Rapid Eye Movement

[ArtKing1239]

Background: For weeks, the peoples of Vvardenfell have been experiencing disturbing dreams. Flames ate the world, while bodies writhed and mouths screamed through flames that fell like a vermillion curtain over cities and towns. The dreams seem to induce, suprisingly, deep sleep. Every night, all people fell asleep before midnight. Every morning, all people awakened at exactly 7:00 in the morning. Guards fell asleep at their posts. Adventurers collapsed, motionless, in the wilderness. During this period, in which all of Vvardenfell lay comatose, things vanished. Ancient spellbooks, enchanted treasures, priceless artifacts. Are you strong enough to help Urik find the culprits involved, and bring them to justice?

 

 

 

Urik woke, and immediately noticed he had been sweating profusely.

 

He began thinking in cliches: The dream is always the same.

In it, he watched, helplessly, as the cities of Vvardenfell burned before his eyes.

He saw his friends burn, turn to ash, the frigid wastelands of the North doing nothing to quench the ravenous flame. He slumped out of his sweat soaked sheets, and went to bath in an icy river flowing just outside his modest, yet functional, home. It was 7:05 a.m., according to the ancient dwemer clock he had acquired during an adventure. Every morning, the same time. He finished bathing, and lay naked, on a flat, warm rock near the river, drying off. His body was aged, but still strong. His white hair fanned out behind his head, dripping water in trails along the surface of the rock.

 

After he was thoroughly dry, he went into the house, and took a few hits of skooma from his pipe. He felt it rush through his body, giving him strength and vitality. His addiction was getting out of hand, he thought. Though he felt great, he couldn't help but notice his mind getting fuzzy, and that more bad things seemed to happen to him while on skooma. To pick up his suddenly downed mood, he did a couple hits of moon sugar. He immediately felt better, and went about his daily routine...

 

Urik had just finished a delightful breakfast of toast with scrib jelly, bread, crab meat, and vintage cyrodilic brandy, when a lanky, secritive character burst into his home. Realizing he was still naked, Urik covered himself with one hand, and clumsily brandished his battleaxe with the other. It was immensely heavy, and even in his immense strength he knew his arm would tire quickly. Forgoing modesty, he decided to use two hands, figuring that the intruder would not be alive long enough to care whether Urik was naked or not.

 

"Die, scoundrel! You have trespassed here, and..." Urik began. The lanky creature of a man in front of him drew back, and looked down at Urik's genetalia. He made a rather contemptuous face, and spoke.

"Wait. I bear a message from my master," he said.

"Oh? And what's that?" Urik rested his axe on the breakfast table, and gave the intruder a look that said, 'Hurry up, or I might kill you out of boredom.'

"He says your dreams are the key. Pay them great attention," the man said, "and utilize a watchful eye. Clues are everywhere."

 

Urik's interest was piqued. Just as he was about to speak, the creature took out a scroll, and muttered something. Caught by surprise, Urik suddenly found he couldn't move a muscle. The creature had a shot of brandy, and departed.

 

After the paralysis wore off, Urik clothed himself and walked to the town nearest his home, Balmora. He had decided to move near the town, from Skyrim, after he retired. He still frequented Skyrim, however, and often participated in battles there. He made his way to Eight Plates, for a drink, and to talk to some fellow adventurers. He had a feeling he would need a few people to help him unravel the puzzle before him. Who held power over all the dreams in Vvardenfall? Whosent the man into Urik's home? Was it the same person who could control fantasies, or merely someone with 'information'?

[Pious Augustus]

OOOC::o :o :o Wow great start, only if other people could do that <_<

[ArtKing1239]

OOC: Why, thank you. I used to roleplay alot on Gamefaqs.

[ArtKing1239]

(OOC: Due to an occurrance in my MMLF Inbox, I'm going to extend my post.)

 

Urik walked into the bar, and sat down. He absent-mindedly ordered some ale, and thought back to his dream, trying to bring out every detail.

 

Burning.

 

Death.

 

A man.

 

Urik suddenly remembered a man , standing lone in the ruins of Vvardenfell after the destructive fires had run out of fuel to burn. He had spoken.

 

"My name is Dachande... I have come..."

 

Urik struggled to remember. He only got that introductory phrase to register in his mind.

 

(OOC: Some rules - No cheesewhizzing. I.E. "Johan killed teh forty DrEmOrA lords with a single, Uber, ultra-1337 blow!!!1!!!!!1!111!!!!" This may seem extreme, but even taking on, say, five or ten opponents at once is a little far-fetched. However, it's passable if it's something like Nix Hounds, or Netches, or some similarly low-level creature/NPC.

 

No killing fellow role-players. Everything else is fair game.

 

No odd plot twists, i.e. "After Johan got the ebony broadsword, he gave it back to the aliens from planet N' 1er345. They made him immortal, and flew off in their spacecraft."

 

Finally, use common sense. Make your posts entertaining and well structured, grammarically and otherwise. Be creative. Have fun!)

[Pious Augustus]

As dachande was waking up he thought of his dream, A ooman in with a axe and a ooman with a sword, the ooman with the axe was in a strange light and the other ooman was in a dark light, he knew what it ment..he had to choose sides soon.

 

Most of his armour and weapons were gone,the elders sent him here for a observation trip to look for new members .He has seen a few canidates,the ones thst call them self's Thomas and Gerret. As he walked into his ship he went to the armory, the elders only left him a wristblade,a combi stick, and his helm with a letter{ you must craft or find other weapons and armour, this will help you choose better}. "Yes ,If anyone could survive the blooding ",He thought. He got all of his thing and was headed to the nearist town, Balmora.

[Death_Penalty]

Laraine bolted upright, terrified in a cold sweat. Dreams were haunting her. And not the usual ones. How horrible those had seemed when she first had them. But they were nothing, a tale to frighten little children when compared to the horrors she was now facing. She shook like a leaf, terrified for the first time in ages at the precious darkness which gave her life.

Darkness envelopes me Hatred developes me

Darkness envelopes me Hatred developes me

She whipsered to herself quickly, closing her eyes and crouching closer to the ground. The closet seemed an empty expanse of nothingness around her.

Darkness envelopes me Hatred developes me

Yet with her eyes shut the macabre images returned. Flames...a ravenous inferno of crimson and rising soot...smoldering flesh...unescapable agony....

She could smell the burning flesh...

She could smell her flesh burn...

Immortal enemy of the Vampires....fire....

When she could stand it no longer she lept from the closet of the quiet Balmoran home. It was humbly furnished, with naught but a small table and a few chairs, a single bed and wooden closet. Several baskets lay about. In the center of the room lay the slain body of Davavale Minras, her ashen skin stained red and brown from blood wreathing her neck. Laraine's first feed in over a lunar cycle.

She returned to the body now, trying to erase the images by feeling the warmth and tranquility of human blood spill around her as she slit the woman's corpse open more. She lowered her head and drank. The blood was already going cold. But it filled her mind with euphoria and bliss, like some wonderful drug and pushed the flames from her mind.

When she was sated she curled around the body, cloak covering her form, and rested throughout the day.

[ArtKing1239]

The Dachande fellow had looked wierd though, Urik thought. He seemed to be wearing some sort of odd armor, and his skin was off, even considering all the races in Vvardenfell. The voice he heard when the creature spoke didn't seem to come from the creature directly, but from the area around and enveloping the creature.

 

"Hey, you gonna drink that, or am I gonna have to give it to one of the pack guars?" The barkeep's beligerence snapped Urik from his daydream. Thinking on his feet, he replied, "Well, if it's good enough for the guars, you might as well have it, right?" The barkeep merely sneered and went about his business, as Urik drank his warm ale. He always thought it funny that the only magic barkeeps learned was frost, and it wasn't even enough to defend themselves, just to keep the drinks cold. It would certainly do the tavern business a world of good if the bartenders knew how to fight. They wouldn't have to be replaced so often. Urik gulped down the rest of the drink, and headed out, not satisfied with the look of the adventurers in the Eight Plates. He ventured off into town, looking for someone, anyone willing to help. He knew people were ready, willing and able. Time to start knocking on doors.

[Pious Augustus]

As dachande wached frome the guard tower in balmora he noticed the people were acting strangly. He jumped down to the ground level, he hear foot steps behind him, as he jumped behind some boxes he hear the ooman and ork speak. That was a strange dream.... it was like i was there,said the human. I know what you mean,said the orc, I went to the ashlanders the wise woman there said there is something evil but there is also something..else too. As they left the area , dachande steped out of the boxes only to find he bumped into a ooman with a axe, its the one i saw in my dream, he thought, as he ran away he jumped up onto the wall back to his ship.

 

 

When he got back to the ship he noticed that his combi stick was gone....the ooman.

[ArtKing1239]

No-one was interested.

 

Not Eydis Fire-Eye, not Ra'Virr... Nobody. He was getting desperate.

 

Urik traveled along the river, in the direction of Fort Moonmoth, when he came upon a dark home with older architecture. He immediately felt an odd vibe coming from the place, all the way through his bones. The place was slightly musty, slightly damp-looking, but otherwise... Urik's thoughts trailed off to some other variable. Tentatively, he pushed open the home's front door, and looked around. The layout was simply elegant, furnished nicely (if a little macabre) and seemed like a nice place to go after a hard day's work. At first glance, anyway. A second glance showed Urik that the furniture was dusty, old. He ventured into a hallway, which he found led to stairs. He followed them down into a dark basement, filled with vials and potions, weapons and robes, cloaks. He gasped at the frail beauty of the woman he saw next, laying asleep in a four=post bed, with elegant, stark white satin sheets. They contrasted nicely to her dark features. Her pale skin seemed as soft as the satin. Urik reached out to her.

 

"Don't move, Nord..." Urik gasped as she rose from bed, a menacing look in her silver and crimson eyes.

[Death_Penalty]

Laraine watched the Nord before her, his hand outstretched towards her. She scanned his face carefully, and detected no menace or ill intent. She was uncomfortable and hazy dream images danced in her head. The man before her was not young but matured, a strong mind and body that had seen much of the world. She wieghed her chances warily. Perhaps he could be persuaded to leave.

"What are you doing here?!" She asked coldly, but remained motionless.