Frizan

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Climb kit is such a Mary Sue. I don't understand how anyone can like them, and don't even get me started on all the bullshit the writers let Supply get away with.

Furor Titanicus

The Events tab can be really helpful for keeping track of things. A lot easier than flipping through pages upon pages of IC looking for the relevant posts.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Congrats @Dervish

Now you definitely need to be careful about falling into the water.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

<Snipped quote by Mortarion>

It was great! I quite enjoyed it. Some boat bonding never hurt anyone.

Unless you're a cat who wants to push a certain Imperial overboard, but alas.

@Dervish

Is just a joke

Why Do'Karth hef to be mad

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

> Has never watched Archer and not a super-big Simpsons fan

Currently not accepting fights to the death.

Furor Titanicus

Night had fallen once more upon Galorand, the moon parting the clouds with a gentle red glow, a sight not quite befitting the peaceful kingdom. The only entities still roaming the streets below were late-working dockhands and the odd stray animal; all others had scurried inside, wishing to remain covered from the rain that smacked the brick walkways with considerable force. Porch sconces were extinguished, and lantern-carrying guards were far and few between at that hour; the only light came from the heavens above. Suddenly, a third-story window in the west wing of what could be called a small manor lit up with a sparking rainbow of colors as smoke billowed out steadily. The sounds of thunder punctuated the explosions echoing out of the vine-covered home, and a crazed cackle followed by a booming yell of triumph rang out...

"Ahahahaaa! Alive! It's ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! HAHAHAHA!"

With a satisfied smile, Merasmus spun around and put his precious potted springleaf stalk back on its shelf next to its blooming brothers and sisters, fully recovered from its formerly-withered state. He was absolutely delighted: His revival serum actually worked, and only with minor-severe damage to his equipment! Take THAT, Professor Garmesworth! One CAN fully restore withered vegetation without the use of coal dust! No more shall the good people of Galorand be forced to cure their vegetables that they grew with that quack, Machosky's, coal-based growth injections! Grabbing his journal, Merasmus hastily recorded the success of his experiment, and the alchemical composition of his serum. This was a most happy day indeed! He would need to celebrate...TO THE BRANDY CABINET!

After grabbing the best-aged bottle in his reserves, Merasmus strode with pride to his parlor, stoked the fires until they roared excellently, and sat down with his latest book in hand. Merasmus liked this one quite a bit. It was about a large group of mercenaries traveling all around a snowy land, battling it out with witchmen, hulking frost giants, and of course, their own hearts. "Such a lovely tale..." thought Merasmus. "...and such adventure! Perhaps one day I, too, shall find myself exploring frozen landscapes and encountering strange, new creatures!" Merasmus wondered about the lands outside of Galorand. Not that he didn't know what land was where, of course, he read all about the surrounding kingdoms, but he had never been to any of them himself. One cannot experience a thing by just reading about it, even Merasmus realized this. A book does not let you hear the accents of the native people, or taste of their cuisine, or explore their architecture. But Merasmus was so busy with his university work, how would he ever find the time to get out and travel? Perhaps he would just have to take a temporary leave. His colleagues would understand, surely, and besides, he has definitely earned some time off! But he would need to leave such thoughts for another time, as the hours grew later and later as he read...or perhaps it was the brandy. Either way, it was off to bed with Merasmus.

In his sleep, Merasmus dreamed of a figure. They spoke to Merasmus, calling him their champion. Ah yes, Rennigan, of course. Yes yes, ruling the earth, bring glory and such other things. Merasmus also felt a strange power coursing through him. An all too familiar presence, the same that he felt during that debate all those years ago. He already knew how to use his powers of suggestion; perhaps now that he was an "official" champion, they were being amplified by Rennigan? Yes, of course, that was the only logical conclusion. What? Dream? No, this is no dream! Merasmus does not DREAM, for he is beyond such childish happenings! No, this was obviously a once-thought-long-dead supernatural entity speaking to Merasmus. What!? CRAZY!? Do you know of whom you speak to!? I am MERASMUS, scholar and man of science! Quit multiplying, you are loud enough as it is!

Merasmus jolted upright, eyes half-open, and still rambling drearily at the quintuplets that were making fun of his nose. Rubbing his eyes clear so he could get a better look at the scoundrels, Merasmus was met only with the silence of his bedroom, being broken infrequently by the faint laughter of small children and the inaudible words of the local gossips drifting in from the open window to his right. Looking up at his Chill clock, Merasmus deciphered that it was nearly noon! Good thing the next Committee meeting wasn't until tomorrow! That would have been embarrassing indeed, for an academic heavy such as himself to be late for a Committee meeting. "Hm, perhaps it would be good to get some fresh air after spending all of last night experimenting." thought Merasmus out loud. "Yes, definitely, staying cooped up for so long gives me headaches! I am no tower-dwelling wizard!" With that, Merasmus grabbed his bag of books, alchemical satchel, general goods bag, and his weathered but trusty staff and headed out the door of his home into the misty streets of Galorand, with no objective on his mind other than strolling about the city.

Furor Titanicus

Appearance: This brilliant(self-proclaimed) yet clearly senile wizard(Merasmus despises this descriptor) stands at a nice and symmetrical six feet tall, which pleases Merasmus greatly; inches waste time, and meters waste space. Age obviously has not agreed with the man, as he has well-defined laugh lines along his pale face, and his bony hands and long fingers are wrinkling. This does NOT please Merasmus, but he grits and bears his less-than-youthful appearance; at least he hasn't started yelling about "youngsters". Under his dirty, alchemical soot-covered brow lie a pair of large, sunken-in emerald eyes. Below those darkened rings is a big, crooked nose which has brought Merasmus much ridicule; in fact, it's where he gets his nickname, "The Wizened", as such a feature is prominent in old children's fables describing wizards. Adorning his rigid jawline are very thick sideburns, reaching up to his scalp which is covered with very long black hair that he keeps tucked behind his robe's collar. From his narrow shoulders, Merasmus' lanky arms dangle loosely by his sides, draped by the oversized sleeves of his robes. His legs are rarely visible, as they are also covered by the heavy hem of the cloak, which drags along the ground and as such is very very dirty.

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Name: Merasmus the Wizened

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Age: 437

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Titan: Rennigan

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Origins: Merasmus knows he was actually born at the Verity Institute, but he grew up and currently lives in Galorand.

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Personality: Merasmus may look the old-wizard-in-a-tower type, but he is actually quite a loud and direct individual, always asking around for the latest rumor, bit of news, or just some book recommendations. Being the know-it-all that he is, Merasmus is quick to correct people on everything, even if his "corrections" are clearly inaccurate to even a casually-educated person; he usually comes back with the ACTUAL correct information though, even though he seldom admits he was ever wrong. He thinks highly of himself due to his academic success and his own perceived intelligence, and would logically assume himself to be the "intellectual powerhouse" of any group.

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Likes:
Reading;
Experimenting with alchemical materials;
Postulating;
Theorizing;
Conversating.

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Dislikes:
Mistreatment of books;
Wasting herbs and other supplies;
People telling him to "quiet down";
Being called a wizard
Cinnamon buns.

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Backstory:
Merasmus was an unexpected birth in the Verity Institute many moons ago. Decided to have been an unfit guest in an Institute, his parents sent him to live with a friend of the family by the name of Ghi Rahim the Coot, an esteemed but eccentric master of alchemy that lived in Galorand. Ghi taught Merasmus all about alchemy, praising him both with his successes and with his explosive failures, which instilled a bit of an "all mighty" complex in Merasmus concerning alchemical works. When Ghi was not tutoring the boy, Merasmus would sneak into the Coot's library and pour over any book he could get his hands on. Biographies, instruction manuals, musical sheets, even children's tales; he read every last thing. When Rahim eventually found out, he immediately let Merasmus know that certain sections of the library were strictly forbidden. This only brought these specific books to the apprentice's attention.

He began reading these forbidden texts in their entirety; he just couldn't contain himself. Whenever he finished one book, he simply had to move on to the next; sometimes he didn't even wait to finish one before setting it down to see to another. He learned many powerful spells, the secrets of the universe and life itself…or rather, he learned OF many powerful spells and had no actual skill in the magical arts required to perform them, and of all the secrets he learned of, none remained in Merasmus' head for more than a few seconds as he simply tore through texts too fast to hold on to them, not to mention many of these "secrets" seemed oddly subjectively interpreted.

His immense knowledge deemed Merasmus an insufferable know-it-all by even his most academically inclined peers; it didn't help that he was often wrong at first, and would not admit to his factual inaccuracies, instead coming back the next day to spout his updated knowledge of a subject as if the previous day's events never happened. Needless to say, Merasmus was, and is, a very frustrating man to deal with, and when he joined the staff of the local university after the untimely death-by-rabid-plant of Ghi Rahim, was delegated to the back rooms of libraries and other out-of-the-way locations, never once being allowed to actually teach. Rarely, though, he would be allowed to participate in the universities' Committee of World Theories, which is where Merasmus showed his worth as an academic. When he focused himself on a single subject, Merasmus could piece together theories and simulations that left even the most senior professors scribbling hastily on their notepads; for once, there were actually sounds to be heard other than Merasmus' voice when the man spoke. Some would describe his ramblings as word-salad, being little more than big words strung together with a faux-graceful speech pattern, but even sworn enemies of the aging wizard admit that his theories have led to many, if minor, advancements in the research of many academic subjects.

Merasmus first felt the presence of Rennigan during a very heated Committee debate with an academic adversary. This particular professor took umbrage at the fact that one of Merasmus' new theories rendered her own obsolete, which would reasonably miff any academic, and she wasn't about to let some rambling old man overshadow her own meticulously-researched hypotheses. He argued with the woman in good faith for quite a while, but eventually grew tired of it. He began making long, exhaustive arguments against her theory, and it seemed that the longer he spoke, his colleague became more and more complacent, before calmly conceding to Merasmus' new theory. Merasmus wasn't going to complain, but he was certainly confused by the professors sudden surrender; it simply wasn't like her. He felt a strange power hover over himself, a presence that refused to be ignored.

He spent weeks studying the different proposed supernatural and godlike entities of the world, and eventually came across very old texts offering conjecture on beings referred to as "Titans". Those texts didn't offer great detail about these beings, but one such entity, Rennigan, seemed to fit what Merasmus had experienced during the Committee. A supposed power of those chosen by Rennigan involved subtly influencing others to side with the Champion. This was no doubt what happened to the opposing professor; she was by all means fiery and stubborn, yet by the end of Merasmus' speech, she had fallen nearly silent and went along with what he said. At their core, though, Rennigan was an eternal seeker of knowledge, and such a power was simply a means that could be employed to gain knowledge. If there was anything Merasmus enjoyed the most, it was learning, and so Rennigan seemed like the perfect being to follow. His extended lifespan was quite a large boon as well, of course; more time for reading! It was the closest thing to following a god that Merasmus would allow for himself.

Merasmus spent most of the past few hundred years in the library of his master's old home which the old man kindly gave to his apprentice in his will, continuing to tear through books he hasn't had the pleasure of reading yet, and using his paltry pay from working at the university to buy even more books, all the while using his powers of suggestion to squeeze those last juicy bits of info out of a person and writing them down in one of several journals in his library.

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Skills & Talents:

Alchemical expert: Capable of brewing just about any mixture, albeit of varying potency.

Text repair: Merasmus has had his share of rainy nights dousing some of his books, and many he buys have torn pages or flimsy spines. Over time he has learned how to effectively refurbish any book, within reason.

Wiz-Fu: A fighting style involving his staff. It is little more than flashy spins and twirls that may or may not distract an opponent before smacking them in the knee.

Walking encyclopedia: Name a subject, and Merasmus more than likely has at least a rudimentary understanding of it. If not, or he can't recall, then he can easily pull a related book from his bag and skim the important bits.

Very organized: Self explanatory, no?

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Equipment/weaponry:

Heavy, oversized black cloak;
Plain leather belt;
Purple cloth trousers and button-up long-sleeve shirt;
Limited Edition Galorand Alchemathon gardner's gloves;
Light studded leather boots;
Non-magical staff/walking stick;
Bag o' Books - Can hold a seemingly infinite amount of books…and ONLY books. All other items simply disappear;
Large alchemist's satchel;
Open-top bag that holds book refurbishing supplies, an ink well, a large bundle of paper and several spare quills.

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Magical abilities: N/A

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Reason for picking Titan/Branded:Merasmus has decided to join Rennigan in their eternal search for knowledge because their goal resonates so much with his own. Learning and experimenting is all he knows and, arguably, is in his blood if his parents being a part of an Institute have anything to do with it.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

<Snipped quote by MacabreFox>

I don't believe Roze has had the pleasure of talking to their fine Dunmer gentleman either. Definitely calling the collab "The Partay Boat" thought.

@MiddleEarthRoze

iirc Gcold specified fast, open-eneded back-to-back posting for the Winterhold mission; no collabs.

Or maybe I've gone insane and my brain is fabricating memories.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Dawnstar, just before boarding The Courtesan

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Everything seemed to be in order: he had given Edith everything he wanted to send off to Solitude and beyond. Sagax also requisitioned a new shirt, two healing potions, a potion of frost resistance, and a potion of magicka. Sagax explained to a slightly-confused Edith that he had no intention of using the potion himself, as he knew no magic, but he knew that there were several magic users in the company, and he wanted to keep a vial handy in the future in case any of them needed an emergency pick-me-up. Sagax may have been one impulsive sod, but he knew how to plan for the future...sometimes.

The next order of business was getting some new armor. His current attire would not be carrying him any further; the gaping holes would make sure of that. Thankfully, the local blacksmith was out working the forge, and he acknowledged Sagax with a look and a wave as the Imperial approached. The man looked Sagax's tattered armor over quickly and set his hammer down on the workbench next to him.

"Mornin'. Guessing ya need some new leathers? Or maybe you're looking to expand your arsenal? Whatever is, I've got it, friend! Got all my stock laid out on those tables there. Everything's marked down a'plenty today, too, so no need to be thrifty!" He said, pointing to three wooden tables lined up behind the forge. There were daggers, gauntlets, even a full steel breastplate...the man was clearly quite good at his craft and had every reason to be proud of his wares. Sagax crossed the creaking floorboards below over to one table and, after browsing for a few minutes, dug out a leather cuirass, buried below a set of chainmail armor. It seemed to be made out of harder leather than most of Sagax's Cyrodiil-made gear, more along the lines of what his boots were made out of, and it was constructed of layers of leather instead of a single piece stitched together. Dangling from the bottom hem of the cuirass was a draping length of chainmail that would probably reach just above his knees.

"Ah, a fine piece, is it not? Just made it. Hey, you're with that mercenary company, right? Well, you're gonna need a bit more protection than just those little kneeguards ya got there, lad!" After clearing a few swords away, the smith brought out a pair of long greaves, no doubt made of the same leather as the cuirass. "Why not throw in a few more septims for these, eh? I'll give ya some pauldrons, too, half off! What'dya say, lad? You're gonna need good quality gear in your line of work, no matter how fast ya are!"

It was hard to argue with the man. He wouldn't be able to rely on his speed forever; he'd take some hits eventually, and why not settle for just a large gash instead of missing a leg? The pauldrons would also no doubt be helpful in the long run, and it was all lined lined with fur on the inside to boot. Deciding it would all be worth the money, Sagax nodded his head in agreement. "Sure, you've got a deal." The smith's eyes brightened at these words as he shook Sagax's hand. "Aha, I knew you were a sensible man! Alright, come here and let's get this all fitted right..."

After getting his new gear to fit and paying the smith what was owed, Sagax approached the docks, his bag of coins being a bit lighter than before, though he was able to dock a few coins off of the greaves after trading in his old armor. Oh well, not like he was spending it on any thing else except for the odd bit of bread anyway. Besides, if he lived long enough he'd get all that money back, and the new gear would definitely help with that to be sure.

As he got closer to where The Courtesan was docked, Sagax was intercepted by none other than Vori, a fur cloak draped around her shoulders and holding a small bundle in her arms. Behind her were Frald and Alarik, dressed in furs of their own and with traveling packs rested on their backs. "Finally! Been looking all over for you, Psycho Rogue!" Psycho Rogue? What kind of a name was that? "Here, I got somethin' for ya." Handing over the bundle, Sagax found that it was a hooded fur cloak of medium length, reaching down below his hips. Wrapped up in the cloak were two flexible leather gauntlets with rough, bumpy palms and fingers.

"Since ya like to climb around and all that stuff, I thought I'd give ya my sister's old climbing gloves. She was a lot like you, but she used her skills to do more...ah, unsavory work. But that doesn't matter, I just wanted to give them to ya because you'd make more use out of'em than I would ever would, and honestly, I only brought them with me out of Windhelm because...well, us Nords can get sentimental too. They'll only make me mad every time I see'em, so just keep the things, I don't want'em." Vori's usual coy grin was slowly replaced by a forlorn grimace, and her eyes went further and further away from Sagax and towards the ground. Just exactly what kind of "unsavory work" did she mean? Sagax hoped it was simple thievery, but Vori's expression and tone hinted otherwise.

"Oh...well, uh...thanks, Vori." He couldn't think of anything else to say. The topic of Vori's sister was clearly off limits, and he still wasn't used to strangers just gifting him things like that. It was just awkward all around, and Vori was about to make it even more awkward for him.

"Ah, don't worry about it...Frald pitched the most in for the cloak anyway." Crossing her arms and rocking back and forth on her foot slightly, Vori looked from side to side in silence for a few moments before muttering something that sounded like "To hell with it" and leaning in close to Sagax and kissing him on the cheek. Alarik rolled his eyes at the sight, and Frald wore a bored expression and sighed audibly; he was used to this sort of thing with Vori, obviously. "Another one, Vori? Whatever happened to Wilhelm? Or Igmund? Or even that pretty young lass you liked to drink with? Sofie, right?" The only response that Vori would dignify Frald's wry quip with was an angry hiss and glare before turning back to Sagax, who had been struck into silence.

"I'd like ya to do one thing for me, Sagax. Just remember this: Being a little crazy can get ya places, but you'll get to even more by being strong. So remember your strengths...'cause I'd like to see you again." She finished with a wink and turned and walked towards her compatriots, nodding her head to the road out of Dawnstar. Waving their goodbyes, both parties turned and continued on to their respective destinations. Next stop: Winterhold.

12th of Sun's Height, aboard The Courtesan

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Sagax was enjoying his time on board The Courtesan. He didn't experience any of the...issues that plagued some of his comrades. He did try to stay far away from poor Sevine and Keegan though, both hurling nonstop over the side of the ship. The sounds they made were none too pleasant to Sagax, and very nearly caused a small chain reaction several times. Thankfully he could successfully drown them out with the sounds of the waves smacking the sides of the hull, though these very same waves kept him from spacing out completely as they caused the ship to rock back and forth.

His new armor and cloak made braving the cold on the top deck much easier, and he would often stay out far into the night to stargaze. The current situation contrasted heavily with what the company was dealing with hardly three days ago, and was much more pleasant overall. Well, for some people, anyway. Do'Karth was never even seen on the top deck, and Sevine was a little too busy disposing of her breakfast to chat. He didn't know where Roze was, though that was par for the course, really, and Jorwen was doing...something, somewhere on the ship. Hopefully he was having a better time than the others.

The sailors aboard made decent enough conversation, and a few even had really good stories. Some sounded rather far fetched, to be certain, but they were entertaining little tales nonetheless. One or two of the men poked fun at Sagax, asking him what grand adventures he had been on. They were taken aback by the tiny Imperial rogue going into great detail about how he nearly sunk a Kamal warship; he even had the burn scars to prove it. Many "Well I'll be damned"s were heard, to Sagax's great amusement.

14th of Sun's Height, the coast of Winterhold

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It was an eerie sight to behold: an entire town, gone below the waves, though it was hard to tell it was ever there at all. The only thing still intact was the College, sitting precariously an a large stone spire. The bridge connecting the College to the mainland had crumbled and fallen into the gorge, leaving the inhabitants stranded. The company's insertion point was apparently some kind of secret entrance around the base of the spire. He noticed that climbing gear was being loaded onto one of the smaller boats and decided to volunteer himself for the rescue, climbing was his specialty after all.

Stowing away his bag and cloak under the hammock he claimed for himself aboard the main ship, Sagax hopped onto the smaller boat commandeered by Keegan and the new Khajit, because no way in hell was he going to be sitting with Farid. Hearing another thud behind him, he saw Do'Karth take a seat, glaring at the waters below as if the ocean itself was his sworn enemy. "Ah we'll be fine, Do'Karth, don't worry about it. Besides, a short swim never hurt anyone right?" Sagax was in high spirits to be sure, though he had a feeling his furry friend didn't take to well to his jests...

B!tchfest: a healthy release for our non-roleplay annoyances.

Sleep schedules suck. I can never seem to go to sleep when I want to; I just end up laying in bed for three hours.