Word from the creator: Well this is a revamp of the Queen's Waltz with the intent of stream lining the process. I want to make it clear to everyone that those of you who have been in QW can continue on doing most of what you are doing in the west. For those of you who had not joined, treat this just as you would any other new RP. You can easily fit in and join, everything important will be reviewed in the intro. The biggest changes that you may notice will be that instead of having the a smash and bash three way war between the Dominion, Wayrest and the Nords, we will be having an in depth game of chess between Queen Elysana of Wayrest and Daggerfall. The Aldmeri Dominion will be playing more of a support role to Daggerfall and the Nordic invasion will be at a stand still for the time being. While the military aspect in this version will still be present, I will NOT allow it to be the focal point as it had become in QW because the focus won't be on 'destroy the other guy.' More on this in the over view and rules as some things have changed. There will be in a way two main parts to the RP that will run along side each other with a focus on keeping people together and interacting while also providing a wide range of options for people to write whatever their style is.


ImmortalBlood Timeline brief history:

4E 1: With the end of the Oblivion Crisis no time has been left to breath. Tension between the Mages Guild and the Altmer nobility in Summerset have sparked a rebellion on the island. With the Legions spread far and thin, battered by the recent Crisis, they are none the less sent to Summerset by the Elder Council and fight a blood conflict. The Altmer using their goblin armies manage to stave off the Empire's Legions and prepare an invasion of Cyrodiil with the goal in toppling the Empire by striking at its head and start the Aldmeri Reconquest of all former Elven lands. The Elder Council offers the province of Valenwood and the Aldmeri Dominion is born at the signing of the treaty of Anvil. In the mean time mass migrations by Nordic barbarians toward the north west of Morrowind, Colovia and north eastern Hammerfell further weaken any garrisons down south as they are needed else where in to maintain order.

A young Ra Gada noble by the name of Hauron unifies the splintered elements of Redguard society in Sentinel and defies the Empire declaring independence. The Elder Council seeing the Empire unravel before them decide on solving the issue of who the next ruler of the Empire would be and the new rebellion in Sentinel by calling forth any noble willing to vanquish the Sentinel forces and naming Dynastic rights to the Empire as the prize. King Hlaalu Helseth of Mournhold, Elysana of Wayrest and Ocato all answer the call. The coalition is difficult to maintain as none of the leadership trusted each other. Betrayal is rampant and any sort of naval blockade is shattered by the Sentinel navy. Hauron proving to be a charismatic leader enters into an alliances with the desert tribe of Barca and Ayuub. Along with the roaring cannons of Sentinel the dis-unified coalition of the Empire are driven away from the city. After weeks of skirmishes and maneuvers in the wild the war culminated in the final battle of Lainlyn forest.

The Empire's forces taking up defensive positions are met by the Ra Gada general, Saladin who had secretly been Hauron in disguise, his double acting to feint the enemy. As the battle raged on two transcendent vampires in the service of the Khojmari manage to bring forth a Void sleeve using an ancient sword and the corrupted soul gem of Azura in the forest near by. A phenomenon which veterans of the battle could only describe as a living nightmare ensues causing all parties participating in the battle to withdraw. In the end Sentinel's Independence is declared and agreed upon by the Elder Council. The new Kingdom of Sentinel rules parts of western Hammerfell. The northern portion becomes a Terra incognito of tribal khanates and chiefdoms between the redguards and the nomads while the southern coastal cities maintain friendly relations with the Empire and in it's sphere of influence although completely autonomous.

As the War of the Wolves was fought, the Aldmeri Dominion prompted by supposed attacks of the Khajiit, invaded Elseweyr and planned on sweeping them aside and drive straight north to the Imperial City. Instead they had become bogged down in a vicious cycle of skirmishes and counter skirmishes. Along with that much of the Bosmer nobility seem displeased with their new rulers who seem to act a bit too directly on their daily lives as opposed to the Empire who simply let them be as long as order was maintained.

4E 2: At the start of the 2nd year of the Fourth Era, Queen Elysana is the sole ruler of her throne encompassing all of High Rock. Unfortunately for her, the throne she sits on is as unstable as it is tall. The recent campaign by Prince Consort Lord Woodborne (actually an impostor put in place by Elysana to maintain good relations with Orsinium) against western Skyrim ends in the failure and complete route of his entire army. Gravely wounded he is later found dead in his own room in Wayrest. This prompts a loose confederation of Nords to invade High Rock and either by alliance or by force manage to capture large portions in the east. Queen Elysana calls upon her Marshall of the Armies, a young and arrogant but capable noble by the name of Tudor. With a smaller force, in large part made up of locals of Dunkarn Haven, he uses a defensive position to stave off the Nordic assault sending them in full retreat to Raven Spring where they sit and consolidate their base of power.

Meanwhile in the west, the Aldmeri Dominion in the west had accepted the vassalage of the Direnni as well as offer Daggerfall political and limited military support. Due to the resources of the Aldmeri Dominion being spread out they are not capable to mount a full invasion on their own, although certain nobles of the Dominion have chosen to act on their own and give aid. Around Daggerfall rally all those who view Elysana's rule of the whole of High Rock as tyrannical.


What you will do

In the first part of the RP the focus will be mostly on the conflict between Queen Elysana and her absolute rule and Daggerfall which is not used to playing second fiddle to the likes of Wayrest. First and foremost I will need two people who can be dedicated, one to RPing Queen Elysana and Wayrest, and the other RPing the rulers of Daggerfall. This doesn't mean that you have to put your life aside for the role or that you even post every day or every other day. I simply need two people who can keep their goals in mind and push, and have those under them move toward this goal. You will be acting as the main driving forces of this RP. YOU are the chess players making the pieces move. I am willing to accept anyone willing for this role but of course I will take into account seniority, reliability and ability. Even if you think yourself 'new' or 'incapable' if you feel at all that you can fulfill the duties please contact me or post in the discussion thread. Your tasks will range from planning out political moves, drawing others to your side, diplomacy and if you wish, take to the battle field yourself. Although some would consider it unwise many would admire such an action.

Now what about the rest of you? Well if Wayrest and Daggerfall are the chess players that leaves you to be the chess pieces. Although it may seem like a lesser role, no chess player can win a game of chess without pieces can they? Your roles can range from being the nobility in the courts of the two cities to being rulers of your own city and following your own political goals. Who you side with is your choice. Wayrest will say that they want to bring unity and stability under the rulership of Elysana and say that Daggerfall is conspiring with the Dominion to return High Rock to what it was thousands of years ago. Daggerfall will say they want to topple the tyrannical rule of Elysana while the Queen of course sees no reason to step down.

Your reason for siding with one or the other is yours and only yours. Perhaps you side with Wayrest because you consider a united High Rock in such times better than a dis-unified one. You may not agree with Elysana but a civil war must not grasp the heart of High Rock and open the door to invaders. Or you may side with Daggerfall, maybe because you want to be ruled by them, or maybe they are just a vehicle to be used to propel yourself in a higher status position. Perhaps through Daggerfall you hope to return High Rock back to its city state like form of governance, or you simply want a constitutional monarchy or even a republic. The borders of the Empire seem to be going further and further away like a weakening tide. One can not expect protection from the Elder Council any longer.

Of course not all of you will take (or should take really) the reigns of a city. The ideal would be that only a few cities are taken, while most of the people are in positions to interact with the others. I fear that if people focus on "i'll take a city all on my lonesome and go be the greatest ruler ever" we will end up in a position where people hole up in their castles built on impossible to reach peaks and send threatening letters to those around them for about 5 pages and the RP will die. I'm not asking that you go out and rush armies at one another because then the RP will last even less. But get a goal or find someone who has a goal and follow them. Try to really consider why you are doing what.


My vision of High Rock

Although I want of course for for all of you to contribute to the Timeline, there are certain things that I have envisioned in my or rather our version of Tamriel. For example, and i've said this before, don't let video game stereo types to rule your characters. Not all the Bretons are going to be defensive type mages. High Rock for example has a long tradition of archery which I liken to Wales and England in our world which will be much of the focus concerning central High Rock. But also there is a strong knightly tradition of armor clad cavalry which is a bit more French-esque which will be represented more so in the west. You're going to have capable Breton archers and knights. Go ahead and do it, don't freak out about it when you see it. Not all Orcs are big hammer wielding warriors either.

Since Bretons are really composed of two main components and because I like to study history and ethnogenesis of various people in our world i'll explain a bit how the Bretons are made up culturally and ethnically. As you all know before the Nordic invasions from the north, High Rock was a land of the Elves who acted as a ruling elite over a serving majority. This produced various mixtures of Elven and Nedics ranging from almost purely Nedic to almost purely Elven. With the Nordic invasion and the expulsing of the Elves a new ethnic/racial wave was part of High Rock producing finally the Bretons. Now in our time, the further east you go the more "manish" the Bretons are and the further west you go the more Elvish. For the sake of the atmosphere I hope people RP these subtle details in appearance and even accent. Along the southern coast of High Rock on the bay I imagine a subtle infusion of Redguard and Imperial (due to mercantile relations and just the obvious proximity) is also present.


The Military Aspect

While I do not want this to become the focal point of the RP I do understand that it will be part of the RP regardless and I wouldn't want it any other way. A good idea would be to read Duval's Guide and even some of the stuff D Foxy has been writing up. Troop numbers will be dealt with in a case by case scenario. There will be a character sheet I will post later on but I do not really care to see troop numbers on it. There will be an army sheet specifically for the military when a military situation arises. You may not know this but rulers didn't sit with a bunch of professional soldiers doing nothing if there wasn't a war to fight. Practically the only standing professional army in the world for a long while was the Roman Empire off of which the Imperials are based off of. High Rock is more feudal-esque in nature which means you'll have your knightly orders, militia troops, maybe a branch of the army which are a bit more elite, and then the rest will be levies and the nobility who can afford better equipment. I'm considering allowing mercenary bands (i'll have one acting as a test) and they will have a military sheet with a constantly standing army. But again everyone else, they won't have that because it costs money to maintain and feed a bunch of guys who are only useful when there is war. Remember war is expensive and other means are much better to use to avoid those costs.

Since we writing about TES here we can expect a level of magic to be used. I want you guys to understand that while I personally find magic as one of the best aspects of these RPs, more than half of my characters being users of it, in a military and social aspect magic is rare. How rare? Well about as rare as reading was in the medieval era. Not only that but after being able to read the person is expected to also use their will power and know how to shoot fire from their hands and conjure monsters to do their bidding. Not only that but they'd have to be good at it.

Now something else I want to go over is equipment. Remember that list from MW or OB where it shows say heavy armor, and the lower levels of heavy armor are iron, and then you go to steel and further you get to dwemer and ebony and daedric. And when you compose your forces you may think "well i'll have a bunch of guys in iron armor as my lower tier guys and then a little bit of everything else as we go up." Remember that? Well don't. Most people can cry of joy if they even have steel equipment at all what so ever. Plate armor is fairly expensive. Most of the levied troops which will make up the majority of the Breton armies will be armored in padded cloth, leather and if they are lucky some chain mail. Professional militia of the bigger cities may have a nice helmet and a cuirass or if their noble is richer will be equipped better. I'm not anti-armor in the RP. I'm just against people having full stacks of plate clad soldiers. And please no Nazgul type of "oh come on!" armor. Good examples of armor:

http://livinghistory.ie/~valen/reenactment_pictures/osprey/hospitaller-knight-1230.jpg

http://img223.imageshack.us/i/withoutmarksb8.jpg/#q=hospitaller

http://www.globaleffects.com/C_pages/Rental/Wardrobe/Armor/Period/CompleteSuit/European/blacktrans_hi.jpg

http://knightstemplarsmc.com/images/templar_and_hospitaller_knights.jpg

http://www.wesnoth.org/forum/download/file.php?id=29076

You get the idea.


Diplomacy

http://www.imperial-library.info/maps/cyrodiillargelowrescr7.jpg

This is the map we are using. Between Daggerfall and Evermore will be our play ground. Orsinium will side with Wayrest and Camlorn with Daggerfall. Everything else is up in the air for those who choose. If the city is left vacant as a rule of thumb everything east of Koegria is automatically siding with Wayrest and everything west will side with Daggerfall. Everyone else you will have to manage and manipulate to your cause. Bribe, assassinate, threaten or woo the pieces to fall into place. You may be able to raise a huge army with all of your resources but if the enemy causes some small city to their side that controls the only path to your target, they can stall your superior numbers and bleed you dry.

Remember just because you side with one or the other doesn't mean that you hold true to their ideals. Simply for the time being, the current course of action benefits you. But if you want to RP an idealist, someone who has some romantic notions of the Monarchy or the possibility of a Republic in High Rock by all means. Just remember sending letters to one another like text messages is not diplomacy and the RP will die if people do just that.


Character Sheets will be required this time around for central characters and will be posted in the discussion thread for approval.

Name
Race
Age
Gender
History
Physical Description
Siding with Wayrest or Daggerfall and reason

etc.

Pretty basic and unspecific. You can get more detailed with it than that but those are the requirements.


The Tomyris Garden Academy

Overview:

In the year 430 of the Third Era, Headmaster Ovidius, Wizard in the Mages Guild and Battle Mage in service of the Legion uncovered the Ayleid Ruin dubbed 'Arcania.' Since then using his personal funds he has converted the ruins into a fully operational academy for advanced studies. Students can expect expert and master level courses in all the major arcane arts as well as the mundane. Students will be provided with housing and all basic living requirements on the academy grounds. In return students are expected to fulfill contracts based on their speciality, usually in teams. The contracts will be made between the academy and those wishing to hire the services of the Academy.

The Contracts:

As members of the academy after passing your Dragoon exam, you will be expected to fulfill contracts provided to you by the academy in return for payment based on your rank and the difficulty of the contract. The tasks can range from escorting mercantile parties from place of origin to destination, to providing security for an event, to subduing rebellious elements in the different domains and if need be provide support on a battle field. In short frank language, Dragoons are a mercenary force to be hired for various roles in exchange for pay. In the instance when two contracts contradict each other, the latter will be terminated. Dragoons are NOT to work on opposite sides directly against one another.

Dragoon exam:

The Dragoon exam depends on your instructor and will usually have a sit down exam and a field exam portion as well. Permission to partake in the Dragoon exam is based not on the length of period that you have been in the Academy, but the ability you have. If your instructor thinks you are ready a week after you join the academy you can take the exam. If you aren't ready even after 5 years you won't be able to. You can continue to stay as long as you pay for your own housing and education. Failure to pass the exam will mean you have to wait six more months before you can even be considered for the exam once again.

What you'll be RPing about:

So I added this sort of sub plot to the RP because I have been told it would be a good and popular idea. It is a much more adventure based character development variant of the RP without much of the politics or grand scale aspects of the war. Basically think of the Mages Guild merged with the Fighters Guild and you throw in a whole 'academia' setting complete with instructors and exams. In this part of the RP you will RP one of the students. If they have passed their Dragoon exam or not is up to you. Contracts won't be issued until a few pages into the thread at least as to get everyone organized. The Dragoons are split up into several "Wings" which are composed of forty or so Dragoons. Each Wing is divided into a "Feather" which are the sub groups of teams. While Wings are something more stable, Feathers (the smaller teams composed of 2 to several people) can change based on the assignment, task, or whatever. Even though magic is the speciality focus of the academy, the mundane aspects such as sword play and archery are also studied and taught. To an extent this is a battle mage/spell sword academy producing high quality products for hiring by the public. So your character doesn't have to specialize in magic, but has to at least use magic to augment their mundane abilities. So perhaps your character may not be able to shoot out bursts of lighting from his hands, but can use a touch spell for supportive measures if need be.

The character sheet for students will differ from that of the above mentioned portion of the RP.

Special notes:

1)Vampires (Converts, Ascendant and Transcendent) are admitted to the academy provided that they are capable of controlling themselves. Feeding on fellow students or passing on vampirism is strictly prohibited and can result in very harsh punishment. Werewolves are NOT permitted.

2)Why south of Anticlere? Because the city of Anticlere will be completely neutral in the conflict between Daggerfall and Wayrest. A contract has been signed for the academy to protect such neutrality. Quite a bit of the RP will be happening in Anticlere itself.

3)Just for everyone's "cultura generala" I am using the term Dragoon for the active mercenaries for a number of reasons. First off Dragoons historically were a supportive portion of the military specializing in several key tasks. They would use horses to ride into specific portions of the battle and provide support for whatever task was needed. That is in effect what our Dragoons will be doing, although not just in a battle field sense. The other half of the reason is because it sounds frikken cool.

4)Necromancy is up for debate in the academy. Generally it is frowned upon but no one is going to put you through the inquisition if in the past necromancy was part of your repertoire.

5)Teachers will be mostly handled by me for now although as things go on i'd like some people to RP some of the teachers. I'm not going to have everyone go to the lengths of RPing every tiny little subject and the manner in which classes run is a bit more libertine than what you'd expect in our world. Instead of Oxford and Harvard, thing more like Plato and Aristotle.

6)I want to stress this very much, this is NOT a Harry Potter inspired thing. I did get a bit of inspiration from another source as a tribute as some may have figured out again this is not Hogwarts. Things will not work in that manner and the general age of the students will range from 16 to 30. I liked the movies, I didn't bother to read the books but I just can't see the whole Hogwarts thing within the context of TES.

7)How to act on academic grounds? Well while it is fairly libertine, it isn't a frat party either. I don't mind people RPing all manners of things but keep it within reason.

8)The Mages Guild is something that we are somewhat tied to but grow more and more independent each day. Say you encounter a high ranking Mages Guild member. He can't really tell you what to do although it may be wise to follow their instructions, for all intensive purposes if you don't want to you can tell them to sit on their pointy wizard hat. In a way there is a bit of a rivalry but nothing too extreme. If you encounter a Guild member on the opposite end of your spellbook/sword in your contracts it's probably best to act according to their aggression level. Try not to kill them but if you have to, you have to.

The Academia Character Sheet

Think of this as a personal file the Headmaster would have to look over.

Name: (Keep it reasonable)

Race: (Mixtures are allowed)

Age: (Don't have to specify exactly)

Gender: (Please specify...)

Birthsign: (Just pick one)

Reason for Joining: (Keep it short. The headmaster doesn't need your whole life story.)

Length of Studies: (How long have you been at the academy?)

Arcane Speciality: (Sort of what you excel in. Here you can get a bit creative with it. Don't just put "Destruction" but say "Specialize in ice magic to slow down the enemy and use a crossbow." That is a very poor and short example. Also it doesn't have to be JUST one thing, but don't be good at everything.)

Any other tools: (Anything else you may use aside from the magic. If need be merge this section with the above.)

Vampire?: (If yes write down the lineage and if a Convert, Ascendant or Transcendent. If you have questions about these 3 levels ask me. I'm not going to expect too many vampires.)

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

The above is more or less a basic file on the person. After that you can present the physical description, attitude of the person, and their history but those would be for us the writers to see, not the characters themselves.



The Academy Layout

The design is a Byzantine style architecture and Greco-Roman designs with large domes, arches, wide open gardens, balconies and many large windows. The more Ayleid aspect of the dark ruins with the glowing blue is also present but more so underground under the academy itself. I haven't come up with a definite blue print of the grounds and for the time being it will be vague save for some definite aspects. In the center will be a central structure reaching for the sky. It won't be a straight tower but a cone like figure with three ovalesque structures from largest to smallest as they reach up.

All around the academy itself are wide patches of lightly forested areas, gardens, some individual housing for more established Dragoons and instructors or loners. Ayleid arches, statues and stones can be found as well as various lakes and rivers. To the furthest reaches of the academic grounds are the walls. As the island is full of all sorts of creatures and monsters and invasion is always a possibility, the academy has a series of defensive structures around it. http://www.arkeo3d.com/byzantium1200/images/sur_a.jpg

Specifics

Bottom Portion

Front Gate: If you want to leave or enter the Academy you need to go through the Front Gate. Entering requires that you are a student or that you have official business although visitors are allowed with supervision. If you plan on leaving you will require a note of permission which will also be used to return as proof.

First Floor Lobby: The first thing that will strike you is simply the size of it all. The height of the dome is sheer amazement to anyone there. Columns circle around the base of the dome along with various plants. A cross section made of two bridges are made with the center being composed of a massive winding stair complex taking students to their living quarters. To either side of the bridges themselves are pools of crystalline water.

The Library: One of the most extensive libraries in Tamriel, it boasts a large collection of books on all sorts of topics from spell making to making stews. It is located near the dorm so that students can have easy access for studies or simple curiosity.

The Training Center: Monsters from outside of the Academy are placed within the training center which is an open air man made forest within the Academy itself. Students should not enter without their instructors and Dragoons should never enter alone. Entering is permitted only with authorization.

The Cafeteria: Open from 7 AM to 10 PM the cafeteria provides a wide range set of foods of various tastes and origins. Orders can be placed during hours and picked up before or after hours.

Dormitory: The dormitory rooms will hold two people each most likely members of the same Wing. The room has a basic design with a main living quarters with a simple table and chairs. Immediately after entering the room beyond the main living quarters will be two rooms side by side for either student. Inside there will be a bed, a desk, and a place for books. Off to the side of the right room will be a washing space to keep clothes and students clean.

Shop: This is where you can buy any equipment that you may need ranging from spells to soul gems to swords to armors. Taking advantage of Anticlere's growing mercantile trade abilities, the variety is virtually endless and the prices are usually cheaper than what one can find in the city.

Second Floor

Classrooms: This is where students are lectured on the various schools of magic and manner in which to use them best. Advanced courses are offered such as Arcane Archery, Aquamancy and other various form of elemental manipulation. The classrooms themselves fit anywhere from twenty to sixty students and classes are taken based on ability rather than seniority.

Stone Garden Balcony: Students can come here in their free time or may have class outside on various occasions. Other times parties and meals may be presented on the balcony.

Ballroom: The ballroom is used only for special occasions and is connected to the stone balcony garden. It is a large, glass domed ceiling structure with two sub levels.

Third Floor

Headmaster Ovidius' Quarters: This is where Headmaster Ovidius spends much of his time as well as members of the administration staff which receive and manage contracts.

Observatory: When Headmaster Ovidius learned that an observatory structure had been found in one of the Dwemer ruins of Hammerfell, he bought it and transplanted it straight to the Academy, a move that had made him slightly unpopular with members of the Elder Council and the Mages Guild. The observatory can be used only with special permission for recreative and academic purposes.




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Well this is it. Enjoy the RP. You can partake in either or both "theaters" of the RP. Use the ImmortalBlood discussion thread to discuss instead of OOC posts. I haven't posted rules since I figure everyone can use some common sense. Place the sheets in the discussion thread for approval.

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




This spot is reserved. I will edit and re-edit this OP with new information and notes here. Check as often as possible.


Announcement: Don't post until I make the first opening post. This may take a day or even two. Use the discussion thread for discussing and work on your sheets until then. The OP is subject to change if points arise in the discussion thread.

Rea was already annoyed at her new room mate since the night before. She had never shared her room before and it didn't help that Andrethi had decided to move in in the late hours that he did waking her up. She had seen him before on the Academy grounds before but only rarely. Supposedly he had some important position with the Queen in Wayrest before moving in. As she sat on the chair with her back against the wall, using the table as an arm rest for her left elbow and the stool beside her's as a rest for her feett, her eyes moved side to side through the room watching Andrehi looking for something as she contently took small bites out of her buttered bread. The tall Dunmer wore a noble black robe with slits cut down the sides from his knees downward for mobility. On his back he wore the silver greenish dagger, a Dres design and something that caught Rea's blue eyes. Under the robe Andrethi wore simple baggy dark pants that were tied around the ankles with leather straps. Simple soft shoes made it possible to remain silent and mobile. A similar shirt covered his upper body and was like wise tied around the forearms with leather straps. Around the straps were hidden all sorts of throwing weapons.

"What are you looking for?" Rea finally asked curiously. It was morning and they had to be at front gate in thirty minutes and for the past fifteen this was all that he had been doing. An annoyed look sparked across her face as he ignored her taking a bigger bite of her bread. "Hmpf..."

"My Ouroborus." Was all Andrethi said as he left the main living quarter and entered his room looking between his books and various other items laid out on his desk.

"Your what?" Rea tilted her head curiously. Andrethi turned to her having not found what he was looking for in his room. Rea wore a dark red button up blouse, the sleeves slightly wider at the wrist. A short black skirt covered her from her waist half way down her thighs where a bit down her leg a pair of long black socks covered the rest of her legs ending in simple black shoes. Two anklets adorned the ends of her legs and seemed to be powerfully enchanted.

"My Lupine Ouroborus, a ring with a Wolf headed Draco biting it's tail. I took it off when I went to go bathe and..."

"This?" Rea held it out with her empty hand looking at it.

"Yes that." Andrethi replied in annoyance snatching the ring and placing it on his right index finger.

"I didn't know who's it was and just found it lying around so..."

"...so you just took it? You take things that you don't know who they belong to?" Andrethi turned away back toward his room.

Rea mumbled to herself. "Idiot...it's good silver but it's already enchanted and useless anyway." She had tried to enchant the item but found that it had already been so.

"Don't touch my things from now on!" Andrethi called out from his room. Rea almost fell off her stool wondering if he had heard her.



OOC: For the first post just get yourself involved in your rooms. I'll make the first "leaving the room" post to sort of set up the atmosphere.

Outside of Raven Spring, Menevian Camp
Guillaume snarled at the beautiful woman before him, as she slowly replaced her ivory dagger in the sheathe at her side. His sword remained poised. "Yes, I am a necromancer." She said calmly and proudly, taking a step towards him. Guillaume took one instinctual step back, then cursed himself for doing such a weak thing.

"Why are you here, witch?" He growled at her, angered at his own fear and the situation he was in. Eustace was whimpering in the corner as the towering Ra Gada stood over him. Guillaume looked back at the woman. "Answer me, [censored]!"

"Because you are not like your peers, Guillaume Molyneuxe." Simithara replied, moving another step closer. This time, Guillaume did not take a step back. The singing of a sword and gurgling signaled Eustace's inevitable death.

"Explain." Guillaume ordered, holding the sword threateningly towards her. Simithara grinned wickedly.

"You are one of the manifestations of Mannimarco. And I intend to free you."

"Lying wench!" Guillaume lunged at her, sword thrusting out to skewer that lovely gut. But Simithara twisted herself to one side, the sword harmlessly sliding through the folds of her silken cloak. The folds caressed Guillaume's blade like a lover, taunting him. Her left hand came out and brushed his wrist with that same taunting caress. But on this hand a ruby stone gleamed like the moonlight that shone through the fabric of his tent, the gem red as blood.

Guillaume's sword dropped to the ground, his knees following as weakness overcame him. He could feel the magic svcking his life from him, watched as his own skin grew ever so slightly wrinkled, ever so older. And he felt so weak... so weak. So helpless, at the hands of a woman.

Name: Martel Zeldi (Best I could do, sorry :/)Age: 29Gender: MaleBirthsign: The LordHistory: Martel is a native of the city Bhoriane. He grew up there from birth and learned how the city works early on. Though Martel only took a small amount of courses in grade school, his own drive and studious nature brought him deep into the wonders of knowledge. When his city came under threat in a skirmish in his boyhood, Martel grabbed his father's sword and shield and ran out onto the battlefield. Though he suffered deep gashes on his face, marring it forever, Martel gained a sense of pride that has carried him through the political and military realm of High Rock. He has developed a tendency to lean towards the side of Daggerfall, to keep the security of his town at the forefront of affairs. He has taken command of a small knight faction within Bhoriane and lends his forces to the town's guard and the Daggerfall garrisons if they are in need of assistance, but only if Bhoriane is directly involved.Physical Description: Martel is a short, slender Breton. He has messy brown hair that he refuses to keep, no matter who tells him he should take better care of himself. His bright blue eyes and handsome facial features have gotten him far in life, but the scars on his cheek from his early years are a constant reminder of his suffering. Martel's scars dot his left cheek, as though needles stabbed him there, and a large one runs from the base of his right ear to his nose. He has tanned skin and seems to be constantly branded with a warm smile.Siding: Daggerfall: Martel has no true allegiance between the two sides, but if Daggerfall can continue to push out, his city can remain unharmed. It would hurt him to see his townspeople maimed or killed, and that is something he will attempt to avoid at all costs.Armor/Sword: The armor is much like the picture below, but with no helmet and a dark black and blue color scheme. A white emblem adorns the chest, that of a minotaur, to stand for his order; The Knights of the Horns.http://img223.imageshack.us/i/withoutmarks.../#q=hospitallerHis blade is pictured below, known as "Wave".http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/18518.jpg

Martel ran his eyes over the text before him, scanning word after word on the page. He read with haste and speed, clearly worried about the contents of the scroll. After he finished, he glanced up at his squire and shook his head. "Those bandits dare not send men to my doorstep!" With the exclamation, Martel stood and looked the young boy before him in the eye. "Send for the Count! He must hear of this immediately. Such a threat to our peace shall not be taken lightly."

As the boy rushed off to do his master's bidding, Martel strode out of his office and looked out over the common room of the Horned Hall. The Horned Hall sat just outside the walls of Bhoriane, the small city which the order called home. The Knights of the Horns were required to take an oath that bound them to the city, swearing to protect it with every drop of blood within them. However, Martel refused to enlist his knights in the city guard. In his mind, the city guard was a standing force that handled more disputes of property and law than anything else, his knights were not the same.

Just from the view in the common room, one could tell these men were not the same. They sat about practicing debate, arguing over religion and politics, as well as other tasks of wit. They were men of nobility, honesty, and servitude before they were warriors. The common room was plain, yet welcoming when filled with the voices of the knights. This was there home, as it would be until the day some faction tried to tear it from them. That attempt would fail, of course, but the twenty-some men could only fight on for so long if they were to come under siege.

Martel raised his hand into a fist and spoke. "Men, attention!" As soon as the words hit the ears of his knights, they fell silent. "I have received a threat from a local bandit group. We may have to once again stand shoulder to shoulder with out shields raised. I urge you all to step into the courtyard and train, for the battle may come. If it does not, we are all the better for the training, but if it does we must be prepared. Bhoriane will not fall to mongrels, nor any other men!"

"As you wish, sire!" All of the men droned in unison, abandoning their tasks to follow Martel's orders. They moved to their rooms, donned their combat gear, and crowded the courtyard as they practiced swordplay and archery.

Martel simply stood still, watching. He waited for his squire to return, as there was no need to prompt a skirmish without the knowledge of the Count. He waited for word from the nation's factions, projecting their moves and what assistance they might need from him. More than anything, Martel waited for his duty to be made clear.


(OOC: Sorry it's kind of lame, just wanted to get my character active.)

Menevian campsite
"Raza, the moonlight." Simithara whispered softly, her hand still touching Guillaume as he sank to his knees and began to shudder, feeling ever weaker. She was kneeling now as well, locking her emerald eyes with Guillaume's. Her hand caressed his cheek gently, the blood red ruby ring on her finger still aglow with vile magic. The Vampiric ring continued to drain Guillaume's life from him, making him ever weaker. His whole body shuddered as he felt the magic rush through him yet again.

Raza did his part, and with a flashing swirl of his scimitar tore a whole into the tent roof. Moonlight and starlight spilled through into the tent, basking Guillaume and Simithara in the glow. With another deft sweep of his scimitar in the air before him, the candles that lit the tent blew out. Cut by the winds of a supreme blade, and leaving only the glow of the night to reveal what the necromancer sought to do.

Simithara drew her other hand from her robe after some time, and Guillaume's eyes widened at what she held. It was a gemstone the size of a fist colored so deep a violet it might as well have been ebony, and glittered with light within. He was not a stranger to the dark arts, he was aware of some of their practices. And after the last developments with a supposed Mannimarco and the Mage's Guild, everyone knew what a Black Soulgem was. For the first time he could remember, Guillaume feared his fate.

Calmly, Simithara removed her hand from his cheek; but his strength did not return. With both hands she set the stone on the compact ground, and an elegant index finger etched lines and symbols in the dirt. Too weak to move from his supplicating position, Guillaume watched with curiosity and uncertainty, and then with fear as she finished her dirt drawings and withdrew her ivory dagger from her hip.

In the hands of the beautiful devil, the dagger seemed strangely divine, though that property was only helped by the ethereal glow of moonlight shinning onto the pale white ivory. She reached out and took his right wrist, pulling it towards her. Guillaume resisted as fiercely as he could, drawing it back. But with strength really not becoming of a lady she forced his arm to extend, his wrist hovering over the black soulgem upon the ground.

The ivory knife ran across his flesh with ease, blood cascading around it to fall over the soulgem. Simithara released his wrist unceremoniously and knelt before the gemstone, whispering to it like a lover. But her words were not Tamrielic or Bretonic; and yet, somehow, Guillaume could understand the last few words. "Pride, I join you to Wrath, underneath the light of Power."

In the moonlight that glimmered down upon the stone, Guillaume could see a form shifting, shuffling, awakening. Steam began to rise from the blood that touched the soulgem, and that steam collected above it in a dense cloud. The soft glowing form within the gem shuddered and diffused from the gem, seeping into the cloud and making the steam more ethereal. A humanoid form began to develop, and as Guillaume watched, he swore he saw a skull within the cloud. A wind rustled within the tent, accompanied by a soft yet growing wail. The horrific spectral form moved and swirled around him, coiling around the moonlight shaft that bathed Guillaume and never taking its ghostly eyes off of him. Like a predator circling its prey.

Without warning the wails reached a shouting volume, but the undead guards stood their ground at the doors of the tent. The coils of steam constricted around Guillaume like a python, the apparition's unholy 'face' poised over him to strike. And when it plunged, and struck, and forced itself into every orifice of his body, Guillaume's world went black.

Black Waste, High Rock

Torches lined the corridors of Osrath's tower. The frail breton walked by his lonesome, the soft glow of the fire light and the swishing of his white robe on the stone his only companion. He stowed away in his tower for long periods of time, a foriegner to everyone but the ocassional guard. The guards would be silent, their scarlet doublets and mithril swords in pristine condition. Osrath was quiet most of the time, the sentries were startled at a muted "Hullo". The darkened halls that curved in the tower illuminated the closer you got to Osrath's study and quarters.

The wizard walked, seemingly perfect center of the hall. As he passed bright cylinders illuminated in a green yellow light, the taste of magick and power oozed from the walls. Shields, traps and enchantments all sparkled through the upper levels of the tower from his master, his master's master and so on. The door he approached was simple oak, bound by iron. The fresh wood was not native and the smell still permiated the air, timeless.

An exasperated sigh escaped his mouth as he opened the door. On the window sill perched a dove, a beautiful creature. It's feet cradled something familiar, a thin sheet of parchment.

It was another summons to Wayrest, someone always wanted the old man in Evermore, Wayrest, in the older days even Daggerfall sent him summons. Osrath was not welcomed in Orsinium, the Orismer were superstitious folk, and did not welcome Wizards. Osrath was glum, he was rarely glum, or happy, just simply....Osrath at many times. He had been known to be eccentric, eccentric with purpose they always said. High Rock was falling apart, in the time of the Empire it was so welcoming and full and lusciously full of life and trade. Now the roads sat dead, tidings of invasion in the east, strife in the west. There was no escaping it and Osrath had avoided it for as long as possible.

The scent of dust irradiated the room, his private study branched off into a large and unadorned suite. As if by completly impossible means, everything shone perfectly clean and clear. The wizard stepped into his room, and opened his usually untouched wardrobe.

The Isle of Balfiera

Horses don't like boats, boats don't like Orcs and Orcs don't like horses. Or so it seemed to Dragomir, who sat with his head in his hands as the vessel came slowly to a stop at a small quay somewhere on the northern coast of the Direnni island. The small wooden thing heaved and roiled on the calm waves; poorly-made and skippered by a humble Orc whose eyes glazed over and whose lips moistened at the sight of Dragomir's mare, Isadora. It was a blue, cloudless day, and Balfiera looked like a paradise compared to the harsh country of the Reach, which Dragomir had traveled through a month ago.

The Reach held lots of memories in its secret vales and quiet, cold villages that never saw the sun - but as Dragomir hastily rode down the Bjoulsae River valley, he decided that it was not healthy to dwell too much on the past. An old friend of Dragomir's worked for the Webbe Family, who were a mostly Breton line of retainers to the Direnni Clan on Balfiera. With the end of the Northern War, fortunes were changing hands drastically as Elysana turned her calculating claws towards more southerly games.

If there is one thing essential to the lives of most men, it is work. A man without work lacks a means to exist. Even hunting and foraging and subsistence farming are work, by the broadest terms. Dragomir had barely worked in over two months however. Scraping an existence by doing odd jobs for nightly shelter, the adventurer had meandered fruitlessly down eastern High Rock from the cold towers at Farrun and Jehanna. On the fringes of Wayrest, Dragomir inadvertently ran into a friend who changed his course entirely.

"Drago, Drago," the adventurer easily recalled his friend's melodic tones, "I'll tell you what. More than ten years in the Emperor's Service" - there was a hearty wink there - "gets a cunning man in on a few secrets. Firstly, you will no doubt recall Dad (Cephorus Helva). It was only a year ago that you were doing jobs for him in Dagon Fel after all!" - Cygnus (the friend) had laughed heartily at that - "In any case, my 'contacts'" - hearty emphasis - "have revealed that one of Dad's closest partners and the man who was made my godfather at birth has arrived on Balfiera in service to some Direnni. You're looking for a job aren't you? Wandering the Reach isn't good for a man. The wilderness isn't safe, not with devils and demons roaming the woods at night - and I'm not just talking about the supernatural!" - leaned in closer - "Llethas Assamaranan is a Dark Elf from Blacklight. For some reason or other, he's working with the Direnni now. Big things are happening, Drago. You want work? I'll be there in just under a month. Come find me, and I'll introduce you to the men that make things happen."

With a thousand thoughts running through his mind, Dragomir stepped off the boat and helped his cowed mare onto the quay. So! This is Balfiera, the ancient home of the Direnni Clan. Hopefully my fortunes - then he looked at Dora; ran his hand through her mane - no, our fortunes will change. After passing a few coins into the hand of the grizzly Orc, Dragomir and Isadora went on their way. Somewhere, somehow, they would find a path to follow in this new land.

The hallways holding the dorms were fairly peaceful as usual. It was in a way in no way inferior to the atmosphere one might expect at the Tiber Septim Hotel except that the people knew each other a bit better having lived together for at least several months. Only Andrethi was the new one. Rea's eyes were burning holes in the back of his head as they walked one in front of the other toward the main stairs. Apparently she had been too busy studying to notice that the Dunmer acquired enough of a reputation to earn him some stares from some of the others. She quickened her step and walked along side of him.

"Why are they staring?" Rea asked almost jealously annoyed.

"How should I know?" His tone was dry and unremarkable.

As they walked some of the walls had various paintings of them of different design. Headmaster Ovidius spared no expense in creating not only a respectable academy but an impressive work of architecture as well. The blend of elven and imperial as well as a tinge of other influences mixed together creating something un-claimable. The large winding stairs proved to be obnoxious however, not by their fault of design but that Andrethi felt like taking advantage of his height and using two at a time.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Rea called out from behind yet again annoyed.

"Hm?" Andrethi stopped and turned his head looking up at her. "Oh..." And continued onward. It infuriated her, it was as if she did not even exist. Being alone in that room was better than having somewhere share it with you and ignore you. She felt like kicking him in the back and watching him fall down the stairs with all the grace of a shattered cabinet.

Walking through the main lobby Rea caught a glimpse of Instructor Varulae walking amongst some of her students. There were a dozen or so and each had a bow slung over their shoulder. She taught Arcane Archery, a blend of bow and spell working to supplement one another and vanquish a foe by overwhelming rate of fire via different sources. Rea had always been curious concerning the subject but never found herself too good with a bow instead preferring her enchanted rings to do what needed to be done.

Surprisingly Varulae stopped in front of Andrethi and after quickly telling her students to go on ahead seemed to exchange a few words with him before walking off after her group. Before Rea finally caught up and was close enough to even say anything he was already moving. The long indoor bridge would take them straight to the main gate. Tall columns flanked either edge and benches with students were present, reading, talking, disagreeing.

The main gate itself consisted of a large coble stone square with a fountain in the middle, a statue of an elven sorceress reaching for an embrace. Rea had once heard that Tomyris was the name of the Headmaster's late wife and that that was her statue. In any case the group had been told to wait at the statue for their instructor before they headed out the the docks. She sat on the edge of the fountain as many others did as well. Andrethi just stood, his face motionless with an almost bored expression as his eyes looked around. She couldn't tell if he was more part wolf or cat but he certainly had a self absorbed nature about him.

WoW:D Very nice I really liked it
I want more :S!!

Carth

Well this is rich.

When Carth came to the Tomyris Academy one and one third a year ago, he was expecting an endless trail of great knowledge spewn forth every half an hour, a chance to work on his hobby - Dwemer devices - and the occasional epic battle to top things. By now, though, he'd come to the conclusion he was young and very stupid back then. The real academy wasn't really much like that, in fact it was pretty boring most of the time for someone like him (for Carth was always a man of action rather than talks) and made even worse by the fact he wasn't really intending to trust anyone here. In fact he was so determined to 'keep his guard up' that he was willing to fail a test or two just to avoid getting too close to someone emotionally. Owing his success to someone wasn't a bond he looked forward to forging.

Hive of competitive idiots this is. But it's got my future as well, and some more interesting stuff. Sighing, he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. The only friend Carth had made in this place was the phrase 'that's rich', actually; he didn't regret it much though. He couldn't recall any friends from the past that wouldn't have harmed him in one way or another. Perhaps it was partially his fault, or just the world conspiring against the young Breto-Ra Gada; whatever the case, he made a point of avoiding getting too close to someone.

Not that many looked to make friends with him... By now those Carth encountered more frequently mostly knew him as the 'weird guy', a bit of a loner and a bit of an ass more often than not. One of his main points was that he didn't need to trust someone to work with them, but it was made quite obvious by his behaviour that he preffered doing things either quickly if he was forced into a group or preferably alone. Hell, he even refused to share his name - Carth wasn't the name he had been given at birth, his Bretic name he usually went by before a certain someone exposed his fascination with magick. That was more of an issue of his general past than of trust, of course, but then how were the other students to know.

And thus Carth proceeded to lead a rather monotonic life for most of his stay in the Academy so far. Each morning he woke up with a 'this is rich'; he'd then proceed to attend to his studies, ignore half of what the teachers told him about tempering his magick, wander the Academy in search for some more remote or more interesting corners and then return. So far he was rather satisfied, even if he tended to moan more than was probably necessary; he sort of liked comming off as the easily-bored complaining sort, even if he couldn't put his finger on why exactly was that.

Of course, his life was soon to change, or so they said. Some sort of an important test thing was comming up; probably the reason why they were supposed to be at the main gate soon. Speaking of which, I'll probably be late... Again. With a silent sigh, Carth sat up in his bed. He'd been dressed and ready to go for quite a while now - it never took him too much time to get ready - but saw little point in going anywhere; not like he'd get bonus points for showing up early and he could squeeze some more time in the bed out of it, one of the things he liked most about this place - the beds back in his old village were far from as comfortable. Even after all the time he still was somewhat amazed how could a bed be so comfortable.

In fact the whole Academy was a pretty comfortable and definately lavish place; a reason why Carth failed even further in blending in, refusing to wear anything mage-like and sticking to mostly his old clothes, unasuming and commoner-like. A short-sleeved light brown shirt, thick leather boots, puffed white(ish) Ra Gada style pants and a quite wide belt with a simple iron clasp defined his usual clothes; he had, though, picked up the habbit of protecting his right hand by wearing a fingerless, nearly elbow-length thick leather glove with a steel plate sewn on top and another piece of steel plate around his shoulder, fixed there with leather straps and with some chainmail hanging down from it, covering most of his arm. It gave him a bit of an odd appearance perhaps, but such light and simple clothes made it easier both to blend into the crowd outside of the Academy and to move quickly, something he couldn't say about the pretty heavy robes 'true' mages favoured.

Streching his hands and yawning, the young man rather lazily took his saif sword - which was leaned against his bed, naked - and stuffed the precious weapon into its sheath, then looked around for his roommate, one Kythias, a fairly young Breton with a remarkably lavish sword.

Bolag

The Orc had never been a morning person, and he grumbled the whole time as he hauled himself out of the bed, glancing at the empty bed across from him. His only roommate had moved out from the Academy, and Bolag had been alone for nearly four months now. Not that he minded it; quite the contrary in fact as he didn't always enjoy the company of his last "bunk buddy", a somewhat rude and obnoxious Imperial kid, who constantly felt he was superior to Bolag who was "only an Orc".

It had been others like him who had made Bolag so uncomfortable and aware of his heritage in the school of the arcane. Standing over the stone basin he looked down at his hands, wondering if magick was the right choice for his apparently brutish kind. He dipped his hands into the basin and splashed the cold water over his face, letting it wake him from his stupor as he walked over to his drawer to pull out his clothes.

****

A few minutes later, Bolag stepped out of his room, his leather jerkin resting on his shoulders underneath a tan and red long sleeve shirt, and his fine scimitar belted to his waist, the simple black scabbard matching his leather black pants. A small buckler was strapped to the other side of his belt, and his rough leather boots shuffled against the stone floor as he locked his door and began walking down the halls.

He was nervous, and was growing more nervous every step he took as he thought of what might happen today. He so desperately wanted to prove that he was not just another stupid brute or elemental shaman, but a master of the more intricate and subtle arts of the arcane powers he possessed. His nerves swelled again, and he placed a finger on his temple and cast a minor calming spell on himself, enjoying the airy sensation his brain felt as the spell took effect, and for a moment he almost forgot he was walking.

"Focus Bolag. Gotta cast yer spells properly." he muttered, scolding himself as he picked up the pace, he long legs bringing him closer to the front gate where he had been told to meet. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and felt comforted by the familiar blade, and was wearing a slight smile as he walked through the doorway and into the courtyard, heading towards the fountain, as per instructions. He saw two students were already present, and he slowed his pace a little, his insecurities about his race surfacing again.

He couldn't remember the two of their names, but he felt very uncomfortable around the Dunmer who he always felt immensely inferior to. He avoided eye contact by both of them as he walked to the side of the fountain, and waited there, his nerves growing worse and the fact that the two were probably making racist comments behind his back only increased his nervousness as he cast another spell on himself, feeling the calming effect wash over himself again.

This time he smiled however, as the spell was just right and he raised his head to glance over at the two others before looking around to see if there was any sign from an instructor.

The Isle of Balfiera

Gradually, the rolling, folding hills evened out. The rough seaward trees slowly changed into light fruit trees and hedges appeared at the road side. Picturesque - as the Western provinces are wont to be - was the word Dragomir employed in his head to describe the country that they traveled through. So many fragrances, he thought while his lips moistened with the scent of every new exciting fruit and flower, apples of every kind, peaches, cherries... And golden fields of grain growing for miles, divided by ribbons of green and red hedge. At different points, the well-used but well-maintained road showed the signs of its makers. At some points, the square flagstones of the Imperial Legion's work were obvious, while at other points, Breton cobblestones and Altmer tiles vied for faded attention.

Under the noonday sun, Drago halted to water Dora at a well atop a verdant mound. He sat on a tree's low branch as he drew water from the bucket and drew a wet brush through her hair. She whinnied pleasantly (the day was very warm), and it was not until they almost turned to proceed down the opposite side of the hill that Dragomir noticed something in the other direction. Like a grey-clad rider astride his great green steed, a stone keep stood atop a hill watching over a thick cluster of buildings. Hahaha! How did I miss it? He twisted his head around and noticed a nearby sign: "The village of Rowing, two miles."

Before mounting Dora again, Dragomir reached into his saddlebag and flicked quickly through a rough, creased sheaf of parchments. All were signed Cygnus Helva and stamped at the top right corner with a swan in blue wax. His eyes scanned the page he paused at. ... ... ... ... Rowing! Rowing: A town at the northern edge of Webbe territory. Notable for its proximity to the Direnni summer houses in northern Balfiera. Presently administered by Sir Arcady Webbe, a knight of the Webbe Family by permission of the Castellan himself. "The almanac doesn't have much more to say, Dora. Come on then." And they set off down the hill.

Menevian campsite outside of Raven Spring
Even though they were not close to the Duke's tent, the men all heard the consistent shout that permeated his tent canvas. The tent, closer soldiers noted, was shaking about vigorously. Something was happening within, and it prompted immediate hostile attention. Swords were drawn and armor left untouched on the ground, as they had unstrapped their layers for the night's rest after a long march.

No stealth was attempted, no strategy, just a rush towards the tent with broadswords, short swords, spears and axes, to tear apart the entryway and end the shouting within. Because now, it had risen to a wailing scream.

The first soldiers to reach the front of the tent were met with swords that thrust strong and sturdy, entering their gut even as their own returned the favor. The two victims looked up in unison to see their own comrade faces staring back, holding the blade with stalwart calmness. And withdrawing it with equal coolness, only to move on to slashing at another oncoming soldier. The tent had been strategically placed upon a hill to make invaders find their work difficult; now it worked against Guillaume's own forces. To the horror of those at the bottom of the hillside, the two guardsmen of the tent moved forward to embed their blades in the guts of more soldiers, the first victim's swords still jutting from their own stomachs.

The scream grew louder and a light began to bleed through the thick canvas, as spears shot forth and took one guard in the forehead. He stumbled back, which allowed two swords to slash through his abdomen, but his accomplice, raising his shield to defend himself, brought his own sword down in a viciously powerful chop that severed the spear shaft and the head of one soldier going under the spear to strike.

"They're not human!" One of the soldiers behind the front line yelled, as the guard regained composure and lunged forward. His blade slammed through the unarmored soldier in front of the screaming man, and as the warrior fell those behind could see the spear point, still stuck in the guard's head. In the half a minute that passed in this skirmish, numbers began to favor the soldiers as they flanked the tent position and the guardsmen.

However, those flanking found themselves facing two opponents that emerged calmly from the tent. Stunned briefly, it took a moment for the realization to hit them. "You [censored]!"

Simithara did not even allow the man a chance to charge, shooting a glare at him that could kill; and a moment later after her left arm raised, it did just that. A javelin of white light shot forth, the magical spear piercing through flesh, bone, clothing, and what sparse armor WAS still on, taking out the man and every soldier standing behind him. The Redguard turned to face the other flanking group, and lowered himself with a bending of his knees into a sturdy defensive stance.

A loud neigh rose against the screaming backdrop, prompting some to look back to where the horse had been tended to. It was rearing over one soldier, and as it kicked out fiercely, skin tore, revealing flesh and bone, but no blood. "Necromancy!" Was the only word of the man's speech understandable, as the horse's hooves pommeled him to death. Several spears thrust up, tearing into flank, shoulder, and loin, but the spearmen were throw about as the horse thrashed, one kicked in the head and flown backwards.

"Perhaps they are intelligent, m'lady!" One voice called out, and it seemed to be laughing. The man was older than most soldiers, his hair greying.

"It seems so, Hallek. Shall we enlighten them further?" Simithara exclaimed back with a sadistic grimace.

"My pleasure, m'lady. Seral, Jamen, pay close attention." Hallek and Relmas drew their arming swords as one and spun them in their hands, uttering arcane words. With each spin of the blade, its shape changed, warping into a more sinister form aglow with red magics. Daedric souls forced to inhabit the mundane earthen blades, they filled the metals with anguish, hatred, and blood lust; warping the very properties of the metal with their presence. And as soldiers rushed forward to strike before the mage's were done, bellowing rage at the betrayal, they met the bite of Daedric edges. Simultaneously Hallek and Relmas swung their swords a final time and ended the spin with a deep thoracic plunge, lifting their victims briefly off their feet.

Together they threw items at their falling victims; an amulet and a gold coin, seemingly meaningless. However, they had been taken from previous kills, and held the last vestiges of the souls of those victims. To the horror of the soldiers, the bodies convulsed, blue-violet light covering their stomachs as the souls entered the corpses. As they rose, blood still pouring from the deep wounds, their live comrades finally snapped.

This was not a battlefield. This was not the gore of war. This was not invasion, or attack. This was a situation taken straight from a childhood nightmare; straight from hell. And it only got worse as the screaming from the main tent behind Simithara and Raza reached a climatic pitch, and the flaps flew open with hurricane force.

A rush of glowing forms burst from the tent, washing over the soldiers like a tidal wave. The reaction was instantaneous. Some tried to flee, screaming as their discipline broke. Others were thrown into a rage, and determined to survive charged their enemies as one.

Raza took the first charges in groups of three, catching all of their blades with a single sweeping parry and stepping forward to slam his shoulder into the middle, spin-slash the one to his right and come to bear on the left in time to meet his chopping blade. Locked, it was only temporary as the Undead Ansei twisted his sword around the soldier's and drew the end of his blade across the sternum.

Numbers would have been in their favor now, but to the further horror of those alive, the wave of spirits were not just for show. As they swept over the slaughter, many dived from the formation, plunging into the bodies of the dead and raising them from the grave.

With each passing second, the enemies' numbers were growing.

Woods, Ten miles west of Bhoriane

Swims-in-Shadows slowly awoke slowly with the increasing light of the new day streaming in broken shafts through the leaves of the tall trees above the tiny cave he had painstakingly dug out of a boulder with his gauntlet the night before. The forest around him was tranquil, and the only audible sounds were birdsongs and the occasional sounds of small animals in the nearby bushes.

And yet, despite the external calm, Swims could never quite feel at peace. No matter what was going on, the Argonian was always a tad jittery, as if ready to spring at an unknown and invisible enemy, constantly ready for a fight. Peace and tranquility had become alien to him after the events of the Sentinel campaign and his subsequent dangerous trek across unknown territory into High Rock. When he slept, his mind returned to various violent incidents during the campaign and the following journey: the blood-clouded waters of Sentinel harbor in his first real contact with the enemy, the horrible battle in the Imperial trenches, his fight with a Dark Brotherhood assassin, the Aldmeri Dominion's Sunbird, or, most recently, his clash with werewolves just a few weeks ago.

Swims reached for the bag that contained his supplies, and felt around the inside, finding about a third of a loaf of bread and nothing more. Damn. He sighed; he had managed on less before. Deciding to save it for later, he shut the bag, slid on his enchanted glass gauntlet, grabbed his spear, and crawled out the tiny cave and onto the pile of smaller rocks outside that he had left there from digging the cave out.

Cautiously standing up, Swims' orange eyes scanned the forest around him, finding nothing inconsistent with what he heard from inside. Tall deciduous trees rose above him, and bright green ferns clustered around their roots. Birds were visible in the branches of the trees, and aside from them, no other living thing was in sight.

But Swims-in-Shadows was simply incapable of appreciating the peace and natural beauty around him. To him, it wasn't tranquility; it was the absence of action. It wasn't beauty; it was the absence of horror and ugliness. It wasn't safety; it was the absence of a threat. It wasn't peace; it was the absence of fighting.

He turned in the direction of the road to the south, and set off walking. He could be at the farm he had seen the previous day within two hours if he kept up the pace. Unconcerned and utterly uncaring about what he might do to whoever inhabited the farmhouse, he mentally began preparing his plan, running through every possible scenario, plotting contingencies, considering possible escape plans if things went wrong. If everything went according to plan, no one would even have to die.

Shahab Qurosh, The Academy

For the first time in over a year, Shahab awoke truly excited. Today he would (hopefully) become a Dragoon. This fact alone didn't excite Shahab in the slightest, but it did mean that he would finally be able to get out of this damned academy and out into the real world again. This place wasn't much better than that boring old monastery back in Hammerfell, where all they wanted to do was sit around meditating and practicing their fancy mysticism. Sure, they had laid the foundations in Shahab for the Hand-to-Hand techniques that he worked so hard to perfect, but they refused to allow him to use them for anything other than self-defense. Why would they invent such a beautiful and devastating art form, and not utilize it to its full potential? Personally, Shahab thought it was a terrible waste, so he left. Here at the academy, they had taught him to incorporate the schools of Alteration and Restoration into his arsenal, and the result was a totally unique form of Hand-to-hand that Shahab affectionately dubbed the "Falling Star" style.

The food was better too.

With a wide grin tugging at his face, he struggled out of bed and tied back his densely curled hair with a length of rawhide cord. Without thinking, he slipped into his combat pants and tunic and pushed his rings onto his fingers. Standing up, he strode over to a familiar spot in the corner of the room to test his rings out. Cocking his left fist back, he closed his eyes and focused his will into his arm. Cords of magic wrapped around it up to the shoulder and across his chest, weaving together the cells of his flesh until his skin and bone was stronger than steel. With all his strength he pistoned his fist forward into the stone wall.

As his rings touched the surface of the wall, their enchantments took effect. At the exact millisecond in which contact was made, the rings instantly weighed over a hundred pounds each. Before Shahab could feel the weight, the enchantment lost its effect. The result was a blow of incredible force that could be used with impunity, as long as Shahab's magicka held. Shahab did the same thing with his right hand, and stepped back to admire his handywork. He had been doing this every morning for the past year and a half, and the thick stonework had been blasted almost all the way through in this spot.

Giddy with the excitement of being able to do this to another human being, Shahab strode out through the common living room and out into the corridor.

Disregard this

Camlorn

Coldness withered through the air, as the streets moved along. It seemed that the citizens stayed still, and that the actual road moved. It was now noon, as the emissary had arrived at the city. The streets were crowded, as the inhabitants made their way through each turn and wind. The cracked stone streets rattled, people were about, taking a shot at just another day in their lives.

There was not much to be said about the old streets and buildings. It was any other day. The lord ruled his city well, and the city seemed to be a peaceful one. The buildings were rather small, with some larger ones, but a large, wide castle could be seen in the distance. Finally he had reached his objective. He had reached Camlorn. The old emissary had traveled a certain distance by land that would tire any human, but it was well worth it. Hopefully, soon everything from Daggerfall to Camlorn would be united against Elysana.

The old Breton approached the castle entrance. An old man he was, but he still had as good mental capacity as anyone. A guard dressed in his usual mail sat there, eying the man with haste.

"What is your purpose here?"

The old man took out papers from his sack, showing them to the guard.

"I am Saxon of Illessan. I wish to hold audience with your lordship."

The guard looked to the left, and then to the right, as if he was thinking.

"Very well then."

The guard followed the man, and soon another one accompanied him from the left. The old room was stone, looking cold, but vibrant with its colorful cloth and artwork.

Cold footsteps clattered down the rug, which seemed to make an open hallway.

"I am Saxon of Illessan, Lord Idhdea..."

The emissary bowed to the King, and went up to great him, granting his left hand out to shake with the King.

Carth stood in the archway seperating his room from, the entrance and carth's dorm. The narrow hallway consisting of a door and a coat rack was the defining line between Kythias's property and Carth's property. The lithe Bretons, or at least Carth could be considered one in Kythias's eyes, were both ready. Kythias was in his traditional black and blue garb and doublet, the hilt of the Siphon over his right shoulder and a shallow glint of magick radiating from his hands. Kythias was rather small, and unintimidating but no one would fool themselves to recognize such a well crafted sword as an ornament.

Carth stood equally ready and dressed, his room mate and him had spent many nights discussing sword technique, and Kythias had a respect for his dorm mate. Kythias was anxious, the creeping water of his most feared feeling took over his limbs and pit of his stomach. He was more afraid of failing, than dying and in most cases failing meant death. He had been studying works of imperial philosophy for the last week and his black gloves disguised the ink marks acquired from his own notes.

The next step Kythias took was towards the door, indicating a motion to leave for their test. Kythias however was in no mood to talk, the anxiety growing to something equal to illness. Unemotional and undeniably pained words escaped his mouth " Ready Carth." it was more of a statement to jolt the saif wielding warrior's attention. " We best not be late." with that, he took his first steps into the dormitory corridors.

Kythias began towards the gate without checking to see if Carth would follow. The boot steps echoed in the now empty halls, the initiates out training and studying during this time would not be anywhere near their rooms. A select few in the wing had been selected for their test today, Carth and Kythias amongst them. The spiral staircases were a necessary evil, they were efficient when space was involved and upon reaching the bottom Kythias was relieved to walk on level ground again.

A group had already assembled at the gate, too few to be everyone so Kythias and Carth could not possibly be late.

Carth

"Right behind ya." Muttering under his nose Carth followed Kythias through the hallways. He wasn't really thinking about the test that was ahead; he prefered not to think too much about such matters, fearing that it would stress him more. Stress isn't something I need right now... Hmph, if only it were that easy as simply forgetting something's gonna happen and poof - you don't worry.

Yeah, worrying truly does blow. With a sigh he began the quite long descent down the spiral staircase, Kythias somewhere ahead. It seemed a bit obvious Carth wasn't the only one worried by this test, though perhaps he kept it from showing as much, or so he would've liked to think - after all, if he didn't care it couldn't hurt him. Right? Some things were harder than others not to care about, true, but it did tend to make sense most of the time. And screw the idiots thinking I'm not living life to the fullest... Whoever though you had to trust and make friends all around you in order to feel well must've been not that bright.

Of course respect is another thing, you don't need to trust to respect someone's abbilities. You can feel many ways about someone without trusting them, except no one will bloody realize that. Oh no, let's just pretend to be human beings... A warrior is never alone, yada yada. My ass, and half the people here would agree with me, except they'd rather go about pretending to be all nice and all. Oh yes, we're all monsters but if we pretend to be nice then... Then what? Oh wait, facades don't really mean a rat's ass. Sorry.

With such thoughts - usual for him - swirling about in his head, Carth made his way towards the main gate; several others had already assembled there. Though they probably weren't last, Carth and Kythias were one of the later joiners, so most likely they would soon begin. The quicker they got done with this - the better.

Camlorn Castle

Lord Idhdea examined the emissary briefly before rising to return the hand shake. His first instinct, and probably the first reaction of most rulers would have had the man searched, but no one had anything to gain by killing him and he was more useful to the other states alive and allied.

"Welcome to my home""he said with a warm smile as he shook the man's hand with all the strength his arthritic hands could muster. He silently glanced at his various advisors and lesser nobility and they understood the order to leave their master in peace.The slipped out without much hustle and within several moments the sounds of shuffling papers and feet on stone died away. They respected their king and feared his general enough to obey almost any order. Once the crowd had filtered away only his personal scribe and his friend Elbent remained both still sitting in their seats beside Idhdea's.

Gesturing to a now vacant chair,
"Now I assume you have business with my country"? he asked hoping to get a sense of his intentions. He sat slowly his knees causing a breif moment of pain that he did his best to conceal. Beside him his right hand man staired vacantly into space and his scribe prepared his quill readying himself for the flood of discussion he would have to record for the royal records.

edit: apparently the forum soft ware hates quotation marks

OOC: let me know folks if you want me to repost my lord in this thread. Hes over on the discussion board. Ill post my academy bloke later on. Also, Wooly's given me permission to use one of his men here.

IC:

The City of Daenia

The agent stared grimly up at the castle doorway, the leering face of a grotesque stone gargoyle looking back down at him, chilling his blood cold. No wonder that Daenia was such an ill-spoken place. His walk through the city had been unpleasant enough, and in his short time spent there he had already seen a police blockade around what looked like a back alley neck-biting aswell as several homeless and destitute. Yes, this city stank of undead taint. The vampiric corpses swinging from the gallows on the outskirts of town had indicated that quite well. The castle itself looked rather foreboding...leering over its city like a watchful hawke.

The great doors swung open with a gothic creak. A brute of a man stepped forth, clad in leather armor and a grim black cloak. "Ah, so your the one" he said. "Come on in then, the Lords expecting you".

The castle was spacious and ridden with gloom. Antique paintings depicting light from the heavens and the banishment of evil hung from black stone walls. It was bizzarely quiet, save for the coughing of an elderly butler echoing in the distance. The guard finally brought the old man to another grand archway. "Watch your manners, the Lords in a paticularly foul mood today".

The doors swung open to reveal an aged man sitting behind a great oak desk, his brow firmly planted in a grand leather-bound tome. Behind him was a window of epic proportions, offering amazing ( if not disturbing ) views of the grim city below. Luxurious red silk draps fluttered in the breeze of the several other open windows lining the sides of the office.

"Lord Vespis" the guard announced, stepping forth and placing some papers on the desk. "The man is here to see you". The aged man closed the book with a sharp slap before placing it on the desk and picking up the papers.

"Thank you Captain, you may take your leave". With a nod the giant left the room, leaving the man alone with the vicious-looking Lord.

"Well then, these papers seem to be in order. Step forth, and declare your business within my lands".

Camlorn

"Now I assume you have business with my country..."

Saxon, being slightly taller than the ruler, did not want to be disrespectful to him. Saxon was old, but he was healthy. It seemed he could do anything a younger man could do, standing at 5'11, being a solid man. Saxon even had about half of his normal brownish color left to his hair, with not all of it being overtaken by the old greatness. The man was short on his throne, and Saxon took a step back on the steps leading to the man's throne. He never wanted to look down upon a King, especially not one of his power. The King looked mostly Elvish, although, he was a Breton like the rest of them. Besides, Saxon was no racist. He and the King would get along just fine.

The King did appear as an intimidating person, being as short as he was. However, he spoke like a civilized well mannered man, and was probably smarter than most men. Now Saxon would present his case to the King.

"Lord of Camlorn, sir Varnan Idhdea, I come in the name of Alexander Honerus, the King of Illessan, and the surrounding states of Glenpoint and Northmoor, in which he rules. As you have heard, Elysana and Rurik have reached a truce. Daggerfall is destroying its bond with Wayrest. Elysana is now weakened. Her kingdom is falling. Now is the time to break away from her hold. She has done nothing for us, not aiding us in one way. The Altmeri dominion is backing up Daggerfall. Now is the time to push Elysana out, and establish our own ruler."

The Breton looked over at the guard, and then back at the count, with a very plea in his eyes.

"Elysana cannot command us any further. It is now time to take up for ourselves. I have put forth a great commission, that all states, from Daggerfall to Camlorn, and any other state under Elysana's hated rule, unite under one banner for the time being, and take up will against her!"

The emissary was now enthusiastic, looking at the captain, sinking into his very eyes.

"King Varnan. You have wished long to have this chance. Will you take it?"

Saxon nodded at the guard, receiving one of his papers, then handing it to the count. It read:

We, as nations, states, and kingdoms, declare ourselves removed from the oath, will, and upholding of the Kingdom of Wayrest, Elysana, and Woodborne. We are now independent, and free to govern ourselves.


A list of signatures was below, already reading names of the council members from Illessan, Northmoor, Glenpoint, and their rulers. Hopefully, every city from Daggerfall to Camlorn, and any others who had rejected the rule of Elysana, would sign the paper.

"Varnan,"

The emissary looked at the king once more, before waiting silently for his response.

"Now is the time to rid ourselves of tyranny, and achieve the freedom of our own rule."


Daenia

"Well then, these papers seem to be in order. Step forth, and declare your business within my lands".

The voice echoed through the stone corridor, as the emissary took off from his gray cloak, hanging over his shoulder. The Breton was taller, at about 5'11. He was solid, but young. He seemed to always wear a smirk on his face. His clothing underneath his cloak revealed a blue linen shirt, along with coarse linen pants. He wore short black hair, which was slicked back. The Breton started with a low voice.

"I am William of the Illessan state. It seems you have been expecting me..."

He glared up, standing up to his full height, eying the count with a certain seriousness.

"Lord Olack Vespris of Daenia, we have come to inform you that Illessan is no longer with Elysana's kingdom. We have also heard of your stance on the position, and I would like to speak with you about matters..."

Castle Daenia

"Matters?" The bretons voice was dry with age.

"Word has circled of allegiances being formed...although I myself seek no interest in them. You see, William of Illesan...as Im sure you have established already, I have matters of my own".

The Breton stood up and made his way towards the great glass window behind him, hands clasped behind his back and his great robe gliding elegantly across the polished floor. He looked down at his city, his mouth warped into a bitter sneer of hatred and his shoulders slunk in dissapointment.

"My lands are tainted, William. People scarcely travel the country. Do you know how bad it is? I see them at night from this very window. Packs of them, groups out on the hunt...leaping across the rooftops like animals with the moon behind them. In my efforts to endorse purity, the gods have damned me with their bitter irony. Witchcraft is rampant, and word is circulating of werewolves being spotted on the moors outside of town. Things look bad indeed".

The Lord turned back to face the representative, striding away from the window and slowly walking back to this great leather chair.

"My family has struggled to uphold light in the face of darkness for many years, but I fear it is a dying battle. Only through cleansing those who have fallen from the pure faith do we stand any chance at true englightenment, but more and more heretics are falling with each passing day. The black scourge continues to sweep across the land despite my best efforts...

Still, I will not outright dismiss you William. As it stands however, I simply cannot dabble myself in your political situation when there is a higher calling. I ask, what can you do to help me? In my situation? I would gladly support you, should I find the right incentive to do so".

A wry smile crept across his face and he leant back in his chair, hands clasped across his chest.

Daenia

"My family has struggled to uphold light in the face of darkness for many years, but I fear it is a dying battle. Only through cleansing those who have fallen from the pure faith do we stand any chance at true englightenment, but more and more heretics are falling with each passing day. The black scourge continues to sweep across the land despite my best efforts...

Still, I will not outright dismiss you William. As it stands however, I simply cannot dabble myself in your political situation when there is a higher calling. I ask, what can you do to help me? In my situation? I would gladly support you, should I find the right incentive to do so".


The Breton glared at the Lord, with a look of dark hopelessness on his face. It looked like a smirk, but strangely evil in a way.

"You see Olack, Elysana is your enemy. Would you like Elysana to know about what is going on in your city? You realize she would remove you from power. You are already fearful of it..."

The Breton glared with an evil smile.

"She is your enemy. The enemy of your enemy is your friend. If you are not interested in our alliance, then you will not be protected by us. Problems will continue to wreck havoc on you, and you will die..."

The Breton began pacing, looking over his shoulder at the count.

"Come into the kingdom of Illessan, where we will give you support against Elysana, and help you destroy the foul beings that lurk your city...We will send you money, and provide you with military support, if you come under our kingdom..."


The young Breton glared back at the count.

"The enemy of your enemy is a friend..."

The smirk on his face grew less tight, as it spread across his cheeks. Perhaps the count would take it into thought.

Castle Daenia

The Lord was obviously somewhat taken aback but the emissary's sudden bluntness...but this shock soon turned to anger. "Choose carefully the words you speak, agent of Illessan" he glared. "You are but a lapdog, a servant to your kingdom. It is not in your place to order me, yet there is some truth in your words".

He sighed, pulling open a drawer within his desk and taking out an antique bottle of fine red wine and two glasses. Setting them down on the table, he poured generous amounts of the blood-red liquid into both, sipping at one lightly himself and pushing the other glass across the table to William.

"I do not know however, if I can still simply sign your treaty. Who else has agreed to your extreme terms? I do not want to needlessly charge into a battle with only you by my side. A plan such as yours would require many kingdoms united. But come now...my voice is tired of speaking, and we have done nothing but speak of business. Let us continue this talk later, and in the meantime, I offer you to stay as a guest within my humble castle. The roads will soon be too perilous to travel, and you will be safe within these strong walls. Captain Falkirth will see to it that you are fed and comfortable".

The count stood up, directing the young Breton towards the door. "Please, we will continue this later. For now, I am due elsewhere".

OOC: Lazy way to end a post but I have had to rush it sorry. Atleast Wooly can spend a night at my place