Private [ROF] Rise of the Falmer

[Mr.Self Destruct]

The fellowship pressed on through the trial of the mountains, braving the bitter cold and the treacherous pathways which narrowed and winded through the shadows of ancient and colossal rock. As they journeyed further and further from Dawnstar, the roads began to thin and fade, and the paths taken more dangerous until it seemed as if the passage into the Winterhold was all all but impregnable. Fatigue set in, and Alistar felt his waning strength leave his body. The sky had become engulfed with bloated, dark clouds, and a torrent of pounding snow rained upon the group. "We must stop!" Someone cried, needing to shout over the howling storm. "No!" shouted Alistar, knee deep in snow and frozen to his bones. "We must press on!" He himself wasn't convinced by his words, likely along with the rest of the group. They would not survive long, and Alistar cursed under his breath as he realized they would not make it to the Imperial Camp any time soon.

Through the flurry of snow and wind, Alistar's eyes caught upon a vague shape through the grey. It stood tall, a tower looming in the blizzard. "There!" He said, gesturing towards the structure. "Move quickly!" The companions raced towards it, wading through frigid snow and bracing themselves against the blizzard as the shape drew nearer and nearer until they stood before it; an ancient watchtower of unknown origin. Crafted from weathered stone and mortar. Alistar kicked in the rusted metal door, and it gave way with a lurch of coagulated iron.

 

[Geel-Kajin]

It had not been long before troubles came their way. Geel knew he should have been bothered by the lack of wildlife, with neither predator nor prey venturing on the roads. It was almost as if, he had thought back then, that something was a brew. Now, with no sign of civilization in sight, he wished he had acted upon his observation.

A clap of thunder was the first sign of trouble. Back in temperate climate of Whiterun, this would have been no cause for concern, but in the icebound northern regions of Skyrim, it was a fatal disaster. Once harmless, the rain in the clouds would freeze, and fall to the ground as deadly hail.

Smaller particles came down first, snow and shards raining down on them. They bit into Geel's skin with forceful coldness, slipping past the defenses of his cloth and scales. Geel knew that he would be the first to succumb to the temperature, should he not already be stoned to death. His argonian blood would not produce heat of it's own, and he would grow lethargic and dull. It would be a mercy when death came.

I wish I still had those thick Brotherhood robes, was a thought that came, uninvited, into his mind. Surprising even himself with that recollection, he shoved the idea out of his mind. To even subconsciously think that shook Geel to the core, let alone the clarity of the notion. It seemed as if I will never be free of my past.

Geel looked over to the other Argonian, worried for his safety. But his face was covered by a hood, so Geel could not discern his current wellbeing.
Another crack of thunder, and they came down like a shower of death. Hail plummeted from the skies above, the roar of the wind muffling the "crack" that meant the stones had met their target. He heard the group shout across the howling gale, but could not tell what they said. Using every ounce of his effort, he grabbed on to the shoulder of the person in front of him, trusting him to guide him through the storm.

 

[Google]

(Please note that this is to be read in first person through the eyes of Shadow-Tail)
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The snowstorm roared like a raging dragon in the invisible night sky as the wind and ice ravaged the landscape. As a mortal, the chilling cold would likely have taken its toll on my well-being. But I am no longer a mere mortal, and the ice was effortlessly deflected by my armored skin and helm. The storm may have taken notice of my defiance as it started to increase its assault on me, moving at blinding speeds that made it almost impossible to see the other members of the divide group.

"We ... stop!" Someone cried. "No!" shouted someone else. "... must press ..." I could just barely hear the shouting in the howling wind, but that was the least of my concerns. The wizard, being a cold-blooded argonian, had turned his head in my direction as I over to his. If his constant severing was any indication, he would soon freeze to death if he does not get medical help or some warm shelter to shield him from the cold winter breeze.

At the corner of my eye I could see someone gesturing towards what appeared to be some kind of shelter. "... quick ..." With great speed, I sprinted through the snow and the wind and the ice from the sky toward the shelter, almost laughing at my new found ability to resist the elemental power of nature's cold weapon of choice. The man, the ranger I realized, had managed to break open the metal door as I neared the entrance myself.

As the last of the party managed to enter safely into the shelter, I closed the door behind them, as to prevent the freezing blizzard from doing any more damage to the fatigued group. Without thinking or taking any interest in the new surroundings, I rushed over to the argonian wizard. He was sitting down and severing at an unhealthy pace from the chill of winter.

"It matters not," a voice shouted at me in the corner of my mind I moved closer to the wizard; "for he left us to die in a cold stone cave after we had saved his very life! He deserves nothing short of death!" I shook my head, trying to get the foul voice out of my mind. "No! I am no murderer..." Time seemed to slow as the voice toned into my doubt.

"You've killed members of the Dark Rangers! Brothers and Sisters who only wanted to better the world!" I raised a hand to my head, trying to keep a focus on reality as time moved at an increasingly sluggish pace. "They wanted to kill innocents..." The voice, a demon in my mind, laughed at me as if I knew nothing.

"Poor mortal, you forget the innocents that we killed as a sell sword! What about THOSE innocents who did us no harm? This wizard betrayed us when he let us to die after we destroyed the pillars with the last of our energy. Why should he get away with murder? Death is the wizard's just reward!"

"NO! I am no murderer! I'm no monster! I'M NOT!" Time unexpectedly resumed as I neared the wizard. The argument inside my head was... disturbing. However, the wizard needed my aid, and I was not going to let him die from the cold grip of nature. I stopped next to the freezing argonian and, using my new unnatural powers for the first time, touched the wizard's skin, forcing his body's blood to become warm... at least for a short period of time. "That spell I just used should help, but it is going to hurt. Just don't move too much, as that would make things worse. It should be over with shortly."

 

[Flint firestorm]

Crow leaned against a tree outside Dawnstar, waiting for the rest of the group to finish there goodbyes and join him here. Crow had kept his farewell to the Winterhold party short as he had no real connections to the group, not like the rest had. Crow spent the time waiting for the rest of his group reflecting on what had happen in those cave's only a few hours ago. He had only just joined the group and he had already come close to death. But then again, isn't that why he joined the group in the first place? to go on some crazy adventure? All Crow was sure of was that he wanted to get to Riften as soon as possible.

Crow then saw the winterhold group set out towards the mountains to the east, no doubt going by the quickest route but from the look of those clouds a storm was brewing. Crow prayed to the gods to watch over the group as they began to climb the mountain trail. After a few moments the rest of the Riften group exited the town, there spirits reasonably high. Crow approached Valthor who was at the head of the group. "I checked the map. The quickest route I can see is to travel south to Fort Dunstad, then east to Windhelm and then south again till we reach Riften. Do you agree?" While Crow didn't know the Dragonborn personally, he had heard enough about him to make him respect his opinion. "your plan seems reasonable enough, though I we stay out of Windhelm. They don't take kindly to elve's there" Crow nodded in agreement and the group set off.

After traveling in south for sometime they began to see signs of falmer activity. ambushed caravans, dead bandits, butchered animals and travelers. When they arrived at the bandit fort of Dunstad they expected to find it garrisoned by bandits but only found corpses.From the way they were killed it was clear it was the work of the falmer. "we rest here for awhile. Crow, light a fire. The rest of you can take a look around but do not enter the fort buildings alone. we may not be alone here." Crow quickly lit a fire and sat beside it, gazing into the flames and thinking more on what had happened.

 

[Geel-Kajin]

Geel's eyes flicked open for a split second, a foreign energy breaking past his barriers. His body jerked in reflex, shocked by the invasion as it seeped through his being. It was unlike anything he had felt before; it did not have the signature tingle of magicka, too old and ancient to bear any similarity to it.

His mind, once dulled and sluggish, regained a certain sense of clarity, and he could see once again through his own eyes. To his surprise, he saw the other Argonian next to him, somehow untouched by the freezing cold. The subconscious part of Geel suddenly flared a warning to his mind, begging it to take hint of that oddity; but his brain was shrugged it off, too focused upon gratitude of the man.

"Thanks," he said, and for once took a proper look at his surroundings. They were in some sort of cave now, the howl of the wind muffled by a solemn door of iron. Geel knew they were fortunate to find a shelter in a middle of a desolate place like this.

Or maybe it's not just luck that baited us here.

Shrugging off such thoughts, he looked over to the rest of the group, making sure they were fine. At least the rest had made it through the blizzard, many of whom now stood with their arms crossed across their chest for warmth. Geel noticed many red splotches on their skin, the result of impact with the hailstones. It would be not be long before those red marks turned to hues of blues and blacks, purples and browns. Yet another reason why they were so lucky to escape the storm.

He turned over to Alistair, he too catching his breath further on the cavern. "What now?" he asked the man, worried. The iron door may be their savior from the cold, but it was certainly most ominous. It seemed to speak to Geel, laughing. Don't worry, I'm just a door, it said, despite the terrifying specter somehow placed amidst these fields of white snow. It seemed so out of place that it was impossible they found it through chance.


Geel suddenly wondered if the creator of that door was still around.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Alistar was shivering, soaked with frigid water and chilled to his bones. He immediately took off his drenched cloak which was lined with ice and laid it out across the stone floor. "Get a fire going, we spend the night here." He said, checking up on everyone else and making sure everyone was present and accounted for. The fire was quickly lit, a rack of firewood propped against the wall serving as fuel for the flames. Immediately warmth washed over the group, who huddled around the small fire trying to rid themselves of the cold.

"What now?" Geel quietly asked, his voice quivering with worry. "We must stay here for the night, until the storm passes." Alistar replied, stoking the flames. He looked up, examining his surroundings; they were in a tall tower, crafted from worn and faded stone. A winding staircase encircled the group, it's steps leading up into the darkness where the fire's light failed. "This is a watchtower, perhaps a lighthouse if we're close enough to the coast... I'm not sure." Alistar said, standing. "We should look around, make sure it's safe to bed here." He said sternly, as he fashioned a small torch and took the first step onto the staircase.

 

[Melee]

Wind and cold. Those were the only things on Melee's mind as she trudged through the deep powdery snow and clung to the cloak that was fighting to tear from her grasp and be gone with the wind. The mountains rose ominously over the group of travelers, minuscule and insignificant in comparison to the landscape they were trekking through.

The ferocious wind and snow howled around her, threatening to tear her cloak from her grasp and biting through her leather armor. Melee got a better hold on the hem of the cloak and wrapped it around her arms more securely, but it made little difference. The wind was so powerful that it was pulling all but the small sections she was holding away from her body. Soon hailstones began to pelt her all over, making her painfully aware of just how horrible the blizzard was becoming. Her friends (she certainly considered all of the people she traveled with as friends by now, some she had grown close to), no longer discernible except as dark, blurry figures around her, were dealing with the same issues she was when she heard someone shout. What they had said however, Melee couldn't say.

It was impossible to have any kind of conversation in this blizzard, no matter how hard they tried to strain their voices to rise above the deafening wind. Eventually, Melee noticed that the group was moving in a different direction, and shortly after they came upon a small structure. The nearly invisible structure, an old forgotten watchtower, provided welcome relief from the horrible conditions they had just been dealing with. Everyone shuffled inside, and as Melee looked around the group she couldn't help but want to laugh sadly at how they were faring.

The faces of everyone huddled in the small room were red and wind burned, and everyone was shivering uncontrollably. Melee felt especially sad for Geel and Shadow-Tail, who were probably having the hardest time dealing with the cold, although Shadow Tail looked like he was doing much better than Geel somehow. Touching numb, senseless fingers gently to her face, Melee had regained just enough warmth in her face to know that her face would be sore and bruised from where the hail had made contact. She removed the cloak, quickly shaking it off and wrapping it around herself.

A fire was soon lit, and the group spent a few minutes huddled around it as they painfully regained feeling in their frozen limbs. Alistar then grabbed a torch, suggesting that they look around to make sure that the watch tower was not inhabited, however unlikely that seemed. For the moment, Melee didn't care how strange the placement of this tower seemed; she was just happy to be out of the frigid wind and cold. But she wouldn't just sit around. Summoning a small ball of light in her hand, she walked toward Alistar to make her way up the stairs with him. "I don't expect very much. If we were barely able to make it here, I can't imagine anything residing here, permanently or temporarily."

 

[Derath_farseer]

All he could see was snow, and hail. He had luckily snagged a jacket hanging on a chair in the inn when no one was watching but even with the added warmth he could feel the cold set in. Einarr attempted to mentally block out the cold, and the pain of the ice wiping across his face. He had the sudden feeling of dazhavu, it wasn't to long ago he was stumbling around in a snow storm alone, only to be found half frozen by the people he was with now.
"What if we're found by another party, and saved. Only yo be caught up in an even bigger quest." He chuckled to him self and let out a cough as ice flew down his throat and stung him. He shut his mouth and mumbled a swear and continued to march. Hours pasted and he felt completely drained, he was forced to send waves of fire over his person to ward off the cold. He hoped he could keep this up. Wile summoning the fire was an easy task, keeping it from burning his clothing or him self was another matter. He hardly noticed them approach the tower in his focus. But as he entered the hall with them he let out a small sigh and stood by the fire.

Einarr simple stood and looked into the fire for several minutes until he heard the voice Alistar and he made his way over to Melee and him. His face had a slightly blueish hue to it as he followed them up, he continued to flex his fingers to work some warmth into them. As melee spoke he cleared his throat.
"There might not be any thing here.. but a lone watch tower in the middle of an ice storm with a group of adventures staying the night. Well it almost seems like there has to be some thing waiting for us." He speaks softly and coats his hand in a thin glove of fire.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Alistar was followed by Melee and Einarr as he made his way up the eroded stone stairs, at first they conversed briefly but as they pressed upwards into the darkness they dared not make a sound. Only the muffled roar of the storm accompanied them, with the exception of the occasional trickle of water or crack of the torch's flame. As they rose, the steps became more treacherous until at times the stairway became a landslide of mangled stone and mortar. They navigated with caution, knowing all too well a single slip could mean certain death.

"There, do you see it?" Alistar said, stopping suddenly. The light of the torch ended just before the sight of a metal door, bolted against the stone wall. He glanced back, looking down from where they had come. The light of the fireplace seemed so distant; but a brief glimmer or spark of light. "With caution." He spoke, taking careful and deliberate steps toward the metal door.

"Einarr, hold this." He whispered, passing the torch to him. Alistar then drew his sword, it's blade gleaming in the dim light as he warily made his way towards the door's handle; which was covered in coagulated grime. His heart thumped hard against his chest as he took hold of the handle and gave it a brief push.

The door swung open with a resonating groan, and instantly a vile smell filled the air which made Alistar recoil back. The light of the torch filled the room, and the site that laid before them sent a shock down Alistar's spine.

Bodies, mangled and torn, were sprawled across the floor before a stone altar; an image of a terrible and horrific deity, which was soaked in blood. Some of the corpses were rotting; bloated and decomposing, some skeletons picked clean while others still fresh and recent. The site was so awful, so grotesque and heinous that for a moment the group stood still in shock. Their minds struggling to register what they had uncovered.

A low hum filled the air, like that of a chapel's choir.

Alistar immediately rose his sword in a defensive position, teeth gritted in a scowl as his eyes scanned the room. "Show yourself!" He cried, his voice echoing throughout the room. The humming growing louder in response.

Stepping into the torch's light came men clothed in hooded robes, each of them seemingly identical as they drew nearer and nearer. There were too many to count, so many that they began to encircle the group, coming from every direction.

"Submit to Namira." They spoke in unison, drawing sacrificial daggers.

 

[Geel-Kajin]

They swung the door open, and Geel suddenly wished he hadn't climbed with such haste. The horrors within imprinted themselves upon his mind, and Geel knew they would stay with him forever.

His eyes were the first to be greeted, and they saw it all. Saw the ghastly thin faces, the gaunt eyes of milky opacity, the open ribs and sprawling guts. The room was a grave of many adventurers past, other unlucky shelterers from the storm.

What his eyes saw, his nose smelt. Smelt the walls reeking rust and mould, the floors of browning meat and grime, the altar of unwashed filth and coagulated blood. In the room lingered a staleness found upon the opening of coffins, rich in festering decomposition.

What his nose smelt, his ears heard. Heard the buzzing of angry flies leaving food, the squelch of sagging flesh, the slow drip, drip of blood off the altar. In this room was the music of the dead, and played to the rising crescendo of the song was the quickening beat of his heart.

What his ears heard, his body felt. Felt the shells of bugs give way under his feet, the wave of nausea accompanying it....
Felt the watchful presence of hungry eyes.



At that, the tower echoed with a long sound of deafening intensity, deep and mourning. It seemed to wrench all courage from Geel, his own hands struggling to grab the defense of his staff. The low hum verberated off the walls, bouncing back from all directions. It multiplied the number of voices, and soon Geel could not tell how many attackers they were; ten or a thousand.

"Submit to Namira, " they called as one.

 

[Minstrel]

Despite liking the cold Circe had suffered along with the rest of the group as they fought their way through blizzard. Everyone had arms raised to protect their bruised faces, or if they were lucky they clung to whatever loose fabric trailed behind them to shield themselves from the cold. By now Circe had all but given up straining her Vampiric eyes to see what was ahead of her in the chaos, it was useless, and by closing her eyes she had granted them a small but well earned rest. The woman's ears were useless too. Despite being able to hear a number of times better than anyone here she could now hear nothing but harsh winds battering her eardrums. She was blind and deaf, battered and bruised. When was the last time this happened, eh? She thought to herself, allowing her lips to curl into a weak smile.

For a while Circe simply walked, the only sense of direction she had being the footprints of the group ahead of her. The pain she had earlier felt on her face had now become little more than a numb sensation in her cheeks and moving her legs had now become something she simply did without thinking. It was at this point that Circe thought she could carry on no longer for some strange reason. It was as if her body was telling her that it had reached it's limit and that it was shutting down. The woman felt... scared. Is this what it is to be mortal? Of all the things I have faced in my long life surely a blizzard will not be the end of me.

As Circe began to slow in pace and ready herself for a certain death however, she heard the faint calls of the group ahead of her. Some where little more than mumbles while whoever lead the group called to the rest and beckoned them towards what appeared to be a watchtower in the middle of the godforsaken place. The direction on the footprints changed suddenly and the space between them increased as everyone began to run for shelter. Soon they all stood inside the watchtower, rubbing their hands together in a desperate attempt to warm themselves and eyeing up the stairs that spiralled around them. Had this been a sign from the Divines? Was this their way of telling them that they were doing the right thing? It was strange really, but Circe had never worshiped any god and especially not a Divine. If anything she had seen Molag Bal as someone to worship. Not because of the destruction a death he caused, but simply because he was supposedly the father of all Vampires. If this really was the work of the Divines perhaps they have earned my respect...

Before long a fire had been lit and most of the group stood around it, holding out their hands and letting warm blood circulate inside of them. Circe on the other hand stood quite a distance from it, disliking the flames as they were one of the few things that she was naturally intolerant of. Still, the fire warmed her enough for her to regain movement in her fingers. The woman sat down away from the group and continued to move her fingers until moving them was easy. Then lifting her head she watched as a few people began to walk towards the top of the tower and decided she would join them in a moment.

 

[Skyrimosity]

It seemed to take forever for the group to split up. Apparently, some people took the "good-bye" part WAY too seriously. It seemed to Edwyn as if all of them had the underlying belief they would never see each other again. Valthor laid out the plan. The Dunstead-Windhelm-Riften route was pretty clever indeed. The mighty Dragonborn, whom had traveled all throughout Skyrim, had to rely on a simple map more than knowledge of the land. Edwyn let out a small chuckle at the thought.

After a nice walk expecting at any time Falmer could attack from anywhere not in plain sight, the anxiety and tension building in every single one of them, they finally reached Fort Dunstead. Once there, the ever-brilliant Dragonborn Valthor gave more simple orders. Crow would light the fire, which was a bit of a pity as obviously a someone with his talents would be more suited at investigated the dead bodies and pools of blood lying around. Valthor said not to go off alone but being partnered up was not his kind of role. Edwyn would investigate this one on his lonesome.

He examined the bodies and they were definitely not killed by cold steel. It bore the familiar markings of the Falmer's feature sword, which put the scar on his arm close at mind. He then remembered the Altmer, Melee, who had healed him back after the battle with the Thane. Someday, he realized, he wanted to genuinely thank her. But, for now, he tried to follow a trail of blood. Unsurprisingly, the trail of blood left off pretty quickly. The person either completely bled out or more likely was picked up.

The blood stopped about 10 yards from two structures: One which appeared to be the main part of the fort which held the dining hall and such. The other was, judging from its simple entrance, the way to the fort's prison. Edwyn decided it better not to handle this alone so he went to the fire to seek help. He took a spot next to Crow "Hey Crow, I've found a blood trail that leads close to some structures. I'd appreciate if you'd help me investigate them. It appears the Falmer are responsible for the deaths. The main building and the prison appear to be where either Bandits barricaded themselves or Falmer held up for the night. Or maybe nothing. Still, would prefer some help with it."

 

[Flint firestorm]

Crow stood and stretched before replying to Edwyn "sounds like a plan. I say we check out the main building first. We can check the prison and the commanders office after." Crow noticed that it was becoming late and the snow fall was beginning to increase. "we may have to spend the night here. We should search the buildings for somewhere to sleep." He points towards the inn inside the fort "or we could stay in there but we'd have to secure it first" Picking up his sword Crow began to stride towards the main entrance. As they neared the building crow stopped to inform Valthor of what they were doing "Edwyn and I are going to search the main building." Valthor nodded "very well. keep your eye's open" Crow Nodded before continuing on towards The main entrance. Crow pushed open the main doors and walked inside, followed by Edwyn who shut the doors behind them.

 

[Skyrimosity]

Crow agreed to search the buildings with Edwyn, stating how it is close to sunset. Indeed it was, so that meant they couldn't take too long. A few quick words to Valthor and the two went inside the main building which was dimly lit by candles and torches. Visibility was eight feet, ten feet in good places. It didn't require a long line of sight however to smell death and blood. That was impossible to miss.

The dining tables were host to at least 20 dead bandits. None appeared to have put up a fight. Upon further investigation, it was found some bandits had slit throats and some appeared to have been shot in the back of the head by arrows. The arrows were removed and only the holes and blood remained. No sounds could be heard except that of the mice. Crow and Edwyn looking around a bit more, no weapons could be found. Perhaps the Falmer were running low? Either way, the main building appeared to be devoid of life. "Crow, this place seems empty. I think we should search the prison."

 

[Flint firestorm]

Crow nodded in agreement. "give me a moment. I'm gonna search them for valuable's. Better use to us then them." Crow walked over and began searching. He found it a bit unnerving, seeing as how some of them didn't even look dead. He found a decent amount of gold on them plus a few nice daggers that he pocketed. Once he was finished he and Edwyn pushed open the doors and walked out into the courtyard. As they walked towards the Prison Crow talked to Edwyn "I feel uneasy hear. We shouldn't linger any longer then we have to lest we meet the same fate as those bandits." They approached the door of the prison. "you take point this time." Edwyn nodded. He opened the door slowly and crept through the doorway. Crow followed sword in hand, ready to use it should the need arise.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Alistar felt his heart sink into his gut as he stood before the approaching cultists with visible uncertainty, his breathing began to pick up as even he, a seasoned warrior, felt panic take hold of him. With a pale and cold hand he took hold of the grip of his sheathed sword and clenched until his knuckles were white. He drew his sword, holding the blade before him as a ward. The cultists drew closer, and closer, until they began to encircle the group. With a groan, the metal door behind them was slammed shut. The boom resounded throughout the chamber, and chilled Alistar to his bones as he realized their odds of survival had plunged.

There was a pause in the air as the cultists came full circle around the group, whom was packed closely together, backs against one another. Alistar closed his eyes for a moment, his mind racing at a fever pace, he took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, he exhaled forth the panic and fear. He opened his eyes, and planted his feet firmly against the ground. He would not die in this dark place, he would not die at the hands of a vile Daedra. "Submit..." The chanted once more. "No." He said with certainty, raising his sword. "No I will not."

Then he lunged, sword guiding him.

 

[Geel-Kajin]

Then Alistar snapped him from his stupor,the Ex-Striders swift blade flashing past Geel's face with great speed, before cleaving through foes in a flurry of silver and red. It's hungry edge tore a hole in the cultists ranks, allowing Geel an opening to ready his own grotesque weapon.

Brandishing his chitinous staff, Geel unleashed a maw of hot fire upon the nearer cultists, forcing them to retreat to the safety of pillars. A great place they chose, Geel grimly thought. It was far from the prying eyes of most men, yet close enough to the path of wanderers to lure them to their doom. It was a diner for the deranged, a grave for the desperate. Geel could only hope that their group could survive the dinner plate.

A knife came dangerously close to him, it's wielder having braved the now sputtering flames of Geel's staff. Realizing his staff's dimming fires, Geel fell back to the middle of the circle, where the others were too braving their battles. Alas, it appeared that numbers were not enough. He grew frantic when the nearest attacker did not draw back, being unintimidated by the concentrated circle of Geel's allies. In his rising panic, he threw a fire rune on the floor in front of him, etching it directly between himself and the advancing cultist.

The cultist's eyes glimmered in malign hatred, knowing that side-stepping the rune meant crossing into battle range of the more dangerous looking members of Geel's group. Going by the left meant facing Alistair, whose sword was already slick with the blood of others of the cultist's brood. Going by the right meant facing Glass, upon whose shield lay the brain and gore of yet more of Namira's followers. Of course, staying as he was meant being a sitting duck for the group's keen-eyed archer.

As the cultist wavered in his decision, Geel stole a look behind him, back at the door. It was firmly locked shut, and forcing their way through meant carving their way through at least a dozen more cultists. While Geel was certain most of his team members could take on at least their own share of enemies, he was unsure of himself- Already, he was having problems with the first of the cultists, whom had managed to force him into a sticky situation. Even though the fire rune meant the cultist could not get easy access to him, it also left himself with little space to move around in, being trapped near back to back and shoulder to shoulder to his comrades.


Grimacing, he realized how difficult his position had become.

 

[Google]

Note number 1:This is to be read as a first-person perspective from the viewpoint of Shadow-Tail.

Note number 2:I plan on adding some extra details to it in the foreseeable future, but nothing story changing.

Note number 3:This is just half of the actual post, but I'm still working heavily on the last half. This is just the first half of a much longer post that is going to be available sometime next week.

Note number 4:Sorry about all the notes.
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While the others had gone upstairs, I had stayed behind. They didn't notice me, of course. They haven’t the mind to care where I was, as they focused on exploring this divine forsaken place from beyond the safety of the deserted room near the tower’s entrance. Even the wizard was affected by curiosity; mindlessly following the rest of the group like cattle follows the herd. I was not as foolish, but I shouldn't think like this, for if they had not wondered off, I would not be able to find the time to ponder my thoughts and feelings.

The group had taken with them the conveniently placed, and lighted, torches that could be found throughout room. That left me with no light at all down here in the empty room that now encompassed me. Raising my right hand, I attempted to summon a magical fire from my palm. However, instead of summoning fire, something… different happened.

A burst of embers and black smoke appeared before me, showcasing a dark figure whose very presence gave off a blood-red glow that enslaved the room’s dark, unnatural lighting.

“What trickery is this?” I said with a mixture of awe and rage.

“Calm yourself,” said the unknown figure that now appeared to be a daedra lord, “this trickery is you’re doing, not mine.”

With the grace of an elf, I tossed aside the mages robes as to prevent it from slowing my movement and used my conjuration magic to summon a two-handed daedric blade which I gripped firmly with my armored gauntlets.

“It matters not now, for I wonder why you are here over whose act lead to this confrontation.” I said with a growing hatred of the demon’s presence.

The daedra lord didn’t even flinch at how readily I prepared for conflict. “Do you not recognize my voice? I believe we have just spoken but a moment ago.”

“What? That cannot be! You’re just…” In shock and in a loss for words, I stumbled back but a step before recovering my composure.

The daedra lord was quick to respond to my unfinished words. “Just what? A fragment of your imagination? No, no, no! I’m much more than that. Oh, silly me, you must be all confused. Let me explain. You see, when you were altered into this daedric form, one of my lord’s servants were asked to… “Volunteer” to sacrifice themselves in order to save you. I was the one who showed the most potential for the sacrifice. In doing so, my soul was bonded with yours. Ever since, you have grown strong, have you not? Have you not felt an increase in the power that flows through your body? To summon me is only that next step in your transformation. I was instructed to appear before you when your strength was fully restored, and if I’m not mistaken, that time is now.”

“So, your just a fragment of my mind made real?”

“Correct.”

“And I was able to summon you, even though you have not a body since it was sacrificed to create my daedric shell, because I have gained a considerable amount of power?”

“Aren’t you the clever one? Yes, you are correct once again.”

“That explanation makes no sense to me. Who is your lord, and what is so special about me?” I demanded.

The daedra lord waved his hand as if to brush away my questions. “I have explained enough, for I must now test your strength. If you are indeed the true chosen champion to spearhead my master’s plan, than you should have no difficulty defeating me.”

Within a blink of the eye, the daedric lord summoned two one-headed daedric blades and changed my position with the brutality of a raging orc.

 

[Skyrimosity]

(OOC: I apologize if the layout of the prison isn't as it is in-game)

Edwyn walked through the entrance to the Fort's Prison. Crow followed closely behind, leaving the door open so as to let the rest of the group know where they are. It was very dark. Visibility was only four feet at optimal places, and in most cases was 4 feet. Edwyn saw a torch was still lit and grabbed it. It seemed there was a winding staircase before the holding area. The stench of blood preceded them as always.

An eerie feeling crept through Edwyn every stair that he stepped on. There was just something wrong about the prison and Edwyn wondered if Crow had the same feeling. A quick backward glance toward him didn't specify either one but it certainly didn't eliminate either option. The end of the staircase was visible now and, from the audible chain rattling, it was the holding room as well. Edwyn signaled Crow to stop on the last stair, and then slowly stepped into the main holding area.

"You will not escape unharmed. Run."

Edwyn jumped back, not expecting anyone to talk to him. "Who... who is there?"

"We'll talk later. Right now, you need to prepare to run or fight. Or die doing neither."

Edwyn swung the torch around like a mad-man but could not find the man speaking. He did find the main prison guard and called for Crow to see. The man had multiple stab wounds in the back of the head and his weapons, like the ones in the main building. Edwyn touched some blood on his head. It was warm. It was not warm in the prison. The man was... a fresh kill. Very fresh. "Crow, the blood on his head is still warm. He is only recently killed. We need to get out of here, fast." The two ran toward the staircase and as soon as they could see that, they saw two falmer.

They turned around. Two more falmer were about 6 feet behind them with swords drawn. Edwyn turned his head every direction. They were surrounded. About six Falmer in total were all around them. They had somehow managed to sneak up on Edwyn, who was uncharacteristically unaware of his surroundings, and Crow, who had superb senses, without making a sound. Edwyn prepared a bound sword in his right hand, then whispered "Crow, if we take out the two on the stairs, we can fight the others as we back out."

One of the Falmer let out some sort of shriek. Without a doubt, the option to run was no longer with them. It was time to fight.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Alistar clenched his teeth in a grimace as warm blood splashed upon his face, stinging his eyes and leaving a sour taste on his lips. He ferociously swung his sword against the horde, the blade slicing through tattered robes and flesh and cleaving through bone. Screams filled the air as bodies crumpled and collapsed among the many corpses that already adorned the room. Yet, there were too many of them for the too few of the group. Alistar cried out in pain as a dagger was plunged into his side, sending a jolt; like lightning, of searing pain coursing through his body. With a roar and a swift flick of his blade, he lopped off his attacker's arm in a flurry of blood.

The pain disoriented him; made him lose his focus. He fought on, struggling to stay alert as blood gushed from his side. However, as his sword locked with another in combat, another blow was landed on him. A dagger slashed into his arm, tearing open the fabric of his shirt and slicing into his flesh. He dropped down to a knee briefly, recoiling in pain before shooting back up and delving right back into the fight. However, in little time at all, a fatal stroke was laid upon him; a sword was run through his chest.

The room became a hazy blur as he sunk to his knees, his ears rang to the point where the sounds of battle became little more than muffled and distant banter. He struggled, hanging onto a thread of consciousness as darkness began to take him.

Outside, there was a part in the blackened clouds for just a moment; revealing the pale glow of a full moon.

There was a moment of calm for Alistar, a feeling of euphoria invaded his senses for but just a second.
Then he began to convulse.

Violently, Alistar shook. Pain left his eyes, replaced with dread. He felt the change coming, he felt the pain of his bones breaking and reshaping and he felt the pain of his skin tearing as his muscles began to grow and burst forth. His eyes became dark, replaced with the malicious glare of a beast. Fur and matted hair grew rapidly until he was covered completely. His fingers elongated, fitted with blade-like claws. His face reshaped itself, becoming a snout.

In all this pain, he threw back his head and howled.

There was a pause in the battle, as all eyes turned to witness the beast; the source of the deafening cry which filled the room. The beast leveled it's head, it's burning eyes piercing through the darkness.

Alistar was gone.