Keanumoreira

(Hey, is this thread officially closed?)

Abdul peeled the wood away rather violently, dwelling on unseen forces that troubled him deeply. Every shaving fell away with either rage or disillusionment. He couldn't even bear to look at Sivari as she spoke to him. It was as if his anger was a weight pressing upon his mind and this was why he couldn't turn his gaze. "Oh don't worry", he said rather indifferently, "If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get. You might actually prefer that I be drunk. It's hard to be believe, but I don't act as undignified." Abdul felt no compassion or mercy for Savari. Every insult was like poison as it lept from his mouth, burning with every word, and he wondered if she could feel it, if the Khajiit was hurting as much as he was. Each attack was just as devastating as the last and the Argonian weakened. His hand quivered as he continued, steadily losing his grip until the blade slipped and sunk into his hand. A spurt of crimson leaped forward onto his lap, but the Argonian wasn't even phased. He simply rose to his feet, almost dizzy as a sudden spell of weakness fell upon him. He felt as the Jazeera raced towards Riften, hurdling them towards whatever fate had intended for them. For all his years, Abdul was still the brash, arrogant, and unpredictable youth that he was the day that Sanguine appeared. Wisdom did nothing but keep him quiet. Keep him alone- lost from a world where he no longer belonged, but still lingered. With aging, things come and go. For people without a soul, Abdul knew, it was like time had ceased altogether. Where do they get to go? For the first time in his life, he felt the subtle pains of an elderly man in the body of youth. He faced the door to the crew's quarters, and finding sleep desirable, he made his departure slowly, "Riften is a city of change. Surely, we won't leave the same as when we entered it. I need time to prepare myself. Luckily, I have more than I know what to do with."

I don't think we'll drive ourselves to extinction, but I do foresee something truly devastating in our future. Even if civilization burns from nuclear fire or falls to some kind of super bug, people will continue to be here. Life is remarkably resilient. My prediction, however, is that if we don't find a way to get off of the planet soon, we'll exhaust the Earth's limited reserves of fossil fuels, civilization will falter, and we'll be stuck here forever. Time is against us.

Icira's question was of immediate interest. Keel'lye didn't know what to make of it, pretending not to have heard as she played with her food as a lesser cat may do with a ball of yarn. She was nervous about something, that much was obvious, and the Count knew why. "Other than the Void Nights? I can't say. The only recent events that are indeed unusual, at least for the Khajiit, is the civil war going on at the moment. You'll find them to be a very peaceful people, but they defend their beliefs and what little they have as fiercely as you and I would. Even more so, some would say. With this troubling news, coupled with what little we know, to wonder if any suspicions exist within that state is merely a matter of fact. That is their very nature you see: a people born from skepticism; they are masters of secrecy and they guard it jealously like any forbidden treasure. Nowhere is this more true than among the Khajiit themselves, who are slow to trust even their closest relatives. If they've noticed anything out of the ordinary that is not obvious to you or I, they will hesitate to share it. Indeed, many challenges await us there." Turning to Eldrin and Violet, he allowed his eyes to drift beyond the ship and among the warehouses until he spotted one in particular, "Do you see that building over there? That is where the fruits of our expedition will wait until we return. Depending on its size and contents, the earnings will be distributed fairly, equal to the number of members who are actively participating. As you can see, I am a man who lives comfortably. I do not need anymore than I currently have. I am not greedy; avarice has no hold over me. I am no tyrant or malcontent. I am fair to my guests and to those who I employ. As long as you follow the rules of the contract and those of basic civility, your time here will be well worth the trouble. This I can guarantee." It was at this moment that a mysterious figure boarded the ship. The choice of the attire, as dark as Nocturnal herself, was a strong contrast to a face so pale, that the purest soul couldn't do it justice. Of this, the Count could briefly observe. It was so difficult to identify this stranger that it only when it spoke, did the Dark Elf know that it was a man. A bag of Septiems landed before him, of which was set aside carelessly. Llau'wai listened to his story intently, and while he was disappointed of the man's intentions, he nevertheless accepted the payment and welcomed him. "If that is the case, then you are free to travel with us as long as you wish. I cannot, however, allot you any of the sums that we may acquire, nor am I responsible for any injury that you may sustain on your stay with us. A contract, however, will be waiting for you if you ever wish to sign. Adjacent to my quarters are stairs that lead below deck to a manner of rooms, any of which you may claim as your own. After Keel'lye has finished her meal, she will bring a plate down to you, should you be wanting, and will assist you further if necessary." That being said, the Count freed himself from the chair and directed his attention onward to the sea. Daylight was fleeting and it was time to push forward into the unknown. The land of mystery, yearning, waiting, for the brave few who never come; a place of discover, eager to share all that it knows- of these things, the Dark Elf wanted nothing more. It was out there, calling to them. Elsweyr was waiting.

The Argonian wasn't with the others, choosing not to witness the execution of the dragon. For a moment, he glared at Savari bitterly. She had declined to do it herself, as he hoped, but this alone was not enough to bring him solace. He might as well have been looking at a complete stranger. When Sivari turned to them with her offer, he stepped forward rathet abruptly, "I'll do it!", letting the words fall out, angry and broken. He almost wished he hadn't. Collecting himself, Abdul strained to be calm, something which was new to him, "Aphina and I used to play pranks in the towns we visted. We pretended to be a whole variety of people and dressed to play our parts. Suffice to say, our acting landed us into a lot of trouble. Anyway, I can do it. If I am somebody that you wouldn't mind losing that is..." This part he directed rather cooly, crossing his arms suggestively before a careless shrug of his shoulders, "just saying." He pulled a crate underneath him and sat, catching a glimpse of the bloody ballista. Gathering a splinter of wood dislodged during the attack, he carefully widdled it with his ponaird, watching the shavings disperse into the wind as he waited.

My character's waiting at this moment. Go ahead.

(Oh excellent, another player. Welcome aboard! Hopefully, we'll be moving forward soon.)

(Alright, let's go ahead and get this thing going) The Count returned sometime later with a small chest in his hands. He dropped it in the middle of the table rather imprudently, seemingly more interested in what was inside than if he shattered a plate or two. Carefully, as one might expect from a man of his ambitions, the Count retrieved the contracts and laid them at the table where each of his guests would be seated. He frowned at how many were empty and tucked the remaining documents back into the chest. With a sudden air of confidence, he jerked up and took his seat at the head of the table, ready to engage his guests: "Everyone, please take your seats. Everything will be explained to you." Keel'lye approached him from the side, almost submissively, "I hope the food is to your liking captain." The Count sampled his dish, sensing the Khajiit's nervous gaze from over his shoulders, "It's exquisite as always. Hot and delicious, as if it were just prepared. How did you manage to preserve it so well?" Keel'lye dipped her head, looking out towards the waters of Lake Rumare, "This one used a type of salt that is native to the deserts of Elsweyr. It keeps the food hot and delectable, even in such conditions as these. It is very difficult to acquire, and this one went through much lengths to obtain but an adequate sample, but she knows how much it is important to you." The Count was somewhat taken aback by this news, evident in a brief but dramatic pause, "Keel'lye...you didn't have to do that for me." For a moment, she said nothing, what seemed like words stirring but expressed incomprehensibly, "I know how much you try to pull your weight around this ship, and I know that you worry that you don't do as much as you should. But the truth is that you do and that I would be lost without you. No one on board the Madeira, including her handsome and devilishly intelligent captain, is more fit to ride these waves." They laughed, exchanging glances, "But it is the truth and I want you to know that. So please, don't overextend yourself. Take a seat, next to me, and let us enjoy the splendid gifts that an afternoon can offer." Keel'lye nodded graciously, touched by her Captain's benevolence, and as she moved to take her seat, he remembered that they weren't alone and blinked at his company. He noticed that some were seated, others standing, but nevertheless, he felt that the time was right, "Ah, yes, please forgive me. The memory of a man of this age is waning." He gathered the chest by his side as he addressed his guests, "The contracts you find before you detail the points and purposes of our voyage, appropriately named "The Elsweyr Expedition." You'll agree that no one is held liable for any fatalities that may occur on our voyage. Your life is your responsibility and yours alone. Each of us should work together to benefit the other; remember, we are a team, and we need to work as one if we're going to survive. Immediately following everyone's signatures, we'll make our may to Senchal in the southern kingdom of Pelletine and begin our journey from there. Forts, ruins, settlements- the aim is to find as much treasure as we can. I know reliable and trustworthy people in each of the cities who can pick up what we find and transport it back to a warehouse I've purchased here in the Imperial City. Following the end of our expedition, we will return here and collect payment. We'll be on our way and that will be the end of our terms of agreement." He leaned back, taking a sip of his wine and allowing it to wash about daringly; after a moment, he looked up from his glass, "any questions?"

Abdul was silent. There was truth in this argument, and when his eyes met the ominous glare of the dragon's, he knew that it couldn't be disputed. Behind that gaze was surely something sinister, but it was not this presence that disturbed him. It was the Khajiit, for when she raised her crossbow, intent on killing the beast, Abdul witnessed in this moment, something new within Sivari that he never noticed before. Something so unsettling, that he ducked away, unable to watch her carry out such an act. But when he raised himself to her level, Abdul noticed that she had hesitated at the dragon's request. At first, he was reluctant to say anything, but after a careful pause, he approached, avoiding her gaze, "Sivari, look at him. Look at how he suffers. Do you not see it? Do you not understand?" He turned to the others, "Do any of you understand? He has gotten what he deserves. The gods have decided on this day and he will meet his end. So what will change if we kill him?" Abdul turned to Sivari, confidence burning within him, "What will change if you kill him? Will you change Sivari? Or will you be the same? For I ask of you, what is worse? Leaving him to his fate and preserving that which is you, or ending it and becoming that which you, and which we all, have vowed to destroy?" He turned to the dragon, distrustful of its intentions, "As for his...'favor'...I do not have a good feeling about it. If you are wise, you will leave it alone. And allow it to die. But should you decide to kill him, then that is your choice. But that is your choice and yours alone. Just don't ask me to be a part of it." Having done all that he could, the Argonian turned away and advanced to the Jazeera solemnly, awaiting the verdict with an almost bitter prediction.

The Count waited and waited, and as the hours dragged on, his patience gradually lessened. At last, when it appeared that no one would come, he directed himself to his quarter's, declaring the expedition a failure. "Keel'lye, set our sails to Morrowind," he breathed bitterly, "we're going home." It was at this moment that a voice addressed him, male, apparently seeking to join the crew. The Count turned in slight disbelief, wondering if what he heard was true. And indeed, it was, for there before him, a Wood Elf stood, waiting to be answered. Overwhelmed of the possibility that the expedition may still have a chance, he was at a loss for words, stammering and struggling to organize his thoughts. But before he could say another another word, he boarded the ship. But it mattered not, for he wasn't the only one arrived seeking membership. "Captain!", Keel'lye cried, "Two Bretons approach!" He turned his gaze from the Wood Elf, and sure enough, there they were, both female. One Of them seemed to ask if what they have heard of the expedition was true. He laughed heartily, leaning forward with confidence and zeel, "This is an adventure that will leave you with what few can or will dare to boast about. Everything about the rumors, stories, and gossip is anything but a lie. My dear, everything that you have heard is indeed true and more!" He raised his eyes to a figure approaching from the distance, who appeared to be a Nord, although the Count couldn't confirm it. Renewed with a certain strength that only hope can promise, Count Llau'wai welcomed them onto the ship, one by one, and retreated to his quarters in a rather mad dash. Keel'lye was left to address the crowd, "The Captain will return shortly with your contracts. Until then, please make yourselves comfortable. Your most gracious patron has laid out a feast here, on deck, which we are to enjoy from now, through departure, and until we make land in Senchal." The Khajiit woman made her way to the table, lifting lids and explaining each cuisine as they were presented,"This is but a taste of the glories Elsweyr has to offer you. Sweet candies, pastries, and pies, no moon sugar of course, but appetizing nonetheless. There are also honeyed meats -boar, pig, chicken, lamb, and minotaur-, salted fish with appropriate spices -rare, expensive, and unique to our nation-, various fruits -both sour and sweet- and all manners of other dishes from the other provinces, for just as our land has welcomed the people of Tamriel and their customs for centuries, so do we greet you with open arms." She scratches the back of her neck for a moment, briefly in thought, "of course...that idea has been strained in recent years, but we welcome you nonetheless! Come! Dine! The Count has spared no expense!"

Abdul emerged from the kitchen with bucket in hand when he noticed that the ship was no longer in motion and that members of the crew had gathered around the injured and dying dragon. As he descended, the impact of the ballista's bolt came into view. Although it had nearly killed them, the Argonian felt an unusual pity for this terrible creature, who he knew was in alliance with Alduin. He slowly made his way past the others until he was mere inches from its snout, close enough to take a better look, but too far for it to lash out at him. The dragon began to growl, cursing all things foul in a language foreign to his kind. Abdul knelt respectfully, first on one knee and then the other, observing the blood that pooled around him. He remained there in silence for a moment, unsure of what to think. Finally, he turned to the others, looking at their scowls and others, with fear in their faces. "Does he have to die? Isn't there another way? Isn't there something else we can do?"

Of course not! We're always accepting new members. We've just begun, so you should be able to get caught up fairly quickly. Post a character sheet and head on over. If you have anymore questions, feel free to ask. Good to have you aboard!

(Alright everyone, I know we've had a bit of a delay. David is going to be busy for awhile, so we're just going to ahead and jump into this thing. David, I hope you'll be joining us soon. :smile: ) It was midday in the Imperial City and conditions on the Waterfront couldn't have been more ideal. The sun hung high above the White Gold Tower, great and radiant, without a cloud to be seen for miles around. Lake Rumare was calm and welcoming, waves lapping at the hull of the Madeira and a gentle breeze nudging against her sails. It was a fine and admirable vessel, which was more than just seaworthy. She had seen battle in distant lands, far from the shores of Tamriel, sailing towards the promise of gold and glory. Her proud and faithful captain, Count Llau'Wai, has been with the Madeira through thick and thin, and has seen just about everything that the world can offer. One would be amazed of the stories he could tell. That afternoon, the Waterfront was swarming with Imperial Guards who appeared to be in a great panic. Word had gotten around that something had happened in the palace early that morning. The Count couldn't think of what it could be. It had been months since the Thalmor were forced from the city and repairs had done much to reverse the damage. The emperor was alive and well, as far as he could tell, and there was no warning of foreign armies descending from afar. No fire. No plague. What could it be? Since the Dark Elf had yet to be approached, he shrugged it off and went about his business to prepare his ship for departure. Every now and then, he turned to greet the occasional citizen who happened by, believing that someone had finally arrived to sign up. After awhile, he grew discouraged, and sighed a deep breath of disappointment. "Fear not captain," Keel'lye assured, "I'm certain someone will show up." The Count didn't answer, but simply dismissed her with the rise of his hand. This Khajiit was new to the crew, but quickly proved her worth on the seas. Keel'lye had a talent for micro-detail and knew the land of Elsweyr very well, the next stop on their worldly expedition. Intelligent, capable, and fiercely loyal, her abilities would be invaluable for this perilous journey. But as her captain feared, it would be an impossible voyage for just the two of them. Were they to be successful, they would need more able-bodied, experienced men and women to accompany them. He cringed at the possibility of having to return to Morrowind this early in the campaign.