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The Final Dusk


Started by Iogairn
Post #117412
Member

259
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
Imperial
In a damp cave, in the northernmost parts of High Rock, Arcthan leaned over a map, illuminated by candles. He was in a small island in the cave, just in sight of the entrance, with a small river running between him and the rest of the cave, and only a wooden bridge connecting them. On the island with him were his skeletal minions, watching constantly the entrance with dead eyes. Arcthan had hired another group of bandits for personal protection, but they stood on the other side of the cave, talking softly but harshly. There were others, scouting on the hills.

The map was of Cavalan castle, a keep that was virtually abandoned due to the war. The Lord Cavalan was a firm supporter of High King Emeric and had pledged his whole support to the Covenant's cause, thinking that the Dominion or the Covenant would not be able to strike at his castle, hidden away, far from the front lines. And he would lose his castle for his stupidity.

Arcthan had spent the last year, tracking down those with a certain disregard for morality. He knew that he could not trust them over time, but he did not need to. He needed only to win them over, with talk of riches and power. For although he was powerful, and could raise a small army through the undead and bandits, he did not have the power to take the castle by himself, and he needed the skills of others, however much he may resent that fact.

And so he had listened to rumours; the frightened talk of guards and the peasantry. He learned of individuals with dark pasts, pasts that were worn with pride. And, after sizing each one of them up for the job, he slipped a letter into their household. A letter telling them of a great prize; wealth and power beyond measure, and the location where he now stood, waiting...


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

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Post #117418
Member

244
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Khajiit
Nadene awoke the following morning, with a terrible headache and her bloodlust near unbearable. She was still dressed in her ornate bonemould armour, that had been gifted to her. Walking down the stairs of her small but grand house she found a letter, she opened it expecting it to be another threat from vampire hunters but it wasn't It was from a man named Arcthan he was promising both gold, and fame proclaiming that he was looking for fighter so assist him ''Guess I know where my days heading'' Nadene said softly, unlocking her door and donning her hood ''A cave near highrock'' she said again quietly exiting her house and locking her door.


Vlos Hithern!
The Blood Coven!

Va Khaj Dar!
The council of Arcanea!

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Post #117427
Member

7
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Khajiit)
Neytsana searched through her victims pockets. She had planned to train pick-pocketing, but it's just so much easier when the target is dead. There wasn't much there to find though, except some letters and packages. Alright, so the boy she just killed had been a courier. She sighted. Neytsana had spotted him sneaking towards her camp and she wasn't gonna let him come near, he could have been a thread... she looked down upon the dead body's clothes. Alright, maybe not, maybe she just didn't want to get interrupted. Most letters weren't very interesting, one package contained a couple of soul gems and there was some gold of a heritage, but there also was one letter in his hand that was addressed to her. She read it and smiled. "Cavalan castle..." Neytsana had a big interest in it, though she doubted it was the same as the authors. Well, did it really matter how she'd get in there?


Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It's not.
- Dr. Seuss
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Post #117446
Member

358
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Altmer
A simple looking black carriage rode slowly through the countryside of North High Rock, small farms and cottages littered the lands all the way to the far off mountains that bordered Skyrim. The heavy rain washed the mud beneath the primitive stone walls that separated field from field and property from property. After all every Breton needed his own 'castle'.
The carriage had no decoration and the wood itself was of a washed out black colour, hardly a symbol of wealth. Apart from that only some luggage sheltered by a makeshift tarpaulin. The Carriage is pulled by two black horses, not shiny maned black stallions but hardy ones, slow but strong. The driver is an aged Redguard, bearded and hooded, his head down to hide from the rain. Beside him sits a thin, wiry almost, man. An Imperial wearing a hooded grey robe and trying to sleep sheltering himself from the wind with his cloak. Leading the way are two heavily armored brutes, Nords. Their heads down, trying to rest with the noise of the rain on their iron helmets and armor. Standing on the backstep of the carriage two young-looking Bretons stand in the rain holding on to the hand holds grimly not-speaking as they are only wearing some thin clothes and their drenched hair is their only protection. Trailing behind the carriage are two pack mules carrying more bags and other necessities. Atop those are two Orcs wearing leather armor, one carrying a large orcish-make greatsword on his back.

The inside of the carriage is just as bland. The two flat wooden benches are hard and uncomfortable and their is little light but that cast by the wavering candles in the small shrine to the Divines and the dull grey which gets through beneath the thick black velvet curtains.
The man Inside is dressed in thin white robes with a ribbon of black around his neck and a flattened, round black hat on his knees. He looks to his master, who is asleep on the bench opposite with the other two younger disciples sleeping with their heads on their shoulders on his bench, and slowly inches his way to the window to gently twitch aside the curtain and look outside. Just as he touches it he hears a shuffle and hastily moves back taking his book of 'Teachings of Purity' and opens a page at random pretending to read.

Mordric woke up to the sound of rain and wind in the outside, muffled slightly by the walls and curtains. His bones ached but he knew it was sinful to restrain yourself to the work of the spirit due to the mere concerns of the body. He got up and tidied up his robes to see his apprentices sleeping soundly opposite him. He was about to shout at them to wake up and pray for the forgiveness of the divines for their slumber but than he noticed Rufus reciting a passage from his scripture.
"Brother Rufus."
The man looked up from his book shutting it instantly.
"Yes, Father Slaza?"
Mordric rubbed his eyes.
"Are we far from our destination?"
He asked.
"I'm unsure, Father."
Mordric looked at him expectantly.
"Well then what are you waiting for. Get out there and check."
Rufus looked at the carriage door in disbelief.
"But its pouring with rain, I may fall ill and be unable to carry out the will of the divines."
He said hoping the argument would persuade his master.
Mordric stood up inside the rather cramped carriage and stretched out his hands downwards. Rufus instantly got on his knees before Mordric who placed his hands on Rufus' head and said:
"May your faith be your shield against all illness, my Son"
and with that he sat down again. Rufus stared at the floor for a second and then put his hat on and opened the door and hung himself out of it.
"How far are we from Cavalan driver!"
He shouted over the wind.
No answer. Well no surprise, Old Mezorn was half deaf anyway and in this weather it was even worse.
"How Far to Cavalan Mezorn!!!"
Rufus hear Mezorn's voice shouting.
"Eh. its just getting near, out there infront of us! An' ya dain't need ta shout sa loud!"
Mezorn could be rather annoying sometimes... But there it was, the small structure of the old castle and the even more minuscule houses of the town surrounding it, down below in the valley.
Rufus pulled himself inside and shut the door. He was already drenched.
"Well?"
Mordric asked as he watched his half-wit apprentice seat himself again.
"We are nearly there the town and Castle are right ahead, Master."
"Good"
Mordric was pleased. Now they were nearing their destination all of this, this strange correspondence could be sorted out. While of course spreading faith and purity throughout the area and finding and eradicating any Heresy and Blasphemy this place was probably ripe with. But, that could wait...


Mer Over Man
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The following 1 user likes Isilmo's post:
Iogairn
Post #117451
Member

244
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Khajiit
Nadene walked to the stables that were behind her house, not making a sound despite the armour she wore. Pulling her hood further over her face she saddled one of the horses, a brown rugged breed more suited to somewhere like Skyrim than here, she mounted the horse checking the two canvas bags near its rear. Taking the reins she set off towards the cave that the man has said he was.

She had been riding for just over four hours, and was near to the cave she knew where it was due to the fact it was where she had killed a khajiit caravan there years ago. She came to a halt the rain beating across her head she had seen a carriage. It wasn't an ordinary one it looked like on the witch hunters used, that is black wood and relative adornment.


Vlos Hithern!
The Blood Coven!

Va Khaj Dar!
The council of Arcanea!

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Post #117467
Member

7
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion (Khajiit)
Neytsana picked up all her things and went down from the hill she had camped on towards the little village which lied in the valley. She waited behind the stables until nobody was around, in there one of the farmers kept his middle-aged working horse. She lured the horse with carrots and then mounted. Neytsana always stole her horses, she never got one herself, though the money definitely wasn't her problem. But you can't do sneak missions with a horse, you'd have to make it wait far away from whatever you're sneaking up on, and then it probably gets eaten, killed, or both. She wondered if even one of the animals she had stolen over the years actually had survived. Well, she couldn't worry about that right now, she was heading of to the cave close to the castle to maybe finally get inside and find her... place of interest.
((hint hint Iogairn we should probably tell them now))
This post was last modified: November 24th 2013 10:03 AM by Nikura


Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It's not.
- Dr. Seuss
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Post #117475
Member

233
Cyric was in sack cloth clothes and wrist cuffs hang on his wrist though the chains were gone. He carried a large back pack over his shoulder and a bloody letter. In his other hand he carried the severed head of a high elf it was at least a day old as the blood was dried and still.

"Yes this is the place." Cyric spoke with an obvious anticipation.

He had rode the horse he stole fast and hard with desire to get to this place. He looked to the severed head and held it up to his face and laughed.

Cyric was unshaven and a bit unkempt, but none the less he had arrived at the entrance of the cave and now he waited for his greeting. He looked to the skeletons who as of yet were not attacking though he still kept his distance from them waiting patiently.

"Surely others will be coming." Cyric said with a smile as he looked back over his shoulder the way he came.
This post was last modified: November 24th 2013 10:11 AM by MaxxRocker


The best government is a benevolent tyranny tempered by an occasional assassination-Voltaire
GM Vlos Hithern actively recruiting EP Guild Check us out!
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Post #117485
Member

83
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
Argonian
In a large, densely forested area of Skyrim near falkreath a small camp stood. It was very makeshift and out of place in this land of natural beauty where the unpredictable can happen at any moment. The camp was made up of four tents, three relatively small ones and a lone massive one. These weak looking structures were all situated around one roaring bonfire that pierced the dark veil of the night. Outside each tent stood a guard, clad in scale armour bearing an intimidating, savage forward curving blade. Argonians. They were there for the war and for the pact. Inside the big tent lay an argonian of average height and muscular build. He too was wearing jet black scale armour however it was far more ornate so he was clearly the leader of the little warband. He had emerald green scales and blood red warpaint adorned his face along with two large horns on the top of his head with increasingly smaller ones going down his face. A shadowy figure appeared at the opening of the tent, the figure cleared its throat and said

"Sir! There is a letter specifically addressed to you."

The leading argonian simply looked up at the figure and said

"Where is this letter?". Upon the words leaving the leaders mouth the figure stepped in a handed the letter to him. It read...

"Xhuvara,
I have heard many things about you and would like to employ your services in taking a castle. Specifically Cavalan Castle. Great amount of glory, honour and gold awaits you if you help me. I'm positively sure your leaders shall look brightly upon one with such initiative to take a castle from the enemy is such a courageous way. I shall see to it that your superiors know of your great deeds and award you accordingly. Even more rewards await if you stick with me.
Archtan."

"Interesting..." Xhuvara said as he gently folded the letter and stood up. "Where is the courier?"

"Outside, sir". The guard led Xhuvara to the courier who was surrounded by warriors and tied up by the hands with a gag in his mouth. Xhuvara leaned towards him and removed the gag

"Where do your allegiances lie?"

"I'm just a courier sir, nothing more. P-please let me go!"

Xhuvara simply walked off and gestured to his men to take the head which they did immediately. He turned the note over to find a destination.

"Everyone pack up! We're heading out!"


Death to Queen Ayrenn!
Down with the covenant!
Glory to the pact!

Xhuvara - Argonian guerrilla fighter and leader of the shadow fangs

Azhir - Redguard knight dedicated to the art of war
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Post #117501
Member

259
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
Imperial
Arcthan raised his head and fixed his stare on the man who had entered, a mad grin on his face. He wondered about his choice for a moment but then dismissed his doubts. The rumours about him were true enough, and a mad man would not try and take the main prize for himself, and if he did, the insane are always outwitted with ease.
He smiled confidently at him and beckoned him to enter his area of the cave. "Please, come and join me. The skeletons are of no threat to you. Presuming of course," Arcthan let his voice have a small edge of threat to it, "that you do not have any desires to harm me."


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

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Post #117503
Member

358
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Altmer
The Carriage continued on its way in the rain and Mordric was considering what this, this message was supposed to be a sign of, were the Divines blessing him with opportunity to purify this corner of Tamriel or a temptation to seduce him into the darkness...
While pondering this dilemma he heard some shouting as Rufus moved aside the curtain to look at the source of the noise. Mordric shoved him out of the way and looked outside to see one of his hired thugs... his aides to spiritual purpose, Ulfgar was it... riding to the back of the carriage where the shouting was going on.
He looked from the window to Rufus and back making a swift decisions.
"Well, what are you waiting for!? Get out there and find out what's going on!"
pushing Rufus out the door, making him stumble across the muddy road, barely getting 'caught' by Yarguth, one of his personal aides.
"There's a Woman Dunma' ,by the look of her, behind us your holiness."
Yarguth said pushing Rufus away from him and into the side of the carriage with a bit more force than intended.
Mordric considered this and said.
"My son, please speak with this elven female and find out her purpose on this road alone, and you go with him my, Orsimer, son."
Rufus got his bearings, put his hat on his drenched hair and walked through the mud towards the Dunmer rider and the already waiting Glumoth, The other Orsimer and personal Bodyguard of his master and Ulfgar one of the Nord Thugs, well they were bandits but his Master didn't often hire official mercenaries... Rufus trailed behind Yarguth until he found himself alone about a meter infront of the rest of the 'aides' and before the rider...


Mer Over Man
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Post #117508
Member

233
"Well harm you no...but I wasn't exactly invited either well not directly or alone." Cyric laughed a little.

"In fact." He said as he hopped off the horse holding the head of the altmer and the letter. "This was the man you so generously invited did you mention if he had any willing partners that they were welcome to assist...but it seems he lost his head." Cyric laughed as he looked at the severed head.

"So then I am to go into a cave with bandits and skeletons about and you across the table how could anything go wrong." Cyric gave a coy smile.

He clicked his tongue and the horse followed as he walked forward with Arcthan.
This post was last modified: November 24th 2013 11:41 AM by MaxxRocker


The best government is a benevolent tyranny tempered by an occasional assassination-Voltaire
GM Vlos Hithern actively recruiting EP Guild Check us out!
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Post #117516
Member

259
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
Imperial
Arcthan raised an eyebrow. "His death is of little consequence to me," he told the madman with a slight disregard. "In fact I applaud your ability to kill him. He was not unskilled." See how he reacts to compliments, Arcthan thought to himself, and then we'll get a measure of his pride.
"But I have no reason to end your life. In fact, I may have reason to prolong it. You see, there are certain skills you possess that could be invaluable to me. And I possess treasures that could be invaluable to you."
He smiled and tilted his head to one side.
"So, I would suggest that neither of us attempts to kill each other. It certainly sets a bad atmosphere for a meeting, does it not?"


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

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Post #117520
Member

244
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Khajiit
Nadene looked at the guards most of them brutes by the look of them. ''Something wrong?'' she asked them trying to keep her eyes unnoticeable, as they has since turned a bright glowing orange. She put a hand on her sword's hilt and said to the men reassuringly ''I am not a bandit or other unpleasant that may stalk these roads, searching for those to kill or rob.''

She tilted her head slightly and said ''or perhaps you yourselves are some form of bandits? I would hope not''.
This post was last modified: November 24th 2013 11:48 AM by ragnar-ice blood


Vlos Hithern!
The Blood Coven!

Va Khaj Dar!
The council of Arcanea!

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Post #117529
Member

233
"I appreciate the gracious attitude toward a kill, its a pleasure to see someone else who understands what the term disposable means." Cyric said with a laugh seemingly aware of his place in this situation.

"My life? Oh I would dare you to try, but it would be a bother for all of us and such a mess for the others to clean up. Treasure would be nice, but just another notch on the belt would be fine whatever happens happens and most of all I'd just like to bring this castle some of my gifts." Cyric sighed as he finished his sentence and looked toward the cave.

"Your right no time for bad atmospheres I must clean up anyways. My belongings are in the bag though four guards and a few angry villagers stopped me from being able to properly equip myself shame really." Cyric continued forward and motioned for the horse to wait outside before tying it to something to keep it from running off it was surprisingly responsive to Cyric.

Before he walked inside he gave the horse and apple and placed the head of the altmer on a rock facing directly toward the path as if to make it seem like it was watching the path. He took his letter and wrote the word welcome on it and placed it in the Altmer's mouth.
This post was last modified: November 24th 2013 11:55 AM by MaxxRocker


The best government is a benevolent tyranny tempered by an occasional assassination-Voltaire
GM Vlos Hithern actively recruiting EP Guild Check us out!
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Post #117534
Member

358
Faction & Race:
Aldmeri Dominion
Altmer
Rufus looked up from beneath the Brim of his large hat.
"We are but a travelling clergy and my superior and spiritual guide in faith, Father Slaza, was..."
Mordric sat inside the coach impatiently. he opted for calling to Rufus.
"Rufus! Who in Oblivion is it then!?"
Rufus felt the beginnings of a blush start somewhere around his ankles. The burning horde would reach his face soon enough. He turned and ran back to the coach his sandals slapping in the mud.
"Its a Dunmeri woman, Father Slaza."
Mordric looked at him quizzically for a second.
"Well go and find out what she's doing here on the road in this desolate part of High Rock."
Rufus ran back to the Dunmer and said.
"My superior, Father Slaza wishes to inquire on you reason of being here."


Mer Over Man
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