The Elder Scrolls: Ascension [IC]

by **The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 10:09 am

THE ELDER SCROLLS: ASCENSION

IC Thread

...and Pelinal came to Perrif's camp of rebels holding a sword and mace, both encrusted with the smashed viscera of elven faces, feathers and magic beads, which were the markings of the Ayleidoon, stuck to the redness that hung from his weapons, and he lifted them, saying: "These were their eastern chieftains, no longer full of their talking."

The Song of Pelinal, Volume 2: On His Coming

It is the year 307 of the Fourth Era, and the dawn of the Fifth Era is upon us. The future of Tamriel stands at the precipice. The entire continent shall be engulfed by the coming Great War, the second of its kind. The remaining provinces of the Empire now stand united behind Emperor Remaunus Cardes III, grandson of the first to bear his name, he who was sent to take the Ruby Throne by Reman Cyrodiil and Tiber Septim themselves, reclaiming several of the relics of Pelinal Whitestrake, the Divine Crusader, bane of Elfkind, and he who reforged what was left of the Empire of old. Opposed to the Empire stand the Aldmeri Dominion, victors of the Great War, utterly convinced of Merkind's supremacy over mankind, still recovering from their losses during that War. The Dunmer of Morrowind and the Argonians to their south are still at war, the only thing keeping the Argonians from overrunning all of the Dark Elves' homeland the efforts of the still mighty House Redoran. Hammerfel, still independent, too prepares for battle against the hated Thalmor once more.

Tamriel shall bleed, flogged by the war that is to come. The stage has been set, the dice has been cast. Soon the fate of all Tamriel shall be decided...

"I am Cyrodiil come."

Reman I

by **The NAR** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 10:13 am

"And may the Divines, in their holy power, guide and protect the brave soldiers of their empire, and may Talos, the father of our Empire, watch over all who have the courage to serve, in this life in the next. Oh blessed Talos, blessed Divines, I ask you to look over these brave soldiers, as they soon may be at the gates of the afterlife. Give them the strength to fight with honor and courage, and give those who fall mercy, and life in the eternal realms of the afterlife..."

After the Priest lowered his arms and stepped back, there was a silent applause, and all of the Imperial Soldiers bowed their heads for a moment, then stood up and returned to their designated positions around the fort. Marcus remained seated in the dirty, broken wooden bench, his head bowed as he was lost in prayer. He feared for his life, for at any moment, armies of Thalmor could clash against the mighty Empire. The Empire is strong... but not invincible, and men would die in its defense. Everyone here knew that should the Dominion attack, it would be catastrophic for both sides and lead to a long and bloody conflict. Though, Marcus had faith in his men, for the Voice of the Emperor could NOT be silenced.

Marcus lost track of the time, and next thing he knew, he felt the bench press down to his right. Marcus lifted his head and looked right, met by the Priest in large brown and yellow robes. "My boy, are you praying?" asked the Priest with a kind and gentle tone. Marcus didn't make an motions, he always took his praying personally, and didn't like others to know when he was. The Priest smiled through the hood which shielded most of his face "No need to be embarrassed, the Divines love to hear the word of their children. You are a child of the Divines, and such they love you, all of you". Marcus chuckled a little bit and stood up, wiping the dust off his legs and nodding to the Priest.

"Thank you for the words of encouragement". With that, Marcus turned away from the Priest and began walking towards the Mess Hall, where most of his platoon was probably eating away. When he entered the largest building in the fort, only a couple of the guys were there. Marcus walked over and sat down next to a friend of his, Ulton. He was a Nord, and if Marcus remembered correctly, was from Markarth. "Hey" said Ulton while he stuffed his face with hamburger meat. Marcus looked across the table to another Imperial named Maximus. Nice guy, a smart-ass to the core though. Couldn't go five minutes without some joke or sarcastic comment. Sitting next to Max was probably the most interesting soldier in the platoon, the shady and quiet Jo'Rakha. He's a Khajiit, but that's virtually all anyone knows about him. He rarely speaks, and when he does, it's always something wise. However, this Khajiit knows his way around a blade, if nothing else.

A few seconds passed, and Max opened up conversations. "So which one of you dicks wants to get me another burger, huh?". Ulton looked up and scolded, shaking his head.

"Get one yourself you half-wit". Max make a mocking face and looked down at his food.

"Says the retarded raged Nord...". Marcus laughed and shook his head.

"You two make me wanna jump into Oblivion". Marcus stood up and shook his head, looking to Jo'Rakha. "Enjoy your meal, Rock". Marcus walked out, back into the middle of the fort, and was stunned when he say Imperial Soldiers running towards the main gate with their weapons drawn. Instinct made him join the group of soldiers running foreword.

Marcus had to push to the front of the crowd of Legionaires, revealing a High Elf in Thalmor armor with a slip of paper in his hand. Weapon sheathed, Marcus approached the Thalmor Soldier with uneasiness. Just as Marcus opened his mouth, the High Elf spoke loudly. "I bear a letter from General Atheleen, head of the Almeri Dominion's Border Armies". The Elf offered the letter foreword, and Marcus snatched it up. It was sealed tight-- an offical letter. Marcus nodded uneasily, wondering what secrets lie hidden, and spoke.

"Thank you. Ill make sure this falls into the proper hands". With that, the Thalmor messenger hopped into his horse and began to ride back in the direction of the Dominion border. Marcus turned and went to find the Commanding Officer...

by **The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 11:10 am

Esthael Cardes
White-Gold Tower, the Imperial City
Cyrodiil, the Empire

The sword reflected the light, shining brightly as she held it in her hands, the red gem of its pommel resplendent, still in a perfect state. Esthael carefully swung it through the air, adding a soft whoosh under her breath. With extreme care, she placed the blade back on the table, on the red cloth that its sheath lay on, before she turned back towards her cousin. "It's so... perfect, even after all these years..." The Breton shook her head. "Are you sure it's the real one?" Her cousin, sitting in a chair by the fire, gave a nod, smiling. "It is. The same blade used by Pelinal Whitestrake as he slew Hadhuul, and later when he killed Umaril the Unfeathered himself. The blade, wrought by Akatosh himself." The Emperor - Esthael still wasn't really used to her cousin now bearing that title - tilted his head slightly. "I guess Divine-made weaponry does not degrade in the same manner as the weapons created by us mortals do." Esthael walked towards the chair sitting next to it, leaning back as she sat down. "Did grandfather ever tell you how he got the sword, cuirass, and the helmet? I mean, he sure didn't tell me, but maybe he told you, what with the whole next in line and proper Imperial thing?" Remaunes Cardes, the third of his name, shook his head. "Never. I guess we'll never find out, eh?" Esthael looked towards her cousin, an accusing look on her face. "Or you're just not telling me." The Emperor, once more, shook his head. "When have I ever lied to you?" His cousin remained looking towards him with the same look, giving a sigh. "Well, there was that - " The Emperor raised his hand. "Let's stop right there. Point taken. But truly, he did not tell me. Another subject, please, before you keep droning on about it."

The Breton laughed, shaking here head as she turned her eyes towards the fire. "Pfft, fine." She remained quiet for a few seconds. "So, what did grandpa tell you about where he got the relics from?" Remaunus groaned, and his cousin once more laughed. "I kid, I kid. Anyway, I've become really bored of all these parties all over the place. I want something different." The Emperor stared into the Breton's eyes for several seconds. "You? Seriously?" Esthael nodded eagerly. "Yes! I want to.. see more of the world! Go on an adventure!" Remaunus could not help but burst into laughing. "You? Really? Adventure? Hah! We should really do this more often, you're much more funny than I remember you!" Esthael remained quiet, looking towards her cousin slightly angry. "... I'm not kidding. I'd, like, meet people I'd never meet! Experience the real world! Make a name of my own! It'll be wonderful!" The Emperor closed his eyes, and shook his head in disagreement. "You won't. You won't enjoy this... real world you speak of, and you won't be of much use out in the wilderness." The Breton lady raised herself in her seat, leaning forward. "But I've already thought of that! Rather than attending more of those parties, I'll go find another one of the Crusader's Relics! I'll be known for what I did, and you''ll have more to use against those Thalmor! It's perfect!" Again, Remaunus shook his head. "You will not. I'll not have you travelling the wilderness alone. It is too dangerous." Esthael laughed in reply. "You know I'll just continue asking, until I finally do it anyway, without your permission. Besides, I'm very good at sword fighting and destruction magic according to my teachers! I'll be alright!" The Emperor sighed. "I will not let you travel alone. As such, I shall allow you to go on this... adventure of yours, accompanied by Legate Cullagia of the Penitus Oculatus as your protector." Esthael jumped up from her chair. "But I want to go alone! Besides, Legate Cullagia can't even speak, she's a mute! That's boring!" Remaunus slowly rose from his seat. "Legate Cullagia's tongue was cut of by the Thalmor during an interrogation after she was captured following a small skirmish in northern Valenwood., before the Legion could save her. You have no right to judge her on this. Besides, she has guarded you on several occasions before. Remember that one time where she killed those bandits that tried to rob you? Oh, or maybe you remember that time she covered you with her cloak after you, in your drunken state, decided it'd be a good idea to bathe in Lord Orantia's fountain, bottle still in hand, saving you from a scandal that could've followed you for years?" The Breton shot him a furious glance. "How dare you!" She stood there for a moment, fists curled in anger. "Fine! Have it your way! I shall leave, with Cullagia, tomorrow at dawn!"

Remaunus raised his cup of wine from the table towards his cousin, watching her stomp out of the room. "I'll see you soon then, Esthael. Won't be long after you've had your first taste of the real world!" Chuckling, the Emperor fell back into his chair as Esthael began preparing for her adventure.

by **Togeria** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 11:54 am

I sat on a tree stump tightening up my boots, a small smirk was on my face, I had just joined the Imperial Legion. Finally after so much wait I had a chance to not only bring glory to the Orsimer, but to my father as well it indeed did brighten my day. I had went and gotten my armor today, I made no waste in putting it on, it felt nice and tough like me, I however was unfortunate enough to take notice of how the people looked at me especially the Breton, some laughed others give a look of distaste. Couldn't they see we fought for the same empire, that our causes are the same? It saddened me, but as I put my armor on it warded and protected me as the mightiest spell, deflecting the any insult cast upon me as I walked with the utmost confidence.

Walking on my way to Wayrest I already feel the looks, the eyes staring at me. I would not let it affect me, I would stand strong. I was a soldier for the empire, and I would be treated no differently. Thinking on me I was delighted to find that the legionaries at least treated with semblance of decency even though I didn't show it it made a happy on the inside. So, so many years of being treated like a half-branded rat by Bretons, outsider from Orsimer due to her Breton blood, it was welcoming to be treated as a recruit, a soldier for the empire. It made my determination to serve them to rid Tamrial of the Dominion and to bring glory to Orsinum! For the Tamerial! For the Empire!

I was ecstatic to say the least proud to show my father my new armor to tell of my mission. I came smiling to our little house knocking on the door my mother came out smiling as she saw me, and taking a moment to look at my armor. She looked long and hard for a moment, I could tell a flurry of emotion in her.

"I want to aid the empire....mother." I said simply looking at her. She stood there for a moment holding her mouth, and tears seeming on the brink of falling. I felt bad, guilty, dreadful I hadn't thought of how she would react, she was always so protectful.She looked at me and gave a small nod before bringing me into a small hug, I stood a good foot taller then her hugging her back.

"Don't...die." Was all she said, all she could say still holding on. It was then my father came in looking at us and more specifically me before taking a seat. I brought my mother over to the table and we both took a seat at the table, it eerily quite.

"Quite my warrior I see..."

"Yes Father I-I wanted to make you proud. To make mom proud."

"....."

"I could bring the honor to our name, to our family father."

"....It would just be moot."

I stood there speechless my voice shaky as I began to speak,"N-no. I fight for Orsinium." He looked up at me for a moment, a light in his eyes as I saw him thinking. I looked at my mom the same look on her face, but her head tilted down in shame. "If I do this, Orsinium becomes a province and Breton's would be able to do nothing. We would be able to achieve what we dream, honor. I c-" He put his hand up to stop me before speaking.

"Are you doing this out of obligation, or because you want to child?" He said looking at me with black eyes. I sat there for what seemed a eternity before speaking. My mind was made, I wanted to bring us honor to be accepted as a orc, a hero, a someone and not some half-bred freak. Not because I had to, but because I needed to....for me. "For me." I said plainly looking down at the table.

"I wish you well." He said looking at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Be safe." My mother said hugging me. I hugged both them, I had their greeted and while was happy his question still rang through me. Was it out of obligation? I kept asking myself. That night I would eat my parents, we talked and made conversation speaking and smile, but still the question hung with me it stayed with me. After the meal I shared a hug with them one last time before taking a bag and filling it with several of fathers potions, and taking my blade with me before them wishing me farewell on y journey. I waved to them and smiled before saying goodbye. It felt as though i wouldn't see them for a long time before heading north, the question still glued to my psyche.

by **South Sutalia** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 12:27 pm

Vorid Ursine
Braidwood Inn, Kynesgrove
Skyrim, The Empire

Vorid stared at the map on her table for what felt like hours. The whole image just didn't process well in her mind. She had spent the past few weeks out in Eastmarch, taking up offers to kill bandits just to make a few extra Septims. The jobs came with such frequency that Vorid was practically forced to stay at the inn. Of course, the innkeeper didn't mind, as he was happy to accept her gold. But she had no intention of staying for long. Vorid found it difficult to hang around so close to Windhelm, and she hated it when the workers of Steamscorch Mine felt like flirting. She enjoyed it less when she had to explain to the guards why several miners had a few missing teeth. Her bribe money was running short.

"Everything alright, Vorid? You look a bit perplexed." the innkeeper said, looking over the girl's shoulder the entire time. The only reason he remembered the name was from Vorid's extended stay. She jumped in her chair, a bit startled from the old man's unannounced oversight. The innkeeper was nothing atypical, a Nord man in his mid-seventies endowed with a beard to rival Ysgramor's. "It's nothing. I figured I won't be able to stay in Kynsegrove forever, ya' know?" the exhaustion was apparent in her voice. The old man looked disappointed; Vorid was supplying most of his income lately. Then again, much of his mead storage had been in sharp decline ever since she first signed in.

Stroking his beard, the innkeeper took a seat directly across from his guest. "Ever since you came to this meager settlement, crime has all but disappeared. We sure are grateful for that." he sounded genuine, at least. Vorid couldn't help but chuckle. Yes, the bandit raids had subsided, but injuries to the miners certainly didn't. She continued to be perplexed by the map on the table. "It's going to take me days to go anywhere. I can't even remember the last time I got close to the Cyrodilic border, and Morrowind has too many Elves for me to even think about going there." before Vorid could continue, the innkeeper interrupted by taking the map. "Hey, what're you doing?!"

Now it was the old man who carried a confused gaze on his face. "Hmm..." he pondered but only for a moment. "High Rock and Hammerfell would only take a few weeks on horseback, if you're lucky." Vorid swiped the map back, irritated that it was taken in the first place. She reached over from the other table, and took a small candle to illuminate her space. The old man was right, partially. Elinhir was the closest city to Skyrim that the Nord girl could reach. Travelling there was simple enough, she owned the same, palomino horse she had upon leaving Windhelm. It was cheaper than hiring a carriage. Standing up, Vorid had a destination now set in mind. "I suppose I should thank you, old man. On my way back to Skyrim, I'll make sure not to drink all your mead." she made her way for the door.

by **Phalnia** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 12:52 pm

Frofnir Whitefist
The Merchants Inn
Imperial City, Cyrodiil

Frofnir's vision was hazy, his head rang like a hundred bells, and his legs seemed ready to give out at any moment. Yet as he stood still a breathed deep his body began to return to normal. His legs began to stiffen and he no longer felt like a tree ready to topple over. As his vision cleared he saw the room he was in for the first time. It was a small room
with a desk against one wall, a small bed, and an even smaller wardrobe.

The Nord picked up his clothing from the floor where he had thrown them last night. Wasn't there a woman here? Or was that a dream? Either way a good night. He smiled as he remembered what was either an amazing dream or a drunken escapade. As he cinched his pants he looked around the room. Where is that damned thing? He opened the wardrobe finding only a small chunk of bread. There was only one other place it could be in the room. With a loud grunt he flipped the bed on its side. "Damn!" He dropped the bed back on to its feet with a large crash.

With confusion across his face Frofnir stepped out of his room leaving the door wide open. A thin nervous looking Imperial was quickly walking down the hall towards him. He looked in the room for a moment before turning to Frofnir.

"I see you've at least managed to keep the room intact."

Frofnir looked back to the man. "Do I know you, Imperial?"

"I am Sextus Aurelias. This is my inn. And you are one of the brutes who broke half the chairs in my bar and drank dry three barrels last night!" He shouted clearly upset.

"Haa!" Frofnir turned a corner on the landing and started down the stairs. "And where are these others 'brutes', eh?"

"Those two had the good sense to leave. Unlike you who took a room, despite my protests." He followed the Nord down the stairs, scarcely one step behind.

"And my..." Frofnir stopped mid sentence as he reached the first floor of the inn. "Axe!" A large smile crossed his face as he laid eyes on the ancient axe, planted prominently in the bar.

"Correction. My axe." The Imperial sped past Frofnir and stood between him and the axe. "It will help to compensate for the damage you caused, the ale you drank, and the room you stole. I've figured you owe me three-hundred septims."

Frofnir's smile faded. "That axe is worth more than your whole inn." He pushed aside the Imperial and grasped the handle. "And if this axe is yours, why have you left it in your bar?"

Sextus was silent only looking on as Frofnir pried the axe from its' resting place. The Imperial's face sank as the large gash was revealed. "My bar!"

"Hello, beauty." Frofnir lovingly kissed the head of the axe before turning to Sextus. "Tell anyone who asks it's a gift from Atmora."

"Atmora? Atmora!? I don't care about Atmora. I care about my bar and my chairs and my ale!" The Imperial cried as he examined the gash.

Frofnir sighed. "You people have no respect for tradition." He reached to his hip and pulled off a small purse. "Here. One-hundred septims."

"You owe me three-hundred septims!"

"There were three of us, yes? One man's share of three-hundred is one-hundred. Find the others and find your gold." Frofnir ignored the man's protests as he walked out of the inn and into the well-light Market District. He took a left and made his way the barracks where he and his men were housed, whistling as he went.

by **Qart chadast** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 2:15 pm

Chapter One: The Family Reunion
Orakh Gro-Maguok & Shuha Gra-Ulazol & Garb

Edge of the Woods near the Southern outpost of Orsinium, High Rock

Shuha whistled as she wandered to the end of the Woods, followed closely by Garb, "Come on big boy!" she said as she whistled again. Garb roared as he stepped up his speed to reach Shuha. The two had been on the move to visit Shuha's brother who lived at the Outpost nearby.
Shuha hadn't seen her brother for almost two years now, too long one would say. The travels where just too long for an everyday visit and so when Shuha visited her brother she made sure she had some news that would interest him.
"Orakh!" she shouted as she reached the forge of her brother. From behind the fire Orakh appeared, "Well well, look who's there!" he said with a smile on his face. "Long time no see, too long in my opinion" he continued as he gave his sister a hug. Orakh then turned to Garb, "Well Garb, you've grown quiet a bit lad" he said to the Troll as he petted him. Garb roared calmly even though he could not understand a word of what he said. He felt though that he had to do something when somebody talked to him, and he found it smart of himself to do so as people sometimes seemed to believe that he could understand them.
"It indeed has been far too long. How are you holding up here?" Shuha asked. "Good, Good, orders are still coming in so it keeps me busy." Orakh replied.
As the two sat down near the fire of the forge Shuha desided to share what she had found out, "You may have heard the rumors about a war coming right?"
"I have in matter of fact, what about it?" Orakh asked.
"Well, i spoke with your friend, officer Magmul, about these rumors and they seem to be true. The emperor even called upon Orsinium to ready theirselves for war and to mobilize troops for combat." Shuha told.
For a brief moment Orakh remained silent. Rumors told about a large war, one that could spread all over Tamriel. Perhaps this could be the moment for the Orsimer to get rid of their weak lord... "Are the opinions still the same in the city?" he then asked.
"Hmmm, i'm not exactly sure. Many Orsimer signed up for the army duo to better payment these days, it seems they want war but i cannot tell if they just want war or if they want to support the Empire." Shuha answered, not knowing what else she had to say. In the end Shuha rather wanted Orakh to forget about the lord of Orsinium but she knew she couldn't talk such things out of his head.
"Anyhow, anything interesting that happend around here while i was away?" she then asked, trying to change the subject a bit.
"Heh, ofcourse something happend, you where gone for such a long time..." Orakh replied with a smirk on his face, "A few months after you left last time one of the villagers was murdered in a brutal fashion. Rumors quickly spread around, ranging from werewolves to some kind of sick ritual. Turned out he wasn't able to statisfy his wife and that she made him pay for it." he told as he started to laugh about it...

For that day they shared numerous stories like these, simple yet interesting happenings around the village and around Orsinium. On occasions Orakh missed the city, he missed the people living there and he missed the good food that they always served there... Perhaps it was time to go back he though, after all he had grown older since he was banished from the city so at least people wouldn't recognize him as quickly as they once did...
For a moment the idea went around in Orakh's head but eventually he told himself not to, he knew that if he would get caught he would most likely end up dead. In the end most of his friends in the military had gone with retirement and weren't able to help him out this time, and those that where still in the military would not have the power to help him out. The first time they helped Orakh the lord made sure that they would never gain high positions in the military.

Slowly Orakh fell away into his thoughts... There had to be something he could do, something to restore his name, his honour and himself. Since he was banished he felt like a wreck, going on with daily life without thoughts, without future... He didn't want to spend the rest of his life like this, something had to be changed, something had to be done. He hadn't even been able to visit hsi fathers or his mothers funeral...
Then he woke up from his thoughts and looked at his sister, all he had left in this world... She sat there, staring at Garb who had falled asleep near the fire of the forge... "I remember the day i found him.. I blindly took a job to kill a Troll that had killed two travellers. As blind and foolish as i was i went over with my companion and killed the Troll, not knowing it had a child with her. She probably just killed these travellers to protect him and i killed his mother for money... One of the few things i regret in my life... My companion wanted to kill him aswell at first but i could not stand for that. I had heard the talks of vampire hunters owning Trolls and i figured i could do this aswell. My companion called me foolish and told me that i would bring nothing but danger into my home, but look who laughs now... Look at him there, all in peace....." she told with a content look on her face.
Orakh knew that Garb was like a child to Shuha, and while he actually wanted to bring up the talks about action against the lord of Orsinium again, he figured it might aswell be done in the morning and he decided to just enjoy the moment he had with his sister for this evening based on the good thoughts and good memories they had....

by **Faal Lot Himdah** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 3:23 pm

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

Ninendava. Ja'sari was going through her knowledge of the location, before she entered. This was the location of one of the many battles between the Ayleids and the Imperial Slaves. The battle was known as the Duel at Ninendava, for good reason. It was here that the Divine Crusader, Pelinal Whitestrake, fought and killed the Ayleid king, Gordhaur the Shaper. The date of his death was supposedly 1E 242, according to the stories, Pelinal Whitestrake smashed Gordhaur's head upon a goat faced altar. She said to herself, No doubt the place has been looted before, Ja'sari might have a hard time finding anything of value. But, looking won't harm Ja'sari, right? Right.

With that, Ja'sari drew her sword as she walked through the white, broken arched gate way and down a short stone road to the entrance of the ancient city. Like all Ayleid cities, the entrance was a large stone double door, with a circular design in the centre. Unlike most though, a large statue looked over the entrance, while holding a cross. The doors where not as heavy as they appeared and opened easily as Ja'sari opened the door. Ja'sari entered the ruined city, it was dark, darker than normal, so Ja'sari waited while her eyes adjusted. She smiled, she was Khajiit, and Khajiit have the perfect pair of eyes (even if they looked human) for dark conditions. Her eyes adjusted and she could see the ruin perfectly.

Ja'sari then begun to sneak down the halls of the ancient ruin. She took out some zombies that stood in her way and kept moving. As she moved down the corridors, she looked through every container she could find. Eventually, she came to a large open room. She mouthed the word wow as she made her way through the room, killing more zombies and looking for something of value. Ja'sari was also looking for something else, something that has never been found in Ninendava, the Goat faced Altar from the story of the Duel of Ninendava. She reasoned that if she could find it, something of greater value would be near it.

by **The Warriors of the Sun** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 5:51 pm

Laurence Willheim
Willheim Estate, Outside Alinor
Summerset Isles, The Aldmeri Dominion

The sky was black, filled with the smoke of the burning fields that surrounded the great, stone walls of the Imperial City. He stood in the middle of the great sea of fire surrounding the city, screams could be heard from within and Laurence knew very well what wait him beyond the battered city gates. He did not want to face it again, he had faced this horror so many times before, but still to this day the horrors within were slightly different each time. He walked towards the gate on the paved road that acted like a great divide in the sea of fire threatening to engulf the city. A pile of burnt bodies lay just within the entrance, a quick glance revealed what happened, he had seen this scenario before, they were trapped within the city seeking to get out and whatever broke down the gate took these people with it. He climbed over the blackened corpses, where once he was barely able to convince himself to attempt the climb, he did it now without a second thought.

On the other side of the dead barrier people ran down the streets, screaming. Pools of fire were littered among rubble from ruined buildings. Something big had to be around if the tops of buildings were being destroyed. Reflexively his hand went to the hilt of his sword even though he knew whatever ravaged this city would ignore him, the nightmares that plagued him always did. He continued to walk down the main street towards The White-Gold Tower that still stood high above the city in defiance to chaos below. Laurence wandered how many people were still holed up there, had the legion fallen back to defend the tower and its inhabitants? They certainly weren't here defending the people, but at least they weren't killing them, those were the worst visions, watching everyone rip each other apart. Laurence shook his head, he was already in a nightmare, there was no need to think on others. He continued to walk down the road until he heard someone scream Lookout! Laurence stood still and looked up to the smokey barrier that encased the city, a great beast emerged from the smoke and crashed down into the buildings on the side of the street causing the ancient stone to come crashing down. The beast was giant, perhaps as large as the biggest mansions in this city, but it had wings and scales. He had never seen one before, but he knew what it was, a dragon. It was covered with arrows and its underside was soaked in its own blood. While this world stood no chance, at least it was still fighting back.

He looked around the street from the spot he stood, they still had to be around here somewhere. He spotted a door on the far side of the street, it was a bookstore, one he visited often when he was a young child in this city himself. There was no sign of them from here, but the feeling in his gut, that familiar feeling that foreshadowed the worst part of the vision, and it was the only sign he needed. This was the only part of the nightmare he still fought to this day, the only part he had not given into. He drew his sword and took off running down the street, not caring or even looking at the suffering of others around him. He braced his shoulder and tackled the door that gave in with ease. The room was dark save for the glowing from the entrance he broke down and the window on the far side of the room. A girl stood by the window looking out, his daughter, Gemma. The others weren't here, but they were never far, likely they would be upstairs. "Gemma! You're alright, we need to leave!" cried out out Laurence to his daughter. She turned around, a look of horror on her face that gave way for a smile when she smile. "father..." she softly said before the shattering of glass could be heard behind her and a talon nearly half a foot in diameter emerged from her stomach. She let out a cry of pain that quickly went silent as the claw pressed forward, red with the blood of Laurence's daughter. Just as quickly as it emerged the claw pulled back taking his daughter with it till her body was caught on the window causing the claw to slide out and her body to unceremoniously drop to floor.

Laurence dropped his sword and sprinted towards he body. His head he could only hear his daughter saying "father..." over and over. He knelt down by her body, shaking it. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn't accept it. He closed his eyes, still hearing her voice...

..."Father," said the voice of his eldest daughter again. He felt his shoulder shaking, then a soft, warm hand brush against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see a small, pale hand before him, a small bit of moisture on the tip of the index finger glistening in the candle light. "Tear...father, sad?" He looked to his side to see his daughter sitting on his bed beside where he was lying, a look of concern in her eyes.

"No, my love, just a bad dream," replied Laurence who pulled himself up to a sitting position. A candle was burning by the bedside, and the room was still dark. It must've been still very early. "Did I wake you up, my Summer lion?"

His daughter smiled at the use of the pet name her mother originally gave her long ago. "Yes..." began Gemma. "...Father screaming, Gemma frightened..." She looked away as she spoke out of shame of her fear. She was frightened easily and it always disappointed her with her father being a soldier and thus the bravest man in the world in her eyes.

Laurence let out a sight before pulling his daughter into a hug and kissing the top of her head of long, black hair. "I am sorry, Gemma." Laurence pulled back about a foot, resting his hand on her shoulders. He mustered a smile and said, "You were very brave to come and check on me. If I were in danger you would have been a hero. They would sing songs of your bravery..." Gemma giggled at the mentions of such a song, she enamored with every hero that there was a song of and the idea of her being the subject was too far fetched to be true. "...I am serious, the bravery of The Summer Lion." She looked away in embarrassment, though this time it was due to joy. Laurence glanced towards the window, some light was seeping through, though it was early, it was best if he got up now, he had a busy day. "Did I wake your sisters?" Gemma shook her head no. "Then we should go wake them up," continued Laurence who pulled his blanket back and got off the bed. Gemma jumped off the bed and took off out of the room. Laruence noticed the candlelight and shouted after her, "Don't run with the candle!" But it was no use, she was gone.

Laurence quickly changed his clothes and left the room to go down the empty hall. The estate was large and mostly empty. It was of human design so none of the elves on this island was interested in it and since it was outside of the city the original creators could afford to make it larger than the estates he was use to back in the Imperial City. He walked down to the end of the hall to room where the door stood open. As he entered the room he could hear muffled yelling from the floor above, Gemma had waken Selvia it seemed. At the other end of the room he was a small girl was lying in a bed pressed against a large window. He walked up to the side of bed before kneeling down beside it and softly shaking the girl. "Leonara, it's morning, time to wake up," whispered Laurence to the frail, blonde girl. She began to stir and moan in protest. "Leonara, if you wanted to sleep longer you shouldn't have stayed up so long with your sisters. Don't let the day waste away." In truth the day barely started, but he knew he would have to leave soon for the day and wanted to see his children before leaving.

The girl pulled herself up just as Laurence was tackled in the back by another young girl. "Daddy!" cried the girl behind her, Selvia, that was clinging to his back. "Good morning!" cried the gleeful voice as Laurence turned around, still kneeling so he was closer to his daughter's height.

"It is," replied Laurence who kissed her on the cheek, her hardened scaly cheek. Each day he switched which cheek he kissed in an attempt to show that this deformity meant nothing to him, this deformity the often caused people to avert their eyes in disgust or fear. "Did you sleep well, Selvia?" asked Laurence as he hugged her.

"I was till Gemma woke me up!" said Selvia. Which caused Gemma who was standing behind her to smile, unable to hide her guilt.

"Well, I need to go into the city today, your father's being called to talk to the nobles there. So I thought we would eat breakfast before I go," said Laurence, releasing daughter.

"Can we come? Please!" cried Selvia. Gemma was smiling as much as she could when her sister asked.

"I am sorry, not this time, but soon, I promise. I am sure you all would have much more fun than I do. And I am sure you could deal with those elven nobles better than I ever could. Now, why don't you and Gemma go check and see if breakfast is done yet. Your other sister and I will be right down, alright?" Selvia made an exaggerated sigh before turning around to leave the room, Gemma following closely behind. Laurence turned back around to see Leonara had turned over away from him to try to go back to sleep. He softly shook her again and whispered, "Are you well, today?" asked Laurence.

"No," came the quiet reply from his daughter.

Laurence chuckled and replied, "Don't lie to me. You feel fine Leona." She didn't have a fever today which meant she would be able to get out of bed today, though with her weak body she could only walk slowly and tired easily. "I don't want to leave without saying good-bye to-" Three knocks came from the entrance to the room.

Laurence turned around and looked, a tall Breton in black armor of elven make stood at the door, Alexander, one of Laurence's loyal officers who followed him to the Dominion to serve him. "Sir, message from Alnor, they are moving the uh, gathering back a few hours. They also wanted me to let you know they are sincerely sorry for the inconvenience." A look of disgust was evident on his face, Alexander hated the Thalmor, Laurence didn't like them much himself though Laurence had a better reason to serve. Alexander had no loyalties to kingdoms, just his commanders, he was a soldier since he was a young man and it was all he knew. His mentality was better suited as a mercenary, would've made more money, but Laurence was glad he followed him along.

Laurence let out a breath of disappointment. "Thank you, Alexander," replied Laurence before turning back to his daughter. "Well...it looks like I will have to leave. I'm truly sorry. Let your sisters know I had to leave and I will make up to them, and you, I promise." Laurence got up from his knees and continued, "Now to go back to bed, I don't want your sisters having to come back up here to figure out what happened, alright? And eating together will be good for the three of you. Now hurry up and get dressed." She grumbled as a response and Laurence took it as acceptance. He turned and left, closing the door behind him and turning to Alexander. In a whispered tone, the warmth his voice had just seconds before now gone, he said "No one enters until I get back, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Alexander cooly. Alexander always kept up formalities even though they knew each other for so long and the other officers were much informal. This wasn't even his real job, he was bodyguard, but an officer of the military. But he had no family and gladly acted as a guard when Laurence was away. Laurence nodded and began to walk away, stopping when Alexander called out, "And if I should find anyone?"

Laurence thought for a moment and said coldly, "No one needs to know they were ever here..." He turned and walked to his room to get dressed and leave.

by **Hastiaka** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 6:05 pm

Prince Aicandaar Garegwyn Aldmeris
General Spokesperson and Ambassador of the Aldmeri Dominion.
Marbruk, Headquarters of the Peacekeeper Corps. Valenwood

''HIAAAH!''

The armored horseman shouted. The city of Marbruk was a marvel. Two thousand years ago, the city was the headquarters of the Thalmor in Greenshade. A lot has changed. The city was transformed into a sanctuary for Altmer nobles. Thalmor scholars and Influential merchants and others. There it was, a large estate guarded by the statue of Queen Ayrenn Aldmeris. The fabled Altmeri legend who ruled the First Aldmeri Dominion millennia before. Then the statues of the Slivenar and the Mane flanked the central statue of Ayrenn. Cast in gold and in bronze, it is the pride of Marbruk to host such statues. Especially since this is a haven for the Altmer.

The horseman rode towards Northern Valenwood. He held unto a bag full of letters. To who you ask? He's sending it to the Aldmeri Embassy in the Imperial City. Tensions are still rising between the Empire and the Dominion but there's no all out war yet.

A group of forty ranking officers sat around the Prince. They were meeting. The Peacekeepers are the secret police within the secret police of the Thalmor. These officers are highly notable for their unwavering loyalty. All of them Altmer.

''So, what shall our plans be?'' asked Aicandaar to the group.

The group briefly discussed with one another until a young Altmer stood up and notified the Prince.

''Nothing much sire. We've been sending scouts to the Borders and none of them have returned.'' the Peacekeeper worried.

The disappearance have been happening for a week now. As if the other side knows that the Peacekeepers are sending scouts to the border. Aicandaar was aware of this but didn't plan to go to the Aldmeri Embassy in the Imperial city.

''Very well. Sit down. I would like to tell you all that i will be leaving for the Imperial city tomorrow. I was ordered by the Thalmor council to coordinate with the Emperor about this and other issues concerning Border security. Notify our friends in the Navy if anything goes bad.''

With that, the group was dismissed and Aicandaar headed for the Imperial city.

The caravan was composed of Fifty eight men. Seven horses and Carriages. Prince Aicandaar sat with his fellow emissaries and officers. This was an attempt to stall the war.

Princess Seianacana Aldmeris
Exiled Princess of the Aldmeri Dominion
Border crossing between Skyrim and Cyrodiil.

''Faster! We're almost there!'' one of the servants shouted.

The blizzard in Bruma was bad enough until a Frost Troll appeared out of nowhere. The trio stood their ground by trapping the Troll in a cave. Afterwards, they ran as fast as they could. Seianacana Aldmeris is the 16th daughter of King Rundardoon Aldmeris, the deposed monarch of Alinor. At her young age, she is known to be the adventurer in her family. Just like Queen Ayrenn, she loved travelling. It was about a hundred years ago when the Thalmor began purging the Royalties because they held ties with the Empire. Only her Mother, Father, Herself and her Brother, escaped execution.

''How far to Winterhold?'' asked Seianacana.

They neared the border gate. Imperial guards were there. A faint light illuminated from the border outpost. The guardsmen noticed them. They didn't know what to do. They were members of the Aldmeri royal family and they are also deposed. One of the servant covered them in robes.

''Who is there?'' shouted the Legionnaire as he approached them with his sword drawn.

''We're refugees! Refugees from Cyrodiil!'' she tried to imitate Imperial accents.

The Imperial checked them and signaled them to go ahead. The snowstorm was getting bigger. They had no choice but to rush to the nearest town.

by **Mesrane** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 6:58 pm

Ralos Athelyn
The Oak and Crosier
Chorrol

The eyes. Ralos could feel the eyes on him, watching him, prying him open, trying to get across an already abundantly clear point: you are not welcome here.

Seething, the Dunmer opened his crimson eyes and directed a withering glare at the farmers who thought that throwing a few hard glances at a stranger made them tough. The table of chubby peasants scowled as one and returned to their drinks, muttering under their breaths about heathen strangers or bloody sellswords. Ralos kept his gaze on them for a few seconds to ensure the half-drunk fools wouldn't so much as glance at him again before returning his eyes to his own cup. He had already emptied it, which made him even angrier. A sharp whistle brought the innkeep over to his table in the corner of the well made establishment.

"Evening to you sir," he mumbled, refusing to meet Ralos' eyes. "You be needing another drink eh? Let me fetch you some ale." The portly man moved to grab the Dunmer's empty tankard.

Ralos smacked his hand away and reapplied his glare onto the innkeeper. "No. I don't drink. The cursed beverages befuddle the wits and make a man poorly prepared for a fight. Fetch me some more water, like I asked the first bloody time around."

"Y-yes s-sir." The man scurried off to refill his tankard. A moment later he returned, pale as a ghost and deaf to a dozen other customers who were bellowing for his service. "Here you are sir. Will you be wanting a room tonight?"

"Yes, for myself and thirty-eight of my men. The officers will have rooms, the rest will be content with bales of hay in the stables."

The innkeeper scowled. He doesn't like being told what will happen in his own establishment. Too bad. He should hire some bloody guards and learn how to swing a sword, and maybe I'll let him tell me where to sleep next time. Ralos smirked at the man's poorly concealed anger. "Something wrong? You look . . troubled."

"Fine." The word was practically spat out, full of fury that the man dare not put into an objection that Ralos would've found much less agreeable. "But tell yer lads to keep their hands off the serving girls. Half o' them be my daughters. And you better bloody pay for the men in the stables."

Ralos raised his tankard in a mock toast. "Your service is so very appreciated." But the innkeeper was already moving to serve another table, muttering about how he wished Reman III had been able to put Vivec and his cursed people in their proper place.

A heavily armored Dark Elf in a suit of steel stomped down the stairs and searched the common room for Ralos. Finding him, the Dunmer strolled over and took a seat next to him. Ralos knew him as Fadren Senoril, known to many in Ralos' party simply as "The Knight." Senoril was armored in the same fashion as a knight from High Rock or Cyrodiil, a rare enough occurrence for a Dunmer to earn him the epithet. He had also been with Ralos since the very beginning of his exile, meaning the two had fought together for some twenty-five years and for a decade in Morrowind before that. Senoril's sheer martial skill, combined with his experience and the friendship that he and Ralos shared, had made him Ralos' second-in-command for the last decade or so.

"Find anything?" Ralos arched an eyebrow at his friend. Fadren had gone upstairs to try and whittle information out of the wealthier clients.

Fadren shook his head in frustration. "Not much of anything from Morrowind. Telvon Girethi is still Archmaster, the Argonians have yet to launch another offensive since their last one six years ago, and no news from your father."

That only made Ralos shrug. He hadn't expected anything major and was feigning increasing disinterest in his homeland. But one of these years I'll return, and my brothers will pay for not killing me when they could. It was that thought that drove him forward, that allowed him to wade through the misery of his years in exile in the hopes of one day returning to Morrowind. The Redoran Council had cast out the general who had saved them from the Argonian Batar-Meej, all because the jealousy of his trueborn brothers had driven them to label him a rapist and even go so far as to provide evidence for a crime that he had never committed. It had quite literally destroyed the life he had struggled to build, the name he had tried -and succeeded- to make for himself despite his bastardy. Thoughts of vengeance were what continued to drive him forward. Once he accomplished that, Ralos had no idea what he would do. Dunmer live such a long time, but I have only one ambition.

"Very well then. The world at large?"

"War between the Empire and the Dominion continues to draw closer. I found nothing significant bar that. The legions are mobilizing, that much is true."

Ralos nodded. Let the west of Tamriel batter itself bloody whilst the Dunmer nation consolidates itself. "More profit for us."

"We haven't taken on a contract in four months."

"I wasn't speaking of gold. You know what I mean."

Fadren looked at him askance. "Most will not want to come. More than half the men will desert you before the end."

"I would rather they simply do it now. I do not want weak men or cowards at my side when I return to Morrowind. But it matters not for the nonce. Tomorrow we'll start south, not east. I hope to find a contract in Bravil or Leyawiin, as we haven't hit southern Cyrodiil for several years. With luck, the coin for that contract will propel us east, to Morrowind."

Fadren called for his own tankard of ale from the innkeep. "To Morrowind!" Ralos toasted him back with his tankard of water. "To home."

The toast had been the same every night for twenty years, since Ralos had determined that he would return eventually. But after so long, it had ceased to have much meaning for the exiled general. His desire to return home no longer had anything to do with rebuilding his life or redeeming himself for a crime he had never committed. There was only his brothers, and there was only vengeance.

"Best get some sleep, Fadren. We'll be moving at first light tomorrow."

The knight, who was already starting to nod off, lurched to his feet and stumbled across the common room and up the stairs in a drunken stupor, drawing a small smile to Ralos' lips. Outside, the town of Chorrol was going to sleep as the residents turned in for the night. The farmers who had pestered him earlier did their own drunken dance, taking them out into the street where they stumbled over themselves in an effort to return to their homes outside the walls. Hushed conversations just outside the door alerted the Dunmer to the fact that his men were claiming spaces for themselves in the stables after an evening of perusing the town and all the brothels within it. Ralos remembered a time when he might have joined them, in the years immediately before and after his campaign against Batar-Meej and his Argonian army. He had been carefree then, unexpectedly joyous for a Dark Elf, never refusing a drink or a whore. That had been before he had met Varasa of course. No other woman had remotely interested him after he had first laid eyes on her.

But she was dead and gone, perished on Stros M'kai along with the Dunmer she had married. The twisted, broken individual who had taken his place had no interest in pleasures of the flesh or the warmth of the drink. There was only blood to interest Ralos Athelyn, and only blood to drive him. Anything and everything else seemed inconsequential, even the brewing war between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire under the Cardes dynasty.

Ralos closed his eyes again, returning to the battle that he relived every night. Columns of Argonians streamed past the Dunmer who lay waiting in the brush beside the farmstead known as Vansunalit. Someone blew a horn, piercing the morning mist like Vivec's ancient spear. Ralos' small army descended upon the invaders, hacking and slashing at the stunned lizard men who watched as the Dark Elves appeared out of nowhere. Ralos laid about with his katana, Faren hacking away with his longsword by his side. The Argonians fell in swathes before them, though each adversary left Ralos with another cut that made the next one harder to kill. Gradually he was slowed through loss of blood, until he came upon the horseman.

Argonian were not good riders, and preferred to fight on their feet. I don't remember this one. Must have been an officer. After a moment's hesitation, Ralos opened the side of the horse with a swipe of his katana. Blood and viscera splattered across him as the steed fell, pinning its helmed rider to the ground.

Ralos grabbed the steel great helm and yanked it off the Argonian, only to discover that to his horror, his brother Mavon lay squirming under the dying horse.

Mavon's smile was full of yellow, cracked teeth. Blood dribbled down his chin, and his face was locked in the scowl that he always wore whenever he laid eyes on Ralos. "Hello bastard," he croaked, before grabbing ahold of an abandoned longsword and thrusting it into Ralos' gut.

Ralos' eyes flew open and he shot to his feet, sending the small table flying several feet across the room. The eyes of all the remaining patrons were on him, hostile and guarded. He bestowed his own glare on them in return as he stormed out into the street. Outside, the innumerable stars peppered the sky, as if a god had suffered a gash and his lifeblood had splattered out across the void. He found himself facing east, and for a brief moment the stars in that direction seemed to shimmer, as if to tell him something. Ralos knew what it was. He started down the street, to rid himself of the company of men and gain the solitude of night.

Imgurian · by **The Lendol Archipelago** » Sat Aug 01, 2015 11:36 pm

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

Einar took a shallow breath, being careful to avoid inhaling too much first and ashes. He'd been searching the ruin for days, all because of a rumour. He had heard a tale of an Ayleid rune, one that manages to pinpoint the weaknesses of your for and launch bolts of ice at them. Although he doubted the authenticity of the rumour, he still ventured into the city because he knew that something good would come out of it.

Having entered a new chamber, Einar stuck a ball of light to the centre of the ceiling. "Home Sweet Home" he thought with a smile. He opened up his knapsack, taking out an apple. He sat down on a chair and tuck in. Despite not finding the rune, this had been a worthwhile trip, he had learned a lot. Besides the things he'd learned, he had found a couple of Ayleid artifacts, a collector would pay a lot of money for those.

"Maybe now I'll get a bodyguard?" Einar thought grumpily. Over the years, he had had too many close calls with foes for his liking, magic resistant ones were a great worry. However, he could always just resurrect corpses, but he didn't want to be known as a necromancer. Then again, neither do most necromancers.

As Einar walked back through the ruins the way he came, he heard sounds of fighting. He silenced his footsteps, became invisible and ran to the source of the ruckus. He saw a young Khajiit fighting of a group of zombies. Not only was she holding her own, she was winning. This didn't stop Einar from lending a hand. He incinerated the ones furthest away from her and launched ice at the rest. Despite having killed the zombies, he kept his guard up. He had been attacked by more than one treasure hungry brute before. Despite not fitting the "brute" criteria, he was still wary of the woman.

"Who are you, why are you here, and will you attack me if I put my guard down?" Einar said to the young woman.

by **Hastiaka** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 3:38 am

Prince Aicandaar Garegwyn Aldmeris
General Ambassador and Spokesperson of the Aldmeri Dominion
Borderlands, Heavily Militarized Zones.

The camp was filled with thousands of soldiers. Aldmeri flairs faced Imperial lands. Dominion troops were swelling by the day as Border tensions grow. The HMZ alone has a hundred Peacekeepers who are spread thin because of the current preparations. Aicandaar developed a quasi-pillbox-esque system for archers and mages. His caravan arrived late at night. The entire camp was illuminating with torches and lanterns. As he arrived, two cavalry divisions entered the Eastern entrance of the Zone.

''Prince Aicandaar! What are you doing here sire? Are you with the Peacekeepers?'' asked one of the Camp Officers.

Aicandaar nodded and headed for the Makeshift Inn. The Inn was full of soldiers who were off duty. They drank wine and listened to Altmer music. The Inn was fine for an Altmer. Basic designs were enough for living conditions.

''Your highness, what about our defenses in Anequina?'' asked his fellow Diplomat.

Anequina was the priority for the Aldmeri Dominion since they were mostly the border between Elsweyr and Cyrodiil. Currently, several influential Khajiit warlords have been fortifying these positions at the behest of the Thalmor.

''Anequina is fine. They're most likely to survive. The Khajiits are great and fearsome warriors and they're numerous too. I hear they're in the tens of thousands. But our real problem is Valenwood. Our ten mile thick defenses are not enough. I've already recommended to the Thalmor Council to offer the Empire a Non-aggression pact but they refused to.'' Aicandaar discussed.

''Furthermore, about Thirty thousand troops are needed to balance the power in the Border. The twenty fifth batch may fill these ranks within the month. I have to stall the war first.'' Aicandaar further said.

The Empire and the Dominion are on each other's throats. Both are Powerful and Influential. The Aldmeri Dominion is finding every possible solution to repel the Imperial invasion.

''What about Dunmeri mercenaries? Their mages are powerful.'' suggested the Diplomat beside them.

''No, the Argonians will be enraged. What about we make make a compromise? Both Dunmer and Argonian mercenaries but on two different fronts? One in Valenwood and one in Anequina? It's a perfect idea!''

''We'll arrange all the preprations tomorrow morning. I need to talk with the Human Emperor. He holds unto the sword of the Crusader. I have the sword of Queen Ayrenn. The Legend and the Queen of Aldmeris!''

''For the Dominion! For Merkind!'' the three cheered.

by **Faal Lot Himdah** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 5:24 am

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

Ja'sari looked at the Nord looking as if she was sizing him up. He did just help Ja'sari. But he could possibly be a treasure hunter.... Ja'sari has had bad experiences with other treasure hunters, she thought. Her eyes then saw the bag, Supplies and loot, likely. Well that's what Ja'sari would have, in fact she does have. Ja'sari then took a deep breath.

"Ja'sari would ask the same things, who are you, why are you here, and will you hurt poor Ja'sari?" She said, she kept her sword at the ready, "Ja'sari is looking for something, that and artifacts of value."

Imgurian · by **The Lendol Archipelago** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 5:31 am

Einar Lundson
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

"My name is Einar Lundson, I came here to find knowledge and anything that may be of use. I did't find exactly what I came for, but I found enough to share. I will promise not to hurt you, Ja'sari, for as long as you do the same" Einar said with a friendly smile.
"What were you looking for? If you tell me, I may be able to help." said Einar, he knew that he may have came across as if he was trying to gain her trust in order to betray her, but he couldn't help but have wonder if they were looking for the same thing. Despite how unlikely it was, Einar knew that it was still a possibility. Einar then decided that he should trust the cat, as he expected her trust.

by **Flamels Stone** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 7:56 am

-Deleted-

by **The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 11:24 am

Esthael Cardes
Cyrodiil, the Empire

The day had turned out to be a cloudy day, and Esthael much preferred it to be so, the sun otherwise burning her precious skin. The Breton had ditched the pauldrons of her armor, finding them to be too heavy to travel with, leaving her pale, and rather thin for someone that was to go adventuring, arms exposed to the sunlight. She had packed her bag the night before with only the most important things: some food, camping gear, several bags of Septims, and some of her favorite jewels. Her black cloak hanging from her armor, bag slung over a shoulder, sword and dagger hanging from her hips, the Emperor's cousin left the White-Gold Tower. In front of her stood two charcoal horses, bought in from the Cheydiinhal stables a while ago, one for her and one for Legate Cullagia, whom was already waiting for her. The legate, somewhere in her late thirties, still looked young enough, and despite part of her tongue being cut out - or that was what Esthael had been told as to why she never spoke - had no visible scarring. She had her black hair stuck in a ponytail, and smiled as Esthael approached, giving a nod to greet the royalty before jumping into the saddle of her horse. Esthael returned the smile. Cullagia had regularly been with her for.. what, almost ten years now? Despite the fact that the Legate never talked, something which Esthael loved to do, the Breton liked her well enough. At least she never complained!

Esthael jumping into her saddle as well, the two rode off, leaving the walls of the Imperial City for an adventure in the Cyrodiilic countryside, to hunt down at least one of the Crusader's Relics, the famed armor and weaponry of the Divine Crusader Pelinal Whitestrake himself.

Remaunes Cardes III

The Emperor briefly watched as his cousin rode off, before returning to matters of state of the utmost importance. Walking back from the Arboretum, Remaunes entered the, currently empty, Elder Council chambers, followed by several of his subordinates. He stopped walking at the center of the chamber. "I want everything to be ready for when the Thalmor delegation arrives. Prepare seats for them in front of the throne." He motioned with both of his hands where the seats were to be. "Our visitor's gift is prepared?" The man to his left, a veteran of the Imperial Legion and now an officer in the Penitus Oculatus, nodded. "Aye." Cardes smiled. "Good. Make sure the Palace Guard are ready in case our guests do not appreciate it." The veteran chuckled. "Of course." The Emperor turned towards another of his advisers, a member of the Elder Council. "Send word to the Divisions staying around Bravil and Leyawiin - have them prepare for immediate movement towards the Elsweyr border. Inform the Cavalry at Skingrad of their orders as well. Same for the Divisions at Kvatch. I trust the Navy at Anvil is prepared as well?" The Councillor gave a stern nod. "Aye."

The Emperor gave a satisfied smile. "Good. Now we wait."

by **South Sutalia** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 12:28 pm

Vorid Ursine
Road between Kynesgrove and Mixwater Mill
Skyrim, The Empire

The cold breeze ran through the trees, being an odd sort of comfort for Vorid. Her steed was happy enough to be out and walking again, as the past few weeks in Kynesgrove didn't offer much activity for a horse. Vorid had already passed Cronvangr Cave, and kept following the river, at least until she got to Whiterun Hold. Once she had gotten to Mixwater Mill, Vorid had every intention to travel north of the Throat of the World. That was the plan, at least. The horse she rode upon, Hestur, neighed with unease. "Calm down, Hestur. There's nothing in this forest beyond a few deer and goats." Vorid read her map as her horse kept striding along the path. Even if there was a sign of trouble, her trusty bow could send an arrow into any danger. She learned to appreciate the slow journeys. The sound of the river's flow was soothing, as was the chirping of birds. A rather nice change of pace compared to when Vorid hunted bandits daily.

And then Hestur came to a halt. Before the duo was an overturned cart, with scattered coin bags laid about. Vorid was speechless. She couldn't see anyone nearby, and that was worrying. But then the sound of breathing, soft as it was, emanated from underneath the cart. Not a minute was wasted. Vorid hopped off her steed as quickly as she could, and expected the worst. Pushing the cart aside with all her strength, she discovered an Imperial-looking man laying on the ground. "You're not a very smart girl, are you?" the man said insultingly. Standing there confused, Vorid did not know how to treat the stranger. There wasn't a single injury on his body, and he had a rather smug expression. "What are you jabbering about?" she questioned, reaching for her bow. Though before the man showed any sign of responding, a thud cracked across the back of her head. Several more strangers materialized from the bushes, all with satisfied looks on their faces.

Vorid fell to the ground, unable to move or speak. Hestur's neighing turned violent, and the forest became much louder as the horse continued to struggle. The Nord girl could feel as rope was being tied on her hands and feet. A gag was put in her mouth, useless as it was, and the sight of a carriage came into view. The Imperial man stood and laughed. "I'd say this was our best catch this week. Let's see how much she'll sell for in Bruma." It was the last thing Vorid heard before blacking out.

by **Qart chadast** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 2:06 pm

Chapter Two: A Gamble of Life
Orakh Gro-Maguok & Shuha Gra-Ulazol & Garb

Southern outpost of Orsinium, High Rock

As the sun rose into the sky and the birds started to whistle Orakh woke up in his chair. He looked around a bit confused as he usually never slept outside. He noticed that Garb was still sleeping next to the forge and next to him Shuha hadn't woken up yet either. As Orakh stood and got himself some water to drink he looked into the small village, thinking of what to do with his life. Would he be able to spend his old days here? At first he thought so, but as he looked again he figured this was no life for him. He had accomplished too much in his life to give up like this, he knew he had to fight for his life.
Quickly he went inside and pulled out a large box from underneath it. For years he had not touched this box, but now he felt was the time to do so once more. As he opened it he stared right at his very own armour, crafted by his father, an armour worth to be worn.
Slowely and step by step Orakh started to put on his armour. At first he felt awkward and uncomfortable in it, but once he put on his helmet and grabbed his two war axes he inmediatly felt the power again, the power he had lost since his banishment. Orakh then grabbed as many supplies as he could and walked outside. The people looked at him, whispered too eachother as they noticed Orakh had started to wear his armour again. It wasn't all without risk as some of these people didn't liked Orakh a bit and they would surely tell the guards who on their turn would make sure to keep an eye on him. Orakh couldn't care much though, he was leaving this forsaken outpost for once and for all.

He then walked over to Shuha, "Shuha, wake up, time to leave" he said as he shaked her a little bit.
"What, Why? Where to? Why are you dressed in you armour?" Shuha asked as she woke up and noticed Orakh standing in front of her, with is armour on. Shuha was right awake when she noticed that, she felt inmediatly the fear she had before, the fear of Orakh doing something stupid that would get him killed.
"I have thought about this for a long time and i don't want to spend the rest of my life out here in this outpost. I want to restore myself, my life, my name and my honour. I will return to Orsnium at once and i will see what i can do there to get rid of that disgusting lord up there." Orakh answered, full of pride.
For a moment Shuha turned her head down, this was exactly what she feared for but she also knew that she probably wouldn't be able to stop him from this plan. There was only one thing left to do for Shuha and that was to go along with her brother and to make sure that he stayed safe, "I understand Orakh, but know what you're getting into. Only one wrong person has to recognize you and you're done. Now i don't want you to take any risks you don't have to take, so please, for once, if we're going there, listen to me. I'll take care of the things you need there and if you want to talk to somebody let me make the arrangements, i don't want to lose you aswell." Shuha replied, trying to sound a bit harsh to him. Orakh nodded and turned to Garb, who had also started to wake up at last, "Garb, wake up lad, we're leaving" Orakh said.
Garb once again roared in response as he got upon his feet.

As the sun now appeared bright at the sky everybody was ready to leave. Orakh locked the doors of his forge for one last time, "This was it then" he said as he shoved the key under the door back into the building.
It was a three day trip to Orsinium even though one could see the city from the outpost on a clear day, it was a trip all the way upwards, something that never walked easely, but now for the first time in many years Orakh was about to make that trip once again.
The three left as Shuha came, through the woods. It didn't walked easier then the road though it did provide much more safety then the road aswell as it didn't attract any guards who might ask questions.
During that day Shuha and Orakh agreed that Orakh would say that he was on his way to join the army if guards or strangers asked about it. The two also agreed that Shuha would arrange the meetings Orakh wanted to have with several of his friends in the military aswell as those that had retired.
As evening started to fall upon them Shuha and Orakh left the woods and entered the inn that stood right below the mountainpass.
"We're looking to stay the night here and we'd like something to drink." Shuha said to the innkeeper as she sat down at the bar.
"Ofcourse, there's always a bed available for you Shuha, and i'll make sure the stables are prepared for Garb aswell. And who might this be?" The innkeeper replied. He knew Shuha well as she often stayed there when she hunted and he also knew that Shuha had visited Orakh. "This here is a new recruit for the army, met him at the outpost and he asked me to take him to Orsinium." Shuha told, hoping that that the innkeeper would stop with asking questions.
Orakh felt somewhat uncomfortable, he knew what he risked and ofcourse he didn't want to end up being hanged or something like that. Still though, to keep people from getting suspicious he took off his helmet. Luckly people didn't seem to recognize him, either they didn't remember or Orakh's face just turned alot older in time.
"No offense but aren't you a bit old for such an adventure?" The innkeeper then asked, wondering why a middle-aged Orsimer would join the military. "Perhaps i am, but i want my end to be a glorious one." Orakh replied, using the oldschool habit of the Orsimer to die while still fit.
The innkeeper nodded a bit as he gave the drinks too Shuha and Orakh.

by **Togeria** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 2:17 pm

I began my decent northward, there was path here that my father showed me when I was young. I just prayed I wouldn't encounter anything like a giant or such that would be trouble. Usually along these paths it was always best to follow the path, and all my trips I had done that only ever diverging from the path pick plants for poison or when I had to to find a Orc stronghold. I was't too ashamed to say I never actively sought adventure I just kept to myself and only did what pertained to my mission, and right now my mission was to go to Orsinium. I shivered slightly feeling contact with the cold hair, High Rock seemed to be just that chilly, but after awhile I had gotten accustomed to it.

Sometimes I wish I lived in Dominion lands, not because I liked the people, but because it was warm, warmer then here. I never liked the cold and often wondered of all the places why my kin wanted to build our capital here, but there was no use complaining now. I was a Orc...mostly, and we didn't complain we toughened up and went on. I went and stopped to take a small break, glad I hadn't encountered anything dangerous yet, I checked my weapons to make sure they were sharp, my potions, and my gear. I made a note to buy a sharpening stone when I had the chance, there was one thing I learned in my travels other then me my blade was my best friend, and just like I kept myself strong and healthy it was imperative I show the same care for my blade.

by **Faal Lot Himdah** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 3:02 pm

Ja'sari
Ninendava, Jerall Mountains
West of Bruma, Cyrodiil, the Empire

"Not were, still. Ja'sari is still searching. Ja'sari is thankful that Einar promise not to hurt Ja'sari, Ja'sari won't hurt Einar, he has her word." She said back with a big grin of friendliness and joy. "Have you read the story of the Duel at Ninendava? Well, in the story, The Divine Crusader killed the Ayleid king, Gordhaur the Shaper. The Divine Crusader apparently smashed Gordhaur's head on a goat headed altar. But Ja'sari asks, has that altar ever been found? NO. And that is what Ja'sari is looking for."

With that she started to look around, "If the altar is real... then there must be a secret door somewhere, right? A secret door that leads to an area of the ruins that has never been explored... full of valuables, maybe what Einar is looking for might be there." She then looked back to the Nord, "Can Einar help look?"

by **Camicon** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 3:56 pm

Hjolfr Ice-Heart
North-East of Mixwater Mill, Eastmarch, Skyrim

"

We drink to our youth, to days come and gone! For the age of aggression is finally done!
We drove out the Stormcloaks and restored what we own! Wi'd our blood and our steel we took back our home!
Struck down was Ulfric, a traitor twice born! On d'e day of his death, not one of us mourned!
We're d'e children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives! When Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!
But d'is land is ours and we saw it wiped clean!. Of d'e scourge d'at had sullied our hopes and our dreams!

Hjolfr walked the empty cobbled road, roaring out the lyrics to himself as he spun a gnarled giant's head about by it's long, greasy hair. The brute had been causing trouble down by Mixwater Mill, which was a problem for Eatmarch, given it's importance to the region. The Companions had been hired to solve the problem, and so Hjolfr had been sent on his merry way to take care of things. As it turned out, handful of local farmers had hired some mercenaries to kill and butcher a few mammoths that had been grazing in their fields, prompting the giant to retaliate in kind. Hjolfr had told the farmers off for their foolishness before going after the giant, though he wasn't sure whether or not they would take his chastisement to heart. In any case, the giant had needed to be dealt with; that it was killing people was unacceptable, even if they had gone after it's mammoths.

The fight itself had been glorious. Hjolfr dancing to and fro, dashing in to bite at the giant's ankles with his axe before pedalling back out of the range of it's club. This back-and-forth had gone on for hours, both combatants being possessed by an indomitable will and inhuman endurance. Finally though, the giant's strength faded. Hjolfr forced him onto a rocky outcrop, and with a great leap, buried his axe blade deeply into his chest. The force of his blow had sent the giant backwards over the cliff, with Hjolfr gripping the haft of his axe and riding the corpse down to the bottom. It had been very exciting, right up to the moment when the giant's head caught on a boulder, and pitched Hjolfr down the rest of the scree covered slope. But the deed was done, Hjolfr had retrieved his axe, and was on his way back to Whiterun with his trophy.

That is, until he spotted a rough-looking group of men, about five of them, milling about a weathered cart. A palamino horse nearby reared mightily at it's reins, as three of the men tried to calm it, presumably to hitch it back up. As Hjolfr drew closer, he saw the other two men lay a young woman down in the back of the cart, who seemed to be sleeping. Hjolfr greeted the group with a hearty wave, and shouted a greeting.

"Hello d'ere, travelers! What brings you here on d'is beautiful day! Hah!" Hjolfr threw the giant's head high into the air, batting it down the road towards the men with the flat of his axe.

The men jumped out of their skins. The two of them dropped the young woman suddenly, each drawing iron swords in fear. The three which were tending to the palamino tried to do the same, but were forced to redouble their efforts at controlling the beast, as it bit and bucked at them fiercely. Hjolfr frowned at them from underneath his helm, an intimidating figure even without the blood spattered armour and weapons.

"What, do you need help wi'd your horse? Maybe d'at is because she does not belong to you, hmm?" The men looked around at each other, each trying to decide whether or not they wanted to cause trouble with the gigantic, blood-covered Nord that was kicking around the severed head of a giant.

One apparently did, stepping forward and brandishing his iron blade. "Shove off then, mate. This is no concern of yours, you get on your way and we'll be on ours, yeah?"

Hjolfr glowered at the man, with a look that could freeze a sabre cat in it's tracks. "I d'ink you just made it my concern, friend. You let d'e lass and her horse go, or d'is won't end well for you."

The five bandits clumped together, having given up on controlling the palamino, which trotted a short distance away huffing angrily. Each bandit was armed with an iron sword, though one carried a dagger in his off-hand, and two had bucklers strapped to their lefts. Hjolfr hefted his axe and shield, spinning the former around in a casual manner. He took an aggressive few steps forward, and the bandits flinched down to a man. Hjolfr gave a grim chuckle at their cowardice, as they spread out to flank him. The first one yelled and charged, sword raised high above his head, leading with his buckler. Hjolfr neatly side-stepped him and, with an almost lazy swing, separated the bandit's head from his shoulders. A second ran towards Hjolfr's back; he blocked the incoming blow with his shield, and countered by driving his axe down through the man's collar bone. A fountain of blood spraying into the air, and at the sight the three remaining bandits seemed to lose their nerve, as they scattered off into the surrounding forest.

Breathing lightly, Hjolfr sheathed his axe and put away his shield, walking down towards the cart while tucking his gauntlets in behind his belt. Giving his hands a quick dry wash, Hjolfr steadied his hands above the young woman who lay there and let an aura of healing magic seep down into her bones. "Wakey-wakey, young one. Your horse over d'ere is giving me dirty looks." Smile cracking across his bearded face, he leaned against the cart and waited for the woman to regain her senses.

by **The Warriors of the Sun** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 5:33 pm

Laurence Willheim
Valenwood-Cyrodiil Border
Valenwood, Aldmeri Dominion

"Sir, the camp should be just ahead," said an Altmer on horseback, he was a fairly high ranking officer under Laurence's command. The elf disliked Laurene and did little to hide it, but he had a lot of experience as soldier, no actual combat experience, but enough training to make up for it. Which caused Laurence to wander what Thalmor he had to of cross to be put under the command of a human. Laurence knew well that he had been stationed at this very camp before, so if anyone knew they were close it would have to be him.

"Good, take some men and go ahead and announce our arrival. I'll arrive with the rest of our forces, if all goes well hopefully I'll be able to leave in less than a week," replied Laurence. The Altmer quickly chose a handful of other soldiers and took off down the road towards the camp. Laurence continued to trot down the path at a steady pace with a small force in tow, not a very impressive force however.

It was a mere fraction of his total forces, mostly a token of good will to the other military commanders of Valenwood to show that he too was invested in the defense. However, the vast majority of his forces were stationed near and around the coast of Valenwood and Marbruk. If the Empire's legions were to invade, Laurence preferred to give up a little ground to see their first move before reacting with forces. Furthermore, he didn't want to have his forces completely invested in the border in case problems arose elsewhere. The soldiers he left would truly provide little benefit to this border, but they were going to provide Laurence with eyes on the border to ensure he received firsthand information rather than information from the Thalmor, most of which wanted him dead.

"Almost there?" asked Gemma, who sat upon a horse beside her father. She looked exhausted and out of place in her black and white dress, but against Laurence's protests and the protest of some his more vocal officers she came. Her sisters were still in Marbruk, Leonara being bed-ridden and Selvia preferring the sights and shops of Marbruk over more travel with her father's soldiers. Truthfully Gemma preferred the city too, but was unwilling to admit it to her father who already knew and after teasing from her sisters she had to prove she was brave enough to do so.

"Yes, my Summer Lion," said Laurence in a warm, soft voice that was nearly a polar opposite of the voice he used to address his soldiers. "Be sure to stay by me as long as we are here, no wandering around. Alright?"

"Mhmm," responded Gemma simply. Laurence didn't like the response, he couldn't tell if she was being serious or not, but he would ensure she stayed near him. He didn't trust his human daughter alone in a camp full of soldiers who despised his race merely for existing. "Stay long?" asked Gemma just as the camp came into sight.

"No, if things go well we will be gone by tomorrow, if not, maybe a week. I am really glad you came to accompany me," said Laurence. Even though the truth was that he would have preferred if she stayed home, he still enjoyed the company of his daughter. "When we get back I will make it up to you, I promise." Gemma smiled at the thought of how she will be rewarded just as Laurence's group arrived the entrance of the camp.

by **South Sutalia** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 7:40 pm

Vorid Ursine
Road between Kynesgrove and Mixwater Mill, Skyrim

Vorid opened her eyes, still dazed from the impact to her head. She could hear a man's voice, with a thick, Nordic accent. Her body was incredibly sore, though she still made the effort to look at her rescuer. As if his act of bravery wasn't enough, the stranger also began to cast a healing spell. Vorid laid still, not wishing to interrupt a healer. She was glad, not only for her safety, but for that of Hestur as well. Slowly lifting her back, Vorid was now able to see this man clearly in the sunlight. Even though this man had saved her life, she didn't want to take any chances a second time. "Who are you, mister?" Vorid coughed, still shaken up by the incident.

A large war ax was worn proudly on the man's back, and his steel armor reflected into her eyes. This guy certainly didn't lack for self-defense. Sitting up in the cart further, Vorid looked over to the scattered bodies of her would-be kidnappers. Only now did she realize that her hands and feet were still bound by rope. The Nord man had killed the bandits before they could steal her dagger, and thankfully, her armor. Vorid clumsily reached for the knife, kept by her waist. "And, uh, I want to thank you for dealing with them. I owe you a barrel of mead at this point."

by **Hastiaka** » Sun Aug 02, 2015 9:10 pm

Prince Aicandaar Garegwyn Aldmeris
General Ambassador and Spokesperson of the Aldmeri Dominion

The borderlands, a 5 mile thick defense zone created by the Third Aldmeri Dominion shortly after the Dragon Crisis. A counsel of Altmeri, Bosmeri and Khajiiti officers are in charge in overseeing the Heavily Militarized zones. These zones are filled with traps, wires, barricades and anything that resembles a no man’s land. Wooden fences are built along the plains and trenches are created for Archers and Magisters. The Peacekeepers are here to ensure loyalty and would execute anyone on sight if proven to be a conspirator of rebellion. Things have grown a little tense in the past year. Thousands of Dominion soldiers have filled the entire zone as if an entire city is built along it.

''Sir, I have a bad feeling about this. Has the embassy sent us a message yet?'' one of the diplomats asked.

Aicandaar frowned and replied; ''Shush, be positive. Auriel is with us, our faith is with him. Let us die if it is the will of the Divines.''

Fifty five elite Peackeepers armed in the thickest yet lightest uniforms were formed. They were both armed with a delicate and dangerous sword. The swords were used during the First Aldmeri Dominion, some two thousand years ago. The Thalmor have been keeping a strict eye on the troops for a while. Scouts too have been disappearing. Despite that, tons of supplies are being delivered from Elsweyr and Southern Valenwood.

''Sir, we heard that a Human General has entered the camp. He’s sent by the High Council to assist us. Should we bring him to the Imperial city?'' asked the courier.

Aicandaar replied briefly; ''No, he will trigger a war. Let us discuss with him and let him fortify the HMZ with the others.''

Aicandaar is well aware of the threats within the Imperial city. He has memorized the place and and it's sewers after capturing it a hundred years ago. He still remembers the time when he saved a human from being violated. He shunned the savageness the Thalmor did back then. Families were murdered in the streets and in their homes. The Eight Legion shattered and destroyed.

''May the Eight guide us.'' he whispered.

The Elder Scrolls: Ascension [IC]

The Elder Scrolls: Ascension [IC]

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