Wisdom of the Ancestors - An Elder Scrolls RP

[Zephyr2011]

Ra'Qassar was feeling much better, he was a little surprised though. He had always been a fast healer, quick to re-energize and nigh tireless. However, the last time he had been to Labyrinthian he had been left lethargic and drained for several days afterwards. He wondered why it was different this time. He hoped the lich might be able to help him understand that. But for now, he had much to think on and he settled into his usual position at point. As they exited the great snowy pass that encompassed Labyrinthian, Ra'Qassar thought it might be a good idea to run an alternate route by his companions. "There is a network of game trails from here to the Reach. I know them well and they may get us there faster and help us avoid some of the larger Forsworn encampments. The trails may be a little rough at times though and if we are are caught unawares no help will be forthcoming on the way." Ra'Qassar was fine with either road or trail marching, but he felt more comfortable amidst the tall prairie grasses and the dappled sunlight left on his skin by trees overhead. The choice was more up to his companions though, so he left it to them.

 

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Galus stayed as far away from Baltis as possible. His blood boiled being anywhere near the monster and it was all he could do to not lash out. He did however add to Ra'Qassar's option, "The main Thalmor encampments in the Reach are along the roadways or south of the Karth river for the most part, we could expect significantly less trouble from them if we follow these game trails I suspect."

 

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Baltis kept a steady stride with Adrynn, observing the group. He could feel the anger and hatred rolling off of Galus and the mingled suspicion and curiosity of Ra'Qassar. Adrynn was more enigmatic, but he sensed a tension had begun to flow out of the grizzled war veteran. The other Khajiit, Sandhya, she was a jovial sort, but a very self-preservationist one. He could tell that she was constantly assessing the situation, she made sure she was on the winning side. Ordinarily he might think that that warranted close watching, but they were not fighting a Daedric Prince. They were the winning side, one way or the other. Some of the others were more difficult to read or he just plain didn't bother to. There was only so much he should concern himself with. He smirked a little when Galus shifted farther and farther towards point with Ra'Qassar to get away from himself. Forgiveness was not in the boy, he was his father's son, that was a certainty. Baltis just hoped that he wasn't a fool like his father was as well.

[Glitchipedia]

All my fancy magic tricks, Willis thought, and not a single navigation spell.

 

He didn't know what he had expected, coming to Skyrim without any foreknowledge of where anything was, or where to begin looking for his quarry. Perhaps he had been counting on the Nine to guide him, or perhaps he had simply placed too much trust in his own gut. Either way, he now stood on the side of a trail Akatosh-knows-where, inwardly frustrated by the fact that, to him, everything looked the same in every direction. For days, he had wandered without success. People he had met on the road had turned out to be less than helpful—some even worse than others. Well, if nothing else, he could follow the blood trail back the way he came.

 

Scratching the back of his head through the hood of his dull blue mage robe, he turned on his heels and tried to consider all his options. At about that moment, by sheer happenstance, his dark eyes spotted a small company of armed individuals—mixed men, elves and a pair of Khajiit, it seemed, as well as what looked like some sort of dog. Though asking around hadn't done him much good so far, Willis wasn't the type to give up easily. He had to believe his persistence would eventually pay off. For all he knew, everything counted on it.

 

With little consideration for the possible consequences, he stepped out in front of the travelers in the hope they would stop to hear him out.

 

"Excuse me," he began. His voice was deep and gravelly, sounding much older than he himself really was. "I am in need of assistance."

Edited August 30, 2013 by Glitchipedia

[AurianaValoria1]

Sandhya was curious about this robed man that now stood in their path, but she said nothing. She simply crossed her arms and glanced at Ra'Qassar and Adrynn - the two who seemed to hold the most authority amongst them.

[darkedge42392]

Adrynn's stride was hampered by his slight limp, but he kept moving. His thoughts had been dark since they had left Labyrinthian, and he couldn't force himself to change them. Luckily it seemed, fate had a way of doing that for him.

 

A mage stepped out in front of them, asking for assistance. Adrynn stopped, surprised by his sudden arrival. The Redoran had not been paying quite as close attention to his surrounds as he should have. He leaned on his good leg, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. He eyed the mage up and down once, before replying.

 

"What do you require, mage?" Adrynn asked his deep voice carrying through the space between them.

[Glitchipedia]

Seeing that the group at least seemed willing to listen to his plight, Willis lowered his hood so his slender, pale face could be seen.

 

"I've journeyed here from afar," he told them, "without making the proper preparations. I'm afraid I'm lost. I'm hoping one of you could tell me where I am, and possibly help me find someone."

 

His accent, while still obviously Breton in nature, was a bit muddled, a result of the extensive traveling he had done over the years. One would think his experience would have left him better-prepared, but being in somewhat of a rush, he was bound to forget things once in a while.

[Macman253]

Svarn flipped his two handed axe around in his hand and stepped closer, he looked to the mage. Fenrir stood beside him.

 

"You are in the Reach... You are lucky to be alive stranger, the Forsworn don't much like foreigners here." He said calmly as he drew back his hood to reveal his face.

[Glitchipedia]

Willis regarded the Nord with a stoic expression.

 

"I can't say I care much for Forsworn," he said. "But they're the least of my problems. All our problems, in fact."

 

He turned to again face the elf who had first spoken.

 

"It is best we not remain here whilst speaking of this. Please, allow me to accompany you a short distance."

[darkedge42392]

Adrynn hesitated. He did not yet quite know what to think of this stranger, but it was better to be cautious than foolhardy.

 

"You may travel with us, mage. But know that where we go, there will be bloodshed. I have kin that need my help, and I have already been detoured once before," he said, shifting his weight under his heavy black cloak and glancing at Baltis. The lich's eyes were mere pinpricks of crimson light in their sockets. He frowned, already guessing the what the questions might be.

[mythicdawnmaster]

No sooner than the stoic adventures had made their way into the reach, was Iodiria ambushed.

 

Barely registering the projectile that flew towards her as she rushed through the craggy scenery of the reach upon horseback, she realized what it was too late to do anything about it, and the crude forsworn arrow found it's mark upon her breastplate, forcing the Ordinator from her steed and onto the cobbled ground bellow.

 

Grunting in anger and pain, Iodiria gripped the shaft and snapped it, throwing it to the ground and drawing her scimitar. Pushing down the visor of her effeminate helmet, the carved tears a deep ebony, marked her as one of the Mournful Guard. She advanced forwards slowly, her steed butchered ahead, and the rattling bones that dangled from the Forsworn's uncouth armour clattering around her.

 

From her left came the first, a Ravager armed with a pair of serrated wooden blades, ducking before the onslaught of crazed swordsmanship, Iodiria swung her blade to parry, severing the first blade of the woman. With a violent thrust the ravager was impaled upon Iodiria's curved blade, a pair of twists followed, and the Ravager was down.

 

Removing her weapon in time to avoid the axe of another assailant, Iodiria circled the man with an air of superiority, pride. As he rushed for her, she used the intact shoulder of her pauldrons to cut him off, his rush stopped as the elongated piece hit his throat. Gripping the back of his head, she forced her blade up between his ribs, and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.

 

The next attack however was one the general could not avoid, before she had the chance to turn, the greatsword had penetrated her side, swung with such a force against the ancient cuirass that is split the lacquered chitin, and left a deep gouge that had already started to bleed profusely.

 

Spinning, she made for her attacker, only to find his gargantuan size near impossible to hit. With another swing he caught her leg, cutting her outer thigh and further angering the aged warrioress. With a great hand the savage gripped Iodira by the throat, lifting her writing body into the air. His fingers tightened as he began crushing her windpipe.

 

With a symphony of choking Iodiria narrowed her gold flecked eyes, feeling the blood rush to her head. With the last of her might she swung her lower body forwards, her legs gripping tightly the Forsworn's neck. With powerful muscles, the Mournful General began to twist, in a struggle of whom could snap the others neck first.

 

As her body dropped, back hitting the floor hard, the corpse of her would be assailant dropped atop her, his neck having lost it's stiffness, lolling to the side almost comically. Panting heavily, Iodiria pulled herself from beneath the carcass, retrieving her blade, she attempted to continue down the path, but the wound to her leg had already proven too much, and she collapsed in a heap, crawling pitifully in an attempt to reach the grass verge.

[AurianaValoria1]

Faeryn's keen ears picked up the sound of battle nearby.

 

"Serra! On your guard!" he said, quickly drawing his scimitar.

 

The sounds quickly dissipated, to be replaced with the rustling of someone crawling in the dirt. The Ordinator glanced around and crouched in a ready stance...

 

...until his eyes fell upon yet another form he had not seen more than forty years.

 

"Iodiria?" he inquired aloud, moving cautiously over to what appeared to be the Mournful General herself.

 

The armor confirmed it, and he sheathed his weapon quickly, kneeling beside the once Living Saint, "Iodiria! What in Oblivion...?"

 

As he gently touched her shoulder to get her attention, he couldn't help but think that they were all being drawn together again for some reason. They all had known each other long ago, had fought side by side against the enemies of not only the Empire but also Nirn itself. Was this fight against the Thalmor truly of similar proportions? And if so, would they survive it this time around?

 

Taking it upon himself to help her whether she wanted it or not, he cast a medium-strength healing spell upon her in hopes that she could stand afterwards. If not, he had already decided that he would carry her back to the camp. She was vulnerable out in the open by herself, as the distant pile of dead Forsworn indicated.

Edited September 1, 2013 by AurianaValoria1