Clusan's Crew of mighty exploration.

Opening: Clusan handed the pieces of parchment to the Head of Trade in Sentinel. He told the Head of Trade to make sure to give one of those to every merchant leaving Sentinel and for the merchant to post it in the corresponding city they traveled to or to recite it to tough looking folk they met on the road. These pieces of parchment, which had a message on it, would definitely travel throughout all of Hammerfell and possibly into the bordering regions of High Rock, Cyrodiil, and Skyrim, only reaching the border towns, and possibly a town or two farther, of the other three provinces.

The Message: To those who read the parchment wherever it was posted or were told by the merchants, the message would say the following:

I, Clusan, a Redguard of Hammerfell, am looking for beings that can hold their own in combat to permanently join my crew. I search old ruins, dungeons, etc., in the sands of Hammerfell for treasure and possibly ancient scripts. Not only will I need those who can hold their own in combat, but those who have sharp eyes in finding treasure, spotting traps and hidden gaps, along with those who know different languages and who can use logic, mainly to solve riddles and puzzles. The first four to find me in Sentinel will gain employment. The treasure we gain from the places we search will be split up between those still alive. I cannot guarantee your safety. The following riddle will guide the four who are lucky and skilled enough to my home in Sentinel. You may use whatever methods you wish to find my home. Good luck.

The Riddle: The following riddle would be written below the message:

My hole in which I slumber is not in the center of the desert, nor on the outskirts. This hole is by a sweltering oasis,where the chirps of a nurturing force take care of a younger being who is in the process of being made great. After the younger being is given a form, it is plunged into a pit which hisses at the younger being, those beings who come out are no longer younger, but a great piece and force. This force is then used for the manipulation of an even greater force, for just actions or for unjust actions.
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Present Day: Clusan would sit in his home, which is located in the Middle Class, on the bottom floor, which is next to his forge, waiting for someone to knock. His home has a sign blatantly stating 'Residence of Clusan.' His apprentice is hammering away at weapons and equipment, outside, plunging it into the cold water to cool it down, a hissing sound ensuing from the action, giving the equipment a useable form which can be manipulated by man, for whatever reason.
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OOC Rules: The following list is OOC rules:

1. This is an open RP. You can manipulate what you like in it, but make sure it is reasonable.
2. When enemies arrive, which they will, I will give a general difficulty level in which you should base your response off of.
3. When puzzles arise, which they will, I will give the answer in OOC context, then if your character is smart enough to figure it out IC, they can.
4. Do not meta-game by using the OOC info I give.
5. Do not Power-game by manipulating the RP beyond what could really happen.
6. This will endanger your character. Play at your own risk. If your character dies, I will not allow it to RP in any of my other scenarios.
7. The loot you get from this RP can be used in any of my other scenarios.
8. If you fail to follow my rules, I will sadly have to remove you from RPing in my current scenario. If you are kicked out of more than three of my scenarios, I am sorry, but you won't be allowed to RP in any more.
9. Please wait for other players if we get too far ahead. We want fun RP for everyone and not everyone is in the same timezone.
10. Give whatever suggestion you want. I may take them or I may not.

Idaina Acha, a breton girl. Was sitting at the docks in Daggerfall. She saw a shrewd merchant put up a piece of parchment with a message: "I, Clusan, a Redguard of Hammerfell, am looking for beings that can hold their own in combat to permanently join my crew. I search old ruins, dungeons, etc., in the sands of Hammerfell for treasure and possibly ancient scripts. Not only will I need those who can hold their own in combat, but those who have sharp eyes in finding treasure, spotting traps and hidden gaps, along with those who know different languages and who can use logic, mainly to solve riddles and puzzles. The first four to find me in Sentinel will gain employment. The treasure we gain from the places we search will be split up between those still alive. I cannot guarantee your safety. The following riddle will guide the four who are lucky and skilled enough to my home in Sentinel. You may use whatever methods you wish to find my home. Good luck." she read the riddle. She thought to herself. 'Well by this, he lives in Sentinel. I may as well go... it seems he needs help. Also I could use some coin." Idaina stowed away on the first ship headed for Sentinel. She was ready for another adventure.

[There's one. Now to wait for three more.]

"This place," Iogairn remarked in the streets of Sentinel to no-one in paricular, "is too hot to live in without getting drunk. Which raises the question; why in Oblivion, why aren't I drunk?" The answer, quite simply, was because he had no money. He was broke. It was because no-one wanted to gamble in this place. Too many honourable people. It made Iogairn sick. And everwhere had a bloody musician, playing the native music on some strange instrument.
And the only gods-damned job there was included wandering out into Cyrodiil to be stabbed, shot and made rude noises at. No-one wanted a bard before the war. It was after the war when the so-called heroes were dead and songs needed to be written about them. After the war there would be employment. Unfortunately, Iogairn was thirsty now.

He went to a nearby tavern (not sure what the Hammerfell equivalent is) and asked whether there were any jobs. He wandered in to a nearby tavern (not sure what the Redguard equivalent is) in Sentinel and asked if there were any jobs available. He was quite surprised when the barman reached underneath the counter and pulled out a note. Iogairn read it and smiled. This should be fun, he thought.

Humming a tune as he went, he sauntered over to the author's house, after receiving directions from the locals. He mulled the riddle over in his head. He had several ideas to what ic could be but none of them seemed perfect. Seeing the sign to Clusan's house he walked over, nodding to the smith working at the forge. He knocked at the door and waited for a reply.

"Come in." Clusan would simply state from his seat in the middle of the room, which would be facing the door. There would be four chairs in front of him, a place for each of the people he would hire.

He would be sipping water, waiting for the person to come in. He would be in simple smith's clothing. He stood at 5'11" and had dark blue eyes. He had no hair, whatsoever, not even eyebrows. He would have tattoos all over his body. On his face would be three tattooed rings, connected by solid lines, making a triangle with the rings as corners. On the back of his head a skull and cross bones would be apparent. On his hands, there would be a sun on each palm and crescent moons on the top of each hand. His sleeves would be rolled up, showing flames spiraling down his forearm.

The only gear he had on him, at the moment, was a steel dagger in his boot and a forge hammer tied to his belt.

Idaina walked off the boat into Sentinel. She had missed this city. She walked around the city, she found the house very easy. She opened the door to see a Redguard and a Breton. "This must be the right place" She said. She sat down. "Clusan?" she asked the Redguard.

Iogairn raised an eyebrow at the Breton girl who had walked in. "I've got to say Clusan, you seem pretty relaxed about just letting strangers walk into your home." He grinned.
"Perhaps introductions are in order. I am Iogairn og o Mogrin, Reachman and bard. I'm guessing the somewhat extravegently tattoed Redguard is Clusan but i haven't the foggiest who in Oblivion you are," he said to the girl.

She turned to the other Breton, "I am Idaina Acha of Daggerfall."

Grrwarr was nearly broke. Worse was he didn't have even enough to buy more moon sugar. But the absolute worst, was he was completely out of moon sugar! He was cranky since none of the locals here in Daggerfall wanted to fight him for money anymore since he had beaten everyone he had faced. Even the big brute of a Nord that he had faced two nights ago had gone down too easy. It was time to find work. If need be he could always steal, but he hated doing it because it reenforced the stereotype about Khajiit. "Dammit we aren't all thieves!" He thought. "I only steal when I have to. And never more than I need to get by." Surly he was walking down the road when a piece of paper with writing on it was carried on the breeze into his face. "GRRRRRR What is this!" He almost threw it away, but something caught his eye. ...am looking for beings that can hold their own in combat to permanently join my crew. I search old ruins, dungeons, etc., in the sands of Hammerfell for treasure and... So he stopped and read the notice fully.

"Hmn." He thought. "This could take care of everything." Hammerfell was only couple of days run from here, and an empty belly was a great motivator for hurry. He could do this. With that he went and gathered his belongings from the inn. A half hour later he was running across the plains of High Rock.

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Three days of hard running had Grrwarr Hungry tired and surly. It had taken him most of the three days to figure the riddle out, and this also had him grumpy. He hated riddles. They required a quick mind and his was more suited to strategy and tactics not word puzzles. Straightforward was his thinking style. When he saw the sign stating this Clusan lived here and how easy it would have been to find it without solving the riddle he was further put out. With this frustration and surliness he banged on the door a little harder than he intended.

Dromik walked down the streets of Bruma, jangling the pouch of gold he had earned from this last mercenary job. A pitiful amount. How was a Nord supposed to live and feed his family off of so little? He sighed. He had barely been able to afford the set of steel heavy armor he wore, and the great-sword he carried on his back. And even that had made it so he ate nothing for almost a week, surviving of the mead his mother and sister made of berries. He couldn't let them starve. His father was watching from Sovangarde. He couldn't disapoint him. He made his way through the city, to his regular merchant he purchased fresh vegetables from. The women had a soft spot for his sister, and would often give the family small discounts on food. Not that Dromik wanted this. He hated being a charity case. His sword arm could provide for them, but a job was not always forthcoming. He approached the women's stall.
"More fruit today, Dromik?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you. Here's some gold for it. It's not much. Give me whatever it will cover."
While the woman scuttled around, grabbing fruit for him, he noticed a paper nailed to the stall itself. It began with "I, Clusan of Hammerfell..". He read silently while the women finished searching. The women handed him the bag, and he barely noticed. His mind was working in overdrive. He looked around, wondering what the answer was. Not many people were out now, and the city was quiet. Except for a ringing sound, from across the city. Steel on steel. Then the answer came to Dromik. He grinned. The riddle was clever, but simple. He started to walk out of the city, to his house in the countryside. Then excitement over came him, and he ran. He would explain everything to his mother, and the adventure would be his. He could barely wait.

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Dromik watched as the boat pulled into Sentinel's harbor. He went below to gather his things. By the time he came, back up, the boat had docked. He walked off it, into the dusty streets of the desert city. He grimaced. This was nothing like the weather of Cyrodill. In full body armor, he was already sweating. He walked through the city, looking for Clusan's dwelling. He found the house by the very obvious sign out front. He saw a young man sitting out front, hammering a sword at a smithy. He laughed out loud, realizing now how the riddle applied to Clusan. He walked up to the door, and was about to knock. He stopped as he heard voices inside, already talking. So he walked in. His destiny awaited.

"Come in, come in!" He said to whoever was banging on the door. "I am, of course, Clusan, the man who has brought you all here. First off, I will need to know what you can do. Fighting skills, your mind's level of ability, whether you are sharp, etc. Go in order from first chair to fourth chair." Clusan said from his own chair, waiting to hear what they had to say.

[Spartan, you will come in after Manarax, since he was already at the door knocking.]

At his pounding he heard the voices inside stop and then a "Come in, come in."

Realizing he had pounded harder than necessary, Grrwarr opened the door and entered Inside he saw three people. A Redguard, who looked like he owned the place. And two Bretons.

Grrwarr was standing in the doorway silhouetted and looked like a human at first. Once their eyes adjusted they say he was Khajiit. He stood over six and a half feet and easily weighed 220. He was dressed in Fur armor with a gleaming steel greatsword on his back. The only other things of note were the chainmail gauntlets and the fact that he had a great black mane of hair. This was unusual since almost all Khajiit cut their manes. Across his body he carried a leather satchel which appeared to be full. In a specially made sheath on its side was a silver dagger.

Looking at the Redguard he asked "You Clusan?"

At Clusans response he moved to sit. As he was sitting he heard the door open behind him. Glancing he saw a big heavily armored Nord entering.

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OOC here is Grrwarrs character sheet so to speak...http://www.tesof.com/topic-manarax-agillius

OOC here is Grrwarrs character sheet so to speak... http://www.tesof.com/topic-grrwarr-dark-...-character

Dromik shrugged. "I'm good with my great-sword. Can nearly cleave a man in two. Not that its pleasing to do so." His expression changes to thoughtful as he says;
"I'll be honest. I'm not the smartest person. I have decent brains, but I'm not a genius. But...clever...yes. I like to believe I am. People believe everyone who fights with heavy armor and a great-sword are men who just start swinging. But it's much more than that. You need to learn how to oppose different foes, fix different problems. Fighting an archer is totally different than fighting a normal sword-and-shield combo. You need to adapt. I can usually fix problems that need clever solutions." He laughs a bit. "Taking care of your family as one person makes that a necessity."
He looks down, slightly embarrassed for going on a bit of a rant.
"Well, that's me. Strong and clever." He looks up, a deadly serious look on his face. "And loyal. Always loyal. Alright, I'm done. Who's next?"

Shaking his head at his going out of order. Grrwarr chuckled slightly. "I believe you, arre sitting in the firrst chairr." Pointing at Iogairn.

OOC: I'm not going to keep typing all of his R's as rolling, just imagine they are. It's a quirk of his. His name is actually supposed to be Grwar but his rolling R's has everyone thinking it's Grrwarr. Yes I know not all Khajiit do this, but he does.