Dervish

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

Well, that was unexpected.

Lucian regarded the glass of wine before him in concentration as he mulled over the purpose of the trip to the manor. Garden of Eden, was it? He wasn’t a very religious man and he took many of the biblical tales with a large grain of salt, so he doubted something like the Garden of Eden was even a historical place. Lucian had always taken it to be metaphorical or a cautionary tale, kind of like the Grimms’ fairy tales. Finding the Garden was about as likely as finding the gingerbread house Hansel and Gretel encountered somewhere in the Black Forest; exceedingly unlikely.

Still, it was easy to chalk up an expedition such as this as a final flight of fancy for an elderly rich man, and they were quite prone to spending their fortunes in their twilight years chasing fables because wealth followed no man to the grave and how else were you going to find out if you were right or not? Lucian didn’t begrudge Baron Cornack his tale and peculiar ambition, quite the opposite; it was good of him to decide to do something to learn the truth of his suspicions rather than stew on it until his heart gave out. Many men let dreams die with them, and even if most of those dreams would prove to be false, Lucian admired commitment to confront lingering doubt. The Baron, however, had an appealing and undeniable sense of assurance that Lucian didn’t see in a lot of men chasing such pursuits. Perhaps there was some evidence that prompted this expedition’s founding?

Lakshmi, always a voice of reason and well-founded skepticism, spoke her doubts, particularly that the Congo, and indeed all of Africa, was far too vast of a land to waste exploring if you did not have a goal and a very well planned supply list; the Congo was several times the size of the entirety of the United Kingdom alone. Even if they didn’t find what the Baron hoped to find, Lucian had to keep his ambition in line with reality. Too many rich idiots thought they could go for days with only a canteen and some binoculars, a truth Lucian only knew too well.

“I consent to the use of my services on a few, I feel, agreeable conditions. First is that my expenses are paid upfront; I do not operate at a loss and it takes considerable time and resources to prepare for an expedition of this scale. Second, when it comes to surviving in the African brush, my word is law. If I say not to do something or that we cannot press forward, then that is that. It is my duty to bring the same number of people out of the jungle as I have brought in, d’accord? And finally third, I wish to review the documents of this expedition prior to my agreement so I can determine if the proposal is agreeable. With all due respect, we do not have a history, and it humbles me that you feel that I am worthy of your patronage, but I feel it would help me understand the man who has extended such an offer if I could see what is expected prior to agreeing to it.”

Mass Effect Andromeda: Frontier

Khosin arrived in particularly dramatic fashion, hitting hard and with such final brutality against the Kett forces that Sabinus found himself admiring how a batarian soldier could fight when it wasn’t directed against people who needed protecting. The enforcement gauntlet crushed the breastplate of one of the Chosen, killing the Kett instantly, and Khosin seemed to be in his element. And like a good soldier, he immediately followed up his assault with a request for orders. Given the chaos, it was easy to lose discipline when you had a unit of strangers, so it was a familiarity that Sabinus appreciated.

However, the turian didn’t have time to reply before an Anointed began unleashing heavy fire against the batarian. Sabinus was pinned down; the body of the Anointed he’d killed was the only thing keeping him from taking the brunt of fire like Khosin had. He shifted, putting the shotgun back into the small of his back and pulling out the Hornet submachine-gun from his hip, activating the turbocharge integration between his weapon and his suit, rerouting heat buildup through his armour to allow his weapon to sustain fire. Next he activated Shredder rounds and tossed a barricade in front of Khosin, giving the batarian something to cover behind. The energy shield deployed immediately, and it gave the batarian’s failing shields and armour a reprieve. Sabinus was about to head out of cover and unleash a torrent of automatic fire against the aggressor when Clyff charged in, using an aggressive combination of firepower and explosives to kill the Anointed. It was reckless, almost as much so as Firu and Kargad who had just managed to drop the Fiend, and Sabinus was about to order him to fall back to the barricade when the explosion and reactionary fire from the now dying Anointed hit the man, dropping him hard.

"We're not in Kansas anymore..." Sabinus thought he heard over comms, and while his sensors were trying to refresh against the concussive blast of the mine, the turian found himself wondering what the fuck Kansas was. Coming quickly to his senses, Sabinus quickly took notice of Clyff’s position; no one was dying under his command today.

”Hold tight, help’s coming!” he called, heading up out of cover to sprint to the human, firing loosely aimed shots towards the remaining Kett to suppress them more than anything. The submachine-gun shook violently in his hands, but it kept its cool while the heat gauge on his armour began to slowly, yet steadily, climb with each burst of fire. Serena’s drones were soon overhead, peppering the same Kett with fire from the high angle. It was certainly enough to get the man out of a tight spot. Soon, Sabinus reached Clyff and grabbed him by his armour’s collar with his right hand and he held the Hornet in his left.

”I’m dragging you to cover. Put pressure on your wound and we’ll get you patched up when the enemy can’t add more holes in you. Help kick, if you can.” Sabinus instructed, knowing full well the fight was almost finished. Dexuret and Ryria were extracting the science team while the others continued to engage the Kett forces.

It took some effort and return fire to get Clyff back to the barricade that Khosin was offered by Sabinus, but the turian set the man down and began to look at the wound, preparing a dose of medi-gel. ”Team 2, if you have the package, begin extraction. Call for pick-up. I have to stabilize a casualty.” he instructed, his voice even and unexcited. Turning back to Clyff and began to fill the wound with medi-gel, the mesh stopping the bleeding almost immediately. The man might need a blood pack, Sabinus realized. More than enough of it was splattered in the sand.

Team 1’s leader hit the comms for his team,

”Anjor, Kesir, on my position. We’re going to need cover until extraction; Ward’s taken a bad hit and Sedgoroh’s soaked up way more fire than I’m comfortable with. Khorushi, Bragus, you two hunt down the remainder and keep an eye out for re-enforcements. Watch out for those damned Wraiths; I haven’t seen one since the fight began.”

Sabinus wrapped Clyff’s arm over his shoulder, helping the man stand. ”Can you walk? How bad is it?” he asked. ”I need to get you to the extraction point. You fought well, take it easy.” he assured him.

A few seconds later, Anjor was falling in, keeping the rear safe. Safely collapsed on his back was Clyff’s dropped shotgun.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Dar'Jzo looks pretty darn good from where I'm standing. He has a really believable story that's drenched in Khajiiti culture and I certainly appreciate the strong family approach you took with this character; it's easy to believe that his loved ones were the prime motivators in his life, and it's always interesting to see characters that struggle with immoral lifestyles and trying to do right by their family. I didn't see anything else I thought needed addressing, overall, looks great to me!

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@Spoopy Scary Even if them lowly peasants didn't get the word, you can be certain that ship captains and carriage drivers close to Skyrim know about it. Plus, we do have the Tamrielic Gazette, which you can be certain people have been reading and would be gossiping.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@Spoopy Scary I read it over! I don't have time to give proper feedback at the moment, but the two big things I caught were;
1) Still referring to the character as Not'Ashav, and
2) The College of Winterhold's been effectively destroyed for all intents and puposes. Word of the Akaviri invasion would have also kept anyone from traveling there regardless if the College's fate didn't reach so far South.

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

I'll get to work on something soon myself, all my other games got very busy the past two days. Don't worry, I'm still here!

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Requiem for Family

The fire cackled in Daro’Vasora’s perhephrial vision, a dancing pale orange and bright yellow light that flickered across the trunks of trees and across leaves as the smoke ascended into the canopy above. The fear of the Dwemer tracking them seemed to have faded, and no sign of any other survivors disturbed the night. The Khajiit reckoned that the invaders were more concerned with holding the city than hunting the countryside for stragglers, so as far as she was concerned, they were free and safe. The same couldn’t be said about everyone, however.

She knelt alone in the dirt holding a private vigil that she spoke nothing of to the others. Judena would understand, but this wasn’t the time for an absent minded Argonian who probably didn’t recall why this moment was necessary. Spread out in front of the Khajiit were Zegol’s memoirs and mementos, things that had held significance in the Orsimer’s life from the time they’d spent together. She stared at the words on the pages, hearing his voice with each trace of ink across the yellowed parchment, his infliction coming into her mind as readily as if he were reading them aloud sitting next to her. The faintest of breezes gave the impression that it was true, and reflexively, her hand lay upon her shoulder, imagining his own squeezing reassuringly as if to say that it was okay. She stared at the hole she had dug just beyond.

There had been no time for a burial, and Zegol presumably still lay dismembered on the hardwood floor of the store he had loved so much, that he had spent the last several years of his life turning into a reflection of his life’s work and passions. It was impossible to walk amongst the artifacts and trinkets that they had both accumulated and not feel his essence and joy for each and every thing on display. He had been an accomplished adventurer in his youth, a man who had travelled the world and done incredible things and his name was attached to recovering some of history’s most famous artifacts. It was why Daro’Vasora’s father had send her to the Orc; if anyone could have shaped her ambitions so productively and skillfully without her turning to a life of petty crime and mischief, it was Zegol.

Ra’Rinjo had called in a favour to his long-time associate, and before long, an ungrateful little brat was at his doorstep, wondering why she was being forced to live with an ugly old man who clearly had no idea of what to do with a teenager. But they found common ground quickly, as Daro’Vasora recognized several of the artifacts Zegol had collected. It didn’t take long for the two of them to spend many long nights talking excitedly of tales of quests and relics, history and politics. They were kindred spirits who never would have known the other existed if it weren’t for the Khajiit earning the dubious honour of her honourific. Under him, it became a source of pride. Following his lead and learning the skills he had accumulated over decades of adventuring, her name meant something and she came to love him as family, as he did her. Zegol had never settled or found a wife, let alone had children, and in a way Daro’Vasora filled that void that he had felt empty for so long.

She brushed a forearm across her eyes, her fur wicking up the tears and water running from her nose as she heard his laugh, saw his smile, the look of approval when she dropped something truly incredible on the workbench he kept out back. Wrapped around her hand of that very arm was an amulet that Zegol’s sister had crafted for him when they were both young, a bit younger than her when she came to him. He often held it like this when he was concerned, lost in thought, or just missing his family. It was near and dear to him, as were the other baubles she had laid out on a handkerchief, one he had kept in his breast pocket as a part of his formalwear. Now she was considering burying it all in this unmarked impromptu grave for his spirit and soul to make amends for being forced to leave him behind. Her heart was tearing itself asunder, and she hoped nobody could see her.

“Vasora?” A quiet voice came behind her. The Khajiit’s face twisted into a snarl, but she didn’t turn around.

“Fuck off.” She spat, not caring if her vitriol hurt. This was a private moment, and there was no chance in Oblivion that she’d let someone see her in a moment of weakness.

Still, footsteps approached, and soon Rhea came into view, sitting cross legged a respectful distance away, close enough that they could converse without needing to lift their voices, but angled in a way as if to say that she wasn’t trying to snoop. “We haven’t had a moment to talk since we got back to the city. I’ve noticed your disposition’s changed.” The Imperial glanced towards Daro’Vasora with sympathetic eyes that weren’t met. “I can tell you lost someone, and well, I didn’t think you should be alone.”

Daro’Vasora looked up, jeering. “Oh, sympathy. That will bring him back, or make you not meddle with things you do not understand. I warned you. I told you that it was a bad idea, but you had it in your pretty little head of yours that the device would be our salvation. That choice cost thousands of lives, do you understand?” The Khajiit bored into her, staring venomous daggers into Rhea. “Everyone on that expedition who died on the mountain. Balroth, Latro…. Zegol.” She said, deflating as she stared down at the papers in front of her, her hands clutching the amulet protectively.

“I know.” Rhea replied softly, not defending herself. “I’ve been living with guilt of it all since I made the choice for everyone. Every life lost since that day, I feel as if I’m the one who handled the weapon. There is no atonement for good intentions, but knowing what I do now...” she trailed off, her eyes not wavering. “I would have made the same decision again. I chose to save those I promised to protect, and while it haunts my very soul to know what came of my actions, I kept my word and you are all here and not at the mercy of the Falmer. I know you weren’t fond of that prospect.”

“Fuck you.” Daro’Vasora repeated, her teeth grinding. “You are not going to manipulate me into thanking you for sparing me from what those monsters would have done to me. But…” she struggled with what she was about to say. “I do not think I would have chosen differently. I am a selfish cur and I won’t apologize for it, and I’m a damned hypocrite. I’m never going to forgive you for what you did, but… ugh. Alkosh damn it, I understand it. However, you’re always going to be the reason that I lost him.” She said bitterly, her eyes clenching even tighter, her claws’ points digging into her palms, eight little daggers that hurt, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel the pain.

“Do you think he would have made the same choice?” Rhea asked, catching Daro’Vasora off guard. A momentary flare of fury filled her before the rational part of her mind was choked by the question. The realization, and the shame, hurt her.

“No. Zegol… he was a softie.” She said, mostly to herself. The playful teasing words about the kind, selfless spirit of the man that she often came back to her, and she choked on the word. The realization that he was always a much better person that she’d ever be, and that he wouldn’t have hesitated to sacrifice himself to save her burned like her heart was turning to ash in her chest. Daro’Vasora curled over, shaking, her body rocking with quiet, restrained sobs. He would be so ashamed, he should hate me, he should- her mind began to race, but a hand was placed on her shoulder, and then arms wrapped around her protectively. Despite her misgiving, her loathing, Daro’Vasora reached out and grabbed the arm for support, accepting the support.

Rhea didn’t say anything until Daro’Vasora had stopped shaking, a series of sniffles escaping her muzzle. “I… shit. I don’t know.” The words came without thought or care, but the caustic tone she had carried largely dissipated.

“What were you planning on doing with his belongings?” Rhea asked quietly, letting go, but returned the grip Daro’Vasora held. The Khajiit stared down at the papers, her tears having wet them like raindrops. “I couldn’t bury his body. I wanted to give him a burial. I don’t know how.” She managed, the words coming like staccato sentences. Her defences crumbled; she felt like a cub again. “I never learned about his culture, not really. I don’t know how to send him off. I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Whatever words come to your heart, they will suffice.” Rhea said, reassuring her. “You don’t strike me as a temple-goer, and if he wasn’t either, I think he’d just be happy to know you’re safe and thinking of him. Just say the words you never could.” She moved the Khajiit’s hand to close upon the amulet again. “The choice is yours, but if you’ll take the word of a fool, hold onto his affects. That way he’ll always be with you. I promise I’ll make proper arrangements for a funeral in Skingrad for him.”

Daro’Vasora nodded slightly, her gaze locked onto Zegol’s words below.

“I’ll make sure no one bothers you, Vasora. You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for, and that you grieve for someone you love tells me that you loved him as much as he loved you. I think Latro saw that about you.” Rhea stood, placing her hand on Daro’Vasora’s shoulder once more. “Come to the fire when you’re ready. I’ll make sure there’s some food for you if you want it.” She said as a way of parting, carefully tracing her steps back to the fire, leaving Daro’Vasora to her own devices.

As she carefully folded the pages once more and slid them back in the leather envelope that they had been kept in, she felt as if a strong set of hands were guiding her own. She looked up, at Massar’s light above. A familiar laugh that only she could hear sounded in the night.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

@MacabreFox Looks good to me! The Chapter 1 summary is a bit skimpy, but it does cover the bases.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

*breathes deeply into the OOC*
*wheezes*
*sputters*
*attempts not to die*

Morty sent me a message that Chapter 2 had opened up and that people were free to apply. So here I am. I also annoyed him for like two hours with character ideas. I'm a garbage person. I know.

Slowly constructing a CS. So, yes, my butt's going to be lurking around here for a while. Apologies.

@Sofaking Fancy

Feel free to bug me. I help GM this joint after all.

Hi there

Welcome to the forum! I'm sure you'll find something that's up your alley. Andromedai's good peeps.