[RP] Skyrim Untold

[Dragon Master Mike]

I suck at grammar. I'm supposed to start a new paragraph every time someone new talks right?

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Name: Katherine
Location: Helgen
ARPers: Saraibre Ryu
FULL CHARACTER INFO

Katherine continued watching the woman. She did not notice she had been found until the woman spoke. Confused at her words, Katherine began trying to figure out what she meant. Katherine could not find any meaning in these words, though she wanted to figure out what they meant. She was about to stand up, giving her position away when she heard words again. These words came from another source however. Katherine poked her head up from behind the pile of rubble to see the woman now held a shield. She saw a man shooting arrows down at her. Katherine was debating if she should help or not when the woman held out her hand. From the hand Katherine watched a bolt of frost shoot.

"So she is a mage" Katherine thought. She watched as the woman's attacker fell over the wall. Katherine wanted to know what this woman's words meant, and knew the only way to find out was to ask.

"That was impressive" Katherine said, stepping out from behind the pile of debris.

---

Name: Uriel
Location: The Bannered Mare, Whiterun
ARPers: None
FULL CHARACTER INFO

"So, Dragons huh?" Uriel said to the Innkeeper in response to the talk of the winged beasts.

"Hard to believe isn't it." The Innkeeper said in response.

"It is." Uriel responded. "You didn't happen to hear where i might find one of these dragons have you?"

"Cant say i have." The Innkeeper said. "And even if i could tell you where to find one, you would be stupid to try and take it on yourself.

"Your right" Uriel responded, seeing how dumb he was for thinking he had any chance of killing one. "I'm going to have to find help before i have any chance of killing a dragon. I have to find one first though." After finishing talking, Uriel turned and walked towards the center of the Inn.

"Has anyone here heard anything of the possible location of one of these dragons?" He said, looking around at everyone.

[Grsspkmnmaster]

Azahb El-Amin
Redguard Wanderer
Falkwreath, Falkwreath Hold

The tall darker traveler breathed in deep through his nostrils as he passed under the bridge which led into the first town he'd seen in a few days. Since he'd set out from Elinhir, he'd only seen a few travelers, all bursting with the latest news from Skyrim. Dragons! Skeptical at first, he had simply continued on, but the frenzied news kept getting repeated. Through all his travels through most of Tamriel, he had never seen a dragon before, and given the legends and tales he'd heard, it was probably better than way. The supposed Harbingers of the end times, if you believed the old Akaviri legends, older than even the proud Nords themselves. The few battle-songs of the orcs which even existed also had one dedication to the dragons, fearsome beasts which could even crumble the mighty Malacath. There was nothing good about dragons in any of the Sagas, except for the few times where the mightiest mortals were able to fell a single dragon with whole armies of heroes at their disposal. If the legends were true, and if the dragons really had returned...

The colder climate brought him back to where he was mentally, as he strode through the town, small flakes of snow drifting lazily to the ground. He tugged on the elk-hide cloak on his shoulders tighter around his chest. Though he was more accustomed to the cold than most other Redguard, it still brought initial chills after crossing the border from Hammerfell to Skyrim. He looked around as he walked through town, gazing at familiar sights and buildings, although he barely knew most of the people he passed by. Falkwreath was a funny little town, encircled almost entirely by pines, except for the graveyard. It seemed to have an effect on the people living here, everyone he passed seemed to lifelessly shuffle past, strangely immune to the fresh cold. He finally turned into the Dead Man's Drink, almost always his first stop in Skyrim. A good drink was almost always the start of a good adventure. After all, how many good tales started with the lines, "It all started in a warm tavern on a dark stormy night..." Too many, now that he thought about it briefly, walking up the wooden steps in a rush, already excited to wrap his lips around a nice Blackbriar Mead.

The sturdy pine door pushed open, creaking a little on the hinges as he stepped into the warmth of the inn. Unslinging his pack from his back for the first time all day since he'd shouldered the burden this morning, he walked up to the counter, where the lovely Valga Vinicia stood. He always remembered her, an Imperial out of Cyrodil who had escaped the wars only to land in Skyrim, and even more ironically in the one city well known for it's graveyard. Average height for a lady, skin which was darker than the average Nord not much lighter than what he was accustomed to. Her hair rested just above her shoulders, a little grey from the years of living in a dead town. He'd asked her more than once to come with him. Though she was certainly beautiful in her own right, she had made it clear that adventuring wasn't something for her. He walked over towards the counter.

"Well, Valga my darling, it looks like your wonderful tavern has made my list of places to visit again."
"And yet the guards haven't noticed you well enough to keep you out of town," she teased.

Yeah, it's good to be back.