Alduin's Rise

[FennecFyre]

(Hey guys, Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays if you prefer). You've stuck around for a while, and I wanted to say thank you. So, I tried my hand at drawing everyone's characters. Now, they're not very good drawings, I was kind of rushed, but I hope they're good enough :smile:

For twentynine29

For Keanumoreira

For OminousVoice

For Xion136

For MacMan253

 

Merry Christmas!)

[Macman253]

Thank you! Merry Christmas. Your a far better artist then I. I screw up stick figures... But give me a M4A1 with reflex scope and a target and I can draw your name in 5.56 rounds :cool:

[Keanumoreira]

Aw, I love it. Thanks! Merry Christmas.

[twentynine29]

Thanks Fennec! They're all great. :) Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Edited December 26, 2013 by twentynine29

[Xion136]

(I can draw stick figures fighting over a blocky castle!

 

Thanks Fennec. Merry Christmas ^.^)

[Macman253]

Raj smiled, revealing several gold capped teeth. He took a final drink of his cup and drained it of it's amber liquid, with a powerful slam that shook the table he crushed the metal mug and roared in happiness. He paid his bill and left for the Jazeera.

 

Onboard and high above Skyrim Raj stood at the helm. The large wheel was intricately carved with naked women and sea monsters, likely stolen from a ship. The railings along the side of the Jazeera were carved with similar marks, Steam vented from the lower decks as the large steam engine that powered them forward and produced the hot hair that fueled the dirrigible. Raj had one hand on the wheel and a half chewed and smoked cigar in his lips.

 

He noted his crews wide eyed look, none of them had flown before. He had seen such a face on countless people in his career.

 

"If your askin' yourself if Dragons see like this then yes... they do." Raj joked.

 

A voice came from a long pipe next to the pilot's wheel. Raj put his clefted ear to it and listened then after a long second pulled the reciever up and spoke into it.

 

"Alright, I'll take us down." He said before stowing the reciever that lead into the engine room below decks. He pushed the altitude lever down with his foot as he let the wheel spin uncontrolled. The Jazeera responded immediately, she banked hard to port (left) and went down quickly. They came out of the clouds at breakneck speed, seemingly as if she was falling to earth, intent on her own destruction. But after a long moment Raj pulled her out of her dive just above the treetops.

 

Raj roared with laughter as they flew along the trees, taking tops off with the rudder-sail's hard dwemer steel beam. A voice came from below decks as the hatch opened. A feminine voice.

 

"Captain... are you done playing with the new crew?" said the tall Nordic woman, her dark hair tied back behind her head into a tail and over her left eye was a black eye patch. Hooked to her belt were twin long-knives. She was followed shortly by a tall Orc with white hair and countless burn scars, his skin was blackened from the soot and coals of the engine room.

 

Raj smiled and hooked the leather strap that held their course and stepped down from the pilots wheel.

 

"Yes, but it was very entertaining. Bragol, how do we fare on fuel?" He asked the Orc. The burly Orc stepped forward as he was addressed. "We have enough for the time being but the repairs we had to make to the engine means she eats twice as much wood and coal to burn. We are going to need to stock up on both soon." Raj nodded, he cared nothing for loot or gold anymore. He only wanted to kill the great black dragon now, and he was willing to pay any price to see his promise to his last crew kept.

 

Raj turned to face the new crew and spoke. "Crew, these two are the only two besides myself that survived. They have been with me as long as I have Captained the Jazeera." He motioned to the one-eyed woman. "This is Grella, she is my first mate." Raj smiled and pointed at the large Orc. " The Orc is Bragol, best engineer in the world. Knows more about dwemer technology then anyone today, he was the one that outfitted the Jazeera with her weapons and engine. He is the Chief Engineer and our Cook." Raj turned to Bragol and smirked. "Sorry to spring it on you mate but I cannot cook and I am not going to ask Grella to do it." Bragol remained quiet but he nodded despite his dislike of cooking. "Sorry lad but I am more afraid of her then you." Raj said with a chuckle.

 

Grella smiled, "Would the reason you chose him be because our last cook was eaten by a dragon?" She asked rhetorically. Raj smiled in response and returned to the wheel. Raj turned to Sivari and spoke. "We need a heading... or should we fly around until we find a dragon?" Raj asked her as he raised the Jazeera to fifty feet above the treeline, standard cruising altitude.

Edited December 26, 2013 by Macman253

[OminousVoice]

Tordin had expected that crewing the Jazeera would be challenging. He relished the idea. However that relish soon turned to nausea and dizziness when the craft rose above the tree line. It was an odd sensation for him. He'd scaled mountains much taller than they were flying. He had even been to the Throat of the World and gazed upon Skyrim from its highest point, but flying in this contraption made him nervous and a little acrophobic.

 

He sat with his back to the vessels side railings, head hanging between his knees. He was still exhausted from the all-nighter at the Skyforge and his battle with Hevnoraak. He began to curse himself for his weakness. He was a champion of Kyne, goddess of the sky. What kind of champion was he if he couldn't stomach being among the clouds? Slowly he raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and drooping.

 

"Captain Raj. It might befit us both if I work below deck for the time being." He croaked.

Edited December 26, 2013 by OminousVoice

[Xion136]

Unlike everyone else, Teresse knew what things looked from above. She herself having wings when she entered Valkyrie form, Teresse turned. She sighed softly.

Cooking? She liked Cooking. Something she and Kirsi loved to do.

She hopped off the railing and slipped up to Grella.

"I know how to cook. Kirsi and I loved to cook when we were home. So...if the Orc doesn't want to, I can pull my weight there better." she offered, glancing around.

[FennecFyre]

(Lol, you'd like my dad then, Mac. He hunts, and is pretty knowledgeable about guns himself. I'm learning how to hunt as well, although I don't think I'll ever be as into it.

 

I'm glad you all like them ^^ Okay, time to get this moving again)

 

So enamored was Sivari with the view that, at first, she wasn't aware they were descending. It was only when she felt the wind bending her whiskers did she realized what was going on. She could land on her feet from almost any fall, but not when she was making that fall in a huge wooden craft. Terror-stricken, she dug her claws into the railing and stayed frozen until she felt the ship level out again. She pulled her claws out of the wood with some difficulty and attempted to smooth down her tail, which currently resembled a bottle-brush, while keeping her look of annoyance out of Raj's view. She supposed she would have to tolerate a little-showing off, but oh, solid land suddenly seemed strangely attractive.

 

She turned as the two were introduced, flicking her tail behind her. A polite nod and feline blink were given to both, although she turned in surprise as Raj asked where to go. He was asking her? This "leader" business was a difficult matter. Luckily, Tordin's bleary request to go belowdecks gave her a few minutes to think. Poor fellow, she thought. "Perhaps you should." she agreed. "It won't be good for us to have a sleepy person swinging a hammer about in our next fight." She looked back at Raj, attempting to present an air of confidence. "Riften." she said with a decisive nod. "I've heard horrible things about the Priest there." She wrinkled her brow and looked down at the landscape below, trying to remember what she had heard in the inn. "He's very dedicated to Alduin, the cultists of cultists, you might say." She flinched as she recalled one particular gem. "And...he practices human sacrifice. Frequently. If you're put in jail for whatever reason, you can rest assured that you're likely to end up on the altar." A thought crashed into her mind like a slap to the face. If they were defeated and imprisoned, then what would happen to them!? Paarthurnaxx had said their amulets would protect them from death, but only if their body wasn't mangled. Having your heart ripped out probably counted as mangled.

 

(So what was decided for Raj's amulet? And will Grella and Bragol be needing amulets or are they NPCs for the moment?)

[Keanumoreira]

Some amount of time had come to pass before Abdul was lost in thought but yet again. Being alive for hundreds of years, one would believe that an Argonian would have nothing left to think about. But in his mind, things were surely different. Even after all this time, his promise still burned as brightly as the day Sanguine stole everything. Like any obsession that tends to the heart of men, Abdul was compelled to set things in their proper order. For like the air that filled his lungs, reminding him to breathe, his memories tugged at his soul, reminding him of his purpose: revenge. What else could there be?

 

Down below, past the sails which swelled with a thousand winds, the voice of Sivari filled his ears. Curious, he leaned over, spying the captain nearby. His ears perked up when Riften was mentioned. Riften, the home of thieves...seat of Nocturnal, "The pen." A shipment was due in that city soon, but then again, so was one in Windhelm. He could intercept the one from Dawnstar without incident, but if the relic wasn't in Riften, it could very well be leaving Solitude at that very moment, and then it would be lost for good. He leaned his head back, the map sinking into his lap as if the weight of his mission was felt for the first time. Abdul sighed pitifully. He was so close now, and yet, there was no guarantee that he would succeed.

 

For now, at least, the Argonian decided that it would be best to distract himself again, perhaps for awhile this time. He pulled out a book that he purchased in the Imperial City before his departure to Skyrim. It dealt with the history of his people since their first days in Argonia. On the first page, written by the author, there was a note left for the reader: "Assuming what we read is true, history relies on innocence. And although history is written by the victor, it is, however, susceptible to change. For we, the people, may be fooled, but we can never be defeated. And with our instruments, we may dare to challenge history, and rewrite that which cannot be changed." He laughed, "he tried too hard", but part of himself agreed with it; " 'rewrite that which cannot be changed' ."

Edited December 30, 2013 by Keanumoreira