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THE CAVE


Several hours of walking have led you to a remote hillside tucked away amidst gnarled trees and overgrown shrubs. As you round the corner, you see a rocky cliff-face before you. Wreathed in vines and tall grass, you see an ad-hoc doorway of some sort carved into the jagged wall. A shabby wooden door has been placed there, and its rotting composure shows years of disuse. There is something of note, however, to be noticed here. All over the edges of the doorway, and on the door itself, there are strange markings. Warnings, in ever language, tell of dark and evil things lurking within these hills. Ancient elven languages, modern human dialects, and beast-folk tongues cover every inch of the door, all of them saying the same thing: "DO NOT ENTER!!" And, engraved in the stone itself, just above the door, are Deadric letters. Their ancient meaning rings loud and clear, and the message is easily discernable:

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

Name: Reem-Taa
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Age: 21

General Appearance: Reem is about average height though thin, making him appear taller than he really is. He has bluish green scales and the animalistic legs of a Morrowind Argonian. he doesn't seem to smile very often and usually expresses himself through the tone of his voice alone, making him difficult to read. He seems nimble and moves very fast at times, especially in the warm, as things cool down though he slows and becomes more sluggish, such is the effect of temperature on a cold blooded creature.
Height: 5,11
Hair: a single long fin running down the back of his head, ending in a point between his shoulderblades
Eyes: Yellowish and slightly larger than normal.

Skills: Spear, Illusion, Alteration, Alchemy, Sneak, Acrobatics, Traps

Weapons: Steel-tipped Javelins, 10 of 'em, assortment of easy to set up man traps
Armor: A tough leather jacket over a simple white shirt and brown trousers
Other Equipment: Mortar and pestle, 2x health potions, a damage health poison, 2x poisons of paralysis

Personality: Reem is usually a calm person, he is cautious and tries to remain so during any situation. He dislikes conflict among friends and often annoys both participants of an arguement through his obsessive attempts at bringing peace. His attitude in a fight however differs and he takes pleasure in his skills. He is normally a fairly personable man though he tends to get left out in large group conversations

Short Biography: Unusually for an Argonian in Morrowind Reem isn't a freed slave. His family had always lived near the border and, in recent times Morrowind has prospered. Reem, a well educated young Argonian came to Vivec to study though he quickly found his way into adventurer circles due to his weapon skills which he gained during a spell of mandatory service as a tribal warrior.

Sanity: 85%

Name: Jo'Shari
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Age: 47

General Appearance: Jo'Shari has a raggedy orange coat of fur, stained with mud, grime, and soot. His chest is a pure white, covered with the same detritus as the rest of his body. His tail is striped like a tigers.
Height: 5'6.
Hair: Jo'Shari's hair is grey with age and stress. It is styled in long dredlocks that reach his shoulders. He often has to brush them away from his face as they keep falling in his face.
Eyes: Yellow, cat-like, and able to see in the dark. Just like all the other Khajiit...

Skills: Destruction, Illusion, Enchanting, Mysticism, Alteration, Unarmored, and Hand-to-Hand.

Weapons: A pair of spiked knuckles, designed to rip and tear through skin and flesh as well as compliment the Khajiit fighting style of Goutfang.
Clothes: A simple brown robe with cuts in the sleeves and chest.
Other Equipment: Three potions of sorcery, a common soul gem filled with a Kagouti soul, and a scroll of Divine Intervention.

Personality: Jo'Shari is a kleptomaniac. He steals without even realizing it sometimes. This has gotten him into many a quarrel with the law, as he is not such a good thief, but he still cannot cure it. Like all Khajiit, Jo'Shari likes moonsugar. He will often accept moonsugar as payment instead of Septims.

Phobia: Jo'Shari thinks it is rather silly, but he has a dire phobia of bees. He avoids them, running away as fast as possible with little regard as to where he is running.

Bio: Jo'Shari was born in Elsweyr to a band of desert nomads. A grizzled old tribesman tought him Goutfang at age fifteen. Jo'Shari took to this fighting style excellently. Due to the band's poverty, Jo'Shari was instructed to steal. This conflicted with his own morals, leaving him with a long lasting kleptomaniacy. Eventually the band settled near a fertile oasis. The nomads prospered after taking up farming and herding, establishing a trading post and an inn.

However, the good luck was not to last for Dark Elven slavers captured him and all his brethren. He was sold to a Telvanni retainer who was desperately attempting to rise through House Telvanni. From observing the young elf practicing his skills he was able to learn how to cast Destruction, Alteration, Illusion, Enchanting, and Mysticism spells. After working hard for his master Jo'Shari was able to buy his freedom.

Jo'Shari was turned out on his own in the city of Balmora. Due to his kleptomania, he was constantly being thrown in jail. Getting fed up with being sent to the dungeon, Jo'Shari joined travelling adventurers in an attempt to cure his mental disease. After all, what better way to cure it then being in a place with no valuables to steal? And now they have heard of a cave, frought with danger and doom. Jo'Shari believes that the more danger equals the more money so he jumped at the chance to go in.

Sanity: 100%

OOC: Meh heh heh. The Divine Comedy.

Name: Alister Bourde

Race: Breton

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Class: Healer

Class Description: A healer spends his time studying cures for ailments and perfecting the healing arts. They are skilled with healing alchemy and restoration, but are a bit lacking in combat.

Skills: Restoration, Conjuration, Alchemy

General Description: Alister has the typical youthful energy. He lacks strength, but has a personality to get him out of any problem. He has a slight tan, but is still rather pale. He has messy blonde hair that looks like it's never been combed, but it's cut quite short. He has bright blue eyes that sparkle with curiosity and intelligence. He has no scars or markings on his body, showing his inexperience and the fact that he's had a comfortable life.

Height: 6'2"

Weapons: Only what he can summon, none of which he's very skilled with.

Armor/Clothing: A dark blue robe and hood and blue suede shoes.

Other Equipment: A morter and pestle. Eight healing potions and two restore magicka potions.

Mental Description: Alister is optimism personified. He's always bright and cheerful, to the point where it can become annoying. He always manages to see the good in people, and never allows himself to become angry. He takes great pride in his somewhat limited abilites, and can become slightly annoyed when people don't show him the appreciation he feels he deserves.

Short Bio: Alister was born into a rich family, and got everything he wanted as a child. He was pampered all the time, but soon became sick with it all. So he decided to go out and try to experience the world. He soon found himself the appprentice to a village healer, and after three years of devoted studying, he set off again, wanting to try and test his new skills.

Sanity: 100%

Name: Perenne Liri
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Age: 26

General Appearance: With long hair, and fair skin falling down around emerald eyes, it's hard to believe that Perenne focuses on the more combat-oriented magics, looking more like someone that you would see behind the counter of a merchant's shop. Always wearing a warm smile, and always seemingly upbeat, she looks frail and almost inclined to blow away should a gust of wind hit her hard enough. This frail, elven body, though, contains quite a font of inner power.
Height: 5'8"
Hair: Long, blonde mixed with brown.
Eyes: Dark green, some of the deepest emerald.

Skills: Destruction, Alteration, Illusion, Mysticism, Blade, Light Armor

Weapons: She wields a simple iron dagger, kept at her side at all times.
Armor: A studded leather cuirass is about all the armor she has, though this is hidden beneath a bright violet with blue trim mage's outfit.
Other Equipment: Some mana restore potions, of course, some Health potions, and a smattering of alchemical ingredients, though she has no real skill in using them. She just likes to cook them for a meal every now and again.

Personality: Perenne is bubbly to the point of being annoying. Always happy, always smiling, until she is confronted with a need to attack. Then, she switches on a dime, the happy little mage revealing a hardened side to her. Despite this, she always returns to her normal self after a battle, often dashing from member of the adventurers to member, making certain that everyone is all right and generally improving the mood with a good dash of cheeriness.

Short Biography: Perenne was born in the Imperial City, in a small home that was nestled in the Elven Gardens. Always treated to a rather fine life, it was no surprise when Perenne, following the Breton blood burning in her veins, was inducted into the Mage's Guild. After receiving her training in various cities, and a smattering in the Arcane University, Perenne gave up the Guild life, finding it not quite to her tastes. Instead, she hooked up with a band of adventurers, and has been wandering the wilds ever since!

Sanity: 69%

OOC: Mwahahaha... I hope this Cave will take notes from the Divine Comedy you referenced...

Name: Karstine Maranay Zeterra
Nicknames: Karst
Gender: Female
Race: White Khajiit/Dunmer
Age: 26
Birthsign: The Thief

Sanity: 85%

Class: Vagabond
Class Focus: Stealth
Major Skills: Sneak, Light Armor, Security, Marksman, Short Blade
Minor Skills: Alchemy, Acrobatics, Restoration, Unarmored, Athletics

Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Dark, blood red. Worn loosely, falls to just below her shoulderblades.
Skin Color: Snow white with quarter inch long white fur. Fur has black striping on her sides and the outsides of her arms/legs.
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 146 pounds
Build: Thin but muscular.

General Description: Karst dresses darkly most of the time. She can usually be seen in a black and red corset-style shirt, loose black pants and a long, battle-torn trench coat with an emerald-and-silver necklace about her neck. She wears a pair of scarred and worn black adamantium boots, a relic from her past, the leather on the soles that silence her steps still holding onto the footwear. Wears a set of black leather armor similar to http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/Aulakauss/RP%20pics/rogueattire.jpg, but with her own boots.

In body, she is very humanoid due to being half Dunmer: her feet are the same as a human's with the exception of the claws on her toes. Her face is not catlike, but rather has a very human look to it. Her hands have claws that she can extend and retract to an extent, but they are small and more like fingernails. Her tail is white with black on the tip and her ears are the same snow color as her fur. She doesn't have an extremely feminine shape, but most would still consider her pretty.

Inventory: Not much on her person, just some tobacco, cigarette papers and pocket change. Has a pack with some food and water supplies as well as a couple bottles of whiskey.

Clothes: Black and red shirt in corset style with leather reinforcement in the chest, loose black pants, battle scarred black trench coat, emerald necklace that protects from disease.
Armor: Worn black leather greaves, fingerless gauntlets and cuirass, black adamantium boots with silenced soles.

Weapons: Dwarven Longbow, Dual silver shortswords, silver dagger [which she keeps on her at all times] tucked into her waistband, claws.
Magic: Mara's Kiss [restore health, can be used on others as well as self], Flash Bolt [mid-level shock spell, cast on target], Wind's Companion [invisibility 65 secs on self], various non-combative spells.

History: Karst's past is a long story of loss and heartbreak. Her parents died when she was six, and her first lover when she was sixteen which led to a deep depression and loss of morality. She was imprisoned for seven years for murdering a Skingrad noble and everyone in his manor in her heartbroken rage, during which time she was horribly abused by the guards there, forced to fight in the Arena, and then released near the start of the Oblivion Crisis.

After her release, she fought in Kvatch's arena for money to stay alive since she had experience in the Imperial City's arena and lived in the woods nearby to save money for food and clothes. After Kvatch fell, she joined a small band of adventurers that went about closing Oblivion Gates to avenge her friends in Kvatch and helped save several towns, though she almost died a few times throughout the ordeal. She fought in the battle for Bruma and the final battle in the Imperial City, but was knocked unconscious and badly injured during the latter. When she awoke in an infirmary, the Champion told her it was over and that they'd won.

Since then, Karst ran the King and Queen Tavern for a year or so along with doing random mercenary contracts on the side. Recently, however, her sense of adventure and need for some cash brought her attention to a band of adventurers looking to find treasure in some supposedly haunted cavern. She didn't know what she was in for.

Personality & Mental Condition:
Karst is a generally easygoing, lighthearted and fun person to be around. She cracks jokes and pokes fun at herself and others, buys friends drinks and often drinks recreationally herself. Karst boasts a dark and somewhat twisted sense of humor, sometimes even making fun of injuries she received in the Crisis.

Even though she's been happy most of the time since the Crisis, she's still subject to random depressive times from the torment she was put through in prison three years ago and the stress of fighting Daedra, and often gets lonely, but most of the time she keeps herself in check even in those times.

In temper, she is usually fairly levelheaded, but certain things drive her to anger very fast. She shrugs off most things, but when she gets angry, she gets furious. Mostly it's displays of blatant arrogance that drive her to yelling.

ooc: Just posting my sheet, off to class.

Jo'Shari stared at the door. He looked at the others and said, "We have an expert in lockpicking and trap-disarming, correct? It would be great if you could check that door for traps. It would be demoralizing if one of us was injured by a carefully placed trap so early in the trip." Jo"shari continued to look around, looking at all the various warnings. It seemed to him as if someone had painted on all of the warnings. Someone very educated, seeing from the ancient elven and many various beastfolk languages. It seemed as if just about all tribal and clan dialects were represented. He quickly located his own language, smirking as he did. Jo'Shari was not afraid of silly warnings.

Name: Kurrian Oculian
Nickname: Cur, Rain, Sunshine
Gender: Male
Age: 65 (looks 20)
Race: Altmer
Birthsign: The Serpent

Class: Conjurer
Class Description: The conjurer devotes himself to the understanding of the Realms of Mundus and beyond, and the summoning of life forces from other realms. Capable of opening portals between realms, bending souls to their will, and entering other realms, a Conjurer is one of the most controversial and mistrusted of the legal mage careers. Often dealing with Daedra and undead, they are occasionally confused with Daedric worshippers and Necromancers.
Skills: Conjuration, Staff-fighting, Running, Pissing his pants, Mathematics, cartography.

Appearance: Kurrian could look imposing to some from his height, but that height is coupled with a thin, wiry frame that denotes a man who doesn't get much exercise or work out. His long face, long limbs, and long legs only increase his apparent height. His strongest muscles are, interestingly, in his legs. He often has a look of uncertainty and fright upon his face, unless he is performing his arts.
Height: 6'6"
Eyes: A jeweled emerald color, soft and crazed, giving an impression of a troubled lad.
Skin: A golden tint, that makes him shine like jewelry in the sunlight. His lips are a coppery color, almost like his eyebrows and hair.
Hair: His hair is coppery in color, nearing bronze, and shines like metal. He pulls back most of it in a ponytail that hangs down past his shoulders and around halfway down his back. Loose strands cover the sides of his face, not caught in the ponytail. His elvish ears stick out from the hair like golden horns.
Tattoos/Scars: Kurrian doesn't really have any scars or tattoos. He tries to avoid getting things on his skin outside of clothing.

Weapons: A staff that is as long as he is tall. Made from strong oak, it has a pommel fashioned from gold, a golden tip like a spear head. The head of the staff is also gold, and molded into the shape of a crescent moon. Golden supports hold a large opal orb in place in the center of the partial circle created by the crescent moon, leaving one side of the orb uncovered by a golden crescent moon. The staff has a fire enchantment.
Armor: He wears no armor.
Clothes: He wears exquisite tan pants, that flare out near his ankles. Black leather sandals protect his feet. He carries his extra items in pouches in a black leather belt around his waist. His chest is covered by a gold brocade shirt. Over all of this, he wears an emerald trench-coat-like robe, with flared large sleeves. It trails down to his ankles, and covers most of his body. He often keeps the collar upturned. The hems of the coat glimmer with arcane symbols woven in silver upon the cloth, and runes and symbols also sewn in silver thread decorate the entire cloak. It is enchanted with a meager shield spell, able to withstand slashes, debris, and mere attacks, but is worthless against a good strike.
Inventory: A few small quills, parchment, gold, an assortment of maps of Tamriel he made himself. He also carries Doors to Oblivion, a book he loves to read.

Misc:
-A Master Conjurer, one of the most powerful in the Mage's Guild
-Can't perform spells from other schools to save his life.
-His staff and robe are both enchanted, and given to him as gifts from his parents in their effort to keep the poor lad alive.
-Has researched his birthsign, the Serpent, and determines it to be the cause for his blessings of Conjurative ability and his curse of inability in other schools.

Spells: As a master Conjurer, if you can think of the spell, he can cast it, and then some. However, he is a piss-poor fighter, so don't expect him to be whipping out a full suit of Bound Armor and a massive Claymore. Though it would not drain him to a point of magical uselessness to do so, he is not a fighter and never will attempt to be one. He often summons beings, though at most two at a time so as to not excessively strain himself mentally and divide his spirit too thin.

He does not dabble in the undead summoning spells, even though they are not true Necromancy. He can also poison people through his birthsign, though it drains him to do so.

Mental: Unlike most Altmer, Kurrian has an INFERIORITY complex. Constantly on edge and nervous, he is often unsure of himself and skittish. He is likely one of the first to run away from danger, rather than act.

However, when performing his art of Conjurative magic, he changes entirely. He holds himself with more pride and confidence, speaks positively, and is rather bold and brave. He takes on a scholarly air, becoming highly inquisitive and eager to learn. Those unfamiliar with him can be surprised by the sudden change.

Bio: Kurrian never really had a troubled youth, living in the Summerset Isles. So no, his inferiority issues lie not with his childhood. Not entirely, anyways. He's never been good at magic, other than Conjurative magic, and this oddity made him scorned amongst his fellow Altmer. Some even claimed that there must have been a mistake, and the wrong baby was thrown off the cliff at the ceremony, or else Kurrian wouldn't have existed now. He lived through it all, though feeling slightly useless in all things outside conjuration. When he came of age to be allowed out on his own he was eager to leave, and his parents gave him a gift of a staff and robe to aid him on his journeys.

That was the last he saw of his parents, and his inferiority issues have only increased as he has found the same ridicule and alienation within the Mage's Guild that he found in his youth.

Sanity: 84%

IC: Kurrian slid out of the hand of the Ogrim, landing on his own two feet and looking at the door with slitted eyes. His head was beginning to clear up some, and he could maintain balance now. Somewhat.

The daedroth looked at the door, the fatty mouth frowning as the large being leaned closer and read aloud the Daedric inscription. "A-ban-don all ho-pe, ye who en-ter." The semi-intelligent being read, tilting its head to one side; an action that made the chin jiggle like jello.

"Do not enter..." Kurrain read from the Aldmeri scripture on one plank, looking towards another dialect of the language, and more, all saying similar things. "Well, if it wasn't obvious enough that we shouldn't be entering! There was a fricking corpse down the road, half these things are written in congealed blood, and some of these etchings looked older than I am!" He exclaimed, frustrated. The Khajiit said something about lock picks and traps, and Kurrian looked at him for a moment, then at the Ogrim.

"Your time is near up anyways... just break the damn thing." The Conjurer sighed, waving his hand at the door. "Let's get this [censored] over with."

The Ogrim grinned widely, pulled back its fist, and put all the force contained in the muscular fatty body into a punch at the door.

The door splinters into hundreds of shards, and is instantly blasted away by the force of the impact.

The dark mouth of the Cave now yawns open, awaiting the first to enter its shadowed corridors...

Giggling happily, Perenne bounced up behind the Ogrim that that Altmer had summoned, glancing around it into the mouth of the cave. "Ooooh, spooky... I'm just so glad that you managed to destroy the flimsy, unlocked wooden door, we might never have made it past that." Perenne quipped, looking back over her shoulder to Kurrian bemusedly. "Next, we may find a spiderweb for you to summon a troll to barrel through. What a wonderful day!"

Her playful tease done, Perenne chuckled, placing a hand almost kiddishly against her lips. "Now that we're inside, though, I guess I should go first. Never know the effects of a good spell when it's thrown right into the center of whatever may be in here, right? After all, maybe I can paralyze whatever scary beasts must be in here, for you so strapping men to take down." She pointed out, giving a wink back at the other adventurers. Spinning on her heel, she gazed up at the words scrawled all around the door, or at least, what used to be around the door. "Hmm... Abandon hope all ye who enter... Now that's spooky."

Shivering, she pulled her cloak around her, before dancing into the opening hall, one hand gently glowing with a Light spell to reveal the way. What was the point of that Illusion skill if she couldn't even cast a ball of light around, right? Though almost immediately, she regretted it. "Ewww! It's all dusty in here... Likely kicked up by that brute breaking the door..." She muttered miserably, pushing deeper into the Cave entrance.

OOC: To be honest, the whole "bright and cheerful" type character isn't my thing, but I'm looking forward to seeing him go insane.

IC: "Wow, an Ogrim! I've always wanted to see one up close. The most I can summon is a regular old Dremora, and even that tires me out," Alister said, practically running up to the thing so he could inspect it.

"Really impressive mister. Bit of overkill on the poor door though. Why, I bet someone put a lot of effort into crafting it, all so that people wouldn't get hurt. What a nice person to put up warnings like that," he commented, after he spent a few moments looking the daedroth over.

He then walked over to the door and looked inside, worry on his face. He wasn't a very big fan of dark, musty places. Which of course led him to wonder why he had come in the first place. So I could help people of course. Plus the experience and possible treasure isn't too bad a reason either. "Well look on the bright side lady, if there's so much dust and all, that means no one's been through here in a while. Which hopefully means there's still a bunch a treasure and stuff to be found. Neat trick by the way," Alister said to the Breton woman, referring to her glowing hand with the last comment.

After walking about ten or so feet into the tunnel, Perenne suddenly hears a low growl from the darkness in front of her. The dull glow of her Light spell reveals a faint shape moving in the darkness. And then, without warning...

A kwama forager bounces up to her feet, and begins to spit slightly corrosive saliva onto the hem of her mage's robe, as though expecting it to drop her like a rock.

Kurrian gripped his staff tightly, watching the prissy little woman go about her antics and light up the cavern with a simple ball of magic, proceeding inside. "Damn woman and her stupid parlor tricks, what would she have done, just flicked her wrist and magically unlocked it?" He muttered under his breath, before sighing and looking at the ground.

"Yeah, that's what any respectable mage would do. But I can't do that..." He seemed to slum at this muttering, and the Ogrim gave a 'huh?' towards his master, who shook his hand and waved his hand at the beast. "Just, go back. Give me room in my mind for something that'll actually fit in there." At the flick of his wrist, the Ogrim froze, petrified. Well, not so much petrified as returned to the elements that had once composed it. The earthen form crumbled into a pile of dirt where it once stood, the spirit of the Ogrim having left the mortal world.

Kurrian sighed, moving and leaning himself against the stone framework, before looking inside. It's dark... really dark... something's likely to jump out at any time. He thought, before coming up with a brilliant idea, and looking back to the others. "You folks first. I'll keep the rear and summon Daedra to protect our asses and supplement whoever's in front. I'm pathetic [censored] in close combat."

"Thanks! You're such a sweetie! I practiced this spell a lot when..." She began, only to be cut off as a shadow moved deep in the cavern. With a curious 'Hmmm?' of surprise, Perenne turned towards the shadow, lifting her hand a bit higher to try and see further. Just what was it that lay in there? One of those annoying cave rats? A troll, perhaps? Will O' the Wisp, one of those annoying little buggers? What in the world could be waiting for them already?

She relaxed slightly when a Kwama forager came bursting out of the shadows, muttering under her breath. "Little bug, scared me. Don't you ever do that... HEY!" She wailed, as the forager came running up to her, and then spat its corrosive saliva onto her robe. Immediately, the fabric began to brown and wilt away, as the saliva went to work. "WHY YOU LITTLE! I WORKED FOR AGES ON THIS ROBE, AND YOU JUST RUINED IT! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY SEPTIMS I PAID!?! THIS IS FINE VELVET YOU LITTLE...!"

Her voice pealed through the cave, as she dealt a swift kick to the Kwama forager's head. As she screamed her curses at the thing, she generated a fireball in her other hand, tossing the Flare spells down at it with a vengeance, one after another. "I'LL FRY YOU UP INTO NOTHING BUT CHARCOAL AND USE YOU TO FUEL OUR COOKING FIRES!"

Kurrian heard the raised voice of the woman, and peaked his head inside to listen and look. In the dim light of her spell, there were flashes of flame and bursts of explosive magic.

"I'LL FRY YOU UP INTO NOTHING BUT CHARCOAL AND USE YOU TO FUEL OUR COOKING FIRES!" Kurrian turned away from the doorway, looking at the others. His golden face had taken on a tarnished, pale coloration. One hand clenched around his staff.

"[censored] that, I'm going last to be as far away from her as possible. She scares me..." He shuddered, still bug-eyed from watching a sweet innocent woman utterly, thoroughly decimate whatever the hell she was burning into oblivion-ash. He wasn't going near her, ever, lest he end up pissing her off.

Name: Mick Tar
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Age: 24

General Appearance: Mick always has a stupid grin on his face, giving him a friendly, sometimes impish, look. He's short, and scrawny, making him far from imposing in anyway. Brown hair on his head is always tussled and messy, making him look like a kid more then anything.
Height: 5'5''
Hair: Short brown, always pretty messy.
Eyes: Dark brown, almost black.

Skills: Security, Light Armor, Acrobatics, Short Blade, Climbing.

Weapons: Single iron shortsword, somewhat rusty from never being used.
Armor: Full suit of leather, except for a helmet or pauldrons. Underneath that he wears simple cloth linens.
Other Equipment: A few lockpicks and probes, a grappling hook and rope.

Personality: Mick is a nice guy, through and through. He lives for excitement, and makes almost anyone he meets his friend while doing so. He keeps rather active. Overall, he's an optimist, and likes to try and brighten others around him as well. However, he's admittedly not a fighter in any sense, and so he usually lets his more physically inclined friends handle things like that.


Short Biography: Mick was born to a pair of paupers in Almelexia. He was raised an average life, expecting to be mediocre, with a mediocre job. Now he couldn't have that, could he? Mick knew he had skills, so he bought a few lockpicks, perfected his skills on his own door, then up and left home, hopping into the first hapless group of adventurers he could find.

Sanity: 85%

OOC: These things are always active when I'm not around, huh?

IC: "Yeah," Mick muttered, agreeing with the mage behind him. "Bit overkill, all of this, isn't it? Blasting a bug into the waters of oblivion for no reason...." He leaned his head back, so that he was was still facing forward, but looking at the Altmer with an upside-down face, "Almost as scary as having a ten foot monster with fingers the size of my neck break down a door I just happened to be about to open. Honestly, everyone around here has no sense of safety for their neighbor." He said, with a jokingly condescending tone.

He popped his head forward, "So, here we are, in the scary cave, past the scary door, and over the scary bug: What's next?"

The kwama has been reduced to a charred hunk of meat. It actually smells kinda good, albiet burnt.

The cave, as far as you can tell, keeps going for quite awhile. In fact, from the flashes of light the fireballs produce, you can faintly see that the cave continues on in a straight line for a hundred feet or so.

You also see several sets of eyes flash in the darkness further ahead with every burst of illumination. Something is watching you...


-Kurrian loses 1 Sanity Point upon realizing that he's working with a bunch of maniacs, and they will probably kill him at some point either on accident or otherwise.

IC:
Dedaves allowed the others to stay in front of him, half out of the fact he did not want to be the first person dead and half to allow him to fire his arrows from a distance.He walked slowly fumbling with the bowstring as he walked. He wrapped the rope around both ends and pulled flexing the bow and slowly allowing the bow to return to its original shape to avoid snapping the bow without an arrow and weakening the wood. After preparing his bow pulled an arrow from a cloth bag on his waist and notched it on the string he pulled it back to a quarter of the distance he would normally shoot from to avoid wasting energy but still saving time in case he had to fire the bow quickly.
"I vote we find the first thing of value in this accursed place" he recommended not wanting their journey to go to waste, he was either going home rich or spending an eternity in the cave.

Name : Festus Cantarious
Race : Imperial
Age : 42
six : Male
Sanity 100%

profile : Supposed adventurer extroidanare and daring hero , Festus is really just your average , greedy man-for-hire . Although he leaves the killing to the more serious of paid-muscle , he will gladly steal , plunder , or investigate anything , aslong as the price is right . He's more greedy and self-centred then the average individual , but this comes as no burden to him . He can remain intensley focused in the hottest of situations aslong as his minds with the thought of possible payment .

He's been through his fair share of scraqes and this private contract some upstart noble has for him could well be the most lucrative job of the century . All he has to do is map the cave so the noble can move his men in to set up a mine , as precious mineral's have been rumoured to be held within . But little does he know...no amount of past scraqes and fights could set him up for what he is possibly going to bear witness to....

General Appearance : Festus sports a withered yet long , grey ponytail that ends just below his shoulder blades . His face has an overall galant look to it . Finelly chiselled , jutting cheekbones , strong and burly chin . His teeth aren't exactly clean , but nor are they dirty . he has a light grey stubble that looks more manly and strong then unclean . His eyes are bright blue .

Armour : Festus doesnt like armor . He would much rather be freely moving around in plain clothes , but he does have a thick black leather vest and matching high-boots . The vest shows signs of age and wear , but overall is in good condition . The boots are the same .

Clothes : Under his vest , Festus wears a tight-fitting plain white , collared cotton shirt with a http://www.groomshire.co.uk/images/waistcoats/new-images/white_with_black_cravat.jpg. The crevatte has a gold eagles head pinned in the centre . He also wears vibrant red pants and black fingerless gloves .

Weapons : Festus carries a standard fine steel standard longsword in a black sheath . He likes to keep the sheath filled with holy water at the bottom however , so the tip of the blade is always wet with the stuff .

Miscellany : Around his waist , Festus has a brown belt with seven pouches . Inside these pouches include a shard of pure silver , 80 septims , flint and tinder , His fathers stress-beads , A mouldy wooden flask containing flin , and a large amount of rat jerky wrapped in cloth , aswell as tobacco imported from high-rock . In his vest pocket he has a black wood pipe which he smokes . He also has paper , ink , and a quill .

Bio : Born to unloving parents . Festus became a individual and cynical character . he left the family home at 16 and tried out many jobs from thieves guild member , to fighters guild , to carpenter , to barman , and eventually , drifter . He now works for himself and enjoys few luxuries , although his exploits working for various upper-classmen are greatly exaggerated . he has become a C-class celebrity within cyrodiil , and is known as "the golden eagle" for the pin he wears in his crevatte , all though he detests the name .

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IC :

Festus had been slithering around at the back of the group for some time now , as to not make himself too well known . After all , he was on a mission purely for his own gain , and couldn't care less if his ditzy fellow group-mates went and got themselves killed . As he saw it , they were but expendable liabilities . "I work alone" he thought cynically as he proudly strolled up from behind the group to near the front , svcking on his pipe .

Earlier on , on the corpse that was found on the road leading up to the cave , Festus had found a torch . He wisely took it , and now saw that it might in fact come in handy . He unstrapped it from his belt and drew a match from his pocket , striking it against the wall and lighting the torch . "All right folks" , he started , addressing the group . "might aswell give the team a run-down of how I want things done" , he thought arrogantly . He selfishly believed that his minor-celebrity status should give him right to lead the group .

Before he could continue , the torch , mere seconds from being lit , extinguished itself .

"What in blazes...." The aging man muttered , looking back to the entrance of the cave . No gust of wind had blown it out , nor had any falling droplets of water from the moist cave roof . It struck him as very strange indeed , infact , he was rendered rather speechless . He loosened his cravat somewhat in mild stress , easing some pressure off his neck .

He relit the torch , and it didnt extinguish itself this time . "Strange" , he muttered under his breath before extending his arm out into the darkness , holding the torch to see what could possibly be contained within....

ooc: Aw, I leave and you guys take off without me. *is grumpy*

ic: Karst looked at the door with interest, ignoring the banter of the others as she looked at the inscriptions. She recognized Ta'agran and Daedric, as well as Cyrodiilic and she made out bits of the Dwemer runes from her brief dealings with an inventor earlier in her life. They all said the same thing. The Khajiit was padding closer to examine some of the earlier inscriptions when the door exploded under Ogrim fire. She screamed and jumped back, then glared at Kurrian.

"Oh, god damn it! You bastard! Do you know how much history was on that wood? There may have been languages that nobody'd ever seen there and you just blew it up! You ignorant [censored].." she trailed off into her usual routine of pissed-offedness when something upset her.

"Damn woman and her stupid parlor tricks, what would she have done, just flicked her wrist and magically unlocked it?" he muttered as she walked past. She stopped and hissed.

"Yeah, asswipe. Both me and her would've. And I have lockpicks. Urgh! Y'know what, I hope that hangover hurts." Karst snapped at him, then muttered as she stalked off behind Perenne. "..Freakin' dike.."

As she walked in, Karst looked over at Perenne and smiled. Part of her had noticed her while she was screaming at the Altmer conjurer and admired her attitude. When the Kwama came up, though, she jumped back. "Aah! What is that?" she exclaimed, then looked at it again, "It's like.. a caterpillar demon." she added, then clapped, "I love it!"

And then the caterpillar from hell spat on Perenne, and Perenne ripped it a new one. Several new ones, to be precise. The Khajiit almost fell over laughing at the way she stomped and burned and screamed at it. By the time it was over, she was holding herself, one hand on her ribs, one on her side, gasping for breath, her witchy cackle filling the air. She didn't even notice the eyeballs in the dark. After a second, she wiped her eyes and sighed.

"Oh, gods. Heh.. Ah.." Karst walked over to the spunky Breton and set her hands on the woman's shoulders, still catching her breath. "It's dead, babe. Stop exploding it. I did not expect that kind of wrath out of you of all people. You looked too.. sweet for gratuitous violence."

Festus shines his torch on the nearest wall. For one brief moment, he finds himself staring into the hollow eyes of a skull. A skeleton is pinned to the wall, a rusted shortsword impaled through its chest. As the flames dance in front of it, beatles and roaches scurry out of its eye sockets, mouth, and nose cavity, and begin to scurry to and fro over is face. And then, just as the jaw bone falls free of the skeleton...

The torch dies out.


-Festus loses 3 Sanity Points for looking into the eyes of death.



(It also doesn't help that you got a torch and made it go out for no reason in order to be dramatic, without my say in the matter. )

Once the kwama forager was nothing but a hunk of rather well-done meat, Perenne let her hand extinguish, looking disappointedly down at the hem of her mage's robe. "Aww... This thing cost me a fortune, and it is ruined so quick in this expedition because some kwama decided to get frisky and use me as a spittoon..." She muttered sadly underneath her breath, shifting her legs this way and that to inspect the fabric's destruction. Now, where the saliva had made contact with her robe, the previously soft, violet and blue fabric was an ugly, stained brown, almost like the thing had been chewing tobacco before deciding to spit on her. Also, the fabric was beginning to unravel, the threads weakening from the corrosive substances in its spit.

She let out another sad sight, only to have a Khajiit girl set her hand on her shoulder. Startled, Perenne let out a sharp "MEEP!" of surprise, jumping slightly beneath the Khajiit girl's claw. Throwing her a quick glance, she paused for the briefest of moments, her lips hanging almost comically open, before they closed once more, tilting up into a smile. "Yeah... It's pretty much dead now. Nice and cooked, too." She pointed out, looking back down to the kwama. She reached out a foot, touching the charred chunk of meat that the forager had become, nudging it. It just kind of sagged to one side, so Perenne took that as a victory, proudly setting her hands against her hips. "Alright! Now, to keep right on going!"

Not noticing the eyes within the darkness earlier, her attention having been focused on reducing the kwama to a pile of ash, she nonetheless found it necessary to pull back one foot, and punt the charred meat into the darkness ahead, giggling. "Maybe if we feed the nasty creatures ahead some burnt meat, they'll forget about eating us. Wouldn't want to be attacked by the HUNGRY horrors of this place." She joked, nudging the Khajiit woman playfully. With that, she raised her hand, her hand once again glowing with a Light spell, as she advanced slowly ahead. Nevermind the fact that some arrogant whelp had decided to try and cut in front of her.

"I'd advise staying back. Let the mages that can actually keep something lit for a while take the lead." She teased him as she passed, batting her eyelashes playfully. She was having fun!

Until she noticed the skeleton and skull. "AUGH!" She let out a cry, jumping back away from the skull, crawling with bugs. Shivering, she batted at her body, as though the insects had all decided to swarm her at once. "UGH! I... HATE... BUGS! Get them off of me!" She snarled, batting wildly at her robes, despite the fact that there was nothing on them at all. Quivering with the thought of roaches crawling all over her skin, she rushed forward, determined to get deeper in the cave and leave the skeleton behind.

OOC: You had to give something to creep MY character out too, didn't you?

I love you. <3 lol

Karst grinned in her typical amused manner; the left side of her mouth lifting up a bit to reveal the sharp, slightly yellowed teeth below. Perenne was her kind of girl. Punting the corpses of annoying things she'd just killed and then joking about it was her kind of humor.

When she screeched, though, Karst looked over and saw the skeleton. Part of her thought it was animate and reached for her swords before she saw the bugs and the blade in it. She chuckled and smiled mirthlessly, crossing her arms. "Heh. Love the decorations." she remarked macabrely. Dead, gory things had little effect on her as she'd seen more than her fair share of burnt and mutilated bodies in the various Oblivion Gates she'd been in, and previously had fought in the Arena. Death was an old friend to her; they flirted occasionally and got along pretty well as long as it wasn't visiting someone she cared about.

Perenne.. didn't seem to share the same passions for human remains that Karst did, sadly, and as she turned back to the woman to comfort her a second later, she took off. "Aw, sonofa[censored]." she muttered, then ran after her. "Babe, get your ass back here! Crap.." Karst called out, drawing one blade just in case.

ooc: When I first saw Festus in type, I read Fetus, lol.

EDIT: I suppose I oughta wait for the others, huh? :hehe:

Oh, well. So far this is fun. Love the DM-style narration, Lycan. :goodjob:

Perenne and Karst run deeper into the darkness. Everyone else is still at the mouth of the cave, sharing company with a bug-infested corpse.

-Perenne loses 1 Sanity Point for seeing the insect-covered skeleton. She will also now feel a mild itch over her entire body for the next several minutes - a sign of paranoia often brought about in people who dislike bugs, and have just seen a one or more that they hate or fear.




OOC: Glad everyone's enjoying it. I think this might actually work after all!

Well, thats it for me until tommorrow. Webster and Aulak, no further action. Everyone else can either stay behind and check out the corpse, or follow after Perenne and Karst... I'll let you know the outcome of your decision(s) when I get back on tommorrow.

"ARGH [censored]!" Festus excalimed in a horrid manner , leaping back in horror as the torch leapt from his hands and landed on the floor , sizzling out with a displeasing hiss . He had been right up close to the skeleton , and seen its every repulisive feature in terrifying detail .

As he lept back he lost his balance and tripped over himself , crashing onto the floor in a manic flurry of terror , his usually chiselled and manly expression replaced with that of fanatic fear . For a moment , he only heard his gasps for air as sweat torrented out of his body like a monstrous wave . It had scared him something fierce .

The frightened figure regained his composure and heaved himself of the ground . Patting some stray dirt off his pants and straightening his cravat . He wiped his brow with the back off his sleeve .

"Im...Im fine" he muttered , somewhat embarrased at the way he had handled the situation . "It just kind of leapt out at me......Damn , wheres my pipe?"

He knelt down and fumbled around a bit on the ground before he could feel the welcoming shape of his trusty oak pipe . he stuck it between his lips and relit it , taking in deep , relieving puffs of smoke .

"Im no stranger to death and corpses" he told the group , trying to defend himself as he felt he needed to explain his actions and let them know that he was still a "pretty tough guy" .

"I just wasn't expecting it"