Macman253

Valerius knocked on Geralts door, the white haired vampire-slayer looked up from the journal. Surprised to see the Justicar at his door. Valerius walked into the room and tossed a letter on Geralts desk. "An identical letter has been sent to a contact within the Thalmor. There is a vampire within the Thalmor ranks, we do not know who so you are to take your apprentice and investigate. Take her to the armoury and ready her, this should be a simple search and destroy." He said, Geralt nodded and opened the letter. Our scrying has discovered a Vampiric threat from within the Thalmor. Numerous sources inform us that the vampire in question is posing as an agent of the Thalmor. We are sending our top hunter and his apprentice to find and eliminate this threat. We ask that you do NOT interfere with his mission. He is oath-bound to destroy the vampire solely and will not reveal anything he sees to anyone other then Lord Valesco and Justicar Valerius. The Order will dispose of the vampire and its remains on site and the agent will promptly leave the premises once his mission is complete. We ask that you assign a representative to the Agent and His Apprentice, preferably someone capable in combat and intelligent. We will not take responsibility for the death of your chosen representative, If you do not agree to these terms please inform us and the Hunter will be recalled from his mission until you agree to our terms. From The Desk Of, Justicar Valerius. Geralt tucked the letter in his satchel and collected his things, he grabbed the vials of Dead Mans Blood and silver powder, these items were useful in finding a hidden vampire. Most likely this was a Cyrodiiliic vampire and that means they could not be detected by scent or eye and if they are fed they do not feel the burn of the sun but they are weakened by it, he grabbed a scroll of guardian circle. As he collected his things Sophie strolled inside the room. "Father Storm-Hammer said you required me?" She asked, Geralt nodded. "Go to the armoury, collect your weapons. We have a vampire to hunt." He replied as he packed all the things he would need. The girl practically beamed with excitement as she ran to the armoury, returning a few minutes later with a crossbow and silver bolts, a silvered-steel sword and a set of Dawnguard Armor. Geralt threw the pack over his shoulder and departed, an hour later they were out of Solitude and bound for Black Scar Fortress.

Approved Nib, seems like a good character

((sry double post))

Geralt returned to the Order's headquarters, he was tired from travel but he needed information about what he became. He wanted to understand how he changed into that thing back in Dawnstar. The best place for this information was from The Justicar himself. Geralt marched through the halls of The Order, The Dawnguard practiced combat routines with silver blades and crossbow marksmanship, many hurling bright bolts of sun-fire at target dummies while their instructors aided them in their pursuits. Before the Volkihar clan fell they terrorized the citizens of skyrim and this led to many massacres. The victims and relatives of those that were affected came to The Dawnguard, increasing its numbers tenfold but it wasn't until the Justicar and The Order Of The Virtuous Blood appeared in Skyrim was The Dawnguard and The Order able to defeat the Volkihar Clan, after that The Brethren rose to power and laid claim to Markarth. With the lesser threat gone the greatest still remains, The Order and The Dawnguard joined forces. The Order providing technology and knowledge while the Dawnguard were the hunters and soldiers, many of them are remnants of The Vigilants Of Stendarr and they act as the Order's priests. Geralt was born into this world, a world of zealotry and violence and he relished it. It was here he had a home, the Order's headquarters was small but fortified, there were many deadfall traps and Sun-Portals that helped to reveal any vampire infiltrators. Physically a vampire could not enter these grounds without the Justicar's permission, and even then they were usually prisoners. Despite these traps there were nearly two hundred Dawnguard in the underground Fort that was constructed centuries ago as one of Potema's security measures, she built this as a place to live if her city was ever sacked. The main entrance was built into a solid rock-face that now is The Temple Of The Divines, it contains laboratories, dungeons, training rooms, Troll-Pens for the Armored Trolls, Barracks, Interrogation rooms and the Archives. Geralt was interested only in the Justicar's private quarters. He marched quickly through the hallways, pushing past priests and Dawnguard, moving around apprentices and others in his way as he trudged towards the large ornately carved door at the end of the massive hallway that formed the backbone of the entire facility. The doors were carved with the Dawnguard's and the Order's symbols in unison, to symbolize their permanent pact to aid one another. The doors spanned from the floor to the ceiling and stood at around twelve feet high, capable of withstanding a Giants fury for many days it was the last defense if they were ever breached. Geralt pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Dawnguards symbol branded on his wrist. The soldier standing guard at the door nodded, his face hidden behind a full-plate helmet. He reached up and pulled on a lever, the doors began to slowly creek and moan as they opened. Geralt slipped inside and approached the desk, behind it sat a man. He wore simple but fine clothing and he was hunched over the desk reading a scroll. As Geralt approached the man raised his hand to silence his questions until he had finished reading, after several arduous seconds he looked up. His right eye was covered in an strip of cloth and the skin around it was heavily scarred, a gift after he slaughtered a vampire that took out his eye. The Justicar stood, his eye fixed on Geralt. "Geralt, you have come with questions of your heritage...as you did so many years ago." He said, much to Geralts astonishment. He knew Valerius was a powerful mage aswell as an accomplished warrior but he did not expect him knowing his reasons for being here. Valerius smiled, he walked around behind his chair to the wall of books he had collected over the centuries. He idly searched them to find an old leather-bound tome and gave it to Geralt. "This is the journal of your father, he wrote it and told me that when you had seen your bloodlines true power that you were to read it." Explained Valerius, Geralts questions were gone, the ones he had of Valerius' pre-cognitive powers were another thing entirely. Geralt nodded silently and bowed, showing the proper respect one does show the Justicar and left his chambers. He returned to his quarters within the Barracks, as an officer he was allowed larger barracks but he preferred to be in the wilds then sleeping on silken sheets from Stros M'Kai. His desk was cluttered with maps from various ages, most of Skyrim but others were of Cyrodiil and Morrowind. The staff regularly kept it clean but knew not to handle his scrolls and books, he did notice that his bed was disturbed. He turned to see Sophie standing behind him, donned in apprentice Dawnguard armor. She smiled and saluted, Geralt chuckled and returned the salute. "Sorry about leaving the room untidy, I am told that you are to be my Instructor and since you weren't using the bed Father Storm-Hammer thought it okay for me to sleep here." She said, a smile on her face. Something he had not expected of a girl that just lost her entire family. Geralt chuckled and nodded, "How are you doing with your studies?" He asked as he sat down at his desk and placed the journal on top of the desk. Sophie shrugged and moved over to the bed. "It's okay, I like the sword stuff but they still say I am too little to go on real hunts..." She said as she sat down, her armor was heavy and it made her feel uncomfortable but she knew she had to wear it to get used to it. Geralt chuckled as he skimmed the journal, "Trust me, when I was your age I was hunting vampires.... Work hard and you will succeed." He said, giving her a sly but supportive glance. "Nevertheless I have research... Why don't you go get us some food and we can talk while I work." He said, in a strange twist of kindness. The girls eyes beamed and she quickly dashed out of the room, heading for the Mess Hall. Geralt smiled and shook his head while he returned his attention to the journal, he flipped through the pages that detailed various killing and tracking techniques his mentor had tried until he came to a strange entry that was written hastily as if he has scribbled it with a nervous hand. The Lord Form, a form only vampires of pure-blood could achieve. Or so we thought, Geralt is young but his blood gives him great power...far greater then most ordinary men. I have taken a sample of his blood and studied it, my findings tell me that his vampiric blood is Pure. The vampire that sired him was a pure-blood. Of whom I do not know but from our knowledge only three pure-blood males existed, Lord Harkon, The Master and Sanguinis. I personally slew Sanguinis many years before Geralts birthing and Harkon wouldn't defile a mortal woman so the only logical choice is the vampire known as The Master. I will look further into this... The secret is in the blood, the blood is the salvation. He read these words aloud, astonished at what they meant. What intrigued him more was the end words, "The secret is in the blood..." He said as he flipped the page for the next entry, but only found another blank page. He continued to flip pages but the rest of the journal was blank. Geralt leaned back in his chair and brooded, his mind processing the information, he knew there was a reason his mentor wrote those words. "Were they words of warning, or were they meant to tell me something..." He thought as he re-read the entry again.

Bard growled, he hated that half-breed. "Look these are not Bedine, these are something else. Even the Bedine hate them... Only in the last few years have they appeared." He yelled as he jumped up, "I am sick of your attitude... Do what you will Rhaine... I'll be somewhere else..." He said calmly, he had grown tired of Tannin and his attitude. He had grown tired of many of them, he stood up and spit in Tannins face as he walked past him. Grabbing his pack and leaving the camp site.

Bard sat down next to Rhaine, he heard Tannin's remark but paid no mind to it. "We are going to have troubles in the desert ahead. The inhabitants do not take kindly to travelers, specially those that have not paid them respect." He said as he leaned in, so the others could not hear. "I have fought them before, they like to attack at night and from the east..." He added as he pulled out his map and pointed at a large oasis deep in the desert. "This is one of their strongholds I know of, they traffic in slaves and rest here. They like to attack on horseback and hit and run style, usually they soften their targets up with a barrage of arrows then follow in with skirmishers on cavalry." He said, his career as a soldier taught him how to explain tactics. "When we travel through the desert I recommend we take a block formation around the cart, have everyone keep eyes on the east and western flanks of the caravan. Hopefully by doing so we can catch a glimpse of them and prepare before the attack." He explained as he drew out the formation ideas he had using his fingertip, the little finger on his right hand was missing at the knuckle, something these raiders do to prisoners they capture and release as a warning. "I have travelled this desert many times and every time I have I have encountered these bandits. We may not see them or they may just leave us alone, its never clear with them." He said, waiting for her to acknowledge his plan.

Ok, edited it. I am bringing back Geralt and this time he is fully fed and at full power. Seeing the devastation wrought on Dawnstar changed him, made him no longer care for humanity but he still sticks to his drive to hunt Vampires and Werewolves and all other forms of evil in Skyrim. He will feed on humans but evil humans, bandits, necromancers etc.

I gotta edit it, but it was indeed a time jump. I hashed it out after I woke up so its rough... gimme abit and ill take care of it.

Bard walked along the ridge as the sun began to set, casting a shadow across the ground. He had spent the last hour picking fruits and vegetables. When he returned to camp he could smell fish, he hated fish and he'd rather not partake in their food. Not because he didn't like it but because he could take care of himself. The lizard hanging from his belt weighed quite a lot and he knew it would be filling. He sat down at the campfire next to his pack and began to clean and skin the lizard with his knife. He laid the skin aside and tossed the guts away, he de-boned the lizard and speared its meat along with the fruits and vegetables onto his cooking stick and set it over the fire. He drew his crossbow and made sure a bolt was loaded then set it within arms reach. He sat facing the great desert, in his many travels he has been across it and each time he met the Raiders that inhabited the great desert. He filled his pipe with a sweet smelling leaf and used a piece of burning wood to light it, he gently puffed on the pipe as he brooded, his mind flashing back to his last encounter with them. They knew the desert better then anyone, capable of crossing its great expanse in half the time of even the most experienced guides across Faerun. They carried wicked scimitars and knew how to battle in the desert, striking at night and always from the East. They fought hit and run combat from the backs of their Desert Ponies and were expert horsemen. He did not fear them but respected them, he knew what they could do on a battlefield and he knew they would certainly be attacked by them during their travels there. Bard wanted Rhaine to know of them and wanted her to be prepared so he stood and walked over to her calmly. "Rhaine, I wanted to talk with you a moment... It's about our journey ahead..." He said as he approached.

Geralt watched in horror at the burnt remains of Dawnstar, the Stormcloaks and werewolves cutting down the civilians, he was too late to save the city. Geralt roared in anger, he felt his skin rip and tear as his Vampiric lord form came out. His wings burst from his shoulders, long talons formed at his fingertips and large fangs slid from his mouth. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood boiling with rage as he saw these beasts tear apart the city. He stretched his wings and took to the skies. Flying high above the city, his vision was intense. He could hear the heartbeats off every living thing down there, a purple haze surrounded them all. He could see them through the many buildings and make out the tiniest of details even at great distance. He smirked and dived towards the city, his wings folding back on his shoulders as he descended towards the earth. "CURSE YOU ALL TO OBLIVION!" He roared as he descended, he dropped upon the shoulders of an unsuspecting Stormcloak. Rending him with his foot-talons. He looked to the nearest Stormcloak, the Nord-Lad looked only seventeen winters. Him and his allies watched in horror at the beast in front of them. Geralt hissed and bared his fangs, he dug his toes into the earth and pushed off, raising his taloned hand high and bringing it down on the nearest Stormcloak. The claws ripped through his armor and flesh like paper, covering Geralt in arterial blood. He could feel the power this new form offered him, he could feel his heart calm itself in the heat of battle. He did not have to fight his nature when the tingle of battle flowed through his veins. He gracefully dodged the wild swipe of a Stormcloaks two-handed axe, and countered with a slash of his claws. Another Stormcloak aimed a crossbow at Geralt and fired, Geralts lighting quick reflexes kicked in and his grasped the bolt right out of the air and snapped it between his fingers. He reached out with his taloned hand and grasped the air, the stormcloak rose from the earth as if some invisible force was lifting him. His face turned red as he began to gurgle and cough, he swatted at the invisible hand that grasped his throat. With a slight beckon he drew the soldier to him, the Nord's eyes were white with fear as the Beast smiled evilly and bent his head back and sank its fangs into his neck. Blood poured down his hauberk and covered the beast. Geralt drank of the soldiers blood greedily, its sweet taste filling his mouth. It had been forever since he drank live and he savored every drop. When the Nord was finished his caste the corpse aside and glanced around. The citizens were dead but the stench of the wolves was ripe in the air. The Stormcloaks had fled but left the wolves behind. Geralt reached up for the hilts of his swords and drew them, he flipped them in his grip and held them inversed. He could see their glowing auras, four of them resided in ambush places. He watched as they moved into the open, one howled the command to attack and they all descended on him. Geralt grinned and flapped his wings as he charged the nearest Wolf, he hit the wolf with a Dual Fang strike that rended the beasts head from its shoulders, the second wolf dived atop him but Geralts superior speed moved him out of the Wolves grasp, he countered with a Choking-Grasp that stopped the wolf mid-air. The wolf struggled for breath but did not have to worry long, Geralt finished the animal with a deft strike to the beasts heart with his silver blade. The remaining two charged Geralt at the same time, Geralt flung the corpse of the werewolf at them and struck one wholly with the animal. He yelped in pain as they fell into a pile on the snowy and frozen earth. The other wolf continued to charge, Geralt stood straight and his the blades behind his back. The wolf sensed the weakness and ran faster. Geralt wrapped his wings around him and took a spinning side-step. As he did the two points of the silvered-steel blades impacted with the exposed chest of the wolf and ran deep into the wolfs heart. Geralt kicked the dead wolf off his blades and walked calmly over to the now human werewolf that was pinned under the corpse of his dead ally, Geralt returned to his normal form. He smiled wickedly, the blood of the nord he drained still dripping from his jaws. He bent down to look the animal in the eyes and laughed in his face. "See you in Oblivion..." He said as he put the tips of each sword on either side of his neck and crossed them, the blades cutting through the nords neck effortlessly as he cried out for mercy, cries that were silenced quickly and viciously. Geralt returned to Solitude, strapped to his horse were four werewolf heads. He rode Spot up to the palace, he saw Selene and the other vampire, the arrogant one. He drew his dagger and cut at the ropes holding the heads of the werewolves onto his saddle. The heads dropped to the ground and rolled down to their feet. "Tell Tullius that his stormcloak threat is handled, take the credit for it or whatever you choose I care not." He said coldly, he turned Spot around and made for The Order's headquarters.

Bard stayed ahead of the group for most the trip, when his feet grew tired he rode on the wagon and played his lute to help pass the time. When they finally stopped to make camp he helped them unload, after that was finished he setup his bedroll and dropped his pack next to it. Bard sat on his bedroll and began to lay out his cooking materials before reaching for his crossbow and locking in a bolt. He stood and stretched, then turned to Rhaine. "Goin' to get my dinner..." He said then walked due east of the camp. About ten minutes outside the camp and started to look at the sandy earth, there were lizard tracks everywhere and the sun was going down. He followed the biggest set up a large hill. As he crested it he saw the large brown lizard that made them laying out on a rock. Bard dropped to a knee and aimed his crossbow, he locked his sights in on the animal, steadied his breathing and gently squeezed the trigger. With a quick snap the bolt went flying towards its target, it struck with enough force to knock the lizard off the rock. Bard quickly got up and ran for his meal, nearly leaping upon it. He grabbed it by the neck and tail and twisted its neck to kill the animal. "Gonna be a good night..." He said as he walked around looking for desert fruits, he picked a couple Prickly Pears and some Desert Figs and walked back towards the camp.

Bard just laughed at Tannin's display of anger, he continued to play his lute and ignored the threat. "I would love to see you try..." He said, he did not care for threats that were based in nothing. He knew how to deal with goblins and he dealt with it, he wasn't some rookie he knew how to vanish in the desert. "By the time those goblins find us, we'll be long gone and they won't come close to Llorkh so were safe imbecile. Goblins by nature are cowardly, unless they outnumber you they won't attack." He explained as he played. He was a veteran of the Goblin-Wars and he knew their tactics very well. Bard stood up and stretched, he placed the strap of his lute over his torso. "We are heading to The Dalelands, all along the roads there are Orcs and Goblins and many other threats that are far scarier then you..." He said, he was not scared of Tannin and his little display and he wanted him to know it. He turned away and started walking along the road to Dalelands, figuring he would get a headstart and clear their path.

Bard finished packing his gear, his arm feeling better since Amendale's healing. His mind drifted to Lelana at the riverbank as he did so. He wondered why she would appear before him now, now that his head has cleared he began to lull things over in his mind. He picked up his scabbarded sword and wrapped it into his bedroll, he tied the bedroll to his pack and threw it over his shoulder, he put a toe under his lute and kicked it into the air and caught it with his hand. Bard took a few pieces of bacon and readied himself, he ate it and drank from his waterskin as he waited for everyone to resume travelling. He noticed Rhaine conversing with someone but he could not make out who that someone was, he shrugged and bit down on the piece of bacon he was eating and idly strummed a light tune on his lute. His greasy fingers making it somewhat harder to play but he overcame that and continued. He sat down on a nearby rock as he played.

Bard awoke early, his body was stiff from sleep. The smell of bacon filled the air, his arm was still sore despite the healing. The Goblins had not attacked so he must have lost them in the wilds. He laid his bastard sword across his lap as he fished a whetstone from his pack and began to sharpen it. The weapon itself was of fine craftsmanship at one time. Years of battle and time has worn its beauty but not its edge. The hilt was ornamented in a dragons head and the wings made the crossguard. The leather around the hilt was of drakescale and provided a firm grip aswell as a smooth and shiny surface. Runes etched into the blade spelled out to those that could read the Dwarven language. "For Honorable Service." Read the runes, its dwarven craftsmanship was apparent at the formation of the blade. Thick blade with a large blood-groove. The blade was designed to be held one handed aswell as by two hands, despite its dwarven craft it was meant for Bard's hands. Bard gently ran the whetstone along the edge of the blade, he generously applied a sweet smelling oil after he finished. He slid the blade into its scabbard and picked up his new crossbow, he looked over it closely and then aimed it one handed at an apple he sat on the end of his foot. He squeezed the trigger system and the bolt released with a quick slap of the bowstring and pierced the apple to the earth. He flipped the crossbow around, the bowstring pulled back into place and one of the five bolts in the internal magazine loaded into place. Bard smiled, elegant make repeating crossbow. He dropped the bolt from the notch and released the bowstring to take the torque from it, to keep it from weakening. "So what is our agenda for today?" He asked as he pressed the wing-shaped bowstaff against the sides of the crossbow and tucked it away into the leather satchel that he kept his bow materials in.

Bard walked back into the camp, He sat down at his usual place. Most the camp was asleep aside Nawen, she had just returned it appears. Bard growled as his wound hurt more and more. He was lucky, it was nothing but a flesh wound but it still hurt quite a lot and fewer things annoyed him more then difficult to heal wounds such as flesh wounds. He looked up at the sky as he sat down next to his bedroll. The moon hung lazily above the horizon, daybreak would be soon. He laid his head back on his bedroll and closed his eyes. He was fast asleep, dreaming of old memories. He dreamt of his wife, her wonderful cooking. His young son and their games. He dreamt of the day his son was brought into the world, how happy he had been for many years. It was these dreams that put him to sleep and kept him there until after daybreak.

Bard opened his eyes, the mead kept him from sleeping. He sat up against his bedroll and stared into the flames, the embers were low so he prodded them with the tip of his sword. The flames rose alittle higher and brighter, he looked up at the sky to see the moon hanging above them. It wasn't yet midnight and he could not sleep. Bard slowly stood, his body not what it used to be, he had to use his sword as a cane. His joints popped and crackled from his many years as a soldier. The many battle wounds had taken their toll on his body. "Young in mind but not in body..." He said to himself as he stood, a slight smirk on his face. He looked around to see the Drow had left and most others were beginning to settle in. Llorkh was not far away and he felt like a walk may help him sleep. He picked up his sword, bow and quiver and turned to Rhaine. She appeared to be asleep so he continued to without telling her he was leaving for a walk. Llorkh was a smallish town but due to its black history it has become a haven for bandits and knaves. He lashed his calf-skin boots onto his feet and began to walk north towards the stream. He slid his bastard sword into the scabbard across his back. After sometime he came to the fast flowing stream, he knelt down and plunged his hand into the water and drew it up to his mouth and drank. The water was cool and refreshing, he felt a presence nearby and heard the gentle footsteps on the riverstones. He hand drifted to the hilt of the dagger at his side. Despite being an older man he was still an able fighter and was very difficult to approach from behind. The steps grew louder as the individual approached, he felt odd that they were not overtly trying to be silent. Soon the smell of roses filled his nostrils and just as the stranger neared he whirled around. Dagger at the ready to counter whatever strike was coming his way. As he turned he saw a beautiful woman in a long silk white dress, her deep red hair cascaded down her back and nearly touched the floor. Her eyes shone in the moonlight with a deep emerald color. What amazed him further was her face, she looked just like his late-wife. Bard dropped to his knees, the dagger falling from his hands. "Lelana....how could you be?" He said, the woman smiled and pressed her finger to his lips to silence his many questions. Her voice was soft and harmonious but it spoke with great fortitude and authority. "Jerek, my time has taken its toll on you. I still remember you as that boy wearing the ill-fitting uniform that would watch me. You were so adorable..." She said with a slight chuckle. Bard smiled, "It's been a very long time since then. You were just an acolyte for Sune then. Not yet a Sister..." He said as he realized she was a phantom. He stood, his dagger in his hand. He gently sheathed it in his boot and stared into her eyes. They captivated him, as they always did. "Yes, I remember leading you all over the city to see if you would keep following me." She replied, a bright smile on her face. Bard nodded and chuckled, "Yes, I did not need daily exercise then. I was too busy following you everywhere, but had I not followed you we would have never married and our son would have never been born." He said, the painful memories of his son flashing through his mind. His death was ten years ago but it was still fresh in his mind. He forced a smile to hide his pain, Lelana knew and she gently stroked his cheek. Despite his age he was still a handsome man, in his blue eyes she could see the young lad still inside. "I know, our son was a strong boy. Passionate and proud like his father..." She said, "...aye, and wise beyond his years like his mother." Bard finished. Lelana looked across the river to see a glowing light and she smiled warmly. "I must go my love, remember. Not all of the gods have abandoned you..." She said as she walked towards the river. Her footsteps leaving ripples as she walked gently across the water. Bard knew her time was short, he smiled. "I hope to see you again someday... Ill share my stories with our son. I have so many to tell him..." He said to her, Lelana smiled and soon vanished. Bard was alone once more, but he knew that he was never truly alone. He pulled his waterskin from his belt and stooped down to fill it with water. Silently vowing to stop his drinking as he did so. As he stood he heard a faint rustling in the leaves, faint voices came from the trees across the river. He watched closely and could make out five pairs of glistening green eyes. They were low to the ground and all were locked onto him, as he watched an arrow whisked by his head. Its origins from his right, he looked to see a two goblins. All of them wearing red facepaint that looked like a skull, one charged at him with a club and the other fumbled with his bow. Bard quickly drew his sword and parried the blow from the club that would have cracked his skull wide open. He lashed out with a sharp kick that sent the Goblin off his legs and arse first into the river-stones. The goblin brought up its small wooden buckler to block the second strike but Bard saw this and grasped his blade in a two handed grip. He brought it down hard and it cleaved through the rotten wooded shield and his arm in one deft strike, the goblin began to howl like a stuck pig as he grasped his stump of a forearm and rolled around on the ground. Bard ducked as an arrow whisked by his head, he quickly grasped the dagger tucked into his boot and threw it underhanded at the archer. The dagger twirled quickly, slicing the air as it spun and buried itself to the hilt in the greenskins chest. The goblin looked down at the knife stuck into his heart, his hand clutching the hilt but his heart stopped before he could remove it and he slumped over onto the stones. Black orc blood seeping from his chest. He looked around quickly to see that the five orcs across the river had begun to charge him. Screaming profane words in Orcish as they did so. Bard stuck his blade into the rocks and drew his bow and notched an arrow. He drew back and fired, the arrow whistled as it flew and slammed home in the first Goblins chest that took him off his feet, Bard reached up and drew another arrow and loosed it. This one buried itself into the face of a goblin clutching a elegantly made crossbow, the goblin ran for a few more seconds and collapsed on the stones. The third Goblin was on him with a crudely made stone sword, he did not have time to draw another arrow so he used his bowstaff to block the strike but the wood was not strong enough and the blade cleaved through it and buried itself in his shoulder. Bard let out a loud groan of pain, the dagger-like shocks coursed through his arm. With his free-hand he pulled his Dirk free and stuck it into the greenskins neck. The goblin's eyes filled with hate as he thick black blood spurted from his neck, coating Bard in the stuff. He kicked the dead Goblin off of him and grasped his Bastard Sword. He held it in a defensive position and waited for the remaining two goblins to attack. They simply looked at one another, astounded this human fought off so many of them. They looked at Bard and then ran back across the river and vanished into the forest. Bard breathed a sigh of relief and stood slowly, his arm shooting with pain. He tossed his quiver aside and began to check the bodies. He found a few bits of jewelry and coin but the crossbow he found was exquisite in craftsmanship. Most certainly elven, it had a red and gold coloration to it and the arms of the bow were made to look like an eagles wings, the bolt slid into a special notch and the tip of the bolt protruded from the screaming mouth of the eagles head. He noticed the trigger had a strange loop on it and when he pulled it he realized it was connected to the draw mechanism. He spun it quickly and the weapon cocked itself using the momentum of the spin. "Ingenious, most likely made for cavalrymen." He thought, he lashed the crossbow to a leather strap and hung it over his shoulder, he grabbed the sack of bolts from the dead goblin and hung it on a belt loop. He quickly tore off a piece of cloth from one of the greenskins burlap coats and fashioned himself a bandage which he wrapped around his arm and tied off. "This will do for awhile.." He said as he stood up, he grasped his sword and started to walk back to camp. The remaining goblins would be back soon and with far greater numbers so he decided to take the long way back so as not to lead them directly to his companions.

Bard shrugged at the Thri-kreens protests. He cared not for his divines, only those of his people. He took another heavy swig of his mead and laid back on his pack. His eyes fixed on the stars. His mind swirled with the heavy drink and memories of long carried regrets and torturous memories. He closed his eyes as he heard a womans scream echo through his mind, he took another drink of his mead but it came up empty. He growled to himself as he looked into the canteen to see it as dry as a desert. He tossed the canteen aside and groaned. "Why is the mead gone..." He said with a drunken slur, he let out a depressed sigh as he covertly slid a dagger under his bedroll and closed his eyes. His hand wrapped around the blades grip. He was a light sleeper, he had slept in a room with four men intent on killing him before and he knew when a would be assassin came for him. If anyone objected to his statement enough to attempt it they would not be the first assassin to creep up on him in the night and he would not be the last.

Bard seethed at the mans insult, if it were not for his good nature he would have confronted him about it. Bard began to think heavily as she mentioned judgement. He had heard that term many times, when he was incarcerated for too much drinking and carousing. When he was flogged for a crime he did not commit, when he was a young lad and the town priests spoke of it often. His mind turned to the priest, the cleric that spent more time wallowing in gold and easy women because of his station rather then doing what his faith required of him. "Forgive me Chosen, I spoke from a dark place... a place that was created when my god failed me long ago..." He said, an earnest tone. Nearly every soldier prayed to Torm aswell as other deities. They prayed to him for conviction against the many horrors they faced on battlefields, he had often said prayers to Kelemvor and that is why he had such respect for The Chosen. "Kelemvor is a honest god, if not stern. I know not a soldier the didn't offer prayers to him the night before battle." He said, he stopped packing his things and sat back down. He quickly picked up his canteen of mead and took a long hard drink. Determined to drink away the memories of battle.

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Bard chuckled at all the godly talk going on, he had little need for deities and found them to be a waste of his time and energy. All the praying and bowing and kowtowing made him feel sick. He ruffled his cards once again and continued his practices. Looking over to the elf and Rhaine he smiled and laughed. "You really think the gods have purposes for us? They don't give two buckets of pig dung about us... we are just pawns to serve and worship them, or just an inconvenience to them. I have travelled from one end of Faerun to the other and not once did I ever see a supposed Miracle when it was sorely needed. I have seen good men and women die praying for such a miracle to save them..." He said, his eyes glazing over as he continues. "I've seen villages get torn apart by orcs, innocents slaughtered and every single one of them prayed for help. I nearly died trying to save them... I wasn't more then fourteen summers old..." He said, his hands finally stopped moving as he spoke. Images of that night flashed in his mind, orcs beheading villagers as they prayed for help. Unable to defend themselves. "They were left abandoned, without their sons and husbands to defend them because the local noble had called them in for enlistment so he could march off to war with some other a**hole in an expensive pair of trousers. Meanwhile, orcs pillaged and raped their way across his lands and it wasn't until the noble was done waving his prick to his rival did we put them down for good." He said coldly, his usual happy demeanor gone. Bard was once a man of faith, a tattoo on his arm glistened in the firelight. It was a shield with a horse crested on it, a sword behind it with wings for a crossguard. A symbol associated with Torm and often favored by soldiers. "The worst part of it, when we came across the villages while hunting these orcs... the man of the cloth that represented Kelemvor just said dig a pit, throw some lye over em and fill it in. I saw a boy, not much older then the girl cry as we buried his parents in an unmarked grave. No rites of passage were said, the survivors didn't get to remember them..." He said as he stood, his temper flaring. "I'll be sleeping on my own tonight..." He said as he began to pack his things.

Bard gave a whistle to the little girl, "Hey Sori, if you want you can have some of the leftover hare?" He said to her as he flipped a card around his fingers. He wasn't hungry and he also hated potatoes so he might aswell share what he had. Bard spent most of his youth avoiding home and drunken carousing with barmaids. He had a lot of respect for his parents but when they died he was in the world alone. He always kept that with him and to see the girl so happy with her parents reminded him of those times. Bard's ears keyed in at Dracolich, he listened carefully while he practiced his card tricks. He did not want to give the impression he was eavesdropping. As he listened to the conversation between the newcomer and Rhaine he idly practiced cascade shuffling and deck splitting. It turned into a rhythm for him, first a shuffle then cascade it between his hands, he then split the deck three times and shuffled again to repeat the steps. He did this without even looking at his hands, what for most magicians would take great concentration he did while his attention was split between Nawen and Rhaine. In his history he had been hired many times to be a spy in nobles courts, he could flatter and seduce and he was able to pour honeyed words into a womans ears to have her spill her secrets or say silent encouragements to push his employers rivals to reveal their hands too soon. The spy game was something he was good at and he had learned how to listen to every word of a particular conversation while having a discussion with others and not drawing attention to what he was really doing. To him the rhythmic movements of his hands helped to focus him. The soft sound of the cards as he moved them about with an almost mystical grace, the feel of the treated paper that made them nearly indestructible. Another trait he learned whilst being a spy was to play Liars Hand in his head, helped ward his thoughts from anyone that attempts a read thoughts spell or mind read powers. Useful but also as much a flaw, too some that act would be instantly suspicious and when they discovered it his ruses whichever it was, was usually up at that point. He had dealt with mind-readers before and was sometimes mistaken for one due to his innate ability to read people. He had done it so well the weaker minded people thought him a telepath as they are called by most scholars. He called them Reader's, most of the nobles who had a feeling their was a traitor in his court would call in a Bard like Bard. Someone capable of rooting him out and revealing his presence. Too most he was a wandering minstrel or an ex-soldier looking for coin by playing music but to others he was a keen spy that was welcome in most noble courts.

Felix waited impatiently in the foyer of The Blue Palace. He was summoned by Tullius, hopefully for a job. Felix pulled the large sigil covered book from his hip and began to read the shifting and glowing runes. An imperial soldier approached him and saluted, "The Marshal will see you now." He said, Felix closed the book with a loud thud and re-hung it on his belt. He approached the stairwell and the soldier stopped him, he laid out his hand and Felix unlatched his belt and handed it to him. He gestured to his staff, Felix smiled and shook his head. "Got a bad knee, them wood elf archers you know..." He said, the nord soldier smiled and stepped out of Felix's way and he continued up the stairs. Tullius sat in the Jarls throne. General Rikke at his side. They were in the middle of a discussion, "Are you sure about this Marshal?" Asked Rikke, Tullius nodded. "We need to handle the threat to Solitude now or it will be too late." He said, Felix stepped into view and smiled at his old commanding officer. Tullius stood from his throne and approached Felix. "Ahhh, Felix. Good to see you again, I need your magics... Sybille has told me of a threat within the city that is becoming too prominent." He said as he gestured to the woman. The robed woman nodded to Felix. She had heard of his achievements, despite his age his magical talent has only become greater. Felix nodded, "What is the problem?" He asked as he approached Tullius while he sat on the throne once more, Rikke smiled lightly. She had seen Felix's battlefield strategies and skill first hand when she was a Lieutenant. He and her had a romantic relationship for sometime but when the war ended he left the military and the mages guild. Sybille stepped forward to explain the situation, "Recently my scrying has detected a potent magical energy in a cavern known as Wolfskull Cave. We think it might be a group of necromancers but we are not certain. We want you to go there and see what is happening." She said, Felix nodded and thought for a few moments. Absorbing what she said. He unlatched his tome and placed it on the table nearby, he flipped through the pages until he found the scrying spell inscribed into the thick enchanted parchment. "Lokthaal...Viraldis...Signe...Morlot." He read, after he finished the Incantation his body fell limp yet his spirit remained. The Incantation of spirit-walking was useful but taxing. It temporarily gave the casters soul the ability to move as a ghost would. Felix felt himself be dragged to the cavern, inside there was a large fort hidden under the stone. He saw the dark energies radiating from the fortress but the powerful spell that was being performed there had been completed. Its occupants were missing. He then snapped back into his own body and awoke laying face down on the stone floor of the Palaces throne room. Felix shook off the dizziness and stood, he rubbed his eye with his thumb to take away the glazing effect. "It was indeed dark magic, from my best guess it was a summoning spell." He said, he wrapped his hand around the half of his staff and used it to pull himself up. "I'll need to go there directly to be sure..." He said, Sybille looked shocked as she realized what they were doing there. She turned to Tullius, "Marshal, Wolfskull cave got that name because of Lady Potema... I think they may have been summoning her there...." She said, Tullius looked to Felix. "I'll pay triple your fee if you can find those responsible, destroy them and banish whatever evil they have summoned. Sybille go with him." He commanded, Felix drew his hood over his head and bowed. "I will need a Black Soul Gem, an empty one. It may be the only way to stop Potema if she is indeed on Mundus once again." He said, Sybille nodded. "There is a storeroom in Castle Dour that has all the contraband magical items we've recovered. There is a Black Soul Gem there." She said, Felix nodded to her and left the palace with Sybille in tow.

actually I have no played them either, I just looked it up and realized that it was total coincidence lol

Bard nodded as he listened to her tale, one thing he learned in his travels is to listen to others stories. He smiled as he flipped his cards around his hand and let them cascade into his palm. As he did so a card fell from the pile and landed face up, it was adorned with a picture of a great eye in place of the sun over the horizon. The name of the card was The All-Seeing Eye, a card of great importance for those that believe cards hold mystical powers. He picked up the card and looked at it, the last time he drew it bad things happened. To him it was always the sign of great and life altering change. He quickly shook off his feeling of foreboding and slid the card back into his deck. "Aye, I knew this one gnome. Loved creating these mystical potions, he wanted to create one that would teleport you to a destination of your choosing when you drank it. He succeeded in making it but not the way he liked it to..." Bard said with a laugh, he found laughter and the humorous tale to be useful for lightening the mood. Flipped the top card from the deck and the Eye appeared again, he quickly tucked it away and shuffled the deck. "His potion sent him from the place where he drank it, through the market and right into the ladies bath-house across the city." He added, "The recipe he had for the potion was really a very powerful dwarven brandy..." He said as he cut the deck in his hand and it flicked out another card. He caught it and checked its face, it was The Eye once more. He flipped the card around in his hand and it vanished up his sleeve, to onlookers it would appear it vanished into thin air.

He isn't dead, he is just going to complete his mission and return to The Order to train Sophie to be his apprentice. When that happens ill bring him out into the wider world. So expect posts relating to him just to keep the story going and fill in period gaps. Oh yeah, heres a pic of Felix. http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/537459_508254002560094_312671712_n.jpg