What little we really know of souls and their entrapment. That a soul, something incorporeal, could be transplanted from its mortal harness into a container--defying all nature and the will of the Dreamsleeve. But more importantly, what kind of Hell exists for those trapped within the bounds of a gem? Vast emptiness? Or, because the souls of lesser creatures and the weaker daedra are of so little potency, do they simply diffuse and become a net of magical energy? And, in the circles of the profane, what happens to the poor mortals whose souls are taken within the blackened gems of the necromancer? Do they feel anger?

And what happens when a soul gem is broken?

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The chirping of birds had stopped. The tracker, breath misting in the cool morning air, paid no mind--his mind was concentrated on a more important task. The trail of blood before him warped around a spindly evergreen, lukewarm and coagulated red splattered across its black trunk. It scattered into a holly, across a patch of grass, and through a small opening in a vast patch of briars. The deer was dying, slowly--he had been surprised his arrow hadn't dropped it where it had stood. Now, the thing could barely crawl, and he was beginning to feel pity for it. Better he caught it soon and put it out of its misery--not to mention begin preparing a meal. He drew a shortsword--dulled by rust and continued use--and began hacking his way through the undergrowth. It took little time, and soon the wall of thorns opened up upon... a road? The deer was dead, arrow protruding from its shoulder and surrounded by a pool of fresh blood. The road was a lucky break, he thought to himself, dragging the carcass from the road and to a more secure location in which he could finally prepare his breakfast. He checked his maps--handmade, but with most of the smaller towns marked--there was no sign of any road that should be here. It was little more than a dirt path, and was rather overgrown, but it was noticeably a road on any glance. He skinned the deer, leaving the hides out to dry over a nearby limb--and put the meat into a pot with a fair sprinkling of water and a powder of the bones. It would make a fair broth--nurishing enough for a day's exploration.

With his meal settled, the tracker returned to the road, calmly walking the path. The evergreens that lined the path grew into a thick patch, blotting out most of the light--the tips of the trees turned down towards the path as though attempting to form an arch over him as he walked--but the tracker thought nothing of his surroundings. He was used to the woods--unafraid of the many beasts and dangers--and evergreens were quite common in southern Skyrim. They grew thicker until, at some point--maybe an hour after walking in the shadow of their boughs--they began to thin out. There were houses hidden among the trees, overgrown and in disrepair. Curious, the tracker pressed on, until at last the trees ended and he came upon a village proper. Weeds had overgrown the many places that--in his mind--gardens would have lain. Vines and creepers had overgrown windows, puncturing glass and mortar. A few trees had even begun to sprout in the shadow of the village. Without any signs of fire, he ruled out any chance of the town having been overrun six years past during the Oblivion Crisis, but his mind was aroused. Why was this village abandoned? Why wasn't it on any maps? He began his search--starting with a small inn, and found little out of place. Bottles still in their racks, chairs still under the tables, trash still littering the floors. Nothing had been taken when the villagers had left. The search unsuccessful, he tried another building, a blacksmith's, by the huge furnace in the building's side. It was like stumbling upon a trove left behind for ages--ebony weapons adorned every wallpeg and ebony armor adorned several mannequins. Gathering several of the blades and strapping them to his belt and back, he moved on towards the forge, helping himself to many handfuls of raw ebony, filling his pack with as much as he could carry. Smile plastered on his face, he took off at a slow march, eager to get back to civilization and sell his treasure for all kinds of money. Perhaps he'd hire a group of people to aid him in scouring the town for more and bringing back the rest of the treasure. Yes, that would be a good idea.

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The story: An abandoned village rich in ebony has been found in the wilderness of southern Skyrim. What secrets does it hide?

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CHARACTER SHEETS MUST BE PM'D TO ME. I WILL POST THEM IN A SECOND POST.

Character sheets must contain all fields below.

Name:
Race:
six:
Age:
Birthsign: (If applicable.)

Class/Profession:
Class Description:
Abilities:

Equipment:

General Appearance:
Personality:
Short Biography:
Vices/Desires: (One or two things, can be broad, sweeping things like lust and control)

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RULES - There will be one warning and one warning only for any breach of the rules.
1.) NO UBERING
2.) No character controlling without another player's express consent.
3.) Romance is fine, don't go overboard. Anything vulgar is worthy of death--trust me, I watch a lot of B grade horror films. They always die.
4.) My word is law.
5.) No vampires or werewolves.
6.) Avoid one liners and lots of OOC speech.
7.) Run your posts through a spellchecker before posting them. It's hard on the eyes.
8.) Good luck, have fun.

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edit: if you read the opening post in the idea thread, please re-read the ending of the second paragraph, as some things have changed

The Characters. (That's you.)

Ribbotson

Name: Wayn Penald
Race: Redguard
six: Male
Age: Fourty-Nine
Birthsign: The Warrior

Class/Profession: Hunter (both in class and profession)
Class Description: A man raised and trained in the wild to hunt his prey and do very little else. The art of the hunt is simple in theory, but in practice is much more difficult. It requires the hunter to be at peak physical fitness as they may have to track their prey over a great distance at fast speeds. Heavy armour would only weigh a hunter down and reduce his movement, so they were the hides of their kills. Then comes the preperation; generally, it is best to get as close to the beast as possible, without alerting it. If the hunter is hunting say, a deer, he is likely to be unable to match it in speed, so he must remain unseen on the approach. Another method is to climb a tree which requires balance and a good jump. Finally, the kill itself is usually made in one of two ways; with a bow, or with a blade. The skilled hunter is proficient in both forms of slaying and can rely on either depending on the situation.
Abilities: (Not sure what exactly to put here x;)

Equipment:
- Iron Bow;
- Twenty Five Iron Arrows;
- Iron Shortsword;
- A full set of self-made leather armour, without the helmet and with bracers instead of gauntlets;
- A variety of ropes and metal implements (for traps);

General Appearance: When someone first looks upon Wayn, they can tell he lives in the wild; for starters, while his hair is cut short, it was obviously cut by Wayn as the lengths are uneven and the ends are split badly. His face is coated in a layer of dirt meaning his dark skin seems to be an even darker tone than it is, which inturn, causes more contrast with his pale blue eyes. Around his mouth grows a fair amount of hair; a beard made of grey wire-thin hairs. As for his body, Wayn is in great shape for his age, it must be all the vension he eats.

Personality: Wayn lacks people skills. After losing his father to a bear, Wayn has lived alone in his camp with no one to talk to, so over the years, his speech has become much more brief and less intelligent. Behind the brutish exterior, he's quite a nice guy, but, most of the time, he comes across as a complete barbarian as he waves him arms and grunts whilst talking to people. He has quite a temper, and when provoked, he can go into a rage fitting of a berserker and has been compared to an Orc whilst raging.

Short Biography: When Wayn was but a baby, his father murdered his mother, as she was cheating on him, in a drunken stuper. When he realised what he had done, he took Wayn and fled into the wild with what hunting equipment he had. Over the years, he trained Wayn to be a hunter aswell and they lived in a camp in Southern Skyrim. Whenever Wayn would ask why they couldn't live in a settlement with other people, his father would simply tell him that the city is a dangerous place and he should avoid it at all times. He developed his fear of water when he was out hunting one time, without his father and was confronted by a huge bear. As it rose up onto its hind legs to show its true height, he stumbled back in fear and landed in a large pond. Due to his armour and equipment, he sunk to the bottoms rapidly. Usually, he would of swam back up to the surface, but at the bottom of this pond, the weeds and plants had entangled his legs; he was stuck. He struggled and struggled but he failed to free himself, he passed out. When he came around, he was back at the camp with his father and a nice chunk of bear meat, he feared water ever since.

Years later, Wayn's father decided to tell him the real reason they lived in the wild. He took it hard and beat his father down in a blind rage before storming off, leaving his father in a sorry state in the camp. Wayn went hunting to take his mind off things, trying to suppress the rage within him. Once he managed to do so, he saw the error of his ways and ran all the way back to the camp. He found is father being torn apart by a bear. The rage once again took hold as he slashed and hacked the bear over and over until all its fur had been cut, all its bone were split, all its flesh ripped. He sat by the fire, next to his father's body and cried.

Vices/Desires/Fears: Wrath/To get his father back/Being submerged in water for any period of time

Chalupadealer

Name: Dieter Gruen ("Pete")
Race: Nord
six: M
Age: 22

Class/Profession: Farmer
Class Description: Even Skyrim needs its mundane field workers. The farmers of Skyrim still go about their regular chores like a counterpart from any other country, but most are especially experienced with learning the body language of the animals they take care of, and are also better than most as sensing danger and using ranged weaponry due to the time they spend defending any livestock from dangerous wild animals.

Abilities: Animal Empathy, Missile Weaponry, Keen Senses, Herbalism

Equipment: Iron Dagger, Oak Bow and 45 Iron Arrows, Fur Cap, Boots, and Cuirass, Sheepskin Pouch, Various Trinkets (Buttons, Playing Dice, Thread)

General Appearance: Dieter has well cropped brown hair and blue eyes. He is well-built but not overly strong. His skin is paler than most even though he is constantly working under the sun.
Personality: Well-mannered and submissive considering his Nordic heritage, but still gruff at times and possesses an extreme temper when it comes to misfortune.

Short Biography: Dieter lived as a farm hand since youth. His mother died when he was a teenager, and his father left him the farm and joined the army in his grief. Dieter longs to be a soldier like his father, but his grandfather stays with him and keeps him hard at work at their farmstead to keep him from running off. Dieter dreams of making something more of his life, but his grandfather keeps him in his place for now, hoping that Dieter will come to learn that a simple lifestyle is the most pleasant sort, not to mention long-lived.

Vices/Desires: Greed... Wealth Beyond Measure.

ringman

Name: Alexander vale
Race: Imperial
six: Male
Age: 26
Birthsign: The warrior


Class/profession: Knight/Black horse carrier reporter
Class description: noble protective and deadly/ one of the main reporters for the carrier
Abilities: He is a master at using a blade and can Use his acrobatics to dodge his enemies

Equipment: Silver shortsword, Overcoat, quill and paper

General appearance: young but rough man black hair short noise medium sized lips Green eyes.
Personality: Very smart good with words and very mysterious man. Most people think he is a man to look up to since he survived two major battles or the oblivion crises that also means don’t get on his bad side. Always draws a crowd when he goes out into the town and tells stories of when he was in the legion. All and all he is a very respectable man.

Short bio: Alex was born into the legion he fought in the battle of bruma and when martin gave his life for tamriel he was the rank of captain when he retired and joined the black horse carrier when he was given the story to report on a resent village being made when he stumbled on an abandoned town

Vice/Desire: since he joined the carrier he wanted to be one of the main writers and to be a land lord.

Jonasvault101

Name:Dro'Aiq
Nickname: Dro
Race: Cathay'raht Khajiit
six: Male
Age: 36
Birthsign: The Steed

Class/Profession: Hircine's Hunter
Description: A hunter who hunts all living things commanded by the lord Hircine. Skilled in bow and sword, this hunter is able to survive and kill in any environment, and is well adept in tracking.

Equipment: An enchanted Yew wood Bow that makes arrows burst into flame, 30 arrows. A Steel Katana laced with Silver and Ebony.

General Appearance: Dro has black fur, long and shaggy that is usually kept quite clean. He stands at an alarming 6'7". On his ears he has small golden hoops. And on his fur are various dyed patches resembling tattoos as a mark of a Hircine follower.

Personality: Dro'Aiq is a quiet Khajiit, he isn't quite right in the head, from past experiences. But over all he is quite friendly to those who show him the same kindness.

Short Biography: Dro'Aiq was born in Elsweyr, raised from the beginning as a hunter. During the Oblivion Crisis, he helped stave off Daedra attacks along the Elsweyr-Cyrodiil border. After the crisis ended, he returned home, only to fin his entire family gone.

He tracked them for days and days, but they were nowhere to be found. So he ventured into Cyrodiil, looking for them. He heard a rumor from a man in Bravil that a Khajiit family had decided to go north, to Skyrim. So Dro'Aiq headed that way as soon as possible.

And there he is today.

Vices/Desires: Finding his family, and an artifact that is supposedly tucked away in a mountain's cavern, placed their by the Akiviri soldiers many years ago.

Two things:
1.) This roleplay will begin on Monday afternoon/evening. Until that time, you may still send in character sheets with full freedom. After that time, if you have interest in joining, PM me and we'll work something out for why you're coming to the village.

2.) There is now a http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y179/DirkZephyrs/townmap.jpg I'm taking a few leaves out of the werewolf games I've played in. I'll fill in more of the map as the characters explore. The south road is to civilization, the west road winds up towards the mountains.