Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20141021150035/@comment-3293219-20141026231016

Meanwhile in an undisclosed location
A lone carriage was the only bit of traffic in the pass, it was being pulled by two, well bred and sturdy, horses and driven by a well dressed Imperial man. The carriage itself had an elegant design to it, it was purple in colour and its luggage rack was made of gold or something as elegant in appearance at least.

It was obvious that the person riding the carriage was incredibly wealthy and they weren't afraid to show it. To travel in such a vehicle, in this part of Skyrim would give you the same survival odds as a murderer who's head was resting on a chopping block. However, the person inside knew this well enough, he was confident that he would not need to pay the toll as no bandit would be able to stand up to him...

-

Inside the carriage an Altmer and a young Breton lad, both of whom were in mage's robes, sat opposite eachother. The Altmer was considerably older and his robes were far more impressive. It was quite clear that he was somewhat important. The Breton on the otherhand had nice clothes but there wasn't anything special about him, even his haircut was just a bland crew cut, which was unusual for wealthy young men.

The two of them sat in silence, the Altmer sat back, with his arms folded, obviously deep in thought. The Breton was sat on the edge of his seat and was incredibly figety.

The carriage was riding on some rocky terrain, which shook them from side to side. This was a minor annoyance to the Altmer but it couldn't be helped, so he never spoke up about it. However, there was one annoyance that could be helped...

"Sit still boy, your fidgiting is incredibly distracting!" He seethed, getting his apprentices attention.

"S-Sorry Master." The Boy bumbled as his back shot up, so that he may stand to attention.

"I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" His Master mocked, forming a smile that matched his dismissive tone.

"What do you have to be nervous about boy?"

This question hung in the air for a moment as they boy's eyes shifted from side to side, it was obvious that he was mentally debating as to whether or not he should bring his concerns up.

"M-Master... If I may... Are you sure that it's wise for us to be travelling, unprotected, in such an expensive vehicle, through Skyrim? You know that the bandits are... Well... You know what they've been saying." He stopped himself before he got ahead of himself and blurted something stupid out, he just wanted to voice his concerns, nothing more.

The Altmer shook his head, with an overconfident smile as he began to chuckle at the naive boy's fear of a bunch of knuckle dragging bandits.

"My dear boy, you have the luxury of travelling with the most powerful magistrate in all of Skyrim, a man so powerful that he could melt a foes eyeballs and watch them cascade down his face, like a river of bloody tears.

Those bandits should be more afraid of u-" He stopped to chuckle and correct himself.

"Me than you ever should of them..."

The boy was somewhat disgusted by this answer and not because of the delightful image that his Master had put in his head but rather the cockiness of the old magistrate. He shook his head and looked out of the window, just wishing that he could see his cockiness backfire, just once...

"Thank you, Master..."

-

Little did they know that they were being watched, by two men on the hillside. One was a dark haired, Imperial man of average height, with a moustache and a little tuft on his chin. He was a young, dashing man, who looked like one of those dashing highwaymen, that appear in those awful plays.

He wore a red suit, which was obviously from Cyrodiil, he had a fine steel cutlass on his waist and most of his outfit and his sword were seemingly brand new.

The man watched the carriage through a spyglass, observing its every move as it slowly rolled into his trap. He grinned as it came closer and closer to the right position...

"Are the men in their places?" He asked, handing the spyglass back to the Nord, who was seemingly his second in command.

"Yes, Damasus, everything is in place..." He paused, conflicting as to whether or not he should mention the next bit.

"The... 'Lodestar' is also ready to go."

"Perfect..." The Imperial grinned as he turned around and began his descent, so that he may join his men in glorious battle.

Unlike Ulfirc Stormcloak or General Tullius Damasus, was not a commander, who barked his orders from a tent. He wasn't an old man, huddling and crying in a palace, sending younger men into the battle, to fight and die for him or a squeamish fool, who hadn't touched anything sharper than a bread knife in years.

Damasus, like the Ayleid kings of old, rode into battle with his men; he spilt blood with them, relished in the slaughter, like any leader worth their salt would.

And today was no exception...

-

The Altmer was growing impatient, they had been driving through this clearing for at least an hour now and they didn't seem to be anywhere near the other side yet. Much to the Altmer's annoyance...

He raised an elbow and gave the carriage two hard thumps, to get the driver's attention before barking more orders at him.

"Terl!? Terl!

What is taking so long, I grow tired of looking at the same bits of scenery over and ov-"

Suddenly an almighty cry echoed throughout the canyon as the two horses were going crazy, the sounds of footsteps could be heard all around and they were only just beaten by the sounds of screaming horses and the sounds of crudely built blades cleaving through flesh.

"TERL!? What's going on up there!?"

'Terl' clearly had no interest in responding to his Master as he jumped to his feet, muttering hurried prayers to every divine he could name as he clambered onto the top, his prayers turned to begs and his begs turned to cries of fear as several thuds could be heard on top of the roof. The cries of fear quickly turned into cries of pain as the same cleaving sounds could be heard upstairs, along with the sounds of scraping, from where the man was kicking and flailing, trying to get away from the butcherers as they got on top of him and hacked him to pieces with machetes and short swords.

The two occupants of the carriage jumped out of their skin as the bloody tip of a sword came through the ceiling and the choked cries of their driver echoed throughout the valley. The two of them, too startled to respond, simply sat still, obviously fear stricken by what they had heard as they leaned forward, listening out from any sign of the driver. The tip of the blade hung in between them, the tip dripping with the Imperial's blood, the two of them remained silent, listening out for anything else.

-

Damasus simply watched as the two of them formed a plan in their head, a plan that was destined to fail as none of them would have taken the Lodestar into consideration as nothing like it had existed before.

The Imperial couldn't wait; the suspense of being able to test the Lodestar for the first time was truly invigorating. Not to mention the bloodshed and the carnage that came before it, almost like a sacrifice, to an all powerful god.

Of course, he didn't know who was more worthy of that title, the Lodestar or the man who held its leash.

The door opened and the mage stumbled out, along with his apprentice, who was shaking like an exctreting dog. Damasus just kept his crazed eyes on the two as they stumbled towards him, overcome by the hundreds of bandits, who were watching them from all over the pass.

The Magistrate, at least, regained his composure, remembering that giving into the sheer intimidating force of the bandits would be giving them exactly what they wanted. He approached Damasus, who was obviously their leader as he was the most elegantly dressed and the most intelligent looking member of their crew.

"Why hello, Magistrate Mothril, how nice of you to drop by my territory, uninvited." Damasus said, greeting the tired looking, old Altmer accordingly.

"Your territory!? Hmm... Only bandits and dogs seem to be under the impression that urinating on a piece of land makes it rightfully theirs. Well, I have news for you, you degenerate fool!

You have just made an enemy of the most powerful Mage in all of Skyrim and now, you will feel my wrath!"

Damasus smirked, unflinching as he stood, watching the magistrate perform his last action in life, making a spectacle of himself.

"I look forward to it, Magistrate." Damasus replied, mockingly as his men began to laugh around him, having some idea that this Magistrate's time was almost up.

Enraged by his lack of fear, Mothril got ready to obliterate this smug fool and make an example of him. He was ready to paint this pass red with the blood of bandit fools. His Breton apprentice seemingly didn't share his confidence.

"M-Master... Maybe we should ru-"

"Shut up boy!" His master snapped, spell at the ready he extended his hand, with a wicked grin as he unleashed hell on his foes.

Only... nothing happened...

The Altmer stood there his hand open but no spell had been prepared, it was as if he was drained of magicka altogether...

He looked to his hands in shock, his frail, old, human hands... This wasn't right, it wasn't like his magicka had been drained, it had simply been destroyed, erased, blocked off...

"N-No... That's not... That's Impossible..."

Damasus just gave a mocking smile, patronising the Altmer and tilting his head before his face dropped and he turned back to his men.

"Bring me his head!" He screamed at his army, who immediately raised their swords and cheered in unison as they charged at their victim.

Damasus was lost in the sea of warriors as they descended on their pray, the Altmer looked up and saw the barbarians charging towards him before looking over his shoulder and seeing that the boy had, had the common sense to get the hell out of there, ages ago and abandon his powerless master.

The Altmer spun around and began to make a run for it but unfortunately for him, his fate was sealed. The old scholar couldn't possibly have outran an entire of army of warriors, pumped on adrenaline and rage and they soon descended on him and savagely stabbed, hacked, beat and pummelled the Altmer to death and beyond.

Damasus began to laugh to himself as he observed, he figured that he'd let the men have their moment of glory as he celebrated his victory with a good, old fashioned slaughter.

