Lord Rokinges
Official Fanfiction Judge
THE GEARS OF CREST
a steampunk/Skyrim roleplay
Tʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ 100 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴋʏʀɪᴍ: Eʟᴅᴇʀ Sᴄʀᴏʟʟs. Sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ, ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴄᴜᴘ ᴏғ ᴛᴇᴀ ɪɴ ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ. I ᴀᴍ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ 3 ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʀᴅs (ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ. Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ CC, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ, ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴʀʏ, ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs, ʙᴏᴅɪʟʏ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴛ ᴄᴇᴛᴇʀᴀ. Bᴇʟᴏᴡ ɪs ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴠᴀʀɪᴇᴅ. There are no planes, ships, cars video cameras, computers, no screens, no phones, no guns, etc.
Rules:
1. No cussing without * at the vowels and obvious letters
2. At least 3-4 paragraphs per detailed post
3. Be mature
4. If using magic, make it light magic, no heavy lightening spells (LIMITED, you get drained when using spells)
5. No Godmodding, no invincible, no bad grammar
6. No AMAZING inventions invented on the first post
7. regular rules for roleplaying
8. Colored text for your character is required.
In this story you are allowed to make up special types of weaponry invented by your type of person. Each roleplayer must be a known inventor. This is also known as the age of Ventio, or the age of Inventions. The CCs can be found at the OOC. The main city where everything takes place is called Ivory's Helm, a closed of octagonal city filled with thousands of Redguards, Bretons, Orsimers, and Nords, as well as a thin assortment of varied typed elves. The city is called Ivory's Helm, also known as the Watched County. It has been there for the past 70 years, and people still remember the old dark ages before the city. Their neighbors would emerge, frothing from the mouth, and kill themselves. It is located near the city of Windhelm. Since Windhelm was shut out because of the plague taking almost everyone, life was harder. Meanwhile, counties and towns battle among each other. People outside of Ivory's Helm have banded together to get resources, but barely anywhere is safe due to the roaming Plagued.
The adventures of inventors
Surviving the life
Maybe rich, maybe poor
Some'll be killed by a knife
The stupid mens' closely drawn eyes watched the broad built man who traversed past them. It was their job, watching over the Black Alley to ensure no out-of-hand activities occurred. They knew this man well, but if he decided to go rogue like the short Breton did 6 days prior, they would have to be ready. 3 men in all, their job was to utilize small knives and defend the Black Alley entrance--they would be payed a good fee. The man left their sight.
The man continued down the Black Alley, enjoying the hungry stares as the addicts watched him as well. The sellers concealed their slight of jealousy, the addicts would buy their drugs from that man and come back to them...hopefully.
A few venturous drug addicts follow the man into his small shack on the side of the Alley, like all the other shops. It was their job to know that he usually sold for an hour (this hour) and left, leaving to his home to make more.
The first addict walked up to him as he brought from his long leather coat pockets a handful of packets filled with mashed and thinned herbs. "Clarence."
Clarence Gerrick nodded. He knew the man well, whose name was Abbey, and handed him five packs. "No, no, ten o' those beauty packets today, are you kiddin'? I can't come next week..."
The drug seller gave him five more packs, and Abbey stared at the small cheesecloth packages in front of him. "Good enough. Here."
He paid the price for five. Clarence looked up and stared straight into his eyes. Abbey held his gaze, but it was impossible-Clarence Gerrick was missing an eye. He had replaced it before he came to Ivory's Helm, they said, almost sixty-five years ago. Instead of deep blackened red sockets, there was a round mirror-like marble made of silver embedded where is eye was formerly located.
Abbey tossed down the other half of the price. Then he gathered the packets in his arms and ran from the stall.
✝✝✝
An hour passed. Clarence had emptied his incognito coat of drugs, and began his leaving of the Black Alley. The other shopkeepers stared at him, jealousy ringing in their eyes as they scrambled to pack up their goods before the Black Alley gates were closed. What Clarence Gerrick didn't know is that one of the shopmen was a bit more envious then the others.
As he walked near the gate where the guardians of the Alley stood, ready to close it in about 4 minutes (according to the nearby water clock), one of the watchful men walked forward and stopped him.
"Wait."
Clarence tried to keep on walking.
"Halt." A hand went on his chest, and a knife point dug into his ribs, drawing a drop of blood.
Clarence looked at the man who had stopped him, he was one of the 3 guards. The strongest, and largest one, it seemed to be. This meant something was out of place.
The man who had stopped him motioned for the other to stay back. "Close them gates as soon as I get back."
He lead Clarence into a trash branch, a dead end alley filled with large square metal bins filled with random trinkets and pieces of cloth. This was the Lord's use for this alley, but the evils used it for a black market sort of thing, called the Black Alley. It was normally packed with a couple hundred men who wished to buy parts for their inventions, or to purchase medicines and pills. Some just wanted to buy weapons, and alcohol of such.
Gerrick stood erect. The man stood in front of him, wielding the knife tightly in his drawn hand. He glanced at the opening of the branch, and seeing it empty, lunged for Clarence.
Clarence drew a small black longknife from his wrist and stabbed upwards as the mans reached his arm out, and as Clarence leapt to the side stealthily for such a big man. The knife Gerrick held went through the large guard's wrist, and Clarence, still holding of to his blade, reached him forwards and snapped his neck while slicing his hand in half to rid of the stuck knife blade.
Gerrick left the branch and walked through the gates, returning to his home. The extremely envious shopkeeper waited behind the gates, behind the guards, with a bag of money in his hands. Clarence Gerrick looked at him. "You're not going to be needing that anymore." And after lying to the guards, saying the other was late because he found a gem in the trash bins, he left and began his journey to his oblivious home.