Rules:

• Please post a skelly to join.
• ... That's it, really.

​

Story so far:

Our heroes are on a quest to Morthal to cure Emily Frostworth and Eivor Tide-Breaker from vampirism. On the way they stumble upon an inn in a rural village where chaos breaks out.

Name: Eivor Tide-Breaker

Gender: Female

Race: Nord/Vampire

Class: Theif/Archer

Appearance: 

Bio: Eivor was born into a family of rich sea merchants and lived a life of a wealthy girl in a  tight-knit family. On a trip across the ocean her fathers ship was attacked by pirates and the Tide-Breaker siblings were taken while the crew was slaughtered and her family's wealth robbed. Eivor was then thrust into the world of human trafficking and was eventually sold to a coven of vampires who performed the blood ritual and was about to sacrifice her to Molag-Bal when she made a hasty escape. The experience took a bright-eyed young girl and turned her into a woman with a cold glare and a colder heart.

The journey was peaceful. No theives, werewolves, dragons or vagabonds bothered the travelers as they trekked through the day into the budding beginning of night. The quiet, easy trip was comforting in a way. It soothed the hearts of the warriors and served as needed recovery from the events that brought them together in the first place. Eivor grew increasingly irritated as the hours passed by, the good mood from her glimmer of hope slowly fading away as her thirst for blood started to gnaw at her very being. At the later parts of their walk she went silent, a focused look on her face while her intense blue eyes faded to a pale, dull hue. She had no doubt that she could go another day or two without feeding, however. She was confident in her will-power.

As the first torchlights of town came into view Eivor widened her eyes, perking her head back up as she let out her first words since she had chosen to stay silent. "At last!" She breathed, then let out a sigh of relief. "I thought we were going to have to set up camp for the night. Thank goodness." She quickened her pace as she walked up to the towns inn and pushed open the door, a flood of warmth from the hearth chasing away the chill in her bones. She smiled faintly, then crossed over to the bar and set a few septims on the counter, gesturing her head over to a bottle of Nord Mead. "Give me one of those and a mug of hot water to warm my hands." She ordered. The barkeep, a muscled Redguard gave a nod before procuring the items and setting them in front of the weary woman. Eivor curled her fingers around the mug of water and let out a breathy sigh, her eyes drifting closed as she relaxed. "Mmh... Let's just stay here, fuck Morthal." She joked, raising the bottle of mead to her lips.

The inn was bustling with travelers and locals alike. A bard played cheerful tunes along one corner and drunk patrons threw coins into his mug, barmaids hurried about to serve customers and the atmosphere was alight with jubilence. It was warm, welcoming, and a very much needed haven for the warriors. Only one thing stood out at a glance; in one corner a group of strangers sat in a circle, all clothed in black robes with swords and other weaponry at their hips. A similarly clothed man stood by the entrance, leaned against the wall while his eyes scanned the inn.

One robed man in the circle turned his head to look at Eivor as she entered, his expression one of surprise. He slowly raised a hand to lower his hood, revealing familiar features. His hair was platinum blonde, his eyes were an intense sea-blue, and his skin had a much-too-pale complexion, a scruffy white beard at his jawline. Eivor didn't even notice the man but the man had definitely noticed her. He stared at her, his gaze not one of ill intent, but instead one of pure astonishment. 

Name: Scipio Inferus

Race: Imperial

Class: Vampiric Spellthief

History: Scipio has always had a knack for gathering information. His parents had blessed him with one of those completely unremarkable faces. No one ever noticed if he was around. This led to some rather... interesting misadventures involving a treasure beyond gold, a tyrannical noble, a lovely maiden, and only one lockpick. While he came from a noble family he had no interest in wealth. Instead he deals in knowledge, from spells to myth to gossip to great magics, and one day he learned of the Order of vampires. Sadly his unassuming manner, his quick wits, and his handy thieves tools and magic were not enough to save him. He died for knowing too much. Oddly enough, the Order decided to keep him. When he woke the next day the Order began to train him in their ways. Because of them, he knows how to hide his sickness from the most vigilant hunters. Because of them, he knows how to keep silent under any threat or pain. What little doors were closed to him were now opened. When the dragons attacked skyrim, he was curious. So with the Order's permission he journeyed northward. 

Misc: Scipio is odd in that he does not eat unwilling food, unless it is from an enemy he has killed.

Name: Hjalund Erikson

Race: Nord

Gender: Male

Age: 28

Height: 6'6"

Appearance: Fair skin common with Nords, Dirty Blonde shoulder-length hair, Dirty Blonde beard, Steel Grey eyes, heavily scarred body from nearly twenty years of religious war.

Armor: Cuirass of the Crusader, Gauntlets of the Crusader, Greaves of the Crusader, Helmet of the Crusader.

Weapons: Sword of the Crusader, Mace of the Crusader.

Magic: Fire-based Destruction, Restoration

Affiliation: Knights of the Nine Divine Crusader (AKA one of the highest achievable positions in the Knights), Partially the Empire of Tamriel.

"Be a bard" they said. "If you're a bard, all the knowledge of Skyrim is at the tip of your tongue". Well, if this is all the knowledge Skyrim has to offer, the country's in a sorry state. 

The charming black-haired imperial laughed at his thoughts. He bowed at the roaring cheers of a drunken audience, finishing yet another chorus of Ragnar the Red. He'd come to Skyrim hoping to learn more of dragons- their language, their habits, and their magics. What he found was... disappointing. The locals, for the most part, were stubborn and foolish and terrified of anything unknown or unexpected. This made keeping a stable diet all the more difficult, as it really wasn't in the man to force himself on another. The truth of dragons was recounted alongside tales of flying unicorns and friendly gnomes, making it indistinguishable from mere fantasy. Magic seems to have been shunted into that college in winterhold- a place worth visiting to be sure. Which is what brought him to this tavern. He had heard of a man by the name of Falion who could- supposedly- cure vampirism. This made him both exceptionally dangerous and extraordinarily interesting. Not that the vampiric bard was worried. The dawnguard themselves couldn't see his sickness. He had walked right up to Isran himself and asked for a crossbow. Took a pretty sceptim off of his purse too.

A knight of the nine marched in to the tavern- followed by two vampires, one a newblood and one blood-starved. At their approach, a circle of grim dark-robed fellows visibly flinched. One went so far as to remove his cowl and stare- a look of utter disbelief slapped onto his face. The bard leaned against the wall and chuckled to himself.

This is either the greatest tavern joke in all of Skyrim, or the greatest stroke of luck since I've arrived.

Name: Emily Frostworth

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Race: Breton (but looks like a nord)

Skills: Is an Expert in all 5 schools of magic

Class: Frost Mage (cryomancer)

Weapons: Her staff (in the pic) that she can use to channel spells through

Armor/Appearence: 

Shouts: Frost Breath, and Ice Form

History: Emily grew up in windhelm, she always liked the cold and the winter and she could sometimes spend hours outside in the cold, once her parents found out she was very good in frost magic, after she begged them to let her study at the college of winterhold, they let her go to the college. She went to the college of winterhold when she was 11 and has been there ever since (except the occasional time she returns to windhelm too visit her family). She recently decided to take a break and travel around skyrim and maybe tamriel for a bit to learn more and see what the rest of the world is like.

Misc/Abilities: Uses very powerful frost spells and has even came up with a couple of her own frost spells, she is a cryomancer basically. She is still learning lot's about magic and is still learning how to Apparate(she can only go short distances) but she is very powerful in frost magic. The only other type of destruction magic she uses is lightning, which she uses sometimes but mostly for lightning redirection. Her weakness, fire. She also tends to be a miss goodie-two-shoes sometimes but she is still a loving and caring kind of person. She is still learning how to use the thu'um, but it will be a LONG time. She does already know how to use 2 complete shouts. She isn't afraid to use magic in a harmful manner when she has too.

Has been journeying with a group of vampires and a divine knight, and has contracted vamparism.

onikhefhah

"Be a bard" they said. "If you're a bard, all the knowledge of Skyrim is at the tip of your tongue". Well, if this is all the knowledge Skyrim has to offer, the country's in a sorry state. 

The charming black-haired imperial laughed at his thoughts. He bowed at the roaring cheers of a drunken audience, finishing yet another chorus of Ragnar the Red. He'd come to Skyrim hoping to learn more of dragons- their language, their habits, and their magics. What he found was... disappointing. The locals, for the most part, were stubborn and foolish and terrified of anything unknown or unexpected. This made keeping a stable diet all the more difficult, as it really wasn't in the man to force himself on another. The truth of dragons was recounted alongside tales of flying unicorns and friendly gnomes, making it indistinguishable from mere fantasy. Magic seems to have been shunted into that college in winterhold- a place worth visiting to be sure. Which is what brought him to this tavern. He had heard of a man by the name of Falion who could- supposedly- cure vampirism. This made him both exceptionally dangerous and extraordinarily interesting. Not that the vampiric bard was worried. The dawnguard themselves couldn't see his sickness. He had walked right up to Isran himself and asked for a crossbow. Took a pretty sceptim off of his purse too.

A knight of the nine marched in to the tavern- followed by two vampires, one a newblood and one blood-starved. At their approach, a circle of grim dark-robed fellows visibly flinched. One went so far as to remove his cowl and stare- a look of utter disbelief slapped onto his face. The bard leaned against the wall and chuckled to himself.

This is either the greatest tavern joke in all of Skyrim, or the greatest stroke of luck since I've arrived.

(( Ahem. Don't take control of our actions. EVER. Only threadmasters can do that. So, yeah. I'll let it slide this time, but take control of my character again, and you will be reported by me. ))

(( And who are they staring at in shock? The Divine Crusader? ))

BelleoftheBrawl

The inn was bustling with travelers and locals alike. A bard played cheerful tunes along one corner and drunk patrons threw coins into his mug, barmaids hurried about to serve customers and the atmosphere was alight with jubilence. It was warm, welcoming, and a very much needed haven for the warriors. Only one thing stood out at a glance; in one corner a group of strangers sat in a circle, all clothed in black robes with swords and other weaponry at their hips. A similarly clothed man stood by the entrance, leaned against the wall while his eyes scanned the inn.

One robed man in the circle turned his head to look at Eivor as she entered, his expression one of surprise. He slowly raised a hand to lower his hood, revealing familiar features. His hair was platinum blonde, his eyes were an intense sea-blue, and his skin had a much-too-pale complexion, a scruffy white beard at his jawline. Eivor didn't even notice the man but the man had definitely noticed her. He stared at her, his gaze not one of ill intent, but instead one of pure astonishment. 

Emily stopped the levitation spell as she slowly landed on the boards of the tavern, she noticed the men staring at Eivor I wonder what they're thinking? Always wished I had telepathy, never could get the hang of it though. 

Lokonikah

(( And who are they staring at in shock? The Divine Crusader? ))

(Please read Belle's intro comment for the description and direction of the dark-robed stranger's stare. I'm simply describing that scene from my character's view. I had no intention of making anyone's character do anything that wasn't already mentioned in the thread and apologize for any miscommunication.)

(( I'm confused... Ima roll along xD ))