"I 'eard the lad sa' som'th'n' 'bout a big ol' dragon up in th' Reach, some big lizard wit' eyes o' ice, and breath'd make a Thalm'rs gaze look like th' hearth in Wind'elm!" A drunken Nord slurred to his pals. Most were either engrossed in their own such ambiguous tales or figured it was yet another tall tale, as drunken nords were so found of telling. A sharper ear, though, honed in on this tale from across the tavern. "'e says, 'Earl, you'll not b'lieve what we saw in th' mountains!' So I says try me. He rambled on 'bout the lizard shoutin' great spike o' ice outta th' ground, and 'ail stones the size a' boulders droppin from th' sky." The nord looks blearily over as a chair is pulled out and a slim and toned woman clad in dark, light armor moves with ease into it. The woman motions for another round of drinks for the boys at the table, and looks sharply at the brutishly large man. He looks back, rather alarmingly, something telling him to watch himself despite his intoxicated state.
"I hate to intrude, but if you'll spare me the moment, could you tell me where your lad saw this dragon precisely? Or where this lad is, if you can't tell me yourself?" The woman talked with a low yet honeyed voice. The nord broke eye contact thankfully as the bar maid brought over the ordered mead, a worried look on her face. The woman nodded to the maid as she slipped the money, and a generous tip, onto the tray. A small quick curtsy of thanks and the maid set a brisk pace to her small haven in the tavern. The nord sipped a small amount of the beverage, releveling his eyes with the woman before continuing.
"Says 'e saw on 'is huntin' trip, outta dragon bridge. South of Mor Khazgur fort; Orcs are picky about their huntin' grounds they say." The woman smiles and drops a fat sack of gold on the table. Without a word, she nimbly climbs out of the chair and pushes back in. She strides effortlessly to the door, pickes up her weapon belt, and exits. New prey was on the prowl, but who was the prey, and who the predator?
This Rp aims to deliver a epic adventure of dragon slayers, set about kill not lowly wyrms, but wyverns of the highest calibur, that command the full force of nature with their Thu'um. Dragons that lay waste to the fabric of reality itself, and shout into existence pestilence, disease, and chaos. For this, only the finest of slayers can handle such a task, masters of their art, and lethal to a honed edge. We will be the best, because we must halt the worst.
There are a few ground rules you should know before you get to your hopes up.
1. I am final say. I mean this in the fact that my word is law, and that I usually lay these down AFTER I have heard all there is to hear. I try to be fair, I try to be kind, but I must draw a line somewhere. If you cross it after I've drawn it, you're out.
2. Accurate grammar. You may not bat 100, but try to make it so we can understand what you're saying. That being said, if you have horrendous grammar for your character, as part of your immersion tactics, I find that in good tastes and allow it. If you want your character to slur so bad no one can understand him, be my guest. I retain the right to kick you if you have horrid grammar however.
3. Keep it in PMs. If you want to flail limbs with another character, be my guest. I can understand the kindred spirit thing you sometimes get, and if it adds suspense/intrigue/decent drama to story, I actually encourage it. However, the act of 'mounting your beast' should be kept in PMs. I don't want smut in my RP. As far as gore goes, I have little restrictions, so long as people reading can keep their lunch down.
So, now that that's outta the way, I want masters of their trade, champions of the people, or tyrants of fear. Be what ever you want, so long as you're damn near the best at it. Anything less and you'll be lizard chow. I'm aiming for a squad of 6, excluding my character, and am will post an OoC if I get enough interests. More details to follow should that step happen