i'm at post 30 so far and this is really really good so far i like it looking forward to reading the whole thing but i have to get off for now

if this some how screwed up the flow of the story in some way sorry

An awkward silence seemed to descend upon the inn. Although he was exhausted, Daedalus wanted to clarify some of the things going on around him. He raised his voice and said,

"I know you're probably all as shaken up as me about the current turn of events, but we can't stay here forever. Anyone have any ideas on our next move?"

(ooc sorry about the short post, I'm just trying to keep the rp moving.)

OOC: I see interest!


Varth, Waywent Inn

“I know you're probably all as shaken up as me about the current turn of events, but we can't stay here forever. Anyone have any ideas on our next move?” said the Breton man Varth had escaped with.

The Dunmer cleared his throat and stepped forward. “That horde that just stepped from the depths of Lake Rumare won’t be simply satisfied with taking the city. Soon they will move outwards to find more… food, like the inhabitants of this village. We need to move, and north seems like a good option. I don’t know how well these bonewalkers fare in the cold, but I have a gut feeling that it isn’t well.”

“That horde that just stepped from the depths of Lake Rumare won’t be simply satisfied with taking the city. Soon they will move outwards to find more… food, like the inhabitants of this village. We need to move, and north seems like a good option. I don’t know how well these bonewalkers fare in the cold, but I have a gut feeling that it isn’t well.” The Dunmer answered. Daedalus knew these words to be true. They sent shivers up his spine.

"Skyrim perhaps?" Daedalus inquired, "I grew up there and know the land very well."

Julius Scipion, Wawnet inn

Julius watched and listened as everyone discussed where they should travel Skyrim seemed the general destination so he pulled out another map and coughed politely and waited for silence to fall.

When that happened he started speaking “As Skyrim seems to be our intended destination I propose that we select a route to take now” he produced his trusty pencil and began marking a line towards the main passes into Skyrim then carried on “we can either go through the ruins of pale pass, the main route straight into riften or we can take the route that leads to helgen any other Ideas?” he spoke calmly and waited for a reply.

The talk of Skyrim passed over to Gearalt who was downing his third ale.

Gearalt: "Skyrim huh? A perfect chance to check on the condition of my mother up in Snowhawk. However, the main road to Skyrim is packed with carriages fleeing this hellhole. I saw it for myself on my way over here from Chorrol. I'm betting the road to Riften isn't much better either. It would be most convenient if we used the pass."

Gearalt's attitude had changed with every nervous sip of the brown liquor. He was a happy drunk like most Nords. However, with great alcohol influenced happiness came a lack of common sense. There was truth in his words though. Cyrodiil had become the least desirable province to take refuge in.

Julius Scipion, Wawnet inn

Julius nodded in agreement and crossed the riften passage out, he sighed drummed his fingers on the table, he looked around then down at his blood spattered blades armour, before asking "does anyone else have an idea they want to propose?"

Trannigan jumped a bit when a voice called out near him. He was peering at the horizon with a watchful gaze and so did not hear the man open the tavern door and step out. The Imperial looked over to see a blonde Nord standing nearby. He gave him a little wave and returned a greeting.

"Hail... Aenar was it? How goes it?" He looked at the Nord for about 2 seconds before looking back off to the distance. His eyes kept falling over to a patch of woods that looked to be yards away. through the shadows he kept thinking that he saw flashes of slow movement, though with his adrenaline still going enough it was likely only his imagination. His mind was still racing at trying to figure out what was causing these more sturdy Thralls. He was also growing alarmed by how quickly they seemed to spread. The world was a normal enough place the night before when he left with his client on the escort mission yet a few hours later most of the capital of Cyrodiil had already all but fallen into ruin.

The abandoned Inn was know alive with conversation on how to get to Skyrim. The majority seemed to lean towards the Pale Pass. This unnerved Daedalus to some degree. He had heard countless stories of marauding ogres and hundreds of trolls. The thought of an undead troll deeply disturbed the Breton. He had had a traumatic experience with one as a young boy.

Beats staying here though

After witnessing what had befallen the once great Imperial City, Daedalus would gladly face a troll or two in favor of the other.

Daedalus took a deep breath and frowned, experience with various potions and poisons had granted Daedalus with an acute sense of smell, and something didn't smell right. Or feel right for that matter, the day had been at best dreary but the very atmosphere now seemed to reek with the bitterest of emotions. He decided to speak up,

"Anybody else smell that?"

Aenar nodded at the man and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, My name is Aenar." He watched as the imperial looked at the shadows in the forest and grew curious. "Is there anything out there?" He let his hand fall to his sword and he crouched slightly preparing for a fight.

Varth, Waywent Inn

Looks like we’re heading to Skyrim, then. The Dunmer didn’t mind the cold or dangerous… everything in Skyrim. He just minded the people he was traveling with. The Breton had proven to be mostly harmless, and probably not a threat, but everyone else?

Varth pushed the thoughts out of his head when someone by the door asked if someone was outside, and crouched down in a fighting position. “I suggest we leave now, no sense waiting around here for those bonewalkers to find us” said Varth heading towards the door, hoping he wouldn’t be the first one to have to exit.

"Well, truth be told I think my eyes are just playing tricks on me. You never know though...." Trannigan answered, still looking off to the distance. He then looked to the Nord softly, taking a calm breath and stating. "We should probably head back inside with the others. Perhaps someone is mounting some kind of plan to keep what people we have safe."

Julius Scipion, Wawnet inn

Julius listened to Varth speak He nodded, rolling up his maps and slotting them in his bag he picked up his katana and spoke “I propose we follow Varth’s advice Immediately” he sighed before stepping out he checked the coast was clear it looked like it he waved at the others that it looked safe to move.

Gearalt: "Aye, the mead here tastes like goblin piss anyway"

Gearalt knocked aside the empty bottle and made a straight line over to the door. He gripped the leather strapped handle of of his silver claymore on his back and got into good position. Gearalt stepped out into the foggy night air. He trusted Julius' word and kept a watchful eye, waiting for the others to followed suit.

Gearalt: "Just say the word and we make a break north."

Julius Scipion, Weye

Julius kept a watchful eye as the rest of the band of survivors emerged from the inn he spoke quickly but quietly “I suggest we start moving immediately” he looked around once more the village looked like it had been peaceful before the attack, Julius looked down the bridge the zombies were still marching into the city faint screams could be heard Julius closed his eyes and blocked out the thoughts that flashed through his mind.

Trannigan stepped past Aenar and walked back into the tavern, as he stepped in the words “I suggest we start moving immediately” fell to his ears.

"We have a plan then?" Trannigan asked the group excitedly. He took a seat with the group and asked what actions they planned to take and looked around at them slowly while he waited to hear their words. Taking a quick glance behind his shoulder and out of one of the windows he spoke quietly. "What ever we do, I agree we should act quickly. There is no telling how many of those abominations are already out in the wilderness. I've been wondering if this is the only place they are appearing, or could it be happening all over Tamriel."

Hroggar, Weye

Hroggar staggered out of the city. He'd lost track of where the mage he'd met was, but it mattered not. He was fine. Perfectly fine.
Only... Something was off. The village was mostly zombie free, although it seemed most of the living had hidden indoors. He felt something strange coming. Perhaps a warning from the glorious Sheogorath, of something coming for him? He felt almost giddy. Something was coming, and it seemed fun.
He grinned and continued to walk through the village. He walked towards the inn, grinning widely. He stopped at the front door and sniffed the air. He was suddenly sure of it; something was coming. Something alien. Not human. Not right.
He suddenly gasped, raising his staff defensively. It was only a matter of time. He'd have to get to safety, else he wouldn't be able to watch the carnage freely.
He opened the door, cackling loudly, and stepped into the inn. He leaned against the wall and shook his head.
The show was about to start.

Parvo

Parvo's head was ringing, he couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there. He pushed himself to his feet slowly. He'd fallen next to a building of some kind, an inn by the looks of things. There were voices echoing inside. Parvo took a single wobbly step towards the entrance and fell to his knees. "Raaarrgh" he screamed at himself, at his body.

Ignoring the pain in his limbs he forced himself up and to his feet once again. Just as he got up he saw another enter the inn, holding a staff and cackling away. Oh good, one of the crazies. He followed the mysterious laughing man inside the building. He placed himself on the wall next the Nord and said quietly to him "Where are we?"

Hroggar

A young Imperial walked into the inn, leaning against the wall next to Hroggar. There was something familiar about his armor, but Hroggar couldn't put his finger on exactly where he'd seen it before. Regardless, he didn't like the look of him; he looked like the kind of person who'd never murdered in cold blood or burnt down an entire village. Simply put, the Imperial didn't look like very good company.
"Where are we?" The Imperial asked.
Hroggar buckled over from laughter. The Imperial hadn't realized where they were yet? It was so simple; the answer to his question was bright as night through the eyes of an owl.
"Why, lad, we're in the end of the world." He said, chuckling the whole time.

Parvo

"Why, lad, we're in the end of the world." He said, his incessant laughing already beginning to grate. It sure as hell does seem like it. Parvo grabbed a bottle of wine from the inn's bar, throwing a couple of coins it it's place as he did so. He took a deep swig of the crimson liquid before he spoke.

"I actually meant where are we in a more physical sense? Or are you going to say the end of the world again? Please don't, I've had a rough day so far and it's showing no signs of improvement." His mind's eye was once again running through the horrible scene in the Imperial city. I had to kill her didn't I? She was one of them?

Terrortrouph, Weye

The humans finally exited the Inn, reeking of sweat, exhaustion, and stale fear. Your time is nigh. A few were still conversing, but the monster didn’t bother deciphering their brutish language. No, the Terrortrouph wasted no time at all.

Like an automaton, a well-trained well-oiled machine, the beast leapt from its hiding spot in the shadows. The first mortal glimpsed the creature just before its talons tore him to bloody ribbons, a few horrid screams erupting from his mouth. The rest of the humans reacted almost immediately, drawing blades, or screaming in terror. Terror.

Just another day on the job.

---

Varth, Weye

“Hey, Dedalus. Think Skyrim-“ a savage scream cut off the Varth’s words midsentence. He spun, and found himself facing a bloody and tattered creature. No, the term creature cannot describe this being. It was a demon, an unholy creation from Oblivion itself.

The beast stood- did it stand? No, it nearly existed, stooped over the bloodied corpse of Arturo. It was big, roughly seven feet tall in height, with a tall and spindly build. The creature’s pitch colored flesh looked as if it were flowing, or made out of some melting rubber. Its head was large, in comparison to its body, and distantly resembled a human skull, if a human skull was extended from the back like a Bonemold helm covered in chitinous plates.

Red eyes locked onto Varth, and the creature roared, a horribly high pitched sound, before lunging forward. The Dunmer pilgrim conjured what magicka he had left, and fire lanced from his plam, impacting against the creature’s chest. Powerful as the spell was, the monster didn’t fly back, but merely stopped in its tracks for a moment, as it had hit a wall. Varth knew it would only be a short moment before it resumed the attack, and hoped one of the others would make a move on the nightmarish fiend.

Aenar drew his sword but quicky fell to his knees as an ear splitting scream ripped through the night. He stood up staggering to behold a terryifing sight. A creature poorly stitched together from what looked like pieces of pure darkness. It's eyes were red pits of pure malice. Aenar put his helmet on and prepared his shield and sword.

"What is this unholy creature?!" He shouted o any that could here him.

Hroggar, Weye

Hroggar followed as the crowds walked out, laughing like a madman. He abruptly stopped as he stepped outside, gripping his staff and staring forward tensely.
A huge, undead creature lunged out from the shadows, tearing apart an Imperial.
Hroggar began giggling again, as the undead monstrosity attacked a young Dunmer. The Dunmer let forth a blast of magical fire, but it only stopped the creature briefly.
"My turn to play!" He yelled, firing at the creature with a continuous spell of lightning, which rapidly shot toward the creature.
It slowly moved straight through his spell, howling in pain, but regaining it's strength and picking up speed as it pushed forward.
He smiled. Perhaps the creature would kill him soon; oh, what fun that would be. No, no, wait, that wouldn't be fun. Dying would be awful; and awfulness was even better then fun. He continued feeding magicka into the spell, waiting gladly for the creature to take him down. He did hope that one of the others didn't interfere before it got to him.

Gearalt tore out his claymore and readied his stance. Varth had stunned it with a powerful fire spell. However, the abomination looked unfazed by the attack. A wicked lightning shot forth from Hroggar, piercing the creatures soft gelatinous exterior. Again, the monster trudged forward in agony. Gearalt held out is hand; palm facing the evil incarnate. A frozen mist left his hand and engulf the beast, hoping the change from hot to cold would harden the demon.

Gearalt: "Your going to pay for what you did to Arturo wretch!"

Trannigan noticed Gearalt blast the giant creature with a deadly spray of ice. Though it too seemed to only stun the beast so far, he thought that the Nord was in the right track considering what the creature seemed to be made of. He quickly rushed near the man and extended his right hand and summoned forth his own gust of cold magic. The creature roared out as if in pain and though it did start moving even slower it still kept closing in the distance.

"Don't let up! this thing has to have some kind of weakness!" Trannigan shouted. He tried to increase the strength of his frost spell, though it only enhanced a little because he was not as skilled at wielding frost and fire as well as shock spells. Suddenly a pusey blob-like appendage sprang forth and latched onto Trannigan's arm. It quickly squirmed up the Imperial's wrist and forearm as he screamed out. He fell to his knees as intense pain shot through him. He felt as if the creature was not only rotting his flesh right off but he was having intense hallucinations of death and feeding himself off of the corpses of his loved ones.