HER KINGDOM COME

============================================

The Battle of Ouadabridge

===================================

http://www.majhost.com/gallery/Anticlere/Timeline/morrowind.jpg

The courtyard of the High Chapel of Mournhold was truly crowded that morning. Prince pressed against pauper and elder leaned against child; half-naked labourers, perfumed nobles and sharply dressed merchants mingled together into one vast mass of men and mer, muttering restlessly amongst themselves. Some had clambered into the trees, hanging precariously from their branches, while others stood atop hastily procured boxes and chairs, struggling to keep their head above the sea of faces despite others' persistent attempts to take their place. Occasionally, there would be a yelp - and one of the heads poking out above the rest would disappear, replaced by another at a moment's notice.

That morning, it was almost as if the entirety of the blessed city had squeezed itself into that one courtyard. Each and every one of those assembled expecting something incredible to happen; and none of them sure what, exactly.

After nearly a month, the dreadful ashstorms that had descended so inexplicably over the streets of Mournhold were no more. They were gone, every bit as abruptly as they'd started - and it did not take long for rumours to start spreading. The harsh winds had been the will of their goddess, Holy Almalexia, her wrath incurred by the godless acts of the people of her own city. It stood to reason that it was only the Tribune who could have reined them in - but why? What had happened, that had changed Her mind so suddenly?

That was what the people were here to learn.

Finally, its hinges moaning under the strain, the massive doors to the Temple creaked open - and a thousand mouths breathed in at once.

They had come expecting the Patriarch. Standing before them, though, was their Goddess Herself.

She appeared before them almost naked, golden skin glimmering in the morning sun, the divine glow that surrounded it dancing in tandem with the shimmering silks trailing after her; modesty was the province of mortals, not of gods like herself. Noiselessly she glided forward, her feet never once gracing the ground with their touch. And when she finally spoke, it was as though the entire rest of the world had simply stopped.

"My children."

The Goddess smiled - and the people assembled realized then why was it that those who had seen it considered Almalexia's smile a blessing in and of itself.

"You do not yet realize it, but we stand now on the precipice of change. The spirit of my own husband - the one you know as the Nerevarine - served as its herald; and I saw in his face, and in his deeds, the reason why my spirit had yearned for solitude, my children, even as my heart wished to walk among you as I had always done. Only so could I test your hearts, your faith and your resolve; a test that some failed..."

A shiver ran through the crowd as the smile disappeared from her face. Most only now noticed that the grim and emotionless Hands of Almalexia had emerged from the Temple as well, arrayed around their Tribune.

"...But not all."

Her smile bloomed again. "Some remained true - and to them shall go my blessings. It pains me greatly to say that Sotha Sil - my friend; my ally, your Tribune and once-god, - lies dead now; maddened by his power, he had to be struck down. Grieve, and grieve doubly, for this victory came with a terrible price - and though I put Seht's troubled spirit to rest at last, the life of my husband and your Nerevarine was extinguished by his hand. Side by side we fought, as we had in ages long past, and on my hands he perished - and with his dying breath, asked me to do what he could not."

"With his dying breath, he asked me to free Morrowind."

Never before had Mournhold been so quiet, so still.

"Grieve, my children, but do not let your grief consume you; one enemy has been defeated, but another remains. Vivec is gone; Sotha Sil is gone; the Nerevarine, too, is gone. But I remain - I, Almalexia, your god, your one true god! The time for my kingdom has come, and I will not suffer the wicked to tread its soil!"

WORD FROM THE GM

I've carried around this idea for a different ending for The Elder Scrolls III: Tribunal in my head for a long, long while, and it's quite exciting to see it finally become something solid. The doors to this RP are never closed - we take anyone and everyone, those experienced in RPing and fresh arrivals right off the boat; those who clocked 300+ hours with Morrowind and those who've never even seen the game's case. I won't bore you with teary-eyed preaching and proclamations, and simply go on to express the hope that we can put together this thrilling, complex and above all believable story chock-full of memorable scenes and characters from both sides of the conflict, regardless of the final outcome - even if that is the whole thing crashing and burning.

The Empire

It is a very thin line that separates the Maddened East from the west. That line is us.

We are not heroes, nor the pride of the Imperial Legion. Most of us never expected to see war in our lifetime. A good few of us practiced more peaceful crafts than war, not so very long ago. But in these times, you either take up the sword or you die upon it; the hordes of the Mad Goddess of Mournhold leave no other choice. There will be no mercy for those who surrender - not even the mercy of a swift death.

So we'll fight. For the Empire, for House Hlaalu or just for our homes, we'll fight, because a heart need not belong to a soldier for courage to take root in it. When reinforcements come at last to Ouadabridge, it will be to find us still defending it.

Let the fanatics come. They will find that in the right hands, even one sword can have enough bite to silence their madness.

The Temple

ALMSIVI is no more. All voices must sing praise to Ayem, now.

It is with her name on our lips that we march, and with her words in our ears that we wash away the sins of the heathen and the traitor with their own blood. Already, the Sacred East is ours. The puppet-king Helseth flees before us rather than face righteous retribution. The outlander legions quiver in their boots at the sight of our righteous armies, hiding behind their walls; they will not hide for long. And this is only the beginning.

Many are the lands that we have already liberated, but more remain. Resdayn will soon be ours, all of it - we need only take this one bridge, rid it of its pathetic defenders to open the gate to the west. Try as they might, it is inevitable; our voices shall drown theirs out.

In Ayem's name.

Technicalities

3) Characters *will* die along the way. Be ready to say goodbye to any you have, and please for the love of all that's holy don't think of dying as 'losing' and jump through hoops to avoid it. Winning should be a secondary concern to having fun, and dying can be fun (as weird as that sounds ) if you turn it into a memorable scene.