Tangled Webs - An Elder Scrolls RP

[razorpony]

Bhalrog- Daggerfall- The Suckling Pig

 

 

As the night wore on the room began to empty. Sleepy patrons made their way to rented rooms and freshly made beds. Bhalrog sat in a wooden chair in the corner with a can of oil and a soft leather cloth working the fluid into the small crevices of the metal where water had a tendency to hide. He held up a pauldron, turning it this way and that until satisfied with his work before placing it in the pile of finished pieces to his right.

 

He was surprised at how easy it had been to join the group and relax his guard. The alcohol had helped of course, but something else was at work here. Still, there was the troubling problem of the nightmares. Traveling alone as he had for so long he hadn't realized how widespread the problem truly was. It affected not only himself, not only the city of Daggerfall, but the entire province of High Rock and beyond? He would need guidance, and he knew who to ask for it.

 

Standing, he paused to stretch his arms and neck, listening to the cracks from his tired bones. His rucksack sat on the end of the bed. Opening it, he laid the contents aside until he found what he wanted. A small object the size of a sword pommel wrapped in leather and tied with twine fell into his hand. Untying the twine revealed a smooth white stone which, to anyone else, would look like a stone plucked from a riverbed. It was in fact a small piece of the shrine of Malacath located in western Cyrodiil, picked up by his own great great grandfather and passed down through the generations.

 

Moving to the center of the room he then got down on his knees, placing the stone on the floor before him. He took a deep breath, then pushed his palms down firmly on his sharp tusks until he felt the blood flow. As the blood filled the runes in his tusks he picked the stone up and held it firmly between his bloody palms. "Hear my words, Lord Mauloch" he spoke softly "And guide my hands".

Over and over he spoke until he entered a type of meditative daze and was still.

 

The dreams were always the same. He was a child, staring down at the sharpened knife in his hand and his mothers body on the floor. She had been cut open from stomach to chin. Blood covered the ground. Her lips moved in a silent "why?" He could not answer. Others began to gather round. His brothers, sisters, finally his father Larzuk. "Bleed him!" they cried "Blood price must be paid!" Stones and sharp sticks pelted him. Whips tore at his skin. Still he could not move or speak. As he felt he was about to die, a sudden force seized him, ripping him from the dream. He felt as if he were encased in stone and flying faster, faster through the void...

 

He opened his eyes to a torrent of sand, ash, and dust. The ground was hard packed dirt and it was difficult to see very far. Before him a massive shadow took shape with two red eyes like twin moons hanging low on the horizon.

 

"You dare to invoke the name of Malacath?" The voice was like rolling thunder that echoed across the dry landscape.

 

"I do, my prince." Choked Bhalrog hoarsely. "Vaermina seems to be moving against us. We don't know how or why."

 

"Yes." The voice replied. "The webspinner believes that even the strongest heroes may be laid low by the fears within their own minds. I, however know that those blessed with true strength can overcome the mind and persevere even when all seems lost. You will prove Vaermina wrong. She will pay for her arrogance."

 

"Where shall I begin" Bhalrog asked, blocking his eyes from the swirling dust.

 

"Reclaim your birthright, recover that which you left behind, stand proud as my champion. Now go."

 

Before Bhalrog could ask more he suddenly found himself in his bed looking up at the ceiling. He took a deep shuddering breath and coughed loudly as his lungs tried to rid themselves of the dust and ash he had endured. The coughing caused his head to start pounding like a falmer war drum. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat up and rubbed his head. Things were getting serious. Daedra were known to play games with mortals as pawns, but he had never had the misfortune of finding himself between two of them before. And what about reclaiming his birthright? Riddles really didn't help him much right now.

 

"Well," he said to himself "It sure ain't gonna be a boring journey."

 

Bhalrog strapped on his freshly oiled armor and packed his rucksack as the first rays of dawn appeared through the window. By the time he made it down to the common room, the others were already gathered. He offered a nod and in his typical gruff style asked "Did you all get a good nights sleep?"

 

 

[Zephyr2011]

EDIT: Disregard

[darkedge42392]

Posting this on behalf of tokyobleach:

 

 

 

Lilac Greeneyes ­ Daggerfall ­ City Streets

Lilac had navigated this far on her own after the carriage dropped her off at the city's stables, but these infernal street signs would be the death of her. She couldn't read them any more than she could levitate. Useless things, letters. Words.

Of course, her brother's letters were never useless. No, in fact, they were a godsend. She had never yearned for a better life until she received the first one. Her mother had read it aloud to her, as her brother described the splendid things about Tamriel that she would love. Exotic creatures and people and races and cultures. Architecture that seemed to defy every rule of nature she'd ever heard of. But places to hunt were her favorite things to hear about. He'd made sure to include lots of places he'd thought she'd liked to have hunted in.

She stared at the damned scribbles on the yellowed piece of parchment she'd clung to the whole time she was on the carriage. The name of the place her brother was staying. She held the paper up and examined the signs around the city, comparing them to the letters on this worn scrap of paper.

Her heart lept into her throat. This sign matched her paper! This was the place her brother was staying!

Her mind flooded with all the possible things they might talk about. FIve winters' worth of things to catch up on! They might never run out of things to talk about. Like the time Pa accidentally spooked the horse and it took off into the forest and he had to­­­--

Lilac froze in the open doorway of the inn, her hand on the knob and her gaze flitting around from one patron to the next. Adventuring types, all of them. Lilac shut the door and turned around.

"Hell no, I ain't gonna have any part of that. They could be some of them dangerous folk I was warned about." Lilac said to herself, back pressed to the door. She held up the paper with the name of the inn on it and took a deep breath, steeling herself.

She opened the door, walked with her head trained toward the ground so as not to attract attention, and took a seat in the farthest corner from the adventurers she could find.

A few minutes later, the meal she'd ordered was delivered to her table, and she counted out her coin, cursing to herself. She was five whole septims short. "I, er... Sorry, you'll have to take it back. I don't have enough."

[razorpony]

Bhalrog- Daggerfall- The Suckling Pig

 

 

 

Bhalrog stood with his arms folded tightly across his chest. The group of adventurers seemed to be lost in conversation about the coming days and what they may face along the way. As his eyes wandered, he noticed a young female slide silently into a chair at the corner table and order food. Normally he would have paid no mind but this girl seemed to be a fellow Orc, yet at the same time different. He took note of her golden skin and small tusks. It was a rare sight to behold a Half-Orc, and here he was in a room with not one, but possibly two. (Bhalrog had suspicions about Mjaska but had yet to speak with her and confirm this for himself.)

 

As he watched, the barmaid brought a plate of food then after a brief exchange started to walk with it back to the kitchen. Bhalrog side stepped in front of the woman, blocking her path.

 

"You just going to let her starve?" He asked, not looking at her but gazing straight over her head.

 

"I- m'lord, she hasn't the coin." The maid stammered.

 

"How much?" he asked.

 

"Five, five septims" came the reply.

 

"You put it on my tab. And tell the barkeep he still owes me a steak. You know what? I'll tell him myself. See that she eats." He finished and began walking away.

 

"Who shall I tell her it's from?" The maid called after him.

 

"I don't give a skeevers ass what you tell her." He spat over his shoulder and made his way to the bar. Between the lack of sleep and the morning hangover, he needed a drink.

 

[SoulofChrysamere]

Mjaska Red-Feather: Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig

 

 

Mjaska bolted down the passageway with a speed that seemed impossible with her gear, driven more by fear than anything else. Her own breaths and footsteps were heavy, partially drowning out the death threats being shouted by her pursuers. She came into a large room decorated with hide barricades and bloody animal remains mounted on wooden pikes. There were two other passages - one leading left and the other leading right. Mjaska briefly wondered which to choose, but was soon driven down the left path by the bloodcurdling warcry, "The Reach will run red with your outlander blood!" Why the hell did I take this job alone?

 

They had returned - the nightmares about being trapped alone in a den of angry Forsworn.

 

Even before the nightmares had started, Mjaska's sleep had been fitful and superficial at best, which made for a bad mix with her irritating road trip and the tiring bar fight. In the dream, she was now fleeing toward a tunnel with a lit ending that she desperately hoped was the exit. To her temporary joy, it was. Once she saw the throng of Reachmen gathered in the outside camp, her heart sank. With a charge through the camp hopeless and those inside the cave quickly closing in, Mjaska took her only realistic option - a tumble down the steep hillside. Still flooded with adrenaline, she hauled her armored frame over the edge of the hilltop and began very harrowing descent toward hopeful salvation.

 

Some of the Forsworn were brave or foolish enough to follow her down, but they fared no better than her on the treacherous incline. Many of them suffered broken bones from falls and friendly fire as the archers and spellcasters that had stayed at the top rained down their projectiles with frenzied indiscrimination. The heat of the sun gave the spellfire all the wrong kinds of help as the flames that struck Mjaska's armor came closer and closer to cooking its already roasting wearer. The arrows were a bit easier to deal with, although a fair few of them stuck in the back of her mail.

 

After long stumble against all odds of serious injury, Mjaska abruptly balked when she came to the end of a large rock embedded in the hillside. To her dismay, the already deadly slope had just dropped off into a nearly vertical cliffside. She could see the beginning of a river below that was fed by water filtered through the ancient rock, but she was hesitant to jump for it. Aside from the facts that she had no idea how deep the water was and that she would have to somehow wriggle out of her heavy armor after landing provided the initial shock didn't make her draw in a watery breath, she had learned along time ago that for some mysterious reason, hitting water at speed from high up was like slamming into hard stone for a brief instant. Indeed, she wouldn't get very far at all if she got knocked out upon hitting the drink.

 

Unfortunately, there was no choice. The Forsworn were still crashing down the hillside after her, and there was nothing to the left or right. Morbidly deciding that drowning was a gentler fate than whatever torture the Reachmen had in mind, Mjaska swallowed her apprehension and leapt. She tried her best to stay vertical, but there was natural panic that came with an uncontrollable fall. By the time she got to the water, she was in a sort of reclined position like one would have in a long chair.

 

Cold water splashed up into her face as she splashed into the headwaters, and then it happened. First to snap were her ankles as they violently dug into the floor of the stomach-deep water. Then, her back broke as she laid out. The sudden pain caused an instinctive breath that flooded her lungs, and she began jerking as much as her now crippled body would allow. Horror and despair wrapped around her as she slowly realized she was dying, with only the rippled glow of the sun on the surface to watch as her life ended.

 

Just before the last bitter moment, Mjaska shot upright. She was drenched in sweat and panting like she had sprinted across Tamriel, but she was unharmed. There was no pain, no water, no Forsworn - just the modestly furnished room that she had rented at the lodge and small slivers of sunlight seeping in through the window. Mjaska bowed and cupped her face in her hands as she shed relieved tears. It had been a few years since such nightmares had plagued her, and they had never been this vivid or lucid before.

 

The woman took her time in getting ready. She somberly donned her gear and ambled downstairs, anticipating nothing more than breakfast and a little time to herself. She ordered a plate of eggs and pork, then took a seat at a vacant table.

==========================================================================

 

Tadrinas Canderrus: Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig

 

 

Tadrinas booked down the long, ornately furnished hallway with all the speed his small body could muster. The hall was incredibly long - much longer than physically possible considering that it appeared to be a rather conservative noble's abode from the outside. There was a set a large double doors at the end that looked better suited for a fortress than a house. He could hear the metal footsteps of his pursuer behind him, but he didn't dare to look behind him. He just kept running, his face so ashen it could have been vampiric.

 

The little elf had enjoyed the thrill of the pursuit when he had been discovered, as he often did when having to escape from guards during a theft. Now, he was running solely for his life. When he had first seen the watchman that now chased him sword in hand, Tadrinas's eyes had widened in terror, and his body had gone numb. Tadrinas had no problem looking a guard in the eyes as long as there were eyes to see. The only thing that occupied that shiny steel helmet was a darkness that spoke with a deep, echoing, malicious voice. That absence of mortality was one of his greatest fears.

 

"There's no escape, you damn elf!" was the voice's constant roar.

 

Upon reaching the doors, Tadrinas threw them open and found himself in a stairwell that stretched seemingly infinitely upward with some manner of fancy dresser or wardrobe on every landing. He slammed the doors shut behind him and pulled a heavy trunk in front of them before tearing up the stairs. No sooner had he reached the first landing did the bodiless armor bulldoze through the doors with an inhuman strength that nearly ripped them off their hinges and launched the trunk across the room. Tadrinas began scurrying up the steps even faster, not bothering to try and stall the being with furniture.

 

Despite the Wood Elf's best efforts, the armor slowly gained on him over many flights, eventually drawing close enough to swing at him with its blade. Tadrinas dodged left into the wall, then right against the railing, which turned out to be far more rickety than it appeared. The carved wood splintered away, leaving Tadrinas to plunge toward the now distant floor.

 

In his flailing, Tadrinas turned over and witnessed a horrifying sight. The armor had leapt off after him without hesitation, and was holding its sword up in preparation of nailing him to the ground upon landing.

 

Time seemed to stop during the fall, and there was little Tadrinas could do except behold his unholy killer. Before he knew it, the feeling of falling had ceased, instantly replaced by a surge of pain through his back and the forcing of air from his lungs. A second later, the armor was upon him.

 

The armor's blade drove into Tadrinas's chest, momentarily compounding his pain before the elf erupted from his bed in a frightened fit. He stumbled across the room before headbutting the wall and almost knocking himself out. He staggered to his feet, glancing around the room as if expecting to see the armor.

 

When he saw nobody was in sight, Tadrinas sat back down on the bed and tested his back and chest, just to assure himself that he was okay. He had been having similar nightmares for a couple of months, and for a while, he had thought they were just a rash of bad dreams that would eventually pass. Lately, he had been wondering if there wasn't some more sinister reason for their onset since they only got worse as time went on.

 

For now, Tadrinas was content to enjoy the fact that he was still safe in reality and quickly donned his gear so he could go drown his unease in beer and vittles. Once downstairs, he ordered a generous helping of scrambled eggs and bacon before approaching the table where a still shaken Mjaska sat.

 

Mjaska looked up at him for a moment between bites of pork. "I'm in no mood for words this morning, Tadrinas." She said sharply with a mouthful of food.

 

Tadrinas could tell she was stressed. It looked like he wasn't the only one that had trouble sleeping last night, and given the circumstances, he thought it best to not impose himself on the woman for the second time in two days. "Fair enough." He said before heading over to where Varys and the others had gathered.

================================================================================

 

Chaldier Dorlaine Marczon: Daggerfall, High Rock - The Suckling Pig

 

 

Chaldier sat rigidly on the cold stone chair, his joints sore from the metal bindings that held them in place. Around him stretched a vast expanse of plain stone flooring that ultimately vanished into a dark void. There were no walls, nor was there a ceiling. A short ways across from him sat his likewise bound wife and two children, only they weren't as the had been. His wife Salinda was sickly and hunched over, her skin blotched with grayish-white patches as if it had contracted some kind of leprosy. Every once in a while, she would groan in a discomfort Chaldier could only imagine. His daughter Certima was seated to her left, experiencing convulsions and a violent cough more terrible sounding than a draugr's rasp. His son Derbin was pallid and comatose, as if so subdued by some illness that he stood right on death's doorstep. To Chaldier's left, there rested a large Dwemeri chalice on a small table. To his left, there stood a curious Dwemeri automaton that looked to be perfectly shaped like a humanoid entity. Small jets of steam puffed from between his shoulder plates periodically.

 

He had no idea how long he had been at it, but Chaldier had been answering one difficult riddle after the next that came from the construct. Despite being a machine, he was strangely capable of strongly mimicking a man's voice. He had already asked Chaldier sixteen riddles, each harder than the previous one. The mental strain had weighed heavily on the Breton, who was fighting to stay awake. The construct told him that the chalice contained an elixir that would completely heal his family of the afflictions, and that he would administer the draught if every riddle was answered. At this point, Chaldier was beginning to wonder if there even was an end to them. The construct had also warned him that the elixir could not resurrect dead bodies, meaning that he was on a time limit. It was the Chaldier's worst nightmare - having to think for his family's lives.

 

"The next riddle is this..." The construct said plainly. Its emotionless, deadpan voice only added to Chaldier's depression. "You come to the final chamber of a grueling dungeon. On the back wall, there are two doors. One door leads to the dungeon's exit, and the other leads to certain death. In between the doors stand two statues. One statue always lies, while the other always tells the truth. You cannot distinguish between the two doors or the two statues. You are allowed to ask only one question, and you may only ask it to one of the statues. What question must you ask to ensure that you find the exit?"

 

Chaldier's tired mind set to work, and he quickly started eliminating obvious questions. There was no room to try and figure out which statue was which, but Chaldier soon realized that he would have to formulate a question that would be answered the same regardless of which statue received it. He fought off the fatigue and racked his brain for what seemed like millennia. After an eternity of contemplation, he believed he had worked out the answer.

 

"Which door would the other statue tell me to choose?" Chaldier said weakly.

 

"Correct. Hmm...it seems you are a worthy intellect after all. I will cure your family." The construct said.

 

Its words were like an enormous weight being lifted off of Chaldier's shoulders. He sighed with relief as the construct took the chalice and prepared to treat his family. However, moments before the chalice reached Certima's lips, she went limp, succumbing to her sickness. Salinda and Derbin followed seconds later.

 

Chaldier began jerking in the chair with renewed vigor. "No! No!" He screamed. "Hurry! Why aren't you healing them!?" He yelled to the construct, who had suddenly ceased all movement. Then, the scene vanished, and Chaldier was instead looking up at the ceiling of his room at the lodge. He was sweaty and shaking.

 

Slowly, he sat up on the edge of the bed and cupped his forehead in a hand. The dream had felt even more real than it had the past few ones. The nightmares had started only two weeks ago and had only occured four times counting this one. Nevertheless, they had taken a toll on Chaldier's constitution. He wasn't as sharp or energetic as he'd like to be, and that only made his research harder.

 

Electing that brooding would not get much worthwhile done, Chaldier pushed the thoughts from his mind and got dressed. After making sure his academic materials were safely locked away, he headed downstairs and ordered a ham and cheese omelet for breakfast. Then, he decided to pass the first moments of the morning with the newly arrived group of adventurers, and so with breakfast in hand, he once again found a seat at a vacant table adjacent to Varys. He thought it curious that Mjaska was off by herself, but reckoned that she had probably had an awful dream as well and wished to be left alone for now.

 

"Hail, Serjo Sul. I trust you slept well? Or rather, as well as one could with what's been going on lately?" He asked.