30 years past after the Dragonborn left Skyrim. New smaller towns have sprouted around Skyrim, budding from the originals. Mostly farms, lumberyards, and/or fishing villages, but recently bandits have been raiding these "outer towns" destroying villages. Kidnapping women and children with the intent to sell into slavery. All of this is being done by one Man or Mer who calls himself "The Bandit King". Nobody knows what he truly looks like, or where he is hiding. The Emperor denies his existence, believing that it is merely a rumor. It is up to a group of individuals to destroy the man behind it all.... if he even actually exists....
Rinn has returned and will be guiding the RP as main GM. I will step down and support as Co-GM. Enjoy the adventure!
"Good morning, Syrona! A good haul today?" The large bearded man looked up from his work table as the young woman approached. Her long, wavy brown hair was hidden under the wolf fur hanging around her shoulders. Syrona stopped and turned to him with a smile on her face. A younger man came running out of the cottage. Syrona lifted the wolf off and handed it over to him. He took it around his own shoulders and gave the older man a nod. Syrona wiped the fur off of her shoulders.
"Thank you, Garfrig. He was a big one, Herano. We'll have plenty of meat today." Herano laughed and went back to his work. Garfrig and Syrona started back towards town. Garfrig walked close to Syrona, never taking his eyes off of her. She felt a little awkward and looked over at him. He looked away quickly.
"Um...so, you have any trouble out there?" Garfrig meant well, but he had little practice talking to women. Herano usually kept him too busy to socialize with anyone. The pair stopped in front of the Burning Dragon Inn.
"No more than usual. You mind taking that pelt to Tor'gil? I have to pay my tab." Syrona patted the sack of meat she had tied around her waist. Garfrig awkwardly smiled and nodded. He turned and headed down the road toward's the armorer. Syrona walked up the stairs and opened the door to the Burning Dragon. Behind the counter, a pale old woman looked up from her book and smiled at the young girl that had entered her establishment. Syrona crossed the hall, avoiding eye contact with the patrons, some of which were travelers that she did not yet trust.
"Syrona, I hope your hunt was better than the last few days." The last few hunts had yielded less than satisfactory results. It wasn't that she wasn't able to catch anything or that the game was thin, but more that it was absent. The wildlife was bountiful when she had first arrived in Tearstead and now it was like they had all suddenly vanished. She was the only known hunter in the area, which left bandits or supernatural forces behind the disappearance. Syrona plopped the leather rucksack on the counter. The old woman opened it up and looked pleased.
"That should cover it, Engrid. Is my room ready?" Engrid pointed towards one of the doors as she pulled out the bloody carcass and started sorting it out. Syrona crossed the hall and opened her door. She left it open as she set her bow and quiver down. She laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.