Fandom The Blades - An Elder Scrolls RP (OPEN)

[Oenanthe]

With the fall of Alduin and the rise of Paarthurnax, the dragons have broken into factions. Some believe power is better achieved through peaceful teachings and allying with the Dragonborn. Many others still cling to the old ways and seek to bring terror and destruction. The Dragonborn has taken control of the Blades and completely reshaped its purpose. They now work with these dragons, forming alliances and fighting against those in rebellion.

Blades:
Dragonborn - Asrund Bjornson
1. Blacknose - Oenanthe
2. Azalea Shy - Ms. Sparrow
3. Alysara - Bari
4. Ja'zhar - Duke of Doge
5. Cyrion & Atticus Abendrot
6. Lars - sheesh
7. OPEN
8. OPEN
9. OPEN
10. OPEN

Dragons:
1. Nahvennax - sheesh
2. OPEN
3. OPEN
4. OPEN
5. OPEN

Spoiler: Rules

1) Site Rules
2) NO ONE LINERS (At least 2-5 paragraphs would be nice)
3) Don't. Be. That. Guy.
4) Currently 2 Character Max (PM to request more)

Thread / Character Sheet / OOC​

 

[Oenanthe]

AUDIO

Sky Haven Temple was nestled deep into the Reach wilderness and could only be accessed by those worthy. The bandits remained as unknowing guardians to one of the nation's most legendary figures, and the traps still remained set that would test the endurance and mental prowess of those who wished to enter. Even those invited by the Dragonborn were forced to prove themselves through this trial, only those who made it past were then allowed to even meet with the Dragonborn. Some would summit only to be faced with watchful, stony, and unmoving eyes. Others would come to find the great head rolling back to allow entrance.

After the defeat of Alduin, the Dragonborn Asrund had met with Paarthurnax at the Throat of the World where the dragons converged to recognize what had been done that day. Some left in fury, others stayed in friendship. None were more furious though, than Delphine and Esbern who- despite pledging that their purpose was to serve the Dragonborn- had ordered him to kill all dragons, especially Paarthurnax.

Upon returning they banished him never to return, in a fury Asrund shouted Delphine from the mountain and cast Esbern out from his temple.

Since then, Asrund and Paarthurnax had been recruiting and discussing a new alliance between beast. The Dragonborn extended invited to the most notable across Skyrim, as well as letting the word slip that those who made it to the door might be allowed into their fold.

Such was the case with Blacknose- an ex-pirate from the Alik'r desert who had wandered into the courtyard only a week prior to the official announcement of the Blades formation. Needless to say, Asrund was shocked when he emerged from within the Temple to inspect the newest arrival and found a woman with chattering teeth calling him a 'scum lord' for not opening the door faster.

Upon discussion, he discovered that she had been his little sister from all those many years ago. She was vastly changed, but such was what the years did to you. He imagined he seemed changed too. So he gave her a chance and allowed her to join him in his endeavors.

Now he waited.

Today was the day when he expected most of the travelers to arrive and so he spent it in the courtyard doing maintenance on the old stones and growing vines around him. Perhaps it was not dignified or befitting his station, but he was quite content to not give a damn. It was work that needed to be done. Meanwhile, Blacknose seemed more than happy to simply sit with her back against the great fire urn and scribble inside of an old book.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ms. Sparrow Bari Abendrot Duke of Doge @KaiaWolf sheesh ​

 

[Duke of Doge]

Ja'zhar was the first to arrive gazing up at the temple at the top. He stretched his arms and popped his back. He took off his hood, sighing as he scratched the top of his head "it appears... I have found myself on the wrong side of the mountain." He sat down on a rock, digging out his map. He looks at his surroundings then back at the map before folding it up and placing it back into his satchel. "Adein your maps are uncharacteristically outdated" he rubbed his hands together and blew a breath of warmth into them. Finally standing up he adjusted his satchel before beginning is small trek around the mountain.

After about an hour or two, he found the path to the entrance. Taking a deep breath he entered, taking in the old architecture. He stopped, taking off his travel pack and took his journal out of it as he began roughly to sketch the area.
Everyone .

 

[Bari]

"Alright, I think one more should do it." Alysara said as she mix together a simple poison. She typically worked with paralyzers and sleepers, so making something that might kill someone was a bit new to her. She wanted to be ready for anything since she'd heard the Reach was infested with Forsworn, apparently some type of creature that was difficult to deal with, so she decided to have a few tricks up her sleeve. After she finished the last poison, she slipped the bottle into her rucksack with the rest of them. She looked out the window of her dorm and saw the light was fading. "Perfect." she muttered to herself. Alysara had been growing impatient waiting for night to fall. She thought it was best to just leave while everyone else was asleep.

She'd been living at the College for at least a month if not longer, and had made what she might have considered friends had she been a different person. Making attachments would only tie her down and probably kill her desire to travel, so leaving now would save her the trouble of goodbyes. She puffed out a cheek at the thought. She didn't intend to stay with the Blades very long either to be honest. She just wanted to give it a try for a while in case this was rare opportunity. She hadn't heard much about the Blades and what they stood for, so anything new was interesting.

Alysara removed her robes and slipped on the hard leather armor, boots, and gloves she'd stolen from a traveling merchant near Windhelm some time ago. She wasn't quite sure how long ago it was, but she distinctly remembered drugging the merchant and his guards. She'd pretend to be a fellow merchant and secretly tampered with their food the first chance she got. She didn't particularly need to steal it. She wasn't especially in need of gold, but it was more fun to make a game of things. All the more so if it was risky.

Patting herself to make sure everything was on right, she hooked her bag and slung the strap over her left shoulder and rested the bag on her right hip. And with that she was gone, perhaps never to return, perhaps not. There was still much to see here in Skyrim and all the lands beyond, and being a dark elf meant there was plenty of time to see it all. Or not in case she slipped up one day and it was game over. It didn't matter too much. She'd had plenty of fun doing whatever she liked until now.

--------------

Perhaps she'd overestimated the Forsworn? She was under the impression they were Men of some sort from their appearances. They mostly seemed like more barbaric bandits instead of the supernatural creatures she'd envisioned. "Guess that's what I get for not paying attention." she whispered as she snuck past the Forsworn. They didn't seem particularly intelligent to her, so it wasn't much of a problem to avoid them. Not that she wanted combat. Beyond the bandits were traps that Alysara avoided with some ease. They didn't seem like clever traps, ones clearly built by Men. As a species they sometimes left something to be desired. Eventually she came upon a wide open area with a gaping hole at the far back. Ducking inside, she found her way up to what she could only assume was the Temple. She spotted a Khajiit doing what appeared to be doodling in a book. Alysara whistled in his direction in the hopes he knew something.

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

Azalea Shy layed on top of the Sky Haven Temple wall, her leg hung lazily over the doorway of the temple. A roguish strand of silvery-white hair hung in front of her face as she awaited for the new recruits to show up with Asrund and Blacknose in the courtyard. She tossed a gold septim in her nimble deft fingers, making it land heads every time.

She'd arrived at the Temple some time ago. She hadn't seen one of Harkon's vampires for a couple months. Ever since she'd killed...him. She shouldn't have. He didn't deserve it. A part of her knew deep down that he was a good person... but he was a vampire, all vampires were inhuman, remourseless fiends. That's what she was raised on. It was a bit nerve racking to be comfortable. She felt too relaxed, something felt off. Two months without vampires? But she'd hunted vampires so long it was hard to tell what was normal. Azalea touched a finger to the barely visible scarred punctured wounds on her neck.

No, nothing was ever normal.

Azalea sat up abruptly as she heard a distant whistle. She glanced down at Asrund, "Please tell me your gonna get that," She said exasperated, not quite motivated to jump down from the wall. "Unless you want me to ya know-stab em." Azalea joked smugly and shrugged with a wry grin. She wasn't exactly a fan of newer people after all. Azalea flipped the coin and caught it in the air slapping it on the back of her hand. She looked to see what it was.

Heads.

​

Oenanthe

 

[Duke of Doge]

Ja'zhar looked up fro m his work, closing his book with a loud slam echoing through the temple. He stood up and the palm of his hand lit up with a fire bolt spell. Which he quickly dispelled upon seeing the dunmer "Ah. Sorry about the flames. I assumed you were here to attack me. Though there is not an arrow in me yet, so I am clearly wrong" he spoke calmly, his khajiit accent sounding clear as day, adding a sort of charm to himself. Ja'zhar looked her over "You are. Here for The Blades, yes? Maybe just here for the signature of dova?" There was a pause Hmmm..." he flashed her a pearly white sly sort of smile smile "Whatever your purpose, I don't suppose you know how to get in?" He gestured to the area surrounding them with his arms wide.
Bari

 

[Abendrot]

CyrionOld, derelict tombs were not a foreign concept to Cyrion. He could remember walking through his family's grand catacombs that housed Direnni ancestors long since passed. He knew that stale stench well: of damp earth and old, decayed bones. Frescoes of ancient warriors, dragons, and gods spread out on marble walls. As he stepped into the temple gates, Cyrion ran a hand absentmindedly across the stone surface, cold as ice. Above his left shoulder hovered a small ball of light, bright as a lantern, illuminating his way. Atticus trailed shortly behind him, and judging by the way he clutched at his sword hilt, he was internally debating about whether this was a good idea or not. And he was right to be cautious, considering how even travelling to the Reach had been a gamble for the pair. Indeed, it was by far one of their least favorite holds in Skyrim, with its steep, craggy slopes that threatened a deadly fall with each step. Not to mention these mountains were teeming with Forsworn brigands who would be more than happy to see outsiders like them dead, or more likely worse.

Yet in any case, they found what they sought at the top of the stairs. Sky Haven Temple was fortunately much brighter than the rest of Karthspire with its burning braziers and natural light streaming in through the sinkhole. Here, everything was carved from the same stark, grey stone that composed everything else in the ruins with little else in the way of color, aside from a few stray patches of moss. Yet despite its bleak austerity, Akaviri architecture was quite impressive in a way. From where he stood, Alduin's Wall in all its Nordic glory was clear to see, holding several sections divided into panels displaying scenes of battle and a dragon that was presumably Alduin. Cyrion didn't get to determine much more than that before Atticus grabbed his attention."It's a damn miracle we got here in one piece." the Imperial told him, still looking apprehensive about being here at all. "We've survived worse things, haven't we?" Cyrion replied, smirking. Sitting at the base of one of the braziers was a young Breton lass, doodling away in what looked to be a leather-bound notebook. By his count, she was one of four others currently in the Temple proper, the others being a Dunmer, a Khajiit, and a Nord. Cyrion returned his gaze to Atticus, jerking his head towards the Breton girl in a manner he hoped was encouraging. "Come on, Atticus. We've already chosen our fate. We can't pass this up."
"Oh, I think we still can." Atticus replied. With that, the two started forward. " 'Scuse us, miss?" the Imperial chimed in. "We're looking for work. Where's the boss?"

Oenanthe

 

[Oenanthe]

"Chances are," Asrund grunted as he yanked at a particularly stubborn vine that would not yield from the wall even when his sword had cut it into segments. " That we won't have to do a thing." The valley filled with bandits and lengthy cave stuffed to the brim with traps and tricks tended to get just about anyone who didn't belong at the Temple. Normally, even upon reaching summit they would find only the great stony face of the guardian. Today they would find three, very very bored Dragon Hunters biding their times with vines, coins, and books.

He didn't find her joke very funny as currently he was in recruitment mode and was trying to sway as many people as he could to the cause. Turns out...it was rather difficult to find people dumb enough to fight dragons and work alongside dragons.

It wasn't soon until their bored peace was interrupted by two newcomers. Blacknose looked up at them and let out a breathy snort. " C'mon, what do you think this is? A mercenary guild-"

" Enough Esme," By the Gods...he hated smug people. Walking over he approached the two travelers and dusted his hands of the dirt of labor. Ah labor. He valued a good days work above women who gabbed and laid around. " I am the Dragonborn Asrund, welcome. If you've made it this far, that means you know what you're in for. So tell me, how did the two of you make it past the bandits?"
​

Ms. Sparrow Abendrot

 

[sheesh]

The Nightingale and the Dragon Lars
The Forsworn in the Reach hold were a menace to the people. Mainly to those in Markarth. A murder went down right in front of the gate, and no one stopped it, not even the guards. They only stepped in after a woman was murdered. Stabbed in the back with a dagger. An iron dagger, no less. The people in Markarth had a basic pyramid of society. You were either poor, a merchant, a guard, or a scholar. Of course above all that was the Jarl. Does he even make his own attempts to stop the Forsworn threat? They terrorize the roads and inhabit the mountains, making travelling anywhere in the Reach dangerous for anyone.

Nearly anyone.

Those with certain aptitudes and skills could undermine even the best of the Forsworn's warriors. They wore light armor and common dual wielded primal swords. Their fighting style is based off of strength and stamina. No finesse, no skill. Just blind swinging and yelling. To the untrained, they were dangerous. To those with skill, fighting them was childs play. Lars was no exception. Years of conditioning and training had hardened and enhanced his skills immensely. This was relative to who he once was, when he was still a nomad merchant. Training as a Thief from the Thieves Guild, training as a Nightingale, and finally, training as member of the Blades, a dragon hunter. Great combination.

When he wasn't do his job as a designated Dragon Hunter, he was sweeping the mountains, freelancing, hitting the Forsworn quickly where their presence was more than few. This is what he was doing minutes ago. He had infiltrated a Forsworn camp. An easy feat, especially at night. He need not use his Illusion magic, the shadows provided as much cover as any invisibility spell would. It took about ten minutes before every Forsworn there were either dead or wounded, and the fun part about this was leaving.

He dare say his best friend wasn't any Nord, Elf or Cat you would find in Skyrim. His name was Nahvennax. He was an older dragon. Older by dragon standards, at least. This was the last camp Lars would hit today, so he would return to the temple for food and rest. Lars pulls down his face mask, placing two fingers in his mouth and whistling, an ear piercing noise that echoed, bouncing off of the tall and rolling mountains. Not long after, a red, scaly, winged mass swooped over the very mountain Lars had stood on.

"Nahvennax, here!"

He had said this as a request, more than a command, but his tone did not betray that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nahvennax
"Hail, Fahdon!" The old dragon cried, circling the camp. He took in the surroundings of his Wood Elf friend. There were Forsworn bodies just strewn across the ground. He could tell that not all of them had deceased. "Kul, you did not kill of them. You show restraint. Werid." He angled his wings to catch the wind coming in his direction, bringing him to a stop. He did not flap his wings as hard as he would to fly to land. Lars riding on the dragon's neck was nothing new. They had done it multiple times before, and would continue to.

"Climb on, Fahdon, the newcomers are arriving at the temple. We must make haste if you would be able to greet them." Nahvennax declared. He spoke truth. At least, he thought so. Lars, without hesitation grabbed Nahvennax's horn and pulled himself onto his neck, and without any further delay, they took off into the sky. The both of them rarely admired the land below them whenever they flew. 'Krosis' he thought to himself. He needed to take in the landscape. It soothed him. It looked much better than how it did in the First Era, when the Dovah had enslaved the Kruziik-Bron.

The two made little conversation. Lars was unquestionably tired. He had hit seven Forsworn camps in the past few hours. Within minutes of speedy flight, they had made it to the courtyard, a place that Nahvennax had marked himself to ensure he wouldn't pass it. There was a small opening in the top of the Courtyard, far too small for Nahvennax to fix through, but well big enough for a man to fit through. Unfortunate, he would have to meet the newcomers at a later time. He landed near the hole, no doubt shaking the very courtyard itself. He said pressed his snout into the hole, then wiggling his head through the small opening. He could not get anything passed his horns through, but that was good enough for his eyes to be through. "Hail, Thurri." He greeted the Dragonborn individually before removing his head from the small opening. Lars hopped off, a blue glow in his hand. No doubt a spell he had developed himself. He nodded a goodbye before Lars cast his spell and hopped down into the Courtyard.

Fahdon - Friend, Ally.
Kul - Good, Fortunate.
Werid - Praise, Compliment.
Krosis - Unfortunate, bad, untimely.
Dovah - Dragon.
Kruziik - Ancient.
Bron - Nord
Kruziik-Bron - Old servants [nords].
Thur - Lord, Overlord, Ruler, Tyrant.
The 'i' added on after "Thur" acts as a suffix for "My"
Thurri - My lord. My Overlord.
Nahvennax - Fury, Wind, Cruelty.

Oenanthe
Abendrot
Duke of Doge
Ms. Sparrow
Bari

 

[Bari]

For a brief moment, it appeared she'd found an enemy. But the Khajiit almost immediately dispelled the fire bolt, indicating he wasn't a threat. Alysara tilted her head imperceptibly. As he spoke, she began to feel at ease. This cat seemed to be friendly enough. She gave the Khajiit a half grin before saying, "We could just knock. Or wait since I imagine someone must have heard me whistle." Just as she was saying that, a High Elf and an Imperial passed them by without much acknowledgement. They seemed to seen something she hadn't, not that she had really looked yet. Just beyond where she stood, three figures were conversing. The two newcomers approached the former and it became increasingly obvious that those were the people she was supposed to meet up with. Just as she was about to walk over, a dragon descended from above. It didn't seem like anyone was panicking, so she assumed it was a friendly dragon and relaxed her muscles. "Perhaps that's our cue?" Alysara said grinning to the Khajiit before silently approaching the group nearer the Temple.

 

[Duke of Doge]

Ja'zhar blinked as two more people simply walked in. His gaze followed the path they took "I was expecting them to get killed by a trap" he commented before quickly jogging after them. Going through the maze of paths around the temple he found himself in front of the huge stone head. Ja'zhar tilted his own feline head at the structure "you look like a travelling bard I met once..." he said to the thing before entering the main hall. Where the two strangers who passed them and several others were standing around and talking.

Ja'zhar walked over to Alduin's wall. Rubbing his chin in thought as he studied it, not wanting to speak out of turn he occupied himself in this manner until he was spoken to.
Bari Oenanthe sheesh Abendrot Ms. Sparrow

 

[Atrophia Sanguinis]

Krensu'umgol

Krensu'umgol was harassing mountain goats along the cliffs of the temple with her putrid breath on the morn the Dovahkiin - her drog - expected new recruits to arrive. She shimmied along the ledge, continuing to frighten the little goats. It was one way of passing the time. She doubted the fresh blood of these Blades would want to encounter a dragon at the top of the mountain. That, and this bullying was amusing to her. The muz above would not criticize her. They hunted these beings like she did. If taunting was inhumane, so was hunting. To scold her would be hypocrisy.

Needless to say, she had not been allied with the Dovahkiin for very long. No one had yet to ride her for she was stubborn about her dignity. It wouldn't be tolerated for long. Eventually her drog would command her to do it. Only then would she let a joor on her back.

Speaking of riding, she heard the sound of Nahvennax's return, the little black armored tafiir on his neck. If dragons could snort, she would have. It was strange allying with mortals but not necessarily unwelcome. It just had a lot of getting used to.

In her thoughts, the goats had escaped her into some unseen cover. Annoyed and hungry, Krensu'umgol climbed the short distance up to the temple edge to pop her head over where the Ironkettle was preparing two cattle. Like a cat, her pupils dilated and her mouth would've watered.

Drog - lord
Muz - men
Joor - mortal
Tafiir - thief
Krensu'umgol - Break, breath, earth


Sorinn Ironkettle

The cook almost ruined his pants when he turned and found a dragon staring at him from the edge of the temple courtyard. He'd never get used to them. They were so...much teeth. After a moment, Sorinn realized she was eyeing the two cattle he'd hung up to gut.

A stern finger was pointed. "No." His voice was diminished by a squeak. He cleared his throat. "This is for the new recruits." Those firey eyes trained on him with distaste. The Nord decided to turn away before that gaze could make him go back on his word. Giant babies. That's what those flying lizards were. They wanted their bellies full just as everyone else did. He took out a dagger and began slicing the bellies open.

"Why not cut it in pieces?" The dragon asked from behind him, sounding rather close.

"So I can get rid of these." Sorinn commenced the gutting of the livestock.

"Paak. You waste flesh." Was she bemoaning?

The cook looked down at the entrails and shrugged. "Not really. I do everything but the intestines. Not yet sure what to do with them."

"Give them to us."

Curiously, the Nord looked up to where the other dragon perched atop the temple. "I suppose we have an accord if you stop chasing my goats away."

Krensu'umgol had the curtesy to look like she'd been caught red-mawed before giving what seemed like an approval before flying up to Nahvennax. She landed more on the mountain than the temple for fear her added weight would disturb the foundations. "The bron that ruins food has given us a snack if you are interested, zeymah."

Honestly, Sorinn needed to ween himself off of skooma entirely. It made the dragons seem a lot more intimidating and tomatoes strangely attractive. He shook his head and continued to prepare the cattle for a feast for warriors. Or wimps. Anyone who wasn't a warrior was a wimp, in his good opinion. They couldn't eat two chickens whole. Sorinn could eat three. Maybe that's why his wife left him. He ate all their chickens.

Paak- shame
Zeymah - brother

sheesh

 

[Whisker]

SAEMINGR

It was nearing mid-morning when Saemingr reached the base of Skyhaven temple, and it was there when he realized how utterly ill-prepared he was to step into the boots of his predecessor. For one thing, there weren’t many men as world-traveled and sophisticated as Vidarr Hrafnelson, the renowned traveling blacksmith. And for another, he was but a lad of nineteen, a very cold, wet, and disheveled lad of nineteen, who with his lack of food, blankets, and smithing equipment would probably be laughed right down the side of the mountain pass when he showed up to make his request. He had heard tells of Asrund, same as everyone else. And he did not seem like a man to be crossed.

But what choice did he have? If he went back, it meant facing the Forsworn picking over the ruins of his belongings alone. It also meant facing his father’s corpse a second time. The very thought was enough to make his stomach churn like butter.

With a nervous gulp, he attempted to flatten his hair as best he could and smarten up his tattered jerkin as best he could. The dual swords at his belt – his most treasured possession – rattled with each measured step up the mountain path. And yet … and yet … why did his heartbeat seem even louder?

. . .

It took him less than an hour to reach the top, though he stumbled at least half a dozen times getting there. He took a few minutes to rest, hands on his knees. When he looked up again, he found himself looking upon a courtyard ahead. To his astonishment (and reluctance, he had hoped to see the Dragonborn alone), the opening was filled with the outlines of others: a khajiit, who appeared endowed by the arcane; an imperial, flanked by a party of others; an intimidating woman of indescernable origins; and then a hulking beast of a man, whom could only be Asrund, slayer of Alduin and the Legendary Dragonborn.

Stendarr’s mercy, just what have I walked into?

The phrase flashed into his mind for about the hundredth time, though it faded as he felt a great burst of wind of wind overhead. He looked up. And then, he fervently wished he hadn’t.

D-Dragon?!

That’s right – and it wasn’t alone! There was a person RIDING it as if it were a friend or a pet. His jaw dropped for a solid 15.6 seconds as he watched the individual pop down ahead of him looking none the worse for wear.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Saemingr turned on the spot, prepared for the first time to take his chances with the Forsworn. Maybe if he was lucky, they’d kill him on the spot and not desecrate his corpse …

Like they did father.

The thought stopped him cold again. Yes, Vidarr Hrafnelson had been one hell of a man in life, and doubly so after death as far as the Forsworn were concerned. They had ransacked the cart, butchered the mules for meat, and claimed all the weapons as their own. His father’s books and manuscripts they had burned for kindling. All except the one he now carried concealed beneath his jerkin – the Magnum Opus.

The reason why they had packed up from their cozy life on the outskirts of Dawnstar and traveled to this far-flung corner of Skyrim in the first place.

If it hadn’t been for the book, he might have turned back a long time ago. Given up this whole thing for folly. Yet, he had kept going because … there was no one else now who could recreate the ancient craftmanship of the Blades.

No one else.

Why did I have to think about the bloody book?

Saemingr groaned internally and hesitantly turned back in the direction of the courtyard to where the others were waiting.

 

[Oenanthe]

The sudden surplus of action in the courtyard caught Asrund a bit by surprise. Well, there went all thoughts of finishing his day working on maintenance in the courtyard. He couldn't complain though, the old bones of the Temple could use the life. So long had she sat there abandoned and dormant in power. It was good to see she would finally be put to use.

" Nahvennax," He dipped his head out of respect to the dragon but ignored all over. With a curt turn on his heels, he began to make his way inside the Temple. The only signal he gave was a 'follow me' wave motioned over his shoulder.

"Welcome back Lars, good to see you didn't get your wrist stuck in anyone's honey pot." Blacknose grinned, falling into line behind the Dragonborn. He wasn't exactly the most charismatic man but could she blame him? He was a Nord. Nords tended to be odd folk.

It was only when they entered that the Dragonborn turned to address everyone, positioned strategically before Alduin's wall.

" For those of you who are new to these halls, Welcome. I am the Dragonborn Asrund, you've all been called here thanks to a unique set of skills you possess. Taking down dragons is no easy task, and some of you will not have what it takes to make it in this line of work. But what is done here, is what keeps the people of Skyrim safe at night."

It was obvious he wasn't exactly a public speaker.

Clearing his throat he shuffled. " I'd like to speak with each of the newcomers one on one, but when I am not, feel free to speak with any of our current Blades and uh..make yourself at home?"

Blacknose wanted to cringe. Was this really the Dragonborn? The entire introduction could have gone smoother, been more planned. At least she couldn't question his prowess in battle.​

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

Azalea was already annoyed.

The hustle and bustle of the courtyard rang in her ears and she found herself jumping down from the wall, landing swiftly and agile on her feet, she observed everyone from a distance. She watched the dragons for the most part. She found their presence oddly comforting. Azalea's ice blue eyes scanned the people for any sign of vampirism but found none. She let a silent exhale of relief cross through her lips before folllowing after Asrund with Blacknose close at her side. She walked over and leaned against the wall as Asrund stopped to address everyone.

Azalea couldn't help but arch an eyebrow amusedly as Asrund failed to give his public speech.

She smirked wryly as he finished, Azalea glanced at Blacknose to see her expression before she looked back at Asrund with a mocking expression of awe on her face, she did a couple slow claps, shaking her head, "Beautiful words, Asrund." Azalea said in a tone that dropped sarcasm with a mocking voice that made it sound as if she were praising him.

Azalea was always a smug, arrogant woman.

It kept friends as bay, and allowed her to focus on honing her skills to a razor point, not that she needed it naturally, but she didn't want to become rusty now did she? She liked to joke around more often then she should.

Azalea resumed her gazing around the room, inspecting each person from head to toe. For a Nord, Azalea didn't exactly look quite normal, that much was obvious. With her pure white hair, porcelain skin and smaller frame, most people didn't really know what to make of her.

Which was okay, because she didn't either. ​

 

[The Elder]

Dusnar
Dusnar traveled the land, just to finally reach Skyhaven Temple. From what he heard the area right outside the temple was crawling with Forswarn. He's heard tales about them and have even come across them a few times, so he was prepared for fight if the need arises. Though since Dusnar was scaling the mountain he was sure violence wasn't needed. He noticed dragons entering from above, meaning his source was correct about an entrance on the top part of the cave. Once he reached the top he pulled out his rope and secured it to a boulder. Once he tested it to be secure he threw the rope into the opening and then proceeded to climb down. From above he could see man characters standing around, along with dragons. The rope didn't go very far but it was enough for Dusnar to survive the drop. He released the rope and fell to the ground into a tuck and roll. He then proceeded to stand up and looks around. "Hello." He said.
Ms. Sparrow Oenanthe Whisker Atrophia Sanguinis Duke of Doge Bari Abendrot sheesh ​