Sick Ducker — Roleplayer Guild

@xCRAZYxFACEx, what @Leidenschaft meant is replacing the Mages Guild with Synod or College of Whispers.

Still going through your sheet, will give you my verdict soon.

That's not a thing people seriously say, right? I mean, Akavir's on official maps if I'm remembering right. Like, it's an actual continent in the world.

Besides, that would mean the future of Tamriel isn't all that different from the present. All lore from in-game books and stuff indicate that the technological and magical state of Akavir isn't much different from the rest of the world. So they have katanas instead of longswords and there are also giants and monkeys...cool?@Frizan

You know, Windhelm was actually sacked by Dr. Brown and his Marty clones. They invaded because they needed plutonium to get their ironclads to 1.21 gigawatts.

Firewatch camp

Keegan awoke with a pounding head. He supposed this was what a good hangover feels like. The Altmer didn't really drink the foul liquid Nords called mead, so there's little personal experience to back it up. There was this one after party at the Daggerfall Theatre, where he had a little bit too much Bretonic brandy and subsequently woke up with obscene shapes drawn on his face. It was humiliating; some Bretons thought Altmers used phallic shapes as facepaint. From there on, Keegan's been sticking with tea and coffee.

To his utmost horror, it appeared that he had been carried. No matter how hard Keegan tried, the "useless support" never let him go. In fact, he was not metaphorically, but physically carried. His face tried to burn, but it wasn't much burning compared to the burning in his skull (or the burning in the woods). There's likely a concussion going on, and dried blood where his forehead got mashed by wood. Getting up was a challenge, and walking in a straight line felt like arm wrestling Kamals. Daelin knew dragging Keegan along would be a terrible idea, as he would go from "useless support" to "useless unsupportive". So the Bosmer quickly checked up on Keegan and went his way preparing for the next stop.

Thankfully, Keegan wasn't the only one getting wrecked. Though he really should feel bad, he couldn't help but smirk as the mighty "Huntress" got taken down by mere wolves. The wilderness was a truly unpredictable place, an equalizer where even the most experienced get put into their place. As more sense returned to his head, reason, and accompanying it, fear, seeped into Keegan's mind. There was him and the other two injured, along with a Nord who could only be best described as "Nordic". It was afternoon and the sun was bound to set soon. They were left to fend for themselves in the meantime.

Jorwen apparently made decent conversations with the legionary turned lumberjack. Keegan didn't like that in the slightest, as the only thing in common between a Stormcloak and a Legion soldier was killing elves. He stayed away from them and instead, found Rhasha'Dar with gruesome piercing wounds. It looked really, really bad, that's about as much as someone untrained in medicine could assess. Approaching a Rhasha set to gather ingredients, Keegan offered him a flask of water.

"Who would've thought that wood spirits fought harder than elite armigers." Keegan started, remembering how they both stumbled from seasickness into a deadly ambush. When the Khajiit finished drinking, or refused, Keegan took his own sip. “Say, what happened to that crossbow? It would have been pretty handy here.”

Some time then passed and the sun started to retire. Besides the basic team communication, Keegan had neither the mood nor the strength to talk in length. While he rode out the worst of his headache, the Altmer retrieved his staff and made sure it was still serviceable. He avoided Rothvar, that was, until Rothvar surprised him from behind.

“Uh...” Keegan stammered, locked in fear as he thought the Nord was going to beat him up.

“Easy, elf.” Rothvar laid a calloused hand on Keegan’s shivering shoulder. He pointed to the distance with the other hand. “We have guests.”

“Guests?” Keegan spun around to see what that was about. Rhasha and Sevine was nearby right now, and those two silhouettes were someone else, something else. Then it dawned on the Altmer; these shapes were humanoid, but bigger than any man, elf or beast. They were taller than Keegan himself, and that was no common feat considering his seven feet stature. In addition, they were bulky.

“Kamals!” Keegan nearly shrieked in terror. 

“Reckon we can take them?” Rothvar asked, not a clue as what he was about to face. 

“Reckon you want to join your friends?” Keegan’s eyes widened. He saw Rothvar frown at his words, so he took a calming breath to speak more politely. “They’re the snow demons that sacked Windhelm; no way on Nirn or Oblivion we can fight them, not when we’re all injured.” Sparing a glance to the Kamals’ direction, Keegan saw that they have not noticed the camp, yet.

“We’ve got to run.” Keegan suggested, but immediately regretted saying that when he noticed the path ahead was devoid of any cover, thanks to the thorough burn. Even if there were cover, he’s certain that none of them could run much in their state. “Actually, hide.”

“You do know they’re headed straight to your chief and his folks.” The Nord said. 

Keegan could not believe the stubbornness of the old fool, so he resorted to tugging the Nord off the center of the camp. With him out of the way, Keegan ran to inform Rhasha and Sevine. Everyone got behind a bundle of semi-charred bushes just as the Kamals noticed the camp. From where he crouched, Keegan observed that the pair of snow demons were quite different from each other. One was heavily armored and had a giant axe/hammer combo that could easily bust down walls. The other was clad head to toe in exotic fur and cloth, with a metal plate only covering its torso; this one had a bone staff with teeth of ice. The warrior Kamal made a lot of noise from merely shifting its legs, while the mage had gusts of frost swirling around its staff. 

The scariest part? They were splitting up to search around the camp.

Only then did Keegan notice the old lumberjack digging. He was digging long and narrow ditches in the ash-covered ground, with some haste considering only the basic tool was involved. The Nord looked to Keegan between handfuls and gestured to the first dugout. “Get in.” Rothvar stated simply.

“Why?” Keegan refused. “This is too damn early for graves!”

“Look kid, you want to hide, right?” Rothvar explained as he finished a second dig. “This is what the legion did to hide. You stay down and I smother you in dirt, except your face. Trust me, we fooled men a lot sharper than you.” 

With no better idea, Keegan lowered himself into the ground. He saw the Kamal mage walking closer and closer. He closed his eyes, so dirt wouldn’t blind him, as Rothvar began pouring ash on him. Silently, he mouthed a prayer to Auriel, hoping that this crazy plan would somehow work.

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