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Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Chrononaut

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Chrononaut

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Chrononaut

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4E, 2043. Titus II is dead. Havfyg has taken his place. Under his banner, The Imperial Empire is nearly fully restored. The Aldmeri Dominion have all but been pushed to their home, the Summer Isles. Emperor Havfyg I readys his armies to wage war, to commit genocide upon the entire Altmeri race. But first, you have to collect a book. For The Empire.

Unwilling. Uncooperative. Persuaded. You all have been given a task by The Emperor, in exchange for your freedom. If you fail this task, the ring around your finger will kill you. Slowly. But it will not be the final death. It has never been the final death.

----

A three act roleplay, focusing on the metaphysics and multidimensional eldritch horror aspects of Elder Scrolls. There will be moments of calm and when the storm hits, there will be bloodbaths Mehrunes Dagon would be proud of. Politics will be involved, at a few points of interest. You will be able to influence them. The roleplay is a kitchen sink of ideas that I've always wanted to explore in Elder Scrolls, but never had the opportunity to.

Characters can be fairly badass. Don't worry, there's always a bigger fish.

Quick wit will be rewarded. Violence will be necessary. Harm will happen to you and those you interact with. You have been warned.

But hey, have fun! 

Character Concerns:

As far as your abilities, you are likely fairly talented in at least one area. Whether a warrior, a professional thief, or a educated mage, you aren't imprisoned because you weren't important or skilled, even if that skill is a thorn in the Empires side.
You did something that warranted permanent imprisonment, rather than instant execution. It was against Imperial interests, or simply against the law.
Yes, you can be a vampire or werewolf. No more than one of each. If you were imprisoned, it's likely that you're starving as a vampire. Don't worry, future vampire and werewolf characters are possible (I will allow characters to contract the disease), but for the purposes of the roleplay, it's not likely many would be imprisoned.
Imperials have mostly accepted Havfyg as their defacto ruler, given his claims of being the reincarnation of Talos, however, his fourty year war of genocide has lead to higher taxes to fund the war effort, along with a few mandatory drafting periods when the war got desperate. Many Imperial are not happy about this.
The Nords are doing much better. Havfyg has actually avoided taxing them at all, and they're some of his most staunch followers.
The Breton, along with the Redguards, were conquered early into Havfygs reign and have been drafted far more than Imperials or Nords. This is due to their natural tendencies towards spellblades and martial prowess, respectively. The Breton have mostly taken this well as many have also been given free education at the Arcane University with only a year of military service required on their part. The Redguard are less pleased.
Altmeri are slaughtered on sight, typically. However, you won't be. Feel free to have your character be as snarky about this as possible.
Elves aren't treated very well by The Empire. However, most Imperial citizens feel rather bad for Dunmer and Bosmeri, given their recent history of just sort of existing and being treated like second hand citizens.
Orcs. One the one hand, they have been given far more respect in Havfygs Empire than they ever had previously, to the point that some of them have ceased to worship Malacath. On the other hand, their population has dwindled over the years due constantly being drafted and sent into the most dangerous battles the Yellow War has ever seen.
For Argonians, the remaining Hist Trees of the world reside in Cyrodil, and are kept by the Emperor as a threat to Argonians, should they think of abandoning his rule. You are understandably not happy about this.
As a Khajiit, your people have been rebelling ever since The Emperor began a moon sugar tax twenty years ago, then a full on moon sugar ban nine years ago that was temporarily lifted mere days before a moon sugar purge occurred. Every legal farm was destroyed and those that remain sell Skooma at a very, very high price. The Empire pays well for informants.
It is possible to have been trained by The Imperial College in Thu'um. You will only know a few words, because it takes years of training if you aren't the Dovahkhin. Don't worry, like any other character, I will allow you to learn more of these skills as the plot progresses.

Character sheet:

Name:

Birthsign:

Race:

Appearance: 

Background:

Typical Equipment: 

Why you were left to rot in the Imperial Prison (this will be changed later, when players who join in later get involved):

Skillset: A summary of your actual abilities. Are you an accomplished mage, able to rend flesh with fire by a mere thought and gesture? A warrior, trained by the sword and lives he has taken? A thief, making their living off stealth and cunning? A mix of these is fine, though as is often the case, we cannot be good at everything.

This one writes a letter. It will listen, for the letter that this one writes is of much importance. Many have been sent and many more will.

This one once owned a providential businesss. This one was successful. This one sold skooma up the golden roads Cyrodil, to the frost heart of skyrim, to even the Redguards who are not really red beyond. This one spent its coin in luxury, its nights in comfort. This one was happy.

As the many know, as we know, lasted this did not. When came the sun on 4e, 2032, this one awoke to flames. This ones farm, centuries of profit, burnt to cinders. This one fled. We all fled. 

This one was harried by dogs. This ones children were brought to the ground and butchered. This one cried, but no one cared, least of all the Emperor. This one wondered if there were ones, ones who would fight this evil. The evil of many.

This one found its brothers. This one thinks you can too. Ask for that for which the cat calls. The cat calls for gold.

- Sincerely, Those Who Resist.

Graytus thought this was a nice city, once. Before the riots. Before shops were set aflame, before the The Followers of Talos or the Peoples Blades fought eachother in the streets.

He was passing through the Talos Plaza District. This was especially dangerous, for it was the Emperors Day of Rebirth. When Talos was reborn. A statue stood of the Emperor standing proud before a cowering Dragon, holding a sword that glowed a brilliant golden light.  Gratyus had attempted to steal this sword, once. He awoke days later, in an cell. Paralyzed, they told him. He thought that was it, that it had simply been paralysis. But he had been awake. He had been conscious the entire. Time.

He was somewhere else. It was all black, but he kept hearing words. And now, awake, he couldn't speak against The Emperor. Whenever he tried, he gagged.

"Havfyg is a...havfyg..." he muttered. He coughed. Before the statue, was a circle of worshipers. Those that believed that Talos had come again. That Talos would guide the Empire towards a return to glory. A large man, Imperial, stood with a mighty tome he held in one hand. His voice was that of a orator. "Talos has been reborn! The time of Mer dominion has come to an end! Repent, or find yourself crushed under The Mighty Emperors heel!" 

Well that's unfortunate, thought Gratyus. A fanatic. It wouldn't be long before The Peoples Blades came.

Gratyus looked around. He saw faces looking on in disgust. They began to form a larger crowd, around the smaller one worshiping at the statue. From the other side, more worshipers came. Then it came to shouting. He couldn't make out every single individual shout. But he got the gist of it from the many Peoples Blades, who were identifiable by red armbands, joining the crowd, handing weapons to those that stood with them. Many of them were simple kitchen tools.

"The Emperor betrayed!" "Murderers!" "Bloodline!" "Tyrant!"

Gratyus's head swam. Faint outlines merged with what was really happening. It was as if the shadows of the rioters were moving on their own. Fighting. But, in reality, no one was fighting. At least not yet.

Then, a flaming object Gratyus didn't have time to identify was thrown. It hit the orators skull. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding head. His followers took a moment to grab him, take him from the crowd. They made a point of not retreating, however, and as they formed lines, to face those who had assaulted them, they pulled out weapons from their robes. Real weapons, like maces and swords.

The melee began. Gratyus tried to move, tried to get away, but then someone grabbed him by the arm. A voice rasped, "This one wonders, who do you follow, Imperial?" 

Gratyus turned to the face of a Khajiit. He had a slight dent in his skull, from a blunt wound that healed poorly. A red band crossed over where the dent would be, creating the impression of a larger hollow. He gulped, "Peoples blades." 

The Khajiit handed him a metal cudgel, then said, "Then fight, brother."

Shoved into the melee, Gratyus did what came naturally. Which was swinging for dear life. A nord approached him, wielding a greataxe. He barely managed to avoid a swing that instead chopped into a Argonian woman, down her shoulder. In the moments it took the Nord to pull back the blade, in the moments between the beginning of a scream and its end, he brought the cudgel down in a two headed swing to the side of his head. He fell to the ground, stunned. Realizing what he had done, Gratyus ran. He hoped the man lived.

Over the sound of yelling, of weapons contacting weapons, the louder sound of full plate marching in unison began to approach from the outer districts. The Guards were coming. Red lights began to emerge, from both sides, as mage began to cast magic. There was so much, it almost became a ambient wave. 

It didn't harm Gratyus, or anyone in the fight. Not precisely. But he started to feel...hatred? Yes. Hatred. For everything. Everyone around him. He started to swing, more violently than he ever had before. And he couldn't stop. Mustn't stop. He was furious. His vision was red, whether from the blood flying from the men and women around him, or just his eyes swelling with it, he couldn't tell.

The Guards broke into the swarm of frenzied combatants like a boulder slamming into a wood house. People fell to the floor and were trampled. Some of the rioters were killed, but most to the credit of the City were not. Merely bludgeoned to the point of death. One guard, particularly bulky and through the faceplate appearing to be an Orc, gripped Gratyus by his shirt, lifting him a few feet off the ground.

The Orc spat, "Stop right there! Right there..." He seemed to have forgotten what he was going to say. "Well, stop right there, criminal! Or I'll beat your face in! Like this!" He smacked Gratyus in the head with a gauntleted hand.

---

When he awoke, he found himself not in a cell, but in...what? A lords solare? Through blurry vision, he could see there were banners, of the Empire no doubt, but also rich animal pelts serving as carpet. He was seated in a cushioned iron chair, but when he lifted his right hand, he realized it was chained, a mere foot from the chair. 

An hour passed. He found he had wine, bread, and meat before him on a long square table. On the other end seem to be placed a similar meal for another. He waited some more.

Then, The Emperor came. 

In heavy, slurred Nordic, Emperor Havfyg said, "So, you see visions of the future. I knew someone would...well, no matter. All that matters now is you're of use to me."

How could Gratyus disagree?

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Chrononaut

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Chrononaut

Member Seen 2 mos ago

Chrononaut

426 posts

in 3745 days

Seen 2 mos ago

Well this is right fucked.
Edit: Slightly less fucked.
Edit2: MAYBE functional.

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Chrononaut

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Chrononaut

Member Seen 2 mos ago

Chrononaut

426 posts

in 3745 days

Seen 2 mos ago

Name: Raelyn Giordano, also known as "The Bard of Flame"
Race: Imperial
Age: 27
Birthsign: The Thief
Family Origins: The Imperial City, a small merchant family that runs a shop that sells pots.

Appearance:

A slight, rather young looking woman who smiles often and laughs more. She has bright, discerning eyes that look at people like she's examining a cut of meat. Her brown hair is wild and frayed from working on the road and she always seems to carry on her skin a thin patina of dirt. She stands and moves with a flowing confidence. Her bardic outfit consists of a tight buttoned shirt under a red vest, with white poofy sleaves, and brown leggings just in case you weren't sure she was of the arts.

She has the kind of face that when smiling is charming, handsome even, but when frowning is like staring at death in the face. She paints her nails, often in different colors, though prefers purple because not many can afford it. She also wears three enchanted rings on her left hand.

Personality: Raelyn is before all other things an actor and spy, so much of her outward personality reflects the story she's telling or the song she's playing. Under the surface she is calculating, with a cynical sense of humor. Her body language typically exudes relaxed enjoyment of life. She's an easy liar and friend to the weak, though she is very manipulative and finds it to her benefit to push people towards doing work for her.

In personal relationships, she is rather demanding. Her work for the empire, despite her naturally sunny disposition, has worn on her, and she has no time for fools. Oh she'll joke and tells many, but under stress those jokes turn to sharp jabs.

History: Raelyn Giordano, part time bard and full time spy for the Penitus Oculatus, was once a member of The Imperial City guard. She spent most of her short time catching criminal scum, before being approached by a Penitas Oculatus agent. What had interested them was a skooma smuggling case she had managed to figure out, primarily by going against city guard legal code and pretending to be someone who wished to purchase skooma. She never understood why this had gotten her in trouble. If you wanted to find out where the skooma was going, what better way than to pretend to buy it?

The Penitas Oculatus assigned her a target. Her first kill was different than the rough treatment she had, had to give to those skooma dealers. It was far more final.

After this, she was sent to investigate Skyrims Bards College. There she posed as a student and after a year, finally managed to prove the Headmaster was both working against the Dominion and was slipping in pro-stormcloak propaganda in poems, verse, and song. For this he was arrested, thanks to a very lengthy report Raelyn had wrote. Finding she enjoyed playin music, and now being a known member of the Bards College, she decided to return several times during her trips in Skyrim, and eventually took on a side career as a bard.

Far more recently, she had targeted a spy for the Thalmor at their own embassy, in the moments that the Empire thought it would win against their rule. This killing was the worst for her. Besides its brutality (she hadn't been able to bring her own weapons and had to improvise), the man was, a mere day after his death, essentially innocent of his crime. That is, The Empire and Dominion had peace, and the reasons for his death were no longer needed.

Biggest Regret: Raelyn was once tasked with killing a Dominion agent in 4E212. What made her regret this, was she committed the murder a mere day before the peace between the Empire and Dominion was formed. While essentially a faceless cog in the machine, the murder of an innocent man has weighed on her heart and made her question her very purpose as a hired killer for the Empire.

Character Name ‘s Goal: Raelyn has been tasked with finding the Dragonborn and has been given carte blanche to do so. The reasons for this command do not matter to her because as a Penitus Oculatus Investigator, you don't ask why. You kill until it is done.

Skills:
Expert:
Speech: Raelyn is a smooth talker. She is able to maintain the affect of a friendly bard while calculating the best way to get what she wants out of you. This makes her both politically astute and good at convincing others to go her way.
One handed blade (knives, primarily): Raelyn was trained by the Penitus Oculatus in one-handed short blades, primarily for use in assassination with some focus on how to get past a armed opponents guard. She can also wield a sword fairly well, given her time in the Imperial City Guard.

Adept
Hand-to-hand: Along with bladework, she was shown how to bring someone to the ground to "ask" for information.
Marksman (throwing weapons) This is actually self taught. Raelyn has participated in various contests and tavern bets in knife throwing and has even juggled knives as part of her bard act.

Novice:
Sneak: Sometimes talking your way out of things doesn't work. Raelyns had to slip out of a sticky situation, more than once.

Equipment: Three hidden knives, two in her sleeves and one in in her vest. A bag, full of traveling rations. A small coinpurse. A golden ring enchanted with fortify unarmed. A silver ring fortified with muffle. A bronze ring fortified with health regeneration.
Misc. Possessions: A lute case, a violin case with said instruments inside. Often in the cases are two wooden blocks.

Raelyn Giordanos fingers flew across her lute like hummingbirds plucking at a flower. Each note rang with such emotion, such intensity, that the Thalmor within the embassy she played held their breath, fearing that their breath would be blasphemy to such art.

Then she sang. The break from the frantic strumming earlier released the tension and this tension quickly turned to tears.

"I once loved you,
For far so long,
Looking to your eyes in the early dawn,

I once loved you,
Before blades were drawn,
And pray to Aur'iel for your souls i-mmor-tal-ity, 

Your death still hurts,
I grip your shirt,
And give one last kiss to your company"

Then, the crescendo. Raelyn slid a gloved finger along a flintbox on her waist. This lit the oil that set the fire-resistant enchanted gloves aflame at the fingertips, which she brought back to the lute, held mere inches from the wood, made of a blackmarsh trees wood. 

Many gasped, though no Altmer jumped to their feet to her aid. They understood magic and doubted a bard would set themselves alight, no matter how entertaining that would be. Raelyn began to play.

==

After her performance, Raelyn took the praise and offers of drink in stride. She drank, though not so much as to become tipsy. Her mind needed to be clear, needed to be focused. Her eyes followed a Altmer man, a Rumile Numanye. She noted that he was offered one book from Ondolemar, who held sway over Makarth. Whatever was in that book, had to be interesting. Her eyes narrowed.

Raelyn took a moment to see "freshen up", which involved going to what Skyrim seemed to think was proper toiletry, buckets and stools. But she wasn't here for that. She took from her lute case, two wooden blocks. Then, she began to unstring her lute, wrapping the strings tightly around the two pieces of wood until she could hold one in each hand and stretch the wire taught. She stuffed this in a inner pocket. Not yet.

She went down a side hall. There was a Thalmor guard, who she asked sweetly, "Oh, sorry, I'm lost. Do you know the way back to the party?" Her eyes went down to his waist, which held a billy club. 

The Thalmor grunted, looking over her head and pointing behind her, "Well it's that way-GRAH!"

Raelyns fist met his crotch and in what must have seemed to that man to be lightning speed, she spread the two wooden blocks with the wire, threw the wire over his head as she passed him, then when she was back to back with him, she crossed her arms, kicked his legs out, and bent over, so that the tall man was suspended in the air.

He gasped, "Uh...uhhh...uhhh..." his face turning a pink crimson as he struggled to breath. His legs kicked and Raelyn elbowed him in the ribs and pulled harder, sawing with the wire until the mans throat was cut, until he no longer had breathe in him and blood loss began to weaken his limbs. Just die...just die... she thought, her legs growing weak trying to lift the man. When he stopped struggling, she let go.

Her heart racing, Raelyn unwrapped the wire and wiped it clean on the dead mans clothes. She took his billy club and, looting a nearby pantry, dumped out a sack of potatoes and tied it to her waist.

She peered through several keyholes, until finally finding the room that Rumile resided in. She calmed her breath, and knocked, standing aside from the keyhole. As the knob turned, she untied the sack and held the club in one hand.

Rumile opened the door, "Yes?" moments before he was sent reeling from a blow to one of his pointy ears, so hard it bruised blue. He cried out in pain and Raelyn quickly threw the sack over his head and pushed some of the fabric into his mouth. He spat, trying to get the hessian out of his mouth, but found himself being brought to the floor. Air left his lungs on the sharp impact, then his thoughts become a pained blur as blow, after blow, after blow, smacked against the outer edges of his burlap prison.

Raelyn heaved, gasping, bringing up the now blood stainedup again for another strike. Realizing Rumile was dead, she dropped the club. She went to a basin of water sitting on a table, and washed her face. She looked into the mirror. Her face was pretty, but with hard edge of a woman who had just killed. She sighed. The things she did for her country. She cleaned up her hair, her clothes. She had to look like she had just went to the privy.

Leaving the room, she stepped over the body of the guard she had killed. She sniffed the faint smell of urine, so she could be reasonably sure he had really died.

After cleaning the blood from her lute strings, she reset them and returned to the embassy party. It was near the end, so nobody questioned her as she casually left through the front door. A murderer leaving their midst.

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