Word from the creator: I wanted to create an RP which touches upon the notion of limiting rights in exchange for being more secure and how that plays out in our little fantasy setting. Some of the things you may be asked to do you may find wrong for the right reasons, others right for the wrong reasons. I'm hoping to get a limited number of RPers or at least people who remain active and post. I've already had one recent RP messed up because of that and I don't want it to happen again. So stay active.

Plot:

Magic. Few have the resources to wield this tool of the gods and fewer still the talents for it. It is something everyone speaks of, but few ever use or even see. Although the Mages Guild has made magic more accessible to the public, the costs are none the less above the average person. Even so there are those who are talented enough who either bypass certain monetary needs or are maintained by someone else offering their services in return. Amongst those who do use magic there are also those who do so at the expense of other's well being, for their own selfish needs. Perversions of the art had become more and more prominent in Colovia after the loss of the Summerset Isle, Valenwood and most of Hammerfell from Imperial control. Large swathes of land in Colovia are now unstable and the various lords take it upon themselves to tighten their grip on resources. With lawlessness there also come outlaws, various highway men, war lords, bandits, and various hedge wizards, witches and necromancers who use their powers to carve out their desires from the victims they fall upon. The issue has become such a big problem that the Guild has enacted a law that only Guild recognized members or those approved by the Arcane council are allowed to practice magic. To enforce this law a new small but elite group has been formed to deal with those who refuse to comply. They come from all walks of life from veteran soldiers, to members of the monastic knightly orders and clergy alike. They are called 'The Spell Breakers.'

What you will do:

You will RP one of the people assigned to investigate these witches, bring them in for questioning and re-education or if they refuse, terminate them. I will have people RP 'the witch' once in a while but for now I will RP the antagonist for the first case. We'll start the RP off in Skingrad but it may take us all throughout Colovia and perhaps even further. This will be played out in a sort of adventure style with groups of people working together to find the 'witch' and disposing of it. Usual rules apply. Expect some possible "pvp" RPing and post accordingly. If you end up dying, svck it up.

Name:
Personal Description/History:
Specialty:

That's all for the character sheet. I want to keep all this short and sweet so we can get it going. Post sheets here first:

http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1096682-ib-timeline-discussion/

Once we get some people i'll post the opening scene.

4E 3
Skingrad
Half Past Midnight

The night was cold on his throat as Marcel ran through the empty cobble stoned streets. His mind kept bringing back the dream he just saw, again and again. Elisa, his fiance, had vanished over a week ago and three days before he kept having the same dream. Her body tied to the table, the dark faced creature above her, it's hands and mouth exploring her grotesquely. The man fell to his knees and vomited at first holding back, and then forcefully as if trying to rush the thoughts out of his mind pushed with everything he had. He could feel everything she did, the forcefulness of her captor, and then the blade that carved and separated flesh from bone, slice by slice. With all his strength, Marcel ran toward the Skingrad castle, the long bridge connecting the fortification was flanked on either side by torches. Half way Marcel stopped, the image of his love's last agonized breath surging over him like a spring thunderstorm. Then with a calm dead look in his eye he stepped toward the side and fell forward head first into the peace of death below. The sundering of flesh and bone upon the stones below sounded like ten thousand chicken heads being twisted and pulled off by a house maid before cooking.

The morning...

Ignatius had grown tired of the pathetic games this supposed necromancer was playing. Running through his little cave the fatted Imperial ran through the maze of tunnel while bringing forth his 'minions' which composed of nothing more than the animated rotting corpses of house cats, birds and rats. A flock of half flying crows almost reached Ignatius before they burst into flames a few feet before him. He walked calmly stepping forward toward the necromancer who called himself "Jephesios the Lich" who was no thing more than an arcane academy drop out with little talent for conjuring up anything but the most basic spells. The yelp of a dog was heard as Ignatius brought down a firm kick on the undead beast's head. Poorly made and poorly maintained it fell apart with the slightest bit of effort.

"I'm tired of your little pets Jephesios. Just stop these games before I really need to hurt you." Ignatius shoved over a table as the panicked necromancer tossed a bucket easily dodged by the military trained Spell Breaker.

"Must be easy for you to make such threats, 'hero of Summerset.' How many men did you leave dead behind for the Elves?" Jephesios knew quite a bit about Ignatius' past including the almost complete destruction of his legion in the Summerset Wars. As another bird, this time a pigeon, flew clumsy like toward him, Ignatius swatted it down bursting the being into fire before it hit the ground. The comment brought a new look of disdain upon his face for the necromancer. Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes focused on the person before him and right before the necromancer's nose a small flame appeared and then burst sending him rolling against the wall.

"You have no idea what they do to pigs like you in prison." Ignatius stepped forward, kicking aside the immobile body of a cat trying his best not to let the stench bother him.

"Go to hell!" The fat man screeched grasping from the knocked down table a scroll. Ignatius realized the emblem, even though Jephesios was a third rate spell caster, the scroll was definitely the work of a master.

"Stop you'll end us both idiot!"

"Moarte ne sfarsi..." Before the end of the spell could be cast, Ignatius kept his calm and focused his will to survive into the flames before him. Both scroll and man were eaten up by the intense shower of fire causing the room's air to implode in on itself for a moment making it impossible to breath. All the torches were put out by the lack of oxygen. When Ignatius brought forth calmer flames what remained was a black charcoal outline and torched flesh, the fat still sizzling and melting with the fabrics of the dark robe necromancers were so fond of.

Skingrad

After around an hour of wandering Skingrad, Ashu finally found the Mages Guild. Skingrad was a strange city, split in two, down the middle, not unlike Balmora. Fortunately, the guards hadn't been unwilling to give him directions. Who knows how long he would have wandered if he hadn't gotten directions. And Ashu hated cities; they seemed dirty, noisy, and treacherous. He could spot danger in the wilderness a mile away, but in the city, he had no idea of how to avoid trouble. Perhaps he was simply unfamiliar with or unused to city life. Whatever the case, he couldn't stop looking over his shoulder, as if watching out for an ambush. As far as cities went, Skingrad was far from the worst he had traveled through, but he wasn't going to drop his guard.

The guildhall looked like any other building, save for the Mages Guild emblem hanging in front of the door. Ashu steeled himself for what would come next. There's no going back now. I've gone too far to turn around. He knew little about the job except it involved witch-hunting for the guild. He knew what kind of twisted scum went by those titles. Ashlander Mabrigashes, Telvanni renegades, Daedric worshippers, those were the kind of scum that Tamriel would be better off without. But what if it was more like the Tribunal Temple's inquisition, hunting down those who simply didn't share their beliefs? He didn't want to have any innocent blood on his hands. And his family would be mortified if he was out killing for money, like a common assassin. Whatever the case, he felt he had no choice but to continue, at least for the time being.

Ashu opened the door and stepped into the guild. He wasn't sure if they'd take kindly to somebody just walking in, but he didn't know what else to do. He stepped into the guildhall, closing the door behind him. He was still confused. There were mages around, but who was he to talk to? People didn't like being interrupted, especially mages. Perhaps if he just stood there, sticking out like a sore thumb, someone would approach him and help him out. It certainly would feel less awkward than attempting to initiate conversation with a snooty mage-type.

Jerrod Athon, Skingrad

Serrated clouds whipped their way through the cold night's dark cloak. Chills ran beneath his skin. It had been an hour or so since he had left an inn not to far off to the east. Horse packed in the stable, Jerrod made his way through the streets of Skingrad. A lone raven's melted feet were hung into a nearby house, as his shadowy eyes looked down upon the streets, and the Redguard who walked them. Each footstep claimed its mark on the stone streets of the lonely district. While people were not there, their shadows still seemed to walk about in the night. The figure continued to walk; out of the poor district, into the middle district, and into the rich district.

There it stood, the Skingrad Mages Guild hall. Most was silent, as cold leather boots continued to place their mark on the stone. The lone raven still crowed from behind him, as the lone figure turned his shoulder, eying the bird with a curious look. The night's wind continued to sway everything in its way, the Mages Guild sign itself swaying back at forth; in one moment, it all quieted down to a stalemate, as Jerrod grabbed the door handle to open it. The Raven crowed behind him, as he peered back one last time. Its deep eyes identical to the night; its voice ringing in the silence. The Redguard turned away, and headed into the hall.

He approached the entrance hall, and only a Dunmer stood where he was supposed to go. They had told them to meet Ignatius here, today, but it appeared the man wasn't here, not yet. No Dunmer would be named "Ignatius". To Jerrod, that didn't make sense. He came to the conclusion that it must have been another Spell Breaker. They were in Skingrad, and Jerrod thought this was a bad thing for a few different, but nonetheless important, reasons.

With his homeland breaking from the Empire, the conflict in High Rock, the conflict in Elyswer, and the general breaking of the Dominion, the Empire was obviously in a very weak state. Colovia was the next border in line, and there were many who did not understand the difference between the Colovians and the Nibens. Of all of torn Colovia, Kvatch was destroyed years ago, Anvil was involved in the war with Summerset, and Chorrol was more or less stable. Skingrad was likely on the stable side, more so than most of the other cities in the area. The Mages Guild, and thus the Empire, always had had a strong connection with Janus Hassildor. That was his opinion at least. Wasn't necessarily true. He had been wrong before, he could be wrong now. At least it was an opinion, and his life wasn't on the line. With that opinion, the trouble in Skingrad made him nervous.

He found himself a chair to sit in, a place of rest, where he sat there trying to fall asleep. His efforts were worthless. Perhaps Ignatius would come sooner than later.

Sorcalin, Skingrad

The Altmer felt sleep coming onto him as he sat in the comfy chair in the Mages Guild lounge area, with the warm fire crackling merrily to his right and his eyes dropping in his state of sleep deprivation. he had traveled all day at a solid pace to make it to the Hall in time to meet up with this Ignatius fellow. He had traveled to quickly however, and the result was him waiting for now two hours in the seemingly empty guildhall.

Upstairs, he could hear a few members chatting idly or mumbling to themselves about their research but he was completely alone on the first floor as far as he could tell. He didn't want to be asleep when the others arrived, less they not realize he was part of the group and go on without him. Not that he knew what, exactly, they were doing but he figured he did not want to miss whatever it was. He drifted in and out of sleep, with his head dropping than snapping back up suddenly every few minutes as the waiting grew longer and the boredom increased.

Just as his head fell to the left and sleep really began to take him, the door creaked open and Sorcalin's head shot up, as he looked around confusedly at what the disturbance was. He saw it in the form of a gray-skinned Dunmer, dressed (OOC: sorry Crimson, I'm just assuming you are in your armor. Correct me if I'm mistaken!) in leather armor and carrying a bow that looked like it could be used for more than just hunting small animals.

He remained still for a second as he rubbed the sleep from his blue eyes before taking a better look at the Dunmer who had come in. Sorcalin had just assumed him to be part of the Mages Guild chapter here or maybe a Fighter's Guild member in need of magickal assistance but as he watched the mer stand in the doorway he came to the less than brilliant conclusion that perhaps this was one of Sorcalin's future associates. Coughing and grumbling, he got to his feet, leaving his purple cloak on the seat and moving towards the new arrival.

As he moved closer, the door opened again and this time a Redguard walked in, dressed in a more suitable fashion for mage-craft but he also carried a bow and weapons.

Aren't any of these people actual mages? he thought with some annoyance.

The position he was standing in, hidden by the shadows to the left of the door kept him out of the Redguard's sight as he moved to take a seat. He shrugged and moved on to the Dunmer, coming up to him to say in his least-snobbish voice possible, "You look a little lost. Are you meeting someone here as well?"

He sized the elf up as he waited for his response, and so far he wasn't impressed with his future company and how "un-mage-like" they seemed to be, though he figured they would be useful fodder to protect him while he worked his deadly magick.

OOC: You were correct Blademaster, my guy is in his armor.

Skingrad Mages Guild

Ashu watched as a man walked through the door behind him, no doubt a mage. And a Redguard, at that. Ashu hadn't seen a lot of Redguard mages, so to him this man was an oddity. Perhaps it was just the fact that he himself had lived most of his life on Vvardenfell. No matter, he still stuck out less than Ashu. Likely this Redguard was someone who had also taken the Guild up on its offer. Ashu breathed a sigh of relief, that it seemed he was in the right place at the right time. The last thing he needed was to be lost in a foreign city. Whatever the case, he knew he was closer to getting some needed answers regarding the mission. He thought of asking the Redguard about the mission, but decided against it. He wasn't good at initiating conversation, even for asking simple questions. As such it had been no surprise that he had been lost in Skingrad for around an hour before being directed to the guildhall.

After a moment or two, an Altmer mage approached Ashu and spoke. "You look a little lost. Are you meeting someone here as well?"

Ashu wasn't sure what to make of the Altmer's intentions, but he could not deny the truth; he was lost, and he was meeting someone here. And he certainly didn't look the part of a witch-hunter. He took a deep breath, more to steel his nerves than anything else, and spoke softly, just loudly enough that it would be understandable coming from underneath his helmet.

"Yes, sera, I am lost, and yes, I am meeting someone here. I am here for the witch hunting job I've heard about." He hadn't had a lot of good experiences with Altmer, as not only did they typically put on airs of elitism, but they typically looked down on the other races. So why would they have any love for a race that looks down on them? Still, for what it was worth, this Altmer hadn't been particularly snooty, he almost seemed like he was genuinely seeking to help Ashu out. He continued looked up, staring at the towering Altmer through the goggles on his helmet, awaiting a response. Hopefully the Altmer was genuine in his seeming intent to help Ashu out.

Marcus Cato - Skingrad Mage's Guild

"No, no, no. You have it all wrong. If you want to focus extra power into the spell you should focus it in your fingertips rather than spreading it across your palm, especially in a touch spell. That way the extra power in the spell has a lesser area to effect and does that much extra damage where you do direct it."

The woman sitting across from him gave a contemptuous snort before leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "Please. It's obvious that if you focus it in your fingertips that the effect will be lesser than focusing it in your palms. When you use your fingertips, you're focusing magicka in five separate points, thus lessening the amount of power you can unleash at each area. If you instead focus it in your palm, then it can be allowed to spread out from a single, collected point. And I can't even imagine the nightmare of trying to do that with your fingertips if you convert it to a distance spell. Honestly, to try something of that magnitude reduced to five small points and then shooting it over and area? Ridiculous. You'd kill yourself as soon as the spell went off."

Marcus had to admit that she did have some vague point with the last bit, but refused to acknowledge it. He had his pride after all, and not even the head of the Skingrad Guild would dissuade him of his idea. Where most would be cowed by the idea of arguing with a local Guild Head, Marcus could do so successfully since he didn't particularly care much about matters of rank within the Guild. Indeed, he could honestly admit that he had no idea what rank he held, much less others'. He spent so much time sequestered with his own musings that he rarely interacted with others anyway, so it had never bothered him before.

Though he adamantly refused to allow himself to agree with her, she must have noticed something in his posture, since she was suddenly smirking. In fact, his lack of a retort betrayed him, rather than any body language. Though he himself would never realize it, others would often notice that when he ran into something he wasn't sure of or was proved wrong on some point, he would pause to think of a response, and his brow would scrunch up in thought. Even though she knew he would adamantly deny it, Adrienne took that as a victory.

"Don't you have somewhere to be? I'm sure you wouldn't merely waltz into my Guild Hall just to debate the finer points of spell crafting," she asked. And to her credit, her tone held only minute traces of smugness that betrayed her happiness at (Sort of.) beating Marcus at a debate.

Marcus himself leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking her posture. He began speaking, momentarily putting aside their argument for a later moment. "Yes, well, I was sent here after being informed of a group known as the 'Spell Breakers.' Apparently they're a very elite group formed by the council. I'm been chosen as a member and was sent here to meet someone or other," he said, his own tone noww also taking on a bit of smugness.

"Then shouldn't you be downstairs to wait for them in the lobby?" Adrienne replied, only letting a bit of irritation color her response.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. After all, no one could possibly come here without wishing to engage someone such as you in conversation, so I'm sure whoever I'm waiting on will come to speak to you eventually," Marcus said with mock innocence, which only served to make the insult that much more obvious.

Adrienne barely withheld a grimace and muttered, "How fortunate." It only served to make Marcus' smirk slightly wider.

OOC: Friend's post.

http://images.uesp.net//7/7b/OB-Place-RosethornHallBedroom.jpg
Earlier that morning

A soft morning grown lightly grumbled in Daosya's throat as she came to. She lay stomach down in the wide bed, the thin gently scarlet sheets of Dunmeri silk was firm on her skin covering her lower back down to her ankles. Her arms held her pillow tightly against her bosom like a nurtured lover, made all the more real by the daze of early morning and the warmth of her skin keeping the pillow itself warm. With a final sigh she rolled over onto her back releasing the pillow from her embrace, the cooler air washed over her awakening her completely. Her hands reached up into the air and she studied her fingers in their length and elegance. The hands found themselves then laying back behind her head tilting it up, her eyes washed down over the features of the bed as well as her stature. Her toes pressed against the foot board of the bed as her body stretched and after a yawn she sat up pulling the sheets up above her knees exposing them to the grasp of her hands as she bent them. Usually after she woke up she liked to lay in bed for about another hour or so dazed in between awake and asleep until she felt like she wanted to use up the time of day to do something else. Today however she felt a bit different. The silk sheets gave a smooth sensation as she pulled them off of her legs. Sliding over in the bed and placing her feet on the carpet below, she stood up walking over to the tall window against the wall and sitting on the small wooden stool. She straddled the furniture as if it were a horse as she leaned forward with her forearms against the window acting as a cushion for her forehead as she leaned forward looking down at the people below in the streets. Nobody would look up to see her but even if someone did she felt too good to care so early in the day.

The scent of tea flooded her room suddenly and a knock on her bedroom door was heard. "Daosya, I made tea? Do you want some? Are you decent? I need to go soon."

"Umm, just leave it by the door. I'll get it." The sound of a tray being placed on the wooden floor and hurried steps of a fellow Guild member was heard. She was new herself, only had been in Skingrad for a year but got along with Daosya. After having another minute or so of day dreaming as she watched people below, she remembered the tea and hurried to the door. Opening the door she then kneeled down lifting the tray and then throwing the door closed with her foot. She placed the tray on the left edge of the U shaped desk before taking a seat on the wooden chair, it's cool surface uncomfortable momentarily against her skin. The subject of reading for the past week or so was on Dwemer of course, this time the specifics of their military and the manner in which they fought. They seemed to make wide use of the long pike to thwart away Chimer as well as giving them reach to the flying creatures they summoned. The artistic picture on the next page had been copied seemingly from a ruin in Hammerfell where many Dwemer migrated, supposedly telling stories of their conflicts with the would be Dunmer.

After losing herself in the rest of the book and finishing her tea no less than thirty minutes had passed. She stood up stretching again having sat still like a statue and headed for her drawer picking out a soft thin white dress. The thin straps went over her shoulders and it buttoned down the front down just above her knees although the fabric reached to her ankles. Afterward her feet slipped into some sandals as she closed the door to her bedroom behind her. The size of the house was large and it often felt lonely living alone. She wished that she could get a few roommates simply to ward off the loneliness.

Later that day...

Daosya was looking with an almost shock looked in her eye at the next case which was written down for her on the piece of paper. It seemed to go a bit beyond the typical case of misuse and seemed like an outright curse. As she walked through the Guild hall she only half heard the debate between Adrienne and the man across from her. She didn't know the finer points of the debate but if it was about destructive spells, Adrienne was no slouch especially considering Destruction was the specialization of Skingrad. Many of the Empire's great battle mages began their destructive studies here. Stopping in front of the two Daosya turned to Marcus. "Are you here for an assignment?" She assumed so from what she heard but did not want to impose.

Marcus was about to make what, in his mind, passed for a witty comment when a voice that was decidedly not Adrienne interrupted him. His eyes flicked in the direction of the woman for a moment as she spoke.

"Are you here for an assignment?"

Seeing that Adrienne was making no move to respond, he waited a few seconds to contemplate actually speaking to the unknown girl before fully turning his attention to her, tilting his head in acknowledgment. "That's correct. I was told to come here to join a group that will be hunting withes and their ilk. Would it be safe to assume you are here for the same reason?"

Before she could respond, he continued speaking, ignoring the Adrienne as she rolled her eyes at him. "Marcus Cato, the foremost specialist in Illusion and Alteration techniques in the Guild. I'm afraid, however, that I have no idea who you are."

Even as he said the last part, he extended a hand in greeting, still ignoring Adrienne and her muttered complaints about his lack of tact. Truthfully, Marcus didn't care about what people's impressions of him were. If they couldn't learn to work with him and his... Mannerisms, well, that was just too bad for them.

As he waited for a response, his eyes took on a decidedly unpleasant calculating look, as if he was trying to decide what the person in front of him was like and how to treat her merely from her appearance. He found that doing such things often made people nervous around him, which suited him just fine. While he wasn't particularly skilled at interacting with people, years of being trained in the arts of politics and subtle manipulation had made him very skilled at anolyzing others.

From her appearance, he couldn't immediately tell her race, but guessed she had some elven blood in her. He also took notice of her odd eyes, but other than that, she appeared no more than a slightly more attractive than average female mage. Still, he knew better than to rely on first impressions with anyone who practiced magecraft. Magic was an odd, unpredictable thing, and those that used it were often similar in that way. He had yet to meet a mage worth their salt that didn't have at least one quirk or oddity about them to set them apart. Adrienne's love of books and reading, despite being almost entirely obsessed with destruction spells that blew things up, was one such example.

Sorcalin, Skingrad Mages Guild

Sorcalin had to move in a little closer to be able to hear the Dunmer speak through the muffling material of the strange helmet on his head. Sorcalin never understood armor or why it looked the way it did. He managed to catch the mer's sentence though, and he leaned back as a small smile creased his thin lips. He was relieved to finally meet one of his new colleagues and that people were actually going to show up and he hadn't wasted his time traveling all the way form Cheydinhal to get here.

He was still unsure about the people he was working with though, and he assumed the Redguard back in the sitting room was part of this new group as well. The Dark Elf seemed decent enough though and didn't seem like he would be too much of an opinion maker when the time came.

"Good good, so people are arriving then. I, am Sorcalin." he said in a rather haughty tone, though masked with relative humbleness. It was like the elf should know his name already, or that if he didn't know it than he would do well to remember it for the rest of his life. Without waiting for a response he started moving back towards his chair to sit, whilst saying rather cheerfully for him, "Come come, sit sit and perhaps you can tell me about yourself."

Jerrod Athon

The Redguard sat there alone in a chair, pondering over what to do. The Altmer had left the room, perhaps to ask what was going on with this whole assignment. He had been here once before on his recommendation years ago. Of course, only a few years ago the world was different. The Empire was still in tact, their had been no Oblivion Crises. Kvatch still stood. Ocato was still alive, and the Elder Council wasn't squirming about like little worms being unearthed from their precious soil. He mostly just kept his quiet when he did his recommendations. Jerrod learned what he could, did what he needed to do, and went on his way. Of course, the Mages Guild was different years ago as well. Now that he thought about it, necromancy was allowed, and the guild had less enemies than before. The world years before was a better world. Less people died, and people had normal lives. Now, more warlords showed up, people were needed for the military and to take those who caused trouble down. Now he thought about it; Raminus Polus had told him they would need his archery skills one day. He had seen this coming, or something similar to it. Of course, every Empire is destined to end. The matter of the question is just how it ends.

"Hi there."

His eyes turned, sliding their way to his left as a door slid its way shut. A tall bald Nord wearing Burgundy approached him, sitting down in a chair near the door he had come through. Jerrod nodded back calmly.

"Hello sir."

The Nord paused for a minute, as to straighten himself. He fixed his posture position as to be polite. Turning his voice to a rather casual quietness.

"Are you here for that, eh, assignment?"

Jerrod nodded in a calm, urgent manner. His back made its way up from its leaned position. Perhaps this man could help him.

"Yes sir. It appears the man isn't here yet though..."

He stood up, pushing off his knees as he rose to his normal height. He reached his right hand over to the man.

"Jerrod Athon, nice to meet you sir."

The man stood up, shaking his hand in return.

"Call me Vigge the Cautious. Most of everyone does around the guild. About the assignment, you should probably talk to Adrienne. She might be able to help you."

Jerrod nodded back, and the man rose to stand.

"Thank you sir. I'll go up to see her now."

"Very well, I'll go with you. She might be busy."

They made their way up the stairs, passing by the two elves who sat together. A women and a man could be heard from above, and before long the Nord muttered.

"That's Adrienne..."

They came up to the second floor, as the Imperial was finishing his sentence. Another woman stood with the Imperial and Adrienne.

"-idea who you are."

The two waited there, expecting them all to stare back in an odd manner. Jerrod nodded at Adrienne, who in return nodded back.

"And what are you here for?"

Jerrod held his posture firm, walking over next the Imperial.

"I need to see Ignatius. I'm a Spell-Breaker."

Skingrad Mages Guild

The Altmer apparently understood Ashu's reply. Not only that, he seemed satisfied with the reply. After another moment, the Altmer spoke again.

"Good good, so people are arriving then. I, am Sorcalin. Come come, sit sit and perhaps you can tell me about yourself." Ashu was a bit taken back by the Altmer's hospitality, he wasn't used to getting welcomed, especially by an Altmer mage. Perhaps Cyrodiil was just more hospitable than Morrowind, in both people and climate. Still, it was a welcome change, and Ashu had no intention of ruining it. He walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, careful not to lean back on his quiver and bow. It felt good to sit down, after all of the walking he had done. Again, he was used to long periods without rest, but would not pass up the opportunity to take a break. The chair wasn't extravagant, but it was much more comfortable than the benches and rocks that Ashu was used to sitting on.

Comfortable and slightly more relaxed, Ashu reached for his helmet. He didn't remove his helmet much around others, for multiple reasons, the biggest one being hiding his scar, but trying to have a conversation through his voice muffling helmet would be too awkward. Besides, it wasn't anything particularly unusual, just the mark of someone who was nearly killed by a large tusked beast at one point in his life. More than anything, Ashu was just shy around people and wasn't sure how they would react. He slowly removed his helmet (or cowl, whatever it was). It felt pretty good to take it off, and get some fresh air. It also made him realize how much dust had collected on the inside of the goggles on his helmet If he wasn't so shy and self-conscious, he might even be able to get used to not wearing it in public.

Ashu began to clean the dust off the eyepieces on the inside of his helmet, and spoke,

"I am Ashu-Idan Shisharu, I follow the trade of scout. I've traveled all the way from Vvardenfell to take the Mages Guild up on their offer. I must admit I know little of witch-hunting, but I'm an experienced hunter, and I've killed a witch or two."

He still was too shy to look someone in the eyes out of his helmet, but it was a start.

Sorcalin, Skingrad Mages Guild

THe Altmer sat back down on his chair, and noted that the Redguard man had left. He looked around with a confused look on his face but dismissed it in an instant as he relaxed and took a further measurement of the Dark Elf who had also taken a seat in the room. He rested his chin on the tips of his long, slender fingers, feeling the hardened and slightly blistered tips on his smooth face caused by the slight scorching of the many destructive spells he had cats in his days. The Dunmer seemed to relax a little as he reached up and took off his strange looking helmet, giving Sorcalin a first look at his new "co-worker", so to speak.

A noticeable scar ran down the left side of his face but other than that defining feature, the elf was as unremarkable as any other Dunmer was. He supposed the scar had a story behind it that probably involved the mer getting to close to a dangerous beast and paying the price for it. It also confirmed his suspicions about the Dark Elf being more of a fighter than a magick user of any prowess though he figured the elf knew a bit of the arcane, or else he probably wouldn't be here.

Sorcalin was always measuring people up and down when he first met them, and one of the things he noted was mer wouldn't look at him directly while he spoke. Instead, he cleaned his helmet distractedly while speaking.

"Well Ashu, that is quite a distant to travel for a job that promises to be a little hairy." he said with a haughty chuckle. He watched Ashu clean his helmet's eyepieces while he spoke. "To be honest, I have never even attacked another elf or human unless I was practicing so I suppose I'm the inexperienced one here, but I figured this would be an excellent time and job to hone my knowledge of magick, you know?"

Mages Guild

Ignatius entered the Guild house with apathetic intent, the enthusiastic greeting of the door guard met with minor acknowledgement. In return the guard mentioned of the arrival of several people and that Daosya was upstairs and would have their next case. This added a certain accentuation on his steps as he passed through the main room signalling for those waiting to follow him. Those who would not, so be it. Walking up the stairs the voices of those above became more and more audible until he could place an image to those voices. He recognized Daosya and Adrienne but the others he had never seen before.

Daosya addressed the one who called himself as 'Marcus Cato.' "I'm Daosya, and i'm to inform you all of our next case." As she spoke she extended her hand to return the gesture before turning to Ignatius who stood quietly. "A man came earlier stating that his brother, Marcel had killed himself after a week of his fiance missing. He told his brother he kept having dreams of her. Marcel is also an artist and had made some paintings of his dreams, although incomplete, they could shed some light."

Ignatius didn't even seem to need time to think, already knowing what needs to be done. "First we need someone to go speak with Marcel's brother and of course see these paintings. Next we need the surrounding people questioning. Lastly we need to check with the city guard to see who has come and left in the past week. If Marcel's fiance is still alive and if any of this is related."

Sorcalin, Skingrad Mages Guild

Before Ashu could respond in any way, the door to the hall opened again and somebody else walked in. There was muttered conversation and a man walked by them, and motioned them to follow his lead. Sorcalin remained still for a second longer after the man went upstairs before he rose from his chair. He grabbed his purple cloak and slung it over his shoulder, nodded to Ashu and followed the new man, who he figured was Ignatius, up the stairs without waiting to see if the Dunmer was following.

Up on the second floor he found a group of people already sitting together, including the Redguard who had been downstairs previously, as well as another man, though Sorcalin could not tell if he was Breton or Imperial by heritage. He was never good with the human races.

Sorcalin entered the room and stood quietly to the side, just a few feet from Ignatius. He recognized one woman, who he recalled being the leader of this guild chapter. There was another woman who he didn't recognize though, and it was her who spoke first, introducing herself as Daosya. She explained the situation the had which intrigued the Altmer a little. Next person to speak was Ignatius and he spoke with an underlying confidence that betrayed his seemingly quiet and modest appearance, as he laid out orders for the next steps to their investigation.

"I can go to the city guard and see what's been going on at the gates lately, if you'd like." said Sorcalin, taking a step forward while speaking.

Skingrad Mages Guild

Before Ashu could reply to the Altmer, or ask him his name, he door opened and a man was promptly greeted by a few of the guildmembers. He must be somebody important, perhaps he could be the witch hunt leader. The man looked at them and gestured at them to follow. The Altmer promptly got up and followed.

Looks like this must be who we've been waiting for. Ashu rose to his feet, with his helmet in his hand, and followed the two up the stairs. He found another group of people sitting together, likely other members of the witch hunting group. Still, some of them could simply be members of this particular guildhall; the best thing to do would be to wait and see.

A woman who to be a Breton approached an Imperial and spoke. "I'm Daosya, and i'm to inform you all of our next case." She turned towards the other Imperial, the one who appeared to be the witch hunter leader, and spoke again. "A man came earlier stating that his brother, Marcel had killed himself after a week of his fiance missing. He told his brother he kept having dreams of her. Marcel is also an artist and had made some paintings of his dreams, although incomplete, they could shed some light."

Ashu was shocked; the case sounded like something that he was not unfamiliar with. It sounded like the Soul Sickness that had been seen in Morrowind before the Nerevarine killed Dagoth Ur. Only this time it must be another mortal making the dreams.

The leader of the group gave his reply almost immediately after Daosya had stopped speaking. "First we need someone to go speak with Marcel's brother and of course see these paintings. Next we need the surrounding people questioning. Lastly we need to check with the city guard to see who has come and left in the past week. If Marcel's fiance is still alive and if any of this is related." The man spoke like a professional, doubtless someone who was experienced or trained with such investigating. It gave Ashu some relief that their leader knew what he was doing.

The Altmer stepped forward and spoke up. "I can go to the city guard and see what's been going on at the gates lately, if you'd like."

Ashu decided that if he was to use what he knew, he would have to speak up as well. As soon as the Altmer had finished, Ashu began to speak.

"If you don't mind, sir, I've seen this kind of thing before; in my native Morrowind, we called it soul sickness. From what I understand, the Sharmat Dagoth Ur would create dreams that could put his victims in a trance or even drive them mad. Perhaps I could look at the paintings that the man painted." Ashu spoke softly, and somewhat shakily, but hoped that his input, the input of a mere foreign scout, would be valued by this man.

Valus Kinghart; Skingrad Guildhall

Hart sat alone in one of the shaded corners of the guildhall, his scimitar sitting sheathed on his lap. He had removed his open faced helm, revealing the wavy brown hair beneath, and contented himself to sit and wait. He had been assigned this mission to track witches, not to make friends.

Several others, elves and men alike, had already gathered, and by the way many were chatting idly Hart figured they were here for the same reason he was. 'Fair enough,' he was well used to working on a team, so long as none of them asked too many questions.

It was not long, however, before the Imperial Hart had been waiting for arrived. 'Alexander Ignatius,' he thought, watching the man cross the floor, 'Renowned veteran of the Summerset wars, and expert firecaster. A good man to work for, if the rumors are true.' Few spell swords had not heard the man's name.

Hart stood, holding his helm under one arm and strapping his scimitar to his belt. He fell into place behind two elves, a Redguard, and a Nord as they walked up the stairs. Within the room beyond sat a number of mages, one woman in particular was halfway through giving them their assignment.

Hart moved away from the door, taking a seat in the back of the room as Ignatius listed off their tasks. One member of their newly formed party, an Altmer, stepped forward, volunteering his services. As Hart was considering doing the same, another elf spoke up, describing a possible cause for the victim's madness, what the Dunmer called "soul sickness".

The Breton nodded; he had heard much of the rumors about Morrowind, how the Nerevarine had apparently saved all Vvardenfell then mysteriously disappeared. He had also heard of the infamous Dagoth Ur, though he never bothered to follow the stories too closely. Hart stood, catching Ignatius' eye, and snapped off a salute.

"Sir," Hart began, "Valus Kinghart, reporting for duty."


EDIT: Sorry Wooly, Hart's a Breton, raised in Wayrest.

Jerrod Athon

An Imperial man followed by the two Elves from the first floor made his way up the stairway. This seemed to be the man they were looking for; Alexander Ignatius. From what Jerrod had heard of him, he was a Breton. It was good to have such a man as Ignatius on the job, at least of what he had heard was true. A lot of people talked in the Mages Guild, and not everything that was said was necessarily true. Hopefully they would have a good team.

A Redguard man, or rather a knight, appeared from the corner. Even though Jerrod wasn't a racist by necessity, it was comforting to see one of his own kind in the room. Even though he grew up in Cyrodil, several of his cousins and family members lived in Hammerfell. His parents made annual trips to see them, taking Jerrod and his younger brother along. He quickly observed the man and his armor, along with the scimitar hanging at his side. The armor didn't seem Hammerfellian, but rather something out of High Rock. The scimitar showed signs of the Alik'r. Jerrod made the conclusion that the man was either some type of knight from Sentinel, or a man from the High Rock side of the Iliac. The armor made him doubt the Sentinel origin, but it was still possible in his mind. After all, Sentinel was isolating itself after the war to a good degree, and the scimitar was definitely from Hammerfell.

This wasn't important at the moment though, as the young woman responded to the man and laid the group's case before them.

"I'm Daosya, and i'm to inform you all of our next case. A man came earlier stating that his brother, Marcel had killed himself after a week of his fiance missing. He told his brother he kept having dreams of her. Marcel is also an artist and had made some paintings of his dreams, although incomplete, they could shed some light."

Jerrod's eyes seemed to tighten up. He had seen some dream magic in his day, and knew of herbs that would make one hallucinate. Before Jerrod could think any longer, the Imperial man responded to the woman. Apparently he was Ignatius.

"First we need someone to go speak with Marcel's brother and of course see these paintings. Next we need the surrounding people questioning. Lastly we need to check with the city guard to see who has come and left in the past week. If Marcel's fiance is still alive and if any of this is related."

Jerrod began to think about what to do, as the other members fluttered in their responses. He made his response just after his fellow Redguard.

"Name's Jerrod Athon. Is there any information on Marcel's fiance, or his suicide? We need to know who he knew, who he was involved with, what connections he had, etc. Same for his missing fiance. We need to know the last place she was, who was the last person who saw her, things like that. The more information we get, the better. I'll go with the Dunmer and talk to Marcel's brother. He should have some answers. He'll probably point us to some other people Marcel knew too."

Jerrod nodded, waiting for the others to put in their two cents.

Marcus Cato - Mage's Guild

Marcus tapped his chin thoughtfully as their first task was explained by the woman who had been introduced as Daosya. Hmm, interesting. Having dreams of his missing beloved, causing him to commit suicide? How poetically tragic. Also ridiculous. Why would he kill himself when the woman was still missing, and not even confirmed as dead? Over apparently prophetic dreams, which is if they aren't simply the overacting imagination of a madman? Hmph.

After listening to the rest of his newfound companions speak, Marcus gave his own professional opinion. "There are certain illusionary spells that can cause dreamlike hallucinations. I know a few of them actually. I would imagine that some potions or poisons could have the same affect. I'll go with Jerrod and the Dunmer to interview the man's neighbors; I'll see if they noticed anything unusual."

He clasped his hands beneath his chin as he viewed the others around him. "I'm Marcus Cato, incidentally. Good to be working with you all."

Mages Guild

Little by little each of the members spoke up. There was no time for in depth formalities and the names were acknowledged as were the suggestions. Ignatius typically wasn't the best with names but his memory and reflexes heightened during times of urgency. Eying each member there he noted whatever details he could before giving out orders. This crime went a bit beyond simply using magic. It was an act of murder that normally the guards would investigate, but because of the arcane aspect to it all it fell to them to find the guilty party.

"Sorcalin, go with Valus and find out who has come into the city within the last few weeks." Sorcalin had volunteered and the guards seeing a 'knight' of sorts would probably respond better. "Daosya, you had better to go with them." A little bit of a distraction wouldn't hurt either.

"Ashu and I will go to see Marcel's brother. Marcus and Jerrod question around the neighborhood and see what can be found out."

OOC: Waited to 3 AM to post this, so just basics of what we'll do. Team up and go for it. I'll RP the NPCs or if you want to that's fine too. You guys can create the plot as well. PM me with ideas or post in the discussion.

Marcus Cato - Mage's Guild

Marcus listened patiently as Ignatius gave them their orders. His only outward reaction to his was to nod slightly, though inwardly he was already contemplating the possible ways this had all come about. Useless to guess for the moment. I'll just have to gather more information and draw a conclusion from there.

He looked towards the man he had been paired with for this portion of the mission, a Redguard mage. Hmm, you don't see many of those. He shifted his gaze to several others in the room with narrowed eyes. He supposed it would be good to have people around to pick up the heavy lifting if things did go wrong, but still, he had to wonder why the Guild was bringing in apparent outsiders. Surely they had enough manpower to tackle these problems without the aid of others? Though, he mused, the Guild had seen better days.

He rose from his seat, looking towards the Guild Head who was still sitting at the table, looking vaguely amused at the proceedings. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue our conversation at a later date, Adrienne."

She snorted and waved a hand in dismissal, somewhat relieved that they wouldn't have the chance to get back into the debate. Arguing with Marcus was rather tiring after all.

"Well then, Mr. Athon, shall we depart?" Marcus asked in a rather formal tone, turning towards the stairs without even a backwards glance to see if the Redguard was following him.

He walked down and out of the Guild, nearly knocking over a young apprentice, who scrambled out of his way. He opened the doors and walked through, squinting slightly at the new light that assaulted his eyes. He frowned, looking down the street at the various people making their way around.

"Let's make this quick," he muttered, "As amusing as conversing with the common citizenry can be, this is guaranteed to be nothing but an annoyance. No doubt we'll just be speaking to a bunch of superstitious morons that are more concerned with things that go bump in the night than the dangers of reality."

OOC: If we don't get this moving now, it's going to crash and burn. IB, I'll PM you about most of the NPC stuff and we can work that out, or we can work it out with everyone in the discussion thread. Good luck.
IC:

Jerrod Athon

Jerrod nodded as Ignatius gave his orders, observing the different groups in the room along with those things they were assigned to do. He was stuck with the Imperial man across the room from him. No weapons appeared to be equipped on the man, who appeared to be a stereotypical robed mage. Of course, every mage had their own talents and flaws, pros and cons. Jerrod's eyes took their trip around the group, eying every member with their deep brown stare. At least he had been paired with an actual mage, rather than a few of those in the room who looked like nothing more than mercenaries. With Jerrod's own share of the knowledge of a physical weapon, he made one assumption as of why there were so many armed men here, including himself: there was going to be some fighting. Perhaps it was just coincidence, and perhaps it wasn't. After all, Ignatius seemed like a capable mage himself from everything Jerrod had heard. More importantly, he was loyal to the guild. He just didn't get why the guild brought in so many outsiders. Perhaps the need for a fighting force was more common. After all, the Mages Guild was supposedly a servant to the Empire, and with the last three years being filled with war in most parts of Tamriel, the Guild had to be ready for anything. Even the former Empire's home, Cyrodil, was at its own division. Maybe the guild was more torn than people thought. With the Empire losing power, the guild has lost much of its own power. Perhaps the Mages Guild had its own time limit, just as the Empire had.

His eyes stopped, as his new assigned partner got up from his seat.

"I'm afraid we'll have to continue our conversation at a later date, Adrienne."

The man then turned towards him, speaking in a more formal tone.

"Well then, Mr. Athon, shall we depart?"

Jerrod nodded, following the man out of the Mages Guild. It was entertaining to see another man shove his way through, while you followed him. Jerrod casually nodded at the scrambling young apprentice. It wasn't the time to be worried about a man nearly pushing over some apprentice. They had bigger problems.

After the two made their way out the door, observing the bustling streets around them, Jerrod made a quick search for the watch barracks.

"Let's make this quick," the Imperial muttered, "As amusing as conversing with the common citizenry can be, this is guaranteed to be nothing but an annoyance. No doubt we'll just be speaking to a bunch of superstitious morons that are more concerned with things that go bump in the night than the dangers of reality."

Jerrod smirked slightly, quickly retaining himself back to his other thoughts. He could consider his partner to be an impatient type, not really caring if others were in his way. Of course, Jerrod would politely let him push everyone aside, and follow behind him. Still, there was one thing Jerrod was wondering about. They weren't given much information as to what part of the city Marcel even lived in. He guessed they would have to find everything out themselves. One couldn't always expect help.

"Heh. I bet the city watch has something we could use. A map maybe, of where everyone lives. They probably keep it for investigations. Since Ignatius didn't give us much information, we should go to the next best place."

Ashu watched as more arrived, giving their own greetings and requests. When all had arrived, the leader spoke.

"Sorcalin, go with Valus and find out who has come into the city within the last few weeks." Sorcalin had volunteered and the guards seeing a 'knight' of sorts would probably respond better. "Daosya, you had better to go with them. Ashu and I will go to see Marcel's brother. Marcus and Jerrod question around the neighborhood and see what can be found out."

Ashu had the duty he had hoped for, but he hoped he would be competent enough to fulfill it. As far as he knew, two things were possible. Either the man was driven to suicide by the dreams, or he was in a trance when he committed suicide. Either way, it looked like somebody wanted him dead and didn't want it to look like murder. Ashu never heard of anyone aside from the Sharmat Dagoth Ur from using such vile techniques, but if he could reach across Vvardenfell, controlling thousands (according to the ravings of the sleepers, at least) simultaneously, then an average mage, with the right techniques, could, in theory, replicate the effect for one man, likely from somewhere nearby. Where, they had no idea.

Ashu sighed and stood where he was, looking silently to Alexander, ready to follow. Hopefully they would be able to get to the bottom of this before whoever caused those dreams figured out that the Mages Guild was onto him. If so, then they just might be able to bring him in- or kill him- before he can leave the area.

Sorcalin, Skingrad Mages Guild

Sorcalin looked over at one his new partners with a little disdain etched on his long, elvish features at who his assigned partner was on the coming mission. To Sorcalin, the man seemed to give off a very "over-professional" attitude which was shown by the way he had saluted Ignatius a few moments before. He also figured he was a warrior because of the armor he wore and weapon at his side and he just didn't carry the same air of intelligence that a mage like Sorcalin might carry themselves with. He didn't understand why this job had attracted so many more fighters than magick-users and Sorcalin was disappointed that he was going to be working with one of them.

His other partner, the only woman in the group, seemed more mage-ly at least. She wore a simple white dress and Sorcalin could pick out at least some Elvish in her, though he wasn't sure exactly what it might be.

At least someone who will be able to hold a decent conversation with. he thought, with a sidelong glance at the other man, Hart-something or other. Frankly, he didn't care what the man's name was. He couldn't remember the woman's name either but once again, he couldn't care less. He figured he would get to know everyone better over the coming days. He sighed and walked over to the man, nodding in acknowledgement as he came to stand next to him.

He spoke loud enough for the nearby woman to hear as well as he tried to fire up some conversation between the three of them.

Anything to make this a little less awkwardly painful.

"So, shall we get going then?" he asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head while looking between the two of them. "We might as well ask the Captain of the guard in the city, whoever that is. Or, even better, the Gatemaster, if possible. What do you think?"

Hart nodded to himself as Ignatius formed them into groups and gave them their orders. The others quickly found their respective partners and began a cordial babble of introductions and suggestions. The armored Breton, however, remained seated, staring impassively at the Altmer, Sorcalin. To Hart's eyes, the elf seemed to be the epitome of a well bred, intellectual Altmer sorcerer, most likely the youngest of a long line of noble ancestors, whom Hart was certain the snob would be prattling off about in no time. He had seen his fair share of them in the Legion, rich noble's sons, all too eager to point out how talented they were, or how quickly they had advanced through the ranks. Regardless of how detestable the elf looked, sneering at Hart already, Stendarr gifted mercy on all men. Which included elves, he supposed.

The spellsword looked up at the elf as he approached, his perpetual mask of indifference breaking enough to raise a quizzical eyebrow. He would work with the elf, he would do anything to serve the Legion, but he was not in the mood to chat.

"So, shall we get going then?" the elf asked, obviously uncomfortable. He looked almost nervous. "We might as well ask the Captain of the guard in the city, whoever that is. Or, even better, the Gatemaster, if possible. What do you think?"

Hart stood, ignoring his temporary partner as he adjusted his scimitar. The Breton was by no means a short man, but even on his feet the lanky elf towered over Hart. His cool blue eyes were level with the Altmer's finely clothed chest.

"Hmph," Hart nodded his approval of the elf's plan, keeping true to his reputation as a laconic soldier. He was all too eager to leave the guildhall, to finally start what he had come here for. Even if he had to travel around with an Altmer.