Chicken

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - A Quest of Peril and Certain Demise

Well, just as an aside (since you mention other uses for the setting), I've considered turning my tabletop campaign idea into an actual storyline on the forum, BUT I need to change some elements to better suit the medium. So, in the interim, I want to see how this setting works out in forum RP.

One of the big things that I really want to hammer home, too, is that while the players are definitely low fantasy, the enemies you encounter COULD include mages, dragons, undead, the fey... etc. You're low-magic characters in a world of powerful fantasy threats. That's exactly why the setting is very dangerous.

But yes, I agree - a dungeon crawl is NOT the best use of this setting. In the future, I may whip out the campaign, which would be focused on the trials of a mercenary company across the Aldaric Sea Region with a focus on a mixture of supernatural threats and the Abagonian Civil War. However, I DO want to see how it plays out in a microcosm first.

But that's three four people who have expressed interest. Expect an OOC by tomorrow evening at the latest.

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - A Quest of Peril and Certain Demise

Cool! One more person and I'll post the actual OOC, along with character generation rules and more world info. As said, this is a homebrew setting I cooked up in the past, so I've got some lore to condense into a few quick paragraphs.

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - A Quest of Peril and Certain Demise

Cool! If I get at least 3 players interested I think that'd be enough for this, easily.

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - A Quest of Peril and Certain Demise

_{Credit to JeremyPaillotin on DeviantArt.com.}

Beware the Keep of the Blackened Mire, the old rhyme begins. Every child in the Kingdom of Beldemar knows the story. It is an ancient place, one which stood watch over the endless expanse that is the Wildwood, one which kept the beasts of that misty forest at bay. It was a marvel of man, a grand castle with magnificent turrets, a place where the governors of the past era dwelt. Few fortresses were as impregnable, and none held back the wild like this mighty keep.

None remember the true name of this once proud citadel any longer. It has long since sunk into the earth, the land around it becoming a thick and pitiless swamp. As many things built in the days of Old Aldonia, it fell when the Empire did. The Aldonians brought their destruction upon themselves, having tampered too long with magics that should have been forbidden. The Caernlings, those who called the land which is now Beldemar home, overthrew their masters and took Imperial holdings for their own... but for some reason they kept a wide berth from the Keep of the Black Mire.

Blackmire Keep remained dormant for years, though strange happenings surrounded it. Settlements established near it never lasted young; too many strange happenings dissuaded long-term settlement. It became known as a cursed place, a peaty patch of land where the grass grew tall and black, where the sun never quite shone, where the marsh ate the castle itself.

Recently, however, that dormancy has ended. People have been vanishing from their homes. Travelers claim to have seen shadowy figures and strange creatures in the surrounding lands. Dark storms have settled in the sky over the keep, and the vines grow thicker and more twisted. Something dwells within those pagan halls. Evil stirs.

Unfortunately for Beldemar, all their best knights and their armies are busy elsewhere. Abagon to the west has been thrown into a bitter civil war, and Beldemar itself has begun a naval campaign against the Holy Empire of Lithenia. The villages south of Benetia, the capital of the realm, have been left utterly defenseless from the machinations of the haunted keep.

But hopelessness leads to desperation, and desperation is good for you. You are a mercenary. You go where others will not, kill things so that others don't have to risk their own sorry hides. You and the other sellswords in Benetia are in a good position to earn a pretty purse of gold. Head to the crumbling castle; chase off ghosts for the sake of some superstitious serfs; get a sack of coins from the Lord Mayor and retire to live like a king in Carise. It should be easy, shouldn't it?

The Depths of Blackmire Keep

Welcome to Blackmire Keep, an overgrown ruin in the middle of a fetid swamp and part of my homebrew Men-at-Arms setting! This setting is one I originally intended to use for a tabletop RPG, but as time has gone by I've found myself wanting to apply it to a forum setting more and more. Freeform RP with only minor rules to guide the game may make for a better story, I reckon.

There are a few themes I want to touch on that will be part of this should people be interested:

1) This story is ground in realism. Yes, there are fantastic elements. Yes, there are monsters and foul beasts. However, a single person with a sword cannot be expected to hold off an army, nor can a good enough acrobat make a 100 foot drop to the ground without breaking their legs. This is a setting where what you can do is bound by the limitations of real world physics, even if your enemies can bend those laws with magic.
2) Magic is bad. Magic is real, but it's also a corrupting influence. Those who practice it are burned as witches or worse, because inevitably those that wield it become twisted. It brought low the Aldonian Empire, and it will cause another catastrophe if left unchecked. No player characters get to cast magic. Well, unless they're really, really stupid.
3) You are mere men and women facing unspeakable things. In case it wasn't clear, the world of the Aldaric Sea Region isn't fair. Do not be surprised if you go up against the beasts of high fantasy settings equipped only with mundane equipment. Do not be surprised if something terrible happens to your character. Everyone that enters Blackmire Keep is at risk of death, dismemberment, or anything else the GM chooses to inflict upon them.
4) Death is permanent. No take backsies.
5) You are not heroes. You are mercenaries. You are sellswords from a variety of backgrounds, people with very real limitations. You will create your character in an RPG-esque fashion, but thereafter will not have to worry about RPG elements. Instead, keep in mind the limitations of the character you've made, and play them in their role as best as you can.
6) Faith is a matter of faith. The God of this setting is only as real to its people as the God of the real world. It is entirely seemly to make a character that doesn't believe in a higher power, and just as seemly to make one that does. There is no certainty of God's existence as there is in most fantasy settings.
7) You can only be a human. The people of Men-at-Arms come from a variety of backgrounds, but they're all human. Elves and dwarves do exist, but they're monsters, beasts of the fey; and though there may be orcs and other such beasties, none of them are friendly. If something isn't human, it's usually safe to assume it wants you dead. (A caveat - I may allow people to play characters with mysterious heritages or some sort of taint, whether from magic or in their blood. We'll cover that via PM when the time comes.)
8) This is a feudal setting. The divide between nobility and the common folk is very real. Consider that when you RP.
9) Everyone has flaws. I mean it. Every character will have a very real flaw once we've finished making characters. Bear that in mind - nobody in Men-at-Arms is perfect.

If you choose to participate in this roleplay, you should expect a combination of sorrow, of horror elements, of the gritty price of violence. You should expect to delve into an ancient place and uncover the secrets of why it fell, to face creatures which are beyond your ken. You will face hard choices, and some of you - perhaps all of you - will die.

However, should you survive the horrors of the Keep of the Blackened Mire, you shall be marked in the history of this world as heroes. Those who escape this perilous place and live will become legends in Beldemar and the entire Aldaric Sea Region.

If you're interested, please post below. I'll show the actual character generation rules only if folks are interested.

This will be in the Advanced forum, but I'm not looking for huge quantities of words from RPers so much as good quality and consistency. There will be times when all you need is a few short sentences to respond to something, I'm sure.

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - A Quest of Peril and Certain Demise

_{Credit to JeremyPaillotin on DeviantArt.com.}

Beware the Keep of the Blackened Mire, the old rhyme begins. Every child in the Kingdom of Beldemar knows the story. It is an ancient place, one which stood watch over the endless expanse that is the Wildwood, one which kept the beasts of that misty forest at bay. It was a marvel of man, a grand castle with magnificent turrets, a place where the governors of the past era dwelt. Few fortresses were as impregnable, and none held back the wild like this mighty keep.

None remember the true name of this once proud citadel any longer. It has long since sunk into the earth, the land around it becoming a thick and pitiless swamp. As many things built in the days of Old Aldonia, it fell when the Empire did. The Aldonians brought their destruction upon themselves, having tampered too long with magics that should have been forbidden. The Caernlings, those who called the land which is now Beldemar home, overthrew their masters and took Imperial holdings for their own... but for some reason they kept a wide berth from the Keep of the Black Mire.

Blackmire Keep remained dormant for years, though strange happenings surrounded it. Settlements established near it never lasted young; too many strange happenings dissuaded long-term settlement. It became known as a cursed place, a peaty patch of land where the grass grew tall and black, where the sun never quite shone, where the marsh ate the castle itself.

Recently, however, that dormancy has ended. People have been vanishing from their homes. Travelers claim to have seen shadowy figures and strange creatures in the surrounding lands. Dark storms have settled in the sky over the keep, and the vines grow thicker and more twisted. Something dwells within those pagan halls. Evil stirs.

Unfortunately for Beldemar, all their best knights and their armies are busy elsewhere. Abagon to the west has been thrown into a bitter civil war, and Beldemar itself has begun a naval campaign against the Holy Empire of Lithenia. The villages south of Benetia, the capital of the realm, have been left utterly defenseless from the machinations of the haunted keep.

But hopelessness leads to desperation, and desperation is good for you. You are a mercenary. You go where others will not, kill things so that others don't have to risk their own sorry hides. You and the other sellswords in Benetia are in a good position to earn a pretty purse of gold. Head to the crumbling castle; chase off ghosts for the sake of some superstitious serfs; get a sack of coins from the Lord Mayor and retire to live like a king in Carise. It should be easy, shouldn't it?

The Depths of Blackmire Keep

Welcome to Blackmire Keep, an overgrown ruin in the middle of a fetid swamp and part of my homebrew Men-at-Arms setting! This setting is one I originally intended to use for a tabletop RPG, but as time has gone by I've found myself wanting to apply it to a forum setting more and more. Freeform RP with only minor rules to guide the game may make for a better story, I reckon.

There are a few themes I want to touch on that will be part of this should people be interested:

1) This story is grounded in realism. Yes, there are fantastic elements. Yes, there are monsters and foul beasts. However, a single person with a sword cannot be expected to hold off an army, nor can a good enough acrobat make a 100 foot drop to the ground without breaking their legs. This is a setting where what you can do is bound by the limitations of real world physics, even if your enemies can bend those laws with magic.
2) Magic is bad. Magic is real, but it's also a corrupting influence. Those who practice it are burned as witches or worse, because inevitably those that wield it become twisted. It brought low the Aldonian Empire, and it will cause another catastrophe if left unchecked. No player characters get to cast magic. Well, unless they're really, really stupid.
3) You are mere men and women facing unspeakable things. In case it wasn't clear, the world of the Aldaric Sea Region isn't fair. Do not be surprised if you go up against the beasts of high fantasy settings equipped only with mundane equipment. Do not be surprised if something terrible happens to your character. Everyone that enters Blackmire Keep is at risk of death, dismemberment, or anything else the GM chooses to inflict upon them.
4) Death is permanent. No take backsies.
5) You are not heroes. You are mercenaries. You are sellswords from a variety of backgrounds, people with very real limitations. You will create your character in an RPG-esque fashion, but thereafter will not have to worry about RPG elements. Instead, keep in mind the limitations of the character you've made, and play them in their role as best as you can.
6) Faith is a matter of faith. The God of this setting is only as real to its people as the God of the real world. It is entirely seemly to make a character that doesn't believe in a higher power, and just as seemly to make one that does. There is no certainty of God's existence as there is in most fantasy settings.
7) You can only be a human. The people of Men-at-Arms come from a variety of backgrounds, but they're all human. Elves and dwarves do exist, but they're monsters, beasts of the fey; and though there may be orcs and other such beasties, none of them are friendly. If something isn't human, it's usually safe to assume it wants you dead. (A caveat - I may allow people to play characters with mysterious heritages or some sort of taint, whether from magic or in their blood. We'll cover that via PM when the time comes.)
8) This is a feudal setting. The divide between nobility and the common folk is very real. Consider that when you RP.
9) Everyone has flaws. I mean it. Every character will have a very real flaw once we've finished making characters. Bear that in mind - nobody in Men-at-Arms is perfect.

If you choose to participate in this roleplay, you should expect a combination of sorrow, of horror elements, of the gritty price of violence. You should expect to delve into an ancient place and uncover the secrets of why it fell, to face creatures which are beyond your ken. You will face hard choices, and some of you - perhaps all of you - will die.

However, should you survive the horrors of the Keep of the Blackened Mire, you shall be marked in the history of this world as heroes. Those who escape this perilous place and live will become legends in Beldemar and the entire Aldaric Sea Region.

If you're interested, please post below. I'll show the actual character generation rules only if folks are interested.

What role do you like to play in fellowship/party RPs?

If I had to pick one role to always play, it'd be one of the background members of the party, the one that sets up the other characters to do awesome things while looking relatively mundane and unintimidating. The plucky halfling that trips up and befuddles enemies so the others can knock them out, the wacky illusionist using his magic to protect his allies and confuse his enemies, the general's tactical adviser that knows all the ins-and-outs of battle but isn't a powerful warrior or mage, the alchemist, the engineer - all these characters are the sorts I like to play a lot.

(I don't like healers, however, but that's because I like my fantasy rife with danger and the threat of death.)

My runner up is the "Old warrior" archetype. You know: the one that isn't as spry as they once were, but knows more about war than everyone else? I like to play them as pragmatists and in as mundane a fashion as possible, wielding little to no great magics and certainly not being the best fighter in the company. However, this character makes a great tutor, or can give great advice between battles, and this character knows more about the true cost of war and the horrors it holds than anyone else in the fellowship.

I don't really like playing badasses to put it flatly.

League of the Extraordinary

Is this still going to be a thing? You have my interest. It's tentative, but only because I need to watch my schedule. (I had to drop out of two RPs before because of sudden changes in my day-to-day life, though things have now stabilized.)

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Post made. I think I tagged everyone that took part in it.

By the way, I tried hot sauce for lube last night, and I have to say that the results are unsatisfactory. 2/7 would not recommend.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

^{@Chicken@Father Hank@Frizan@Poohead189@Spoopy Scary}

---

Kyne's Tear

7th of Last Seed, 4E 205

“Well good morning, Piper! You’re up early...the sun’s barely here.”

“Um...I didn’t actually get any sleep…”

“Hm? Why not, dear?”

Little Piper paused. She’d told this story before, but mother and father never believed her. What would be the point in continuing? All she let out was a mumble.

“Oh...did that monster keep you up again, sweetheart?”

Her eyes widened as she perked her head up. Did they finally believe her!? “Uh-huh! I could see it, the closet door was cracked open. It stared at me all night...I didn’t wanna go to sleep. It would have gotten me!”

Father looked over to Mother and smiled. “Well, let me see what I can do about that…”

A few hours later, Caius returned from the markets with a bag. He called Piper over and opened it. Inside was a flashy sword(wooden, unbeknownst to his daughter) and a doll, about the size of her head. It looked like an elf wearing armor and holding a metal hammer, of child-safe size of course. It wore a silly smile to boot. “It’s dangerous to sleep alone...take these. I think they’ll keep you safe.”

“What are they, daddy?” Piper asked curiously. She didn’t recognize the visage of the doll nor had she ever seen a sword quite like that one. It was glimmery and kind of short, with a bell hanging off of the pommel.

“That is a specially crafted sword I requested from the Arcane University...it’s enchanted. Whenever a monster gets near it, it makes them cry and run away like babies! This, though…” he said, holding up the doll. “Is a...well, I suppose it would be called a charm. It was made to look like a prominent knight, from during the Oblivion Crisis. Orintur Graywatch...they say he was a holy warrior that followed Stendarr. If you keep it with you, I’m sure Orintur will help you scare off any monsters that try to bother you!”

Later that night, as Piper went to bed, she kept the enchanted sword on her bedside table and had the doll snuggled with her beneath her blankets. Just like her father said, the doll and the sword seemed to have scared away the demon in her closet, as the telltale shadow within the doorframe was nowhere to be found. She slept soundly from then on afterwards…

BANG!

Jolting upright, Piper swerved wildly in her cot, holding her doll close to her chest. No, wait...it was just her pillow. She stared at the cotton-stuffed case with disappointment, and a little bit of sadness. What the hell was that sound, though? It was like an alchemical experiment gone bad. She heard some yelling, but couldn’t make out what the ruckus was-

CRASH!

“FUCKING FUCK!!!” Piper hit the floor with a hard thud as she was suddenly and violently thrown off her cot by something that she could only imagine had just impacted the ship. The Tear rocked back and forth, making it difficult for Piper to get to her feet, but she managed it eventually. Spying her brother running about the hall next to her, she acted quickly. “Sagax! Get in here and help me with my gear!”

---

Another balled-up piece of parchment smacked against the corner of Adaeze’s cabin.

The Bosmer woman snatched another piece of parchment, frowning a little deeper as the ship rocked back and forth, side to side. She hated sailing. It wasn’t that it made her seasick, nor that it did anything to shake her nerves; no. No, sailing just complicated everything she did.

She took a deep breath, trying to remember the words she had started the last letter with. Dear Father it was, yes. She took her time writing those words out, carefully waiting whenever the ship would sway. It was going to be perfect, this time, as all things she did. A half-effort is no effort, she thought to herself, gently making calligraphic script on the page. And as she wrote the next few lines, as she scribed the details of her journey for her father, the words started to finally, this time, be without imperfecti-

The ship rocked a little harder than she expected. Her quill pen raced across the parchment. Her work was ruined.

Cursing, Adaeze slammed her hand down on the parchment and flung it behind her. Small drops of ink fell. She took a deep breath. “I hate boats,” she muttered, not that anyone heard.

“Calm,” said the warrior to herself. She set her quill pen down and stood on up. “Find your center. Balance. You are above this, Adaeze. You are Ra Gada.” She strode across the room slowly, moving with the drunken dance of Kyne’s Tear. She grabbed her sword, drew it from its scabbard, and stared at the blade - and at her reflection. She paused.

With a shake of her head, she hefted the weapon up and fell into a fighting stance. “You are Ra Gada,” she repeated. The duelist recited in her head the principal maneuvers of the Ephemeral Feint. Her feet and sword moved together as she parried invisible foes, cut down phantom enemies. She -

BANG!

The whole vessel rocked. Adaeze stumbled forward, her knee hitting the floor hard. She growled, then shouted, “Whose fault was that?!” at her door. She didn’t expect an answer, really, but she stopped speaking and listened. Someone else was shouting something…

Something was very wrong.

Adaeze rushed over to her trunk beside her hammock. She threw it open, grabbing the coat of chainmail inside, and the bracers and the greaves. The helmet, too - she’d need that, she was sure of it. Excitement washed over her. A real fight! It’s about damned -

And then the whole ship shook again with a CRACK! Adaeze’s head jerked back, then forward, smacking against her trunk. She clenched her fist and slammed it against the floor. Splinters bit her knuckles.

“I better get to kill someone,” growled the Bosmer with venom. There was no time to nurse the bump on her head. She got her armor on as quick as she could.

---

“All hands on deck!”

The upper deck was consumed by a maelstrom of complete and utter mayhem. Only minutes ago, the crew was fighting to navigate the Tear through the relentless storm. Violent ocean waters was threatening to capsize the ship and the torrential downpour didn’t help matters by reducing visibility and soaking the crew to their bones, but that didn’t stop them from trying their damndest to fulfill their captain’s orders as they tried to keep her afloat while they looked for their safe refuge. Most of the crew and company were on deck, doing what they could to lend a hand, while some were below deck resting after being relieved (or without having worked at all in some cases). Though it would be fair to assume that only laborers and soldiers would be on deck trying to keep the ship afloat, that wasn’t necessarily the case.

”Heave!” The men shouted as the wrestled with the rigging. Every time the wind blew, it threatened to throw them off course if the sails weren’t adjusted. ”Ho!”

“Put yer back into it, Wylendriel!”

Indeed, even the priestess was doing her part. She was gritting her teeth as she put what little of her weight she could behind this game of tug-o-war. The goading of the sailor agitated her slightly, but she just used it as fuel to pull with all of her might. As for the conditions? She saw divine signs in the wind. Kynareth was either warning them of danger or she was angry. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was her that she was angry with… but the actual weather itself seemed to never bother her anyway.

“Daxainos! Tie the rope off at the mast! We’re gonna hold her here for now!”

The Argonian hunter leaped out from below decks, the wind and water pummeling his muscled limbs. Using his claws to keep purchase on the soaked deck, he took another desperate jump and grabbed the rope hanging by the mast. Once he found his footing, he tied the rope, ending the knot with a near audible snap.

His keen senses felt something was off for many minutes, but he was no sailor. He had only been on ships for a handful of times in his life. He preferred swimming to sailing. But he knew the outdoors, and even across the water, he felt a presence he couldn’t grasp with a surety. “By the Hist, be alert!” he roared, holding on for dear life to the mast and gripping the haft of his axe.

“What in Oblivion is that!?” came a shout from Piper, voice reverberating inside in her helmet. She pointed up into the sky at what looked to be a massive, airborne ship. It had shot chains into the hull of the Tear, and what came down from them nearly made her turn heel and run: crab-like creatures with disgustingly human faces, the tips of their appendages covered in what could only be gold, their claws augmented by sharp metal edges. Then came the howling.

It sounded like a massive wolf, but there was a bone-chilling, otherworldly sensation behind it. In a blur, a nearby deckhand was crushed by a massive black-haired creature. As it raised itself up, it bore the unmistakable features of a werewolf, just like in the old wives tales. This one, however, looked to be… decomposing. Its eyes were a misty white and bloody drool dibbled down its face. It was also looking directly at them.

“Oh fuck…!” Was all Piper said as she began clambering to wrench her sword from its scabbard.

Wylendriel pulled apart the curtain of her water soaked hair from her eyes and stared wide-eyed at the monsters as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. As all the men and women on board starting drawing their weapons, and as the dreughs and the undead fell upon their victims, the priestess stood her ground. Blueish-purple colored magic in the form of mist began to coalesce around her right hand and eventually took shape in her palm as a mace. She tightened her grip around the shaft as she slowly took a step or two back, putting some precautionary distance between herself and the werewolf without taking her eyes off of it. She met its hungry, soulless eyes with a disgusted glare.

Adaeze, too, found herself eager for the fight - until light hit the werebeast and she saw its rotting flesh. She swallowed hard. She did not fear defeat at the hands of the undead monstrosity, but a part of her was still worried of the consequences of striking the honored dead…

...but, no. This one is Hircine’s, she told herself, and needs no honor. It was justification enough. The warrior tensed as the beast roared. She focused. With two hands she took her blade; out of habit she fell into her dueling stance. My blade is silver, she reminded herself. Silver banishes evil.

There was no more time for thought. Adaeze darted forward. With two hands she slashed downward with her blade; it flashed, and ghoulish blood flew. The dead beast roared, but Adaeze was fast, and her sword was lowered for a thrust. Thrust she did.

Her blade stuck in the undead creature’s arm. She yanked. The blade did not come free. The gold-clad beast snarled, and Adaeze knew at that moment she’d made a dire mistake.

“Dipshit Bosmer…!” Piper growled under her breath.

“Go!” Wylendriel said. “I have your back!”

Her response was automatic. Piper took a quick step forward, grabbing the elf by the arm and throwing her backwards. Now between the beast and Adaeze, Piper was the target of its aggression. It made several swings at her, the Imperial barely managing to ward them off with her shield. When it would bite, she would smash its face with a shield-punch, though it didn’t seem to do as much as Piper would have hoped. With Niernen’s periodic fireball and her own ability to move swiftly in armor, Piper was able to dance with her foe for a little while. But suddenly the spells stopped, as did the greatly-needed respite they afforded her when the werewolf would briefly turn to their ranged foe. Blow after blow smacked into her shield with the force of several men, and Piper’s strength was faltering. Niernen had gone to assist her brother, leaving the others to deal with this monstrous abomination to all life.

Barely able to speak through her own frantic breaths and clenched teeth, all Piper could muster was a rough “Need help!” as the undead laid into her. In one second, one measly moment of weakness, Piper’s shield was wrenched from her grasp and was summarily launched off of her feet by a ferocious swipe to her chest. Her armor may have saved her from serious injury, but the force of the blow and her landing left the woman with little strength to get to her feet again. Piper could hardly move, and her shield seemed so far away as the creature closed in…

Then the creature reeled back with a snarl. Wylendriel stepped forward from behind Piper, her hand raised in the air and aglow with a brilliant white light, as though she had reached out and grasped a star from the night sky. It’s radiance glistened off of the water on her skin and on the deck, off of Piper’s armor, and perhaps blinded some the dreughs and seaman who were, up to this point, engulfed in darkness too thick for the lanterns to illuminate. As she stepped closer, the werewolf stepped away, growling and laying its ears flat as her repelling spell worked its magic on the undead. As the priestess reached Piper’s side, the strain in her breath could be heard. She used her foot to kick the warrior’s shield back to her side as she grunted, “By Y’ffre, this thing is strong… my spell isn’t going to last forever - hurry!”

Taking advantage of the elf’s sudden...whatever the hell she was doing, Piper scrambled for her shield and picked herself back up. Whatever spell Wylendriel was using, it looked like it was working effectively, the werewolf backing up and taking a more defensive stance. While not all of her strength had returned to her, Piper figured she would be able to soak up a few more strikes...as long as the others kept up their efforts.

She advanced slowly, bracing for incoming attacks and keeping her blade ready to retaliate. The beast snarled and bared its teeth, but its fear, if one could believe an undead could feel fear, was still evident. The Imperial took a few quick jabs at it, but it was quick to jump out of the way. While she wanted to go on the offensive, Piper knew she didn’t have the strength left to really defend herself if she made herself a target again, let alone go toe-to-toe with the beast with her weapon.

“If someone would stick this ugly motherfucker with some steel, that’d be real great!”

Someone heard that call to action. Adaeze burst out from the small crowd of warriors once again, slashing at the werewolf with her blade, taking advantage of the undead creature’s fear of the light-wielding chaplain. This time she kept her distance. Her cuts were quick: one, two, three in quick succession. Silver tore through the back of the monster’s legs.

The werebeast snarled and swung about to swipe at Adaeze, but she ducked low and danced on away. It was wounded, and distracted at that. The Hammerfell warrior bolted for the cover her companions provided. She didn’t intend on dying that easily.

Daixanos blocked a blow from the Dreugh he battled, and struck it in the center with the flat of his axe. The monster was stunned, and the powerful Argonian used the time to charge, shoving the dazed opponent off the boat and into the rushing current. He wasted no time in whipping about, his combat reflexes honed into a heightened sense of awareness.

As Adaeze fell back, the line of the companions blocked the beast’s field of vision as the Hunter leaped into the fray, maw bared and axe firmly in a two handed grip. Dax waded in, blocking a clawed swipe from the beast before twirling beneath a wild slash, and burying his axe into the creature’s chest with a savage riposte that caused the werewolf’s spine to buckle. Daixanos pressed forward, his biceps enlarging as he pressed the blade in deeper. The rain washing over the deadly ranger only added to the savage appearance of the two bestial figures locked in combat.

And so they danced, a beast against several armed men and women, still holding its own through its sheer brutal strength and swiftness. Piper, shamefully, hung back and took only a scarce few more blows. The warrior-elf and Redguard fared much better than she did, and the lizard looked to be overcome by a savage desire to rip and tear the werewolf’s guts. Wylendriel’s spell was fading quickly, but its effect on the monster was still noticeable; it did not dare charge them all head-on. Hopefully the boarding party would find a way to stop the rampaging beast, because it seemed impossible for the defenders to kill it themselves.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Caught up. All the creepy crawlies at home have been exterminated. (Probably.)

Having read it over, Adaeze will go for the werewolf.

I believe it's noteworthy that Adaeze has a silver sword, which is nice on two counts (werewolf AND undead); but she's also terrified of corporeal undead.