Cyrodiil Shattered

Post » Mon May 02, 2011 2:00 am

Cyrodil Shattered


Tensions run high among the Elder Council. Some members argue that an Emperor must be appointed. Meanwhile Chancellor Ocato vies for power and total control of the Empire.
They argue over whether or not the Legion should abandon their Eastern posts due to high costs with no threat from that direction.
Failing to agree on anything, the situation comes to a climix. Ocato accuses the entire council of treason. Although some are slain, Eight escape the city with their personal escorts, scattering to Cyrodils cities. Within weeks each city becomes a powerful city-state, with each former council member appointed Head-of-State. Some hold titles, others simply going by their name.

For three whole years, all remains relatively peaceful, up until now each faction has only embarked on sabatoge and information gathering excursions.
But this relative peace is fleeting.
Leaders prepare for war, stockpiling weapons and supplies, making alliances and plans.



You have been caught up in the commotion, and play a vital role in the upcoming power struggle.
Are you a simple soldier fighting on the frontlines?
A General in control of hundreds of troops?
Perhaps you are a regular citizen, or an advisor to the leaders of the whole operation.

Whichever the case, what is about to happen will forever alter the history of Tamriel.
Good luck.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Some Elder Council Members did agree with each other, and some have decided to get past their differences and work together for similar goals.

The Factions are as follows:

The Old Empire: Chancellor Ocato, Count Luspinian Maraennius of Chorrol, and Count Malpenix Mercius of Skingrad have united to form The Old Empire. Ideally fighting to reunite the Empire and restore order. They retain control of the Legion and the Mages in their territories. Holding the lands falling in the triangle between their cities, and bordering the Blackwood Alliance from Fort Black Boot to Fort Variela. In full control of the West Weald. KoTN status is unknown at this time.
Wealth: Just below average, decent stockpile of weapons.

Skyrim Republic of Bruma: Lead by Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Fjorkvar fortified Bruma and called on Skyrim to aid him with a large force of hardy Nordic warriors.
Border goes from Fort Greenwinter (Formerly For Rayles), to Fort Caractacus, to Fort Chalman and arching over Cheydinhal near the foothills of the Jerall Mountains. Fjorkvar fights to decimate the Empire, unite Skyrim permanently under his rule, and lead a massive campaign to restore Skyrim to its former glory.
Wealth: The Clans and Holds of Skyrim offer up large sums of money, opening war funds the Nords have been pooling for years.

State of Anvil: Karlirah Blackheart fled from the Imperial City to Anvil after the Elder Council dissolved. Karlirah immediatly fortified the city and took control of the surrounding hills, ruling with an iron fist. The people of Anvil adored their new leader, as did the Fighters guild, who flocked to Anvil to join Blackhearts forces. After a Redgaurd Emissary visited Anvil, a fleet of ships sailed down the coast from Hammerfell, immediately pledging loyalty to Karlirah Blackheart as long as Hammerfell was properly thanked after the conflict resolved. (Vilamon of Kvatch also included in this faction.)
Lands extend to about 3 miles from Skingrad and Chorrol.
Wealth: As a whole the army has medium wealth. Some soldiers having Individual wealth from travels and adventures.

Kingdom of Morrowind: Vonden Darothril was quick to establish himself in Cheydinhal, and call on Morrowind to help him destroy Cyrodil and claim the Imperial City as a second capital. However sure of his position Vonden may be, he is nothing but Helseths pawn. He has proclaimed himself Prince of Morrowind and holds himself of great importance.
To the border of the Skyrim Republic to the north, from Fort Grief to Abandoned mine to the south, and the eastern shore of Lake Rumare.
Wealth: Between average and high, The Houses pooling money together.

Blackwood Rebels: Ri'Vassa of Bravil and Hathei Jah of Leyawiin with large support from Black Marsh and Elsewyr. The weaker of the factions, they will need to use trickery and strategy to compete with the other factions.
Bordering Kingdom of Morrowind, the Old Empire, and controlling all of Blackwood and area.
Wealth: No information is known on the wealth of the Blackwood Rebels.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

All character sheets must be sent to me via PM before posting.
Use the following format as a basis for your character sheet.

Character Sheet

Name:
Alias/Nickname:
Race:
Gender:
Apparent age: (If applicable)
Actual Age:

Height:
Skin Tone:
Hair Colour:
Eye Colour:
Significant Markings:
Physique:

Other aesthetic details:

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch:

What you are good at: ( Swordsmanship, cooking, you can dance a good jig, whatever you're good at. If your character is good at tying knots, put it.)
What you are bad at: ( Anything, even minor things, your character is bad at.)

Weapons: ( Keep it character appropriate. You won't see a plain Argonian citizen carrying around any silver unless they are wealthy, which would require explanation.)
Armour: ( Again, keep it appropriate.)
Clothing: ( If your character doesn't wear armour or wears clothing underneat armour.)
Miscellaneous:

Mentality/Mental description:

Short Biography:



Faction Sheet

Rank:
Faction Name:
Troop Numbers: ( If in a commanding position. )
Troop Description:

Name of troops ( Ex: House Hlaalu Knights Etc. )
( Description including armor, weapons, appearance, whatever you need to describe your troops. Do this for all your types of troops. )



Rules! ( Follow them or be turned into a morbidly obese Sload. )

1. Do not Uber. This all depends on your character of course but there are some things no one can do.
2. Don't argue in the thread, message me if you have any issues with people.
3. Basically... follow all the usual RP rules.
4. No one liners et cetera. Longish posts unless you have nothing to do, in which case message me.
5. Agree to some point on battles with either me or who your are fighting against.
6. Your character likely will die, accept it.
7. Before reading further, do not call this a Siege of Sentinal ripoff. Just because they were the first to do it does not mean all after them are a ripoff.
I am merely to some degree utilising a fun revolutionary idea.
8. Relatively experienced roleplayers only. Go to the better quality rps and you will see what i mean. I'm talking like, somewhere near ImmortalBlood ish quality.
If you send me a bit of a writing sample i will almost certainly accept you with wide open arms and if you are good... this will be a great RP.[/b][/u]

Click for a map of http://z.about.com/d/vgstrategies/1/0/Q/1/OblivionMapAGM_v1.1.jpg.

Current Confirmed Roleplayers

State of Anvil, Main Faction Leader - Faldom [ Karlirah Blackheart of Anvil, Count Garius Vilamon of Kvatch, Earon Blackheart, Taigel ] and BGursky59 [ Svog Strong-Sword of the Fighters Guild ]

Republic of Skyrim, Main Faction Leader - W00tz (Me) [ Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Advisor Ormellius Elf-Hewer, General Yngling Half-Hand, Chief Thangbrand Stoneheim ] and tayroc [ Gottfrid Moon-Eater ]

Blackwood Rebels, Main Faction Leader - Jerod Kayne [ Ri'Vassa of Bravil , Hathei Jah of Leyawiin ] Marn [ No Character Sheet ] and 4LOM [ Toki-Jul ]

Kingdom of Morrowind, Main Faction Leader - forrest gump951 [ Vonden Darothril, Capricus Fyuron ] instantdeath59 [ Rathyn Lethyn ] and Patali [ Fedaves Githendas ]

The Old Empire, Main Faction Leader - BladeMaster07 [ Chancellor Ocato, Count Luspinian Maraennius of Chorrol, Count Malpenix Mercius of Skingrad, General Arcturas Vallenturas ]
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katsomaya Sanchez
 
Posts: 3368
Joined: Tue Jun 13, 2006 5:03 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:22 pm

Skyrim Republic of Bruma

W00tz
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i201/Vality7/maps/SkyrimMapv2.jpg

Name: Thangbrand Stoneheim
Alias/Nickname:Chief Thangbrand
Faction: Skyrim Republic of Bruma
Faction Rank: ( Head of State ) Chief
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: 64
Birthsign: The Lord


Eyes: Vibrant Green
Hair: Longish Grey hair with thick braids hanging past his shoulders.
Skin Color: Fair, but spotted with age
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Scar from his shoulder to his lower back, blue runes tattoed across his torso
Height: 6'6
Build: Large and somewhat muscular, as if he had once been a very strong fighter, but hadn't been in a combat situation for years, and is still trying to maintain some semblance of his former strength.

Skills: Axe, Spear, Block, Blunt, Light Armor, Unarmed

Armour/Apparel: Fur cloak, fur boots, Wool leggings, Thick wool shirt, and several copper and bronze rings. In combat he uses a wooden shield covered in leather and iron banding, with an Iron center.

Weapons: A heavy steel club hangs from his side, due to its blunt qualities and weight, Thangbrand values it for inflicting heavy damage without killing, and a bit of rough string is wrapped at the top of the handle. He also carries a sturdy Iron spear, as it may double as a walking stick and is efficient for hunting and he values it for its ability to be thrown.

General Description: Although once a strong young man, Thangbrand has traded some of his strength for knowledge.

Magic: Thangbrand believes in being practical. He holds respect for the Arts, although he despises necromancy.

Inventory:
Pouch: Meat, Bread, Mead Flask.
Waist: Wine Bladder.
History: Followed the large groups of soldiers and citizens alike to Fjorkvar's Territories, was chosen to lead Dalkey when the sudden influx of people led to a shortage of food, riots and fights broke out, and Thangbrand calmed the people by climbing to the top of a table and calming the crowd with his surprisingly booming voice. He helped organise hunting parties and ration out food, keeping the situation under control until the food shortage was corrected. Chosen to lead mainly for his rationalism, calm head, and ability to unite the people.
Personality: Humble and Cautious, believes in simplicity in life, but will toss his beliefs when engaged in war.
Traits and Miscellaneous Skills:
- Feels extremely responsible for the safety of his people
- Can drink anyone under the table
- Likes to horse around with friends

Followers:

Andrelheim, Mountainborn Captain ? A young man Thangbrand met in the camps upon his arrival. He has since mentored him and appointed him Captain of his personal guards. Andrelheim dreams that one day the Mountainborn may become an Order of Knights, instead of only the Noble born it would be consisted of men skilled in battle. Andrelheim wears Full Chainmail over fur with Iron Nordic Pauldrons with fur coming from the top and hanging down a bit. Wields a heavy Iron sword that he often keeps at his side and a spiked hammer with one side of the head sharp and blade like across his back along with a sword similar to Thangbrand's.


Dalkey

Location: Center of the three way intersection near Toadstool Hollow.

Description: A bustling town, Dalkey has all the essential elements of a successful settlement, along with a Nord Garrison and a typical Nordic defenses built around it.
http://www.tamriel-rebuilt.org/index.php?p=conceptart§ion=15261, Dalkey consists of mainly "Several types of Nordic houses" with the more barbarian style and more primitive dwellings near the outskirts.

Dalkey Guards: (700) Guarding the gates and mainly patrolling the outskirts of the town, focused on any possible threats to the town, leaving the policing of its citizens to others.
Armor: Full Chainmail Armor and Fur, Light Iron Shields.
Weapons: Steel Spears, Nordic Broadswords.

Dalkey Crossbowmen: (200) Professional soldiers stationed at the town of Dalkey, these men are highly capable with Crossbows.
Armor: Full Chainmail Armor and Fur.
Weapons: Steel Crossbows, 20-30 quiver of Steel Bolts.

Dalkey Horseman: (300) These men either ride around the city, keeping order, or patrol through the countryside in groups of 10 - 15.
Armor: Nordic Ringmail Cuirass and Fur armor, Fur Cloaks and Nordic Leather Shields.
Weapons: Nordic Longswords and Wooden Shortbows, 15 quiver Iron Arrows.

Mountainborn: (100) Elite warriors directly under Thangbrand used for his personal errands and as a personal guard. From the Mountains and villages of Skyrim, These men's origins vary from Noble-born, to war veteran, to simple farmer or hunter. One thing is for sure, Thangbrand will draw breath as long as the Mountainborn does. Identified by a branding mark on the back of their hand of a small tear, in remembrance of the Night of Tears and wearing a White Mantle with a Blue crest depicting a Nord fighting hand to hand with a white bear.
Armor: Varying Armors.
Weapons: Varying.





Fort Greenwinter

Captain Tymvaul ? Acting Captain of Fort Greenwinter, established near Chorrol, taking Fort Rayles, enlarging and renaming it to watch the City and launch future attacks. ( Fort will be described IC. )

Greenwinter Guards: (1400) Professionally trained guards of Fort Greenwinter, Guarding the Gate and patrolling through the Fort. They wear mantles depicting a snowy mountain amongst a green forest.
Armor: Full Chainmail and Light Iron Shields.
Weapons: Long Steel Spears, Nordic Broadswords.

Greenwinter Crossbowmen: (300) Professionally trained Crossbowmen, guarding the gate and scattered across the walls. Greenwinter Mantle.
Armor: Full Chainmail armor.
Weapons: Steel Crossbows and 20 ? 30 Steel bolts. Iron Shortswords.

Greenwinter Archers: (700) Professionally trained Archers, Patrolling the walls, Crates of Arrows every placed at regular intervals. Greenwinter Mantel.
Armor: Full Chainmail armor.
Weapons: Steel Longbows and Steel Arrows. Iron Shortswords.



Bruma
Information: Skyrim reinforcements pass through here, camping outside the city. Reinforcements can head quickly to Dalkey.

Bruma Guards: (1100) Original Bruma guards, and Skyrim soldiers guard the gates and patrol the walls. Wear a mantel carrying the crest of Bruma.
Armor: Town Guard armor and shields.
Weapons: Steel Spears and Nordic Longswords.

Bruma Crossbowmen: (400) Same as Bruma Guards. These soldiers guard the gates and patrol the Castle walls. Bruma Mantel.
Armor: Full Chainmail Armor.
Weapons: Steel Crossbows and 20 -30 quivers of Steel Bolts.

Bruma Garrison: (6000) Reserve soldiers stationed in Bruma. Stay in the Chapel of Talos and just outside the North Gate.




Skyrim Republic of Bruma Countryside and Roads
Militia and soldiers on horseback patrol the countryside of Fjorkvar's Territories, With small outposts of soldiers all along the roads. Professional Soldiers from Skyrims Military patrol the roads in small columns.




Name: Valh?ll of the Valley
Alias/Nickname: N/A
Faction: Skyrim Republic of Bruma
Faction Rank: Captain of the Militia
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: Thirty-One summers
Birthsign: The Steed


Eyes: Blue
Hair: Long, straight dark brown hair flowing backwards. Unkempt most of the time.
Skin Color: Fair, white skin.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Valh?ll 's only scar is a burn mark from when he was forging horseshoes on his farm in Skyrim.
Height: 6'4
Build: Build of a man who has farmed, raised livestock, hunted, and forested his entire life.
Skills: Learned to swing an axe from cutting down trees all his life, Gained great skill in Archery from hunting wild game, skilled in Horsemanship due to frequent trading runs, and trips up the mountains. A good brawler, often fought with his siblings and other children in the valley. Skilled in light armor. Athletic from years of hard farm work, Decent smith skills due to fixing farm tools and shoeing horses. Taught himself minimal Long Blade and Block skills upon hearing of the splitting of the Elder Council. Improved these skills and learned how to wield a spear through joining the Military.

Armour/Apparel: Fur and rough wool clothing, Fine fur cloak.
Weapons: Darkly colored finely constructed Longbow, Long Iron spears in a tight sling at his horses side, along with a shield and long, broad Iron sword passed down as a family heirloomhttp://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e137/Walx/10Races.jpg, gripped handle and fits into a leather/wool scabbard. Before him the sword had not been used for years. A Fine Iron war axe hangs from his right side. Quiver containing 23 Iron Arrows, Sax hanging from his left.

General Description:

Magic: A poor Farm boy has no time or money for the studies of the magical arts.

Inventory:
Horse/Saddlebag: Weapons mentioned above. Whetstone, cloth, meat, bread, multiple water and wine bladders, extra arrows and fletching equipment, Smithing hammers, Fire-drill, tinder box, cutlery, metal pot and pan.

History: Raised on a farm nestled in a Mountain Valley near a small creek, Haddr had a hard, yet happy childhood. Once the Elder Council split, he began to teach himself in the arts of war, recently joining the Skyrim Military and becoming Captain of the Militia. Recently stationed at Neugrad Watch with a large contingent of Militia troops. Traveled to Bruma upon hearing from Falkreath of a request for Reinforcements.

Personality: Born leader and enjoys Guerrilla warfare. Has a bit of a dislike for heavily armored troops, very respectful of his elders and men who have seen a lot of combat.

Traits and Miscellaneous Skills:
- Excellent Hunter
- Likes to travel quickly
- Rough hands
- Firm, intimidating handshake

Followers:

Soscean, Lieutenant ? Soscean's family owned the General store Valh?ll took his goods to trade. When men began to join the Militia, he and Valh?ll joined up together. He was always the odd one out, possibly the only Redguard family in the mountains, for the most part he shares the Nords hardiness, while still keeping the skills Reguards are famed for. More than just a lieutenant, Soscean is a trusted friend and confidant. Usually wears a Nordic Ringmail cuirass with wool pants, fur gauntlets, boots, and cloak. Wields a Steel Saber with small rubies set in the pommel, often at his side, and carries a steel glaive. Light round shield constructed from steel.


Troops:

Haafinheim Horseman: (1200)x4 Militia given a few weeks of formal training in the Haafinheim Region, they ride mostly Self-supplied and tamed horses from the wilds.
Armor: these Militia are garbed in entirely Fur and Fur Cloaks.
Weapons: Wooden Longbows, 20 -30 quiver of Iron arrows. Iron Longswords and long Iron axes.

Eastmarch Cavalry: (700)x4 Riding in columns of 700, these Heavy Cavalry hail from the region of Eastmarch. With its foothills and low mountains, they ride sturdy, sure footed horses and are possibly the most disciplined Cavalry Skyrim has to offer.
Armor: Nordic Iron cuirass with Ebony trimming and Nordic Ringmail underneath, clad in chainmail and a light bearskin cloak. Steel kite shields.
Weapons: Steel Glaives and Lances, Nordic Broadswords at their sides.

Pale Cavalry: (400)x4 Semi-professional soldiers from "The Pale", the mountainous region south of Whiterun. Riding white horses and consisting of troops with various levels of training.
Armor: Chainmail Armor, Light Iron Shields.
Weapons: Steel Spear and Nordic Mace.

Pargran Village Riders: (200)x4 Riding tough mountain horses, these men are sent on patrols and raids, often riding at the sides of the army.
Armor: Fur Cloaks and armor, Wooden shields.
Weapons: Iron spears and Long axes with large Iron head.


Bardmont Spearmen: (1100)x4 Skilled Militia spearmen from the many villages of Skyrim, trained at a military post in Bardmont.
Armor: Nordic Ringmail Cuirass, Iron Tower Shields, Fur armor and Light Cloak, Chainmail Helmet.
Weapons: Long Iron Spears and Axes.


Riverwood Rangers: (700) Skilled scouts and trackers from the Jerall Mountains, although they lack in swordsmanship experience, they are skilled with bows and can defend themselves decently. Riding swift horses and also used as Messengers.
Armor: Light fur cloaks and a Leather Bracer on the arm of their choice.
Weapons: Wooden Shortbows, 15 -20 quiver containing Iron arrows, Saxes and simple axes taken from their farms.


Vernim Wood Archers: (1100)x4 Militia Archers skilled in long range volleys from Vernim Wood and surrounding area.
Armor: Fur Cloaks and armor, Leather Bracer on arm of choice.
Weapons: Fine wooden Longbows and Iron arrows, Saxes and short war axes.





Name: ?gmundr
Alias/Nickname: N/A
Faction: Skyrim Republic of Bruma
Faction Rank: General
Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: 46
Birthsign: The Warrior


Eyes: Pale Blue
Hair: Fair Blond Hair, shoulder length with a short likewise coloured beard.
Skin Color: Fair skin.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Numerous Torso scars.
Height: 6'7
Build: Typical Nord.

Skills: Generalship, Heavy Armor, Limited weapon skills for years of impractice have led him to become unaccustomed to fighting.

Armour/Apparel: Intricate Nordic armor made from a strong Iron alloy and polished to shine like silver. No helmet. Gold and Silver rings inlaid with precious jewels and gems.
Weapons: A Nordic Battleaxe made from silver, more decorative than anything.

General Description: N/A

Magic: A light Fatigue fortifying spell for when the days are just too long.

Inventory:
Pockets: 300 Septims

History: Born to noblemen and sent to school to study about warfare, ?gmundr is more of a pampered war scholar than a warrior. Despite this he is a good General in the sense that he knows his tactics, and tends to lead by stratagem.

Personality: By no means a stuck up snob, he certainly does have a streak of that Aristocratic nature imbued in him.

Traits and Miscellaneous Skills:
- Often chews on Aloe Vera leaves

Followers:

Astius Catius, Servant ? More slave than servant, he is treated rather cruelly at times and made to complete many tasks for his master. Wears very bare rough clothing.


Troops:

Heavy Infantry: (2000)x4 Highly trained , Highly Disciplined, and Heavily armored, these troops tend to be positioned in large battles to take the brunt of the attack.
Armor: Heavy Nordic Iron armor over top full Chainmail with bits of fur, Steel Tower shield.
Weapons: Start off with Steel Spears, Nordic Longswords for close combat.

Pikemen: (1000)x4 Disciplined, these soldiers stand in neat formations. Professional soldiers of Skyrim.
Armor: Steel Cuirass, Full Chainmail Armor, Steel Tower Shield.
Weapons: Steel Halberds and Pikes, Steel Broadsword sidearm.

Crossbowmen: (700)x4 Stand in organized formations and highly trained for maximum accuracy.
Armor: Padded and Chainmail armor.
Weapons: Steel Crossbows and Quivers of 30 Steel Bolts. Steel sax sidearm.

Archers: (200)x4 Experts in firing volleys of long range arrows.
Armor: Leather Bracers, Wool clothes.
Weapons: Steel Longbows, Quiver of 30 Steel Arrows.



[font="Courier New"]Person from Anticlere

Character Sheet

Name: Reynald Bedevier
Race: Breton (Anticlerian)
Gender: Male
Age: 35

Height: 5'7
Skin Tone: Very pale
Hair: Brown, slightly curly, tips barely reaching his shoulders.
Eye Color: Deep brown
Significant Markings: Surprisingly smooth, clear skin would seem weirdest about him; no scratches or anything that may indicate a warrior, misleading many to think he's of the kind that stay in courts all their life.
Physique: Slim, everything about him seems gaunt and fragile; however, he has a surprising amount of strength for a man of his build.

Other aesthetic details: Wispy brown moustache, otherwise he's always cleanly shaved; generally could be considered handsome, even though some may be offset by his character.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: In the pocket of his coat, he keeps a locket inside which is a map of Anticlere.

What you are good at: An accomplished fencer, relying more on agility than sheer strength; could also be considered a good tactician, although his selfishness can lead to him ignoring orders to preserve his forces. He's also somewhat of a cartographer, and tends to randomly write prose.
What you are bad at: Not a good diplomat, for even though his manners are excellent, arrogance seeps through them on most occasions. His inspirational skills are quite poor as well, as he does not believe in motivating his men with dashing examples of courage or stirring speeches, more often than not just pretending to not care, even if he is on the losing side of a battle. Also an alcoholic, and while it's hard to guess by the way he usually acts, occasionally he can get drunk at the worst of times.

Weapons: A steel rapier, with a richly silver-incrusted handle and handguard, and a notable sheath decorated with many gems and gold trimming.
Armor: He tends to don a steel chainmail vest right before battles, although he usually keeps it below all his clothes.
Clothing: Reynald wears a snow-white shirt, slightly puffed at the end of the sleeves; on top of it, a blue coat with silver trimming and gold buttons. The coat reaches down to his mid-hips, where, notably, the usual trunk hose of a Bretic noble have been replaced with puffed pants of the Ra Gada fashion, color of which matches his shirt, slightly trimmed with silver, and held in place by a thin black leather belt with a golden clasp. The pants reach slightly past his knees, covering a bit of his nearly knee-high black leather boots.
Miscellaneous: An easily noticeable ebony ring with a small ball of volcanic glass that tends to gleam slightly even in darkness.

Mentality/Mental description: Reynald has an obvious 'better-than-thou' attitude. Filled from head to toe with arrogance, he is the stereotypical Bretic noble. He knows how to carry himself in a court, and will often do so just to annoy the possibly less gallant subjects of whatever ruler he is dealing with. He's often cruel, although seems to be almost reluctant when it comes to that and never dirties his hands personally, though even his orders tend to come off as forced, implying that this is just something he is trying to force onto himself in order to maintain his status as a fit leader in his mercenary army. He also has absolutely no sense of humor, and is often irritated because of that.

Short Biography: He was born in Anticlere, into the nobility, although his family was not an influential one. His father had little to offer to his son after dying (three years after his wife, Reynald's mother), leading to Reynald selling everything and taking off with a couple of friends and a handful of men. Over years, this band grew into first a unit, then even a small army of mercenaries, who wandered from High Rock to Skyrim, Hammerfell, and finally Cyrodiil, where Reynald had them hired by the Skyrim Republic of Bruma.


Faction Sheet

Rank: Commander
Faction Name: Anticlerian Company of the East (Currently in the employ of the Skyrim Republic of Bruma)
Troop Numbers: 6000

Anticlerian Arbalesters (2100)
Frighteningly powerful, although with a slow rate of fire, at range these troops are kings. The arbalest has huge punching power, greater than even the crossbow, and is often seen as 'unfair' by the Knights back in High Rock, for a peasant with an arbalest and a bit of training could take down a knight with a lifetime of training. To add to their fearsome weapon, these troops are also quite well-armored, with knee-long chainmail vests, burgonet helmets and padded cloth underneath their chainmails. On their backs, they carry man-sized wooden pavise shields to protect them while reloading, and in case of a melee, each man has some sort of a close combat weapon, be it a shortsword, an axe, or a mace.

Anticlerian Heavy Infantry (2400)
The backbone of the Company, these troops are very effective against cavalry and not without use against infantry, being armed with 15 foot long pikes, giving them an edge over most other melee opponents, provided they keep in formation. Armored with knee-long chainmail and iron plate to protect their limbs, plus the bascinet helmets, each man also has a small strapped iron shield and some sort of a sidearm, for use in rough terrain or if the enemy manage to get around their pikes. Unlike most troops of this type, however, these infantrymen know how to properly use their sidearms, since their lives can often depend on them.

Anticlerian Jinetes (1500)
Light, nimble horseman, much cheaper to equip than gendarmes or indeed many other sorts of cavalry, while being surprisingly effective against heavier cavalry and much more capable of operating in warmer climates or rough battlefields. Their primary weapon is a bundle of javelins, six to seven, which are thrown at close range, leaving them at a disadvantage against bows; however, javelins are terribly effective against armor. The Jinetes are strong men ? they have to be to fling their javelins far and with force enough, and they can throw these weapons in a variety of ways, including behind themselves while fleeing their foes. They are armored with padded cloth, also with thick leather cuirasses and leather skullcaps. Each man also carries a round iron shield, and a sidearm of some sort, mostly either bastard swords or large axes.



tayroc
Name: Gottfrid Moon-Eater
Alias/Nickname: Gottfrid
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Apparent age: mid-40's
Actual Age: 43

Height: 6'8"
Skin Tone: normal caucasian
Hair Colour: Salt n' pepper
Eye Colour: grey
Significant Markings: Many facial scars. blue tribal tattoos on right side of face.
Physique: Heavily muscled

Other aesthetic details: Short beard with curled moustache. Every surface on his armour is engraved with intricate tribal patterns and pictograms.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: several knives, rope, sharpening stone, repair hammer, mutton jerky.

What you are good at: Riding, Spears, Block, Morale, Leadership, Axes.
What you are bad at: Fearful of wizards. Superstitious.

Weapons: Troll-Piercer (Ebony spear). Silver war axe.
Armour: Nordic silver briastplate and gauntlets. Bearskin everything else. Round nordic shield
Clothing: none
Miscellaneous: Ring of The Moon-Eater (35% resist magic). Heinsfoddur (Grey Palfrey)

Mentality/Mental description: Guilty about his past as a marauder.

Short Biography: Faced with the life of a poor villager in the border regions of Solstheim, Gottfrid joined a band of Marauders when he was just a young man and quickly rose through their ranks to become their warlord due to his martial prowess and natural abilities as a leader. By the time he was twenty-five years old, he was widely feared and respected by all those in eastern Skyrim. Eventually the moderate-sized marauder band was ambushed by a contingent of Imperial Legionnaires led by a skilled Battlemage and massacred. Very few escaped the battle, Gottfrid being one of them. After several years in hiding Gottfrid met a man named Fjorkvar Whitebeard during a bar-room brawl and the two forged an unlikely friendship. Now nearly 10 years later the two have still been known to call upon each other's counsel in times of need.


Troops:

1 Attendant A young but powerful Khajiit lad named Ma'Jhindo is responsible for carrying and maintaining Gottfrid's weapons and armour on the march, as well as serving as a confidant to the sometimes moody Nord. He is even a skilled archer in his own right.

1000 Raider cavalry Clad in Bearskins and tattoos and mounted on Skyrim's fastest horses, they carry assorted one-handed weapons and shields as well as bottles of alcohol with rag wicks that they light and use to set buildings aflame. They are used to strike fast and hard at enemy towns and outposts as well as occasionally being utilized by Lord Fjorkvar to reinforce his personal army.



Kingdom of Morrowind

Forrest Gump
Name: Capricus Fyuron
Alias/Nickname: None.
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Apparent age: early 50s
Actual Age: 192

Height: Roughly 6' 2"
Skin Tone: Well he's Dunmer, so, uh... gray?
Hair Colour: Jet Black
Eye Colour: Red
Significant Markings: Capricus has a scarred cornea in his right eye, giving it an opaque gray color. He can still see fine, though. He also has several battle scars across his chest and arms.
Physique: Pretty muscular, well defined abs and biceps.

Other aesthetic details: He only smiles when either something is genuinly funny or he particularly likes someone.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Small pouch of ingredients around his waist.

What you are good at: Capricus is a very accomplished battlemage, excelling mainly in Destruction, Alteration, and Mysticism. He's also very deadly with a blade.
What you are bad at: He has a problem containing himself when his anger gets to a certain point.

Weapons: Carries a finely crafted steel longsword on his waist, and a similar shortsword on his back. The shortsword has a large ruby embedded in the hilt. He also has a chitin dagger on his laft ankle.
Armour: Wears light bonemould in battle, with mail underneath.
Clothing: When not in battle, wears a plain tunic, and often wears his nice burgundy coat in the cold.
Miscellaneous: None.

Mentality/Mental description: Capricus is a man of action. He comes to quick, accurate conculsions If someone is or intends to hinder his leardership over his men, he will deal with the problem, in any way possible. He values the lives of his men, but is willing to throw away the lives of men who have proved themselves unworthy. He lets very fe into his inner circle, if such a circle even exists.

Short Biography: Capricus was born and raised a nobleman, put into the army at 48 years of age (Young for elves). He was never close to his parents, nor close to anyone save those he has fought alongside in battle, leading to him having a high regard for friends. He spent the majority of his time in the army studying his skills as a battlemage, and his name is now well known among mages and generals alike.
Rank: Acting General
Faction Name: Grand Army of the Kingdom.
Troop Numbers: 18,076
Troop Description: 3,000 infantry recruits, 10,000 trained infantry, 1,000 archers, 1,500 cavalry, 2,000 elite infantry, 500 battlemages, 70 trebuchet/catapults, with crews. 6 of Capricus' personal guard.

Name of troops: Infantry Recruits are placed among the trained infantry as footsoldiers. Recruits and Trained Infantry alike all have Chitin armor and longswords. Archers have bonemould longbows, each with 30 arrows. Archers must return to arrow carts to resupply during battle.

Cavalry: Seprated into light and heavy cavalry. Light cavalry are armed with longswords and some armor, heavy cavalry are armed with long lances, heavy steel armor and shields. 300 light cavalry, 200 heavy cavalry.

Elite Infantry: AKA The Scourge. Highly trained soldiers, taught battle tactics and strategy. All are armed with the weapon and armor of their choice. A few of the high-ranking ones have horses.

Battlemages: Similar to legion battlemages, but armed and armored as Infantry. Are often placed as Captains of Infanrty groups.

Trebuchets/catapults: Used only during the siege of a city/fort or in big, open battles. All are complete with crews for loading/firing.

Capricus' personal guard: 6 of the most highy trained and disceplined soldiers in the army. 3 are always on duty at once, standing around Capricus' tent. Often sent to do Capricus' personal bidding.


Name: Reydin Talaani
Alias/Nickname: none
Race: Dunmer
Gender: male
Apparent age: 27
Actual Age: 68

Height: 6' 0"
Skin Tone: Gray
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: red
Significant Markings: a few scars scattered around his body
Physique: quite muscular, necessary for his occupation

Other aesthetic details: can change his personality whenever it is called for.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: bag of money, some food, etc.

What you are good at: Very deceptive, great actor. He'll make you think whatever he wants you to think. Also deadly with swords, bows, and hand-to-hand
What you are bad at: All types of magic.

Weapons: One regal-looking longsword, and an ankle-strapped dagger.
Armour: none
Clothing: Expensive burgundy coat, plain pants
Miscellaneous: a few rings on his fngers.

Mentality/Mental description: mysterious personality, he can change it whenever to fit his mission. In reality, he has no actual personality, just the one he's using at the moment.

Short Biography: He's an amnesiac, can't remember anything before twenty years ago. At that point he joined the Morrowind Department of Intelligence and became an operative.



instantdeath59

Name: Rathyn Lethyn
Alias/Nickname: N/A
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Apparent age: 20
Actual Age: 20

Height: 6 feet
Skin Tone: light grey/blue
Hair Colour: long brown hair
Eye Colour: red
Significant Markings: N/A
Physique: Middle strength

Other aesthetic details: the usual Dunmer

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: A pouch wich he carries around with a bedroll and other supplies

What you are good at: Hes good with a sword and spear. A skilled swimer and good with the outdoors. Good with heavy/medium armor
What you are bad at: Bad at taking control, not good with horses, not good working with pressure.

Weapons: A steel spear and an iron longsword and dagger
Armour: Bonemold armor ( may change depending on what the army has)
Clothing: A blue shirt and grey pant wich he wears when not fighting.
Miscellaneous: Some money and a fatigue potion

Mentality/Mental description: He always gets worried and gets shaky etc., but it makes him more cautious, so he usually makes it out of battles alive.

Short Biography: He was born in the north eastern part of Morrowind were grew up. His parents had some money so they could afford him a sword. He soon went out on his own fighting rats and the such. At age sixteen he moved to Cheydinhal when his mother got arrested for dealing skooma. When he arrived he set out to find a job. He decided to train as an adventurer. He raided a few ruins and such with skilled companions. When he was 18 he tried out for being a guard. When he heard about the new recruitment joining of the new army he quickly signed up.



Patali

Character Sheet

Name: Fedaves Githendas
Alias/Nickname: None
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Apparent age: Early '30s.
Actual Age: 27

Height: 5'11
Skin Tone: Light blue.
Hair Colour: Black, with a slight blue tinge.
Eye Colour: Vibrant Red.
Significant Markings: Has a scar on his left arm, from a childhood injury.
Physique: Very slinder, with little to no muscle at all. Bruises fairly easily, and pain seems to hurt him a bit more than it does most people. Has no serious injuries currently.

Other aesthetic details: No other significant details.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Usually wears a simple priest robe. If he must wear armor, he can only wear a small amount of light armor, usually just chainmail covering his torso.

What you are good at: Is a fairly good speaker, and raises moral whenever possible. He has a little expirience with shortswords, and has trained with, and is pretty good at healing magic. If he is physically athletic at all, then it's the fact that he can run fairly well.

What you are bad at: Basic combat. Bows, swords, axes, combat magic. He is also not very strong.

Weapons: None usally, though he could afford at most a badly made shortsword, probably iron.
Armour: Once again, none.
Clothing: Wears brown priest robe, and wooden sandals.
Miscellaneous: None

Mentality/Mental description: A generally good hearted person. Fedaves never likes to get into fights, and tries to make people happy whenever possible.

Short Biography: Fedaves grew up and was born in Cheydinhal, to a Fighters' Guild Journeyman. Because of this he learned some minor sword skills. His father was ruthless and often beat him, at one time even drawing a blade and cutting Fedaves' left arm as a child. He was also by force, instilled with the teachings of Azura, and they often took trips to the near by Deadric Shrine. On a contract to kill some trolls, his father died. His mother went into a state of distraught and left Cheydinhal and Fedaves. The Great Chapel of Arkay took Fedaves in, and trained him as a priest.

Faction: Kingdom of Morrowind




State of Anvil

Faldom


Gold Coast Longbowmen: (6000) These are men gathered from Anvil and Kvatch that have bow ability, most are militia from the cities and Hammerfell and some number of them are town guards. They use fine long bows and wear guards uniforms. They all carry a small weapon, like a dagger, short sword, or even a war axe, for when things get too close.

Red Riders: (3500) Hammerfell men said to be trained from birth in the art of riding a horse. All of thgem ride heavy, vicious, horses that are well armored, the horses are fearless in battle, and they are trained to stomp, bite, and kick enemy units. The cavaliers themselves wear thick plate mail and use lances and other pole-arms as weapons.

The Ra Gada: (2000) The best unit of warriors in all of Hammerfell, and sine consider them the best in all of Tamriel. They are the descendants the order that were the guardians of Hammerfell primarily in the first era. They are trained in combat to the extent of mastery. In battle they will use a long spear as their first weapon using it to kill off as many of the enemy as possible while keeping distance, then when the enemy fully engages them in battle they switch to their primary weapon, the long sword, they fight with a shield and they wear heavy plates, but it's not a full suit in order to not constrict movement, under their plates, they wear hard leather and chainmail to fill gaps.

Gold Coast Infantry: (7000) Like the archers, they are gathered from Kvatch and Anvil some are guards, but most are militia from the cities and Hammmerfell. They only carry a weapon of their choosing into battle and a shield into battle, they wear a few plates to cover critical areas, but mostly they are armored with chainmail.

Scouts: (200) Considered disposable and usually young of age they are sent out to find as much as they can of the enemy. They ride light horses, only wear leather armor, always have a shortbow and a short sword.ays have a longbow and a short sword.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Karilah Blackheart
Alias/Nickname: Black Heart
Race:Redguard
Gender:Female
Apparent age: early 50s
Actual Age: 48

Height: 5'5"
Skin Tone: Dark
Hair Colour: Black, with a touch of gray
Eye Colour: Jet black
Significant Markings: Scar across left side of jaw, is barely noticable due to make-up.
Physique: Still has a warriors frame, but all of her muscle has worn away.

Other aesthetic details: Wears her hair long and well kept. She outs forth some effort to maintain some ladylike beauty, but she does not care that much.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Wears a strap around waist for sword sheath

Good things: Speechcraft, leadership, and swordsmanship
Bad things: Although still handy with a sword, most combat skills gone with her youth

Weapons: An ebony shortsword kept at her side, at this point, it's just for show.

Armour: When she rides into a battle she wears fine ebony armor, with a thick golden trim, again this is mostly for show
clothing: Wears an equisite Burgundy blouse and dress.
Miscellaneous: Wears a golden ring on each finger
Mental: Comepletely dominating personality, a born leader.She is unshaken by fear, and is completely merciless.

Bio: Born to an anonymous father and she was abandoned by her mother at birth. Through infancy she was raised by a beggar io the streets of Sentinel, at the age of five he attacked and managed to kill the man that looked over him by his lack of ability to resist, he was old, sick, and weak. She did this so she wouldn't have to share his portions of food with him. She raised herself from that point, fighting and stealing for survival.

At the age of eighteen, she began working for the fighters guild, he gained power and prestiege, doing quest most men wouldn't even take, and she was a better warrior than all of them. She married another redguard man and had a son with him, he cheated on her and died for it, she kept her son. She then retired a year into his service as the guild master in order to raised her five year old son. She was happy she had one that; she had bigger ambitions than running the fighters guild.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Count Garius Vilamon
Alias/Nickname:
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent age: N\A
Actual Age: 43

Height: 6'0"
Skin Tone: Fair, rather pale
Hair Color: Light brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Significant Markings: none
Physique: Scrawny, has never done hard labor in his life.

Other aesthetic details: A thin face with light features.

What you are good at: Diplomacy, Finance managing, following orders.
What you are bad at: Anything Physical

Weapons: An engraved silver long sword, he barely has the strength to swing it.
Armor: No need for it, he would never set foot on a battlefield.
Clothing: An all black and gold set of robes with the Kvatch wolf stitched on the left side of his chest.
Miscellaneous: Wears his wedding ring, and an expensive gold amulet.

Mentality/Mental description: Spineless, lets Karilah dominate him to do her will.

Short Biography: Born into nobility, although he was spoiled growing up, he was always quiet and sheepish. He was not going to inherit the position of Count until his brother died in a duel for the love a maiden. When he became a man he had an arranged marriage to a woman from another noble family. Since then he has ruled Kvatch, helping it rebuild from the Daedric invasion with great ability. When Karilah came along and his people loved her, he pledged his loyality to her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Earon
Alias/Nickname: Black Heart
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Apparent age: N/A
Actual Age: 25

Height: 6'4"
Skin Tone: Dark
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Jet Black like his mother
Significant Markings: Bears war tattoos all over his body.
Physique: Tall and muscular, has a warriors frame

Other aesthetic details: Shaved his head bald and has no facial hair.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: A sash across his chest, and a belt around his waist.

What you are good at: Field leadership, combat, horse riding.
What you are bad at: Etiquette, diplomacy.

Weapons: The finest ebony long sword money could buy.
Armor: A full suit of ebony armor, again the finest money can buy.
Clothing: When off battlefield, he wears a burgundy jacket over a white collared shirt, he wears fine black pants and black shoes.
Miscellaneous: Wears a lot of golden rings and an expensive diamond amulet.

Mentality/Mental description: Thinks highly of himself, truly believes he is the greatest warrior and commander that ever lived.

Short Biography: Born to two fighters guild members, he was raised with a sword in hand. His mother killed his father before he could remember him. At age five his mother retired from the fighters guild and put more time into raising him as a warrior. At age fourteen his mother shipped him away to train with the Ra Gada. After four years of hard training, he completed training at the top of his class. He now commands the cavalry in his Mother's army.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Taigel
Alias/Nickname: Master
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Apparent age: (If applicable)
Actual Age: 37

Height: 6'7"
Skin Tone: A little lighter than most Redguards
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Dark Brown
Significant Markings: Yokudan words tattooed on his back and arms. A tattoo of Yokuda on his right bicep, has a heavily scarred body.
Physique: Big, muscular, and tall.

Other aesthetic details: Has a very intimidating appearance.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: A belt and a sash across chest

What you are good at: All types of combat and training
What you are bad at: Magic

Weapons: Mithril Claymore, engraved with yokudan words and the word Ra Gada on each side of the hilt
Armour: Ra Gada infantry armor
Clothing: Wears simple tan linens sandals and a vest.
Miscellaneous: Silver Amulet.

Mentality/Mental description: Incredibly determined and focused

Short Biography: Born and raised on the Ra Gada training grounds. All his life he was committed to his Ra Gada training, he soon let the Ra Gada replace his family in his life. He spent many years fighting his way to the top of the rankings until he reached the point of trainer. He trained Earon first hand. Now during the Cyrodiil war, he was called to aid Anvil and lead there unit of Ra Gada





BGursky59

Name: Zvog
Alias/Nickname: Zvog " Strong Sword "
Race:Nord
Gender:Male
Apparent age: 40s
Actual Age: 38

Height: 6'9"
Skin Tone: White/Palish
Hair Colour: Blonde but greying
Eye Colour: blue
Significant Markings: Black face paint on his face, claw scratch mark on chest
Physique: muscular, but very big

Other aesthetic details: missing part of his pinkie finger on his left hand,long hair with braids in it, a long beard with braids in it.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: a back sling for his sword, a smaller hip sling for his short sword.

Good things: Swordsmanship, resisting frost spells ( He is a Nord ), hand to hand, holding down drinks, rallying troops, leadership.
Bad things: archery, spell casting, dancing, and singing.

Weapons: A Steel claymore with a hilt encrested with jewels and gold, silver short sword with a Nordic legend on it. ( he is a fighters guild master)


Armour: a black headband, steel chest plate with another Nordic legend in it and several jewels incrusted into it, steel greaves, steel boots with spikes at the toes, and chainmail gloves.
clothing: Brown linen pants, and a leather vest.
Miscellaneous: always keeps a journal of his past tales.
Mental: likes to have feasts, but is very fierce and brutal, fears not to many beasts.

Bio: Grew up in the fighter Guild all of his life. His father was a high ranking Fighters Guild member. When his father past away he became a violent drunk. He was then shunned from the Fighters Guild for 3 years. When he was accepted back he was still a violent drunk. In an unexpected move he challenged the current leader of the Fighters Guild to a duel. The duel lasted three minutes and ended when Zvog broke the leaders neck.
From there on he took on the many adventures of a Fighters Guild Member and gained the respect of the Fighters Guild. Zvog then followed the large wave of Fighters Guild Members to fight alongside the Redgaurds in a large army raised by the deadly femme fatale Karlirah Blackheart, a former member of the Elder Council.





The Old Empire

Blademaster 07

Name: Arcturas Vallenturas
Alias/Nickname: General Arcturas Vallenturas
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent age: mid forties
Actual Age: 43

Height: 6'1"
Skin Tone: Rather tanned.
Hair Colour: Black, and cut short.
Eye Colour: Deep brown.
Significant Markings: A scar right below his left eye, as well as one going down the left side of his back.
Physique: Once muscular, age has caught up with him, and though he still stands all and proud, his muscles have become rather slack, as his body ages.

Other aesthetic details: Missing his left ring finger.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: None.

What you are good at: A skilled swordsman and all around good warrior. He is comfortable in the slightly heavy lorica segmenta's of the Legion, but his true skill lies in his ability of commanding his men, using traditional Legion tactics to do battle with his enemies.

His greatest skill however, is his ability to adapt to many different situations in battle.

What you are bad at: Relationships and having a sense of humor.

Weapons: Gladius. Long dagger.
Armour: Lorica Segmenta armor. A Centurion helmet that he only wears in battle. Hard leather boots. Leather, iron-banded gauntlets.
Clothing: He wears the clothes of his soldiers, those being simple wool shirts and pants, along with a traveling cloak.
Miscellaneous: A golden necklace with his Legion ID number.

Mentality/Mental description: A strict person who lacks a sense of humor, but who insists on putting himself in the same comforts of his troops. His men are the most important thing to him, as well as the Empire and its well being.

Short Biography: Growing up a regular aristocratic life, he was given the many advantages most don't get in life. Schools for reading and writing, along with fighting and all the stuff in between.

He new his future lay in the Legion, as he enlisted as soon as he could. He saw quite a bit of action, and through many deeds of valor he rose through the ranks of the Legion, until the Empire split, and Ocato named him General of the standing Legions, which numbered three full ones after the split.

Followers:

Knuuk gro-Malorg, Bodyguard- : A beast of an Orc, yet as civilized as a noble man, he acts as the Generals bodyguard and battlefield advisor, but also close friend and companion. In his mid twenties, he weighs nearly two hundred and fifty pounds, and shows it on the battlefield, as his strikes can fell trees, but he moves like a wounded turtle.
He carries a battle-axe into combat with him, and wears his very own Orcish cuirass, along with steel everywhere else. He is soft-spoken, and actually kind-hearted and warm to anyone who doesn't threaten his friend. Acts as the Generals Second-in-Command.

Ayond Scipius, Squire- : A young lad of no more then eighteen winters, he is fair faced, muscular and extremely intelligent, as his years with his mentor have been good to him. Already in the Legion, his family ensured he would be with his mentor for two more years (one year left) before going on his own.
His skill with a blade is considerable, and his mind on the battlefield is slowly being sharpened as he is always present when the Generals get together, and when Knuuk and Arcturas speak. His hair is short and black, and he already carries his first scar on his chin from the butt-end of a spear.

Achille Greensly, Lieutenant- : A capable Breton man who ranks behind Knuuk in ranking, but in skills, Arcturas repects them both and takes both of their opinions into consideration, even if Achille doesn't always see eye-to-eye with Knuuk.
On the field, he is a rather capable battlemage, utilizing his knowledge of Destruction and skill with a mace to fight his battles. He also has a keen strategic mind, and General knows one day he will lead a Legion of his own. He stands around 5'8", and is rather heavy for a Breton. His face is quite tan for one of his race, and his eyes are deep green, though the right one is half closed permanently from a cut that almost left him completely blind in that eye.


Faction Sheet

Rank: General (Centurion)
Faction Name: Imperial Legions
Troop Numbers: 6000 (X3, because of the 3 standing Legions)

Name of troops

Imperial Legionnaire's (4800):
Description: These men make up the backbone of the Imperial Legion. THey are highly trained fighter and are extremely disciplined due to long hours of training. Each Legion is divided into 42 battalions of 120 soldiers, leaving about ten man spaces between each group, and roughly half a man between each soldier.

Armor: Wearing the standard issue Lorica Segmenta, a hard leather "skirt" (knee length), hard leather boots, leather iron-banded gauntlets, a helmet that has cheek flaps to the jaw, and the rectangular scutum as a shield.

Weapons: Gladius. Two throwing spears each.


Light Cavalry (500):
Description: Horses have are not as common in the heart of Cyrodiil, where forests are plentiful, and therefore the cavalry of the Legion is not a prominent part of the army, serving more for running down fleeing troops and more lightly armed soldiers. However, they are still highly trained, and able to hold their own in combat if necessary.

Armor: Wearing thigh length chainmail, with a leather cuirass overtop, as well as chain greaves and steel plate pauldrons, as well as heavy leather boots and leather iron-banded gauntlets. Wooden bucklers with iron supports, slightly bigger than a dinner plate.

Weapons: Five and a half foot long lances for the initial charge. Shortswords for close fighting.


Archers (400):
Description: Archers do not play a very prominent part of the Imperial Legion, trained more for harassing enemy formations then actually causing large casualties. They receive the same training as Legionnaire's, except more time is spent on archery then combat. THey can move quickly across any terrain due to their lack of armor.

Armor: None. THey wear simple wool or cotton clothing, except of bracers on their wrist of choice.

Weapons: Simple wooden shortbows, cheap to make and packing a decent punch. Cloth quiver with 10-25 arrows.


Skirmishers (250):
Description: The least trained of the Legion soldiers, but still effective, these men carry between four and six throwing spears each, and are unarmored, allowing for quick movement across the terrain. They are used to harass enemy formations and to break up charges and can also wreck havoc on cavalry if they are protected. However, if caught out in the open, they will fall quickly. THey throw their spears until the enemy draws to close then they retreat through the gaps in the Legion line, and wait in reserve.

Armor: None. THey wear simple wool or cotton clothing. SMall shield, or pelte.

Weapons: Four to six throwing spears. Shortswords.


Scouts (50):
Description: Atop swift horses, these men are the eyes of the Legion, moving quickly across the land and relaying messages back to the General in charge of the land and the enemy. The horses they ride are specially bred for speed and stamina. These men are lightly armed and should not come to find themselves in battle.

Armor: Simple leather.

Weapon: Shortsword.

15 Onagers, 25 Ballistae, and 30 Scorpions



Name: Malpenix Mercius
Alias/Nickname: Count Malpenix Mercius of Skingrad
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent age: 76
Actual Age: 75

Height: 5'6"
Skin Tone: Rather pale.
Hair Colour: Silver, thin and wispy.
Eye Colour: He is blind, so milky white.
Significant Markings: Many wrinkles but nothing else.
Physique: A dwarf of a man, he was never very physically imposing, but when one hears him speak, they understand why he is so powerful. His face is drooping and wrinkled, and he has a fair hunchback.

Other aesthetic details: Blindness.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: None

What you are good at: Politics, speechcraft, manipulation, trickery and all that jazz.
What you are bad at: Anything physical, as well as prolonged debates as his old age doesn't allow for it.

Weapons: Just his silver tongue. (nothing)
Armour: See above.
Clothing: Fine red silk shirts and pants, along with lots of golden jewelry.
Miscellaneous: None.

Mentality/Mental description: A sharp and quick mind, who thinks of every option and possibility of a conversation, he is not one to be taken lightly in a debate.

Though he denies it, he tongue has spouted any lies and false promises in the past to make gains in political struggles. Not one for a sense of humor, though he has chuckled at the few weak minded fools who attempt to argue with him.

Short Biography: Born blind, many gave up on his schooling right away, saying there was no point in only taking him to learn languages and speech, but his mother protested heavily until a special teacher came to teach him the many languages of Tamriel as well as basic speech.

Soon he learned how to twist words and bend truths to his will, and became a lower member of the Elder Council, though many heard his voice in the first few months. His reputation grew quickly, his influence in the Council Room becoming prominent as he grew older.

Now he has returned to Skingrad, and effectively taken control of the city, pledging allegiance to Ocato and the Old Empire.

Followers:

Flavius Marciellus, "Eyes" and Advisor- : Your average IMperial, this man is very business-like in everything he does, as he takes his role seriously. He is always with his master, and is always guiding him with his eyes or his words. His tongue is sharp,and if Malpenix hadn't been able to prove himself more capable at speechcraft, many would think Flavius was manipulating the old man.

Hirnir Forstaag, Bodyguard and Captain of the Hammer of Skingrad- : An ex-Legionairre who is now guarding Malpenix, he is extremely skilled with most types of weapons, as well as his fists, making him a virtual weapon.
He also doubles as the Captain of the City Guard, and so he wears the guard uniform, while wielding his longsword into battle. He is very tall, almost reaching seven feet, and has the muscles to match, however he doesn't say much, and though friendly, is rather introverted.

Alusannah, Court Mage and Lover- : A beautiful Redguard woman, she doubles as Court Mage of Skingrad and Maplenix's lover. She is surprisingly adept at all schools of magick except for Mysticism. She is thirty-one years old, but looks like she just turned twenty.
She has back-length jet-black hair, very dark skin and dark brown eyes, which are almond shaped. She is very seductive in a modified mages robe with slits cut in the side of her robes, at the stomach and leg, allowing her legs to "have some air". She is always at Malpenix's side, or his bed..... whatever the situation calls for, and while having a delicate body, she is not one to cross.
She is very seductive, and always seems that way, as she talks in a low voice and showing her shapely figure off.


Faction Sheet

Rank: Commander (Captain Actually does most of the work)
Faction Name: The Hammer of Skingrad
Troop Numbers: 1100

Name of troops

Hammer Guards (700):
Description: Soldiers wearing the basic garment of the SKingrad guards (from TES:IV)), which is fairly light but offers okay protection. Well maybe not having the highest combat training, they have a strong sense of duty, taking the protection of their home-city very seriously.

Armor: Basic Skingrad armor. (from TES:IV)

Weapons: Wooden spears with metal tips, about six-and-a-half feet tall. Longswords.


Hammer Archers (400)
Description: Given the same training as the Guards, except more focus on their archery then combat skills. They patrol the walls mostly, and are a crack team of archers, wearing the same armor as the Guards, making them less versatile, but more protected.

Armor: Basic Skingrad armor. (from TES:IV)

Weapons: Wooden recurve bows. Cloth quiver with 10-20 arrows.





Name: Luspinian Maraennius
Alias/Nickname: Count Luspinian Maraennius of Chorrol
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent age: 25
Actual Age: 29

Height: 5'11"
Skin Tone: Almost ghostly white.
Hair Colour: Strawberry blond, rather long and well kept.
Eye Colour: Bright blue.
Significant Markings: His face remains unmarred by the ravages of time and battle.
Physique: An average sized man, he is not built for fighting, as his arms are skinny and weak. He is however rather handsome, though quite pale.

Other aesthetic details: Eyes are very bright.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: None.

What you are good at: Very charming and polite.
What you are bad at: Making decisions, even minor ones like what to have for dinner. Any form of combat, his speechcraft skills.

Weapons: Beautiful longsword, made of Ebony, and encrusted with jewels. A shame he doesn't know how to wield it.....
Armour: A full set of mithral armor, bought by his fathers riches.
Clothing: Fine silken garments and gilded shoes in an array of colors.
Miscellaneous: Many golden necklaces, rings and bracelets.

Mentality/Mental description: An energetic young man, who can hardly think for himself, going to a host of advisors for the simplest of decisions. He has a weak sense of humor, and the superiority complex of most nobles. Afraid to do anything on his own, many think he is a good leader because his advisors make good decisions for him.

Short Biography: Growing up as the son of a highly regarded advisor in the court of Chorrol, his road was paved from birth with gold and opportunities. With friends in such high places, he found himself placed on the Elder Council at a young age, and just the influence of his money gave him a voice in the Council, even if it was small.

When Ocato seemingly lost his mind and declared treason, he fled back to Chorrol where he discovered the COunt was dead, as was his father, and with no sons of the COunt, he was named the leader of the city. The people thought he was an instant success, and indeed he was, but it was actually his group of advisors making smart decisions for him.

He took all the credit, and only his deep purse kept anyone from getting out of line.

Followers:

Servius Bornus, Captain of the Oak- : The Experienced leader of the Guard of the Oak, he is one of the decision that the Counts advisors made for him, while he took credit for it. It was a strong decision, as the man is not only a skilled fighter and a veteran of many battles, but the people of Chorrol love him as he always strives to make the city cleaner from crime while never resorting to corruption.
He wields a battleaxe and shield like they were attached to his arms, and many that see him in battle might think he is part Orc as he sinks into a bloodlust-like state. UNfortunately in this state he rarely gives strategic advice, but he only does this when the battle is set, and he does have a good team of Lieutenants.

Aldos Vaves, Main Advisor- : THis Dunmer is always one to grab at personnel gain, and him becoming the COunts advisor was his greatest move. He recognized the young man to be foolish and seeking help every step of the way, so in swooped Aldos, with his silver tongue.
He lives comfortably, only the Count being richer then him, and he holds considerable power, perhaps even more then the Count because technically, Aldos makes all the decisions.


Faction Sheet

Rank: Leader (Formally only)
Faction Name: Guard of the Great Oak
Troop Numbers: 1300

Name of troops

Guards of the White Oak (1300):
Description: Arguably some of the finest city guards in Cyrodiil, these men are trained hard for battle, able to use many different weapon types, and represent the Oak with pride, defending it to the death. Adopting a fighting style similar to the IMperial Legion, these men have won countless battles in their time.

Armor: Standard Chorrol guard attire. Shield included. (see TES:IV)

Weapons: Seven foot long spears. Steel longswords. Wooden re-curve bows with 10 arrows each in cloth quivers.





Name: Ocato
Alias/Nickname: High Chancellor Ocato
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Apparent age: mid forties
Actual Age: 102 (?)

Height: 6'3"
Skin Tone: Pale skin of an Altmer.
Hair Colour: Brown and slicked back into a ponytail.
Eye Colour:Brown.
Significant Markings: None
Physique: He has the build of a mage and certainly not a fighter, though his early days as a battlemage have left a little muscle on him still. He is tall and skinny, but not skinny to a point of unhealthy, and his face is long and thin.

Other aesthetic details: None

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: None

What you are good at: An expert politician and great at management of cities and economical genius, a good public speaker. Being a battlemage, he is highly skilled in Destruction and Alteration, as well as Restoration.
What you are bad at: Physical things aren't his strong point, and he also has a hard time keeping a cool head when things don't go his way.

Weapons: Staff of the Battlemage
Armour: None.
Clothing: Red Robes. Red gilded shoes.
Miscellaneous: Silver and emerald amulet.

Mentality/Mental description: He is strong willed and very intelligent. His mind works politically, as he seeks a better way to do everything more cost effectively while pleasing all involved. However, it has to go his way, or else he begins to loose his cool. When he gets angry he begins to babble and loose face with those he is talking to.

Short Biography: He has always aspired to be a Battlemage, and began his training early, working hard and growing in power rather quickly. He quickly caught the eye of the Arcane University and they took him to join the Battlemages, realizing his potential.

IN almost no time at all he became the head Battlemage at the Arcane University, and that is what started him on his path of politics. His studies slowed in magick as his interest in politics grew, as he started attending meetings in the Elder Council, and through connections and his powerful status, he attained a seat in the White Gold Tower.

THrough many years on the Council his power slowly grew, as he used his influence as Head Battlemage to further his position. When he finally attained High Councellor, few disagreed with the decision, as he followed the Emperors will carefully, and kept his many promises to the people of Cyrodiil.

He showed considerable strength in keeping Cyrodiil together during the Oblivon Crisis, and now he looks to destroy the traitors to the Empire, and bring Cyrodiil back under his control.


Faction Sheet (he also controls the Legions in a limited way, though he trusts his Generals to get it done.)

Rank: High Battlemage
Faction Name: Imperial Battlemages and Mages of the University
Troop Numbers: 700

Name of troops

Imperial Battlemages (300):
Description: These men and women are an elite force in the Empire, using their skills in both magick and combat to vanquish their foes. They don a mix of heavy and light armor, and wield axes and battlehammers. THey use the Schools of Destruction and Alteration the most, also using Illusion and Restoration as well, and well not trained as much in tactics and formations, when set into the battle, they are able to turn the tide in a wave of spells. THey are extremely expensive to outfit however, but they are well worth the cost.

Armor: Ebony Cuirasses and pauldrons and gauntlets. Hard leather iron-banded boots and steel pauldrons. Ebony helmets as well. Shields, mainly Ebony or steel.

Weapons: Battleaxes and battlehammers.

Mages and Wizards (400):
Description: A host of magick users pulled from their studies to fight when needed, they are experts at Destruction, Illusion and Conjuration, able to blow holes in enemy formations as well as confuse enemy soldiers. They are completely unarmed and unarmored, except for their powerful shield spells, however they are still most vulnerable to other spellcasters and archers.

Armor: None. Just their own robes.

Weapons: None. Just their spells. (Some may have daggers)


Faction Sheet (he also controls the Legions in a limited way, though he trusts his Generals to get it done.)

Rank: High Chancellor
Faction Name: Imperial Militia Guard
Troop Numbers: 2300

Name of troops

Militia Spearmen (1500):
Description: Though only part time soldiers, they have been given basic training and given some moderate gear to use. Used only as a defensive force for the Imperial City, they are never all active at one time, most doing their service in terms of three or four months at a time before taking a break from their service. If the city should need it, they will all be rallied as one.

Armor: Chainmail hauberks and greaves with steel pauldrons and hard leather boots. Leather gauntlets and chain helmets.

Weapons: Seven foot long spears. Metal tipped. Shortswords.

Militia Bowmen (800):
Description: Though only part time soldiers, they have been given basic training and given some moderate gear to use. Used only as a defensive force for the Imperial City, they are never all active at one time, most doing their service in terms of three or four months at a time before taking a break from their service. If the city should need it, they will all be rallied as one. THeir training consists of more archery and less sword combat.

Armor: Chainmail hauberks and greaves with steel pauldrons and hard leather boots. Leather gauntlets and chain helmets. Bracers on wrist of choice.

Weapons: Wooden recurve bow. Cloth quiver of 10-30 arrows. Steel shortswords.


Spider Pig

Name: Calendras.
Alias/Nickname:Cally
Race: Altmer(High elf)
Gender: Male
Apparent age: Mid 20s.
Actual Age: 120.

Height: 6'8
Skin Tone: Golden
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Purpleish(A side affect of soem of his arcane Markings.)
Significant Markings: Traditional Altmer markings throughout his face to improve his skill. Gives him side effect of Purple eyes.
Physique: Thin and Tall. Athletic.

Other aesthetic details: Would be considered handsome by most.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Some pockets and pouchs in his Suit

What you are good at: Tactical planning for sea(Land to a lesser Extent). Mysticism. Short sword. Athletics. Alteration. Destruction. Conjuration. Necromancy.
What you are bad at: Gaining the loyalty of Common folk and Petty soldiers.

Weapons: Silver Cutlass
Armour: Imperial Officers suit. Some badges and Decorations.
Miscellaneous: 2000 gold in the back of the Imperial city. 200 gold on person. Misc General items.

Mentality/Mental description: Arrogant and Narcisstic. Sarcastic and witty. Acts a bit touched and gleefull some times, but his not really insane, its just how he deals with the Stress of life.

Short Biography: Born to two Altmer parents, His father was an imperial Battlemage and his mother a legion officer. He was raised by them until he came of age. He went off to a Wizard's Academy and an Officer's academy in the Imperial city to study. He graduated from both and joined the Imperial Navy when he was 100. He has served as an officer of diffrent power levels for 20 years and in these turbulent times, a promotion to Admiral might be just around the corner.



Faction Sheet

Rank: Veteran Officer
Faction Name: The Imperial Navy
Troop Numbers: 1 Imperial 1st class Battleship. 2 Second class Battleships and 4 galleys. 7 Battlemages. 100s of Crewmen for each ship. 150 Legionaires on each galley. 300 on each Battleship.
Troop Description: Low ranking Battlemages. 1st Class battleship equuiped with Cannons. Seconds class Equiped with Catapults. Galleys with one Catapult each. 50% of Legionaires equipeed with Bows. 50% with Swords.

Name of troops: Imperial Navy
Low ranking Battlemages. 1st Class battleship equuiped with Cannons. Seconds class Equiped with Catapults. Galleys with one Catapult each. 50% of Legionaires equipeed with Bows. 50% with Swords.


RavenVW

]Name: Reinhardt
Rank: General (Centurion)
Faction Name: Imperial Legions
Troop Numbers: One legion, 6000 men.

Race: Nord

Age:
30

Birthsign: The Warrior

Physical Description: Tall, muscular and black-haired. Reinhardt's very presence is dominating, his influence simply intimidating. Though he is rarely clean shaven, and tainted with the scars of battle, Reinhardt's blue eyes are civilised and compassionate; except when in battle or enraged, then the light blue is overpowered by deep hate, which is both frightening and sometimes awing to behold.

Mental Description: Reinhardt has a very good commanders personality. In conversation, he is very approachable and pleasant, thoughtful with what he says yet not shy of telling people he knows what he feels; yet in battle he is ruthless, aggressive and almost fearless. He has a deep respect for soldiers in general, and treats most men the same. While he is loyal to his superiors, he can be enraged easily, and when in that rage can cut down whoever angered him, be they friend or foe. He hasn't often been in a situation like that, as most of the time he can be calmed and think about what he is doing.

History: At the tender age of 20, Reinhart was accepted into the military of Windhelm in Skyrim. His mother and father were simple merchants, and to see him in a true Nord's Warrior profession was what they wanted for him ever since he was born, and he has obliged with their demands as long as he has been alive.

He was strong, skilful, fast and cunning in battle, yet polite and courteous in conversation. When he was accepted into Windhelm as a soldier he made a good impression at every opportunity, but struggled to make himself known in the demanding army there, and his presence was that of many other good men, all who wanted to do their best. Unlike them though, he saw battle, and that was where he was unmatchable.

It was a simple task by nature, a bandit force occupying a fort near Pargran Village, he was twenty other well armoured men were sent to clear off the infestation. This small bandit force though, was not what they expected. Near fifty strong, the Nord soldiers were outnumbered and overwhelmed, and with heavy loss retreated to a bridge near Amol. It was here that Reinhardt stopped, the other seven remaining soldiers who tired and weary asked told him they could not rest, but he didn't answer, instead turning around and standing on the bridge, swords in hands and fury in his eyes. He boldly shouted that 'any bandit who stepped foot on this bridge would die', and stood his ground when they approached cautiously, his size and demeanour silencing any laughs.

The first challenger was dealt with by his steel, as was the second, and the third. It was said that forty men were slain there, though he will tell you himself that he was only required to kill twelve, as the others fled. This quickly got him attention, and with 'The Battle of Amol Bridge' he was made famous, though this was soon to turn to infamy.

Einhardt was discharged from the military at the age of 27, in the prime of his life. He had killed seven Nord soldiers south of Stonehill, though to this day no one knows the reason why. When asked to explain himself, he burst into rage, refusing to speak about men like that. Before that incident he had garnered a reputation as a master swordsman and a fine tactician, so, after two years of isolation, he went looking for service in the commotion in Cyrodil. He went to Ocato, who, in need of the best men he could get, accepted Reinhardt into his forces. After half a year of loyal and impressive service, he was given his own legion, and with this new command, plans to make them his most impressive achievement yet.

Weapons: Two fine silver swords that when not in his hands are strapped in an 'X' shape across his back.

Armor: Gorgeous White Steel with Gold Trimmings, given to him by the ruler of Windhelm for saving the lives of his soldiers in The Battle Of Amol Bridge.

Misc. Items: None.

Companions: None.

Troops under his command:

b]Imperial Legionnaire's (4000):[/b]
Description: These men make up the backbone of the Imperial Legion. THey are highly trained fighter and are extremely disciplined due to long hours of training. Each Legion is divided into 42 battalions of 120 soldiers, leaving about ten man spaces between each group, and roughly half a man between each soldier.

Armor: Wearing the standard issue Lorica Segmenta, a hard leather "skirt" (knee length), hard leather boots, leather iron-banded gauntlets, a helmet that has cheek flaps to the jaw, and the rectangular scutum as a shield.

Weapons: Gladius. Two throwing spears each.

Light Cavalry (500):
Description: Horses have are not as common in the heart of Cyrodiil, where forests are plentiful, and therefore the cavalry of the Legion is not a prominent part of the army, serving more for running down fleeing troops and more lightly armed soldiers. However, they are still highly trained, and able to hold their own in combat if necessary.

Armor: Wearing thigh length chainmail, with a leather cuirass overtop, as well as chain greaves and steel plate pauldrons, as well as heavy leather boots and leather iron-banded gauntlets. Wooden bucklers with iron supports, slightly bigger than a dinner plate.

Weapons: Five and a half foot long lances for the initial charge. Shortswords for close fighting.

Heavy Archers (500):
Description: More heavily armoured than their lighter counterparts, the Heavy Archers are trained to act as reserves for legion battalions when they go into battle. Although not as solid and resilient as the actual legionnaires, and lacking their large shields, they still work well as infantry if needed.

Armor: The same as the Legionnaires; the standard issue Lorica Segmenta, a hard leather "skirt" (knee length), hard leather boots, leather iron-banded gauntlets, a helmet that has cheek flaps to the jaw.

Weapon: Simple wooden Shortbows, coupled with a standard Iron Gladius.

Light Archers (500):
Description: Trained more for harassing enemy formations then actually causing large casualties. They receive the same training as Legionnaire's, except more time is spent on archery then combat. They can move quickly across any terrain due to their lack of armor.

Armor: None. THey wear simple wool or cotton clothing, except of bracers on their wrist of choice.

Weapons: Simple wooden shortbows, cheap to make and packing a decent punch. Cloth quiver with 10-25 arrows.

Skirmishers (400):
Description: The least trained of the Legion soldiers, but still effective, these men carry between four and six throwing spears each, and are unarmored, allowing for quick movement across the terrain. They are used to harass enemy formations and to break up charges and can also wreck havoc on cavalry if they are protected. However, if caught out in the open, they will fall quickly. THey throw their spears until the enemy draws to close then they retreat through the gaps in the Legion line, and wait in reserve.

Armor: None. THey wear simple wool or cotton clothing. SMall shield, or pelte.

Weapons: Four to six throwing spears. Shortswords.

Scouts (100):
Description: Atop swift horses, these men are the eyes of the Legion, moving quickly across the land and relaying messages back to the General in charge of the land and the enemy. The horses they ride are specially bred for speed and stamina. These men are lightly armed and should not come to find themselves in battle.

Armor: Simple leather.

Weapon: Shortsword



Dr. Strangelove


Character Sheet

Name: Maximus Arillius
Alias/Nickname: Fox
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Apparent age: 26
Actual Age: 26

Height: 5' 10"
Skin Tone: Tan
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Brown
Significant Markings: Scar across left shoulder
Physique: Muscular Tone

Other aesthetic details: None

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Wet Stone, Couple of Gold pieces, Couple of Septims.

What you are good at: Maximus is a skilled fighter with a sword, and any other bladed weapon. His skill of horse riding has made him a great Cavalry leader.
What you are bad at: His skill with a bow, and long range weapons is not as good.

Weapons: Steel Short Sword, Steel Daggar.
Armour: Legionnaire Cavalry Armor.
Clothing: Wolf pelt across his shoulders, loose fitting wool clothes.

Mentality/Mental description: He is a determined fighter. He is an approachable commander, and is a nice guy. But do something wrong he dislikes, and he is almost unforgiving.

Short Biography: When Maximus was a young boy, he dreamed of riding with the Legionnaire Cavalry. After rising through the ranks, and showing his skills as a horsmen, he was promoted to Cavalry commander in the Legionnaires.



Faction Sheet

Rank: Legionnaire General
Faction Name: Old Empire
Troop Numbers: 10,000
Troop Description:

Legionnaire Heavy Cavalry (1,000): With great skills, and speed the Legionnaire's Heavy Cavalry is a deadly force. They are suited in Iron Armor, and carry either a Short Sword or Long Sword. Before a charge, they hold ten passes from each other, but as they approach an enemy, they group together, and crash into the enemy's front demolishing their numbers.

Legionnaire Light Cavalry (2,000): Along with their Heavy Cavalry friends, the Light Cavalry is really no different. Except that they are able to travel farther, and attack quicker. They use any Bladed, Blunt weapon they can.

Legionnaire Pikemen (2,000): The second brunt of the Legion forces, they are well trained well capable troops. They hold firm against charging cavalry, and decimate their numbers. They are used mostly for defencive perposes, but can be offensive although they are not as good on the offensive.

Legionnaires (3,000): The footsoldier of the military, they attack in a large group with their tall shields infront of them, and when under attack by archers, the Legionnaires in the middle raise their shields as a umbrella. They are fierce, and determined. They use both Blunt and Bladed weapons.

Legionnaire Artillary (500): Mostly made of Catapults. They are what is used before an attack. They decimate the front of enemy forces, and also decimate charging forces. They are protected by Legionnaire Pikemen at times.

Legionnaire Scouts (500): Lightly armored, and fast. They watch for any enemy forces, and send messages to commanders. They are equiped with any weapon.

Legionnaire Archers (1,000): Armed with a short sword, and bow they are very effective. They are vulnerable to cavalry, and heavy troops, but can hold their own against lighter troops.


Mannimarcoo


Name: Elindrin
Alias/Nickname: Elin
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Apparent age: 30
Actual Age: 120

Height: 6'9
Skin Tone: Gold
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Purple
Significant Markings: Arcane Altmer Markings
Physique: Thin and tall, but athletic.

Other aesthetic details: Handsome.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Pockets and a pouch.

What you are good at: Necromancy, mysticism, all magic, long blade, tactical land planning
What you are bad at: Socializing. Earning loyalty of troops.

Weapons: Silver Long sword
Armour: Imperial Officer's Uniform
Misc: 500 gold on person. 4000 in bank. A house in the imperial city.


Mentality/Mental description: Arogant, narcisstic, haughty, snobbish, sarcastic, proud, patriotic. Is, pretty much a Jerk, but he has a heart of gold(Skin of gold too).

Short Biography: Born in the isles. Normal child hood. Trained in magic and tactical planning. Met Taarfire in last year of Magic academy. Joined the Legion, worked his way up. Is now a veteran officer. Currently stationed in the tiny fort of Purpleblood a miles walk from the Imperial city.



Faction Sheet

Rank: Veteran officer
Faction Name: The old Empire
Troop Numbers: 500
Troop Description: A small army of lgiht legionairres used for raiding and scouting.

Name of troops Light legionaires.
Chain Imperial cuirass, but leather armor around rest of the body. Equipped with a sword and a bow. Used for quick strikes, support roles, scouting, and raiding. Can travel faster then Average legionaires.


Followers:

Yisgir: His privatly hired Nord bodyguard. He is a hulking brute with a steel Warhammer. Deathly loyal to Elindrin.

Taarfire: Elindrin's Firey girlfriend. She is a wizard. he is pretty much the female Version of Elindrin. She's 105 and an Altmer

Reeh-Jah: Elindrin's argonian squire and assistant. Elindrin's pet name for him is either "Jub Jub" or "Jar Jar".

A'ren'ger: Elindrin's best friend from the Legion acaemy who serves as his second in command. He is altmer

Jolten Derecus: Elindrin's Apprentice. He trains him in Magic and Tactical planning. He is actually Elindrin's illagitimate son, but no one but him knows that. He is, of course, Altmer.







Blackwood Rebels




4LOM
Character Sheet

Name: Toki-Jul
Alias/Nickname: Lurks-In-Dark-Water
Race: Argonian
Gender: Female
Actual Age: 30

Height: 5,4
Skin Tone: Green scales on back blending to light tan on front, with thin streaks of pale blue and purple scales on back and under eyes
Horns: Three small rows of spines, one above each ear and one on top of the skull
Eye Colour: Shiny black
Physique: Strong, nimble

Other aesthetic details: small ears, large eyes, pendant-earring in left ear


Equipment/Pockets/Pouch:

What you are good at: Scouting, survival, evaluation, guerilla tactics, Imperial tactics, Cyrodiilic language, spears, short blades, bows, javelins
What you are bad at: magic, heavy armour, other non-native languages, academia

Weapons: Ironroot spear, steel wakizashi, wooden bow, quiver of arrows, 3 javelins
Armour: Newtscale cuirass, leather pauldrons and greaves
Clothing: long green headband bandana
Miscellaneous: handful of coins, food, pack, maintenance gear, keepsakes, etc

Mentality/Mental description: Idealistic anti-Imperial fighter. Sympathetic to all rebellious types. Hardened to bloodshed, capable of ruthlessness but not merciless or sadistic. Distrusts all Imperials and Dunmer.

Short Biography:
Born in the marshlands near to Gideon, Toki-Jul's extended family-tribe lived in what the Imperials regarded as frontier borderland. The tribe resisted expanding Imperial influence, peacefully at first but later violently, and were driven out deep into the swamps of the Argonian interior with great slaughter. Most of the tribe was cowed by this and resolved to hide away where they were, safe from even the Legions. Toki-Jul was outraged and wanted revenge, so left to fight against Argonian racial enemies with any group that would take her - river Naga, northern Argonians resisting House Dres, southern Argonians fighting pirates and smugglers - wandering and fighting for some 15 years. She was in the northwest of Black Marsh when she heard rumours of the Blackwood revolt; this seemed like a good time to strike at the Empire in its heartland. She didn't think the Empire could be brought down completely, but even a small victory would be well worth it.



Jerod Kayne


Name: Laden Jah (Lay-Din)
Alias/Nickname: 'Stiletto'
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent age: Early 20's
Actual Age: 26
Born at: Bravil, Cyrodiil

Height: 6'4
Skin Tone: Various shades of Red, with splotches of green.
Hair Colour: Dark red, almost black (Spines)
Eye Colour: Orange-Yellow
Significant Markings: A few scars over his body.
Physique: More fitter then an average person, slightly more muscle build.

Other aesthetic details: Has a small Black-Diamond piercing on his lower lip. A 'Punk' Argonian if you will. Has a natural 'Mysterious' look.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Money, food, Map, and a necklace.

What you are good at: Cooking, Martial Arts, Swordplay, Running, Speechcraft, Stealth, Solving puzzles, keeping secrets, Teamwork
What you are bad at: Mathematics, grammar, heavy weapons

Weapons: http://i.xanga.com/Dexargile/Dex%20Scimitar.jpg, http://webprojects.prm.ox.ac.uk/arms-and-armour/600/1884.24.216.jpg
Armour: Chainmail Short-sleeve vest (Wears over shirt), Leather steel-toed boots, Leather gauntlets with half finger-sleeves
Clothing: Black trousers, Dark green long-sleeve shirt
Miscellaneous: A Black-Diamond ring, and Necklace

Mentality/Mental description: Can be friendly at times, even playful. Has an odd sense of humor, and is incredibly mysterious. When discussing things related the to Cyrodiil Cold War, he is all business and wants no screwing around.

Short Biography: Laden and his father never exactly saw eye to eye. But, Hathei Jah tried to 'win' his sons heart by sending him to several private schools, and even a Boot Camp, without paying him single visit. Over the years, Laden had developed an incredibly strategic mind, and also grown to dislike His father. Laden's mother had no say in the situation, because she died several days after birth. Laden never attended a 'proper' school, and had to learn things like Spelling, reading, and writing the hard way, by teaching himself. Sometimes he'll make spelling errors, and have some trouble pronouncing words.

Laden had always dreamed of taking his father's position because he thought of him as a 'weak old man'. He wasn't far off, over the years Hathei Jah grew older, and much more paranoid. His mind began playing tricks on him, and caused him to make mistakes. And their military minds were completely different as well. Laden believed in teamwork, and using stealth to their advantage, while his father believed in Quantity, over Quality. Laden's tactics and strategy's landed him the nickname 'Stiletto', since he was able execute plans in a swift, quick motion. He also tried to cope with his fathers incompetence, but his last strand of patience broke after an incident with him. (FYI, a Stiletto is a dagger, with a thinner sharper blade)

Over the years, Laden had began secret experiments to better use his people. He had hired several of the greatest minds in Tamriel to work for him, and framed false deaths as well. His home in Bravil may seem normal, but the basemant of the home was larger then usual, with enough space to store a small army. His father heard rumors of these experiments being conducted by his son, and sent a small group of Soldiers to arrest Laden. They then threw him in prison for several years, until Laden managed to persuade his Father to release him. His father was pretty old by then, and his mind was weak. He agreed, but Laden never forgave him, and has been planning his demise ever since.

Misc Facts: Laden is the Founder, and Leader of the Nagas Mercenary Regiment-

Rank: Overseer (Laden)
Faction Name: Nagas Mercenary Regiment
Troop Numbers: 6125 Strong
Troop Description: Nagas Mercenary's hired, or conscripted from the Black Marsh. Incredibly fierce and powerful warriors.
Stationed: Outlining Borders of Blackwood, some stationed in Bravil
Tactics: Hit & Run, Surprise Raids


Nagas Partisan (2000)-Basic Nagas soldiers. Armed with either an Axe, Sword, or Claymore, some armed with nothing but their own limbs. Equipped with Light Hist Armor, or Hardened Scale Armor made from large beasts of burden in the Black Marsh.

Nagas Guerrilla (1500)- Ranged Support Infantry. Armed with a variety of throwing Axes, Daggers, and Javelins. Equipped with Light Hist Armor, or Hardened Scale Armor made from large beasts of burden in the Black Marsh. Trained to be fast, and deadly.

Nagas Commander (25)- They work the Nagas Regiment the way the Overseer wants them to. Armed with usually a longsword or Axe. Equipped with a more 'Fortified', sturdier Scale Armor.

Nagas Slayer (1000)- Strongest of the strong. Armed with Large Axes, or Warhammers, and equipped with a Heavy Hardened Hist Armor. Tough to take down, usually found in heavily fortified and vital areas of Blackwood.

Nagas Shaman (500)- Elite forces of the Regiment. They have the power to create disease outbreaks, and can even revive fallen soldiers, with powerful drugs and spells. Armed with nothing but a staff, that can be used as a melee weapon. Equipped with an Armored Robe.

Nagas Pikemen (1000)- Anti-Calvary infantry. Armed with 8ft Steel Pikes, and are incredibly deadly. Equipped with Heavy Scale or Hist Armor.

Nagas Rebel (1000)- These soldiers are trained to move past enemy lines, and ambush them from behind. Armed with either Ranged weapons, or Melee. They attack in squads of at least 8-12 Nagas, and are equipped with Light Scale Armor, and are very stealthy.



Let me know if there's anything that needs fixing , and heres the link I used for the Steel Scimitar so you can add it accordingly- http://i.xanga.com/Dexargile/Dex%20Scimitar.jpg, and for the Iron Stiletto- http://webprojects.prm.ox.ac.uk/arms-and-armour/600/1884.24.216.jpg

Also, Heres his poppa's:

Name: Hathei Jah
Alias/Nickname: 'Madman'
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent age: Late 40's
Actual Age: 58


Height: 6'5
Skin Tone: Light rusty orange
Hair Colour: Dark red (Spines)
Eye Colour: Light red
Significant Markings: Lots of scars
Physique: really muscular, and incredibly fit for his age

Other aesthetic details: Has a natural pissed off look. Never smiles, and always seems to be mad.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Gold, Crumpled papers, and small jewels

What you are good at: Leading, Heavy Weapons, Heavy Armor, Being Paranoid
What you are bad at: Trusting, Planning, Stealth, Listening to others, Dealing with Anger

Weapons: Steel Twin-Bladed Axe
Armour: 'Royal' Heavy Hist Armor set
Clothing: Red short-sleeve shirt, Black pants, Leather boots
Miscellaneous: Several Rings

Mentality/Mental description: 'My way or the highway' type of person, his paranoia makes him so he doesn't really care about other peoples suggestions. Can be cruel and vindictive at times.

Short Biography: He used to be a completely different person, before he and others formed the Blackwood Rebels. His mind plays tricks on him, and he has become incredibly paranoid. Through this, he trusts no one but himself, and rarely listens to other ideas and plans, beside his own. Several Assassination attempts had been launched to neutralize Hathei, but they have all been thwarted.

He spends most of his time concealed in Castle Leyawiin, not wanting to leave even for the slightest of reasons. His large amount of servants and body guards tend to his bizarre needs each, and everyday. His paranoia has gotten to him so badly, he has even tortured, and killed people in horrific, inhuman ways, under false pretenses. He even had his son locked away for several years, because Hathei thought he was conspiring against him through secret experiments.

Because his mind tricks him, Hathei's plans and strategies, mostly end in major failure, with a large amount of resources lost, and people killed. Most think that he is starting to become weak, while others think he's just crazy.

Misc Facts: Controls the Argonian Militant Corps.

Rank: Leader (Hathei)
Faction Name: Argonian Militant Corps
Troop Numbers: 7210
Troop Description: Varies of Argonian Soldiers, and Local Militia. All with several months of training knowledge.
Stationed: Inner Blackwood, Bravil, and Leyawiin

Militia (2200)-
Citizens conscripted to fight for Blackwood. Armed with Standard-Issue Iron Longsword, and Dagger. Equipped with Standard-Issue Light Leather Armor.

Archer (2000)- Self explanatory. Armed with Steel Long-bows, 20-30 Steel Arrows per Quiver. Equipped with Standard-Issue Light Leather Armor.

Siege Crossbowmen (800)-
Archers armed with Crossbows, with explosive-tipped arrows, 15-20 Bolts in per quiver. Equipped with Light Leather Armor.

Battlemaster (1000)-
Heavily armed, and Armored support soldier. Armed with Heavy, Steel Warhammer. Equipped with Standard-Issue Heavy Plate Armor.

General (10)- Command the Army in the Leaders name. Armed with Steel Longswords, Equipped with 'Royal' Heavy Hist Armor.

Chevalier (1000)- Calvary. Armed with Steel Spears And/or Iron Longswords, and Equipped with Heavy Plate Armor.

Mage (200)-Play the role as medic, and support. Armed with Enchanted Scepters, and Steel Daggers. Equipped with Light Chainmail Armor.


Rank: Captain of the Guard
Faction Name: Bravil Guard
Troop Numbers: 1050
Troop Description: Town Guard, stripped of its Imperialism, and Replaced by Both Khajiit and Argonian presence.
Stationed: Bravil

Bravil Swordsmen (200)- Armed with Steel Longsword, equipped with Bravil Guard Armor

Bravil Archer (150)- Armed with Iron Shortswords and Steel Longbows, 20-30 arrows per Quiver. Equipped with Bravil Guard Armor

Local Militia (300)-
Citizens that have formed their own Local Organizations. Armor and Weapons vary.

Bravil Garrison (400)- Consists of Local Militia, Town Guard, and Mercenary's.
User avatar
FABIAN RUIZ
 
Posts: 3495
Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2007 11:13 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 12:51 pm

( OOC: I will be temporarily posting for Spider pig, as he is PMing me his posts. )

IC: Calendras

Calendras stood practicing spells in the Practice room of his house. A flame appeared in his hand. Then it dissipeared. This was less Training, and more excercising his Magical abilities so that they wouldn't fall slack or that He'd forget the key words of a spell when casting it. It was boring though and Calendras hoped that his Unit would be sent off again soon.

They had been docked in the imperial city for a 2 weeks now. Calendras was enjoying the many pleasures of the Imperial city, but still wanted to return back to duty. Calendras had attempted to enter the mages guild a few times to meet his old collegues and for more intellectual debate then that found in bars. But sadly, because of the Ban on Necromancy imposed, calendras was kicked out when he tried to enter.

Calendras Stopped Practicing and walked out the sturdy wooden door. He closed it behind him and walked on. It was late in the evening and the sun was setting. As he walked down the pathway from his house and out into the sqaure of the Elven gardens district, he thought about the current situation. Evey nation was at each others throats. Calendras was disgusted at the council members that had left to further there own goals. These people doidn't care about the citizen's of Cyrodil. All they cared about was thier own personal power. Hundreds of thousands were going to die if this war started, all because some counts weren't happy with thier posistions.

Calendras was Ambitous, he valued power, but thousands could not die for one mans lust for power. In this time after the oblivion crisis, Cyrodil needs to be rebuilt. Not torn apart by warmongering fools. This is why he didn't defect and join the Rebel forces. Every other player in this brutal arena wanted power. The old Empire simply wanted peace and prosperity. Another reason he didn't defect was because of the fact that ocato was High counciler. Calendras was proud of his race, and knew that Summerset isles would quickly become the capital of the empire once Ocato gained power.

The war might not have begun yet, but Calendras new this silience. War was about to begin. Calendras hoped to be in the middle of the skirmishes. If he got out of this as a decorated war hero, he would be promoted to Admiral. Maybe even higher up. Maybe...if he was promoted to Admiral during the war, he mgiht become a Noble after the war. Maybe even a count if he captured a city.

Calendras chuckled. There i go again. He thought Rambling to myself with wishful thinking. Hmm...its getting late. I better go home. Calendras had spent so long thinking about the situation that he hadn't realised how late is was after getting. He turned and went back to his house.

It was soon pitch dark as he approached the Plaza. He could barely see. He walked out into the plaza to realise that he wasn't in the Elven gardens. He was in the Market District! Turning around and heading back the way he came through the dark streets of the Imperial city, he took a shortcut through a dark alleyway. Nearing the exit of the trash cluttered alleyway, 3 thugs approached him. They said something about demanding a sweetroll and attacked him. Unarmored and his magicka depleted from training, calendras picked up a trashcan's lid and smashed it into the face of one of the attackers.

Calendras lit a heated flame in his hand and grabbed the face of one of his attacker's. This one wearing a green cloak. The man screamed and ran as the flames engulfed his face and hair. As the man in the green cloak ran off screaming, before calendras could react, the 3rd thug stabbed him in the shoulder. Calendras sent a flicker of fire into the man's clothes and he was soon following his friend down the street. Nursing his wound, Calendras walked into the sqaure where he walked down the path towards his middle class imperial house. He walked in the door and shook his head as he drank a weak healing potion. The economic down turn from the lack of provinces paying resources to the Empire is destroying the city He thoughtI remember a day when you could walk through the streets of the imperial city late at night without a moments hesitation. This crisis has turned a lot of people to crime. War profits none of the nation's involved.. He cut wasn't fully healed, but in the morning he would have enough magicka to do some proper healing.
User avatar
R.I.p MOmmy
 
Posts: 3463
Joined: Wed Sep 06, 2006 8:40 pm

Post » Mon May 02, 2011 1:06 am

OOC: EDIT: W00tz wanted me to make it longer.

General Capricus Fyuron, Outside Cheydinhal

IC: The dunmer walked amongst the maze of tents and small buildings. He had a certain sense of nobility to him, and as he walked past, the other dunmeri stood and saluted. He paid little notice to the others, barely sparing a glance for each of them. An exquisite sword swung to and fro from his belt, only adding to his grandeur.

Yet despite his illustrious appearance, his face was neither that of a nobleman nor aristocrat. His face was cold and hard, and no hint of a smile was expressed from his lips. His jaw was clenched, fixed in a position that demanded authority. And although his uniform was decorated with medals and ribbons, it seemed not fitting of a mer such as this. Not to say he wasn't worthy of it; this mer was exceedingly honored among men and mer alike. He simply did not look at home in the fine uniform.

But his most prominent feature was also the scariest. His right eye was not red like his left, but rather an opaque gray color. No one knew how he had managed to scar his cornea in such a way, which only added to his sense of mystique.

A short dunmer messenger approached him and saluted. "General Fyuron," the messenger said respectfully, procuring rolled-up parchment. "King Darothril requests an audience."

Capricus accepted the parchment and saluted the messenger. What an ass. he thought as he looked toward castle Cheydinhal, right down the road. He can't just jump on a horse and take a five-minute ride down here to talk to me. It's bad enough we have to refer to him as 'King Darothril.'

Capricus hastily made his way to the stables, climbed on his horse, and rode off toward the castle. It was a short ride, about four minutes at a slow gallop. When he arrived at the castle, three dunmeri guards approached him.

"We'll take your horse, General," one of them said to him.

"Well good luck with that," Capricus replied. "You wouldn't be able to steer this horse if you tried. Rather you'd be sitting in a bed with all your ribs shattered. I'll take my own horse to the stable, thank you." The guards backed away and Capricus trotted off to the stable.

The stable was relatively nice. All the hay was properly piled up, he could see no dung anywhere. Well that's one thing Darothril does right, Capricus thought to himself. He gets things taken care of. He brought his horse into a stall, and tied him down with a gentle pat on the head. Capricus left the stable and steadily walked through the front doors of the castle.

He had expected to see Darothril sitting in his illustrious throne, but the throne was empty. Instead, Capricus was approached by the stewardess. "King Darothril is waiting for you in the war room," said the dunmer woman. The War Room, ha! he thought happily to himself. So he's calling the dining hall the 'War Room,' now, is he? He trudged over to the right, through a single door, leading to the glorious dining hall.

"Ah, General Fyuron!" Darothril called across the hall. "Good to see you have arrived! Please," Darothril gestured at the seat across from him, in between two lower generals. "Have a seat, have some wine!"

Capricus took the seat offered to him, and the particularly good-looking waitress poured him some wine. "All right," Darothril said to the group of military leaders and advisors around him. "Now that we're all here, let us begin planning."

"Excuse me," Capricus interjected. "Planning for what?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Darothril replied. "You haven't been told! Well," he paused for a second. "Helseth wants us to expand. More particularly, he wants us to expand our borders."

"Really. I've been wondering why I've been sent so many troops lately. I had been thinking that eighteen thousand soldiers was a bit too much to defend a single city. Well then, where do you think we should begin?"
User avatar
LittleMiss
 
Posts: 3412
Joined: Wed Nov 29, 2006 6:22 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 1:06 pm

OOC: Let the madness begin!! :P

Whats the general time right now?

IC:

General Arcturas Vallenturas, Fort Nikel

The aging man stood on the cracked stone of the forts floor, staring out at the camp on the field outside the fort. Small one man tents lay in co-ordinated rows, forming kind of a small city plan, as fires burned at regular intervals. Such was the way of the Legion. Order, discipline and basic routine were the foundations of the Legion, the army that was perhaps the most powerful joint military in the land, and with war seemingly on everyone's doorstep, those words would be put to the test.

BUt not now however, as the message from Ocato had so pointedly reminded him, as no actions that had war-like implications were to be made without the High Chancellors specific orders. That was were Arcturas was headed now, to the Imperial City to have a very crucial meeting with Ocato.

Whether or not there is war, there was no denying that there were preparations for was being made everywhere. The Legions well placed team of scouts had been sending flurries of messages with updates on the other provinces movements, such as the apparent mobilization of Nordic forces, and the increase of action in the east. Thus Ocato had ordered the mobilization of the three Legions, though the explicit order of secrecy was stressed to a breaking point, and Arcturas did his best to move six thousand troops around a countryside unnoticed, though he wouldn't be surprised if the Nordic scouts had spotted him swinging his Legion across the border towards the IMperial City.

Now Arcturas waited until the time of his meeting came with Ocato, and he thought of the possibilities of a war. THey had the most information on the Nords, as they had the best connection of scouts up there, though it still was quite meagre, and he had to admit that the Nords made him a little nervous. They had been deemed the biggest threat, even more so then Morrowind and the seceded Cheydinhal, because Ocato figured the Dunmer would never ally strongly enough to march on him.

Arcturas sighed as he turned away from the massive camp, glancing at his two friends, Knuuk and Achille as they stood at the bottom of the fort, observing the construction of the camp. He turned to the west and his thoughts wandered out there, wondering what the great port of Anvil was cooking up, as their scouts to the west had been rather silent.

He sighed again, as he realized war was probably inevitable at this point with each part of the shattered empire at each others throats. He sighed one last time and turned back and headed down the crumbling stairs of the ancient fort, deciding to head into the great city early just as he had nothing else to do. He passed by his Lieutenants, and smiled as he noticed the almost forgotten figure of a young man behind him.

"You shall accompany me then Ayond?" he asked as he walked, his bodyguard Knuuk falling in line behind him. "As will you I assume?" he asked, glancing back at the massive Orc.

Both nodded, the squire rushing ahead to ready the Generals fine chestnut horse, leaving the two men to talk. "Of course I will friend." the Orc said, with his surprisingly soft voice. "It is what I'm getting paid for." he added with a smile, a chuckle and a pat for his old friend on the shoulder. He became a little mores serious however as he looked over at his friend. "I do think it's a good idea though. We are pretty much at war now..." he said, trailing off.

Arcturas grinned and patted his large friend on the arm. "You fear an assassination?" he asked, more rhetorical then anything for his bodyguard had expressed his concern more then a few times over the last couple of weeks.

"I just think that you would be a more obvious target then the well protected High Chancellor." the Orc replied with a frown, as they neared the stable, Ayond walking towards them with three horses in tow. "A General can be just as powerful as the politician behind him." the Orc said softly. "And I'd hate to loose my job at the moment." he said with a toothy grin and a chuckle, taking the reins of his horse from the squire, as he mounted it.

Arcturas did the same, mounting the fine beast, and waiting for Ayond to do the same before they started out to the main road to the city.

"Well I appreciate your concern for me, friend. But let us go to the city not worrying about these dark things, and looking forwards to what should no doubt be a grand meeting with Ocato!" he said, his voice hinting at a little sarcasm, as the other two laughed and followed their leader.




Ocato, White Gold Tower


The High Elf muttered to himself some more, shuffling through stacks of parchment, pushing quills aside and knocking over paper-weights. He picked up a piece of parchment and brought it close to his face, inspecting the writing before tossing it to the ground with a sigh.

THe floor was littered with many parchments, as was his grand desk which held piles of parchment, all in disarray and looking like a strong breeze had just blown through. HIs eyes ached a little and his head pounded from lack of sleep as he continued shifting through his papers, tossing a few more to the ground, his incoherent muttering continuing.

At last he gasped, and cried out in joy as he held up a piece of parchment, examining it like it was gold, as he read the miniscule writing on it. It contained the upkeep costs for the Legion, as well as a few scouts reports, though they were unimportant and out-dated. He took that piece of parchment and set it next to another piece, one that showed the Empires current gold stores, as well as food supplies and weapon stocks.

He snapped his fingers and a small flame shot out and relit the dying candle, making it burn with unnatural intensity. He began reading and comparing the two charts, his eyes moving across in a blur as he studied the numbers, a small smile growing on his face. He sat back up, closing his eyes a little for the first time in a day as the smile grew a little wider, showing his happiness at what the charts showed him. He felt sleep taking him, but he jolted back up, remembering his meeting later with the General.

He thought about his latest move in sending out that emissary to the Nords in Bruma, thinking to reach an agreement of trade and even information sharing, though trade was his primary concern. He had heard of the Nords extensive wealth from his spies, learning that massive amounts of weapons, armor, foodstuffs and other supplies were pouring in from Skyrim, and Ocato not only wanted a piece of it, but he wanted the trust of the Nords at the moment.

He had only just received word of a fair sized mobilization from the east, and Ocato had some plans for the Nords if they were to trust him. It all depended on the people to the north striking up strong trade with the Empire, and eventually the two sides beginning to trust each other enough for possibly so much more...



Count Luspinian Maraennius, Castle Chorrol

THe young Count listened as the dirty scout reported his latest findings, an apparent stronghold to the north of the city, one housing NOrds according to his word. Luspinian silently thanked his own genius for extending the patrols further out, though he told nobody that it wasn't his decision.

His face fell into a deep frown as he though of what a Nordic fort so close to his city could mean, and panic began to well up inside of him. To the side, the Dunmer advisor Aldos Vaves spotted the man's panic, so he calmly stepped over to the COunts side and whispered in his ear. All around the hall, stood many other advisors, military powers and nobles who had gathered to hear this new development, waiting to see what might occur.

"Your peers watch you more closely now then they have ever done." he whispered. "Your next decision must be one of wisdom and greatness." he continued with a smile, knowing the man would turn to him for help.

Sure enough, Luspinian glanced up at the Dunmer with a hint of a pleading look in his eyes, and Aldos smiled slightly as he bent back down. "You have no idea what these Nords want and what their business is up north, but the people will get restless with such a large hostile force so close to their homes." he said softly into the man's ear.

"Do not act rashly Lord, but merely observe them. The people will see you take action, but you need not rile the Nords if they have no reason to be riled. Extend the patrols even more if you must, and learn what they are truly about. But to start a war with the Nordic people would not be a wise move." he finished as he smiled and backed off from the throne.

Luspinian swallowed and stood up, looking around the room, and back down at the scout who stood nervously twisting his leather gloves. "If what you say is valid, and I do believe it is, then delicate action must be taken." he said strongly.

To the side of the room the Captain of the Guard, Servius Bornus, stood with a few fellow soldiers, watching quietly from the shadows. THe Captain did not trust the COunt as much as he use to, as he found the Dunmer to be whispering into his ear far to much, and though Servius hadn't found anything wrong with the orders being given, he felt that someday, the young man would give the wrong order, and Servius didn't want to think of what might happen to the city.

He was truly worried about the Nords up north, and he felt that a messenger should be sent up there with a non-threatening letter to learn of the Nords intent firsthand. He continued watching as the man kept speaking.

"As such, our scouts will watch the fort closely but with all the stealth they can muster, because the Nords cannot know that we are suspicious." he continued, looking over at the Captain. "Captain, I leave it to you and your men to find out what they are truly about." he said with a nod. "THat is all for now." the young man finished somewhat unenthusiastically as he sat back down, the hall breaking out into talk and babble as many of the people began filtering out.

The Captain sighed, but supposed the order was a good one, so as not to offend the Nords with ideas of war and the like. He nodded at the three men with him, and they all left to the barracks, where scouts would be prepared and sent out to investigate the new possible threat up north.

Luspinian sat on his throne with his head in his hand, thinking about the order, and waiting for his people from the crowds to come back and tell him what everybody thought. Sure enough the men made their way up to the throne, each kneeling as they told the COunt the reactions of the many nobles in the crowd. To his delight, they were generally good, and the Count smiled and sent the men away to the public bars and inns around the city to get a measure of what the commoners thought.

Word from Ocato had said war was on the horizon, but it was not specified with who that war would be fought with. However, until then, Luspinian did not want to risk starting a war prematurely and loosing the support of Ocato, so his moves had been conservative and small, each measuring the good with the bad consequences before putting them into action.


Count Malpenix Mercius, Castle Skingrad

THe blind man stared at the man in front of him, and for somebody who actually couldn't see, his stare was imposing to say the least and the man in front of him shifted uncomfortably. The old man, Malpenix, thought for a moment longer then spoke, his voice deceivingly strong for somebody so frail looking.

"No news at all?" he asked, his voice powerful and threatening, but quiet and low, making a deadly combination.

"No m'Lord. The western spies have gone silent, and no news has come for days now. Captain Forstaag has tried re-establishing connections for two days now, but to no success." the man said, his gaze not meeting the milky white eyes of the Count.

Malpenix sat silently for a while, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the air, as the man in front began sweating a little. The Count made most people uncomfortable when he talked to them, his blind eyes never blinking as he stared continuously.

To the side, Malpenix's "eyes" and advisor stood silently, watching the encounter with relative humor and rather large concern at the news of the spies. He realized they were probably just unable to send any communications, or that there was really nothing to report, but something in the back of his mind told him not to relax and forget about it. He glanced over at his master and wondered why he was even called an advisor.

The man never really asked his opinion, and if he did, it was usually after a decision was made and he wanted some feedback on it. Flavius really just guided the man around, and since Malpenix didn't travel much anymore, even that job had become less frequent. He didn't complain however, as he was paid handsomely, and was treated well by the old man, so he just kept quiet, and spoke only when needed.

Behind the milky white eyes of the Count swirled millions of thoughts, all on the present situation, and all in perfect balance so as not to muddle into a jumble of broken thought. The simple thing to do was to send in a few more spies to find the old ones, and extract them if necessary. However, sending more people into the unfriendly land might cause things to escalate, especially if his spies had been caught and identified as Skingrad agents.

He could wait a few more days, increasing the watch on the boarder, and hope for some news from his men, but he knew they wouldn't be sending information anytime soon so he needed an alternative. He thought a little more, enjoying how nervous the man in front of him sounded as he heard the shuffling of feet and the constant scratching of his head and small coughs.

Perhaps a diplomat sent to form some sort of agreement... he thought. Nothing big, maybe just a one-time trade of supplies, and the man could use the time in the cities to search for the spies while remaining there for diplomatic reasons. It was an okay solution, but there was always the chance that the leaders in Anvil would see right through that. He sighed a raspy sigh, and shifted his weight from left to right.

"Tell the Captain to continue to wait for any word, and also to increase the patrols in frequency and in distance from the city." he ordered, waving the man away. He bowed, and left quickly, his feet echoing off the stone floor as he left the room.

Malpenix had decided just to wait a little longer, not wanting to make the fools in the west feel threatened and doing something rash. But he also did not trust them, and if his spies had been discovered, then he didn't want to be caught unprepared by anything coming in from the west. He sighed again, and snapped his finger, motioning that he wanted up, as Flavius assisted the man, leading him to the dining room for his meal, as the thoughts continued to swirl in his brilliant mind.
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vanuza
 
Posts: 3522
Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 11:14 pm

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 1:50 pm

Castle Bruma, Private Quarters

Tapestries hung on the walls, Torches burning, giving light to the room. A desk sat against the wall, chairs arranged facing towards it, seemingly ready for a few friends to sit down to tea, or, in this case, plan for war. Each man sat motionless in their seats as Fjorkvar looked to the floor, seemingly studying the stones, deep in thought. None of them dared speak, nor even move to scratch their head. He would speak when he was ready. Suddenly he spoke, raising his head slowly, his voice picking up slowly, before turning into that booming sound they were all familiar with.

" Our scouts, have spotted the Legion mobilising, swinging across the border. The Dunmer to the East also prepare for war, i believe open conflict to soon be upon us. "

Pausing for a moment, Fjorkvar cleared his throat, casting a glance over the men before continuing.

" We have reason to believe Count Luspinian Maraennius of Chorrol, the ever clever fellow he is, has noticed our stronghold north of his city, Fort Greenwinter. Although we can not know for sure, I would like to send word to Skyrim, requesting a small force be sent to reinforce, and enlarge our holding near Chorrol. Under no circumstances will we attack Chorrol, lest we provoke the Imperials. "

Ormellius thought this to be rather amusing, as he knew, almost factually, that his friend was intent on taking Chorrol.

" Advisor Ormellius, i would like for you to request Engineers from Falkreath, for the construction of War Machines. This construction will be done in secret, no man, excluding those present here and the men working on the Machines, is to know of this. General Yngling I put this task in your hands. "

General Yngling nodded curtly, nearly melting into his chair at the direct look from Fjorkvar. Fjorkvar was disgusted with Yngling Half-hand at times. He was like a comely wench, swept off her feet by her dream man. Fjorkvar certainly didn't want a wench commanding his forces, but as a commander Yngling was as skilled as any, and it comforted him to know the man would never betray him.

" General Garzonk gro-Bogharz, I want you to move your forces to the town of Dalkey, General Yngling and I will follow you shortly with the rest of the Army. Also, as for the Chapel of Talos, i want it converted into a Barracks. Once the conversion is complete, I want Advisor Ormellius to request more men from Skyrim. We need as many men readily available as we can muster, we must assume a large scale invasion to be possible at any moment. Under estimation of ones enemy is the greatest mistake one could make. Arrogance is as much an enemy as Sword. I dismiss you now. Go on with your preperations, for war is on the horizon. "

The men stood up, their chairs being pushed back, squeaking on the hard floor. Just as Ormellius was about to head through the door Fjorkvar called him back. " Do you agree with my decisions? "
Ormellius nodded as he strided towards him. " Of course. What do we do of the Imperials? "
" We wait. "
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Rhysa Hughes
 
Posts: 3438
Joined: Thu Nov 23, 2006 3:00 pm

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 10:36 pm

Reynald watched with boredom in his eyes as the men exit the meeting from which he had decided to exclude himself. He had no wish to attend to a Nordic court, considering most of this Fjorkvar's subjects were simple brutes, about as adept when it came to social interaction as a sewer rat. Hopefully they're more competent on the battlefield. He rose his eyebrows, saluting the leaving Advisor Ormellius half-heartedly with his glass of Bretic wine. Before Fjorkvar could leave the room, however, the Breton finished off the glass with a single gulp, then stood up, letting his chair fall down on the front legs with a loud 'thunk'. He set the glass down on the chair (it belonged to the Nords, so he had no desire for it), then left the castle after the other generals.

Probably they don't consider me to be a general of the same caliber as them. Never mind the fact my troops outmatch and sometimes even outnumber theirs. If it wasn't for their incredible strength and daft courage, I doubt any of those would've made it to the rank of a general in this 'nation'. As much as you can call a band of chieftains and berserkers a nation... But such is the life at the head of the Company. I have to deal with people I'd preffer to avoid... Reynald sighed, watching from the castle gates as the Nordic generals dispersed to do their duties.

Continuing down the stairs that led from the castle to the rest of the city, Reynald quickly made his way towards one of the taverns that had been occupied by his men. While in battle, none of them would've made a step out the line, Reynald allowed them much outside the battlefield, and it came to be that the Company was about as dreaded by the townsfolk of whoever had hired them as it was by the enemy. This tavern, however, seemed relatively quiet, as Reynald had chosen it as his command center, with his rank-and-file soldiery dispersed around various lower quality taverns in the city.

With a yawn, Reynald opened the door and stepped in. Most of his commanders seemed to be either drunk or in the process of getting there, which explained the silence, thus Reynald continued on upstairs, nodding to some of the still conscious subordinates. The only thing he wanted now was a nice, warm bath and a nap. Even during the short walk back to his command center, Reynald was already covered in snow, and as the snow melted, he started feeling wet and dirty. I hate this place. The sooner we're out to cut someone's head off, the better.

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A Boy called Marilyn
 
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Joined: Sat May 26, 2007 7:17 am

Post » Mon May 02, 2011 2:24 am

Laden Jah, Bravil

It was raining. Rain wasn't rare in Bravil, it happened quite often, except, most of the time, it rained hard. The cold, sharp rain particles fell from the skies, pounding into the ground rather violently. In the streets, several citizens fled the rain for the safety of their home. They ran around, as if it was the end of the world, but one of them, walked casually. He walked down the streets, passing various guards slouching at their posts, but suddenly stood straight when the figure shot them a glare. The Guards knew who the figure was, and knew that he had the power to have them 'disappear'.

The figure was Laden Jah, The Stiletto. Son of Hathei Jah, or the 'Madman', many citizens came to call him. Many think that Laden and Hathei have no family resemblance, they were probably right. Most of the genes Laden inherited were from his mother, and next to none from his father. Laden was glad about that. He walked down the cold, wet streets of Bravil, with his hands in his pockets. The rain created a dense fog-like mist throughout the city, and made it difficult to see. He spotted a small house, and smiled to himself. He walked to the porch, and pulled a small, bronze key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.

Laden sighed under his breath as he shut the door, separating him from the rain. He turned around, observing the room carefully, two tables sat in the middle of the room, on top of a large green carpet on the floor. On the left side of the room, was a large fireplace, with various shelves filled with books. On the other side, was a small bed with a small rectangular dresser placed near it. He nodded to himself, and began inspecting the room, making sure nothing was stolen, or replaced. Once the search came up empty, Laden turned his attention on the back wall, he approached it slowly, and placed his hand on a slightly discolored circle on the wall. He pushed down on it, and a loud click sounded off, followed by the grinding of metal gears. A small section of the wall jolted backwards a few inches, then seemed to have slid away, leaving a bare entryway in its wake.

Laden smiled to himself, and walked into the secret area. He stopped at a small lever by the door, and pulled it back. The wall behind, then slid back into place, Concealing the secret door once more. The only light that was the orange glow down the dark stairway leading into the bowels of the earth. Laden tracked down carefully, making sure not to stumble in the darkness. He came to the bottom of the stair, and turned a small corner, which lead him to another door. A torch was connected to the wall, which gave off a surprisingly significant amount of light. He knocked rhythmically on the door three times, and waited a few seconds for a reply. The Argonian's tail flickered slightly as he heard the sound of someone unlocking the security lock on the other side of the door. The wooden door, finally opened, and a Guard dressed in Chainmail armor stood in the doorway. He moved to the side to let Laden pass through. Laden walked briskly through the door, and into a small room. A large wooden table sat in the middle, with several chairs. On the table, lay schismatics, and plans. Several other figures in the room paused as they saw Laden enter, but returned to whatever they were doing when he gave them a solemn nod. Its good to be back... He thought, and smiled slightly.

OOC: Next post might be slightly longer.
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kat no x
 
Posts: 3247
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 8:31 pm

Advisor Ormellius Elf-Hewer, Bruma

Snow, A regular occurence in Bruma. Most Imperials dreaded Bruma with its cold temperatures and consistant snowing, not to mention its Nord inhabitants. Ormellius had lived in Skyrim most of his life, so he paid no heed to the details that bothered his kin. Heading through the door he watched the Breton walk into the Inn his men occupied. He held such contempt for him and his companions, as if he was better than everyone in this city.

Freed from his thoughts, Fjorkvar's Advisor walked down a few tiers to the chapel, nodding to the gaurds at the stairs. His was the house just behind the Chapel of Talos, two Gaurds wearing Ebony and chainmail armor and holding a tall shield and Ebony spear standing on either side of the door. He headed towards it, nodding to a few Militia tending to their horses before pushing the door open into the small house. A fire crackled in the fireplace, often one of the citizens living in the houses near his would keep the fire going, bringing him a glass of wine along with his meals. A bed with Satin sheets was pushed against the wall, ornate carvings and art lay on the mantle and from the walls, a large chest lay at the foot of his bed, containing a hefty sum of gold, with a few complicated locks defending against thieves. Just as he sat to his desk and reached for a few pieces of parchment from the cupboard to his right, Ormellius heard his guards speaking with someone outside. He could faintly hear them speaking through the door, " But I bring Sir Ormellius his food everyday. Why won't you just let me in? "
He recognized the voice, it was the voice of the comely Redgaurd he often bedded. " Let her in. "
The guards stepped aside, the Redguard woman pushing through the door backwards, carrying a tray of food and a goblet of wine. " Mirisa, just bring it here. "
As she placed the tray down onto his desk, she bent over and kissed him on the neck. Ormellius shrugged her off, pushing her away. " I have work to do, this letter has to be sent by this evening, another time. "
Mirisa hmphed and walked towards the door, swinging it open furiously and stomping back to her house. Ormellius watched her storm out, jabbing the meat with the silver fork and cutting it to little pieces.
With his cohorts he was as they were, but in private he enjoyed the luxuries afforded to him. " Women, they do not understand the duties of one such as I. "
Ormellius lifted the fork to his mouth, biting off the meat and chewing it vigorously. He dipped the quill in ink, and began writing, careful not to dirty the parchment with food.


To Whom it may Concern,

I write on behalf of Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Arm of Skyrim, leader of the Skyrim Republic of Bruma.
He requests the sending of whatever reinforcements you deem appropriate, to our holding of Fort Greenwinter, Northeast of the City Chorrol.
It is imparitive you send these said troops to said holding as soon as circumstances allow.
Reasoning for request of reinforcements is suspected threat of holdings.
Troops are also requested to be sent to the City of Bruma, totalling to at least 6000 strong, and Engineers sent to Applewatch.
It is widely believed by Advisor and General alike that war is on the horizon, and in addition to these troops we would ask that you hold troops ready to be deployed on command.
These are dangerous times and men are needed to defend the territories.

Many thanks from Lord Fjorkvar Whitebeard,

Signed, Advisor Ormellius of the Skrim Republic of Bruma.


Ormellius folded the parchment, placing a ribbon around it and bringing it towards the fireplace. He melted some local pine sap and pressed it onto the paper, embedding the seal onto it.
He poked his head outside the door, handing it to the guard, " Find a messenger to carry this to Falkreath by horseback. Direct orders from Fjorkvar. "


General Garzonk gro-Bogharz, Bruma

The Orc walked towards the east gate, watching General Yngling speak to a guard about the conversion of the chapel. The gate was left open during the day for free passage, and Garzonk nodded to the guards as he passed.
His Militia were camped to the west of Bruma, just inside the forest. Through the gate was the camp of the professional army, rows of tents and fires, men bustling back and forth, Eating, training, talking, napping, maintaining their weapons, everything an army would do. Garzonk headed towards the stable as a young squire anxiously prepared a horse for him. The young man had dirt on his face and wore rough clothing, likely the son of a soldier. The horse was a large, furry beast, with massive legs to support his weight. The squire placed a wooden stool in front of him, allowing him to mount the horse with ease. The horse moved slowly out of the stables, breaking into a gallop upon reaching the open road.

Dalkey was a large town, perhaps larger than Bruma. The Chief was a man named Thangbrand Stoneheim, an old Nord and born leader. He assumed the move to Dalkey was due to the mobilisation of the Legions, so they would be ready to face whatever threat moved against them. As he continued towards the camp, trees began to thicken and soon he was in the forest. Smoke rose through the trees and Garz spotted men in fur moving back and forth, along with Orcs in heavy armor and Bretons at the edge of the camp. Men turned to look at him as he rode into the camp, a cluster of officers rushed towards him.
" We have orders from our Head of State and Commander Fjorkvar Whitebeard, We are to moblise and head down the road to Dalkey. Get your belongings together and load up the wagons. "
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Del Arte
 
Posts: 3543
Joined: Tue Aug 01, 2006 8:40 pm

Post » Mon May 02, 2011 1:17 am

Hathei Jah, Castle Leyawiin

Hathei stood, dressed in his Royal Armor, leaning slightly over a table in his War room. On the center of the Table lay a large map of Cyrodiil, several areas of it were either highlighted or circled with ink, mostly areas on the outlining Borders of Blackwood. As he continued circling various locations, a small tap sounded off. Hathei froze, his hand shooting towards a small dagger on his belt.
He slowly, walked around the war room, inspecting the most littlest things, before returning to the Map-Table. He resumed circling, but kept an eye on his surroundings.

He highlighted a large part of the outer border of Blackwood, connecting with the Morrowind. That's where he keeps a large contingent... He thought to himself as he placed down the Ink Quill. I should have never let him go..... He sighed angrily, before walking over to cabinet and pulling out a small bottle of wine. He sat down at the table, and popped the cork, and poured himself a small glass. I wont make the same mistake this time...

Laden Jah, Bravil

Laden moved over to the center table in the room, before he was approached by a Khajiit wearing Bravil Guard armor. The Khajiit saluted to him, ''Welcome back sir'' He said, with a slight smile. Laden gave him a nod, ''Its good to be back Captain J'Aiq, anything happen while I was away?'' He said. The Khajiit shrugged, ''Not much, a few murders, and thievery's, nothing very significant...'' He said, shaking his head. ''Good, lets hope it doesn't get any worse then that'' Laden replied, then spotted another figure approaching him. ''How wassss the meeting, sssssire?'' The figure was Argonian, and a very tall one at that. In answer to his question Laden shrugged, ''Not good, they said they'll aid us, but now they want more money'' Laden had recently returned from a meeting with a Nagas Tribe Leader, on the outer Black Marsh border. He had hoped that he could convince the Tribe Leader to aid Laden in defense of Blackwood.

''Any news on the Blackwood-Morrowind border, Commander Haark?'' Laden asked the Argonian. Haark was the only Nagas Mercenary Commander he trusted, he was also part of Laden's Cabinet, along with several others. The Nagas shook his head slowly, ''Our scoutsssss...have reported...minimal activity in Morrowind'' He paused, ''It is as if, it has gone completely.......quiet....''
Laden stroked his chin thoughtfully, as he took in all the information. After a few seconds, he replied, ''Alright, keep me posted on any movements at all, we don't want to caught with out pants down'' Haark hesitated, then nodded slowly. He then began walking to a door in the room, but stopped and turned back to Laden. ''I believe....Mirk hasss been wanting to ssspeak with you...'' He said, then turned back around, and left through the door.

Laden stood and straightened himself slightly before walking to a door on the far-side of the room. He slowly opened it, and walked through, and into a room, larger then the previous. He walked down a small flight of stairs. In the corner where the stairs ended lay several large crates filled with all sorts of supplies. Other then that, the room was filled with tables, chairs, and equipment. A handful of people were there as well, all seeming to ignore Laden as he walked past them. They were all scientists he hired, some, he even had to stage false deaths. One table, in particular, caught his attention. It was slightly larger then the rest, and covered with Alchemical Gear. At one of the ends, was a scientist dressed in a thick blue robe, he seemed to be wearing some sort of device on his head.
Laden approached his side. ''I heard you wanted to speak to me, Professor Mirk?'' he said to the scientist. The man looked up, revealing the strange binocular device he was wearing. He studied Laden for several seconds before his face lit up.

''Oh, Laden!'' He cried out, ''You have returned!'' He took off the strange hat, revealing his long frizzy white hair. Mirk was a High-Elf, whom was dubbed a lunatic, and locked away. Until, Laden's henchmen broke him out. Mirk was grateful and agreed to work for Laden. The two had become good friends. ''Yes, yes, yes, I have something to show you'' He said, then walked to the opposite end of the table and grabbed a small cloth-sack. He then walked over to Laden, and handed him the sack. The Argonian, opened up the sack, and pulled out one of several small tube-shaped vials filled with a glowing, green liquid. ''What is it?'' Laden asked.
The Old High-Elf professor seemed to eager to explain, ''I call it 'Solitheus', it's a poison I devised'' He explained, ''When you gave me the request, I was unsure of how it would turn out, but I think it turned out veeeery well'' He said and smiled widely. Laden seemed Intrigued, ''How effective is it?'' He asked.
''I tested in on several animal subjects, apparently, the poison literally waits for its victim to fall asleep, then...'' Mirk paused, ''It should get the job done then?'' Laden asked, and Mirk nodded repeatedly, ''Yes, It most definitely should'' he answered.

A sick smiled then began creeping into Laden's lips. ''Well'' He said, ''It seems we're in business...''

OOC: Told ya it would slightly longer. I'll try to cut down on its length though.
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Nick Tyler
 
Posts: 3437
Joined: Thu Aug 30, 2007 8:57 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 7:21 pm

Grand Fighters Guild Hall, Anvil

Zvog sat at the end of the long table surronded by some his close freinds and comrades telling stories of his past tales. " The troll charged at me so I lifted up my sword and..." He was interupted by the opening of the large wooden doors. A guard walked up to Zvog and wispered into his ear " Sir, a scout says he has somthing to report." He replies " Well then bring him in." By now the room was completly silent execpt for the roaring fire. A few seconds pasted and then a small, skinny Wood Elf walked in. " Sir, the Nords of Bruma are begining to move there forces into Choroll. They may be begining to lay battle on the border." Zvog sat there for a moment and replied " Well then, tell this to the countess imeditly." Then a momment later the silence was broken by the pvssyr that assumed before.

Later that night after the great feast Zvog sat there at his desk next to the fireplace starring into the calm flame. He then turned to the desk and began writhing to one of his captains stationed in Fort Ontus . ( I will make the captain soon )

Dear General Varro,
One of my scouts had reported heavy Nordic activity heading towards Chorrol. I suggest you strength-in your defences and I will send reinforcements at the closest avalible time.
Your good friend,
Zvog " Strong Sword "
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Lucie H
 
Posts: 3276
Joined: Tue Mar 13, 2007 11:46 pm

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 11:00 pm

OOC: Sorry for the short post.

Castle Branix, Elswyr

Sitting at his throne, General Maximus sat reading the message from Ocato. It spoke that they were not to wage war, Maximus was angered somewhat by this. He called one of his messangers to him.

"My Lord, you call on me?"

"Gather my horse, and guards. I must make haist to Ocato!"

The messanger quickly scurried away, and gathered Maximus's horse and guards. The Legion stationed at Castle Branix continued their training, but bowed in honor of Maximus as he rode by. He had to make quick haste to Ocato. His castle had been under attack by small Kahjiit assaults, and he was unable to attack their base.
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Nicholas C
 
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Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2007 8:20 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:55 pm

Laden Jah, Bravil

The very next day, Laden sat by the table, reading a sheet of paper. On the table, was several more papers, and a mug of ale. Laden yawned tiredly, and took a quick swig of the ale. As he continued reading, a sudden idea suddenly hit him like a wild boar. He had been thinking of a way to deliver the poison to his father, without causing much suspicion.
Doing it himself, was completely out of the question, if his father caught him, he would surely kill Laden. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood was possible, but it would cost quite a lot of gold. He stood up, and walked towards the door. Slipping on his Leather Steel-Tipped boots, he left his home, and made his way to the Guard barracks.

The rain had let up, but a semi-thick fog took its place. It was cold as well, and Laden wore nothing thick enough to protect himself from it's wrath. Only his Chainmail vest, green shirt, and black pants. He shivered loudly, as he continued his trek to the Barracks.

The Barracks was nothing really special. A table, and several cupboards, a door leading to the Captains Office/Quarters, and a staircase leading to the Guards Quarters. Several of the Guards froze in their place, when they noticed Laden, and seemed to clear a space as he walked past them. This really annoyed Laden, he was sick of people thinking that he was like his father. Paranoid and Vindictive. But, it gave him a sense of power when people feared him. He paused for moment, looking around the room for something specific.
When his ill-fated search ended, he caught a Guard leaving to go on Duty. ''Wheres Captain J'Aiq?'' Laden asked him, trying to sound as harmless as possible. The Guard, nudged his head towards the a door on the other side of the room. ''He's in his office...'' He simply said, then left.

Laden approached the door silently, then knocked three times. He waited for a few seconds, then became alert as he heard someone shuffling around in the room. There was click, then the door opened up. ''Laden?'' The Khajiit Captain seemed surprised, ''What are you doing here?'' he asked. Laden looked around him, making sure no guards were close enough to hear him. ''I need a bit of your help about....the 'Project''' He replied.
J'Aiq, scratched his cheek before opening the door, and allowing Laden in. When the Argonian entered, The Captain shut the door quickly, and headed back to his desk, which seemed to be overflowing with paper work. ''What I can I do to help, sir?'' J'Aiq asked immediately, gesturing for Laden to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Laden sat, ''I'll get straight to the point'' He started, ''I've been thinking how to plant the package, but so far, I've come up empty, I cant do it myself, and hiring the Dark Brotherhood will cause to much suspicion, and it would cost an arm and a leg to do so'' He paused, and waited for J'Aiq to take in the information.

''That leaves one other choice. Freelance Assassins.'' The Captain of the Guard, seemed somewhat uncomfortable at the mentioning of 'Freelance'. Before he could speak, Laden interrupted. ''We know that a lot of them hang out in Bravil, mainly because the town Guard Regiment is, quite small, but anyway, I heard that the Guard caught and arrested a few recently.'' J'Aiq leaned back in his chair, ''Yes, we had received several anonymous tips several days before we caught them, sadly two of the assassins were tried and executed. The last one though, is still in the Castle Dungeon, he is planned to be hanged in nine days...'' Laden half-frowned at the situation.
''Would I be able, to have a chat with him?'' He asked, and gritted his teeth. If he couldn't, it would destroy his plan. The Khajiit, stroked his chin for a few seconds before replying. ''Yeah, I don see why not. I'll have to pull some strings, and call in favors though. Meet me in the Castle, after midnight...''

ooc: Garr! I'm trying to make shorter posts, but they keep growing into long ones. Sorry lads <_<
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maddison
 
Posts: 3498
Joined: Sat Mar 10, 2007 9:22 pm

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 3:23 pm

OOC: Just a slight timeskip for my character. :)

I'll edit if thats a no-no.

ooc: Garr! I'm trying to make shorter posts, but they keep growing into long ones. Sorry lads


Ain't nothin' wrong with long posts.


IC:

General Arcturas Vallenturas, Green Emperor Way

The aged General walked into the afternoon daylight with slightly squinted eyes, and a disgruntled look on his face. For the second time, Ocato had failed to see Arcturas' reasoning and had done his own thing. The General had walked into the meeting and had immediately noticed that the Altmer looked extremely tired and irritated. Then Ocato had gone full steam into his new plans and his most recent move of sending a note of basically friendship to the Nords.

Arcturas had tried to argue against it, trying to get the mer to send someone to stop the messenger before he got to Bruma. He had argued that while an alliance with the Nords looked good now, that they were to powerful to actually need the Empire as allies.

Ocato had tried to explain that it was not an alliance, merely a proposition of trade rights and neautrality to each other. Arcturas had come back and told Altmer that the Nords, by all accounts, had more then enough supplies and that the Empire truly had nothing to offer that they needed. The elf had simply remained stubborn and stuck with his decision, saying the messenger would be at the city soon enough anyways. By that point Ocato seemed like he was done with the meeting, waiting long enough to tell the General that the Legion was basically in his control, as long as a few strict guidelines were followed.

The most important one was to not start an unprovoked war, and Arcturas hated himself for agreeing with that but he realized there were to many unfriendly eyes on the Empire right now to begin a war with somebody who might not even be hostile to them.

He was heading back now, Knuuk and Ayond following close behind him, neither talking in respect to the Generals silence, as he thought of his next actions. He thought of his three Legions in the province, as well as a General in Elswyr who commanded a "non-commisioned Legion", meaning it didn't follow the normal Legion structure but was still commanded by himself. His Legion at Fort Nikel, General Reinhardt in the south with his Legion, and the currently leaderless Legion to the far west, just north of Skingrad.

He had thought of putting Greensly in charge of that Legion, but he truly didn't want to loose such a fine soldier. His Legionn was moving slightly further north in the morning, then setting up a more permanent camp just north of the old ruined Fort Coldcorn. One where they could begin sending out orders and more to keep an eye out on the mysterious Nords, whom the General did not trust in the least.

The Legion in the west had remained in place for almost four months now, but because of the lack of news from Anvil, he didn't want to pull them away from their position a few miles from Fort Dirich, and compromise the safety of Skingrad. He thanked the Lake Rumare for basically acting as a shield from any threat that might come from the east, as their well placed scouts would see the oncoming army coming and the lake would make them go around for days.

Reinhardt was a good man and capable General, and Arcturas trusted his opinion as much as Knuuk's or Greensly's, so he decided he would send a letter asking the man's opinion on their next moves, as well as the recent meeting with Ocato. He simply sighed as he looked back to his friends and followers and smiled, tossing Knuuk a wink as they slowly trotted their horses through the grand city, drawing salutes from the City Guard as they passed.

War was soon to be on them, and Arcturas was not going to be caught unprepared. He had work to do.



Ocato, White Gold Tower

The Altmer rose from his grand gilded chair as soon as the doors slammed shut, and sighed from exhaustion. He did not admit to enoy his talks with the General, but he knew the man's worth and Ocato truly had no desire to control the Legion's himself. SO he kept the able man, even if he argued his every move, because in the end, Ocato was the one paying Arcturas.

He walked up the stairs from his work area to his sleeping quarters, locking the door magically behind him as he removed his robes and slipped into comfortable silken nightwear. His mind was still racing as he got into bed, and was unable to sleep despite his exhaustion as his recent moves repeated in his mind over and over again.

He'll betray you... a strange voice whispered in his tired head. He wants power himself. He cares nothing for the Empire. the voice said. The Nords are trustful and loyal warriors, who can easily be swayed to our side.

"The General, despite his stubborness, is one of the most loyal citizens in the Empire." he said to the gloom of his bedroom.

Is he? the sinister voice asked simply.

"Yes he is." the Altmer replied, seeming like he was talking to somebody else and not himself. "The Nords are my pawns in this large game, and shall never become anything more." he said to himself, his face defiant to nobody.

We'll see... the voice said mysteriously, before stopping altogether, leaving the Altmer sitting up in the relative darkness of the room, pondering what had just occurred.



Messanger Faerin, South of Dalkey

The Altmer rode his horse steadily up the winding road into the mountains, pulling the bundles closer together to hide form the slight wind that was blowing. He looked up at the smoke that was rising, and noted how much closer it seemed now, as he continued his trot.

He had noticed smoke only hours before, but was confused as he was still quite a ways from Bruma, but the smoke was billowing in considerable amounts. More then just a travellers firepit could create, and the mer's first reaction had been one of panic, thinking the Nords had set up some kind of war fort, or some-such, and he had began to panic. Now however, he had calmed down, his thoughts rationalizing that the NOrds had probably began expanding and had many small villages set up.

It still did not bode well, but as long as no large army of savage tribesmen was this close to the Empire's borders, it wasn't as bad as it could be. A thick envelope was in a protective leather pouch on the side of the horse, and it carried the letter from Ocato to the Nords. He looked back at the smoke and how close it was now, and guessed he was maybe an hour from its source, though the mountainous terrain could easily change that to twenty minutes, or five hours.

He simply sighed and forced his horse into a slightly faster trot, feeling hunger start to bite, and wishing for something warm to eat for a change.
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Natalie Taylor
 
Posts: 3301
Joined: Mon Sep 11, 2006 7:54 pm

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 7:43 pm

Imperial City, White Gold Tower

General Maximus and his guards rode through the streets of the Imperial City, being greeted by people everywhere. The White and Green banner's with their Gold trim fluttered in the air as General Maximus trotted through the streets. The air was nice, and it was clean somewhat. Elswyr was such a strange place compaired to the Imperial City. General Maximus and the guards stopped at the front of the White Gold Tower, and entered the doors. Two guards stood holding their ceramonial spears across the doorway as General Maximus tried to enter.

"What is this. I must speak with Ocato. I have no time to argue!"

"I'am sorry General, but Ocato is in his quarters." The two guards looked at each other, and then to General Maximus. He was obviously not happy, and this was just making him more irritated.

"Go get Ocato immediatly. Tell him General Maximus must speak with him about Elswyr immediatly!"

One of the guards summoned over another guard, and told him what to do. The guard nodded, and rushed to Ocato's room. General Maximus stood waiting impatiently.
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P PoLlo
 
Posts: 3408
Joined: Wed Oct 31, 2007 10:05 am

Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:55 pm

Chief Thangbrand Stoneheim, Dalkey

Thangbrand walked towards the gates, each step crunching snow under his boot, It had been reported the scouts had spotted an unknown, lone rider heading in the direction of the town. Probably the Imperials sending some sort of peace offer or alliance. There hasn't been any reported movement on our border with the "Kingdom of Morrowind", so it couldn't possibly be them. Thangbrand thought to himself as he walked, he intended to meet this lone rider in person, with a few of his guards of course. He would then offer the man food and accomidations, (for why be hostile with no logical reason?) before inquiring why he was this far North. Why would the Old Empire wish to bargain with them? It was common sense the Nords were not to become lapdogs of the Empire. They would not join them like the many men of the mountain villages lured by promises of wealth and adventure, only to recieve meager wages and perform dull patrols and watches. An alliance was unfathomable, so long as Fjorkvar was in power. He himself had stated many times that he wished to conquer Chorrol and ethnically cleanse Tamriel bit by bit of any Non-Nordic being, of course only in private, and only to him and Yngling. But for now Fjorkvar did a decent job, but if he were to gain another strike against him... surely someone would end his reign.

( OOC: A bit of a timeskip for a few people, to speed things up. No one wants to see me Roleplay a messenger traveling to Skyrim. )

Valh?ll of the Valley, Neugrad Watch, Skyrim

The Militia Captain sat atop his horse, trotting at a fast pace down the road, although slow enough the Infantry could keep up. The forces Fur armors and Cloaks shielded them from the cold, and the trees forming a canopy over the road caught most of the snow, although it obstructed the view of the night sky. Late that evening a Messenger, from Bruma had arrived at his posting, Fjorkvar Whitebeard, the "leader" of this new Skyrim Republic of Bruma had requested reinforcements. Seems some sort of war was brewing down there, Cyrodiil had become divided and the Empire crumbled. He was on his way to reinforce one of the five factions vying for power, land, destruction of the Empire, among other things. Valh?ll was the Captain of the local militia, men far beyong the ragtag group that usually comes to mind when speaking of "Militia." His group was a finely trained bunch, made up of mostly Cavalry and Archers. The reason they hurried towards Falkreath was they were to meet up with a General named ?gmundr, and Valh?ll wanted to make as much time as he could before those "Professional's" slowed them down. It was rough terrain through the mountains but they would make it by dawn, hurredly stop for a nap and then continue through the Jerall's to Bruma. Valh?ll only hoped this Fjorkvar was as great as he was made out to be.


General Yngling Half-Hand, Bruma

The conversion of the Chapel of Talos to a barracks was under way, Yngling had just left the Chapel, the pews and alters had already been removed, and bedding and such were being brough in as the rest was converted.
He was heading back to the Castle for a good nights sleep, when he noticed a figure sitting behind some houses, throwing a bottle at the wall in front of him. The man mumbled to himself as he watched. Probably just a drunken soldier coming from the tavern. " Soldier, you're going to catch a cold if you stay out here all night. " The man in the alley reacted startlingly, jumping to his feet and running off down the alley, dropping a bottle of alcohol, a ring sliding from his finger as he ran. Yngling chased after him, stopping at the bottle he had dropped. Skooma. Great, now i've got soldiers with drug problems. Yngling palmed himself in the forehead, taking a few steps forward as the man disappeared from sight. What's this.. He bent over, picking up the ring and spinning it on his finger. Jade, with a Ruby set in the center. What sort of soldier wears such a ring?

Then the reality of the situation dawned on him. It wasn't a soldier.
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Jordan Fletcher
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 12:57 pm

Bruma

Reynald rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This war was full of possibilities for the Company. After all, it was not tied to any one ruler, and had a reputation of being more loyal than any simple mercenaries in battle. Occurences such as mercenary reinforcements deserting without ever reinforcing the battle line weren't uncommon in Tamriel, and for their loyalty the Anticlerian Company was valued. Reynald had chosen to start the war with the Nords, however he only had to stay loyal during battles - there was no telling whether he wouldn't change sides after the battle, collect his payment and leave. One thing was for sure, though - he wouldn't lead the Company to the bits of the Old Empire that clung on to the Imperial City. Chaos and warfare was the desire of mercenaries, and with the Empire again ruling Tamriel, there would be little of that. Little chaos and warfare meant little job, little job meant little gold. A situation in which neither Reynald nor his troops wanted to find themselves.

With a sigh, the mercenary general rose from his seat. His minds were full of thought, there would be no rest for now. A bath will have to be it. He sighed again, throwing his coat on. The outfit with which he had 'attended' the meeting was far too dirty for him to wear right now, and once again Reynald was glad he always kept spare clothes. Both suits were identical, thus no one noticed he switched clothes so much. The commander himself, though, felt an entirely different man after a bath and changing his clothes. Fixing his coat's collar, he grabbed the bottle of wine that stood on his desk, finishing what was left of its contents in a couple gulps. Fixing his hair a bit, Reynald left his room, heading downstairs.

All of his officers were drunk by now, or simply asleep. Silently, for he himself hated to be disturbed while sleeping, he left the tavern, intending to take a walk around the castle, and possibly the city if that infernal snowing stopped.

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Lisa Robb
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 5:27 pm

Thrud, Bruma

The servant had been sent out to find a Mister Reynald, General of the mercenaries. Tugging his fine cloak to cover him better, Thrud crossed the castle courtyard, spotting Reynald down a few tiers. He quickly moved towards him, walking quickly with perfect posture. Reaching the General, he adressed him politely, " Mister Reynauld, I would like to kindly invite you to the Castle Dining Room. A fine meal has been prepared for you on request of Sir Fjorkvar. If you would come with me I will escort you there personally. "


(OOC: I will add more later, i have to get ready for school. )
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Blackdrak
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 11:45 pm

Thrud, Bruma

The servant had been sent out to find a Mister Reynald, General of the mercenaries. Tugging his fine cloak to cover him better, Thrud crossed the castle courtyard, spotting Reynald down a few tiers. He quickly moved towards him, walking quickly with perfect posture. Reaching the General, he adressed him politely, " Mister Reynauld, I would like to kindly invite you to the Castle Dining Room. A fine meal has been prepared for you on request of Sir Fjorkvar. If you would come with me I will escort you there personally. "


(OOC: I will add more later, i have to get ready for school. )

Bruma

Reynald nodded. "I would be honored to accept this invitation. Lead the way, good man." He tightened his cloak as he spoke, lifting it up to his throat. The last thing he wanted was to have a sore throat when battle came due to some bad weather.

What does Fjorkvar want from me? A dinner... It must be something important. Even if it's not, I won't pass up a good meal off someone else's pocket. Much more so considering my other option is to dine at one of the taverns... That thought alone sents shivers down my spine. Or is it the cold again? And do they have anything besides mead here..? Many questions arose to Reynald; however, he'd have to wait until the meeting with Fjorkvar to have them answered.

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Cameron Garrod
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 6:49 pm

General Reinhardt, Fort Roebeck

Being in Reinhardt's position was a strange thing. To the south-east lied the so called Blackwood Rebels, a possible enemy in the upcoming war (of which he had no doubt would come to fruition), but they didn't really threaten as much as Karlirah Blackheart did in the west. Of course, Ocato didn't want any warlike activity yet, that he knew - so his forces were located at Fort Roebeck. A dull, cold, old little fort south of the imperial city. He was still young as a general - this being his first year in charge - but he felt an immediate sense of pride as he overlooked his men from the fort walls, either resting or sparring they all looked in good shape, and he would make them better.

But that took time, and it also took experience. Men couldn't get better through training alone, they had to endure bloodshed and fatigue, they had to really see what they were made of. These men hadn't for a long time. Reinhardt hated waiting around for something to happen like this.

War is on the doorstep, and we simply stay inside as it knocks.

"Sir?" A soldier said from behind him, disrupting Reinhardt's silence (who as ever, remained dutifully without any body guards) and he turned around to face him.

"Speak." He said softly, inviting confidence from the soldier.

"The men were wondering if there has been any news from Ocato in the Imperial City." He said, standing straight. "They've heard of a meeting he has held."

"Yes there was a meeting." Reinhardt replied, "But I didn't go, my orders were to stay here and watch the border - speaking of which, any news from the scouts."

"No sir, no unusual activities on the border."

"Good." The soldier took that as his cue to leave, and did, Reinhardt nodded to him and turned back to looking out over the men, as if deep in thought. Arcturas had gone to the meeting, he knew that, and he was glad. Of all of the men in the legion, Arcturas was probably the one he looked up to most, he seemed very knowledgeable, and a cut above most men tactically. The sort of man you want in control of the legions at this time.

Ocato doesn't want a war, he reminded himself randomly, but Arcturas is not as naive as him, he'll be able to see what I can see at this time. The tension between the different leaders is at an all time high, it's not long before it boils over. If he can convice Ocato of this then maybe we'll be on even terms with the rest of the nations; if not, then we might end up being on the back foot faster than we think. They won't wait around as long as Ocato wants. Truth was, while Arcturas was the man you wanted in control of the military, Ocato was not the person you wanted in control of Arcturas.

And so with these thoughts he leaned over the wall, taking in the sight of the men below, frown lines adorning his clearly deep-in-thought face.
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Pumpkin
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:38 pm

Outside Cheydinal

Rathyn sat sat on a fallen tree nearby his tent, strapping on his armor. He sat intently on getting it during all the comotian of the army. He recently woke from a sleep which was rare at the time for him. He woke an hour early to get prepared for the day. There was no word from anyone about any upcoming battles. Which was good for him, except mabye the fact he was growing increasingly bored just sitting around doing the usual routines.

Once he had his armor on and his spear in his hand, he was ready to go. The sun shined through his helmet making a glare in his eyes. He put his head down to block the sun from his eyes as he walked among the other soldiers, paying no attention to him as he strode past through the crowd of men. The noise was loud and annoying but luckily he had his helmet on which got rid of most of the noise.

Rathyn reached the place were they hand out the meals. He walked up were they give the food. He grabed a plate and the cook gave him some bread and cold meat. He looked gloomily at it hoping for somthing better. Not that it was bad, it just wasn't thery good.He walked to a table and sat down. He removed his helmet, letting his hair in the wind. He grabed the bread and took a small bite. The dry taste went down his throat, soon being washed down by some water. He put the helmet back on his head and got up and walked to gaurd duty.
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sam westover
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:51 pm

General Capricus Fyuron, Castle Cheydinhal

Capricus listened intently as Darothril procured a map and spread it across the table. "We have several options. We are already planning to make good ties with the Nords in the North. The Old Empire is not currently a threat, so we have no need to affiliate with them, for now. However," Darothril pointed on the map to Bravil. "We are to seek no alliances with the Blackwood Rebels. For now we will regard them as a possible threat. Their territory borders ours, and they seem to have a loose army forming."

One of the lesser generals interjected. "We should strike them now, before they do the same to us! Surprise them, I say, and we may just take their cities with few casualties."

"That," Capricus rebuffed the general. "Would not be the most prudent idea. Would we want the rest of Tamriel to see us as bloodthirsty warmongers, especially when we are trying to make relations with some of the other kingdoms?"

"Well then," Darothril asked Capricus. "What would you suggest? Helseth wants us to expand, and Bravil would be an excellent place to start."

Capricus had his plan ready. "We will not make the first move. At least," he looked at the others. "We will not let them think so. We'll send one of our operatives from the Department of Intelligence. I hear they are especially talented in this kind of work."

"We will send him to Bravil on a mission..."


Reydin Talaani, Cheydinhal

Reydin had just gotten his new assignment to Bravil. He promptly went to his house and opened a large chest at the foot of his queen-sized bed. From the chest he removed an expensive burgundy coat, a few rings, and several swords.

He layed the four swords on his bed in front of him, examining each one. One had a particuarly regal appearance, with a golden hilt embedded with a ruby. The sword's blade was perfectly crafted, symmetrical from every angle. Its sheath was fine leather, with gold plating at its opening. Reydin decided that he would take that one on this particular assignment. He gathered up the other swords, and carefully placed them in the chest.

Reydin put on the few rings he had taken from the chest, along with the burgundy coat. It fit him perfectly, as it had been tailored for his frame. He grabbed a bag he had already packed and went out the door.

The dunmer walked down the streets of Cheydinhal to the Eastern Gate, where his white horse was waiting for him. The plains outside the gate were littered with the thousands of soldier tents spread across the ground. A short dunmer was waiting for Reydin by his horse.

As Reydin approached, the dunmer spoke. "There will be a messenger with further instructions waiting for you in Bravil. He'll be in the Lonely Suitor Lodge, at the bar, eating a pie. He'll be expecting his contact, you, to order a steak and a bottle of scotch."

Reydin nodded in acknowledgement and mounted his horse. It would be a long ride to Bravil, but he was prepared. He started off at a steady trot down the blue road.
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louise hamilton
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 2:46 pm

OOC: Sorry I haven't posted yet, and all the forts Vilamon list will be used by me. (Sans the ones he says he wants to capture)

Castle Kvatch, Karilah and Vilamon

Count Vilamon sat on his throne, surrounded by his most trusted Generals. They were all overviewing a large map of Cyrodiil that was set up in front of him. He focused his attention in on the Golden Coast Region

Let's see what we have here; Fort Wariel is in a great posistion to defend Kvatch. Oh, and Fort Strand is in posistion to defend Anvil. Here we have the Forts Hastrel and Linchal that will serve as outpost, my military advisors say they only need light occupation. Ah, Crowhaven is on a coast where it can receive troops from Hammerfell, we'll be able to keep them there until we know where to put them. Fort Sutch is also on the Coast, but due to it's extravagent size and marvelous design, I'd prefer to use it as a base of operations.

Hmm, now I'll need to check out what we have on the offensive, my Advisor's are telling me that our Forts Ontus will be quite useful on the offensive to Chorrol, and apparently Fort Istirus will work well on our sieges on Skingrad. Fort Dirich will need to be captured in order keep imperial legionares away from our territory, and Carmala is nice and close to Chorrol, capturing that would help alot. Now over here I see thie Fort Wooden Hand, and a Fort Vlastarus, if we could capture those then we'd be able to surround Chorrol! And as a bonus we'd get great posistion on the Imperial city.


Vilamon was so deep in his thought he didn't notice Karilah walk in and stand behind his throne. "Count Vilamon!" She excailmed, not quite yelling, but loud none the less. "What's the report on our strategy?"

Vilamon jumped at the voice that was quite frightening to him. "All of the fort's, cities, and villages with a Green flag on them are ours, secured, and good for defense." He pointed to all of they Forts they currently occupied, and the small flags they had sticking out of the map. Karilah nodded, pleased with the number of forts. "There are none as of now, but if a fort, village, or city had a yellow flag, that would mean it's in a posistion of risk." Karilah nodded as Vilamon spoke. "If there are any red flags, that means the establishment is in a battle." Karilah looked at the map.

"And what do the blue flags mean?" She asked, pointing to the one sticking out of Chorrol.

"The blues flags are objectives of capture, we are currently looking to take Fort Carmala, Fort Wooden Hand, Fort Dirich, Fort Vlastarus, the village of Hackdirt, and of course; Skingrad and Chorrol." As he spoke he pointed to each one of the Fort's and the Village.

"And how are those coming along?" Karilah said without breaking her intimidating style of speech.

"Well, your son is on his way to Hackdirt with some calvary and infantry to occupy it, from there he will begin his attack on Fort Carmala and Dirich."

"Excellent." Karilah said quietly.

Outside the Settlement of Hackdirt, Earon

Earon loaded up on supplies from the small village of Weatherleah, nearly plucking it dry of all of it's food. Earon assured himself that the exsistences of the People of Weatherleah was pointless, therefore they didn't really need food, they were only wasting it. Earon didn't have much compassion for men either, especially all of the light skinned ones, he never let any of them get a shot at rising in the ranks, his entire inner circle of men were all Redguards. He and his men reached the village, he told all of his men to stop a good distance away from the villlage. He was waiting for a scout to come back. After about five minutes a scout came back, a young imperial, probably not even sixteen. He looked up at Earon, who was sitting on a massive war horse.

"Sir, the village has no defenses, and are completely unaware of our prescence." The Imperial spoke out, refraining from his nervousness showing, he tried to sound like a man.

"Thank you, now leave." Earon shot back. The already frightened Imperial, turned and rode away as fast as he could. Kiel turned to his captains. "I want all of you to take a small unit into the village, when you get there I want you you to kill everyone that outside a home, and kill every man. All of the woman and children smart enough to hide inside get to live, understand?" Earon commanded the cavalry leaders, that were all older than him. Each one of them nodded. "Oh, and anyone who resist is to be subdued and tortured to death, our men don't need a struggle." Earon then looked at all of his commanders, each of them nodded mindlessly, if he told them to do all of that nvde and unarmed, they would have. His men turned their horses around and gathered their troops. Preparing them all for a massacre.

OOC:EDIT: Fixed due to the fact that Fort Dirich is owned by The Old Empire, I'll just be adding to my list of forts I need to capture. :evil:
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Auguste Bartholdi
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 6:02 pm

Imperial City, White Gold Tower

General Maximus and his guards rode through the streets of the Imperial City, being greeted by people everywhere. The White and Green banner's with their Gold trim fluttered in the air as General Maximus trotted through the streets. The air was nice, and it was clean somewhat. Elswyr was such a strange place compaired to the Imperial City. General Maximus and the guards stopped at the front of the White Gold Tower, and entered the doors. Two guards stood holding their ceramonial spears across the doorway as General Maximus tried to enter.

"What is this. I must speak with Ocato. I have no time to argue!"

"I'am sorry General, but Ocato is in his quarters." The two guards looked at each other, and then to General Maximus. He was obviously not happy, and this was just making him more irritated.

"Go get Ocato immediatly. Tell him General Maximus must speak with him about Elswyr immediatly!"

One of the guards summoned over another guard, and told him what to do. The guard nodded, and rushed to Ocato's room. General Maximus stood waiting impatiently.



High Chancellor Ocato, White Gold Tower

Ocato lay in bed, in a state of sleep where he was semi-conscious of his surroundings, but he was unable to comprehend much. He slowly began falling deeper into sleep, as his exhaustion began to overwhelm him, and soon he was breathing softly, sleep finally taking him for the first time in nearly two days.

He bolted upright as a slightly loud knock pounded into his head, waking him up in an instant. He chose to ignore it, resting his head on the soft feather pillows of his bed again, but the knocking came again, a little more urgent this time, and he sat up again, an annoyed look on his face.

"What is it?!" he snapped irritably, listening for a response.

"Pardon High Chancellor, but General Maximus is here to see you." came the voice of a Tower guard through the door. "He says he needs to see you immediately with news from Elswyr." he continued, and Ocato could hear some other feet shuffling outside.

The Altmer groaned as he tried to think of who this man was. He wasn't that familiar with the Legion, but he knew his General's, and he couldn't place this one with a face. "Elswyr you say?" he asked curiously, remembering Arcturas saying something about a special Legion down south a while back.

"Yes Chancellor." the guard replied shortly.

Bah! he thought. Always something isn't it? he asked himself as he forced himself out of his soft, comfortable bed and moved over to his robes, changing into them slowly. "Tell the General I'll meet him in the Council Room in five minutes." he instructed, as the guard took the command and hurried off down the high tower. Ocato finished dressing himself before unlocking his door with a muttered phrase as he started down the stairs, waking himself up for the meeting.

He arrived downstairs, and made his way to the man who waited for him, and the Altmer took a quick measure of him, seeing a rather short and unremarkable and quite young Imperial standing before hime. He's but a child. the Chancellor thought with slight arrogance as he approached the man, nothing about his expression showing he was impressed.

"What is so urgent that I need to be woken?" he asked the boy harshly, looking directly into his brown eyes with his unblinking stare.



Scout Astius, Chorrol County

The light and wiry Imperial man made his way through the forested lands, his footsteps fairly light for an Imperial as he crept closer to the noise he had heard earlier, his hand clenching the shortsword at his side. He had been scouting his new route, going much further down south then before, and soon found himself lost, not recognizing the land around him very well. He had wandered for about an hour, searching for a familiar landmark, and then he had realized where he was. He had come all the way to and past Hackdirt, and something had caught his ear, something that didn't sound right.

He had inspected the village from afar, but he had left as he realized he would be missed soon if he didn't get home soon, so he started home, or what he thought was home anyways and had soon found himself near the village of Hackdirt, a place he did not think he would very welcome with the White Oak crest on his tunic. He went to make a roundabout walk around it but something had made him stop and turn back.

He poked his head through some bushes, brushing the leaves aside and saw something that certainly didn't belong there. A scout who he did not recognize stood looking out at the village before running off in the other direction, and Astius had instinctively followed, as the boy didn't have the Oak of Chorrol or the Hammer of Skingrad on his person anywhere. He followed far and quietly, but the boy clearly wasn't that experienced at moving quietly and what he found stopped him dead.

From what he could see, a decent sized force of unknown warriors was around Weatherleah, and though Astius didn't know what the boy was saying to a man on top of a large horse, he was smart enough to put two and two together. His heart raced at the implications of what this meant, and what might happen when the Count learned of this uninvited force was in his lands. He knew he should've gone back to the city, but he just repositioned himself and watched a little longer, wanting to make sure that the unknown force was what he thought it was...


General Arcturas Vallenturas, Fort Nikel

The General sat at an old wooden inside his personnal tent back at the camp, a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink in front of him. He looked thoughtfully at the letter he had just finished, and blowed gently on it to dry the ink, reading it over quickly, thinking of anything else to add. It was adressed to General Reinhardt, and read:


General Reinhardt,

As I'm sure you know, Ocato and I recently held a meeting together, and however brief it was, there has certainly been alot going on. The Chancellor, through a descision of his own, has sent a letter of... friendship to the Nords to the north, requesting trade and according to Ocato, perhaps more.
Obviously there is fault to be seen in this, unless Ocato has some other motives which he has not shared with me yet, because I do not think the Nords should be trusted or given any form of friendship until we can clearly gauge their own motives.
I was unable to talk to the Chancellor much afterwards, although he still forbids any movements that might seem threatening. However, the time of inaction has come to an end I think, and we need to take things into our own hands.
Tomorrow, I move the 1st Legion further north, going to the northwest of Fort Coldcorn to set up a more permanent base of operations, in which I can keep an eye on the Nords. Word has been sent to the 3rd Legion in the east to stay put in Fort Dirich, so as to keep an eye on anything from the west, but remain close to Chorrol, which I believe will be the first target to the Nords.

You know I respect your opinion, and look forward to any plans or suggestions you might have regarding the latest movements, Ocato's descisions and anything in the future we could consider. Please respond with the same messenger as he knows where I will be located.

Sincerely,

General Arcturas Vallenturas


Arcturas finished reading it, then blew on it once more before placing it inside a thick leather envelope, tying it shut and placing the Legionary stamp on the front. He motioned for the man standing to the side, a simple messenger, who took the letter with a salute before rushing outside to his swift horse that awaited him.

The General followed the man outside soon after, noticing as Achille waited outside of his quarters for the General. Arcturas waved him over, as the Breton walked over swiftly, his armor remaining at his tent along with his weapon, as they began walking beside each other, walking slowly and without purpose through the encampment. They walked in silence for a while before Achille cleared his throat and spoke.

"General, you know that I respect every order you give me, and that I trust your word on the battlefield and otherwise." he started, drawing a curious look from Arcturas. He drew a breath and continued, looking forward at the ground in front as they walked. "But I do have some opinions on our current plans." he said, looking rather ashamed that he was even questioning his General's orders.

Arcturas however, merely smiled and patted the Breton on the shoulder. "Well share them with me old friend." he said warmly. "You know I hold your opinion in high regard, and you have yet to lead us astray before."

Achille smiled at the man's words, and seemed to relax a little as he nodded. "Well, I agree with you about taking some action and not sitting by while our potential enemies make plans around our lazy asses. But I feel more action should be taken, especially to the north." he said, looking uncomfortable again, stopping as though expected Arcturas to say something. The man merely nodded, motioning for the Breton to continue.

"I do not think that fighting should start, but I think spies should be sent in. And not just scouts, but spies into their cities, and perhaps into the more inner circles of the Nordic warlords. We have almost no idea what their motives might be, though we suspect Chorrol, but beyond that, we have no idea what their military might be like, who their leaders are and what they are currently up to." he said, looking up at the General.

Arcturas merely nodded again, thinking hard. He had indeed been thinking of sending more "agressive" scouts into the north, as well as establishing some links in Bruma with any who might remain loyal to the Empire. He looked over at the Breton thoughtfully, and smiled patting him on the shoulder again. "Though I have been thinking about that very same thing for a while now, I must give you the credit for it, as my mind was still pondering it." he told the Breton.

"I know the advantages of such a move, but also the risks we take." he explained. "If our spies should be discovered, then war might as well be started, as the Nords would surely know why they are there." He paused there, knowing that he had been the one who wanted action to be taken, but this stopped him for some reason and he hated himself for it.

He looked back at the Breton, smiling. "Let us wait for General Reinhardts reply, shall we?" he asked. "It won't take long, and I value his opinion as well." he said. "Now, will you join me for a drink?" he asked with a warm smile and a friendly punch on the arm for the Breton, who just smiled and nodded as they walked off to the makeshift tavern in the corner of the fort, Arcturas' mind racing with thoughts.
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bonita mathews
 
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Post » Sun May 01, 2011 7:58 pm

General ?gmundr, Valh?ll of the Valley, Falkreath

The two men sat atop their horses, looking down to the men who had begun through the gates. ?gmundr had revealed to him that he had heard a few things about Fjorkvar, and mysteriously spoke no further.
Valh?ll simply wished to travel as fast as possible to Bruma, but these soldiers and wagons slowed them down considerably. Perhaps I should leave them and head on myself? Although it would satisfy him greatly, he would be chastised and possibly demoted for the indiscretion. He would have to tote along through the mountains with these sheets of metal.


Haafinger Docks, Skyrim

The sun shone across the water, ships bobbing back and forth in the harbor, flags wavering in the wind. Ships were being loaded and unloaded, merchant ships, cargo ships, explorer ships, but most importantly, a rather large ship flying a flag indicating it was belong to Skyrim. Soldiers and sailors climbed aboard, along with a diplomat and the ship's captain. Crates of food, supplies, weapons, and chests of gold were carried on board. Bystanders watched with curiousity, unknowing of it's destination or purpose. It would skirt Morrowind from a far distance, traveling to the Topal Bay.


Ormellius Elf-Hewer, Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Bruma Castle

Ormellius walked down the torchlit hallway, shadows flickering across him as he padded towards Fjorkvar's private quarters. For some reason he had suddenly summoned him. Ormellius hoped to get it over with quickly, as he had plans with Mirisa. Nearly reaching the room, he wondered why Fjorkvar would be calling on him. What could it be ...
He stopped at the door, as he heard incoherent mumbling coming from within. " Sir, you requested I come and see you? " he said as he knocked lightly on the door. He was surprised when the door swung open and he faced Fjorkvar's wide chest. Fjorkvar walked back inside, seating himself in a chair, creaking as he sat, and taking a swig of mead. Somehow he looked different, like a shell of his usual self. " I lost a ring. Find it for me. "
" But .. Wha .. " Fjorkvar butted in before he could continue, " Jade. With a Ruby in the center. " Ormellius was slightly worried about his friend. He had never seen him like this before. Fjorkvar seemed so... different. " But i have plans Sir. " Ormellius spoke without thinking, it was probably better not to challenge him at the moment, but he simply cast him a knowing glance, " It has been taken care of. "

Ormellius screwed up his face and swiftly walked from the room, deeply worried what awaited him upon reaching his house.
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nath
 
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