"Well, you've got alot of skill, something i don't often see looking for work, at least not to this level.", He replied, handing Bugraal the sword back. "Keep that. You made, it after all. Now, i've got requests coming in from the Legion for more arms. It's long and tough work, but if you're up for it, i could really use the help. The current shipment pays 1000 Septims: I'll split that down the middle with you."
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill"But he was trying to hurt her!" Jeane protested, pointing at Aurora. "Doesn't that make him a bad guy? I was always told it was okay to soul trap bad guys!"
I've got new mythological machinery, and very handsome supernatural scenery. Goodfae: a mafia web serialAvionus shrugged as he chaught the coin purse "Long story short, six elves was checking out the bounty board. The nord woman with the greatsword walks up to it. Elves pushes her to the ground and taunts her on grounds of her being a woman. She rises up and draws her weapon, the elves draw their weapons too and circle around her, still taunting her by the way. They attack and she starts breaking their blades with her sword. The huntress thought she should help the nord woman but I'm unsure if it was on purpose of just unluckyness that caused the arrow she fired off to pierce one of the elves neck and kill him."
Avionus opened the coinpurse and started to count the number of coins within "Then it seems like there was this wizard girl who stole the fallen elves soul so the mob that had gathered started to focus on her. It was then the mudcrab of a Thalmor arrived and he made everything take a turn to the worse. You see, he claimed that the elven company was his retinue and threatened that if they didn't give him the women he would take it as a sign that Whiterun had joined the rebellion. The mob turned on him next, even other elves gave him a well deserved verbal beatdown and they chased him away."
Avionus, happy with the number of septims fastened the coin purse to his belt before continuing "And they told him that well, his argument was invalid since, well if Whiterun had joined the rebellion his head would already be on it's way to Windhelm. That shut him up."
edited 21st Dec '11 12:19:19 AM by Clawthewolf
After a good minute or so had passed, Adric gave a mental shrug. Screw it, he thought. Might as well make introductions. Likely to find work with these strangers as anyone.
He straightened his posture, purposefully exerting an aura of confidence and congeniality as he strode towards the talking elves.
"Sorry if I'm interrupting," he said, extending both hands to shake.
"It's just not often one sees fellow mer around here. Even less often to see mer without the Dominion's standard-issue stick planted firmly in their asses. What brings the two of you here?"
Mura: -flips the bird to veterinary science with one hand and Euclidean geometry with the other-Bugraal rolled his shoulders and nodded his head before turning right around back to the forge. It was certainly a big order to fill. He heard bits and pieces about the recent ongoing Civil War in Skyrim, but he didn't put much serious thought into it. Customers are customers, after all, and choosing sides is bad for business.
Seating himself at the forge, he took some iron and leather and set to work on another blade...
"But I need it for my experiments..." Jeane said, making a pouty face. She sighed. It was times like this when she needed someone to talk to who just got it. Rubbing her fingers together, Jeane began to look for said someone. This was a prison. He had to be around here somewhere...
And just like that, a skeletal hand clawed its way through the soft floor, dredging up a skull, then a ribcage, and finally a set of legs. Awakened from its long slumber, the skeleton knew it had been summoned, and it knew what it must do. And so, with the grace of a swan and the majesty of an eagle, it began to dance.
Jeane giggled. Playing with Mr. Nibbles was always so much fun.
edited 22nd Dec '11 12:44:24 AM by KSPAM
I've got new mythological machinery, and very handsome supernatural scenery. Goodfae: a mafia web serial"Ah, hello there!" Aoife greeted the newcomer, shaking his hand when he offered it, "And likewise. A good elf's hard to come by nowadays."
She answered his question now, having greeted him, "Ah, let's see. . . I'm just passing through Whiterun, really. Have to bring a package back to Riften, so I've got a bit of a long trip ahead of me. Not that it bothers me much; I enjoy travel."
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."(Note:Speaking of good Elves being hard to find Cirroc has been accepted. I'd actually written my first two entries already so they take place just before Aina, Aurora and Jeane have been arrested. I understand these posts may be too long, if thats the case let me know and I'll try to keep it more contained in the future.)
20 days...It had been nearly 20 days since he had first entered Skyrim in the company of the travelling merchants and caravans heading for the trading hub of Whiterun. 18 days since he was left for dead in that frozen wasteland after bandits slaughtered and looted them. 15 days since he managed to barely survive the trip to Whiterun alone thanks to Restoration magics only to be placed in the Dragonsreach Dungeon under the reason of being a "suspicious person" with his remaining possessions conviscated. 4 days since he'd talked to anyone, being left to idleness after refusing to cooperate in the guards constant interrogations; finding the remaining cells empty for all but one sickly man in the cell next to his who couldn't seem to even think clearly as a terrible fever had overcome him. The guards wouldn't even let him read.
This Altmer, Cirroc as was the alias he currently held, did not find himself in a hopeful situation. Cirroc knew no one in Skyrim, he could tell the guards nothing of the bandits or their victims, he would not reveal his identity to them. Cirroc was not skilled in lockpicking nor did he carry anything that he imagined could be used as such a device, his magicka had been entirely depleted just keeping himself alive getting here and no men, mer or beast race born under the mighty Atronach could simply regenerate it over time, sometimes it felt like nothing more than a curse even for all the good it did.
It's driving him mad thinking about what the guards may suspect of him from his appearance and the possessions they took. "Why so secretive? An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood?" "Altmer? Highborn scum!" "Illusion? Sociopath come to brainwash our people!" "Alchemy? Foul poisons and drugs!" "Conjuration? Daedra? Deep Ones? Sadistic cultist stealing souls in practicing the Black Magics! "Immigrant? Fugitive running from the law! Exile! Your kind doesn't belong here!" "Travelling with Caravans? Nothing but smugglers, thieves and Skooma addicts!" "Worshipper of Talos? Heretic! You're a traitor to your own race!"
In the least he knew not to even suggest Talos worship during this time of Thalmor "Though I might prove them right about a few of those things should I ever leave this Damn place!" he hissed not caring if anyone could hear it, the guards only ignored him and his fellow prisoner might as well have been dead already. He could atleast be reassured the Thalmor weren't on their way to execute him because thankfully he'd managed to hide his Amulet of Talos from the guards and never kept any books pertaining to the supposed Ninth Divine, he was no follower; it was just another trinket from his collection, one of the few things he'd managed to salvage from the wreckage after the bandits ran off with all they could possibly carry. He was a fool for not having thrown it away sooner.
Cirroc paused on that for a moment. Many Nords in Skyrim still worshipped Talos, it was the basis of much of the building Stormcloak Rebellion against the Empire if he understood it correctly. Could he convince them to let him go? Make them believe he was a Stormcloak, follower of Talos? Or maybe intimidate them by taking the guise of a Thalmor Justicar? Then again Whiterun had taken no allegiance in the Civil War, for all he knew the guards here might be planning to take out some misguided wrath they held for Thalmor on him, vulnerable and suspicious as he was.
Now he was starting to feel sick "I..need to rest..." he spoke wearily finally retiring for the night
edited 4th Jan '12 3:22:46 PM by AceII
.....Awaking early in the morning the first thing Cirroc noticecd was that the other prisoner had undoubtedly died. His stiff arm was outstreched through the bars as he lay on the floor, upon closer inspection Cirroc found that the man's arm held a deep wound, likely the cause of his illness. Cirroc knew the guards would discover him shortly; he quickly tore a strip from his ragged clothing and reached out to the corpse, digging out a piece of the diseased flesh and wrapping it in now bloodied rags. Alchemist's Instinct he thought to himself smuggly, maybe it'd prove useful though it'd rot soon, Altmer didn't often have to worry about contracting diseases so it was easy to weaponize their effects. In hindisght he realized he hadn't paid much attention to the man during his stay here so he wasn't sure what the disease might be, but it was clear that if it didn't prove fatal it was at least debilitating.
Having finished with that sordid buisness he returned to his thoughts from the day before. He wondered if he could buy his way out of here...except the bandits had taken his gold "Maybe I could offer the possessions they conviscated?" Pfft "As if the bastards wouldn't have already pawned it off to those ravenous merchants" he began muttering. Cirroc didn't even know why he was here let alone if a bail was an option, for some reason the guards had remained mostly silent; all he was told was that he would be held here as they continued their "investigation". He was confident they wouldn't make any progress in discovering his identity but he'd have to make sure to get their attention and actual answers as to what was going on, even if that meant playing along to their interrogations.....
edited 4th Jan '12 3:25:18 PM by AceII
....."Huh?" Cirroc must have dozed off for a few hours as he found himself awaking for the second time today, only now to the voice of a guard urging him to take his meal. The tray of sloppy meat with dry bread and dirty water held before him didn't even deserve to be called food, but what was this? Three lovely women now shared a once empty cell, by the looks of 'em two Nords and a Breton. Why, even that disgusting corpse was gone! None of the guards had been very eager to dispose of that bleeding diseased mess next door to him earlier, he had wondered if it was out of spite or fear; maybe they were just that unprofessional, he laughed to that, either way it was gone now.
"Finally something interesting..." he quietly muttered "What was that?" the guard demanded. "Delicious!" he shouted back, startling him as he quickly snatched the tray, making sure to flash a nice sarcastic smile at the guard before he shook his head and walked off.
Cirroc feigned interest in his "meal" while attempting to listen in on what the women were saying with the on duty guard asleep. Unprofessional it is then... he thought, satisfied to answer his own question from earlier. He couldn't make out much, something about souls? Before he could wander off into thought a skeleton suddenly burst from the ground in the women's cell, beginning to dance as the Breton made a gesture towards it. "Necromancy!?" he shouted not thinking as he leapt to his feet and nearly slammed into the bars of his cell. With his shout the once sleeping guard was now alert, joined by several others within seconds Errr...
Things weren't off to a good start.
edited 4th Jan '12 3:28:40 PM by AceII
.....Ayden shook the offered hand.
"Ayden, traveling-" he paused to consider his profession, "-Call me an adventurer. Sell-sword, whatever. If someone needs something done, or killed, I'll do it, although I have standards. I'm not going to shake down a noble for someone who needs coin, and I'm not an assassin... and come to think of it, I'm not certain where I'm going as yet..."
It's kind of funny. Sufficiently advanced stupidity is like sufficiently advanced science; eventually, you find something you can't solve."Your profession sounds oddly similar to mine, right down to the 'stumbling to describe it without coming off as a psychopath' bit. Let's hope this town has a lot of things that need injured, and a lot of people willing to pay to see it happen, no?"
The Dunmer chuckled lightly.
"Though I think," he said, his tone growing faintly more serious, "there's likely to be a bounty or two posted soon. They arrested a mage, yes? You don't imprison a mage with handcuffs and iron bars and expect them to stay put."
Mura: -flips the bird to veterinary science with one hand and Euclidean geometry with the other-Aurora looked at the mage for half a second as she raised a skeleton. And then the warrior charged at the mage, tackling her to the ground. As the archer called for her own blade, Aurora struggled with the mage.
"Dismiss the MONSTROCITY!" shouted Aurora, trying to knock out the mage all the while. She had no knowledge of magic, and figured if the source of power was gone, the skeleton would disappear.
"That would be the business of the Jarl, sir. Now, i have things i should be doing."
Without another word, Proventus walked off, speaking with the crowd as he went.
Dylinnil stopped for just a moment, taking a breather near the stables. Bow drawn, he certainly looked like he'd seen some nasty stuff as of late, his armor splattered red and his greatsword nearly covered in it. To some, it might be repulsive, but to him, it was exciting, a high he knew well enough to control.
Slowly, he began walking, up the slope to the gate, past the guards and into the bustling crowd. He did not stop, not for a second, until he reached the familiar steps gracing Jorrvaskr's front door.
His trip was quick in and quick out. Speaking to Aela for the pay- with just a little of a flirtatious leave, not much to follow up on but enough to at least tug at the right strings-, heading to Kodlak for a new assignment, and he was out the door.
He knew his job, by all rights, inside and out, or at least as best he could. Old ruin, supposedly containing valuable information the Companions desired or better. He had a strong idea of what he could find there, and how to deal with it; but he was reaching the point of straining himself, at least for today, and the road to his destination was a long journey. Better to soak up some mead away from familiar faces and to mingle with the crowd for information than to trudge on carelessly. That information wasn't going anywhere, anyway.
And so, he entered the Bannered Mare, taking a seat near the innkeeper to start. "Some Honningbrew mead, if you'd be so kind," he spoke, putting the gold on the counter, smiling a bit.
edited 30th Dec '11 9:07:17 PM by InfiniteParagon
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill

"Ah, from Solitude?" She mused, "Heheh, that's kind of new. Most elves I know that've told me where they come from always mention somewhere outside of Skyrim. Ah, well. Solitude. . . Nice city. I've been there a few times for jobs, sometimes to visit. . . Developed a bit of a friendship with the lady that owns the Aromatics place. . . Kinda where I picked up a little interest in alchemy. I mostly wander and hunt, though."
She shrugged a bit, "Then again, in my line of work, I travel a lot. So it all works out."
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."