VashOne by one, they all left, all but the Child of the Dark Sun. Servants swarmed the table, clearing it of empty plates and uneaten portions as the remaining three commanders sat around, quietly letting them do their work. None of the three looked like they were pleased with the lack of interest many of them showed in the work they would be doing soon, though Vladimir seemed to be the least concerned. As the last of the food, barring Belrend's, was taken away, Balor spoke up to address the question. "As far as we know, they are all linked together, far more organized than any of us have ever seen before," he said, then glanced over to Vladimir.
"Cutting off one hand will hinder them, but won't kill them," the giant wolf continued for him. "There are many heads connected together, leading them. Their god would not leave this task in the hands of just one person, or even just one group. Not only that, but we've heard rumors that the Chaos Servants are working with the Fire Cults as well, and that just isn't any good." He shook his head, and allowed his massive hand to grip the hilt of his axe. The leather squeaked beneath his grip. "They're bad ones, possibly worse than Taloran's bunch. She'd take us into her realm and enslave us, whereas they'd just end it all, leave nothing left of everything we've strove to build over the thousands of years we've existed."
General Stonewall grunted, and stood up from his seat, leaning heavily on the table. "Enough, that isn't what he asked about. To answer you, Dark Sun, no, we cannot simply cut off one head and all of this be over with. This is a war, and we will have to clash armies at some point, even if all of their leaders are slain. However, the wounds that you inflict will be of great importance to me, and to all of us. In fact, I'll go ahead and tell you just who you'll be going after, since you seem to be the only one who gives a damn." His face turned to one of disgust as he looked back at the doorway where everyone else had left through. He rapped his metal clad knuckles on the table, and a serving girl made her way over, holding a small stone tablet. She set it down by Belrend, then backed away.
On the tablet was a painting of a woman, her features sharp and angular, much like an elf's. Her hair was dark and short, and her skin pale, as if she had never seen the light of day before. An eyepatch covered her right eye, while the left was an icy blue that chilled the bone. Stonewall continued, "That is one of the Chaos Servants, one of the few to be working directly with the Fire Cults. In fact, spies in the Watch tell us that she is leading one of the larger ones, not to far from Aissur. She is your target. Kill her, and her underlings will scatter. But be warned, five of the Watchmen were sent to scout for her, and only one returned."
The three went silent as they all stared at the tablet, clearly worried about something, but opting to keep their mouths shut. Even the remaining servant seemed to be shaken by the image, even though she knew less than any of them about the woman.
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Will be posting now, as Rex has requested that I do so without waiting for him.
Finished.
Sleep time now.
Sleep time now.
Yes.
Yes it was.
I am also fine with this because I have been just unable to come up with a post, which is just bullshit on my part since I don't have any more excuses since finals are essentially one until thursday.
Meh, best of luck to all of you, will keep this subbed in case it eventually comes back.
Yes it was.
I am also fine with this because I have been just unable to come up with a post, which is just bullshit on my part since I don't have any more excuses since finals are essentially one until thursday.
Meh, best of luck to all of you, will keep this subbed in case it eventually comes back.
Will finish tomorrow night.
But Pyro can only be shipped with Pyro.
PyroxPyro is best ship.
PyroxPyro is best ship.
Gonna be a conjurer when I get my thing up.
Any objections to having Sanguine's Rose?
Any objections to having Sanguine's Rose?
Waiting on 0011001's character and for Multi and Rex to post before continuing on.
Vash said
Are we shipping gravxlucy?
We are now.
Name: Seranie
Aliases: N/A
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Age: Twenty-Four
Appearance: A small woman who does little to impose on others, her slight frame and angular features hinting at her elven heritage. Pale skin hints at her northern roots, having lived her life in the cold reaches of Skyrim. Raven black hair hangs from her head, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes are a pale blue, the lids hanging half-way shut, as if she were always tired.
Faction: Daedric Servants, Odd Jobs
Weapons:
-Sanguine Rose
-Sacrificial Dagger
Magics:
-Master Conjuration
-Adept Destruction
-Adept Restoration, based on wards rather than healing
-Apprentice in other schools
Equipment/Items:
-A set of black robes
-A maroon scarf, always worn
-A small pouch filled to the brim with septims, from who-knows-where
-A wooden staff with a lantern hanging from the top
-A flask at her hip filled with cheap wine;
Backstory/Personality Born to a pair of Bretons, Seranie grew up in the city of Markarth, living out of Vlindrel Hall. Despite the anti-Breton sentiment in the Reach, her parents were respected by the Jarl, her father a hero of the Great War while her mother was an alchemist who rivaled the old woman who ran The Hag's Cure. She was spoiled as a child, being the only one, and grew up with stories of the scary Forsworn, cannibal daedra-worshipers who ate little Nord children. Honestly, nothing in her childhood was nothing less than idyllic.
At the age of five, Seranie became aware of her magical abilities. She could summon basic familiars, simple spirit animals at first. Rather than be sent to the College, so far away, she studied rather loosely beneath Calcemo. While her parents believed she was getting the best education possible in all of the Reach, it was much more lax than that. The occasional spell learned here or there, the ability to read and write, basic maths. But for the most part, she sat around while her "teacher" studied yet another Dwemer cog that was found in someone's closet.
At the age of fifteen, her father left the safety of Markarth to battle the Forsworn, his kinsmen, who had been a growing threat in the mountains. Both she and her mother had high hopes of him returning, but as the days turned into weeks, and then into a month, Seranie began to lose hope. While her mother became deluded with the belief that he may some day return, Seranie turned to drinking to dull the pain. Drinking lead to many other things - sex, skooma, smuggling in illegal substances. Conjuration became useful for far more than just summoning beasts and daedra. Her mother eventually fell ill and died, causing Seranie to fall further into her debauched ways to bring her out of the growing depression. That is when she met Sam.
The man did not look impressive, the first time she met him in the Silver Blood Inn. In fact, she likely wouldn't have noticed him, had he not challenged her to a drinking contest. The rest of the night was a blur, as was the following few days. The only thing she remembers is that she left the Reach for the first time and ended up with a very unique staff. The Rose's abilities was enough to force her out of her ways, at least for a short time, to continue her studies. Over the next two years, she remained mostly sober, and refused to touch skooma or even be near it for what it would have done to her. In those two years, she traveled from Morthal to Winterhold, learning from the masters of Conjuration what she could while studying the masters of old through their books.
'Course, this wouldn't last forever, especially when she held the relic of Sanguine. The moment her mind was sated, her thirst grew, and she ended up in Whiterun, where she sat around with the local drunk Brenuin, even going back to her smuggling way to get him some more of that rare Argonian Ale. It was one of these little runs that got her acquainted with Odd Jobs. She became a sort of acquirer of goods, as well as just a mercenary. If she wasn't drunk half of the time, she'd probably be able to do much more for the budding guild than what she does now.
Seranie is nearly always either drunk or high, causing her to be anywhere between happy and bubbly to quiet and depressed, though more often than not it is the former. She is sarcastic, crude, crass, and rarely knows when it is a good time to shut up. On the rare occasions that she's sober, she's extremely quiet and introverted, the complete opposite of what she calls her "real self." One might think her a completely different person if they were to see her in both states. The only rival to her thirst for alcohol and skooma is her hunger for knowledge, particularly on the arts of summoning and necromancy.
Aliases: N/A
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Age: Twenty-Four
Appearance: A small woman who does little to impose on others, her slight frame and angular features hinting at her elven heritage. Pale skin hints at her northern roots, having lived her life in the cold reaches of Skyrim. Raven black hair hangs from her head, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes are a pale blue, the lids hanging half-way shut, as if she were always tired.
Faction: Daedric Servants, Odd Jobs
Weapons:
-Sanguine Rose
-Sacrificial Dagger
Magics:
-Master Conjuration
-Adept Destruction
-Adept Restoration, based on wards rather than healing
-Apprentice in other schools
Equipment/Items:
-A set of black robes
-A maroon scarf, always worn
-A small pouch filled to the brim with septims, from who-knows-where
-A wooden staff with a lantern hanging from the top
-A flask at her hip filled with cheap wine;
Backstory/Personality Born to a pair of Bretons, Seranie grew up in the city of Markarth, living out of Vlindrel Hall. Despite the anti-Breton sentiment in the Reach, her parents were respected by the Jarl, her father a hero of the Great War while her mother was an alchemist who rivaled the old woman who ran The Hag's Cure. She was spoiled as a child, being the only one, and grew up with stories of the scary Forsworn, cannibal daedra-worshipers who ate little Nord children. Honestly, nothing in her childhood was nothing less than idyllic.
At the age of five, Seranie became aware of her magical abilities. She could summon basic familiars, simple spirit animals at first. Rather than be sent to the College, so far away, she studied rather loosely beneath Calcemo. While her parents believed she was getting the best education possible in all of the Reach, it was much more lax than that. The occasional spell learned here or there, the ability to read and write, basic maths. But for the most part, she sat around while her "teacher" studied yet another Dwemer cog that was found in someone's closet.
At the age of fifteen, her father left the safety of Markarth to battle the Forsworn, his kinsmen, who had been a growing threat in the mountains. Both she and her mother had high hopes of him returning, but as the days turned into weeks, and then into a month, Seranie began to lose hope. While her mother became deluded with the belief that he may some day return, Seranie turned to drinking to dull the pain. Drinking lead to many other things - sex, skooma, smuggling in illegal substances. Conjuration became useful for far more than just summoning beasts and daedra. Her mother eventually fell ill and died, causing Seranie to fall further into her debauched ways to bring her out of the growing depression. That is when she met Sam.
The man did not look impressive, the first time she met him in the Silver Blood Inn. In fact, she likely wouldn't have noticed him, had he not challenged her to a drinking contest. The rest of the night was a blur, as was the following few days. The only thing she remembers is that she left the Reach for the first time and ended up with a very unique staff. The Rose's abilities was enough to force her out of her ways, at least for a short time, to continue her studies. Over the next two years, she remained mostly sober, and refused to touch skooma or even be near it for what it would have done to her. In those two years, she traveled from Morthal to Winterhold, learning from the masters of Conjuration what she could while studying the masters of old through their books.
'Course, this wouldn't last forever, especially when she held the relic of Sanguine. The moment her mind was sated, her thirst grew, and she ended up in Whiterun, where she sat around with the local drunk Brenuin, even going back to her smuggling way to get him some more of that rare Argonian Ale. It was one of these little runs that got her acquainted with Odd Jobs. She became a sort of acquirer of goods, as well as just a mercenary. If she wasn't drunk half of the time, she'd probably be able to do much more for the budding guild than what she does now.
Seranie is nearly always either drunk or high, causing her to be anywhere between happy and bubbly to quiet and depressed, though more often than not it is the former. She is sarcastic, crude, crass, and rarely knows when it is a good time to shut up. On the rare occasions that she's sober, she's extremely quiet and introverted, the complete opposite of what she calls her "real self." One might think her a completely different person if they were to see her in both states. The only rival to her thirst for alcohol and skooma is her hunger for knowledge, particularly on the arts of summoning and necromancy.
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