Hello prospective partners! I'm PK!
This idea is one that is both simple and yet complex. It will take a bit of mental finagling, but honestly I think it could be fun!
Essentially, you're a citizen of Skyrim who has been transported accidentally by magical means to the world of Minecraft!
Weird, I know, but bear with me!
I am not putting Skyrim-looking people into a Minecraft style world. The world of Minecraft looks, sounds, smells, tastes, and feels like Tamriel, but the mobs, animals, and biomes are Minecraft-based. Imagine realistic cows, sheep, horses, creepers, drowned, pigmen, ghasts, and villagers.
Our characters will wake up separately, wherever we choose, and have to start surviving and eventually interacting with each other. There are rules, however.
1. You wake up with nothing, not even your memories besides your first name. No weapons, no tools, not even any clothes. You are essentially defenseless, though obviously you retain the ability to speak and understand speech,and you have all of your motor skills when it comes to walking, running, swimming, climbing and fighting.
2. If your character was a mage or knew magic, it will be unaccessible to you until later in the story. This goes for enchanting and alchemy as well.
Still with me? Good! I'm looking for at least 5-10 sentences a post, though if you want to write more go right ahead! Spelling and grammar are a must, though I completely understand if you're using a mobile device. Just do the best you can and don't be afraid to edit your post. This will be 18+ only, as there will be violence and adult themes. Please post at least once every 1-3 days, or give me a heads up if you need more time.
Now that all the rules are down, please go ahead and read the prologue I've written.
================================================================
PROLOGUE
It's been twelve years since the Civil War between the Thalmor-Controlled Empire and the independent Stormcloaks of Skyrim. It was a terribly bloody conflict, the Empire only won due to sheer numbers. However, due to events during the war, the Empire's grip on the frozen Skyrim had lessened in the last few years, and die-hard Stormcloaks veterans were rallying for one last-ditch effort to gain their freedom.
A platoon of soldiers stormed a Thalmor safehouse in search of a powerful artifact, supposedly one of the Daedric Princes'. The chance to get whatever the Empire was hiding...the chance to avenge their fallen brothers and sisters, it was too good to risk not taking.
And so they went, fifteen Stormcloaks soldiers. Wrapped in black to blend with the night. They infiltrated through a basement, quietly assassinating the unsuspecting Thalmor and Imperial guards. Finally, they came to a large set of iron doors, locked, bolted, and chained shut. The one mage amongst them inspected them, and found no enchantments. The path forward was clear, their prize was within reach. Their leader, a man named Lottir, hefted his warhammer, bringing it down on the doors. Five times he smashed the doors until they buckled inwards. A pulsating blueish light streamed out through the crumpled iron, and the Stormcloaks entered the chamber.
In the center was a large floating orb, runes shining on its surface. It gave off a low hum, and the air felt electrified. Lottir looked around the chamber. There were several chests and cabinets, no doubt filled with weapons, gold, and Imperial documents. They were meaningless beside this marvel. The mage, a Breton named Sortis stepped up to the orb. "By the Nine..." He said, reaching a hand out to feel the shimmering air around the orb.
"Sortis, secure our prize." Lottir said, striding to one of the chests. "Arwin, Rudolf, Granning, Cestan, go secure the entrance." He reached into a chest, pulling out jewels and gold. He let it all drop and picked up a crossbow sitting on a table and slung it on his back. The rest of you, fill your pockets and get ready to get out of here.
Sortis went straight to work, disentangling the magic wards that kept the orb in place. The four soldiers ran out of the room to secure the escape path. After about fifteen minutes, Sortis finally stepped back, his forehead slick and his hands slightly shaky. "It's ready."
Lottir nodded and clapped the Breton on the back. "Good work. Everyone, let's get movi-AAAGHH!" Lottir screamed, body convulsing as he was blasted by lighting from the entrance. Instantly everyone's weapons were drawn, but several more bolts smote most of the remaining soldiers in nearly an instant. Sortis screamed and dove behind the orb as electricity lanced over his head. "Lottir!" He cried out in anguish. Lottir lay motionless on the cold stone floor, and the remaining surviving Stormcloaks had already engaged the Imperials.
Out of the midst of the fighting a Thalmor stepped forth, wearing the obvious robes of an inquisitor. In his left hand he held a staff with a blueish orb set at the top. He laughed and stepped over Lottir, resting his hand on the large orb. "You fools really thought you could walk in and just take whatever you please?" He waved the staff and the orb rose up, leaving only empty space between him and Sortis. The high elf cackled and gestured with his staff again, hitting Sortis in the chest with a beam of light that lifted and threw him, then held him pinned against the far wall. Two of the Stormcloaks rushed the onquisitor, slashing high and low at him. He simply tapped the bottom of the staff on the ground once, and both soldiers were instantly gone. Reduced to atoms. The dust that remained fell to the floor and Sortis screamed in terror. "Like I said, fools." He tapped the staff again and the rest of the soldiers were blasted backwards, leaving just Sortis, the inquisitor, and the Imperial soldiers standing.
"You know, for such a simple plan, this all worked out very well." The high elf mused. "It was so easy to let an 'important letter' fall in to the wrong hands." His eyes met Sortis'. "That's right, this way a setup." He laughed and gestured with the staff again, releasing the Breton and letting him land hard on the stone beneath him. "I truly am feeling generous today, however, I'm willing to grant you mercy." Sortis looked up at the inquisitor with wide eyes. "Men, take the prisoners away! Oh, and requisition new doors as well." The Imperials went about their task, and Sortis hurriedly crawled ovwr to Lottir. He was already gone, eyes lifeless, the leather on his back charred and smoking. Sortis threw himself on. Top of Lottir's body and wept, shaking and coughing.
"Well, well. Looks like he's going to have a fit!" The Imperials laughed along with the inquisitor. "Come now, on your feet! You've a dungeon and a lifetime of torture ahead of you!" He kicked Sortis in the ribs, and the Breton cried out, then slowly raised himself to his feet, slightly hunched.
He said something quietly, too quiet for anyone to hear. "What's that, did you say something?" The inquisitor asked mockingly.
"I said..." Sortis wheezed. He definitely had broken ribs. "The only fool around here, i-is you!" He whipped around and fired the crossbow he had taken from Lottir's corpse, hitting the inquisitor in the chest. Sortis dropped the weapon as the inquisitor dropped his staff. The Breton. Took the chance to grab the staff and blasted the inquisitor with it, pinning him against the orb. Energy coursed through the inquisitor, who screamed a blood cuddling scream. His robes started smoking and deadly energy pulsed out of his eyes and mouth. The orb behind him shook and pulsated as well, the high pitched ringing had become an immense cacophony that could be heard far out into the night. With one last scream, there was a massive explosion. Sortis and the inquisitor were both destroyed, their bodies peeled away by the intense magic. The soldiers fared no better, being instantly atomized. There was a blinding flash and an explosion so loud that anyone within a mile was deafened. The Thalmor safehouse was completely obliterated, and then the cold Skyrim night was quiet.
================================================================
Whew. Done yet? I really hope this helps give a taste of my writing as well as setting the story up.
Following the events of the prologue is when our characters will wake up dazed and confused. We were one of the soldiers at "Magical Ground Zero" when the orb exploded and tore a hole in the fabric of space. Don't worry about coming up with a story, that won't matter in this new world.
If you're still interested in this, read a little bit further.
CHARACTER SHEET
Name: (Duh)
Age: (18+)
Race: (from the playable races in TeS)
Appearance: (descriptions or pictures)
-Height and Weight-
-Hair and Eyes-
-Face-
-Body and Build-
-Features- (tattoos, scars, markings, etc.)
Birthsign: (from TeS, I may implement that into the story, TBD)
This idea is one that is both simple and yet complex. It will take a bit of mental finagling, but honestly I think it could be fun!
Essentially, you're a citizen of Skyrim who has been transported accidentally by magical means to the world of Minecraft!
Weird, I know, but bear with me!
I am not putting Skyrim-looking people into a Minecraft style world. The world of Minecraft looks, sounds, smells, tastes, and feels like Tamriel, but the mobs, animals, and biomes are Minecraft-based. Imagine realistic cows, sheep, horses, creepers, drowned, pigmen, ghasts, and villagers.
Our characters will wake up separately, wherever we choose, and have to start surviving and eventually interacting with each other. There are rules, however.
1. You wake up with nothing, not even your memories besides your first name. No weapons, no tools, not even any clothes. You are essentially defenseless, though obviously you retain the ability to speak and understand speech,and you have all of your motor skills when it comes to walking, running, swimming, climbing and fighting.
2. If your character was a mage or knew magic, it will be unaccessible to you until later in the story. This goes for enchanting and alchemy as well.
Still with me? Good! I'm looking for at least 5-10 sentences a post, though if you want to write more go right ahead! Spelling and grammar are a must, though I completely understand if you're using a mobile device. Just do the best you can and don't be afraid to edit your post. This will be 18+ only, as there will be violence and adult themes. Please post at least once every 1-3 days, or give me a heads up if you need more time.
Now that all the rules are down, please go ahead and read the prologue I've written.
================================================================
PROLOGUE
It's been twelve years since the Civil War between the Thalmor-Controlled Empire and the independent Stormcloaks of Skyrim. It was a terribly bloody conflict, the Empire only won due to sheer numbers. However, due to events during the war, the Empire's grip on the frozen Skyrim had lessened in the last few years, and die-hard Stormcloaks veterans were rallying for one last-ditch effort to gain their freedom.
A platoon of soldiers stormed a Thalmor safehouse in search of a powerful artifact, supposedly one of the Daedric Princes'. The chance to get whatever the Empire was hiding...the chance to avenge their fallen brothers and sisters, it was too good to risk not taking.
And so they went, fifteen Stormcloaks soldiers. Wrapped in black to blend with the night. They infiltrated through a basement, quietly assassinating the unsuspecting Thalmor and Imperial guards. Finally, they came to a large set of iron doors, locked, bolted, and chained shut. The one mage amongst them inspected them, and found no enchantments. The path forward was clear, their prize was within reach. Their leader, a man named Lottir, hefted his warhammer, bringing it down on the doors. Five times he smashed the doors until they buckled inwards. A pulsating blueish light streamed out through the crumpled iron, and the Stormcloaks entered the chamber.
In the center was a large floating orb, runes shining on its surface. It gave off a low hum, and the air felt electrified. Lottir looked around the chamber. There were several chests and cabinets, no doubt filled with weapons, gold, and Imperial documents. They were meaningless beside this marvel. The mage, a Breton named Sortis stepped up to the orb. "By the Nine..." He said, reaching a hand out to feel the shimmering air around the orb.
"Sortis, secure our prize." Lottir said, striding to one of the chests. "Arwin, Rudolf, Granning, Cestan, go secure the entrance." He reached into a chest, pulling out jewels and gold. He let it all drop and picked up a crossbow sitting on a table and slung it on his back. The rest of you, fill your pockets and get ready to get out of here.
Sortis went straight to work, disentangling the magic wards that kept the orb in place. The four soldiers ran out of the room to secure the escape path. After about fifteen minutes, Sortis finally stepped back, his forehead slick and his hands slightly shaky. "It's ready."
Lottir nodded and clapped the Breton on the back. "Good work. Everyone, let's get movi-AAAGHH!" Lottir screamed, body convulsing as he was blasted by lighting from the entrance. Instantly everyone's weapons were drawn, but several more bolts smote most of the remaining soldiers in nearly an instant. Sortis screamed and dove behind the orb as electricity lanced over his head. "Lottir!" He cried out in anguish. Lottir lay motionless on the cold stone floor, and the remaining surviving Stormcloaks had already engaged the Imperials.
Out of the midst of the fighting a Thalmor stepped forth, wearing the obvious robes of an inquisitor. In his left hand he held a staff with a blueish orb set at the top. He laughed and stepped over Lottir, resting his hand on the large orb. "You fools really thought you could walk in and just take whatever you please?" He waved the staff and the orb rose up, leaving only empty space between him and Sortis. The high elf cackled and gestured with his staff again, hitting Sortis in the chest with a beam of light that lifted and threw him, then held him pinned against the far wall. Two of the Stormcloaks rushed the onquisitor, slashing high and low at him. He simply tapped the bottom of the staff on the ground once, and both soldiers were instantly gone. Reduced to atoms. The dust that remained fell to the floor and Sortis screamed in terror. "Like I said, fools." He tapped the staff again and the rest of the soldiers were blasted backwards, leaving just Sortis, the inquisitor, and the Imperial soldiers standing.
"You know, for such a simple plan, this all worked out very well." The high elf mused. "It was so easy to let an 'important letter' fall in to the wrong hands." His eyes met Sortis'. "That's right, this way a setup." He laughed and gestured with the staff again, releasing the Breton and letting him land hard on the stone beneath him. "I truly am feeling generous today, however, I'm willing to grant you mercy." Sortis looked up at the inquisitor with wide eyes. "Men, take the prisoners away! Oh, and requisition new doors as well." The Imperials went about their task, and Sortis hurriedly crawled ovwr to Lottir. He was already gone, eyes lifeless, the leather on his back charred and smoking. Sortis threw himself on. Top of Lottir's body and wept, shaking and coughing.
"Well, well. Looks like he's going to have a fit!" The Imperials laughed along with the inquisitor. "Come now, on your feet! You've a dungeon and a lifetime of torture ahead of you!" He kicked Sortis in the ribs, and the Breton cried out, then slowly raised himself to his feet, slightly hunched.
He said something quietly, too quiet for anyone to hear. "What's that, did you say something?" The inquisitor asked mockingly.
"I said..." Sortis wheezed. He definitely had broken ribs. "The only fool around here, i-is you!" He whipped around and fired the crossbow he had taken from Lottir's corpse, hitting the inquisitor in the chest. Sortis dropped the weapon as the inquisitor dropped his staff. The Breton. Took the chance to grab the staff and blasted the inquisitor with it, pinning him against the orb. Energy coursed through the inquisitor, who screamed a blood cuddling scream. His robes started smoking and deadly energy pulsed out of his eyes and mouth. The orb behind him shook and pulsated as well, the high pitched ringing had become an immense cacophony that could be heard far out into the night. With one last scream, there was a massive explosion. Sortis and the inquisitor were both destroyed, their bodies peeled away by the intense magic. The soldiers fared no better, being instantly atomized. There was a blinding flash and an explosion so loud that anyone within a mile was deafened. The Thalmor safehouse was completely obliterated, and then the cold Skyrim night was quiet.
================================================================
Whew. Done yet? I really hope this helps give a taste of my writing as well as setting the story up.
Following the events of the prologue is when our characters will wake up dazed and confused. We were one of the soldiers at "Magical Ground Zero" when the orb exploded and tore a hole in the fabric of space. Don't worry about coming up with a story, that won't matter in this new world.
If you're still interested in this, read a little bit further.
CHARACTER SHEET
Name: (Duh)
Age: (18+)
Race: (from the playable races in TeS)
Appearance: (descriptions or pictures)
-Height and Weight-
-Hair and Eyes-
-Face-
-Body and Build-
-Features- (tattoos, scars, markings, etc.)
Birthsign: (from TeS, I may implement that into the story, TBD)