Apollosarcher

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

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Bleary eyes creaked open, as pain shot through his system a clutching at his and wincing only delivering a second winded gasp as his ribs were definitely at least cracked. Sildun cracked lips tasted of blood still, the massive Nord trying to get his bearings as he grunted trying to focus, the urge to vomit rising lucky at worst it would be a retching drive heave, still not ideal. With one hand wrapped around his ribs the other on his head. When his eyes finally focused... It was the Emperor and Blades before him, he'd seen a Blade once or twice in passing but... The Emperor... Shor's stones... This was... He fought the ringing in his ears and the blaring noise of his mind to hear the emperor speak. The beaten Nord downing his best to rise to a knee and bow his head, he'd sworn an oath and taken the Emperor's coin. This man, his Emperor... He'd fight and die for him, he was Dragonborn the hope of men, subduer of Mer and rightful ruler of all realms he reminded himself, smiling even if the day had gone poorly a chance to serve the Emperor himself, he'd never had another chance like this.

"Sildun-" He wheezed and coughed hard retching a moment, as he tilted his head up. "Sildun Oath-blood... Auxilia of the Imperial Legion, honored to serve whereever I can." He spoke hoarsely, steadying himself as he braced on the wall thankful at least he still had his boots and traveling clothes seems the guards hadn't taken everything from him. As he braced on the wall his hands ignited with soft light doing his best to summon forth restoration magic starting on his head, fighting the urge to retch as focused his will on trying to tamp down the pain and repair some damage.

"Where the Emperor goes I'll defend... I swore an Oath, A Nord's word is his life. No honor awaits me if abandon you now my Emperor." His breath began to steady a bit as shifted his hand to his ribs next, wincing in pain. Barely managing to stand now under his own power he fought to rise to his full height where he once lay thrown into a corner leaned against a wall. The big looking down at the blades. "Whatever I can give is yours Captain, even injured my duty is to Emperor. I took his coin." Sildun spoke slowly looking over the crowd in the cell, he was certainly not the largest here but far from the smallest, the beating he'd taken during from guards certainly came from a fear he'd be hard to subdue it seemed.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

The Legionaire

---

---

"What, you act like you've never seen a Nord read before."

Name: Sildun of Clan Oath-blood

Age: 28

Race: Nord

Appearance: Standing at around seven foot, nearly three feet shoulder to shoulder, with mountains of muscle and fiery hair indicative of his northern lineage and sheer size making it all the more obvious. With light scarring crossing his pale skin from lessons learned from a harsh upbringing in the frozen lands and deeper ones from service in the Legion, visible or not. Still even with wildly long braided hair and sizeable beard he keeps himself clean and well groomed. Often seen in steel plate with animal hide lining giving the appearance of the common Nordic warrior. Still the symbol of the Legion is pinned to his armor denotes his service and position.

Personality: Most would call him loud or foolhardy, Sildun does not pay them much mind, Nords have never been understood by men or mer. Often time philosophical and thoughtful when not wading into battle against foes, with imposing size and muscle. A careful few recognize the intelligence and cunning of scholar they see only the soldier, the warrior, the dumb brute of a Nord, he prefers it that way. His time in the Reach taught him that though honor and faith are important, battle takes more than heart and steel, cunning too is needed especially when foes have access to just as much steel and more magic. As such while comes off as any other Nord might there is a cunning and learned skill behind his demeanor that works to conceal, playing what others believe him to be so he always under estimated.

Skills:

Well Trained Warrior: Trained by Ivar Spell Breaker, Thane of Eastmarch, warrior poet, and most important to Sildun, his cherished uncle. Silden would learn the blade and spar against his adventuring compatriots in Markarth, as he grew older he would also be allowed to accompany them on jobs or explorations. Preferring axes, hammers, swords of any size paired with a shield, Sildun’s time in the legion also taught him how to fight in concert while adventuring he learned to fight alone.

Life on the Rim: From the impressive peaks and valleys of Skyrim's many wonderful views often nestled atop its many rocky cliffs, it ensures those who travel the region must have the ability to resist the cold. As well as the stamina, and strength of lung to ascend the high mountains in armor, with packs upon their backs. From near vertical free climbs, to enduring the harsh snow storms and winds, or marching up a mountain, Sildun has plentiful stamina.

Scholar and Philosopher: As the third son of the Jarl of Eastmarch, Sildun did not expect any great inheritance or title, not even that of Thane. However by the age of five his voracious appetite for books and knowledge was becoming an issue to the castle staff. So with Ivar for protection and guidance, Sildun’s father had him sent off to study with scholars by the time he was eight years old. His growth as a scholar and researcher would have been studying ruined walls when his uncle took him adventuring or if not that writing and trying to learn as to the reasons behind his lessons. He hopes one day to contribute that knowledge into a book of his own.

Deftly Maneuvers: Some folks think a big man has to be slow, or that they cannot be limber and agile. For those who choose strength in excess this is true, but it’s not practical in the slightest, as from riding to climbing to how to jump and recover. Sildun has learned well how to stay on his feet and dodge blows, while he is no Bosmer he is certainly more capable than most men.

A Bear's Best Friend: During his time in Skyrim he would visit home in Windhelm before returning to the Legion he would be accosted by a Snow Bear while camping. During the struggle between the two as night fell a group of Falmer emerged from the caverns attempting to kill the pair, battling together as the injured duo struck down the Falmer and their pets with steel and claw.

Tending to the snow bear's wounds before his own he collapsed, passing out, trying to honor the creature who helped him fend off the damnable monsters. He would awaken to find the bear standing watch over him. With his ankle sprained he sat upon its back and directed the bear onwards. Now three years later, the duo is near inseparable. Naming her Bloodclaw, she has been his companion and inducted into the Imperial Legion herself.

Restoration training: Constantly finding himself in trouble and hurt while studying in Markath. Sildun ended up learning some restoration magic from Ivar’s fellow adventurers Jean Tamrith and Lady Ravyn Telvayn. The spell sword and mage of Ivar’s little band insisted on the fact the young man was going to make mistakes he should know how to heal them. Barely at an apprentice level being able to heal himself or another has saved his own life and others repeatedly. He has some small ability to fortify but he knows little outside of these skills, mostly enough to support himself or heal minor wounds.

Magic:

Restoration:

Healing
Fortify Speed
Fortify Strength

Equipment:

Personal Items: Simple traveling clothes, bear skin cloak, and 300 septims

The Lock Box: Amulet of Talos, pocket guide to the Empire 1st edition, his room key for an inn outside the Imperial City paid for a week, and personal journal.

Stored Items: Signet Ring of Eastmarch, Sealed Letters from Markarth, Legionnaire heavy armor lined with fur and hides. Small personal book collection, Nord Hero Great hammer, Legionnaire Shield, Bastard Sword, and Bloodclaw his Snow Bear mount.

Backstory

Background: Sildun was born in Windhelm, to his father, Jarl Harald “Peacemaker” Oath-Blood and his mother, Astrid Death Song, a Warrior Skald from the Rift. The youngest boy of six children and with two younger sisters, Sildun was really paid much attention at court. Like his brothers much was expected but little time was able to be given to him alone. As such from a young age he found comfort in books and tales of old. His training with a blade began as a child, sparring with his older brothers or being instructed in how to fight by his father’s Housecarl and Thanes. He was of passable skill but did not stand out, especially compared to his two older brother’s Leif and Agmundr Oath-blood.

Sildun’s love of knowledge and pestering curiosity did have an effect, namely getting him sent to study in Markarth as a ward there; from the time he was eight years old he found himself immersed in the study of history, philosophy, and even magic. While he studied hard, his father, believing any Oath-Blood must know how to defend himself, assigned a Thane to watch over and tutor the boy. Ivar Spell Breaker, a Nordic mercenary, turned Thane who had trained at the College of Winterhold, he was also Astrid’s brother as such Uncle Ivar regularly trained Sildun with a blade when he was not engaged in his scholarly pursuits.

It was Ivar’s tales of the wider world, of foreign cultures and introductions outside views via his Uncle's fellow mercenaries and adventurers. His fellow students were mostly Nords though he met many Breton’s and Reachmen while living in Markarth, he found it utterly interesting especially when compared to the stories heard mostly in the less developed eastern Skyrim. As the years went on his days were filled with studies, exploration, and hearty discussion around the hearths. It was during this time he took a small interest in restoration magic, less in the name of doing good or helping others more out naked self

Sildun's teenage years found his growth in swordplay and scholarly studies, becoming a talented researcher and historian. Though much like Nordic Skalds are warrior bards, Nordic researchers do not wait for others to find things, they go in search of things themselves. With armor and veteran adventurers in front of him, Sildun often came along to support the others with a lesser share of what they found to be a great deal of learning to be done. With sword or shield or warhammer, he found practical experience following those who made their riches delving into dangerous forgotten places in the oldest kingdom of men.

Eventually the adventurers his uncle had in his circle prepared to travel for the next few years towards the end Sildun's teenage years. Uncle Ivar planned to travel back to Eastmarch and renounce his Thaneship and travel with his friends as mercenaries and adventurers. Ravyn, Gahz, Jean, Verela who had taught the young man so much would give a final send off, a warhammer they had restored in Whiterun supposedly belonging to an ancient Nord Hero... It was no enchanted or storied weapon, but they said it would be his job to give it a tale.

Sildun would volunteer for the legion acting as auxiliary and support to the Legionaries in Skyrim, Highrock, and even Cyrodiil. While serving aboard or traveling home, he came to realize that the perception of Nords was dissimilar to how the Nords saw them themselves. An unconquered people who followed strength and power most of all, who preferred to live honest and simple lives did not much care for politics or power struggles. He found that outside of their homeland where Nords were cautious about outsiders, it was much worse in other places. Nords were viewed as strange and backwards people, by many and often thought as foolhardy or brutes. Attempts to challenge that notion of led chuckles or decision as ‘the scholarly Nord’ save for when he served with the Legion. During his time working under centurions he found he was often a valued asset and often well liked by his fellow soldiers. While he appreciated the comradery it was learning that others looked down upon Nords that taught him it was best to keep his knowledge to himself.

When not training, fighting, or traveling, Sildun was most often found reading or in a form of meditation. Since his companion mount and Bloodclaw joined him in service he has found himself traveling to more far flung places. Assigned to legion service alongside cavalry units he withdrew. He was strong of size and hand, with service to the Legion he only found himself growing stronger and more skilled. Whether facing bandits or more organized foes the crack of his hammer or the strength of his will, even his booming voice striking fear in the foes before him.

When not with the Legion and close enough to home he’d return to Markarth to study and learn more, if not he’d seek out other institutions of learning. Nearly a twenty year student, Sildun has recently traveled to the Imperial City with hopes to further educate himself. His fellow Legionnaires from Skyrim accompanied him to see the arena match. Sildun was more interested in visiting the Arcane University, these hopes were dashed when the soldiers he was accompanying decided to get angry with the bookie in the tavern. Said bookies goons then promptly tried to fight their way out when the brawl started... The last thing he remembers was one of the Bookie’s goons striking him as and Sildun throwing him so hard into the lock box it shattered and sent Septims scattering across the floor... Right before he brought a club down on the back of his head... Seven times after he tried to rise with each hit. Awakening in a cell, he's certainly realizing this will complicate plans to visit the university.

Ambition: To bring knowledge and learning back to his teachers.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

The Legionaire

---

---

"What, you act like you've never seen a Nord read before."

Name: Sildun of Clan Oath-blood

Age: 28

Race: Nord

Appearance: Standing at around seven foot, nearly three feet shoulder to shoulder, with mountains of muscle and fiery hair indicative of his northern lineage and sheer size making it all the more obvious. With light scarring crossing his pale skin from lessons learned from a harsh upbringing in the frozen lands and deeper ones from service in the Legion, visible or not. Still even with wildly long braided hair and sizeable beard he keeps himself clean and well groomed. Often seen in steel plate with animal hide lining giving the appearance of the common Nordic warrior. Still the symbol of the Legion is pinned to his armor denotes his service and position.

Personality: Most would call him loud or foolhardy, Sildun does not pay them much mind, Nords have never been understood by men or mer. Often time philosophical and thoughtful when not wading into battle against foes, with imposing size and muscle. A careful few recognize the intelligence and cunning of scholar they see only the soldier, the warrior, the dumb brute of a Nord, he prefers it that way. His time in the Reach taught him that though honor and faith are important, battle takes more than heart and steel, cunning too is needed especially when foes have access to just as much steel and more magic. As such while comes off as any other Nord might there is a cunning and learned skill behind his demeanor that works to conceal, playing what others believe him to be so he always under estimated.

Skills:

Well Trained Warrior: Trained by Ivar Spell Breaker, Thane of Eastmarch, warrior poet, and most important to Sildun, his cherished uncle. Silden would learn the blade and spar against his adventuring compatriots in Markarth, as he grew older he would also be allowed to accompany them on jobs or explorations. Preferring axes, hammers, swords of any size paired with a shield, Sildun’s time in the legion also taught him how to fight in concert while adventuring he learned to fight alone.

Life on the Rim: From the impressive peaks and valleys of Skyrim's many wonderful views often nestled atop its many rocky cliffs, it ensures those who travel the region must have the ability to resist the cold. As well as the stamina, and strength of lung to ascend the high mountains in armor, with packs upon their backs. From near vertical free climbs, to enduring the harsh snow storms and winds, or marching up a mountain, Sildun has plentiful stamina.

Scholar and Philosopher: As the third son of the Jarl of Eastmarch, Sildun did not expect any great inheritance or title, not even that of Thane. However by the age of five his voracious appetite for books and knowledge was becoming an issue to the castle staff. So with Ivar for protection and guidance, Sildun’s father had him sent off to study with scholars by the time he was eight years old. His growth as a scholar and researcher would have been studying ruined walls when his uncle took him adventuring or if not that writing and trying to learn as to the reasons behind his lessons. He hopes one day to contribute that knowledge into a book of his own.

Deftly Maneuvers: Some folks think a big man has to be slow, or that they cannot be limber and agile. For those who choose strength in excess this is true, but it’s not practical in the slightest, as from riding to climbing to how to jump and recover. Sildun has learned well how to stay on his feet and dodge blows, while he is no Bosmer he is certainly more capable than most men.

A Bear's Best Friend: During his time in Skyrim he would visit home in Windhelm before returning to the Legion he would be accosted by a Snow Bear while camping. During the struggle between the two as night fell a group of Falmer emerged from the caverns attempting to kill the pair, battling together as the injured duo struck down the Falmer and their pets with steel and claw.

Tending to the snow bear's wounds before his own he collapsed, passing out, trying to honor the creature who helped him fend off the damnable monsters. He would awaken to find the bear standing watch over him. With his ankle sprained he sat upon its back and directed the bear onwards. Now three years later, the duo is near inseparable. Naming her Bloodclaw, she has been his companion and inducted into the Imperial Legion herself.

Restoration training: Constantly finding himself in trouble and hurt while studying in Markath. Sildun ended up learning some restoration magic from Ivar’s fellow adventurers Jean Tamrith and Lady Ravyn Telvayn. The spell sword and mage of Ivar’s little band insisted on the fact the young man was going to make mistakes he should know how to heal them. Barely at an apprentice level being able to heal himself or another has saved his own life and others repeatedly. He has some small ability to fortify but he knows little outside of these skills, mostly enough to support himself or heal minor wounds.

Magic:

Restoration:

Healing
Fortify Speed
Fortify Strength

Equipment:

Personal Items: Simple traveling clothes, bear skin cloak, and 300 septims

The Lock Box: Amulet of Talos, pocket guide to the Empire 1st edition, his room key for an inn outside the Imperial City paid for a week, and personal journal.

Stored Items: Signet Ring of Eastmarch, Sealed Letters from Markarth, Legionnaire heavy armor lined with fur and hides. Small personal book collection, Nord Hero Great hammer, Legionnaire Shield, Bastard Sword, and Bloodclaw his Snow Bear mount.

Backstory

Background: Sildun was born in Windhelm, to his father, Jarl Harald “Peacemaker” Oath-Blood and his mother, Astrid Death Song, a Warrior Skald from the Rift. The youngest boy of six children and with two younger sisters, Sildun was really paid much attention at court. Like his brothers much was expected but little time was able to be given to him alone. As such from a young age he found comfort in books and tales of old. His training with a blade began as a child, sparring with his older brothers or being instructed in how to fight by his father’s Housecarl and Thanes. He was of passable skill but did not stand out, especially compared to his two older brother’s Leif and Agmundr Oath-blood.

Sildun’s love of knowledge and pestering curiosity did have an effect, namely getting him sent to study in Markarth as a ward there; from the time he was eight years old he found himself immersed in the study of history, philosophy, and even magic. While he studied hard, his father, believing any Oath-Blood must know how to defend himself, assigned a Thane to watch over and tutor the boy. Ivar Spell Breaker, a Nordic mercenary, turned Thane who had trained at the College of Winterhold, he was also Astrid’s brother as such Uncle Ivar regularly trained Sildun with a blade when he was not engaged in his scholarly pursuits.

It was Ivar’s tales of the wider world, of foreign cultures and introductions outside views via his Uncle's fellow mercenaries and adventurers. His fellow students were mostly Nords though he met many Breton’s and Reachmen while living in Markarth, he found it utterly interesting especially when compared to the stories heard mostly in the less developed eastern Skyrim. As the years went on his days were filled with studies, exploration, and hearty discussion around the hearths. It was during this time he took a small interest in restoration magic, less in the name of doing good or helping others more out naked self

Sildun's teenage years found his growth in swordplay and scholarly studies, becoming a talented researcher and historian. Though much like Nordic Skalds are warrior bards, Nordic researchers do not wait for others to find things, they go in search of things themselves. With armor and veteran adventurers in front of him, Sildun often came along to support the others with a lesser share of what they found to be a great deal of learning to be done. With sword or shield or warhammer, he found practical experience following those who made their riches delving into dangerous forgotten places in the oldest kingdom of men.

Eventually the adventurers his uncle had in his circle prepared to travel for the next few years towards the end Sildun's teenage years. Uncle Ivar planned to travel back to Eastmarch and renounce his Thaneship and travel with his friends as mercenaries and adventurers. Ravyn, Gahz, Jean, Verela who had taught the young man so much would give a final send off, a warhammer they had restored in Whiterun supposedly belonging to an ancient Nord Hero... It was no enchanted or storied weapon, but they said it would be his job to give it a tale.

Sildun would volunteer for the legion acting as auxiliary and support to the Legionaries in Skyrim, Highrock, and even Cyrodiil. While serving aboard or traveling home, he came to realize that the perception of Nords was dissimilar to how the Nords saw them themselves. An unconquered people who followed strength and power most of all, who preferred to live honest and simple lives did not much care for politics or power struggles. He found that outside of their homeland where Nords were cautious about outsiders, it was much worse in other places. Nords were viewed as strange and backwards people, by many and often thought as foolhardy or brutes. Attempts to challenge that notion of led chuckles or decision as ‘the scholarly Nord’ save for when he served with the Legion. During his time working under centurions he found he was often a valued asset and often well liked by his fellow soldiers. While he appreciated the comradery it was learning that others looked down upon Nords that taught him it was best to keep his knowledge to himself.

When not training, fighting, or traveling, Sildun was most often found reading or in a form of meditation. Since his companion mount and Bloodclaw joined him in service he has found himself traveling to more far flung places. Assigned to legion service alongside cavalry units he withdrew. He was strong of size and hand, with service to the Legion he only found himself growing stronger and more skilled. Whether facing bandits or more organized foes the crack of his hammer or the strength of his will, even his booming voice striking fear in the foes before him.

When not with the Legion and close enough to home he’d return to Markarth to study and learn more, if not he’d seek out other institutions of learning. Nearly a twenty year student, Sildun has recently traveled to the Imperial City with hopes to further educate himself. His fellow Legionnaires from Skyrim accompanied him to see the arena match. Sildun was more interested in visiting the Arcane University, these hopes were dashed when the soldiers he was accompanying decided to get angry with the bookie in the tavern. Said bookies goons then promptly tried to fight their way out when the brawl started... The last thing he remembers was one of the Bookie’s goons striking him as and Sildun throwing him so hard into the lock box it shattered and sent Septims scattering across the floor... Right before he brought a club down on the back of his head... Seven times after he tried to rise with each hit. Awakening in a cell, he's certainly realizing this will complicate plans to visit the university.

Ambition: To bring knowledge and learning back to his teachers.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

Interested and cobbling together a sheet.

Cyberpunk2077: 5th Corporate War

“And that Emily is the long and short of why we are not in the office and around a hundred fifty miles away from Night City... Sora you gotta try this coleslaw.” Dusty spoke offering the container and a fresh spoon to her as the pair sat on the hood of the Clydesdale near a rustic little diner with a spread of country fixins. Fried chicken, Okra, green beans, mashed potatoes, and pork ribs. “Wish you could join us for the meal. One of the families recommended this place, apparently it’s a hot spot for the Snake nation smugglers... So how was your day?”

Dusty had casually explained the fact he had a blood feud with his own sibling, said sibling was marshaling the Raffen Shiv, Sora had massacred an entire Shiv encampment, nearly started a war, and apparently their may soon be high way wars going just outside the walls of her home city which meant the price on everything was gonna go up.

Dusty took a sec to grab another rib, offering a bottle of fire water to Sora. The moonshine the Nomad’s drank was stronger than Night City cocktails, smelled more pleasant than synthetic alcohols and drinks they mixed in the dive bars... Even if you could be pretty sure Dusty used the same stuff to clean the brakes on the Clydesdale. “I dunno, maybe we should take Emily on her first field trip out of the office... Have you ever been camping Emily?” Dusty gave Sora a shit eating grin to let her know he was mostly just trying to get a rise from the little blonde.

“Security needed a revised clearance request form, accounting required the monthly expenditure statements, ‘Joan’ stopped by wanting to see you and requested you let her know when you have time…even though she wouldn’t give me any contact details at all…”
The irritation in Emily’s voice was subtle, but plainly heard, Sora’s only reaction was to, literally, spit in disgust. Her dark eyes hardened in the twisted disgust of betrayal as she glared at Dusty and threw the container of coleslaw over her shoulder to the ground, “I hate you.”
“…what?” Emily audibly double-took over the line.
Sora sighed softly, “Not you—send anything I need to sign, and ‘Joan’ is an auditor from the New York office I helped a few times when I was Danger Gal. No idea what she wants, but if she wouldn’t tell you then it’s likely personal and can wait until I’m back.”
“Why does she hate you?”
At the same time, in contrasting tones, the two answered her: “Coleslaw.”
“Oh, that’s foul, Dusty,” Emily ick’d from the other end of the line. “A few other notes; a MiliTech rep passed security checks to reach out to you, a Lauren Westin. Just left contact info, nothing else.”
At the name, Sora accepted the bottle and took a strong swig, before handing it back, though nothing on her surface suggested anything distressing. It was a pure juxtaposition of words and flat, unfeeling, tone, “About the last operation. Expected.”
Intrigue sounded in Emily’s tone, despite some manner of effort to conceal it, “…is it about the woman?”
“Yes. About the woman.”
Something was right there, but Sora didn’t have the processing capacity to deal with it, or think on it, at the moment. “Anything else?”
“R&D want to see you when they can, something about your chrome…and, uh, Michiko’s office wanted to set up a meeting for you with a Gaertner-San. I told her office three days, they seemed satisfied with that.”
Sora blinked at the handheld device on speaker, lying face-up on the hood of the car, “Emily…you maybe wanna lead with that next time a member of the Arasaka clan personally requests a meeting?
“They said there was no rush.”
Sora chortled, sarcastically, “Right. They also said at my earliest convenience?”
“They did.”
The universal look of corporate ‘fuck me’ rolled along Sora’s face as deeply as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. That, the MiliTech woman, and Sora suddenly wasn’t feeling very at ease with any of it.
What the hell kind of fallout was Eddie going to pull down around her ears?
“I couldn’t dig anything up about Gaertner?”
Sora looked as if she might try to stick her fork in her eye, her eyes slowly closing and reopening only after a series of deep breathing, “He’s German. He’s smart. Investigator.”
“Like you?”
She shrugged, as if Emily could see it, “Smarter. Absolute shit in a fight, but that’s not what they pay him for. Don’t worry about it right now.” Because I’m not, either, but she didn’t include that part. It all had to do with Eddie, and that was enough for Sora to push it out of her brain at the moment and enjoy the pork ribs.
At the mention of camping, Emily laughed, loudly, “Yes, Dusty, what Night City girl doesn’t go camping? You two don’t get killed. Talk soon, boss.”
“Coooleslaw,” Sora said, mockingly, shaking her head in disappointment and disgust.
“Hey. I like it better than synthetic meat and veggies... Better than the tofu.” He taunted as he laughed a moment. “You sure don't wanna head back to the city? I could get you back to your bed and personal chef before nightfall and get myself back here before midnight if you don't wanna sleep with the Nomads.” He chuckled, he couldn't imagine Sora roughing it in the desert. Sand in her chrome, her hair getting split ends and skin cracked and dried from the heat.
He also couldn't picture her on a cattle drive or living out of a camper. He could definitely see her as a fan of freedom and bikes... She had visited his place a few times to see his custom bike in pieces on the kitchen table. Either way as they wrapped up the meal Dusty cleaned his hands with water from a bottle and then some soap usually meant for decreasing his hands after fixing the car.
He slipped an extra hundred Eddie's to the chef and waitress each. Then stretched a moment. “You sure you can put up with country and Nomad rock for a night? Or should I see if the Meta's can get you an AV to NC?” He teased one last time.
“Sometimes, it’s necessary to go a long distance out of the way, to come back a short distance correctly,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t recognize the quote, or the man who said it a century ago, and as she wiped her hands clean of the rib sauce, she put it another way: “getting lost is not always a waste of time, Dusty.”
And then, as she swirled from her perch and began to collect the handheld device, cigarette, vintage lighter, and handgun, she stuck a cigarette between pursed lips and struck the ignition wheel of the lighter, allowing a plume of pale, thin, to rise as she threw in something at the end, before she walked off to take her smoke, “you don’t think I have an AV, as an executive level employee of Arasaka?”
She didn’t wait for a response, or look for a reaction, of the fact that she had available to her most efficient and effective means of transportation at her disposal besides him, and she would leave it to him to work out exactly what that meant.
“No. But you like how Nomad's drive better than suits... You ought to see how space jockeys and independ aero smugglers fly... Pretty sure you'd crack a smile. Edward Albee... Decent writer.” He moved to take a seat in the Clydesdale as he pulled the radio up, giving Sora her first hint he might have a brain behind that hat. “This is Dusty Rhodes, come in Jodes camp, need a Texas size ten four on where to head.”

He stopped a moment listening in as he nodded and frowned. “Uh huh... Well tell the others we are bringing company and keep my sister locked up for the evening. I don't need her hitting on my boss.” He added to the dispatcher, as he moved to roll his own cigarette and wait for Sora to finish her smoke. It was a short drive, but once they got there it was gonna be a party and a half... Apparently they were calling a war council for the new Shiv threat. Meant the representatives from the seven nations would be meeting in the Jodes camp... The entire Jodes nation was mobilizing.
Her mind was a haze, the air of the badland gloom felt thin, and it seemed to her as if she could chain-smoke anything. Her own little Hell was packing up and moving with the Nomads, but her mind couldn’t have been further away, it wasn’t even planet side. The horizon of the endless wastes became the horizon of Lunar wastes, blinding bright, with the smell of recycled air. No amount of perfectly tuned processors could help her feel anything but lost at the time.
Middle finger and thumb ejected the dying cigarette butt into the sands, Sora silently slipped into the bucket seats of the car, closing the passenger door, and settling in. When they arrived the just as quietly slid out, and followed him with the backpack slung over one shoulder, sheathed katana with plain, black, hilt and hand wrapping in the other hand like she was the new kid to the psycho’s summer camp awaiting bunk assignment.
The Jodes encampment was buzzing with activity, must have three or clans worth of Nomads here. Militech, Arasaka, homemade tech, and more being loaded and prepared. A little brigade of three armored Militech tanks and some support vehicles were assembled. More custom cars than any NC car show, with better fire power and armor than even top of the line gangs.

Overhead AV and several flavors from the Meta's were making their arrival. Aldervado bikers and Snake Nation smugglers. “You know how you always tell me I wouldn't fit in your Arasaka meetings? This is kinda that but with you and my people.” He explained as his Aunt Viv barked orders. As they walked up, suddenly a very perky teenage redhead popped up staring up at the cowboy.

“Duston! Oh, this is your corpo boss?” She hugged her brother covered in grease in a dirty white t-shirt and orange coverall pants. “So... What is she using as a joy toy or something? Cause you ain't got many other uses to someone as scary as her.” She cracked a grin as she laughed at Duston's expense.

“Autumn Rhodes! Mechanic and Dusty's baby sister!” She offered her grease covered hand. “And you must be the infamous boss lady. He wouldn't give us your name.” She spoke looking her up and down before leaning towards Dusty who stood next to and slightly too loudly whispered. “Is she single?”
‘The difference,’ she wanted to retort, ‘was that I don’t care if I don’t fit in.’ But she kept it to herself. Sora didn’t appear nervous; she certainly didn’t feel out of place—super weapons were useful anywhere they went in this world. Even in the wastes of the badlands and the lost tribes that populated them.
“He reminds me what humanity is supposed to look like,” Sora interjected to answer the girl’s curiosity for him. Before the girl she stood straight and unmoving, the very stature of a ninja, with all the impossible training and lethal intent that came with the dark eyes that captured the image of the girl and wouldn’t move from the target.
To someone who knew anything about her, it was the tiny smile that crept across her lips that was the real warning. Worse was the tone that came out of those smiling lips; warm, dripping in Japanese honey, “Sora Hayami, Board of Directors, Arasaka-Night City.”
Internalized cloak, dermal regenerators, embedded acoustic dampeners, sub-dermal EMP lining, and far more devious counterintel cyberware that could play on the neuro-receptors of another person turned Sora’s very touch into a weapon could be used for purposes of nearly every imaginable desire and motive.
Even the ignorance of youth would know the impossible dark depths of the deep end Autumn had just plunged into when Sora took the girl’s hand, and stepped a step closer, not even a foot away from Dusty’s sister. The grip was intractably silken smooth and warm, inviting, and somehow at the same time an impossibility to escape, as if there was no limit to the strength her current delicate hold on the girl’s hand whispered about.
Sora’s eyes tumbled to the hem of the girl’s tank top, as the Saka super ninja let go of the girl’s hand, and casually as wiping her hands on a dish towel used the bottom of Autumn’s tank top to wipe the grease from her hand.
“The more appropriate question would be…hand of fate, or demon’s claw?”
Her eyes rose once more to capture Autumn’s gaze as she spoke, that little smile on her lips hiding in the shadows at the corners of her mouth, becoming a secret between the two of them.
Autumn's eyes went big as she watched Sora her smile only growing. “Dusty... Seriously, how did land work for someone this cool! I thought Corpo's were all suits and briefcases... Or the kind where you point a gun and they piss their pants like that con-” She suddenly shut her mouth and remembered not to talk about robbing people in front of strangers. “I thought you were small time! This seems like a big leagues job.”
Dusty just groaned as he watched Sora both scare him and charm his sister. Great, she could multitask messing up his family Dynamic. “Absolutely not, Autumn , go work on your bike. I'm sure you got chores too. I am not gonna watch my sister flirt with my boss.” Shooing her away he sighed, as she walked off sticking her tongue out at Duston before winking at Sora. Girl had a crush now, clearly.
“Sorry about her... Autumn has a thing for new people. She's bored easily and Nomad life can be... Boring.” He sighed as he shook his head and marched them towards his old place. “My trailer is up here. Can bunk up here, I'll crash with my family.” He answered by offering his own place for Sora.
Stepping in it was covered in pictures and postcards from across the states and beyond. However, a single picture frame of a much younger Dusty and a blonde young woman in a pilot's jumpsuit leaning over him sat center. Along with a model AV and a few other little photos. She'd heard his stories, his fiance.
She paused at the threshold of the trailer’s entrance, her square-rimmed retro sunglasses dipping down the bridge of her nose to allow her eyes to take in the full sight before her. It only took her a beat to flick the glasses back over her eyes, and say, “It’s a fucking dust covered shit hole…I see you retained the same interior designer for your Night City apartment.”
The delivery was so flat, so utterly without feeling, that the humor behind the words would have been more obvious than the steel of her katana embedded in a man’s skull. Otherwise she noted the ghost, but ignored it for now, instead tossing her bag and katana down and freely yawning.
She needed sleep, and a system diagnostic.
“I’ll have a doc sent over to go over your chrome... Technomancer one, since uh... Pretty sure most wouldn’t know what they are looking at with some of the chrome you have. If you want someone to check it out.” Dusty added, before sighing. “I’ll go see what’s for dinner and find out when the war council will be... You, nap. If you need it, I keep a stash of booze under the gun safe, you are strong enough to move it.” He smirked, Sora’s humor about his bleak trailer was just her way of being funny, even if he knew she didn’t like the look he’d certainly been in worse places with her... After the fight with Eddie’s crew especially.
“No one but Arasaka touches me.” Sora knew the deal she’d made; she was more than bleeding edge tech, according to Hanako, she was future tech conjured from unspeakable sources. “Go, I’ll be…around.”
“Gotcha. Well you have fun. I’m gonna go get a lecture.” He sighed and took off his hat as he walked off to find Viv, and keep Autumn far away from the trailer. As the Meta AV’s began to land.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Heyo, I see this is moving.

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

Answers and Preparations

---

Weisshaupt Fortress, Noon

“And I am high constable Revanelas, formerly of Arlathan and a Dalish clan in Tevinter.” He spoke to add his own introduction last. He then focused on the questions Cadmus had left hanging, they were good ones. “We are not keeping it a secret from the others. We are keeping it out of earshot of foreign guests. Orlais, Ferelden, and other dignitaries of the like do not need to know how ambitious we plan to be. Nation’s might take offense to our control and rise to relevance, thus we keep talks of exactly how we are going to bring the warden back to prominence quiet for the moment. The others will learn what we are doing as we draw near the deep roads.” Revanelas spoke as he rose to stand leaning forward with his hands on the table.

“The alliance with the dwarves is a tricky matter... Most of it hinges on us making good on our word. Not to mention a home for surface dwarf colonists to take back. The Dwarves do not want Tevinter to know they are looking for new friends, especially with the ambassadoria their unable to leave until the deal is done. The Tevinter control of the Venatori over the government is worrying to them already, they do not wish to push the extremists too far.” The real meaning, a large dwarven population were trapped under Minrathous and only the continued shipments of Lyrium and placating the Venatori would keep them safe. “This is for the dwarves, not our own ends.”

“As for the Magisters' sidereal...” Revanelas began but was cut off by Ashlea who decided to take it, this was a topic she had studied heavily.

Rising to her feet, as the high constable sat down. “As far as we know only Corypheus was able to jump from one body to another when killed. The Architect seemed able to be slain much more easily from the report. However, if a Magister sidereal is spotted only engage defensively. One of them created a Joining for darkspawn that nearly freed the horde from control of the Archdemon and let them wage war as intelligent thinking beings. Well... You all remember the giant hole in the sky Corypheus caused.” Ashlea answered, shaking her head a moment the chaos only two of them had caused.

“We recommend doing your best to identify or learn about them, then retreat if they are encountered. It’s paramount we try to learn more about these Magisters and keep ourselves alive long enough to do so... No matter how much I would love to interrogate one to see what they can tell us about the Darkspawn, killing them is far safer and what Warden leadership believes is the best course if it cannot be helped. We are fairly certain you will not be possessed and slowly become a replacement.” She added, hoping that would answer the question... Or at least help explain why their commanders were so... Decisive on what to do about these Magisters sidereal.

Revanelas nodded as Ashlea took her seat and gave the final address. “If that is all. Make yourselves ready. We leave tonight ahead of the main force leaving tomorrow morning. Horses and wagons with supplies and equipment. Along with the scouts and other pathfinders. As our job is the most pressing we will want to arrive first. I recommend you pack anything you need or any equipment you may want tightly. Spaces can get tight in the Deeproads.” He ordered then looked at them. “Dismissed. I’ll see you all at moonrise tonight. You can sleep in the carts on the way to the entrance.”

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

The Path to Deeproads

---

Weisshaupt Fortress, Noon

The meeting hall was a sectioned off from the great library of the citadel near the first warden’s office, and below the roosts this portion was used to review tactics, hold private meetings, and host the entire seniority of the grey wardens at their height. The walls were lined with relics, weapons, and darkspawn trophies. A painting of each Archdemon at the height of their strength hung in these halls, as a grim reminder of what the threat they had to contain was... Yet now, an image based on the description of Corypheus and of the Architect, though the second was only known within the wardens. The stone floors had been shined, yet blood stains from ancient days could still be seen among the cracked floors. Shelves divided up the different meeting tables as by the great double doors senior wardens were directing the arrivals to their tables. The other Pathfinder teams were three maybe five wardens meant to be fast and light. Yet the largest table was where each warden of the party would find themselves sent to.

Face to face with the high constable, Revanelas, the warden who riled up and excited the others with talk of glory now wore a grimm expression. As soon he was joined by Ashlea, one of the archivists and another Elf who had been with him to give the speech, but taking the other seat was a Qunari mage? No, she was Vashoth found and raised within the order by members of it, after they discovered what the Qunari colony planned to do to the child should they return her. Her sheer sized dwarf the two elves, yet unlike the grim look the other two had, she seemed pleased to see so many here. Small platter of crackers and cheeses along with dried meats sat upon the table for those who had not yet eaten, even two pony kegs of ale from the dwarves had been placed upon the table to help lubricate the discussions to come.

Once the last of them had taken a seat Revanelas stood and gave a bow. “You all have been chosen for the pathfinder teams. The other teams are around the room from us... Are smaller and more focused. Our mission is... Different from the others.” He spoke more openly now without the entire order eyes upon him, just the elite few who would carry out the task. A task that may very well change the fate of the dwarven people and the relevance of the grey wardens. “Felnammar, a fortress supposedly connected to Darmallon, the Great Golden Thaig. The smaller teams will be checking out the paths between Kal-Sharok and Felnammar and searching for signs of the Archdemon tomb... Our goal is to explore Felnammar, the dwarves of Kal-Sharok believes notes on the location of Darmallon can be found within the thaig. While the others hunt for the location of the Archdemon, we will fulfill the secondary mission. Uncover what Felnammar has to offer and when ready call in the dwarven reinforcement who will occupy and unseal its surface access. Meaning Kal-Sharok will now be able to trade with the surface, this will allow the body of the surface dwarves forces to join us in the deeproads.” He explained as chamberlain Adelina rolled out a map for them all to view this section of the deep roads. Showing what little was still mapped by the dwarves.

“From here your mission will change... Namely if we can secure Darmallon... We will.” Adelina explained, the Vashoth leaning over the table tracing the region she suspected the great thaig might be in. “Darmallon contains more gold than any mine in Thedas today... And for centuries before it fell, it was storing and stashing it. Orzammar and Kal-Sharok’s shaperate as well as their Assemblies have made an arrangement... To let the Surface dwarves occupy and rebuild Darmallon if it can be located.” Chamberlain Adelina explained as she looked between the faces of the gathered wardens. “While the speech outside was to offer up why we are doing this. Our true goals are long term. The archivists across the order believe it is not a risk of seven blights we face but seven blights and seven sidereal magisters... Old histories within the archives say that some darkspawn who could talk and command the others walked the earth once during the first blight.” She paused, as if reluctant to say more before Ashlea jumped in standing up.

“It is because of those stories we believe the total threat from darkspawn blight sized level cataclysmic events is fourteen, not seven. Meaning if you take the threat of the Architect and Corypheus as two of them... We have two more Archdemons and five sidereal magisters left to bring down.. And our Order is dying.” She said with finality as she let it sink in for a moment. “For all the reforms, the new blood, and the strength we have gained it is not enough to counter our decline. Griffons certainly boosted the order's prestige and mythos, if we gain control of the Anderfels it will alleviate our lack of funds and manpower shortages, for a time. But the greatest weakness is our shortened lives... Twenty to thirty years, in that time we must train our replacements and give them the same poison we ingested and hope they can build upon our work. Only now with a team of archivists, mages and researchers are we even starting to uncover the secrets of our forebears. Our fortresses crumble, our numbers dwindle as we are seen as less relevant with each Blight.” She looked at all of them, then shrank a bit realizing her emotions had been overwhelming her, she wanted to desperately tell them about potential cures for the Joining... But she couldn’t give hope without a guarantee, that was the greatest cruelty.

Revanelas stood up as the other two sat down, both fixing their eyes upon him. “Killing the Archdemon before it rises is certainly a way to restore our reputation... But, I believe we can help secure our future if we aid the dwarves in rebuilding. We cannot wait for the attacks... We need to find ways to bury them and kill them where they live and breed... More importantly all Pathfinder teams will have mages who can heal blighted landscapes... We will be testing this as we move along, archivist Ashlea will accompany us.” He explained as he looked at all of them. “Whether we kill the Archdemon, discover Darmallon, every inch of ground we take back. Every breeding ground we put to the torch will save thousands... I know not all of you agree with the plan but we must act. Thedas must see us as heroes and warriors of legend again, not the dying gasps of an ancient order of vagabonds cluttering their highways.” He spoke, the world had only for a brief moment made warden’s heroes in the days of the fifth blight’s closing. Moving on quickly to killing each other once more over what they saw as more pressing matters.

“Now. I am not some leader or tyrant who will demand you to do this... You may ask to be removed from the team and sent to the main force that will clear the roads to Kal-Sharok when the pathfinders discover the route or support other operations.” Revanelas slowly explained, as he sat down once more. “I will take any questions or discussion you wish to field now. Once we leave you are expected to follow orders, but this is the time to hear your concerns and thoughts. I promise you, the first warden will hear them too, this is no longer a place where you are expected to obey without question.” He spoke smiling as if to encourage. “I also encourage you to drink and introduce yourselves, while I have read and been told about you by your fellow wardens, few at these tables will know you all.”

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

@Mao Mao Awesome! Move them over at your convenience! Loved the sheet.

Dragon Age: Grey Dawn

@Almalthia Mov3 it over, approved!