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More than meets the eye - (Semi-Open Roleplay)


Started by Archmage Alator
Post #177772
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Daggerfall Covenant (Breton)
OOC: This is something I threw togheter out of nostalgia. If invited by me, or having asked and been granted the permission to join you are free to do so :)Essentially any characters are allowed, though older ones that already have developed bonds with other characters are preferred.

This RP will, although realistic (in comparison), not strictly follow the lore and will be based around the players going up against one of the "Original Vampires", and will heavily involve the Iliac Bay bloodlines in a couple of ways. And although I will be throwing in a few events, it is mostly open for the players to decide what will be happening.

Here are a few UESP links if you want to have a little more information on things such as the antagonists:

http://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Vampire#Iliac_Bay
http://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Lamae_Beolfag
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Every muscle in Alator's body was sore. He'd been in the saddle for two Days, allowing only minor stops, mostly for the sake of his horse, Retribution. Even the formidable white stallion was tiring, though it didn't seem like something that the horse wanted to show. Alator had exchanged his usual robes for leather body armor, although keeping his dark blue cloak on. His oaken staff had also been left at Daggerfall, not that he needed it, but he had grown so fond of it over the years that he liked to have it around. His enchanted silver longsword hung from his hip in a decorated scabbard, and on the other hip hung a dagger and a stake. He wasn't pursuing any dark wizards or any common undead. He was hunting vampires.

Or atleast he had been. He had left Daggerwall with two members of the Council of Arcanea, both of them sharing his wolf blood. Not that it had helped them. After having recieved reports of a small group of vampires butchering a village in the western Reach, they had taken up the hunt.

What a mistake it had been... The vampires turned out to be not just any fledlings, but from their strength Alator had guessed that most of them were atleast several centuries old. Some of them possibly over a thousand. And their leader... He was unlike anything Alator had ever seen. His magic had absolutely no effect on him! And he was so quick he had only looked like a blur as he attacked and tore apart one of Alator's companions, Aldric, and grabbed Alator around the throat.

Alator gazed down on the moonstone ring on his finger, it was enchanted to allow Alator more control over his 'inner beast' as he liked to put it. And while a fully transformed werewolf is strong enough to essentially toss around a giant, the part that Alator could access, by the somewhat hard effort of seizing control over the wolf for a time, was still sufficient to haul both men, mer and beast into the air without too much effort. On the downside he was completely unable to use magic, but that was just something Alator used when he really needed to. It hadn't been even close against the ancient Vampire leader though, he had broken Alator's hand as he tried to break away from the grip, and sent him flying about ten feet with a shove.

He clenched his jaws togheter at the painful memory of watching his other companion, Derry, being struck down by mace as he tried to defend himself. It was only due to the blizzard that Alator summoned that had allowed him to slip away and escape.

And here I am, two days later... he thought to himself. He didnt believe that they had kept pursuing him after the first day, but he had kept the high pace another one to be sure as he travelled west. He had to stop... If not for his own it was for the sake of his horse. The poor thing would die rather than stopping itself if Alator wanted it to, something he was painfully aware of at the moment.

He looked up, the surrounding lands were covered in light forests and small hills, the night air was fresh and the scent of rain was in the air. He exhaled in a pleasant sigh as he saw a tavern ahead. It was rather large, newly built, with two stories and completely made out of Wood, with the exception of the straw roof. The architecture with the carvings on the pillars made him assume that the owners were of Nordic origin. He ought to have lost any possible pursuers now, and the Divines knew both he and his horse needed to rest. He dismounted and walked the last part to not push his horse any further. He looked around, ahead of him the cobblestone road kept going out on open fields, not a village nor town in sight.

There was a small stable outside the inn where he tied his horse, looking at the sign he read The yawning deer. Alator heard the sound of talking and drinking inside as he walked towards the thick wooden door, pushing it open and looking inside.
This post was last modified: April 29th 2016, 10:50 AM by Archmage Alator


The Archmage of the council of Arcanea.

We are openly recruiting, any Roleplayers in the Covenant who are looking for a Guild, this is the Guild for you http://www.tesof.com/topic-the-council-o...ying-guild
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Isilmo
Post #177773
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Aldmeri Dominion
Altmer
I don't like taverns Lillandian thought as glumly stared into the remaining dregs of the ale in the tankard on the table before him. Admittedly the ale in this tavern was all dregs, not that Lillandian had any particular expertise in ale, but the big bear of the Nord woman who appeared to run a rather tight shift in this particular inn didn't appear too open to negotiating a different beverage.

'The Yawning Deer' was not what Lil had expected from the sign. Deer were skittish animals who radiated the beauty and highborn nobility one moment and would leap cravenly from sight in the next. Lillandian could sympathies with deer. But they were the last thing on his mind when he witnessed the bulky Nord matron draw herself up indignantly when he first approached the bar table.

After meekly asking for something to drink, not having much hope for anything fruity, he retreated to a table by the wall to sip on the bitter ale, all the while wondering why this establishment hadn't been named something more fitting. 'The Bristling Bear' perhaps...
Lillandian looked up from his tankard having seen movement out of the corner of his eye and considered for a moment whether he ought to stop the tavernkeeper and ask for a tap-up while she was passing by. Sheepishly raising his voice Lillandian tried to garner the attention of the woman only to be left dejectedly hanging with his hand raised as the tavernkeeper brushed past him, probably to serve some more assertive customer. He hung his head down once more contemplating his situation.

He'd been travelling for the past week and a bit, really not the worst that had ever happened to him but having been caught in what appeared to be perpetual rain while coming down from the mountains was hardly putting him in an optimistic mood. Quite honestly he already missed Mogak gra-Mogak and her, admittedly large, family. The Orsimer were a surprisingly pleasant folk once you got to know them and they stopped threatening to have your elfin' knife-ears cut off, salted and dried. Still coming down from the mountains towards the bay was a quite the trek and Lillandian looked forward to seeing Wayrest again. Perhaps he'd soon leave Heiroc altogether and travel to Valenwood or Vvardenfell.

Lil scanned the dimly lit, smoky hall whimsically before conjuring a small orb of pale yellow light, cupping it in his hands. Things may not look too bright right now but that means there is plenty of room for improvement. At the edge of his peripheral vision Lil spotted the door of the inn jerk open.
This post was last modified: April 29th 2016, 11:33 AM by Isilmo


Mer Over Man
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Post #177783
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Ebonheart Pact
Imperial
Iogairn grinned as he watched the dancers twirl. These Bretons loved their holy days and festivals far too much for most serious people. But Iogairn was far from a serious person. And besides, a festive person was an unguarded person. He’d talked half a dozen drunken men into another drink, duped another half a dozen into a betting game and had charmed a kiss out of more ladies than was culturally acceptable. All with the help of a dashing smile and spell under the breath.

One particular lady caught his eye. She was striking, deathly pale and cold blue eyes. Dressed expensively but not extravagantly (which was a thankful rarity in Daggerfall). The reason why she stood out to the eyes of a thief was because she was not joining in the festivities. Instead she walked briskly through the stalls, vendors and dancers, a look of haughty disdain on her face. And nothing screamed to be pickpocketed more than a haughty face, thought Iogairn.

He closed the distance rapidly, but smoothly. With a slight lunge, he brushed her wrist, murmuring an incantation. The woman turned, sharp anger at her face. However, the anger soon fell away when the spell took hold and she looked down on him, grinning and hand outstretched.

“You are certainly a bold one” she remarked.

“And that’s before you’ve seen me dance” he replied, a glint in his eye.

She took his hand and they whirled through the crowds. Her eyes were on his and his were on hers. Her hand was on his shoulder and his was…well, it was on her coinpurse. When he was aware the spell was coming to an end, he pulled away with the gold in hand.

“Till another day, fair lady” he bowed, the coinpurse safely behind him. She grinned, but began to look slightly baffled. The spell had worn off but he had already lost himself in the crowd. He loved this game too much.

“You love this game too much” a voice told him to his side. “I thought we were agreed that we didn’t want your kind here anymore.”

Trust me, my kind is not wanted many places where wit and good looks are reviled the response leapt to Iogairn’s mind before he saw who it was.

“Armien, you old bastard!” he cried, grabbing the smirking assailant.

“You never could grow up, could you?” mocked the merchant thief.

“And where would the fun be in that?” Iogairn retorted. “I hadn’t assumed a shite merchant such as your ugly self would have had the courage to try the markets of Daggerfall during a festival”

Armien cackled.

“Where there is gold, I shall follow. Besides, my ‘shiteness’ was rather helped out by you and our dear colleagues in the guild.”
Iogairn grinned. Eavesdroppers, if there were any, would never suspect that this guild was the renowned guild of thieves.
“Well, I’ve just managed to work a laborious amount to earn a measly amount. Want to help me drink it away?”

“I thought you’d never ask…”



The roar in the tavern was deafening.

“…at which point, the bloody guards leapt out!” Iogairn regaled, mentally denying that he was swaying in his seat.

“And you were still in…”

“The complete nude!”

They both cackled and downed their glasses of Glenumbrian wine, finishing their fourth bottle that night.

“Ah, I’ve missed this,” Armien told Iogairn. “You don’t quite get the humour with the other merchants and shopkeepers.”

“That’s because it’s hard to laugh with your head up your arse.”

“Aye, true enough” the Breton smirked. “Still, I miss my old days with the Thie-“

“Shut up, you pillock!” Iogairn chuckled. “I may not be in the nude, but I’d still rather not see any guards around here any time soon.”

Armien bowed his head with a smile. “Fair enough. I’m relieved you caught me.” His face broke out in a grin. “But not as much as I intend to relieve myself now.”

They both burst into laughter (despite not being anywhere near as witty as they would have liked at the time) and Armien rose and exited through the back door of the tavern.

Iogairn sat back and nodded to the rushing barmaid for another bottle. He wasn’t finished just yet, and he’d forgotten what a good drinking partner Armien could be. They’d had their share of good times when working in the guild together. They both delighted in swindling the wealthy and playing havoc with the established order of things. It had been a while since Iogairn had had a companion such as that.
He frowned as the barmaid knocked the bottle onto his table. Barmaids were lax enough around this time of season, so Armien must have been taking his sweet time. Iogairn decided to follow him out the backdoor, stumbling over the fellow revellers.

The cold air and the darkness hit him like a wave. He took a deep breath and began the spell to detect life. That should clear things up.

“Wait, no that’s not it”, he murmured, half-consciously placing his hand against the wall. He began again.

No sign of life.

He groaned. Armien must have taken off, likely distracted by a skirt somewhere. Shrugging, Iogairn cast a spell of light, dedicating himself on this journey of discovery.

He wasn’t expecting to find Armien some ten yards away, staring back at him. A red smile carved into his neck which was flowing onto his shirt. And the two creatures lapping it up, which nw turned to him and hiss.

A cold voice barked and the light went out. He began the spell again but another bark silenced him, leaving him mouthing the words. A third bark magnified the tiredness growing from the drink, forcing him to collapse on the stone floor.

One of the creatures rose, drawing a black knife.

“Nom” ordered the cold voice. “I know this one.”

A shape loomed into Iogairn’s vision.

It was the haughty lady he had danced with during the festival.

“Yes, you are the charming young man who thought stealing from a noblewoman would be a wise idea. Who thought stealing from me would be a wise idea.” A smile crawled onto her face. “The most you would have suspected would be a spell in the stocks, I’d guess. How on earth could you possibly comprehend the powers which you think a pathetic soul such as yourself can tamper with? I’m not going to kill you now. I’m going to leave you here with the body of your friend. And then I’m going to make you watch your world burn!”

With that, she stood up and walked away, beckoning the two sub-human creatures with a nod of her head. They rose, carrying the body of his friend.

Iogairn felt the energy coming back to him. Grief soon followed. He wasn’t aware how long he lay there, against the dirty wall in a Daggerfall night, weeping in fear and misery. Finally, he stood up, he had to let the town know that vampires walked among them.
He burst open the doors of the tavern. Every face looked at him in expectation.

“Vampires are here! I’ve seen a vampire!”

A pause.

And the tavern laughed at the bedraggled, drunken man. Realising his foolishness, he sunk into his seat and began drinking the wine from the bottle, hoping that this night would not be remembered.

(((OOC: Sorry for the length, I haven’t done this in a while and I thought I’d give it a long shot, just getting back into old habits. Also, I like a motive to every story)))


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

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Archmage Alator, Isilmo
Post #177787
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Alator almost spat out his ale all over the barmaiden when he heard a man screaming something about vampires. And here we go again... his weariness was swiftly replaced with a burning rage. He would allow them the pleasure of feeling the full force of his rather formidable magical power. He left a golden coin on the table as he left his drink and rose swiftly from his chair.

Alator spoke up as he walked between the tables, heading towards the door "He is not lying, and I would recommend you to leave your drinks and this place gentlemen." Within a few seconds he had reached the door and grabbed the man around the arm, pulling him up from his chair and leading him outdoors.

He turned his gaze on the man, who still looked bewildered and said "I know what vampires you are referring to, they are after me if you must know. However, you need to tell me what you know of their location so that I can can do my part in putting them down." Alator would have to act quickly to stop them from causing further harm.

((OOC: Your post was brilliant mate xD))


The Archmage of the council of Arcanea.

We are openly recruiting, any Roleplayers in the Covenant who are looking for a Guild, this is the Guild for you http://www.tesof.com/topic-the-council-o...ying-guild
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