Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Return of The World-Eater (semi-open group RP)

A thick layer of fog blanketed the plains around Whiterun and the sky was dark though it was the middle of the day. Close to the city walls, a wolf howled loud and low but there was no response. A few seconds later there was only a whimper as the wolf ran off.
The guards patrolled nervously around the walls, never daring to go into the fog. The eastern and western watch towers had both lost contact with the city but still no one dared to go out to look.
In the far distance, the sound of a blood dragon's deep roar echoed off the Throat of the World, making the roar seem much closer and all the guards froze at once, listening for the sound of wing beats. After a few moments of nothing, they returned to their nervous patrolling.
The only reassuring things the guards could see was from the highest point on Whiterun's walls were the mammoths and their giant shepherds, lumbering through the frigid plain but no other shape could be sen below the fog, no torch light or even a dark shadow.
On top of the mountain, Parthunaax shifted restlessly.
"He is back..."

Dmitri sat quietly in the Bannered Mare, a mug full of mead in his right hand and the blue light representing a conjuration spell floating in his left hand. His heavy daedric armor gleamed slightly in the bleak light of the candles within the tavern as well as gave off it's own reddish glow and he stood restlessly, his ears twitching at each sound from the outside.
His right elbow rested upon his helmet on the counter and upon his back was a war hammer crafted from dragon bones which he had bought from the late Dovakhiin for a hefty price and he also had an ebony bow strapped to his back and a quiver of daedric arrows. The bow and war hammer both had red and blue wisps emanating from them, indicating their electric and fire magic imbued within.
The large Khajiit took another deep gulp of the mead before setting his mug down.
"If it weren't for the fur and tail, I'd have though you were a Nord," the bar keeper said with a slight jeer but Dmitri quickly shrugged it off; at least the people were trying to be light hearted.";

The dragon’s roar seeped into the Temple of Kynareth through the arched openings in the wall. All inside froze, waiting for another roar or the sound of shouts and screams. When seconds passed and no other sound was heard all returned to their activities, glancing up to look through the openings in search of a dark shape flying through the sky.

Brienne refused to open her eyes. She did not want to see the unnaturally dark sky. If she did, then the ill feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach would surely grow to the point where she would be retching like one poor man had. She shifted on her knees. How long has she been in the temple, praying on her knees? Long enough, she thought, yet kneeling before the shrine brought her a sense of comfort. Even it was small. Brienne was reluctant to leave it. A hand touched her shoulder, rousing her from her thoughts and her eyes to snap open.

“You’ve been here for hours.” The speaker withdrew their hand. “Isn’t it time to stop? Go down to The Bannered Mare and get something to eat and drink.”

Brienne glanced briefly at the shrine and stood. “Yes, you’re right,” she muttered. She took slow steps to the door, and paused momentarily before pulling it open and stepping outside. Despite her earlier determination she glanced up, cringed, and took hurried steps through the Wind District.

Only when she stood inside The Bannered Mare, with the warmth from the fire hitting her skin and the smell of food and mead surrounding her did she calm her racing nerves.

Dmitri thrust his left hand towards the ground, making a blue, spectral wolf appear.
"Hey! No magic in here!" the barkeep ordered angrily but Dmitri ignored him and reached down to pet the wolf, who seemed about as friendly as a puppy. It let out a small, content growl at the feel of it's masters hand and nuzzled into it.
Dmitri turned slightly when the door opened and the Breton woman walked in and his wolf turned to face her as well. He emptied his mug and set it down then went and set his weapons on the complimentary rack before sitting in front of the fire and kicked his feet-paws up on a stool to allow the pads to warm up. If the Daedra did one good thing, he thought, It's that they made really comfortable armor. He rested his helmet in his lap and closed his eyes as the heat seeped up his legs to the rest of his body and his wolf gradually faded away while it sat loyally next to him.

The road was empty as Ilfhild walked it. She knew why of course, this fog had been upon the surrounding planes as soon as she left Rorikstead. However, she wasn't going to let things like that get the better of her, and refused to turn back. When she passed the old fort Greymoor and the western watchtower, she was surprised to find none guarding its walls, be it bandit or guard. But it was too cold to investigate, so she passed them both without looking back.

When she arrived at the foot of the hill upon which Whiterun rested, the stablemaster was still up and about, working on a fence which had been smashed, probably by a rogue giant. She gave him a nod and a smile, and he nodded back before continuing his work. She climbed the slope up through the first gate and on to the second.
"State your business." A guard requested.
"I'm Ilfhild from Riften, a Bard by trade." She replied.
"Very well. Open the gate!"
The gate opened slightly, enough for two people at a time to enter. Ilfhild nodded her thanks and entered, the gate closing quickly behind her. She did notice one thing on the guards' faces... Fear? For what? The dragonborn had defeated Alduin on top of the mountain, and if she recalled the tale correctly, had gone after him into Sovngarde... They'd all be fine. Ilfhild wasn't too afraid of possible future events.

She walked up through the lower district up to the market square, where an old woman was cleaning her stall. The only person left on the streets of the city.
"Excuse me ma'am," Ilfhild asked. "Why is everyone so tensed?"
The woman turned to face her. "They fear that the dragonborn has failed, dear child."
Ilfhild frowned. "And you don't?" she asked.
"I don't." She confirmed.

Ilfhild nodded and thanked the lady, then walked up the stairs next to her to the entrance of the Bannered Mere. She opened the door and was greeted by a warm air, ripe with the aroma of all kinds of food and drink. She smiled. This was where she belonged, in warm company with good food and fine ale. She saw a strange sight, however: A Kakhjiit male in full Daedric armor with a dragonbone battle-axe and a spectral wolf lying at his feet. If she hadn't known the Dragonborn was Nord, she'd have presumed he was one himself. She walked up to the bar and put her violin on the counter. She beckoned for the owner. "One honeybrew mead please." As soon as she got it, she uncorked it and took a sip of the sweet mead.

He opened his right eye when the door opened again and eyed the nord a bit then closed his eye again and spoke.
"Bard. Are you any good, comrade?" he asked without looking at her, "If so, we could use some music to lighten the tone in the room."

"Give me a second to drink this mead, and I will demonstrate it to you!" She replied. She hadn't expected to be adressed so quickly by someone other than the lady of the house, but it'll have to do for now.
As soon as she was ready, she took her violin from the counter and made her way to the central fire place. She tuned the instrument for several minutes and then put it to her shoulder. She let the bow dance over the strings in a light, joyful tone, dancing around graciiously at the same time. She didn't sing yet, but she was hoping to lighten the mood and getting some people to dance around.

The lady of the house gave a soft smile to herself. A bard that wasn't singing of people's dooms was always a change of pace, a welcomed one at that. Idly cleaning her hands with the apron that she wore, her weary eyes looked to the main floor's rooms, knowing that they needed to be cleaned, and that one of the customers hasn't come out of her room for a while...

With times like these, where everyone is either tense or in despair, one could only think the worst.

The lady of the house left the dancing group, coming to one of the tavern's rooms, and giving the sturdy oak door a rap of her fist. Since there wasn't an answer, and it being late in the afternoon, far past the normal sleeping hours of anyone, the door handle was turned...

A small, pearly pink bottle rolls out of the room and stops at the lady's booted foot. In the next second, her eyes grow wide, and a scream soon breaks through the already tense tavern.

The scream made Dmitri immediately stand and with incredible speed, he had grabbed his warhammer and was at the lady's side, ready to fight.
"What is wrong? Why did you scream?" he asked urgently and looked down then picked up the bottle, examining it.

Brienne gazed about the room, noticing that the inn had more occupants than usual. Seems that everyone is seeking comfort. Many were faces that she knew, but several, like the Daedric armor clad Khajiit sitting at the bar, were strangers. She eyed the peculiar feline a moment longer until he stood and moved away, ending up at a seat by the fire.Well, she thought, moving towards the unoccupied seat, he did get up.

It wasn't long after she had sat down, and held a mug of honeyed milk in her hands, that the door opened and a Nord -A bard- walked in. A smile tugged at Brienne's mouth as she listened to the exchange between the Khajiit and Nord. Music would be a blessing. Anything to break this tense silence. Seeing the bard lift her instrument off the bar, Brienne turned in her seat so that she was facing the fire place. The room was soon filled with a soul lifting, jovial tune, many occupants following the bard's example and dancing themselves. Brienne stayed sitting, clapping her hands to the tune like the others and smiling.

She almost fell out of her chair when she heard the scream. The Khajiit wasted no time in rushing up the stairs. Brienne was more reluctant. She fidgeted in the seat, worrying her lip, before finally slipping out of the chair and walking towards the stairs. "Is everything alright up there?" she called out.

A Khajiit may very well know what the bottle had contained. Illegal, addictive, and holding the smell and flavor of pure, unbridled sugary goodness to Khajiits, and many other beings, the bottle of skooma, and many others, were all strewn across the room.

The lady of the tavern placed a hand over her mouth, backing away, the warrior Khajiit having picked up the nearest bottle. The room had a desk off to the left, with a lamp on it, and plenty of empty bottles. To the right, was a dresser, that had many of its drawers in random places, all abWa curled figure, her black and white furred face marked with a bit of red dripping out of her nose, her yellow eyes rapidly twitching away.

Darkness. Sounds. So many sounds... Words. No, not the words. Make them fade. No more words...

Ilfhild heard the scream, and saw the Kahjiit running upstairs to see what's wrong. She thought for a moment, slowing down her tune slightly as to not let her thoughts break up the rythm. She figured she might as well keep playing. Most of the tavern's guests hadn't noticed, and due to the rumors, these people could definately use some entertaining. She increased the rythm again and begged of the surrounding people to dance along, twirling in circles as well. Her long brown hair followed her with a widearc, and her sparkling eyes were greeted by many smiles as she looked into people's faces. The bow of her violin now danced a dance on the strings, almost impossible to follow with the eyes. The rythm was fast and joyful, and caused even the mor reluctant to stand up and at least clap along.

Dmitri immediately threw the bottle down in disgust and and went to Crow's side, placing his warm hammer on his back then he turned to the tavern owner.
"You did not have to scream. Skooma is bad, comrade, but it is not scary," he said and helped Crow to sit up, "Are you alright?" he asked cautiously, examining her facial features.

The lady of the tavern looked behind her, remembering a faint question, but for some odd reason, she wasn't too reassured by the warrior's logic. Unable to hide her eyes from what they saw, only a small step backwards was taken.

The half-white, half-black furred face was shifted to stare blankly at the other khajiit. The yellow eyes weren't focused on anything.

Are you alright? Are you alright? Are, you...alright? Are. You. Alright? Are you alright?

Crow's lips curled back, the yellow eyes still unfocused. A snarl that grew louder, and louder, and still louder was coming from the throat of the smaller khajiit. The yellow eyes drifted upwards, her body sinking forward, still shaking slightly. The black and white forehead laid itself upon the warrior's chest, still snarling. Then all went quiet, and the khajiit lay still. Eerily still.

Then the multiple-shaded hands reached up, towards the warrior's chest. Then the snarling came back and the yellow feline eyes snapped to the male's face, and with surprising strength, likely gained from drinking plenty of skooma, the black and white khajiit shoved the warrior down upon the floor, and quicker than one could blink, ran at the lady of the tavern, who screamed a second time. Just before colliding with her, the black and white khajiit placed its paws upon the top of the apron and pulled the article of clothing right off of her. Thankfully, she was still wearing her tunic.

When her question remained unanswered Brienne stepped onto the stairs. She was only on her forth step when she paused, glanced behind her and then back above her, and turned around. The Khajiit looked more than capable of handling whatever situation was occurring upstairs. She would most likely get in the way. Varnan always said I was useless in a fight, she thought, stepping back down to the main floor. Someone had taken her seat by the bar. Not wanting to maneuver around the dancers and disrupt the performance, she leaned against the wall, joining the clapping and smiling of the others in the hopes that her own discomfort would be forgotten.

Brienne sucked in a sharp breath when the second scream sounded throughout the tavern. Some of the others had heard it as well, from the panicked expression on their faces. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Brienne told a worried woman standing beside her. The woman didn’t seem convinced. Leaving her spot by the wall Brienne approached the stairs, taking two steps at a time until she stood on the second floor, where she froze at the sight of another Khajiit colliding with the lady of the tavern.

The tavern owner scurried away from the Khajiit, pressing her back against the wall. Taking a cautious step towards the woman Brienne asked, “What happened here? Are you alright?” A brief look was casted at the black and white Khajiit. By the Eight, what has gotten into that woman?

Dmitri growled a well and two pink glowing orbs appeared in his hands, "Calm!" he shouted and cast the spell at Crow, hoping to calm her down. He then moved back to her side and held her close to his chest.
Her strength had surprised him and so now he held her tight, "Stay calm. Nobody is going to hurt you. everything will be alright Comrade, we're going to get you help," he held a calm spell gently against the side of her head.

Crow's body wasn't going to be held by the warrior tonight. In her skooma induced mind, the black and white khajiit's was lost to the world, and its bright colors and echoing voices. Speaking of the echoing voices, the shouting that the other Khajiit did to cast his spell wasn't helping the black and white khajiit's condition, and by the time the breton got up the stairs to question the lady of the tavern, Crow was holding the apron in her hands, savagely panting.

The yellow eyes of the khajiit snap back to the warrior feline, and then the lady of the tavern gives an outcry, being grabbed by the shoulders and shoved towards the spell. She stumbled and likely fell down on her stomach and face, if the warrior didn't catch her.

The black and white khajiit then slipped past the other femme by the staircase, however, her lack of balance had her tumbling down, rolling tail over head, into the storage baskets down below, not too far away from the now weary tavern populace. Some of which backed up at the sight of the likely crazed feline, who just recovered from her fall with a jolt, standing upright. The world was so dark then...so dark. A half basket, that had held apples (which were strewn across the floor by now), adorned the skooma induced feline's head, and her hands felt about the air, and the counter top, knocking over only a few bottles in the process.

Dmitri caught the tavern owner then rushed down te stairs and held the other Khajiit in a bear hug of sorts, pinning her arms to his armored chest, "Stop struggling," he said calmly into Er ear, nobody is going to hurt you," he said then turned to the Breton, "Bard, are you good with calming magic?"

Seeing the kahjiit addict fall down the stairs, Ilfhild's mind started working in overdrive. This was not what she expected on a joyous night in th tavern - A Kahjiit skooma addict? She could understand the feline's reasons given the circumstances, but this one must have had an aweful lot if she's got that crazed look on her face.
The in daeric armor clad Kahjiit warrior came rushing down and pinned the other feline to the ground. She'd stopped playing, obviously shocked by the sudden development. When she heard the man's question, she qckly nodded, and put her violin back to he shoulder. The Bow started playing a slow, drowsy tune whih calmed all around her. A blue string of magic escaped the strings of her instruments and weaved itself around the addict's head, working its calming magic on her mind. Ilfhild played the last few notes and the kahjiit's eyes fell shut.
"That should do the trick." she said. "What in Mara's name happened up there?"

Brienne felt a trickle of panic pulse through her when the crazed feline ran towards her. She moved away from the staircase, trying to get out of the Khajiit's path, and grimaced when the Khajiit tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap. She took a step forward, only to jump back when the Khajiit warrior rushed past her. "This is utter madness!" she muttered, following the warrior.

When she reached the bottom the warrior had the crazed Khajiit pinned, and the bard was casting a spell. Brienne slid past the shocked onlookers, towards the small group, where she came to a stop a few feet from the bard. "I'm not entirely sure," she said, answering the bard's question. "I only saw her," she nodded towards the female Khajiit, "run into the tavern owner."

The basket wearing, apron snatching khajiit, moved her hands through the air, and then the giant khajiit tromped down the stairs as fast as he could. All of this attention would have made an impression on a less skooma induced Crow, but the white and black khajiit's arms were caught. The khajiit's head whipped about, but this only caused the basket to fly off of her head, rolling along the ground.

The lady of the tavern blinks and stands up. Finding the strength to stand again, one of her hands is lifted and pressed against her head, "Why, yes, I'm fine. Would you care for a drink? Or perhaps a room to rent?" It's as if nothing had disturbed her in the first place. But, that's upstairs. The breton left though, and the lady of the tavern stood around, looking at the mess of bottles with a expressionless face.

The words of the larger khajiit were simply infuriating. Telling the black and white khajiit, who is likely the most dangerous and out of control being in the room, that nobody will hurt her is making her body thrash about even more. But soon, the bard's music fills her ears, and her mind slowly descends from its lost state. The yellow eyes close, but once the mind isn't controlling the body, the body expels the unwanted substance within itself, all over the daedric armor. All 34 bottles of skooma and whatever the black and white khajiit had to eat that day, pooled all over the armor, likely seeping in through the cracks and splattering the floor around her.

At least she'll feel much better when she awakes~