Faelin, Laurana, Grail


Rain poured down around Cheydinhal, the people inside hurrying to and fro like ants in an anthill, but outside it was relatively calm. Water made light tapping noises on the the lush green leaves of the forest ringing the walls of Cheydinhal. Birds hunkered down in their nests and animals sought temporary shelter from the constant downfall. Anyone who could, was getting inside and staying their... all the sensible people anyway, Faelin thought to himself. He walked down a well worn traveller's path, his hood up, trying to shield himself from the rain. It was no use, rain seeped in cracks betwwen his armour and soon he would be completely and utterly drenched. His other two companions however, had completely different opinions. Lauarana and Grail had both been travelling to Cheydinhal at the time Faelin met them. They were going for the bard, Laurana, who liked singing in taverns (as bards often do). Her companion seemed to be more like a bodyguard than a friend. Never leaving her side, constantly in her shadow. But all three companions got along well enough. Laurana's constant singing usually kept everyone in a good mood, except for times like this. Faelin thought bitterly. She was singing one of her bard trail songs, drenched in rain but without a care in the world.

On and on the trail goes
And never shall it cease
On over the horizon
Into the dying sun
The trail takes us through the mighty mountains
Down the winding slopes and across the lush fields
Over the majestic elven bridges and through the maze of trees
The trail continues under our feet
But for a bard the trail never ends
It goes on and on and on
Into the majestic sunset, where the bards live forever in the soaring skies...

Faelin had been concentrating so hard on the song he had heard about ten times since the start of the trip, that he did not realise that the bushes and trees had finally ended. With a start he looked up and saw the large walls of Cheydinhal looming up above him and his companions.
"Cheydinhal." Grail muttered.
Glancing over at Laurana's protector, he saw that the knight has also been thouroghly drenched. Worse so because he wore full armour. He must want a hot meal and soft bed as much as me, Faelin realised.
"I'm glad we're finally here," Faelin began "A warm bed and hot meal will benefit all of us." He paused and looked at Laurana. "We should probably go find a tavern, I haevn't been here for a while so we will probably have to walk around for a bit." He said.
"Hey thats part of the fun right?." She grinned then. I think she's enjoying this, Faelin thought.
"Well lets not stand around till nightfall! Come on." And with that Faelin led his companions out into the open, between the walls and the forest, and approached the front gate.

OOC: Edited it out

Name: Primo
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: 37

Skills: Very good with a sword. Strong and Agile, Fatigues very slowly. Tends to be charismatic and convincing.
Armor/apparel: Standard Issue Imperial Legion Armor.
Unique apparel: A unique enchanted necklace making the wearer stronger.

Weapons: Silver Longsword.
Equipment: Food Stocks and a moderate pouch of gold. Rides a fast, strong black horse.

Physical Appearance: Battle hardened, a determined look in his eyes. You can tell he has been places and seen things. Dark hair, Dull gray eyes.
Unique Appearance: Little scars and knicks all over his body.
Mental Description: Worried about his men, sometimes struggles to make the right decision.
Short Bio: From a long line of Imperial Soldiers.
First member of his family to actually be put in charge of a group of men.





Inside City Gates, Cheydinhal.

Primo watched as everyone looked on. 9 Imperial Legion Soldiers, In Cheydinal, out of the blue. There had been scattered reports of SOMETHING heading in this direction. People, entire settlements going silent.. But .. what was coming?

Ley was new to the Legion, only 18 or so. Primo had no idea why they had chosen to assign a new recruit to him.
He pondered this as the group walked into the town. Armor clanging and scraping as they moved, it was a sight to behold for some.
A group of Imperial Legionnaires in marching formation heading towards the Inn and Tavern.

Upon reaching the building, Primo turned to his men.
" Go find a room in the Inn, leave your equipment and change into more comfortable clothes. Tonight we will relax, drink, eat, and i will speak to you all tomorrow. Enjoy yourselves; But be careful not to soil the good name of the Legion.

ooc: Dusk you say? I'll catch up. Also, you should really put it in the OP about the corpus only coming out at night, for new people.

ic: Durus's eyes drifted open, a pale light squeezed itself through the cracks in the boarding of his house. That was good. It meant that dusk had come, it meant that he was safe for another night at least. He didn't know exactly why, but the undead seemed to favour the darkness, he had only recently discovered it though. At least now he could go searching for supplies.

He had been sitting in the same spot for several hours, his whole body was numb. He stood up to the painful defiance of his legs almost giving way, and the head rush that followed was just as bad. Steadying himself on the table that sat next to his chair his glance went over the quiver that lied there alongside the bow. Twelve arrows. It would be enough. After he had steadied, he wiped a bead of sweat away from his forehead and picked up the bow and quiver, sheathing his sword moments later. He had prepared for this last night, and knowing where everything was, went about picking up what he would need.

First was the rucksack, already with some medical supplies within, then the torch, and finally a small map. He had calculated that it would take him at least two hours to reach Cheydinal, he would have gone already, but this was the first time he would venture outside properly in several days. He needed to take things one step at a time. After getting all of this, he went to the door, and slowly went about removing barricades he had made in front of it.

OOC: Anyone mind coming to my place? It's so lonely here.
IC: Johann made another sale to an Orc this time. He wanted a rather large glass battlehammer, but Johann had told him that he should get an Dwarven warhammer instead. Johann told him that Dwemer equipment almost never broke or rusted. What he didn't say was that the traders he usually bought glass armor and weaponry were exceptionally late. Johann just figured that whoever was fighting it out in Morrowind wanted their goods for use in the army.

Disappointed that he had lost a bit of a money because of his lack of supplies, Johann decided to test out some new chainmail armor. He had to check all equipment to see if it was ready, so he began throwing the armor on. Johann sighed as he put it on. He remembered when he fought his way into a cave of bears to impress his fellows, wearing a similar suit like he wore then. He woke up in bandages the next day. Johann smiled at that and began moving about in his chainmail, lost in reminiscence.

OOC: If you haven't read my char sheet again, please do, it's the same idea for a char but much more stuctured.

IC: Ral-Malius walked one of the bridges in cheyhindal with a few scrolls held tight to his chest. He was to give them to the legion, so that they could try and re-send them to Morrowind. As he exited the safety of the bridge, he recasted a shield spell and got used to the rain pouring around him for a second. Personally, the Morrowind matter disturbed him, but he was trying to look on the bright side of things. Ral walked past a bar and heard a bunch of young people enjoying themselves. He thought back to when he was younger and could tolerate alcohol.

He arrived at the legion guard post inside the city and handed the scrolls to the front door man. As soon as he handed over the scrolls, he released his shield spell and pulled back his hood. Letting rain pour over his face. He gathered himself and walked past the bar again, heading back to the mages guild.

OOC: You never PMed me this.

@King Raven: No one knows of the plague or the corprus. The only thing anyone knows is that communication has been lost with Morrowind for some time now.

When he opened the door, the sun nearly blinded him, it's light intensified by the rain. He had heard it thudding upon his roof minutes ago, and it was in full pour now, torrential and unrelenting. His village that was once full of life and vigour was now desolate and destroyed, doors were smashed in, windows too. He knew not if anyone was alive, but if they were, they would probably have left by now. Retreated to Cheydinal, where it would hopefully be safer. He prayed that it was safe in Cheydinal. The air which was once fresh and cleansing was now tainted with the stench of death, he tried desperately to block it out.

He had memorised the layout of the village here from the early days when he came, it was more of a home to him than his first home had ever been. He had left that when he was old enough, the memories were too much. Now, the village had left him. There were nine houses in total here, each one - barring his own - had a family of at least two in, it was that which gave the place such a welcoming atmosphere. Now it was why the place was so dangerous. If they were all dead here, there could be at least twenty or so of the undead here, far more than he could defend himself against.

These were calculations that he should never have been forced to do.

The nearest place with people in was several miles away, more than an hours walk. For the time being, he certainly did not want until he knew the extent of what was going on. For all he knew, his house was the safest place nearby at the moment, he wasn't going to leave it without some answers first. No. But he needed food and supplies, that was for certain, and there was only one thing in the village that he could search to find them. The abandoned houses.

He approached the nearest one, remembering vividly who lived there. They were probably dead now. He still wasn't certain as to where the undead were, but all he knew was that the scratching at his door stopped through the day, and that he had never actually spotted one in the light. Still, he felt as unsafe as ever as he approached the doorway, the remains of the door itself lying splintered and torn on the floor. He drew his sword as he stood just outside, as much out of precaution as it was out of pure instinctual fear. The steel felt cold and firm in his hand, and it calmed him somewhat. Gripping the sword tightly, he entered inside the almost pitch blackness of the building. The only light coming from the gaping hole in the doorway.

OOC: It's dusk everyone, that's pretty much the end of the day when the sun is starting to set.

IC: Fanier quickly finished his business in the bathroom. Upon re-entering the tavern, he couldn't help but notice that the Dunmer he had bumped into had left. Taking a seat back at the bar, Fanier examined the amulet hanging from his neck.

It was not of complicated design. The chain held an ovular heavy gold pendant, with intricate patterns set in red. Fanier brought his hand up to it and played around with it a bit. He rubbed his palms around the heavy pendant, letting the chain slither around his fingers...

A flood of memories poured into Fanier's mind, only to be brushed away in defiance. Fanier didn't want to remember those things. That's why he came here and drank. He wanted to forget.

Fanier looked out a window and saw that it was starting to get dark. No big deal, he thought. I'll stay here all night if I feel like it.

Cheydinhal.

Primo and Fey carried the groups armor and weapons to the the town smithy.
They moved extremely slowly from the weight, but they finally got there after was seemed like hours.

Slowly pushing the door open, they stepped inside.

" Greetings. We are with the Imperial Legion, could we possibly get these weapons and armor repaired? Small job, just a few dings and a bit of weathering. "

OOC: Yeah way to ignore me. I said a few posts ago that you didn't PM me your sheet for approval.

Adrian

The mage smiled sheepishly at the mention of his eyebrows, or lack of them, and he rubbed the slight fuzz above his eyes as he remembered that day. It brought a smile to his face however, and he chuckled, closing his eyes as he recalled the alchemical accident that had left him nearly hairless.

"Such is the risk when practicing magick." he said with a smile. He looked at the man with a bemused look, not fully comprehending the man's question ay first, until he noticed the man eyeing his clothes with, and he remembered that it was pouring rain yet he was bone dry.

"No no. I am not a druid who controls the forces of nature." he said with a grin. "Just a creative mage. One who isn't particularly fond of getting wet." he said, as he noticed a barmaid walk by him. "Excuse me miss." he called, his childish smile on his face.

"Would you be able to take my order please?" he asked politely.

The woman was a rather short Imperial, and she nodded as she stopped next to Adrian.

"I'll have a cut of your ham please. Along with a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. Just water to drink, thanks." he said, as the woman repeated the order then hurried off to get it fulfilled as Adrian turned back to the man, who hadn't given his name, but Adrian could respect the that, knowing some people weren't that trustworthy.

"So what do you do?" he asked, more to be polite then anything.

OOC: Not sure what the name of the Inn is that everyone is in but that's the one we're going in.

IC: "What about there? It looks okay." Laurana stated. Faelin swung his head around to look at the building she was pointing at. It looked okay, and average kind of place. It wasn't fancy nor was it a hovel.
"It''ll do" Faelin answered grimly. Eager to escape the pouring rain. Night was descending, so it would be good to relax in front of a hot fire for a few hours. Laurana started towards the inn, Grail walking in her shadow, with a start Faelin jogged after them and arrived with them as soon as they went through the door. Immediately a gust of hot air blew out across the three companions, Faelin had never felt so relieved. The gust of hot air seemed to signify the end of a long hard journey and he was eager to find a table to relax at. Scanning the room he saw that many others had also decided that this was a safe haven against the storm and the chill of night.
"What about over there?" Grail asked flatly. Faelin almost jumped out of his skin, he had forgotten all about Grail, Laurana's constant guardian. Slowly he looked to where Grail had indicated. It was a small four person table shoved up against the corner of inn, with one chair facing towards the door and the other three towards the back wall. It would give a good vantage point of the entire room, Faelin noticed. He simply nodded and went over to the table quickly, and sat in the one chair facing outwards and scanned the other guests as his two companions sat down.
"Wonder what they have?" Laurana asked, more as a way to get a conversation going than any other reason. When her question was met with silence, Laurana sighed and waited for someone to come and serve them. It was going to be a long night...

OOC: I think one or two people are at the Cheydinhal bridge inn, but most of us are probably across the street at Newlands lodge because there's more chairs there. In any event, that's where I am since it's cheaper and Xa-raku isn't exactly loaded.

OOC: W00tz is now officially part of this RP. I have added his character to the character list.

Not that it really matters much, but for all intents and purposes we are in the Newlands Lodge.

IC: Fanier looked out the window again, seeing that the sun had now set, and night had descended upon Cheydinhal. The rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. When the bartender wasn't looking, Fanier inconspicously reached over the counter and grabbed a new bottle of scotch. Under the counter, he filled his canteen with the fresh liquor. After replacing the bottle of scotch on the counter, Fanier heard something.

It wasn't much, just a faint sound coming from outside. He wasn't sure what it was. Fanier dwelled on it for a bit, wondering what it could have been. But, a few seconds later, he heard it again, even more faint and unnoticable than the last one. But now he was sure he knew what it was.


He had heard a scream.

OOC: Can I be the screamer? I have a good idea for it.

IC: Dro'Raska stood in the tight cramped entrance of the bar. The bar was loud and filled with people talking, drinking, and eating. Mostly drinking. Dro'Raska thought. He saw someone awkwardly make their way out of the bar, past him, after bumping into an elf. Dro'Raska scanned the bar for any Argonians and didn't see any unfortunately. Damn! I don't know where else to look! Dro'Raska though in frustration. He left the bar in a brisk walk with an angry look imprinted on his features.

He was greeted by a downpour of rain. It soaked him in seconds, and he immediately flipped up his hood. The soaked fabric fell limp on his ears, folding them down. He turned around and considered going into the bar. If I go in, I will have to pay for something and sit down among some loud crowd, but I will be warm. Dro'Raska contemplated. Finally deciding he, turned back around and walked through the rain. He headed straight for an alley, gracefully gliding across the stone street. There was not a single soul out on the streets, save for the seldom guard patrolling. It was eerily beautiful with the combination of rain, silence except for the rain, and not a single person out and about. He saw a dark narrow alley, and stepped inside disappearing the street.

The dark shadowed alley had a faint glowing at the very end of it. A slumped shape lay on the ground with its chest rising and falling in a perfect pattern. Dro'Raska approached it and saw it was a beggar, fast asleep, and a dying fire. Dro'Raska quickly searched around the makeshift campsite and frantically searched for something dry to burn. Upon seeing the fire, Dro'Raska had realized how cold he was. The rain had matted his fur into black and orange wet freezing clumps. He turned over a wet piece of wood and found a dry thin piece of bark. It'll burn. Dro'Raska thought with a smile. He held the bark slightly above the embers and softly blew on the glowing embers. The fire was odd, seeing as how it was pouring just moments ago. Dro'Raska looked up at the sky and saw blackness, but not the blackness of the sky, but the blackness of damp wood. Then it hit him, both the sudden warmth and the fact that there was a boarded roof above him. The alleyway brightened and he looked down to see that the bark had caught fire. Carefully he placed it down so it wouldn't put out the fire altogether. He glanced towards the beggar, who's face was hidden, and he shifted and groaned.

In the darkness of the building, foraging was difficult for Durus. He had lit his torch (which felt odd, seeing as it was still light outside) but it only gave off limited light. He searched the main rooms downstairs, finding some meet that had been stored there recently as well as some other fruits, although only a small amount, it pleased him to have anything at all. Now in the kitchen of the house, he looked back to the exit which gave off his only other source of light. Deciding what he had was enough for this house, he decided to leave.

It was then that he heard it.

A small thud upstairs, followed by another. He looked outside, to where it was still light. The zombies went away during the day, he thought, maybe there was someone alive upstairs? Of course, every part of his mind told him not to go; but the thought of human interaction, his first for nearly a week now, was just too inviting. He headed for the stairs, steel sword still gripped firmly in hand.

At the second floor of the building was a corridor, with four different doors along it, two at each side. He didn't know exactly where the sound had come from, so he went to the first door, the one to the right. He opened it slowly, cautiously, and it gave off a painful creak as it opened, making Durus cringe at the sound. Fully open, the blinds were shut in this room too, and there was no light, but his torch gave off enough for him to see the crimson stains on the floor and the blood soaked sheets. He gasped silently, before letting the truth dawn on him. There was no one alive here.

He looked back to the window which gave off no light. It wasn't boarded. He began to turn before stopping; it wasn't boarded up? The sun had set, already?

Another creak from the door behind him, and he turned, back to the door across the corridor. That was when he saw it's eyes, cold, white, dead. He recognised the face, but there was none of the man that he once knew within. The zombie half stumbled - half pounced towards him, and he threw himself to the wall just in time, kicking the creature away as he did so. Now back in the corridor, he didn't stand and fight. He ran. Down the stairs two steps at a time and straight out of the exit, gasping for air as he did so. It was night now outside, he had overslept, dramatically overslept. He knew the lack of sleep would catch up for him, but how he didn't notice when he got outside was beyond him.

Now out in the open he glanced around at the other buildings, he could see more of them, several stumbling out of the houses the same way as the zombie in the building did. They were all dead, but this was the first time he had seen it. He had to get back inside, his life depended on it. Like a man possessed he charged towards his own house, thankfully only a dozen yards or so away. The zombies ran clumsily after him, stumbling as they did so, thankfully a lot slower than him. He reached the door before any of them reached in and threw himself inside. Grabbing the table by the bottom, he threw it to the door, so that it laid sideways in front of it, stopping it from opening again, and he laid there with his back against the table.

He heard the first one begin to slam it's fists against the door, and then a second one moments later. Soon several were all around, at the windows and door. He couldn't fight them all. He had to pray that his barricades held, had to pray that they left eventually.

His life had become so much more about praying recently.

OOC: Sure, if you want.

RavenVW, that was quite awesome.

OOC: I think it should be worth noting whether the enemies of this RP are Corprus beasts or Undead. There is a difference. Undead are beings who have died and are reanimated through arcane arts. Corprus beasts are merely poor souls infected with a mutating disease that changes them into slaves and warriors (most of whom are mindless) to Dagoth Ur. They are, sadly, still alive as the Corprus virus mutates and changes them.
For examples, see Divayth Fyr's Corprusarium in Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind. (such as the last living dwarf, who is infected with Corprus )

IC: Veyar finally found the nearest inn. The streets of Cheydinhal were nearly deserted, as was to be expected from the heavy downpour of rain. The wind lashed through alleys and bushes, and the inn's sign was flapping back and forth on a swivel. Veyar approached and held it steady so he could read the Cyrodiilic text painted upon it.

Newland's Lodge

The Dunmer let go of the sign and let it creak back and forth in the wind again. He pushed the door open and entered amidst the howl of chilly wind at his back. As the door shut, he looked upon the townsfolk gathered within. What an odd sight I must make, Veyar thought, Decked out in my Ordinator armor... should have packed it away for the trip.

( OOC: Where`s the guy who was roleplaying the smith? )

NOTE: I sent this Char sheet to the RP leader. He hasn't replied yet but I'll post it anyway, just so that you guys get to know Calendras a bit better Sorry about all the mistakes but its late and i dont have a spellchecker.

Sorry if there are errors in this sheet, its late where i live.


Character sheet format

Name: Calendras
Race: Altmer(High Elf)
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 30
Actual Age: 97

Skills: Necromancy, Mysticism, destruction, looking down his nose at everyone
Armor/apparel: Necromancer robes & hood. Black and Burgundy outfit at this house. Black soul gems(In house).
Unique apparel: Black soul gems(In house).
Weapons: Steel Shortsword. Staff(No enchantment)
Equipment: 100 gold on person. 600 gold in saftey deposit in house. A middle class Home in Chaydinhall with Necromatic equipment in basemant.

Physical Appearance:Tall with average body. Oiled back blonde hair and a hooked nose(It's better for looking down at people)
Unique Appearance: None
Mental Description: Most of the time he is very dire and Morbid. He occiasionaly has sudden bouts of gleeful insanity. He, like most altmer, considers himself to be superioir to the other races. He looks down his nose at everyone. And is very smirk.
Short Bio:Raised in Summerset isles. Was found to be skilled with magick. Sent to Artueam to learn. Was kicked out of Artueam for Necromancy. Traveled between cyrodil and morrowind studying. Settled down in Cheydinhal and begin practicing Necromancy there. Not a very eventful life. He is familiar with Diviath Firs works, and has a theory that corprus is a form of Necromancy.

IC: Calendras closed the door as he left his house. He wore his Necromancer's robes. He usually did in public. There were no laws agianst necromancy in cyrodil. It was only banned by the mages guild. He could wear the order of the worms robes if he wanted and if Mages guild members attacked him, they were the ones breaking the law. In all truth, He felt like a fight today, he was stressed. A recent project had gone wrong. It had taken a lot of gold to fund...Deciding not to dwell on it, he continued down the road. Intent on arriving at the nearby inn. He thought he could hear a faint noise in the distance. But it was gone quickly.

Further down the street, he realised that it was raining. He started prancing down the street, gleeefully singing "Rain drops keep falling on my head!". Until he arrived before the Inn and entered.

Amiel chuckled at the druid joke, and then, realizing he had been asked a question, responded "I'm a member of the fighters guild. Killing monsters and bandits is my line of work. Of course, work has been pretty erratic these past couple of months, so it doesn't pay as well as it should." Amiel was deaf to any of the strange sounds being emitted outside the tavern, and continued his discussion despite what may very well be impending danger. "So, do you have any inside information on whats going on Morrowind? I mean, teleportation and the like must allow the guild to spread news across tamriel pretty quickly."

Calendras pushed open the doors and walked into the inn. He sat next the counter beside a guild mage and a guild fighter.

"Hello there, fellows" He said. "Care for a drink?"

He called to the inn keeper for a glass of cheap wine and relaxed in his chair.

Fanier overheard the man sitting next to him mention that he was in the fighter's guild.

"Excuse, me," Fanier asked the man. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear that you're in the Fighter's Guild? I've done some work for them, but I can't say they were entirely fair. You see, they still owe me a hundred drakes for a job last month."

IC: "Fortunately, I already got a drink!" Amiel said to the altmer who sat down next to him. Noticing the altmer's necromancer robes, Amiel said "You a necromancer eh? You never know who you'll meet at a bar..." Amiel then turned his attention to the slightly shorter elf. "They owe you a 100 drakes? Whats your name? I'll see what I can do to get you your money." Amiel took another large gulp of mead as he awaited a reply.