OOC: Im trying to join, IN, but the security code wont pop up, soes... *shrug*

Fin suddenly had a very, very frightening thought. Giving it voice, he asked Winna "Uhh, is there any way to tell when someone has Corprus, or Blight? Any symptoms before the horrible mutations, in the case of the Former?" He severely hoped that his fears would not be realized. "Either way, we should get moving soon. If we stand around longer than neccesary, we're shark bait. So to speak." He chuckled.

OOC: My charries

Walking through the darkened caverns, it was the first shelter seen for a few days now. Upon the dark and lonely roads, corprus stalked like animals crazed for the hunt. The two khajiit and one argonian had been travelling for days now. After meeting up inside another form of shelter. An abandoned building. Theresa slowed to a stop, the sounds of fighting could be heard much ahead or the aftermath of it. She looked to her brother and shook her head "Want to go see?" with that her eyes passed to their argonian counter-part Wulm-Na "What do you think?"

Ra'shinavi shook his head alittle "Well to be honest I dont know, if its survivors we can help, if its corprus monsters well we are dead. Either way it doesnt matter" his replied stareing down the flickering halls of the cavern.

Wulm-Na sighted after hearing Ra'Shinavi's response. "It does matter, we can't afford getting our armor and weapons damaged more. If there are people there, well, it's their fault for going somewhere they shouldn't." Wulm-Na took a seat on one stone to rest from all the walking from past few days. He took apple from his backpack to satisfy his hunger a little. "We should head for Cheydinhal soon. We could get some more supplies there."

Ra'shinavi looked at the argonian "Lets just go" he stretched and yawned, the scent of blood suddenly coming to his nose like an attractant, triggering off his instincts that it was the blood of someone not something. He began to walk down the cavern picking up his pace. Theresa right behind him, her ears flat. Hating how her brother always seemed to rush ahead on these things.

Name: Corrin Godrel
Nickname: N/A
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Birthsigns: The Lord

Focus: Combat
Skills(In Game): Athletics, Blade, Light Armour, Acrobatics, Marksman, Alchemy
Skills(NonGame): Tracking, Trapping, Navigation, Skinning
Class: Huntsman

Class Description: A man that feels at home in nearly every enviroment but non more-so than his own homeland, Skyrim. Spends much of his time, out hunting for food for his village and exploring the forests and mountains finding quicker routes between two cities. He carries with him at all times a bow to help him slay the animals he hunts and a small but sturdy dagger usually used to make clothing and armour out of their furs. While he rarely finds a soul who can outmatch his skill with a bow, Corrin is easily outmatched in the ways of a blade, using it mostly in the skinning of his prey.

General Appearance: While Corrin is by no stretch of the imagination small, he was the runt of his family and of his village. Almost every Nord stands a head taller and a few inches wider but his "smaller" size allows him to be more acrobatic and athletic than the average Nordic male helping him to track down much of his prey. Corrin has a gaunt face, a large(and slightly curved) nose, small but acute ears that cling to the side of his face, and a large mouth that rarely smiles.

Hair: Short blonde hair that reaches just down to his forehead
Eyes: Grayish/Blue and "glazed" over that give him the appearance of a very calm man
Height: 5'8"
Build: Athletic
Skin: Pale
Tattoos/Scars: Four that slant across his chest which he recieved from a cougar

Personality: Some have said that Corrin is so laid back that he's nearly horizontal, others have said if you get him started on one of his "hot topics" he won't stop until his voice is hoarse. He knows what he wants and he is very true to his convictions to the point where once he has made up his mind nothing can penatrate it. This makes him an almost impossible man to deal with at times, but on most occasions Corrin couldn't care less and will go with the flow. Due to him spending a vast majority of his time away from the cities he is a very independant person who will only follow someone who has earned his respect

Weapon(s): A small steel dagger, and a wooden bow made from one of the sturdiest trees of Skyrim
Clothing/Armour: On most occasions Corrin will wear his fur armour but when he is in hotter regions he will wear regular peasants clothing
Inventory: A few ingrediants and potions, a small sack of gold, plenty of steel arrows, and a small wooden carving of a bear standing on its hind legs that he wears around his neck.

Misc Skills and Traits:
-Great at tracking various animals, and people
-Has spent much time learning how to set traps
-Allerigic to honey
-Has a fierce hatred of all Dunmer
-Very loyal to his homeland of Skyrim, it's people, and his tribe
Short Bio: Corrin grew up in a small tribe just north of Whiterun. He never had any official schooling but his mother taught him all he needed to know while his father taught him about hunting. Eventually as his father grew old Corrin and his younger brother took over the reigns of hunters feeding the villagers and providing them with materials to construct more huts and create more clothes. But when word of corpus spreading to Skyrim reached him he decided to flee to Cyrodill and took up residence near the Imperial City, while his brother stayed behind to help take care of his family.



OOC: Hey everyone I'm really sorry I've been gone so long(like three weeks). Due to my schedule, family issues, and a short stint in the ICU I've fallen behind I wee bit. As I understand all I missed was the big fight scene correct? If somebody could tell me where the group is at this moment in time, I'll make a post(especially long) later today.

As Dar'Shandi fainted, Ren screamed for help. "Winna! WINNA!" she yelled, horrified by the wounds that could be seen, blood blackening his fur.

She hoped to Gods that he would be okay. The ohmes-raht was annoying, yes, and sometimes frightening, but she didn't want to see him die. She did like him, no matter how nasty he was at times.

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

Winna replied to Fin, "I can check us all after everyone is healed. But I doubt very much we'll have survived unscathed." Hre words were haunted. Corprus was the most contagious disease she knew. They were all as good as dead: there was nothing good left in the world to save them from such a horrible fate.

When Ren yelled, she headed for the girl, seeing the ohmes lying at her side, bleeding out. "Dammit, that's what he gets for being so foolish..." she muttered in an attempt to distance herself from the little khajiit, although really she was concerned for him. She let her hands hover over his body. Her lips formed the words of a spell, cool magic curling around her tongue as she felt the rush of power spread throughout her entire body and out into her hands, which glowed blue with healing light.

One by one, his wounds closed up, flesh knitting back together. She did her best to replenish his blood, but much had been lost. She sighed, sitting back, with a concerned expression on her face. Now all they could do was wait.

"Is Dar'Shandi going to be alright?" Matthew asked as he walked up to Winna and Ren. He noticed the nearby corpus bodies and feared the worst. An infected teammate would have to mean exile.......or execution. Matthew didn't like the idea of killing a friend, but if they were infected they presented a problem. "What if I am infected?!" he thought suddenly as he remembered his blow to the head. There was a very slim chance he would get it, but he still wanted to be sure.

"What happens exactly to someone who's infected?" he asked Winna fearfully, "Is there any way we can find out if someone has it or not?"

Matthew had dealt with corpus before, but he never was informed of how you would know someone was infected. Winna and the other dunmer might, but he was still worried. If Dar'Shandi was infected he wouldn't have a clue what to do besides either kill him or exile him, so he would leave it up to Winna.

OOC: Hi folks. I've been out of town this last week.

IC: At first, the numbing fatigue was all that he was sensing.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Even vampires need air. Sometimes it's hard to imagine that gossip describes us to be so formidable. And yet we are just as needy as a regular person.

Vaguely, he heard someone approaching. Strange that he did not react in the usual way. He felt a body pressed against him. He was about to reach for his blade but he somehow stopped halfway.
The touch was not a threat. In fact, it was comforting.

"I'm sorry." The words seemed to be directed at him. "I misjudged you."

Misjudged? Me? This is hilarious. She was right about you from the start. Will you tell her or should I?

"Shut up!" Kharro muttered to the voice that mocked him. Only then did he realize that was out loud. I'm talking to my inner voice.
Did Ren hear these words?

So now it's Ren? I thought she was 'the Breton'. Why would you care if she heard that? What is she to you?

"I said be quiet!" This time he took care to hiss the words only in his mind.

Ren was already away from him, bothering about the other Khajiit. He didn't care what was happening to him. He was still dazzed from his own experience. And battling the Corprus was not what paralyzed him. It was the embrace he was trying to recover from.

Only now Kharro took the ring off his finger. It was this action that brought him out of his trance. The first thing he realized was the disgusting ooze dripping all over his face.

Corprus blood. Sprayed on by the crossbow bolt that saved his life.

How infectious is it? Probably not enough to infect a vampire. But the others... That was a different matter.

OOC: Sorry for not posting, was sick in past few days. Also, didn't know the group was still in the cave. >.>

IC: Wulm-Na sighted while he watched his two companions entering the darker parts of the cave. Let's just hope that's the human blood he's smelling... Argonian thought insecurely. He took out his Akaviri katana while following two Khajiits.

Winna looked at Matthew, her expression bleak. "I can check us all for infection, and I will. Dar'Shandi here seems to have been spared. But only a miracle would allow us all to be free from disease. And I don't believe in miracles- as far as I'm concerned, the Gods are dead."

She stood up and moved to Ren. She raised a glowing hand before her face. "Clean," she said. "But you are relatively unscathed." She moved on.

----------

Ren heard Winna's words, but didn't want to believe them. If any of them- even though she hated os many of them so often- were infected, she would not be able to bear it. Please Akatosh... she prayed. Please Stendarr... bring your mercy here... keep us safe...

OOC: Ack! Where is everyone? I am still waiting for at least some RP time to pass before I wake up!

OOC: Same here. Recently posted, I wait for others.

OOC: If by sunday the others still haven't posted, I will take control of their characters (temporarily) to keep things moving. Does that sound fair?

OOC: Sounds fair to me. It does mean a lot of work for you, Illusionary.

OOC: I'm still here, but there isn't that much for my guy to do right now

OOC: Except... you know, respond. I'm creating a small time skip, guys, feel free to fill in the time with what your characters were doing when this happened.
IC:

It took about an hour to get everyone sorted. Winna checked each and every one of them, and nobody had Corprus. It was a miracle that she hardly dared believe, but one that she didn't want to question. The Gods were dead, but she would not complain about this stroke of luck.

They had been walking for a while now. Between them, Winna, Fin and Matthew were taking it in turns to carry the small ohmes-raht as he slept. Though he did not weigh much, over a certain amount of time, he quickly became cumbersome.

It was Winna's turn now, and she was uncharacterisitcally walking at the back, leaving Matthew up at the front with Fin. Dar'Shandi was slung over one shoulder fireman-style, and she seemed fairly weary, although for Winna, it was a weariness of the heart rather than of the body.

Too much had happened. Far too much, in far too little time. They were only half-way through their first day, and already they had been attacked twice. Something was conspiring against them, that was for sure.

OOC : Hi all , this is my first RP so if theres anything wrong please tell and I will edit accordingly Now , lets get a villain into the mix :chaos:

~~~~

Name : Harlen Freder
Nickname : Harly
Race : Breton
Age : 32
six : Male

Appearance : With a slumped posture and awkward facial features , Harlen quite literally , looks like a rodent . A figure of whom is snake-like in movement and unsettling in demenour , Harlen has hollow , withered cheeks and deep grey sacs under his eyes , of which are a striking blue colour . He has a cracked , pale complexion , and he has washed-out ginger coloured hair ( of which also includes his eyebrows , and stubble )

His eyebrows are densley over grown and jut out the sides of his head like disgusting armpit hair . His stubble is unclean , and bears host to all manner of old and grimy foodstuffs long forgotten . His rancid teeth are tinted the foulest of yellow , and are cracked , chipped , and out of form . His fingers are long , and his nails are overgrown and jagged . He is bald on the top of his head , but has one thick mass of hair on the sides of his head that starts just above the ear , and goes right around the back of the head and finishes at the other ear . He is a repulsive rat , and has a highly unlikable appearance to match .

Mentality : Unsettling . Quirky . Strange . To the unobservant , Harlen is a rat trapped in a mans body . He has an overall awkward demenour about him , and is somewhat unpredictable . Prefering his own company to that of others , he is a reclusive soul , but can be open when he wishes . His mind is filled with his different persona's whispering to him , and more often then not he can be found talking to himself . He is a man that is always alert , and always calculating his next move .

Armour : Harlen boasts an uncharming array of crude leather patches and rags messily stitched together without no sense of proffessionalism whatsoever . Originally one might get the thought that these various rags and patches were of many different , vibrant colours , but with time and weather taking its toll , the overall suit of raggedy leather armour is coloured a bleached greyish brown . The only matching things he ever wears are his salvaged dusty , thick gloves and boots , and even these are severly worn . He looks like your typical rag-and bone scavenger .

Clothing : Ontop of his armour , Harlen wears a massive engrasping cloak of deepest green . It envelops his body like a ghoulish revenant , soaking up his every movement . When in battle , the cloak dances in intense flurry , and it has an almost otherwordly charm . It moves like no other cloak , it is ethereal , and horrifying . It consists of a hood and cape , and is prestine and clean . It may shock some to see such a hauntingly beautiful cloak to open up and reveal the mess of the disgusting being it contains .

Weapons : Harlens trusty weapon is his crossbow , a great big steel behemoth that he fastens around his back via a leather strap . It , like its owner , is in a great state of mess and uncare . Chipped and frayed , it's only charm is the fact it looks like it has spent many years with its user . Harlen also packs a bunch of rusty iron throwing knives , left soaking in a small jar of ominous green poison attached to his belt .

Miscellany : Harlen is a collector of almost everything he can get his grubby , repulsive hands on . Anything unlucky enough to find itself in his grasp is placed into the various pockets and belts he wears . He is a walking junk vendour , possessing all sorts of mishapen oddities , from counterfeit gold rings to eyeballs held in mouldy test-tubes to bits of rock and wood to vials and small bottles of potions of mysterious origin . Harlen has both everything , and nothing .

Bio: Harlens background is almost essentially speculation , and is the stuff of folk-tale . Some say he was raised in the Imperial city sewers by the giant rats , his brain rotted like an old apple due to lack of sunlight and a full goblin diet . Some say he was a child raised by abusive parents in the highlands . But Harlen knows his true family . His allegiance is to Dagoth Ur and the 6th house , a dreamer . His past matters him not , as his future spent in service to his father is all that matters to him . Now he has been sent on a mission , to investiagte any suspicious activity in the cyrodiil area , and neutralise it.

~~~~~~~


He was in his element , huddled over like a vulnerable child behind a massive boulder on a hill , looking down upon the cave with beady , darting eyes . His body twitched ever so slightly in the most bizzare fashion as he looked down the sights of his crossbow , of which was unholstered and planted firmly on top of the boulder .

The group had entered the cave , he had seen them , for Harlen had been stalking the group for some hours now . The urge to kill them was unpalpable , but that was not the message he had recieved in his dreams . No , he would have to play it subtle for the time being , squirming and weaseling his way into their ranks like a mouse in a maze , finding what made them tick . He saw the group as a well cleaned clock , it was only matter of finding which gears were linked to which , and taking them apart ever so slowly .

He sniffed the air , squirming with perverse excitement . His mysterious green cloak bathed him in eery shadow as his vibrant eyes peeped out , like that of a rat in his hole . Running his tongue over his furry and yellow teeth , he lifted his crossbow from the boulder , gripping it tightly . He would make his play , move in , closer .

Eeeeeeheeeheehee.... he giggled in a raspy wheeze as he scurried down the hillside , the patter of his boots coming off as somewhat abrupt in contast to the ominous , quiet country-side . He came to the cave entrance , his back to the side of it , his head peeking ever so slightly into the dark and gloomy abyss ahead of him.....

OOC: Atomic, I hope you don't post your motive with your actions too much, because I will take it as your character giving very subtle hints about his true nature, and Dar'shandi is good at seeing through ruses. Also, I hope you don't expect you'd get too comfortable, being the only rat in a group of 4 cats. And, we are NOT in the cave. We left long ago.

IC: When Dar'shandi finally came around, he found himself in a rather nice position. He took a few seconds to realize what was going on, but his excitement grew when he concluded he was being carried by some feminine form. Reflexively, his motor kicked into gear as he quickly tried to explore the form more with his most free hand. To his dismay, he found the curves of his bearer were well armored. He seemed to snap awake, trying to make his behavior seem accidental as he attempted to roll off the shoulders. "Oh, Hi there!" he said cheerily, hoping the dunmer wouldn't mind his "accidental" probing too much, at least not enough to try to kill him.

OOC : On the contrary , I want my character to be ill trusted and not liked at all :/ . As to them not being in the cave , I must of missed something . Lets just say hes not so hot on their tail as I would of initially thought . Ill do a quick recovery post...where is the group?

IC :

Harlen lent over the entrance of the tunnel , his small beady eyes darting about the inside of his head like pessmistic flies , observing the contents of the mysterious cavern . He reached up and scratched his ear , pleasuring himself as gritty figments of dandruff and lice were caught under his overgrown nails .

"They're not even here...." , the shocking realisation lept into his mind . His usual uneasy smile was replaced by a bitter scowl . He had lost the trail , and let himself down .

The rage lept out in a flurry of childish insults . He leapt up and down like a spoilt toddler , kicking the dirt from under his feet and beating the air with his fists . It was a bizzare spectacle to see a grown man acting this way , but such was the life of Harlen .

After his hissy-fit , He holstered his crossbow , clasping it firmly into its mouldy brown strap , and pulled his hood over his head . He needed to vent his frustration , and a quiet moment spent within the confines of his cloak , speaking to himself , would help him clear his head and decide the next plan of action ...

OOC: Scow2, posting motives and thoughts of a character is not a reason for you to uber. Ever. And I like to see more depth to characters, so don't go telling people off for something that adds more depth to an RP.

Also, yeah, we've been out for ages and fought with corprus. Gotta read the thread before you post.
IC:

Winna grunted as Dar'Shandi began exploring and threw him onto the ground. Though he was no longer injured, his muscles and bones would still ache, and this would aggravate that, giving him a decent reproach for his actions. "Little squirt..." she muttered as she walked past the floorbound khajiit. "Last time I save your furry ass..."

OOC: Damn Sibera not listening what I say. <_<

IC: After long exploring of the cave, the group of two Khajiits and one Argonian came to conclusion that no-one was inside. All they found was some corpus-infected mudcrabs. Hah... What else could I expect from a Khajiit... - said Wulm-Na annoyingly to himself. "Well, this was the waste of our time... Let's just leave."

OOC: I went ahead and wrote something that happened in the meantime. I wrote two lines for Winna which I hope are OK, Illusionary. If you disagree, or would prefer to put in your own text, I would be happy to correct them.

IC: Kharro moved quickly to wipe the Corprus blood from his face before the others saw it. Thankfully, he took off his Ring only a moment before. If they've seen it, they would surely have thought he had contracted it.

Kharro was still dazed from his experience with the Corprus beasts, not to mention the one with Ren herself, when Winna came towards him. He was not expecting her to became emotional as Ren but there must have been a distinct reason for her to approach.

She came much too close for him to feel comfortable with the situation. He didn't like the peculiar way with which she was looking at him.

"What do you want?" he asked. His tone was not gentle.

"I am to check if you have contracted Corprus." She sounded official; no doubt she was still suspicious about him as she was before the skirmish. Her checking him didn't meant she liked him any better now; she would inspect everyone in the group. However, if she should look for signs of Corprus, she could easily stumble upon signs of Hemophylic Porhpyiria.

"I did not contract it," said Kharro with utter certainty in his voice.

"I would rather check to make sure," the Dunmer responded. He didn't really believe she would give up so easily but he must find a way to make her back off.

"This is not my first time dealing with Corprus," he told her. "I have seen people who became addicted. I know the symptoms well. And I know I have none of them. So why don't you do yourself and me a favor and look to those who actually need your help."

With that, he walked to the nearest Corprus corpse to extract his arrows. When he got them all, he had to discard twelve of them.

Only 18 left... Damn.

He was ready to depart soon afterwards.

Matthew walked ahead of the others with a spring in his step. He was overjoyed that not only did they win their battle with the corpus, but that noone contracted the disease. "Maybe there is hope for this little suicide mission after all." he thought cheerfully as he looked up at the sky. Yes they had a lot of work to to with teamwork, but that could wait until they made it to their destination. Then they could do whatever they needed to do.

He looked over at Fin and wondered what he thought about this situation. "Fin," he said quietly, "What do you think about this whole mission? Do you think we might have any chance of sucess or at least survival?"

Fin glanced over to Matthew. He shook his head sadly. "No, I don't believe that we have the slightest chance. Our party here is so dysfunctional that we'll likely be dead before we hit Cheydinhal. If we do make it into Morrowind, there really isn't much we can do. Ur might as well be a god." Fin cast his eyes back towards the carefree Dar'Shandi and the innocent Ren. "It is my opinion that, if we do make it to Cheydinhal, we should try to leave them behind. They are too young to die, too innocent. Their lives should not be cast away by some foolish Legion official sitting in a fort somewhere."