I have done all I can.
My people are finished, the last refuge of the Snow Elves, doomed from the machinations of my son who consorted with the Prince of Rape in a misguided attempt at obtaining power, and a daughter who broke thousands of years of isolation to seek help from outsiders, outsiders whom destroyed our civilization in their heavy handed and ignorant attempts to help, as only the ignorance of the young races can.
I grow old, and without an heir; both my son and my daughter perished when Molag Bal’s minions stormed our gates. While the outsiders stopped it, the cost was too high; the magics that protected Auriel’s Harborage were destroyed, and the ocean began to reclaim the lands as its own. I harboured no illusions that the Snow Elves would one day have a resurgence, and for all my great power, and the gift of sight I possess, I saw no reality where the fate we suffered could have been avoided. We were always doomed; our isolation merely prolonged the inevitable.
It has been over six-hundred years since I took the crown from my dying father’s hands, and I will return myself to the waves now that my final task is done. I have given a gift, one beyond wealth or conceivable value, to a Pirate Lord and a Bandit King, two men who had such potential, mere shadows of what they could have been. I have given them both a blessing and curse, one that could drive lesser minds mad. I will not see what the effects are as my time in this world is at a close. I cannot bear to witness what has become of the remainder of my people, subjugated and treated as lesser curiosities of the younger races. The twilight of the snow elves has arrived, and I the last king of our people, go with it.
The gift I gave could save the world in the right hands, but I have no faith that any in this world are pure enough to do so. And so, I have bequeathed this gift to two of the greatest thieves of the lands that stole the future of our people. It seems an appropriate end of an era, and the rise of another dark chapter is this world’s history; hail to the thieves, long may they reign.
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Art by Lucas Graciano
The year is 4E226 and Tamriel is once more enduring yet another great war between the Mede Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Great armies collide in Cyrodiil in a decade-long war, but the Empire is at a serious disadvantage; the only provinces it could call on for aid were Skyrim and High Rock, both of which have remained untouched by the Dominion forces. As the Dominion dismantles the Mede empire Legion by Legion, High Rock looks on, withholding forces for a potential invasion that may never come.
The Lords of High Rock in their high castle walls and their fiefdoms discuss what to do; it is clear the Empire may be finished, and those who speak of rushing to the Emperor’s aid are drowned out from the more pragmatic voices who wish to consolidate their rule amongst the Lords of High Rock, which is already a fractured land of Lords who aspire to be kings, pirates who fancy themselves a kingdom of their own, bandits who roam unchecked, and scheming houses who wish to rid themselves of hated families and rivals. It is a restless land on the brink of all-out war, decades of frustration and power struggles finally coming to a head.
Amongst these feuding houses and lords lay the common folk, many of whom are often caught up in the power struggles of their rulers and have been forced to deal with the rising bandit and pirate scourges on their own. Others become mercenaries, hiring their swords to the powers that be; others smell profit to be made. While the political intrigue of the titans of the land refuse to be ignored, ambitious souls without an old name seek to create their own by any means possible, be it through noble acts of chivalry and heroism, others pillage the land and prey off of the weak. If any claim to be unaffected by the turmoil, they or liars or simply waiting their turn for the chaos to roll over them.
In the town square of the minor hold of Meir Thorvale, ever cast in the shadow of the Wrothgarian Mountains, a group of prisoners are chained and knelt before a minor count, for a variety of crimes they may or may not have committed. While they await their sentences, the thundering sounds of hooves grows in the distance…
This is where your story begins.
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Hello! Welcome to the interest check for TES: Rage of the Waves, a game taking place 25 years after the events of TES: Skyrim, and is the sequel of another roleplay, TES: Resurgence of the Deep on another forum. Knowledge of that game and the events there are very inconsequential to this one and any important information will be explained when the OOC pops up, so fear not! This is 100% a stand alone story with all new characters and isolated events.
Posting standards are to post in the OOC and IC both at least once in a 14 day period, failure to do so will result in a wordless expulsion from the roleplay, so please let either of the GMs know if you have a leave of absence! Being Advanced standards, proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation are required, although don't sweat over a few mistakes here or there; we're here to have fun, not write English essays. As well, a minimum of 2-3 paragraphs per post is expected, but please don't feel pressured to try to match lengths with other players, especially if the scene requires quicker turn arounds and dialog.
Far more information will be available in the OOC, but I'll be happy to answer questions in the meantime! Once we have enough people say yes, we'll be good to go.
May your roads lead you to warm sands.
