Shadows Whisper: The Eye of Argonia : The Elder Scrolls Series Discussion

» Sat May 12, 2012 2:22 pm

Shadows Whisper: The Eye of Argonia

For centuries, the fabled Eye of Argonia has been the ultimate conquest for adventurers, researchers, and thieves alike. Some think it an artifact of great power, while others believe it to be a massive gem. Whatever the case, the true nature of the Eye has been speculated by scholars and archaeologists for ages. Finally in the year 4E4, during Tamriel's most tumultuous times an artifact along the Black Marsh/Cyrodiil border has been unearthed.

An ebony tablet, primitively carved with Hist inscriptions hinting to the Eye's location was discovered by the infamously wealthy Altmer entrepreneur Professor Syndril. Almost a month later pamphlets are dispatched, hand written from his personal staff inviting some of Tamriel's most respected scholars, archaeologists, and adventurers on an expedition into Black Marsh. Many flock to the chance of fame and fortune in one of the world's greatest discoveries, yet Syndril's expedition only brings along the very best. Those with a specific skill set and knowledge base most beneficial to the expedition are permitted to buy their way in.

On Turdas, 3 Rain's hand, Syndril's expedition is gathered at Ladley's Grove, a small hamlet in the Nibenese Jungle just off the Panther River. At its dock, awaits the expeditions ship and hired crew, The Shrike Abyssal.

This is where you fit in. Are you an archaeologist, adventurer, hired bodyguard or sellword for a researcher, perhaps a mage attempting to uncover hidden secrets? Are you a member of The Shrike Abyssal? A crew of the most unlikely stereotypes and capabilities, and a ship with hidden secrets. Are you an Argonian guide?

Remember your character is not simply a mage or a person who swings a sword, everyone here has a specific skillset or knowledge in a particular field that makes them valuable to the expedition.

The choice is yours.

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A Brief Overview of the World.

This is within the Immortalblood Timeline Universe.

It has been four years since the Summerset isles rebelled against the Empire, succeeding in securing independence and Valenwood, proclaiming themselves the Aldmeri Dominion. Approximately a year later, Hammerfell did the same, once again securing Independence. While Elsweyr currently fights in a losing war against the Dominion and the rest of the world tries to recover from war, many individuals within the Empire attempt to secure wealth and fame in any manner possible. Some simply try to make their way in an increasingly violent and cruel world.

Cyrodiil itself is becoming a hotbed of crime with riots in the streets over political opinion and no central leadership having been decided yet. The second most powerful military in the province, the Knights of the Nine, having been tied up in Hammerfell leaves even more room for banditry and pillaging. Sellswords have never found a more busy time for employment.

All this being said, rumors of the Syndril expedition for the Eye of Argonia have been spread far and wide and many eagerly and desperately want to involve themselves.

If anyone requires further in depth knowledge of the world for any reason, please pm me and I will enlighten you on any subject you feel needs so.

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The Crew of the Shrike Abyssal

Working under the Captain, your used to seeing things that most would never believe. Even in a land where Emperors turn into God Dragons, you have seen sea serpents, slaughterwhales, and abysmal horrors that serve as scary stories for children. You've been around the unique members of the crew that give it its personality, namely the eccentric Mystic Navigator Anelia. You could have been anything before, an ex-soldier, convict, or a lifetime sailor...but your place is here now, going on the amazing adventures people could only imagine.

The Journey- http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j76/Titus-lord/ArgoniaWIP-2.png

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Rule 1) No flaming of other roleplayers is tolerated

Rule 2) Out of character discussions will be held in the Immortal blood timeline discusion

Rule 3) Have fun.

Rule 4) Post your character sheets in the first post of each thread. I will add in a Dramatis Personae later for the roleplay, but character sheets are too large for the OP.

Rule 5) If not having fun, observe rule three.

Everyone feel free to make whatever character you desire, I'm only here to offer up suggestions and give information where needed to facilitate a better integrated character or just enlighten you on the world.

However it is kindly asked that if you want to play an integral role and fit in well you make either a researcher, a hired adventurer/mercenary or a crew member of the Shrike Abyssal.

The Ship itself

The Shrike Abyssal is a Ship of Nibenese design, a Versatine. Originally developed by the Nibenese to bring trade from the Ilac bay, through the open sea and into the Nibenese river system. What you have is a light and extremely mobile ship with a shallow draft still capable of traveling through river systems hauling a decent cargo. The Shrike Abyssal's crew has taken it upon themselves to build more facilities via reducing their cargo hold. The result being more personal space, a kitchen, and an operating room for the surgeon.

Duty positions of the Shrike Abyssal

The Captain- The Captain oversees the large decisions of the ship and its crew. For the Shrike Abyssal, the Captain oversees all contracts taken and is the sole person responsible for the hiring and firing of crew members. He alone appoints promotions, designs the vision and entrusts his subordinates to execute the steps to reach said vision. The Captain of the Shrike Abyssal rarely leaves his cabin, instead preferring to handle his business through his First Mate and Quartermaster. (Position held by Storyteller)

The First Mate- The First Mate is in charge of seeing out the Captain's vision as well as being his representative when the Captain is on shore leave or not present on deck. He must possess knowledge of the workings of a ship, the crew and the various duty positions while also keeping a general view on the Ship and Crew's status from the Quartermaster and boatswain. (Position held by Magus the Red)

Quartermaster- The Quartermaster is responsible for assigning crew quarters, pay, and positions (non-officers only) as well as making sure each man is fed. His say over rules the Captain in certain cases including the administrating of punishment. His call over rides the Captain concerning the Ship's sea worthiness and condition and makes it a rule to ensure that the ship is always ready to go. The mark of a good Quartermaster is an excellently cared for ship. Whenever the ship is not in chase or battle, the quartermaster makes most of the decisions regarding the day-to-day ship activities. (Position held by Woolymammoth)

Boatswain- The Boatswain supervises the maintenance of the vessel and its supply stores. He is responsible for inspecting the ship and its sails and rigging each morning, and reporting their state to the captain. He is also in charge of all deck activities including weighing and dropping anchor, and the handling of the sails. A ship of any size would require the boatswain to oversee several mates (junior officers) who would share his responsibility for crew morale and work efficiency as well as the maintenance and repair of the hull, rigging, lines, cables, sails and anchors. (Position held by Storyteller)

Navigator- The Navigator is the most valued member of a crew on par with the Master Carpenter. Responsible for getting the crew through dangerous waters and into the right area, a decent navigator is worth their weight in gold. Responsible for plotting charts and working with the Helmsman in getting the ship to its destination, Navigators are highly paid. On the Shrike Abyssal, a mystic Navigator is used. As it is, her ways are a mystery and her execution even more so. One thing is sure, the crew of the Shrike Abyssal always gets to where they need to be....one way or the other. (Position held by Person from Anticlere)

Helmsman- A cut above the rest in sailing, the Helmsman is a remarkably talented individual piloting the ship through storms and dangerous seas. Developing an almost supernatural instinct and feel for the Ship, a talented Helmsman can be completely in tune with the dimensions of his ship and move it through any dangerous maze of rock formations or tsunamis. (position held by Blademaster)

Surgeon- Responsible for the curing of ailments, amputations, and healing magic and alchemy on a ship's crew. The Surgeon is well valued and well paid. Often coming from a privileged family or magical background, well versed surgeons are rare. (position held by Parzival)

Cook-Responsible for the issuing of rations to the Quartermaster and preparing three meals a day for the Crew. Most ships simply require someone to make something that is not poison, but aboard the Shrike food is taken seriously. A good cook often finds himself given privy treatment and a certain aura of respect. A bad cook....well... (position held by KonyIslandBaby)

Blacksmith- Whether it be pirates, beasts, or Daedra ( a few stints back the Shrike took on the job of escorting some unconventional worshippers, huge mistake) the arms and armor of the crew must be maintained and forged. Usually working with the Master Carpenter (who often takes the role of a cooper (barrel maker) they ensure the Ship is well repaired, the blacksmith always has his pick of the litter when it comes to weapons, metals and gems. (Red Eminence)

Ladley's Grove, the Nibenese Jungle

Gods it was hot...this Jungle the Nibenese called home was torture for Professor Syndril, the smell of fish and sweat permeated the small dock of Ladley's grove with intensity. The pungent odor causing him to wrinkle his nose whilst trying to remove his sweat matted doublet from his back. Golden eyes swept over the small hamlet, abuzz with activity. Many had come seeking a last minute chance to board his expedition, while others came simply to observe the locally known adventurers and researchers setting out.

His bodyguard, Ocrum Gro-Nogbush, a massive Orc wearing linen pants and a brown, tattered cape approached the balcony table beside his charge. The Juggernaut placed one frothy mug of ale on the table and a dainty glass filled with piss poor wine, Syndril could smell the high level of acidity from where he sat.

"Said was the best they got..."

"Well then I guess that will have to do, although I cannot say I am pleased with the Nibenese and the poor taverns..."

"Well it is a jungle boss..."

The cold stare given to his protector was taken without worry, the Orc had been working for Syndril for months now...and knew his employment was locked in with the Elf. The two could not possibly be more different, where Syndril was short for an Altmer, Ocrum was massive for an Orc, where one was frail the other was heavily built. The only thing the two had in common were beards. Ocrum carried a dark bushy beard trimmed close to his face, while Syndril being a far outcast from most Altmer sported a massive bushy, golden beard with an extremely wide mustache which curved upwards, ornamented with golden rings.

The Orsimer pointed from the taverns balcony, "There is our ship..."

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Aboard the Shrike Abyssal

Cutting its path through the water with an amazing display of mobility was the Shrike Abyssal a grayer hue of Valenwood's Mythril Bark, the Ship was a Versatine, one of those Nibenese open water merchant vessels designed with river trade and mobility in mind. Its crew were at work putting the Ship to dock within the short span of time it was spotted. Any who knew of the naval craft understood that the ship was fast sailing and always would be, regardless of wind conditions.

A high state of discipline...or perhaps just a desire to dock and get drinks, the crew moved with a vigor and motivation uncharacteristic of most privately owned vessels. Even odder was the fact that the ship's maintenance and appearance outshined most Imperial Naval vessels. A holystoned deck provided a near white sheen, the ship's brass fittings polished to mirrors and every single rope coiled neatly. Whats more, the Ship's crew looked nothing more than rag tags.

Revas Montleon's brown eyes looked over the small hamlet they approached...nothing but a rag tag gang of fishers lived in the area yet it was over flooded with people. Some were armed, adventuring mercenary type he supposed. He bit onto the end of his unlit cigar and glanced back to his men, the able bodied seamen who made the daily operations happen.

"Once we're docked and at a stand still, any are welcome to two hours of shore leave granted that we got at least four guarding the deck, aye?"

A few eyes and a random burp and noise signaled to him that half the sodden lot paid at least a third of their attention. Would have to do. They were told to wait for some Golden rod and his team of brainiac researchers and adventurers to arrive.

Swindil, Spingil, Professor Swindle...gah whatever his name is, he'll show up. First mate'll be up there to greet'em anyway, I just make sure the crew don't get too drunk to set sail.

?After the uncharacteristically long moment of thinking from the Boatswain of the Shrike Abyssal's crew, Revas called to the First Mate, "Julius, I'm going to see what I can do about getting another store of salted pork...I'll be back within the hour."

Nodding off he couldn't help but feel the threatening creaks of wood beneath him growing unusually loud, "And...more holystone."

The Ship had to be satisfied, its creaking ended.

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The Goldenrod

Awaiting at the dock was a perturbed Professor Syndril. He was tired of the heat and cussing himself for wearing so many layers of fanciful clothing, hoping for a chance to utilize the practical 'adventurer clothing' that the Khajiit in Southmark had sold him. Ocrum, the massive Orc beside him waited, bored beside his master. Hand on a steel war axe he chewed on a leaf of tobacco.

As Revas stepped off amongst other men of the crew, his eyes widened and a grin came to his face.

"Your a big one, ain't ya? We could use a guy like you helpin' with some of the liftin' on deck, and you must be Professor Syndril?"

Syndril mustered up as much pride and warmth in his smile as he could, "Yes and you must be First mate Scipion, it is such a pleasure to meet you...I'm sure you have he-"

"Nope not me." Revas interrupted and left with a laugh shaking his head. Muttering something to himself barely audible, but Syndril could almost certainly make out the word 'damn' and 'goldenrods'.

"Ruffians..." The Altmer said to himself, he carried a small leather bag containing the tablet that was promised for study to the researching team of the expedition, while Ocrum carried the large duffels containing clothes and writing equipment for his charge.

"They are sailors...exactly what one would expect."

» Sat May 12, 2012 4:42 pm

Shrike Abyssal, Navigator's Quarters
Navigator Anelia

T’was an odd ship, the Shrike Abyssal. And aboard this strange ship was a cabin still more bizarre than others.

Time had little meaning here. Sometimes, hours flew by as minutes on a whim; sometimes, seconds stretched on for hours, days even. Darkness reigned supreme, not a window nor a crack in the wall to disturb it, save the shy beams of muted light that penetrated on those occasions that the room’s unassuming doors were opened. Then, the thin veil of fabric hanging by the entrance would ripple with colours otherworldly, swaying gently in its mistress’s wake.

For this room had a mistress; it was not dark of its own accord, the permanent blanket of seemingly solid blackness cast wittingly and with a purpose. Just as well that it had been, and that none were permitted inside save the one who dwelt here always, for the dark held secrets few were privy to, and even fewer were safe from.

She was, of course. It took a mystic to study the madness-runes and ward-writings that the ancient Altmer had been so intricately familiar with; it took an utter fool to employ them without taking every precaution possible. And a fool she was not – deeply unpleasant according to many (most, even) perhaps, but not a fool.

Some, on the other hand, may have argued that mystic and fool were synonymous concepts, particularly after spending some time with the ship’s very own specimen.

The specimen in question was, of course, none other than the Shrike Abyssal’s one and only navigator, the proprietor of the pitch-black room, a mystic with few equals and a general hothead. She styled herself rather simply, Navigator Anelia, and that was what most of the crew called her. To create what some might dub an amusing nickname for her risked a tantrum, often accompanied by an uneasy shift in the ship’s atmosphere, testament either to her power or the amount of noise she could raise if sufficiently annoyed – no one was sure which it was, or if the two were not, in fact, one and the same. Considering how useful she actually was, for all her faults, pushing it was not a course usually intentionally pursued.

On the whole, then, her relationship with the crew was surprisingly cordial. No doubt, the fact she spent many of her waking hours (if she at all indulged such a mundane need as sleep anymore) locked away in her quarters helped considerably. Crewmembers did not get in her way, while she didn’t get in their way – not that such an angle had ever occurred to her.

This was how that fateful day found her – cross-legged and in complete stillness. Or perhaps that fateful night. The progression of time was, as previously mentioned, something that the mystic had little use for – and so she disregarded it, completely ignorant (or pretending to be so) of whatever inconvenience that may’ve resulted from this peculiarity. Which was far from her only one, for trouble never walks alone, and the navigator was nothing if not a bundle of trouble like few others.

It may have been, on reflection, somewhat rash to describe the darkness pervading Anelia’s room as solid and broken only when the door to the outside world was reluctantly opened. If such a luckless rat were to exist aboard the ship that it found its way to this corner of the Shrike, it would no doubt have noticed the faintly glowing outline that signified that the navigator was in and hard at work (or amusing herself, since her favourite pastime and her work were one and the same); suspended at this figure’s sides were two orbs that somehow endeavoured to be even darker than the rest of the room, as though a void had svcked away any last trace of light lingering there. And then there were the little starlets that seemed to orbit the Magnus that was her neck, the assortment of warding amulets gently drifting through the air, round and round their creator.

That would have almost certainly been the poor rodent’s last sight, since it would inevitably turn to the nearest wall. Its eyes would penetrate the darkness to catch a glimpse of one of the countless runes etched onto the walls; then, after a moment or two of entranced staring, it would squeal like no rat has ever squealed. Its little vermin eyes would liquefy in a process excruciatingly painful, its skin would shrivel and its fur would force itself out of the body from the very roots. Afterwards, Anelia would tut disapprovingly and dispose of the mangled remains by throwing them overboard.

Thankfully for the sake of her short fuse and all those potentially within earshot, the navigator’s quarters were meticulously maintained (by her own standards, at least, for to any regular mortal the room would have hardly seemed tidy) and remained free of vermin. And so she was alone, as usual, and meditating – as usual.

The strands of Aetherial energy stretched far. Locked away in a small room aboard a ship her body may have been, but her very essence was somewhere else entirely, anchored to its physical vessel only by the thinnest strand. A lifeline she had cast through many-layered precautions, so fragile yet potent enough that her body burned bright like a beacon in the night, a steady and undisrupted mass against the backdrop of ever-shifting, ever-changing cords that crept and crawled, rushed and tangled the more the closer you looked at them. The fabric of the arcane as known to a mystic’s eyes, with only her body – so hopelessly small in that endless plane that stretched like a blanket over the mundane – to keep her from losing her way and being condemned to the horrid fate of becoming trapped in that endless vastness, stretched over the numberless strands, so thin that the very seams of your soul begin to rip. Pain incomprehensible except to those who had experienced a fraction of it – those like her.

Despite the horrible dangers associated, however, Anelia wandered these strands often, venturing down new and unfamiliar pathways in curiosity or for a more specific purpose. And so she was travelling now, the flow of magicka carrying her somewhere through the jungles of the Nibenay... yet, a pang. Something had changed much closer to home, disturbing her and gnawing at the passive ease with which she’d drifted up till then.

Finally, it became insufferable enough that she willed herself to a stop, beginning to retrace her timeless voyage made not through space with all the care in the world. The navigator was familiar enough with such an existence to know when she was subconsciously picking up on something important that her mind had glossed over or ignored, and when it was important enough not to ignore.

The source of the disturbance became clear soon enough. Her brow crinkled slightly, before her eyebrows rose with a silent “Oh,” followed shortly by a soft sigh.

“Approaching forms... in multitude and with purpose enough to make it clear they’re headed for us. Might it be that our eagerly awaited employers arrive at last...”

While the silence of her room was never disturbed, save for a low creak somewhere in the distance the kinds of which one had to expect aboard a ship now and again, it seemed that the mystic had divined the answer by whatever means that she had with enough certainty to sigh again, more deeply this time. Her dejection soared to new heights at the prospect of a meet and greet that her position would necessitate she partake in. Slowly, the glow emanating from her form seemed to dwindle; the collection of amulets circling her neck dropped from the air, hanging lifelessly from whatever it was that held them to her neck.

“Well then,” Her voice laced with what she imagined was well-contained irritation but sounded rather more like a perturbed hagraven, grabbed her bandana from off the ground and began tying it around her eyes. “I suppose if we get this over with quickly, I won’t have to see too much more of whatever bunch of pretentious [censored] it is that we’ve picked up this time.”

Something in the ship creaked again, accompanied by a silent groan from the navigator. For whatever reason, the ancient cry ‘barbarians at the gates’ came to mind, and that was as far from encouraging as could get.

Spoiler

Name: Navigator Anelia
Age: Somewhere in her mid-twenties, as far as her appearance allows her to conjecture (such mundane things as keeping track of her age having slipped her mind already, apparently)
Race: Imperial (Nibenese)
Gender: Female
Birthsign: The Mage

Appearance: ‘Scrawny’ is the best way to sum Anelia up, thin and short as she is. Some might say she even looks undernourished; the navigator herself will have none such mundane explanations in her life, insisting instead it is because of the amount of time spent meditating on and reaching out through arcane energies, which weakens her physical anchor. Whatever the case, she is hardly the model of athleticism, however is surprisingly durable for all that, being able to pull her weight in protracted journeys on foot in less than favourable conditions, heat in particular doing little to bother her. That might be due to being accustomed to such climates, what with growing up in the Nibenay and having the slightly darker skin than a Colovian Imperial’s to show for it – along with the far more obvious indication of her ethnicity, the fact that her entire upper body is covered in tattoos of a clearly Nibenese design.

Bright green in colour, the wavy shapes curl around her arms and up her neck, stopping short of covering her face, interrupted in places by a second layer of tattoos – these being far less graceful and more ominous black Daedric letters, scattered seemingly randomly over her body, including a small ‘N’ on her brow. It can be noted, by looking at her thin, straight eyebrows, that it isn’t straight in the centre, being slightly to the right of the middle. Dark blue eyes sit beneath said eyebrows (which themselves are pitch black in colour, just as her hair that is most often tied into a short tail), their colour slightly diluted, as most people discover themselves describing it as to their surprise – from underuse, of all things. That does not make them any less capable of taking on an angry glint when they are in use, which, combined with her snub nose, pronounced cheekbones and thin lips that are usually smirking or pressed tightly together angrily, sufficiently convey her short fuse.
Height: 5’6

Clothing / armour: When the navigator deigns to leave her cabin, she is most often seen wearing a light blue robe, simple and plain enough save perhaps for a spot of silver trimming along the collar. Chances are pretty good that when Anelia does emerge, she will be wearing a simple white bandana over her eyes; invariably, no matter what the situation might be, she is also always with her seven amulets of varying shapes and sizes – two silver lockets, one slightly larger than the other and both hanging from slim chains of the same material, one larger golden medallion on a plain iron chain, three gemstones – two slim green ones and one rounder, bright crimson one – hanging from simple pieces of cord and a simple iron Daedric ‘O’ on a chain of silver. Rather more disturbingly, from each of her wrists hangs a black soul gem, tied to a silver chain. She cannot be bothered to hide the fact they are both filled, as their faint cold glow makes amply clear.
Weapons: None; she makes no effort to hide her contempt for mundane weapons, and if she does consider them useful in a tight spot, that is a sentiment hidden deep, *deep* within.

Background: Woefully little does the navigator reveal of her former life; about the only things that can be inferred is that she is of Nibenese descent and spent the majority of her life in that region of Cyrodiil, and that she had a sister. Even most of the crew knows no more of her now than when they first encountered Anelia as a passenger aboard their ship, one who picked up on the unique nature of the vessel very quickly and wasted no time in demanding to be made part of the crew; a conversation with the captain later, she was hired with no questions asked. Most do not attempt to find out more about her than that, for understandable reasons – pestering her about her life is one of the many reliable ways to tick the navigator off.