Gold, Blood and Bravil
"Corruption here is as sure as the mosquitoes, just get used to it"

Introduction:
Bravil, the upstream harbour city of Cyrodiil at Niben bay: Hundreds of merchants, travellers and other folk travel though the murky, muddy slum of a city.
It is in this city where the scum of Cyrodiil has chosen to deal, for what better place then a small run-down and obsolete harbour city to do the shady business?
Bravil is no longer an imperial harbour, it belongs to the thugs and smugglers, the river pirates and the skooma dealers, and while the Empire might pretend otherwise with it's latest renewing of the infrastructure and investments in the new harbour, it will always remain what it always has been, the city of the druglords.

Background:
the Oblivion crisis is over, the empire is restoring and while their at it the organised crime and smuggling of Skooma and Moonsugar is met with a reformation of the criminal hotspots. In particular Bravil where the citywatch has received more influence and the task force has been reinforced with twenty transferred guards out of the capital of the land. however the situation has yet to improve because it seems now the greater organisations are just fading into the background while enjoying the new business opportunities with the harbour being improved by the government. these days it seems like nothing has changed other then the cleanness of the docks. The smugglers, thieves and dealers all still have control over the city and people are starting to get real paranoid with the whole issue of more guards on the streets, they know there is a problem. The armour on the street just acts as a confirmation of the government that the city is becoming the criminal stronghold of Cyrodiil and the lower thugs are getting nervous with their presence too. these days one's best chance to get though the city without getting mugged and quite possibly killed is to just walk around in town with big sword and heavy armour.

Idea of the roleplay: It begins quite free and open, everyone starts as a stranger who just arrived in town, to do whatever business they came for. but in a town like Bravil it most likely be something shady one way or another. which direction this will take us I don't know yet, it's still an openended plot, but what I do know is that it will definitely involve characters getting mixed up or at least involved in the shady business in Bravil.


Rules:
1:send all characters to me for approval
2:no ubering, character control, omniscience, etc. If I catch any character ubering in combat they will lose a limb
3:everyone is allowed to bring in their character's own story on why they have business in Bravil, but please notify me of anything big you are planning
4:vampires and werecreatures are allowed
5:don't exclude anything important from your character sheet, there's a difference between characters not knowing a secret and people playing them not knowing it.
6:just have fun.



Character sheet:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Birthsign:

Class:
Class description:
Profession:(just describe what he does for a living and if he has ties with any organisation such as the magesguild or a smugglers organisation)

Hair:
Eyes:
Height:
Weight:
General appearance: (includes clothing)

Equipment:

Personality:
Background:
Abilities:

Extra Notes:

Interesting Idea. I may look into joining this RP if more interest arises.

Yeah, this isn't a bad concept. I have a character who might fit. My only issue would be with the danger level in the city. It would be kind of hard to do an open thing if you need a full escort just to get across town with all your blood and gold intact.

Yeah. What is the danger level exactly?

Damn, looks nice mind if I join?

ok it isn't bad enough that you have to go around the city with an armed escort in broad daylight, there still are plenty of city guard on the streets and ony at night do things get dangerous for lone wanderers. but there are a lot of grunts on the streets willingto mug you if you think it's clever to take a shortcut through a dark alley. Everyone is welcome to join, just make sure you all have characters that make sense, that's all i'm asking for now.

Name: Quintinius "Quint the Rat" Verginix
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: The Lord

Class: Highwayman
Class description: Using stealth, eloquence and a quick blade to gain ill-gotten funds. Stronger than a rogue, smoother than a knight and sneakier than a scout
Profession: Ebony smuggler (out of Morrowind) and an infamous highwayman in Cyrodill

Hair: Dark brown, short and slicked back
Eyes: Green
Height: 6' 2"
General appearance: Quint is a rather well built man, missing two fingers on his right hand and a chunk of his left ear, as well as his left eye. He wears knee-high leather boots, dirty white pants, faded red shirt, blue scarf and a navy blue, knee-length jacket. As well as his eye-patch

Equipment: Quint wields a well-made, basket hilted steel rapier or an ebony bladed dagger. His missing fingers on his right hand make him incapable of effectively wielding a weapon in it. He has a pet rat named Tertullion.

Personality: Quint is a very out-spoken person, from politics to the price of bread, Quint will argue until he goes blue in the face. He is a rather fair man who only kills when he has to even though this has cost him three years that he spent in a Vvardenfell prison until he escaped. When fighting someone he almost seems to not take it seriously, laughing and critiquing their technique.

Background: Raised by the man who Quint believes to be his father, Marcus "The Wolf" Verginix, Quint was doomed to go into a life of crime, several years of pickpocketing andlight thievery allowed Marcus to entrust him with larger jobs, which Quint excelled at, though one day he was caught by several Imperial troopers, whilst he made off with a fortune in ebony, he left some fingers, his eye and a part of hs ear behind.

Abilities: A phenominal fencer, and not above cheap manouvres. Mainly defeats opponents as he will distract and anger them, then slip under their guard.....and ribs.

[Name: Ashag Gro Durgol
Age: 60 (looks in his 40's thanks to magic)
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Birthsign: The mage

Class: combat healer
Class description: A more belligerent cousin to the ordinary healer, his job is to support troops in the field with mundane and magical healing. To stay alive in such environment, he supplements healing skills with armor, blunt weapons and a touch of combat magic
Profession: Itinerant healer

Hair: dark grey
Eyes: brown
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 220 lbs
General appearance: A rather tall and muscular orc ? which makes him an imposing brute by human standards. His greying hair and lined face show some of his age, but he has retained an impressive physique. He has several ritual scars and tattoos on his face and arms. Usually wearing sturdy leather pants and linen shirt, with heavy boots and leather bracers. Always carries a steel and silver bound quarterstaff and a large beggar"s bag of healing supplies.

Equipment: orcish lamellar cuirass (worn when he's expecting troubles), leather bracers with a steel core, 'mage' staff (seven feet of sturdy oak, bound with steel and silver rings. The staff is enchanted to store magicka to supplement his own), surgeon's kit, simple alchemy kit. A pair of brass-rimmed glasses for a start of prebyopia, he wears them only to read small prints or perform surgery. 150 gold pieces.

Personality: Ashag has a rather calm and caring personality that contrast with his somewhat fierce appearance. But it don't makes him soft or weak ? as a combat medic and a former Malacath shaman he know the best way to keep bullies away is to out-bully them.

Background: Once a tribal shaman from the wrothgarian mountains, Ashag followed his clansmen when they enlisted in the Legion thanks to king Gorthwog's deal with the Empire. There he seized the opportunity to improve his magic, especially in restoration. Which let him gain some protection against aging. As he retired from the Legion he followed some others healers into the cult of Mara ? only a lay member as he keeps ties with Malacath. As much to protect the well-meaning fools from themselves as out of concern for the needy.

Abilities: He's a surprisingly good mage, being mostly skilled in restoration magic, but no slouch with destruction and knowing some alteration and mysticism. He's a decent alchemist. But he's also quite good with blunt weapons and unarmed fighting. Despite his age, he has kept most of the strength of his youth, and while not exactly nimble, he's more agile than one would expect from a big, old orc.

Extra Notes: He's officially in Bravil to offer Mara's mercy to the poor and the needy. But in reality he's also there to investigate the death of a Maran priestess ? a former medic and chaplain he had befriended during her brief stay in the army. She made an attempt to turn her chapel into a place where addicts could get help for their problem, and ended up murdered. Ashag is certain one of Bravil's drug rings took a dim view of her project and got her removed. He intends to find who ordered the deed, and send him to Malacath. The slower and more painful the better.

This is one of my few completely honest characters, I'm playing her in an RP centered around criminals. I must like conflict, or something. :twirl:

Name: Annette Ronet
Nickname: Anne, or to annoy her "Little Annie"
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Race: Breton
Birthsign: The Thief

Class: Imperial Scout
Class Description: A subdivision of the Imperial Legion, scouts are sent to scope out unknown areas and protect wilderness travelers from danger. They are a lighter division, specializing in tracking and survival, while upholding the principles of the Legion at the same time.
Profession: Currently works independently, mostly as a wilderness patrol, but answers to the Legion HQ in the Imperial City. She was specifically contracted by the Legion to check out Bravil's crime ring, under the cover of a simple woodswoman.

Hair: She has rough brown hair that is constantly twisted in a messy knot behind her head. When the hair is let loose, it falls to her shoulderblades.
Eye Colour: Dark brown
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 121 lbs
General appearance: The first impression one gets upon looking at Anne is usually something along the lines of "She's small for a legionnaire." Annette, while not particularly undersized for a Breton woman, is still not very impressive to look at. She's petite and seems fragile at first glance, although her movements have a surity about them that dispels that illusion quickly. Her eyes are sharp and piercing, and her expression is usually either stern or ironic. She's got a smattering of scars from her years in the legion. The most notable is a bite mark right below her collarbone, where a bear once dislocated her shoulder. Usually, she wears her Legion armor... but for now she is forgoing that for the simple leather cuirrass, leather boots, and brown breeches of a career woodswoman.

Equipment: Military grade steel longsword and a steel bow. In her sack, she carries an extra pair of breeches (that she often uses as a pillow), a repair hammer, rations, a utility knife, pelts to sell, and flint and steel. She has a quiver of 20 steel arrows tied to that sack. At one hip is her waterskin and a pouch with 100 gold; her sword sits at her other hip.

Personality: Anne is, above all, a woman among men... she's got a tough exterior and a quick tongue to ward any emotional threats away. She's in a constant bid to convince others that she's just as tough as the guys, even when they don't question that to begin with. As a result, she's got a snarky comment for every situation. Her true strength, however, lies in her practical, anolytical approach to new situations, and those close to her see useful insights beneath her sharp sense of humor.

Background: Annette was born the daughter of farmers outside Chorrol. She grew up toiling her family's fields with her two older sisters and their father. Often, the girls would have to defend the farm from goblin raids and wild animals, since their father had a bad leg, and was unable to fight. However, Anne was stir-crazy, dreaming of getting away from the farm and doing something less monotonous. So, when Anne was old enough to get away, she did, and opted to join the Legion. At the time, she had no idea what she was getting into, but, through power of sheer stubbornness and many late nights whacking at the practice dummy, she managed to earn a spot in the Chorrol town guard.

From the start, Anne was a sort of garrison pet. Not only was she female, but she was Breton as well, and built delicately to boot ... Most of the guards thought it was cute to see such a girl try to be a town guard. But "Little Annie" proved to be a scrappy fighter; able to take a hit and happy to return the favor. The garrison trained her to use her speed and smaller size to an advantage, and that's how she fights to this day.

Anne gained much of her tough attitude and snarky tongue from fending off the advancements of the male members of the garrison. She learned quickly when to tell someone off, and when to simply give a well-placed kick. There were some instances of attempted [censored], but her kicking-savvy and her luck got her out of those situations

Because the Chorrol guards were so fond of her, and a little because of lucky breaks, Anne gained a Legion-wide reputation for dependability and independence. For a couple months in her mid-twenties, she even served as a minor officer... but it became apparent quickly that it was too difficult for someone of her stature and temperament to hold a commanding position. Instead, she was promoted to the independent position of Imperial Scout and set loose upon the wilds of Cyrodiil. This proved to be the best position Anne had had yet, and she gladly still serves the Empire in this fashion.

Now, she has been asked by the Empire to help curb the problems in Bravil. Since the criminals that run the city seem to know how to handle the town guards, and adding more would just worry the citizens, Anne has been sent in under the cover of a hunter/tracker looking for a buyer for the pelts of protected species. However, it seems she's bitten off more than she can chew; this may be the point when her luck runs out.

Abilities: Along with the standard blade, bow, and law training of a Legionnaire, Anne specializes in tracking and wilderness survival. Also, she has a sliver of sheer dumb luck that gives her an extra advantage (see Extra Notes).

Extra Notes: Anne's birthsign makes her relatively lucky. This shows most often when the guards get together to play dice, but she has been known to get out of dangerous situations (such as the one where a bear actually bit her) on dumb luck alone.

Sadly, because of being skint on time, I won't be able to join this RP I really like the sound of it though, and I wish it the best of luck :goodjob:

Oh and I like these characters people!

This RP sounds really interesting! I hope I am worthy to join :drool:

Wth? I started an RP almost exactly like this called Imperial Mafia, and everyone dismissed it as balogna.. Like it was REALLY similar. Here's a link : http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1015230

Idk, it seems really similar to me.

Alright i AM worhty!

Name: Apoc Dres

Age: 42 (Appears to be around 35 years old)

Gender: Male

Race: Dunmer (Dark Elf)

Birthsign: The Atronach

Class: Warmage

Class Description:
The warmage is the lesser brother of the battlemage. Although the title sounds intimidating, warmages are not more powerful than battlemages, they are just different. Warmages combine the endurance of the warrior with the destructive strength of the mage. (Skills: Destruction, Alchemy, Heavy Armor, Block, Longsword, Tactics, Speechcraft)

Profession:
Mercenary, former member of the Imperial Legion (Trooper) , former member of the Great House Redoran (Lawman), member of the Fighters Guild (Protector).

Hair: Grey

Eyes: Dunmer Red

Height: 1 m 79 cm (about 5.8 feet)

Weight: 80 kg (about 177 pounds)

General Appearance:
Apoc is what he actually looks like: a battle-hardened mercenary. He is build like a soldier should be built: strong and tough, and although his strength is surpassed by the brute strength of an Ork or a Nord, he looks like he can take a few blows, if they are not critical hits?
As both of his parents were pure dunmer, he is no exception to their appearance. He has the typical grey-blue tone of his skin and has red eyes. There are several ritual tattoos on his face, and he tends to have a grim expression. He also has lots of scars which on his chest, which he's not proud to show.
Apoc wears dark blue Pants and a common shirt under his grey robe, which is slightly more expensive than his other clothes and has a hood. He wears two brass Rings on each Hand (middle-finger) and an enchanted Necklace with an average healing spell.

Equipment:
His weapon is just a steel longsword he grew very fond of, since it accompanied him the last 5 years. It was passed by a good friend of his, who died in Battle.
Apoc always wears a pair of fine steel Boots and a steel gauntlet on his right hand. He wears a fine steel towershield on his back, giving him the possibility of defending himself in a more effective way if there is a surprise attack. If there is enough time to prepare himself for a proximate battle (not surprise attacks nor imminent fights), he puts an iron cuirass an a left ebony pauldron on.
Apoc has an advanced Kit of Alchemy, 2 healing, 2 magicka and 2 fatigue potions. He also has 1 enchanted scroll with a strong fireball attack and 1 fortify Endurance potion. Apoc has 50 septims in his goldpurse.

Personality:
Apoc is an open minded person serious person that supports rational thought over instinct. He a very social person considering the circumstance that he is a dunmer. It takes a lot of time and effort for gaining his total confidence and friendship, though.
Apoc prevailed in every battle he ever fought (he didn't WIN actually every battle), while his friends and comrades died by his side. That made him brave man that has seen a lot in life, more the average soldier could withstand psychically.
The dunmer is not particularly aggressive, but sees violence as an alternative and sometimes even more effective way of finding or creating solutions to problems. This doesn't mean he would approve a suicidal mission. When it comes to missions, he proved to be very loyal to his "customers".

Background:
Apoc was born in Silgrad Tower. What made him so open-minded was mainly his education. Being raised by their parents (both Dunmer and exiles form the great house Dres), who where high members of the Imperial Legion, he learned the way of the warrior and his high curiosity for destruction magic and alchemy made him a respectable Battlemage.
He enrolled in the Imperial Legion, but after receiving the letter of his parents' death on an ambush by smugglers; he swore revenge and refused to take orders from the imperial legion. That made him a deserter, and Apoc was forced to hide for a few years in Ald`ruhn, where he joined the great house Redoran. He served there for 10 years and proved to be a loyal and formidable battlemage with a great sense of leadership. During the years he was entrusted more risky and big missions. He ended his relations with the great house Redoran when, in a big fight, he lost his best friends in the same mission.
By now he considered himself as a Warmage, more specialized in prolonged and massive fights than on skirmishing. 5 years ago he joined the Fighters Guild, where he ascended to the rank of Protector. Apoc has not a strong bond with the Fighters Guild, but this helps him being a bit of a mercenary of his own. Now he found out that the same gang that murdered his parents are roaming in Bravil...

Abilities:
Having served under various lesser Kings and Landlords as Captain of their armies, Apoc developed an instinctive sense of preservation and survival skill on the battlefield. He was a former Battlemage, but the responsibility of keeping his subordinates alive taught him to act more defensively and precautious towards their enemy. He grew stronger with his ability of holding lines against a massive amount of enemies, inspiring his own troops and intimidating his foes. He is also always perceptive of his environment, knowing what would serve for him and his allies' advantage or disadvantage. Since he cannot just stand by seeing his comrades falling in Battle, Apoc often aids them with his own made potions, which he also uses to enforce his own destructive magic skills, given the handicap of his Birthsign.

Extra Notes:
Apoc can make explosive potions, but now he has none and also no means to make them.
His birthsigns favor is also flawed. Unlike others born under the sign of the Atronach, he doesn't have that much more power than he should have. He tries balancing it out with his potions.
Apoc has a great believe in justice and loyalty. He will always try to do things the "right" way.
He has also proven to be a natural leader with a great sense of responsibility and leaderhip, not only in battle, but also in the process of making difficult decisions. With his tactical skills, he showed more than once that fighting foes and surviving while outnumbered or overpowered is possible.

EDIT: oipening post deleted because I am totally not connected with that character What So Ever
I never want to hear about him Ever Again! Damnit he made me svck with that lousy intro it's Worthless!

IC:

Apoc, 7 AM

Apoc could tell by a glance that this city was a nest of creeping outlaws. He himself, preferring Dunmer Law, did not really support Imperial Law,although that did not mean he liked smuggling, thieving and doing other shady acts. But given his circumstances (the lack of money and food) he would have no choice but to accept any assignemt he was given, if there would be any offers...
Bribing a refugee with he little money he had left got him to the place he is now: he did not know the name, but the obviously run-down and shady-looking shacks gave him the hint he was lookig for. Here is always job that has to be done. I just hope its worth the time, the money, and by all means dont send me to kill someone! he thought to himself. He would make a rather good escorter for a smuggler or a cencus agent, but a more poor thief or assasin...

He reached his final destination and entered the shack, only to see that there was nobody in the darkness...or perhaps there was someone there? "I am warning you, I would not take assaults very lightly", he shouted out loud.

"What is your buisness in here?" The voice sounded strange, a mixture of shrill roughness and quietness...

"It depends on what you want me to do."

"What are you capable of?"

"It depends on how much we are talking about."

There was a moment of silence, which gave Apocs eyes time to adapt to that darkness that flooded the shack. It was a humble shack with almost no furniture: a matress, a table and chair, on which a figure was sitting, its glowing eyes ponting towards him.

A Khajid?

OOC: Sry 4 short post

As Annette Ronet stepped through the entrance gate into Bravil, she automatically saluted the posted guard. The Imperial gave her a quizzical look, and Anne smiled to hide her wince, then ducked her head and moved on into the city proper.

"By the Mercy of Stendarr... did I just do that?" she mumbled under her breath, hitting herself repeatedly on the forehead. She was in civilian dress, and a civilians had no business saluting Legion officers. Especially not civilians who were supposed to be carrying illegal wares.

"Three steps in, and I've already botched it. Great going, Annie."

She sighed to herself and raised her head. Right, time to be all sneaky and illicit, then. Avoid the guards; stick to the shady parts of town. Try not to salute the bloody gate guard.

Why was she the one doing this again? Oh, right. She was small, Breton, and female: she was the least Legionnesque Legionnaire headquarters could dig up, and the chances were good that no one in the city would have run across her on her wilderness patrols. She was their best shot of taking the crime ring down from the inside.

And so, here she was, dressed like a woodswoman and with a couple illegal pelts in her bag. She did her best to act the part, slinking through the back alleys of Bravil like she'd so often seen the criminal element do. She was looking for a buyer. She was up to no good. She was.. By Arkay, was that man selling skooma in broad daylight?! She had to arrest him before he handed his wares off to an innocent child!

.......

"Yep. I'm doomed."

Ashag had barely been in Bravil for one day, but he already despised the town. Not for it's poverty ? growing amid the orc tribes of the worthgarian mountains had accustomed him to it. But for the air of despair and general resignation attitude which clung to the place like stench to a piece of carrion. It felt as they were nothing but bullies and broken souls around. Pfah, there was not shortage of bullies in the wrothgarians, but at least Malauch taught us to endure them standing with gritted teeth, then curse them and work on revenge. Not cowering in whimpers then crawling to a bottle to forget about it for a few hours. He spat at the gutter in an attempt to clear the bad taste he almost felt in his mouth, then resumed his walk at a brisk pace. Contrasting with the wretches slowly dragging themselves though another day or the thugs strutting lazily around them. Though they were few at this early hour

Soon he had reached his destination, the small chapel where his friend had been murdered. The small building was an eyesore, though not much more than the whole town. Bigger than hut I grew in, but far dirtier. And the canol's stench can't compare with mountain air. But it will do.

He took the key the Cathedral's priests had given him and opened the door, noting the spell he had woven into the lock was still in place. No surprise ? burglars and thugs aren't early risers. The inside matched the outside, with a dirt-strewn floor and moldy walls. There would be some work to be done to make the hovel into something resembling the chapel and hospital it was supposed to be. But the allowance from the cathedral should be enough, life was cheap in Bravil. Death is even cheaper thought Ashag as his eyes spotted the dark stains on the floor near the altar. The chapel's consecration is ruined, there's nothing I can do to fix it on my own. But at least I can clean the place, I've more than enough money of my own and from the chapel for that. Ashag started reviewing what he would need. Brooms, brushes, some buckets, a lot of soap. Lime-water to fight the mold. Some tools to fix the furnitures too. And hire a few of the locals to help with the cleaning and get some goodwill. Food I can get from a tavern at least for a while. I'll need to prepare it there to save money later.

Having his activities planned for the day, Ashag left, locking the chapel behind him and heading fo the local market, walking at the same brisk pace, cutting through the alleys. Confident in his size and the early morning light to keep trouble at bay, but nonetheless keeping his eyes and ears open. Which brought his attention to someone. He couldn't tell for sure but the small woman in her leather armor had something out of place about her. She was sneaking through the back alleys, but she didn't look like the riffraff he was getting used to.

He stopped to use a corner post as an impromptu back scratcher to get a better look and clarify his feelings. She looks a bit too healthy, nothing wrong from a countrywoman in town... It's how she's walking. Not like a rat scurrying from a hole to another, more like a cat on the prowl. Too sure of herself for a country hick come to the big, mean city like her clothes would point. It's not blatant, and I've noticed it only because I was checking for trouble, but it's clear. Not that it matters, she's not my problem.

He dismissed the thought with a shrug, looking as if he was happily done with his bear-like scratching and resumed his walk toward the market.

"So. Old man, wheres the money you owe Alberon?" Queried Quint as he wrenched his dagger out of the man's hand.
"L-like I said....I've g-given Al his mon-ney..."
Quint sighed as he moved the tip of his rapier closer to the old man's wife's throat. "Oh, really? Because he says you haven't paid and seeing as he has the funds and fortitude to hire people like me I think it's be wise not to cross me."
"Ok, ok I'll p-pay, just leave her al-lone."
"Good lad." Grinned Quint as as he nodded to theformerly hidded Orc to destroy the remains of the shop.

As he walked into the streets on the outskirts of Bravil, Quint reached up to his right shoulder and gave a small piece of food to the rodent sitting on top of it "You know Tertullian? This place isn't so bad. Cheap drinks, lots of job opportunities and enough pretty girls to keep me occupied." The final remark being accompanied by a wink of his remaining eye to one of Bravil's many street walkers.

"Okay buddy what shall we do know?" Asked Quint to the animal which had trademarked him as the highwayman and smuggler Quint The Rat.

The warmage grew impatient of the silence that governed the shack. The smell was also pretty unnerving. The Dark Elf felt the sudden urge to leave.
He swiftly jumped to the kahjid and drew his sword out of the shief with the same movement, and before the poor fellow in front of him could gasp for breath, Apoc's sharp blade was massaging his throat.

"Now, you will give me half of the money in advance. NOW, that is." He told him in a firm and dead serious voice. "I will recollect the money after the quest is done. Now, tell me what exactly do I have to do?" Still holding his blade, apoc changed his tone to a lesser rude manner.

"A? female Breton. She? Sh-" "Do I have to kill her?" "No!" Apoc put down his weapon and took two steps back.

"You better not be making any foul tricks.."

"I won't" he fell from his chair pathetically and got clumsily back to his feet again. Apoc felt a purse hitting his chest. "There's fifty septims in advance. Her name is Anette Ronet and she has been seen near here, around the back alleys. Now go watch her. I don't want you to interfere, ONLY if she gets in trouble. If that is the case, bring her to me, but only if you are not followed. If you do your task good you can earn 200 more of these shiny coins."

Apoc leaved without a word.

That's all I needed

Annette treated the city like a scouting mission. She walked the entire width and breadth of the place, getting a sense of where things were, and spotting various potential caches under building foundations and in alleys out of sight of guard posts. She noted the basic character of the people, seeing normal citizens that seemed either resigned and frightened, as well as a smattering of people who were suspiciously happy to live in a city of miscreants and scoundrels. She passed what appeared to be a smuggling deal going on down by the docks, and an aging Orc who bore prominent ritual scars (she would have to look them up later, to see whether they were Daedric in origin... that'd be just what Bravil needed: Daedra worship added into the mix!).

Once she felt she had gotten a proper reading of the place, she settled down in front of the "Lucky Lady" statue to think. She made a show of adjusting her armor and taking inventory of her pack while she considered her options. How was she supposed to get her foot in the door if she didn't know how they did business here? She'd have to go carefully; the underworld tended to be on constant guard against potential snitches.

The best way to get in, then, was to make contact with someone who was in the crime ring. Now, she couldn't just go up to the random skooma-peddler on the street. If she did, they'd probably expect her to try their wares, and she doubted it would go over well if she did, since she'd never had much of a head for such substances. Though the boys back at the Imperial City garrison were likely to have a good laugh over it.

Perhaps she could connect with another member of the ring, then? A smuggler would probably be best, since that was the racket her cover identity was looking to get into. So... what, she should just walk up to the smugglers doing business down at the docks?

Well, she was just a woodswoman looking to make a quick Septim... they wouldn't exactly expect tact from her.

She closed her bag and stood, then started back toward the docks. Even if she completely messed this assignment up and ended up run out of town by vengeful crime lords, at least the Bravil guards would have something to chuckle about over dinner for a day or two.

Apoc wandered off for a few moments, trying to find the Breton girl he was assigned to find. Luckily, there were weren’t a lot of Bretons in bravil, as far as he has seen. Due to the fact that half of them were male, Apoc’s chance to find Anette was pretty big. Still, he forgot to ask about details, or he just did not want to talk anymore with that khajid.

Pitiful creature, I wonder who the real Boss is…wait a minute, what’s that?

The warmage passed by a statue that resembled him like an old woman, where he found a young female Bretton looking for something into her pack she had.

I want to be sure that she is the one the khajid was talking about.

He took all his armour out and walked with bare feet towards her, hoping his acting skills and his speechcraft could convince her what he was about to do.
“Excuse me M’lady, could you spare a coin to an old war veteran?” Apoc said the sentence with a voice of inner sadness. He really looked like he could use help.

By Azura, if she finds out I have armour under my robe I’ll be 200 septims poorer…

oh man this is unfair.
I lost all inspiration, all of it, for this roleplay
any of you is free to take over untill I can find something. don't let my absence stop any of you from enjoying the roleplay!

(almost starts banging head into wall with frustration) I'll try to jump back in with my new character somewhere the following week.

Wow... awesome host! Heh, jokes.

I offer myself for the takeover, if nobody has something against it (especially Cirith). I have an Idea that might be even relevant for the politic image of Cyrodiil itself... Anyone interested to move on? I am.

@ Cirith: Don't worry pal. I also get these phases where I loose inspiration. Good luck. try reading some TES lore or playing Oblivion or Morrowind. That always helps me

only with you it doesn't happen with every success you have in hosting a roleplay, I can count the number of roleplays I hosted which did make it to page 2 on my hands, and all of them died before they reached page 3! and half of those cases is exactly the same as this, I'm bloody [censored] Cursed or something! (and still completely freaked out since I wrote that post!)