A pleasantly sunshiny morn on the Yellow approaching Arpenia*. The gang is heading north, returning from a road patrol to Leyawiin. They have no plans other than enjoying the scenery, assuming good weather holds out.

-Decrepit-

*OOC: The reason they are paused where they are is that I found the road ahead suffering from one of those dratted distant- / near-view land height mismatches. Now that we PC folk have a means to eradicate those I simply had to stop and take a set of coordinates of the afflicted area. I'm regenerating LandscapeLOD meshes now, with corrections in place. My attempts at this don't aways pan out. Gonna keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best.

Not every day in Cyrodiil is full of danger and excitement. Only those interested in the mundane details of fully living there will appreciate this excerpt from Episode 131 of Buffy’s Journal.

* * *
I was a happy elf as I spread my bedroll beneath the stars.

Digging into my pack I pulled out a small brush and doeskin pouch. An elf's teeth could last a thousand years, but my mother had impressed upon me as a child the importance of not taking them for granted. I hadn't paid much attention until the first time I saw Cosmus the Cheat give me a big grin. From that time on, I was always very conscientious at cleaning my teeth. I had used a small flayed stick from an orange tree, but later came to prefer the bone brushes sold by Nilawen that were equipped with one row of bristles. Daenlin was well aware of my diligence; one day he turned his fletching skill to teaching me how to make my own brush for teeth cleaning - like the one I had just pulled from my pack. The handle was bamboo. One end had been split three times and each slot carefully fitted with boar bristles. The end had then been notched and tightly laced with fine silk thread to hold the bristles in place before they had been carefully trimmed to the same length.

I reached for the doeskin pouch which contained teeth cleaning powder. Fortunately, I had ground up a new batch the evening prior at the guild. The higher quality alchemy equipment that I preferred was quite complex. After having broken several of the fragile devices on the road, I no longer carried them with me. Rather, I relied on using guild facilities. The teeth cleaning powder was a simple recipe that Ardaline had showed me. The most important ingredient was dried iris flowers, well known for their magical teeth cleaning properties. Then salt to aid with cleaning and provide some coarseness. A pinch of glow dust helped with whitening and sparkle. Finally, some dried mint leaves ensured a nice taste and fresh breath.

I rubbed a pinch of the powder over my teeth. After drizzling some water onto my brush, I popped the end of it into my mouth and went to work. While brushing, I pvssyd to my paladin and mare about our plans, "Mmphlgl rgmphlf glgdrmph Kvth."

"I'm quite sure you don't expect me to understand that," replied Acadian.
* * *

When they were working on their summon spell and she dozed off, Lothran carried her upstairs to a bed (not to be misinterpreted here) she giggled in her sleep. He told her about it the day after where upon she told him about her dream

Well. . . it was a funny dream! :blush:

With the help of TuStartingOptions, Nykteria began her game in the depths of Fort Cuptor. She found that the necromancer group whom she belonged to had turned on her, and wanted her dead. http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion596.jpg Things did not work out for the other necros. She fought her way to the surface with the help of her http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion597.jpg, and now has to figure out where she is, and where she can find more necromancers to kill.

One of my favorite alternate-start locations.

Claire has barely survived her ordeal at Kvatch. Only she and Savlian were still standing after the battle.

Claire is a non-violent mage. She calls herself a "shadow walker" because she relies heavily on stealth, but she's really more of a Mystic Healer, who majors in Mysticism, Restoration, Illusion, and Alteration. She uses no weapons or destruction magic.

A Breton born under the sign of the Atronach, Claire is quite resistant to magical attack, but has difficulty maintaining her own pool of magicka. That is a problem, given that her only means of fighting at her current level (3) is her ability to Absorb Health from enemies. She has only a couple of low-level Illusion spells, but has joined the mages guild in hopes of improving that skill. Eventually, she hopes to be able to command enemies to do her bidding.

At present, though, she is very discouraged. She has taken blame upon herself for...

Gottshaw Inn, where my decrepit avatar traveled to gather taxes-due. He and Vilja spent the preceding night at the Chorrol Fighters Guild hall, having arrived at that fair city on road patrol. Whist there they learned that the local Mages Guild needs assistance clearing a nearby ruin of necromancers. My avatar is thinking to swing back by there and help them before returning to the Imperial City for another patrol assignment.

-Decrepit-

I left Lothran standing by the brazier outside Novaroma. He just started his first shift patrolling the town he cares so much about

right,after taking some time off from playing oblivion (was visiting skyrim :wink_smile: am currently at the priory of the nine.lorien (mark 2) balimar my female breton crusader is currently level 8.i need to level her up to level 10,so i can find a daedric artefact for martin.that shouldn't be too difficult with all those infernal oblivion gates that are everywhere.the odds though are in her favour (as she has completed the knights of the nine quest :thumbsup: lorien plans to bring holy order to these foul daemons (one daedra at a time :toughninja:

Currently (still) in Skingrad. Niamh is going into the burglary business...

Etta is now "officially" in the Murder Business. She just left the DB sanctuary, heading towards the Imperial City to fulfill a contract there.

Claire has gotten Recommendations from all of the Mages Guild chapters, and is now an Apprentice at the Arcane University. She's starting to feel a bit guilty about leaving that Priest at the Kvatch Encampment, and is thinking of going back and seeing if he's all right.

Wild Elf has discovered the sewers that lead under the Imperial City. She never goes through the gates that are guarded by the Iron-Hats, so she has never been inside a city. Wild Elf is curious...

Evening. Bruma. The Fighters Guild. My decrepit avatar is a bout to bed down for the night.

They arrived there on patrol earlier that evening, in ample time for my decrepit avatar to treat Vilja to a formal dinner out at the swankier of the two city pubs.

On the morrow they plan to travel to Cheydinhal via mountainous trails, there to deliver several merchant packages.

Earlier, my avatar did indeed swing back by Chorrol and assist the local Mage Guild chapter in clearing a ruin of Necromancers. It proved a rather boring affair. Turns out only a few Necros were holed up there. They were easily disposed of. Things would have gone even smoother had not two (of four) assigned combat-mages shown up at the ruin too late to help.

-Decrepit-

Niamh, being the neurotic, flaky type, has not taken long to have a crisis along the road. Realising that her decisions have not been, perhaps, for the best for her she has pleaded with her Creator.

Her Creator despite manifesting normally as a distant, rather laissez-faire, entity has on this one occasion granted her a boon and has allowed her to open a gate and gaze back into her recent past. From this viewpoint he has allowed Ms Esher to pick one point where she feels that she can set her path to where it should be.
Upon the recieving of the appropriate libations - (possibly a mug of coffee and a digestive biscuit or two) - her Creator will, this once and only ever this once, allow her to travel back to that point and take her decision again, for good or ill.
What happens once more after will remain forever unchanged.

To offset this, she will be cursed with the knowledge of her future as it may have been up to the point at which she wished to travel back, but - barring that one decision she cannot change anything else deliberately, and she must follow it through to the end.

-BLANK-

Weye. The manse. Afternoon. My avatar debates whether to travel to the Capitol for an Anvil patrol assignment ... a rather late start for such an undertaking ... or postpone until the morrow. Postponement is likely though by no means certain.

My decrepit avatar has had a number of mundane adventures since my last report. None bear documenting in any great detail. Suffice to say nearly all of them were road patrols, tax gatherings, or package deliveries. That said, several unplanned excursions occurred. Vilja, who for quite some time (a good many real-life months) has been content to follow my avatar's lead, has all of a sudden decided that she should not only choose where they venture but lead the way herself. My avatar has no qualms denying such requests when they interfere with official duty assignments or important private commissions. In both recent instances her timing was perfect. In one case they had just arrived in Chorrol fulfilling their patrol obligation. In the other they had ended their daily commitments and were about to head to the Imperial City for dinner when she popped the request. How could he in good conscious deny her under the circumstances? He could not and did not.

In consequence he found himself traveling the roads of Cyrodiil and exploring dungeons far later into the night that is his accustomed norm. It helped matters not that while Vilja indeed knows the way to a great many locales, she often picks very circuitous routes to reach them. Be that as it may, my avatar cheerfully (outwardly at least) humored her.

This has occurred twice in the past three (game) days. It goes without saying my avatar has gotten little sleep, what with him insisting they resume normal patrol schedule during daylight hours.

I captured several images during this time span. One shows them paused near the Imperial City stables, http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn303/Decrepit_Waste/ESIV%20Oblivion/Road2ChorrolFromIC.jpg. Little did my avatar dream at the time that due to Vilja's assumption of leadership they would be traveling that very road later in the day. The other shows my avatar paying his respects at http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn303/Decrepit_Waste/ESIV%20Oblivion/VeronaTomb1.jpg, where he had traveled to gather alchemical ingredients for Vilja.

-Decrepit-

Well contacting them is the worst-kept secret in Cyrodiil - so Niamh did just that in Anvil.
She's yet to sleep, almost in spite of herself she's looking round the cathedral, and after that? well maybe some light honing of the skills, that and the dispersal of the considerable amount of jewels that she's carrying about with her.
Also, looting corpses...

Just started a new character. Got the appropriate armor for his skills, dueled two bandits and have made it to the Imperial City to sell loot and sleep in an inn.

Currently still in Anvil, although the DB is calling and there's a ship in the harbour that's rather more friendly than it used to be...
Also, Niamh's stalker has been photographing her again...

http://i798.photobucket.com/albums/yy265/bassmunkee/Oblivion/Niamh_Watching.jpg
http://i798.photobucket.com/albums/yy265/bassmunkee/Oblivion/Niamh_On_A_Bridge.jpg
http://i798.photobucket.com/albums/yy265/bassmunkee/Oblivion/Niamh_Fort_Istirus.jpg

Darn those stalkers! Hey, I know where that bridge is: http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv43/Acadian6/Cho%20Bk%201/ScreenShot902.jpg

My decrepit avatar and Vilja currently scour a cavern complex on the Imperial Isle. They search for Chalices. One has been discovered, but tis a plain affair and thus does not meet contract requirements. Truth to tell, my avatar will be utterly surprised should a qualifying chalice reside there. Then again, this particular cave system has already provided one surprise ... it has never before been fully explored. He recalls having been there at least once previously, but must not have ventured far from the entrance.

Between this report and last, the gang traveled to Anvil and back, patrolling the Gold and delivering merchant packages. The journey west was uneventful, save that due to a late start they could not complete the trip that same day but instead spent the night at an off-road campsite not far from Kvatch. (They might have made better time had the Skingrad Gold Horse Courier clerk not decided to absent himself from the office. It took my avatar quite some time to track him down, sun sinking lower the while.)

The return trip was anything but uneventful. It was also rather unpleasant. It was a Middas, you see. A Middas during which my avatar would journey past Kvatch. A Middas during which he had no reason not to stop there. That being the case, he felt honor bound to present himself to the local authorities for trial-by-combat duty. Thus he found himself in the Kvatch arena, administering "Colovian Justice" to a number of convicted Mythic Dawn agents and sympathizers captured at the end of the Oblivion Crisis. Tis a duty he takes no pleasure in, his sole self-justification being that he at least provides a relatively quick and clean end, which is more than can be said of the local populous. He managed to administer nine or ten "trials" before becoming thoroughly disgusted with himself and turning the proceedings over to others. Several 'combatants' actually provided something of a challenge, though my avatar was never in danger of being bested.

They left Kvatch late afternoon, planning to spend the night in Skingrad. They should have. Only, events at Kvatch had left my avatar in so foul a mood he elected to travel on to Weye non-stop despite the hour. Twas a dark if not stormy night. Abysmally dark. Visibility was reduced to the radius of their torchlight. The road beneath their horses hoofs was hard to discern. So vague was the cobblestone that they unknowingly left the path on several occasions and were forced to retrace their steps. Not that my avatar cared. "A black night to suit a black mood", he said to himself.

Something odd happened on the Gold between Skingrad and Weye. Very odd. Not terribly far east of Skingrad a lone traveler materialized within torchlight radius, heading west. Dunmer. Female. Though in civilian attire her greeting identified her as a member of the fighters guild. Such folk being free to wander as they will, my avatar thought nothing of it. The encounter faded from memory within seconds.

Some distance further east a lone traveler materialized within torchlight radius, heading west. Dunmer. Female. Civilian attire. Fighters Guild member. My avatar swore she looked identical to the earlier wanderer. Coincidence? Maybe. No sense worrying over it. On they went.

Some time later, near the Red Ring Road junction, a lone traveler materialized within torchlight distance heading west. Dunmer. Female. Fighters guild member in civilian attire. It was indeed the same lady, whose name I have alas forgotten. At this point my avatar decided that, once home, he would either get rip-roaring drunk or swear off booze altogether. He of course did neither.

That was the end of it. No more mysterious wandering clones. They arrived in Weye shortly before midnight. My avatar bid Vilja goodnight and went straight to his bed.

Upon waking next morning he decided they needed a temporary change of routine and vowed to forgo his customary trip to the Capitol for patrol and delivery assignments, which brings us back to the Imperial Isle caverns.

-Decrepit-

Ooh! You made a character that got into the Dark Brotherhood! How is that going?! :teehee:

I'm glad you guys are still here with your Oblivion characters. There's such charm here. Charm that is severely lacking from the Skyrim sections at the moment. I miss Luca Vespillo and Gwendaline Balois, but I'll return to them one day. Their stories will be finished. In the meantime, I'll happily keep up with the rest of you and your characters.

ZING!

It's not easy for me. Etta is a challenging character. She's deeply damaged and very volatile. Her anger erupts over the smallest things. She was attacked by a bandit archer on the road near Roland Jenseric's cabin, and took an arrow. Most of my characters would have killed the archer, looted a thing or two, and gone on their way. Etta hacked him to the ground, and kept slashing at him a half-dozen times after he was dead.

She should meet Niamh...
...then again maybe not...

Most of the time, I play for fun. I make characters that I like, that I want to travel with. Characters like Wild Elf.

Etta is different. Etta is an intentional exploration of the "dark side," and I'm not doing it for fun. I seriously doubt that I will post Etta's story in full on this forum, because it's based upon things that are a little too "true" for here. There are places in the real world where it is profoundly dangerous and nearly hopeless just to be born female, and Etta is my imagined tour through the mind of a person who has "been there." I believe that the DB and SI quest lines provide a basic structure on which to play out Etta's inner struggle, and a way for her to come out a survivor in the end.

The question is whether I can stand the trip.