RolePlayerGuilt

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

5:50pm, Last Seed 16
Kitchen, Evermore Castle

---

Chops-Lettuce had been gone for almost an hour now. As Tsleeixth finally settled into his food prep station and figured out how to clean vegetables to Breton standards, the head chef decided to pay him a visit. She berated Tsleeixth for doing a mediocre job (while the Breton and Redguard cooks were ignored for doing the same), and warned Tsleeixth to keep an eye on his "scaled friend". However, Tsleeixth was as clueless as everyone else about Chops. At this time, servants (including Sagax) were arriving to refill their refreshments and getting ready to set the dinner buffet.

As if on cue, Chops-Lettuce ran in frantically, knocking over pots and pans, and spilling scorching hot beef broth on the chef's exposed forearms.

"What the f-" The chef bellowed.

"Holy hist, Delacourt's dead!" Chops shouted.

"What the f-" The chef repeated, louder, but was once again interrupted by the Argonian.

"I saw them slit his throat! They drained the blood out of Delacourt!" Chops-Lettuce was almost crying. "They saw me, almost got me! They were going to drink my bl-"

Slap!

"Guards!" The chef had backhanded Chops, knocking the Argonian flat on her back, and knocking the wind out of her. For a few brief moments, the kitchen was still, cooks and servants alike stared at the unfolding spectacle. That was until the heavy footsteps of royal guards rushing in, and Chops began blabbering again.

"No, wait, they're going to kill us all!" Chops plead, only to be dragged away by two heavily armored guards. "They're vam-"

"Get this crazy lizard bitch out of my sight!" The chef gritted her teeth, gesturing with one arm and soaking the other one in a pot of cold water.

"We'll send her to the dungeon." A guard acknowledged. An armored fist whacked Chops' jaw, just to drive the point home.

"Back to work!" Was the chef's command. Gradually, the cooks went back to finish their cooking, while the servants took food and drinks out on trays and carts. Tsleeixth was told to fetch more seasoning from the cellar. When he's halfway there, Tsleeixth found himself stalked by the same pair of Breton and Redguard that had harassed him earlier.

"Look at that mess you made!" The Breton approached with a meat cleaver in hand. "I don't know about you, Zavin, but I've seen enough of these reptiles."

"You said it, Teranse." Zavin, the Redguard, concurred. A sinister grin appeared on his face, and a heavy meat mallet appeared in his hand. "Seems like we have a couple of people missing, but no one's going to miss you when we're done here, lizard boy."

---

Edith was listening nearby when the fiasco in the kitchen went down. At first, she was honestly baffled by how stupid the chef was. Then she realized that she was disguised among the working folks, the kind that grinds hours for a set wage. These cooks and waiters weren't mercenaries like herself; they worried only about getting through the job as fast as possible, not doing it thoroughly to earn a completion bonus. Now Edith understood why she was here in the first; Bretons are a lot dumber than they think they are.

As Sagax finished delivering his food cart, Edith dragged him into the servants' change room. "Delacourt's the old man that stopped you at the checkpoint, right?" She asked Sagax.

"I think he stopped someone else that shouldn't be here, and that may be the vampires we're looking for." Edith whispered, making sure no one else was around the room. "We need to see what's going on over there."

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

RIP
Reno Valentine

^{Press F to pay respect}

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

_{Light snow, -60°C/-76°F outside}

---

Day two began with a shocker, literally.

When the start of generators signaled another day cycle, STAB once again powered itself up. Heat and light resumed outside of residential quarters, and as the occupants began their day, they were disrupted by a loud bang. Something had gone haywire in the generator bunker. Looking outside, falling snow was obstructing the night sky, dimming starlight and making the base grounds a foreboding place. Although the main building continued functioning without a hitch, everyone soon rushed to the bunker.

Reno Valentine was slouched inside, dead. Judging by the opened locks and some of his personal equipment lying around, Reno was likely conducting one of his routine checks. A machine near him looked badly damaged, and Reno had the misfortune of touching it when a fatal electrical discharge took place. This machine was one of the back up control devices Jerry Hsu had installed two weeks ago, and no one besides Jerry himself had done anything with it. However, an attached warning label showed it could be easily tempered; anyone in STAB could do it.

As the four remaining occupants gathered around Reno's dead body, their body language difficult to read under their thick winter clothing, suspicion flowed freely among them like the dry heating system in the bunker. A coincidence seemed to be very unlikely now; Reno had checked and cleaned the very same location many times before, and it would be difficult to imagine that he suffered such as accident immediately after Jerry's death. As for the dead man himself, there was nothing malicious about him. Reno had no weapons, no out of place tools and nothing of secret on him; just a regular, scared custodian at the wrong place and time.

What Are You Listening To?

Dervish's Guide to GMing

Wew lad, this @Dervish guy sure GMs!

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

The nighttime actions are confirmed. Day 2 update will come tomorrow or Sunday.

Wow. What A Line?!

Kinda late to the party, but here's another excellent piece from the RP @POOHEAD189 mentioned.

From: The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention
Post Written: Collab
Written By: @Hank
Written Words:

“No,” came the immediate response, blunt and decisive -- or so Narzul liked to think. Truth be told, it was petulant, born from the overwhelmingly frustrating idea that if Narzul had simply been surrounded by Redoran warriors instead, his own people who knew their place (and, more importantly, Narzul’s place), and that if he had a proper suit of armor instead of the low-quality disguise he had stuffed into his chest with disgust, Bleakrock Isle would have been a completely different story. The Armiger’s spear would have glanced off an ebony cuirass and left him unharmed instead of gouging a deep wound into his abdomen. More importantly, nobody would have forced him to be at the vanguard of the party, crossing unstable bridges with mercenaries that looked like they should be dead four times over. He had been a general, for crying out loud, but Dumhuvud had reduced him to a ‘tin can’ without a second thought.

He could see from the look on Sadri’s broken face that the older Dunmer knew all that and was guiding him towards the obvious truth; he was not surrounded by his Redoran allies. Narzul was going to have to learn to make due with what he got and to accept his current place in life. Ashav had made it perfectly clear when Narzul went to properly sign up with the Company that he was just another soldier now, a member of the infantry, and no more. But Narzul’s innate reluctance to accept this was exacerbated by Sadri’s inflammatory tone and extremely disrespectful sarcasm. At the same time, Narzul realised that the only reason he was even listening to Sadri was because the latter wasn’t sugarcoating his words. Niernen had already told him the same things, but he didn’t listen to her. And so it dawned on Narzul why Sadri was so successful at prying open Narzul’s facade; his candidness. Nobody he cared about had dared to be so blunt with him since his time at the garrison as an ordinary guardsman, twenty years ago.

“Perhaps,” Narzul said eventually. His body language softened as he laid the ebony sword across his lap and he glanced away, avoiding Sadri’s face -- he did not need to see the look of triumph that would undoubtedly flit across it. “There’s an old saying that goes as follows: ‘One must row with the oars he has.’ I suppose it’s true,” he added and stared out over the sea.

Context: Narzul is a former general searching for his lost sister, Niernen. He finds his sister in a mercenary company and joins as a mercenary himself to protect her. Narzul's conversation above with Sadri (played by @Peik), a callous adventurer, shows him questioning his superiority.

This is one of the my favorite passages from the RP. We talk about character growth and transformation a lot, and @Hank (with the help of @Peik) just pulled it off perfectly there, subtle yet impactful.

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

Remember the final line of this post?

'Ironically enough, fermented piss might be the only thing there I'd be mandated to drink.' Wy thought.

@Spoopy Scary

Turns out @Spoopy Scary has an acquired taste.

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

Since no one has got the majority of all votes, nobody is eliminated on day 1.

We're moving on to night 1; time to declare your action in PM.

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

Vote tally so far:

• Abstain - 1 (By: Lauren)
• Reno - 1 (By: Niels)
• Ana - 2 (By: April, Reno)
• April - 1 (By: Ana)

You have 24 hours to change your vote before it's locked in.