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Post by Lorren on Aug 4, 2007 10:36:45 GMT -5
((If I knew where the title to this came from, I might not be so insane. As it is, I have no clue. Please ignore it. Open to anyone )) This place was strange. Not just the actual building, but the city, the province, and the country as well. All of it was just... strange. The people were forward, outgoing, which wasn't always a good thing because sometimes they were rudely outgoing. And there were so many of them, and all of them so different. Some were dark skinned, Redguards they were called. And others were green, which was practically unfathomable. There were two different kinds of green ones, one Elven (they were more of a blue-green) and another called Orcs (they were more of a lime green and looked more like beasts of some kind than an actual race). The only really familiar thing about this place was the sea. Then again, there wasn't a very large frame of reference to work with. A life of seclusion led to a life of ignorance. Lyraelean had learned this the hard way when he'd first landed on the shores of Tamriel. His first experience hadn't been a very favorable one, but it could hardly be considered his fault. He'd landed on the Summerset Isles, and Altmer were less than friendly to his kind. Now he was in Cyrodiil, the city of Anvil specifically, and the only promise of keeping himself busy was an assassin's guild. The only problem was that things weren't very busy at all. Apparently whatever god these people worshipped wasn't very happy with them at the moment. The walls of the sanctuary were damp, the rooms dark, the people scarce. So Ly did the only thing that he was really good at. He trained. The training room was a bit worn, but good for its purpose anyway. He tried his best not to think as he sliced at the wooden dummy. Every blow the thing took would be a killing blow to a person. He'd practiced enough to know exactly where to hit. As much as he hated to admit it though, he really just wanted to see a person in this place, to know that he wasn't alone. Even the Speaker would do right now. He didn't actually plan on talking to them much, but it would at least give him some comfort. For now, he kept at his training, chipping away at the wooden figure until his arms were tired.
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Post by Akkar on Sept 5, 2007 21:28:14 GMT -5
It was with an agitated stride that Jiub climbed the stairs of his Sanctuary, having emerged from the lower levels in a rather foul mood. The black leather of his gauntlets were damp with a crimson substance, dripping onto the cold stone with every few paces. He shook his wrist, flicking small drops over the corridor. Sometimes, he thought, people were just too stubborn.
The main hall was dimly lit, quiet but for the occasional scraping and grinding noise only associated with the strike of steel on wood. Jiub paused, his previous irritation ebbed away by a sudden curiosity. Most of his Murderers were out or otherwise unaccounted for, living their lives outside of the Brotherhood's halls. It was a luxury that Jiub could hardly indulge in, one of the regrettable aspects of his title. Still, there were perks - being one of the most feared people in Cyrodiil among them.
The thick wood creaked open as it had done when he had first come here, the sounds of training increasing without a barrier to stem them. It didn't take long to find the source - the pale youth stood out so blatantly from the dank room that Jiub thought he was using a light spell of some type. After a moment's confusion, he recognised the lad as their most recent addition, quite an interesting one at that. His name escaped the Speaker, who held his tounge as he observed the young man's exercise. The memory of their first encounter was fresh in his mind, chiefly to Jiub's dislike of the Anvil dungeons. Even then, he saw that the strange Elf was unique in more than his racial traits, but it was only now that the Speaker saw just how unique he was. Usually, new murderers would have scarcely swung a sword, much less known how to hurt someone with it. But watching this new Murderer, Jiub was surprised at how strong and swift the strikes were, how well they were placed. Just as he pondered the intricate hand flicks that that allowed rather rapid changes in technique, the name came to him.
"Lyraelean!"
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Post by Lorren on Sept 6, 2007 16:40:52 GMT -5
There was a certain comfort that came with training. It was called familiarity, and in this land of unfamiliar things, Ly liked the feeling quite a lot. Attacking the dummy, he was vaguely reminded of his time in the beach house, practicing for hours on end under his master's watchful gaze. His master was no longer around to watch him, it was an unfortunate truth. However, there were always others.
So engrossed in his current activity was Lyraelean that he didn't anyone approach, nor did he hear the large doors creak open for all the noise he was creating with his sword. Still, the increasing feeling that he was being watched crept over him. Despite this, he still jumped a bit when the rough voice called out his name sharply.
Sword at the ready, Ly spun around to face his attacker. Or rather, his Speaker. Standing in front of him was the strange blue man that had recruited him to this place. Jiub, his name was, though Ly didn't know anything more than that. He hadn't actually spoken to the man other than to give his name. As far as he knew, he was supposed to trust this Speaker. That didn't mean that he was going to let his sword leave his hands at any point during this conversation, if you could call it that, for Ly spoke no words. He merely bowed his head towards Jiub as a sign of respect and waited for further instruction.
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Post by Akkar on Sept 6, 2007 22:21:33 GMT -5
The odd Elf gave Jiub a courteous bow, the wary sort reserved for an unfamiliar aquaintance. Returning the gesture, he noted the way the young Maormer kept his guard, sword at the ready, not taking any chances. This was a good thing - Jiub knew only too well how much caution had to be exercised in this world of assassins. Even though he rarely needed to fight or carry out contracts, the Dunmer kept his raiment as tight as ever, blade sharp and always near.
Despite the Murderer's obvious talent and ability, Jiub still held reservations. His main concern was the way that the Elf had carried out his kill - acting out of rage, out of fury, more than anything else. To channel such emotion into physical power was a greatly useful feat - for a warrior, at least. Assassins were a different sort. Their victims were, in a way, anonymous; murdered for reasons not relevant to the killer. Lyraelean had proven that he could kill. However, being capable of murder does not mean being capable of assasination. Ly was young, and even the toughest of young men were still soft of heart.
The speaker felt a strange bond of similarity with the Elf - he, too, joined the Brotherhood because he had nowhere else to go. Whether or not Ly wanted to be here - well, that was another matter. But Jiub knew of a way to find out.
"Come, Lyraelean," he said, starting off in the direction from whence he came, "I have a task for you."
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Post by Lorren on Sept 9, 2007 11:11:10 GMT -5
What he had expected of the Dunmer, Ly wasn't sure. Perhaps he had been anticipating a long-winded welcome speech. Or maybe a gruff warning of what would happen should he overstep his bounds. Even just general small talk. Instead, the Speaker merely returned his bow and continued examining him. Lyraelean was used to scrutiny, but he wasn't used to the person giving it. He wondered what would come of this encounter.
Finally, Jiub spoke, instructing him to follow. Apparently there was a task to be done. That lifted Ly's spirits somewhat; he had worn the wooden dummy out and he was quickly growing restless. He needed something to occupy himself with again. Even if it was meaningless busiwork, such as reorganizing the basement, Ly would happily do it.
Giving the Speaker a slight nod, he kept a close yet cautious distance behind Juib as he opened the training room doors again and led him out into the main hall. Ly decided that it would be safe to sheathe his sword for now, but kept his hand rested on the hilt just in case. The lack of description of this "task" worried him a bit, an in an assassin's guild, who knew what could happen.
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Crohaven/Varon
Full Member
Ta! Come visit again!! Or I'll pluck out your eyes, ha ha ha!!!- Sheogorath, Prince of Madness
Posts: 152
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Post by Crohaven/Varon on Nov 10, 2007 3:02:37 GMT -5
((This is going to be in 1st person so if anyone doesn’t like the way I RP, please be kind and let me know.))
It was noon and I was bored at home just walking around nearly naked. So I decided to go to the Sanctuary to see what was going on and to see if any new members finally showed up. So once I walked out of my private quarters I closed and locked the secrete door behind me and, proceeded to head to Anvil. Still in the cave I mounted Mortus and raced southward towards the city. I hadn’t seen how beautiful of a day it was until I actually went outside to ride on Mortus to Anvil. I was so absorbed by the beauty of the day I nearly sent Mortus and myself into a large tree. However I acted quickly enough and Mortus being a smart horse we both took effort in not smashing into the tree. In due time I arrived in Anvil and I casually made my way to the sanctuary unnoticed.
It was a long walk to the Sanctuary from the city’s main gate but, it was better going this way then getting caught by the city guards or the legion better yet. After entering the sanctuary I heard voices one seemed to be coming from the speaker but, the other voice was new to my ears however. Through the sanctuary’s dark corridors I walked as I normally did and I made my way towards the main hall to see the new murderer of this great sanctuary.
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