saw no point in having a big rant. It would just cause him to get even more frustrated then he already was. Instead he just stared at Korro with an evil glare, watching every single one of his moves, imagining where the best place to take him out would be. Even if he would never actually ever kill him, it was just the rage flowing through his body giving him such bad thoughts. In fact, the Dunmer was thinking about getting out some more booze to drown away his problems. However he thought twice about it knowing that if he got drunk again it wouldn't help the situation at all and the other group members would probably try to slit his throat, just to shut him up.

After about a minute or so of watching Korro, Dandel spotted the Khajit sit on some sort of activation button. Korro's actions caused the button to lower its self, revealing a hidden tunnel within the walls, it would of been impossible to see without it being physically activated. Dandel just simply watched in amazement, completely gobsmacked. He was about to go through another sudden mood swing. But this time for good reasons.

''Haha!! F*** yeah! I can't bloody believe it! There is hope! My friends there is hope!!'' Dandel sprinted as quick as a cat to the tunnel, looking down it happy as could be. He then rushed over to Korro. ''Well my dear Khajit, I'm certain when I say you made up for that sh*t just a second ago.'' Dandel said, giving Korro a pat on the back and showing a facial expression to say 'good job'.

The Khajit darted off towards the tunnel, Dandel followed. Ellisandre also started walking towards it, trying to get a view. She warned them of the possible traps that may be found in the corridor, Dandel felt that she had a valid point and he stopped mid-way through his run.

''Yeah she has a point, best be careful.'' Dandel stepped into the tunnel, walking catiously and looking for any traps. As the Dunmer walked, he hoped that there would be no other tests like the last room.

Tucharon breathed a long sigh of relief seeing the hidden tunnel. He followed the others, casting Night Eye to better see in the darkness, and to better scan for traps. It was easier without his shield or that 50 lb cog, almost enough to make up for losing them. In addition, he was also relieved that the party didn't kill the crazy khajiit. There wouldn't have been enough time for all of us to escape anyway, and it may have been that the door was supposed to slam shut when all three puzzles were solved. After all, being stuck with three corpses was more than enough for him.

The tunnel was a welcome change from the previous room, it didn't smell like rotting corpses. Every "trap" so far hadn't been a trap at all, but a test. He started to wonder if there was any real danger in this expedition, but he knew better than to rule it out, as there was probably much to go.

Larth gave Dandel a disdained glance. What were those words he said supposed to mean? He'd marched with many a rugged band of warriors, and never had he encountered such language. In fact, in the way he used them, he might as well be grunting. For both rate and coherence in meaning.

But he need not trouble himself with the moronic elf. He was far more interested in the passage that the Khajiit had unwittingly opened.

"Quite some luck there, friend." He said, nodding towards the opened wall. "We should let you do the theorizing, comparing your rate of success to any others whom hold a pretense to leading in that task." He didn't chuckle or smile, but he hopped the rest took note that he'd produced superior results without trying. Perhaps the Cat was just lucky. Or maybe he was the Khajiit they searched for, here to observe them.

That did make sense. How would the Khajiit see how they did if he wasn't here? Surely he could look at the result, but something was to be said for experiencing their jolly party problem-solve.

Arnand sighed in relief as Korro managed to open the secret passage. He walked off into it, causing the corpse to snap back to it's place. For a moment he'd thought it might have been an illusion, but it was definitely real.

Arnand waved a silent goodbye to the lonely trio of cadavers behind him, and walked back off into another gloomy corridor, wondering what other delights or horrors awaited their arrival.

Heinrich

"Well, 't works for me." Mumbling silently, Heinrich followed the others into the tunnel, staying mindful of the possible traps that may have been set up somewhere ahead of them. Of course, he didn't think this mysterious Khajiit would murder them - although the room with three corpses did make him rather worried - but being careful never hurt. Considering how dark the passage was, it would've been easy to put in some pressure plate or tripwire somewhere to trigger something along the lines of a net that'd get the careless one who rushed in first.

Hopefully 't other tests ain't as bad as this one. Hopefully 't'll be somethin' from my field, just so I can kick some bloody sense into 'em and make them realize you don't have ta' kill stuff in dungeons ta' be smart. Bloody adventurers... Sighing silently, Heinrich continued into the darkness after the Breton mage, wondering exactly how much of himself would he have left after the whole mess with the Khajiit was over... He was quite optimistic of the future with this 'guild' (although it would, no doubt, prove to be a dangerous part of his life) and that if the Khajiit was who he made it sound like, the yeoman would walk out of this with the chance for a new life. But using peoples' bodies for tests... 't don't sound so attractive all out of sudden.

When the new door opened Varar sighed and quietly thanked Azura that this whole mess was over. "Well, now we can move on." and Varar gave a helpless look back at the coffin full of treasures, namely the beautiful Moon and Star amulet. Ah well, I still have the glaive thought Varar. Varar quietly followed the group down the hall, carrying the last treasure he had with him.

OOC: i havnt forgotten about posting, but im using today to let anyone who's behind catch up, i'm currently at my girlfriends house and am going to be busy shopping and walking home so it would be inconveniant to open up room three then disapear. as long as we're all more or less up to speed i'll progress when i get home, but that doesn't mean you can't post, feel free to progress along the passage and to the lower level, and if you feel you want to, you can make this passage like a test of perception, with various traps as many of you have hinted

have fun and be back later... although not leaving yet but u get the idea

Finally, the Khajit put everything into the sarcophagus and that seemed to do the trick. A seal was broken, but the door wasn't readily available. That had prompted a large search, which ended when that same greedy Khajit happened to plop his lazy self down on a rock, which moved and opened the door. Throwing his dark red cowl back up to cover his head, he dropped down from the ledge and moved towards the dark maw of the corridor before him. Dropping the illusion spell from his face, his swirling eyes searched the dark for a trap or some other thing that possibly lead to harm. Finding nothing right off the bat, and having other members of their little group just prance through it, not being the slightest bit aware, Alkhil moved into the passage as well, hoping he could at least be able to detect the traps before that Khajit or the Dunmer stumbled into them.

OOC: Im afraid that I am going to have to quit this for now. I just kind find enough time lately to post enough or be detailed and it's more of a burden to give up any time I have to post. I may jump back in later if things look clear on the horizon so say that Aryon has gone AWOL lately somehow.

OOC: Awww that svcks man. So much for all our cools plans with Dandel and Aryon . Oh well, hope to see you around mate. And it's been great with you here :thumbsup:

Elissandre

Seeing that everyone started moving in the corridor, Elissandre slowed a bit. Preferring to let those more skilled ? or at least less worried ? about possible traps deal go ahead. Which brought her about Heinrich's height. She remembered him telling he was from around Wayrest ? the town where she had spent the happiest years since her family's death. Despite herself a smile surfaced on her lips thinking about her two mentors. An orc shaman turned healer, as rough as they come, and an old decadent bookworm who would be right at home in Imperial City orgy... There might be an oddest pair of friends to be found, but it would take a lot of searching...

Returning to reality she seized the chance for asking him a few question "I've overheard you're from around Wayrest ? How long since you've been there ? I've left some friends there when I had to leave five years ago. Maybe you can give me a feel of what might have become if your news from th city a fresher than mine."

Heinrich

The yeoman eyed Elissandre carefully, as if thinking if she was worth the information or not. Finally, though, he shrugged, looking at the dark path ahead again. "Left 't a year ago, when 't got impossible. 't may not seem possible, but the champion goin' poof gone hit us back in th' Rock even worse than Cyrodiil and th' big city. Nobles worth rat's ass all around, bribin' th' officials, gettin' all they wanted. I consider meself lucky - I gots some money for me farm. Could get to Cyrodiil. Heard some others just got tied to them lands like cattle. Wayrest ain't no exception, you'd think it didn't get past th' walls, but nope. Rich got richer, poor got poorer. Elysana's not doin' nothin' to help anyone."

Sighing, Heinrich shook his head. "I don't think ye'd like 't now. Changed much over th' past few years. Too much. Divines my ass, they ain't doin' nothin' to help, either; church's milkin' us the same. We're left with 'em bloody nobles, face to face, how're we supposed to fight 'em? Heard some folks organizing a rebellion, best of luck to 'em; don't think it'll work. Not against all 'em soldiers and th' church. Bloody priests preach we should just let 'em bloody nobles take over, how it's their divine right to rule or some such. Bull's crap."

"I don't think Tanner's Quarter changed much. It was a dirt poor, thugs-ridden shamble when I came to Wayrest and just the same when I left. I hope old Ashag is still running his hospital." Her mind wandering for a few seconds remembering the orc, before detailing what she had in mind. "Ashag gro Durak. Priest of Mara, former Legion healer and chaplain. "

She frowned. "I hope he's not gone into trouble. I'd be surprised if he cared much for that new Church line you're speaking about. Too much of the Malakath tribal shaman left in him. And he's never been of a sort to hide his opinions. Which probably come quite close to yours about nobles rights. You can sum it up as 'the nobles have a right to rule and a duty to do it right. The ruled have duty to obey and a right to remind the ruler if he screws up'. With a reminder as hard as it takes to get through. Up to a maul in the teeth for the most desperate cases. As I said, he's not exactly a subtle and sneaky sort."

Narkiorrou had the combined energy given to him from wanting to see whats next and the will to resist getting angry at giving up his stuff, but at least he still had his blades. With all that pent up energy and anger he made a rash decision. All of a sudden he decided to sprint down the corridoor, it seemed a bit reckless but he didnt care at the time and as nothing had been at all lethal so far he didnt see the harm in it. He ran with long strides that almost appeared like pouncing, and sharply turned the corners ahead, he leapt down the steps to the lower lever and to another door.

He stopped to catch his breathe, he wasnt unfit but a short energetic sprint like that would make anyones blood rush and there lungs pound. As he stood straight again he called back, "It's safe..... i think..."

"Careful, Korro. Even if our benefactor did not rig the place with traps, the people who built these forts- or previously occupied them- may have." Still, no traps had activated, but it was still better not to let one's guard down in this place. But the spellsword was eager to continue and this corridor seemed safe, so he sped up his pace, walking to the corner and down the stairs.

Or rather, he fell down the stairs. Whether it was the crumbling masonry or a simple misstep, he couldn't be sure, but there he was, lying on the bottom of the stairway. Ironic, how he was so careful for traps, yet he couldn't overcome a simple stairway.

"Alright, that is not something that I want to repeat. Or remember."

OOC: I'm really really reaaally sorry guys but I'm going to have to quit this RP. It's not because I'm doing another roleplay but this one is way too fast, and I was even having struggles keeping up when it started. And I have to much work and stuff. I may pop back in later on some time, and I'll still read the posts to give the RP support, but yeah for the time being I won't be able to participate . You'll have to make up an excuse for Dandel leaving or what ever.

Once again sorry, but whilst I have been here it's been great.

OOC: This is ridiculous, Korroded, you've got to do something before the ceiling drops through the floor of this RP. We've lost 'em left and right.

OOC: to be honest i dont know what happened? i'm still doing stuff and progressing it, but since the beginning of this week no-ones anywhere to be seen, and now with 2 big posters gone it seems lost, which svcks, i'm still willing to run and continue this but for that i need players

OOC: Maybe we could get them back in, given the slowed pace of this RP. I don't want this to die either.

Edit: Shouldn't we be making some IC posts? I'd do it now, but I was the last person to have done so, it'd be like a double post.

OOC: Me neither.

[Still around a ready to post]

Letting Heinrich some time to ponder an eventual answer, Elissandre kept moving at a brisk pace, confident that any trap ahead would have be either spotted ? or activated. Inviting him to follow with a small gesture.

Seeing Tucharon's graceless descent, she slowed when reaching the stairs. Watching the stairs and carefully testing each one before letting her weight fully on it. Which let her feel some unstable stones, though she couldn't tell it they the result of years of neglect or deliberate intention. "Watch your steps, the stairs are nasty. There's some of stones just loose enough to turn underfoot."