Dark Apotheosis III: The Heretical and the Exalted : The Elder Scrolls Series Discussion

» Wed May 11, 2016 1:31 pm

.DARK APOTHEOSIS.

+------------+

It should be said of most mortal entities that a common desire for power exists. No matter the caliber of their honor.

The souls of mortals are black, after all...

~~

Resdayn, 1E 668:

Spoiler

The War of the First Council is waged by the Chimer as a result of the events following the discovery of The Heart of Lorkhan by the mysterious and prodigal Dwemer. In a surge of inspiration, the Dwemer artificer Kagrenac conceives of a design-a means to harness the divine powers of the Heart and create an unstoppable god of their own creation. Powers not meant to be within mortal grasp.

For years now, both races enjoyed a relative peace alongside each other after Lord Indoril Nerevar of the Chimer and Dumac Dwarfking of the Dwemer used their personal friendship and influence to set differences aside and unite their people against the tyranny of Nordic invaders. Now it seems that a bid for power will tear everything they have created apart.

Lord Voryn Dagoth, of the Chimer Great House Dagoth, learned of this plot and reported his findings to Nerevar. The events that follow force Nerevar to take action in order to prevent the then unknown consequences the Dwemer would bring upon the world.

The First Council is no more. For a long period, blood is shed. After 32 years of conflict, the forces meet at the base of Red Mountain for a final bloodbath in 1E 700.

The Chimer, led by the charismatic and influential Indoril Nerevar, marched against the Dwemer. Curiously, most of the details of the battle are obscured by uncertainty. Conflicting accounts of the battle exist, but one thing is certain. The consequences of the Dwemer's hubris will be change Resdayn forever. By the end of the battle, the entire Dwemer race disappears seemingly without a trace. Red Mountain violently erupts, causing widespread destruction and changing the lay of the land itself. Resdayn, almost entirely changed by this catastrophe, would now later on be known by a new name...Morrowind.

Left to decide the fate of the Heart and Kagrenac's infernal tools, Nerevar leaves Lord Dagoth to guard the artifact while a discussion is held between Nerevar and his council, composed of his closest friends Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil. It is decided among them that the heart should be preserved but never used...

...Only to discover that in their absence, Lord Dagoth used the opportunity to steal divine energy from the Heart, twisting himself into a new being wrought with unholy godlike power. Nerevar and his councilors engage in a fierce struggle with Dagoth, now calling himself the inhuman Dagoth Ur. By the end, Indoril Nerevar is left dead, and Dagoth Ur presumably defeated. Left without their leader, and their land now damaged beyond repair, Nerevar's council assumes leadership of the Chimer and names themselves The Tribunal.

This new leadership kept the powers of the Heart untapped in honor of the late Nerevar, but only for a short time. As the sole keepers of the artifact in a new world, the desire and lust of mortals once again leads to shortsightedness. The Tribunal bathes in the divinity of the Heart, ignorant of the consequences to themselves and their people. Their sin transforms the entire Chimer race into the dark-skinned, red-eyed Dunmer. And from then on, Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil harness their divine power to become more than heroes, but deities to their cursed people.

This continues until, on a trip to restore their divine power, the Tribunal encounters another within the chamber of the Heart; an adversary long thought to have faded into little more than dried ink written in the texts of history...

27th of Last Seed, 3E 427: Present Day Morrowind

The Great Houses of Morrowind are increasingly pressured with the growing threat of the largest outbreak of the fatal Blight Disease yet. In addition, murders, kidnappings, and a range of other violent and blasphemous crimes are committed by the will of a mysterious cult. They claim to be the 6th Great House of Morrowind, risen from the ashes of Red Mountain. Lord Voryn Dagoth of the once destroyed House Dagoth of the Chimer of old has returned, as a divine tyrant. The Tribunal Temple, worshippers of the demi God heroes Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil is targeted regularly by the cult, suffering alongside the Great Houses. Strange people, calling themselves Sleepers, are seemingly influenced by a strange force. The highly contagious and life threatening Corprus Disease has become a sister threat alongside the Blight, killing many and tormenting even more.

The powers that be in Morrowind are losing control at an accelerating rate, and both the Empire and the Trbunal Temple decide that decisive action must be taken.

The Empire's Gambit: A Gathering of Heroes

Caius Cosades, Grand Spymaster of the Blades receives an order to assemble a group of uniquely talented individuals in order to determine where these afflictions came from and subsequently find a way to stop them, or at least, contain them. Dagoth Ur and his influence must also be investigated, and if possible, dealt with.

With eyes and ears everywhere, Caius sends a set of specific encoded instructions to his spies. They approach various people of skill, some of them to be promised favors or rewards too good to pass up, and others blackmailed or threatened in order to ensure their devotion to the empire's interests.

By letter, or by mouth, the chosen few are told to report to Caius Cosades in Balmora, the bustling council seat of Great House Hlaalu. They are to meet on the 1st of Frostfall, at one of his many safehouses, located beneath a tree in the North-East corner of Balmora before noon.

[Group 1: Elgen, Darknova50, Uglius Maximus, Illusionary Nothing(Vicorva), DeVagrant("Not a Display Name"), KoRRoDEAD, Aulakauss, ArgonianMageZelric, Manu]

Sinclaire: Updated

Spoiler

Name: Sinclaire Lettreux (secretly: Dorell)

six: Male

Age: 26

Race: Breton

Birthsign: The Lady

Class: Saboteur

Primary Attributes: Intelligence, Personality

Major Skills: Illusion, Speechcraft...

Minor Skills: Unarmored, Long Blade, Mysticism...

Height: 6'3

Weight: 168

Appearance: Sinclaire is often described as handsome or charming in his personal relationships, yet he leaves these tools mysteriously unused. His black hair flies about in the occasional wild curl, never falling any further than the tip of his brow. A cool, bright set of jade eyes watch intently, two windows with telescopes within to better see into the soul of the listener, as well as leave his air of confidence unadvlterated. His smooth healthy skin is devoid of scars, and most often, dirt. He is tall and graceful, with toned musculature. While he is not overly powerful, his resolve augments a firm grip. Dressed in a grey coat with gold trimmings running down the high collar, he looks rather out of place in Morrowind. The gold trimmings make the grey of the coat appear almost silver, lining the arms and openings of the garment. Black buttons are aligned at the sleeves. Between the open collar of the coat, the white frills of an exquisite undershirt announce their presence. Below the black leather belt with thin silver buckle rests jet black pants of heavy cloth design, better suited for traveling than dinner parties. Black, silver-toed boots poke their glinting heads out from beneath the pant legs. In his left ear, Sinclaire wears a single glass stone stud, cut in an angular design. The gem glints green in intense light.

Personality: Perceptive. Calculating. Sinclaire can be very opinionated, yet knows when it is best to watch and listen. He can read people rather easily, due to his experiences with nobility back in High Rock. Sinclaire is very good-natured and well-spoken, and believes in the idea of a second chance. He abhors those who kill for sport, or kill indiscriminately. He also does not agree with the killing of most criminals, believing that an attempt at reform must first be offered. He also has the confidence of a man of action. Despite his good nature, he can be quite serious; with his quick mind, he is able to think his way out of most situations both socially and tactically.

Weapon: A beautifully crafted straight sword with an ornate http://www.king-cart.com/store/oknight/AngeNoir_Handle_19_goldonsilver.JPG.(Instead of a skull toward the blade, there is an aquamarine gemstone.) The blade itself is crafted of the finest silver, highly susceptible to enchantments; however, the sword is unenchanted. The sword is long, thin, and straight to a fault; it is double edged, and has a particularly sharp point made for thrusting. Despite how thin the blade appears, it is quite sturdy.

Vyktoria: Updated

Spoiler

Name: Vyktoria Spellbinder
Race: Imperial
six: Female
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 170 lbs.
Age: 47 years

Sign: The Lover
Class: Sorceress

Physical Appearance: A lithely built woman with cutting, pale blue eyes and blood-red hair shot through with strands of grey, worn loosely down to her hips. Although clearly an individual of somewhat advanced years, her face and body display no evidence of wrinkles or scars, and the gentle angles around her jaw and eyes suggest a distant Elven ancestry.

She wears a pair of heavy, black cotton leggings, leather traveling boots and gloves, as well as a black, sleeveless shirt that angles towards her neck around the shoulders. Around her right bicep she wears an thin band of ebony, which upon close inspection, is inset with five rounded black soul gems. Her various rings are plainly ornamented and radiate a magical aura, and she wears a silk ribbon around her neck, which is laced through a setting with a small, luminous white stone. When on missions, she dons a set of battle-worn leather armour over her clothes, which have Aldmeri curses etched into the right vambrace, and have been stained with blood.

Weapon: Vyktoria possesses a spellbook of her own making. The tome is bound in black leather, with a silver latch on the front and a steel clamp running the length of the spine, which is in turn attached to a steel chain she links to her belt. She wears a fitting on her belt that can securely hold the book in place when it is not being used.

The pages of the book function like magical scrolls, individually enchanted with different spell effects that dissipate once used. Afterwards, the pages may be rewritten and enchanted. A wide variety of spells, including paralysis, barriers, spell shields and teleportation, are represented within.

Nevena: Elsewhere

Spoiler

Name: Nevena Veloth
Race: Dunmer
Age: 27
Class: Mage
Appearance: Small and tense with ash-coloured skin and all-black eyes. She wears feathers in her tousled black hair and hangs them from her staff. Her robes are green and travel-worn, open at the knees, underneath which she wears a brown top, skirt, trousers and boots. A small brown satchel hangs from her shoulder.

Ja'Rikki: Unchanged

Spoiler

Name: Ja'Rikki [Pronounced 'Ree-kee']
Gender: Lass
Race: Khajiit; Suthay
Age: 26
Birthdate: 25th of Sun's Height, 4E 13
Birthsign: The Apprentice

Description: Ja'Rikki is an unwieldy looking woman. Five-foot-nine, more limbs than torso, too-big ears and large ocean-blue eyes that she never fully grew into. She is covered head-to-tail in long orange fur with a large white patch on her front and gray markings in the form of various stripes and thin lining around her eyes. Her cheeks and ears sport fluffy tufts of fur, her feet, elbows and tail are more thickly covered than the rest of her, her nose is pink the whiskers at the end of her short muzzle are black.

Rikki sits at the lighter end of healthy weight with a highly athletic build. Her clothing covers her modestly, care taken to leave pretty much everything to the imagination:

Gear consists of a high-necked gray undershirt under a worn-in dark green lace-up bodice of thick cloth, a pair of gray breeches cut off just above the knees, tucked into leather padding on the knees themselves, free-floating light leather sleeves belted on just below the armpit and just above the wrist, a pair of custom leather boots fitted around her digitigrade foot structure and cloth wrappings around her palms.

Additionally, a handful of assorted rings adorn her ears, a Water Breathing-enchanted steel necklace with an amethyst inset is draqed about her neck and a pair of smith's goggles rest on her head just against her ears.

Eyl'Yti: Elsewhere

Spoiler

Name: Eyl’Yti (Known as Pale-Heart among slaves)
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Class: Vigilante (Former Slave)
Skills: Sneak, Acrobatics, Short Blade, Marksman, Hand to Hand, Security.
Appearance: https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/8364502/EylYti%20Final.jpg

Jet black fur covers his body except for his throat which is adorned with a patch of white. His fur is thick but not overly long, it tends to gather in clumped spikes. His eyes are a piercing pale blue. His nose and ears are scarred and nicked from old wounds.
Apparel: He wears very little, some torn breeches, a loose tattered jacket and a ragged scarf that he wears loosely around his neck to cover his white patch of fur. Beneath the sleeves of his jacket he wears a pair of slave’s bracers. His unkempt fur and choice of attire gives the visage of a beggar or slave.
Weaponry: His weapons are a rather plain but well forged steel wakizashi and tanto each with a sturdy steel sheath. He usually also carries a few throwing knives with him.

Yuu'Ko: Elsewhere

Spoiler

Name: Yuu’Ko
Race: Khajiit
six: Female
Age: Late 20’s
Class: Hunter.
Skills: Archery/markswoman and short blades. Tracking. Drinking. Foraging.
Physical Description: https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/8283346/Screenshot%202015-12-29%2022.02.24.png%C2%A0
Yuu’Ko is a Khajjit with mottled fur. Her fur is short and mostly tan coloured with black and white splotches in odd places. She has a slim almost Siamese face plus slender pointed ears, green eyes and a black nose. Her clothing is rough and ready, black, dark green or tan leather. It is evident that she spends her coin on her bow and not her clothing. She is a little grubby but not entirely unkempt.
Character traits: The only special thing about Yuu’Ko is that she cannot hold her drink. She is also terrible at gambling. Whilst good with a bow and short blades for hunting she is also horrible at combat. On the plus side she is very loyal if you win her trust.

Larry: Elsewhere

Spoiler

Name: Larry Wall
Race: Imperial
Age: 27
Class: Spy/Blades Agent

Appearance: http://img259.imageshack.us/img259/8996/larryua2.jpg Larry is slim and of athletic build, this is mostly to a lack of diet rather than any effort on his part. He dresses casual with simple black tops over cotton trousers; his shoes are a mix of fur and leather and are more fashionable than protective. He has cotton dressing over his left forearm which conceals a tattoo.

Physically, Larry doesn't stand out - A prerequisite of his job and he keeps himself clean shaven with his hair loose. His average appearance is contrasted by bright green eyes.

Gear: Larry wears a simple iron dagger worn against his boots and in plain sight, whilst concealing five steel throwing daggers within his leather satchel. The satchel itself contains a large number of septims, a map, journal and three flasks of flin. He is always found with moon sugar in a secret pocket. While travelling, Larry prefers a trenchcoat and equips himself with a steel shortsword which he uses to cut grass when bored.

Alan: Elsewhere

Spoiler

Name: Alan Vidarsson
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Class: Scout

Appearance
Height: 6'1
Face: Strong jaw. Wrinkles around the eyes when smiling. Has a not very well kept beard, with some grey already spreading. A scar visible above his left eye, trace of an old incident with a Shein bottle and a grumpy argonian.
Hair: Short hair, dark brown. They grey of his beard has not yet spread to his hair.
Skin tone: Fair complexion.
Eyes: Grey eyes.
Body: Alan has a strong chest, with wide shoulders. His years of service has made his legs strong, but also added some restlesness to his step.
Armour: Dark leather armour, covering the shoulders and chest. Simple leather glowes. Strong and well worn boots.
Weapon: Well honed steel bastard sword strapped on his back with his pack. Hunter's knife.

Fara: New

Spoiler

Name: Fara

Gender: Female

Race: Bosmer

Age: fifty-one
Apparent Age: early twenties

Appearance: Fara is a young-looking bosmer woman of average size, on the slim rather than voluptuous side. Her face is nice, lighted by a pair of large green eyes. Her light built is misleading, as years of archery, running and climbing have muscled and toned her frame. Her hair is a nondescript dark brown, cut short and more often than not left in an untidy (but usually clean) tangle. She's wearing an undyed tunic and skirt of good quality linen, under a lightweight dark brown leather armor reinforced with burnished steel scales over the vitals and steel pauldrons. This is supplemented with greaves and bracers of elven alloy. On her back is a cloak of patchwork furs from just about every furred animal she had encountered, the hem weighted with lead shot. On top of it she wears a wide-brimmed hat that hides a steel skullcap, adorned with a vividly colored snakeskin band. On her right hip she carries a saber from Hammerfel – slightly curved, only half of the blade's back sharpened, on her left a silver dagger. On her back is her main weapon, a bosmeri recurve bow - compact but quite powerful, and immune to humidity (Valenwood is a jungle afterall) and a full quiver. What isn't immediately obvious is that the bow is enchanted to reduce it's drawn weight, letting her use a bow more powerful than she could on her own.). A small backpack holds a few items (skinning and gutting knives, thread and needle, some soap, hairbrush and the like, and samples of her last distillations.)

Occupation: Huntress/scout and backwood alchemist. Fara is a skilled huntress; a very good shot with a bow, able to move discretely and find her ways into the wild. She's also quite good with a blade, making up with speed and accuracy for her lack of size and raw power. She has a lot of practice at tavern brawls – more often than not with improvised weapons such as bottles, table legs and the like as she lacks the size and strength to rely on her fists. She's got some skill as a backwood herbalist and alchemist – simple potions and poisons, but also moonshine – both for trade and personal use, though her production usually runs toward strong and foul.

History/Bio: Fara was born in a somewhat destitute bosmer family in eastern Walenwood.She scrapped by as a huntress for a few years until a friendly stranger buying drink turned out to be a Legion recruiter, making for a painful wake-up. She served for a regular twenty years stint as a scout, bouncing up and down the rank ladder as her scouting skills conflicted with a definitively un-military mindset. Barely managing an honorable discharge, she burned her whole retirement bonus in a frantic month of revelry before finding work again as a Fighter's guild affiliate, but also as a Blades contractor, supplementing it with fur hunting, pest control and the occasional bounty-hunting foray, drifting to about every corner of Tamriel.

Her last job has been launched by a full purse and a strange coded message asking her to come to Balmora in Morrowind to meet one Caius Cosades, on Blades work. Having quickly spent the money and her curiosity aroused, she couldn't refuse the task at hand…

Personality: Fara is quite a cynic – her destitute youth didn't leave her much faith in men, mers or beasts. Having served twenty years in the Legion cleaning up behind bandits, cultists and other no-gooder's along with enforcing the questionable decisions of often thoroughly corrupts officials didn't help. She's definitively short-term oriented – she's always been a drifter and knows she's living on borrowed time. Having little to lose beyond her life added to a fairly severe case of the bosmer's lack of common sense means she's willing to take chances most would consider insane. It also makes her very difficult to scare. She's eager to have fun any chance she gets, especially if it's on someone else's money...

The Temple's Bid for Salvation: A Holy Inquisition

Meanwhile, the Temple branch in Molag Mar, increasingly suffers violence at the hands of the 6th House, enduring disease, the unexpected appearance of ash storms, and the faltering faith of the populace. Worse still, heresy is spread by those previously faithful, crying words of prophecy. They speak of a savior, the vessel of Lord Indoril Nerevar, who will return to reunite the clans and Great Houses, and tell the story of those who betrayed him.

The Tribunal Temple, seeking to retain their power and sway over the people, calls for an Inquisition to form. Aid is requested from the High Fane, but due to the need to maintain the defense of each temple, few men were spared. Unsatisfied, the priests of Molag Mar decided to call to the public for both believers and mercenaries alike to clense the countryside, uncovering and eradicating threats to the Temple, and it's leadership.

Rewards are promised, fanatics are drawn. Those who wish to answer the call are told to meet in Molag Mar on the 1st of Frostfall, atop the upper plaza, in order to be judged. Incentive is to be discussed upon approval.

[Group 2: Verlox2, FC4, Shadow666, Adeth, Shadow_of_Eternity(S_o_E), Epic Scroll 97, Half Tooth, Crimson Paladin]

Verlon: Updated

Spoiler

Name: Velron Sevryn
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Class: Inquisitor
Appearance: http://instidy.com/s...3870_1422052138
Face: Angled, clean of tatoos unlike the body. He has a cold and aristocratic, but calculating look.
Hair: Shortened to neck length, black.
Skin tone: Dark ashen tone of the dunmer.
Eyes: blood-red eyes flicker with a hint of a cold curiosity.
Body: Beneath the full Indoril Armour his body is toned but not muscular, covered in scars and traditional Dunmeri tattoos.
Armour: Full Indoril Armour
Weapon: Ebony Mace, Steel Jinxblade
Skills: Illusion skills primarily in mind altering, paralysis and light skills, destruction magic in fire and lightning, proficient in blunt weapons and the medium armour of the ordinators. Skilled interrogator/torturor using his speechcraft and magic spells in gaining information from his guests.

Personality: Verlon is cold and calculative, seeing those who oppose the faith of ALMSIVI to be a threat to that. Does not like outlanders or non believers, but with the formation of the group, he has been made to add exceptions to the list. In the short time he has been shown that not all are to be misjudged from first appearences, yet his beliefs on the matter orevail for all others not aiding the faith.

Avarys: Unchanged

Spoiler

Name: Avarys Tenirar
Race: Dunmer

six: Male

Age: 55

Basic information: Avarys hails from a minor noble house that owes allegiance to House Indoril. He had been an Ordinator for 25 years , rising to the rank of "Hornalacor.", roughly translating to "Captain."

Skills: Avarys is a battlemage with a focus on out maneuvering his foes. He is agile, abling to move fast in combat. He is capable of casting fire-based destruction magic.

Equipment: He wears the iconic armor of the Ordinators. As an officer, he stands out among others with a gold cloak on his back. He carries a light-weighted spear as his primary weapon, with a short ebony-forged saber as a backup.

Appearance: Avarys stands at 6'3, roughly average for a dunmer. While most Dunmer has a dark blue skin, Avarys oddly has a light green pigment. Years as an Ordinator has him in prime physique. His year is a short, bright red mohawk.

Suren: Unchanged

Spoiler

Name: Suren Falawi Redoran
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Age: 76

General Information: Suren was born into the noble Falawi family of House Redoran and is a native of Morrowind. A devout man, in his early years he sought to join the Buoyant Armigers, but was rejected on account of getting into a scuffle with other prospective recruits.

He returned to House Redoran, and due to his family ties was made a House Brother. Incredibly skilled in arms, Suren was always a part of the seasonal crusades in the interior of the Red Mountain. His spear and blade have hewn their fair share of Corprus beasts and other blighted beings, and he had won for himself great honor.

His preferred weapons are spears and long blades, but he has training in most other types of weapons. Incredibly athletic, he is used to forced marches both in and out of his traditional bonemold armor.

Equipment: A full harness of bonemold armor, a spear with a silver tip, and a silver bastard sword

Misc items: Signet of House Falawi

http://igorlevchenko.deviantart.com/art/Redoran-watch-434310461

http://igorlevchenko.deviantart.com/art/Morrowind-Dunmer-pilgrim-452938758

Zethan: Unchanged

Spoiler

Name: Zethan of House Telvanni
Gender: Male
Age: 54

Talents: Magic, alchemy, Dwemer lore

Items:

A message from Divayth Fyr explaining Zethan's expertise and purpose.

Two Dwemer gauntlets, one looking a bit like Wraithguard but with a strange dark stone embed on the back of the hand. The other a simple gauntlet with a hidden compartment for assorted Dwemer tools.

Clothing: A brown simple robe with Telvanni symbols and a Dwemer briastplate with an alchemist's satchel.

Gerald: Updated

Spoiler

Name: Gerald Nibelese

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Race: Imperial

Class: Fighters Guild Defender

Class description: A Moderately skilled warrior of the Fighters Guild, a defender can be relied upon for more difficult tasks than basic swordsmen, and are often allowed to perform a job solo, while lower ranks are encouraged to work in teams. His fighting skill is comparable to that of a guardsman, and he is experienced in dungeon delving and pest control.

Skills: Blunt Weapon, Block, Medium Armor, Short sword, Hand-to-Hand, Wilderness Survival

Appearance: An average man of unremarkable build and common features: he has a squared jaw and slightly protruding, almost claw like nose between brown eyes. His hair is short cut and wild, with an earthen color. He stands at maybe 5’8” and looks to weigh no more than 180 pounds with good physique.

Weapons: Steel Mace, Iron Dagger

Armor: Nordic Ring mail cuirass, Chainmail Coif, Bonemold bracers, leather gloves, Bonemold boots, Iron shield

Clothes: Simple cotton tunic under his armor, brown breeches, thick netch leather belt, skull cap under coif, and a thick ash cloak with a Fighter’s Guild clasp for storms.

Inventory: A brass wedding band on his left hand and a small piece of painted chitin on a beaded leather strap around his neck, under his armor. A map of Vvardenfell and compass, as well as rations and waterskin.

Bio: Has a wife named Seria and a child. He was born and raised in Mournhold and moved to Balmora for work, joining the fighter’s guild there. He is now one of the highest ranking members of that branch, as it is a more novice branch of the guild. His views on the temple are mixed, but he feels a religion is important for people. He worships at the Imperial Shrine, preferring Mara and Stendarr but worshiping them all the same.

Eyra: Updated

Spoiler

Name: Eyra Ravenswife

Race: Nord

Class: Shaman

Age: appears around 46

Height: 5'11"

Hair: pale blond, slowly greying, long and flowing relatively free. Held back from her face with a narrow silver band carved with runes.

Eyes: greyish blue, like thin ice, and just as piercing

Skin: pale and thin, the first lines showing around her eyes.

Clothes: Grey wollen dress, the hem reaching just above her ankles. Sturdy leather boots. Fur-trimmed blue cloak

Weapon: Yew staff, carved with runes. A human skull with rubies for eyes is fastened at the top. Various feathers, teeth and beads are dangling from it.

Known skills: Restoration, Alchemy

Personality: anolytical and organised, Eyra likes to view problems from different angles before deciding on the best solution. She is confident in her own abilities and passionate about healing. Eyra has little patience for people seemingly displaying a lack of common sense.

Known bio: Eyra had links to a covern of witches in her youth, but now regrets that time of her life. She is haunted by the memory of a young girl she was ordered to kill during a ritual. At some point, Eyra killed a red-haired witch named Ellya and it is her skull that is serving as a focus for Eyra's staff.

Eyra suffers from an illness of as yet unknown origin or manifestation. She joint the Temple in order to gain the favour of the Tribunal, in the belief that they will cure her in return.

Inzlaalurith: Unchanged

Spoiler

Name: Inzlaalurith (Inz – larl – oo – rith) (Second name not given)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Female
Age: (Not specified)
Height and Build: Tall for a Dunmer. Awkward, bony and knobbly.
Home/Origin: Beneath Tormented Spire in Stonefalls (Morrowind mainland)

In Five Words: Unafraid, Erractic, Unconventional, Magical, Confident.

Ashu: New

Spoiler

Name: Ashu-Idan Shisharu
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Birthsign: The Lover

Appearance: Standing at 5'9" with a lithe physique, Ashu is not an imposing looking Dunmer. He has black hair, worn in a topknot, and a tattoo bearing the imagery of the Shrine of Valor on his back.

Personality: As with many Armigers, Ashu endeavors to model his behavior off of the virtues traditionally espoused by Vivec, such as courtesy, daring, generosity, humility, valor, compassion, and a silver tongue. More of a listener than a talker, he is typically a quiet mer but can talk one's ear off when interested or engaged, typically about the topic of poetry. He has taken a particular interest in Ashland verse, and has expressed a desire to track down the Nerevarine prophecies for the purpose of literary preservation. Coupled with his belief that the Nerevarine Cult is harmless and undeserving of persecution, only his loyal service in Vivec's name and his silver tongue have kept him from being tossed in the Ministry of Truth.

Equipment: Full chitin armor, Ashlander styled shirt and pants, a chitin recurve bow, a steel flameblade (enchanted steel shortsword), a steel dagger, thirty chitin arrows, and a ring of aversion.

Misc items: Quill, inkwell, several blank papyrus scroll.

These two groups of brave individuals may very well hold the key to the survival of Morrowind...and perhaps even, Tamriel. It is yet to be seen whether or not mortal kind will be able to accept that only the Gods decide the fate of man and mer...

Recap:

http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1578538-rp-dark-apotheosis-i-introduction-and-union/

Spoiler

Group One:

Sinclaire, a mysterious, well-dressed noble exile, arrives in Morrowind as a stowaway on a trade boat. Receiving a letter from the Empire, he is instructed to head for Balmora. Around the same time, Pale-Heart is an outlaw who primarily frees slaves, and as he frees another group of them, one of them approaches him with orders from the Empire to report to Balmora. As Nevena, an austerely cursed, quiet girl, arrives in Balmora via Silt Strider, she chances upon the beginnings of a fight. Vyktoria, a hot headed Shadow Legionnaire, was threatened by a drunkard in the streets; instead of disarming the man, she armed a spell with the intent to kill. Nevena quickly disarmed the man herself, and disappeared into the crowd, prompting Vyktoria to follow. Meanwhile, Larry and Alan both meet by coincidence at the Drowned Rat Bar. Larry is an Imperial Agent, with a raw addiction to drugs; mainly, moonsugar. Alan is a simple lumberjack from Skyrim, and unsure of what to expect. During their drinking session, it is revealed that both of them are heading to the same place. Simultaneously, Yuu'Ko, an eccentric archer, is traveling in the countryside surrounding Balmora. Set upon by a brigand, she is put in a dire situation. However, Eyl'Yti, who is secretly the infamous Pale-Heart, hears their struggle, and appears just in time to disable the thief.

Years later, Ja'Rikki is an accomplished Dwemer excavator, and exploring a Dwemer ruin in the mountains of Hammerfell. She and her companion Demona uncover a complicated Dwemer construct. Once Ja'Rikki began to examine the machine, she is stolen off into a portal, and sent back years into the past. Knocked unconscious, she floats down the river Odai into Balmora, where Sinclaire finds and drags her from the water.

Soon, the party meets together with Caius Cosades. They are briefed on their mission, which is to obtain a Dwemer Puzzle Box for his informant, who is supposed to be an expert on the Dwemer. Sinclaire and Vyktoria have an argument, and the party becomes wary of Vyktoria, who cannot always control her powers. Larry stops by his house and receives orders from Caius to watch Vyktoria. Sinclaire simultaneously takes it upon himself to nurture the morale of the group due to its haphazard nature; if they are to survive what's to come, they must all learn to trust each other.

Continuing on to the ruins, the party encounters a group of marauders. Ja'Rikki and Nevena steal off to the side, unsure of what to do. Vyktoria decimates most of them, prompting Sinclaire and Eyl'Yti to save the few that remain. Nevena attempts to help Rikki, giving her the power to conjure a spell to kill one of the archers. Ja'Rikki is horrified by this, and Nevena feels alienated by her. Vyktoria and Sinclaire have an exchange, and Sinclaire tries to control his hatred for Vyktoria, realizing that she reminds him of his father, Alistair Dorell. Mercy killing a guar, Ja'Rikki yells at Vyktoria and Nevena for their perceived readiness to kill. Vyktoria is jaded, and relents on her choices that she believes she made in order to protect the innocent. Nevena is hurt, and begins to believe she would be better off not trying to make friends. Sinclaire attempts to console Rikki, in an effort of damage control. As the party recovers, they arrive at the entrance of Arkngthand...

Group Two:

Verlon is an Ordinator, and an Inquisitor of the High Fane. Interrupted during an interrogation of a heretic, the High Fane sends him and Avarys, an Ordinator Hornalacor, to lead an inquisition that will be forming in the city of Molag Mar. Verlon is abrasive, commanding, and xenophobic; he is known to be quite ruthless among the Ordinator ranks. Avarys is plagued by the trauma he suffered from the hands of the Sixth House; he was one of the few survivors of a large-scale, secret operation in the Ashlands. Around the same time as their departure, Gerald, a Defender of the Fighters Guild, says his goodbyes in Balmora and makes his way to Molag Mar, where he believes he will be able to better protect his family from the growing threat of the Blight creatures. A long distance away, Inzlaalurith is chased and almost killed by a Dremora, seeking to retrieve a powerful gem from her. Inzlaalurith is cold, mysterious, and always accompanied by an equally enigmatic Flame Atronach she calls Blaze. Severely injured, Inzlaalurith struggles to seek out civilization.

Verlon and Avarys travel together and meet with a caravan, where Suren, a respected warrior of the Redoran, silently rides. Once they arrive at Molag Mar, Verlon and Eyra meet. Eyra is a gifted mage who excels in healing; she is intelligent and perceptive, and is wary of the Temple and its followers. Eyra experiences a tense moment when she screens Verlon for signs of disease; healing him of the beginnings of a minor sickness. Simultaneously, Zethan of the Telvanni watches the caravaners as they disembark. Zethan is an apprentice of Divayth Fyr, the most elite of researchers investigating Corprus and the Blight. Suren sees him, and judges the wizard. Zethan, however, soon earns a modicum of trust from the Redoran.

Soon, all of those who answered the summons of the Temple meet with Rotheloth, who tells them of their most immediate threat: the sewers. Something in the sewers has been calling Dunmer to the depths; these Dunmer find themselves diseased and confused once they are broken of their trance. Springing to action, Gerald, Verlon, Suren, and Avarys split up and form search parties to survey the underworks. Soon after they enter, Inzlaalurith arrives in Molag Mar. Once she is healed, she takes care of her errands and is convinced by Blaze to help heal Red Mountain; and the best way to do that was to help the Temple. Tentatively, Inzlaalurith seeks out the Temple, and is informed that she must find them in the sewers. While this happens, Verlon's party finds a delusional Dunmeri woman, and sends her to the Temple of examination and questioning. Suren's party is attacked by a grotesque Corprus infected rat, which is killed by the Redoran.

However, a multitude of other things happen in the sewers; Suren falls under a trance and attacks an Ordinator, Verlon and Zethan find evidence of Sixth House activity, and Avarys encounters a large group of smugglers. Suren and Gerald meet and decide to send the Corprus infected rat specimen to Eyra, as an Ordinator from Suren's party tells his comrades of what transpired when the rat attacked them. Making what seems to be his last stand, Avarys is found by Gerald, who aims to come to his aid...

Rules for RP:

1. Please wait for Character Sheet approval before posting. Message your sheets to me, ArgonianMageZelric, and I will get back with you ASAP. This RP is open for new members!

2. Fighting between characters is allowed, but please make sure you properly arrange this with the player(s) involved, especially before any lasting damage is intended. Please, no senseless killing. NO UBERING. Be reasonable.

3. Romance is allowed as well, as long as no intensely pormographic scenes are detailed. I believe this is also Forum Policy. Also, try and make it realistic.

4. Currently, the use of multiple characters is strongly discouraged. The multitude of players and splitting of groups dictates a need for simplicity at the outset. This will likely change as well as the RP goes on.

5. The scaling of the cities and structures in Morrowind will be more immense than rendered in the original game. Balmora is a large, busy city. Molag Mar is a haven for refugees, pilgrims, and priests.

6. Please try and begin your post with your group number, to make the threads easier to navigate. Any chat directed toward players should be noted by "OOC:". Any character pvssyr thereafter within the same post should be marked "IC:".

7. Overall, the focus is to have fun and flesh out an amazing story for our characters.

» Wed May 11, 2016 7:11 pm

Group 2: Vivec Foreign Quarter Docks

Verlon once again removed his helmet as an acolyte came up to him to screen for any disease, avoiding his furious gaze as first the Imperial and then the Telvanni left the docks, both not bearing any sign of the blight or corprus. Zethan had appeared genuinely sincere when he made his apology, as he was being screened, which made the Inquisitor think more about the extent of his own outburst. When finally complete Verlon's fists uncurled as he stood back up and saw the captain with a large bag of valuable gems. Nodding to one of the ordinator guards, the dunmer removed the bad from the captain's grasp with his yells of confusion.

"Greed is not a good look for you captain. Do as i ask and when you use these ALMSIVI intervention scrolls, the coin will await for you and the crew. Gives you enough motivation to remove this mistake from my sight and done properly." With that said the Inquisitor turned on the balls of his feet and waved the man away. "Leave now, the sooner that filth is gone from this city the sooner you get your coin"

The guards from the High Fane awaited Verlon and the rest of the group that remained but the Mer stopped to face the others. "If you wish to rest before returning to the High Fane then do so, the Black Shalk Cornerclub is the closest nearby, you will be summoned when you are needed." Verlon said as he motioned towards the direction that Zethan and Gerald were headed. "Those who do not may follow me with the escort directly to the High Fane, where you will be able to receive your rewards after telling the Temple Master and the High Fane what transpired." The anger in him had subsided, now that everyone was clear of any disease and the WaveStrider had set sail.

"Let us move out Sera, we must not keep the Temple Master and the Archcannon waiting" HE instructed the escort leader who nodded. "Move out, we are in the foreign quarter, so if any outlander tried to stop our passage you know what to do" He did not expect any problems to occur, but with the madness of Molag Mar, he would not be surprised anymore.

There had been an itching feeling in the back of his mind about who little information was given, how unprepared he had been. For a fleeting moment he had though whether it was his age slowly gaining up on him, but shook that thought away quickly, he was no human man who would lose all sense of self as he aged, the Mer mind was strong, which only further convinced him that something else entirely was happening, Dagoth Ur had returned after all.

» Wed May 11, 2016 11:42 am

Group One
- Ja'Rikki -

Ja'Rikki paid attention to her traveling companions as they spoke. She still wasn't sure if she could call them 'ally' or 'friend' just yet. Rikki knew in her mind she'd gleaned too little of these people to trust them entirely, but her heart desperately wanted her to. Fara's suggestion of a potion allowing them to make a getaway via the water if things went awry made her smile, though looking up at the upper levels of the city she wondered if hitting the water from so high up would hurt them.

Sinclaire proposed he pose as a scholar with either her or Fara as a bodyguard and while Vyktoria's scathing comment about her 'not accepting tasks she found unpalatable' upset her, it wasn't enough to make her bite at the obvious bait. The Khajiit merely rolled her eyes at the battlemage, finding the jab to be incredibly juvenile.

'It's like she thinks we should all have the decades of training she has. I'm not a soldier, damn you and I don't want to be one. I certainly don't want to end up a sociopathic engine of death, thanks,' Rikki thought with a low murr of agitation and cracked her neck idly.

Looking back down, Rikki sighed. She wasn't sure what to think of Vyktoria. On one hand, she disliked practically every facet of the woman's being; how she held herself, how she spoke, her unnecessarily gruesome methodology and better-than-you attitude. On the other, the mage had actually shown some compassion here and there and had a knack for healing and alchemy, though another part of her wasn't sure if the latter should be filed under 'good'; all that power and the ability to heal, but she'd clearly rather set people on fire than help them. Healing had seemed a solemn duty, like an obligation, but destruction made her almost giddy like a child.

Ja'Ri decided such things wouldn't help her any to dwell on, however and tried to dismiss them as best she could from her thoughts. She noted there were people on the boat that had come in and they were violently arguing. She wondered absently a moment why they were upset.

'Ought to find a good poison, keep it ready in case she becomes a problem.'

The thought came suddenly and unbidden, stopping her as she had begun to open her mouth to speak. Rikki swallowed hard and stuck her hands in her pants pockets, doing and saying nothing for a few moments longer.

'Why did I think that? What.. What was I before I lost it all, that that would be an acceptable solution?'

Closing her eyes, the Khajiit took a deep breath to refocus.

'anolyze later, stuff to do now,' she told herself and let the breath out.

"Yeah, just tell me where I need ta go and what I should listen for," Rikki finally spoke up, though her voice lacked the enthusiasm it'd had a moment ago when she'd first seen the city, "I.. could use a bit of time on my own to gather my thoughts anyhow."

» Wed May 11, 2016 1:00 pm

OOC: Long post, due to absense. Another coming shortly for Vivec entrance, to not have a wall of text.

Inzlaalurith

Group 2: Aboard the Ship

She hated boats.
And that was it.
Truly she’d always harboured a vague fear of the sea that didn’t really seem to have any grounding in past experience or make any sense. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of water, or swimming, more the vast expanse of unchartered, unbreathable space filled with demons who knew how to navigate its depths. Sitting in a confined space atop her fears was a step too far.
Blaze was no different. To her the sea was hell, she’d explained:

It is the shared hell of all fire atronahces, that one day we will be repeatedly cast into the mighty ocean feelings our flames smothered to death for eternity. It is so feared that none of us ever speak of it, not even those who commit the worst unspeakable acts are given that punishment.

And so Inzlaalurith had disconnected from her body, leaving it curled up in a hold, shuddering, sweating and shaking. Nothing from her direct surroundings bothered her as she hovered somewhere and nowhere in the Mystic void.

We’ve been here before. Do you remember?
Blaze appeared before the elf in all her firey glory, looking much more majestic than usual.
I remember. It hasn’t changed much has it?
Blaze looked around, slowly taking in the aetherial scenery
It is hard to say if it has changed.
Hmmm The elf rethought It appears to us as what we need it to be, rather than being a static entity. Then she noted the shape of a ghostly volcano erupting in the distance. Spewing mystical blue and purple liquid rock into the air and down its sides.
Was that always there?
Blaze turned and watched for a moment, I believe it has been, but when we were here before we were too preoccupied to notice.
Do you think we could reach it if we walked there, or would it be like the mystery of the rainbow that has no end?
Blaze smiled, her flames crackling softly in a hypnotically peaceful pattern. I think we could reach it.
She sensed a ‘but’
But we cannot forsake our bodies right now to embark on such a journey. Inzaalurith finished for her.

As she went to sit down the back of her neck prickled as if they were being watched, Quickly rising she span around and cast Detect Life.

The flash of the spell was so bright she had to snap her eyes shut to avoid blinding herself. Without looking though she became aware of daedric entities all around them.

Suddenly she was somewhere else.

Cold hard tiles beneath her knees. Her skin burned and she could feel tear stains down her face, the liquid dripping off her chin into a puddle beneath her. She burned all over, all the way to her bones, but there was no panic, only a numb space where panic once had been.
She tried to turn her head but as she did so the skin on her neck cracked and pulled, seeping out a clear pus like substance.
Falling forwards her cheekbone collided with the floor causing a wave of pain through her skull. Straining painfully to make sense of the world sideways, Blaze stood before her.

Inzlaalurith jolted upright so hard she nearly threw herself out of the sleeping cot onto the Ship’s planks beneath her. Her chest tightened and no matter how hard she tried to gasp for air none came. The Ship was rocking dangerously but she made herself stand up. This was a familiar situation.... she had experienced this many times before.
Breath slower.
Slower....
Even slower.....
Nothing bad is happening right now. That happened a long time ago.

As a gradual calm descended, she felt unbelievably grateful that she’d managed to find somewhere private to sleep. There were no witnesses.

Suddenly another wave of panic, as she felt a rush of heat hitting her as though Blaze has very instantaneously been injected beck into her head. The same thing was happening to Blaze.
It’s ok Blaze.
It’s ok. That’s not happening any more. We are safe.
Calm.....

Inzlaalurith waited patiently, until Blaze seemed to have regained some composure.
We’re ok Blaze. That’s not happening any more.

I’d like to come out, but I think I’ll wait until we’re off this thing.
Taking a moment to listen, she caught the sounds of shouting and the word “Docks”
I think we’re here.

» Wed May 11, 2016 12:34 pm

Inzlaalurith

Group 2: Entering Vivec Foreign Quarter

Gratefully Inzlaalurith stepped off the gangplank and onto solid tiled ground. She almost wanted to lay her body flat on the floor and kiss it just to appreciate it’s solidness beneath her.

We’re ok

Coming fully back to herself, and wondering how on earth she could have been unaware of it beforehand, she saw The Inquisitor venomously spitting and shouting at Zethan. With Zethan himself looking abjectly ashamed, sporting the tail-between-the-legs look very neatly.

She had been to Vivec before, but that has been before Blaze. She’d found it grand back then, founded on the false promises of hypocritical demi-gods, but grand none-the-less. It had stretched out before her in a sweeping scape of waterfalls and glittering banners. Now as she looked around it just looked tired and washed out. The water seemed murky, though in its narrower cannel ways it held no fear over her.

"If you wish to rest before returning to the High Fane then do so, the Black Shalk Cornerclub is the closest nearby, you will be summoned when you are needed." The inquisitor said as he motioned in the direction that Zethan and Gerald were headed. "Those who do not may follow me with the escort directly to the High Fane, where you will be able to receive your rewards after telling the Temple Master and the High Fane what transpired."

Inzlaalurith thought for a moment, on the one hand she could svck it up, go the High Fane and move on with her and Blazes goal as they set out to, or on the other hand she could go and have a stimulating conversation with Zethan and possibly Gerald... she wasn’t sure about him, they hadn’t shared many words.
While her curiosity and interest definitely hedged towards conversations in the Black Shalk Cornerclub, she knew the quest came first. Blaze tugged at her insides, urging her to follow the Inquisitor.

Gritting her teeth and holding her head in a firmly dignified position she set out in his stride towards the High Fane.

» Wed May 11, 2016 4:47 pm

Group 2

Gerald's food had yet to arrive, so he took the opportunity to think to himself; reflect on his thoughts on the vessel. He was never much of a contemplating person though, much more a man of action than words, so he found this introspection difficult. It was made all the more worse by his growing dread in the answer being yes, he would torture to save his own family.

He was broken from his thoughts however, by a rowdy, intoxicated Dunmer voice, distinctly native in it's gravelly tone. He loudly proclaimed a certain filthy lizard would be going nowhere, prompting Gerald to look at the source of the disturbance. It was indeed a Dunmer at the bar, dressed in drab commoner clothes and standing in the way of an Argonian in Imperial newtscale who really seemed far more skilled than his assailant. Gerald looked around quickly, noting two other Dunmer who were watching the altercation closely. They were lightly armored, and likely lightly armed. Minimal netch leather, so they likely sport iron or degraded steel weapons as well. Blasted brigands.

They seemed intent on the drunken Dunmer, sipping their own alcohol and watching over their mugs. The Argonian, for his part, was politely requesting passage between the bar and the tables, intent on leaving.

"Absolute-y not! *hick* You b'long inna cage, you nammu t'obra s'wit n'wah!" he slammed his mug on the bar top, causing the publican to shout about damaging furniture. The Argonian's shoulders sagged as he let out a pitying sigh.

"Very well..."

"Hey, astoundingly-clean-and-well-equipped-lizard," Gerald exclaimed as he came up, startling the drunks. The brigands stood. "I imagine you must have picked that equipment up from the septims you stole before you ran off." The Argonian grunted and cast an expression Gerald was assuming was confusion. Gerald winked at him before turning to the Dunmer while casually ordering the Argonian to stay put.

"Thank you very much, you fine outstanding drunk-off-your-ashen-ass citizen, for keeping this runaway contained until I had arrived, and while I ordered my meal. See, I've been hired by his master to track him down, and bring him home. But it's been a long n'chow journey to this city and I wish to enjoy this meal, peacefully. So I'll be taking my ward to my table, where he will sit nicely" Gerald glanced at the Argonian now, who looked away as if ashamed "until I finish my meal, and we will not be bothered. And then I will be on my way to finish this job and get paid, without any trouble, understand? I don't want my pay going into repairing the damages to this club."

"Oh, well, if's he's a n'chow run-way than it's ah good ting I kept em here," the Dunmer seemed to fail to notice he had been insulted after hearing a story he found to his taste. "You, s'ra, deserve a hawt meal fer your commin... comminim... noteworthy efforts to keep dem slaves WHERE TEY BELONG!" He exuberantly shouted over Gerald's shoulder.

"It's a tough job but someone's gotta do it," Gerald commented, backing up from the drunk. He turned to the Argonian. "Table in the corner, now." He smacked the lizard's shoulder and leaned in slightly at the motion. "Just do it. Trust me," he murmured. It seemed to work as the Argonian silently took his seat, Gerald following behind him, turning briefly to salute the three troublemakers. When they both sat down the Argonian muttered "troublesome fools".

"You don't look like a slave, I doubt you are one. You look like you could take them on handily." Gerald kept his voice low.

"It would defile my honor as a member of the Morag Tong," The Argonian replied. Gerald's eyebrows rose.

"Okay... yeah... sorry about the slap, and the act."

"I knew what you were seeking to accomplish. It won't work. They've been bothering me for two hours now, and it's gotten worse with every drink."

"Ah, those kind of morons..." Gerald frowned. "Persistent." He'd been hoping to wait them out, see if they would leave in the near future. It seemed less likely now. "Regardless, if a brawl is necessary to get you out of here, at least let me fight on a full stomach. I'm Gerald by the way."

"Huleeya. Keep talking to a minimum if you want to keep your story convincing."

"Fair point. AH, the food, finally." Gerald rubbed his hands as the publican set down the plate. "I'd offer you some, or something to drink, but you're a runaway slave so..." Gerald shrugged and smiled. Huleeya rolled his eyes. And the three bastard dunmer watched from a distance.

» Wed May 11, 2016 9:03 pm

Group One

'Not that I don't appreciate your lack of faith in my abilities, Fara,' Vyktoria said, casting a sideways glance at the other woman, 'but I'm fairly certain I'll manage. Concern yourself more with Sinclaire, and try to see to it that he doesn't get himself killed. I doubt the Tribunal clergy are as even-tempered as I, and they may not appreciate the boy's haughty air of self-righteousness.'

Her gaze drifted towards Ja'Rikki, and she noted the Khajiit's deflated tone. 'As for you, girl, mind yourself. These Ordinators might be recognized by the Empire, but from all accounts they're as fanatical and dangerous as any Daedra worshipper.' Her eyes narrowed. 'And I suspect they won't care whether you remember anything of your past life or not.' The battlemage rummaged through one of the satchels along her belt, and retrieved a plain looking amulet with the overlarge tooth of some animal suspended on a thin leather thong. A faint aura of magic radiated off the item, and she offered it to Ja'Rikki.

'Here. It's enchanted to summon a storm atronach when activated, but there's only enough charge to use it once. Twice, if you know what you're doing. Don't use it unless you have to; it's likely to attract unwelcome attention from anybody sensitive to magic in the area. And in cities like this, there always are.'

She cast a look at Sinclaire, near the entrance to the canton. 'Don't do anything stupid, kid,' she said with a smile, then nodded. Turning away from the others, she made her way down the ramp back to the canton's bottommost level, and towards a ferryman standing idle near the bridge leading out of the city.

'Greetings, serjo,' the Dunmer said, his features weather-beaten beneath a wide-brimmed, woven hat. 'Where would you like to go?'

'The St. Olms canton,' Vyktoria replied, rummaging through her coin purse. She placed a standard fee, plus a generous consideration, into the Elf's outstretched hand. 'And of course, if there's anything you can tell me about the city in general - anything that outlanders like me aren't supposed to necessarily hear about-'

'There's more coin to be found in that purse of yours?' the Dunmer finished, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

'Something like that.'

'Climb aboard, then, muthsera,' the ferryman said, leading her down to his rickety little wooden vessel. 'And welcome to Vivec City.'

» Wed May 11, 2016 10:03 pm

Group 2: Temple Canton

Instead of taking another waterbourne craft, the Ordinators lead a procession through the massive city that was Vivec. The guards had initially needed to keep back the outlanders that resided in the foreign quarter, many of which did not agree to the way the Ordinators and the Temple did things, Inquisitors at that. The sash of the order of Inquisition was over Verlon's shoulder once more, ruby eyes staring out from under the golden mask, seeing all that had started to gather during the march.

Word had already begun to spread about the deeds of those who had faced the blight and sleepwalking nightmare of Molag Mar and were successful in their task. There were some that disagreed with the facts given, but remained silent when the Inquisitor was present. Everyone knew men women and children had disappeared after openly defying the faith in front of such an individual and many did not wish to join their fate. As they left the Foreign Quarter Canton and onto Redoran, then St Delyn, the attitude changed withing the citizens visibly and audibly. The closer they headed to the High Fane the louder the cheers had become. Those faithful to the Temple were told of the heroic deeds of those who answered their sister city's call, and they were not short of any enthusiasm as the group moved towards their final destination.

As they began moving across the bridge, Velon Sevryn had yet to not become amazed by the monolithic and extravagant High Fane before them. The Ancient Dunmeri architechure of the Temple was always a sight to behold even to the older Dunmer. It stood as the Bastion before one of the Holy Tribunal the god of the cities namesake. Vivec. Above the Temple the testament of Vivec's might hovered above the High Fane. This moon-like stone was the Ministry of Truth, the Order of the Inquisition's headquarters, where the only way to reach it is by levitation, making it the perfect place to incarcerate heretical prisoners.

It was then that the Ordinators had stopped the procession and began to move behind Verlon and the group to ensure the masses that had followed through the other cantons had not continued to allow them to reach the High Fane without any other incidents. A Temple Acolyte had come down the massive steps that lead to the High Fane to greet Verlon and the others. "Inquisitor Sevryn, at last you have returned. Please would you and your followers come with me, the Temple master, Patriach and the Grand Inquistor will be ready shortly." He said and bowed. "If you would follow me Muthsera"

As the Acolyte turned around and headed up the stair, Verlon began the long climb to the High Fane itself.

» Wed May 11, 2016 2:35 pm

Group One, Fara

With Vyktoria on her way to the St Olms canton and it's sewers, Fara started her own move, heading for the ramps toward the Canton's top levels. 'come on Rikki, I'd say you go to the local marketplace' – she pointed and an exit through which handcarts were unloaded and peoples went out carrying various bags and items. 'Should be about there. Keep your ears peeled for names – Hulleeya, the Black Shalk club and anything that might be related to them. I'm going to find an inn to drop my travel gear and get cleaned and dressed for city life and pick you on my way to the Black Shalk to hear what you've found.' She smiled, cracking an imaginary whip 'Now get to work like a good slave while your mistress gets to enjoy a bath'.

----------------------------------------

Making her way to the upper level plazza she didn't need long to pick a suitable lodging. The Hammer and Thong was a fairly decent one, owing it's name and relatively affordable prices to the two smithies nearby. A proximity that used a clever arrangement of the forge's chimneys and the canton's rainwater cisterns to provide warm bathes without taking much staff.

An arrangement she used eagerly to wash off the dirt and sweat from the travel and training before going through her packs for some clean – and better looking – clothes. Her fist pick was what looked like a linen corset, edged with lace. While it performed it's apparent function – keeping the waist thin and propping up the bosom for better looks – its multiples layers of fabric stitched and glued together were sturdy enough to keep the odd dagger out of the wearer's back and belly.

She added a nice shirt of white silk, the cuffs and low neckline adorned with a fluff of lace, then tight fitting pants in fiery red velvet. The final touches were her knee-high boots, now cleaned and shined mirror-bright, and a black leather belt with silver decoration to hold a dagger and her hat, complete with the brightly colored snakeskin band. She looked at her reflection in the room's mirror, smiling. Now we're ready to take on the Black Shalk and show them some proper style….

------------------------------------------

Making her way to the canton's lower level she made sure to pass through the marketplace to pick Ja'Rikki on her way, buying herself a small comberry pie to nibble at on the way. Commenting 'no that's not just to fill a sweet tooth. First rule of pub crawl 'never go in a tavern on an empty stomach unless you want to get drunk as a skunk.' Too bad I can't put that on a professional expense bill.'

The black shalk

Soon the were entering the cornerclub, which was fairly quiet. A quick scan showed what seemed to be Huleeya – or at least the only argonian in sight. seated in a corned along with what looked like a slightly grizzled veteran. And a trio of drunk dunmers busy at both keeping an eye on the pair and their booze level high. Oh joy. I don't know what these three morons have in mind but my tavern sense is fairly sure it's nothing good. Bah at least they're drunk enough it should be a cakewalk – especially if Grizzled and Scaly gets involved.

Speaking quickly before getting farther and drawing too much attention, she whispered to Ja'Rikki 'Find yourself a quiet corner and watch for trouble. If it turns to a brawl, get him discretely out while I keep everyone's attention…'

She headed for the corner table, greeting the pair with a warm smile 'Hi, I'm Fara – are you Huleeya ?'. As the argonian replied with mere nod, she continued 'A friend told me you might have something to pick up for him. Nice old fart from Balmora, big sugar tooth and no shirt but still quite sharp.'

'Ah, that friend. Yes, I have something but it's kept at another friend's shop. There might be some complication on the way.' A discrete gaze a the three drunks hinted at the complication's nature.

'Ah, That sort of complication. You two look more than able to mop the floor with it, I imagine there's a reason you don't ?'

'Yes, it would be… beneath my skill's purpose.'

'Oh well, maybe a nice girl can persuade them. And if it doesn't work, see kitty here ?' she pointed at Ja'Rikki, using her body to shield the gesture from observers. 'she's with me so you can leave discretely with her while I teaches those drunkards some manners.'

» Wed May 11, 2016 10:12 am

Spoiler

Name: Gerald Nibelese

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Race: Imperial

Class: Fighters Guild Defender

Class description: A Moderately skilled warrior of the Fighters Guild, a defender can be relied upon for more difficult tasks than basic swordsmen, and are often allowed to perform a job solo, while lower ranks are encouraged to work in teams. His skill is comparable to that of a guardsman.

Skills: Blunt Weapon, Block, Medium Armor, Short sword, Hand-to-Hand, Wilderness Survival

Appearance: An average man of unremarkable build and common features: he has a squared jaw and slightly protruding, almost claw like nose between brown eyes. His hair is short cut and wild, with an earthen color. He stands at maybe 5’8” and looks to weigh no more than 180 pounds with good physique.

Weapons: Steel Mace, Iron Dagger

Armor: Nordic Ring mail cuirass, Chainmail Coif, Bonemold bracers, leather gloves, Bonemold boots, Iron shield

Clothes: Simple cotton tunic under his armor, brown breeches, thick netch leather belt, skull cap under coif, and a thick ash cloak with a Fighter’s Guild clasp for storms.

Inventory: A brass wedding band on his left hand and a small piece of painted chitin on a beaded leather strap around his neck, under his armor. A map of Vvardenfell and compass, as well as rations and waterskin. A necklace enchanted against fatigue and a necklace enchanted against diseases in his pouch.

Mental: Gerald is a loving, duty bound and honorable man. His primary concern is his family and their safety. He is generally tolerant of others, though the staunchly intolerant get under his skin. He yearns for peace but knows it must be fought for if it will ever come. He is empathic and hurts when he sees others suffering. He carries a strong sense of justice, having little compassion for the wicked and horrible. What compassion he does have is manifested as ending their lives swiftly. When tired or in pain, he tends to get temperamental. Can get sea sick. Suffering a morality crisis about doing the right thing, or the necessary thing.

Bio: Has a wife named Seria and a child. He was born and raised in Mournhold and moved to Balmora for work, joining the fighter’s guild there. He is now one of the highest ranking members of that branch, as it is a more novice branch of the guild. His views on the temple are mixed, but he feels a religion is important for people and considers Vivec and Almalexia to be honorable, incredible individuals. . He worships at the Imperial Shrine, preferring Mara and Stendarr but worshiping them all the same. He has been cured of Latent Helljoint by a blessing of Vivec, furthering his resolve to help the Temple, but the torturing of dissidents holds him back.

Group 2

Gerald had finished most of his mudcrab when two females walked through the threshold of the corner club. One was a slim Wood Elf and the other, a fluffy orange Khajitt as tall as he was, at least. He lost track of the Khajitt while the Wood Elf made an approach straight for their table. She had an amiable smile, so Gerald kept eating while giving her glances. She was dressed classy, a little too classy for this place, with her silk shirt a little too expensive and an awfully low cut for the sort of riffraff that would visit this establishment. When she reached them, she ignored Gerald entirely (which he had no problem with) and introduced herself as Fara, speaking directly to Huleeya. they spoke of a mutual friend with a sugar tooth, and Huleeya having something for her to pick up on behalf of that friend.

Something in Gerald warned him this just got very serious, very quickly. Not only was this Argonian an assassin, he was also a dealer in goods that best remain obscure and off the market stalls. It was obvious this was the direction the conversation was going; this was a moon sugar deal. Or was it?

"It's kept at another friend's shop. There might be some complication on the way." Huleeya mentioned. The Dunmer troublemakers glanced at them again.

"Ah, That sort of complication. You two look more than able to mop the floor with it, I imagine there's a reason you don't ?"

"Yes, it would be… beneath my skill's purpose." Huleeya replied.

"Oh well, maybe a nice girl can persuade them. And if it doesn't work, see kitty here ?" Fara pointed towards the general direction of the khajit, who Gerald now noticed was hiding from the thugs. "she's with me so you can leave discretely with her while I teaches those drunkards some manners."

"I would prefer diplomacy, I don't wish to cause my friend Saralis Golmis any trouble by fighting in his club. But this one... " Huleeya gestured to Gerald, who froze, an innocent expression of guilt descending over his face.

"Yeah... I kinda told those racist bastards he was a runaway slave I was sent to capture," Gerald explained softly, "so I could take the heat off him and buy us some time. The natural Imperial charm I possess doesn't last long, I'll admit," he shrugged, then looked to Huleeya "buuuuttt we might have had a little more time before miss silk-n-lace blew it all." Gerald set down his utensils abruptly, having seen over Fara's shoulder the armored thugs at the far end stand up with malicious purpose. Gerald rose, grabbing the jug of sajumma on the way up.

"Outlender!" The most drunken of the three shouted, already too close to them for Gerald's liking. "I taught ya said it was ah slave... but ya lettin' em freely speak ta tis Bosmer like 'e free."

"Good luck with the sweet talking, silky," Gerald murmured to Fara, "They're racist to top of Red Mountain and you ain't Dunmer." He walked past her and took a big swig from the jug, before setting it down gingerly on the bar. "You're right, my drunken s'wit. I lied. And after the last few days I've had, I'm just itching to feel like a decent human being again, defending those in need. So how about we make this quick, eh?" He spread his arms out, opening himself to attack, standing right in front of the Dunmer. The two thugs moved closer, locking eyes with Gerald briefly.

"This Argonian is a free lizard, and will walk out of here untouched by any of you," Gerald grinned.

"You talk far too much, outlander. Best shut your pale skinned lips before I shut them for you." One of the thugs growled, revealing himself to be less intoxicated than his compatriot.

"Yeah, not one of you n'wah's is leaving this club unscathed." The other said.

"Let's sweeten the deal," Gerald rubbed his hands together, leaned closer to the fuming drunkard, and grinned wider. "I married a Dunmer, and she's absolutely a Dibellan in the sack." As expected, a wild right was thrown. Gerald blocked the punch wrist to wrist, twisted his opponent's arm, and jabbed him in the face with his free hand, stunning the elf. He reeled backward, and Gerald kneed him in the chest before throwing him at the other two.