Elder Scrolls: An Empire in Ruins [IC]

Hearthridge

Master of Many Stories
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Science Fiction, Horror, Post-Apoc, Psychological
Prologue
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Cyrodiil, Tamriel | 19th of First Seed 3E 433
OOC | IC

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The Oblivion Crisis had been foretold, recorded in the Elder Scrolls of eons past. From the fires of the Deadlands, the kyn of Mehrunes Dagon will walk Mundus and bring siege to the realm. Emperor Uriel Septim VII will die, the Mythic Dawn will spread like a plague across the land. One lone hero will rise from the fires smelling of death and brimstone...but it is not you. The Scrolls spoke of another. Yet you...you have something about you that makes you unique. But I wonder...do you have the strength to walk the lands of Cyrodiil and vanquish evil in the name of all life on Mundus? Or will you fail and bring death to yourself?

__________________________________________________

Out of all of the shitty situations you have found yourself in over the years, this one certainly takes the cake. Your cell was all but comfortable, but you were fed and clothed. It could be admittedly worse, but your outlook was bleak. You had been interred in the city's prison for a number of months now, awaiting your trial.

You sit up on your cot in your cell and look around, the scent and sight of your imprisonment striking a pang of introspective thought as you recall what led you to be in chains. In the next cell over, you hear a man sobbing to himself. You knew him, intimately, at this point. A Breton by then name of Sam, Samuel Gwent. He was an unassuming man, easily into his late forties, and on the verge of portly with a bald spot atop his head with a wreath of hair, turning it to an island.

This was the third week he has started to cry himself to sleep, and it was starting to get on your nerves. Whether it was because your only conversational partner was a drunkard who was unsuccessful in choking on his own tongue as he cried the days away, or simply because you dislike the company of others, is of no consequence. You were just about to raise your voice and call out to him when his sobs begin to turn into giggles, then unadulterated laughter. His laughter turned quickly to a mad cackle and this only provoked you further.

"Haha! The time of revelry has arrived! It is time to drink, to be merry, to bathe in the sanguine blood of my friends!"

His words put you on pause and even more so when you heard his cell door open. He moves to stand before your cell and offers you a wild, toothy smile.

"Well, ol' chap. It's been a blast, sitting here in this decrepit cell with you, but I have chaos to bring! But, don't worry! Someone will be coming for you soon."

Before you have a chance to respond, Sam turns on his heel and hums his way out of the chamber, leaving you to your thoughts - alone. You shake your head after a spell, and decide to let sleep take you with the bliss of silence.

You start in the middle of your rest, something was wrong. Your hair stands on end on your arms, the tickle in the back of your neck, the twitch of your nose. Something was here and a threat. Then, you smelled it, heard it.

Inside the prison, fires envelop the halls and the screams of the unworthy echo through your heads. The scent of charred corpses and burning flora assails your nostrils just as cackling fills the cell-block halls.

Dremora.

A squad of the servants of the Princes moves through the halls, moving from cell to cell, searching. Each of those they stopped at with an occupant, they touched the bars and simply melted them before stepping in and dragging the occupant out by whatever they could grab.

The screams. They were so constant, so soul-rending...so very much close to home...as you, too, are pulled from your cells and dragged off. Your struggles are pitiful and shrugged off, carelessly forced up flights of stairs outside of the underworks of the prison you found yourselves in just moments prior. Before you, and all around you, the city was aflame.

Lining the coast were a series of brimstone arches, cresting twenty feet in height with the legions of Dagon pouring free.

Oblivion.

You were lead out of the prison and away from the city, towards the entrance, where you were faced with a massive portal, thrice the size of those dotting the coast around. Something inside beckoned...something inside thrummed.

It is where you were brought.

Fire. Death. Ash.

Oblivion.

The Dragonfires have fallen dark. The world is at war. Death calls to those around and Dagon will walk these lands. You are certain of this, as to your own deaths. You become even more certain of it as you are dragged further into the bleak layer you found yourself in: spires with insidious bridges spanning between them, massive gates dividing forces with portals to Mundus in each division, and the screams of those being tormented and slaughtered creating a crescendo to the orchestra that was the war being waged.

Another cell.

Sitting in one of the spires connected to the central, the sobbings and ramblings of those captured around you. Divines seemed to have blessed you this day, though. The Dremora were not as keen as they should have and one of the captured managed to smuggle in a lockpick and worked tirelessly at his cage and did the impossible: he got out. After all, the simulacra of the Daedra are not infallible to mortal interaction...no, mortality has a greater chance than they give them credit...and now it is being used to your advantage.

"This is where your story begins, my child. Everything that has lead to this point has been for this. Be strong, be ready."

The voice carried through your ears, through your head, yet no one spoke. A whisper to you, from another far off. Whomever you had heard was watching, but now was not the time to reflect: now was the time to fight, now was the time to escape - and find something to do all of this with. Hard to do so in rags and chains.

((OOC: You are in the Deadlands, on the Plane of Oblivion. Your current location is in one of the Spires of Torment, with the other prisoners.))​


Post Rules and Tips
  • Please, please, please, make sure to @ the other player if you are directly interacting with them. This way, we can keep track of who is talking to who or interacting with who in a post!
  • Do not assume that your attacks will always hit and kill! Keep it realistic in a sense that your enemies will dodge or parry your attacks. To do otherwise is godmodding!
  • When I call for a DM break, that means I am working on a post that requires people to pause their actions so I can do something probably very bad to you.
  • Those text blurbs you see in this color, is something that only your character hears. The other players' characters do too, but it's a telepathic thing. Sometimes, it's for story, sometimes these will offer important hints and clues! Make use of them! This also applies to anything I type in another color! Important to keep track of them!
  • Try not to flex too hard with your character's abilitites. Try to remember that you do not have an inexhaustable supply of magicka, nor stamina. You will get tired, you will get injured.
  • Most importantly, have fun! This first segment will be a journey through Hell. Work together, stay together, thrive together!
 
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Things could not get any worse for the young nord. The last thing he remembered was waking up with a hangover in one cell. Now he was thrown into another cell in the worst place possible. He was far away from the cold lands of Skyrim. And he was far away from his equipment including his father's sword. Luckily he had his amulet of Talos close to him. It was the only thing to keep his sanity in such a terrible place. He needed to be out of here. He needed to find his sword and return back to Tamriel.

He looked around at the sorry lot that was stuck with him in his cell. The most striking of the group was a wood elf and a dark elf. By the looks of it they were just as unlucky as he was." I don't suppose any of you know how we could get out of here do you? Look I don't no about you but I'm not going to sit around here and wait for those monsters to come torture us. We need to get out and find our equipment to escape this place" Eren would speak trying to motivate himself and the others. He wasn't going to loose hope. Not even in this place.

"Wood-elf! You look like the sneaky type. Do you think you can pick that lock?"

@irregular-neptune
 
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It was a strange thing. You found yourself missing it; mud. Dirt. Soil. Stone.
Tangible things, surfaces you could feel, something that mattered - that existed.

But all he could remember was that damnable sobbing, and the laughter, and none of that mattered, now.

... Divines, it was - beautiful, actually. Horrific, alien, and beautiful. Like someone had managed to take root of all that was good in the world and filter it out, until only the cinders fell like petals that devoured themselves with an every-hungry fire.
His hand struck his face, he let it fall down, shut his eyes - inhaled.
Exhaled.

"Gro-Bashmar, you liar. I suppose I ended up here, first."

Placidus whispered, then spat and watched the liquid sizzle in mid-air.

"Steady. Take a few moments, catch yourself."

He hefted his manacle, praying that it'd be a possible weapon; and though the heft was real, the chain itself made it impractical.
Damnation, fists and rags weren't going to get them out of this - not alive.

@NeoM8rix The son of the province of Skyrim seemed more than strong enough to make use of his manacle - or most anything, up to and including his fists. Nodding approvingly, Placidus glanced at the nightmarish landscape around them.

"We should be wary. I don't think courage alone is going to us far, Nord. Let's make sure everyone is up - and there are no injured. Then, we can find some gear. Maybe turn the tables on our would-be torturers."


He grinned, and hoped it looked more encouraging than he felt.
 
Denoran woke up to the chatter of the Nord and the Imperial. He thought the words of the Imperial to be wise. He got his bearings and prepared to speak.

"Might I be of some assistance? I think I know a spell that might get us out of this drab cell." He says, rubbing his hands together.
 
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@SyntheticDovahkiin "Sorcery would be very welcome, sera."

The word always felt a little off when he said them; you can be stationed in a place for years, and never truly feel as if you've got it. But the Dunmer woke right up and offered some magical solution - normally, Placidus' first instinct would've been nervousness. Right now, though?
Right now?..

"If you can figure out what you're doing in this hell, I'll check on the others. We should go in formation. Nobody knows what's out there, after all - "

Glancing to his right, he could make out... A Bosmer, possibly some other prisoners? It was hard to tell where the rags ended and citizens begin.
Still.

...His fingers groped for an amulet that wasn't there.
 
The World Reacts
As the prisoners conversed, they would be able to hear the approach of heavily-plated boots. The encroachment of a pair of guards, flanking a robed dremora. The robed one stopped before one of the cells, within was a young Redguard, likely in his late teens. He was lithe and wiry, his features sunken in as if malnourished. As the two guards approached the door to his cell, his perception just realized what was before him. His eyes grew as wide as plates and he scurried back against the wall with a terrified wail.

The two dremora opened the cell and stepped in, each grasping an arm and dragging the man out, and away from the chamber the remainders were in. His screams were heard until heavy doors were heard sealing shut.

They were alone to themselves once more.
 
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He never thought that he would miss the cold and the damp of Skyrim, but here, where the heat was all encompassing and there was no relief in sight, he yearned for the snow for the first time in his life. He was so far from singing songs in a tavern and stealing the petty coins of weary travelers and the control he so tightly held onto was gone.

As Maxim got his bearings in the cell, he swallowed hard, his mouth dry from not having water in hours. He examined the others in the cell, noting another elf – a Dark elf –, a Nord and an Imperial, as well as a few others who looked a little worse for wear. Great, he thought. They didn’t look like too much, but they may surprise him. They might also be the reason he got stuck in this cell.

He began to walk to the bars of he cell when a loud, brash man began speaking to him. Wood Elf? he thought. The Nords had never been good at displaying manners, and Maxim wasn't sure that they would ever learn.

“I think I could try, Nord, he snarked at the man, searching his pockets for a lockpick that he hoped he would have. He found one that had managed to sneak under the watchful eye of the guards and began to kneel to work on the lock when a Dunmer elf spoke up loudly.

“Thank you,” he said, barely turning to speak over his shoulder at the man. “But I believe I can do this.”

He spent a few more moments working away at the lock when he heard boots stomping down the hall. Quickly, he jumped up and slid the lock pick back into his pocket. He leaned up against the wall near the bars, beginning to try and busy himself to look inconspicuous.

As the guards came in and took the man, fear struck Maxim’s heart for the first time in a while. His screams still rang in his ears, haunting him. These were real consequences he was facing, ones that he couldn’t talk himself out of. His face didn’t show anything and his composure seemed calm, but his heart had quickened pace and his hands begun to lightly shake.

He turned to the others a few moments after the guards left. “We need to get out of here. I just need a few more moments with this lock and I think I can get it, unless anyone has any better ideas.”

As that was unlikely, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to anyone’s half-baked, fear addled ideas, he turned back to the lock and began working on it once more.
 
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He'd watched men die. Condemned a few to death.
But he'd never seen fear like the fear on the face of the man dragged out of their - their kennel, for whatever horrible use the Daedra had for him.

It would've been the right thing to - to take charge, of course. To find some semblance of order, crush the doubt inside of him, and charge out there, full of pious fury... Before being incinerated and skewered by the Dremorae. So.
So...

@irregular-neptune

"How much more time do you need, Bosmer? I'm not a sorcerer, but..."

Placidus glanced at the Dunmer who'd spoken earlier, and tried to figure out how far along his magic was - he just couldn't say. Whether it'd give them a chance to escape or not - @SyntheticDovahkiin

"... But if whatever got you in here can get us out, maybe we can buy you some time. You, ah..."

@NeoM8rix

He snapped his fingers towards the Nord.

"When they come back, if we take either side, we can probably hold one back, for a bit."

Of course, there was always the possibility that there were others present - but for now, it was just a matter of waiting for the lock to give out...
Or Julianos' to grant them a solution to this problem.
 
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Eren turned and noticed an older man speak to him he looked like an Imperial that's for sure. He's traveled Tamreil long enough to know a seasoned soldier when he sees it. He nodded in agreement with checking on the others. He noticed then how the dark elf step up to assist. Eren squinted his eyes as if you recognize him.

Just as he was about to say something he saw two teenage drag a Redgaurd boy away. "Shor's blood, I can't imagine what's going to happen to that boy. Damn this place" Eren said as he turned back to the Imperial. "I can probably take on one of them by myself but together we have a chance. What we really need are weapons. Iron forge swords and axes. I'll settle even for a shiv." Eren really wished he had his sword.
@Applo


He looked and noticed a girl in the corner and noticed what appeared to be a little girl. She looked quite scared. Eren being kind in nature would walk close to her with a gentle smile. "Hey there little girl, don't be scared now. We'll get out of here soon."

@irregular-neptune

Eren the turned to the group to stand ready with the dark elf and seasoned soldier.
 
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Denoran, horrified by what he just saw, wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. He has faced some great dangers in his lifetime, but nothing so vile, so dangerous...so evil as this.

Turning to face the Bosmer @irregular-neptune, he said "Step aside wood elf, your playing with that lock will get us no where!"

In a fit of rage a shot a great ball of fire out from his hands, blasting the lock to smitherines, but making much noise in the process.

He turned to everyone and said, "Alright, it's time to go. Who's the best at hand to hand combat here?" He says, with the intention of setting up a formation.

Seeing the Imperial @lepidoptera had stepped up to take charge he decided to address him, "You seem like you'd be skilled, a long with the Nord @NeoM8rix , we'll take the front of the formation with everyone else taking up behind us. My battle magics should come in handy with dealing with those...things." This was his best judgement
 
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Eren flinch a little when the dark elf blasted that door. He turned to him with an unpleasant look. @SyntheticDovahkiin "You mad!? You could have hurt someone with that magic. Now we really need to move. Someone must have heard that." Eren was hoping the Bosmer would have picked that lock sooner. At least then they could have sneaked out of this prison. He knew those deadra might be chasing them.
Following the Imperial's lead @lepidoptera he hoped their chances will be better. He was not ready to trust any of those elves. He also hoped that the little girl would stay close to him. He would hate to see her suffer the same fate as that Redguard boy
 
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That pile of rags was a person? Placidus stared at Eren, for a few seconds, aghast. He quickly put his feelings back in check, though - if it was a girl...
A young girl, or perhaps a malnourished woman? Then that made... Hrmn, counting himself, five? Damn. @NeoM8rix @Applo
They'd have to be careful, but -

Fire judged and consumed all in its advance, as Denoran's mystical fire undid the twisted metalwork of their cell.

"Careful, sera. We've only got the five of us, by my count. We can't afford losing anyone; the Bosmer is quick on his hands, and though your magic just saved our hides... Let's be cautious, in the future." @SyntheticDovahkiin

Still, his growl made it clear that he was trying to show appreciation. The door was dead; they could move on.
He nodded curtly in acknowledgement, flashed what he hoped was a smile.

"All right, everyone. I'm Placidus Cyprianus. Nord, you're with me. Try not to pick any fights just yet - even if the Dunmer is mad, he just killed our confiners' first and best tool. Bosmer, you all right?" @NeoM8rix @irregular-neptune

The Bosmer didn't look like the type of criminal that normally got thrown in places like this - but then, nobody expected to be thrown into Oblivion itself, did they? He looked for something inspiring, and could only find his own bitter ruminations.

"Be careful. And, uh... You there. Can you stand?" @Applo

It was beyond this cell that all of Oblivion awaited.
The scent of something worse, and yet horribly sweeter than sulfur stained the air.
He inhaled, tried to remember what his CO would do.

"All right, everyone. Let's move."
 
The World Reacts
KER-FLWOOSHPURKROW! PLERKTRANG-TEH-TANG-TANG-TINK-GROROAWN!

The gate to the main cell blast open with a cacophonous groan and roar, the hairs on people's faces singeing with the heat and lick of the fire. The stones beneath them shuddered, the bars rattled and whined with the pressure of the heat and force. Outside of the chamber, a trill of a hiss was heard, with the tap-scratch of claw to stone padding its way over towards the cell block. With a squak and growl, the head of the Clanfear peeked itself around the corner to look within.

Seeing the sight of the blasted door elicited a snarl from the saurian creature, the Clanfear dropping into a low, pounce position and letting loose a wild call, apparently sounding an alarm! At the height of the screech, it charged into the cell to face the party!

((OOC: Start Combat))
 
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“I should only need a few more moments,” Maxim said as he fiddled with the lock a bit more. He was trying to be quiet and not attract the attention of the guards, a good way to sneak away before they realized they had prisoners escaping. He was sure a place like this had good security and he wanted to avoid too large a battle if he could help it. Especially since most of these prisoners were unarmed and only a few seemed to be magic-wielders, the only definite ones being the Dunmer and himself.

This group seemed like a bunch of go-getters, not to sit idly by as they were doomed to suffer death or…. Something worse. The fear in the Redguard man’s eyes haunted his vision and he shook the thought out of his head. The lock was only giving him a little difficulty, he was sure to be done with it in a few moments. He sensed the people behind him moving, though he wasn’t concentrating on their words, and hoped that they would be ready to get out soon.

Before he could finish with the lock, the loud mouthed Dunmer walked over and broke his concentration. The brute didn’t understand the importance of a deft touch, of delicacy….of silence. Maxim jumped back, mouth wide open in shock, as the dense Dunmer shot fire at the lock. Fire? What kind of an elf was this guy? Did he understand nothing of subtlety?

“You fool! What are you thinking?” Maxim almost yelled, but composed himself to not attract more attention to them than had already been. He bit his tongue as the Imperial – Placidus – began to speak. He didn’t tend to be a follower, but in this case, he would work with the others until they could get out, and afterwards… well, it wouldn’t matter.

A permanent scowl stuck on his face, he nodded toward Placidus. “I’m… just fine,” he said tersely and glanced at the other four as Placidus spoke. He didn’t want to wait, but figured with their small numbers, they would all need the help that they could get. The moment Placidus said to leave, he was going to run out of the cell and down the hall, but before he could open the cell, a giant Clannfear had broken into the cell, shocking him and making him jump back nearly a foot, yelling expletives loudly and almost falling over. He immediately jumped to the defensive, wishing he that he had a bow, or at least his dagger, but instead, he fell back to his spells. He hesitated only briefly as he thought of the best spell to use, then yelled at the Dark Elf.

"I hope you know more than fire, grey-skin, because we could really use your hasty hands about now."

He steadied himself and shot a spell of lightning bolt toward the creature, putting all his energy into it and hoping it would damage it enough for them to get free.

@SyntheticDovahkiin @lepidoptera
 
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Eren was stunned seeing the monster appear. "By the NINE! What is that thing!?"Eren said putting his fist up. "We need to shut it up before it calls it friends. I'll distract it" Eren said as he sprung into action. He would pick up a rock or stone anything he could to throw at the deadra and began to shout all sorts of curses in obscenities to it. Hoping to avoid his atracks he would try to run up behind and strike it with his fist then quickly get out of the way.

Eren saw that the wood elf used his magic which was more effective than his attracts. He would continue to taunt the beast so it would keep his attention on him while the others had time to attack. "True Nords never back down! I Fight in the name of Sovrngarde!"
 
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Denoran knew quite a bit about the arcane arts. He was well versed in destruction and conjuration magics. In an attempt to increase their numbers he conjured a frost attronotch, then attempted to shoot a lightning arc at the hideous Clannfear.

Denoran felt like he had caused this, and was working on ways he could make it up to the rest. He has always enjoyed the company of people and would hate to get off on the wrong foot with his new comrades. Especially if they were gonna be fighting together.

Although the Daemora's actions with that poor Redguard boy terrified him, it was no time to be scared. I must be careful from here on out."He thought to himself.

Noticing the young girl he also moved himself to a position as to were the beast would not see her, seeing as her Nord protector charged towards the beast.
 
The illusion of time seemed to shatter around him.

One moment, he'd been trying to see beyond the Bosmer's terse words, to see if the - very sudden burst of magicka - had done anything more than bring out his temper. Wounds could be treated, but - But there'd been no time to do that, because just as their brash actions had brought the door crashing down, the world had decided to crash in, too.

The primordial hide of the clanfear cut through this prison dimension, reflecting all sorts of scars in beige flesh. When it howled, the howl echoed throughout the realm - and if there were others (and there were) they would no doubt be along in time. Despite his earlier concern, the Bosmer didn't hesitate for a moment; the crackle of electricity shone like justice as it shot towards the Daedra.

Placidus' eyes flickered towards the Nord, and he nodded curtly, before matching his movements - and ramming towards the side of the Clanfear when he got the chance, hoping to pin it so that the others could finish the beast with sorcery and their fists.
The Dunmer had joined a second set of bolts to the beast, and with that...

"You look like a scamp's ass crawled up the backside of mudcrab, and died there! Stendarr have mercy on you, for I shall have none!"
 

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Sylva knew she didn’t know a lot about the word, but daedra didn’t just appear and drag you to Oblivion, did they? That sort of thing only happened in nightmares. This had to be a nightmare. It had to be. But this didn’t feel like a nightmare. Nightmares didn’t hurt and Sylva hurt all over. She could even feel the blood running down her leg from the gash made by her own shiv when she had landed on the floor of this new cell. That didn’t happen in a nightmare. You might bleed, but you didn’t feel the sticky wetness of the blood or the shocks of pain everytime time you moved.

The more she thought about it, the tighter ice cold dread gripped Sylva. Every line of thought ended up in the same place. Every alternative explanation crumbled under the weight of evidence. She was in Oblivion. She was going to die Oblivion. She’d always know deep down that she would die sooner rather than later. That was just how life on the streets was. But the idea of her soul being stuck here in Oblivion for eternity for daedra to toy with terrified her like nothing had ever before. What was worse she had no idea what to do. She hadn’t been able to break out of a mortal cell. How could she possibly escape a demonic one? And so, terrified, in pain and without even a glimmer of hope Sylva closed her eyes and waited. Waited for an eternity of torment to claim her.

And then there was wave of heat and noise. Sylva blinked several times as she was jolted out off the darkest reaches of her mind and the world around her came back into focus. Rolling over the first thing she noticed was the cell door was swinging on its hinges, acrid smoke pouring off the lock. The second thing she noticed was that someone was talking to her.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can.” She had no idea what was going on but that didn’t matter. There was an open door. Somewhere in Sylva’s soul a flame spluttered back to life. An open door was all she needed. Death probably waited for her outside it, but at least now she could chose to face it. Using the wall for support Sylva clambered to her feet. Every time she moved her leg it was agony but she did her best to conceal the pain from her other cell mates. Nothing good could come of them knowing about it, and she wasn’t going to tell them if she didn’t have to. Gingerly Sylva took a step, and then another, and then another. A grim smile spread across her face. It was agony, but her legs would carry her out of here.

An instant later, and without really knowing how she had got there, Sylva felt the cell wall against her back. A creature, a twisted beast, had slammed through the cell door and now stood in the middle of the room eyeing them all up like a dog that had cornered a bunch of chickens. Making as little movement as possible, Sylva slid as hand under the waistband of her trousers as she groped for the little shiv tied there. It didn’t seem possible it would help but it was better than facing this thing empty handed like her compatriots were having to. Well most of them. Arcs of lightning lashed at the beast and the Dunmer summoned a monstrosity of their own as they moved in between Sylva and the hell beast. That was when something stuck Sylva. She didn’t have to face this thing. Her cell mates were attacking the beast ferociously. Perhaps it wouldn’t even notice her. Gradually Sylva slid along the wall towards the cell door. She was outmatched, she felt no shame in admitting it. Better to leave this thing to those with the skills to deal with it. She’d always been better in the shadows anyway. With that thought Sylva slipped through the doorway and into the hall beyond.

@lepidoptera
 
The World Reacts
The off-rouge light of the room is quickly replaced by the crackling azure of the twin bolts that struck into the Daedroth* with a sickening crackle and pop, static bolts crawling over. Placidus was not spared from the electrical discharge, the electric crawl grazing and touching upon his flesh. The frost atronach's strike drove into the hide of the creature but it's own attack was not left unchecked. The ice of the simulacrum's arm shattered with the strike and it staggered back.

Eren would feel something similar as his strikes made contact with the hard hide of the Clanfear. Each strike would be met with a return in damage, splitting his skin and fracturing his bones in his hand.

Sylva was able to abscond away without incident.

The Clanfear shrieked and went to shake free of the Imperial's grip but its injuries kept it from shrugging the soldier off. Instead, the creature snapped its jaw down to take a toothed-beak of a bite out of his leg.

((*Note: Daedroth is the entomological singular for the plural 'Daedra.'))
 
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Eren would grown in pain from punching the monsters tough hide. "Bastard! I'd mount it's head on my wall if it wasn't so ugly to looksaw" he growls rubbing his hand. @lepidoptera He looked and saw Placids was not fairing well. He had to help him. So focused on the monster he didn't even realize the little girl disappeared. He did however noticed the broken cell bars on the floor. It was rusted twisted metal but a it had a sharp end on the tip.

Eren being being the dumb brave nord that he was couldn't stand by and let the imperial get eaten. He grabbed the metal bar like a spear ran up the Creature from behind. With a mighty Battle Cry he plunged the sharp end of the bar in the back of its head attempting to pierce through its tough hide. Hopefully it was enough for him to sustained minimal damage and rescue his new friend.