The Elder Scrolls - Ashfall

[otter]

IC (Elías, Inn):

 

"Well, while I doubt it's what you want to do, you could always give me a good story to tell people and kill all of them. You could skip over to High Rock or Hammerfell and just try to get away from them. You can take that treasure and try to make amends. There's a lot of things you can do, really."

[Nato G]

IC: Anguis Nathair - Inn.

 

She burst into a fit of laughter, "Kill the entire Cammon Tong? You're drunker than I am." 

[otter]

IC (Elías, Inn):

 

"Listen, which do you think is more implausible, the idea of you killing the entire Camonna Tong or the idea of some criminal turning into the grim reaper of dragons and shouting people off of cliff? Akatosh only knows how many times that idea comes up back home and people still believe in it. All you'd really need to do would be to get them all together in an enclosed area and set off some explosives. Or give them all some Skooma and just watch the mayhem before you stab them."

[Nato G]

IC: Anguis Nathair - Inn.

 

"Are you a bard, or a jester?" she challenged, giving him an amused look. 

[otter]

IC (Elías, Inn):

 

"Are not both entertainers?"

[Nato G]

IC: Anguis Nathair - Inn.

 

Anguis made a mental note not to ask advice from strangers while drunk anymore. "If you say so..." 

[otter]

IC (Elías, Inn):

Elías simply chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't worry, miss, I'm not serious about you goin' and murdering all the Camonna Tong," he said, rolling his eyes. "But beyond killing them all, trying to make amends, finding some other equally powerful allies, or faking your death, I can't honestly think of anything you might actually do. Call me moral support rather than mental."

[Nato G]

IC: Anguis Nathair - Inn.

 

"I've considered pretty much all of those options, and none of them are really going to work out for me," she sighed, "So unless you know some "more powerful allies" I can get in touch with, I don't see much reason to still be talking about this." 

[Ghosthands]

IC: (Mathyn Llethri. The Lucky Guar, Narsis)

 

Mathyn took a long deep sigh. This was one peculiarly stupid assassin, to attack in broad daylight in a very public tavern dressed in Dark Brotherhood attire.

 

"Call the guards," he muttered to Kelh as he slowly stood, drawing his malachite sword from the sheath by his side as he moved carefully, trying to circle the Redguard and trap him between himself and Eponine. His stance was defensive: he didn't need to kill this man. Only hold him off from killing Eponine for long enough for the guards to flood this tavern. For the second time in a day, no less.

 

IC (Kelh) [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

I was thinking much the same thing. I've always said that assassins were crude and messy, but this is amateur. No wonder the Dark Brotherhood's going down the plughole.

 

"I'll get on it," I reply in equally hushed tones, and slip quietly between the tables and around towards the door.

 

Once I'm outside I make a beeline for the nearest guard patrol.

 

"'Scuse me, officer," I address their leader, hoping these ones speak Tamrielic. "There's an...altercation going on in the Lucky Guar. A hitman attacking somebody—Dark Brotherhood apparently, not that you'd know it from his total lack of subtlety."

[IcarusBen]

OOC: The following post has been declared "non-canon" and as such should not be read except for the fact that it's kinda funny and I hope the GMs consider using it, especially considering the canon lore that Dunmer in Morrowind tend to speak Dunmeris.

 

 

IC Guard [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]
 
Kelh had worded his sentence rather well. Sadly, this;
 

 
was all the guard could hear.
 
"What in the name of Azura are you blabbering on about?" the guard said, in a local dialect of Dunmeris.

 

 

And here is the DB Assassin/Eponine post. Took a while, sorry Albannach.

 

IC Eponine/DB Assassin [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

Oh, great. Two of them. I better be getting paid good tonight.

 

"Come on, Eppy! Can't even fight your own battles?!"

 

"Shut up, you son of a skeever."

 

"Ouch, burn."

 

The assassin took one good look at Mathyn, just to assess the situation. Mathyn didn't look like much, but if the Dunmer in the Brotherhood had anything to prove, it was that looks can be deceiving. That malachite longsword looked pretty flashy, though. A steel kopis was rather... insufficient.

 

Still, he had a job to do. He charged at Mathyn, first appearing to be heading to Mathyn's right, but hoping to catch Mathyn off-guard by juke-moving to Mathyn's left, and hopefully hitting him on Mathyn's left arm.

Edited June 8, 2015 by IcarusBen

[Padishah Mehmet II]

OOC: oh just erase it, will you? instead replace it with a post by that dark brotherhood assassin NPC of yours, I'm waiting on that

 

And no, before anyone asks, OOC-only posts are the sole province of the GMs dealing out judgment and no one else

Edited June 8, 2015 by Albannach

[Razgriz]

IC: The fat tasted pretty good on this one.

[The UltimoScorp]

GM IC:

 

The guard raised an eyebrow. Not entirely fluent in Tamrielic, he'd gathered enough of what the man was saying to get the idea.

 

He nodded, pushing off of the wall he'd been leaning on.

 

"Lead the way, then."

[(Daedalus)]

IC: K'Larn (Hoarders' Retreat)

 

As would be the case with almost any thief (or any other person who found himself or herself in a place he or she was not supposed to be), K'Larn's first instinct upon being discovered was to either get away or fight. However, he had worked for the Thieves' Guild long enough to know that there was always someone smarter, faster, and/or better at fighting. In this case, running would do him no good; the only exit lay behind him, and whoever had spoken would be blocking the way. He could try to fight, but he knew nothing of this person's fighting skills, and unless he had absolutely no other options, he didn't want to risk his life.

 

The only outside indicator of this thought process was a second's hesitation. K'Larn straightened and turned to face the speaker. He stood in the entrance of the room, in the weird dull area between the lighted room and the lighted tunnel behind him, making it difficult for K'Larn to focus on the figure. All he could see was the rough outline of a well-dressed Dunmer. 

 

"No easy feat, sneaking up on a Khajiit," K'Larn commented.

 

"Oh?" the Dunmer said. His voice was soft but confident and suggested a smile. "Well, to be fair, I do have certain... advantages." Pause. "I smelled you as soon as you entered these tunnels, and I must confess to feeling mildly elated."

 

It was K'Larn's turn to say, "Oh?"

 

"Yes. You see, in all my years, I have never had the pleasure of experiencing a Khajiit."

 

The words caused K'Larn to shift uncomfortably, and a few moments passed before he could respond. "You said something similar earlier, though it was creepier this time."

 

"Creepy...?" The Dunmer's head tilted to the side, and then he let out an embarrassed "Ah..." He shook his head. "I understand, and I apologize for the confusion."

 

K'Larn just continued to watch the Dunmer.

 

"No, I truly apologize. I am hardly so... base. My appetite is for other things."

 

K'Larn eyes began dancing about. He still had no immediate plans to run or fight, but he felt the urges and he wanted to improve his chances of success should he choose to do either.

 

The Dunmer seemed to pick up on K'Larn's survey, and he stepped into the room, shaking his head.

 

"Oh, no," he said, "I'm afraid you won't be leaving for a few days yet."

 

K'Larn's body went absolutely still. A chill swept through his body as his eyes registered the sharpened teeth and the piercing eyes.

 

"I do not wish to harm you, Khajiit, and please believe me when I say that," the Dunmer said, his expression sincere. "But I think it is better for you and those in the immediate area for me satiate my hunger." His expression turned curious. "Besides... I want to see the effects on a Khajiit. They should be... fascinating."

[Padishah Mehmet II]

OOC: The following post has been declared "non-canon" and as such should not be read except for the fact that it's kinda funny and I hope the GMs consider using it, especially considering the canon lore that Dunmer in Morrowind tend to speak Dunmeris.

 

 

IC Guard [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

Kelh had worded his sentence rather well. Sadly, this;

 

 

was all the guard could hear.

 

"What in the name of Azura are you blabbering on about?" the guard said, in a local dialect of Dunmeris.

 

 

And here is the DB Assassin/Eponine post. Took a while, sorry Albannach.

 

IC Eponine/DB Assassin [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

Oh, great. Two of them. I better be getting paid good tonight.

 

"Come on, Eppy! Can't even fight your own battles?!"

 

"Shut up, you son of a skeever."

 

"Ouch, burn."

 

The assassin took one good look at Mathyn, just to assess the situation. Mathyn didn't look like much, but if the Dunmer in the Brotherhood had anything to prove, it was that looks can be deceiving. That malachite longsword looked pretty flashy, though. A steel kopis was rather... insufficient.

 

Still, he had a job to do. He charged at Mathyn, first appearing to be heading to Mathyn's right, but hoping to catch Mathyn off-guard by juke-moving to Mathyn's left, and hopefully hitting him on Mathyn's left arm.

IC: (Mathyn Llethri. The Lucky Guar, Narsis)

 

The trick might've worked, had Mathyn been intending to block. Instead, as the assassin approached, Mathyn calmly danced a step back and performed a masterful pirouette, turning counterclockwise and lunging at his attacker in a controlled, short arc towards his right, giving Eponine a perfect opportunity on the left.

Edited June 11, 2015 by Albannach

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"So you moved out of the barracks," said Lia, rolling over onto one elbow to face him.

 

"Yep," Dorian replied.

 

"So...where'd you get the money to buy a house?"

 

"Nope," Dorian replied.

 

"...Where's your furniture?"

 

"In the barracks," Dor replied.

 

"...You moved out of the barracks."

 

"I did. Not my stuff. Yet."

 

Lia rolled her eyes, but by now Legionnaire's erstwhile ramblings had dulled her sense of surprise to the point where it made her smile and roll her eyes, if anything. Firewatch's number-four doctor (a huge step up from Firewatch's twelfth-best nurse, which is where she'd started as a girl) and Firewatch's most ambiguously truthful Legionnaire made an odd coupling, to be sure, but they both shared enough of a taste for snark, booze, and physical attractiveness to sustain eight months of each other's company. And hey, compared to a room in the barracks and a medium-sized office with a large sofa and some pillows, a manor wasn't so bad.

 

Even if it was abandoned. And bereft of supplies. And only had a featherbed in the center of the living room.

 

"I need a window," he said suddenly. Lia's bright blue eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

 

"What?"

 

"Something broke one of the windows in the second floor." Insanely, he reached for his pair of burgundy leather breeches and began lacing them up. "I gotta replace it before I move any furniture in. It's bugging me." The doctor groaned and rolled back over on the bed to sleep.

 

"Don't give me that groan," he complained, rolling his eyes back. "I'm just gonna be gone an hour. Long enough to get a window."

 

"You're stupid."

 

"So they say," Dorian replied with a laugh, slipping on a pair of supple black boots and a somewhat-plain black long-sleeved shirt. "See you in an hour."

 

And so our hero went off, blazing a trail through Firewatch on the quest for a good window.

 

-Tyler

[IcarusBen]

IC Eponine/DB Assassin [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

Eponine saw the Assassin charging, and merely stuck out her leg to trip him.

 

CRASH!

 

"Ah, geez. Now look what you've done."

 

Eponine, flipped the now in-pain assassin over on his back, kneeled over him (thus pinning him to the ground) and readied her kopis.

 

"Heh, heh... You don't scare me..."

 

"You haven't been paying much attention, have you?"

 

"You betrayed the Brotherhood, then you ran off to the one place we can't get a foothold. I think you're the one who's scared."

 

"Not scared. Tired. I want you to give your boss a little message. Tell him that if he wants me, he'll have to come and get me."

 

Eponine took the assassin's kopis and dagger from him, then got him to his feet.

 

"You'll regret this."

 

"I know."

 

The assassin ran out the door. Sadly, he ran out the door in the direction of the guard.

 

Eponine handed Mathyn the two weapons the assassin used. "Here. I don't really want them. One's too... daggery and the other one's too redundant. Well, that, and the fact that I already have one."

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

And so our real hero went also blazing off into Firewatch. Having spent an appropriate time on the rooftop, his wanted level had dropped from two, to one and sooner enough none (stars). The Breton didn't have much in the way of a timeline, so he spent some time meandering the market stalls, plying his wares quite unsuccessfully. This really is confirmed legitimate Dwemer scrap he argued many a times, but the fair skinned n'wahs populating the imperial garrison town weren't too interested in such rubbish in their own words.

 

Quite disappointing.

 

The only item he had of any value to these curs seemed to be a fine glass dagger, somewhat anticlimatically it had simply looted off an unfortunate Altmer he'd found, left to decay on the doorstep of a ruin. He'd decided to bury the fellow and grab his stuff, he'd had a couple pieces of paperwork indicating a name, might be our hero would find his family one of these days and give them their lost relative's things and a story of his fate. But definitely not the dagger, it was a fine piece of work, though one he had no use for. The premier blacksmith, in his own words, had told him he'd give him three hundred units of currency for it, apparently a good offer for a scurvy n'wah looter like him, never mind the fact that the man's blonde hair and sunburnt freckled skin painted him as assuredly more of an outlander than you! You even had pointed ears and elvishly tousled hair!

 

Quite disappointing.

 

Leaving the premier lowballer to his scummy business practices, the Breton had decided to take it to a local glass shop, specializing in windows, stained glass and table ware. The volcanic stuff of the dagger might be a little exotic for them, but surely a man well versed in glass would know the real value of such glass ware as his, eh?

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dorian found himself second in line at the glass store after he'd he picked out a window - didn't know they came in THAT many sizes - behind some Breton with a knife. Reminded him a little of Mag, in a Breton who wields a knife kinda way.

 

Heh.

 

Wonder if Mag's enjoying High Rock.

 

IC"

 

"You betrayed the Brotherhood, then you ran off to the one place we can't get a foothold. I think you're the one who's scared."

 

"Not scared. Tired. I want you to give your boss a little message. Tell him that if he wants me, he'll have to come and get me."

 

Interesting.

 

"You'll regret this."

 

"I know."

 

Very interesting.

 

The assassin pushed forward on his flight to freedom, shoving past the Breton sellsword on his flight to freedom - which suited Balchar just fine. The Captain lifted a foot up almost boredly and threw it back, burying his boot's toe into the back of the knee as it stretched in mid-pace, then pulling back and stepping down hard onto the back of the thigh. A local guard was already moving on the scene; together, they sandwiched the assassin. Angel gave the man one look.

 

"Be sure to check him for a lockpick," he advised in his best Dunmeri. "Scour him, actually. You never know where they hide those ###### things."

 

When he was sure the assassin was secured, he removed his foot from the man's leg and walked into the Guar. Not only was there a Dunmer here who the Redoran inner council had orders for, the sellsword wanted some chicken and mead.

 

-Tyler

Edited June 11, 2015 by Aikuro Mikisugi

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Mathyn Llethri. The Lucky Guar, Narsis)

 

"Here. I don't really want them. One's too... daggery and the other one's too redundant. Well, that, and the fact that I already have one."

 

Mathyn nodded and took the weapons off her hands. He had no use for them either, preferring his longsword, but the Great House Redoran could sure use such a donation. Worst case scenario, he'd send them to a Mephalan temple for the purposes of irony.

 

He turned towards the man who had just entered the Guar, his eyes lighting up in recognition. "Ah! Captain Balchar!" he said, smiling at the new arrival. "I heard strange sounds outside. Guessing you dealt with our little problem?"

Edited June 11, 2015 by Albannach

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Aye, if your problem is tall, shrouded, and out-of-place in Morrowind." Angel looked up and signaled towards the cooking pot for a leg of the chicken. "They were looking for you at the camp. Something about the tourney tomorrow, and a list of attendees. Even Brelyn Ramoran is considering the lists."

 

-Tyler

[IcarusBen]

IC Eponine [Narsis - The Lucky Guar]

 

"Eh, Captain, Mathyn... I hope you don't mind my interruption, but might you know a place that sells pen and paper?"

 

Clearly, ol'... whatever his name was... Rax, Lax, Trax, Kax... Something with an "ax..." Point is, he wasn't wasn't gonna be sending any messages any time soon.

[Padishah Mehmet II]

IC: (Mathyn Llethri. The Lucky Guar, Narsis)

 

"I'll be sure to check in with the council, then," Mathyn said, nodding at Angel's words. "And no," he said to Eponine, with a smile, "Sorry, but I haven't the slightest - this isn't a city I tend to visit often, after all. I'd try a general goods store, or the local scribe. I'll take my leave for now, however; it appears my House has need of me. It has been nice to meet you, my Breton friend!"

 

Leaving a tip for the Altmer at the bar, he went outside, where he bumped into Kelh. Bowing customarily, he grinned at the 'purveyor of Dwemer artefacts' and shook his hand in a comradely manner. "O'Valenwood. It has been a pleasure, but I must take my leave. Thanks again for alerting the guards; it appears," he threw a glance to the right, where the guards were carrying the unconscious Dark Brother to the city cells, "they did their job well."

Edited June 11, 2015 by Albannach

[IcarusBen]

IC Eponine [Narsis - The Lucky Guar/General Store]

 

Ah, I see.

 

"Thanks. I'll catch you later."

 

Eponine looked up at the sky. She'd guess it'd be anywhere between 6 to 8 in the evening, and that meant she needed to hurry up her business.

 

Leaving the bar, she said "Goodbye" to Mathyn and Kelh, then proceeded to the nearest general store.

 

Entering, she waved to the clerk.

 

"Hey, know where I can get a pen and some paper?"

 

OOC: Anyone, feel free to potray the store clerk. Also, Chumpu, Eponine's gonna be looking for Bites-His-Tail in the near future, though she won't explicity know it's him until after they meet again. Just an FYI.

[The UltimoScorp]

GM IC:

 

A dusty and homely sort of Dunmer boy looked up at Eponine.

 

"Yes, what can I do for you today, Sera?"

 

'More outlanders around these days,' he thought to himself idly.

 

Still he presented a likely welcome pleasant face to the Breton.

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

It was really quite the fine knife, he explained. Sharp, pretty, daedric lettering! It could even be enchanted for all he knew! Alas, the shopkeeper wasn't buying it. Literally. Could be the fact that he insisted he was not a weapons dealer, to which our hero had explained that half the items in the store could serve at a weapon. Could be he didn't like the cut of the Breton's jibe, the shopkeeper was a big, slow, red Argonian, quite out of place in the town of imperials and men in the province of mer that really wasn't too fond of our oviparous friends to the south.

 

He was definitely slow though, through our whole conversation, his eyes had been drifting all over the place like he was keeping track of a kid behind me, threatening to break all the glass in his store with his errant roughhousing. Even now, his eyes were more focused about seven or eight inches above my head rather than on my face, I didn't take kindly to that, so I levitated myself a foot or so into the air, staring him right in his big ugly maroon mug.

 

How did he like that?

 

"So, are you willing to negotiate a reasonable price yet? You're wasting my valuable time and I believe that ought to be included in the price, it's only fair to me that you do so. If someone were wasting your time, wouldn't be feel they were indebted to that? Time is a finite resource for all of us, friend-o."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dorian thought of something a catalogue had told him once. Glass > Steel

 

Glass

 

>

 

Steel

 

"Hey, I could buy it," he offered, tucking his window under one arm to wave at the Breton.

 

-Tyler

Edited June 12, 2015 by Aikuro Mikisugi

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

Our hero spun around to survey the newcomer, whom had apparently been standing there for a long time. Why the bloody was everyone taller than him here? He added a few more inches to his spell for good measure.

 

"Oh yeah, ne en wah?" Pretty sure that was correct pronunciation. This new customer seemed well off enough. Premium pants, nice shoes, black v neck. "Make an offer."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Oh REALLY

 

"Make yours." Dor never liked yelling out prices first. He wanted to know whether he had to shoot higher or lower. "You're the one who needs it off your hands."

 

-Tyler

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

Always set an overly high initial price, son. Haggling is a tug of war, would you rather start with an advantage in distance or right next to the mud pit?

 

"One thousand septims."

[IcarusBen]

GM IC:

 

A dusty and homely sort of Dunmer boy looked up at Eponine.

 

"Yes, what can I do for you today, Sera?"

 

'More outlanders around these days,' he thought to himself idly.

 

Still he presented a likely welcome pleasant face to the Breton.

IC Eponine [Narsis - General Store]

"I'm looking for three things. One; do you carry pen and paper? Two, is there a post office anywhere? Three; where's a good place to get information?"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"That little thing better have belonged to Trinimac himself for that price." Dor blinked and smiled warily; he was born and raised in Cyrodiil, and knew the way this game was played. "It's worth six hundred."

 

-Tyler
 

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

Was this the true power of 「Ｅｍｐｅｒｏｒ’ｓ　Ｖｏｉｃｅ」 ?

 

"It says does Trinimac, right here," our hero held the knife up for the Imperial to see the incomprehensible daedric lettering.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Seven hundred, then."

 

-Tyler

[Not Quite Dead]

IC:

Our hero thought for a brief moment, made longer in retrospect. This tall outlanderish fellow was in a perfect setup for the good'ol-knee-to-the-gut-take-this-coin-and-run-away act. Don't think our hero has in it him? Of course he does! You don't get out alive as often as he has if all your scruples are about, case in point, the fancy knife was nicked off of a dead guy and in all honesty he wasn't going to contact his family like he'd written about earlier, he just needed the quick buck.

 

The our hero moniker? Nothing but fancy nomenclature, if someone continually called a cat a brick, would you believe them?

 

However, his aptitude for spotting coin was quite high. Having examined the window the tallish bloke was planning to purchase, our hero had guessed correctly that it matched the size of the one he'd knocked out earlier. It'd been a nice house, that one. And this guy had plenty of money to throw around if he was willing to deal with him over some knife and purchase the window, not to mention his expensive looking threads. No, he could make seven hundred units of not-starving-funds here and now, or he could potentially net many more sometime later. His brain gears whizzed behind his eyes. "I'll go for 'bout six fifty, I'm feeling generous." He dropped to the floor, relinquishing his grip on the mana flowing his veins and the position of tallest, and therefor, most authoritative in haggling. Reaching into his satchel, he got a sheath out and gingerly placed the knife in it, turning half his face to the Argonian shopkeeper and spouting a quick good doing business with you. His gaze and spine shifted back in the Dorian direction, "you can finish your dealings with our graceful glazier if you please, it'd be rude for such coin to be exchanged with nary a scrap for him right in front of him ya know. You learn those kinds of things living in Morrowind, respects and cultural traditions and what not!" He lied quite politely and made his way out the door to wait for the the Imperial.

[The UltimoScorp]

GM IC:

 

The assistant's face drooped slightly.

 

"Yes, sera, we have quill and parchment. No paper, though. Too expensive to stock for our little shop. Can't say I know what a post office is, though. As for information, well..... Not sure, but I suppose you could ask some of the great house retainers? Anyone from Hlaalu is probably more than willing to talk to an outlander like yourself."

 

The last bit carried a hint of disdain, and as he spoke, the Dunmer boy came to the counter with a quill, a small bottle of ink and four sheafs of parchment.

 

"Seven drakes."

[IcarusBen]

IC Eponine [Narsis - General Store]

 

Eponine put a 10 septim coin on the counter, took her goods, and began walking out.

 

"Keep the change."

 

She later walked back in when she realized she still had no place to sleep.

 

"Any idea where I get a cheap room for the night?"

[The UltimoScorp]

GM IC

 

He scowled, tossing the ten coin back.

 

"We only deal in hard coin here, Outlander. Your capitalist IOUs don't stand for much."

[IcarusBen]

IC Eponine [Narsis - General Store]

 

Wow. What a moron.

 

"You do realize the only difference between 10 1 septim coins and 1 10 septim coin is the quantity, right? There's literally the exact same amount of gold, but it's molded into one coin. You literally could melt down 10 1 septims and 1 10 septim and get the exact same amount of gold. Calling a ten septim an IOU is like calling a dwarven centurion a statue. I'm literally giving you 3 extra coins."

[The UltimoScorp]

GM IC

 

He scowled.

 

"Right, and sheogorath comes every Frostfall to give gifts of cheese to all the good children of Tamriel. Get out of my shop, you thief!"

 

With a roughness most unbecoming of his frame, he grabbed the ink, parchment and quill away from Eponine, then shoved her out the door, slamming it behind her.

 

The coin(which had it really been made of ten septum a worth of gold would have been around the size of a small plate) lay in the gutter, covered in filth.