BigBossBalrog

I say Dictators!

I thought MK had fallen out of favor with the TES community. Do people still hold his word to be the holy gospel?

Glad you enjoyed it!

Cyrod is the Ayleid word for it. She might be intentionally separating the two. Or trying to imply something else

Oblivion as destruction! She wants her to accept (her words) that the Empire is chronically ill, and she needs to abandon it to protect Cyrod.

I believe alot of Elites we're confused the Prophets weren't offering humanity membership in the Covenant. After the Grunt Rebellion, and how the Ungoy we're able to hold their own with sheer fercoity and determination, the Elites, impressed, decided to give them proper training, actual weapons, and better rights.

Well hold off is not the right word...they basically hid and waged guerrilla war against both the UNSC and Coveant, doing raids to get supplies and disappearing as soon as it happened. Still pretty impressive.

If we're talking OG Bungie, this is wayyyy cooler then that. Pfft. And LOL Atriox and the Banished (his splinter group) we're able to hold their own against the Coveant during the war. He didn't win fairly. He ambushed the Spartans, and completley overwhelmed them with superior strength and speed, before they could even react.

I still think this is the coolest cutscene in the series

To non Spartans, this is what the Halo Universe really is.

I still haven't found a sci series with a more cooler militarized feel.

I think it's pretty funny everyone thinks she's connected to some Daedra I think she's strengthening the Empress. She dosen't fit any Prince that I know if.

They kinda did that in Skyrim. Wearing Daedric armor apparently gives you a hidden boost to intimidating because you look fucking scary.

I actually like the ones in Skyrim with their fake Arnold accent The ones in Oblivion are the best though. Crazy blood thirsty monsters though. Their the poster boy for police brutality....

She refereed to Dales as Al-Esh at one point, which is another name for Saint Alessia, so possibly...

LOL glad ya'll found my post interesting. I was worried it was way too surreal Won't say much, but I think i sprinkled in enough hints about what Dunmaor is. And I think I made it clear what she though of the alliance. If you want some more, try translating the small exchange of Ayleidoon It's clear she's only "helping" Dales because somebody told her too (And that she sees someone else inside her). And she dosen't like humans." She was cut off by piercing amber orbs, “If you Imperials are cockroaches, then the Bretons are rats, the Nords ants, and the Redguards mudcrabs. Men are vermin.” And Dunmaor was able to manifest the Septim Dragon, despite it being technically impossible to do so. She's powerful...just in a very different way then say Witchie, or Baldur. She also wasn't lying about Baldur... I was thinking for awhile. We had a somewhat large discussion about the recursion and aspects of different characters being embodied into our RP's characters. Such as Baldur being a reincarnation/embodiment of Wulfharth. So I thought "maybe Dales is somebody else too". But Dunmaor is confused, as she greatly reminds her of two different people.

And holy crap new Werewolf the Apocalypse details. Seems like it's going to be a more action oriented Bloodlines. "This action RPG has you step into the shoes - or paws - of a member of the Fianna tribe, an Irish group of werewolves who prize family over everything. Yet you’re an outcast, a veteran of battle that has turned into a lone wolf (literally). After spending some time alone in the wild, you’ll be called back to help your ex-pack out of a spot of bother, as something’s happened to your son, which probably doesn’t bode well. At its heart Werewolf: The Apocalypse is a story of the bond between a father and son, but you’d be forgiven for forgetting about your son thanks to all the general devastation in the world around you. See, the whole game is built around managing your rage meter. As an emissary of Gaia, you have a special affinity to the natural world and you know that us humans have been royally screwing up. The more you find out about what we’ve been up to - pollution, drilling in natural areas, submitting to greed - the more your rage meter will increase. Sometimes it can be as simple as finding a document mentioning oil spills when you’re exploring as a Lupus, other times you’ll be talking to an NPC and they’ll mention some environmental hazard going down nearby. Tearing apart your enemies looks deliciously fun. Be careful, though. Indulge too much in that ferocious behaviour and you’ll go into Frenzy mode, where your attacks become especially devastating. If you stay in Frenzy mode too long, you run the risk of being ‘touched by the Wyrm’, which is an immediate game over as its corrupting influence, well, corrupts you. To end Frenzy mode and ensure this doesn’t happen, you need to kill everyone around you, according to Desourteaux. Even your friends. “You have to kill your allies as well,” he says, “because you see them as a threat. When you go into Frenzy, you’re not able to recognise everybody - everyone looks like a threat”. Like an awkward family reunion, the game will remember that you massacred your friends. Your brutality will affect future quests, the ways NPCs behave towards you, and even what kind of enemies you face."

What if the steak has blood in it?

Dales The Kingdom of Skyrim, on the road to Whiterun Night “More ale!” The Empress yelled out, her voice starting to sputter, her breath reeking of alcohol. Around her we're a couple tankards of Honey Brew Mead which she had taking a...rather voracious liking too, and a bunch of torn up pig bone. Nothing could stop her once she tasted roasted pork. She would eat herself into a coma if she could. The Empress was a bloody pig. “And another round for all my new friends!” A resounding cheer erupted in the travel inn, The Constipated Giant, though some Nords simply shook their heads and went back to quietly drinking, eying the Empress with disdain, or in some cases, even hatred. Those were the ones the Imperial Palentina kept an eye on. Axio kept her pommel handy, and rolled her eyes underneath her full face helmet. But most wouldn't turn down a free round of ale. Or three... and as soon as the Empress proved herself a good drinking companion the patrons, mostly Nords, we're glad to have someone so jolly and wealthy at the establishment. Someone would have to be really stupid to try something with so many guards around, and with the person in question being not someone you wanted to cross blades with, less you wanted to be impaled on an icicle. Still, the Imperial was...disappointed. She hadn’t seen the Empress like this since her last trip to Skyrim. She thought the young Empress had made a good improvement the last few months in controlling herself. Axio had the honor (though it switched between that and misfortune on different days) of serving the Empress in her bodyguard Corps since the early days of her career. As a Princess. "You're scowling again." Her companion whispered. A very tall, and heavy Orismer Guardsmen, wielding a two handed mace (The Empress allowed her men to kit themselves however they wanted). Like Axio, he wore a full set of plate, and a full helmet, so she couldn't see his expression. Axio whispered, "We're supposed to be on duty." "And we are!" He raised his voice a little, causing even more annoyance to dwell up within the Prefect. "Keep your voice down, grunt." "Aye ma'em." "That's sir." The Orismer grumbed something before scratching his head. He spoke up a few minutes later, right as the Empress slapped a tavern wench's butt, causing the blonde haired Nord to giggle a little. Is that what sexual harassment constitutes these days? The Empress grinned as you cheered another Nord. Axio rolled her eyes. The Legion-soldier standing next to her, tried once more, as he lowered his voice, "Her Majesty is just celebrating, that's all. I would be too, if I had just enlisted a bloody Dragon Mercenary to the imperial cause!” Inhaling, Axio whispered, “You haven’t been in the Empress’s bodyguard long have you? Was it two months?” “Aye mae-sir.” The Orismer stopped himself, as he continued, “What of it?” “I’ve been with her since the start of her colorful career. The Empress is a fine woman, but she’s got alot of problems. If you’re serving in her detail, you might as well know them. She never drinks to celebrate, she drinks to forget something." In Axio's experience there we're three types of drunkenness. Happy Drunk . Angry Drunk. And Sad Drunk. The Empress was almost always the later. And when she was mess, by the god's, she was a real mess. The last year or so, the Empress had basically stayed away from alcohol besides the occasional glass of watered down wine, she didn't know what triggered this episode. But in her years of serving as one of the Dales's bodyguards, it was essentially one topic. Girl problems. Not that Axio considered herself particularly bigoted, but woman we're trouble to deal with in a relationship. So much drama... When you add two into the mix, by the Nine, things get really nasty. The Empress had her fair share of problems in the past, messy situations caused by pressured one night stands, and of course, rejectment. Though for the brief weeks after her beloved...maid died in Skyrim we're the worst she had seen. Sometimes the Empress would throw stuff at her, others beg her to join her in bed in a tearfilled drunken haze. It was awful to see her like that. For all her flaws, Dales looked after the soldiers serving under her, and they looked after her. Axio truly hoped the Auxiliary was right, and this wasn't a resurgence of bad things for the Empress. ***** Moonlit Lake “Kuwals lu safeal ruie-dagd mue arh fis tha…” A strange song in a language the Empress didn't recognize woke the Empress from her deep slumber. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Sleep evaded the Empress, which is why she liked to spend her nights reading. Though this night was...quite different. Half expecting to wake up animals furs, and a sleeping milkmaid nuzzling her side, instead the Empress awoke to something completely different. Is this...a dream? [[http://simplywallpapers.com/thumbs/nature/moon-blue-islands-moonlight-nature-1822836-480x320.jpg She was surrounded by a massive...sea, shrouded by a great, white moon, showering it's rays of moonlight about the water below, turning the water silver in apperance. Dales sat on a large cliff, overlooking the water, filled with nothing but dark green grass, and a grand oak tree.]] A faint breeze, brought by the seaside, fell across the young Empress's face, causing her hair to be blown to the side. “Dreams are the realm of Lady Vaemaria, who I am not a disciple of, alas. That doesn't mean I can’t manipulate them through unconventional ways. So yes and no, my Knight." The singing stopped, and a familiar voice arose, behind the Empress who turned around to identify it's speaker. Sitting on a large rock, sat Dunmaor, the High Priestess of Auriel, who melancholy gazed at the sea in longing. Unchanged from before. The Empress's face contorted to a snarl, as she barked, "You!", pointing her index finger at the she-elf. Her hands still bound inside the heavy linen wrappings, still went to her heart, as she bowed her head, “I am pleased to see you remember me, my Lady Motierre.” The she-elf’s haunting Amber eyes turned their gaze towards the Empress’s, causing her to shrink under it’s stare. She chuckled, “Taking a little walk under the moonlight?” Dunmaor gave her a grin. “It’s clear wherever we our, you have drawn me here!” The twisted she-elf laughed, her voice amused, “Is that anyway to talk to someone who has gifted you flame manifest as a living weapon?” “You gifted me nothing! It was me and Baldur who secured the allegiance of the Dragon!” Dales angrily shouted. “It that is what you want to believe, my young Empress, you are free to do so.” Dunmaor said softly, bowing her head once more. The elf turned her gaze to the sea once more, ignoring the Empress entirely, and began to sing once more, in a strange language, her...gorgeous voice drowned out slightly by the roaring waves. She placed her bounds hands beside the strong rock, and sorrowfully continued to sing. The Empress didn’t quite recognize the language, but she could have sworn she heard some Altmer words mixed within the ballad. Soon the Empress’s scowl was replaced with...awe, as she listened intently to the sorrow filled music. After awhile, Dales sat down, on the grassy hillside, and simply gazed at the she-elf. After what seemed like an eternity, Dunmaor finally finished her song, and her gaze once more fell upon Dales. Dales stuttered, trying to speak, “What….what was that?" “The lay of Anyammis. It is an old song.” Dunmaor’s amber orbs narrowed, not with anger, but sharpness. Dales, intimidated, muttered, “Was that...Ayleidoon? It’s...beautiful” “Indeed. Though in the four corners of Nirn, it is no longer uttered anywhere...” The Ayleid, or what Dales presumed was an Ayleid, nodded her head in acknowledgement. Before her lips curled in annoyance, “You should be on your way, Empress. This…” Her face became pained, a rare moment of weakness, before she managed to utter, “...Moon-shrouded sea is not for mortal eyes. You don’t belong here.” "Then why did you summon me here?" "I didn't." Muttered Dunmaor, gazing at the Empress with a look akin to anger, "Did I not tell you before?" "So you weren't..." Dunmaor nodded her head. Blushing with shame, the Empress began to scratch her head akwardly, "Oh. Heheheheh. Ummm. Sorry about that!" "Think nothing of it." Dunmaor reclined, as she closed her eyes, and began to contemplate on some topic unknown to the imperial girl. Dales put on a timid smile as she asked, "Do you now why i've been drawn here?" Dunmaor wordlessly pointed to her neck with her black fingernails. Dales looked down, to glimpse the Star Pedant the Ayleid had gifted to her, sparkling under the moonlight. "Ah..." Dales scratched the behind of her head once more, "Well since-since i'm here." She began to fidget, as another smile came around, and she looked to her shoes. "Well, can you-" Sighing, Dunmaor's eyes remained closed, "What information do you seek Lady Motierre." Dales stood up, grinning, "With the strength of Naaf- "The Dovah can only destroy, my young Empress. What you want is a Jill. Which I doubt you'll be able to find any time soon." She muttered dryly, and quite uninterested in the topic at hand, "Even with his power, the Dragon Nafaalilargus will serve as a powerful weapon of mass destruction and an enforcer. Not a savior of any kind. The common folk will surely crowd around him, and with him, rally behind you. You have personally gained much power by him allying with you, but that power is still not enough. Because what you seek is impossible." Dales was about to speak, but she was silenced by the opening of Amber eyes. “The Empire is finished...for now." She said. "Cyrod is not, however. Imperials, like the cockroaches they are, always bounce up after a few centuries.” The Empress’s eyes flared with angry, as she snarled, “How fucking dare you refer to my people-” She was cut off by piercing amber orbs, “If you Imperials are cockroaches, then the Bretons are rats, the Nords ants, and the Redguards mudcrabs. Men are vermin.” The Empress crossed her arms, as she seethed, “Then what are Mer?” "Dogs. Cats. Birds. Slightly more pure, but still animals. Base and disgusting." "What does that leave you then?" Dales rolled her eyes. In contrast, Dunmaor's face remained motionless, "The ravenous beast that devours." Something inside Dales screamed for her force herself back to reality, but something, once again, kept her in place. Dunmaor continued, her smile returning, “The Nords, the Bretons, everyone including yourself is just vultures picking at a corpse. The corpse of a Dragon” Dunmaor said with finality. “The Empire’s won much by itself, with its iron disciplined Red Legions, but Akatosh raised you to an even higher degree. And now, without the time Dragons protection, you are surrounded by enemies and “allies” which seek the same thing. The High King of Skyrim cannot be trusted.” The she-elf whispered. Feverishly, half in a dreary daze, the Empress muttered, her eyes closed, “Baldur...is my friend.” “And what does he do to his friends?” Dunmaor grinned, showing rotting teeth one second, and embellished white another. “He...murdered Ulfric for his throne, didn’t he?” The Empress had long suspected since her stay in the hall of the Greybeards deep down, but it was only now she knew it to be true. Dunmaor wordlessly nodded her head, her smile remaining. “Why should I care, Ulfric was a traitor!” “So is Baldur. You simply excuse his trespasses against the Empire because you are fond of him. His fondness for you may be genuine, but it doesn't change the fact that fondness means nothing to a man who's willing to gut his High King and blood brother. He'll kill anything to protect what's dearest to him If you think Baldur will be better for your corpse of an Empire then Ulfric Stormcloak, you are indeed a very foolish child. Baldur’s plans lie in flame…”Cyrod can become something more than an Empire of Man, if you let it. I will say no more on this my knight...” She smiled softly. “Then tell me his plans!” “That is not my secret to give.” She smiled once more. The Empress frustrated, stopped her feet into the grass like a child having a tantrum, “You told me about him gutting the High King!” She smirked, mischievously, “Did I now? I simply told you he was a liar, and I let you figure the rest out yourself. I did not reveal his secrets…I did so little.” "You fucking elves! Always with your games!" Dales face became red hot, as she pointed a finger at the Ayleid, sputtering in anger. "I-I am the Empress!" “Five Holders of the Ruby Throne have gazed upon me in ten thousand years, Lady Motierre. I have much tolerance for ill words, but I have a limit. Holding a crown does not give you any right to talk down to anyone. You know this better then most monarchs." Dunmaor's eyes sharped, and her grip tightened, as she made circles around the Empress, appearing as a phantom, finally moving from her spot. " Three Emperors. One embellished a flaming dragon upon his sigil. The second, slew them with his blood soaked blade. And a third, helped banish a floating city. Two Empress's, a brown haired saint, and you, Dales.” She used her first name for once. The she-elf placed one of her pale fingers to her dead lips, “The corridors of their memory blocked this place from their minds, like a fading light. Memories are as evanescent as the bubbles that float up to the water’s surface... “ Dunmaor placed her hand into the moon shrouded lake, gently pushing the sparkling waves, the moon reflecting on her face. To Dale's shock, the body of water had flown up, and now this "cliff" had suddenly become a shoreline. And then she smiled, her features softening. “But not you.” The she-elf placed her fabric bound hands on the Empress, caressing her blonde locks. “You are very special my knight. You retain conscious memory of me. Because of what you mean to me. My star. Aba'varlais, I shall give you once more piece of advice.” Dales didn't know that name. But her heart did, and she was content to listen, gazing into those sparking, amber eyes, with both so much hate and love, "Everything withers and dies, no matter how great. That is just nature. From the smallest insect, to the greatest giant, it always ends. The Empire is doomed. Nothing last forever. The flame eventually extinguishes, and only dark remains. You cannot change this. This has been ordained by the sacrifice of Emperor Martin Septim, and the breaking of your covenant with Akatosh. However a path still lays open to you. A path that doesn't lead to ruins. The Dragon is dying, you cannot change that... you, however, can still save Cyrod, and all those who dwell within the Starry Heart of Nirn. You are not destined to be a great Empress. But you will be something more, I promise you this!" The young girl leaned it, and placed her head to the Elf’s chest, accepting her embrace. But Dales wasn't fully there. Or was she? Dales closed her eyes, whispering, in a dreary tone of voice, “I know this place…” Images of a half rotted face, and blood soaked rags filled Dales’s mind, but she played them no head, as she sat, her hair being caressed. Images that didn’t belong to her filled her mind, as the Empress jolted herself awake. Images played, in monochrome. Endlessly. “Wait...have….have... we done this before?” “No.”Dunmaor’s expression remained blank, but there was a...hidden kindness buried beneath. “Sleep now, my lady Motierre. As the Dragon dies, you too must accept Oblivion.” Pale star light glowed around the Empress, and soon began to envelop her in a silvery mist. Her features became even more pale, as the silvery light threaded itself around her, almost as it was suffocating her. Dales resisted, as she shouted, “Who are you?! Tell me-” "Shhhhh." Dunmaor placed a finger to her lips, as she slowly closed Dales eyes, which had suddenly become so dreary....In her dreary haze, Dales managed to say one more thing, before sleep finally took her. “This is we’re mother drowned herself. Angua...fair maiden...sleep asva nen” The Empress cold blue eyes fell shut, as she let sleep consume her, just as she uttered a nameless language, with a smile and tears streaming down her pale cheeks, Humans are so much more beautiful when life fads from their cheeks. The twilight, in between life, and decay. A small, sad smile formed on Dunmaor's otherwise blank face, as she muttered darkly in her forgotten tongue, slowly submerging the slumbering the Empress's form beneath the sparkling water, her hand gently holding the Empress’s own "Ma ar ni, guardian? Ar ni angua forgotten pelin? or are thou Al-esh? Dunmaor began to sing once more, a soothing lullaby in the common tongue, as she stared into the blackness of the sky “One Lily, and a black Rose, in a field of flowers stop to gaze upon the bright brilliant moon.…

Wait Celan's Dutch? Colonel you better watch out

Like longknife

It was Pete's username . I remember me and Colonel would argue alot (against the Skyrim haters) in "SKYRIM FUCKING SUCKS, WHY CAN'T THIS GAME BE LIKE FUCKING MORROWIND WAGHHHH!" threads.

I'm half Irish...