Macman253

Name: Felix Le'veau Race: Breton Description: Slightly browned skin from years of travel, wears a blindfold over his right eye. His robes are worn from his long travels but they signify his connection to The College. Details: 5'9" 134 pounds, Brown Hair (keeps it shaved) Armor: Wears armored College Robes, the robes fortify his destruction and magicka regen rates. Weapons: Carries a simple shortsword, a knife and his staff. Equipment: His spellbook, contains all the spells he knows and rituals for summoning and banishing. Vials of health and magicka potions aswell as alchemical ingredients to make various potions as he needs them. Spells Known: Firebolt, Flames, Fireball, Sun-Fire, Healing, Steadfast Ward, Oakflesh, Summon Fire Atronach, Sparks, Lightning Bolt, Frost Rune, Fire Rune, Turn Undead, Guardian Circle. Background: Felix's was raised in Cyrodiil, he studied at The Mages Guild and his talent for magics quickly landed him as the youngest battle-mage in their ranks. During the Great War he fought for the empire, his potent skills with destruction aided the fight greatly but they were overpowered. During the war he earned a rank of Captain within the Empire and he often clashed with a Thalmor Commander, that rivalry is what claimed his right eye. After the Aldmeri Dominion's victory he fled north into Skyrim to avoid Thalmor agents looking for revenge on Imperial Battle-Mages. There, secluded in the north he discovered the College Of Winterhold, for thirty years he remained connected to the school. Teaching young mages the arts of being a Battle-Mage. When the Aldmeri Dominion arrived, along with The Empire with a treaty High Marshal Tullius asked him to head up the teaching of the Imperial Battle-Mages. He declined and left the school, he instead began to offer his services as a Wizard For Hire. When magical threats appear most factions turn to him to destroy them. The Empire, Stormcloaks and even The Companions have sought his knowledge at some point in time, either for knowledge of a magical threat or for it to be removed.

I am beginning to figure it might be wise to stop using Geralt, for one we have too many Vampires... kinda swimming in them. So I'll be making a new character and just kinda... 'forget' Geralt.

That is why Geralt is not as physically powerful as most vampires, I have stated this. But frankly I wasn't saying that I was from some great bloodline that had immunity to sunlight in every form. He could physically match a blooded vampire for strength but what he had was a calm mind. He wasn't arrogant and he knew his limits, what makes him a threat isn't his vampiric powers it is his ability in general. He hunts them, he would have an edge. You don't call yourself a vampire hunter if you don't have an edge. Its because of his half-blood status that he can wield Sun-Fire. Frankly if we want to go by lore standards, he would be completely immune to the effects of sunlight but because people would see that as OP which it really isn't by lore standards I made it him more akin to vamps. Frankly hes a lot weaker then you think he is. He does indeed have strengths that give him and edge but he also has drastic weaknesses compared to actual Half-Bloods. About that whole post thing, frankly I was tired... I had a few and wasn't in the mood to deal with crap. That was more stress backlash then actual anger, and I have had too many people create characters and then shroud them in clouds so they can pull s*** out of their asses at the last minute and try to be dominating of everyone near them by having a very very powerful character. Doesn't work that way, not to drop names but *cough* Balduranthology *cough* was notorious for this.

Geralt pushed passed the dark elf, not wanting to speak with anyone. Despite the man's mistrust he would have rather him come at another time, Geralt quickly walked across the courtyard to the Temple Stables and grabbed a hunk of his horses mane and stepped up onto the animal with a quick push of his foot. When he was comfortable he sunk in his spurs and Spot reared, he departed the courtyard as fast as he could and was heading for the city gates. When he finally had left the city gates he breathed somewhat easy, he preferred to be in the wilds then around anyone but he had a job to do. Skyrim's nippy air refreshed him, the snow-coated mountains dominated the horizon and for most others the view was breathtaking but he had his mind too focused on the road. HIs mind raced with thoughts, how close he had come to cutting down that blood-sucker. He growled and tried to shake off his anger but it only made him more angry. He felt his rage grow, his skin began to feel as if it was burning and his chest felt as if it was on fire. He choked as he rode, like he could not breath. Then he began to contort and convulse hard enough to fall out of his saddle and hit the stone road with a hard thud that stunned him. He let out a groan of pain and tried to stand but the convulsions were bone-breakingly painful. He managed to pull himself to his feet and as he did his body enveloped in black energy, his skin turned a pale grey and his fingers lengthened. The nails turning into long razor like talons, he dropped to his knees as he felt as if someone was reaching into his back and ripping his spine out. His screams became grunts as his voice began to change. Something new was happening to him, after a few more seconds large bat-like wings burst from his back. He writhed on the ground as his body continued to shift. Moments later the pain passed and he was able to move freely again. He looked around to see no one present on the road but there was a puddle of water. He walked over to it gingerly and looked into it. What he saw was a monster, his face had changed. He had taken on the form of a giant human-like bat creature. The darkest part of him in physical form, he growled in rage and stomped on the reflection with a two toed foot. He wished it to go away, he covered his face to hide it from his view as he thought of everything he could have been but the monster he was. When he pulled his hands away his reflection was of his original self. He sighed in relief, if it were not for the blinding pain of the event he would have thought it a dream. He did not know where the change came from but he knew it left him weak and he did not wish it to happen again.

Bard smiled, he was not used to his music being called beautiful. He continued to idly flip the Bard card from his deck and catch it again. "Its all in the cards..." He said with a slight chuckle, his eyes locked onto hers as his hands moved independently. Bard flipped the card in the air and caught it between two fingers. The Face of the card was that of The Drunken Maiden, he turned it around to reveal its blank back then flipped the card into the air and caught it, he showed it once more and it had changed to Deaths Hand, the rarest card in the deck. "After I left my home I wandered a lot, found that old lute sitting on the side of the road... I picked it up and began to play it. Took me three months to get to my destination. I taught myself how to play along the way and when I got into town I started playing for coin. Learned new songs as I travelled and soon people began to call me a Bard. So I just took to the profession...." He said as he shuffled his deck once more and tucked it away. He reached over and pulled the last hare from the spit and offered it to her, he had eaten his fill. He caught two hares, one for himself and the other for whomever wanted some. He was not a greedy man, he always considered himself a scoundrel but he never called himself a villain or a selfish man. He could take care of himself and he valued that in a person, he never really had long-term dealings with people because they were all trying to get others to do for them, never doing for themselves. "I never really had much other then my skills to offer, I left home young and ended up wandering about. Just following the wind...." He said and then took a swig from his waterskin filled with honey-mead. His cheeks were a rose color from the alcohol, he had taken to drinking himself to sleep most nights. He stuck the spit into the earth next to him and stared into the flames as he drank. He could see the things that haunted him dance in the fires, his time as a soldier and the horrible crimes he had witnessed at the hands of the militia he once belonged to. He shook them off with a smile and a swig of mead. "What of you? How did a Drow come to be a member of this eclectic circus?" He asked as sat upright, leaning against his bedroll and pack like it was the back of a chair.

Despite the outburst by the elf and her friendship with Rhaine, Bard was more interested in Nawen and his meal. He began to play with his deck of cards again while Rhaine and the elf chatted. It was something he had done quiet a lot as a child so he was good with them, he would cut the deck and bend a card to flip into the air and then catch it again, then he put the deck in his right hand and pulled his left hand away. As he did so a card shot out of the deck and into his left hand, he caught it deftly and spun it between his fingertips fast enough it was almost a blur. When it stopped it was revealed to be The Angel card, he smirked slyly and gave her the card. "Here hold onto this..." He said as he placed it in her hand, he shuffled the deck in his hand and cut it. With a quick flick of his wrist he flourished his hand and the deck fanned out like a noblewoman's fan. Revealing all the cards to her, he packed them all tight once more into the deck and then flicked them out once more. As he did so all the faces of the remaining cards were Angel cards. Bard had one been a master street performer, would do a number of card tricks for bets. Often got him a free drink at the cost of some local-yokel thinking he can spot him a mile away, often times it earned him gold or a brawl depending on how much the men who bet against him valued their word. Bard chuckled, "Sorry, I like to do card tricks..." He said, He suddenly recalled Nawen was going to ask him something when that elf interrupted their conversation. Bard flicked his hand and the deck quickly folded back to normal and he sat it down on the rock next to him.

Alright, well the Sun Fire Spell was designed to counter powerful vamps so its logical It would toast the weaker ones and severely harm the stronger ones. Yeah but I revealed it mostly in the RP, I don't like giving away all the details of a character its no fun. I create a limit that I do not go past but otherwise I create as I write, why be the same person all the time. Its good for characters to progress. Morality does play a huge part with him, consider it like a phobia. He understands the harm he can inflict on innocents, he sees what vampires do to them all the time. Part of the reason he hunts them, his morality is a great weakness. Because he doesn't feed on 'fresh' blood his powers and strength suffer for it. If he was to drain a person dry then he would be much more powerful but he doesn't do that and it shows A blooded vampire which is in the 12-15 lvl range can match him equally, anything higher then that he has to be creative for... He knows his skills and he knows his limits. Plus he is still learning new things about himself, there isn't many Dhampir running around you know.

Geralt also isn't as strong as most vampires, his strength is that he doesn't loose his powers in sunlight and he can use some of the normal vampiric powers. his weakness is his thirst and to him it is far greater then it is to you. He does not want to feed on innocents and he strives not to do that daily. His weakness is his devotion as well as his strength. And no that cannot happen, I must have missed that in your background but I will tell you this. ALL vampires are weak in sunlight and concentrated sunlight is lethal. Even Geralt is sickened by sunlight, concentrated sunlight does burn him but he has yet to be hit by a sun fire spell. Plus if you did not prove your loyalty to The Brethren entirely, you would not exist with them. You couldn't be overseeing their mines let alone in a position of power... think of it. Would you put power in the hands of someone you couldn't trust? Dial it back, correct the post or stop posting. And until someone says Geralt is op I keep him the way he is, when more then just one person is saying it I will correct the problem but I will not make him weaker because you think hes op. Also, Dracula WAS weak to sunlight. It was one of the few things that could kill him. Weakness to sunlight and vampires go hand in hand dude. Learn your literature...

Geralt also isn't as strong as most vampires, his strength is that he doesn't loose his powers in sunlight and he can use some of the normal vampiric powers. his weakness is his thirst and to him it is far greater then it is to you. He does not want to feed on innocents and he strives not to do that daily. His weakness is his devotion as well as his strength. And no that cannot happen, I must have missed that in your background but I will tell you this. ALL vampires are weak in sunlight and concentrated sunlight is lethal. Even Geralt is sickened by sunlight, concentrated sunlight does burn him but he has yet to be hit by a sun fire spell. Plus if you did not prove your loyalty to The Brethren entirely, you would not exist with them. You couldn't be overseeing their mines let alone in a position of power... think of it. Would you put power in the hands of someone you couldn't trust? Dial it back, correct the post or stop posting. And until someone says Geralt is op I keep him the way he is, when more then just one person is saying it I will correct the problem but I will not make him weaker because you think hes op.

zeph you gotta redact that last post. First off all vampires except Dhamphirs are vulnerable to concentrated sunlight. Even Harkon was, secondly you are out numbered and claiming to be an imperial agent yet you slaughter a soldier off handedly and thirdly you are being way too arrogant. The Order and its hunters are the most direct threat to the brethren. Walking around and willy nilly killing people is Op and its kinda stupid. So correct it please.

Geralt smiled, he had a high opinion of himself that is for sure but most vampires said the same thing. "Yeah, I have heard your song and dance before... Heard it from the thousands of bloodsuckers I put down... The difference between you and me is? I can walk in the daylight...and I can harness it." He said as his hand glowed with the sun fire spell. A vampire could never wield the weapon, let alone wield silver. His hand enveloped in the spell as it charged in his hand, ready to fire. He did not care for the vampires boasting nor his taunts. They were hollow words, but truth be told he was more curious as to his reasons for being here. Either he was indeed an imperial spy or he was lying to protect himself. Many vampires had underestimated him, thinking that because they were full-blooded they were more powerful. What they didn't know was that he possessed all of their strengths and only their thirst as a weakness. This lack of information on their part helped him many times in the past and it lulled his opponents into underestimating him. Geralt kept his blade raised, he called out to the nearby Imperial Soldier that had his blade leveled at the vampire. "Go and get the Marshal, have him come down here nad sort this out." He commanded, ten other soldiers surrounded the vampire and readied their weapons to keep him there as the other soldier ran off towards the palace.

Bard noticed the noises of battle, he leapt up to his feet. His hand grasping his Bastard Sword and pulling it free of the scabbard concealed in his bedroll. He watched the elf dispatch the two bandits effortlessly, he admired her grace and technique but despite her beauty and skill he did not know her. He reversed the grip on his sword to conceal the blade behind his shoulder. He looked her up and down, admiring her assets. His last encounter with a elven woman lead him to falling out a second story window when her husband came home. He was left without his coin and his trousers but he had his life. Bard chuckled at the thought and soon his mind returned to reality. He watched the woman but saw no hostility, he figured it was best for Rhaine to handle this encounter so he sat back down to his meal. He pulled a loaf of bread from his pack and ripped off a piece that he munched on as he hate the honeyed hare. His canteen was full with mead that he had filled back in Loudwater. He drank at it heavily as he ate, the alcohol made his head swim.

Lokii pulled back on Ruin's reins. The dreadmare stopped suddenly as the scent of the vampires became overwhelming. Their lair was nearby and he planned on rooting it out. He dismounted Ruin and slapped the steed on the hindquarter, the dreadmare reared up and took off at a run. Soon afterwards it vanished into thin air. Lokii drew his sword and began to walk north, following the scent. The sky was dark and full of stars. The moon was full and high, a low fog covered the ground but from the piles of stones that stood up to four feet in perfect lines he figured he was in an ancient burial site. In the distance the trees appeared to snake their way to the sky, growing no leaves and harboring no life to them. Their bark was black and molded and the scent of decay filled the air, he could feel dark energies radiate from the earth. He bent down and took a clump of grave-earth and sniffed it, it stank of necrotic flesh and moss. Something evil was being performed here, often enough to corrupt the earth so heavily. He continued on through the graveyard cautiously. Barabas appeared in his physical form next to him. He floated with his arms tucked under his head and he licked his fingers as if he had finished a fine meal. "Those vampires you sent me were delicious.... please send more." He taunted, being imprisoned for eternity left him with little to do then converse with Lokii and devour a plethora of evil souls. Barabas looked around at the scenery and took it in. He was genuinely concerned now, necromantic energies were nothing to idly toy with and this place was ripe with it. "Necromancers, and active at that... this area is bathed in it." He said as he hovered next to Lokii. Lokii's eyes darted back and forth on the horizon, he was alert and ready. His palms began to sweat as he grasped his sword tighter to keep it from slipping from his hand. As he crested the hill he saw a lone church, the church was kept in disarray and the roof caved in decades ago. Vines creeped up its sides but an odd light emitted from the tower next to it, Lokii's eyes locked onto it and then darted back to the door. He quickly flipped his sword around in his grip and ducked behind a pile of stones when the door opened. A man stepped out of the door, he was naked and his face and chest were coated in blood. The scent of the vampire filled the air, he recognized it as one of the vampires that escaped from him earlier. He must have fed on a local to regain his strength. Lokii peeked around the pile of stones and watched as a naked woman walked out, she too was coated in blood. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in a bloody exchange of tongues. "Tobias, come inside... our guest needs your attentions." She spoke, he smiled and followed the woman inside. Lokii saw it as his chance and stood, he ran for the church. As he did he tripped over a rock hidden by the fog and crashed into a pile of rocks, knocking them over. The earth shook as a decayed hand burst from the grave, around him the other graves began to open as zombies and skeletons burst from their resting places. Lokii growled in anger at his mistake, it donned on him that the earth was cursed to summon the dead at the disturbance of a resting stone. The eclectic group of undead were that of soldiers and peasants, some were fresh and others were long buried. Their eyes glowed a pale blue with the dark energy that moved them. He struck down the first zombie that rose as his head burst from the ground, the skull exploded in a shower of rotten brains and bits of bone. He looked up to see he was surrounded, undead on all sides of him. His gauntleted fist wreathed in eldricht energy and he lashed out with it, the purple lightning bolt arched through three of the skeletons and dropped them. His sword also was wreathed in the dark energies, he sliced the first two zombies with a mighty cleave that cut them both in half. His martial and magical skill was great but he knew he had to get out before he was entirely consumed. He frantically looked around but only saw more of the undead, he had gotten himself into a fine mess. Barabas laughed as he floated above him, unable to do anything he just enjoyed the show. "See you in hell Lokii..." He said, Lokii growled in rage and decided the best place to be was in the church itself. He charged his hand with energy and slammed it into the earth, the eldricht energy radiated from him and tore the closest undead to pieces of flesh and powdered bone. He took this slight reprieve and dashed for the church, cutting down or blasting any undead that got in his way. He kicked the door off its hinges but instead of meeting a coven of surprised vampires he met a large metal club to the face instead. He slipped into blackness as he hit the floor.

Geralts nose caught the scent of another vampire, this scent was strong and it was close. He stood and grasped his hand in silver powder as he opened the door, the scent was strong now and he realized the Vampire was in the castle if not around it. He turned to her and spoke. "Go! Check the castle, ill go outside...."He said as he drew his silver dagger and gave it to her. He left the main castle and walked outside, there a man wearing finery stood. In solitude nobles were common but he seemed to be watching the men train, a noble would never look at a peasant like that. Geralt drew one of his Silvered-Steel blades and approached. "Hello bloodsucker...." He said with an evil grin, his eyes were orange. His fangs bared and his talons extended from his fingertips. He reversed the blade in his grip and calmly watched the vampire, as if he was a sabre-tooth stalking its prey.

Geralt twisted his hand around and the knife quickly disappeared from his hand as if by magic. He lulled over his thoughts for a few moments. He looked into her eyes, "Why do you hate your people so? You are a daughter of Coldharbour, closest thing they have to a god." He asked, he had all the information he needed but she interested him more. Selene was known for being a cunning spy and many rumors abound in the court that she had ties to The Dark Brotherhood but he never counted on rumors of noble women. On occasion they had something, a vampire from the brethren may have infiltrated the Jarls court or a advisor may be a necromancer that kind of thing. This werewolf hunt would be long in the pursuit. He could smell her emotions, she found him equally interesting but he could smell her tension. She longed for his blood, yet she restrained herself, something rare for her kind but as a pure-blood she was more capable of such acts. He had witnessed the debased ritual that made a pure-blood, near five years ago the Order raided a island fortress known as Volkihar Castle, they slew every vampire there as they performed the ancient ritual, that act brought The Order into the light. The Volkihar Vampires were slain and the castle was destroyed. All the information and relics were taken to The Order's fortress under Solitude. Molag Bal was not thrilled with this act.

Geralt stood across the desk from her, his arms crossed over his chest. His mind going over the details, "If they were ambush troops then they must have come from Windhelm." He said, his mind drifted suddenly to Dawnstar. The Treaty gave Dawnstar over to the empire but in the last few months it had been a breeding ground for animal attacks. In skyrim that is not such a rare thing but what peeked his interest is that they all happened around the Lunar cycles, he figured a werewolf pack has been hunting in that area. "The Stormcloak you tortured wasn't an ordinary nord, he was a lycan. My best guess is he is a member of the pack around Dawnstar." He said, "Ulfric wasn't happy about loosing Dawnstar to the empire, he can't officially take it from The Empire but if he uses Werewolves to indirectly destroy the legion there, he could silently take it over and claim it as his once again." He thought as he sat in the chair across from her, he felt his insides turn as it came time for him to feed. He pulled a vial of red liquid from a pouch on his belt and downed it in a single gulp. The blood was horrid and tasteless but it sustained him. He recorked the small bottle and slid it back into the pouch while wiping the blood from the corners of his mouth. His stomach stopped turning and color returned to his face. The Jarl of Dawnstar resides here in Solitude, he left the city to rot after The Treaty. He did not know the Jarls name but he did know that the Empire paid him quite a lot of gold to support them. "What is the name of the Jarl Of Dawnstar?" He asked, he spun the silver throwing knife around his fingers as he waited for her reply.

Geralt had heard of her extra curricular activities. He deeply wishes to take her head but because of her connections he was barred from doing so until he was given the command. He nodded at her question, "Indeed I am half blooded... Dhamphir is what they call me, the girl. She is a new recruit of the Order." He said, he did not care to make small talk with this creature but he accepted it. He walked passed her and leaned against the stone guard-rail. His hand grasping the silvered-steel dagger tucked into his belt. "I understand a stormcloak died under your interrogation, what did you learn from him?" He asked, his dark eyes looking into hers. He read her like he was reading a cheap novel. Looking for hints of deceit, his face was cold, no emotion. His silver hair shone in the sunlight. He knew she sought to feed on him, nearly any vampire that knew of a Half-Blood did, the properties of his blood acted like Skooma to vampires, giving them a euphoric effect that all but the most powerful could resist. He sometimes used it as a weapon along with Dead Mans Blood, paralyze them and drug them so they can't remember. Great for when he had to capture and interrogate them.

Bard looked up to see the Drow woman, he smiled at her compliment. He was good with a bow and as a child often hunted the meals his mother cooked for the patrons of his fathers tavern. "I hunted a lot as a kid, got me out of my chores..." He said as he tapped his bow. "I learned how to use this much later...." He added as he reached up and coated the hares in honey. On his forearm was a militia brand, something they branded on recruits for a nobles personal army so if they deserted they could be spotted by authorities. Bard breathed on the ink to let it dry and closed his tome. He offered her a seat, "Take a seat..." He said as he added spices to the meat, the meat sizzled and browned as it came close to being done. Bard reached into his pack and removed a deck of cards, he began to frill the cards and shuffle them. He rearranged the deck in his hands and flipped the Angel card from the middle of the deck to catch it within the deck again as it arched high into the air. He performed the card trick as if by magic, his hands moved with practiced precision. He pulled his hands apart and the deck strung out like an accordion, he slammed his hands together and fanned out the deck in his right hand. The only cards facing Nawen were the face cards, The Angel, The Devil, The Noble and The Bard. the remaining thirty four cards all had their faces to Bard. He chuckled at his little trick and closed the deck and reopened it again, this time the face cards were the only ones not visible to her.

The sun hung in the sky as it loomed over the city of Solitude, its markets were vibrant and filled with chatter as traders peddled their wares and patrons browsed the selections. Entertainers of all sorts were present, jugglers, bards and acrobats. It was nearing the Festival Of Red Moons, to most in skyrim it was a sign of the harvest. That summer was arriving, to vampires and werewolves it was a sign of greater power. During this unique lunar cycle their powers would grow exponentially and they would come from their caves to feed and packs would roam the lands and hunt together. The Order feared it's coming and rejoiced in its departure, where most Hunters called this the most dangerous time Geralt benefitted most. During this same cycle his powers also grew but so did his desire to feed. The only times he had ever come close to feeding on innocents was during this period. He had some time though, the festival wasn't till the end of the month and during that three days he often ventured into the wilds to hunt alone. Sophie stayed close to Geralt as they walked through the streets of the city, they came to a large castle. The place was filled with imperial soldiers, many practicing the arts of war. They had just called for a draft so they were in the midst of training the recruits, they were doing marching drills and sword practices. On the far wall were a number of wicker arrow targets that groups of archers fired volleys into while a instructor corrected their flaws in their stances and accuracy. The swordsmen dueled with wooden swords, the men fought with bared chests. Some of these men were boys not much older then Sophie. One such boy was at most a year older then her, being twelve years of age. He had dark brown hair, dark eyes and a nice face. He caught her looking at him and she blushed and quickly looked away. He smiled and snapped to attention when his instructor called out to him. Geralt lead Sophie into the Temple, as he entered a older man with grey hair approached. He smiled and bowed slightly. "Geralt, you have returned. Did you see to that nest near whiterun?" He asked, Geralt nodded and gestured to the girl with his chin. "This is the girl they took, the vampire killed her parents. Take her in the back, give her some food and a place to sleep. I'll be along in a few days to take over her training." He said calmly, the monk nodded and offered her his hand. She took it and followed him into the back of the Temple. Geralt approached the shrine of Stendarr and knelt before it, he placed a hand on the idol. As he did his skin burned and he jerked it away. Taking it as Stendarr has not yet accepted him as one of his faithful. He said a silent prayer and stood, as he did a woman wearing monks robes approached and handed him a rolled up piece of parchment. He unraveled it and read the words inscribed on it. "Geralt Vex, you are hearby summoned to The Blue Palace to speak with General Rikke. She seeks your knowledge on the occult and wishes you as soon as possible. If you do not appear a detachment of Imperial Soldiers will be sent to reclaim you and you will be brought to the Generals presence by force and then fined one hundred gold pieces for not appearing when summoned by your superior officer." He read to himself, Geralt laughed at this not so thinly veiled threat, he slid the piece of parchment into his rucksack and left the temple and marched across the city to the Blue Palace's gates. As he entered he had to flash his badge of authority to all the soldiers as they tried to stop him. Members of The Order that were Hunters also bore rank in the Imperial Military, equivalent to that of a Captain. The soldiers looked at the badges, stepped out of his way and saluted. He made his way to the second floor and stepped into the War Proceedings of High Marshal Tullius and his Legates, General Rikke stood next to him, Geralt particularly hated being at the beck and call of the Empire but he had no other choice in the matter. As he bullied his way past the Legates he tossed the scroll onto the table. Geralt growled and spit on the scroll. "Only because The Order signed your treaty am I obliged to listen to you all. Ask your questions of me so I can depart..." He said defiantly. The Marshal stood at the far end of the round map table that detailed Skyrim, blue and red flags dotted it to denote places of interest or known troop movements. Tullius sighed and waved his hand, the Legates all departed and they left the room. Leaving Geralt with Rikke and Tullius. The General glared at Geralt, Tullius picked up a Stormcloak helmet and tossed it onto the map table and it skidded across the table and rested just a few inches from the end of the table. The Stormcloak helmet had the symbol of a wolfs paw on it, before he saw that he could smell the werewolves scent that it once belonged to. The General walked around the table and stared into Geralts cold black eyes, she hated him for what he was and his defiance, he also felt the same. His eyes began to turn orange and black pupils began to form. "What do you know of Werewolves?" She asked him, the redguard woman glared into his eyes. Geralt broke eye contact to look at the helmet. "Tall, stronger then a troll and fast as a Sabre-Tooth. Changes during the Lunar Cycles and the older ones, the alphas can change at will. Silver to the heart or decapitation is required to kill them in wolf form but in their normal forms they are vulnerable to normal weapons." He said as if reciting a prayer. The General nodded and picked up the helmet. "What do you know of Nord traditions and their nature towards werewolves?" She asked him, Geralt growled to himself. "Why don't you ask one..." He said, The General went to smack him for his defiance but his vampiric reflexes were faster and he caught her wrist. His finger nails formed into talons and his fangs descended from his jaw and peeked through his lips. "Don't ever strike me... Or I will remove your arm and beat you with it!" He yelled and pushed her back as he released his grip on her. Rikke reached for her sword but Tullius stopped them with a loud shout. "Halt!" He yelled, "Rikke, stay your blade..." He commanded, Rikke followed the command and stepped back. Tullius approached Geralt and looked him in the eyes, "The Stormcloaks have infected a small number of their men with Lycanthropy, they are turning them into werewolves and using them as Shock Troops. Sending them to raid our caravans in our territory and then escaping back into their own lands before we can even investigate the attack." He said, "I want you to take a small group of our soldiers and find them, we captured one of them and he died under interrogation. Now go and find the interrogator and get the details from her... her name is Selene." He said as he waved his hand to signal his dismissal. Geralt growled at the Marshal and turned away, leaving The Blue Palace. He knew of Selene and he knew where she would be. He could smell her stench the moment he entered the city, she wasn't far though. He followed the road north and entered the eastern entrance of the Keep, then departed at the western entrance. She was standing at the top of the switchback style ramps that lead to the west entrance. He approached the vampire quietly, his years of training to be silent. He could hear her cold heart beat, could smell her discomfort with the sun. "Selene..." He said as he stopped a few feet from her. He wanted her to know he could sneak up on her at any time.

Bard had hunted a few hares during their trip to Llorkh, he sat down at the fire and began to clean them and prepare for his meal. Desert Hares were known for being thin for meat but their fur collected a tidy coin. He fished around in his pack for a sharpened and de-barked stick, he skewered the two hares and placed them over the fire to cook. He coated them generously in honey and spices and sat back against a rock a and opened the large tome and used his quill and ink to write. When the Halfling came by to thank him for his music he looked up to her and nodded with a warm smile. "It's what I am here for, glad to play for you all..." He said, Bard sat back as he wrote and listened to the conversations of his new companions. Rhaine told her story of banishing some witch, interested he kept a mental note of that for a future tale. He watched as the Thri'kreen and the child discussed and the woman named Maeva dropped her pot of boiling water at the shock of the mix of companions. Bard had seen many things, a drow is rare but an Ularithid is even rarer. It appeared to be not hostile so he paid it little attention, instead he returned his attention to his meal. He turned over the hares as the facing side began to brown, the sweet and gentle smell of the meat filled the camp. He had a distinct love of Honeyed Hare.

Don't feel compelled to have combat, I am really good at writing combat and action sequences and I am practicing it for a series of adventure stories I plan on writing in future so I try to write them out in detail. Trouble is I have bad hands, years of beating them to a pulp and other stuff that was done to them has made them hard to move. I write pretty well but I have to admit I am not a homegroup writer so its my writing style. What you should do is have your first few posts not about combat, add that in later. Mythic and I are experienced RPers so our posts are going to be far more detailed.... so as I said, don't feel compelled to do something you are not comfortable with.

Geralt emerged from Broken Fang Cave, the moons hung lazily in the sky. The girl wrung the sleep from her eyes as she looked up at her savior. "What's your name?" Asked the Breton girl, Geralt looked down at her. He remained silent for a moment and then spoke, "Geralt Vex, what's yours?" He replied as he wiped his sword clean of the blackened blood of the vampire with a hand-rag. He slid the sword into the scabbard on his back and placed his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. The girl looked around to see what he was whistling at and then back at him. "Sophie, my name is Sophie." She said. A few moments of silence later, a large horse trotted up to them. Its saddle strapped with a quiver of arrows and a bow, saddle-bags strapped across its flanks. Geralt stepped up on the horse and made to turn away from the girl, he stopped as his mind raced to his own childhood. Being left in the cold with no one, the girl looked at him. Wishing he would take her with him. He waved for her to come to him. "If you wish to come with me, you will not find a father... you will find a purpose, you will find a bed and food." He said coldly, his dark eyes staring into her beautiful blue sapphire eyes. The girl nodded, she fixed her stained dress. She silently hated it, it was once beautiful but neglect and lack of cleaning ruined it. Her mother was more interested in strong drink and her father was more interested in gambling so they were too poor to afford good dresses. She reached up to take Geralts hand, he hauled her up onto the saddle. Sitting her in front of him and wrapping his arm around her as he took the reins and guided his steed north, towards Solitude. "This your horse?" She asked as they trotted down the road, Geralt was not accustomed to chatting, let alone with children. He found his words and replied. "Yes, he was given to me by The Order." He said, Sophie calmly petted his neck. Her hands caressing the horses thick muscular neck and the long silvery mane of the white and black horse. "What's his name?" She asked, Geralt remained silent. He had never given the horse a name. "His name is Horse...." He said, Sophie laughed. The first smile on her face since he met her. She looked up into Geralts cold black eyes and smiled wider. "You can't name him that, don't be silly." She said, Geralt smiled as the horse slowed to a walk. His breath was heavy and he grew tired. Geralt slid off the back and left Sophie on the saddle since the horse could carry her weight no problem. "Then you can name him..." He replied as he grasped the horses reins and began to walk him. Sophie smiled, she idly braided strands of the horses mane. "I'll call him...." She said as she thought of a name, she noticed the large black spot on what was otherwise a perfect white skin. "Spot!" She exclaimed, she chuckled at her joke. Geralt also laughed, something he had not done in decades. This girl was interesting, she had spirit. He patted the great horses neck, Geralt was tall even for a Imperial but this horse was bred in skyrim. His head stood above Geralts, easily seven feet at the top of his head and six at the shoulder. "Spot it is..." He said as they walked. Sophie's eyes drifted to the swords on his back and his silvery hair. "Why is your hair so white...you don't look old..." She said, Geralt's smile vanished. He was not comfortable talking about his differences. He spent the majority of his time in seclusion to avoid the eyes of those that would never accept him. "It was a product of my birth, along with other things..." He replied, the girl reached out and touched the pommel of one of his twin swords. The blades were made of Silvered-Steel. Strong as steel and retaining the properties of a silver blade. They were forged and utilized by his mentor, engraved in the pommels was the symbol of Stendarr and the family crest of the Vex Family, in cyrodill, they were renowned paladins and knights. Often lead witch-hunts and vampire cleansings, during the Oblivion Crisis the Mythic Dawn eliminated all but a few of them and the Vex's vanished into obscurity. "These are beautiful, where did you get them?" She asked, her fingers caressing the exquisitely crafted blades. The hilts were wrapped in black leather with gold inlay along the hilts. Her fingers traced the crest and the horn of Stendarr. Geralt kept his eyes on the road, his mind flashed back to when he took them from his mentor, Geralt Vex. He remembered him calling him his son and giving him the blades. "They are family relics, made two hundred years ago by The Order." He said, the sun rose across the mountains and bathed the valley in an orange light. In the distance was Solitude, her walls glowing from the sunlight and the Blue Palace dominating the horizon.

RP is up, have fun folks

Geralt Vex, a tall and lithe but muscular imperial knelt down in the snow. The moons were full and at his feet was a set of footprints. He looked at them closely, noticing they were deep so their owner was laden down with something. Likely his next meal, he looked into the distance. His eyes viewing the night as if it was day, dawn was approaching and he knew its prey had maybe till then before he fed. He had been tracking a vampire for three days, it killed a family of travelers on the road near Whiterun and began to flee towards Markarth. He drew the crossbow from his side and fixed a bolt into it, the silver tipped bolt gleamed in the moonlight, strapped across his back with the hilts of his twin swords off to the right side. Emblazoned on one blade was the symbol of Stendarr, he drew the blade and followed after the footsteps, the vampire had an hours lead on him but he was tired and lacked blood. Geralt had retained his energy and a supply of blood potions to last him a few weeks. The Dhamphir or half-vampire only fed on the blood of the priests of stendarr that offered it to him, it sustained him but it tasted horrible. Despite his vampiric powers he required normal food aswell. He had not eaten in three days but he was used to going long periods without 'hard' foods. The tracks told him a story as he followed them, the victim was still alive. He knew that by their consistent stopping and change in direction, the woman jostled and fought. No blood was found so he had not killed recently to feed from which means he was running low, his powers would be greater but he would be physically weaker. He followed the tracks to a cave known locally as Broken Fang Cave, smelling the stench of death from inside he walked in carefully. His crossbow aimed at the darkness and his blade held at the ready. As he entered he found a series of steps that ran down into the main room of the cave, the far wall had a small tunnel that stretched to a back room. He crouched and slunk into the darkness as he saw them, three vampires and the young girl. Maybe ten or twelve winters. The leader wore the black bade of the Brethren, he smelled of power but he was no master. Most certainly a Blooded though, the two others were fledglings. A dark-elf woman and a nord man. He looked around the room to see piles of bones and bits of corpses from past victims. Strewn across the room were clothes and trinkets from their past meals. Some of the bodies were of bandits and others of travelers and townsfolk from nearby villages. "Looks like the Blooded killed all but these two and turned them into his Acolytes." He thought as he watched, waiting for the right moment to strike. The dunmer woman ran a blade along the young girls face, not piercing skin but to taunt the frightened girl. She stuck her tongue out and bared her fangs as she did so, her body moved with a sick pleasure at the torturous act. "So little girl, are you scared?" She taunted, jabbing the knife at her. The little girl, wide-eyed with fear nodded her head frantically. Her mouthed gagged and hands bound. The Nord male laughed heartily, "Avena you are too cruel... I am not overly hungry right now but the boss is... look at him! He looks about as hungry as a starved Horker." Said the Nord, The Blooded Vampire bared his fangs and hissed at the nord angrily. The Nord man took a few steps back to avoid his masters wrath. "You will speak to me with respect Hemnir, or I shall use your skull as my chamberpot." Threatened the Vampire, he pushed Hemnir aside and approached the little girl. Avena stepped out of his way as he bared his fangs. "Dinner time.." He said just as Geralt fired a bolt at the back of the Nord vampire, the bolt pierced the creatures heart and he exploded in a cloud of ash. Geralt dropped the cross-bow and drew his second sword as he leapt from the top of the stairs. The Blooded Vampire was able to draw his own blades as he fell upon him, their blades locked together in a shower of sparks. Avena flipped her dagger around and charged at Geralt's right side, Geralt kicked her back and pushed back on the Blooded vampire with his blades to break their sword-lock. The Vampire's twin swords whirled around in a twin-fanged slicing maneuver that Geralt ducked around and countered with a thrust and a slash to the middle. The Vampire was a skilled swordsman and he easily parried the thrust and ducked the slash. Geralt, ducked his riposte and parried the next thrust. Meanwhile Avena rose from the earth and picked up a crossbow that sat on the table nearby, she racked in a bolt and aimed at the two men as they fought. When she had found her target she fired, the bolt soared through the air and struck home in Geralts side. The impact sent Geralt staggering and he dropped his left hand blade. The bolt had imbedded itself deep in his ribs. He pulled it out and tossed it aside, much to the shock of Avena and the leader. "What are you!" Asked the Blooded Vampire, Geralt tucked his toe under his sword on the floor as the battle had paused. His eyes darting from one vampire to the next. The leader had him dead to rights with a blade to his chest. The tip resting on the silver locket that once belonged to his mother. "I'm complicated...." He said as he parried away the Blooded vampires blade with a lighting quick flick of the wrist, he kicked up the second blade and caught it. Then buried it hilt deep in the vampires black heart. The blooded vampire hissed loudly as his flesh turned to ash, leaving only his clothing and items atop the pile. Avena dropped her crossbow and looked around frantically for a way out, a way to escape the hunter. But there was none... Geralt grasped her hard and threw her into the wall with such force that the rock spiderwebbed and she fell into unconsciousness. When she awoke, she was bound and unable to move, The hunter was sitting reversed on a chair over her torso. The support bar of the chair on her throat, applying pressure to it. The little girl clutched to his pants, he had a sly smile on his face. His fangs shown through the smile. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was. "You are the Daywalker! I thought they were impossible to exist!" She exclaimed, The hunter drew a silver throwing knife from his bandolier and handed it to the girl. "Here, have fun..." He said, the girl took the knife and pressed it to Avena's cheek. Her fleshed burned at the touch of silver, causing her body to shake and convulse but she was pinned and unable to lift him off as the little girl spent all day having fun with the vampire, by sunset. The vampires dreams of death came true at the hands of the girl.

:thumbsup: Nice one Mythic, we should be good to start now. Ill make first post. In the opening piece of the discussion thread is the new Bestiary, it contains some changes to the animals and monsters of Tamriel.