Premise

A disgraced dragon priest now lives a quiet life tending an inn, or so he thought. Powerful figures are after a secret he's held onto since his devout days, and he may need some help from some brave heroes to keep the village safe. This will be an adventure of swords, sorcery, and intrigue navigating an ancient Nordic, dragon-worshipping society.

Setting

This story takes place in ancient Skyrim ("Mereth") in the late Merethic Era. Ysgramor has returned from Atmora with his Five Hundred Companions and leads a crusade against the Snow Elves, who have been driven to the edge of the map. The quiet village of Hoffehim, just south of Windhelm, has managed to escape the drama of imposing Jarls and ambitious Dragon Priests, but life on the frontier is still harsh. Frost trolls and worse roam the woods, and no one is sure whether Ysgramor's conquests are as complete as the songs say.

Tone

This will be a mostly serious RP with action, adventure, and intrigue. There may be fantasy violence, but it won't be graphic or gruesome. Characters may be endangered. I don't intend to kill characters though without previous player discussion.

Character Rules

Characters should belong to one of the following races that existed in the Late Merethic Era: Aldmer, Bosmer, Chimer, Orsimer, Dwemer, Falmer, Ayleids, Nords/Atmorans, Nedes (proto-Cyrodiils), Yokudans (proto-Redguards), Argonians, or Khajiit.

Consider a character who would have a reason to be in a remote Nordic village, whether they live there or are simply passing through.

Posting Rules

Everyone will have a week to make their post, after which we'll skip to the next player's turn. All dialogue should be written in the dragon language. If you're unsure how to say something, just ask and I'll be happy to help!

You can advance the story by adding new details, characters, etc. alongside your own. Try to leave opportunities for other players to pick up where you leave off.

Turn Order

1. Ruvgein
2. Fronlaasfrin
3. Zinrahzul
4. Dovahsefus
5. Vahdin se Lokel
6. Kronvullok
7. paarthurnax

Ralund scrubbed the bar as the wind rattled the windows. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he could never quite seem to get the pinewood clean, especially not since that buffoon of a blacksmith, Eorl, emptied his guts the previous night. Ralund knew better than most what too much mead, too often, could do to one's life.

Unslaad ruth, Ralund thought in ancient language that hearkened from his priestly days. It was a language of power and eternity, a language of dragons. Of course, Ralund only remembered the expletives, now. If he had to, though, he could scrape by, and the Nords in quiet Hoffeheim seemed fond of testing him. Wuth faaz kiin goraan krosis. Gein nis bovul tiid.

His inn stood empty now, save for a pale, hooded figure in the corner that gave him the shivers. Strangers weren't common here, and this one seemed likely to poke around where they shouldn't. Ralund prayed to Nahodrel, the patron dovah of the land, that someone would burst through that rickety door and save him.

Jirirar
I totally forgot, who are the Ayleids?

Ayldeis are known as the Heartland High Elves, they were the race that built White-Gold Tower in Cyrodiil, enslaved the human Nedes, and worshipped the Daedra. They were overthrown by Saint Alessia, who founded the First Cyrodiilic Empire.

Jirirar
Ok, do you mind if I post a character once I make it

Go right ahead! I'll let you know if I have any thoughts or feedback.

Jirirar
Is this ok so far?: Nelithuun Ayleid Warrior His skin is a light brown and his left eye is blinded, while his right is red. He wears a set of Ayleid armor without the helmet and instead wears a copper and diamond circlet. His sword is enchanted with paralyzation. He is a courier, despite his heavily armoredness, and is on a mission to deliver a document to The White Gold Tower.

That's a great start! Feel free to post your continuation of the story. Here are some questions to think about as you write:

• Why is Nelithuun in Skyrim?
• What kind of document is he delivering? (Maybe it's a plea from the Snow Elves for aid.)
• What are his views of the Nordic invaders?
• What are his views on his own society (slavery, Daedra worship, etc.)?

Ralund froze. This newcomer was fahliil, no doubt, with that red, inhuman eye and those ears poking through his hair. Stranger still was his armament. His cuirass glinted in the firelight, layered like golden feathers, and he carried a sword with the stench of enchantment. He had a warmer complexion, though, than any Snow Elf Ralund had ever seen, and was a far cry from those Orsimer they sometimes traded with on the borderlands. No, this was a Heartland High Elf, and his dragon-tongue needed some practice.

"Geh, hi aal ofaal osos kip," he replied. He chewed his lip as he tried to puzzle out how an elf would know the dragon tongue, and speak it to him of all people. Did this imposing figure know too much? Best not to draw his ire.

"Zu'u piraak key-slen ahrk reyth-sos lun nol sahrot feykro," Ralund said. "Ahrk fod bahlokiil los evenaar, praal voth hofkah-yol."

Merid-Nunda be merciful.  The wind had been dreadful the entire way to the Inn, icy and chilling to the bone.  The horse had all but given up on making it past a snowbank higher than its haunches.  The Inn itself was wooden and heavily snow laden, with a little sign hanging off a post that had writing in the Northerner’s runes. 

[The Lonely Luft]

Veabris assumed they spelled out the name of the Inn.

Stepped through the doorway to the Atmoran Inn, two star-blue eyes glinted from behind both the scarf and hood that covered a gold-tan face, and a cloak wrapping around the body like wings. 

There were a few inside, but the only one that mattered was the courier. 

The courier was…not what Veabris had expected.  He was heavily armored.

Veabris approached him and spoke in clear Ayleidoon.  Telling him that White Gold wished the letter to change hands to keep their enemies from finding the letter.

It was a lie, yes.  But a good one. 

Nelithuun heard someone open the door, but didn't bother to turn, not until he heard Ayleidoon behind him. He turned to see another Ayleid. He was suprised, especially when he figured out that he said the document he was carrying should be given to him.

He spoke back, in Ayeidoon, saying "why? Am I not trusted to deliver it back? I have gotten here, the border is not far." He stared into the piercing, blue eyes, waiting for a response.

Kaldmit comes into the Inn with the runes [The Lonely Luft]. He had just come from sniping an enemy camp and still had some cuts on his arms and legs. With pitch black eyes scanning the benches, he settles next to the fireplace and sets down his bow and arrows

Gruth dii miin hahi? Ralund couldn't believe his eyes. What these two fahliil were doing in an Atmoran village on the frontier, he couldn't say, but it didn't seem friendly. He reached for a dagger under the bar, an ornate one he once used for cultic rituals but still had as sharp a bite as the dragon it resembled. If he needed to, he could use the horn propped atop the bar for warning. And of course, though rusty, there was always the Voice.

It was all enough to make him lose sight of the hooded figure. When Ralund remembered to glance in that dark corner, the figure was gone. He grasped the dagger tighter, trying to avoid appearing nervous in front of these strangers. Where had the figure gone? He had to check the attic, check his precious keepsake just to be safe, but he couldn't leave these two elves alone, either. For now, koraav. He watched.