Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The Elder Scrolls: Dominion (Closed)

poop The year is 4E 208, just six years after Ulfric Stormcloak and his Stormcloak Rebels successfully defeated General Tullius and his Imperial forces, seceding Skyrim from the Mede Empire of Cyrodiil. High King Ulfric has shaped Skyrim into a very profitable and militarily sound nation, but in doing so has made his homeland unwelcoming to non-Nordic races, driving many of the Dunmeri refugees southward, to Cyrodiil.

poop The loss of Skyrim was a grievous loss, indeed, and the Aldmeri Dominion reacted harshly, unleashing further onslaughts of their Thalmor agents to punish the Imperial people, as a show of strength. The increased pressure on the Empire from the Dominion, and their proverbial flaming sword, The White-Gold Concordat, became too much to bear, and the Empire reached out to King Ulfric, in secret. It was time to fight against suppression. It was time to put the Dominion in their place.

poop The nights were humid. The sensation of sweat running down the bridge of his nose was brought Tanis Valerus back to reality. How long had he been buried in his thoughts? By the Eight, the sun had already nearly fully set. His apple cabbage stew had grown cold, virtually untouched. The Imperial sighed, wiping his face on the inside of his crimson hood. Another uneventful night. Somewhere out in the Reach, his elder brother Targus was fighting Forsworn to help solidify the Empire's alliance with Skyrim, and his eldest brother Titus was commanding the IIX Legion in Cyrodiil preparing to defend the Imperial City. And here he was, the runt of the Valerus litter, sitting on a wall in the Rift, preparing for the possibility that they may see some fighting.

poop Of the fourteen Battlemages commissioned as part of V Legion, Tanis was the youngest, and the least experienced by far. The other battlemages were well into their fourties or older- seasoned veterans, all, and he was often treated as little more than a wet-behind-the-ears rookie. The leader of the Battlemages, Tribune Athos Blue-Shield, was a condescending and ill-tempered officer of the Legion who was, quite frankly, as old-fashioned as they come, but he was also a legend who served with Tanis' father in the Battle of the Red Ring during the Great War, commanding several squadrons of both Legion and civilian mages in the defense of the Imperial City. The fact was, a posting under Battlestaff's command could make Tanis' career under the right circumstances. That is, if those circumstances ever actually came up.

poop Tanis stood up, clearing his throat and dumping his bowl over the side of the wall. At this rate, he'd be stuck a Quaestor the rest of his miserable life, rotting in the shadow of his brothers' monumental glory.
poop "Aw, dammit..." He muttered, instantly feeling the cold slimy sensation of tossed-away stew running down his fingers.

poop "Wasting rations again, Quaestor Valerus?" Came the gruff voice from behind, and Tanis looked over his shoulder to the gray-haired figure of Athos Battlestaff, and he uttered a curse in his mind.
poop "Sorry, Tribune." Tanis squared his shoulders and placed a closed fist to his chest in salute.
poop "Save your apologies, Quaestor, and look sharp. I need you to accompany Praefect Trevelle to the prison and oversee a prisoner transfer from Riften. Hop to." The Tribune jerked his head towards the stairs that led down the wall, crossing his arms sternly.
poop "Yes, Tribune." Tanis repeated his salute, turning to take up his staff from where it leaned against the wall's railing and quickly jogged down the stairs. Prisoner transfer? To a secret military posting? How on Nirn did that make any sense?