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Clones & Star Wars => Role-Playing => Non-Star Wars Role-Playing => Topic started by: Adeptus_Astartes on July 07, 2012, 02:26:20 AM

Title: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Adeptus_Astartes on July 07, 2012, 02:26:20 AM
Setting: 4E201, roughly the same time as the early stage of TESV: Skyrim, in the imperial province of Skyrim, and the neighboring areas.

Background: The province of Skyrim is in turmoil. The High King is dead, and the throne is contested. A civil war has begun, turning brothers against each other. As tensions rise, another threat shows its face, dragons have returned to the world. In the west, the men and women of the Forsworn have risen against the Nords. In the midst of this is a single hero, the Dragonborn, a warrior said to have the blood of the dragons themselves coursing through their veins. After the destruction of Helgen and the slaying of Mirmulnir, the earth shook as the Dragonborn was summoned to High Hrothgar, on the Throat of the World.

Some specific rules for this RP
The Dragonborn is to be left as an unknown. Gender and race is different dependent on who you ask, ie. a Nord might be sure he/she is a Nord, while an Imperial might think he/she is a Imperial, etc. A Stormcloak supporter would say the Dragonborn is a Stomcloak, and Imperial Supporter would say he/she is a Imperial Supporter. In addition to this, were at a point in the plot of Skyrim where the Dragonborn has not become the leader of any sort of faction.

For the sake of the RP, the cities are somewhat more populated.

Glass, Ebony, and Deadric armour are super rare, and out of the reach of pretty much everyone. Especially Daedric.This goes for weapons as well. Enchantments are less rare, but are not incredibly powerful for most people, i.e., your characters.
 If you aren't that familiar with the Elder Scrolls,  this is a pretty solid wiki.

((Thumbs up, lets do this.))

Name: Meric
Race: Dark elf/Dunmer
Gender: Male
Appearance:Fairly standard features for a Dunmer, Shoulder-length black hair, and a short beard. MIssing half of his left ear, and has a long scar running down the left side of his face, through the eye, which is white and blind.
Weapons:Two hand axes (Elven) A simple hunting bow, and twenty steel arrows. \
( (
Remove helmet, replace skulls with animal skulls.

Meric pulled the arrow from the corpse of the wolf he had just killed. He was north of Whiterun, a stag he had been tracking for a week had led him on a chase throughout the hold. He looked at the corpse next to the wolf's. A whole week wasted. He turned back to the wolf, and kicked it. The most infuriating aspect of this situation is the fact that some lone wolf had done this. Had it been a group Meric might have made more then he would have off of his stag. Fortunately the pelt was still salvageable, and he could probably get something for the wolf. He pulled a small knife from his belt, and got to work.

He was halfway done with the wolf when the world shook. A massive wall of sound rolled at him from behind. Meric dropped his knife and whirled, drawing an axe. Nothing. Nothing except the Throat of the World in the distance. The sound, whatever it was was still echoing off of the distant mountains. He let out a shaky breath. A sound like that could only be a giant, or perhaps... there had been talk of dragons lately. He slowly put his axe away, and picked his knife back up. The Greybeards Meric pondered this as he continued to skin the wolf.

Whiterun was a short walk away. He entered the city, sold the pelts and some of the meat he had gathered, and headed to the Bannered Mar
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Drake Vhett on July 07, 2012, 04:15:40 AM
Name: Jasten Tivain

Race: Imperial

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Appearance: Black, scraggly hair, with a crooked nose between one green eye and one blue eye. A few days stubble coats his face. A light diamond scar runs across the bridge of his nose. An athletic build and average height lead to a unobtrusive presence.

Weapons: A single shortsword in Cyrodiilic style, along with a obviously Imperial bow are his only obvious weapons. The dozen throwing daggers and generally hidden.

Armor: What appears to be black clothing covers chainmail. A variety of pouches adorn his belt, with shin-high boots on his feet. The throwing daggers over his ribs are generally hidden under his black cloak, which sports a deep hood. Black gloves cover his hands in colder weather, hiding the many rings on his fingers. A dozen or so symbols hang from one chain on his neck.


Drip. Drip. Drip.

The dripping was going to drive him crazy. Or the cold. Or the damn Nords. They threw him in prison for a das because they suspected him of cheating at gambling. No proof, just a sneaking suspicion. It was ridiculous, in Cyrodiil the guard would have actually investigated. It seemed law was not as important in these frozen wastes. Especially considering there was no way they could have actually proved it, seeing as he didn't cheat. Damn Nords, the lot of them were sore losers. Jasten leaned back, hitting his head on the stone wall. Kicking up his feet to hang on the bars, which were an arms-length from the bed in this tiny cell, Jasten laced his fingers behind his head and tried to get some sleep.

That was, until the world began shaking, causing him to lose his balance and drop his feet off the bars. Jasten looked around as the dust shoot from the stones. A moment later it was done, and silent once more.

"By the Eight!" a guard breathed, picking up fallen items from the table she was at. Jasten grabbed the bars of his cell with his hands and put his face up to them, a disgruntled look flashing across his face for a moment.

"Not a common occurrence then, eh?" Jasten asked. She looked up, her eyes finding his. The guardswoman had taken off her helmet much earlier, not really needing it in the dark dungeon.

"No, sounded like the Greybeards calling the Dragonborn..." she started, trailing off, chewing on her lip. Jasten raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, the Greybeards, of course!" he said, pausing. "Who are they?" The woman ran a hand through her hair.

"They are masters of the Way of the Voice. It is said that even a whisper of their's could kill a man" she explained, dropping her eyes in thought. Jasten leaned back, using his grip on the bars to hold himself upright.

"With a whisper? Pretty dangerous. So, what, they're wizards?" Jasten asked. She shook her head.

"The Voice is an old art from song and legend. Not magic, not quite. But their call.... it is also of legend" she continued.

"And they called the Dragonborn? As in Tiber Septum, Amulet of the Kings, Dragonfires, Dragonborn?" Jasten asked. She looked at him in surprise.

"Yes, exactly. It is rare for an outsider to remember that part of history" she said. Jasten let out a short laugh.

"I do know my Imperial history. Especially such an important part of history to Cyrodiil" Jasten replied.

"Ah, you're the newcomer the earlier shift brought in. The cheat" she said, finishing her cleaning.

"Not at all! I didn't cheat, I didn't have too. That damn farmer was just a poor player, not my fault I'm good at the game" Jasten shot back. The woman approached the cell, planting her hands on her hips.

"Really? Cheating isn't on of your skills? You seem like the type" she said, eyeing him.

"My skills, I'm told, lay in other areas" Jasten shot back, raising and lowering an eyebrow. The guardswoman looked at him.

"Oh really? And why would I care about that?" she asked, moving a bit closer. Jasten smirked.

"I've been told on many occasions I am an expert in these things" he said as she moved closer. In a quick motion her grabbed her through the bars.


Jasten secured his sword underneath his clock, the sheath across the small of his back. Grabbing his belt, he checked to make sure his gold and lockpicks were there. It was nice to see they were, and he slipped the belt on. Jasten glanced back to see the bare toe of the guardswoman poking our of the cell, the only part visible.

"Looks like my plan to get out early worked" he murmured to himself with a smile as he moved up the steps. The under-staffed dungeon was soon behind him as he headed back toward the Bannered Mare, the place where he head earlier secured a room.

What looked to be a Dunmer in skins was also approaching. Jasten moved inside and found a seat, ordering a drink from the barmaid. It did not take him long to regain some warmth as the mead began to fill his belly.
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Talo on July 09, 2012, 02:40:38 AM
Name: Andurel
Race: Bosmer (Wood Elf)
Gender: Female
Age: 22

Description: Shoulder length coal black hair. Clear, blue eyes. Athletic, wiry build. Quick and agile with an air of effortless movement. A shimmer of light shines from her chest where her silver amulet lies half concealed. A small bag holds her mortar and pestle. She wears a mix of leather armor and furs, with a forest green hood and cloak.

Weapons: Hunting bow, iron arrows, steel dagger.

With the wind in her ears she could hardly hear a thing, but she could see just fine. Her sharp clear eyes never left the back of the man she was chasing. He was beginning to slow; almost close enough for a clear bow shot. Anduril took out an arrow in preparation for the kill, the soft touch of the feathers and roughness of the wood on her fingers as she prepared to fit it to her bow. The man staggers over an extended root, Anduril rushes past the last bits of the underbrush, fitting the arrow to the string as she lines up a clear shot through the trees. She exhales and lets the shaft go with a muted twang. The arrow impacts in the man’s ribs, he lets out a cry of pain and collapses on the forest floor. He grunts and wheezes trying to crawl away. Anduril fits another arrow and lets it go into the man’s back. She then prepared a third arrow to finish him.

“No wait, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” The man said before coughing blood up.

Now that she was up close she could see it was a Nord, probably in his early twenties roughly the same age she was. He had short cropped blond hair and blue eyes with regular features.

“It seems you’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd boy. Bandit gangs are hardly ideal company.”

“Please.” The boy said again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ was as far as he got before the wound had him coughing again.

“Didn’t mean to what?” She responded angrily. “Burn down the entire grove after you and your gang violated it with your drinking and whoring and not to mention your very presence? No, the Spriggens were right to kill all your friends in their drunken stupor. I’m just finishing what they started.”

The elf pulled back the string and readied her shot, when the air exploded with the sound of the Ancient Voice calling to the Dovakiin. Startled Andurel looked about but saw no one.

“The Greybeards.” She whispered.

She looked back to the boy and drew her bow then said: “You’ve just witnessed the beginning of the end, child.” And let the arrow loose.
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Talo on July 13, 2012, 10:15:41 PM
All of this went through her mind as she made her way through Whiterun. Killing that boy had been harder than she thought it would be.

"The Forest demanded his blood. It was necessary." She kept telling herself. After wondering the market for awhile she decided the best way to deal with this would be to get a drink. Maybe two.

She corrected her path and headed for the Bannered Mare. Once inside she bought herself a pint of ale sweetened with honey with some of the few septins she had left and found a corner by the fire to nurse her drink.

Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Drake Vhett on July 16, 2012, 11:08:42 PM
Jasten watched at a Bosmer woman entered the inn. Jasten watched, moving only his eyes, to see where she sat. The elf had the look of a hunter about her. It was in Jasten's experience that hunters who drank would rarely spend the last of their coins to do so, so it was likely her coinpurse was laden with Septums, unlike Jasten's rapidly emptying purse. The guards had confiscated more than they should, leaving him with almost nothing. Standing up, Jasten moved along the bench, looking like he was getting closer to hear the Ministerial play. Pretending to stumble, Jasten's hand found her coinpurse as he bumped into her. Feeling a lack of weight as his fingertips brushed the pouch, he decided to leave it. Apologizing, Jasten, took a few more steps to take a chair next to the Ministerial.
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Adeptus_Astartes on July 17, 2012, 01:37:42 PM
Meric purchased a mug of mead and dropped into the seat next to the Imperial. He swung around to face the other man, a small amount of mead sloshing from the mug as he did so.
"Saw you stumble over by that Bosmer. Been in Skyrim long? Lots of newcomers aren't quite used to the mead." The imperial opened his mouth to reply but Meric continued without allowing him to speak. "Lots of Imperials stay away, what with the recent troubles from that Stormcloak fellow. I dont quite understand why, theres no way they can outmatch the Empire, all they're doing is tearing this place apart."
With that, Meric gulped down some of his mead and pulled some coins from his belt. "Bard! Play us something!"
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Drake Vhett on July 17, 2012, 02:29:56 PM
Jasten peered at the fur-covered Dunmer talking to him.

"I can handle the mead fine. These poorly made floors, that's another story. Every board and nail is loose, just waiting for someone to trip on," Jasten replied, taking another drink from his mug. "As for this little civil war, well, it's not the most dangerous thing in the Empire. Let me tell you, it's harder to live in Cyrodiil where there is a sword at your throat, metaphorically speaking, than living in these frozen wastes" Jasten said.
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Adeptus_Astartes on July 25, 2012, 11:20:55 PM
Meric nodded slowly, continuing to sip on his mead. So you've been in Skyrim for a short time I take it? I have to ask, where do you fall in this, whose side are you on? Watch your answer, or I might have to find someone else to drink with." He grinned at the last, though he was serious. The conflict had split Skyrim in the middle, he had lost many friends to heated arguements over who was right. A trusted hunting partner had almost pulled a blade on him. It was partly why he had taken to hunting alone, in the homeland of the Nords, many of the people were sympathetic to Ulfric and his cause, and many had been personally affected by the White-Gold concordate. The attachment to the cause was what caused knifes to be drawn, and many a drunken brawl was rooted in the conflict.
Title: Re: The Elder Scrolls:Ravaged Hearts
Post by: Drake Vhett on July 26, 2012, 12:14:00 AM
"I'm on my own side," Jasten said, leaning back in his seat. "Stormcloaks want to cut my throat for being an Imperial, Legion wants me to volunteer to have it done," Jasten drained him mug and signaled the Redguard barmaid to bring him another.

"Thalmor don't like me either, my ears aren't pointy enough. Rich folk think I'm too common for them, poor folk want all my coin, folks in the middle don't want anything to do with anyone," Jasten continued, tracing the bottom of his mug with his forefinger.

"All in all, I've got my own problems, and I don't need to add the trouble of war to them as well"