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Peculiar Happenings in Dres Horak

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Kevaar's picture
Kevaar
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10 hours 4 min ago

The time is the waning years of the Third Era. The Nerevarine has not yet been named, but the Sixth House has begun to stir, hardly more than rumors in the underbellies of the holy cities of Morrowind, or the tales of disappearing Buoyant Armigers and tradesmen on the front. An outlander has landed on the shores of Seyda Neen and begun to cause trouble, but such rumors have only just begun to filter down to Dres Horak to the far south...

Dres Horak is an ancient Dres clanstead set on the southern shore of Lake Andaram. The hexagonal canton sits, foreboding and gray, on the top of the cliffs overlooking the docks. Beyond the city, the gentle slope of the Deshaan Plains stretches all the way to the Arnesian Jungle, a mere haze of blue and green at this distance. Plantations dot the salt-gleaming surface of the Plains, and large crevasses split the salt flats like spiderwebs.

Dres Horak is a wasp-nest of activity, as it always is in the spring once the rains have begun to recede. Slaves and their masters swarm up and down the cliffside, carting goods to and from the mixed-origin trader ships, or repairing the multitude of cranes, lifts, and water mills that connect the clanstead proper to the docks. 

The docks are noisy with all the busy sweating bodies, but this doesn't stop a ruckus just inside the Salt Wash canals to carry across the water. There seems to be a hold-up in the main entrance of the canals, and the gondolas and hand-carts have backed up onto the docks, their attending Dunmer fidgetting restlessly and craning their heads to get a view of the blockage.

"I am a holy man of the Tribunal!" comes a furious bellow. "You will stand aside!" It's answered in similarly angry cries, and the hold-up doesn't get any better.

What do you do?

((Normally my posts won't be so long--I had a scene to set! Consider how your character got to Dres Horak, and their motivations for being here. Let the games RP begin!))
 

ThomasRuz's picture
ThomasRuz
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It was a normal day, as it always was. The rain was pouring and I stood there selling my wares to the nobles of Camlorn. Finest clothes a man has ever seen, stitched to perfection, but anyway I digress. On a day such as this, with dark, grey, thundering skies, the clientele didn’t want to come. They let me stand in the rain, you see, nobles do not have the decency to come outside and buy a man’s wares.

Anyway, so I was sitting by my stall, throwing my dagger in the air, when a hooded man approached me. A man with grey skin, a man from the far east. Said that there was gold to be made in the fine clothing business. I must admit I was sceptical about the guy, but it was an offer I couldn’t refuse, it’s a gap in the market there, in Morrowind he said. I can set shop up there, earn my money and buy out those merchants here once and for all! So we shook hands, he has agreed to show me the local ways of doing business. We were to meet in Dres Orak, or was it Dres Horak? Tomorrow I’ll board the ship. this day will be the day that they regret trying to ditch the man who is Beaudoin Maracour!

Teeth-like-Deep-Roots's picture
Teeth-like-Deep...
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Always in need of alchemical professionals, I was told. North, beyond the mire, that's where the prosperity lay! Bah! Nothing but dunmer and dryskins up here, but they pay well and the... ahem... "Novelty" of a free Argonian in Dres Territory advertises itself. My Egg-siblings always told me "The closer to danger, the further from harm" though I admit the translation from Jel doesn't work quite as well. Ah well, I'd love to see some dunmer try their luck with me.
Potions and baubels always sell well. Always someone in need of a poison or a draught, a drug or a spell. The Argonian government certainly loved the idea and they throw a few pieces my way when business is slow. They trusted my mother, and so they trust me. Can't imagine why else and I laugh in thinking of other ridiculous reasons to keep me this far north.
My tent is a tad damp, but it suits me just fine. As long as the potions in my bag don't dilute it'll be fine, I say nearly aloud. Busy day in Dres Horak. Lotsa noisesome mer and men. Too noisesome...

""I am a holy man of the Tribunal! You will stand aside!"

I close up as the cacophony kicks up. I poke my head out of the tent

"[By Sithis, what is all this racket?]", I spit in native tongue to no one in particular.

Apotheosis's picture
Apotheosis
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1 hour 16 min ago

People of my station normally bellow and rant at the slightest inconvenience.  "Time is money," my father would always say (he isn't a particularly original man), "so don't let anyone hold you up."  Apparently that Temple priest felt similarly, and thought it prudent to announce to everyone how important he is. Frankly, I doubt whoever or whatever was holding us all up would move because of his cries of indignation. I, however, don't much mind the hold up. The gondola is comfortable enough I suppose, and this shein is positively incredible. I was feeling pleansantly tipsy and I watched in amusement as the crowd around me ranted and raved.  "Time is indeed money," I think to myself. "Luckily I am a rich man." 

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Dormichign64
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My team and I have been at Dres Horak for a while now. It's located at lake Andaram, and it's not very interesting in my opinion. One of the guys says he loves the place, but he's the one who said there was some evil thing in Ankogathn which turned out to be a leaky pipe. Though to be fair, he's the only one who knows how to unlock dwemer strongboxes properly, so I shouldn't judge. Anyway, we were told that there was an artifact of some sort near the area. They didn't know what it was and thought it was some kind of Argonian thing. We were still heading south when we mysteriously lost all of our supplies. Thankfully, none of it was of rare and ancient origin. We had to stop in this sweaty place, and just as we did, that artifact had apparently been taken by another branch near the border of Black Marsh. Miscommunication, they said. Like I believe that. There had to have been a reason for them to have done that; they wouldn't just leave us and not tell us about it until it was done. Anyway, We're here now and we're stuck here. We have to make enough money again to get out of here. Hopefully, that doesn't take too long. With the state of things now, it shouldn't. Gods have mercy on us all. Especially Brinanette; she's not that bad.

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Irvarale
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Call me a liar if you will, but I don't mind Dres Horak. It is high up and in an easily defendable position. Business flows through there constantly and all the cogs stay at work at all times. Many do not enjoy the clutter and the noise but these things have never phased me. No, after spending as much time as I have beyond the border to the south any air that is not filled with the deathly musks of a swamp is beautiful air. There is a lot of sweat, blood, and harsh words filling this air but it's still more than tolerable.

I only spent more than a day in this place because Drebin and his partner told me we would get a better deal for our current batch of slaves here but they've apparently had some problems regarding our actual payment. Dragging this many Argonians this far has been a damn stressful job and I've not gotten my full pay yet. Why I agreed to hunt with these two fetchers is beyond me. I left them to negotiate with whomever among the trade ships they planned on delivering to and went to fetch a drink. Yes, I may have lingered longer than I needed to, but after traveling with Drebin for as long as I have you'd understand my need for a few drinks. But on my way back a problem had surfaced. I can't get past some damn crowd at the entrance to the canals. Some fool is shouting something far ahead but I don't give a damn. Those fetchers will sooner claim inconvenience and run off with the pay than work their way through this mess for me! My impatience got the better of me, admittedly, but I can't stand wasting time. I began pushing my way through the crowd of weak, indecisive Dunmer and making my towards the source of the sound. One way or another this problem is going away and I'm getting my damn gold.

Kevaar's picture
Kevaar
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((Hm, the first person is a little disorienting. Let's see...Teeth is poking his head out a tent, Claudius is pleasantly tipsy on a gondola, Seryn is searching for supplies to replace what his expedition lost, Verminah is pushing her way towards the commotion, and Beaudoin is disembarking a ship?))

For the most part, the crowd gets out of Verminah's way, albeit not without a few curses and dirty looks cast her direction. She reaches a break in the crowd and can now see the source of the commotion: a tall Dunmer in battered Ordinator armor, sans the helmet, is weaving tipsily and gesticulating angrily. Before him is what looks like a pile of crates fallen from a pack guar's back. A slave is trying to calm the poor animal, while his Dres overseer is arguing with the Ordinator. The Dres overseer seems like he doesn't quite dare disobey the Ordinator, but his patience is flagging, and the crowd continues to press closer, agitated.

Most of this scene would be obscured to the other four, though the ripples of excitement continue to pass through the crowd. An Argonian slave looks at Teeth uneasily, muttering something about keeping one's head down when the masters have a fight. "[Swords swung in anger do not care what they hit,]" she advises with a little shudder.

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Apotheosis
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The crowd was growing increasingly agitated, a fact which Claudius noticed but which he paid no real mind.  One way or another, Claudius figured, he would start moving again.
 
Perhaps the key reason Claudius was unconcerned with the hold-up was that he had no real destination.  He was riding on the gondola because it seemed a fun thing to do.  The gondolier was a dreadfully poor conversationalist, like the rest of the Dres, so Claudius was content to lay back and savor the nuances of his shein and the buzz in his mind.  
Consequently, Claudius couldn't be sure he heard the gondolier correctly, nor could he believe what he had heard.  "I am sorry," Claudius asked, "I must have misheard you.  What is this about an Ordinator?" 

"Others are saying an Ordinator is causing a ruckus up ahead, acting like a boor. The Triunes must be appalled that one of their own would be drunk in uniform."

Claudius could not help but break out in a grin.  He  handed a few drakes to the gondolier and disembarked, eager to seek out the source of the commotion. Every Ordinator he had the misfortune to meet had been dour to the point of hostility, but a drunk one?  Claudius hoped he would find a new friend in this most alien of places. At the very least, an Ordinator would make a fine drinking companion.

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ThomasRuz
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“Charlais, Charlais!” Beaudoin cried out.

The door of his chamber opened, and an elderly Breton stepped in.

“What is it sir?” Said the man unenthusiastically.

“Charlais, can’t you hear the gasps and the screams outside?”

Charlais sighed, and made his answered for yet another time,

“Sir, there seems to be some ruckus outside, I can’t do anything about it. Now could you please put down that bottle of wine, you’ve drunk more than enough.” Charlais said, while getting increasingly agitated.

Beaudoin looked angrily at Charlais, then turned his head, drank the last of the bottle, and gently put down the empty bottle on the table that he was sitting at. Not trying to stain his purple velvet sofa, of course.

“Fine Charlais, you know what?” He says, whilst standing up. “I’ll handle this myself, nobody dares to get into the way of Beaudoin Maracour! Even these… Easterlings.”

Without a second thought Beaudoin rushed out of his chambers, onto the deck of the ship, Charlais running after him.

“Sir, I really would advise you not to…”

“I decide what I want to do, Charlais. I’m the Royal representative after all.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that Sir”

Charlais stood in his way, and with a single harsh push, Charlais fell of the ship. Into the salty waters of Dres Horak.

Beaudoin stormed ahead, with a godly stature and a cane in his hand, he set off to the place of all this… commotion. To whatever these Easterlings could be riled up about…