Hearthridge

Master of Many Stories
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Look for groups
  2. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
Science Fiction, Horror, Post-Apoc, Psychological

As the Scrolls Foretold
__________________________________________________

126482.png
Cyrodiil, Tamriel | 19th of First Seed 3E 433
OOC | IC

__________________________________________________

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?

__________________________________________________

You awaken in your cells, mold growing in the corners and along the cobblestone around you...moisture condensing and dripping from odd places. You are in Vivec City, the dreams you had spoke of Cyrodiil, a land too far off to even comprehend being in at this present time. But why did that voice speak out to you? Her voice was familiar...but was it really feminine?

As you ask yourselves all these questions, blissfully ignorant to the chaos that is now ensuing around the Cantons; reality snaps you to. 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 Redoran Canton 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.

The Crisis had been foretold.

The whispers, they made sense now...but this revelation was empty in its gains. No, you were brought towards the Foreign Quarter, where the bridge to the land faced 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.

A dozen were freed, you included. It is time to fight back, to escape. But how? That is where the story really begins, here in...

An Empire in Ruins.


The Requirements
I am going to try to keep this minimal, because otherwise it would be no fun. Ideally, having played any Elder Scrolls game enough to know some of the story and/or woud be preffered. If you haven't, all I ask is for some initiative to learn a little about the Elder Scrolls universe.

I will also be requiring a minimum one-paragraph post length and I would prefer at least one post a week. I will be posting at least one GM post a week to summarize what happened during that 'turn,' but if everyone posts quicker then these posts can come out just as quickly. I will also post reactions to posts that require my direct reaction. Please @ me in those posts.

Take adult content to PM's.

No godmodding or powergaming. If you are unsure as to what that is or if your character may be questionable in that regards, ask.

No Unicorn characters. Meaning, no 'I am perfect with everything I do and can do everything.' This also means no Akaviri, Falmer, Ayleid, Sload, etc. We are only working with the core nine.

There is also the option of joining the OPTIONAL Discord server, for all of your communicative and question needs here.

The Players
Elaynor by @Red crow

Maxim by @irregular-neptune

Eren by @NeoM8rix

Denoran by @SyntheticDovahkiin

Sylva by @Applo

Open Spot


##NOTE: This is an Elder Scrolls Fandom Roleplay.

  • Name: Seth'sit Hides-with-Magic
    Age: Thirty-Nine
    Gender: Male
    Race: Saxheel
    Appearance: Description of Character
    Personality: Description of Personality
    History: Long-winded history
    Strengths: Mercantile, Trade Delegations, Magic
    Weaknesses: Maintaining relationships, physical combat
    Other: Seth'sit is a Lycanthrope
Code:
[tabs][tab=Bio Info]
[SIZE=3][B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Name[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Age[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Gender[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Race[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Appearance[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Personality[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]History[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Strengths[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Weaknesses[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Other[/COLOR][/B]:
[/tab][tab=Personal Items]
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Personal Equipment[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Wealth and Resources[/COLOR][/B]:
[/tab][tab=Skills and Spells]
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Combat Skills[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Magic Skills[/COLOR][/B]:
[B][COLOR=#11cfd4]Social Skills[/COLOR][/B]:
[/tab][/tabs]
 
Last edited:
Join the Legion, they said.
See the world, they said!..


  • Name: Placidus Tertius Cyprianus
    Age: 42
    Gender: Male
    Race: Imperial (Colovian)
    Appearance: A permanent scowl in the shape of a man, Placidus - Cyprian, to his comrades-in-arms (and friends, if he understood the thing known as friendship) is an example of why the tradition of Legionary service isn't always prudent.


    Of average height (5'8) and average build (if somewhat more muscular), Placidus was told by his parents that he would serve, as his father's father's mother's father's mother had served, and in that service would carry the blessings of the Divine. He never questioned this, being a rough, coarse, and somewhat stoic fellow - at least not until the third tour of service, and all subsequent tours, and the land of Morrowind; but that is getting ahead of matters.

    With a dark olive complexion typical for the Colovian Highlands, dark brown hair that is always kept Legion-short, and facial hair that can never quite progress beyond 'angry stubble', the first clue that there is more to Placidus than it appears are his eyes.

    They are blue and serene as the sea, and often downcast - matching the quiet, thoughtful tone of his voice.

    Despite his gripes, he almost always is in his Legion armour, battered or no - and it is as much a part of who he is as anything else about his appearance.

    Personality: At first shot, gruff and unaccommodating. He doesn't like Vvardenfell, he doesn't like waking up, he doesn't like you. After a few hours of conversation though, it becomes clear that it's just his way of keeping people distant. Placidus is actually something of a - philosopher might be giving him too much credit, perhaps, but there is a gentle introspection in his manner of speaking that slowly reveals itself, like a Dwemer puzzlebox.

    Due to his own self-imposed austerity, he is generous to a fault, and a quick way to find out if he cares for you is to ask the man for a favour, material or otherwise. He has a wry sense of humour not uncommon amongst the Legion, but takes it to extremes. Not easily hurt by cruel comments or personal grudges, and forgives both easily...

    When it comes to others, however, he is less forgiving - especially of the peculiar institution of slavery, which leads us to the man's history...

    History: Arrested for a dispute with several Telvanni traders of slaves, Placidus made the mistake of having one too many drinks and believing he was safe on Imperial ground. Despite no real damage to the mages or their 'wares', nor any real damage to himself, local law superceded Imperial law - especially in a time of crisis.

    Thrown into jail with barely a trial, and left abandoned by a Legion desperate to shore up its image as it drew on recruits, Placidus figured it was his own fault, and bore it as he bore all things; stoically.

    It probably began with his parents, who owned a modest villa near a fishing village. Despite his mother's brief career as a local senatrix, they were largely unambitious and unconcerned with much beyond continuing the family tradition - a tradition he was, and is, proud to carry on. His arrival to Morrowind, however, exposed him to behaviour he could not condone - slavery, open slavery! - and an Empire unwilling to risk dissent over stamping it out.

    Slowly, doubt and anger made him grumpier and more on edge. He requested continued deployment to Vvardenfell, and was granted it - since his bravery and service were never in doubt. He constantly antagonised slaveholders, especially the Telvanni, but usually playing lip-service to the letter of local law. And he aided, to some extent, a certain society of lantern-fellows.

    But it didn't matter, and then it seemed that dark tidings had fallen over the Empire, itself, and doubt consumed anger, and left him wondering what all he'd done, and it's purpose. It was that night he drank too much, and struck a Telvanni mage; and, perhaps, it was then that the wheels of fate began to turn...

    Strengths: Physically fit and capable of wearing heavy kit!, Aggressive Negotiations, Reciting Baudy Old Imperial Poetry, Liquor Tolerance, Mercantile, Sailing.

    Weaknesses: Can't stand slavery, vampirism, or necromancy; temperamental, suffers from recurring feelings of powerlessness since his fifth deployment but it's probably nothing, strong (to the point of exploitability) sense of justice.

    Other: A strong devotee of Dibella; this goes back generations, and it is believed that Dibella protected the Cyprianus line in some fashion. Will speak at hours about the virtues of love and poetry when sufficiently drunk or friendly (if he somehow found a friend). Uncomfortable in civilian clothing. Cannot into flirting. Wants to see Elsweyr, someday.

 
@lepidoptera Accepted! The Great House Dres was also a strong proponent with slavery in the Elder scrolls universe. Telvanni had many but the Dres were the primary hunters and dealers. They arent seen much in the games in Vvardenfell, but they're strongly placed in the mainland Morrowind. Also, bear in mind the Empire often used slavery on it's own. However, it was Imperial Slavery, working to pay crimes or debts and could often be done voluntarily to pay off said debts if you had no other means.
 
  • Love
Reactions: lepidoptera
Ah, thank you!
I might need to hit you up on LOREFACTS, as my Scrolls Lore is - dusty. I was something of a scholar, back in the day... But now, all I remember is the satisfying thunk Ordinator helmets make when hit with enough force. That being said, I actually did know about Imperial debt slavery; I wanted to imply that Placidus is the kind of guy that gets worked up about seeing people being treated like, like netches...

But probably makes more than a few justifications for bad things the Empire does. When asked about being imprisoned:

"Well, there was a good reason for it. I would've waited, and let the law take its due. The Divines would know the rest."

It takes the start of Ruins for him to start being more of an actor in his own tale, I think.
 

  • Name: Maxim
    Age: 30
    Gender: Male
    Race: Bosmer (Wood Elf)
    Appearance:
    5e2eca15efb72c2c3cf7810908b8ef38.jpg

    Maxim is short, (around 5'7) and lanky, not good for strength but good for sneaking. He has long auburn hair that is usually in braids in the front and green eyes. Usually some form of face paint is present on his face, and he tends to wear really light armors and cloths.
    Personality: Tends to be cool and quiet, a haughty observer, unless he is performing and intentionally being sociable. A bit of a narcissist, he tries to hide it and tries to be empathetic to others sometimes. He can be manipulative to get his way, and isn't always the most truthful. But when he cares for you (which can be rare) he will protect you as best he can. He can be fun to converse with, as he knows a lot and has seen a lot, but you never know if he's trying to get some information out of you. Cares mostly for himself and his kind, as he believes that everyone is only out for themselves and nobody will help you.
    History:
    Grew up on a farm just outside of Greenheart in Valenwood, where his parents grew low level crops to sell to the town and eventually export out to other towns. They weren't very rich growing up, but Maxim never wanted for much. He had three siblings, and his father and mother were often working very hard. He went to school, something not every child does, and was a voracious and studious learner. He spent his childhood helping his parents on the farm and learning the ways to protect himself, primarily through archery.


    As he grew up, he went to the Bard's College and became a bard. Since then, he has travelled, and studies spells anfdlearned things from those he has met. He also joined the Thieves Guild, but only comes around when it is convenient for him and is by no means a permanent installation of it. He's thieved pretty much throughout his life, both as a way of survival and to get things he would not otherwise afford. Primarily steals through pickpocketing, but will occasionally get braver and steal from shops.

    Has seen the bad side of things, like when he watched his brother's shop get ransacked by some raiding bandits and when he was beaten up because some Nords didn'tlike foreigners, especially elves, in their town. This has hardened him to a lot, though sometimes he can still have a soft spot for things. He has an interesting moral code, one that is devised of his own ideals. He also has a twisted sense of justice, but will fight to see it through.

    Got arrested because he and another member of the thieves guild were working on a heist at a jewelry shop, one which they almost succeeded at, except that Maxim was caught and they were not.
    Strengths: Maxim has a way with words and a high sense of intelligence. He is particularly good both at alchemy and the spells that he knows. He's got a talent for pick pocketing and illusion. Merchant skills, farming. Lock picking.
    Weaknesses: Has a heightened sense of superiority and that can come off in his attitude on occasions, getting him into trouble. He also isn't the strongest when it comes to fighting and is more of a sneaker and a talker, which doesn't always work for defense.
    Other: A dedicated follower of Baan Dar, the trickster spirit of thievery and Y'ffre, the god of forest and song. Doesn't care for many of the other gods that the Bosmer follow, but knows of them.
 
Last edited:
This dynamic'd be the best. Also, Maxim looks like he could be a strong candidate for the clever guy who got us all out of prison in the first place, maybe? Ah, this is gonna be great!
 
Is this bad boy still taking characters?
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: lepidoptera
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: lepidoptera
300fedcec9ac80bdbca584562c300cd0.jpg
Eren Ice-Sword
Age: 28
Race: Nord (Human)
Appearance: Eren is built like an ox stands at 6"6 long black hair usually pulled back and on the sides. Pale blue eyes like the ice in the mountains of Skyrim. Usually Some black warpaint around his eyes.

Personality: He is a proud warrior with a short temper and can come off as a bit obnoxious. But he is brave, loyal and stands with a strong moral compass. He likes to be social meeting new people on his travels even if they're elves. He is always up for fighting and adventure. Has a strong faith in nord beliefs and Talos. He tries to live a honorable way so he can go to Sovrngarde when his time comes.

History: He was born in the heart of Skyrim in the city of Whiterun. He was raised to be a true nord. Learned to swing a sword when he was only 7 years old. Trained by his father who was the Harbinger of the Companians. He grew up on his fathers stories about the Companians. How they were fierce warriors that fought for honor and were defendants of the 500 Companians of Ysgramor. They fight with honor and seek their fame taking quests. Growing up that's all he wanted to be.

When his father died he dedicated most of his young life to be a part of the Companians inheriting his fathers greatsword. But when the time came to be accepted into the inner circle he discovered a terrible truth. The Companians were plagued with the Lycanthrope to become werewolves of Hircine. He could not accept such a curse. There was no honor in becoming a werewolf. He decided to leave the Companians and find is own path of honor.

He travelled across Tamreil as a sellsword or a mercenary. Even joined the Fighters Guild in High Rock. But eventually his travels lead him to Cyrodill where he got into a fight in a tavern. He was quickly arrested for assault of a nobleman. Locked in prison until finished his sentence.

Strengths: Besides being very strong he has great sense of honor, courage and loyalty. He always sees a job through and is willing to be kind to any stranger. He has hopeful look in his eyes and is not afraid to speak his mind. Has a certain charm when it comes to pretty nord women.

Weaknesses: He has a short temper and quick to judge if you break his trust. He tends to drink in excessive amounts which in turn gets him into trouble. Likes to flirt with women and can sometimes be too rigid to his beliefs.

Personal Equipment: Nordic steel armor a large steel greatsword enchanted with ice magic. A hundred bow and arrow and a steel dagger. Also carries an Amulet of Talos.
Wealth resources: large coin purse. Bottle of Nord Mead.

Combat skills: expert in two handed wielding with his greatsword. Has tons of experience in hand to hand combat and has some skill with a bow for hunting.

Magic skills: has no skill in magic except knowing how to enchant his sword with soul gems to.

Social Skills: learn a great deal of bartering on his travels. Good at charming the ladies at taverns especially if they are pretty nord women. No afraid to use intimidation to get what he needs.
 
@NeoM8rix Accepted! Welcome to the shit-show!

I am totally not planning to kill everyone.
 
Bottle of Nord Mead

We are now officially a real Scrolls group. I should probably add 'one portion salt' to Placidus' sheet, just for the feel, mahahaha...
Also, this party is gonna have amazing interparty banters.
 
  • Like
Reactions: TallDarknBeastly
  • Sweet
Reactions: lepidoptera
Hey, everyone. I have set up an OPTIONAL Discord server for people to join and chat in, to communicate with myself or other story members, and to receive updates quickly. You can find it here.
 

  • Name: Denoran Suraal
    Age: 39 years old
    Gender: Male
    Race: Dunmer (Dark Elf)
    Appearance:
    3ea8eb8ae21a4be1ed7d23e9ee775253.png

    Denoran is tall for a Dunmer, coming in at a height of 6'4. He tries to keep himself in shape. He normally wears light, maneuverable, and enchanted armor.
    Personality: Does his best to get along with others and very respectful, a virtue his father instilled in him. But he will stand for what he believes in, and can have a very hot temper.
    History:
    Hailing from the province of Skyrim, the hold of Winterhold, Denoran and his family is very well-read in the arcane arts. His parents play a key role at the College of Winterhold, his father a scholar of destruction magicks, and Mother a scholar of alchemy. Because of this, they taught him all they know of those schools of magic. He grew up very entwined in the college's culture, but grew up in a house just off of the college, and enjoyed spending his days reading his parents' books. His education primarily came from the College of Winterhold.


    After living several years at home, tending the farm, living life to the dullest, Denoran became antsy. So he traveled to Windhelm to book passage on a ship. The ship took him to an island off the coast of Skyrim known as Solthseim. There he met the Telvanni, a family of fellow Dunmer wizards, who taught him a great deal of magic and knowledge. Included in this knowledge was that the Daedric Prince Hermaeus Mora's ancient texts could be found on the island. After tracking down one such text and reading it, he learned of the great dark arts of Necromancy written by the Daedric Prince.

    From the dark text he learned of the Worm Cult and a scholar at the Arcane University that could teach him the dark arts of necromancy in secret. To get to Cyrodiil, he went to Raven Rock to book passage to Windhelm, but was stopped by the guards. Carrying the ancient tome of necromancy, an illegal text, and was imprisoned. His crimes so great warranting him to be taken to the home island Vvanderfell and put in the dungeons of Vivec City.

    Strengths: Heavily Gifted in the Arcane Arts, Good with People, Skilled in Sword Combat.
    Weaknesses: Archery, Accepting his mistakes, hot temper, can't deal with obviously narcissistic people.
    Other:

This is my first time RPing, so sorry if it's a little rough. I can change anything you need!
 
Last edited by a moderator:
@SyntheticDovahkiin He's almost there. My only point of contention is his dealings with HermaMora. Typically, when it comes to the Princes and those whom they deem worthy of being their 'champion,' they are those who stand at the pinnacle of history: i.e. Dragonborn, Hero of Kvatch, etc. I am comfortable with him having had dealings with HermaMora's followers, but most who serve do not convene with the Prince himself. I am all for the knowledge of dark arts, though. Perhaps, instead of a Black Book (as that is a potent artifact), he carried other as equally illegal tomes, but they were more akin to ancient manuscripts or esoteric knowledge that the Tribunal and Temple wanted to be buried?
 
  • Like
Reactions: TallDarknBeastly
@Hearthridge I have updated my post, I hoped that fixed your issues with it.
That it did! Accepted! Just trying to keep everyone on an even playing field, is all! Welcome to the fun!

I will be starting up the IC to this story today. As of right now, there is one more character slot, unless Talentless is joining us.
 
Perfect timing. Also, given the many facets of this group...
Maybe the twist is...
We kill ourselves?!

(alternative hot take dremora won't know what hit 'em)
 
@lepidoptera. Well that would be a quick rp. I didn't even get to fill my inventory with wheels cheese and sweet rolls
 
  • Sweet
Reactions: lepidoptera
@NeoM8rix Right? Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be able to load up on sweet sweet skooma sujamma and garlic braids plucked fresh from random characters' homes, before too long. We just gotta figure out how to get out of prison, and I'm feelin' lucky! The Divines got our backs!