Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Tread Lightly (CLOSED Oblivion RP)

Dust winced at the reactions around her, her gaze trailing after Astarill when he went to face the wall. She felt somehow this was her fault - the Dark Brotherhood had started this, the Madgod only complicated it, and both presided over her life more than she cared to admit. She spoke softly at first, voice rising.

"I could…"

She paused, steeling herself before speaking louder, so all could hear.

"I could take us there. I know a spell - a gift from the Madgod that would take us to my - my house, in the city. Near his palace. But it would be rather dangerous." She gnawed her lip. "I mean, so would the conventional way what with having your entrails chewed on by skinned hounds and…"

"Don't be shy!" Lorundil beamed kindly at her, head tilted, still seated rather comfortably. "Tell us your thoughts, sister. Neighbour. Could I trouble you to borrow a bit of coriander?"

Dust gave a exasperated laugh before her expression became solemn again. "The trouble is, my spell is a bit temperamental. The more people I attempt to transport with me…" She glanced around, exhaling slowly and dragging a hand through her hair. "The higher the risk things will go wrong. So we could end up with our minds transported, but our bodies left behind, or our noses where our eyes ought to be or…" I'm rambling. She abruptly clapped her mouth shut, waiting to hear the other's thoughts on her idea.

“If you care to part with any of those, I’m willing to pay,” Astarill grumbled without taking his eyes off the wall, in reply to the Imperial woman and her statement about her bottles of shein.

And you can take the gold off my rotting corpse, the way things are going, he mentally added.

He sent a cold glare at Dust when she let out a laugh. Why she seemed to think the situation was funny, he could not fathom. And then it occurred to him that, among all of them, he was the only one who had anything to lose. He and the gibbering maniac, but the latter hardly counted. The others had a choice: find the journal and use it to their own ends, or call it a day and shrug it off without consequence.

How nice, he thought angrily, to have a choice. It must be hilarious.

Dust was only here because she wanted to see if she could help him. Any moment now, she could decide it wasn’t worth it. And so he was utterly dependent on her whims. The thought sickened him.

“If the journal is not returned to the Brotherhood, I am already dead,” he said, suppressing his anger while the alchemist still seemed her usual helpful self. “So I’ll take the risk.”

“…I avoid drinking with magpies,” Dakari said at the Bosmer’s attempt to snatch up her precious alcohol. “Besides, I already own a drink to the hawk.” She glared at the Altmer’s back – not the crazy one, the other – with a slight frown.

Really it would be a shame, she decided, to let a shein drinker die without another reason than the madness and the boredom of some so-called God. No mention it had been a long time since she had met someone who liked that kind of beverage, and it had been even longer since she had shared a bottle with someone else. And the man seemed so…

Lonely.

Dak felt a pang in her chest, an aloneness she hadn’t felt in a long time. She approached the Altmer carefully. “I told you,” she spoke very quietly, “that you were going to need that drink. I…am sorry.”

She gritted her teeth when the Breton girl laughed. It sounded wrong in such a place. The rest of her babbling made Dak feeling like twenty bottles of shein would never be enough. Especially she was supposed to share them. She however spoke without hesitation.

“…I am coming as well. Not that I care…but I’ll testify for you. If the tit doesn’t kill the all of us first.”

(OOC: BTW, I got an idea for Dust's spell...since it apparently can go quite wrong, I thought it could be funny if it actually exchangrf everybody's bodies. Mer would become Men, Men would become women, spellcasters would find themselves trapped into the bodies of non-magic users and vice-versa? I'm just floating the idea, but I thought it could be funny.)

(OOC: Interesting idea! I've never thought of Dust's spell working that way. I'm worried it might be a little TOO much chaos for the group on top of going to the Shivering Isles, especially since the idea behind the spell going wrong is that Sheogorath gets some more mad souls out of the deal. Buuut, it could also be highly amusing. What do the rest of you think?)

Ath took on a fake look of hurt. "Lass that cuts deep inside me." He put his hand over his heart in mock pain at her words of magpies.

A smile then graced his lips as he went back to being quiet.........until Dust spoke of her idea of going to the shivering isles. A none to pleased look passed across the bosmers features at the mere idea. He wanted nothing to do with the daedric lord, or his lands, or any of that madness. Granted he was friends with one of the people whom was with Sheogorath.

"Oh yes, lets all just go to the lands of madness so we can become members of his court."

He says in tones that were rather not nice. Ath shook his head and shot a glare at Lorundil for this turn of events before he looked to dust and the others before speaking again.

"Bah, as much as I don't want to go there.......can't stop till things are finished with the dark brotherhood. Won't leave people hanging"

The bosmer took on a rather sullen, angry look while he rested back upon the stone of the chamber. His hands moved down to his weapons to check them out and make sure nothing was really wrong with them since they seemed to be going to these lands.

"Lorundil I swear if I die in that place I will come back and haunt you for the rest of your life."


(( OOC: I like that idea, it would be very interesting and I think add a new thing for them to argue, fight, and try to overcome. I think it would be very entertaining to see.))

(OOC: I do like the idea of switching bodies, but like Ethelle said, unfortunately the spell is meant to make the poor souls who are victimized go mad. *tries to imagine a mad Dakari, Astarill and Ath'vesu - fails*

So I'm going to politely say no to doing this for the sake of Dust's spellwork and everyone's sanity, BUT I think the body-switching thing could be fun in another RP. C; Is this okay? I don't mean to put anybody out, it's just that the whole point of Dust's spell going wrong is to make people crazy so Sheogorath gets something out of the deal, and I sort of think things are chaotic enough now. BUT, as I said, I do like the idea of it for the future!

Is this okay, folks?)

[OOC: Yep Yep!]

Dust couldn't help wincing at the scathing glare Astarill sent in her direction. She shrunk for a moment, biting her lip. What did I do? Guilt welled up once more before she shook it off, taking a steadying breath. Dakari and Ath'vesu added their thoughts - they were all in agreement. Although Dust narrowed her eyes at the assassin, grumbling. "I'm not a bird. And I won't kill us all. It'll be some external factor that may or may not be brought about by me, that's all." She laughed, though it was more of a scoff, before addressing them all.

"Okay. Well, if we're all in favour, let's get it over with. I don't know what will happen, but hopefully things will go smoothly. At least, somewhat..." She stepped towards them, shrugging her bag on her shoulder. "Be ready. The transportation is nauseating."

In preparation for her spell while waiting for all to give her the go-ahead, Dust began to think very hard of anywhere but her home in the Isles.

This was one of Sheogorath's spells, after all. Better safe than sorry, with Him.

(OOC: However, they definitely should have SOME consequence for the spell, since so many people at once should go wrong somehow. Normally they'd be teleported to the safety of Dust's home, but Ethelle and I thought maybe they could wind up somewhere more hostile. is that okay?)

Astarill turned his glare from Dust to the Imperial woman when the latter approached him and spoke to him in a hushed tone. He scoffed, angering himself over the condescension of her first statement.

I told you so, my godsdamned arse, he thought.

No one, including the seasick woman, could’ve known things were going to turn out quite this bad when she offered him the bottle of shein at the start of the day. Surely, if he hadn’t seen it coming, no one had. At least, that was easier to assume than having to admit he had failed to accurately predict the gravity of the situation.

His glare made way briefly for an expression of confusion and suspicion when the assassin apologized for -what seemed- no reason at all, and then proceeded to offer her help. He narrowed his eyes and his glare returned when his mind presented him with plenty of reasons why she would pretend to help him. She could be attempting to gain his trust in order to enable herself to run off with the journal as soon as he let his guard down.

“I’d rather have your shein than your help, but I’ll take both,” he grumbled nevertheless, and postponed deciding whether or not he was going to believe the assassin to a time when he had more information to make a more accurate judgement.

He ignored what the Bosmer said, as it rather pointedly described how foolish this whole plan was, and he didn’t need to hear that now. He ignored Dust’s words for the same reason. He simply stood, looking grim, ready for the alchemist’s spell.

Dakari tilted her head without blinking at the Altmer’s answer. It wasn’t a flat refusal, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic approval either. It will have to do anyway, she thought. The hawk was easy to read. She was more worried about the magpie and the tit. One was a thief, the other was mad, and there was no way to be sure they would not betray the rest of them for keeping the journal.

Maybe that’s what her spell is really for, she scoffed bitterly to herself when the girl started to blabber, to kill the rest of us. She, after all, is a Breton. And Bretons were well-known for their innate resistance to magicka. However, the way the girl had reacted at the other assassin’s death indicated that she believed in the Tenets, and that she wasn’t willing to kill a “Sister”.

With a sigh, Dak rummaged into her pocket and picked out two small, slightly crumbled biscuits. She put one into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. It was apparently safer to not have an empty stomach. She was sick of the taste of bile. The other biscuit was half the way to her mouth when she frowned, looked at it then offered it to the hawk.

“…you’re going to need that as well,” she simply said.

Ath grunted softly to Dust's words and then remained quiet. He would however move over to Lorundil and pull him over towards him and closer to the rest of the group.

"Lets just get this done as fast as we can, I don't want to be there for a long length of time." He quirked a bit of a grimace.

With that said Ath would just stand there and wait for Dust to make her spell. Though as he waited he took his bow off his shoulders and brought an arrow out of his quiver as well to hold. He was not about to arrive in some part of the shivering isles without at least his bow at the ready, and an arrow in hand ready to knock to be fired.

"Try not to land us in the mad gods palace though please." He suddenly said.

Dust listened carefully to the conversation around her, still trying very hard not to concentrate on the vibrant sunlight and the alocasia fruit growing under her window sill in Bliss…

"Okay. If we're all in agreement - and no, if all goes well, we should arrive safely at my home in Bliss," Dust addressed Ath'vesu before facing the others. "Could you all gather close? Or better yet…" She centred herself between them before closing her eyes, hands slowly joining as though in afterthought.

"Hekem…" The Daedric language burned sweet and sour on her tongue. It tasted like raspberries, today. Dust unconsciously licked her lips and continued. "Oht…"

As Dust's spell began, the others might have experienced odd feelings - first dizziness, light-headedness as though they might float helplessly away at any moment. The feeling of being furiously spun in circles, and the musty air around them becoming damp. Those sensitive to magicka might sense the opening between worlds and the tingle of Daedric works.

"Meht…" Dust's brow furrowed, muttering the words of the spell slowly and deliberately. A faint buzzing could be heard. "Ekem!"

Dust stumbled back as the last world left her forcefully, pushed out with her breath, and it was over. They were there - or at least, wherever there was. She gasped, backing away, trying to catch her breath and balance, dizzy and weak from the spell. Her back hit something distinctly fleshy. Flies buzzed idly around them, and they were calf deep in murky waters.

"Uh…" Dust glanced up, breathing hard, and blinked. A large, pale-skinned creature with a gaping mouth and beady little eyes glared imperiously down at her, snorting through flared nostrils. "Oh, fu - "

The creature screeched and slapped Dust away with a free hand, sending her tumbling into the mud before drawing a crude cleaver.

Shit, shit, shit! No magicka left, must be Dementia, where are we… Dust gasped as she struggled out of the mud that seemed to suck her feet in. "It's a grummite! This m-might be a nesting pool, watch where you - " Dust gasped as her foot popped out of a boot quickly swallowed by the mud and she barely regained balance, shuddering as her bare foot broke through a leathery shell and into the goo inside. "…Step." A foul scent rose from the destroyed egg, and two more of the creatures came running towards the smell from North of them.

Dust blinked, her imperturbable optimism momentarily shattered. She gave a quiet, bitter laugh. Well, at least it can't possibly get any worse.

(OOC: Sorry for the long post! I wanted to describe everything. And if you're interested, here's some information on the creatures our heros are battling.
http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Shivering:Grummite
I made up the bit about the eggs making a smell to attract the grummets when broken, though. If there's anything that should be changed, lemme know!)

Astarill looked down at the biscuit the Imperial woman offered him and curtly shook his head before he looked away again, making no move to take the biscuit. "I have experience with teleportation," he said gruffly. "And with your alleged seasickness, you are the one who is most likely to need it."

When Dust began her incantation, Astarill pulled his shoulders back a bit to stretch them, slightly rolled his head to stretch his neck, then directed his gaze straight ahead, and adjusted his feet to stand firmly and securely on the ground.

During the first moments of the spell, it felt as though the ground was swept away from underneath him, but he kept his stare straight in front of him and concentrated on convincing his mind that he was still standing upright. As the spell progressed, he felt forces pull and tug on his insides. Noises and smells and colours swarmed his senses. It was nauseating, but he let it wash over him and forced himself not to fight it, knowing that would only make it worse.

The assault of sensations peaked and then suddenly subsided like a wave crashing on the shore. The air became clear - or rather, as clear as it could get in what appeared to be a swamp. A foul-smelling swamp, with flies, and mud, calf-height mud.

Splendid.

The next thing he knew, Dust got thrown in the mud by a goblinoid creature of sorts, and two more of those creatures were approaching. Astarill cursed, and drew his sword, with a couple of hissed words and a wave of his free hand, he caused a wave of telekinetic force with which he knocked the nearest grummite, the one that had flung Dust, back a few yards to buy time for the others to get their bearings.

Without a word, Dakari put the other biscuit into her mouth, started to chew, and took an arrow from her quiver for nocking it at the bowstring. The Bosmer was doing the same, she noticed, and she nodded to herself. At least he wasn’t a complete fool. And his quiver was filled with more arrows than hers. No surprising, he didn’t have to clear the way through that bloody ruin for his crazy friend. I dare to hope he’ll remember it, or that Lorundil will. The Altmer was smiling absentmindedly, apparently not caring about what was happening anymore. Blessed are the poor in spirit… She hoped that ten arrows would be enough. It’d have to…

The tit eventually started her incantation. Was that Daedric? She had heard that mages used it for casting their most powerful spells, but it sounded…ridiculous, to say the least. The rest of the spell was far less laughable, though. It was hard to describe, but Dak was definitely glad to not have an empty stomach. She closed her eyes shut and forced herself to breath steadily, until an awful smell hit her nostril with the strength of a hurricane. Her head felt as if it was going to explode, her eyes seemed to have dried out completely and her stomach protested, but she slowly opened her eyes anyway.

A swamp. Go figure.

“…interesting interior decoration,” Dak commented wryly, “I heard that the mud-and-mushroom touch is in fashion this year.”

Then something that looked like a swollen putrefied goblin swooped down on the girl and pushed her into the mud before flying away.

Swooping is bad.

Two other “grummites” were approaching. Dak aimed for the flying one, drew back the string of her bow and let the arrow fly. It went right in the monster’s pale belly but, despite its obvious pain, the grummite didn’t collapse. After a few seconds, it even looked healthy again.

“…go figure,” groaned Dak while preparing an another arrow.

Ath shivered slightly to the sound of the daedric chanting that Dust was speaking. He as well noticed that Dak was doing the same as he, well at least two of them would be ready for something, he thought to himself. He really was not liking this plan but alas it was to late to do anything now.

Ath groaned slightly when he felt the world shifting, the ground spinning, his body being transported to the shivering isles. When he arrived he stumbled going to a knee in the swampy area and coughed. His stomach still felt like it was on its wild ride but he could hear things moving. The bosmer looked up in time to see Dust go down, Dak pull an arrow and release.

Ath quickly nooked an arrow and fired at the same one that Dak fired at, shooting it in the head giving the woman time to nook another arrow as he did the same standing up. He would fire an arrow into the nearest of the goblinoid creatures and backed up to keep from becoming dinner for a hungry one of them.

"Note to self, shoot spell caster if we survive." He grumbled to himself though he really didn't mean it.

(OOC: Hooray, RPR is back up! Lemme know if there's anything that needs fixing here! Autocorrect keeps wanting to change 'grummite' to 'grummet' on me!)

Dust winced as the others began to fight against the grummets, one of Dakari's arrow's seeming to slow it down for a moment before it healed again. "Th-they heal in the water!" She tried to slosh through the swampy waters, cursing as it dragged down her robes. Shit, shit, shit, why did my spell take us here!? And no magicka, I'm useless…

The first grummite roared first in annoyance as Astarill's spell forced it back, then in pain as one of Ath'vesu's arrows lodged in its head. Although the wound healed quickly from the outside, the shaft breaking off, much of the arrowhead was still embedded in its brow. Its beady eyes rolled, but it didn't fall, instead lumbering towards Astarill as the ones from the North came ever closer. Another of Ath'vesu's arrows met its mark, and one of the grummites heading towards them on dry land slowed, a roar of pain heard over the buzzing of the swamp. It seemed to have some form of intelligence, kneeling to the ground and exchanging a crude club for a bow, shooting an arrow towards Ath'vesu, who it deemed the biggest threat. The other, meanwhile, marched on towards them, using the same cleaver as the one nearest.

Dust struggled on through the mud, shouting again in hopes that the others would hear. "It's useless attacking the one in the water - it just heals - kill the first two, before they get in the water…"

She caught Ath'vesu's comment and glared, not in the mood for jokes, backing away from the grummite still in the water. "Once we kill these things, you're welcome to try."

Astarill narrowed his eyes and watched as the nearest grummite seemed to heal of the damage the Imperial woman and Ath had done to it. He turned his head briefly in Dust’s direction when she told them the creatures healed while they were in contact with water, glanced at the two approaching grummites, then nodded curtly to himself. He looked back at the nearest grummite again to see the creature lumber towards him. Instead of attacking it, he moved away from it, towards the shore. He didn’t need Dust’s second call that urged them to kill the other two first, already heading for the two grummites on land.

When he trudged out of the mud, onto solid ground, he waved his left hand and grumbled the same incantation as he had done some moments before. A low, resonating hum accompanied the swishing sound of a brief, fierce wind and Astarill’s spell knocked back the grummite that had fired an arrow at Ath, causing the creature to fall, sprawled on its back, groping around for its bow that it dropped. Raising his sword, Astarill then approached the second grummite, the one with the cleaver, ready to engage it in close combat to keep it away from the water.


(((OOC: Btw, Kir, you don’t have to burden yourself with describing what the cleaver-bearing grummite does if he attacks Astarill the next time on my turn (if it isn’t dead by then). I’ll do that myself! I know how annoying it is to have to describe all NPCs/enemies yourself. Unless you want it to do something else of course, as everyone's free to kill it or make it move away to do something else. *will stop rambling* )))

They heal in the water, had said the tit. Kill the ones of the shore, she also had ordered. Easier said than done, thought Dakari with an annoyed twitch of her mouth as she aimed for the bowmen grummite on the shore.

“…you’ll have to answer for that crap,” she said at the paddling Breton in a blunter manner than the Bosmer had. Her mood became even darker when she shot; her arrow was almost stuck into its head when a magical wind deflected the projectile and knocked the grummite over. The arrow flew away uselessly and Dak felt the taste of bile filling her mouth again, but this time out of anger. It had been a long time since she had felt this way, and it wasn’t pleasant at all.

“…watch out, you foolish mage!” she barked at the Altmer. What the hell was he thinking? That he was the only one on the battlefield? Or that her quiver really produced arrows on its own? In a blink of the eye, she was nooking a new arrow that she aimed at the second grummite. This time the arrow flew right to the monster and stuck itself deep into its skull – so deep, actually, that it blew a part of the grummite’s brain out the other side of its skull.

With a pang of satisfaction, Dak put her bow on her back and drew her knife out before heading for the “I have arrows in my body and I don’t even care” grummite.

Revenge definitely felt good.

Ath saw the grummite a little to late in raising its bow. He had been shooting at the second grummite on the land and had just looked back to the other, his arrow ready to fire, when his eyes widened and he jumped to the side as it shot at him. Not quick enough as he felt the arrow impact into his side and the bosmer hissed in pain.

When Ath hit the ground he was up in flash and drawing another arrow, despite the pain in his side, and he would shoot the one laying on the ground once more as Dak fired her arrow as well. He stepped back then, placing his hand on the crude grummite arrow that was in his flesh and he grimiced.

"Lucky bastard" He grunted before looking up to see if the others had finished off the other grummite.

Dust winced as the action became ever more violent, arrows flying and spells being cast, feeling more idiotic and useless by the moment. If she had a potion , could restore her magicka - yes! But where was her bag…?

Through the action, not far from her, she spotted a huddled shape sitting in the mud as though it were a plush chair in a parlour lounge, sorting through her bag and throwing out potions by the handful. Lorundill muttered to himself as the tossed the potions, letting them sink.

"NO!" Dust lurched through the mud before landing unceremoniously face-down, struggling for a moment through the slick, suffocating muck to weakly lift her head and stare at Lorundil, wiping the mud from her face as best she could. "My… potions…"

"Mmm?" Lorundill looked up, as unpertubed as ever, before giving a small smile. "Oh! There you are. I don't see any fishsticks or even coriander in here. Now it's almost empty, though, so we can fill it up."

Lorundill's explanation was shortly followed by Dakari's threat - Dust watched the battle for a moment, just long enough to see the Bosmer take an arrow in the side with a wince.

Okay. Afterwards. She snatched the bag from the Altmer and searched through the few potions that remained, feeling a small measure of relief as the glistening blue-ish liquid of a restore magicka potion beckoned. She popped it off and drank quickly, then watched and waited for the battle to end, so she could heal the others before…

Heal everyone, figure out what we're doing next. She thought to herself grimly, ignoring Lorundil as he began to search through the pockets of her bag. Then I can go utterly sodding mad.