[Dark0ne]

ROLEPLAYING COMPETITION AT TESSOURCE.NET
I've decided to kick start the roleplaying forums before the release of Oblivion with this exclusive TESSource.net only competition open to all forum members (new and old). Please read on for more information on how to join in. This should be fun for everyone involved so even if you don't win, you'll have had a good time!


The Prize For The Winner
A collector's edition of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion bought for you and delivered free, hopefully on launch day (supplier and country dependent). People resident in the United States will have the game bought from and delivered by Amazon, as will residents from the UK and those countries in the EU who can receive deliveries from Amazon. If you are from a country that Amazon cannot deliver to then we will have to negotiate a way of ordering the game from a local online supplier for you. There is no cash alternative.

There will only be one winner.


Competition Start /End Date
The competition starts when you start. It is open as of now and participants may enter at any time up until the 14th of March, two days before the end of the competition.

This competition will end on the 16th of March 2006 at midnight, GMT (5 hours ahead of EST). Judgement will take place on the 17th and the winner informed by forum PM. The winner will obviously need to provide me with a delivery address to send the game to.


Details On The Competition
Malchik has written up a fictional situation within Cyrodiil, the province that Oblivion takes place in. Competitors will roleplay a single character through the fictional story with other competitors however they see fit, so long as they do not break the ground rules of either the forums or the competition. Competitors will then be individually judged based on their imaginative writing and roleplaying skills and a winner announced.

The settings and advancement in storyline will be provided by Malchik who will be playing the conventional role as the "Dungeon Master" of this competition. Players should not make the setting, that is Malchik's job. Instead players should roleplay within the setting they have been given and interact with each other between the interim of Malchik's updates. Malchik will update the setting and situation several times a day and roleplayers should try to keep up with the updates so they don't try and roleplay a situation that people have already moved on from. While you obviously aren't expected to be roleplaying 24/7 and involved with all the updates you should try and join in as much as possible and make sure you are not "out-of-synch" with the rest of the roleplayers. This means making sure you read through all the new posts in this thread before making a post of your own.

Obviously we realise people have school, jobs and other things to be doing and so people shall not be penalised for being inactive for too long. However there is a minimum amount of commitment required in this competition and players will need to have made a minimum of 6 posts in this thread to be in with a chance of winning.

Roleplaying Judgement Criteria

• Players should roleplay in the third person, that is you should not use "I" but instead your character's name when you wish to make an action.
  
• You will be judged largely on your ability to roleplay within the fictional world. Things the judges are looking for include how creative you are, how well you can roleplay with other characters, how your character adapts to changes in the environment and how well you develop and adapt on your character's attitudes, feelings and personality.
  
• The level of detail you go into will be assessed where those people who barely scratch the surface, or those people who go far too deep into describing things may lose favour with the judges!
  
• Your conduct and adherance to generally accepted roleplaying rules will be noted. Things like power posing and changing the setting will be heavily frowned upon. If roleplayers go too far and continue to disrupt the competition then they will be banned from the competition.
  
• Your grammar and spelling is extremely important and will also be judged. Use proper paragraphing and grammar in the appropriate places. Use capitals after a full-stop and use proper spacing after commas. Completely illiterate people, or people hoping to speak in l337 will be banned from this competition. If English is not your first language then please state so when you start roleplaying so we can be a little more lenient on you.
  
• There is to be absolutely no "uber-roleplaying". A definition of uber-roleplaying is making up bastard swords that can annihilate whole armies, or spells that can cause armaggedon. You are a normal person with normal spells and abilities. No one person is greater than or the master of any other person.

It is highly recommended that you read through this forum's tips and suggestions for roleplaying here and here.

You should roleplay a character as though the character were from an Elder Scrolls game and stick to the "canon" of the Elder Scrolls series. This means no making up fictional towns and cities, new races or, for example, claiming you are the emperor. However you can go into as much detail as you like about your characters past endeavours and history, just keep it realistic.

All the roleplaying should be kept to this thread alone. If players want to converse with each other outside of this roleplaying competition then they should do so OUTSIDE of this thread. This thread should be for roleplaying only.


The Judges And Excluded People
Unfortunately winning this competition is not open to TESSource staff or moderators to avoid any favouritism claims. However, these people excluded CAN roleplay within this thread and join in, but they will not be judged and not given the chance to win the prize.

The judges will be those people that are excluded from the competition as TESSource staff and moderators with the final say of the winner left down to Malchik, Roleplaying Game Master and coordinator and Dark0ne, TESSource owner and competition runner.

[Malchik]

Rumours have reached all parts of the Empire. A rift to Oblivion has opened in the province of Cyrodiil and monsters are pouring through causing destruction and death. The Imperial guard is hard stretched to contain the outbreak and need all the help they can get. Enquiries at your local town hall, tavern or village gossip will give you the following information.

Those with the character to face death and attempt to win are collecting in one of three places.

The Tavern 'The Drunken Alit' in the Imperial City is one of the filthiest dives in the empire. It had been the haunt of lowlife, criminals and riff-raff for years. Now a charismatic and beautiful young female wood-elf called Fairgoth is stirring them up, pointing out that even their livelihood is put at risk if so many are killed and pointing out that there are rich pickings to be had off corpses.

A little way outside Kvatch, in a ruined abbey of some grandeur, the Altmer mage Esquisite has found her laboratory a similar collection point. She has not chosen this. She is by nature a loner and extremely arrogant but like it or not fate has chosen her and she must help such magic users who come her way and of course any others who end up there by chance.

Finally in the mountains north of Bruma a Nord fighter, Fygge Ropemuscles, has a motley collection of mercenaries camped beside a small stream. Interestingly, considering Fygge is a bad-tempered, one-eyed, drunkard, some of his mercenaries are seen to be wearing the very fine hand-crafted armour associated with Paladin Knights.

By chance each of these three 'leaders' has been granted the magical skill to teleport others close to the rift. As yet the precise location of the rift is unknown. The rumours conflict on this point.

Each potential candidate to help in the fight must first be interviewed by the leader they choose to report to. They must initially explain who they are, why they want to help, why they chose that particular starting point and what they think they can do to help. This should be the first post made by each player. Within the post must be made clear; your name, race, gender, age, skills, armoury (magic or otherwise) and costume. A description of a historical feat of daring to convince the 'leader' that you are suitable would not go amiss but they will get bored if you give them a story the length of War and Peace and throw you out.

Once you have made your first post please interact with others who join up until you are advised of your departure time to the front. This will not be for a day or two as each leader will want to teleport a group rather than individuals. Teleporting forces one by one could be too dangerous. Who knows what they will be facing? If you are there alone, have a look round and describe (as you see it) the tavern, the abbey ruin or the mountain scenery.

This post has been edited by Malchik: 04 March 2006 - 06:48 PM

[dunmer_jediknight]

Dur-Coath, after hearing the rumors of rifts in cryrodiil from a drunk Imperial in Vivec, made his way to Cryrodiil province to see if there was any way he could stem the tide of evil that would pour from these rifts.

Makeing sure to stock up on supplies, potions, lockpicks ( while not a lowly thief, one never knows when these things will come in handy), even a couple of tools to repaire his glass greaves and cuirass, since such armor is hard to come by and he does spend so much time in the woods he so loves. Dur-Coath pulls the dark green cloak over his armor and the hood over his blond hair and pointed ears. As he leaves the store he looks over his shoulder to the owner and flips a coin to the kind high elf and a frendly smile, never know when you'll be back agine so best to stay on friendly terms with those that help you.

After much searching and listening to both commoners and creatures, Dur-Coath decides his best chances of getting to the bottom of this problem is the Nord fighter Fygge Ropemuscles in the moutain country north of Bruma. Fygge sounded like the type to hire a Bosmer with few question, if not a few racial slurs. Oh well that is what one gets for being one of the shortest races in the world, of cource Dur-Coath has ended his share of raciest slime at the end of his Daedric tanto.

Makeing his way up to were the camp was at was childs-play. Not wanting to be seen at first Dur-Coath waited till nightfall and sliped past the camp guards and silently made his way to were Fygge's tent was soppose to be at. Keeping to dark areas and trusting more to his barefeet to see by then his eyes Dur-Coath finds a spot up in a tree were he can listen to others plea to let Fygge take them in.

Dur-Coath's plan was to listen to a few "interviews" and then make his case based on what he heard.

[ominae]

A large burning pile of wood, once a galleon, floats into Cryrodiil. The ship struggles to stay a-float, but reaches the coast. Only one man leaves the wreck, and continues onward. Abandoning the ship, as if he had no connection to it.

The man, had no fixed name, but was known to be called Zow, and looked to be in his late twenties. Zow had named himself so, due to the fact that he doe's not believe in trust, and normally catches attention (a sense of hiding his identity). He is a Red Guard, but has obnormally pure white hair, that is spiked upwards. Another obnormal feature is his left eye being yellow, whilst his right eye is grey. He is self sufficient, in that he is able to repair his own armor and weaponry, and is able to heal critical wounds with some minor Restoration. He relies heavily on stealth. So that he does not carry too much weight, he wears light armor; a dark, and fabric based armor. As if taken from a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, and modified himself. He also carries a large container on his back, filled with supplies, and potions stolen from those he killed. And food from animals he hunted.

Zow carries on within the woods and reaches the mountains. He keeps a low profile, and using stealth he passes by a large band of mercenaries. He stops for a moment to observe what they are doing. After 'spying' for several hours he learns about rifts to Oblivion. He also learns about an Imperical City, where one of the mercenaries had come from. This meant a chance for money, Zow had been recently low on money, from his previous encouters before entering Cryrodiil.

As night fell, he took the opertunity to leave, and search for this city. On the way he would hunt animals with his rather large Long Bow, savering the bones for crafting arrows. He kept a Daedric spear attached to the container on his back, but was only used in situations rendering the Long Bow a disadvantage.

Zow finally aproached the Imperial City, and within site of the city, were the site of poeple. He hid his face with a hood and large scarf he fashioned around his mouth, and goggles around his eyes and continued deeper into the city. Not long after getting deeper into the city, did he hear loud rantings from a nearby tavern. Out of curiousity he entered the tavern, named The Drunken Alit.

Many lowlife criminals crowded the tavern, but he ventured on trying to figure out the stir. He found a young female Wood Elf, rallying the criminals. This did not interest him, for Zow trusted women the least. He was on his way out, until the Wood Elf mottered the probality of riches. Intrigued, he turned around, maybe he could make some needed money here, or if not then at least steal from the possible corspes that filled the tavern. Maybe even the Wood Elf herself. In the far back of the tavern, he would listen on, and make a decision based on what this Elf had in mind. He would blend in the crowd, keeping a low profile.

This post has been edited by ominae: 05 March 2006 - 07:52 AM

[loveme4whoiam]

Erunanion pushed open the door of the Drunken Alit, and recoiled slightly as a wave of stale sweat, smoke, and that sweet, particular odour of skooma hit him. His Dark Elven eyes instantly adjusted to the dank interior; he avoided looking at the filthy floor as he walked to the bar. An observer, had he not been drunk, would have noted Erunanion's gait, and overall demeanor, suggested that he was familiar with this bar; although in truth he had never entered it before.

Erunanion looked the typical ranger. His netch leather cuirass and greaves were dyed a deep brown; a large green cloak was tied with strips of leather on top of his small pack, which contained a worn mail coat, few potions he had made himself, a tiny all-purpose knife, a fishing line, and one or two other trinkets over little value. A plain steel longsword banged against a drunken Breton's back as he moved to the bar, but Erunanion did not stop and the drunk did not stir. Slung at his left side was a quiver full of long ash arrows; the soot-painted staff the Dark Elf carried in his right hand, which he used to gently propel a raving Nord out of his path, was clearly a longbow. The way he carried himself suggested he knew how to use his weapons, and gave pause to the casual thieves in the tavern.

When Erunanion reached the bar, he placed his hand on the stained wood to lean forward and order a drink. Slowly, a look of utter disgust came over his handsome but aging features, which were not marred by any sign of scar or pox. Taking his hand off the bar, he wiped his hand on his leather-covered chest, then leaned forward again to get the attention of the pretty young Wood Elf, who he had been told was named Fairgoth, at the other end of the bar.

Erunanion had come to the seeking employment. In the course of his 52 years he had been all over the Empire, but most recently he had returned from the country of Morrowind, which had not been greatly profitable for him. A friend in the Imperial City had gotten in touch with him, teling him of the rifts that were opening up all over Cyrodiil. So Erunanion had abandoned his ventures in Morrowind and returned to the Imperial City, and thence to the tavern of the barkeep Fairgoth, who (he'd been told) was trying to rally people to the defense of the provinces.

While he waited at the bar, Erunanion turned and made a critical pass over the other occupants of the bar. Most were drunkards or brawlers, neither of which interested him. His green elven eyes noticed a shadowy figure hugging the back wall of the tavern. Tempting fate slightly, he inclined his head in the shadow's direction, and waited to see if there would be any response.

Erunanion listened to the background noise that was identical throughout every bar, tavern and drinking house throughout the Empire, and waited to catch the attention of Fairgoth.

[Cyborg16]

[NOTE: I wrote this before the above post was posted. I think it can still fit if Esquisite's laboratory was hidden under the ruins (my initial assumption) and not too many people were present there.]

Anyone with a good view over the abbey --- and a sharp eye; say one of the birds flying overhead --- would, perhaps, be able to make out a thin figure darting quickly from one wall to the next. Anyone watching closely would notice that this figure wasn't necessarily keeping to the darkest areas under the shadows of half-standing walls, but was rather keeping to one side of the walls, every so often stopping to listen and scan the old, broken rubble of the abbey; his eyes stopping for longer on the more overgrown or shadowed areas. Thus any such observer with a moderate degree of intelligence, of which there were none that could be seen, would deduce that this Kajiit was afraid of being followed, and was either looking for a place to hide or looking for some hidden object.

Semink, this Kajiit, had until recently been working at one of the farms near to Kvatch as a labourer. His recent employer, or master as the servants called him, was a mean Imperial, and despite slavery having been abolished in the Empire, treated his farm labourers little better than slaves. Indeed, another of his servants who had been watching over the "masters" flocks, who had been unfortunate enough to have lost an animal for an unknown reason, had been whipped severely and left without water or food for a couple of days as a "lesson". Thus it was that when Semink had recently been watching his "masters" flocks, when a large pack of wolves, hungry from the little food available at this time of year, had attacked the flock killing several of the animals before Semink could drive them off, Semink had run off into the forests for fear of being killed by his master.

Since then, Semink had been running for his life, and was hungry, having decided not to risk being found while hunting deer. So, when travelling through a patch of forest far enough from Kvatch for there to be few people about, he had spied an abandoned-looking hut, he had cautiously approached, and no one being visible, had entered the hut to search for food. It immediately became apparent that the hut had been used in the last few days, by a large male Nord from the smell, and thus Semink had not dared stay for more than a few seconds. However, before snatching a slightly stale loaf of bread and a lump of dried meat, Semink noticed a note fixed to the wall. Semink did not read it all, but read the phrases "gone to abbey", "mage will teleport", "warriors wanted". After leaving the hut, Semink thought over these phrases and deduced that there was likely a mage who had a laboratory at an abbey, and was looking for warriors.

The next day, after travelling further from Kvatch, Semink had spied some ruins, and quickly realised they must be the abbey mentioned in the note. Curious, he came nearer. Just then he was surprised to hear, from the general direction of Kvatch and the hut he had found the note in, a horse cantering in his direction. Instantly Semink had an unjustified hunch that someone was after him, and, guessing from the note that somewhere in this ruin was the mage's laboratory, decided to seek it out with the hope that he might be able to hide there and, if he was lucky, be teleported away from the Kvatch area by the mage.

He decided later that maybe this was an unwise decision, and resolved not to make such rash decisions in the future. But this was only after he'd met Esquisite.

[Povuholo]

An old wizard was travelling by horse towards Kvatch. When he arrived there, he went into a shop. A few minutes later, his pockets seem slightly heavier, as if they were filled with potions. The wizard was dressed in a black robe which looked very clean, almost unrealistic, how clean it was. He was also wearing shoes which were of the same material, which were just as clean as the robe. The wizard didn't talk, so only by looking at his face you could see he was a Dark Elf.

Except for a robe filled with potions and scrolls, shoes and a horse, a wand was the only thing this wizard seemed to have. This wand was covered with daedric symbols, although it wasn't a daedric wand. It had a magic glow, coming from a blue crystal on the top of it. It was obvious that this wizard had been practising the arcane arts for years and years already. He looked capable of casting spells of any school of magic.

The wizard's name is Bradas Sorethi. He is a shy, yet wise wizard. While wandering along the dirty roads in the city of Kvatch it looked like he was thinking about something very hard. He had no intention of getting involved into anything and he only talked to mages, to exchange tips and spells. If he did talk to anyone else, he would do that if it was absolutely necessarily to talk.

It was pure luck, or bad luck, that Bradas Sorethi overheared a conversation between two Orcs talking about how a group of mages was gathering at a ruin just outside Kvatch. Hoping for some kind of wizard convention, Bradas Sorethi got back on his horse and went there.

There were more people around, although they weren't recognisable. They could be both mage, thief, warrior, or anything in between. There was someone sneaking around, watching everybody, trying not to be seen. The person looked like a Khajiit, but Bradas Sorethi wasn't sure about that. As he, or she, noticed that Bradas Sorethi was watching him or her, he quickly ran away.

The abbey looked like a ruin indeed. Although there were stairs in a corner, leading down, to an underground cavern. Bradas Sorethi was about to go downstairs. He heard people mixing things and talking there. That would be a laboratory then, Bradas Sorethi explained to himself. Before he could go down, an Altmer female, called Esquisite came to him. She was obviously a mage, so Bradas Sorethi had no trouble with talking to her.

After a quick conversation Bradas Sorethi found out what was going on. This wasn't a wizard convention. This was about a rift opened somewhere in the imperial city, spawning terrible monsters. This seemed like a good chance to learn more about Oblivion, because there are only a few people who have been in Oblivion, and even fewer who lived to tell. Although Bradas Sorethi wasn't the person who would like to fight in teams, or fight at all, he did have enough experience in the arcane arts to do so. Travelling with this group would probably be his only chance to get into Oblivion and reveal it's dark secrets..

Bradas Sorethi totally forgot about the laboratory, since something more interesting came to his mind now. He climbed up a rock, sit down on the edge and started thinking....

[Malchik]

-|| RPG UPDATE ONE ||-

Dur-Coath

A massive nearly naked Nord appears under the tree. "No point in cowering away like a scared kitten, Bosmer. And why have you come here? Most of your kind have gone to the Drunken Alit in Cyrodiil City where they can rob and lie to their heart's content. Maybe you're not like that, eh? So you think you can join as a fighter? Tell me something you have done in the past to convince me you can fight."

Although loud and smelling strongly of alcohol there is no suggestion he has any dislike of wood elves. You can tell he needs to be convinced you are up to the task ahead of you.

Zow

Fairgoth seems to see through your disguise. "You look and wait, Redguard. That may be what you do best until you catch us at our weakest. But here we work together and if you cannot do so there will be nothing for you. All loot will be held collectively until the fight is over and apportioned among all those who survive. If you cannot abide by those rules, leave now. If you think by agreeing you will fool me, learn that any who flout these rules will be disposed of by the others. Now give me a good reason why you might be of some use to me?"

Erunanion

Fairgoth looks you up and down. "You choose me over Fygge the warrior and yet you seem more of a fighter to look at you. Explain to me what you think you can bring to our select band of the country's finest thieves, assassins and murderers?"

Zow and Erunanion hear both conversations. Her eyes seem to cast a spell on you both and both are drawn to her side. She is indeed very beautiful. Spell or not, you are infatuauted with her. Her acceptance of you is suddenly all that matters. You will have to explain why she should allow you to join her and show her you are worthy of her trust. You rack your brains to find a true story that should impress her.

Trebbits, Semink, Bradas

You are all three teleported into the laboratory where Esquisite is looking at you with a jaundiced eye.

"Of course you don't all see the same things! I didn't create all those illusion spells to fool people for no reason! Goodness me what a rag-bag lot you are! Well, don't just stand there open mouthed. What can you do for me that you want me to let you in?"

She looks at each in turn. To Trebbits she says; "Some minor skills maybe. Or are you hiding something?" To Semink, with a sigh "Khajiit do not use magic. So what exactly will you be able to do?" Finally she looks at Bradas. "I think I have heard of you. The Wizard who avoids trouble at all costs. Much help you will be in this crisis."

She shakes her head. "Well perhaps fate has chosen you as it seems to have chosen me. But I need to hear from your own lips something you have done that will make me feel you can help."

She looks at Semink. "It doesn't have to be anything involving bravery. Cleverness is just as important here."

Each of you knows they must make a case for inclusion in her party.

[Xristo]

Xristo was tired...

...tired of the fawning, sycophantic crowds of followers that besieged the gates of his manor on the isle of Morrowind. So much had changed since his adventures there... and on the cold isle of Solstheim and in the city of Mournhold. Several years had passed since fame and glory had settled like a sable mantle on his battle-worn imperial shoulders, tales of his adventures had grown with each telling and now everyone saw him as some kind of omnipotent being who would cure all ills, settle all quarrels, judge all disputes between embittered neighbours...

But no, Xristo was still the same Imperial who had woken, many years ago, on a pitching caravel on it's way to a strange port only to be given a strange mission by a strange old man. That he had bested many enemies was not due to any divine powers, but more to the many years of hardships and hard endeavour that had brought him to that fateful juncture. He was still Xristo the Imperial. A warrior? Yes. A noble? Through his deeds maybe. A captain of trade and commerce? Well, perhaps he had learnt something along the road. Yet deep in his heart, he yearned for his earlier, unfettered life before he had been falsely imprisoned and put on that fateful sea voyage.

Songs in his name meant nothing to him. A campfire, a flask of good Cyrodiil brandy, a fresh kill roasting over the flames... that was his life. He would help any he met on his travels, that was certain, and he would judge others fairly by their actions and words - and not simply because they came petitioning to his door. but to answer to every petty whim - well, this was just too much.

It was time for new adventures!

Then, one day, news reached Morrowind of monsters pouring through a strange rift in the province of Cyrodiil, bringing with them death and destruction to the land. The news told also of several forces gathering to defeat this new evil.

"What!" bellowed Xristo, "Cyrodiil threatened? No more of my favourite brandy to be had? I must help stop this!" Any cause was a good cause, for the right reasons... and this was as good a reason as any.

Monsters? No call for extravagant equipment. Xristo chose his favourite weapons - dagger, shortsword, longsword, longbow and put on his favourite light armour. He would have preferred to take all Daedric equipment, but, as he knew, sometimes the best was too much, so he settled for the lighter netch leather armour and his reliable Nordic weapons. He would rely on his combat skills to battle "mere" monsters and, besides, better weapons and armour could always be bought or won in fair combat.

After many days of travel, he reached Cyrodiil and discovered that three leaders had already started collecting forces to advance on the new enemy. Maybe it was not too late to join forces with one of them, but which group to join? A wood-elf as leader? A mage? A Nord? Xristo would just as soon have entered battle alone, but the rumours had told of many monsters and it would be best to have trustworthy comrades fighting at his side. Not trusting elven folk or mages as far as he could throw a guar, Xristo chose to join the mercenary forces gathering around the Nord, Fygge Ropemuscle. Nords were good, solid fighters and mercenaries... well, mercenaries were just that. Make a friend of one, however, and you would always have a good sword at your side.

Never being one to skulk in the shadows, he strode boldly into Fygge's camp...

"Ho, Fygge! I hear there's monsters threatening to cut me off from my brandy. My sword is yours..."

This post has been edited by Xristo: 05 March 2006 - 09:48 PM

[Thread_Whisperer]

*OOC - Darkone has been very kind and made an Off topic thread for this found HERE so my future OCC comments will be made there and I hope this will better help to keep the story thread limited to only story. - /OOC*

LOCATION: The Abby

His map rustled in his hands as he tried to hold it open to figure out where he had ended up. Before he could get it straight and steady enough to read however, the winds tore the parchment from it's own worn corners leaving him standing there with only two small fragments in each hand. Trebbits eyes simply followed the flitting paper as it lifted and swirled and vanished into the dark. Holding his small travel lantern in his teeth still he let out a small curse under his breath.

He knew what he was going to do was risky enough without the constant blunders he seemed always to be a part of. Impersonating a great hero in order to raise ones own stature just seemed like a good idea to him, and worth the efforts. If things continued as they always seemed to for the barely nineteen year old Breton however, it would be a short trip. Trebbits had studied the fine crafts of illusion for a long time though and had the utmost confidence in his ability to pull off the fraud. Once he had been accepted to face the hordes that were rumored to be threatening the very Empire itself he could drop the illusion and stand for himself, this had settled in his mind as he had made his way to the old abbey outside Kvatch.

He hoped that the stories he had heard about Esquisite were true, and that she would be to distracted, with having people in her space, to notice or even look for trickery on the part of those seeking to become fighters for the cause. His thoughts regained themselves and he let go of the last pieces of the map and took the lantern from his mouth. Adjusting his grey cloak and shifting his left arm to once again take hold of his staff that had been tucked between his elbow and ribs, he continued down the small trail he had been following, his padded leather boots kicking up small swirls of dust with each step only to be carried away like his map had been.

In short order Trebbits happened upon some ruins, stones lay about shattered walls and behind those rose the brken remains of what must have once been the grand abbey. Somewhere within this ruin he new he would find Esquisite. He began fumbling his way through the outer wall rubble and went to the left side of the ancient structure. Halfway down he came to what had obviously once been a small tower and as he climbed down from the stones that had collected between the tower and the wall he found himself looking at a gate in the wall with a single guard standing on the outside of the wall looking right back at him. His thoughts for a moment were confused as to why this guard would be standing outside the wall and gate when clearly the abbey was inside them and the broken walls were of no purpose. But even as he thought these things he saw a very faint shimmer, Illusion! of course the labratory he was seeking was being hidden outside the abbey by illusion, using the abbey's presence as a distraction to would be visitors. His confidence restored Trebbits made sure his own illusion was firmly in place and approached the small gate.

"What is your business with the the abbey?" inquired the guard.
"My name is Sentri Thoresson, I have traveled from the far reaches of the Morrowind Province where I have most recently been known for aiding the great Gerun, a warrior of the Imperial Army who had dealings with the Nerevarine to whom I was also of service. My business is merely to provide now my services to the great Esquisite as her humble servant of magic in fighting the hordes that come from Oblivion!" he lied. A small trickle of sweat slowly traversed the hair on the back of his neck as he awaited a response from the Guard.

Before the lying Trebbits could get an answer he felt an odd sensation as if it had all happened before and he was going through the motions again. And sure enough he found he had already met Esquisite. He could recall exactly what she said to him too. Strange the workings of this mage. She had to be very powerful. But he had to explain himself to her just like the other two he was with.

This post has been edited by Thread_Whisperer: 06 March 2006 - 09:18 PM