Argonian attack by water! Who expected that, no one ever.
They don't take advantage of that in the actual games. Argonian bandits should attack under water.
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"Two thousand elves, three hundred pussy cats--"
"Call them Khajiit," The Argonian hissed. He stroked his chin and glared at the map, as if all the puzzles in the world could be solved with time.
"Two thousand elves, three hundred Khajiit, and mercenaries. The Blackwood Company, four hundred in total," the Tribune spoke. She was a nord, conservative and a bit of a racist. She did not like taking commands from an Argonian, the very fact that Won't-Back-Down had reached the rank of Legate was an insult to most nords, but he prided himself on it.
The Tribune's name was Kala, and while she had the personality of a troll, she was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. She had led the charge while the elves had surrounded them, and had carried two wounded imperial men on her back while retreating. She was a true warrior, so the Argonian would forgive any flaw she had as long as she could help him with the only problem that mattered: The Aldmeri Dominion.
"Tell the soldiers we will be moving at first light," The Argonian said softly.
"Forgive my boldness, sir, but that is a terrible move, we should wait for reinforcements."
"Of course," Won't-Back-Down smiled widely. "Tell the soldiers, the very chatty soldiers that we are moving at first light to meet with Legate Vorenus and that we march with haste to take back Leyawiin."
"You do not plan to march," She said knowingly.
"No, not really. I am not such a fool, but the city is rank with spies. It is populated with many Khajiit. I want them exposed. Such a lie would get the spies to move in fright... trying to escape to inform their masters. Behead anyone who tries to leave, including the counts personal soldiers. I do not trust him or them or anyone,"
"That will not go over well with the people. Do you really wish to anger them?"
"No, I wish to save them," Won't-Back-Down lowered his face and was silent as the Tribune left to follow her orders. "The Blackwood Company?" He said aloud to himself, thinking of the Argonian mercenary group that had expanded considerably since their founding days in Cyrodil. They were expensive, yes, but the elves had access to their own mercenaries, elven mercenaries that would suit their needs better than recruiting a foreign race...
He then gasped in fright and turned so quickly his tail flipped over a chair. He rushed out of the room, sprinting past his personal guards and he stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He looked down upon his Tribune, who noticed him immediately. "Kala, to the Riverside! We are under attack! Blackwood Company!"
Her mouth went slightly ajar, and then the realization hit her. She nodded and drew her sword. "You heard him! To the fucking docks!"
No problem. Nice post.
These are the canon ones from the game. I'm also considering doing creatures as well, we saw a dragon soul in the Soul Cairn in Dawnguard, so I was thinking of other things like corrupted bears, spiders and maybe even some daedra creatures.
I knew I was going to come into this thread, faced with that quote.
Cool. Mucho betters.
No boats. Easy for Thalmor spies to sneak in.
Shame, Aza. Dishonor upon your cow.
((I Should have caught onto that))
((I Should have caught onto that))
Waiting around for an inactive GM is sad. You've kinda wasted our time here, HOAL.
The priest of Arkay took Vorenus off guard, he turned with his hand firmly on his pommel. He had no intention of drawing his weapon, it was just a habit brought on by nerves. He could not say much to the priest without first informing the count himself, there were formalities that had to be followed and Vorenus had no intention of causing offense on their first encounter.
However, the longer Vorenus stood still the more of a crowd gathered around him. There was some mumbling, and the crowd stood on the brink of a crevice between panic and despair. He swallowed his fear and approached the priest outside the chapel.
"You are a priest of Arkay, no?" He asked the question he already knew. "Come with me, chaplain. It is best you learn of this."
In times of crisis men of faith were in their prime. When the news washed over Bruma of the hardships ahead people would fall prey to their vices: Alcohol, skooma, whoring and religion. If that failed people would turn to violence, it was crucial they did not collapse upon themselves within these walls. Cyrodil did not need a peasant revolt on top of everything else.
He walked forwards, taking long strides up towards the castle. His fingers still rested on the pommel of his sword, intimidating enough that the guards of Bruma Castle pulled open the portcullis of the castle gates and led him inside.
The castle was warm, and the torches were lit brightly. It did not take long for a servant to emerge and offer a glass of wine, and soon the count was before him, surrounded by his guards and dressed in his evening wear.
"You must be Torrhen's son. You have the look of him," Count Carvain said. "Although, he does not usually give me the gift of hundreds of mouths to feed,"
"I apologize for arriving with such a burden, Carvain." Vorenus spoke with strength he did not feel. He took a sip of wine, feeling the bitterness on his tongue.
"The Imperial city has fallen then?" He guessed, as he paced the room. His eyes stared upon his family crest. "Thalmor?"
"No, a different enemy. Something that Tamriel has never seen before," He continued to tell him and the Priest of Arkay everything. How the city was burning black, and the creatures that had fell from the sky, how The White Tower was inaccessible, and how the dead rose up again as enemies. The Count listened without speaking. He was old, aged past his sixties if Vorenus was to take a guess, his hair was long and grey and his eyes green.
"And the Empire?"
"We could not reach him," He couldn't hide the quiver in his voice this time. "It was--"
"It is done," Carvain broke in. "I will take in your army, and send word north to your father. The refugees however must move on. It is always winter in these mountains of Bruma, and the harvest is limited. They must not stay here."
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