"And in the child's forehead was the Chim-el Adabal,
alive with the dragon-fires of yore and divine promise,
and none dared obstruct Sed-Yenna when she climbed the
steps of White-Gold Tower to place the babe Reman
on his Throne, where he spoke as an adult, saying
I AM CYRODIIL COME."
- the Remanada
It is the year 4E 211. One decade has passed since the tumultuous start of the third century of the fourth era, when the Last Dragonborn brought down Alduin, the Emperor was assassinated by the Dark Brotherhood and the Thalmor were unexpectedly overthrown by Daedric usurpers on the final day of Evening Star. In short, Tamriel is chaos as all its former major powers have been shattered in one way or another. Skyrim, a shadow of its former self after ten years of bitter civil war, is finally united beneath the black banners of the vampiric Dovahkiin and his few remaining dragons. To the east, the Godkiller Nerevarine has returned from Akavir, seized control of the smoking ruins of Morrowind and disbanded the Great Houses. The two prophesied Heroes and their meager armies now battle in the long shadows of the Velothi Mountains, oblivious to the rest of the continent, each living legend determined to crush the other in a clash that knows no historic equal.
Alinor has been shrouded beneath a vile storm from the depths of Oblivion that ceaselessly rages in the Abecean Sea. Travel to and from the island-province is impossible as the Thalmor and the Daedric cults supposedly fight for dominance, leaving the Aldmeri Dominion scattered and leaderless. The Bosmer of Valenwood have retreated within the dark depths of their impenetrable forests and bide their time while the Khajiiti kingdoms of Anequina and Pelletine wage war upon one another in a fit of madness. Without the Empire, High Rock and Hammerfell have been reduced to a myriad of independent city-states, desert caliphates and farmland kingdoms, locked in a battle for survival against each other and a surging Orsinium. Black Marsh has become an enigma -- its Argonians have not been seen in years and of those who pass its borders, none have returned.
In the midst of all this the Ruby Throne sits empty without a worthy successor. The Starry Heart of Nirn is far from united as several Imperial warlords raise armies and skirmish against each other, each preparing to lay siege to the barred gates of the Imperial City behind which the Elder Council and a few loyal Legions have barricaded themselves. It seems trivial compared to the other events in Tamriel and, for the first time in thousands of years, the Imperials are mostly left to their own devices. It is in this theater of war that our story begins.
The rise of and the power struggle between countless kings and lords all over Tamriel has created a highly lucrative opportunity for mercenary companies and soldiers-of-fortune to make a killing. Some of them are entirely homogeneous, composed of a single race, while others are defiantly multicultural, electing to ignore the racial power struggles. Perhaps they are disillusioned Nords, refusing to bend the knee to the cruel Dragonborn, wandering Altmer without a home to return to, Argonians that fear what might have happened to Black Marsh and prefer not to find out, Bretons that couldn't care less about petty, squabbling kingdoms, Dunmer that would only be cursed and called 'outlander' in Morrowind -- men and women from all walks of life brought together by greed and brotherhood.
We are a small group of such individuals. Not even a company, really, more of a band of specialists in our respective fields that sell our services to the highest bidder. Right now, that happens to be a promising Nibenese warlord who wields the Daedric katana Goldbrand and calls himself Thaddeus Sibassian. He and his forces have occupied and restored the ruins of Sancre Tor and it is rumored that he has been blessed by Talos himself. True or not, he has the air of destiny about him. None of us are so special but perhaps we can make our mark by following this Sibassian and, well, if not, at least the septims are good.
Hello and thank you for reading this far. This is an idea I've been working on for a while and am itching to try out with a group of players. This roleplay rather obviously takes place in the universe of the Elder Scrolls videogames and it'll be a tough one for anyone without extensive experience with the series. Fortunately, as I've noticed, ES fans seem to be in abundance here.
I am looking for an as-of-yet undetermined amount of players (no more than six, though, in any case) to fill various as-of-yet undetermined roles to complete the group of specialists. Players will have significant freedom in creating their characters as long as they adhere roughly to a specific archetype that I want to fill. The aim of this is to create a diverse cast of characters with complementary skills. I don't believe in first come, first serve, so there won't be any claiming of roles beforehand. Anyone is free to make a sheet for the role that appeals to them most and I will select the best one (according to my judgement). Of course, being the only person to write a sheet for a particular role increases your chances... anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. What I can tell you is that I'm taking the Nord-warrior-with-a-greatsword-and-heavy-armor stereotype for myself as the group's charismatic leader.
Before I go on, I need some takers. Anyone interested?
My aim is to have the complete OOC thread up by tomorrow evening (European time). I will @mention the lot of you then. 
