The most beautiful place in Vvardenfell
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For some reason, you find yourself seated at a small rickety table in Balmora's Corner Club. As with all Corner Clubs throughout the land, this one is filled with the kinds of people who don't exactly take leisurely strolls in the middle of the day, especially when the Balmoral Guard are out and about... Which is basically all of the time. Across from you, R'arr stares at you. "Are you listening to me?" He asks, his voice a bit growly, like that of most Khajiit. With the club being dimly lit, you can't really tell which colors surge across R'arr's fur other than a light orange, maybe a bit of brown, but mostly black. R'arr has one hand on the tabletop where he loosely grips a dagger. A small pile of what looks like chunky white rock fragments rests on top of a smooth wooden plate in front of him, and before continuing with his story (which you didn't actually ask for) he uses the hilt of the dagger to crush one of the rocks. "Care to take a trip to the moon, outlander?" He asks slyly, with a somewhat menacing grin. Then, pinching some of the white granules, he sprinkles it onto the flat of his blade and snorts it off before leaning back with a long sigh. "Help yourself, R'arr doesn't need all of this right now. The Moon is a wonderful place."
The two of you sit there for a moment. What do you say? In the true fashion of those who've just barely come to Vvardenfell, you struggle to remember why you're there in the first place. Maybe you'd even ask, but as if reading your mind, R'arr lurches forward in his seat and fixes his golden eyes on you.
"Why would anyone come to Morrowind? That's a good question, and R'arr is here to tell you. Don't laugh at R'arr's name. R'arr's name is the most accurate portrayal of the Khajiit as far as R'arr is concerned. Besides, R'arr is a very dangerous Khajiit, and you don't want to know what a dangerous Khajiit like R'arr can do to you... Do you? R'arr does not think so."
You might have responded at that, but what would you say? It could be a lot of things, depending on the type of person you are. At this point you haven't even figured out
what you are, let alone your name, what you're good at, or anything else. Right now, this shitty hole of a club is your world, and R'arr is your God.
"R'arr thinks that people come this place for many reasons. For Pilgrimage, for Dwemer Treasures, for Daedric Sacrifice. Maybe some go to Solstheim to get rich in the Ebony Mines or to die at the hands of angry, ugly Draugr. Some fools come here to look for a very strange Khajiit who just stands there by the sea and makes things up, but R'arr has never found this Khajiit. Or maybe some arrive in this land to fly. Have you ever flown in other lands? R'arr has flown here before, it is not worth the money."
R'arr leans back in his seat, obviously expecting you to chime in. Since you're still lost in mind-fuck land, you don't do shit. You might envision stealing someone's sweet roll from them, but that's about it. Since you're not really doing anything at all, R'arr continues: "R'arr sometimes wonders why no one ever gets into the trade of selling Cliff Racer leather. Have you seen them? Of course you've seen them, they're everywhere. R'arr can hardly walk without setting foot in Cliff Racer shit somewhere, but he does find it odd that he has never found a Cliff Racer Egg, or nest. Ah, to the point though, R'arr can tell you why R'arr came to Morrowind, yes?"
R'arr snaps his fingers, and then waits. You don't really know what that's supposed to do. In fact, absolutely nothing happens for a solid ten seconds before an older Cyrodillian woman, looking well scrambled from what was likely to be decades of Skooma abuse (it was actually Hist Sap, but congratulations, you just learned that you're kind of a judgmental little ass hat), brings two cups of Sujama over. R'arr deposits two of the smaller white rocks into each drink, and sets one of them in front of you. "R'arr is here to take everyone to the moon! And to get rich. Drink!"
Before you can protest about being god-modded, you stupidly take up the mug and down it. Maybe you just did it because you're an alcoholic, that's altogether possible. Maybe you did it just to be nice. Maybe you're a nice person. Well, a nice person who also judges old women's lives by the way they look. A nice ass hat, I guess those exist. Anyway, as you finish off the drink, you notice that you didn't feel the rock tumble down your throat. "It dissolves in liquid," R'arr begins, having already chugged his own mug in a furiously quick fashion, "and hits a little softer. R'arr doesn't want your first trip to the moon to end with you twitching on the ground. You can drown in your own vomit that way. It's funny to watch sometimes." He adds matter-of-factly.
And then, you go to the moon. It's much different than what you thought it was, and you could probably do without half of your face going totally numb. But, the real question... Will you help R'arr take everyone to the moon by joining the Moon Runners?
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Essentially, this is going to be a Drug Runner Parody set in Vvardenfell. For those of you who might not know exactly what Vvardenfell is, Vvardenfell is essentially the big island state of Morrowind. The RP will focus on the activities of the Moon Runners, a (somewhat) organized gang that distributes and sometimes manufactures narcotics throughout the land.
Posting Rules:
1 - Post at least once every week. PM me if you desire an exception for some reason.
2 - This will be a casual to advanced level of RP. At least a paragraph per post.
3 - True to my personal fashion, cussing is super allowed.
4 - Adult themes will exist, but keep Libertine cyber shit outta here.
5 - I'll add more if I can think of more.
Character Sheet:
Name:
Race:
Class:
Age:
History: << Hit me with at least a few good paragraphs.
Physical Desc. or Image:
Brief explanation of how they ended up in Vvardenfell:
Daedric Idol: << If no Daedric Idol is worshipped, pick and Divine Idol.
Divine Idol: << If no Divine Idol is worshipped, pick a Daedric Idol.
Other Stuff I need to know:
Break a leg, go crazy.
Or, you know, you can tell me if it's a dumb idea. I need to start my hit list somehow, anyway.
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