ConstableWalrus

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Cyrendil had heard the sound of bows, long before the hooves the arrows flying through the air towards innocents and townsfolk. A thought crossed his mind, and he hoped the man he had met in the tavern was locked in his home safe.

He readied his blade drawing it from its sheath, the immaculate silver long-sword glinted dangerously, the sunlight gleaming off its blade, and he reached to his chest unclasping his shield and brought it around to bare, holding it in front of his chest so his eyes peered over it. When the guardsman came shouting out for assistance he did not hesitate.

“The Vigil stands with you, guardsmen.”

And it looked for the time being the filthy witch’s ice creature would keep the centaurs away from Gaela doing her healing and Cyrendil stepped outside the shadow of the Daedra. He would deal with that monster some other time for now there were the savage horse beasts. His heavy boots sunk deep in the snow as he moved away from the group, rushing as he could to a row of houses unburnt. He stood in the open before the homes, rolling the blade shining blade to catch the eye of the Centaur.

It worked as one of the larger ones holding a heavy bone cudgel turned towards him, it’s hideous features twisted into a grin as he saw the lone elf. The Centaur with a howl it broke into a full gallop. The High Elf's face was placid as he waited for the brute to get within striking distance. The Centaur raised the cudgel above it’s head intent on crushing the elf beneath him.

Sidestepping swiftly, he ran the edge of the sharp blade along the near foreleg and back leg of the galloping beast. Screaming in agony, the blood trailed in the snow as it's legs buckled, the severed tendons making it impossible for it to stand. It staggered and fell to its side, bucking its remaining two legs as it tried to prop itself up with its trunk like arms.

Cyrendil rushed to the beast man, yanking back the unwashed ragged brown hair and drew his blade deep across the throat. Letting go as the centaur flailed its arms, its hands gripping at its neck to hold the gaping wound as its grunts were smothered as it choked on its own blood. Cyrendil turned back to the front, the Centaur behind him in the last of it’s death throws before the movement behind him subsided.

His blade stained crimson, he wiped it off on the snow before awaiting another, He would defend these homes, they would be unspoiled. Cyrendil wore a face of stone, but his eyes were a green fire and a challenge. None may stand against the Vigil. Another Centaur answered, charging forward with a spiked flail raised and was met with the quick flash of steel.

It’s torso had been slashed deep, it slowed it’s gallop and looked down the new gash that was in it’s body The crimson flood down it’s chest and into the matted hair where man met beast, it dropped it’s flail placing its hands to the cut. Cyrendil took advantage of the momentary confusion his blade sinking into the beast's back and he turned it. A shudder went through the centaur's body, and then it fell limp as Cyrendil pulled his blade away crashing lifeless to the ground

He finally turned his gaze to some of the other members of the group finding Finch hovering over Gaela and Fiona. Fiona was in the snow and he could see the arrow sticking up from her gut. They would need cover, as Finch simply held a bottle in his hand. And he made his way quickly over to the group. Stopping to look down at the Fiona.

“You’ll be alright, don’t clench up. I believe the maid will be fine.” He spoke to Fiona before he turned outward shield raised, putting himself as a barrier between them and the centaur. “Sacrifice is the marking of true courage, with more than a little stupidity. You have the makings of a Vigilant, Fiona.” With that he glanced at the woman and Gaela, before his eyes cast on Finch “Thief, if you are not going to do anything of use get out of the way. Unless you’d like to get trampled.”

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Ahh yes, the school yard "You are chicken." technique.

I'm afraid on Cyrendil....



Yeah, finally got to use that image.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Cyrendil sat alone eating the stew while ever so often taking a drink from the mug of water, when he heard the commotion by the two mages table; The man was heavily drunk, and no doubt not in the right state of mind to do anything other than piss himself and pass out after a few more drinks. But by the way he clutched the shoulders of the two women, he was ready to have himself a go first. Cyrendil watched, he figured both could take care of themselves, when Fiona stood and started a brawl with the man. Cyrendil shook his head and turned back to his food.

There was little point in starting a brawl when a threat would have had the same effect, but the problem was no longer his. Contrary to the belief of the assorted band of scoundrels he was currently a part of, he was no city guard. Though the act of starting a brawl instead of ending it simply would cause problems with the town.

But then again, he was not apart of said brawl. He mused that the stew smelled better than it tasted, but it was filling at least, and he concentrated on the food, blocking out the sounds of boisterous toasting and storytelling, keeping his gaze on the room while he ate. Hearing the approaching of boots he turned his head to look at Faruq, and the only way the man could seem more pretentious than giving a title after his name is if he had a minstrel play the lute for him while he did it.

“What did you want Imperial?” and he turned his gaze to Faruq setting down his spoon into what remained of his meal and offered him a questioning raise of an eyebrow. When Brynn started to argue and call out the man who had gotten punched by Fiona. Which of course made the man even more furious. Which lead to the start of a brawl between the men.

“Would love to chat Imperial.” He turned and scooped up and few more spoonfuls eating it quickly and then stood with the mug of water in hand and took a long drink. He set the mug down and reached down grabbing his gauntlets and putting them on. “But, the silence has been ruined. And I fancy a walk.” With that he strolled towards the door exiting the tavern, and as he stepped outside he took a deep breath in.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

@Leidenschaft Well if you'd like to talk to Cyrendil he is just eating alone.

The offer is open for anyone honestly, just don't expect hugs and a parade.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Cyrendil walked into the small town, his green eyes glancing around from under hood at the various comings and goings of the town. Children playing in the snow, forging done, a leatherworker skinning outside.

He pulled his hood from his head, and looked towards the inn, half of the crew had already made way and he was sure would be deep within their cups by the next few moments. He thought about taking a small walk, but the small growl in his stomach warned against it. Many of the townsfolk had looked towards the odd group entering, but turned their gazes shortly after.

But one man kept his gaze on Cyrendil, the Breton with a heavy beard watched him silently. And Cyrendil met the man's gaze. He had hoped this town would be less difficult than the last but by the look of the man he was already wrong.

Cyrendil turned his gaze to the inn and made his way past the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. finding a small corner mostly by himself and sat down, his heavy plate boots clunking on the floor as he walked, many stopped to look at him then turned back to their drinks and food. Sitting down heavy in the wooden chair much to small for him, One of the haggard waitress moving to his table “What will you have stranger?” He looked up at the women and gave her a small smile “Whatever is boiling in the hearth smells wonderful, I’ll have some of that and some bread please. And wine, if you have a bottle. If not just for a mug of well water.” She nodded and moved off to the next table, he took the time to look around at faces carefully checking for any that he could remember on the posters for unknowns but found none. When he heard the door open and turned his eyes to the man who walked in.

He was the same one giving him the hard stare outside; The Breton glanced around the inn eventually spotting Cyrendil and moving towards him. Cyrendil's hand slipped under the table to grasp the hilt of his blade and he leaned forward as if bored.

The man came to the table, he was dressed in fine enough clothes warm more than fashionable and he smelled of sawdust and wood. “You one of the Vigilants?” Cyrendil bristled a little, and looked up at the man's face expecting hate in the eyes, but in them was a softness and a hope. He released his white knuckled grip on his blade’s hilt and brought the hand back to the table and visibly relaxing “I am, why do you ask?”

Cyrendil took the moment, as the man went to answer to start the removal of his gauntlets, setting them beside him on the table and clasped his hands together and watched the man.

The Breton smiled softly “May I take a seat?” And he gestured to the seat across from him, Cyrendil gave him a polite nod and the man sat down. “I won’t take too much of your time, I promise.” Cyrendil smiled “It’s fine, I’m not too terribly busy, what is it you wanted?”

“I wanted to say thank you, for the Vigilant...My…” The man paused for a second and looked down at the crude wooden table “My wife, was killed about two seasons ago by werewolves while she was out gathering.” The man spoke offhandedly as if recalling something. “She used to make the sweetest wine.” The man chuckled and then swallowed hard, Cyrendil assumed it was the thought of never seeing his wife again. He knew that pain. “Vigilants like yourself came through about a week or two after, and I heard from the Innkeeper that they had slain a den of werewolves.”

“I never got to say thank you to them, from me, and my daughter. Thank you for what you do, making people safer.” The man look relieved as if a great weight had suddenly thrown itself off his shoulders. Cyrendil listened to the man, and at the end gave him a small smile, but his eyes showed the glint of compassion.

“I am sorry, that you lost your wife. Many of us in the Vigil know the pain of losing a loved one to monsters... “ He reached out a golden hand to the man which the man shook and returned Cyrendil’s smile “How old is your daughter?” Cyrendil asked offhand

“She just turned ten last month, spitting image of her mother she is.” The man's eyes became suddenly sad for a moment and Cyrendil reached forward and patted the man's shoulder. “I am sure she will turn out to be wonderful, you care very much… I’m sorry I didn’t ask your name.”

“Greggart.” the man replied and continued “I saw you walk in town and had to say thank you, and if you were not busy maybe you could join me and my family for dinner? If it is not troubling you." The man looked expectantly at Cyrendil, who smiled but shook his head.

“For such kindness Greggart, I am honored. My name is Cyrendil.” he replied and shook Greggart’s hand again. “I have not been thanked, or offered a hot meal in a very long time… I appreciate the sentiment, but I cannot possibly ask of you to share your home and your food with an old elf.”

Cyrendil smiled, and wished for something to give to the man. So long had it been since any had thanked or offered a home to sleep in or a bowl of warm food freely. “Greggart, if you and your daughter are ever in need of any help, a place to stay, coin, a place for sanctuary. Anything at all, or if your daughter ever needs help of the same.”

Cyrendils’ voice lowered to a whisper so that only him and Greggart could hear. “Near the city of Wayrest, there is a Vigilant headquarters, you can travel there yourself, or send a message. Mention my name, they will know of me in the records. Say that you wish the Shield of Stendarr to assist you. And they will help however they can.” Cyrendil leaned back and gave the man a smile.

“This is a boon you may only use once, so do use it wisely. Of course nothing illegal, but I do not think you’d do that… So when you do use it, use it wisely. Do you understand Greggart?” And Greggart nodded his understanding.

“I wish you and your daughter everything you could both ask for, keep safe the both of you.” Cyrendil said before stood as the man did as well, and was about to bow before the man suddenly approached and hugged him, tears in his eyes “Divines bless you sir, you can’t imagine how much that offer means to me.”

Cyrendil stiffened but then gave the man a few pats on his back “The Vigil repays its debts and remembers it’s friends. It was nice meeting you Greggart. I will remember you, the next time I am around town I might take you up on that offer for a home cooked meal.”

The man pulled from him and smiled up at the elf “See that you do.” And with that he made his way towards the exit and out the front door, many of the patrons nearby heard and saw everything. The hard gazes he had received from some of the locals softened towards him and they turned back to their meals.

As Cyrendil sat back down, and took a deep breath in and let out a contented sigh before the waitress came back with the bowl of stew and a mug of water. Cyrendil gave her a small smile, the look must have been terribly odd for the people he traveled with. “Thank you very much.” He replied to the waitress. And set about the task of eating.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

@Leidenschaft I never had Cyrendil say or mention anything about the people talking of whores and booze.

And I'd really like to be asked, before people make actions for my character that are/could be out of his character. Please change it.

Because 1) He's out in front, and 2) He doesn't give a damn about anything hey said after he started walking.

I'm always open to collabs, and if anyone wants to take an action I'm usually cool with it. I'm always a PM away just to run it by me if it's something he'd actually do.

:P

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Mic dropped

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

Cyrendil let the Ginger Breton speak for awhile, then took a deep breath. All the constant talk, all the mired words. Sometimes he wished they could have seen what he saw, the fires, the Dremora stepping from burning portals nothing but endless hate in their eyes; the smell of rot and blood as it grew in mist that spewed from Oblivion so thick you could practically taste the suffering and death on the air. The way corpses piled the once beautiful streets, and the way the Daedra had started to hang people by their own entrails. Men could show violence, just as they had to the small hamlet moments prior. But nothing compared to the cruelty and brutality the Daedra had for mortals, they thrived on it.

But that was years ago, that's why the Vigil was formed. So none would ever have to experience that for themselves, this group was as children are. Having no idea how bad the situation really was, they might understand the world is dark and there are evil men. They might just be the evil men, but they lacked comprehension of something far darker that lay just outside of their view. The darkness that constantly tried to claw it's way into the world.

Cyrendil gave a deep sigh of resignation before speaking.

"The Dunmer are a known quantity, predictable, and culturally bound... It's the ones that hide in small havens like the one on fire behind us. The pretty woman who lured people into a slow death by dismemberment, then started eating them in the abandoned house, built an altar of stone and bones. All the while bathing in blood and singing praises to her new Daedric God."

"It could have easily been one of you brought into her trap, but you managed to keep it in your pants, good for you. This time you were lucky." Cyrendil brought a hand to his right wrist and curled his fingers into his palm and turned his hand before letting it again fall to his side his hand went and touched the faded sun on his belt buckle before moving back to the side.

Hearing Kiralla's argument, he shook his head. His voice steady and certain, he did not raise or accuse merely stated. "Tell that to the three people she murdered, Witch... She was dead long before I sank the blade into her black heart."

"You mistake my hate for Conjurers for that of Mages. I am an Altmer, magic runs through my blood. I use magic myself. But true magic comes not from dealings with Daedra, that is the fool's bargain. So you are no Mage. I do not care what race any of you are, or what alliances you hold. I do not give any concern to politics. Dominion or Empire. I don't care if you enjoy my company or if the sight of me offends any of you. If you try to summon the Daedra into our world, deal and converse with them. Then you are an enemy of all living things. Nirn and Divine. And I will have no mercy"

His voice was full of conviction, but he kept his back on all of them looking outwards towards the road. She would not understand, they would not understand. Most he assumed, judged him because of his race. Fine, let them judge. They would never understand, but that is why there is the Vigilant. Why there were people like him, so they could live their lives thinking they had a grasp on what was going on.

"You're naive if you truly think she was an unarmed and innocent girl. If she was, she would have never have caught the Vigil's attention. Whether me or another Vigilant makes little difference, in the end she was dead the second she decided to make a deal. And that is the end of it."

He heard Fionna and Gaela make their way down the path before Gaela spoke, They did need a plan. He considered for a moment simply leaving, he doubt any would accuse a Vigilant of wholesale slaughter. And further doubted it'd hold up under any scrutiny. But the damage it might do to the Vigil's reputation.

Cyrendil's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth, damned nobles and their petty games for power. Waylaying a Vigilant is akin to putting the trap away when there is a bear loose in the area. When he returned he would make this lord pay, constant inquiries and surprise visits to his hold and his keep. He'll be so caught up in his own rumor mill, that he'd rather fall on his own blade than face another hearing.

Taking a deep breath the cold air burning at his lungs. Patience Cyrendil. He kept his eyes looking down the long road. "I agree for once, we get moving... If you wish to continue to call me a murderer, you can follow if you so wish it. I will not argue that I killed a young woman. Because I know I did, and I am proud that the Witch is burning to ash. So that she can never hurt anyone ever again."

Cyrendil made his way down the trudged on path that lead to the main road towards Camlorn. Not glancing behind to see if any were following nor caring. He’d had enough of trading words with the ignorant.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

@Dervish Please, I main Roadhog.

That sexy beast.

sexy beast

Ere' we go! Ere' we go! Ere' we go! - WH40K Ork RP [Lookin' for boyz an grotz]

Gorruk had heard the news mid surgery, the large Nob in front of him already cut open in seven different places along it's massive chest. one of his four Gretchin assistants approached and grabbed at the apron and tugged to get his attention. Gorruk looked down as the Gretchin told him quickly in it's tiny raspy voice and Gorruk boomed laughter. "Capt'n dead? Then long live da new Capt'n! Now get off me leg you git. I'm not done wiff me surgery ya see."

The tiny Gretchin had mention a call for all the largest and meanest to get to the shiny throne in the Captains Quarters the Doc's eyes shot wide. "Why didn't ya tell me before you little git!" And he reared back his strong leg kicking the Gretchin against the wall on across the operating table.

"Stupid Git, You dere..." He pointed to another Gretchin with a blood covered hand. The orc on the table continued to bleed with his open wounds, and the red robotic eye'd peered at the new Gretchin who approached "Grab me stabby bits, I wanna look all fancy like fer da occasion'" Gorruk paused his speech for a moment rolling his heavy jaw under the surgical mask.

"And bring me my 'Toofy'" Gorruk stamped a heavy foot down. "And If I see one o' dem fingy-prints on it, I'z gonna launch ya from he nearest tellporta so ya come out wif ya insides on ya outsides got it?!" The Grot squealed in terror and rushed off. Gorruk finally turned his attention back to the opened cavity's of the orc on the table and poked at one of the larger holes.

"Eh, he'll be fine... Still gotta fill dem holes with somefink." Leaning over to the side he grabbed a handful of scrap metal and parts and started to shove them into the many holes on the orcs body until they were full and would heal over (probably) "Good as new I fink' no time for a proper surgery. Gotz ta see who's gonna be in charge."

The mad-dok had an awful habit of talking to himself, and he picked up a nearby wrench and slammed it into the unconscious Nobz' jaw breaking more than a few teeth which Gorruk collected and stuffed into the pockets on his bloodied apron. "Payment in full, Oi! Nob if ya can 'ear me, Ya is gonna be able ta go right faster when ya wake up. I promise dat!" He screamed at the unconscious orc before The Grot had returned with his sawblade and he took it by it's handle.

"We goin' places toofy, dis gonna be fun." Stepping down from the elevated table, he started the task of strapping himself with his set of stabby-bitz. Assorted knives, needles, and crude tools hung from his apron the little loops stitched in to keep them attached to him. He patted the small shoota at his belt and pulled down his surgical mask to breathe deep, as he made his way 'toofy' in hand to the Captains Cabin.