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Wisdom of the Ancestors - An Elder Scrolls RP


AurianaValoria1

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Adrynn grinned and stood up, stepping close to the tall mer and clasping his forearm, the long unspoken greeting of one warrior to another. He gestured to his table and moved to sit down, ordering two more drinks from the bartender.

 

"So... It is you I have to thank for the long journey to these parts, Faeryn," Adrynn began, a small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth, causing his beard to twitch slightly. Adrynn slid the letter across the table to the other mer, while the Dunmer barkeeper hurriedly laid two mugs of ale before them, taking a long moment to stare at the two aged warriors. Adrynn's eyes flashed in annoyance. He snapped his fingers and gave the bartender a piercing look, who swallowed hard and scurried back behind the bar.

 

Adrynn turned back to Faeryn, the mer he hadn't seen in decades, now before him. "You've gotten old, my friend," Adrynn joked, knowing he looked much the same. "Now tell me, why in Azura's name did you drag me all the way from Blacklight to this ragged Nordic city? I am assuming it is you who sent this," the Redoran said, tapping the letter with a long finger. "So what do you require of me?"

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Faeryn took a long drink from his mug before setting it back down and pocketing the letter which was, of course, his, "It's not what I require...it's what your cousin wants. She sent me to find you with a letter not much longer than that one...a letter she ordered me to burn after reading. Now you tell me," the Dunmer leaned forward, his bright ruby eyes narrowed, "What does Sky Haven Temple mean to you?"

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Felix knelt down and placed a hand on the corpse of one of the bandits, it's core was still warm so it was no more then a few hours old. The cold of Skyrim frostbite bare-flesh in hours but the core temperature of a corpse could tell it's age if one had a keen touch, he reached up and closed the man's eyes and whispered a prayer to Arkay before standing and following his companions.

 

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Svarn stopped in his tracks when the faint dimples in the snow that covered the main trail caught his eye. They were too close together and in file to be a caravan and there were no animal tracks, 'Could it be a Stormcloak patrol?' He thought, he grabbed a clump of snow and sniffed it. It stank of blood and sweet smelling perfume. 'Thalmor...' He said as he stood, the tracks weren't more then a few hours old and they went deep into Eastmarch, he notched an arrow and drew Fjorlag. The question he asked was this the main force or a rear guard, the snow eliminated any trace of the main force if it had passed by.

 

"Stop right there!" Came a voice from behind him, Svarn silently cursed himself. The voice was down wind of him so he didn't smell his approach. Svarn raised his arms in a non-threatening manner and turned, three men in Stormcloak armor stood behind him.

 

'What is this about kinsman?' He asked, the nord that had spoken stepped forward with his sword held up. The amulet around his neck bore the marks of a Commander.

 

"What are you doing out here..." He asked as he placed the tip of the blade to Svarn's chest. Svarn thought for a long moment, these men were to small in number to be a standard patrol so he guessed they were scouts.

 

'I am returning a bounty letter to Solitude.' He lied, since he caught the scent of the Thalmor he longed to track and kill them. The Commander approached and looked into his eyes, the man had a long scar down his face that left his right eye cloudy.

 

The Commander smiled, "Give me the letter and go..." He said, Svarn chuckled and turned away. He doesn't pay bribes to corrupt guards. The Commander growled in anger at Svarn's defiance and raised his sword, Svarn turned and caught the blade as it came down on the hard oak axe-handle, he drew his dagger from his belt and placed it firmly against the Stormcloak's neck.

 

'A good soldier never raises a blade to an innocent man... a good man never steals another man's livelihood.' He said coldly as he stared into the frightened nords eyes. 'Because you never know when that man will take your life...' He said as he gently removed the dagger and continued on.

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Adrynn took a drink of his ale after Faeryn posed his question. So, Velanya had sent for him. It wasn't entirely surprising, though in some ways it was. He had not seen or spoken to his cousin since he had asked her to return with him to Blacklight after the signing of the White-Gold Concordat over forty years before. She had, quite naturally, refused. She was too tied to the Empire to retreat to Morrowind and didn't wish to part from her duty as a Legionnaire. Adrynn had understood, though he dearly missed his cousin.

 

"It is good to know that Velanya lives, but I know little of this Sky Haven Temple save that it is where a few old Blades had taken refuge during the Stormcloak Rebellion. It is said that the Dovah'kiin is the one who allowed them to enter and apparently they found some wall depicting Alduin's demise. But that is all I know, Faeryn. It means little to me, for I do not wished to be reminded of my time as a Blade."

 

Adrynn took another drink of his ale before looking Faeryn square in the eyes. "We are going there, aren't we." It was a statement, not a question.

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"Yes," Faeryn replied simply, drinking another swig of ale before taking Adrynn by the forearm and pulling the Redoran closer so that he was whispering in his ear, "Listen. Whatever contempt you have for the Blades, you know as well as I do that they were the best damned agents in the world before those high-nosed Altmer hunted them down like dogs. The Penitus Oculatus is nothing compared to the likes of Caius Cosades...tell me you don't agree with me. We need people like that old man...we need Blades to take the fight to the Dominion before there's nothing left of this Empire to save."

 

He pulled back and looked away briefly before returning his gaze to Adrynn, "We already lost Morrowind. How much more are we going to lose before we do something? Velanya has a plan, and she's risked her life to bring it to our attention. You owe it to her to hear her out...Blade or not."

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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Adrynn sighed and drained the last of his ale, feeling it burn as it settled into his stomach. He knew that Faeryn was right. The Blades had, in their prime, been the best at what they had done, which was, for the most part, gathering information. The Nerevarine himself had been a Blade, and under the tutelage of Caius Cosades, had gathered what information he needed to fulfill the Prophecies and slay Dagoth Ur. Adrynn missed that cantankerous old Spymaster. No matter how dire their situation had been, he had always thought of some solution. The Redoran made a mental note to visit the old Blade's grave.

 

"How much, indeed," Adrynn replied. He stared at his empty mug while his mind went over the Ordinator's words. Morrowind was already seperate from the Empire, once again a nation of its own. It would be so easy to just disappear back into the wastes and never be heard from again. But Adrynn knew that was not his course. For if the Empire lost this war, then there would be no stopping the onslaught of the Thalmor. Morrowind was fragile. Still weak and rebuilding from the Red Year and the Argonian invasian. If the remnants of this diminished Empire did not stand together and fight back, then they would all be doomed. They needed theBlades.

 

"Very well, Faeryn. Let us go to Velanya. I would hear her plan, though I fear before this is all over, it will likely have us killed," he said with a laugh before standing and strapping his ebony sword to his belt. He reached beside his chair next to the wall and retrieved his pack, cloak, and shield. He slung his cloak over his shoulders and pulled up his hood before slinging his pack over one shoulder and his shield the other.

 

"I am as ready as I ever will be. Come, don your shiny armor and lets be off," Adrynn said with another laugh.

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Faeryn smirked, rising from his seat and tossing a few coins in the direction of the barkeeper to pay for a temporary room. Making his way upstairs, he chose a room, shut the door, and quickly began to change out of his commoner's clothes.

 

As he opened his pack, a strange wave of excitement washed over him. His old armor had been wrapped carefully in soft cloth and had stayed that way for quite a long time. It would be good to finally wear it again, as he never truly felt like the priest he had been role-playing for the past few decades or so. He gingerly unwrapped it piece by piece and set it out on the old, moth-eaten bed.

 

The golden laminated chitin still held a high sheen, having been freshly polished before being put away. There were a few very shallow trenches here and there were blades and maces had punctured the shell, but it had been masterfully repaired by Dunmer craftsmen. Faeryn frowned as he thought there would be no one who knew how to work chitin here in Skyrim. He would have to be careful.

 

The Ordinator donned his uniform piece by piece, his excitement slowly transitioning to comfort...as if he were in the presence of an old friend. He tied his sheer violet scarf loosely about his shoulders, then strapped on the masked helm, running a hand through the golden crest to make sure it stood out properly. At last he secured his ebony scimitar to his waist, and it was as if nearly two centuries of aging had suddenly slipped away. He glanced in the cracked mirror to see his stern countenance staring back at him. Yes, the creases around his eyes and nose had gotten a little deeper, but there was now a youthful fire in his eyes that he had not recalled seeing in a very, very long time.

 

Snapping the golden mask down over his face, his ruby gaze pierced through the glass insets of its eye holes. Giving his blue breeches one final brush and straightening his black gloves, he stuffed his clothes into his pack and slung it back over his shoulders. Then, spinning on his heels and striding out of the room with the air of one who owned the place, he headed back downstairs to meet up with Adrynn.

 

There were a series of collective gasps as he swept through the room towards his Redoran comrade. He thought he heard the distinct sound of a tankard hitting the floor as he passed the bar, but he paid it no heed. Stopping before Adrynn, he gave his fellow Dunmer a nod, "Now I'm ready."

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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A small, knowing smile tugged at Adrynn's lips as he watched Faeryn descend the steps of the Cornerclub in his ornate Indoril armor. He felt years upon years fall away from his aged body as he saw his companion and brother-in-arms step forward. Adrynn stood up to his full height, looking through the glass eyes in the Indoril helm to his friend behind them. He nodded.

 

"Yes, I know you are." There was more than one meaning behind his words, but he left Faeryn to discover them as he opened the door to the Cornerclub and stepped through. He glanced back one last time at the shocked faces in the bar and threw back his head and laughed. He had never seen such a mix of awe, fear, and excitement on such grim faces before. It was as if he and Faeryn had stepped right out of the pages of history to stand before these simple mer. It wasn't entirely off the mark either.

 

He chuckled again as he led Faeryn through the streets of Windhelm. Everyone they passed, be it Nord, Dunmer, or Argonian, stopped whatever they were doing and just stared. Most of them had to remember to close their mouths. It was quite amusing to behold.

 

They had no trouble till they reached the gates. The two Stormcloaks who guarded them crossed their spears and ordered a halt. Adrynn stopped, his dark ruby eyes piercing from the depths of his fur hood. He could tell that most of the guards attention were on Faeryn behind him. He resisted the urge to chuckle again and leaned on his right leg, taking most of the weight off of his still tender left leg.

 

"Is there any reason you stop us, guardsman, other than to gawk at my companion here?" The Redoran asked in a low, calm voice.

 

That snapped the guard closest to him out of his wide eyed stare. "Uh-um, yes, yes there is Dunmer." His accent was thick and harsh on Adrynn's ears. "You must pay a visitor's tax before you may leave the city, under order of the Jarl." The guard said it calmly, but Adrynn could detect the hint of nervousness in his voice.

 

Adrynn simply stood there, his previously good spirits vanished. The guard stared back, through dropped his gaze to Adrynn's sword after a moment.

 

"Are you going to pay the tax?" the other guard asked nervously. Adrynn simply stared. The guard dropped his gaze too.

 

"No, I will not pay your silly tax, Nord," Adrynn said, his voice calm, but it had taken on a dangerous edge. "I have not come so far just to be stopped by two poor guards looking for a handout. Now, either stand aside and let us pass, or I think my Ordinator friend here will have a word with you. And he will not be as polite as I have..."

 

The guards took one long look at Faeryn and opened the gates.

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Nightshade felt the cold air of Windhelm sweep over him, he had a long history with this city. Just a few steps from where he was now was where all of this started, the irony of this forced a smile on his face but the engraved facemask hid it. He had a target in Candlehearth Hall that he needed to take care of, he looked at the note once again and drew the sweet smelling Nightshade across his facemask as he read.

 

'Dearest Nightshade,

 

Please remove me from my desperate plight, I offer you the blood and soul of Rolff Stone-Fist. Kill him anyway you choose but he must die for all the crimes he has committed against the Dunmer of the city.'

 

Nightshade had followed the man for most of the day and witnessed his several encounters with the Dunmer of the city and witnessed as he insulted and threatened them. The moon drifted high over the city when a number of the patrons of Candlehearth came out of the Inn and greeted Rolff, Nightshade moved in the darkness, the familiar sound of metal on metal clung to his ears as he drew his Akaviiri katana, the blade smelled of sweet Nightshade Oil so even if his prey escaped the poison would claim them within a few hours. Rolff talked with three nord's outside of Candlehearth as Nightshade crept into the shadows of the stone statue behind him.

 

"Yeah... dat' dark elf wench didn't put up much of a fight but now their kind knows they shouldn't be here." Bragged Rolff before he took a heavy swig, Rolff and Angrenor were known for their bullying but it seemed they had finally crossed the line. While the Nord's laughed Nightshade burst from the shadows, his hand slipping up under Rolff's jaw and grasping his throat as the akaviiri straight blade slipped between his seventh and eighth vertebrae and cut the artery. The blade was sharp and it swam through flesh like an argonian through water, Rolff was dead before he knew what happened but the blade severed his spine and left him paralyzed, his death would be slow and painful and no amount of healing done by magic or alchemy would heal him.

 

The three Nords watched in amazement as their friend was butchered, Nightshade drew the flower he had received with the writ and dropped it on Rolff. The Assassin turned his gaze to the three nords as he held the blooded blade to the chest of the middle nord of the three.

 

'Should one more Dark Elf woman be harmed by anyone... you three will be the first to die.' He said coldly, he stepped back and wreathed himself in the shroud of an invisibility spell and slipped away before the city guard got there.

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As he and Adrynn passed through the gates, Faeryn paused beside one of the guards and growled, "I'm watching you...scum."

 

He continued on without another word, though he did elbow his comrade in the ribs jokingly after they began crossing the bridge.

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