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 Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2012 8:37 am
This is an open rp thread for interaction located within the Dark Brotherhood's Sanctuary. It is continuing off where "The Golden Moss Bandits" quest concluded and will serve for introductions and roleplaying between the characters : Illumus, Eliya and Fynn Moreau, The Purifier. Anyone with characters from the Dark Brotherhood are welcome to make an appearance. (Your character must be associated with the DB to be here.)
This thread will be open for roleplay for the next four to eight weeks.
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Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2012 6:07 pm
 Ilumus spoke to Ocheeva and told her the outcome of the mission, "Then that Fighters Guild moron shot at me, mistaking me for the enemy." Ilumus held his hand over his missing eye the entire time as he spoke. Ocheeva sat quietly and waited patiently for him to finish, then moved towards him "Let me have a look at that eye of yours." As much as Ilumus didn't want her to see, he always did as Ocheeva asked of him and removed his hand from his eye. Ocheeva was surprised, she expected blood but was not expecting the eye itself to be missing, "You should go see The Purifier." Ilumus was confused having not heard of this so called Purifier, "I am minus an eye and you wish of me to see a priest of some sort?" Ocheeva sighed n slight annoyance, "The Purifer is the guild's new healer... he'll take care of that eye for you, and... you remind me of Zephyr." Ilumus growled at the mention of that name, "I guess it's because I'm missing the same eye as he is... anyways, I'll go see this... Purifer."Ilumus made his way to the door but Ocheeva blocked his path, "One last question... how can you be so calm and collective about losng your eye?" Ilumus took a while to answer, "I am still able to serve Sithis, am I not? I can still serve you as well correct? Yes it hinders me, yes it hurts... but there are some pains far worse then this... I am lucky to be alive... I don't exactly know how I ddn't pass out on the spot and though came close... I held on." After saying that Ilumus had enough of waiting and trial and error, he grabbed Ocheeva and kissed her. Ocheeva was stunned, unsure of what to do or say by Ilumus's sudden move. Ilumus released his grip and his lips from her then went to see the Purifier.
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Posted: Mon Mar 05, 2012 4:52 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ Corridors under the skin of Tamriel. There were many. Some of them were arteries rushing with the pale blood of Nirn, conduits to outlets in the oceans of the world- these crashed with dark abandon through chasms of lonely night, and hiccuped in the bowels of caves where blind life scraped and pawed. Damp and winding, these avenues knew the void with a vivid and admirably acuity, for in the dark places of land and ocean to-which and where-from they washed, so much was life, so much was death. They skirted the limits of the deeper places, where the darkness becomes warm, and the pressure of the dark crushes all life from the scrying minds of magic. They never taste with their eyes the great force of radiance which comes from just beneath those avenues- accruing in the heart of creatures rather than in the mind. It is up through these avenues of death that life springs out for want of air. Plants known to the living world sprout up, and some glisten at night with the purpose of the darkness below. Nirnroot. Nightshade. Chokeberry. Deathbell. Sometimes these peep out from the lips of ponds, sometimes these blossom on the wet slopes of hills, but they each in their turn deal death in rare and glorious fashion. Death brings Life, Life brings Death. The seed of death, once sown by irony, crawls like a weed with a gracefully malignant purpose.
Some corridors, however, crawling in parallel with the rest, know the river of blood which ends in the ocean of the void, but are lined with stone. These places are, more often than not, of relative dryness, lit with candles, and home to a family of some vagabond or two. A few of these sanctuaries, burrowed beneath the ground in times long gone, harbor with esoteric silence the lives of the servants of death. In the heart of Tamriel, in the eastern shoulder of Cyrodiil, in the sheer hill countries of Cheydinhal county, there was such a tunnel hidden beneath the city. Probably in it's younger days, this place was the deep cellar of an Imperial fortress from the times of Empress Potema, Queen of Wolves, suggested by the archaic technique of the walls and tooled foundation pillars. Altogether not the most opulent finger of the dark hand in Cyrodiil, this sanctuary was none the less exceptional for being beloved by the black hand, equipped as it was with some of the hardest nails of death in the country. They went about their duties daily, and followed the spreading shadow of the black sacrament across the high cities of the Empire. It is a feature of this sanctuary, not altogether atypical of the extended family, that the brotherhood settled down in the bones of a fearful and forgotten sepulcher which was not of their own make. One result of this was the number of corridors and byways within the sanctuary that the guild never strayed into and left abandoned. Most rational amongst reasons for this was that these passages were nowhere close to the surface, had no visible avenues of escape, properly defensible appointments, or sizable quarters, and had an uncanny maze-like quality, such that one murderer straying in those passages might be lost for hours and miss his evening meal.
It was doubly curious, therefore, for the recent weeks to see a tenant stalking these halls and setting up his affairs in this cold, excluded, and highly uncomfortable lost corner of the sanctuary. Such was the case on this evening that the dark corridor was filled with the scratching of a quill on parchment as the injured assassin edged his way to the threshold of the Medic's study. The sound, first like a distant grating on the periphery of the mind as one entered the hall beyond Valtieri's chambers, inexorably came like the swishing of a mysterious instrument playing within the ears of the listener and clattered off of the walls, a forceful reminder for any experienced fighter what a brutal sound the near-miss of an enemies blade was when you faltered in combat.
The door was open, and the young man could be seen in the dim light- peering down over his black muffler onto the long parchment whereupon his pen danced and tossed its feather tail. He did not look up, though his piercing eyes seemed to scan not only the scroll before him, but the entire space of floor beyond his desk, even unto the radius out of his door into the hall. Behind him could be seen the dim shapes of shelves and bottles, and what looked like archways beyond the rays of the candles where a pitch darkness bespoke deeper halls into which no light could ever enter.
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Posted: Wed Mar 07, 2012 9:26 pm
Ilumus thought it pointless going to see the medic, especially since it's been so long, even then he wasn't going to refuse Ocheeva's wishes. He slowly moved closer to the man, unsure of whether he could be trusted or not, he made sure he kept his guard up for he knew that rules could easily be broken. The silence of his steps matched the silence of the man before him, hunched over a desk scribbling away at a scroll, or he might as well been scribbling with the speed of which he was writing. Ilumus enjoyed the sweet symphony of silence that was being played by them both and listened as it echoed off the walls. If there was anything for this young Breton to admire in the other, it would be the other's love of silence, had he finally met a Breton who he didn't wish to kill? Afters many years of hate and prejudice towards his own race, it truly felt odd for the young Breton to finally look to one of his own as an equal. He stared at the other Breton for what felt like hours until he finally reganed himself and approached the man. Though he admired the other Breton, he wasn't quick to lower his guard and was upseted by the fact that he had to break the beautiful silence. He enjoyed the silence a little longer before finally and reluctantly breaking it, "Ocheeva has sent me to see you about the damage to what was my right eye. Though I see it pointless to do so, seeing as it's been so long, I will abide to her commands." Ilumus uncovered his right eye, which revealed the gap which once contained a beautful blue eye only to have been replaced by a darker color of red.
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Posted: Wed Mar 07, 2012 10:42 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ The voice of the young breton pitched off in echoes, which ran away and were lost in the darkness which loomed around them. Immediately as his voice rang out the hand of the other fell perfectly still.
Now silence there was indeed. Over pen and over whisper, over the pounding of humors through the corridors of the mind, a pall was tossed. A stillness fell also, such that the two men so brief and close of a solitary meeting in the dark was like a silhouette etched upon the stone of those ancient walls. It could hardly be guessed as a moment dragged on that either of them breathed. Inscrutable, The young man moved very slowly with a careful hand and laid the quill aside, and with absolute silence from which not even a fox would discern the vaguest tap, the pen rested with balance in the mouth of a slender ink bottle and was still. It seemed, however, in that stillness, that the gravity of the room increased when he moved and rested one hand over the other, still staring with an emotionless concentration on that same space upon and beyond his desk.
In the dim light of the partially covered oil lamp, which sat beside the desk on an ornate wooden stool, one could see from the threshold the glimmering wet ink of the letters which filled the parchment in many slender and precise lines, intricate and crowned, but too small to make out from that distance. A diagram of an eyeball- from lateral lobe to optical nerve- from optical nerve to lense- in profile, was visible within the margins of the parchment, and looked unsettlingly lifelike.
With uncouth and rigid speed, the stillness was broken, and his queer eyes like unfathomable chasms of fire seem to stare straight through the head of the other man. Both eyes straight forward, taking in every inch of the figure before him. Time passed again, and those eyes searched very slowly upon every detail of the young man's face with inhuman concentration. He never seemed to blink, in fact, he truly blinked rather seldom- this quality made his staring doubly uncomfortable to bear. His eyes wandered longer at that nauseous wound than at any other place, but his gaze at the last quit upon the eye which remained in the face of the murderer.
"Hopeless loss."
He stared at the high-backed chair which sat slightly to the side across the desk and offered it with a nod of his head.
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Posted: Thu Mar 08, 2012 9:57 am
Ilumus tilted his head down n a bow of respect, something he'sonly ever done to the Argonians of the guild. It wasn't racism that led him to show such respect only towards Argonians, it was the fact that if it weren't for them he'd be dead. The thought and memory didn't linger long as he came back to what was going on around him, "Please, forgive me for destroying the beautiful melody that silence sings." He slipped his free hand, which donned a ring into his pocket. Though he respected the other Breton, his paranoia preventing him from risking what was precious to him. As though the chair were gliding mere milimeters off the groun, Ilumus had soundlessly pulled the chair back. He sat down then moved slightly closer to the table, attemptng to preserve the silence as best he could. Hopeless the other Breton had described it to be, but even then Ilumus didn't really are anymore. Though his goal of meeting 'The Purifier' had been accomplished, he had no intentions to leave anytime soon. There was much he wished to know about the other Breton, "Ocheeva calls you by title and not by name... do you work along side a High Elf who goes by Soul Reaver?" Ilumus payed close attention to the other Breton, especially at the man's hands for he knew fully well the capability of those who control magic.
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Posted: Thu Mar 08, 2012 2:46 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ "-No"
His voice was soft and potent, like a hiss. The sound was delicate, yet cold; soft, yet rigid. It was as if he was breathing through a mask, though his muffler was low and came only up to his chin. Without indicating to which statement he disinclined, he lifted his eyes again to look over the young man, noting now also his bandaged hands, scraped gear, that slender neck as tense as a bowstring caught under a stone. When his head shifted, his hood tossed slowly, and the dim light seized more clearly upon his face. The pallor of his skin was unhealthy, thin gray veins visible upon his brow and jawline, ringing his gaunt eyes and radiating from his sockets. Such a subtle touch increased the radiance of that gaze, as if his awareness spread beyond his eyes alone and he could perceive with the sinews of his skin. He looked again into the solitary eye of the young man, and the light shed broadside down his high cheekbones. What was this ghastly mistake of the light on his mask-like face which gave him vaguest hint of Archine physiognomy? Those unusual eyes glowered from what might have been a quite young ghost of Illumnus's father. The likeness was momentary, and as his face moved again it was gone, like a heartless salutation fading to dust.
"Brother Archine-" He said, his voice no less cold, but clearer and louder than before "You are confident with the bow." This was not a question. "String your bow".
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Posted: Sun Mar 11, 2012 7:54 pm
Hearing the Breton's command, Ilumus did not wish to obey simply because he was told to. He slid hs chair back once the though accured to him that it may not be a command, but a challenge. He stood up and grabbed hold of his bow, thoughts poluded his mind, 'Would he dare challenge a brother here within the sanctuary?' He had to remind himseld that he was in a guild of killers and falsifiers, with that he was ready for what ever was to come. Before he completely acted upon the wrong conclusion, he waited for what was to come next. "What is to happen now?" He asked, bow ready in one hand, arrow in the other.
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2012 12:36 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ Watching with that deep look of concentration, his narrowed eyes watched the young killer bind string to peak in accustomed fashion. He watched each minute action, and saw that his technique of hand upon bow, even the way he idly held the cross piece, mimicked with special care the Shadowscale grip, tacking with two fingers upon the binding of the handle, thumb pressed against the leather just beyond the cusp of those fingers angling the bow forward, the remaining two fingers could angle the bow as they pleased. This posture was meant to compensate for long claws clasping the wood, but having none, he lacked the need to compensate and could take full advantage of the 'pinning finger' technique. With special care those curious eyes captured the minor spasms of anticipation, the slender cracks in the composure of the novice wolf in a pack after a hunt. He saw suspicion in those motions, paranoia, but not fear. A good sign.
For what felt like a long moment, the pale man sat and took in the signs of preparation. He did not answer the question, but sat stark still with a pensive look on his face. This moment stretched on, until it suddenly became clear that he was waiting for something. It was as if his perception was reaching out, an uncanny expression of 'listening', although he did not remove his hood, or incline his head from side to side. The curious fever of watching this man listening into the darkness was infectious, and forcibly compelled those who saw it to a distinct awareness of the darkness around, as if the darkness was getting close, like a flood of intangible wind flowing through caverns underground.
Time came at last when he took an inscrutable sign, though no noise audible to human ear had passed beyond the vaguest pulsing of blood in the head, and reaching into a nook of his desk, he took an old wooden panel which bore on it a very simplified Eye, dark with years of rusty stain, the insignia was still clear even in this corpse-light. This panel was round, roughly a foot in diameter, with a short handle quite in the manner of a bread baker's peel or washing paddle that was blackened as if by fire. Baring a centered eye and tracery in the wood, it looked like a target. Baring this in one hand, he stood to his rather average unimposing height, his black robes billowing from his rail-thin body, and walked with a floating gate around the desk, gesturing with his free hand for the murderer to follow as he passed him into the hall.
There he was now, what looked like 10 meters away, the intervening space casting his figure into nebulous shadow- his face and eyes still sharp and clear even from many paces. He held the panel forth, directly in front of him, a target which guarded his heart, and was like a smooth circle of summoning in the darkness, the insignia of the eye somehow burned as bright as a lance of candle light in the shadow.
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Posted: Thu Mar 15, 2012 10:09 pm
Ilumus had felt uneasy not knowing what was to come, it felt like walking down an empty corridor to an abandoned house. That is the only tme he does not like the silence, when there's a possiblity that he'sthe target. The thought that the Night Mother could have selected him as ths new member's first kill was sickening, but it did not frieghten him. Instead it raised his alertness, he was more aware of his other senses, not just sight and sound alone. He could feel hs heart beat, keeping a steady constant pace. He could taste the cold bitter air but most of all, he could smell. Wolf wasn't just a nickname for this young man, it involved the one sent he relies on more then his eyes and his ears. It's easy for a man's eyes and ears to be fooled, and reaching out to touch something would be foolish, that is what Ilumus always believed. An illusion can easily make others see what isn't real or make them hear sounds that have no origin, and too reach out is foolish for you leave yourself exposed. Scent is something that's hard for illusionists to create, scent is hard for illusionists to mask as well, at least not master leveled illusionists. During that moment of heightened senses, Ilumus was able to smell the Breton as well as the fire from the burnng oil. He could smell just about everything in the room, capable of seperating his scent from all the others. His foot turned ever so slightly, for he knew making the first move would not be wise, he was atleast prepared to evade an oncomming attack. Once the other Breton reached into the desk, Ilumus's hand slowly and carefully reached for an arrow, which was placed inside a quiver around his waist. Though he was surprised that the mage before him withdrew some sort of panel, his guard did not cease. Only when the Breton male walked past him and gestered him to follow did his guard falter, and after some self persuasion did he follow. The silence no longer felt hostile towards him, its anger and hate had shifted back to the calming song Ilumus enjoyed so much. He silently followed the other Breton until he was silently ordered to stop, and listened like an obedient dog taking orders from its master. Ilumus watched him move the extra 10 meters distance and watched as he turned around and prepared the panel before his heart. Ilumus had put one and one together, he lifted his bow while grabbing an arrow. He took aim at the panel and pulled the string to his bow back, once the arrow was in place making sure to compensate for his missing eye. He did not fire until the other Breton gave him a signal, for he wanted both confrmation that this was what he should be doing and that the other man was ready.
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Posted: Fri Mar 16, 2012 8:08 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ The shadows billowed around, and the pale mask of his face floated in the void above the gleaming circumpunct.
The corridor was hazy and fluttered in the peripheral vision of the murderer, each stone block dancing with a nervous lateral motion.
Inviting, a perfect shot, a simple shot. Just a lick to the right, almost center, just right. An easy shot.
The signal to fire never came.
But there was this odd thing that began to happen. An uncanny trick of the light, or it seemed to have been. At first.
It would come, and it would go, the strangest thing:
First vision would become blurred, as if the spirits of perception themselves were squinting.
Then the lacking light would dim.
Then the opposite would be true, the outline of his cloak could be seen- then no longer.
It was darker, and nothing was true anymore.
The Purifier was changed. His nubile mask of porcelain concentration was gone.
The image would come and go, staying longer each time it came. At first it was too swift to make out, but little by little it would reside until it became as clear as day.
His eyes... His eyes were blue. Crystal blue, silver spears of light piercing the paces of darkness between them.
His skin was grey, and black sprigs of hair crept down his brow.
Thin lips frowned across at the young Archine. Frustration, nausea, disappointment, the glorified likeness of his brother glowered at him.
Now it was all wrong. There was a hissing sound which came from behind, low and rattling, like an aged and neglected mousing cat.
The metallic odor of blood, the dry odor of rotting animal flesh, the musky odor of fur. The smells were subtle, memories rather than odors.
Then voices began to well up, echoing Inside of the murderer's head.
"Not this time, he's sick, he's staying in there."
"He's your brother, you can't leave him!"
"Go home mother, just for tonight. We can't. They caught him with the guts around the poor thing's throat. Covered in blood. By the daedra, He's damned."
"There has to be something we can do."
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2012 1:24 am
Ilumus had lined up a shot before his vision started to betray him, believing he had seen his brother's face. He held steady trying to not let such an image disturb him, but unfortunately for him it happened again. This time it wasn't going away, Ilumus's anger had built slowly. How he had wished to put an arrow through his brother's head for so long, the joy and satisfaction he'd get from doing so. His lip quivered a bit as a smirk slowly grew on his face, unable to focus enough to realise that it isn't truly his brother but the Purifier he's aiming at. Ilumus lifted the aim on his bow, aiming at his believed to be brother's head. His smirk grew furthermore into a psychotic grin, "I missed you...too bad my aims improved." He had quickly pulled back the arrow and in less then a second before releasing, he aimed down at the Purifier's right foot, letting fly the arrow. The shot was a horrible miss and Ilumus tossed his bow aside as he grabbed hold of his head, "It's not real! It's not possible, it can't be real! How'd he get here? Think, Ilumus! Focus!" The young Breton punched the wall as he struggled to get the image out of his mind, he kept his eyes shut tight. He continued to fight himself until he place one hand on the wall, the other had dashed to a hidden sheath. He withdrew his dagger then stabbed his own hand and growled in pain, holding the blade where it penetrated. He slowly caught his breath and removed the dagger from his hand, sheathing it once again. Carefully, he bandaged his hand and growled, though he was not facing the other Breton, his full focus was on him.
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2012 10:08 am
 Zephyr Sil'vraki
Soul Reaver A young man arrived to the gates of Cheydinhal on horseback. Slowly he moved to the gate and placed a handon it, in the other he rolled around within his palm, a small gem approximately twenty-five millimeters in diameter. His suspicious activity had caught the attention of the two guards, "Is there a problem, Altmer?" a guard had asked, hand on sword just incase. The Altmer looked first to the sword, then the guard and smiled kindly, "No problem at all, it's simply been too long since I've last returned home,.I am simply enjoying this beautiful structure I've missed so much. So unless there is a problem with one rejoicing in their return to ther home, you shall not need your weapons for me." With that the Altmer then slipped into the city and strolled through the streets, before he ducked into an alley and casted an invisiblitiy spell from a scroll on himself, thus allowed him to sneak into the abandoned house without detection from any of the guards. Once inside he made his way to the basement and stopped upon reaching the dark door, "Sanguine, my brother." Cracks were heard as the door came to life and slid to the side, the sound of stone rubbing on stone made sure that his entrance was of no surprise to anyone within the sanctuary's main hall. He stepped inside and saw the surprised Teinaava, an Argonian he had accomplished half his contracts with. Sadly Zephyr was too busy to catch up on old times with the Argonian and made his way to Ocheeva's quarters, walking in without knocking on the door. Ocheeva sighed in annoyance, "Ilumus, I told you to knock before entering and as for that kiss-" Zephyr quickly cut her off and smirked "I see he's finally made his move." Ocheeva had jumped a bit in surprise, "Zephyr, it's so good to see you again," her smile wavered a bit, "You knew that Ilumus liked me?" Zephyr nodded, "Sadly I do not wish to proceed with the current subject of this conversation, my intentions for beng here is to inform you that I am returning to the guild now that I no longer have need to flee from the Skyrim garrison, a note has been sent to Lucien, this is of no surprise to him and I must appologize for ending this conversation so shortly but I'd like to reacquaint myself with this beautiful sanctuary and all those who inhabit it."He bowed politely to Ocheeva then left her to be as he made his way to the training room, hoping to see new faces within the guild. To his surprise upon entering he saw something he honestly hadn't expected to see, another Altmer like himself or more accurately, an Atlmet mage like himself. He approached her slowly, not bothering to hide nor silence his movement, "This is quite a surprise, another Altmer within ths sanctuary, allow me to ntroduce myself, I am Zephyr but most would call me, Soul Reaver. May ask your name?"
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 12:52 pm
Eliya ~  It was good to be home. Eliya had wasted no time in reporting to Rez'Zheel the success of their mission and had promptly been promoted to the rank of Assassin. Even as she thought about it, the comfortable warmth of pride swirled within. After her report, a hot bath and change of clothes had been in order, followed by the indulgence of fresh food. The salted jerky and biscuits she'd eaten the day before had left her wanting, and as she licked the last bit of frosting from a finger she couldn't help but feel momentarily content. The plate before her had once held a sweet roll, but it had long ago disappeared into the depths of her mouth, leaving but a little frosting left on the plate. It was with one slender finger she relished that last bit of frosting.
The Sanctuary seemed surprisingly empty since her return, likely many were off doing the work of their Dread Father. As it was at this moment, Eliya had the entire Dining Hall to herself. Rather then feel discomforted, she welcomed the dark silence. The Altmer was rather disappointed when she discovered there were no further remnants of frosting left on her plate, but being as full as she was, couldn't bring herself to eat another sweet roll. Deciding to go check on Illumus, Eliya pushed away from the table. She headed towards where she believed the new medic's area was, and on her way passed by the training room. Honestly she figured that the young dark haired man would likely still be there, and would be visiting that area for some time to come. The Breton had taken an arrow to the eye, and from what little Eliya knew of Restoration, there was no way he'd be growing a new one. He would have to learn and adapt to his new handicap. Hopefully this, Purifier she had heard about could help him.
As she passed the training room, she paused and then retraced her steps. She entered the training room, noticing that like the Dining Hall, there was no one about. To some it might seem eerie that the Sanctuary was so quiet, devoid of the normal conversations and training that usually inhabited its walls. But for Eliya, she saw opportunity. It was not often she had the training room to herself. Deciding that her visit to Illumus could wait, the redheaded mage decided to seize the moment and practice her destruction magic. The Divines' know she needed to. Choosing a target against the wall that gave her a peripheral view of the door, Eliya let loose a torrent of electricity. The charge of electrons and protons clashing together in beautiful blue deadliness caused a corner of the elf's mouth to curl up. Such power at the tips of her fingers, just waiting to be released.
There were times Eliya considered whether she focused too much on non magical skills in combat. She was an assassin, but she was equally a mage. She chose to use her blade before magic in many instances. It could be because of the way she'd grown up, but when it came down to it, there was just something tantalizingly satisfying about violence with her blades. She could char a body with fire, or slice a body with a blade, and watch the life force drain into oblivion. What did it matter. Death was death. But even as she thought this, she knew it wasn't true. There was something dark inside of her that had grown since her initiation into the Dark Brotherhood. Something that hungered and ached to be released. Eliya's indifference towards the death of others had started with the death of her father, and the deaths of all the Necromancer's who had killed him. The indifference had never gone away, and likely never would. That was likely part of what made her such a good assassin.
Eliya stopped the lightning abruptly, as a figure's shadow crept across the doorway into the Training Room. He was an Altmer, like herself, a rarity in the Dark Brotherhood these days. His face though shadowed, was unfamiliar to her, as was his voice as he spoke. "This is quite a surprise, another Altmer within ths sanctuary, allow me to introduce myself, I am Zephyr but most would call me, Soul Reaver. May ask your name?" The Altmer gazed at him haughtily, taking her time in answering. She let him wait a few moments before she replied. "Zephyr," she said ignoring his self pronounced title. "I have not seen you around here before. Welcome. You may call me Eliya." She appraised him another moment and raised an eyebrow mockingly, "Though you may call me 'Death's Mistress' if you like." Her green eyes were unflinching, testing him.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 12:34 am
Zephyr Sil'vraki
Soul Reaver Zephyr smirked slightly as he walked over to one of the training dummies and moved it away from the wall, which allowed himself access to every angle around it. He then looked to Eliya, "Death's Mistress, is that a title you gave to yourself... recently, assuming that, because I have given you a title I have been appointed, you have to give me one for yourself as well? As for why you haven't seen me around here before, that's because I've only recently returned from Elsweyr" His hand curled into a fist as he placed it on the chest of the dummy and pressed lightly against it. He pulled his hand back, "I noticed you use a short sword, steel I presume. A mage with a sword, though uncommon, not unheard of. I'd personally rely on my own abilities then that of something artificial."Slowly he moved his hands as if mapping out each spot he were going to strike while he used nothing but his bare fists. He got into a fighting stance but then left it shortly after, "Sure, with a sword you can cut the life out of your victims for a quick death, or even a slow one.With fists though, it's much more satisfying. You pound the life out of your victim using nothing but your own strength, and if you do it correctly, no one will even know they were beaten to death."He walked over to the dummy and placed his hand just beneath where the rib cage would be located, "Punch hear andyou're hitting the Celiac Plexus, also known as the Solar Plexus, you partially parylyse their diaphragm. This not only causes them to lose their breath, but makes it difficult for them to catch it as well." He then walked over and placed his hand on the left side of the dummy, slightly behind and above where the hip would be, "Striking here just right will hit the Vagus Nerve, also called Pneumogastric Nerve. This sends a signal through out the entire body, basically causing everything to malfunction, filling them with fear."He walked over to the back and rubbed his index and middle finger down the spine, "Or you could simply strike the spinal nerves. Let's see now, there's the twelve Thoracic pairs, the five Lumbar pairs, the eight Cervical spinal nerve pairs, and the five Sacral pairs... oh yes and also the one Coccygeal pair. If you wish to permanantly paralyse them though, strike anywhere between the C One Atlas and T Two, though there's a high chance they'll die if you strike the C One Atlas or the C Two Axis." He moved his hands two show Eliya where they can be located, "Now if you simply don't want the walking, strike anywhere between the L One and S Three." Again moving his hands to show her where it's located. He then moves back to the front of the dummy, "Sorry, I tend to get a little carried away at times." He got back into the fighting stance and focused on the dummy,picturing the spots he mapped within his mind. He moved quick as he struck each spot to the best of his ability. Though he's no master martial artist, the display was still quite intimidating if not frightening. Once he was done he looked back to Eliya, "Think you can do better?" Though it sounded like a challenge, Zephyr's true reasoning was to find out Eliya's technique. He wished to know what this Altmer was capable of doing with the tool she used.
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