Wisdom of the Ancestors - An Elder Scrolls RP

[Zephyr2011]

Ra'Qassar - Skyhaven Temple

 

After it seemed that most of the business was complete, Ra'Qassar began to gaze at the different bits of architecture throughout the temple. His mouth parted ever so slightly, as a child's might looking up at a great statue. He marveled at the superb craftsmanship of the carvings, pillars and walls, each adorned with reliefs, scroll work and bits and pieces of precious metals and gems. Though the place was surely beyond its prime, the Khajiit could see into the past and gaze at the glory that the temple once was. As Ra'Qassar wandered through the halls, he happened across a forge. He ran his hands over the smooth stone edge and the rusted anvil. He could feel the passion in the room. He could hear how the forge had once sang. The forge was dark and cold now, but it had once been warm, he hoped it would be warm again soon. They lacked the supplies right now to make that happen, but it could be roaring again shortly.

 

Galus - Skyhaven Temple

 

Galus stood beneath the great gash in the roof, his eyes closed, staring blindly upwards. His hands were out-raised and tendrils of purple-blue energy snaked and looped upwards towards the rift as he murmured under his breath. Slowly a magical membrane was forming and the small drops of water falling from the edges ceased. The spell complete, Galus dropped his hands and sighed deeply. The casting had taken a lot out of him, it was not easy establishing so many anchoring points for the shield and first establishing it, but it should hold and the toll would lessen as it stabilized.

 

Baltis Llervu - Karthspire

 

The lich nodded when Velanya gave him his task and then made his way outside. The corpses were strewn everywhere. That could be dealt with in a moment. He set to work laying several illusion charms on the entrance to the Karthspire to mask himself and his companions when they were within and to stop their voices from travelling. It was a slightly tricky spell, but one that Baltis knew well. It was good that he knew how to make the spell only dampen noise produced by men and mer. A complete vacuum of silence was far more conspicuous, and taxing. Baltis then began creating rune marks about the camp and the entrance to the temple. The marks were of frost and lighting, to slow and obliterate their would-be foes. He concealed those with further runes of invisibility. It was a time consuming task to establish all of these guards, but well worth the effort.

[nethgros]

Walking around the Reach now-a-days offered much more danger to contend with than simply the undead, and daedra. The Forsworn were always a problem, and now there were only becoming a worse problem. That, coupled with the incursion of Thalmor from the north and east made this very likely the most dangerous region in contemporary Skyrim.

 

Nonetheless, Lubren travelled these forsaken roads in an unfruitful search for those in need; sadly all he had found were corpses.

 

As if on queue, three Reachmen jumped down from the escarpment on his right, two landing in front of him and one behind. He slipped his hefty dragonbone shield off his shoulder and onto his left arm, equipping his silver sword in his right. In most instances, the Briarheart who charged head-on would've easily taken his mark, but his undead nature sealed his fate as he attempted to take Lubren by force. His holy abilities made this first foe a walk in the park, raising his hand and emitting a great light over the Briarheart, stunning him and slightly burning his unhallowed flesh. Lubren was used to taken on many more than just a single undead, and made short work of him as he brought his sword in a large horizontal arc, cleaving through the 'man's leg before taking his briar heart from his chest.

 

Seeing what was likely their leader fall, the two remaining Reachmen charged together, one from behind and the other from in front. It had been some time since Lubren had actually fought real people, though it was hardly any different than cutting down shambling corpses. He brought his shield up to block an incoming blow while stabbing out at the other, deterring a second attack. After he had blocked the attack, he bashed the Breton in the face, staggering him. Lubren acted with no hesitation, bringing his sword down on, and through, the man's neck and turning around in one swift, spinning motion. He could see hesitation in his final foes eyes. The Forsworn were hailed as fearless barbarians, but he saw differently. He made his own charge, sprinting forward with a large swipe of his sword. While the Breton managed to block this, he had not foreseen the kick that followed, Lubren's steel plate boot hitting his knee with a splendorous snap. The man dropped, groping his crippled leg. Lubren put his foot on the man's chest, pushing him to his back so he would be forced to look to either look his killer in the eye or gaze to the sky.

 

"May Stendarr be merciful on your soul, for I know you haven't shown the same," Lubren spoke in a pity-filled voice before stabbing down into the man's throat, finishing him.

Edited October 3, 2013 by nethgros

[SoulofChrysamere]

Nenalaamo's Spirit: Atherius

 

 

Time. Concern with mortal affairs. These notions along with so many others soon became lost on the overwhelming majority of Atherian souls, and the few that remained somewhat in tune with Tamriel had not done so easily. Somewhere within the vast recesses of the realm, there floated one spirit in particular who refused to become disconnected from the troubles of the world below. It had been over two centures since he had been struck down by that fateful arrow, but it still seemed like only yesterday to him. In addition, the one Tamriellan with whom he had managed to keep a connection had seemingly disappeared without a trace after a while. Then, suddenly, the old spirit felt something in him rekindle...something revitalize.

 

Nenalaamo had just been gliding about his ethereal home the same as he had always done for the past two hundred years when, without warning, he felt an odd yet familiar sensation. He felt as though he should know it, and although the lengthy separation had slightly muddled his memory, he soon recognized it. It was a feeling he hadn't known for what felt like an eternity. He spent a while trying to realign himself with the signal, but he finally succeeded in his attunement. When he sensed her life force down there in the world of mortals, he at first saw all of the things currently occupying her mind, but he was able to push past them and detect her true state - one of sadness, anger, and the kind of burning resolve only she could muster. He knew not what exactly troubled her, but he felt for her just the same. Apparently, a bicentennial residence in Atherius had done little to harden his heart.

 

"Velanya.........now there's someone I haven't seen in a long time." He said softly, half to himself. He hoped she had a moment to respond. Her voice had always been a welcome sound in his ears.

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Suetin Marczon: Returning to Skyhaven Temple from Cyrodiil

 

 

Fate could have hardly picked a worse time to take Suetin on a transcontinental trek. The few weeks' travel to the Imperial City had saw fair enough weather, but no sooner had the scout survived the return trip's first day did Mother Nature cease her benevolence. Early in the second day's morning, Suetin was stirred from an uneasy sleep by the partially deafening sound of torrential rainfall and booming thunder all around his shelter. He grimaced at the sight, and he tried to wait the deluge out by cooking a bit of breakfast and waiting into the late morning. However, when the storm showed no signs of lessening, he elected to continue moving despite his disinclination. Glad he had spent the previous evening stitching together a few wolf pelts garnered from yesterday's hunting foray, he checked his gear, donned his makeshift traveling cloak, and headed into the rain.

 

The storm lasted into the late afternoon, which would have put Suetin off had it not allowed him to have an easier time avoiding predators and enemy patrols. Luckily for him, animals and sentries hated the sudden change in weather just as much as he did, and he made his way back into the Jeralls without incidence. By late afternoon, he had managed to escape the rain and slip through most of the warzone's hotbeds. When dusk arrived, he managed to stoke a small campfire and curl up underneath a slight overhang for the night.

 

The second evening brought a slightly better slumber, but Suetin was once again awakened in the morning by a harsh climate of a different kind. The sounds of whipping winds raced through his ears and his eyes flitted open to behold a nearly blinding blizzard. The aged Breton grumbled under his breath as he sat up and shook his tired head. As much as he didn't want to go out in the snowstorm, he knew he couldn't delay his progress. So, he stoically rose, put on the wolfskin cloak, and sallied forth, forgoing a cooked breakfast in favor of munching strips of jerky as he moved.

 

Although the Jerall Mountains' rugged terrain aided Suetin in evading yet more hostile animals and soldiers, the blizzard had assailed him the entire day. Even worse, it maintained its ferocity even when he set up shelter for the evening and lasted into the fourth morning. Sadly for the poor yet dutiful Breton, this unfortunate plight persisted over the course of the next three days before punctuating the week with an immensely welcomed lull as the seventh evening commenced. As he sat there next to the fire, gazing at the bleak, white and gray landscape from under his newest outcrop, he briefly contemplated his station. He was an older man fulfilling a role that most of his contemporaries abandoned as their youth left them. Yet, he remained an active and impeccable field operative, now lending his considerable talents to the effort to rebuild the Blades of old.

 

The rumination bolstered his resolve to return to Skyhaven Temple. His body and mind might have been aged, weathered, beaten, and scarred, but there were qualities about him that simply refused to mellow throughout the decades. His desires to help folk and see malevolence vanquished from Tamriel remained as strong as ever, and those restless eyes of his portrayed every iota of those desires. When men looked him in his eyes, they saw something more than just an ordinary soldier. It was one of the things that came with being a Marczon. Above all else, the two greatest things that Lecuaro had managed to streamline into his lineage were intelligence and selflessness. As with many, time had tempered and refined the latter within Suetin. In time, much to the marvel of his friends and acquaintances, appropriate submission became second nature to him. Indeed, he understood that there was much to be admired about the beta personality apart from its flaws. He was a leader when required of course, but it wasn't a position that he mantled happily.

 

The next week brought a series of more short, intermittent blizzards, and the scout found his stealth skills being taxed by the armies and fauna during the clear moments, but he still managed to make it back into Skyrim. He was forced to enter through the Helgen Pass this time, since he reckoned the necromancer coven would have been less than copacetic without Gregor dissuading their dark intentions.

 

The return trip's final week took Suetin through Falkreath's forests and the Reach's labyrinthine cliffs and hills. He had suffered a couple of close calls at the hands of the Thalmor and Forsworn, having to dodge more than a few spells and arrows as he hastily scurried to find safety. He survived though, and he at last found himself in view of the Karthspire Mountain once again.

 

After reaching the base of the mountain, Suetin became concerned as he saw the strewn bodies of freshly slain Forsworn littering the vicinity. The resisted fatigue of the past three weeks had started catching up to him, but now he found himself hurrying up through the Karthspire's passageways with a renewed vigor, saber and fire in hand, hoping that the Reachmen hadn't broken through to Skyhaven Temple.

 

When he emerged into the courtyard, his fears were quickly abated once he spied familiar figures through the open doors of the main hall. He quitted his weapons and accosted the structure.

 

"Velanya? Sorin? Serra? That you?" He called out as he slowly approached, wondering if they were the only three people there.

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Sorinyarie and Serrabinashiah Masseribalit: Skyhaven Temple Main Hall

 

 

For a long time, Sorinyarie had juggled her roles as a Legion battlemage and a Bladeswoman admirably, and she felt a deep dejection when the Blades were disbanded. While the official order had indeed been dissolved, she was still a Blade at heart, and she well knew that the revival project would require her fulltime devotion. Skyhaven Temple was very much a hollow shell of its former glory, but with any luck, it would again become a hallowed shrine and a beacon of power.

 

Serrabinashiah had managed to escape full induction into the Blades for two centuries, first by the shrewd diplomacy of Lecuaro and Sorin and then by the Blades long absence. Despite her longstanding aversion to joining the organization, she found herself unable to refuse Velanya's request. Her oath had not been verbalized, but her silent lack of protest had more or less cemented her new membership. The little Ashlander had no anger in her. For better or worse, Serra felt that she owed Velanya for many things, and she knew that she might never get another chance to act upon that premise.

 

While the two Legionnaires were lost in meditation, they heard a familiar voice calling from the courtyard. They looked out the doors and saw Suetin coming toward them. Both women felt warm smiles spread across their faces. Their numbers grew by yet another.

 

"Well, look who's showed up! I don't suppose you sent for him eh, Velanya?" Sorin said.

[AurianaValoria1]

Velanya smirked at her cousin, "Hate to break it to you, Adrynn, but there isn't one. At least, not one that's functioning. Just one more entry on this temple's growing list of problems."

 

Glancing to the Breton mage, she added, "Best way to get rid of the bodies is a pyre out on the courtyard-"

 

At that moment, she spied Suetin returning through the far entrance. She grinned, "Welcome back, Suetin." Turning to Sorin and Serra, the Dunmer added, "He arrived here before you did. He was the first one I enlisted, and has been on a mission to the Imperial City for a while now. I was beginning to wonder if the wolves ate him."

 

Velanya thought she heard an odd buzzing in her ear, but she shrugged it off.

Edited October 6, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[Glitchipedia]

Though his face remained a stone, Willis mentally cracked a slight smirk. A pyre was something he could definitely manage.

 

When the one called "Suetin" entered, Willis was slightly surprised to find himself looking at a fellow Breton. For several weeks, most of the Bretons he had met had been less than personable; finally having another one for an ally would be a very nice change. In greeting, he once more brought his hands in front of his chest, touched the tips of his fingers together and bowed his head slightly in a mage salute.

 

"Blessings of the Nine, friend," he said.

[darkedge42392]

Adrynn sighed at Velanya's remark. Guess he was going to have to bathe in the river then. He winced at the thought of that. The icy waters of Skyrim were frigid at best, and never fun to wade through, much less wash one's self with. Then again, fire spells did come in handy . . .

 

He gave a half satisfied smirk at the thought and turned away, in search of a tub of some kind, when the sound of approaching footsteps brought him up. He turned at their approach, and watched as Velanya, Serra, and Sorinyarie greeted the new arrival. He stepped forward, his mind flashing back two hundred years, and overlaying another, taller figure upon the Breton before him. There was no mistaking the resemblance, and Adrynn had to fight the urge to chuckle at his surprise. Of course one of Lecuaro's descendants would be a part of this. It shouldn't have been a surprise at all.

 

"Well well . . . If my eyes do not lie, I do believe I am in the presence of a Marczon," Adrynn said, stepping forward into the light and bowing to Suetin. "Greetings, young Breton. You are a striking resemblance to your forebear."

[SoulofChrysamere]

Suetin Marczon: Skyhaven Temple - Main Hall

 

 

Suetin returned Willis's mage bow with one of his own, smiling in the process. "Well met likewise, mage. Somehow, I get the feeling there's more folks here." He said.

 

Then, as if on cue, a curious Dunmer dressed in gnarled bonemold approached and greeted the scout by surname. At first, Suetin was slightly taken aback by the elf's foreknowledge of his lineage, but then he studied the man's appearance. His eyebrows raised in amusement when he finally recognized the figure as one fitting the description of one of Lecuaro's closest allies during his affairs in Morrowind. The sketches in the old notebooks he had read were well done after all.

 

"You would be correct, Dunmer. And you are Adrynn Indarys, House Redoran, I assume?" Suetin answered, returning the bow. If nothing else, the Marczons were astute.

[darkedge42392]

"Indeed, I am," Adrynn replied, with another small bow. "I'm glad to know Lecuaro's lineage runs strong. He was a great strategist, and I sorely miss his council."

 

The Redoran glanced to Velanya, an eyebrow raised. "Where in Oblivion did you find him, cousin?"

[Macman253]

Svarn busied himself with the Forge, preparing it and stoking it. He crafted nails and struts for the repairs and took the time to sharpen and mend the broken blades littered about the ancient temple. As he did so he contemplated the recent events, the arrival of the vampire and the state of Skyrim. His oath to the Blades was the thing that drove him now, before it was the blind desire for revenge against the Forsworn, but most of all he thought on the words spoken to him some nights ago.

 

Lucius turned to face the mage as he pursued him.

 

"Burn them... feed them to wild hounds do whatever you wish." He said coldly as he ascended the stairs to the watchtower, he moved about the Temple as if he had lived there for a century but walking these halls in his mortal life felt very different from now. His senses were sharper, his eyes keener he saw in dark places he could not see before as if the sun itself were shining at his back and no matter how many decades past he never quite got used to that.

 

When he arrived at the top of the tower he had a full view of the Reach, the golden spires of Markarth in the distance and beyond that was Orsinium. He stood still and watched, his keen eyes scanning the treeline for movement.

[AurianaValoria1]

Velanya smirked, "He found me."

 

She sighed, jerking a thumb behind her, "There are beds in the rear of the temple, if you don't mind sleeping on filthy animal hides and moldy straw. Until that furniture shipment comes in, it's all we have."

 

---------------------------------------------

 

Sandhya kicked a few loose stones around the courtyard of Sky Haven Temple. She, like the vampire, scanned the surrounding area for disturbances. The scent of the Forsworn was still thick in the air, though it was dissipating slowly with the wind. It would take time to completely run them off from this area, and until they could build up enough recruits to keep them at bay, it would be somewhat difficult to retain control of the Karthspire.

 

--------------------------------------------

 

"So, recruits," Faeryn spoke up at last, "How are we going to find them? Legion stragglers? Dominion-haters? Or will they find us, as we have found each other?"

Edited October 20, 2013 by AurianaValoria1