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[Closed] The Metal Shipment


Started by Velathi
Post #66872
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Ebonheart Pact (Dunmer)
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The Metal Shipment
Open Group Role-Play (Ebonheart Pact Characters Only)

Comments? Questions? Discussion? Please visit the OOC thread!
OOC Discussion Thread

  • Join Status
    • OPEN - Read Disclaimer

    Disclaimer
    • Welcome to the official RP thread of the collaborative story event that will be lead (DMd) by Velathi. This is currently an Ongoing project. We are still accepting Ebonheart Pact characters into the role-play, up until all current participating characters leave the Tavern. You have up until the characters leave the Tavern to get involved in this RP! All members of the ESO community are welcome to follow our story along until it’s conclusion, but please leave any OOC comments you might have out of this thread, and please put them in the OOC thread (linked above).

    Rules
    • Post in the order of participation, listed below.
    • Please allow the DM, Velathi, to control NPC reactions. This includes battles. Send a message to him regarding comments on how you would like battles to turn out, but please do not control the NPC's in your posts.
    • Each person is given 24 hours to reply. If they do not reply in that amount of time, their turn will be skipped. This is to keep the RP rolling instead of taking six months to RP a week's worth of IC time.
    • No Permadeath enforced. If you choose to kill off your own character, that is fine, but do not expect other players to do so.

    Main Characters
    Major NPCs
    • N/A

    Setting
    • Year: 2E 581
      Month: First Seed
      Town: Mournhold -> Ebonheart -> Blacklight
      Region: Province of Morrowind
      Summary: A small group of various Ebonheart Pact characters are assigned a caravan escort job from Mournhold to Blacklight. The the trip will begin the following morning and will be role-played over the course of seven IC (in-character) days.

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It was a cold night in Mournhold, the sort that required a warm fire and good drink to avoid the shivering of flesh and bone. In the heart of the Temple City was a tavern. The Shattered Hearth was a simple tavern with a warm stone fireplace in the center of the floor and a dark wooden bar counter with cushioned stools. Booths lined the walls and tables dotted the floor while the aroma of seasoned cooking filled the air, creating a pleasant, welcoming atmosphere. Business had been slow that night. Two Dunmer sat at the bar, speaking to the barkeep about potential jobs.

Draskil Velathi was armed to the bone as he often was. Dwemer metal armor, longsword, shield, and a hatchet of the same metal were draped on his figure while a longbow of good make and a quiver hung across his back. The helm he sometimes wore hung from his belt. The aged mer had a somewhat young look to his dark ashen face, which was handsome by Dunmer standards with a lingering danger behind it. Something about his equipment and his tall, somewhat muscular figure when combined with his darkened red eyes and disarming smile spoke loudly of a professional in whatever field he was truly in.

Unfortunately all the barkeep could tell Velathi and his companion was that there were not any people looking for help that he could think of. Draskil shook his head and ordered a drink for himself and his female companion, who had been well-armed, as well. He commented to her that the night would be a long one indeed, and he looked irritated as he drank the spirits served to him, tossing a few coins across the counter in payment and small tip.
This post was last modified: June 1st 2013, 05:01 PM by Najla


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Post #66882
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(( Velathi's first post is above mine. ^^

This night had definitely been a colder one, and there was a silent appreciation of the warmth offered by the hearth. Ever since they sat at the bar, Aro had been silent with her arms folded across the dark wood countertop. Her shoulders were a bit slumped, head dipped slightly forward- not exactly the best posture for one to have. However, the lack of vacancy within the fine establishment brought her some uneasiness. Draskil must have sensed this, or something else, when a mug of spirits was placed in front of her.

Aro glanced at the bartender quickly, and then lowered her hood with a wave of the hand as she took the mug in her other hand to steal a swift drink. She licked her lips and silently leered over her shoulder towards all those in attendance. Many dunmer, an argonian or two, and if there were any nords, she didn’t care to recognize them.

As for how well-equipped she was, the woman preferred thick leathers, and hers were of noble make, stained a rich ebony. A few pieces were even lacquered to provide extra durability. A metallic recurved shortbow was secured to a simple quiver on her back, and the long, fur-lined cloak she wore concealed everything else- daggers, knives, and what-have-you would remain out of sight. And that’s the way she liked it.

She shrugged at Draskil’s statement and replied somewhat dully, “I sleep through most of my nights. Can’t say the same for you.”
This post was last modified: May 23rd 2013, 07:05 PM by Samf


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(( We have a sixth person! He has been added to the roster! There is only ONE spot left!
This post was last modified: May 22nd 2013, 09:53 PM by Samf


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Post #67019
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Khajiit
Miasmador opened the door, shivering slightly, before stepping into the warmth of the inn. She walked briskly over to the counter, ordering a drink. She picked it up, staring into it. Half of it was empty. Slowly she looked up, glaring at the barkeeper as Wolf growled softly. She thrust it back and waited. At first the barkeeper refused but she stared menacingly at them until they hastily filled it up, muttering angrily to themselves. Finally, when the tankard was full, she pulled up a chair and sat down, awkward in her new leather armour, the last set had been ripped apart when she had last changed. She glanced around, not the nicest inn, she felt as if there was a cutthroat behind her at all times, looming over her. She touched the blade of her black dagger before finishing off her drink and sitting back, silently drawing it for reassurance. It felt good in her hand and she sighed, releasing no-one would be stupid enough to attack with Wolf at her side. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them quickly, reproaching herself for letting her guard down. She half closed her eyes, surveying everyone in the inn.


Vlos Hithern

Banana Beer! <-- Click for banana beer!
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Garce never minded the cold, not really. He hated the heat a lot more. He'd rather be freezing than hot and bothered but he liked to be warm and cosy more. 'The shattered hearth' the sign read and Garce entered the inn

Garce was a reasonably tall Dunmer and of average build. He skin was a stony colour and texture, his eyes were more of a pale red than a blood red like most other Dunmer. He wore a full set of Plate mail armor which proudly bares the symbol of his order; 'the order of a new dawn', which was a group of vampire, werewolf and witch hunters. The order of a new dawn wasn't common knowledge, not because the order was shrouded within secretes and mysteries but that the order wasn't very 'spectacular' compared to the other monster hunting groups.

He went to sit in one of the corners of the Inn taking no notice of any of the other and took out a small vial. He opened it, drank the contents and leaned back in his chair.


Quib - Argonian Adventurer
Garce Tilvvan - Dunmer Witch Hunter
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The door was opened allowing the wind to bring the chill inside. In the frame stood a grimly looking small Dunmer. He wore a robe of simple cloth, but complex cut. The one half and his left sleeve were of a dirty ocher, the other half and his right sleeve was of a faded turquoise. On the left side of his skirt there was a stitchery depicting the symbol of the school of destruction, on the right side a symbol of restoration. His bluish black hair was combed back and catched in a ponytail. His sullen mouth was framed by a short henriquatre.

The gloomy, sad eyes examined the guest and the inn before the Dunmer sighed and entered, putting his hand over his eyes. Being already afflicted and grieved today Dlesyddion Varuhlen was in a rather bad mood. The last quests Idriar, Fears-no-Fire and himself received from the Pact had led them to farest off corners of the Pact controlled lands: While Idriar was sent to negotiate with pirates of the sea of ghost in the name of the fighters guild Fears-no-Fire was sent to Rifton to observe and infiltrate a thieves guild convention. Himself was sent to Morrowind, where the Mages Guild organized another expedition to a daedric realm. And of course they wanted him to join... as if they forgot about what happened the last time. Hoping to regain membership of the guild he accepted. But in the end it turned out to be an enourmous waste of time: Of course they didn´d let him join...

Finally Dlesyddion closed the door behind him. This place was as good as the inn on the other side of the street. It didn´t really matter. Aslong he was able to organize a trip "home" to Black Light, where he wanted to meet with his "team" after accomplished missions. He would kill them if they wouldn´t return alive from their mission. Sending a necromancer for their mortal husks...

Moving to the counter he asked the inn keeper about any caravans or other yourney chance to Black Ligth. Unfortatunately the bar keeper seemed to know nothing, which Dlesyddion punished with an eerie gaze. The man, being intimidated, forgot to ask the mage what he liked to drink before making it to the next patron. But Dlesyddion didn´t want to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Instead he made it to a empty bench at a wall of the inn and took a seat, producing a notebook from his robe and starting to write. He didn´t actually want to share his knowledge. He didn´t care for other mages. But it was a pasttime and distraction when he had spare time. "Pain and Magic- Abate it or Afflict it?" the title read.
This post was last modified: May 25th 2013, 08:42 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

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A few minutes after Dlesyddion began writing a skinny looking dunmer opened the door and walked slowly up to the bar of The Shattered Hearth. His red, shoulder length hair was tangled and his face was very gaunt almost corpse like with sunken eyes and concave cheeks. He wore a green dyed cotton shirt and beige pants with a netch leather belt, gloves and boots. Finally a recurve bow was strung over his shoulder and a quiver with arrows at his side.

As Maleus reached the bar the barkeep gave him a annoyed look and said "I hope you have coin, we don't serve beggars here." Maleus shot the barkeep an even greater annoyed look replying "I have coin, bring me A bowl of boiled kwama eggs and a bottle of Mazte." as he set a jingling pouch on the counter. The barkeep turned and went to the back and brought out a dish with three small kwama eggs and a short bottle of mazte. Maleus popped an egg in his mouth and reached into his pouch retrieving 15 drakes and placing them in the barkeep's outstreched hand, replacing the pouch on his person. He looked from patron to patron suspiciously as he chewed on his egg and finally swallowed. His eyes would rest on the dunmer with the wolf at her side for a moment then taking a drink his matze afterwards resting his head on the the counter.
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Draskil caught sight of Wolf and curled his lip lightly, though he glanced back to the barkeep, "Open a running tab for me if there is truly no work to be found tonight."

Not long after that tab was opened, a Nord stepped up to the counter beside Draskil, waving to the barkeep, "I'll cover the first round of that tab, tender, and the first round of anyone who will come to listen to an offer, aye?" he looked around the tavern with hard-set blue eyes, pale skin, and black hair cut just below his shoulders. Jarvik Blackforge was a hulk of a Nord, his beard was burnt in a few places and his arms had all manner of burn scars on them. If not for the expensive metals and leathers adorning him, as well as the axe on his right hip and smith's hammer on his left, one might have been able to assume he had no status at all.


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Over time, Aro became decidedly less interested in her drink. Not even after a few sips, she wrinkled her nose and set the mug on the counter so she could push it away. Her knee bounced impatiently, sprung by the ball of her foot that rest off a bar on the stool in which she sat. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she heard the constant in-and-out of tavern patrons, and she would look to Draskil every couple of moments to make sure he was still there. From the corner of her eye she noticed a skinny dunmer wearing a green shirt and beige pants. Those intense red eyes of hers observed the interaction between bartender and this so-called 'beggar'.

As Draskil opened the tab, Aro requested her own order of boiled kwama eggs, instructing the 'tender to put it on her fellow dark elf's new tab. The woman straightened her back slightly and offered Draskil a bewitching grin. Even if her pupils were constantly contracted to a beadiness that made her look feral, and even if her slanted eyes gave her the discernible look of a predator, there was still something pleasant about her features- whenever she wasn't slouching, that is. Not long after the man beside her received his bowl of kawma, Aro was given hers.

After squeezing one of the morsels past her lips, she looked behind Draskil to give the blue-eyed Nord a skeptical glance. Squinted eyes focused on the man as he spoke, looking him over quickly and noticing his build and equip. If it wasn't for this 'offer' he proposed, she would have remained uninterested. Instead, she focused her attention on the bearded man, wondering what he might speak of.
This post was last modified: May 24th 2013, 03:44 AM by Samf


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Miasmador set her tankard down onto the table, solefully staring into it, it was empty. She sighed and sat back, jumping as a Nord came into the tavern and noisily pronounced something about... she didn't bother to listen. Only did she turn back to him when she heard the word 'offer.' As she looked at him waiting, she examined some of the newcomers. She laughed slightly, three more dunmers had entered.


Vlos Hithern

Banana Beer! <-- Click for banana beer!
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Garce scanned the room, not for any particular reason, just out of curiosity. There was a lot of Dunmer but that was to be expected, he was in morrowind after all.

He couldn't help to notice the dog. Usually inn don't allow pets, those inns were stupid. He got some dried meat from his bag and attempted to whistle the dog over to pet. He liked dogs, loyal creatures and can be fierce.


Quib - Argonian Adventurer
Garce Tilvvan - Dunmer Witch Hunter
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Dlesyddion looked up from his notes placed on his lap, one eyebrow raised. Just a loud Nord proclaiming an offer... probably just a mercenaries` job, a raid to some dirty cave or dusty tomb. He had enough of both for a whole life. Sadly life seemed to force him into such again and again. With his eyes already up he took another glance at the patrons. He didn´t notice that someone has brought his barker into the tavern. One could have thought the corners of his mouth to be at the lowest possible position already, but the sight of the dog made them drop another touch. He hated dogs. There were no dogs on Vvardenfel. These alien creatures were either almost unbearable meek puppies or anarchicaly ferocious pack-beasts... they reminded him of the Nords. And Clavicus Vile. Atleast of one half of him.

And some guy was about to get bitten into his hand, he thought. Dog bite to the hand... he already healed. A by a wolf lacerated hand would be something new. If there wouldn´t occure a new wound or suffering he could add to his collection he wouldn´t waste his Magicka for nobody.


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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Maleus, now finished with his kwama eggs and with a empty bottle of mazte sitting in front him sighed heavily. He was still quite hungry and wore a grimace as emptied his coin pouch into his gloved hand. An on-looker might see about twenty to thirty drakes in his hand before he carefully dumped them back into the pouch. It was just enough for basic supplies and he could just forget sleeping in a bed at the inn tonight. He might indeed have to resort to begging soon or worse. Maleus motioned for the bartender asking if he could think of any work in or near town. The bartender replied "No, but those two dunmer sitting together at the bar over there asked the same question." Maleus gave them a subtle look and decided he would have to make a move on his "hunting" if there was no manual labor to be done and the first step of that was information gathering.

He was about to ask the bartender some more questions when a dark haired nord walked in and boasted a free round if his offer was listened to. Maleus felt he could listen and it worth a shot for some more mazte. He stood up and walked over by the nord and the two dunmer sitting together, making sure he was seen listening. Maleus stood up straight and looked at the nord saying "I'm interested to here this offer, nord. Please continue.
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Draskil rolled his eyes lightly before turning toward the Nord, not bothering to stand up and welcome him. The dunmer gestured onward with a roll of his wrist, looking stright at the Nord with his dark red eyes, "Very well, outlander. Let us hear this offer, hm?"

Jarvik grinned down toward the mercenary before glancing around. He spoke in a deep rumbling voice which carried easily around the tavern regardless of whether people wanted to hear him or not, "My smithing company just bought a large three-wagon load of metal, and we don't have enough men to guard it. I'm askin' if there are any of you folk willing to travel North through Ebonheart, staying there for a night all expenses paid, and ending up near Skyrim in Blacklight. You'll be paid around four hundred drakes apiece if everything arrives intact. This is a very important shipment for the pact, as they purchase gear from my forge constantly. You will also be given a discount if you present the writs that are waiting for us up there."

Draskil himself could not believe that offer, and looked the Nord over in a skeptical manner, "Four hundred drakes each? And all expenses paid during the night we stay in Ebonheart? I assume you are not telling us the entire shipment, but if you are good on that word, consider my blade drawn for it." he said, glancing to his own female companion with mild interest. After all, he could use the work.


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He wasn't the only one who needed work.

Aro's ears twitched just slightly as she listened to the Nord speak of his offer to those who listened. She passively fed herself until her bowl was empty, and when Draskil looked to her, she flicked her eyes to his and shrugged. "We've been looking for a good excuse to get out of this damn city, ...and I've let Indoril clog up my nose long enough," she forced air out of her nostrils and waved at the man behind the bar, "Cromberry juice if you have it.."

The woman placed her forearms on the counter once again, pushing her empty bowl aside. She gave a sideways glance to the man who had taken a seat next to them (Maleus), grimaced, and then looked away from him to fill her field of vision with something more pleasant. Unfortunately, all she got was an eyefull of Draskil's unnecessarily yellow dwemer metal. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes on the nord again. After some more thought, she waved two fingers at the bearded man and spoke clearly. "You have my aim as well, outlander. For four-hundred." she reiterated, just to make it clear.
This post was last modified: May 25th 2013, 03:19 PM by Samf


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