The Warp in the East

Morrowind. Once a nation of great power and wealth. Led by the Tribunal gods, the Dumner people were infallible. But as the wisest of mortals know, golden ages don’t last.

The nation’s tragic downfall started when the god Vivec used his power stopped the moon Baar Dau from crashing into the city of Vivec. It was one of the many prodigious acts he performed to save the Dumner people from utter destruction, but unfortunately, he could not save himself from destruction.

After the Nerevine destroyed the Heart of Lorken and vanquished Dagoth Ur, his powers began to falter and fade. By the time the Oblivion Crisis descended upon Tamriel, his power had faded completely, and rumors of his disappearance were rampant. Some say he was taken by Deadra, and others claim the Neravine killed him, but the specifics are not important. Vivec’s power faded, and so did the magic that held Baar Dau in place.

The Temple engineers crafted a device called the Ingenium, which allowed the small moon to stay afloat in the sky… at the cost of human souls. The device worked fabulously, but like most mortals, they engineers bickered and ended up battling one another. The result was the destruction of the Ingenium, and Baar Dau immediately gained all of its built up velocity, smashing into the city of Vivec.

The city was wholly eviscerated, and the surrounding landscape was transformed into a smoldering crater. The shockwave from the impact caused Red Mountain, the massive volcano in the center of Vvardenfell to violently erupt, covering the island in lava, ash, and debris. The survivors of the duel disasters fled to the mainland, where more catastrophes were waiting.

Nords and Orcs attacked from the west, hoping to gain plunder and revenge during the Dark Elves time of weakness. Soon, the Argonians joined in and begin to conquer the province from the south, hoping to settle scores as well. With Morrowind’s moral, military, and economy on the brink of destruction, the Nordic raiders and Argonian tribesmen easily conquered the mainland, forcing the Dumner to flee to the island of Solsthiem to rebuild.

It took many years for the Dumner to assimilate themselves to the land, but soon, each surviving Great House had a holding, and the colony of Raven Rock was converted into their capitol city. King Hlaalu Helseth began to reform his once mighty nation of Dumner, but it took a very long time until things became manageable. But soon after things started looking good for the Dumner, many terrorist attacks began occurring on the island of Solsthiem.

The first occurred at Fort Frostmouth, where a group of mages were found responsible for an alchemical explosion in the Redoran barracks in the middle of night, which caused two deaths and wounded several other soldiers. The mages resisted arrest, but were apprehended through brute force, and questioned thoroughly. Unfortunately, the mages resisted the interrogation, and were executed.

The second attack took place at Raven Rock, when a small group of similar mages summoned antronachs and set lose on the city’s inhabitants. There were no deaths, and the city guard slew half of the group before capturing them. Another thorough questioning revealed that the attacks were related, and when pressed further, one of the mages informed the authorities of a smuggling ring that supplied the terrorists, who were now being called “The Rogues”, with weapons, poisons, and explosives.

King Helseth ordered his troops to raid the smuggling caverns, and captured a few Rogue prisoners that were more willing to talk than the mages. It was revealed that the smugglers and terrorists were supplied by an installation called Falasmaryon on the island of Vvardenfell, deep in the wasteland.

The King saw the Rogue base as a threat to his throne, and needed to have it eliminated. Instead of sending an army across the wasteland that would suffer at the hands of the harsh environment, he decided to hire a group of mercenaries to infiltrate and destroy the Rogue base.

So where do you come in? You’re one of the elite mercenaries hired by King Helseth to take out the Falasmaryon installation, and report back with any findings. We all meet up in Raven Rock, and take a ship to Khuul, a small coastal village on Vvardenfell. We will start once i have ten or eleven people signed up.


The World of Post-Red-Year- Morrowind

Here is the map I made for the RP: http://i1210.photobucket.com/albums/cc405/Dagoth_Gojira/morrowindedit.jpg

As you can see, the Island of Vvardenfell is in pretty bad shape. After the explosion of Red Mountain, everything is covered in ash, and pools of lava cover the land, making travel very hazardous. Several more towns and villages have sprung up on Solsthiem due to the massive population shift.

What are the new places in Solsthiem?
Fort Frostmouth- Was abandoned by the Imperials once money ran out at Raven Rock, but the new Morrowind Government is now using it as the main area of training for their army, as well as supporting a small settlement. Controlled by house Redoran.

Raven Rock- The colony slowly began to wither and die after the Oblivion Crisis, but the city was assimilated into the Nation of Morrowind after the Red Year. It now serves as a capitol city, with each [existing] Great House having a holding there.

Thormoor’s Watch- A small, bustling town exists on Thormoor’s watch, a Cape on the western coast of the island. The town not only serves as an ebony mining town, but a naval outpost. Controlled by house Redoran.

Brodir- This large town is situated just North of Raven Rock. It is name is derived from Brodir’s Grove, which close to the town. The architecture of the town resembles that of Ald’Rhun and Mar Ghan, with hollowed bug-shells serving as homes and shops. The locals have recently cleared much of the nearby Hirstaang Forest and converted it into farmland. Controlled by House Hlaalu.

Ald Hler- This town in North East of Fort Frostmouth, across the Jggnir River. After house Indoril’s disbandment, the surviving members set up this settlement. The inhabitants are mainly hunters, soldiers, and craftsmen. There is a decent sized garrison in the town, though they are reluctant to help King Helseth after his defilation of their house.

Skaal Village- The village has grown since the events in Bloodmoon, but not by much. The locals are still xenophobic and violent to outsiders, and even attempted to drive the Dark Elves out of their homeland, with little success. Skaal’s casualties were heavy, and now they sit atop their mountain in bitter defeat, attacking anyone who comes near. It is unknown if the King of Morrowind wants them exterminated or not.

Thirsk- The Thirsk mead hall, unlike the Skaal, welcomed the Dumner with almost open arms, allowing a trade agreement to be signed, supplying the nation of Morrowind with Nordic weapons and animal furs. The local Nords also allowed the Dumner to build a small outpost next to the hall.

Castle Kirstang- The castle was taken over by the remaining Telvanni, who use it as their main base of operations. A small town has flourished inside and outside its walls, creating a small outpost in the northern reaches of Solsthiem. Unfortunately, due to the savage raiders of Skaal, no one has been able to access the bridge to the castle, and few dare to take the bandit infested back way around the Moresing Mountains.

What is the status of the old places on Vvardenfell?
Khuul- This small fishing village is still under jurisdiction of the King of Morrowind

Ald Velothi- This town functions as a naval outpost for the nation of Morrowind.

Mar Ghan- Destroyed. Ruins exist where a small city once stood.

Ald’Rhun- Wiped off the map during the Oblivion Crisis.

Fort Buckmouth- The fort was abandoned during the erruption and forgotten, but a supply of imperial weapons may still persist in its armories…

Gnisis- Also destroyed, and picked clean by treasure hunters and smugglers. Almost nothing is left but foundations and scattered bits of rubble.

Vos- Vos was eviscerated by falling debris from the explosion. Its ruins still persist in the ash choked Grazelands.

Tel Vos- This city survived the explosion, but its inhabitants did not. It’s walls still stand, but very few have dared to peek into its depths.

Tel Ahrun- Abandoned and heavily looted

Tel Mora- Abandoned and heavily looted

Dagon Fel- Still persisting, but the Nords of the town have broken away from the empire and Morrowind completely, forming their own, self-sufficient community.

Ald Redaynia- This Velothi ruin is one of the few that are still standing after the explosion of Red Mountain. An alcove of Necromancers currently controls the ruin, attacking anyone who comes near.

Dumner Fortresses- Most of these are abandoned, and being overtaken by the deserts of ash, but some have very nefarious activities going on inside of them…

Where can we go in this RP?
Anywhere on the map. If you need to capture an abandoned Dumner Fortress for a strategic point, then you are allowed. If you need to take shelter in the ruins of a city, then you can. Just like the Elder Scrolls games, anywhere and everywhere, just make sure you get it permission from the hosts first.


Rules:
1. Don’t sign up unless you are committed to the RP
2. JDKilla and I are the hosts, our word is law
3. No Ubering
4. No bickering
5. Romance is allowed, but keep it non-graphic
6. No character controlling (without permission)
7. No major plot changes (without permission)
8. Submit your sheets to me, and I will post them on the thread
9. Have fun!

Sign-Up Sheet:
Name:
Gender:
Race:
Age:
Apparent Age:
Birthsign:
Appearance (Height, eye color, hair style/color, ect.):
Skills/abilities:
Traits/Quirks (NOTE: if you have a trait that affects you in a very positive way, you must have some sort of weakness to balance it):
Weapons:
Armor/Clothing:
Other gear:
History:
Personality and mental status:
Faction Affiliation (if any):

Character Sheets


Dagoth_Gojira (host #1)


JDkilla (host #2)


Arrow Slayer
[reserved]

Capitanrex


Trannigan


Athell


Polish Gamer


Lady Syl


DarkZerker


Schmuty Buncis


Hi!

Character Sheet (post in a spoiler for your first post)


Varthlokkur, Raven Rock City


A gentle breeze tugged and pulled at Varthlokkur’s cloak as he strode across the cobbled square. A few flakes of snow drifted lazily past him, and local commoners traversed from place to place in the bustling square, running their mundane errands. A [censored] on the opposite side of the square began to beckon him, hoping for a potential customer. Varth glanced up, so the profligate could see under his large, draqed hood.

The prosttute’s facial expression changed from flirtatious to terrified as she spotted Varth’s intimidating glare, and she quickly scampered off. The Dumner smiled, he always gained joy from frightening profligates. Behind where the woman stood was a sign that read The Drunken Nord Tavern.

This was it, the tavern he was supposed to meet his comrades in. He approached the door of the building, and pushed the heavy oak door inwards, and entered. His nostrils were greeted by the scent of beer and cider, and the distant smell of vomit off in the corner. His ears were met by the sounds of grumbled conversation and laughter, as well as a bard playing a lute. His crimson eyes spotted a portly Breton bartender polishing glasses behind a counter.

Varthlokkur approached the man, and set his hands on the counter. “I am here for Helseth’s contract.” His voice was gravely and course.

The portly man looked up, interest flooding his sleepy eyes. “Ah, you’re one’a them mercenaries, eh? Well, follow me.” The chubby Breton led him back behind the common room, through a narrow hallway, and into a private taproom, that was clear of jovial laughter and the smell of alcoholic beverages. The Bartender turned back to Varth “I gotta go back n’ tend to the customers, g’day to ya.” And with that, he hobbled out of the room.

Varth surveyed the room. It was smaller than the common room, but lavishly decorated, and the Dark Elf assumed it was used for private parties. He seemed to be early, for he was the only person in the room other than a Dumner man outfitted in bonemold armor. For a moment, he thought he was drawn into a trap, but he quickly calmed his nerves. His enemies were not subtle enough to trap him like this.

“Welcome” greeted the Dumner warrior. His voice was even more course than Varth’s, and it had a crude edge to it. “I’m General Boden, Helseth’s chief military advisor. Ill brief everybody on their objective when they arrive, and I’ll let you all work out the specifics.”

Varth nodded, and took a seat in the far corner of the room, giving him a clear view of the door. It was always good to be early, but the being the first one to events usually meant waiting a long time for them to begin. He sat back and wondered where the other mercenaries were coming from, and wondered about their journeys to the city of Raven Rock.

Andros was living in Chedinhall when the courier arrived with his summons from King Helseth, the King wanted him to join him in Raven Rock, An official royal summon, must be important. No time to lose Raven Rock is a long way and I don’t have much time to get there. He searched around his small house looking for the items he was going to need on his journey. He automatically went to the rack he used to store his spears, during his time as a mercenary he had collected many fine weapons, he still preferred his first spear the simple silver one he had bought in Vivec before the Ministry of Truth destroyed it, when he studied as a student of the mages guild there. It had never let him down and he in return treated it well. Slinging it over his shoulder he continued looking for the rest of his equipment, he found a small bedroll underneath his bed along with a purse of coins lifting in one hand he checked its weight, Should be enough to keep me going until I arrive in Raven Rock. He grabbed a loaf of bread and a block of cheese from the kitchen and left his house.

Setting out on the road again felt great to Andros, it had been almost a month since he had been employed and he was worried he was starting to lose his edge. It took him until noon to reach the edges of the Valus Mountains they dominated the horizon. He sat down against a large pine tree, allowing himself a small rest and a bite to eat before setting off again. Andros set off for a small game path he knew that travelled between two peaks, it would allow him to get over the mountains without having to climb anything too difficult. He reached the top of the pass just as the sun was setting, a large rock offered suitable protection for the night, It’s not much, but I’ve slept in worse places .

Andros slept deeply despite the cold and only woke as the sun started to rise in the east. I’m going to have to make good time today if I want to make it on time. I can’t afford to lose the money from this one. The path snaked through the mountains, the temperature changed slowly until Andros found him walking in fresh snow. At its height the path was three inches deep in snow and Andros could feel the cold starting to seep through his netch leather boots, his armor offered little protection from the cold. He pressed on down the hill, dropping out of the snow line as it slowly got warmer again, slowly the signs of life started to appear and he stopped to pick a clouded funnel cap to chew on. For a mushroom he found them surprisingly pleasant. As the day started to end he got his first glimpse of life on his journey, a small herd of deer were crossing the path just in front of him, he considered killing one of them for a meal I could never eat all of it, it would be a waste to kill it. Andros spent another night sleeping out under the stars.

It took him another three days to reach the mainland coast of Morrowind. He found a town which seemed big enough to offer him a potential method of faster or easier travel. He strolled into the town, taking in his surroundings, it was a typical Dunmer town a few rustic buildings and a scattering of services. Andros walked past an empty building with its windows and door boarded over, the sign hanging above the door proclaimed it as a Mage’s Guild branch, Despite my feelings about the guild, it pains me to see them in this state. Luckily the town was large enough to have a small port, even luckier was the fact that there was a ship lingering in the docks. The captain was another Dunmer of roughly the same height as Andros, he held himself in such a way that suggested he thought everyone was below him and spent a lot of time looking down his nose. “Good afternoon, good sir. Am I correct in assuming that you are the Captain of this fine ship?” Andros bowed, perhaps a little theatrically and awaited his response.

“This is indeed my ship outlander. Why does she interest you so much?” Outlander! I lived in Vivec for ten years and he still has the cheek to call me an outlander Nothing annoyed Andros more than the bigoted nature of his own race.

“I wish to charter her for a short journey to Raven Rock, if her Captain has no issues with carrying an outlander?”

“It’s fifty coins to Raven Rock from here, the journey will take four days. I would however like to know the name of any passengers I carry. You are permitted to call me Captain Dralor.” Fifty was a little more than Andros wanted to pay, but it was still a long way to Raven Rock and even if he secured travel from the end of the mainland it would be much longer than four days until he got there.

“Well, Dralor. My name is Andros Dravasi and here is your fifty coins.” Andros pulled out his purse and counted out the fifty coins into the waiting palm of the Captain. “I’m going to wait below decks. I trust we will set off promptly.” Andros walked aboard the ship and climbed below deck. He found an unoccupied hammock and got some rest.

The journey was long and boring, the coastland drifted by lazily, however true to the Captains word it only took four days and they were soon docking in Raven Rock. Andros left the ship and stepped into this new city, he had never been here before and he wasn’t sure what to expect, the city was built by the Imperials and it showed this in its architecture it looked distinctly non-dunmerish. He didn’t have time to gawp though, he was here for a reason and he knew where he had to go. He walked towards the tavern The Drunken Nord Tavern it was called, Andros laid his hand on the heavy oak door and pushed. It swung with surprising ease and revealed the Taverns basic interior.

The bartender was a portly man, who was busying himself in cleaning glasses in the universal bartender style. Andros walked up to the bar but before he had a chance to open his mouth the bartender said to him “Mercs are in back. Jus’ follow that little corridor at the back of the room” he gestured towards the back of the common room.

Andros followed the corridor to a small but better decorated back room. The room was empty excluding two other Dunmer, one was wearing a full suit of bonemold armor, the other wearing dark robes was sat in the corner watching the door. Andros ignored the others and sat down at a table where he could see the door but also keep an eye on the other occupants. He felt it might be bit of a wait for the others.

Azula, Deep in the Forests, South of Skaal Village in Solstheim

Everything was packed in Azula’s brown leather back-pack, except for the one thing that mattered to her the most—her father’s hunting knife. It was one of the only things she had left to keep a piece of him with her, and somehow it had just disappeared! She had gotten everything prepared the night in advance, and it was one of the last things she remembered putting in the pack; but when she went to double-check that everything was ready, it was gone! Digging through the pack, Azula’s red eyes flashed with anger.

With a frustrated yell, she threw the bag across the room, careless that everything she had taken so much time to pack was now scattered all over the floor. All that she cared about in that particular moment was finding that hunting knife.

Holding the enchanted shark-tooth that hung around her neck on a brown leather cord, she tried to cool down, as she whispered, “Okay, Dad, where is it? Where is your hunting knife?”

Suddenly it occurred to her to get down on her hands and knees, and she scanned the rough wooden floor, beneath the furniture. She gasped aloud when her eyes caught sight of something beneath the dresser, and she reached for it with desperate relief. Before she even pulled it out to where she could see it in the dim light of her rough-hewn log-cabin—more like a one-room shack, really—Azula knew it was the knife. She could feel the smooth wooden handle, worn and softened by the many years it had been in her father’s use.

She sat on the floor, hunched over and looking down at the knife with her hands in her lap. The sheath still had his name engraved into the old chestnut-colored leather—a name he despised, yet he still kept that knife, a gift from his grandfather. Even after he’d left his prestigious Dunmer family behind, he never used any other knife for hunting. And when he became too old and feeble to hunt anymore, he had passed it on to Azula, telling her to take care of it, because it was a precious heirloom.

Pushing back tears, Azula cleared her throat and got up, tying the knife to her belt so it wouldn’t get lost so easily. Then she looked around and realized the mistake she’d made in launching her sack across the room. “Nice going, Azula,” she muttered to herself, getting to the task of reassembling all of the things she would need…

After dousing the low fire, Azula stepped out into the cold and took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air. Her tattered grey cloak did little to keep her warm, but she didn’t mind it too much. It kept her more alert and focused, and she walked much faster through the crunching snow on the forest floor, heading south-east, in the direction of Thirsk.

The morning sunlight peeked through the tall pines and withered oaks, and a couple of small birds flittered from branch to branch, watching her momentarily before finally returning to their morning scavenges. Azula smiled faintly to herself as she continued on, pulling her hood up over her copper-colored hair, eager to reach Thirsk and finish loading up on supplies for the long journey ahead of her.

Somewhere in the ocean, southwest of Solsthiem...

Andrius took a deep breath through his nose. The air was saturated with the salty smell of the sea. Andrius stared at the horizon, waiting for the almost infinite sea to finally reveal the island of Solsthiem. The first half of his voyage was tiring, but this boat ride was just boring. He'd been sitting on a soggy wet deck for what felt like eternity, and his only knowledge of the time was the movement of the sun. As Andrius is sitting there, a familiar stench strikes his senses. Just then, the cravings struck - Andrius wanted some ale. He stood up from the waterlogged wooden deck of the boat, and opened the trap door to the crews quarters, below, where a gathering of some members of the crew were currently residing.

"How dee do?" remarked an excited Andrius. He loved people, talking, and drinking; three things currently in front of him. The members of the crew all nodded and groaned in response to his hello. One man offered him a cup of ale, which he graciously accepted and quickly downed. The crewmembers smirked as they refilled his cup.

"So where ya' from, kid? You look a bit young to be travelin' on your own to the Solsthiem." The rest of the crew again nodded in agreements to the propose question, as if they were all clones, and one man spoke for all of them. With a smile, Andrius explained himself.

"Well, you see sirs, I am joining an expedition as a mercenary under King Helseth." Andrius nursed his ale, as he examined the faces of the crew. Their face muscles clenched, and in a second they all burst out into laughter. Andrius furrowed his brown, and finished his ale, sliding the cup across the table. The action itself demanded a refill. The speaker of the crewman obliged him, and refilled the container.

"You're a mercenary!?" shouted one of the cronies. The crewman refilling Andrius' cup shot a glance at the other. It became apparent that their status aboard this ship was different, as the crew stopped laughing loudly, and resorted to quiet chuckles and whispers amongst the group.

Andrius motioned with his hands for the tankard of ale.

"That I am. Young, but still proficient." He patted his blade on his belt "See this dagger? I took the from the corpse of a large Orc highwayman who accosted me."

The crewman failed to seem impressed, and Andrius was getting steadily drunker, so he embellished...

..."Him, and two of his Orc mates attempted to rob me of my goods and my life! I wouldn't have that though, and either would my trusty blade. We put an end too all three of their nonsensical behavior!"

Andrius' continued telling stories of his life, which were few, and never missed to chance to stretch the truth, or even completely make one up. Now pleasantly drunk, his talking was non-stop, and his words were slurring. The burly crewman found him oddly hilarious, and they humored him as he regaled them with tales of valour, skulduggery, and other concocted stories as he attempted to impress the men. Somehow, stories turned into dancing, and dancing turned into magic, as the ale slowly disappeared. Unfortunately, magic turned into an angry Captain berating his crew for making a ruckus. He didn’t seem to care they were all drunk as a Nord, ignoring their duties. As the captain was yelling at the crew, Andrius found it a perfect time too pass out in a cozy corner of the lower deck, without attracting the attention of the captain....

Andrius was awoken with a swift kick to the ribs.

“We’ve arrived, and we’d prefer you get off the boat unless you want to pay another trip’s free to sleep here.”

Andrius couldn’t remember if the man was a crewmember, or the captain. So he nodded in a agreement, wiped his eyes, and exited the boat. His hair was a mess, and he reeked of ale. Never having been to Raven Rock before, and being too delirious to follow any maps, he asked the townsfolk for the directions to the Drunken Nord. He couldn’t remember past the first two directions, so he meandered the streets of Raven Rock, taking in the scenery, and browsing the various shops. Finally, he stumbled upon the tavern. He opened the heavy oak door, and made his way to the bar.

“I here for King Helselth’s campaign” spoke Andrius. He raised his eyebrow, and looked around the room, and at the bar keep, to see if anyone was impressed. The chubby Breton behind the bar snickered, and ceased his incessant dish washing long enough to lead Andrius to a well furnished private room, where three others were sitting far apart from one another. They all seemed to be glaring at the door, and deep in thought. At least, they appeared to be. They might have been just trying to avoid general pleasantries and conversation, but Andrius wouldn't be having that.

Andrius was able to temporarily overcome his tired state, and spurted out a jovial “Good day, folks!” before he sat down, layed his head upon the table, and passed out.

Aurek roused himself, the empty bottle of brandy rolling off him as he did so. As he sat up, he realized that he had a hangover. After long years of drinking, he never felt the sting of devil's water as he used to, and so he was left with a mild headache. It was customary for Aurek to drink before he takes a job, as it means he won't see the inside of a bottle for a long time. He groaned and stood, strectching his muscular limbs as he did so. Aurek caught a wiff of himself and blanched "Ugh, I smell like a drunken old Nord" he said before bursting into booming laughter "A good wash is what I need."

Aurek always talked to himself like that. He wasn't any more crazy than the next battle-hardened Nord, he just had a need to make noise, and he didn't want to waste thoughts when they could be spoken. He walked his almost-naked body over to the wash basin, dropped his loin-cloth, and began to clean himself. He took his braids out and washed his hair before washing the rest of himself. Water dripped on stone floor all around him, but such things were beyond his notice. Stone dries.

The big Nord found the mirror and re-did his braids in the Nordic custom, ensuring his locks would not interfere with his vision or hinder him in any way. Remembering his loin-cloth, he put it back on before seeking out his pants. They were hanging from the light in the room. "Now how did those get there" he asked himself before belting out another laugh that shook the chandelier he was looking at. He retrieved his pants and pulled them on. Then he set about putting his armor on.

Aurek had been in Skyrim during the Red Mountain eruption, and his heart had been heavy when he thought of his friends and housemates in Vvardenfell, however he had been caught up with dealings in his home province. He had been planning a return to Morrowind when he had recieved a contract from King Helseth. His motivation increased tenfold, Aurek made haste to Raven Rock. He had been almost there when he heard many of his comrades were at Fort Frostmouth, and he decided a joyous reunion was in store.After a feast and celebration of being reunited with his housemates, as well as drinking a toast to those of his friends who had fallen, Aurek once again set his sights on Raven Rock.

Finally, Aurek was once again dressed in his armor and ready to leave. He had told all his comrades that he would be leaving in the morning, however he could tell none of them thought he would be consious in the morning, let alone able to bear the light of the sun. As he proceeded to the exit, there was not a soul awake, and Aurek chuckled. "Lightweights." he muttered to himself as he walked outside into the morning light.

------

"Damn Morrowind!" Aurek yelled into the wind as he came into view of Raven Rock. "What kind of accursed place doesn't have any horses?!" People in the immediate vacinity of the town would vaugely hear the roar of his voice and wonder what beast was about. The long trek to Raven Rock had been trying even for Aurek's athletic prowess. He walked down the cobbled square, searching for the inn they were to be meeting. Aurek looked up at the sign, The Drunken Nord Tavern before bursting into booming laughter. People in the square turned to look at the man as he roared "What better place for a drunken Nord than a tavern that shares his title!!" and watched as he walked inside.

"I need a drink!" the Nord bellowed as he walked inside. Once he reached the bar, he raised a finger at the rotund Breton behind the counter. "Lad that glass isn't going to get any shinier," started the Nord, breaking into laughter as the Breton put the glass away.

"You here abou' the contract?" asked the Breton, examining Bear-claw's armor and weaponry. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he awaited an answer, and Aurek saw that he was polishing yet another glass.

"Aye!" cried Aurek, looking as threatening as possible before breaking into a large grin "But first I'll be needin' something to get the brandy off my breath, perhaps some mead?!" the Nord shook a bit as he laughed uproarisly at his own joke. The breton chuckled, and Aurek eyed him before saying "Well? Are you goin' to get my drink or continue makin' your collection of glasses the shiniest in Solstheim?"

The breton seemed ruffled as he went to pour a glass before Aurek indicated he would take the whole bottle. "Don't want to muss up your precious glassware." he said with a wink, and dropped the gold on the bar. "So, where's this meetin' then?" The man pointed off down the hallway. Aurek patted the man's back with vigor, pushing the man forward "Your a good man!"

Aurek went down the hallway and found the taproom, already occupied by three Dunmer, and a small figure with his head down. "Why if I don't feel like a lily in a field of ash!" Aurek roared, laughing as he surveyed the room, choosing the chair closest to the door. "So, which one of you is the head chair of this little meet 'n' greet?"

He had no qualms about the elves, and he meant no offense with his comment, that was just Aurek being Aurek. The Nord noticed that everyone was in a chair facing the door, with the exception of the hunched figure, however he was much more comfortable in his position. With mercs, you never knew which ones were honorable and which would stab you in the back. Aurek knew fully that he could react to someone coming through the door in plenty of time, so he was much more content watching the mer and man he already knew about instead of worrying about more coming in. It would do to judge the character of these before he got to worrying about that.

Azula; Thirsk, a Nord mead hall east of Lake Fjalding, Solstheim.

Stepping inside the mead hall, Azula was temporarily blinded by the contrast of dim lighting, after being out in the bright and snowy atmosphere of the forests. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a plethora of heavily drinking Nords, with a few other people in between here and there. However, she quickly saw that she was the only dark elf present in the mead hall.

Most of the men and women there regarded Azula with distrust, as she made her way to the bar, where a young Nord was wiping the counter with a rag that didn’t look much cleaner than the counter itself. The boy didn’t look to be much older than 11 or 12, and he seemed very shy when Azula approached him. She guessed he wasn’t much for socializing, and most likely he was just being forced into helping his parents run the place. The poor boy reminded her of a turtle she once found while traveling with her father, as a child—hiding fearfully within its shell, but peeking out every now and then to keep an eye on its surroundings.

She felt some sympathy for the boy, who trembled slightly as he forced himself to speak. “Is…is there anything…I can h-help you with, ma’am.”

Azula cast her red eyes from left to right, scanning the area briefly, before centering her focus on the boy again. “Aren’t you a little young to be running a mean hall all by yourself?”

“I…I don’t…run the m-mead hall,” he answered, looking downward as if trying to hide the scarlet coloring that spread across his cheeks. “My…p-parents own it….”

“Well, are they here?” she asked somewhat impatiently. She felt bad for the boy, but she was also getting a little annoyed with his constant stuttering. She wanted to get going…

“M-my father is out…gathering wood.” The boy glanced out into the mead hall momentarily, and Azula followed his gaze. There was a table with a group of loud, drunken Nords, and a young, attractive woman stood by the table flirting with them, her bosom nearly popping out of her low-cut bodice.

Rolling her eyes and turning back to the boy, Azula replied sarcastically, “Oh, I’m sure he’s getting wood all right….”

“I…I can help you…with anything you need.”

“Just hold tight, kid. I’ll be back.”

Azula turned and walked confidently over to the table, slamming her hand down to get everyone’s attention. With a smile, she said, “Good day, gentlemen. Can I ask which one of you is the proprietor of this place?”

An especially tall, muscular Nord with striking grey eyes and a diagonal scar across his cheek looked up at Azula, and said, “That’d be me. But what’s it to ya? Can’t ya see I’m busy? My son, Hrofrid is workin’ the counter. Go talk to him.”

“Yeah, but you see,” said Azula, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m asking for the proprietor, not his kid.”

“Oh, I see,” said the man, rising to reveal the full extent of his massive size. He was as big as a grizzly bear. “You lookin’ for trouble, darkie? I’m surprised Black-Eye would send a flea-sized little girl to do his dirty work.”

“Look, I don’t know who this Black-Eye is, or what he would want with you. I’m just here for supplies.”

“Then my son can help you,” said the bear, sitting down again and intending to ignore her as he resumed drinking with his friends and flirting with the little harlet.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, Azula pulled out one of her daggers and stabbed it down into the wood on the table right between the bear-man’s fingers to get his attention. Looking at her sideways, fury in his grey-eyes, he said, “I’m sorry, what part of I’m busy don’t you understand, darkie?”

Pulling her dagger out of the table and grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, Azula looked him in the eyes, and said, “I may be nothing but a flea-sized little girl to you, but I am not someone you want to piss off. Now, you are the proprietor of this mead hall, but the only person I see doing any work around here is that little boy who ought to be out playing in the snow and climbing trees, instead of running a mead hall for his lazy, drunken father.”

“Excuse me,” said the Nord, grabbing her wrist furiously and jumping from his chair. His friends didn’t move a muscle, no doubt sure he could handle himself. “I could smash you to pieces with one hand, like the little flea you are, but you got the nerve to come in here and insult me?”

“I’m a lot more dangerous than I look,” she said, returning his glare.

Suddenly the bear-man broke out into deep, hearty laughter and set her down, shouting, “Hrolfrid, grab this darkie a drink! I like your attitude. You gotta be either crazy or fearless to come marchin’ in here like that. I s’spect it’s a bit o’ both.”

“I’m not here for a drink. I’m here for supplies. I’ve got a long way to travel, and I don’t have time to sit around here, being waited on by a child.”

“All right,” he said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “I’m here to help. Wha’d’ya need?”

She pulled out a small scrap of paper and laid it on the table in front of him, saying, “Here’s a list of what I need.”

Nodding, the Nord picked it up and looked it over, then nodded his head. “Yeah, I got all that here. I’ll get it for ya…as soon as I’m finished with this mead.”

He lifted a metal tankard, about to take a drink, but Azula quickly lost her patience with his laziness and knocked the cup out of his hand so that its contents dumped all over the floor. Looking down at the now empty tankard, she said, “Looks like you’re finished.”

The Nord set his jaw and took at deep breath. Then he got up and stalked off toward the storage room behind the bar to collect her things. Azula stood there waiting, and noticed everyone start to whisper amongst each other. She overheard one of the bear-man’s friends whisper, “She must be a little too ‘blessed’ by Sheogorath, if you know what I mean.”

The men chuckled quietly and watched her closely. Azula wondered if she could trust the Nord and his friends. What if he was going to grab a massive battle axe or something to kill her with? But she soon relaxed when he came hulking out with his hands full of the supplies she had asked for. Setting them down on the table, he said, “Here’s everything you wanted. Now, I’ll be expecting payment, little missy.”

Azula reached into her small coin pouch and threw some coins down on the table, then collected her things to pack them in her bag. Slinging the bag over her shoulder again, she looked at the Nord, and said, “Why don’t you quit sitting around here, drinking, and let that boy of yours be a kid?”

The Nord grunted and rolled his eyes, saying, “Heh, sure. Whatever you say.”

She knew he wasn’t going to listen, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. Perhaps one day she would return and teach the man a lesson about not making slaves of children. But this wasn’t her fight, so for now, she had to get on with her journey. She had already wasted enough time, anyway.

Sun-Scale, Solsthiem Wilderness.

Sun-Scale trudged slowly through the thick brush of his homeland. He was instinctively was being drawn to the darker parts of the jungle, a sense of pride welling up in his chest. "I never thought I would actually see this place again." He exclaimed happily, as his feet picked up pace. Barging through the bushes he finally layed his eyes upon his destination. A huge Hist tree stood before him swaying with the breeze. It had long, vibrant vines that draqed all the way down from it's canopy to the forest floor and as Sun-Scale stepped closer to the hist the vines seemed to gently brush up against him.Sun-Scale sat down with his back against the tree, smiling happily and he rested his head against the bark and shut his eyes. He felt a vine slowly slide along one of his hands then loop itself tightly around his wrist.His eyes shot wide open at this and he yanked his arm sharply away from the vine, yet the vine's grip was too tight to break free of. Sun-Scale tried to use his other hand but another vine quickly shot down and binded both of his hands together.

"Noooo!" He screamed out while waking up from his nightmare, causing the fur armor-clad Dunmer who was over him to jump. The Dunmer had been trying to shackle his wrists up but he had only managed to cuff one of them so far. Sun-Scale quickly pushed his free hand against the dark elf's stomach, releasing a calming spell in the process. The spell took effect and managed to break the elf's focus and as the elf sat there with a confused look Sun-Scale took his shackled hand and raked his claws hard across the Dunmer's eyes. The elf fell over in agony then and Sun-Scale quickly got to his feet, searching for his bow and arrows. Before Sun-Scale could get to either one the elf was back to his feet and charging while holding one bloody eye socket. Sun-Scale rather clumsily dodged the elf's punch but managed to get under the elf and flip him onto his back. He then picked up a nearby stone and proceeded to strike his enemy in the head until all movement ceased.

Once the elf was either dead or knocked into a coma fell to his knees and clutched a hand to his scaley chest. His heart was pounding wildly and his head was spinning from the adrenaline.Even though he had made camp deep within a cave he still had the misfortune of having a threat stumble onto him. Sun-Scale got back to his feet and kicked the body hard in the ribs for the attempted capture then checked the body for anything valuable. On the body itself he didn't find anything of interest. The longsword the elf had was not wanted because Sun-Scale had never wielded anything bigger than a dagger in his life, and he much preferred to use his bow than use throwing knives, which the elf had a few of in his holster.

Sun-Scale then grabbed the large supply pack that the Dunmer had with him and spilled the contents onto the ground. He rummaged through the pile and found a loaf of bread which he kept for himself. Breaking off a hunk of the bread, he munched on it slowly while sorting through the rest of the objects. He pocketed the twenty extra coins that the elf had and stopped chewing when he found a folded up piece of paper that proved to be very interesting. The paper was an invitation from King Helseth himself inviting all expert mercenaries who were willing to aide him in a certain task. Sun-Scale himself was by no means a skilled mercenary, but he was someone in need of some money, plus Sun-Scale knew that Helseth was a dark elf that actually disapproved of slavery, even going so far as to abolish it in Morrowind.

Sun-Scale folded up the paper and placed it into his own pack, making the decision to try to join up with the mercenaries that would be there. He quickly changed into his leather armor and grabbed his arrows and bow. The paper said that the headquarters was in Raven Rock, and while Sun Scale was only a few miles away from the settlement it would take a few hours to get there on foot. He kicked some dirt onto the fire that he had burning for warmth the night before then went out on his journey.

My CS


Tharasn Dalvas, Raven Rock City

His breath formed in front of his face as Tharasn sat in lazily in an ally way. Life was getting tough around here, especially in his old age... One Hundred, Fifty Eight... Damn that's a long time to be alive and kicking Tharasn couldn't believe that his birthday was yesterday. He glanced down at his clothes. A filth covered vest and tattered linen pants. How had he hit rock bottom so hard? The old Dunmer stood slowly and reached into his pocket. He felt the crumbled paper and carefully pulled it out. He slowly unraveled it, he had read it a thousand times. He knew the words by heart but his heart still raced when his eyes rolled across the paper.

He felt a soft body crash into his left shoulder and glanced over. A small woman, prosttute by the looks, had ran into him by accident.

"Oh by the nines! I'm sorry mi lord, I should have been watching!" She apologized over and over again with her hands covering her face.
"Calm yourself wench, I have no intentions of harming you," he reached into the small pouch on his belt and pulled out a few septims, "here, get your self some food." The woman looked down at his hand and then examined his condition. She shook her head and sped off again. Tharasn simply shrugged and wondered off into the rest of the town. His wrapped feet crunched as he mindlessly wondered the streets.

No matter how much he walked all he could think of is the words scribbled across that paper. Snow fell around him as he found himself standing in front of the same building he kept finding himself in front of... The Drunken Nord Tavern... He felt the magicka surrounding him begin to waver, he could feel the cold nip at him. Tharasn pushed open the door and spotted the barkeep, a portly Breton.

"Good day sire." He placed the paper on the counter and glanced up to meet his eyes. The Breton didn't seem to believe he was a mercenary.
"Ehh, you don't like alot like a merc... But who am I to judge? By the way names Edgar is the name." Tharasn just nodded as he follow the waddling Edgar to a back room. His eyes found three other Dunmers, a large Nord, and a sleeping figure in the back. He found a seat near the two Dunmer and placed his elbows on his knees. He looked up and his eyes wondered from each occupant in the room.

A fire burned and crackled softly, as it devoured the small, formal piece of parchment that had just been discarded into the fire's depths. The red eyes of a Dunmer watched it turn into soft ash and disappear under the withering heat. Why the King would send the message to him, let alone anyone in the town of Ald Hler, was beyond his comprehension. The town consisted of predominantly members of the now-dissolved Great House Indoril, and Adil Llaram was no exception. He had been destined to be the next Captain of the Watch of Vivec, following in his father's footsteps, but that dream had died with the destruction of the city and the disappearance of Vivec, himself. Adil had barely avoided death, having been in Mournhold at the time of destruction, but upon learning of the fall and the invasion of the Argonians, he immediately volunteered his skills in fighting the lizard creatures, knowing that there was nothing he could do in Vivec. After that, he had fought the Nords, but all in vain, because the King had ordered a retreat to the frozen island of Solstheim, where he had also disbanded the Great House Indoril. The families had obviously felt betrayed, and had therefore started their own settlement, Ald Hler, just across the Iggnir River from Fort Frostmoth. It was here that Adil had settled, seven years ago. His name had been recognized, and the other Indoril had approached him almost immediately, with their problems and grievances. It was almost as if he had been immediately been made sheriff.

Since then, he had meted out justice where necessary and had kept the small town in order. With the exception of a few bandits who did not know the population of the village, no one had disturbed them, and they had lived in relative peace. Now this message had come to him, and the rest of the town had already heard about it. Adil would have to think long and hard about what his decision would be. If he agreed to go, he would also have to think about a suitable replacement and who would watch over what few items he left in his humble abode. He decided that his best decision would be to sleep, and think about it in the morning, and so he finished some routine chores, such as chopping wood for the fire, praying, and following up with a couple of people who had grievances with each other. Once that was accomplished, he lay down to sleep, but it only came in fits and spurts. Between them, he would go between leaving and staying, with new pros and new cons developing each time. Finally, he saw the first rays of the sun start to chase away Masser and Secunda, and he knew that it was time to make a decision.

Rising from his bed, he did something that he had not done since he had moved to Ald Hler. Approaching the fireplace, he raised his left hand to the height of his shoulder, then counted three bricks up and seven bricks over. After whispering a rudimentary opening spell, the brick flashed a dull purple. Adil reached forward and pulled the brick out of it's place. Turning it around revealed that it was hollowed out slightly, and a small key fell out of the opening and onto his hand. Setting the brick down on the mantle of his fireplace, he approached the old, locked closet that was hidden from view and he fit the key into the lock. The doors swung open slowly and when they were fully opened, they revealed a full set of Indoril armor, hanging on a mannequin. The former Ordinator was immediately humbled and a large sigh escaped his lips. The large tattoo on his face seemed to tremble, and Adil reached out to caress the armor. The touch wakened a feeling deep within him, and he knew the answer to his question, but he also decided to pray on it. Leaving the doors open, he turned around and faced the small shrine to Nerevar that he had constructed with the help of the local priest. He kneeled down and prayed to the great Saint. His prayer lasted until the middle of day, and at the end, the fullness of his decision had settled upon him. He would be travelling to Raven Rock.

His decision made, Adil rose from his kneeling position and stretched his legs out slightly, relieving the tension. Then he methodically suited up in his glorious armor, whispering prayers to Saint Nerevar the entire time. He started with his boots and went up, ending with the gauntlets. Finally, he retrieved his helmet, tower shield, and great cloak, placing them on his bed before he shut and locked the closet. He replaced the key in the brick and set it back, whispering another spell to disguise it. From under his bed, he pulled out the polished wooden chest that held the infamous "Gavel of the Ordinator." He picked up the mace from it's bed of soft cushions and placed it in his belt, before shutting the case and sliding it back under his bed. Grabbing a small pack from the corner of his cabin, he tossed in a few rudimentary items, such as jerky from a tusked bristleback and a few standard potions that held restorative powers. Adil slipped the pack onto his back and then swung a fur-lined, black great cloak around his shoulders and fastened it across his chest. Before he slipped out the door, he slid his tower shield on one arm and grabbed his helmet with the other.

There was no way he could avoid being seen, so he walked calmly from his abode to another one down the street, an air of determination surrounding him. He knocked on the door of this house, and a male Dunmer answered the door. Briefly taken aback by Adil's raiment, he stumbled over his words, "Brother Llaram, you're in rare form. What may I do for you?" Switching the arm that he held his helmet with, he grabbed the key to his house and passed it to the Dunmer in front of him. "Brother Serano, I go to answer the King's call, only so that we may not lose our new home and possibly return to Vvardenfell some day. Take care of my house and belongings, and keep the peace. Above all, keep the peace and worship the Tribunal. I hope that I will not be gone too long. Farewell, my friend." And with that said, Adil set off on the short trek for Raven Rock. If he was not waylaid, he would be there before nightfall.

Luck was with him, and he managed to avoid obstacles, as he arrived at the new capital of Morrowind before Masser and Secunda had risen. Many eyes looked upon him in awe and some in disgust, for he judged every man or mer he saw. In his opinion, the Tribunal would be ashamed of these people, and it upset him greatly, but he set it aside and looked for the tavern in which the mercenaries would be meeting. Finally, he stumbled upon the Drunken Nord Tavern and opened the door. The crowd immediately froze and looked upon the Dunmer in fright and shock. Adil glared at each one of them in turn, and moved heavily towards the barman, a portly Breton who had stopped shining a glass that seemed as if it could get no clearer. The Breton simply stood there, stunned by the sight in front of him. "The King's men. Where are they?" The rough tone of his voice briefly broke through the Breton's trance and he slowly thumbed towards the back room where they were all meeting. A curt nod was the only expression of gratitude the Breton received, and as the Dunmer walked purposefully towards the back room, hushed whispers broke out behind him. The former Ordinator did not like such places, as he felt they were hotbeds of heretical violations of the teachings of the Tribunal, and so he rarely approached any. As he reached the door to the backroom, he opened it, immediately surveying what was before him. Four Dunmer, a Nord, and what looked like a sleeping Imperial were already in the room. He said nothing to any of them, merely looking at their faces, before finding a seat of his own, closer to the Dunmer than to the Nord and the Imperial, both of whom he did not trust, the Nord in particular. He sincerely hoped that there would be more Dunmer, and if he were lucky, one of House Redoran as well, as they were the only House left that he had any respect for.