A man ran hopelessly through a long abandoned city, constantly glancing over his shoulder. He had been running like this for a good few hours and had come up on any coverage of ground, as he had seen the same building several times. The man began to lose hope ever so slowly.

------------

The steady beat of booted feet resounded all over the chilly air along with the sounds of other men shouting in frustration. Five men had been chasing one man throughout the entire city for a long while and they began to slow their pace and lose fatigue.

------------

The escaping man turned a fast corner and stopped, attempting to catch a quick breath. But his time in the city was cut short, just like the ten other men, women, and children who were running with him. A "hunter" stood in front of the escaping man, crossbow aimed right between the man's eyes.

The hunter pulled the trigger and the crossbow bolt whistled through the air, striking the escaping man in his eye. The escaping man fell to the cobble-stoned, moss covered ground, blood slowly oozing from his head.


A grand, yet abandoned, city found on the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil is the place for hunters who wish to find an even greater challenge than that of hunting the world's most dangerous creatures. Here they hunt every race that resides in Tamriel, including women and children; no one is safe. You and other "hunted" awake in a dark building, unrestrained, unarmed, and wearing furs to keep you warm in the cold climate, inside the City of the Hunted.

The city was once called Chillrest and was the finest city that Cyrodiil or Skyrim had ever seen. But the entire city vanished and had been rotting away into the frozen tundra for many years. A rich noble from Skyrim used his vast wealth to restore much of the city to its former glory, but keeping it all under wraps. He had a more sadistic plan for the city's new use. Slowly, people began to join the Head Hunters, the organization founded by the rich Nordic noble, and soon had plenty of the "hunted" hidden in the city's sewer system.

There are several landmarks that are found among the city's shops and houses. One is the statue of Akatosh, God of Time. Another is the grand chapel that was built for worship of him and the other eight gods and goddesses. Others are of the famous heroes of Skyrim and Cyrodiil.

Guards also are at the barracks, citadel, and ten to fifteen in every guard tower.

All of the buildings have been restored, looking purely like Nordic architecture, but none are outfitted with furniture or anything to provide comfort for the hunted; only food and water.

You all are to find out what happened and where you are. http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk278/SMZ_2008/Chillrest.jpg.

Map Legend
Red = Guard Tower
Purple = Gate

RULES
--NO UBERING!!! I don't want to see you take several hits by a weapon and get up and walk away. Not possible.
--NO player controlling unless the person who is RPing the character specifies that you can.
--What I say goes! And if I please, I will kill off your character for disobeying my word.
--Your characters have a high chance of dying in this RP, which will happen when I deem it so.
--NO ONE-LINER POSTS!
--PM me your character sheets for approval.
--And some other rules I may have missed.
--Oh and one more thing... Have fun!
--Only fur clothing!!!
--You will find weapons all over the city, be it a shard of glass or a piece of wood, but no weapons were left on you when you awaken.
--TO ALL MAGES!!! MAGIC USERS ALL WEAR A PIECE OF CLOTHING THAT HINDERS THEM IN THE USE OF MAGIC. IT DAMAGES EVERYTHING RELATED TO MAGIC BY 50%. NONE OF THE PLAYERS KNOW THIS!!


Character Sheet

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

Focus:
Class:
Skills:

General Appearance:
Eyes:
Hair:
Height:
Weight:

Mental Description:

Clothing: (I mandate that all clothing is restricted to furs only)


Misc.:

Bio:

Just finished an essay on the most dangerous game so this rp sprining up is sorta ironic.

Gotta love that book Based my fallout 3 character off Count Zaroff . Anyways Ill see how this goes and possibly write up a character sheet :goodjob:

Haha. I was waiting to hear that

Oh my ******* God! I am So going to join this roleplay!
by the way what sparked the idea? was it inspired on Caught in the hunt quest? because I attempted a similar roleplay a few weeks ago (Caught in the Hunt Again)

anyway I hope I can use a retired adventuer (my first character) in this roleplay, I'll send the sheet and I will edit the aproved char in this post.

and by the way: WH00T! :twirl: Hunted survival roleplay!

Edit: so exited i make dozens of typos

I wonder if I should join as my half-bosmeri female khajiit jaguar huntress I created over on the Illusionaria forums... She would turn the hunters into the hunted (even without her lore-defying powers). Wild Hircine cultist FTW!

It was inspired by the story "The Most Dangerous Game" and the Caught in the Hunt quest as well. I thought it would make an excellent RP.

First two characters.

Name: Cirith Dalecross
Race: breton
Age: 53
Gender:male
Birthsign:the lord

General Appearance: a broadly build and strong looking man, he doesn’t look fit anymore but his overall appearance still shows that he has seen a great deal of combat
Eyes:blue
Hair:black and greying, ring beard
Height: just under 6 feet
Weight: 121 kilos

Mental Description: a man with a lot of battle experience, magical knowledge and grief. Normally he is a friendly man and sometimes jokes around with people with small magic pranks or tricks, but given the current situation he is focussed on survival. Although he is confident his skills have become a little rusty and he hasn’t got the equipment of his days as a treasurehunter.

Clothing: black wide pants, fur boots, maroon shirt and huntsman’s vest over that, not much protection and the boots are secretly enchanted to drain his destruction skills, therefor limiting his ability to fight back (50% damage reduction and only novice and apprentice spells of destruction school) but he hasn’t noticed

Misc: he is skilled in some schools of magic, alteration, destruction and enchanting, specializing in shield spells, enchanting/recharging clothing/armor and a combination of shock and frost spells

Bio:
Born in Kvatch as son of the chapter head mage of Kvatch magesguild and studied there the schools of destruction and enchanting and he had a talent for alteration.

In his teens he started training in the arena and wanted to become a gladiator in knockout matches. When Kvatch fell his father tried to protect others on the streets trying to get to the gates, Cirith and his sister made it but his parents died in the fires. After volunteering to fight the daedra that had already entered Tamriel after the gates were closed Cirith decided to serve as a hired escort for important people such as nobility and wealthy civilians, he also began building up a small fortune by raiding bandit camps, saluaging treasure from lake rumare and recovering artifacts from ayleid ruins, along the way he grew a fascination for enchantments and against picked up his studies in the arts of magic enchanting. Eventually he had gotten enough gold and treasure to settle down, he married with the daughter of an imperial commoner and he bought Summetmist Manor in Skingrad to raise his two daughters and to work on his private collection of rare enchanted clothing and armor.

These days he usually enjoys his spare time by either going to parties in the higher classes of society or by earning a bit more cash by supplying adventures with enchanted scrolls and recharging magic weapons. he is relatively unknown to the public, but his connections know hi and usually still owe him for doing them a service or for escorting them for free (that way he had gotten the deed for summetmist manor from Skingrad castle)



Name: Jorand of Bruma

Race:nord/imperial
Age:20
Gender:male
Birthsign:the tower

General Appearance: a fit looking and strong build young man, his face shows imperial characteristics but otherwise he is as Nordic as can be
Eyes:blue
Hair: long blond hair He keeps tied back in a ponytail
Height:6ft
Weight:83 Kilos

Mental Description: although unexperienced in hunting or real combat he is confident in his skill. He tents to look at things positively even in the most hopeless of times
Clothing: tough fur boots and cuirass, sackcloth pants and a worn out travel cloak


Misc.: experienced with swords and longbows, isn’t really prepared for witnessing murder or being hunted, but that experience will come soon enough.

Bio: a son of a commoner in Bruma, apprentice in the fightersguild and learning in swordsmanship and archery, he wants to become a mountain huntsman but still lacks real hunting experience unfortunately he will now experience what it's like to be hunted himself.

I'll put the IC post tomorrow.

Name: Jak Snowmane
Nickname: Jak the Wanderer
Race: Nord
Age: 37
Height: 7'2"
Eye Color: A Bright Emerald Green
Hair: It is tied into a ponytail which goes down past his shoulder blades. It is a jet black color that is cleaned regularly.

Class: Swordsman/Ex-Legionnaire
Class Description: Swordsmen dedicate their lives to the study of blades. They are usually outfitted in light armors, but their armor is a personal preference and some don't even wear armor. There are many different styles of blades in which the swordsman use, but it is mostly a double sided sword.
Skills: Blade, Athletics, Unarmored, Speechcraft

Physical Description: Jak is a very tall Nord, though he is not as muscular as his brother, Eric. Jak has always been an attractive man, but he never stopped and attempted at a relationship. He is a slender, but has a bit of muscle.

Mental Description: Jak has always been known for his uncaring attitude and his ruthless ways of completing assignments. His ways were the reason he was kicked from the Imperial Legion. Not many know him for his compassion but it is a rarity.

It has been known that Jak has a more compassionate and loving side, but it is only seen with his snake, Valeris. No one else has been trusted enough to see that side on any human. But Jak has always wanted to find someone to be with.

His friends are hardly considered his friends, more like tools for help in his assignments. He believes that anyone can be persuaded enough to double cross him and he rarely associates with the same person for very long. There are only a few people he really trusts.

Scars/Tattoos: He has no scars, which is odd, due to his occupation. He has a tattoo of the silhouette of a serpent wrapped around a dagger.

Primary Weapon: Nothing yet
Secondary Weapon: Nothing yet
Clothing/Armor: He has awakened to find that he wears a bear fur jacket, bear fur gloves, bear fur boots, and bear fur pants and hat.

Misc:
--He has a pet snake he calls Valeris. (Though it was confiscated from him when he was knocked out.)
--He has always had a vicious hatred for his brother, Eric.

Bio: Jak is the younger brother of Eric Snowmane, a famous warrior from the province of Skyrim. Jak has always been in the shadow of his older brother and Jak was always compared to Eric due to him being more hardy and ready for anything.

At age 18, Jak joined the Imperial Legion in Morrowind and had managed to move up to the Knight Errant rank when he was twenty four. Several years after he had received this rank, he was thrown from the Legion because of his brutal and selfish behavior that caused the deaths of one of his squadrons.

Jak moved to Cyrodiil and began his career as a mercenary. He is known in several cities for his ability to complete any mission or assignment effectively and efficiently. He has always been wary of partners and groups that work with him, as he finds it hard to trust anyone.

He is now inside the city of Chillrest.

Name: Haj Ed Argi Crippo Na.
Nickname: Crippo [he hates to be called Haj]
Race: Argonian.
Age: 39
Gender: Male.
Birthsign: The Warrior.

General Appearance: Crippo is a well build Argonian, his arms are muscular making him look like a frightening lizard. His head is red, and so are his legs but his chest is green making him look rather colourful. He has many scars on his back and a face that looks rather violent.
Eyes: Blue eyes.
Hair: A red ridge.
Height: 6'3
Weight: Average.

Mental Description: Crippo is a racist, he hates all other races especialy the Dunmers and the Imperials, he doesn't easily make friends but when he does he can be enjoyable. He gets mad rather quickly and has the bad intention to start calling names when he doesn't like you. He's also a coward and would rather run away than to fight if he has the possebilty except if it has anything to do with the honour of himself, his family or Argonia and the Hiss.

Clothing: poor looking clothes with fur.


Bio: Crippo was born and raised in Black Marsh where from young age his dad teached him how to defend himself. On the age of 18 Crippo had seen enough of the swampy area and started traveling around, it didn't took long or he was captured by some slave traders and was sold to a Telvanni woman. He worked a year for her until on one evening he slayed the woman and took of, the Imperial legion quikly took hold of him and he was sent to the Imperial city prison where after one year he was released.
He then started to do all kinds of jobs, mostly as mercenary, in Cyrodiil but he also traveled alot as he didn't hear anything from his family anymore.

Name: Fara
Nickname:
Age: 65 (appears in her late 20s)
Race: bosmer
Gender: female
Birthsign: the thief

Focus: stealth
Class: scout.
Skills: sneak, light armor, marksman, acrobatics
minor skills : survival, armorer, blades, alchemy

Mental Description: Fara is quite a cynic, having seen too much mayhem and atrocities during her time in the Legion to retain much faith in men, mers or beasts. As she feels having much simply means more to loose and attract trouble, she's just coasting along, fighting boredom with simple (and cheap) fun like carousing on someone else's money. Her first reaction to trouble is to give it as wide a berth as she can, but if she can't, the strong survival instinct left over for her military service would make her as mean as any cornered rat.

Physical Description: Fara is a young bosmer woman of average size, on the slim rather than voluptuous side. Her face is far from outstanding, most would describe her as nice or cute rather than pretty. Her light built is misleading, as years of Legion service have muscled and toned her frame, a condition she managed to retain thanks to a lot of outdoors activity.

Height: 5'5"
Weight: 100 lbs
Hair: dark brown
Eye Color: black
Scars/Tattoos:

Armor/Clothing: complete set of fur armor
Weapons: none
Inventory: desperately empty

Bio: Fara was born in a somewhat destitute bosmer family in Valenwood, her parents scraping a living as hunters. She learned the way of the hunt and the bow, but was quick to seize the opportunity when Legion recruiters showed up in her village. She ended up as a scout affected in the Black Marsh's legions thanks to her outdoors skills and bosmeri resistance to diseases. She spent her forty years of service scouting though the swamps, fighting various bandits, slaver parties, smugglers and native guerillas, witnessing (and a few times commiting) enough atrocities to shatter any faith in sentient being's innate decency.
At he end of her second contrat she decided she had enough of that live and moved north, dilapidating her retirement pay to catch up in civilization's pleasures. She finally ended up pennyless in Bruma and became a tavern wench and part-time cook to earn a living, suplementing it with hunting and foraging in the nearby forests. Which let her with more cash for partying.

Partying which apparently left her in trouble as she's now emerging from an happy drunken sleep to find herself clad in furs who aren't hers, in some unknown location and with equally unknown companions as well as an hangover big and mean enough to make any Nord proud...

Cirith woke up, he didn't open his eyes or tried to move, he simply had left the realm of Vearminaafter a dreadful night that would pale in comparison to what would take place in Chillrest.
He tried to listen, he only heard the wind's howling from beyond the room he lay in.
He tried to smell the air, and recognised the scent of fresh wood and a faint smell of smoke or burning wood, almost fading in the chilling air.
He tried to open his eyes and saw an empty room made out of wood with two windows covered in a thin layer of ice
He tried to recognise the place but concluded he never had been here quickly.
He finaly tried to Remember.

"What had hapened?"
"I remember I was at the shop" Cirith had began a small shop he made to suply the travelers that came through Skingrad and needed their magic items recharged. "I was preparing to close up... and a final customer came in" he saw the image of what he saw last, three men that drugged him "They must have taken me here, wherever here is" he sat up, look around in the square room and concluded that he was somewhere north...

Fara left her dreamless (and somehwat drunken) sleep, opening her eyes and closing them immediatly as a stray sunray burned them like a red-hot poker... As she regained some semblance of conscious thoughts, she felt the familiar signs that, as often, her enthusiasm at partying went beyond what was deemed reasonable... Yurk, I feel like crap... There's a whole regiment stomping Legion cadence between my hears, my mouth feels like somehting furry crawled in to die there two weeks ago, I have that awfull feeling my hairs is growing inside my head to boot... But at least I'm not naked in a bed with two hundred pounds of happy nord sprawled on me and snoring in my face.

Once again opening her eyes, she began looking around, squiting to reduce the dim light to something her sore brain could manage, growing more puzzled with each look. I'm not in anyone's bed either, just laying on the floor. No wonder I feels all sprained and creaky. But I'd be stuffed if I know where I am. And those furs aren't any of mine... Fara girls, it looks like you've been careless and in trouble once more...

Name: Wurdajee
Nickname: Scent-And-Twice-Seer, "Seer"
Race: Argonian
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Birthsign: The Shadow

Focus: Stealth
Major Skills: Athletics, Acrobatics, Hand-to-Hand, Sneak, Security
Class: Thief

General Appearance: Seer is a predominately sand-coloured argonian with bright red scales on her muzzle, the tip of her tail, her fingertips, and her toes, as well as in a long stripe down her spine. She is a very small-statured and slender argonian, having suffered greatly from illness in her infancy, and she looks quite fragile- and indeed she is. But, as if to compensate for this, Seer is incredibly fast, and quite agile. If caught, she would be in serious danger, but as a whole she is very good at keeping out of the way. (She has beast feet, as in Morrowind, but has a distinctly feminine build as in Oblivion).

Hair: She has no hair to speak of: only a single small brown horn on her forehead.
Eyes: Red
Height: 4ft10"
Build: Seer is very small and fragile, but also very fast.
Scales: Seer's scales are sand-coloured, but with patches of bright red on her muzzle, tail, claws and spine.
Tattoos/Scars: Nothing to speak of.

Personality: Seer is an incredibly quiet creature- being a mute, she speaks little, but she is also shy in nature and wary of others, lest they seek to harm her. She is quite cowardly in that she will always run away from a fight, and will not argue her point- perhaps something learned in a lifetime of silence. However, she is a very curious creature, and when hidden will go to great lengths to satisfy her curiosity. She is also desperately loyal to those who show kindness to her. She often comes across as innocent, and in some ways she is, but largely this is just how people view her- her timidness, contrary to their belief, comes from fear, not innocence or lack of experience. She is often underestimated because of her small stature, inarticulation, and lack of formal education, and while she is not an intellectual, she is incredibly ingenuitive, and a useful asset to any group.

Weapon(s): She only fights with her claws and teeth, although she'll take a dagger when available.
Clothing/Armour: She's wearing scant wolf fur armour.

Misc Skills and Traits:
-She's notably clever with traps and mechanical devices of all kinds.
-She can fashion lockpicks out of whatever is available. If nothing suitable is available, she can use her claws- however, this is much more imprecise, and takes much longer.
-She greatly enjoys anything sweet.
-Her immune system is distinctly poorly, and even seemingly harmless chemicals can cause her damage.
-She is well-known for her strong senses of sight and smell- she is very perceptive.
-She is thoroughly practical- abstract matters irritate her, being 'pointless' in her opinion.


Short Bio: Seriously ill in her infancy, Seer lost the ability to speak. As she grew older, it became clear that she had undergone more damage than was initially thought, when she achieved an unnaturally small advlt height. She is, however, quite a gifted rogue, being quick-witted as well as agile, and being quite small makes it easy for her to move quietly and unseen. She's done fairly well for herself as a thief, but that life is over now that she has been taken in by the hunt- she can only hope to survive.

OOC: By the way, we're all in the Residential District


IC: Jak opened his eyes slowly, while scraping the crud from his eye-lids. Aw, hell. What happened? He sat up groggily, trying to regain some memory of why he was lying in a small warm room, wearing perfectly fitted bear furs and none of his weapons.

He looked around the room, noticing several others in the room around him. The first person he saw was the pretty little female Bosmer lying next to him. Jak stood abruptly, nearly falling over in his light headed state. He went to the nearest wall and propped up against it.

I was at the Tap and Tack in Bruma. A rather regal looking Imperial had approached me and asked for my services. After that it went blank. Damn! He shouted in his mind. Jak banged his fist on the wall, realizing that his snake, Valeris was no longer with him.

This angered him very much.

He had gotten careless? Where was he? This was very much unlike him. His bounty must have set him up. The temperature was much more different then where he had been. The altitude also felt higher as the air was thinner. He had been moved north. Was he in Skyrim? How deep in? He instinctivly reached to his side for his weapons but he had none. Instead to fush fush sound of the fur he was wearing was heard against his gloves. He stood up from what had been the bench of some sort of Inn. There was little light inside and everything seemed abandoned. His fists tightlened quickly and then loosened remembering his fighting lessons. His heart rate quickly raised and struck like a hammer against iron ore against an anvil. It was those if any around him would hear him because of this. Perhaps that was good or bad but he was preparing himself for everything and anything.

Wurdajee, better known as Scent-And-Twice-Seer, awoke, uncurling from the tiny ball she had been sleeping in, her tail unfurling. She stretched like a cat, sand-coloured arms reaching, bum in the air, back arching, and then got shakily to her feet. Her head was throbbing something painful: how long had she been out?

As she looked around, she saw various others, but most importantly, she saw that she was in somewhere strange- the designs looked nordic... and she was cold... so very cold.

Argonians did not go well with cold climates. Seer hugged herself, rubbing her arms. Sand-coloured argonians deserve sand-coloured places... she thought.

Nearby, she heard two bangs, and her eyes shot to the places immediately. Two men- one Nord, one dunmer, both making noise. They looked rather large and imposing, so she automatically, hunched, preparing for any attack that might come her way.

But on closer inspection, these men clearly were not going to harm her. They were garbed in animal fur, as she was, and neither were armed. While being unarmed was no disadvantage for Seer, she knew it was for many.

If they are unarmed, then they are like me... Seer thought. That means that we're probably on the same side... A sudden thought hitting her, she looked up for any spectator's windows. Unless we're expected to fight one another like in the Arena...

But no such places were present, and Seer had to say, she wasn't impressed. For big warrior-type people, they seemed remarkably stupid. No point making all that noise and alerting people to their presence. And certainly no point in wasting their energy on emotion when clearly a more practical approach was needed.

Seer approached the Nord warily, making calming gestures with her hands to show she meant no harm, though her expression was- as ever with argonians- nearly impossible to read.

Jak looked up at the walking lizard, eyeing her strangely and then asking, "What do you want?" The Argonian was making calming gestures with her scaly hands, obviously trying to keep Jak from handing her head to her on a silver platter.

He leaned to the left and opened the door, letting the cold air rush through the room. "It's damned hot in here. We need some air," he said with a cold tone. Jak unbuttoned his jacket, exposing his torso to the freezing air outside.

IC: The khajiit in the corner slowly began to stir, her head throbbing. She gazed down at the ground as her vision swam around, eventually into clarity and adjusted to the light. She felt abnormally heavy, as though she were carrying a massive burden. Sarth braced her arms against the ground, pushing herself to her feet. Bracing herself against the wall, she looked around, trying to size up the situation. It seems she wasn't the only one who had gotten careless, or whatever got them in this situation, as several were still passed out on the ground as though a massive booze party was held here last night, except everyone still had all clothes on. Even her...

It took the still-dazed cat a while to realize why the weight on her body was so great, but after one of the few awake men in the room opened the door, the way the air flowed over her felt unnatural. She finally glanced at her own condition, and found the source of the funny smell on herself. "How considerate," she mumbled sarcastically in a pidgin of Ta'agran and Bosmeri. With a violent motion, she gripped the collar of the thick fur shirt over her body with her razorlike claws and tore the garment off her body, not even bothering to look for a proper way to remove it. The frigid air bit into her bare flesh, making her regret the hasty decision to strip down so rapidly. She remedied the situation by drawing on her inner power to modify her body to function under the colder temperature, giving herself a warming sensation, without actually increasing her temperature. No longer under threat of freezing to death in quick order, she proceeded to dig into the fur covering her lower body, and tore that encumbrance away too.

"What is this? Some kind of joke?" Sarth asked audibly when she was more comfortable, trying to express her confusion with a phrase she picked up in Cyrodillic life. She leaned against the wall, her bare body unaffected by the frigid air. Despite her inner confusion, she still held herself with an aloof posture, as though she was in control of the situation.

@Scow: Remember what I said in the Opening Post about the use of magic being restricted here. You have at least one piece of clothing that limits your ability at magic using. Remember!!

Seer shivered notably when the door was opened, but couldn't express her dislike of the cold. So there's no point dwelling on it... she thought grimly. Oddly, she wasn't intimidated by the large Nord's uncaring manner- even though he was quite frightening, something about him seemed... safe.

She touched her lips with one hand, and then shook her head, to show that she couldn't speak, and then looked at the door. She took one last look around the room they'd woken in, and then heaved a deep breath. I suppose there's no point hanging around... she thought.

The petite argonian strode briskly through the door, red eyes darting around, senses on high alert for any attacks. If the man she'd met had no interest in her company, then she would go it alone. She disliked people anyway.

Jak looked at her and gave a quiet condescending laugh, "So you're a mute, huh?" She was making her way outside the open door, "I think you should wait, lizard," He bellowed. "We've got to assess this situation, not just run off and get yourself killed. Get in here and sit down, NOW. And close the door." He made sure the mute lizard heard him.

He buttoned his jacket and moved close to the door, motioning the shutting of it. Jak then nodded for the Argonian to come back into the building. She's probably the closest thing to my great and loyal pet, Valeris. I should keep her close. Jak thought, bending down and retying his boots.

OOC: Hmm... I did take that into consideration. However, in order for a piece of clothing to restrict her magic, she needs to be wearing it, right? She may have had a magic restricting piece of clothing, but now she is quite bare... And not because she knew the clothing restricted her magic.

OOC: I see. You are right. How about an enchantment on her body? I don't want anyone being able to take down a hunter that easily.

As Fara's mind started working again, despite the throbbing headache, she noticed she wasn't alone - thouhg it didn't look like what could be expected after a party - they were all colthed in furs, and the room didn't smell like after a 'last one to pass out wins' binge. What's that mess ? Not slavers though, we seem to be free. But I don't recognize anyone - odd bunch, an argonian, a nord - I've seeen this face at least, a dunmer, a khajit... somebody's gathering a collection or what ?.

The rush of cold air brought a shiver, but also a much needed relief, shaking her into something close to normality. But I really need some water to drink, my mouth tastes horrible and I'm thirsty.

Getting on her feets Fara estimated from experience she must have been there for at least several hours. As the nord suggested a course of action, she voiced her opinion, while carefully walking in the room and stretching to remove the stiffness she felt from the long immobility. "As a guess I'd say some gonk had us rounded up and shipped there. Probably drugged us to the eyeballs."

Looking at the cheap but serviceable furs and the somewhat dilapidated, nordic style rooom they were in. "Looks like we are in northern Cyrodill or Skyrim, but I've no idea about the who and why. Slavers aren't as generous with clothing, and don't let their catch free. And when the law's hot on their tail, they'd rather slit their charge's throats rather than letting someone who can identify them behind. And never get it loose, unless they're sure it's properly broken." Grimacing with disgust as she remembered the run-ins she's had with the slavers during her service

Anticipating questions she shrugged. "I've been in the Legion. Black Marsh posting, I've seen more of the bastards's work than I'd have liked."