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Post by Anticlere on Feb 8, 2010 19:30:16 GMT
OOC: Sorry for really late reply, I kind of kept pushing it back on the schedule.
IC: Nelson rose his eyebrow slightly when Qa'Nari claimed that 'this, here' was an adventure, reffering to the tavern. Well, sure, socialising might be rather bad, but seriously? Is this more daunting than facing off against Gods know what breed of bloodthirsty monsters and such? I mean, no one's gonna bite your leg off in a tavern. Though I suppose he doesn't seem very worried by the prospect of losing limbs... Odd fellow. He found his newfound Khajiit friend's views to be rather different to his; for some reason, though, he found it refreshing. Maybe because he was speaking with someone who seemed to struggle with simple conversations as much as he did. Best not tell him that though. Wouldn't come off as really friendly...
The Breton was going to respond, however another person invited herself to their conversation. Alongside Qa'Nari the Bretoness seemed tiny; however then he supposed he looked the same way. At least my robe gives me an illusion of bulk... I think. I hope...
From the way this Mia spoke Nelson gathered she was one of the Champions, or at least someone heavily involved with the Oblivion Crisis, enough so to step into a Gate; his respect for her shot up a couple notches for that. Surprisingly she didn't look that much older than Nelson himself; even more surprisingly, she was a healer, and he knew that for one to be a skilled healer they must place much effort into the school of Restoration, frequently at the expense of their other magickal skills and physical capabilities. He himself wasn't much of a mage precisely because of that - he didn't have the time to spare, not enough to make up for his lack of natural talent anyway.
"Pleased to meet you." The ex-squire chased away his considerations about Mia's capabilities to respond to her introduction with a nod that was to make up for the lack of a far more formal small bow he would've performed had he been standing. "I'm Nelson and I'm, uh, hoping not to get killed I guess. I hope you take no offense if I say I wouldn't like to get to know your profession closer on this trip, for obvious reasons." Nice, a crappy joke. Go get them.
Nelson was about to sink into silence and chastise himself further, however caught himself before stepping over the edge. He wasn't really used to three-way conversations, so he supposed he should try maintain the conversation to prevent that most annoying of things in a conversation, an awkward silence.
"Yes, I suppose we will be going with y'all to... wherever it is we're going. If it happens to be the Deadlands then you won't see me smiling anytime soon. I can't claim much expertise with anything of the sort, and I'd bet my cloak first time is never too great when dealing with such matters."
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Post by shadow666 on Feb 8, 2010 23:36:39 GMT
Mia shrugged at his attempt at a joke. "Well see to it that you don't do anything stupid while on out adventure." Mia said as she glanced across the table, at Qa'Nari trying to see his reaction to her being there, before returning her gaze to Nelson as he mentioned about the deadlands.
"Well we wouldn't be here talking about this today if the gates to the Deadlands were still open.. nope this time we are off to the Shivering Isles.. Urgh the thought of having to deal with those damn Aureals, and those damn Mazken who everyone keeps thinking are seducers.. bah they aren't even attractive, makes me want to show them the diff-" Mia continued doing her whole rant about disliking the way mortals call the Mazken Dark Seducers. The Breton soon realised that she ranted and stopped.
"Would you excuse me, i should go check back with Karst to make sure everyone is here to begin the briefing for the task ahead. Nice meeting you Nelson, i'd better let Qa'Nari get back to is meal before he loses his concentration again" She said and laughed a little to herself, knowing only the Khajiit would understand that bit since he left suddenly before.
What are you trying to do.. Broadcast to the entire Tavern that you a daedra? Demona said in an annoyed tone.
At least i stopped myself.. and besides i am pretty sure they all know the story by now unless Jauffre and the blades decided to cover up the fact that a daedra was the one who helped closed the deadlands from the world forever. I wouldn't put it past him, since he still believes that i am a daughter to him.. Mia replied and then sighed outwardly as she returned to the table where Vivian and Odeen were and looked at Karst briefly, realising that she was busy.
"I guess there must be someone else new still to come here.. otherwise she would have spoken up by now.." Mia said to herself and gazed at Vivian again wondering what he was going to talk to her about when they got back to the hotel.
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Aulakauss
Waker
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Post by Aulakauss on Feb 9, 2010 0:56:59 GMT
[ooc] You guys make me feel silly with all your good posts. And Darkom, that Psijic's gonna tie my brain in knots, lol. Nice job.
Anyway, three cheers for a small semblance of plot progression! And an obscenely long post! Hurrah! [/ooc]- The Fringe, Gates of Madness- A soft breeze blew threw the mushroom trees, rustling the tangled brown hair of a young Imperial man wearing dark armor rarely seen adorning the body of a mortal. Descending the steps from the Dementia Gate, he passed the lumbering mountain of flesh that was the Gatekeeper. An ancient looking Dunmer stood before it, swathed in a green-and-purple robe. The man nodded respectfully as he passed and the mer turned to tap his staff against his head in a return greeting. Trotting merrily down the stairway to Passwall, Greldar wondered what the newest group to enter the Isles would be like. 'I hope they last longer than that first set of mercs. They're no fun if they just up and die the first chance they get,' Greldar rubbed the scruff on his chin while he thought, 'Dunken did seem pretty sure of this Khajiit he sent for, though. I just hope he's not a jerk.'His feet carried him all the way down the slope into town and halfway to the Wastrel's Purse before a shrill voice in the distance behind him made him stop and giggle. He knew that voice anywhere. 'She's always just a tiny bit late, isn't she?'" Greeeeldaaaar!" the girl's yelling met his ears and he turned, folding his arms and grinning at a Bosmeri woman, small even for her race, bouncing down the steps three at a time, her battered glass boots pounding the ground as she ran, "Hey, Grel, wait up! Please? I didn't mean to be late, I swear! Don't go without me!" Judging by her current outfit, one would never guess that she was one of the highest ranking women in the realm; her enchanted glass boots were cracked and falling apart, Madness ore soles having been affixed to the bottoms to keep them operable, a well worn pair of elven greaves at least a size too large belted about her tiny waist and a dark, patched shirt hugged her upper body, tattered at the hem and sleeves, the shreds kept off her hands by being tucked into a set of Orcish gauntlets. Her long raven hair fluttered behind her, mashed underneath a snug Mazken war helmet. Greldar couldn't help but smile, recalling how the smith in Bliss used to glare at her for her sins against fashion. "Where have you been?" The Imperial chastised her good naturedly, "I've been here for hours!" "You're.. you're a big, stinking liar, Grel," the Woof Elf panted, coming to a halt two feet in front of and below his face. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, "I saw you ahead of me as I was running down the road," she raised a finger up and shook it at him, "You oughta treat me better, y'know? I outrank you." "You woke up too early this morning, didn't you, Menelri?" Greldar snickered. The Duchess was always grumpy if she was roused before ten in the morning. Predictably, her hands went to her hips and she huffed at him. "Damn right I did," Menelri barked stiffly, but immediately hung her head, "Dunk's been working me ragged all week.." she lamented. Greldar patted her shoulder with a black gauntlet. "You'll feel better once you get some dinner and a good night's sleep," he reassured her and lifted her chin up with his other index finger, "I'll even get you new tomato." Instantly, the moping expression was gone, and she hugged him, pressing her face against his plated torso. "You're the best, Grel." The little elf practically purred. Greldar patted her back patiently until she let him go, then held the door open to the inn for her. When he reached the counter, he slammed his fist on it. Dredhwen, a Bosmer of much taller stature than his companion, startled awake. "I wasn't sleeping! Nope! Just resting my-- Oh, heavens, look who it is," the proprietor abandoned her excuse when she realized who had woken her, "Lord Greldar and Her Grace, Menelri. What brings you two here?" Menelri grasped the counter and grinned at Dredhwen. "We're gonna greet more new peoples," she announced, but again, her enthusiasm faded before her next sentence, "I just hope they don't die this time.." "We need rooms and dinners. And she needs a tomato, green, if possible," Greldar spoke informatively. The tired woman nodded, yawned and trundled off to prepare their food. The duo seated themselves and, a while later, two plates were placed before them. Gently, Dredhwen placed an unripened tomato on the table beside the other Bosmer's meal. Menelri squealed and snatched it up, turning it this way and that in the candlelight. "Is it okay, Menni?" Greldar asked expectantly. Another few turns of the fruit and the little mer nodded happily. He smiled. "Good. Let's dig in then. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." "Again?" Menelri groaned. "Yes, Menni, again," he replied, snickering again. The elf gave another loud whine of protest at the idea. "Dammit." _______
The more the Altmer spoke, the stronger two separate thoughts became in his head: 'What the hell is this guy on about?' alongside 'And to think I'd almost forgotten why Altmer pissed me off..'By the time the tattooed elf had finished, Zant's ears were flat to the sides and the tip of his tail flicked absently. Even if you couldn't read a Khajiit's body language, the slight raise of one eyebrow and squint of the other told of his puzzlement and just a tad of his annoyance. Before he could speak, another thought occurred to him, which he had to consciously not laugh at. 'I should've just dragged Karst over here to deal with it.'Of course, the warrior cat would never voice any of these. Somehow, this 'Psijic' as he'd termed himself had figured out his reason for being here. By the way he reacted, Zant realized this oddity in gray was here to see Karst. His previous thought's sudden upgrade in relevance made him smirk. "I.. see. Well, I suppose you must be here to see Karst, then," the armored Khajiit nodded, then turned, "C'mon, I'll take you to 'er." When he saw her, however, she had her head down and her eyes shut, seemingly asleep. Gently, he grabbed her bare arm and shook her, grinning. "Wake up, punk. You've got company," _______ Karst felt her eyelids getting heavy. She blinked, shut them, then relaxed for a few seconds before she realized she was falling asleep and jerked them open once more. A lazy hand retrieved what was left of her bottle of ale and she emptied it into her stomach, placing the empty container with a slight clink on the table. Karst looked up at Reissa, lethargy plaguing her every movement, and yawned. 'Vaermina must hate me,' she complained internally, 'I haven't slept properly in weeks.'"I'm.. just gonna lay my head down for a moment," Karst explained to the other Khajiit mid-yawn, then did as she said she was going to, "Poke me if I don't wake up in ten minutes." She had barely closed her eyes for three seconds before sleep took her. Opening her eyes, Karst felt soft grass underneath her and saw a massive root but inches before her nose. She blinked wearily at it for a moment before she climbed to her feet. It was a strange forest, as far as forests went, for it was comprised of mushrooms instead of trees. But that was as it had always been, and how it always would be. No sense fretting over it.
Her boots crunched in the grass, the blades emitting a sweet, tantalizing scent as they were pulverized underfoot, and Karst breathed deeply of it. The air was sweet, too, but on her tongue rather than her nose. All she could think of was that she never wanted to leave..
Continuing deeper though the towering fungi, it began to get dark. Within a minute, she would not have been able to see were she not a Khajiit, and even so it was difficult. Somewhere in the darkness, something began to giggle, a hissing, grating sound that sent shivers from the tip of her tail to the base of her skull. More voices soon joined it, and before long, the air around her was filled with insane laughter.
Then as quickly as it started, it stopped.
Karst swallowed hard and reached for her weapons, but found that there was naught but empty sheathes. Seconds ticked by, only the sound of the wind and the ring of silence in her ears. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes felt like hours. Slowly, she backed against a corner to comfort herself, relaxing slightly when she grabbed hold of a root. She began to hear footsteps in front of her, the rhythmic slapping of flesh on dirt. Out of the black curtain, two pricks of light flashed into existence, almond-shaped and red as blood. The giggling began again, but this time no more joined.
Looking back quickly, Karst saw that the forest was gone that way, a sheer cliff having taken its place. The root she held onto turned to dust and sifted through her fingers. When she looked back, the red eyes continued to approach. As it got closer, she could see that whatever it was had to be nearly as tall as she was. Karst got as near the edge as she dared, but the thing kept coming, slowly, as if enjoying her fear.
As it plodded nearer, she began to see details of the creature. It was.. boat shaped, almost, and appeared to have nothing resembling arms. Still closer, she could make out patterns on its body, black and red splotching. When it came within six feet, she tried to scream, but only a tiny squeak wisped from her. At two feet from her face, it stopped, ceased its giggling and stared. The moon came out from behind the clouds and, finally, she could see it in its entirety. The red-eyed face of a giant duck filled her vision. It was grinning, sharp blue teeth bared from inside a black bill. It stepped closer and giggled once more, then lunged.
The bill snapped closed on her throat.Karst jerked awake, gasping, her hand shooting to her neck. She sighed heavily in relief when she felt nothing but her own warm fur. A rough voice above her caught her attention. "Sis, are.. are you all right?" Looking up, she realized how grateful she was for the light in the tavern. When her brain kicked back in enough for her to recognize the face that was peering down at her, she shot from her chair and hugged him. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you.." Karst mumbled into his neck. Zant was unsure what to make of the situation, but he put his arms around his sister nonetheless. "Nightmare?" He asked gently. She nodded into his hair. "You're okay. You want me to get you another drink?" Another nod and a mumbled 'mmhmm' followed. Zant chuckled. "Well, okay then. Here, sit down. This guy here wants to talk to you." Karst watched her brother indicate a tattooed Altmeri man in gray robes standing beside him and gawked stupidly for a moment, still stunned by her dream. "Uh.. okay," she managed weakly and held her hand out towards the man, "Sorry you, uh.. had to see that. I'm Karst. It's nice to meet you."
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Post by Vicorva on Feb 9, 2010 20:25:40 GMT
Qa'Nari found himself somewhat at peace with the halting but polite conversation between himself and Nelson. The man seemed to think before he spoke. He was also rather indoorsy, reminding him a little bit of a house mouse, but his will to go on this 'adventure' and see new things made him appear rather more brave, as far as Qa'Nari was concerned, than he was himself. Besides, he found Nelson's opposing world view interesting- afterall, it would be boring to speak to his own reflection.
However, as Mia spoke, Qa'Nari found himself frowning in puzzlement. Lose my concentration? I didn't lose any concentration. He honestly didn't understand what she was hinting at. For while Mia might believe that Qa'Nari found her distracting, in actuality, Qa'Nari found her slightly upsetting.
He didn't say anything while she remained, although he'd been surprised to learn she was a healer- although now she was wearing a robe, he could see the resemblance. Not that he'd had much chance- the woman seemed to talk a lot, and very quickly too. Most of what she said went entirely over his head, except that it solidified his earlier misconception that she was a prostitute by going on about seducing.
After she left, he shook his head to clear his thoughts, and looked back at Nelson, but found he didn't want to know what to say. Mia had sucked all of the tentative trust and confidence he'd been building right out of him.
He decided to take a bite of his food.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Feb 11, 2010 3:36:18 GMT
In the depths of the Inn, among the crowd, there is a corner. A mysterious, badly lit corner, from which you can smell the fetid, rancid stench of rotting corpses, covered up badly by some lavender salve. Easily unnoticed until this point in time, most patrons of the bar simply blocked it out from their minds. The innkeeper most certainly did, and he advised any who questioned this little shadowy pocket's inhabitant to as well.
Suddenly, though, a soft voice resonated from within the shadows, drawing the attention of those near; a voice that was as commanding as it was gentle, but a little bit wavering. A bandaged hand, sticking from a black robe, accompanied the voice from the shadows. The mysterious figure within the corner had sat forward and now uttered the following words;
"Another beer please! I mean, come on! I've only missed the most important meeting of my life!"
The innkeeper stared incredulously at the tiny mage in the corner, with the huge sarcophagus.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Feb 12, 2010 1:47:44 GMT
"More like wayward average city dweller," Zaire said in response to Lance's last question. "I mean, how long do you reckon a dunmer like me would actually last in some deep dark cave in the wilderness? Actually, in moonlight, I practically glow." She shifted in her seat and added, "What, do you think adventurers have a monopoly on weirdness? Couriers can have fun, too."
Lance never even had the chance to offer up a reply to that last comment; with that perpetual, infantile (and some might have said idiotic, but he wouldn't) grin still stuck on his face, he broke out into a fit of chuckling, having to fight down a bout of full out laughter. What was it about Khajiits, exactly, that made them so damn eccentric anyway? Was it the fact that they were covered head to toe in fur? Or was it just their cat like natures shining through?
Not that Lance was complaining, of course: back in Elsweyr, he'd come to accept the strangeness of the local feline population. Hell, to the horror of some, he'd actually learned to embrace it. They were, after all, a hell of a lot more interesting to be around than some stick-up-their-ass Altmer. When the chuckling finally stopped, Lance took a look at his tankard and noticed that he'd more or less drained it of the sweet cherry ale he'd ordered earlier.
Before summoning the barkeep for another pint of the stuff (it looked like they were going to be there for a while yet), he turned towards Zaire and regarded her with a good natured curiousity. "Say, Zaire, you want anything?" he asked, gesturing with his mug. "I get the feeling that we might be sitting here a bit longer, and I hate to see a beautiful Dunmer like you go thirsty." He fished around in his pocket for a handful of coin.
"C'mon, it'll be my treat," he offered.
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Post by Darkom on Feb 15, 2010 18:15:03 GMT
'Go on, try me,' Ormil thought, one tattooed hand reaching for his enchanted staff, the Khajiit warrior looking for all the ancestors like he was about to pounce. Suddenly, the aggrivated look turned to a jovial smile, or at least what passed for one among the furred beasts.
"I.. see. Well, I suppose you must be here to see Karst, then," the armored Khajiit nodded, then turned, "C'mon, I'll take you to 'er."
Ormil followed the tall warrior to the group of adventurers, stopping in front of a white-and-black striped Khajiit with a plume of blazing red hair. Ormil would have studied her further, but for the moment the warrior's sister, Karst, he had called her, appeared to be asleep. 'Typical Khajiit.'
"Wake up, punk. You've got company," Karst's brother was shaking her gently by the arm, Ormil looking down at the cat disdainfully.
"Karst" shot up suddenly, one white paw seeming to search her neck as if being choked. "Sis," the warrior Khajiit asked tentatively, "Are you all right?"
The red haired cat responded with a sudden embrace, apparently not noticing Ormil standing beside them.
"You're okay. You want me to get you another drink?" the Khajiit asked, recieving a slight nod in reply, the sister's gaudy hair moving up and down, "Well, okay then. Here, sit down. This guy here wants to talk to you."
'"This guy here", the nerve of some of these beasts.' Ormil scowled down at the woman; her almond eyes reminded him of his mother, her stupid expression matching his memories perfectly.
"Uh.. okay," the Khajiit mumbled, holding one weak paw out to him, "Sorry you, uh.. had to see that. I'm Karst. It's nice to meet you."
Ormil looked down at the extended hand for a moment, then returned his gaze to the Khajiit's elvish eyes without returning the greeting.
"Yes, well, your brother has accepted our offer, so the Order will be accompanying you all. We are here to keep an eye on you so called champions, to make sure none of you attempt oegnithr. You are welcome." Ormil's haughty attitude felt as natural to him as performing the Alcharyai rituals every morning, and to Oblivion with what the Khajiit thought about it. Likewise he cared not whether the half elf knew half of what he was saying or not. He was a Psijic, and above such worries.
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Aulakauss
Waker
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Posts: 194
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Post by Aulakauss on Feb 16, 2010 3:06:24 GMT
The Altmer's dress and markings bewildered Karst, and her mind's sleep-clouded mindset was doing nothing to help her make sense of it. He seemed to stare at her hand incredulously for a brief moment before rudely ignoring it. She set the hand on her hip as he began speaking. Before he'd even said one word to her, she'd decided she wasn't going to like him.
"Yes, well, your brother has accepted our offer, so the Order will be accompanying you all," he began, and Karst's ears went back a notch, "We are here to keep an eye on you so called champions, to make sure none of you attempt oegnithr. You are welcome."
Karst knew better than to snap something smarmy back at the man; generally, it seemed the more ridiculous a mage looked and acted, the more powerful it was. Karst had always figured it to be some tradition she'd never been informed of. Even in light of this, her ears flattened and her tail began swishing perturbedly. The Khajiit was in no mood to indulge some random elf's superiority complex right now. Karst's eyes narrowed and her face scrunched into a snarl.
"I'm welcome, am I? And just what the hell did you do that makes you so [censored] special, you pointy-eared cocksucker?" Karst almost literally spat in the Psijic's face, "Please, enlighten me, 'cause I'd really love to hear it."
Zant had sighed and tilted his own ears to the side before Ormil had even finished. He knew Karst, could tell she was tired, and he remembered how she'd treated Vivian when she'd just thought he was being arrogant. This was not going to be pretty.
Zant almost recoiled from the venom his sibling was directing at the Altmer. Sure, he'd come off haughty and self-righteous, but if this was just the first couple sentences of what could very well be a rant, he was getting more spite from her than he deserved.
"Karst, please, calm down. Try to be civil," Zant implored. He flinched minorly when she snapped her head around to glare at him.
"No, Zant. I'm tired of dickwad mages treating me like shit.," The enraged feline looked back to Ormil, "I bet you think you're better than me because you're older than me, don't you? Or is it because you think you're smarter than me? Is that it, goldenrod? That natural Altmer genius what makes you so great? Why don't you go back the way you came and tell your 'Order' that the 'so called champions' don't need your help, or your bullshit."
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Post by Anticlere on Feb 16, 2010 12:52:02 GMT
When Mia left, Nelson shot a curious glance at Qa'Nari. What exactly did she mean by that..? He hadn't noticed the earlier 'exchange' between the two, having been a bit overwhelmed by the whole experience. Whatever it was, though, he didn't feel comfortable poking around other peoples' business, or anything that could've potentially been that; there were other things to think of anyway.
What a strange woman. What does she have against these 'Dark Seducer' beings that'd upset her so? Well, asides from them being Daedra and all. He frowned to himself. Not being a large fan of the Daedra, Princes or otherwise, he took particular offense with those Daedra who had Dibella's gift of beauty given to them by their Princes; it seemed wrong to him in every way. But it wasn't the case with Mia, apparently; she sounded more personal about it than Nelson.
Asides from the fact Mia was a champion (a rather odd one though), Nelson couldn't say he liked her a whole lot. She'd kind of broken his conversation with Qa'Nari for one thing. And then there was the fact he felt a bit uncomfortable around her, though he didn't know why exactly. Perhaps it's just the fast talking. Those who talk fast tend not to think much before they do, wasn't it? Recalling a piece of his master's wisdom made the squire smile for a brief moment.
For a moment he considered attempting to start up the conversation between him and Qa'Nari again, but even though he wasn't much good at judging Khajiits' moods from appearance, he could guess that his warrior tablemate didn't feel like talking anymore. Perhaps that was for the better; right now Nelson himself would've preferred to just wait for Karst to explain more and then be on the way. The more he lingered, the less willing he felt to get going; particularly now that he was sure of their destination.
Daedric realm... Damn.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Feb 16, 2010 21:19:37 GMT
Alyssa's ears perked up; the tiny Breton, being left alone by most of the inn and, to her gall, even the barkeep, was given the chance to catch up on some nice, juicy gossip throughout the tavern. However, she did not expect to hear something that actually had a grounding on her reality; talk of Champions and adventure. To this end, her jaw dropped open, and the bottle of mead she'd snuck in had smashed itself against the floor. Face now flushed with embarrassment, she quickly swept the glass under a moldy floorboard, and started to make her way through the quickly-parting crowd, coffin in tow. The Breton's features flushed even more as she felt the patrons scornful looks.
Could it be, She thought to herself, almost at the table with the odd band of adventurers. that I'm to receive a second chance at going?
Her slow, shuffling footsteps and the chinking of her mithril under the cloak could be heard as she approached, coming up directly behind Qa'Nari, covered from view of most of the table by his imposing stature. However, what preceded her arrival by an even longer time was the stomach-wrenching stench that pervaded herself and her coffin. She tapped the large Qa'Nari on the shoulder, hoping to find answers.
"Umm, Mr. Giant...I was...umm...wondering if, well...maybe...this is the group of adventurers headed for...umm...a strange gate in the middle of nowhere and umm..." The Breton paused for breath and composure, before leaping onto the giant's back in a big bear hug. She yelled it out like a needy child; "Could I please come with you all!? Preeeeetty Pleeeeaaaase!"
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Post by Vicorva on Feb 17, 2010 10:05:39 GMT
OOC: Awesome awesome post, Chaos. I think I'm going to like Alyssa. As for Qa'Nari... IC: Nelson and Qa'Nari remained seated in silence while Qa'Nari finished up his large plate of food. Contemplating all that he had learned, he found that he was as excited about this adventure as he was nervous. There was some strange pleasure, some indefinable triumph in walking somewhere you had never walked before. Perhaps it was the strange sensation that each step had never been taken before; perhaps it was the realms of possibilities provided by uncharted or unknown territory. And certainly, the wealth of new scents filled him with a headiness that was quite pleasant. New things were what kept the world fresh, were the reason that what he abhorred more than anything else was imprisonment. Nothing ever changed in a cage. And on a strange level, he felt that although his personal space had already been thoroughly abused, there was yet some potential in the company for this mission. Nelson was quiet and polite, and although a strange, houseish man, he seemed to understand a good deal about boundaries, the only social custom Qa'Nari had ever fully embraced or understood. And the dunmer Vivian had quickly made him feel more at ease, providing him with easy conversation to hide behind, and not worry too much about any signals or messages he was projecting- Vivian came at a terrible price, however. And finally, there was Karstine, who he had only just started to get to know. But Karstine was a female Zeterra and showed all of the usual signs no less- complete disregard for authority, a love of liquor and a strange air of mothering which was as uncomfortable to Qa'Nari as it was familiar. It would be fascinating to see what kind of person his distant relative was. As Qa'Nari thought, his muscles lost their tenseness and his ears lost their edgy twitching. Gradually, an air of peace settled on the broad khajiit. Then there was a tap on his shoulder that jarred him out of his thoughts; his ears snapped back to listen even as he began to turn around, and he was hit by the full force of her stench and the horrific coffin strapped to her back. "Umm, Mr. Giant...I was...umm...wondering if, well...maybe..." She seemed to take a very long time to speak. Mr. Giant? Was she speaking to him? She continued, "This is the group of adventurers headed for..." 'Nari scratched his white mane, waiting. "...Umm..." she said. "A strange gate in the middle of nowhere and umm..." she said again and paused for breath. The cathay was beginning to see where this was going. WHAT IN AZURA'S NAME WAS SHE DOING? Qa'Nari let out a throaty, unkhajiit-like growl as the coffin woman threw herself onto his back and clung like a baby imga around his neck, cawing like a hungry crow. "Could I please come with you all?!" she cried. "Preeeetty Pleeeaaaase!" Eyes slightly wild, he looked over at Nelson. "One minute," he said and rose from his seat with necromancer and coffin still on board. Alyssa and her coffin were not together as heavy as his armour, although he found the weight distrubution a little disconcerting. He strode at a steady pace so as not to disturb his passenger over to where Karstine was stood with a khajiit clearly her kin and an ugly altmer. "Karstine," said Qa'Nari without even thinking about interrupting or noting the fury on Karst's face nor the tension in everyone's postures. "She... This woman..." he sighed. "I have something for you." And boy, did she stink. ------------------- Zaire shifted in her seat, fidgeting with her claws while Lance laughed, an uncertain smile on her own face. "Say, Zaire," he said. "You want anything? I get the feeling that we might be sitting here a bit longer, and I hate to see a beautiful Dunmer like you go thirsty." She narrowed her eyes for a split second, while he was diverted by looking for coins. "Come on," he urged. "It'll be my treat." "Like hell am I going to let someone try that on me again," she said, nose wrinkled in semi-hiss. "I'm not-," A fetid stench bombarded her senses; she sneezed once, and then again, spinning in her seat, proceeded by her ears. It all seemed to happen at once, and very quickly; Karst spitting at a tattooed altmer- a Psjiic, was she insane? (hopefully)- while a coffin bearing woman (very pretty, Zaire inwardly sighed) launched herself onto the back of a very large cathay, pleading shrilly. And then suddenly, the two insane situations were mixed. Forgetting her distrust of Lance in her excitement, she rested a hand lightly on his arm. "Come on," she urged, eyes bright with excitement. "We don't wanna miss out on this!" She tugged him towards the melee of strangeness.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Feb 21, 2010 2:24:45 GMT
"Like hell am I going to let someone try that on me again."
Struck by the apparent disdain lacing her words, Lance looked up from his coin hunting to see Zaire practically hissing at him, unable to shake the feeling that a very unpleasant 'Oh shit' moment was about to unleash itself at him.
Practically a matter of reflex, Lance shot his hands up defensively in front of him. "Hey now," he began cautiously, suddenly very aware of the sharp claws sported by the apparently angry turquoise cat sitting right in front of him. "It's not like that, Zaire! I just-"
"I'm not-" Zaire shot at him, but Lance never did find out what it was she wasn't going to do; without warning, she suddenly sneezed twice in succession, sending herself into a spinning motion with the effort of it. And just like that, her attention seemed to wander off somewhere else.
"Zaire? Are...you okay?" Lance asked carefully, eager to avoid the kind of situation that had, he was sure, nearly ended with giant claw marks across his face. The more he spoke to Zaire, the more he was sure that even by Khajiit standards, she was abnormal.
Unfortunately for him (and possibly Zaire), curiousity killed more than just cats.
In a complete 180 from her earlier disposition, Zaire suddenly placed her hand gently on Lance's arm. Just as he was about to ask her what the hell was going on, she looked to him, her eyes almost electric with excitement. "Come on, we don't wanna miss out on this!" she told him, pulling him forward.
"Huh?" Lance asked, a clearly confused expression washing over his face. "Miss out on what? What are you-" It was only when Lance directed his attention ahead of him that he had any idea what it was she was talking about.
Karst, apparently on the brink of getting into a quarrel with some Altmer, was being approached by a larger, obviously male Khajiit, a Breton girl latched onto his back. And on the Breton's back...was that a coffin?
"By the golden beard of Tiber Septim..." Lance muttered softly to himself, feeling the muscles in both hands twinge slightly with anticipation.
It looked like Quickfists the Pitdog might have to do some bar brawling yet.
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Post by shadow666 on Feb 26, 2010 14:31:18 GMT
After Mia had sat back down at her previous table, she spied a most curious sight. A breton girl about her size with a coffin much larger than herself pouncing on Qa'Nari, making the Khjaiit growl and made Mia laugh a bit before realising making fun of the massive cat might not be such a good idea after all, not after what had happened earlier.
Her gaze returned to Odeen and Vivian, both seemed to be quiet for some reason but she didn't mind it much. Trying to find out what had happened in the time during the separation of the original party might not be good conversation in a place so busy like the tavern. Besides there are some things that should not be said with many overhearing ears in close proximity of them. Instead of talking to the others, she sighed and went over the people she had just met.
Many of the new people didn't seem to be comfortable around Mia, and she didn't really know why. Did she speak too much? Was it something she said, or were a few rumors about her being a daedra not culled by the blades?
Whatever the reasoning behind it was, again the tavern setting was not the best place to talk about others and get to know them, at least not in Mia's ways of getting to know others anyway, and especially Demona's.
Mia snapped out of her daze and now saw that Qa'Nari was now standing near Karst with his back turned slightly towards her with the small Breton still clinging to his back . As Mia was about to turn away, the sight of the Psijic Altmer caught her eye and her eyes narrowed unwillingly due to Demona's disgust at the man.
those damned Psijics think they have everything going for them, that they know everything that there is to know in the world. Funny that he hasn't told the others about us then Demona thought to Mia and she nodded slowly.
I don't think he would instantly recognise us, but that mark that is now visible on my eyelid might focus his attention on us. Mia replied and turned her head away from them to ensure he wouldn't notice the daeric mark on her eyelid.
Just don't blink then, simple Demona thought back and rolled Mia's eyes.
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Post by Darkom on Feb 27, 2010 19:53:24 GMT
OOC: Fun fun fun ;D
IC: The strange Khajiit looked up at Ormil with disgust; these heathens never seemed to understand. Do they want to disrupt the change?
"I'm welcome, am I? And just what the hell did you do that makes you so [censored] special, you pointy-eared cocksucker?" Ormil's cool eyes flared, his pride boiling over as the cat continued, "Please, enlighten me, 'cause I'd really love to hear it."
The Psijic had never seen such insolence; he was deserving respect as an elder, as a mage, and as one of the Enlightened. The Order did not approve of violence, and though he knew his masters saw all, he still found a swirl of purplish magicka forming around his person. He seemed to be outlined in a hazy glow, casting him in shadow while at the same time showing every sharp feature with intense clarity. The air around him felt charged, tight, threatening to break at the slightest touch.
Before Ormil could reply, the Khajiit's brother approached beseeching "Karst"; at least one of them had some sense.
"No, Zant. I'm tired of dickwad mages treating me like shit. I bet you think you're better than me because you're older than me, don't you? Or is it because you think you're smarter than me? Is that it, goldenrod? That natural Altmer genius what makes you so great? Why don't you go back the way you came and tell your 'Order' that the 'so called champions' don't need your help, or your bullshit."
The magical haze grew, his shadow rising up behind him like a cloud, nearby candles flickering out, the only light seemed to come from Ormil's now purple eyes. He felt the disturbance of the Breton girl, but paid the rest of the tavern no heed. This Khajiit must be taught a lesson first.
Ormil's voice came slow and deep, somehow echoing despite the tavern's size, his robes billowing around him in the charged air. "We of the Order extended our gracious services out of higher purpose; you would not understand why we are, so I do not find it wise for you try and cross us. I do not give our help because I desire for you to do well, or even return alive. Should I decide that you all are in danger of breaking the Change- the Psij that guides us- I have been given explicit permission to remove you all."
The Altmer paused, realizing the extent of magic he was performing unconsciously, and decided to drive his point home. The familiar energy of the Old Way, those threads of magicka drawn from the Great Ancestors, pulsed through his tall frame. The energy flowed like water, drawing up from his center, coiling down his arms, glowing with a dark zeal as it traced his tattoos. His feet raised inches from the ground, his robe flowing down, concealing his levitation. He would not hurt the cat, just frighten her a bit; though she was rude and ungrateful, that did not make her oegnither.
"We are not special, Karst," he spit the name out like spoiled milk, "We are Enlightened, and because of that we are both blessed and cursed. I would not think you to understand us, but at least know when you are outclassed. So think carefully this time; the Order has extended its services to you- you are welcome."
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Post by FC4 on Feb 28, 2010 14:06:06 GMT
Vivian waited on Odeen's examination of the poisons, but he was not oblivious to the occurrences around him. Which is why when his candle flickered and died at his table the reformed assassin turned to see the cause, watching as the violet hue of light surrounded the Altmer standing in front of Karst and Zant.
Bad idea. One of Vivian's hands shot to his boot while the other reached for his thigh, drawing two knives in unison from their sheathes. He moved towards the Altmer with quick, soft steps that seemed calculated and graceful, his weapons held backhanded in his cloth-wrapped fists. He didn't know much about magic, but he knew silver hurt magical things more than common weapons, and that some mages could use enchantments against you.
Which is precisely why the two arms that wrapped around the thin Altmer's waist held a tempered silver dagger and a steel serrated knife. The two Dunmeri arms wrapped tight around his foe, the knife edges facing towards golden skin and with one wrong move could sever robe and flesh. Vivian had expertly pointed them downward with a gentle tilt; if he pulled his arms down, the elf would find his kidneys stabbed.
"I would not think you to understand this, mage." Vivian hissed behind the sorcerer. "But I don't take kindly to open threats of my companions. Particularly when they are my family. If I thrust down my arms, you are pierced. I advise you to carefully rework your address to the lady, remove any hint of threat, and address us as if we have some Enlightenment as to how this world works. We have lived through Oblivion, after all."
Vivian was, of course, working on instinct. If Iris had been there, she'd be palming her face at the scene, knowing full well Vivian had no gauge of the power the mage he threatened could potentially wield.
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