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    1. thegreenleafe 12 yrs ago
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@Thrashy Looks good


Chapter I: The Twin Lanterns


Smoke rose from the guar hide yurt, chanting is heard. As you approached the yurt grows into a the Red Mountain as smoke grew thicker and the chanting grew louder. You enter in through a cave opening and inside is a child of Velothi, an ashlander. This particular ashlander has as many wrinkles as rings on a tree, yet her violet eyes are youthful and the pools of amethyst pierce your soul. She begins to speak in your native language,

Old Powers have risen, a quest taken by the lowest of castes, together they will stop the Old Darkness, from making the land forever crimson and covered in blackness.

As each word finishes you are pulled farther and farther away by an invisible force only to wake up in cold sweats on your mat. Here, under a Telvanni Tower that is nestled in the Grazelands far away from another town. Underneath the tower lies the roots of the great tower with the help of magic and stone rooms were crafted complete with enchanted bars. The security is lackadaisical since there is nowhere to go for miles, the guards often let small commodities go, for a price. All in all its not the worst place to be a slave.

Away from your quaint little tower filled with quaint little people lies Morrowind, filled with much more interesting people and places. For example take the West Gash, there lies a multitude of Cities bordered by the Inner Sea and the Ashlands. Its the distance is overwhelming, however there lies so much more opportunity, or so you imagine. Ever since you've been enslaved you can only recall good things about the homeland of the rather too proud Dumner. However there are problems, the Great House Telvanni has seceded from the Imperial Province of Morrowind and has began the United Telvanni Kingdom. The two remaining Great Houses Redoran and Sadras have been left to deal with the Province's problems without the magical superiority of Telvannis.

Outside of the Province of Morrowind lays seven other Provinces. Each of them must now deal with the failed Stormcloak uprising by terrorist Jarl Ulfric. The uprising has led with ideas of freedom from the aging and now deteriorating Imperial Empire. In Valenwood the local Bosmer are attacking forts, in Argonia there is total chaos, the Khajit in Elsweyr have remained strangely quiet, Hammerfell is divided in between Redguards and Orcs, in High Rock the Bretons are with the Loyalist as well as Skyrim. The world is changing all while you sit in a little cell.
New Characters are welcome for any passerbyers
Pathfinder


Name: Jitharee

Race: Argonian

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Appearance: Jitharee is a large Argonian, reaching 6'2 and nearly as wide as an orc. His bodily scales take the color of greenish black and a grey chest and neck while the scales atop his head are bone white in color, giving it the appearance of bone instead of flesh. The snout on his head is fairly bare with the only several jaw horns to speak of however a large claw scar runs from the top of his snout to the bottom of the right side of his jaw, a larger run runs across his chest and an uglier one runs down his spine. Jitharee's scales are a lot rougher than the average Argonian with ridges and bumps more akin to that of a crocodile. Lastly his eyes are very dark in color, almost completely black.

Personality: Jitharee is a individual hardened by conflict, pain, and cruelty. It will take time for the shell to crack or earn his trust but when you do you will have a friend who will lay down his life a thousand times for yours. Background: Once a warrior, a husband, and a freeman. Now a laborer, a widower, and a slave. All because of that damned elf.

Abilities:
- Born of the Hist
- Argonian racial abilities
- A superb warrior
- Can create basic Argonian arms and armor. - Knows what you should, and should not eat in the wilderness



thegreenleafe


Name: Ayron Atticaron

Race: Imperial

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Appearance: Ayron is around 6 feet tall and of medium build. He has unkempt black hair complete with beard that has a three long scar on the that interrupt the beard. Ayron has sun tanned, usually dirty, skin that go along with his ice blue eyes.

Personality: Before his enslavement Ayron was very optimistic, naive, and loud, all of which come with youth. However now, 8 years into slavery, he is much quieter and skeptical of almost anything. The only thing he believes in is escape at any means possible. However slavery has made him loyal to those he calls his friends.

Background: Ayron was born in the Imperial City and he was quite curious about everything. He often got himself in trouble with guards but Ayron had a way with words that always seemed leave the guards confused as to why they let him go. As he grew up Ayron wanted to leave the city and explore the world. The Imperial knew he needed to find money some how so he began to delve in and out of ruin looks for anything of value. Lucky for him Ayron came upon something that shook the Imperial City, he found an archaic tomb of an Elven Warlord which was filled with treasure and rare artifacts. Ayron finally hit it big. At 20 he was ready to leave so he made way for the country of Morrowind hoping to find something of value there. Again he did but the natives weren't so happy about him breaking into an ancestral tomb. He was thrown into jail for a year before constant cuts made the prison sell him into Telvanni slaver

Abilities:
-Ayron is good with his words even though he learned that trying to talk your masters out of punishment is only a bad idea.
-Deduction
-Decent Swordsmanship
-Surprisingly sneaky for an Imperial.



agentmanatee

Name:Jo'ari Raihan

Race:Khajit

Gender:Female

Appearance: Short (as most khajit are) at 5'3 with a thin, lithe frame. Fur is the dark black of a panther with the same emerald green eyes. Her muzzle is much like any other khajit, though her large eyes give it the illusion of being a bit smaller than it is. The black fur is unbroken by any other color on her fur, though it is slightly lighter on her chest and stomach.

Personality: A mysterious, and untrusting khajit, often overly paranoid. Though it is possible to earn her trust it takes a lot of work. Despite this, she cares very deeply for those around her, and has somewhat of an attachment problem at times.
Background: Born in Elsweyr, Jo'ari was born with a fascination with magic. In Elsweyr it was hard for her to learn it, especially with her fsther. Jo'ari's mother died when Ari was still very young, and her and her father were left alone. Her father was a thief in a nearby guild, and he wanted his daughter to be a master thief like him. He taught the child to never trust anyone but family, thus upbringing obviously made her suspicious and secretive to all but her father. She ended up specializing largely in illusion and alteration, to help with her thievery, though she knows bits of other schools as she has always preferred and wished to be able to focus only on magic. And now something went wrong, she was betrayed on a job by someone, and she's been s slave for a fair amount of time. Hopefully the quiet khajit can get out of her current predicament, but she may be unable to finally escape alone.

Abilities
-Talented mage (especially with illusion and alteration)
-Decent stealth, a fairly good thief
-Lover of knowledge and books, an information sponge especially with magical theory or spells
-Good with a staff and one handed sword when used in concert (though far from her best strength)



Vagabond

Name: Kharrn gro-Narzulbur
Race: Orc
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Appearance: Tall, around 6'4", heavily muscled frame and wide stature. Pale green skin with black hair worn in the Orc mohawk though his time in slavery has made it a bit ragged and unkempt along with his goatee that is rapidly becoming what passes for a beard amongst Orcs. His eyes are a honey brown color that tend to be bloodshot and his tusks jut up from the growth of his beard, he has several bone spurs protruding from his brow. He carries an assortment of scars and has tattoos reminiscent of the patterns seen in Dwarven arms and armor as well as the swirls and lines of Skyforge Steel.

Personality: He would much rather run a forge than spend an extended amount of time being involved with other people, however, his time in slavery has forced him to get used to interacting with others. Initially he is quiet and reserved, waiting and watching though he will speak when spoken to. He continues to live by the Code of Malacath as best he can while enslaved and believes that everyone gets a fair chance.

Background: Born and raised in Narzulbur within Skyrim as the stronghold's head smith. He was forced out of the stronghold when a valuable collection of ebony ore from Gloombound Mine went missing, but not before he defended his innocence with a few good swings of his hammer. Mercenary work proved adequate for a time before he was captured and sold into slavery with his smithing background listed as a key selling point.

Abilities:
-Orc abilities
-Skilled with axes and blunt weapons
-Skilled blacksmith, desperately wants to know more about enchanting
-Knows basic fire spell and basic alchemy
-Amateur archer and hunter



Polaris North

Name: Q'lar
Race: Khajit
Age: 23
Gender: Male

Appearance: Standing at 5'5", Q'lar is quite small. He has brown fur that resembles orange. He has black stripes around his arm and stomach area and acquired some scars in his face. He looks almost like every other Khajit although the fierceness in his eyes are like no other.

Personality: He is quite the liar, often lying than telling the truth. He can be surprisingly kind when he wants to but this is usually a lie like most of his personality. No one knows what his true personality is so he can be pretty unpredictable. He wears many masks and has no problem changing between it in a blink of an eye.

Background: Q'lar was born in Elswyr, raised in Skyrim. He was trained by his parents to be a good thief and how to protect himself. He has trained for almost six years before the rebellion broke out and they had to lay down for a while. When the battle was over, they were instantly caught and was forced under slavery. His parents died because they retaliated and now Q'lar wanted revenge but he doesn't mind if it takes time. He will wait for the right moment.

Abilities:
- He's a very good thief.
- He's decent with a bow and arrow and knives
- He knows basic magic spells.



The Great Nahman Jayden

Name: Michael Jayla
Race: Imperial
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Appearance: Michael stands 177cm(5'10) tall and has thick brown hair. His blue eyes compliment his pale complexion. He is thin, just shy of his ribs being visible on his stomach. His legs are barely able to keep himself up, forcing Michael to use restoration to stay standing. A scar from a sword runs down his left cheek, with whip scars all along his back.

Personality: Michael is charismatic and charming, used to talking himself out of situations. He normally keeps quiet and out of the way unless he is needed, although he will stand his ground on all matters Empire related. He is a true patriot, holding zealot levels of pride for the Imperial Empire. He is more than willing to betray people to save himself, unless of course this would mean damaging the Empire in any way. He despises Dunmer.

Background: Michael grew up in Cyrodiil, the Imperial Heartland. Originally from the town of Cheydinhal, he was forced to try talking himself out of sticky situations several times due to his slum upbringing. Growing up in a city mostly populated by Dunmer, he soon found himself developing a hate for them. At the age of 14, tired of going to bed hungry, he stole a sword and set out on a hike to the Imperial City.

When bandits attacked him on the way, he managed to convince them that war-torn Skyrim had more opportunities. They left him with a mace, a spell book and a bellyful of mead. During the rest of his trip, he discovered a deep love for maces, despite being too weak to swing them properly. Michael soon realized that using restoration magic, he could augment his strength temporarily to allow him to fight.

He arrived at the gates of the Imperial City starved, having used magic to keep himself from dying from malnourishment. He found someone shady enough to purchase his stolen sword and his spell book, the contents already memorized. A job opened up for him; the night shift at a small market stand. The money was used to finance his studies at a small magic academy. After his boss found out he was forging the books and embezzling, he fled the city.

After weeks of walking he arrived in Morrowind, only to be accused of being an Imperial spy. Forced into slavery by the one race he hates, Michael eagerly awaits the chance to escape and help restore glory to the Empire.

Abilities:
-Skilled at Restoration magic
-Good with words
-Good at bartering
-Can manage money well
-Decent with a mace
-Solidly OK at foraging



@Vagabond @Pathfinder @The Great Nahman Jayden @Polaris North This is the new page. I'll try to get the first IC up.


From the Ashes shall be Woken

Welcome! In this game, we take on the roles of a group of people turned slaves in the eastern province of Morrowind, where our characters will become involved in events of such magnitude that they might change the fate of Tamriel forever.
Story

In the year of 225 of the 4th Era, following the defeat of the Stormcloak rebellion, ideas of independence has spread like wildfire across the continent. The Imperial army, decimated by the war in Skyrim and stretched to the point of breaking, is having a hard time repressing insurgents in the many provinces. The Great House Telvanni of Morrowind has seized the opportunity to openly but informally secede from Imperial rule, sparking further conflict. And all the while an old enemy is waking beneath the ashen surface of the land of the Dunmer, unseen in the shadow of Imperial invasion.
Rules

The rules are simple. Don’t sabotage the game for others, heed my advice, don’t break the rules. Offenders will be warned. Repeat offenders will be banned.
Characters

Your character is a slave. You might not have been born as such, but you have been one for some time now. Life has taken you by carriage and boat, through rain and shine to the northeastern tip of the continent, the Telvanni Isles. Life here is strange, and the people stranger still. Whatever you had heard about the Argonian invasion of Morrowind, you realize it must never have made it here. The people on the isles live as though they were unaware of the world outside them. That or they just don’t care. Either way, you’re here now and your chances of freedom have never looked bleaker.

The guideline for creating a character in this game is growth. Don’t submit a finished piece of perfection. Plant a seed and see what happens. Let the events and circumstances shape your character into the hero s/he’s eventually going to become.
Please post your finished CS in the Character tab.


Rumors

Below are some rumors and topics of conversation sometimes heard in taverns and cornerclubs throughout the land. Your character may know of some or all of these things already, or could find out in the game, at your discretion.

  • Since the death of the Emperor, the political climate in Cyrodiil has reached a boiling point. People are speaking of civil war, and many Imperial Legates are said to be withdrawing from their provinces to steal the throne for themselves.
  • The Aldmeri Dominion is having a hard time. Elsweyr and Valenwood is in open rebellion against their Thalmor oppressors, leaving the Dominions forces too preoccupied with internal affairs to take advantage of the growing crisis in Cyrodiil.
  • The Cult of Talos, a sect within the Imperial faith, has grown strong and is surfacing all across Tamriel. Members of the Cult are described as aggressive and have been reported terrorizing villages and towns into submission under strict religious rule under the god of men.
  • Some say that the Redguards of Hammerfell are building a large fleet to attempt the impossible: invading the Dominion. Most wave these news of as lies but emissaries from Hammerfell are suspiciously silent on the matter.
  • It’s been a long time since any news came out of Argonia, which is unsettling in itself. Trade has diminished drastically and no one seems to know what is going on.


Interested
@Golem Pm me the idea I'll try to resuscitate this.
@Voltus_Ventus how many people are down?
I'm down for the idea of a young brash leader.
Wrapped in his luxurious fur cloak the Count wound way up the, surprisingly well kept, road north. He had just came from the Lady White's holdings, somehow every year the lowly Count has been able secure small feasts with her and her councilors. With lips red as a rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow; Lady White was truly the fairest of them all and Aleksei often told her of her great beauty. But most of all the Lady enjoyed compliments to her other qualities as it can only become a bore to hear the same line over and over. So the young Count always seemed to show interest in the Lady's intellectual prowess and talk about how she has secured her power in the Land of White. Aleksei often pressed her for a story or two from earlier times, while Aleksei saw it as somewhat depressing when the twinkle in her doe brown eyes appears. In the end, its all about keeping up relations between the great Rus Tsardom and the surrounding Houses. An added bonus was a small piece of information that the Lady had let fly after a glass of wine or two. Lady White had said that she sent some of her loyal men to investigate rumors of "ill omens" in the City of Wolftown. She said with with a smile, she seemed to emanating beauty from her pores, and said,

"Young Count Aleskei, I need you make way to Wolftown with great haste. For I trust my men, but there is something about you that I trust," with the honey dripping from her tongue Lady white had to be enchanting the Count, " and if this task is complete I shall owe you a favor." Aleskei unaware of the masterful magic that enabled him to be a mere pawn in this strange game of manipulation instantly accepting saying that, "Of course I shall help you Lady White, it would be my pleasure." And almost immediately he sent word to Igor, his life long servant and remaining father figure, to meet him in Wolftown with a modest amount of coin and bring with him three of his most skilled men ready to investigate for Lady White. The magic, still working him, almost made him set out while the sun was setting and the already harsh winter becoming harsher. Luckily for him Lady White was known for her compassion and asked him to stay the night in one of the guest chambers before setting out on the morrow.

The sun did not shine that morning, but instead grey clouds ran across the sky as if to warn travelers of danger in the land. Aleksei was oblivious to this as he had woken slightly late and had to rush out of the castle practically still pulling on a bit while he mounted Eva, his horse. She, the horse, was a glorious sight. The horse was pure black and seemed to give off power due to her size. One of the few things in the world that Aleksei loved was his horse and he often found her the best stabling before he checked her hooves to make sure she didn't have a hidden irritant. Setting off at a good pace the Count and his mare made there way north, toward the city of Wolftown.

It was closer to nightfall now, the skies somehow became darker as the winds picked up and snow began to drop with it. The cold did dig into the Count, but he was not yet too uncomfortable; there have been some harsh winters in Rus, just not this harsh. With Wolftown in the distance Eva was spurred forward hoping to make the next hour or so shrink down into something more manageable.

They were making good time till the Count and his midnight mare were stopped in their very tracks by a ghastly sight. On the ground lay four men, each of them surrounded by the crimson color of blood. Aleskei muttered to himself, "This is horrid, what marauder did this?" He continued to investigate the bodies of the men, noting their wounds."The first was stabbed in the gut and left to bleed out while the one behind him had his throat slashed and it left a macabre grin. The other two seem to have been shot with an perhaps a bolt and then ripped out which left a very gruesome hole, but they seemed to not have suffered. They were the lucky ones who didn't suffer." He mounted Eva again and gave a second look to the messy scene. " Perhaps this was an ambush. Interesting." Aleksei put the thought on the back of his mind no longer caring for anything besides a fire.

The gates of the town were iron wrought and told of the heroic story of Beowulf, the iron work must have cost a small fortune for the figures were detailed. Aleksei had mentally noted that hopefully he may have at least gate telling the story of his life. As he entered the city he was startled as he heard his name yelled at the top of somebody's lungs. He rotated on his saddle and saw a man waving wearing fur cuffed leather armor, it was the youthful Alexandr, one of his top men. "Master Aleksei, follow me this way, Igor has a room for you out of the cold and some promising information."

Once inside Aleksei shook off the snow and hung his cloak on a hook. Still following Alexandr through the strangely crowded inn he arrived at a room and Alexandr firmly rapped on the door. In the room was a familiar loud voice that brought Aleksei back to his childhood, "Go away, in the name of all the gods, I do not need another drunkard." Aleksei smiled before he opened the door to see the bemused face of Igor and the other two travelers, Vlad and Maks who are both men in their early forties. "So shall I go Igor or..." Aleksei trailed off the smile on his face going from ear to ear. "No no, but there have been a multitude of drunks knocking on the door like it owned them money. How goes your work? Wait no time for small talk, there are small troop movements north and if you are still interested in helping the Lady White I suggest that we follow them. In fact there have been promises of reward and any of that can help your... plans..." Intrigued at the news Aleksei suggested they get mounted now and if they do no tarry they could catch the rear end of the column of troops. At the suggestion of their lord they left the paid room and ventured into the cold following a young Count fueled by desire and greed.
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