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Feb 14, 12 at 3:09am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
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A few hours later Jak’skari had a belly full of venison and was quietly sipping a glass of wine as he watched the crowd. He had arranged a room for the night, which he did not intend to use. However it would serve a purpose and dilute some suspicion if anything were to go wrong. As always he listened quite intently to the gossip and news passing from person to person, absorbing as much information as he could. He soon rose from his corner-table to interact with the tavern’s patrons and pick his next victim.
“Good evening.” Jak’skari said as he sat down on one of the benches surrounding the fire pit placed in the middle of the tavern.
“Look ‘ere boys. Someone’s let the door open and a cat’s wandered in.” One of the drunken men had decided to make a show, much to the amusement of his fellow Nords.
“On such a chilly evening it is nice to warm oneself by the fire. Where I come from such cold as this is not even thought about.” Jak’skari stated; ignoring the rude comments and warming his hand’s over the fire.
“So the cat talks!” Shouted one of the Nords.
“Look at his amour! He’s one of the Imperial’s pets.”
“Do you get paid with fish and mice, furry one?”
“This one is an Imperial messenger. This village would prove to be excellent kindling if I returned with word of your Jarl’s full support of the Stormcloaks.” Jak’skari lied.
“Well kitty, maybe you won’t return at all then?” One of the Nords had planted himself between Jak’skari and the fire pit. One of his hand’s rested on the hilt of a dagger. This one was looking for a fight.
Jak’skari saw this coming and was prepared. With swift reflexes he unsheathed his dagger and gracefully hopped up on the bench. His rapid movement caused the Nord to stumble backwards. The drunken man’s feet stumbled and finally lost balance as he fell back into the fire pit. This caused an uproar as several of the fallen Nord’s fellows started for Jak’skari while other’s went and attempted to grab the screaming Nord who’s thrashing caused a cloud of ash to be sent billowing throughout the tavern. Dishes shattered as people screamed and dropped their drinks while shoving aside their tables, running for Jak’skari, the fallen man, and the door.
Jak’skari dropped his dagger as he was shoved off the bench. He quickly picked himself up and began throwing punches this way and that, trying to keep the furious Nords at bay.
The Nord who had fallen into the fire pit was soon retrieved. He lay unconscious on the floor as his fellows doused that flames that clung to his garb with water.
“Enough!” Three guards had pushed there way through the gathering crowd and began banging their swords on their shields. The room soon fell silent and Jak’skari’s assailants unhappily backed off.
The tavern keep rushed to the side of the guards. “Get that troublesome Khajiit out of here!” she shouted.
Jak’skari allowed himself to be escorted out of the tavern. He walked around to the side of the building and sat himself down with his back against the wall. He pushed his head back against the wall and brought a hand up to squeeze his nose in hopes of stopping the blood flow. He shut his eyes and feigned deep pained breaths.
He made sure to act startled when he opened his eyes to find a brawny Imperial women sitting next to him. She reeked of alcohol.
“I saw your fight back there. It wasn’t right for you to take the blame for the results of the way those Nords treated you. Prideful bastards. They’ll act out against any who are different. Trust me, I know.” With that she offered Jak’skari her wine skin, which he accepted gratefully.
He feigned a few sips then introduced himself.
“Glad to meet you, Khajiit. Most around here call me Bretta the Broken. I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped you out back there but I’m well hated enough in this town as it is.”
“Why is that?” Jak’skari mused.
“I used to be an apprentice for Eorlund Grey-Mane, up at the Skyforge. I was going to return to Cyrodiil and be the best smith in the Imperial court…One day I was returning home, it was quite late and I was going behind the Companion’s hall, through their practice grounds. He probably never saw me walking behind the archery targets in the dim light. Before I knew it I had taken an arrow to the elbow. In that instant I felt more then pain. I knew my career as a blacksmith was over. My eye’s had clouded up and before I knew it I was being pulled off of the man who had unknowingly shot me. I had beaten him close to death. That was the last time I had use of my right arm. I spent the next month healing in the dungeons under the Jarl’s keep. When I came out Grey-Mane already had a new apprentice. I couldn’t return to Cyrodiil as a failure but I had nowhere else to go. The resident’s hate me for what I did. These days it seems my only friend is this wineskin.” She finally fell quite and took a long drought from her skin.
“Through expierience, both bad and good, our character is built. You are a strong women…this one is sure you will recover and find a place for yourself in this world.” Jak’skari offered, trying to appeal to her as best he could.
“You’re right of course,” she sighed. “Have you ever seen the Skyforge?”
Jak’skari shook his head. “I’m new to this city and meant to leave tomorrow. I’ve heard great stories though, some say it was left here as a gift from gods to men.”
“They may be right…come with me,” she said, suddenly rising. “I’d love to show it to you. It is beautiful at night…the dying fires of the forge cast dancing shadow’s on the great statue of an eagle that stands, wings outstretched, behind it.”
“It is quite late…” Jak’skari paused. “But…I suppose I won’t be finding rest tonight as it is.”
So he walked off into the night with this Bretta the Broken, eager to see what she had to show him.
It happens very infrequently, but it is quite a wonderful thing when a victim insists on leading her killer to a remote location.
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Feb 14, 12 at 11:05am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Hinding walked down the Dragonsreach stairs, passing guards on the way. How was he going to find another contract in such small time? It was blind luck that he got another contract the last time, but since that didn’t end every well he was going to have to do some searching.
He decided to start by asking some of the merchants in the square. It seemed that all he got were looks of disgust. One merchant even had the courage to tell him where to shove his offer where the light doesn’t shine. It was clear they were just smug merchants. He asked round the Bannered Mare but with no luck. Sinmir had no jobs available. Hinding was lucky he even got that previous job from Sinmir if Hinding’s “prices” weren’t so low, he wouldn’t get any business. Despite his claims of how much he could beat arse. It was clear no one trusted mercs, “good” ones at that. He nearly plucked up the courage to go to the Companions. But alas no. He was about to give up when someone approached him.
“Boy!” a female voice called almost angrily. Hinding assumed she was from Dragonsreach to teach him a lesson for loitering and disturbing the merchants. Hinding turned round to be face to face with a brawny imperial with a reek of alcohol; Cleary one of the village drunks considering it was midday “I heard you can….Deal with problems for people” she slurred, the woman was very drunk indeed.
“I’m not an assassin if that’s what you’re asking for…” he began.
“I know! If I wanted someone killed I’d have called the Dark Brotherhood by know wouldn’t I?” she slurred almost smug. “There’s some man who ruined my whole career, I want him gone….” she said.
“I’m not an assassin, I’m a man of honour, I’ll kill bandits, animals if the need arises. But I’m not a assassin.” Hinding recited. “I saw him associating with some bandits I did!” she called. Hinding was clearly wondering if talking to this “woman” was worth it. “I can pay!” she promised. Hinding sighed, he needed the money badly and if the man had been associating with bandits that made him bad. He killed bad people.
“Very well, I’ll do it.” he said slowly. The reply from the woman come as a giggle, a insane giggle.
“Perfect!” she giggled darkly “Indeed, I’ll give you the…target’s name and details tonight at the Skyforge?” She said.
“Very well, I’ll meet you there tonight.” Hinding smiled and walked away. He would need some rest before his… mission. Why did he not kill ordinary people? He was a mercenary after all, he was in it for the money not sides. But he had morals after all. He walked to the Bannered Mare for some sleep and mead. He rented a room and slept till early night.
He was awoken by some shouting about “cat’s and stormcloaks.” None of this mattered though, he sat on his “bed” and studied his armour and weapons. His sword and dagger that he’d sharpened no longer than a week ago. They had a fierce cut as many bandits and wolves had found out. But while his dagger and sword were good, his banded iron armour wasn’t. They were starting to rust, he’d need replacement’s or better still steel armour. He got prepared and walked downstairs. He saw several guards questioning some drunken Nord’s about a fight with a cat. He walked through the door and saw several stall owners packing up. In the distance he was someone walking away in leather armour and a woman with a familiar drunken walk. Hinding looked up at the sky. It was cold night tonight. With a sigh Hinding set off to the forge.
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Feb 14, 12 at 12:12pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
In a snowy part of Skyrim, where snow was thin but always falling, Rosalie was following an Elk. She had come across it only moments ago, and it had fled, leading Rosalie to give chase. They were fast, and Rosalie knew she’d have to give a strong fatal blow to take it down, since once these creatures think they’re in danger, they can run very fast, for very long. Rosalie took out her Dagger, which hadn’t tasted blood yet. She ran forward when the Elk was facing away, and dived towards it, powering up a shot in her arm. Unintentionally. She screamed while powering up the shot, making the Elk take flight. Rosalie then, landed face down in the mud. She pushed herself up when she heard quiet laughter. “Girl, you can’t kill an Elk by screaming at it” someone said. Rosalie turned quickly around, and found the owner of the voice. A fellow Breton sat on a high rock, one leg dangling while he cut into an apple. “I know that” Rosalie said sternly. The male Breton smiled. “Of course you do” he said. He stood up and walked away from the rock and out of sight of Rosalie, while Rosalie stood up and walked on. “By the way” she heard him shouting, “Try sneaking sneaking up in it and slashing their back legs. They’re lost without those”. Rosalie stood for a second before shrugging and walking off. She found her prey again, and walked snuck towards it. It trotted on, unknown of its stalker. It stopped a few times to eat a plant, Blue Mountain Flower. Of course, Rosalie could use the flower to distract it. It finished off it’s current flower then wandered off in search for another one. Rosalie saw another head of the Elk, I was sure to stop and eat it. Rosalie waited and just as it put it’s head down to eat, it was at it’s most vulnerable. Rosalie pounced, this time not making a sound. Diving forward she was planning just to sink the dagger in its side, but then remembered what the Breton said, it had made sense. Instead she aimed for its hind legs. She slashed both of them on one blow and the creature fell to the floor, writhing and riving in pain. Rosalie, feeling sorry for it, quickly jumped down and sunk the dagger into it’s head, killing it and putting it out of it’s misery. She then proceeded to try and skin it for its pelt, but it proved harder than it seemed. Considering it was her first, she didn’t think it was that bad. She was also happy to see the flower was untouched and decided to pick to make a potion or 2.
Rosalie continued on to stalk more animals in the wake of her first kill.
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Feb 14, 12 at 12:27pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
The Dark Brotherhood
The guards stood over the mans body. Uldron Dawn-Hammer was a well known fellow in Whiterun. Modestly respected. A good warrior. How on earth he came to be killed by a pack of wolves was a great mystery. "Take him up" the captain said. Some of the other guards picked him up and carried him back up to the town. The captain was about to follow when he saw a glimmer nearby. He walked towards it and picked up a small Poison/Potion bottle. He examined it and recognised it instantly as the bottles used by Arcadia, up at Whiterun. He took it straight there.
"Arcadia. Sorry to bother you, but can you tell me what this is?". She eyed him then took it. She took it and held it to her nose. "Hmm, human blood in that. Gotta be the animal attraction potion i made, why only yesterday. Sold it to a young girl. Dark hair, robes". The captain wrote the description down. "Thank you for your co-operation ma'am" he said and left.
"Well hello again" Astrid said to the girl. "I see you followed the order. Unfortunately you did in a manner that led the guard back here. He found the bottle you had the posion in, went to Arcadia and she gave him your description. Now i suggest you get out of here. He's in this building now, listen". Astrid held her finger up, and surely enough quietly you could hear the captain talking. "I suggest that when the Inn keeper is leading the captain up the stairs, you jump off of the balcony looking over the bar. Then make your escape. Head to Falkreath. West of there is our home. Your new home. When asked the question, answer 'Silence, my brother' to gain access. Now go, the guard comes". Astrid herself went out of the room and down the stairs, coming accross the guard, who grabbed her arm. "Sir, if you favour that arm i suggest you let me go" Astrid said to him. "That ain't her, cap'in" the Inn keeper said, and they proceeded no. As Astrid walked under the balcony she saw the girl drop in front of her and run to the door. Outside she stood round a corner. Astrid walked up to her. "What's your name?" Astrid asked her. "Imaria" she replied. Astrid nodded and smiled. "Welcome the the Dark Brotherhood, sister". And as if by magic, Astrid vanished.
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Feb 14, 12 at 10:28pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Nightfall again. This time, it was a night of opportunity.
Saluum-Ei crouched atop the roof of Candlehearth Hall. The Palace of the Kings stood prominent a short walk away. The warm glow of the windows dotting its exterior instilled a strange feeling in Saluum-Ei. He wondered how many fires the Stormcloaks set themselves every night. He wondered if they ever stopped and thought of the poorer folk of the town, possibly lying on the street, dying of the cold, while they sat and drank mead and ate all the meat they could.
No. Of course they didn’t.
Saluum-Ei peered over the edge of the roof, examining the streets around him, checking for guards. The shadows of the walls left a sense of relief in him. There were no guards or civilians roaming about. So if there was any good time to get close to the Stormcloaks’ house, let alone break in, it was now.
Saluum-Ei carefully stepped down the roof, hopping off of one of the building’s braces and landing within the low street, already enveloped by darkness. He crouched against the wall and slowly stepped forward, coming up on the entrance to the courtyard. His eyes darted left and right as he searched for any nearby guards, but… there didn’t seem to be any patrolling the streets. Odd… but Saluum-Ei wasn’t going to question the matter now. Confident, but a little weary… Saluum-Ei crept towards the courtyard, pressing himself against the wall. He turned his head around the corner and examined the courtyard. There were… no guards?
That couldn’t have been right… there’s was always at least on guard posted near the doors, but Saluum-Ei couldn’t see a single one. His first paid job stealing something, and it was this easy? He refused to believe the inside of the Palace of the Kings wasn’t completely filled with guards. Half of them were asleep, sure… but there must have been plenty others walking the halls. It was now Saluum-Ei was starting to question Diedrith’s faith in his skills, but there wasn’t much point in quitting now.
Saluum-Ei crept past the fire, avoiding its edge, in case there was an archer hiding somewhere. He approached the doors to the Palace and paused for a moment. No guards around the town, no guards around the courtyard… there was the faint possibility that they were all waiting in ambush inside. But Saluum-Ei quickly dismissed that idea. If he opened the door, he’d catch someone’s attention for sure… but there was no getting in through the windows here. None of them reached down towards the barracks. Besides, they were all just small openings that only a rabbit could fit through… Saluum-Ei always wondered why the Nords chose such a strange design for them.
With no other options present, Saluum-Ei sighed and slowly, quietly opened the rightmost door. It creaked a little, but nothing too loud at that pace. Saluum-Ei peered inside… and again there were no guards. The candles and chandeliers were all lit, but there was literally no one inside.
Saluum-Ei quickly squeezed through the doors and closed them shut. He remained crouched and turned towards the door to the right. Shahvee said that was the one he was looking for; the door leading downstairs, into the barracks. There was absolutely no opposition so far… but this was the end of the trip. Saluum-Ei had brought his weapons along for the worst-case scenario, but at this point, he was confident he wasn’t going to need them. Still… he kept his hand on the hilt of his dagger as he crept towards the door and slowly pushed it open.
Saluum-Ei breathed a sigh of relief as he found the hallways almost completely blackened. He snuck down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing a light emanate from the room up ahead… the actual barracks. Saluum-Ei’s tail stiffened as he slowly approached the light, narrowing his eyes and peering into the barracks. There were plenty of beds, yet no guards were sleeping in them.
Saluum-Ei put on a look of irritation as he stood up and simply walked into the room. These beds were all such finely made things. He dared to touch one of them, feeling the fine linen blankets and smooth cotton bedding. The Assemblage had filthy mats and coarse rags for blankets. And that’s what Saluum-Ei slept in every night. But the Nords possessed beds like this, and they weren’t even sleeping in them?
Saluum-Ei had enough. This job was too easy, and that’s what reinstated his cautiousness. He examined the shelves around the room, but there were no signs of Diedrith’s bow. He exited the room, descending further into the barracks until he came upon the prison. No guards, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was the torture beds and array of tools lying in the back corner of the room.
Saluum-Ei knew Jarl Ulfric was a Nord supremacist. But was he really so much that he was willing to let the guards torture the elves who ended up here?
Saluum-Ei pushed the thought aside as he noticed something on the weapon rack up ahead. It was a black bow with silver furnishings… a perfect match to the Dunmer’s description. Saluum-Ei shrugged and strolled on over to the weapon rack, taking the bow off of it. He took a moment to examine it… and he noticed the weapon was of poorer quality than Diedrith mentioned. The black of the bow was clearly nothing but a hastily done paint job, and the silver was just polished steel. The silver string was nothing more than white twine. Was this seriously what Diedrith wanted back? A bow like this was probably worth nothing more than fifty Septims. But, the Dunmer was offering a greatly expensive amulet for this shoddy piece of firewood… so Saluum-Ei was in no place to complain.
Saluum-Ei hoisted the bow over his back and turned. He walked back towards the dark hallways and maid his way up the stairs. But when he came upon the light of the barracks and stepped inside, a guard appeared from the wall beside the door. Saluum-Ei had no time to react as the pommel of the guard’s sword connected with his face.
Saluum-Ei fell backwards, dazed and confused. He looked up with blurry vision to see two figures looming over him.
“Huh.” One of them said, “Just like that Dunmer said. What do you know?”
“Well, we got him, that’s what matters. He’s got the bow… should we take it back?”
“That worthless thing? Let him keep it, die with something to hold onto.”
One of the guards kneeled and looked at Saluum-Ei, his face hidden behind his helmet.
“Dunmer was right again. This is the lizard from the docks. Guess the rest of them have some explaining to do tomorrow?”
“Please. As if Shatter-Shield’s going to let us near them.”
“But they won’t miss this one, will they?”
“It’s just him. We’ll just say he was out for a midnight stroll and a bandit got him by surprise.”
"I think they care little enough to fall for that."
“Heh. Right. Anyway, go ahead and put him out so we can drag him out of here.”
The last thing Saluum-Ei saw before falling into unconsciousness was the kneeling guard’s fist hurtling towards his face.
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Feb 15, 12 at 3:45am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
The walk to the Skyforge was brief. The Imperial-garbed Khajiit walked side by side with the drunken Imperial women. Jak’skari noted that none were out so late as to see the odd pair on their midnight walk.
The women made mindless conversation as they strolled along. Jak’skari paid little attention to her words; rather he studied her body movement, absorbing her physical strengths and weaknesses as they walked. Bretta’s right arm hung limp by her side while her left one swung about in drunken flourishes. Jak’skari never understood why some people made an effort to add meaningless movements to their words. He supposed it could be to add passion to one’s words although he figured most just did it out of habit. It showed a lack of self-control. He made a mental note to add this to the list of weaknesses he searched for in his targets.
They had soon passed the Companion’s hall and ascended the rocky path to the Skyforge. Jak’skari couldn’t help but gasp, taken aback by the forge’s beauty. The great eagle seemed to come alive from the grey stone hillside. Forever frozen in a stance that made it seem like the eagle was about to take to the air. The shadows cast by the forge imbued the statue with a certain life its flesh counterpart would never know.
Jak’skari shook his head. He had to keep a clear mind for the task that lay ahead of him.
Bretta the Broken was standing by the forge. She was looking at it through weary eyes. Jak’skari felt exhilaration pulse through his body as he approached her.
“This forge retains part’s that were found here when the first men settled in Skyrim,” Bretta began. “Some have been replaced over the generations though. It’s quite interesting. Would you like to know how the bellows are made?”
“No.” Jak’skari reached for his dagger, standing inches from the drunken woman. His heart dropped in a panic as he realized he had forgotten to pick it up when he was ushered from the tavern. He cursed himself as a fool, leaving behind his only weapon. He quickly improvised and threw himself at the quivering women. Her head cracked against the stone ground upon landing. Her eyes widened, fear quickly sobered her up as she began thrashing. She opened her mouth to scream yet Jak’skari’s hand had already clamped down over it, muffling her shouts. He noticed her left arm stretching towards a lone rock, her only hope. Jak’skari quickly drove his knee into her elbow. Pinning it to the ground with his weight as he bent over her chest. He clamped his other hand on her throat, grasping the soft spots around her jugular. His nails drew blood as the women violently thrashed this way and that. It was not long before her sporadic movements turned into meager shifting and soon she lay still. Dead.
Jak’skari quickly patted her down. He retrieved a small silver key, which he hoped would let him into her house. He frowned as he dug a coin purse out of one of her pockets. It was much too light for his efforts. He guessed it held no more then thirty coins.
He wiped his bloody hands on the woman’s jerkin and stood back up. He needed to dispose of the body. It would be too risky for him too simple leave it in a place as public as this. He dragged the corpse over to the forge and lifted her up against the side. This would do just fine. The forge would leave nothing but bones and ash by morning. He held her body over the flames taking one last work at his handiwork.
The silence of the night was suddenly shattered by a man’s voice. “Hell’s bells! What’s going on here?”
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Jak’skari instantly released his grip on the body, which dropped into the flames of the forge, which reached up in eager greeting.
Jak’skari turned to face the man and quickly sized him up. He appeared to be a Nord male although his face was hidden in the darkness. He wore some rusted iron amour and was already drawing his sword. Probably a mercenary considering he hadn’t stopped to take in the situation. Mercenaries were always rushing into battle. Gold first, honor second. A foolish breed.
Jak’skari nimbly rolled to the side, barely avoiding the sword edge as the man swung at him. Jak’skari began to panic for he had no weapon to defend himself with. His eyes immediately fell to the lone rock Britta the Broken had attempted to grab just moments before. It lay behind the man yet Jak’skari knew how he could reach it. He let the man get close enough to swing his sword again and then dodged the blade as he launched himself at the man’s side. He shoved as hard as he could and dove for the rock. The man had stumbled into the side of the forge but quickly turned around to face Jak’skari. By that time Jak’skari was rushing by him. He let the rock fly as if throwing a disc. He heard the man grunt as the rock sliced him across the face. Jak’skari didn’t dare look back but instead continued running down the path, knowing that weaponless as he was, he would be no match for the armored man.
“What’s all the commotion about?” A guard had appeared out of the night and stood in the center of the path that went around the Companion’s hall.
“A man attacked me by the forge. Lured me out there saying he was one of the Jarl’s men. Then he drew his blade as if to fight me! If you don’t take care of him then don’t be surprised if the Imperial Legion shows up at your front gate.” Jak’skari didn’t wait for a response but pushed past the man who was stuttering a response. He hoped his legionnaires outfit would give him some time.
He quickly fled down the road through the city but not too fast as too cause more attention to him. He stuck to the shadows and soon found himself at the gate. Two guardsmen stood close by. He knew if he didn’t leave the city now he might never leave it, Imperial garb or not. He slowly approached the two men.
“Open the gates, I must be on my way.”
“Strange hours, Khajiit. What’s your buisness?” A guard moved to block his way.
Jak’skari knew he would have to make a lie that carried enough weight so the guards wouldn’t dare question him. “I’ve been ordered by your own Jarl to leave the city at once and carry his message back to Solitude.”
“Oh and what’s that?” The guard dared to question him. This was not good.
“It’s for the ears of General Tullius only. I musn’t say.” Jak’skari lied.
“Oh but you must.” This came from the other guardsmen who had his hand on the pommel of his sword.
“Fine but you cannot repeat this. Your Jarl has agreed to forsake any ties to the Stormcloaks, you’ll be fighting alongside the Imperial Legion now.” He gave the guardsmen his slyest grin. Jak’skari hoped the guard’s were dumb enough to accept this. From the rumours Jak’skari heard around the city, he knew the Jarl would end up siding with the Stormcloaks sooner or later.
One of the guards turned around to spit in disgust. The other took note of his fellow’s offense and quickly ushered Jak’skari to the gate. “Leave cat,” was all he said as he shouldered the gate open. Jak’skari squeezed threw and ran into the night.
Before he was too far an alarm bell broke the placidity of the night. Jak’skari didn’t know what had happened but he knew he would like to be far away and fast. More bells picked up the warning song of the first. Soon some of the Jarl’s men would be sent out to pursue him. He was sure of it.
With all of his speed Jak’skari raced to the Whiterun stables. No one was about as he snuck into one of the stalls and quickly harnessed a horse. He quickly mounted up as a tired man walked out of the house connected to the stables, probably up to see what the commotion of the bells was about.
“Stop! Horse thief! Stop!” The man yelled as he caught sight of Jak’skari.
Jak’skari took no pause as he dug his heels into the horse and brought it to a trot as he fled from the city. The man tried running after him, screaming and shaking his fist to no avail.
Jak’skari quickly came to the tumbled down tower he had hidden his pack in and briefly dismounted. He didn’t bother changing but instead reached for a long traveling cloak and threw it around himself. He gathered his pack, remounted and fled into the night.
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Feb 18, 12 at 7:51am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
As Hinding walked to the Skyforge to meet the woman, a strong wind blew at him. He walked past the Companions home, wondering how long it had rested here. He carried on walking until he heard sounds of struggling. He looked at the Skyforge, he saw a Khajiit standing over a woman, panting. The Khajiit had killed her.
“Hells bells, what’s going on over here?” Hinding’s voice pierced the silence of the night. The Khajiit turned round to Hinding, looking at him. The Khajiit was dressed in an imperial outfit, Khajiit’s in the Empire? Hinding drew his sword and slashed at the Khajiit, barely missing. The Khajiit dived to the floor looking beyond the Redguard’s feet. Hinding moved close to the Khajiit to make another slash, he swung at his target hoping to cut him. But the Khajiit dodged Hinding’s steel sword as he shoved the Redguard’s side with enough force to make Hinding stumble to the side of the Skyforge. He quickly turned round to face the woman’s assailant by this time the Khajiit was moving like lighting towards Hinding. The Khajiit threw something at him, something sharp and grey. The object sliced his left cheek making Hinding grunt with pain. When Hinding looked back at his adversary he was running down the path Hinding had walked up less than a couple of minutes later. Hinding looked down at the body, it was the woman who he had talked to earlier. Hinding checked for a pulse… Nothing. Hinding looked back the fleeing Khajiit. “No he wasn’t escaping” Hinding thought. He ran after the Khajiit his armour weighing him down to a jog. A guard stopped in front of the Khajiit and demanded that he tell him what happened. The Khajiit said something along the lines of Hinding attacking him and the guard should take care of him! Unbelievable! He darted past the guard, running out into the night. He was gone… Hinding would get him back though, one day… The guard interrupted his thoughts, drawing his iron sword and looking at Hinding.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way…You’re choice” He snarled. Hinding could of easily dropped the guard. He thought about delivering a knock out blow quickly to the guard. But Hinding didn’t fancy battling a entire troop of guards, not that he’d stand a chance of doing so.
“It wasn’t me!” Hinding protested “That man killed a woman and tried to kill me! You’re letting him get away!”
“Easy way or the hard way.” The guard repeated. Hinding sighed, he let himself get escorted up to Dragonsreach Dungeon. Despite pleas of innocence the guards ignored him.
“Give him four weeks in there for killing a beggar, the sick man. Make him pay a four hundred gold fine for assaulting a member of the Imperial Empire.” A guard commanded. “Yes sir!” A lower ranked guard said. Hinding sat down at the back of the cell. His hand glanced his cheek, there was a long cut with blood dried on it from where the Khajiit had got him. He suspected it would scar. How was he going to pay four hundred gold? He had to leave Whiterun after this finished. Not a second would pass where he would think about getting that damn Khajiit. He was furious with the guards of Whiterun, so oblivious to the truth!…He shouted in anger banging on the cell’s iron bars. The guard simply laughed and threw mead and dinner at him. Hinding had never wanted to kill someone innocent. But he reserved a special hatred for that guard…He would make sure he had a slow…and painful death… by Hinding’s blade.
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Feb 18, 12 at 4:28pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
“C’mon, lift him up more! Put your elbows into it!”
“Why don’t you shut your mouth and just lift him yourself, huh? How about that?”
Saluum-Ei’s hearing was slowly recovering as he listened to the guards carrying him banter on. His eyesight, still a little blurry, let him see the blotches of white and pillars of gray around him. The streets of Windhelm. The guards were dragging him through them by his arms. He could barely make out the braces of Candlehearth Hall and the town gates, his vision was still getting back to him. But he could make out little flits of orange above the gates…
Torches. More guards. More guards… oh, no. Spectators.
Saluum-Ei had mustered the head strength to come to the conclusion that he was being dragged to the place where these men would kill him.
And he was right.
The gates opened up as the two guards hauled Saluum-Ei up the steps and onto the bridge connecting Windhelm to the rest of Skyrim. His vision returned as he could clearly make out the multitude of guards holding torches dotting the bridge and its sides. And Saluum-Ei knew they weren’t going to just toss him over and hope he drowns. They weren’t the smartest Nords, but they knew Argonians could breathe underwater.
But Saluum-Ei didn’t feel any loose grip from the guards, which they excelled in, so he wasn’t going to be able to get free. This was it. The end. No more sneaking, no more stealing. Death by execution on a bridge. That’s how Saluum-Ei imagined it would happen, and really? He was just hoping the guards would do it quickly.
Decapitation would be… marginally nice.
“Alright, this is good. Drop him.” One of the guards said. They both shoved Saluum-Ei forward, letting him fall with a thud against the cold surface of the bridge. His head still ached with pain, so the impact was not nice at all, making his vision a little blurry once more.
“Okay, boys!” One of the guards called out to the rest. “This damn lizard was caught stealing from within our barracks. If it had been a Nord, we’d have tossed him in a jail cell. If it had been a Dunmer, we’d have done the same, but we’d have left him with a few scrapes and bruises. But an Argonian?”
The guard looked down at Saluum-Ei and chuckled. He called out, “Argonians get nothing!”
The rest of them cheered silently as the guard unsheathed his sword and held it close to Saluum-Ei’s neck. He chuckled and raised the blade above him. “Any last words, lizard?” He asked.
Saluum-Ei spat on his boots.
“Hm.” The guard replied. Saluum-Ei could tell the man was smiling behind his helmet. He looked up as the blade caught the gleam of the midnight moon. The last shrivel of beauty he saw before the end, it would seem. He slowly began to shut his eyes as the guard readied his sword…
Something whizzed through the air, towards the guard. Out of nowhere, an arrow struck the guard’s helmet with a loud clang, causing him to drop his sword and rear back. The sword fell right atop Saluum-Ei, the blade leaving a straight cut on the right side of his maw. Saluum-Ei hissed in pain, quickly snapping back into the severity of the situation. Still, that was going to leave a nice scar… fair deal.
The guard regained his bearings and looked around. “What the hell was that?” He called out. As if on cue, another arrow flew through the air, striking another guard in the chest. The guard fell back, dropping his torch. More arrows began to ring through the air, striking the guards and causing chaos on the bridge. Half of them fell, half of them were running.
And Saluum-Ei realized… this was his chance. Whoever was firing those arrows was his damn guardian angel, and they were giving him the chance to escape.
His head still aching, Saluum-Ei stood up and turned right, towards the edge of the bridge. He wasted no time climbing over and allowing himself to fall. One of the guards tried to grab him by his tail, but he was already gone. Saluum-Ei could feel the cold night air whip past his maw as he fell downward. When he reached the water, he broke through a thin sheet of ice that lay atop it, shattering it.
The arrows stopped. The guards who didn’t get killed scrambled to collect themselves and figure out what happened. One of them pointed downward at the water underneath the bridge and said, “The lizard’s jumped off the bridge! He’s escaping! Everyone, get down to the water, we’re not letting him get away!” The guards wasted no time running away from the bridge, half out towards the stables and the other half towards the docks.
But Saluum-Ei was already gone.
The sheer cold of the water snapped Saluum-Ei into full perspective. He’d not felt the waters of Skyrim in some time. They were unpleasant… but now? They were like a safe haven to him as he swam east through the ice-cold river, near the bottom, weaving past the plants that rose up from it. The guards wouldn’t even be able to see a ripple in the water. For all they knew, he was going in the completely opposite direction.
He was free. But he wasn’t safe.
After some time of swimming as fast as he could out into the expansive waters, Saluum-Ei resurfaced. He shook his head, running his fingers down the scar on his maw. The water washed away whatever blood trickled down his scales.
Saluum-Ei turned to see Windhelm far off in the distance. Then his mind veered towards the docks… the guards were probably busting down the door to the Assemblage right now. If Saluum-Ei hurried, he could get there to help… but it’d be a useless effort. He knew full well they’d overwhelm him, kill him, drag the others away to wherever… and he wouldn’t get a second chance to escape from his supposed guardian angel.
This is it. Where it all ends. I can’t go back to the docks… I can’t go back to Windhelm… but I can’t stay out here and freeze, either.
Eastmarch is no longer safe.
Thoughts raced through Saluum-Ei’s head as he pondered where to go, when… he realized he still had Diedrith’s bow hoisted over his back.
Diedrith. Riften. That’s it.
There were literally no other options. Diedrith was the one man Saluum-Ei could turn to, now. He didn’t know what the Dunmer would offer him other than the amulet for his bow, but he didn’t care at this point.
Saluum-Ei sighed. And then he began to swim southward.
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Feb 27, 12 at 11:31pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Maximus would rather have not entered Whiterun through its main gate. It always left him feeling vulnerable when too many people knew his whereabouts. It would have been a simple matter to scale the outer wall after dark, they were crumbling and in disrepair so footholds wouldn’t of been a problem. However, through dumb luck he had left the inn in Riverwood just before a group if Imperial soldiers were passing through the town and since then they had followed him closely. Maximus had known that he could have disappeared into the forest but had not liked the thought of arriving at Whiterun only to discover that the soldiers had reported him to the guards for suspicious behavior.
As it was he walked into Whiterun like all the normal people. The city was rather busy today Maximus noticed. The blacksmith was out hammering on set of grieves as he walked by, she paused to nod to him and he attempted to look friendly by returning the gesture. Before he had gone more than 10 steps into the city a cry of alarm followed by screams rang out up ahead. “Aw crap”, Maximus thought, “my first big city in Skyrim and people are already screaming”. To his right a slight young girl ran out of the blacksmith’s shop and dashed up the road towards the city center. Maximus cast a questioning look towards the blacksmith but she was already heading the same way as the girl. Shrugging he decided to follow and see what exactly had happened because it obviously wasn’t a regular occurrence, if the reactions from several of the merchants was anything to go on.
Giving in to curiosity, Maximus followed behind the townsfolk as they headed towards the market. He was careful to stay inconspicuous by staying under the eaves of the houses lining the street. As they neared the market that seemed to be where the commotion was coming from he spotted a small path leading onto a slight hill next to someone’s house which looked like it would provide a good vantage point. Quickly he darted across the street and up the path to stand at the corner of the house, overlooking the market. Upon arriving at the corner he saw a large group of people standing around an inert body clad in the yellow livery of the Whiterun guards. The same young woman who had rushed out of the blacksmith’s was kneeling next to the man tilting his head up and pouring a potion of some kind into his mouth. Even as watched, Maximus spied several more guards running towards the spectacle and start to push people aside. One of the guards pointed at the kneeling woman shouting, “YOU, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” The woman started to protest but before she could utter a response to the accusation two guards grabbed her between them and hauled her towards the steps at the edge of the market.
“Right then” muttered Maximus, “and this seemed like such a nice city.” He sarcastically rolled his eyes as the last of the merchants returned to their respective business. No one seemed to notice the hooded man standing above them so he decided that this would be as good a place as any to discern what exactly he should do next. This city obviously had some problems if people were being murdered in the streets in broad daylight and Maximus didn’t think it would be a good idea for a newcomer to be walking around so soon after a scene like that. The last thing he wanted was to be fingered by some nervous townsfolk and thrown in prison.
From the hill Maximus spotted the inn on the other side of the market square and promptly turned on his heel and descended the way he had come. As he crossed the square he made notes of the various merchants and what kinds of stores were located there. To the left of some stone steps was a large stall selling assorted fruits and such. On the other side of the step was a butcher stall as well as an elderly woman selling trinkets and baubles. On the opposite side of the square from the small stalls were two large stores, a general goods store and an alchemy store. He made a mental note to check out the general store later on as he was low on supplies after traveling for so long.
When he reached the steps of the inn, the Bannered Mare it said on the sign, Maximus glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him before padding up the steps and pushing open the door. Maximus was relieved to see that there were only two other patrons inside, a burly, bearded man, encased in worn iron armor and a small unsavory looking youth sitting on a chair by the fire plucking the strings of a lute. The barmaid gave him a rather forced smile and offered him a mug. Leaning on the bar, Maximus declined and said, “I’m just looking to relax for a few hours miss, if it’s not too much trouble, I’ll just put my feet up on that table over there.” He indicated the chair in the back of the room with a long table in front of it.
“As you wish sir, but can I interest you in anything to eat? If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, it looks like you could use a good meal.” She raised her eyebrow questioningly and indicated the cooking spit in the room behind Maximus. Shrugging, he took out a handful of coins.
After receiving his meal he went over to the corner and sat behind the table with his back to the wall. Maximus ate quickly before leaning back and putting his feet up on the low table. He glanced around the room at the two other guests; the bearded man sat down with his back to Maximus and the other was still in the same seat as before. Just before he lowered his gaze with the thought of getting some much needed sleep, the door opened and a powerful looking redguard wearing a full set of banded iron armor pushed his way inside. The redguard merc, for he could only be a mercenary with that kind of armor, greeted the barmaid by name and asked for a room and a bottle of mead. After handing over the money he walked straight up the stairs to the loft suite. Maximus could hear the man removing his armor through the thin floorboards before it was quiet again. Letting out a breath Maximus again tilted his head forward, intent on sleeping for the rest of the day.
Screaming and yelling rent the peaceful curtain of Maximus sleep. He jolted awake, bleary eyed, with the sole intent of breaking someone’s jaw for waking him so cruelly. As he took stock of his surroundings he found it hard to take in at once. A man was screaming and thrashing around in the fire pit while several others tried to help him out while a few other man were chasing what looked like a Khajiit wearing imperial armor. At the same time this was happening, guards appeared at the door and to whole room filled with smoke from the screaming man. It was defiantly time to leave. Standing, Maximus padded along the edge of the room towards the cooking area hoping to get out the back without getting caught up in the confusion in the main room. He silently crossed through the back room and slid out through the side door onto the lawn edging the market.
“If I ever find the sorry bastard who started that fight I swear I’ll break his nose.” muttered Maximus. He realized that he had slept far longer than he had thought, as it was now well past dark. “Was I really that tired?” he wondered. As he started to walk down the lawn he became aware of a pair of people walking up the steps from the market into the next district. He immediately recognized the unique accent of a Khajiit and his mind flashed the image of the one he had seen garbed in an Imperial uniform fleeing the inn just moments earlier. Maximus flexed his shoulders, causing his long leather coat to creak in protest, as he reminded himself of his promise. “Damn Khajiit,” he thought “always getting into trouble.” Maximus resolved to follow the cat and show him just what a mistake it was to wake a sleeping bounty hunter.
Dropping down from the low wall at the edge of the lawn he started up the steps in pursuit of the cat. Once reaching the top of the steps he spotted the Khajiit ambling along beside a very drunken woman who was leading him to yet another set of steps. They were headed toward what could only be the legendary mead hall of the Companions; Jorvaskar. “Why would a Khajiit go to Jorvaskar at this hour?” Maximus thought. Before he could follow, the sound of footsteps intruded on his thoughts. Startled, he glanced behind himself and down to the market below where the Redguard from the inn was making his way towards the steps. Maximus cursed and darted off the path into the shadows where he pressed himself against the side of a small house. In a matter of seconds the merc walked through the arch and, to the surprise of Maximus, walked up the steps of Jorvaskar. Maximus hesitated, not wanting to get into any full out fights. He was lucky that he hadn’t broken cover because a guard holding a torch walked out from between the houses, probably doing his rounds as per usual. Suddenly a shout of alarm rose from behind the famous mead hall causing the guards head to snap in that direction.
Knowing that it probably wouldn’t be wise to walk out from behind the house just then Maximus decided instead that he would rather save his anger for another time. He waited for the guard to investigate the shout, before running down the steps back to the market and slipped to the Bannered Mare.
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Feb 29, 12 at 11:19pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Name: Aroriki(Ah-ror-ah-ki,i mades the letter ie sound)
Apparel:Thick rags with soft rags as shoes
Proficient Skills:All Stealth Skills,Archery,Smithing,Illusion,Restoration,Alteration,and One-Handed
Lacking Skills:All warrior and mage skill,but Smithing,One-Handed,Illusion,Restoration,and Alteration are best
Biography:Was found on street by Khajiit family heading to Cyrodiil.They named her Aroriki,for that was a Khajiit and Argonian name,as far as they knew.In Cyrodiil,she and her new father would stay in the cabin,while her new mother and brother bought foods at Bruma.She always thought they took her because her scales were black,like thier fur,and her eyes were a dark amber,but the Khajiits had light amber.Soon they fell broke.Her father would go hunting and sell the pelts,but that wasn't enough.So Aroriki went to stealing.She would only take food and coins.Her father told her about the Thieve's
Guild,and how they recruit new members.He also told her that if a man came out of the shadows,to run into the house and lock the door.It happened 15 times.Then,as she and her mother came home from Bruma,they saw the cabin ablaze.Her mother had died by the fire,as she rushed in to save her family.Aroriki only stood there,tail quaking,as the screams from her family ringed in the air.So,she head north,and traveled all the way to Whiterun,and lived there as a beggar and thief.
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|RC Cola King||
Mar 3, 12 at 3:59am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
J'Magaret tentatively stepped out of her shabby, hastily crafted fur tent into the frosty, morning air and plopped down on the ground next to the pile of ashes that was last nights fire, and began the task of starting it up again. The cold, winter gusts made this quite the challenge, however, so she gave up, and pulled her pure white, enchanted robe in tighter, to better feel the effects of it's warm enchantment. The robe had once been her husband, Kreznov's, but when he had died, it was entrusted to J'Magaret. The robe was enchanted to comfort it's wearer as best it could. In this case, it would substitute for the failed fire. While that was all good and well, the robe could not cook any meat whatsoever, so J'Magaret was forced to dine on some tart berries she'd found the day before.
After her small breakfast, J'Magaret rolled up the tent, and collected the rest of her belongings, then headed south toward Windhelm. Within a few hours she'd gotten about halfway across Winterhold without a nick of trouble. This surprised her. She had gotten used to the past few day's constant wolf, and bandit attacks. While they were a pain, J'Magaret felt it odd she had not seen any of them for so long. She became wary, and started repeating the process for her signature calming spell in her head. She did this when she was nervous. She continued walking for a few minutes, carefully looking around until she reached a small path leading up to a cave entrance. She stared up at it...
Then she saw it. She saw it, even if for only a split second. She thought she saw a glint of a large hazel eye. A Kahjiit's eye. her curiosity completely took her over, and all thoughts of danger were thrown to aside as she ran up the path and ran into the cave. It wasn't a large cave. Only one room that was close enough to the entrance that it was lit just enough for her sharp Kahjiit eyes to see in. She was disappointed to find that there was nothing in the cave but some animal droppings and twigs scattered everywhere.
This must be an animals home. She thought.
She stepped out of the cave disappointed that the cave was so barren. The eye she thought she had seen was very intriguing. Not only because it looked to be a person's, but because it also look like it belonged to her brother, J'Lingo. J'Lingo had been killed along with her husband by a vicious frost troll. J'Magaret considered the situation as she continued on her journey. In the end she decided that it was probably an animal of sorts. Perhaps a 'big cat' as they call them in Skyrim. Two days later, her journey was finished, and she arrived at Windhelm.
Stop reading these posts, you old coot!
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Mar 7, 12 at 10:12am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Maximus yawned as he pushed open the door to Belethor’s General Store. He had been unable to find any sleep the night before because of the alarm bells and shouting of guards running from house to house in the night. Whatever had happened at Jorrvaskr had apparently been significant enough to warrant a search of the town. If he had to bet on it, Maximus suspected that another murder had taken place. He thought of the Khajiit wandering up the steps alongside the drunken woman as well as the Redguard mercenary that had followed them just moments after. Had the merc been hired to kill the duo? Or was the Khajiit to blame? They were often the source of trouble wherever they went and Maximus had learned long ago to be wary when one was in his presence. These thoughts swirled through his head as he walked across the shop to the counter. It was his job to be suspicious after all.
Maximus was greeted at the counter by a rather short Breton. “Hello my friend! What can I do for you sir?” he cried far more loudly than was necessary. Maximus took an almost immediate dislike to the little man but he gritted his teeth and dropped a bag of gold in front of the trader.
“I need two dozen orcish arrows, a pair of leather gloves, and a weeks worth of provisions, as well as a new pack to put it all in.” Maximus glanced around the shop as he spoke in search of anything else he might want or need. Nothing jumped out at him. “Ah, very well, if you’ll just wait here I’ll just run out back and gather together a few things.” The man, Belethor he assumed, walked into a room behind the counter and began to rummage through various sacks, cupboards, and chests. Maximus stood with his feet planted a shoulders width apart and his hands clasped at the small of his back as he waited for Belethor to finish. When he returned, Belethor hoisted a leather pack onto the counter along with the bundle of arrows, “That’ll be 200 septims.” He said flashing a smile. Maximus nodded toward the bag of coins on the counter, “There’s 200 coins right there.” Maximus shoved the arrows into the quiver on his back and shouldered the pack as he turned to leave.
Outside, the market was beginning to fill despite the early hour. Merchants were opening their stalls and already some of the townsfolk were appraising the various goods on display. The fiasco the day before didn’t seem to have discouraged them much from wandering back to the market. Maximus noticed that there was now a guard standing to one side of the square watching over the bustling crowd. Maximus walked quickly around the throng of people, and took the steps to the next district two at a time. He didn’t like being in crowds, or any other social setting for that matter, but unfortunately his work often brought him into contact with more people than he was comfortable with. He relished the chance to escape the busy lower district and investigate the area around Jorrvaskr.
The second tier of Whiterun was mostly devoted to housing, Maximus discovered as he got a look at it in daylight. The only exceptions were a temple, a large open area with a sickly looking white tree in the center, and Jorrvaskr itself. However the great mead hall was separated from the rest of the district by a low wall and a set of broad steps. Maximus strode around the old tree and up the steps to stand in front of Jorrvaskr where the path split around both sides of the hall. The left path ended in a set of steps and had a little more wear than the right. Maximus slowly walked down the worn path and up the steps. The stairs opened onto a large stone shelf under the shadow of a monumental carving of an eagle with its wings outstretched. Directly below the grand statue was a large forge blazing in the morning sun. Two guards were standing with their backs to Maximus and pointing at the forge as well as a dark pool of blood in front of it. After a mental flip of the coin, Maximus decided to find out what he could and padded towards the oblivious men.
Silently, Maximus glided up beside the Guards, “What happened here now?” He said quietly. Both men jumped at the sound of his voice and reached for their swords as they turned to face him. “Easy now. I’m not here to cause trouble, just wondering what all the noise was about last night.” Maximus assured them.
“You scared me to half to death!” said the first guard.
“Aye,” muttered the second, “didn’t anyone teach you that it’s a bad idea to sneak up on a guard traveler?” he sounded shaky.
Smiling coldly Maximus said to them, “Who said I was sneaking?”
“Another murder,” said the first guard, eyeing him from behind his helmet, “we caught the bastard chasing a Khajiit no less, down the front steps there.” He pointed towards the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr. Maximus didn’t think that sounded right. The Redguard hadn’t looked like the murderer type. The Khajiit on the other hand had trouble written all over him, as most Khajiit did. Maximus wondered if the guard had his facts straight.
“What became of the Khajiit then?”
“He apparently showed up at the gate demanding that he be let out of the city. Blathering on about the Jarl backing the imperials and what not,” the second guard shook his head, “my friend Rogni was on duty on the outer wall and said that he saw the scoundrel steal a horse from the stables before galloping off into the night.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t the Khajiit that was the murderer?” An Imperial courier stealing a horse from the very city that he’d just struck a deal in? Maximus was already thinking that he might track down the Khajiit and collect on the bounty that was sure to be placed on his head for theft. He had also decided that the guards had the wrong man shut away in the dungeons. Perhaps it would be in his best interest to clear the man’s name. Not only would he then be able to offer his services in tracking down the real killer, but the merc could prove to be a valuable contact in this harsh new land.
The guard shrugged and said, “The fellow that caught the man said that he already had his sword drawn and a large gash across one cheek,” The guard looked sideways at his companion before continuing, “I’ll admit that he was a little young, so were the men on duty in the prison, but at least we have something to say to the townsfolk.” Maximus understood, two murders in as many days would make it look as though the city was unsafe. The residents would grow uneasy and perhaps even leave. No doubt the guards just wanted it to appear like they had everything under control. Maybe all Maximus would have to do to secure the Redguards release would be to provide a little assurance to the Jarl. If worse came to worse, he would simply pay the mercenaries bail.
“Thanks for the information.” Maximus turned on his heel and walked back to the area with the dying tree in it. It wasn’t hard to spot the Jarls residence from where he stood. A great stone and wood fortress stood like a sentinel of the surrounding plains, high above the rest of the city. A narrow, long, and winding staircase led from the middle district up to the great palace. “Damn this city has a lot of stairs.” muttered Maximus under his breath. He sighed and started up them. He must have climbed at least a hundred feet above the city by the time he reached the last step. Before him was a large wooden door at the far end of an intricately carved bridge which crossed over a small pond built into the stone below. To either side of the bridge cobblestone paths led around opposite sides of the keep. Several guards were watching Maximus now from their positions around the courtyard while a lone guard without a helmet strode across the bridge to meet him.
“What business do you have in Dragonsreach?” proclaimed the lone guard. He stopped at the end of the bridge and stood with one hand on the pommel of his sword.
Clearing his throat, Maximus declared that he had information regarding the murder from the night before.
“What concern is this to the Jarl, we have already imprisoned the miserable wretch so I can’t see how any new information will be of any benefit.”
“’I believe that the man who you imprisoned is not the killer. I have come to offer my services as a bounty hunter in retrieving the real murderer for your Jarl.” Maximus stared hard at the guard. Finally the man shrugged and said, “Follow me and don’t wander off.” The Guard turned and strode along the bridge to the keeps massive double door with Maximus trailing in his wake. He pushed open the heavy door with visible effort and stepped inside, beckoning for Maximus to follow.
Inside Dragonsreach was every bit as grand as the outside. Roaring braziers, lofty ceilings, and majestic pillars covered in ornate carvings adorned the rich hall. A set of broad steps rose up in front of Maximus and the guard. At the far end of the room, almost 100 feet away, sat Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. In front of him was a blazing fire pit with long tables arranged on both sides. Balgruuf was talking with a man in fine dark clothes as well as another who was garbed in scaled armor. A female dark elf clad in leather armor stood silently beside the Jarl. There were many guards stationed along the perimeter of the vast room and all had their eyes fixed on Maximus.
Once Maximus and the guard reached the fire pit the guard stopped and proclaimed, “My Jarl, this bounty hunter claims that he has information pertaining to last nights murder. He says that the wrong person has been imprisoned and he has offered his services to capture the real culprit.” With a flourish, the guard stood to one side and allowed Maximus to step forward.
Balgruuf looked surprised as he said, “And how have you come to this conclusion bounty hunter? Were you present when the girl was killed, or do you have some other means by which you have based these claims?”
“I was not present when the girl was murdered Lord, however I witnessed the Redguard walk up the steps of Jorrvaskr as well as the girl and the Khajiit. In my own experiences Khajiit have been nothing but trouble. I have also met many Redguard and almost all have been men of honour.” Maximus didn’t think this would persuade the Jarl but it would hopefully open his mind to reasoning.
Maximus turned to the guard, “How was the girl killed? By sword?”
“No,” he replied, “she was found strangled.”
“Ah, I thought as much. Why would an armed man not use his blade? Were there any cuts on the girls neck?”
“Uh, yes actually there were several cuts and even some small holes on her neck.”
“You see?” Maximus turned back to the Jarl, “these cuts were no doubt caused by the Khajiits claws. I am convinced that the Khajiit is the one to blame and that the Redguard that has been thrown in prison is innocent.”
“I see,” Balgruuf rubbed his beard and leaned back in his seat. “You seem very invested in setting this man free, do you know him?”
“No, but if I am to track down the Khajiit then I would like to talk with him. He could tell me valuable information about the Khajiit such as what kind of weapons he was carrying, how he moved, and what he looks like up close. If I could, I would bring him with me in order to better identify the fugitive.” Maximus stood quietly as the Jarl pondered his words. Finally Balgruuf stood up and walked down the steps to stand in front of Maximus, “What you’ve said makes enough sense. I’ll accompany you to the dungeon to release the prisoner, I doubt my men would take your word for it.”
Balgruuf strode past Maximus and down a flight of steps to the left of the throne. Maximus followed him with the dark elf close behind. The small door at the bottom of the steps opened directly into the main hall of the Dragonsreach dungeons. On both sides of the wide hall were cells with thick barred doors securing each one. A man was yelling angrily from the last cell on the right, he directed a continuous stream of insults and threats at a guard sitting against the opposite wall.
“Listen to me you pathetic milk drinker, I am innocent! How many times do I have to say it?” A wooden plate shot out between the bars of the cell and struck the wall next to the guard. “Damn you all to oblivion! May you rot for eternity, miserable wenches the lot of you!” The guard leaned sideways and picked the plate up off the ground and deposited it on the table beside him. “Just shu... uh.... my Jarl... what is it Lord?” The guard stuttered to a standstill when he spotted Balgruuf and Maximus striding towards him.
“You are to release the Redguard prisoner immediately,” Balgruuf thundered, “I have been told that he may indeed be innocent and I will not have an innocent man unjustly imprisoned.”
The guard looked askance at both Maximus and the Jarl, as well as the elf behind them, “... Uh... as you wish my Lord.” he rushed into a room on one side of the hall and came back with a large iron key ring. Maximus waited as the man fumbled for the right key. Inside the cell the mercenary seemed to have caught on that they were talking about him.
“Finally! At least someone has half a brain in this city. Hurry up and stop toying with it you idiot.” The guard looked flustered as he turned the key and pulled the door open.
At once the Redguard stepped out of the cell and cracked his knuckles. He glared at the guard as he walked towards the Jarl. “Jarl Balgruuf,” he gave a slight bow, “I thank you for seeing fit to free me from your incompetent guards.” He smiled grimly as he spoke but he did indeed look happy to be free of the small cell.
“Watch what you say mercenary, I am not the one to be thanked.” Balgruuf nodded in the direction of Maximus, “I think you should be praising him instead.”
The Redguard raised an eyebrow and turned to Maximus, “And who might I ask are you sir?”
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Mar 8, 12 at 8:57am ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Hinding sat in his cell looking out of the little bars that blocked him for escape, he sighed. Was this the last of his days? Surely not, something would come up for him to get out. Escape maybe. Hinding shrugged the thoughts away, he was not a criminal. Trying to escape might not prove that.
“And so I hit the little Redguard milk-drinker right in his little face.” The main guard told his friends. The other guards laughed. “Look at him, sitting all in there with his ragged clothes and sandals! Oh he looks so strong doesn’t he?” The guards mocked. Hinding clenched his fists and punched the bars of the cell. All this resulted in was the guards laughing even more. “Oh this one has a temper!” The guards giggled.
“You let me out and I’ll show whose the real milk drinker you Nord troll!” Hinding shouted furiously.
“Oh I’m sure you would, you pathetic shell of a man.” The guard sneered throwing a wooden bowl at Hinding’s face. It narrowly missed. “That is Nord superiority right there!” The guard laughed. Was this how they treated all there prisoners? Surely the Jarl can’t let this happen for long. Like he’d even visit him down here.
“You’re just so amazing Mr. Superior Nord, let me out so I can kiss your boots. While I’m at it I might head butt you in your long pointy nose as well!” Hinding said acidly. Hinding sat with his back to the wall. “Could you at least give me some water for this cut on my face?” He called to guards, after a minute’s silence Hinding gave it a rest. He was tired after all the shouting. He would get that Khajiit back somehow. He closed his eyes for a while.
Until he was awoken by a cold sensation over his body. He darted awake. He was covered in freezing water. The guards all burst out laughing at him. “For god sake! Listen to me you pathetic milk drinker, I am innocent! How many times do I have to say it?” The guards were sniggering even harder. Hinding threw the wooden plate out the bars near the guards head. “Damn you all to oblivion! May you rot for eternity, miserable wenches the lot of you!” Hinding yelled. The guard leaned sideways and picked the plate up off the ground and deposited it on the table beside him. The guard looked to the left of him “Just shu... uh.... my Jarl... what is it Lord?” He stuttered. The Jarl? Here this was his chance. The lesser guards left leaving the main one and his deputy. Hinding looked out and saw Jarl Balgruuf himself and a unknown man. There was a dark elf behind the double.
“You are to release the Redguard prisoner immediately,” Balgruuf thundered, “I have been told that he may indeed be innocent and I will not have an innocent man unjustly imprisoned.” They were releasing him? Was this a joke? The guard walked across the room for some keys and started unlocking the cell door. “Finally! At least someone has half a brain in this city. Hurry up and stop toying with it you idiot.” Hinding said frostily. Hinding stepped out of the cell and cracked his knuckles. He gave the guard a look of hate and turned to the Jarl. “Jarl Balgruuf,” he gave a slight bow, “I thank you for seeing fit to free me from your incompetent guards.” Hinding smiled grimly. He was thankful though.
“Watch what you say mercenary, I am not the one to be thanked.” Balgruuf nodded in the direction of the stranger. “I think you should be praising him instead.” Hinding raised an eyebrow, What was this? “And who might I ask are you sir?” Before the man could respond Jarl Balgruuf put in,
“Well sir you have your prisoner released, I expect a full investigation attended about the assailant of the woman, I want questioning, details and the man alive or dead. You can use the room just above my throne, it has a map of Skyrim you can use.”
“My thanks Jarl.” The man said. Jarl Balgruuf walked away,
“I expect to hear soon!” He called.
“Anyway let’s get to it the man said, I’m Maximus and I want to help you.” He began.
“One second” Hinding cut. Hinding looked at the guard and smiled, “I told you I’d get you” He said but head butting the guard. Making him fall back over a chair. The other guard looked bewildered as Hinding kicked his chair making him slip on the floor. “You stay quiet unless you want a broken nose too” Hinding threatened. He returned to Maximus. “Explain to me on the way to the map room about how you can help me, forgive me if I can’t trust someone right away. It’s…an insurance.” Hinding smiled.
“Well it’s obvious you did not kill the woman, so I wanted to help you capture this man, alive or not.” Maximus explained. “You want to team up? Or is it a more you get my details and capture him get all the glory and throw me back into prison for head butting that guard? I don’t mind teaming up to get the Khajiit bastard. I’m all for it in fact.” Hinding self consciously felt his cut cheek.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do yet, We’ll start by asking some questions to people and to you. We’ll piece together information about him and the murder. And hopefully we’ll get the bastard and lock him up good. Or kill him for good.” Maximus explained again.
“Let me ask you one thing, while I’m all up for this Detective scheme answer me one thing. Why are you doing this?”
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Mar 10, 12 at 4:07pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
Imaria arrived at the sanctuary on her black horse, in the dead of night. No doubt Astrid and her friends were inside the sanctuary. She approached the door, a red skull carved into it. She pressed her hand upon the stone, and a feeling of dread and cold shot through her like an arrow would parchment. In a voice one would call calm and terrifying at the same time the door spoke, “What is the music of life?” Imaria remembered what Astrid had told her back at the Bannered Mare. “Silence my brother.” Enunciating clearly. The door spoke again. “Welcome home.” Imaria pushed the door opened. Inside, the sanctuary was made of stone. It was well lit, due to the many candles lining the walls and sitting on tables. She stepped down the steps nervously, obviously a little scared of what waited for her deeper inside the sanctuary. In the first main room, Astrid leaned against the stone wall. “Ah sister, so good to see you. I trust you’ll find my dysfunctional little family quite… welcoming.” “Pleasure to see you too Astrid, I am sure I’ll love this family as much I love killing.” Astrid smiled, and walked over to a cabinet and opened it. “Come to me sister, see your welcome home gift. The Armor of The Dark Brotherhood. Try it on.” Imaria gingerly picked up a red and black glove, and slipped it over her arm. It fit perfectly. “Thank you, Astrid, It is an honor. Truly.” She picked up the second glove from the pile of armor, and slid it over her left arm. She put the rest of the armor in her sack. She would try that on later. “Go meet your family members. I’m sure they will like you.” Imaria walked down the second set of stairs into the large main chamber, decorated with a pond, several types of mushrooms, and a few clusters of grass. An Argonian walked up to Imaria. “Welcome sister, I am Nazeem, one of the last remaining Shadowscale in Tamriel. I serve this sanctuary, life is good. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Imaria smiled. “Likewise. I am Imaria, an Altmer.”
I once knew an Elf like you, she was very attractive, just like you, but not a quarter of your beauty.” Imaria blushed and smiled. “Very flattering, thank you. I should ask Astrid for work. Nice to meet you.” Imaria walked back towards the steps, and gingerly walked up. “Astrid, do you have any work for me?”
Astrid looked thoughtful and went into her room. “I do have a contract, one of Falof the Fire Flinger, a powerful destruction mage. He travels to the College of Winterhold every 15th to visit his sister. Best you get started, because today is the 14th. Kill the man, you get what he has on him and 200 septims from me, kill the man on the road or in the wilderness and get a powerful enchanted ring to better yourself with a dagger, as a bonus. Go sister. Send his soul to the Void.” Imaria walked up the first set of steps and pushed on the pulsing black door.
Imaria mounted her black horse, who she had started to call ‘Whisper’, and set off on the road to Winterhold.
Hype. Hype never changes.
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Mar 10, 12 at 4:29pm ^re: Skyrim Roleplay Adventure
OOC: Putting this up because I can. Anyone may chase him, but he's not going to get caught so easily.
Contract - Argonian thief Saluum-Ei
Former dockworker. Wanted in Eastmarch for theft, running from the law, and several other crimes against the people of Windhelm. Last spotted near the bridge, current whereabouts unknown. Bounty is 300 Septims for capture. Kill is not permitted, and no reward will be given as a result.
Report to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak with the culprit subdued for the reward.
Cold. So damn cold.
Saluum-Ei held his arms together as he slowly plodded through the cold forests of Skyrim, heading southward. He was leaving footprints in the snow, but there was no other path available. And there were always adventurers and scouts trekking these areas, his trail would blend right in. So he paid it no mind. The cold of the snow still got to him, though.
So unbelievably cold.
Saluum-Ei’s head was filled to the brim with worried thoughts. Foremost, what had happened to the rest of the Assemblage? The guards would have ransacked the place, but Shatter-Shield would have kept them alive… for the most part.
But they all knew what the plan was. If any one of them talked, then Saluum-Ei would be done for. However… seeing as he hadn’t heard the sounds of anyone chasing after him yet, he was convinced his trust for them was not in vein.
They would never sell me out. Never.
Saluum-Ei stopped for a moment, tired from walking. He leaned against a tree and seated himself against the bark. He sighed and ran his fingers along his new scar. Right across his maw… might give off the mercenary look. If worse came to past and he had to start a new life somewhere else in Tamriel, he could probably pass off as a sellsword who’s seen his fair share of action.
Of course, that’d be the worst lie ever.
Saluum-Ei then began to think of the possibility that a bounty had already been placed on his head. Damn Nords probably branded him an enemy of the Stormcloaks. Would anyone believe it?
Yeah, maybe they would.
How much gold would Ulfric put on an Argonian thief’s head? Probably nothing. Maybe whoever lopped off Saluum-Ei’s head and brought it back to the Jarl of Windhelm would get a friendly pat on the back.
Or a nice, warm hug.
Saluum-Ei chuckled a bit, still tired. His maw hung a little open as he peered through the trees, up at the gleaming morning sun.
And then he stood up and decided it was time to get moving.
Riften or bust.
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