Welcome to The Planeswalkers RP Thread #1

http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1418304-the-planeswalkers-rp-interest-check-and-sign-up/

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”I am Qorindil, a collector of all things Daedric. My research has revealed a rather fascinating discovery about the Daedric planes of Oblivion. According to an old, translated, book I found in the public library of Daggerfall, there are fragments scattered across all the planes of Oblivion. These fragments seem to originate from the same source and are part of something big. These fragments are unique and so far untouched by outsider’s hands. I am determined to obtain all of these fragments, but I cannot do this alone. A team of dedicated warriors, thieves and mages is needed. Whether you’re in it for the money, the adventure, the knowledge or experience, this is a golden opportunity you cannot miss."

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Meet the characters:
(underlined name is username, itallic font is character name and race)
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GorbadPS3
Qorindil –(Altmer)

Noryail-(Altmer)

OldRPG'sAreGood
Uthoryan Wicksley -(Breton)

WD40
Mordekai "Mort" Alan'ka -(Redguard)

Mhund
Roymund Inventius -(Imperial)

Athell
Talks-with-Spirits -(Argonian)

disturbing
Dandre Frand -(Breton)

Transformer
Meden Arvel -(Dunmer)





Minor characters (GorbadPS3):
Robentie "Rob" Genis -(Breton)


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How to post:

Daggerfall is a large city with connections to deep forests and tall hills to the north and east and a view to both the Illiac bay and the Eltheric Ocean in the south and south west. Various Daedric cults can be found in the mountains in the area and encountering a clan of vampire isn’t uncommon. Warlords with their cutthroat bandits and fierce marauders manage well enough around the city of Daggerfall and even inside the city itself. However, the fighter’s guild, together with the guards, manages to keep the streets blood-free and most criminal activity has moved underground. An impressive underground sewer and tunnel system makes for an ideal web for wanted men to hide in, including the thieves guild. Many libraries can be found in Daggerfall, both old and new, and one of the most impressive spell-tome specific libraries is run by the mages guild.

Should you look at the city from above, you’d see too many districts to count, all with their own piece of history and secrets. It would take more than a dozen arrow shots from one end to the other, picking up where the arrow landed, to reach the other side of the city. And that’s measured by the shot of a strong bowman, using a sturdy longbow.

In the city, the streets are sand colored and houses match this with their tile. Still, wooden structures can be found, and the city gains color from the fruit trees and berry bushes that grow within. A not too uncommon sight in the city is large mansions with their own front yard. These belong to rich nobles, sons and daughters to royalty, or in the case of the collector Qorindil, individuals with pure wealth and need for a grand house.

The mansion has a beautiful garden in the front yard, with a number of skillfully crafted stone tables and benches to gather in. Square shaped, shiny stones create a path through the garden like a snake, reaching a massive wooden door. Two gems float in the air next to the door, above black pillars. These gems serve as body-guards twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month and twelve months a year, without needing rest, food or, most importantly, gold in their pocket.

The mansion itself has a number of floors, which include the main floor with a dinner hall, greeting hall, kitchen and a number of staircases. The basemant is filled with false artifacts about to go for sale for profit, or just sitting there collecting dust. The second floor has your usual living room, a great number of bedrooms and more than one smaller common area to relax in. Most are filled with some sort of paintings or exotic furniture.

Qorindil’s study, a large room located in the upper floor at his mansion, is filled with glass displays with various items. Soul gems with small notes on them, describing what creature’s soul is within, dwemer centurion parts with rotating gyros, a small set of Ayleid statues, amongst many other things. A particular sight to see is a strange staff with a rose on its top. ‘The sanguine rose’, as it’s called, a Daedric artifact belonging to the Daedric prince of debauchery and passion of dark nature, is one of Qorindil’s most prized possessions. His father had valued the Ayleid quite a bit, but Qorindil has always been more interested in the Daedra.



Recently, Qorindil had read everything he could find about them and what he learned was fascinating. The princes had artifacts themselves, but for some reason he kept stumbling into these things called, “Fragments”, which were supposed to have scattered across all planes of Oblivion sometimes during the dawn era. What these fragments were, was still unclear to the altmer collector, but they were frequently associated with great power in the scrolls and tomes he’d read. Determined to find out more, he’d bought a large number of ancient texts, hoping to find out more. He and his relative Noryail, an old and powerful altmer conjurer with an almost unhealthy enthusiasm for all things Daedric, had begun to spread word about ’the relic hunt of the decade’ in Daggerfall, hoping it would spread all across Tamriel and to the attention of eager and capable mercenaries.


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The morning sun slowly took its rightful position high up on the sky, declaring a new day had begun in the city of Daggerfall. Some would wake up by the bright light, while others had already been working hard for hours. Then there were some that hadn’t even had the chance to sleep yet, keeping themselves busy all night long.

The large sacks of grey under Qorindil’s eyes were all the evidence you needed. He’d spent the whole night in his study, reading through all the ancient texts he’d bought. He sat at a large dark-brown desk of fine oak in his study, a number of damaged tomes, worn scrolls and dusty books scattered in a chaotic order around him. An empty silver pitcher of wine had been placed on the floor, a matching knocked-over goblet keeping it company. A single candle had been illuminating the ancient text, until the morning sun filled the room with bright light. The altmer collector closed the tome he was reading and yawned loudly, giving the silver pitcher a hopeful look. Alas, it was empty, and nothing in the world could change that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Qorindil was certain that Sanguine could’ve filled an empty pitcher with wine just like that. Oh what a handy power that would be!

Qorindil took a tired look at the calendar on the wall and suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen later today. A group of mercenaries, scholars, researchers and fortune-finders would arrive at the mansion, interested by ‘the relic hunt of the decade’. Sadly, Qorindil didn’t have much information on how they’d obtain these relics, but he was confident Noryail had come up with something. He was the master conjurer of the two of them, probably one of the most powerful conjurers in all of High Rock too.

Qorindil made the decision to stay in his study for a while longer, to get some sleep before all the dumb mercenaries would knock on his door. He hoped at least some of them would understand how huge this hunt could turn out to be, in another form of measurement than gold. Qorindil’s head had barely scratched the pillow before he fell asleep, the morning sun glaring angrily at him from the window, as if it was insulted by his complete lack of acknowledgement that it was morning in the grand city of Daggerfall.




Outside the manor, laying on one of the stone tables was Robentie ‘Rob’ Genis. An infamous thief who’d returned to Daggerfall three years ago. He was wearing a travel trench coat, which currently served as a blanket. Leather armor underneath completed his outfit. Short version of his story was this: A low-profile theft turning into a high-profile thief without him realizing it, then becoming wanted for a murder he didn’t commit. A brief escape and laying low outside Daggerfall cooled things down enough for him to return. He had to cut his hair, for the old style he’d used was quite a bit too recognizable. Qorindil has paid a nice sum for Rob’s services so far, and he’s been working for him over a year now.

The stone table was as good as any bed for Rob, and the satchel he was carrying wasn’t a bad pillow at all. The hard content blended well will with stone table. He was sleeping lightly, waiting for something to happen. Sure, he could climb up the wall of the mansion and straight into Qorindil’s study, but that seemed a bit rude. Approaching the door and knocking wasn’t a good idea either, for you never knew exactly what kind of spell effect those gems could cast on you. First, and only time, he’d approach the door without Qorindil’s presence had paralyzed him and caused an extremely powerful magical poison to slowly kill him. Luckily, Rob had been blessed by the Serpent birthsign, with complete immunity against all forms of poison. This had served him well in the past and had saved his life that day. Since then, he’d stayed clear of the door though. A magical frost spell would surely have ended his life, no matter how powerful his Bretonic resistance to magic might be.

Little did he know that a mixed bunch of adventurous individuals would step foot into the garden and visit Qorindil. He kept on sleeping, ignoring the sun’s persistent glare in the shadow of a pear tree.




Meanwhile, a few districts away from the mansion, Noryail was at an old public library. He’d woken early today, unable to sleep, and rushed to the library as fast as his three centuries old legs could carry him. It’s possible that he wouldn’t have made it without his enchanted staff, which he used efficiently as a walking stick.
The old library smelled like dust, parchment and ink, a damp odor that was impossible to avoid. To the altmer warlock, the library smelled like hidden knowledge. But he was pretty sure the large nord standing guard with an unpleasant look on his face had an entirely different opinion on the matter.

He’d spent most of the morning searching for something very specific, the subject of Sigil Stones, and had thus far gathered three books from shelves. It was hard to read in the bad light inside the library, so Noryail began his slow ascend to the floor above, where the reading quarters were. The sun was shining through the large windows, illuminating a perfectly circular room with a dome as roof.
It was, as he’d expected, completely empty. He seated himself at the desk nearest the staircase and opened the first book, ‘A lesson in Sigil Stones’. A few boring moments later he realized he’d already read this book, when, he wasn’t sure, but the book provided him with no useful information.

He set the book to the side and reached for the second book, ‘Sigil Stones and the Oblivion Crisis’. A long silent moment later, only interrupted by the sound of paper pages moving slowly against each other and a subtle wind outside, he closed the book with a smile on his face. The book had been rather useless at first, only pointing out things Noryail already knew, but the last chapter had been interesting. Sigil stones were quite rare before the Oblivion crisis, but after it there had been sightings of them all around Tamriel. Warlords seemed to keep them in their treasure chests, as highly valuable gems to be sold, Daedra worshippers might’ve gotten their hands on them, protecting outsiders from finding them and using them. These were good news indeed. Well, perhaps not the best news, considering they were highly valuable treasure and protected as such as well, but still good enough news that confirmed there were still many of them around. The tricky part was to actually locate them.

Noryail slowly made his way downstairs, returned the books to their shelves and began searching for a map of High Rock. Perhaps there was a detailed one in the library? If not, Qorindil might have to buy one from someone, perhaps even a fellow collector. Noryail knew how much Qorindil hated other collectors, but being in the business means it’s impossible to avoid them. He shrugged and began his search, hoping he’d find it before the mercenaries arrived at the mansion. Last thing they’d need was a dead mercenary who’d walk straight to the door and knock.

Uthoryan Wicksley, a luxurious inn -> Qorondils front yard garden, late morning

Uthoryan parted his eye lids as a narrow beam of sunlight hit his eyes, crawling from behind a gap between two velvet curtains that covered the windows of Uthoryans inn room. The nobleman rolled from his side to his back and stretched his arms, while letting out a lazy yawn. He rose from his bed, his fingers rubbing his eyes. Uthoryan walked slowly to a bowl of water, and cupped his hands as he slid them into the cool water. He then splashed some water to his face and neck, washing the last bits of tiredness away. Uthroryan also oiled his hair and sweeped it back, then brushed his thin mustache a bit to make sure they looked as he wanted them to look. After that, he opened a drawer of the counter on which the bowl was, and took his silk clothing and clad himself in it.

The Wicksley noble took time to make sure that the garment wasn't wrinkled or dirty in any way and to admire it as well. It didn't take him long to find his boots as well, though they were a bit more weathered, as they were his traveling boots. His eyes wandered to his set of steel armor that was at the time on a rack, and Uthoryan pondered if he should wear it instead of his clothing when he'd meet this altmer collector. He decided against it, but took his claymore, Horkers tusk, and fitted it so that the leather strap holding it on his back would not clash too badly with his garment. The swords sheath was tough leather, and had an actual horker tusk attached to it by tight and small leather straps.

Even though Uthoryan loathed to walk amongst the commoners of Daggerfall, he knew that a morning walk was one of the things that kept him in shape when he wasn't traveling. So the noble set on his way to this Qorindil and the altmers mansion. He had to stop frequently to ask for directions, but eventually reached his destination. Uthoryan found the garden he had walked into charming and pleasing to his eyes, save for someone Uthoryna perceived to be a filthy commoner on one of the stone tables. Uthoryan took a long way around that particular table, but soon stopped on his heels as he saw what framed the wooden door leading into the mansion. These sorts of floating gems weren't strangers to Uthoryan, and he knew better than to trod straight to them.

Uthoryan glanced around, weighing his options, and decided to seat himself in the garden, as far from the commoner as he could. There he sat, waiting for someone to come, while eyeing the other person in the garden with loathing.