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Post by Vicorva on Jun 22, 2011 14:25:34 GMT
Characters: No approval needed. Character sheets to be posted in CS Thread: see below Content Rating: Adult. Things could get rough, but lets not get too graphic if we can help it. Genre: Story/Faction
WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER
Welcome to Solstheim, an icy hell hole by all accounts. Nobody in their right mind would come here. And yet, here we are.
There are a few main factions on Solstheim. There's the Skaal, the native nords who seem to tolerate the cold and worship the nature here. They're tribal and are set against the imperial plans for the island.
Then there's the East Empire Company, an enormous imperial merchant operation interested in one thing: making money. They have plans for Solstheim, and its plentiful ebony resources. They hope to set up a mining colony here, a risky venture, but a potentially lucrative one.
The Imperial legion are also here- although most of their men are supposedly sent as punishment. They have one station here, Fort Frostmouth, the Empire's futile claim on a useless island.
And there are dangers here. So very many dangers. The island is full of beasts that would make mainland morrowind's wet themselves and hide in the resulting puddle. There are mad nords and outcast witches and rumours of a dark prophecy. And then, of course, the frost wolves and bears, enormous magical killing machines. And death by exposure.
So this is frozen hell. Whatever you've done to land yourself here, or if you were stupid enough to come of your own volition, this is life now. One thing is certain, though.
It won't be boring.
FACTIONS
In WHFO (that just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?), you will be able to play as one of several opposing factions. Plotlines and characters will vary greatly from the game: consider this a slightly tweaked alternate universe. Most factions will have opposing plotlines and will be working against one another.
Although I am functionally God of this RP, players may bring their own plotlines and story ideas for their factions and their characters. What is important is that (for now) I control the Big Guys of each faction, so you only have control over how your personal character represents them. Characters may be given advancing ranks or positions of power if they prove themselves.
Factions may include: -East Empire Company -Skaal Nordic Village -Imperial Legion -Raven Rock (currently unavailable) -Imperial Cult (currently unavailable) -Thirsk (currently unavailable) -Werewolf Faction (currently unavailable)
More factions will become available as gameplay continues. Characters may join more than one faction, so long as they aren't in direct opposition.
A slightly tweaked version of the Bloodmoon main quest will also be randomly initiated by me- I'll choose the first (and potentially only) character to be infected by a werewolf and will alert the player by PM. No unsanctioned werewolf encounters please.
CHARACTERS
I like the idea that we don't know all the details of each other's characters. We'll have to pay attention. For this reason, character sheets are out. I only want a name and a brief description to include visible features. If your character is always wearing a veil, I don't need to know what they look like. Don't tell us their personality or their alignment. Include an additional section for their factions.
Come with a plan for a job and a life on Solstheim. Ideally, we won't all be adventurers, although I won't prevent anyone from being one.
Oh yeah, NO ASSASSINS. I just don't think they'll benefit the RP. Maybe at a later date, though, and it's quite likely one of us will eventually become one of sorts by plot.
SKILLS
I'm going to break tradition and instigate a 5 skill system. Characters may choose 3 main skills and two bonus skills. These skills are what they are really, really good at, though they may have miscellaneous talents here or there. Their ultimate skill level is up to the player.
Main Skills (x3) Any weapon skill (a specific weapon) Sneak Any magic skill (a specific school) Hand-to-hand Armour Unarmoured (& dodge) Acrobatics (not dodge) Athletics Block/Shield
Bonus Skills (x2) Armourer Enchant Alchemy Mercantile Speechcraft Security and non-game skills such as smithy, crafting, sewing or cooking or something I haven't thought of.
Bonus skills are basically trade skills, while Main skills are more adventurer/survival-orientated.
Okay guys, sorry for the hand-holding. I just think this will help us specialise. I'm trusting you to record these down somewhere, because these DO NOT go on your character sheet.
TIME TO PLAY!
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 24, 2011 7:00:05 GMT
OOC: Character Sheets in the CS thread. IC: Thank every aedra and daedra that it wasn't snowing. A small argonian shivered- or more accurately, shook violently- while the ship pulled gently in to port.
"That won't warm you up, you know," came a raspy voice. Dark-Feather glared through dark eyes at the wool-wearing argonian.
"It works for warm-bloods, no? Stupid Basks-In-Sun..." The sandy argonian fluffed up her robe like a bird's feathers. Her voice was light, nasally, and had a faint accent of the Marsh.
Basks-In-Sun chuckled. "But you are not a warm-blood! You're going to live on this frozen iceheap, a lonely argonian, bootless-,"
"-Don't start that again-!"
"-Who's the stupid one now? This is where you get off. And don't come crying to me when your tail falls off!"
Dark-Feather sighed and shuffled off the deck to step onto the cold, cold stone dock. She hissed, certain the cold was blistering the pads of her feet. Could cold even do that?
Priority one: get warm.
The fort was several yards away; she could have lost a toe by then. She looked nearer, where a small group of dunmer and imperials were camped out. Perfect.
She raced over and threw her arms around the first one.
"OW! Get off me!"
Dark-Feather squeezed tighter. "Don't get any ideas, warm-blood, this is purely business." She buried her nose in his jacket while his companions laughed, but she didn't care, it was warm.
Another few moments of the dunmer struggling unsuccessfully to extricate himself, and she released him.
"Filthy argonian!" he shouted, eyes burning into her back as she hopped and skipped (to avoid contact with the snow) into the fort. "You N'wah!"
"A mouth like that is what got your race cursed in the first place!" she called over her shoulder. "Think about it, no?"
She got directions up through the Imperial Shrine to Carnius Maggius, who had her wait on a bench in the hall.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 24, 2011 17:41:41 GMT
Islyths-Eij rested listlessly against the inside of the solid, stone arch that represented the entrance to the Imperial Fort. It was, as with most days in Solstheim, frigid and biting, his Argonian physiology only compounding the issue. Sheltered from the harsh northern winds, he watched with a degree of comfort as the newest ship arrived Basks bringing in yet another poor sap seeking their fortune in the untamed wilderness of the island.
The corners of his mouth flicked upwards almost imperceptibly as the passenger, an Argonian female, charged one of the dockworkers and huddled close to his thick clothing for warmth. A mild commotion arose from the group of Dunmer, mostly laughter yet with some harsh words from the victim, before the smaller Argonian darted away, past Eij and into the Fort. He watched her for a short time, vivid emerald eyes tracking her steadily, until she made her way into the chapel. He sighed, treading towards the chapel door and pulling it open. It had been far too long since a new Argonian arrived.
Inside, he nodded at Dark-Feather, taking a seat beside her on the bench. His powerful, armor-encased tail thudded back and forth behind him, disturbing the furry cloak on his back. With barely a glance to her, his attention more focused on the flame of a nearby torch, he addressed her.
"What brings the hatchling so far North? Is it here of its own will, or...?" He spoke, in his rough, gravelly tone, letting the question hang in the air. He immediately un-looped his axe, placing it on his lap and carefully examining it, as if it might have been damaged between the arch and the chapel.
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 24, 2011 18:03:45 GMT
Dark-Feather looked up at the heavily armoured male, looking not at her but at the torch. Her eyes flicked there then back; now he fussed over his axe like a hen with chicks.
The argonian snorted and drew her robe more tightly around her, not entirely convinced of the warmth of the Chapel. "Hatchling," she repeated, eyes on the floor but her gaze passing through it, contemplative and unreadable. "Adventure and fortune. The only reason, no? But free will..." she trailed off, and hissed something unintelligible under her breath, before looking up at the male once more. "I don't expect one such as you to understand free will."
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"Clock, don't make me kick your ass."
The golden-skinned mer averted his gaze from the Imperial female, who somehow seemed much taller than him. He'd always hated that about women. "As if you could," he replied moodily.
Gaea smiled. "The Captain gave me leave a long time ago to do what it takes to get your ass in gear. I need you to prep the new recruits and transfers, and lead them on their first mission."
"Boo hoo. You're more annoying than my match-making grandmer, you know that?" He put on a high-pitched voice. I've arranged a date for you with Loraloe. Your children would have eyes like the Chimer-,"
"-If you don't, I'll have you shovelling the courtyard."
Clock sighed. "Oh Gods. Manual labour? Alright, I'll traipse around the island and put up with their idiocy. But I won't like it."
Gaea smiled. "Better and better. I've already instructed the guards to send them to the Armoury here."
"Because you knew I'd cave?"
"Bye, Clock."
Clock found the way the imperial marched out of the room thoroughly depressing. He leaned against the wall, giving a look of utter disgust to the room in general. "I hate this place."
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Post by NotApplicable on Jun 25, 2011 8:51:13 GMT
Hunched, Alver stomped though the halls of Fort Frostmoth, following the instructions he'd been absent-mindedly given.
On the wall ahead of him, Alver spotted an unlit torch. He approached scowling and grinding his teeth. When he reached up and touched the torch... it was cold! How long had it been out? What kind of place was this?
He looked over his shoulder and reached for his flask. He doused the rag with its contents and struck a flint from his pocket with his other hand. The torch exploded into flame. Maybe that much oil had been excessive, but Alver was mesmerized. He gazed into the flames and lifted a hand slowly, reaching out to touch.
Footsteps came from around the corner; he automatically snapped away and kept walking, grumbling about having to use half his oil but his back was straight and his feet were light.
When Alver entered the Armoury his expression was still glazed.
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 25, 2011 15:53:11 GMT
OOC: I'm going to assume some things about your char, Chaos, as he was already present. Hope this is okay. IC:
Dark-Feather got to her feet; there was the yawning creak of a door opening, and then a sturdy middle-aged imperial swaggered into the room. His blue and red tunic was regal in colour and was made of expensive silks; his trousers looked as if they'd never seen a speck of dirt and his shoes shined. He smirked and rubbed his hands together.
"Ah, Islyths-Eij," he stumbled over the name without remorse. "I see you've met our new Underling, Dark-Feather."
The sandy argonian inclined her head. "This one is pleased to meet you, muthsera." She watched him with the famed argonian stone-face.
"Of course, of course. Underling, Islyths-Eij is a mercenary servant of our company here and is charged, amongst other things, with protection of our people. And Dark-Feather," he looked now to the armoured argonian. "Dark-Feather comes highly reccomended. I am given to understand she's a hard bargainer, a top-notch potioneer and has a very keen sense," he grinned wolfishly. "Of security. We'll need her to deal with trade once things get started.
"For now, though, I want you both to head for the proposed site. There's a bear cave there that needs to be cleared out and collapsed before we can get started; the beasts have chased off all our skittish miners and builders, and we can't get started 'till it's done. Islyths-Eij, same place you took the first lot; you know the way."
He looked from one to the other. "Well? Get going! Time is money." He strode back into his chambers and slammed the door behind him.
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Clock watched as a dunmer in imperial steel trundled absent-mindedly into the room. His lip curled as he watched, eyes narrowing.
NOTE: the dunmer was already in armour. CONCLUSION: he must a transfer rather than a recruit. NOTE: he was dunmer, not imperial CONCLUSION: he was likely from the Gnisis garrison, they were supposed to be desperate for recruit. NOTE: his eyes were completely glazed and he barely seemed to know where he was walking. CONCLUSION: he was an idiot.
And it was a given that he'd done something wrong to get landed here. Hadn't they all?
"Grab yourself a silver sword, dark elf." He jerked his thumb towards a weapons rack. "Silver's standard issue here, because the damn nords have burial grounds everywhere, which come complete with nord undead. They raid us, every now and then. Also, and I don't mean this personally, don't talk."
He adjusted his gauntlets, pulling them further up and tightening the straps, now completely ignoring the dark elf, having said his piece.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Jun 25, 2011 22:46:46 GMT
OOC: Yep, that's fine. I was just waiting politely for the others who are supposedly planning on joining, I thought there were? Regardless, your assumptions are fine and fit in easily with his story.
IC:
Eij chuckled raspily at the implications from Dark-Feather. They were, of course, understandable. He had the gait and posture of someone who'd resigned himself to life on the island, and the equipment of a mercenary. He pondered over the new arrival for a short time more, polishing his axe in the warm torchlight, until he was interrupted, rather abruptly, by his employer. He looked up, locking his eyes on the man, and leaning in. He nodded absently at the man's words, standing up and cracking his knuckles. He sighed; his break from duty had been quite enjoyable, recently,
Dark-Feather...hmm...a robe...not too skinny... He nodded in approval, bowing to her, bending at the waist in a deep and respectful gesture, although obviously alien to the Argonian. The flexible armor bent with him, keeping his strong form clear through the Imperial custom of greeting. He came back up, smiling and extending his axe-free right hand, in the same breath sliding the axe back into its loop.
"This one is pleased to meet the esteemed Dark-Feather. We will have time for pleasantries during the walk, yes? It is but a short ways west, down the coast, from this fort." He said, sliding out a roll of yellowing parchment from his satchel. He unrolled it, standing to her side and presenting the map. One of his claws tapped three times on a red 'x' just down the coast.
"This is our destination. Bears are no joke, hatchling, but you've got Fin with you...so no worries, yes?" He chuckles, patting Dark on the back, and heading briskly for the door.
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Post by NotApplicable on Jun 26, 2011 8:08:38 GMT
It took a moment for the elf's words to sink in and the buzz to wear out of his head, but when they had Alver's head snapped to the altmer. Rage boiled behind his tense but strait face. Don't talk? What could he do with that? Make noise, maybe. It wasn't seemly to disobey... but maybe just a little...
He wanted to scream that he wasn't some precocious brat to be taken for granted! Shout about all the things he had been though, and all the things he could do to a sword slinging altmer! But, still...
“My pleasure,” eventually rasped out of his lips.
He turned away and scuffed his feet towards the weapons rack. He snatched a nearby stool and dropped it into position, releasing his weight on it with a clatter of armour. He hummed quietly to himself as he fumbled through a peel of swords.
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 27, 2011 15:30:54 GMT
OOC: Okay, since I don't want this to stall before its even started, I'm going to carry on posting, and I encourage you guys to do the same. I doubt the three of us will make that much reading if anyone else wants to jump in. Darkom. I thought I'll get some things going with the Skaal so you aren't completely solitary. Feel free to control Korst as well. Tharsten Heart-Fang, Skaal VillageA nord warrior in shining silver mail sat straight-backed on his simple throne. He was as muscular as any of his kin, though his black locks were beginning to grey and his skin wore the scars of age as well as war. He was known to be severe, but strong, and was respected by his warriors as any Elder of the Skaal should be. They lived in harmony with the land, here, felt the presence of the All-Maker so strongly and yet... And yet, try though he might, he could not summon the good beasts, nor could any of his men. The crops grew poorly this year, and many of his people were thin enough to cause him pain to see them. "Efried, why does the All-Maker punish us for the damage those damn Imperials inflict on the land?" He rubbed his beard as he thought, then spoke again, "Why must our people suffer? Are we not as One with the land? Do we not sacrifice to the All-Maker every day?" Efried, the closest of his honour guard, shrugged with a clink of metal. "Maybe the All-Maker wants us to set it right." Tharsten shook his head. "And how would we do that! Spilling the blood of the Imperials? Oh, it's tempting, but blood does not bring us Oneness. Killing will not bring us closer to the All-Maker, no." Efried was expressionless. "I really couldn't say, sir." Tharsten sighed and leaned back in the hard wooden seat, so damn uncomfortable. He knew his warriors were uncomfortable when he spoke to them of matters of the land; like he, they were not shamans, and grappled daily with understanding the All-Maker. But as Elder, it was his duty to guide the Skaal rightly, to help them follow the honourable path and to serve the All-Maker, that they would reap the rewards. In his heart, he thought he knew the answer as to why the Oneness was lost. When he was but a boy, they had been uncertain as to which path he would follow; the Elder, after his father, or if the stars marking his birth would lead him down the path of Shaman. The Greedy Man. The imperials, ignorant of the ways of the island, had brought him back to Solstheim on their ships and with their shovels and their forts and their stealing from the earth without remorse. It seemed impossible, and yet at night, he thought he heard the distant howl of the stolen wind, and the sinister chuckle of the Greedy Man. He was out of his depth. He did not understand so much about All-Maker. He needed guidance. He reached out and grabbed Efried's arm. "Get Korst. I need his counsel." ------------ Dark-Feather, FrostmothCarnius left them alone, and Dark-Feather could not decide whether she was more glad the arrogant Imperial was gone or annoyed that he had left her with Islyth-Eij. Somehow the male's armour was flexible enough to allow him to bow, though the gesture still looked uncomfortable. Dark-Feather watched with inscrutable eyes as he introduced himself. "This one is pleased to meet the esteemed Dark-Feather," he said, and Dark-Feather inclined her head a fraction, giving nothing away. "We will have time for pleasantries during the walk, yes?" She doubted that they would have anything at all to say to one another but did not disagree. He unscrolled a map and held it out for her to view, tapping a red x with a long claw. "This is our destination." That much was obvious. "Bears are no joke, hatchling, but you've got Fin with you...so no worries, yes?" Then he pat her on the back, chuckling to himself and headed for the door. Dark-Feather closed her eyes and counted to ten, in her head saying all of things she knew she could not say out loud. Hatchling? I am NOT a hatchling. Just because you dress up in steel and mimic the imperials does not mean you have lived more life than I. I need no protection- would I have come here if I did? No. And I did not give permission for you to touch me.Dark-Feather opened her eyes, and though only a fraction of time had passed, the ranting was well out of her system. She said politely, "That would be pleasant. You can wait a moment, no?" And went for her bags which had been delivered into the general quarters. She quickly grabbed a few useful potions, wrapping them in cotton and placing them in her pack, and downed another; she could feel the fire scalding her throat, but she weathered it, knowing it would keep her warm during their journey. She briefly considered wearing all the rest of her clothing at once, but a mental image of a very fat, immobile Dark-Feather prevented her from doing so. She returned to 'Fin', raising her hood up to cover her horns and keep her ears warm. "This one is ready now," she said. "Lead on."
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Post by Darkom on Jun 28, 2011 3:21:50 GMT
Alf the Bastard; Skaal VillageThe elf fled, stumbling through snowdrifts as Alf chased him. Alf had an axe in his hand, it's blunt edge glowing dully in the moonlight. The elf turned, its red eyes wide with fear as Alf closed in. He raised the axe, a wild cry escaped him, overpowering the Dunmer's scream."Alf... Alf wake up." A hand touched his shoulder, bringing him out of the dream. "Wake up you lazy Horker! What do I keep you 'round for?" Alf bolted up, narrowly dodging the old shaman's staff as it hit his pillow. The sleep fell away immediately, along with the memory of the dream. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" The young Nord threw the furs from his legs, sitting on the bed in only his leggings. He looked out the window of his hut, where the sun had just crested over the Felsaad Coast. "Why so early, Korst?" The old shaman crossed his arms impatiently; he was already fully dressed in ceremonial furs. He paced back and forth as he spoke, jabbing the floor with his staff at every word, "Tharsten wants me in the great hall. Which means you're coming with me." Alf groaned, pulling himself to his feet. He walked over to his pinewood trunk as he spoke, "Why do I need to come? He's probably just worried about the All-Maker again." The Nord began pulling out his own furs, putting on the shaman's garb with a deliberate reluctance. "Because, lazy bones, you'll need to do this for the next Elder when I'm One with the land. And because you can't just lie around in bed all day!" The shaman swung his staff again, the bear teeth strung at the top rattling. Alf dodged to the side, a mischevious smile spreading across his pale face. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." The Nord slipped his final coat on, fingering the white fur lining. It had been a special gift from his grandfather- the very man he was going to meet- after he had completed his Awakening. The thought of the trial still gave him chills. "Hurry up!" Korst was already at the door, donning his ceremonial headgear. The skull was said to have come from a snow bear that died while defending the village from invaders. One of the first Shamans, Alf's long lost ancestor, had sacrificed the body to the All-Maker. The skull, however, had been saved for other rituals, and now it was passed from Shaman to Shaman, through the generations, all the way down to Korst. 'One day I'll wear it,' Alf thought proudly, following Korst out into the cold. OOC: Not sure how you wanted me to arrive in the hall, so I figured I'd just leave it to you to announce Korst. Control him if you'd like; I intended for him to act more formally once he was in front of the other Skaal. If you'd like, just have him walk in with Alf in tow, then just ask him whatever questions you will. Thanks.
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Post by FC4 on Jun 28, 2011 18:20:29 GMT
Erinok the Craftsman, Skaal Village
The snow glistened upon the ground as it did every morning, and crunched beneath his boots like brittle bones of ill birds. Erinok trekked through the gleaming white expanse back to the village, carrying a few rabbits over his shoulder tied to rope. An iron axe was strapped to his waist, but did not appear to be cause of the rabbits' wounds. A few other Nordic men were behind him, clad in furs like he, and they carried bow, arrow, and spear; the more appropriate weapons of a hunter.
The men were working with Erinok the Craftsman under an agreement; by aiding him in the hunting for more furs, they would be given the meat or the treated pelts, depending on which their families needed most. The rest Erinok would use for his own family, or sell. Usually the hunts went well, but since the invasion of the Imperials (for that was what it was; they never visited, never took a small share, but always invaded everything they saw) the hunting was becoming harder and harder. They were lucky to get these few rabbits.
When the party entered the village it was early morning, for dawn was the best time to begin one's hunting, particularly if you were not part of the village hunts. Erinok's hunts were separate from the main hunts, though he was given the furs to treat for wives to fashion into garments. He would be given some of the hunt meat in exchange. With the hunts so poor though, he had begun infrequent hunts of his own for more materials, trying to keep himself working. For when he worked, he didn't think about things like the Imperials.
Erinok and his men saw Korst Wind-Eye and his apprentice, Alf the Bastard, leaving their lodging and Erinok waved to them in greeting. "Hail, wise Shaman. The All-Maker blessed us this morning with small game. Soon there will be more furs for the children, I assure you." Erinok smiled broadly, pleased that he would soon be able to provide more for the safekeeping of his people's future.
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Post by Darkom on Jun 29, 2011 3:39:41 GMT
Alf the Bastard; Skaal Village
Alf had barely closed the door when a familiar voice addressed his teacher. "Hail, wise Shaman," Erinok, the village craftsman, raised a hand in greeting. The limp bodies of four dead rabbits were slung over his shoulder, ready for skinning. Alf could not suppress a shudder. "The All-Maker blessed us this morning with small game. Soon there will be more furs for the children, I assure you."
Korst seemed to have no problem with the dead animals, or the men who had killed them. "He is merciful to the faithful, Erinok. You have done well for the village. I thank you on the behalf of the little ones." The shaman inclined his skull topped head, his voice deep and professional. He would cajole and curse with Alf all day, but when he was the Shaman he was all business.
Alf frowned at the rabbits, mourning their deaths silently to himself. As part of his training he had learned to commune with nature. He knew the village could not survive without furs and meat- he ate as much flesh as any other Skaal- but that did not mean he had to be happy about it. His unique stance had earned him more than his fair share of jibes from the other youths, but Alf had learned to live with their taunts. 'As if they wouldn't find something else to insult about me.'
Alf noticed Korst's eyes on him, staring impatiently. Apparently he was supposed to congratulate the man for killing a few half starved rabbits. The young Nord sighed.
"Good hunting, my brother. Perhaps the All-Maker has decided to bless us once again." Alf recited lazily, the words slipping from his lips without a shred of conviction. He turned his gaze expectantly to Korst, trying to signal the old shaman to keep going.
The old Nord scowled, shaking his staff threateningly. "I apologize for my pupil, Erinok. Apparently respect is one thing he has not yet learned from the All-Maker." The shaman's eyes flicked to Alf, annoyance crossing his wrinkled features. "Congratulations again on your kill, but we must go. The Elder has need of us in the Hall." Korst inclined his head to the craftsman again, his hands coming together in farewell. Alf rolled his own off-blue eyes, turning towards the long wooden building that was the Great Hall.
OOC: Hooray for hippie teenagers! Good for any occasion. Anyway, feel free to come with us, FC4. Wouldn't want to leave you all by your lonesome.
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 29, 2011 7:16:59 GMT
OOC: Be good if you came to watch actually, FC4! Unless you have other plans. Tharsten likes outside opinions, and he'll be looking for volunteers soon.
Also, we're like a proper RP! Check it out, five players! And two chars in each available faction.
Clock, Frostmoth
Clock blinked once, then twice, not quite able to reconcile what he had heard and what he had been expecting to hear. What he had expected was silence. What he had heard was a smart-mouth, and what he was hearing was humming.
Humming.
Clock considered this. NOTE: The transfer was humming and Clock had demanded quiet. Conclusion: He was mildly rebellious, as he had not argued or outright spoken. He was also an asshole.
Clock didn't quite know how to handle this. On the one hand, he really wanted to put the mer down. But on the other hand, he had nothing but respect for those who made the life of their superiors hell. He was just unused to that superior being him.
On careful reflection, Clock realised that there had always been a good way to handle the situation. "Transfer boy," he said. "Grab your sword, shut up and sit down. If you disobey a direct order again, I'll-," Get Gaea to kick your ass. "-have your booze priveleges revoked. And trust me, booze will be your only joy in this frozen hellhole." Could he even do that?
A group of three young imperials clattered in, so green their helmets weren't even on straight. Clock heaved a sigh. "Grab a sword and sit down, you lot. And shut up." He sent a pointed glare in the mer's direction. "It has fallen to me get you briefed and ready for your first assignment. I'm just that unlucky."
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Tharsten Heart-Fang
Korst strode into the hall, with his apprentice at his heels. Tharsten's eyes lingered on the boy, on Alf the Bastard. When he'd been born, there had been a flurry of conversation around the village. There had not been anything other than pure nord blood in the Skaal in memory. And yet the boy clearly was something else.
He'd shown promise, according to Korst, as an apprentice shaman, and Tharsten hoped that this strange pedigree was a sign that the All-Maker had big plans for him.
In the two shaman's wake, a small crowd of those from around the village crowded in, and Tharsten heaved a heavy sigh. Looking at those curious faces, Tharsten knew he would not throw them out. It was impossible to have a converation in private, but it would serve little purpose if he did; it'd be all over the village in no time at all.
"Korst," said Tharsten. "My thoughts have been troubling me of late. It-,"
"The Greedy Man," said Wind-Eye bowing his head respectfully. "Such has been my fear as well, Tharsten Heart-Fang. The Oneness is lost," he gestured around the hall. "All here can feel it. All miss it."
"But how do we undo it?" asked Tharsten. "I remember well the story of Aevar Stonesinger, but that was a long time ago, and they knew the Greedy Man, for he lived among them."
Korst shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no answers now, Heart-Fang. It will require time to commune with the All-Maker and discern his will in this matter, and would appreciate you sending out your hunters to gather ingredients for me. But is there another reason you have called me here?"
"Yes," Tharsten looked at Alf, then back at Korst. "There are those who don't believe Alf is pulling his weight for the Skaal."
Korst stamped his staff once on the floor, expression hard. He did not look around at the other villagers in the hall. "You know this is not true, Tharsten." The villagers seemed to be holding their breath, wondering where this was going.
"I do. But as he is to be our next Shaman, I think it is important that their faith in Alf is strong. I want him to go and deal with the reavers who have taken over the river bridge." He raised his hand as he saw the hot objection growing on Korst's lips. "We all have fought reavers, and none of us alone. A volunteer from our people will go with him."
Korst nodded and looked at Alf. "You had better not argue," he warned under his breath.
OOC: Darkom, if you have any protest with this post, please let me know. I was coming more from an angle of secret prejudice rather than inferring that your character is lazy or does less work than other Skaal.
Also, post for my new character. Don't know how big a part she'll play, but she's to interact with our more northerly group.
Peregrina Quarra, Isild River Bridge
They weren't men, they were animals. Sitting their in their furs, rifling through the pockets of her fallen men, they could be a pack of wolves worrying at the corpses of their prey.
Grippus, Marius, Crito... They were... had been, good men. Comrades. Friends. Her usual troop. And she should be dead with them, should have fallen first in their defence. But her healing magic had saved her, though it had been too late to save the others. And, when the reavers had realised she was a woman...
"Hey, look at this!" one of the brutes punched his fist into the air, a locket swinging from it. "Real gold, pretty lady on inside. Who wants it?"
Peregrina gripped the dagger behind her back more tightly, face stony. She'd avenge them. These murderers had no idea exactly what an Officer and Agent of the imperial legion was really capable of.
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Post by FC4 on Jun 29, 2011 12:58:29 GMT
Erinok the Craftsman, Skaal Village
The men smiled and chuckled at the Shaman's remarks concerning Alf's lack of respect. Everyone knew he wasn't pure Skaal, everyone knew he barely belonged here, so none were surprised. The boy's displeasure towards hunting was obvious in his response to their greeting, his half-heartened blessing.
When the Shaman mentioned Tharsten had need of him in the hall, all the mens' eyebrows rose. When the Elder sought the Shaman's council, it was a big deal in the village. Many people attended, and it was the quickest way to obtain news of the village's condition. The hunting party followed the Shaman, as did other members of the village who had noticed the Shaman's path to the Elder's Hall. Erinok moved instead to his own house, placing the four rabbits in his workshop before he too followed into the Hall.
The hall was a wondrous work of craftsmanship, and his own father had carved many of the intricate patterns still seen in the old wood today. He likewise aided in the rebuilding of the Hall when it was necessary due to some sort of damage. Many a feasting table was shaved and shaped by his hand and axe and knife after an over-drunken brawl. But now it was filled with a small crowd of curious, alert villagers.
Erinok listened to the Elder's conversation with the Shaman with a heavy heart. The Oneness was lost... The Oneness that allowed this village to thrive in this forsaken land and allowed him to do his duty to his people. It was gone... Erinok felt in his heart that there was only one way to bring it back; purge the island of the Imperials. But the Shaman did not say this, speaking instead of conversation with the All-Maker. Perhaps that was for the better; best not to jump to conclusions.
When the Elder spoke of sending Alf to deal with Reavers, Erinok frowned. True, they all had fought Reavers once. But Reavers were not like the wild Berserkers, they actually used tactics, had plans, strategies. Alf was... Alf... and he would likely need an accomplished warrior volunteer to survive, especially considering the boy's views on violence. Erinok shook his head and folded his furred arms, wanting to get back to his trade now. But if he left, he'd likely be called out to help. And he did not want to fight Reavers, not with Alf.
He just wanted to skin those rabbits.
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 29, 2011 14:25:24 GMT
OOC: Sorry for posting so much, but I have a lot of characters. :/
Tharsten Heart-Fang, Skaal Village
Tharsten waited, arms crossed for someone to put themselves forward, but the villagers made not a sound. His eyes moved from face to face; Rona averted her gaze, Efried looked at the ceiling and Pangred actually feigned sleep.
A fire grew in his belly as Ingvar and Rigmar also looked away, then Risi and Gaefled. Here, in the hall of their forefather, standing on the sweet earth that the All-Maker had blessed them with, his people were dishonouring the name of Skaal. There was nothing on the All-Maker's creation that made him more sick, or more angry.
"SKAAL!" Tharsten's furious bellow seemed to shake the walls of the hall itself. "You dishonour me with your silence, your refusal to answer the call of duty and kin. Kin! This is why the Oneness is lost!" Efried flinched from his tone of voice, as did many of the villagers. "Do you think the All-Maker smiles on us when we refuse to help our own? No wonder the land is lost to us! Or that the All-Maker is pleased when we wait for others to do what is right? Of course the beasts don't come when called! Out! All of you, out! None of you is fit to bear the name of our clan. I shall fight alongside Alf myself."
One of the guards rested a hand on Tharsten's shoulder. "Elder, please, you cannot be serious-!"
Tharsten shrugged him off. "I am ashamed of my own people this day."
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