Lauder

The Elder Scrolls: Days of Night

Drujha Nagmesh, Master of the Daedra

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Name: Drujha Nagmesh.
Race: Argonian
Age: 33
Birthsign: The Steed
Family Origins: Soulrest, the Black Marsh

Appearance:

Standing at approximately 5’5”, Drujha is not the tallest Argonian around and her more frail appearance makes her even less intimidating than most of her kin, even if she tries to carry herself at the tallest she can manage. To many, she still seems youthful as her dark scales hide the marks of stress and age. Her thinner build, does not help very much fitting the build that would be expected of someone who relies on more upon magic than any physical trait, however, it does help with first impressions. It is no doubt that she also takes great pride in maintaining her youthful appearance.

To hide her frailer nature, Drujha sports a heavy cloak, almost as dark as her scales and lined with white fur and adorned with traditional argonian patterns that ends just below her stomach though traveling the full length of her arms. Under the cloak she wears a tattered, dark purple tunic that extends to her knees but is missing the sides, which show the soft scales of the argonian. She wears blackened pants, adorned in symbols of various draemora symbols alongside other script in the argonian language, tucked into brown boots. Overall, she seems to be a neat and always clean, with the exception of the tattered tunic she wears beneath her cloak which seems to hardly see the light of day. Her hands are wrapped in linens, bloodied and dirty, almost ruining the appeal of her otherwise clean wardrobe.

Moving onto her physical attributes, this argonian has a head full of dark blue plumage that runs down to the base of her skull and goes outwards. While this may make wearing hoods a bit more difficult, they do not take away from her seemingly glowing yellow, reptilian eyes. Drujha’s skin is riddled with various deadric symbols that have either been burned into her skin or carved into her, not a sign of daedric worship but of her commitment to attempt controlling them, however, this does make people assume she worships them.

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Personality:

Over time, Drujha has grown to become what many would note as controlling and highly self-absorbed in a world that only she lives in. These claims have rooted in the fact that Drujha seeks control in order to keep others safe, in order to mold a world that she views as perfect in every regard, whether or not that means she has to alienate a few people does not bother her. In that light, it is clear that she has become a tad bit cynical and cold as she believes that nobody will understand, or even support, her vision of a world where the daedra were totally controlled. To many, it seems that her obsession with control borders that edge of sanity and insanity as she attempted to garner further power in her magic. Once, she was very eager and happy to share her ideals, but rejection and argument have tempered her to believe other things and while she does maintain a happy and outgoing appearance, it has been lessened.

She is one who will not expect others to understand her vision, though she does not a actively force her ideals down another throat. If one does not agree with her ideals, then she tends to drop the subject altogether and move into other topics of converts. If it was not overtly apparent, it would seem that the only thing she cares about would be her great dream to an almost fanatical degree, but to say it is the only thing she cares about would be wrong. Drujha cares deeply for her argonian roots, caring deeply for the hist that made her who she is and her family that has raised her.

That being said, Drujha is very much a pragmatist. She is cunningly brutal and brutally cunning, offering no remorse for those who have wronged her or actively stepped in the way of her vision. In this way, strangers have been known to call her heartless for not considering the impacts of her choices and what it would do. For her, there is nothing an individual could offer if they get in her way, no information, no bartering for lives, no mercy, it is how she earned a reputation amongst some cults that she has had to deal with.

On a lighter note, due to her studies of daedra, she is very much a fan of literature, finding great pleasure from reading various works of fiction. While, to a minor extent, this liking spreads to other arts, she views literature as more grasping than the others as she finds herself lost in words from time to time. Additionally, Durjha enjoys conversation, whether they be philosophical in nature or just to pass the time, and while her cynical nature may sometimes make others shy away from in depth conversation, she does her best to not let that cynicism actively drive one away. In that aspect, and others, she is a well mannered individual.

With her well mannered self, Drujha is a great guest, and a great host, never interrupting someone when they speak as well as giving them her undivided attention. She will smile, apologize, thank, etc as she has learned that it is with good manners that others are more likely to see you in a better light.

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History:

Even when Drujha was but a mere hatchling, heard tale of the Oblivion Crisis and how it seemed to have devastated the world over, only to be driven back by the likes of the ‘Hero of Kvatch’ and usher in a newer era of peace. However, Drujha was more enamored with the aspect of the Oblivion Crisis that is often forgotten to the outside world, that the Argonians had managed to invade the daedra and defeat them in their own plane of Oblivion. She remembered that she would always ask her elders to speak of those tales that had been passed down, and when they did not wish to speak, they would give her a book of the event and she would read it. Being born with a strong connection to magic, she felt that perhaps she could live up to and do even more than what her ancestors had done.

By consequence, it was these tales that started the, arguably, unhealthy obsession with the Daedra and how to control them since it had been shown that the Argonians are more than able to invade there likes. Drujha would study and study, leading her to the likes of magic and conjuration as she had read that powerful mages could summon Daedra from their planes and use them against their foes. This prompted her to seek a teacher from a young age, only barely reaching her adolescence before a begrudging mage would finally take her under his wing, teaching her the basics of magic. This teacher was known to some in Cyrodil as Walks-In-Water, and was commonly referred to as such by his peers. It was under Walks-In-Water that this young mind became focused on her goal as he demonstrated that mages could, in fact, summon Dremora from other planes of existence.

Her favorite memory would be the time when she first managed to summon something, while it was not Daedra or Dremora, it had been something. After years of studying, years of practicing spells and other forms of magic, she had summoned a dagger from nothing and Drujha knew that she had to learn more, and so she did. Conjuration was a difficult aspect to learn, but Drujha was determined and eager to learn and practice anything that she needed in order to move forwards. The lass would stay with her teacher for many years as she learned and absorbed his knowledge, until he had learned of her intentions and refused to teach her any further, but by that point, her obsession had grown too great and her desire too strong. In a bout of rage, Drujha slew her master with the magic that he had taught her and she fled before any could find what had happened, travelling to Cyrodil so that she may learn more.

It was at this point in her life of traveling a refining her magic through books and scrolls, that Drujha had gotten involved with a Daedric cult dedicated to Molag Bal, the Harvester of Souls. At first, it had started as an investigation into daedric activity, not knowing that they had been dedicated to the Prince of Domination, near a small town on the way from Cyrodiil to Morrowind. However, she was quickly found and captured by the cultists when she began to actively investigate the area they were known to frequent. After many weeks being chained to a pole and being interrogated, her mind had slipped in and out of sanity until inevitably, she fell to the cultists. It was within her time with this cult that she had perhaps learned more about the Daedra and their creations than she could have ever desired, but the thirst persisted within her and eventually she got in too deep. The markings that are scattered on her body were caused by this cult, they took they daggers and hot irons and put the markings of Molag Bal upon her flesh. They took her and molded her for a time, allowing her to become drunk on a power that she did not fully understand, but eventually, Drujha had done it, she had been able to summon a Dremora Lord from some plane of existence. It had taken nearly ten years of perfection, ten years of trial and error, ten years of her life dedicated to the study of daedra, but she had done it. It was a power that grew mad with power with, unable to come out of her stupor until one day as she ate with her comrades, something within her told her to run for her life.

So she did, slaughtering the cultists with her newfound magic and proceeding to run, proceeding to run just as she had when she had killed her master all those years ago. She had little to time to rest until she realized that she had ran all the way to a local hist tree that had taken root, a rare sight outside of the Black Marsh. Drujha knew that the Hist was saving her from a fate that would have cost her the soul that they had given her, something that she should not throw away so willingly and it was a warning to what the power could do to the minds of those unprepared for it. She ingested the sap of the hist and allowed her vision to clear her mind.

Drujha says that she saw her plan coming to fruition, controlling the daedra and their creations to bring in an age of her own design. She saw the people of Tamriel in a crowd around her, clearly impressed by her power. It was then that she knew that she had to dedicate more to her studies, but she knew that she had to be cautious lest she return that mindset the cult had instilled within her.

Biggest Regret: Drujha is haunted by the slaying of her master, he had gotten in her way of her dream, but Walks-In-Water had encouraged her to use her powers. She may not be able to forgive him, or herself, but she knew that it was wrong to kill him just for denying to teach her any further when she could have left and sought out another teacher.

Character Name ‘s Goal: Drujha’s goal is one of grand designs, to control all of the Daedra and use their power to mold Tamriel to a land of her design. She desires to bring in an age of peace unknown to the races of man and beast, willing to use the power of a force that can barely be comprehended by the likes of anyone but her. She will bring peace, freedom, justice, and security to her new empire.

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Skills:

Expert:

• Conjuration - Years of study within a Daedric Cult and under her former master, Walks-in-Water, had proven that she possess a talent for the art of conjuration.
  Adept:
• Destruction - One of the first areas of magic that she had studied, first learning how to use the forces of flame, frost, and lighting in self-defence. This was refined throughout her life, but not so much the extend of Conjuration.
• One Handed - Travelling Cyrodil can be dangerous to the untrained, luckily the Cult have taught her how to properly wield a blade and how to fight with the foracity only seen in a follower of Molag Bal, or an Argonian defending the hist.
• Enchanting - Another area taught by Walk-in-Water, imbuing objects with magic was refined as she made magical objects for her fellow cult members before she feld.
  Novice:
• Illusion - The last area of magic that Walks-in-Water had taught her, however, she never got far after killing Walks-in-Water.
• Sneak - Members of Cult must learn to be stealthy lest the officials catch them and punish them.

Spells:

• Conjure Dremora Lord
• Command Daedra
• Banish Daedra
• Conjure Storm Atronach
• Chain Lightning
• Clairvoyance

Equipment: An Iron War-Axe, A satchel filled a waterskin and some bread, three notebooks with her findings on daedra and how best to control them, an ink and quill, and exactly thirty septims.
Misc. Possessions: She owns both volumes of the Lusty Argonian Maid

The Elder Scrolls: Days of Night

I'd be super interested in trying to get a good application in!

Also @POOHEAD189

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

@Mae

What possible idea could it have given you?

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

Aurix

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Aurix was quick to follow Lauk down the pit, not truly caring that Jhimas and a few of the party had to deal with personal matters as it would hardly have any consequences on her survival. Luckily, they had replacement soft-skins, though she had not gotten a good look at them since being ushered to the platform that would lower her, and the rest of the party down. The lizardfolk did, however, notice that one was slightly meatier and she knew it was a good enough boon should that member happen to die, though she had to remember her ‘manners’ as some of the party had previously put. She knew not what manners were, but she figured it just meant to not make comments about eating soft-skins upon their eventual demise to further her own survival, though she could never be too sure.

Her gaze went to Ardour before letting out a huff at the tall man, moving to the platform and dropping the necessary amount of useless coin that Durnan had demanded for the entire party, excluding Luak. “Come, tiefling. I do not trust Achthend by himself and I don’t think the turtle is capable enough to handle him,” Aurix started, crossing her arms in a generally impatient fashion.

In the few seconds it took for her to be lowered down, along with her party of course, Aurix could not help but remember the time the group had spent in the dark caverns in the past, slaying the drow that had dared to imprison her. The times were certainly better then, plenty of corpses to feast upon and never an empty stomach because of it, missing the feeling of eating raw flesh that the more intolerant could not bare to eat. However, she had little time to think about those times as she reached the bottom of the pit and spotted her horse, standing there and scuffing the floor with his hoof. The horse had an attitude, something Aurix found mildly amusing.

She walked over to Achthend, handling his reigns to move him to what looked to be the back of the room, eyeing the tortle all the while. In addition, Aurix swiped up the saddle as she passed by. It took her a moment to properly get the saddle on Achthend, rubbing his snout every now and again as he whinnied and continued to paw at the ground with his hooves. It seemed that he did not like it down in this tight, confusing space, but he would have to get over it eventually otherwise he would prove to be useless rather quickly.

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

@Mae

Updated my gold for Achthend going down and payed 2 Gold for Aurix. Will likely have a post up today or tomorrow!

Edit:
Decided to be generous and pay for the entire party to go down. Also going to lead Achthend to the back wall to get his saddle on him when Aurix gets down there.

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

@Mae

Gah! I am sorry, but I won’t be able to get a post out for this. I’ll subtract the gold for going down but my creative juices aren’t there for writing a silent lizardfolk paying for her and her horse to go down the pit.

I’m sorry, but I’ll opt to just move forward. :[

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

@Mae

I’ve just been a bit busy is all, I can get a post up after work.

Civilization IV - Empires Reborn

Bukradul

^{Turn 1}

The tribe was busy, their makeshift huts sprawling across the landscape in a shanty, disorganized fashion as the sun dawned over an already awakened and contemplating Guthug. It was clear that they could sustain themselves on the food they hunted, but for how long was a question that he did not have the answer for, especially if the tribe was to grow into this rough land. As he leaned to pick up a rock, Guthug inspected it before the sunrise brought light into his eyes, the chieftain tossed the rock up, allowing to fall back down and land in his hand before repeating the process of tossing and catching. The shamans had told him that they needed to connect with the local nature in order to thrive, in order for the gods to grace them with bountiful hunts and harvest, should they find somewhere to plant crop in the rocky place they now called home.

Guthug grunted as he crushed the pebble in his hand, after a moment the leader waited for the wind the grace him with a touch before throwing the remnants of the rock into the air.

"Akrosh guide me," he said as the debris took flight, moving inland and towards the great beasts that feasted on the land and the carnivores that hunted them. Guthug could only once more think to himself before he made his way back to his own hut, gathering a spear made of wood and stone, along with a horn to summon the shamans to his aid. With his supplies gathered, Guthug made his way to the edge of the tribe's outskirts and blew into the horn, its deep and booming sound moving across the land and the tribe to summon those elder shamans to his location. While he waited, Guthug stabbed the spear into the ground and knelt before it allowing himself to think more on what task he wished to chase and which animal the tribe would first associate itself with. This was no easy matter to decide as whichever animal they chose would grant them only a specific boon from the gods that they wished to commune with.

The mighty wolf, the first choice and the first tamed by Akrosh, it was these mighty beasts that allowed the ancestors to thrive and learn that working as one, as a pack, meant success. It was the wolf that loyally served, the wolf that die for its kin, the wolf that was the hallmark of a leader as an alpha to guide the tribe down a righteous path. Guthug knew Akrosh would approve of this choice, but with all the versatility and power that the wolf had made it arrogant, a sin they could not afford to plague themselves with lest they wish to see the ire of the ancestors and the gods. Perhaps one of the other choices would please the ancestors more.

The boar, the second chosen but the last to be tamed by Akrosh, a savage beast that proved to be a threat even to an orc in his prime with tusks easily bigger than their own. They were ruthless, powerful, and ever vigilant on what it would next eat, whether that choice be a natural found herb or a carcass that it sought a right to devour. Their tenacity would prove to show the tribe's will to survive in any place they set their mind to, willing to do what they must to survive and to defend itself from whatever is a threat. However, the boar was aggressive and dangerous, it would drive away potential animals to be tamed and brought into the tribal fold and it would make any native tribe more cautious and skeptical of their intentions in this new land. Then the last choice.

The graceful and cunning hawk, the third to be tamed by Akrosh but the first chosen by both Orzg and Mork, able to spot potential prey and able to grasp a potential meal with talons of iron. It would be the hawk that would think and strike without even being seen by its prey, able to out think even the wolf and match the tenacity of the boar should it be desperate. Their meaning to the tribe would be one based on traps and to travel great distances, nothing would stop them from taking flight. However, the hawk distanced itself and made it unknown to those who sought to befriend it, it would make the tribe more cautious and more skeptical of even the best of omens. No doubt, it would make the orcs seem strange and wild to even the noblest of people.

Guthug could smell the burning of herbs, the shamans had arrived.

"Guthug the Damned, what have you summoned we few for?" a shaman spoke.

"I seek to invoke the Rite of the Land so that I may bring the first beast to us, to define our path so long as I may live," Guthug answered, his voice stern and his knelt form unmoving. He knew that a crowd had gathered, voices whispered behind the shamans as the placed the burning herbs behind the chieftain before pushing the staffs into the back of him.

"The Rite of the Land may only be invoked once, the beast you chose will be the mark of the Bukradul for as long as you shall live. But the gods must know the choice you make so that they may bestow the proper blessing onto us," the shamans said in unison.

Guthug moved to stand, feeling the staffs being pushed deeper as they urged him to quickly make a choice and end the ritual, but he had hardly the time to deliberate on which animal to chose. The wood bored into him and he remained silent, the people began to speak in their hushed voices as they were curious as to why their leader was taking so long to chose which of the numerous sacred animals. Eventually their whispers began to grow, talk and then a debate. After another moment, Guthug raised his hands into the air, silencing the crowd before he spoke, "I chose the elk!"

The shamans retracted their staffs.

"The Second Chosen and tamed by Akrosh, for its power and strength through times of trial, as well as the protection of a herd," Guthug continued, retrieving his spear form the ground.

"The let it be known, Guthug the Damned, that you have chosen the graceful and noble elk. You may not return to the tribe until you have tamed a mighty stag while wearing the skin of one of its herd. Let Akrosh guide your hand, and may your hunt bear bountiful harvest." The shamans said in unison, allowing the chieftain to sprint into the wilderness to claim the herd as his own.

actions

A) / D) Guthug takes to wilderness to tame an Elk stag and his herd, or at least a portion of it, to gain the favor of the gods and bring in food for the tribe to slaughter to sustain themselves and complete a portion of the circle of life.

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

A fat human is a delicious human, will feed Aurix for a good while...

Will get a post up in a bit.

Civilization IV - Empires Reborn

Bukradul

^{Turn 0}

There, on the beaches of these new lands, did the orcs of Bukradul land their boats, weaved together with trees commanded by the shamans who asked for the aid of nature to side with them. It had been months at sea, once they had numbered ten ships, now they only numbered a mere two, with the winds and the rough currents of the seas fighting them at every turn, claiming many for its own maw. The sea had been a foreign enemy to them, a foreign enemy that was quick to fell them when it had the opportunity despite the powerful connection to nature that the orcs had commanded. Yet, now they had escaped its clutches, the two ships beaching themselves and those more capable jumped onto the sands to scout out their landing, moving the start of a forest.

No threats could immediately be seen, giving a breath of relief for these orcs who merely wanted to rest and find some moniker of peace to bless them. Gradually, the women and the children came off of the ship, followed by many of the shamans who began to unravel the twisted trunks of the trees to begin making some rudimentary form of shelter for the entirety of the tribe's survivors. In the bowels of the largest ship, sat the form of Guthug the Damned, his light brown skin hunched over the carcass of deceased boar that had not survived the voyage to the new land.

A shaman approached him from behind, laying an old hand on the shoulder while leaning against his staff. "Grok was a good boar," the shaman commented, allowing a toothy smile to overtake the wrinkled face.

Guthug turned his head but did not look at the old shaman, his gaze moving back to the boar before bringing his arms around the boar and lifting Grok up, cradling it like a newborn. "Grok was the first beast to rally to our cause, and the last to die on this voyage," Guthug said solemnly, turning to finally look back at the shaman, who raised an eyebrow before reeling back and headbutting the grieving chieftain who nearly dropped the corpse of Grok.

"Are you challenging me, Uruk?" Guthug growled moving his hand cover the spot which Uruk had just struck.

Uruk let out a laugh, "No, but I have been called mad! Tell me, Guthug, are you so blind to the other animals that have helped us through this journey?"

Guthug snorted, before answering the shaman, "There are no other animals. They all died."

"Is that so? Then how come you see not the smallest of mice? Perhaps you truly are blind!" Uruk laughed, motioning to a small, brown mouse moving along the intertwined branches of the ship. Scurrying up the gnarled staff that the shaman held before taking the mouse in his hand. "Remember that even the smallest of creatures help. This mouse has brought plenty of seed for us to grow, for even he has more foresight than the mighty Guthug the Damned!"

Guthug huffed before moving past Uruk, continuing to cradle the body of Grok.

"Grok will serve as a friend in your death, unless you decide to push away nature itself that is," Uruk continued before a wall unfurled itself to serve as a window to the orcish people that moved away from the beach, fathers and sons laughing, mothers and daughters playing. The shaman wrapped his arm around the taller orc, speaking again, "Look away from the loss and see what we are gaining! You cannot be such a pragmatist forever!"

Guthug nodded before looking back down to Uruk, "Maybe you are right, Uruk. I have not seen these people this happy since we have left for this new place."

"Go! Go and get some of that happiness, boy!" Uruk laughed, bringing a light smile to the Damned. Though a sudden headbutt swiftly brought that smile down in annoyance, causing to walk away from the mad shaman.

As Guthug hopped off the side of the ship, he walked towards his people, those who noticed him ran up to him with happiness of finally being free of the ocean's embrace. As they saw the body of Grok, however, they were quick to embrace the chieftain and give a swift pet down the snout of the deceased boar, a last sign of comfort for the spirit of the boar before it departed into the heavens. The people helped to dig a grave for the boar, moving on to digging graves for the few animals that they needed not to throw overboard out of fear of rot and evil spirits. It was silent for the most part, as the people grieved with the chieftain before many attempted to bring his mood up through song and dance, and it worked.

They made merry into the night, the shamans calling for them to a swiftly crafted longhouse made from the same trees that had made the ships. The people continued to make merry and Guthug watched them from a dune, a soft smile across his face which grew as a group of children ran up to him.

"Chieftain Guthug," a small girl began, "What are going to call our new home?"

For a moment, Guthug thought to himself, running his hand across the stubble of his chin before he picked up the girl and hoisted her onto his shoulder, laughter following. With a mighty shout and thrust of his hand into the air the chieftain called out the name of their new blessed land, "Sumbad!"

Soon the other orcs began to follow, chanting the name of their new home.

Sumbad! Sumbad! Sumbad!