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The Expedition (RP)


Started by Iogairn
Post #19302
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Rogatus Malarius nailed the sign up outside the village hall. The little mining village, called Urtia, just south of the Skyrim border never had much trouble until the expedition went into the depths. And never returned. The head of this expedition was led by Ardurus Malarius, Rogatus' elder brother.
After seeing the signs of Molag Bal's invasion of Nirn, the Mages Guild kept aware for any weapon or tool that could be used against him. Eventually they heard one. A weapon of great power, heard off a half-crazed adventurer who had delved too deep, looking for treasure. It was supposedly create by the Dwemer, in order to combat the power of Daedra, as the Dunmer relied heavily on Azura and the other Daedra.
The Mages guild sent an expedition immediately. They arrived at Urtia to find the mine closed due to Falmer infestation. After the expedition went in, the Falmer disappeared, along with the expedition.
The sign Rogatus had just nailed up read "adventurers wanted for dangerous expedition. Loot will be divided equally apart from an important artifact which will be given to the Mages Guild. Look for Rogatus at the Cooking Dragon You will be rewarded..."

Iogairn stared at the sign for a couple of seconds, trying to read the sign, hastily scrawled. He smiled at the name Cooking Dragon. Luckily, the first priority for him, in any new place, was to find out where the tavern was. He quickly made his way to the tavern and asked the barkeep, a jovial middle-aged man, where Rogatus was. After hearing a joke about stupid mages he told him he was in the living quarters by the fire. Iogairn thanked him and walked through to the other room. He saw a fairly young mage at a seat by the fire, reading a book. Iogairn walked over and pulled up a chair.
"I'm here about the expedition." Rogatus jumped out of his seat, a surprised expression on his face and dropped the book he was holding. Iogairn held up his hands to show he meant no harm. Rogatus just smiled nervously
"Sorry about that. Just a bit... worried is all." He cracked his knuckles in anxiety. Iogairn looked at his hands. Arthritis before he's thirty he thought. He just smiled reassuringly.
"Not to worry, happens to us all. Now perhaps you could tell me a little bit about this venture."
After hearing the details Iogairn nodded. "I had no idea Dwemer ruins were in Cyrodiil." The little mage shook his head.
"There aren't" he explained, "The mine shaft heads north, into Skyrim. But even then the Dwemer ruin is supposed to be so huge it could have covered bits of Cyrodiil. It might well have been the capital of the Dwemer kingdom."
Iogairn stroked his chin. "I'm afraid my Dwemer knowledge is somewhat lacking. But I'd be happy to accompany you to learn out more about them. But can I ask something? Your sign mentioned an important artifact. Might I ask what it is?" Rogatus winced.
"I can't actually tell you that. Mainly because I don't know but even if I did..." he tried to think of a way not to be insulting.
"A vagrant like me?" Iogairn finished for him with a grin. Rogatus gave an apologetic smile. Iogairn raised an eyebrow. "Well, while we're waiting for more, I will practice my... vagranting" And he left to challenge people for a game of dice.

(I saw there hasn't been a thread since the inns and I thought it would be good to have a more adventurous RP. I was thinking wait for a day to gather RPers to see who does it, then stop more people coming in the middle of a Dwemer ruin. Might make it a bit hard to seem realistic.)
This post was last modified: March 17th 2013 04:13 AM by Iogairn


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19311
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(Correction: If you can find a way to be in the dwemer ruins before us then its fine by me)


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Post #19389
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Idriar Die-Faust woke with a growling skull. He had probably exaggerated a bit last night, but you could not accept a defeat to a woman! Especially in drinking contests ... A rematch followed another until the beer and mead had washed away all memories of last night. Idriar looked around, while his memories gradually returned. The tavern cooking dragon. He had fallen asleep on a bench in the darkest corner.

His hand went to his back. His sword! It was gone! Someone had stolen from him! More and more memories came back: He had to give his two-handed sword to the innkeeper because Idriar had neither a Septim nor a crumb silver in his pockets again. But was it his fault? The mine in Urtia was closed, how he would make money from it. Bloody Falmers, disgusting creatures had occupied the mine. The mere thought of the pale beasts like giant bats ... no, Idriar didn´t really want to think about…

Painfully he got up checked his clothes: his steel armor, his dagger and his club were also the host. Only his helmet was carelessly thrown under the table. Idriar smiled as he picked it up. He had stolen it from one of the Dragon Temple, where mad cultists constantly shuffling back and forth. It was rumored that dragon servants are undead, but Idriar was nothing to those rumors. The helmet was nearly indestructible and seemed made of bone. Dragon bones? Who knew. At least the innkeeper didn´t believe it…

Meanwhile, it was his head better and a bucket of water would drive out the drunkenness completely. But not now. He put on his helmet and went to the counter. It was a funny sight: A giant as in simple clothes and tattered pants with such a menacing-looking helmet on his head.
"Host! Please my sword, "he demanded in a loud voice.

The innkeeper looked at him uninterested. "20 pitchers of beer, 11 pitchers of mead and 3 bottles of liquor! That makes 100 Septims. "

Idriar looked surprised. "So many jars I hardly drank!"

"Your girlfriend said you would to pick up the tab."

Idriar cursed the wretched woman. Could only he remember her name ... or how she looked like…

100 Septims, how long he would have to work in the mine? Damn, that was closed, disgusting Falmers! Idriar looked around helplessly: In the tavern a mage in fine clothes sat alone at a table. On another a few men played dice. Gambling! Pah!

His gaze wandered to the mage. He did not come out of Winterhold that he could say with certainty. Idriar once bought a magic book there, learned a spell. He did not trust too much on, but shooting ice and snow out of the hand can be a life saver sometimes. Idriar had heard of the Mages Guild. What did one of them do in Urtia? Sure he had his pockets full of gold.

"Place two other jars of mead on the bill!"

Reluctantly the innkeeper filled two jars of mead. He knew that the weapons and the armor were worth as much as the contents of all his barrels.

Idriar took the two jars and sat down to the mage, who was so engrossed in a book that he did not notice it. After he observed the Mage for a moment he put the jar in front of his nose. The mage startled.

"What? How? "

"Do not worry, friend. My name is Idriar Die-Faust. People die of my Faust! "


Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

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Post #19441
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Iogairn looked up from the dice game. The information from the miners had been...interesting. They had heard strange noises, unlike actual Falmer themselves. He saw one of the patrons of the tavern rise, obviously with great duress, and walk over to the mage. A possible companion, Iogairn thought.


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19442
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Aeron opened the door to the Cooking Dragon. After wrinkling his nose at the smell, he asked the barman about this mage. He had no idea why he was so interested in this expedition, something about the "important artifact". He looked at the dice-player. He smiled. That took him back. Of course it wasn't honourable but still.
He found the mage being confronted by a Nord with a hangover. You could always tell when a Nord had a hangover. He tapped on the Nords shoulder.
"Might I ask for a word with this mage?"
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Post #19461
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Iogairn put his head in his hands in despair. This knight had just entered and tapped a hungover Nord on the shoulder. That just didn't happen if you wanted to live. It was right up there with shouting, "You know, Almelexia isn't all that great" in Mournhold and stealing a sweetroll from me.


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19462
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The stammering mage looked down on the full jar of Mead confused. Then he nervously looked up to Idriar. He couldn´t take off his eyes of his menacing-looking helmet. But before he could utter a sound Idriars felt a tap on his shoulder and someone broke in on the mage

"Might I ask for a word with this mage?"

Idriar turned. A Breton stood with a winning smile behind him. Idriar had lived for half a year in Urtia, just wanted to escape the winter in Skyrim, but this man he had never seen in the village before. Idriar was about to launch a fistycuff to shoo the Bretons, but he could just hold still. He was not exactly sober, but still enough presence of mind to remain diplomatically: The shy magician wouldn´t help him with his money problems when he appeared as a mindless thug. Furthermore, there must have been a reason that the Breton took it out to interrupt him so bold. A drunken Nord!

"I was about to introduce me to this magician as hospitable Nord. You're a stranger, just like him. May I therefore ask, what have you to do with this magician? We don´t want people to say in Urtia the strangers would go for strife, do we? "

The last sentence he had intentionally spoken a little louder to attract the attention of the dice players. He knew the citizens of Urtia although only briefly, but most here had lost in the closure of the mine work and were grumpy and irritable.

Idriar did not believe that the Breton wanted to make trouble, but for some reason he was quite interested in the mage. Maybe they had an appointment, or the Breton wanted to chat with the mage about magic stuff. He remembered a joke about a Breton Mage, it was about three women and one illusion spell. Idriar had to bite back a laugh and looked at the still grinning Breton.


Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

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Post #19464
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Aeron could see the Nords mouth tweak upwards, no doubt thinking about that racist joke about the illusion spell and three women...
"There's an expedition. Delving deep into the heart of the dwarven city. But obviously that would be too dangerous for you." He smiled again. He looked at the gambler, head in his hands. Maybe insulting the friendly Nord wasn't such a brilliant idea.
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Iogairn groaned. The stupid Breton didn't know when to stop


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19479
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While the magician with wide eyes watched the Nord and the Breton, Idriar rose slowly. In the background, the players moved their chairs and watched closely this event. It would be no contest, thought Idriar. The Breton stood before him, sober and in full armor. He towered over the intruder to turn a head, but had no weapons and only his helmet. Whether he was expected to give him a head butt? He could flay the same impression on the magician, "work with your head" hehe. On the other hand his skull grumbled enough anyway.

Instead, he laughed and patted the Bretons on the shoulder, which he remained off the air and rattled his armor.

"You may have guts. For me, nothing is too dangerous!"

A city of the dwarves? It was about an expedition? North of the mountains, recalled Idriar, was the village Divn, built on Nord ruins of the first days, called Divns remains. Below these was Divnikadzel, an ancient city of Dwemer. He had been there once, the place was full of Falmer. They darted through the darkness, with their mouths, real beasts, horrors ... anger rose in Idriar. He was able to escape with great difficulty, and this Breton dared to make fun of him.

While the Breton continued to smile on the assumption of the Nord would be sympathetic to him, took Idriar the hand from his shoulder, haul off and gave him a fist blow to the jaw.

The Breton was turned around, turned once around the axis, and went down. Idriar was a victim of his own momentum, he got off balance and fell: His helmet prevented just that he broke his skull when he hit against the table edge.

Totally shocked the magician let out a scream as he saw the two men in front of him fell to the ground unconscious.

The other guests of the inn stood up and turn to laugh.

"I think they need a cold bath in the horse trough," they laughed.
This post was last modified: December 21st 2012 11:14 AM by Idriar


Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like Reply
Post #19542
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Iogairn laughed. Firstly at the spectacle, then at the mage's face. He walked over to the barman and paid for two rooms for them to recover in. The Breton could be a companion, and it was best to be on good terms with the Nord. He then paid the miners to haul them up, to be good terms with them as well (as thet're not getting any work).
When that was done he turned to the mage.
"Are you alright?" he asked. The mage practically shrieked when the blow came. The mage just tried to smile and nodded. "Perhaps you could tell me a little more of why you are so keen to go on this expedition when you weren't actually set by the Mages Guild itself."
Rogatus started "B-but it is. Go ask the Mages Guild about it. They could tell you everything-"
"About the first. You said your brother had already been down there. I could understand a hopeless chance of rescue from some people but, forgive me, you don't seem like that kind of person." The mage looked uncomfortable but nodded his head. "So why," Iogairn looked him in the eye, "are you determined to go into a Falmer infested mine, a city full of dangerous Dwemer artifacts to look for something that may or may not be there? Don't tell me its for the good of Nirn because they sent their best mages into that hole and they didn't come out. So why this?" Rogatus stared at the floor for a good while before looking into Iogairns eyes and said quietly,
"I can't tell you that."


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19543
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Waking up in a tavern with a bad headache is the second worst thing that could happen to anybody. The worst thing is waking up in a tavern with a bad headache without getting drunk first. Aeron groaned. Divines that Nord could throw a punch. He groaned again and got up. Luckily, all his equipment was there. He checked his pockets. They hadn't taken his coinpurse. Wonders on top of wonders. He drunk a healing potion. That eased the pain somewhat.

He was greeted by a gale of laughter by the population of the tavern he walked over to the mage. The mage looked distraught. He wondered how much money he'd been pressed for by the gambler. After seeing the look in the mage's eyes he saw something different. He wondered about applying for this job. Still, he had nothing better to do.
"Greetings, I heard you were offering jobs for an expedition."
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Post #19545
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Just as the guests of the tavern carried out Idriar to the door in order to throw him in a pool of water, in came a young dark elf. With his tired and sad eyes he looked at first the unconscious Nord with its peculiar helmet, then the other guests. He wrinkled his nose. His eyes were not really sad and tired. Who stood his gaze long enough would have seen an eerie fire blazing in them. The robe of the Dunmer, which was covered all over with embroidery of icons for restoration and destruction pointed him out as a member of the Mages Guild. As such, he recognized his colleagues on the spot.

"Magister Rogatus Malarius? I am Dlesyddion Varuhlen. The guild sent me."


Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like Reply
Post #19547
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Iogairn raised an eyebrow at this mysterious dunmer. Why would the Guild send another mage after the last expedition was so disastrous. This artifact must be important. Rogatus looked surprised as well. Obviously there had been no sign of help coming from that particular area. He walked over to the new mage. "Greetings, I am Iogairn." he said "How much do you know of this expedition?"


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #19548
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Dlesyddion studied the sly looking Nord. Then the bewildered magician who could not speak. It was like he had been told. Then he answered to the Iogairn.

"After careful examination of the situation the guild questions that it is possible Rogatus Malarius complete the expedition successfully. They complained that he was too young and inexperienced, and the personal feelings distract him from his task. Indeed, his brother disappeared. Addition has he claimed to be an expert on the Dwemer, this is not true. "

"You, you want ... my p-post?" Rogatus brought out quietly. His hands were shaking. He dropped his book. "Introduction to the culture of the Dwemer".

"But no!" Dlessydion sighed.

Having to bother with this child was a cruel punishment. If he had it but only managed to kill his comrades in cold harbor, instead to be overwhelmed by them! Fortunately Vanus Galerion had put in a good word for him, otherwise he would have been executed ... or left in cold harbor!

"I will not make you ... your post in dispute. Contrary, I am here to ensure your safety. You were the only one who said your brother has provided insight into his research. Matter what we find down there, we need you or your brother to understand it. "

Outside of a loud splash was heard.
This post was last modified: December 22nd 2012 07:11 AM by Idriar


Who controls the Septim crown?
Who keeps the Allesian Heresy down?
We do, we do

Who knocked Yokuda off the maps?
Who keeps the Dwemer under wraps?
We do, we do

Like Reply




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