Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Blades

[Hotshot]

4E 170

Antoli Morotto, Grandmaster of the Blades, sat in the Grandmaster's quarters at Cloud Ruler Temple, looking over the latest reports from his agents in the Summerset Isles, or the Aldmeri Dominion as the Elves were still styling themselves. It had been over a century since the Altmer had broken away from the Empire, taking the Bosmer with them in the year 29 of the Fourth Era, and still some Imperial authorities refused to admit that the Aldmeri Dominion was a true government. Antoli knew that the Dominion was in fact a true government, a powerful one, even if he would not give the Elves the courtesy of calling their new realm by their self-given name.

Naming conventions aside, however, Antoli knew that the Empire had a problem on its hands, as evidenced by these latest reports. The Altmer's military had grown significantly over the past decade, slowly, secretly, and separated, as forces were raised across the Summerset Isles and Valenwood. They had started out small, in different places, slowly recruiting and training a standing army, equipping them in the gold-plated armor that the Altmer had become famous for over millennia of use. Ten years ago, the Blades had taken note of this recruitment, and had sent word to the Imperial City, to the young Emperor Titus Mede II, barely twenty years old, warning him of the rising military threat in the south. Mede, however, or more appropriately his advisors on the Council, had dismissed the Blades' reports without a second glance, saying that the Dominion and the Empire had peacefully coexisted for a century, and that their secession from the Empire had been totally bloodless in the years following the Oblivion Crisis. Reports had been sent every year, collected by the various Blades in the Sunmerset Isles, and every year, the Imperial City dismissed them, once even sending a rather nasty letter to Antoli questioning if the Blades were even still relevant, or just a sad, paranoid group of old men living in ancient Akaviri temples. From that point onwards, Antoli had known that the threat would not be taken seriously until it was too late, and that the Blades would have to work to find damning evidence of Aldmeri aggression before Mede would act. These latest reports certainly began to build that damning picture.

The Adlmeri were marshalling their forces, consolidating them from all across the Dominion, even bringing some of their Khajiit allies from Elsweyr to the Summerset Isles. Bringing one's forces from across a realm to one central area meant only one thing: preparation for war. Antoli, however, knew that even this would not be enough to satisfy those fools in the Imperial city, and the Blades in the Summerset Isles did not have the numbers to conduct any large-scale missions to uncover more about what was going on. He would have to send more to aid them, he knew.

Letters went out from Cloud Ruler Temple to the Blades headquarters in Skyrim, Valenwood, Elsweyr, Black Marsh, and what was left of Morrowind: send reinforcements to Cyrodiil, to Cloud Ruler Temple, for a mission which may save the Empire.

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Welcome to Elder Scrolls: Fall of the Blades, a roleplay about the last-ditch actions of the Empire's secret eyes and ears to stem the tide of Aldmeri aggression prior to the Great War. We will take the roles of Blades, dispatched to the Summerset Isles to try to uncover more evidence as well as perhaps sabotage Aldmeri plans for invasion in order to better prepare the Empire for the inevitable war.

CS:

Name:
Race:
Age:
Description:
Discipline: (this would essentially be your Class, be it Battlemage, Knight, Warrior, Archer, Assassin, etc).
Apparel:
Weapons:
Spells known:

Personality:

Brief Biography:


If you would like any more information, or have any questions, feel free to ask.

[Orion86]

Name: Andras Baines

Race: Breton

Age: 38

Description:

- Like many of his race Andras is well built and stocky in the chest and legs. He stands at around 5'10 tall and has deep auburn hair, which is starting to grey slightly at the ages. His eyes are an intense brown, in dark light it can seem that his eyes are almost completely black. His scar above his left eye is only one of many battle scars that he has received while in the Blades. Andras walks with a slight limp, this becomes more pronounced the more that he walks. The wound that caused his slight limp was given to him by one of his lovers. When certain revelations were made too her, she plunged a knife into his thigh. Normally this wound could have been easily healed but Andras was forced to flee and only had time to tend to his wound after a number of days. By this time the wound had become infected and Andras was forced to remove the damaged tissue with the blade of his knife. Thankfully it has not hampered his abilities to fight but it is a constant reminder to him of what can happen on a mission if you let your heart come before the objective.

Discipline:
Battlemage.
- Andras is trained in the use of both but tends to favor his magic over his blade.

Apparel:
- Andras's apparel changes depending on what his mission is. When going into battle he wears a jerkin of boiled leather, over which he puts a light chain mail. When on a mission he wears the clothes of a conjurer or a merchant. The only constant item of clothing that Andras wears is his Amulet of Mana, this helps to raise his overall level of Mana and the rate at which it recharges. The amulet was a gift from his former tutor and one of his only links to the life that he left behind in High Rock.

Weapons:
- Andras uses a long knife and a short sword when he has to get his hands dirty. The knife is something of an heirloom having been made by his late grandfather but the sword is the standard blade that he was given when he joined the Breton army. Andras is trained in the use of the long curved sword that the blades use but he prefers not too take such a noticable weapon on missions with him.

- Andras also keeps on his person his staff imbued with the spell 'Mage Light'. People have often asked him why he uses a staff with such a mundane spell. Andras merely replies that it is difficult to blow up a person with a fireball if you can't actually see where they are standing.

Spells known:
- Oakflesh
- Equilibrium
- Conjure Familiar
- Lightning Bolt
- Lightning Rune
- Healing Hands
- Healing

Personality:
- Andras is a very serious warrior. He likes to see discipline in his men and order in everything that he does. A life in the High Rock army and then a long service in the Blades has taught him to think on his feet and to analyze everyone situation that he is put in. To people that do not know him very well he comes off as aloof and condescending, when people get to know him they started the funnier side of his cutting remarks. However he also understands the importance of having time to relax and unwind, he has seen to many good agents go to pieces because they have always been worried or stressed. In contradiction to his normal attitude, when he has been drinking he becomes a completely different person. After he has had one to many flagons of mead he becomes a vocal and funny person, fond of jokes and of the ladies.

Brief Biography:
- Born into a family of Army officers and legendary warriors there was only one way that Andras's life was going to go. Being a Breton he was gifted with a natural talent for magic and an incredibly high resistance to its affects. Trained and tutored in the blade and the bolt from a young age, he showed more talent for magic than the sword but this was not a hindrance in his quest to join the High Rock army. However, Andras hadn't merely set his sights on becoming an officer in the Army, he wanted to be an officer in the Adamantine Guard. It was the job of the Adamantine Guard to protect the Adamantine Tower, the oldest building in High Rock and possibly the whole of Tamriel.

Andras was in the Adamantine Guard for nearly eight years before he was approached by a member of the Blades. The secretive organization always looked for dedicated young soldiers and adventures to fill their ranks. Andras adapted quickly to his new life of spies and secrecy. His classic up bringing and high born family meant that he was able to use his connection to get him into place that a low-born spy could have only dreamed of.

[OiHarkin]

Name: Maulakur gro-Narzulbur, the Angry Mountain
Race: Orsimer (Orc)
Age: 35
Description: As his nickname suggests, Maulakur is large even for an Orc and regularly has to stoop to pass through door ways, towering head and shoulders above the average human and elf. His size confers upon him great natural strength and makes him seem very intimidating. In fact, Maulakur seems in many ways to be a stereotype of an Orc - huge, big tusks, protruding jaw, a pronounced facial scar running across his cheek and skull showing he's no stranger to physical violence. His skin is dark, ruddy brown and his eyes a deep red color.
Discipline: Berserker
-Maulakur's place is in the middle of combat, wearing heavy armor and with two axes in hand. While he does know some magic, it is mostly of the Restoration and Conjuration schools designed to supplement his role as a front-line combatant.
Apparel: Ebony Armor, full set (except shield). It is lined with leather and fur, to keep the wearer warm in Skyrim's cold weather.
Weapons: Ebony War Axe x2
Spells known: Bound Battleaxe, Bound Bow, Rally, Greater Ward, Fasting Healing; Beserker Rage (if we're using Racial Abilities)
Personality: Maulakur is surprisingly independent-minded, which is part of what brought him from his Stronghold and into the Blades. He is intelligent, but prefers to keep up the big dumb muscle act so people underestimate him; when he casts his first spell is usually when they realize that he was more than they expected. But like most Orcs he is determined, practical and motivated, not given to soft words or diplomacy; if killing someone seems the right thing to do, he'll put his axes in them. Despite his name, he's not actually particularly hot tempered, but when the battle-fever kicks in and his Orsimer berserk begins, you might want to not be around him..

Brief Biography: Maulakur was named in honor of Malacanth, the Daedric Prince that watches over the spurned and rejected, patron saint of the Orsimer race. Raised in the ebony mines of Narzulbur stronghold, Maulakur showed great promise of perhaps one day being the hold's mightiest warrior, or even chieftain, due to his great size and ferocity in battle. However, all was not well. While he showed great talent both crafting and using the hold's ebony weapons, Maulakur seemed to have no interest in Orsimer politics and showed no interest when the chieftain's daughter began courting him. He didn't want to be tied to the stronghold forever, to such a small world. His rejection caused the chief to take offense, as it had been essentially him offering to adopt Maulakur as a son in all but blood, and so as a kind of exile Maulakur was ordered to head to the nearest human settlement to find work and bring coin back. That city was Windhelm and the only work for an Orc there was as a hired blade.

It was while in Windhelm that Maulakur came to the attention of a Blade agent operating in the area, who hired Maulakur to beef up his protective detail. The Blade was surprised to see Maulakur fight with more than the usual Orsimer ferocity and mettle, but using magic to protect and heal himself - just a novice, but he had enough talent for the Blade, who was a more practiced mage, to consider worth developing. They struck up a relationship, with Maulakur protecting the Blade and in turn being instructed a little more in different kinds of magic, but Maulakur refused to learn anything from the Destruction school. He had no need of that while he had his blades (and a spell which made sure he was never really unarmed). Impressed at his student's ferocity and aptitude for learning, the Blade inducted Maulakur into the Order, where he served for several years.

Now Maulakur answers the call of Cloud Ruler Temple for Blades to come in preparation to the looming Aldmeri threat. Maulakur is something of a blunt instrument amongst the spies and watchers of the Blades, but he is not without his use to the Empire..

[PurpleShew]

Gender: Male
Race: Khajiit / Ka Po'Tun
Age: Lets just say he looks really good for his age.
Player type:

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Swordsman, Bard/Rogue (Lockpicking and traps but not a thief) Sings like Johnny Cash. But plays a really good flute, and has been known to pluck a decent tune on a lute.
Looks:
Siberian tiger like with purple eyes, light build and graceful, with a light step.
Bio:

• Runaway prince of a Elswyerian tribe of nomads.
• not hurting for money, but was at a loss for friends. As he's been running from responsibilities a lot of his life.
• A natural leader but afraid of governmental responsibilities
• Loves to adventure and loyal to his friends, only in it for the glory and honor of his group. Has been a spy for the blades since they began.
• Honorable in his dealings, with all levels of society
• Bit of a nihilist in politics doesn't care about either the Empire or the Rebellion. But that's mostly as he believes the empire weak and the rebels too xenophobic. Dislikes and distrusts the Thalmor
• His velvet tongue is music to a merchants ear and he travels under the cover of being a bard. Over time that became more than a cover, its a second life for him allowing him to smuggle food past the tariffs of the Dominion.

Combat prefs:

• Light restoration magic
• Heavy into stealth
• Expert Bowman with a custom bow enchanted with Stamina Drain and Stamina steal.
• A skilled swordsman that uses a Akaveri Kantana with stamina drain and stamina steal

Preferences/Skills

• Custom Blades Style but leather armor for its lightness, ease of movement
• Skilled like no other in Enchantments and Smithing.
• A great cook because of a stint as a chef.
• Very well read, Loves books and any info he can find he absorbs like cream to a kitten. Actually can be heard to purr while reading.
• Major handicap... walks with a sever limp. but still manages full stealth.

Born in another age, Older brother to Maiq, gifted/cursed with long life, He can be killed he has just managed never to die. In his long life has lived and done almost everything, spending sometimes decades perfecting one skill before moving on. Experienced life and death, Loss and gain. And in his personal motivations he wishes for connection to others but realizes that in any relationship that their time together will be temporary so he is hesitant but hopeful. His loves are his skill with forge and cooking. There is not much in life that Bruynzeel has not done or experienced, he is extremely well read and has a memory of almost every moment he has lived which is both a benefit and a curse. The benefit being in skills he always knows, the curse in friends and companions lost, are in his mind like it was yesterday. This power of long life is granted to him by a cursed music box that he thinks is actually helping to do something else.

Bruynzeel the real history behind the history:--------------------------------------------------

I have been a gamer since 1978 when arcades were in their start-up, and then heyday, then decline in my lifetime playing them.
All the while computers were becoming available to the home user. But I remember weekends spent with my grandfather punching cards and stacking "stacks" of those cards. With that I was hooked I have programmed in Basic, ADA, Fortran, and Pascal... a fair knowledge of newer languages.

My Father in 1979 came home with a Timex Sinclair 1000. Something like 8k memory with a 200.00 option for a additional 8k module. Tape drive... by that I mean a audio tape drive... take about 1 hour to load a program. But that first computer was a gateway drug to my tech addiction. I played Frogger on it in black and white. Then other computers I got other games. Oregon trail, SimCity, Doom, Marathon, Diablo, Balders Gate, and my first TES game Daggerfall.
Which is where Bruynzeel was born. I have played him as a character in every Elder Scroll game since, in one form or another. Hence the reason I pay homage to him and how he has grown since those early pixelated days.