» Sun Oct 07, 2012 11:55 am link: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1408487-the-blades-of-shadow-rp-thread/
background: A new listener has been chosen by the night mother, This listener has had no previous experience with the dark brotherhood, and this is his first time doing anything besides learning from the black hand. (for more view GM character sheet).
And now After five years of training from the speakers, he has learned everything he needs to know, And the night mother has given him a job, not to tell the speakers but for him alone, be begin a new sanctuary where the "mansion party murder in Skingrad" Toke place. (Play oblivion dark brotherhood quests for more information) And now that the sanctuary is complete the only thing needed is the recruits, and the night mother has named a few for him to get started with...(accepted sheets)
Volathine, Vampire (Glass argonain) (Co-GM)
Spoiler
Name: Volathine Ineron
Race: Altmer (High Elf) / Vampire
Age: 952
Appearance:( Ignore the armor ) He has a smooth face, with two long black tattooed streaks going down his face from his eyes, which, when angered, may glow red. normally, however, his eyes are a bright green. His default expression is a look of condescending boredom. His long black hair is kept swept back, and somehow manages to stay nearly immaculate most of the time, though whether this is accomplished magically is anyone's guess. He is very tall, being a high elf and all, at around 6'8". His build is very thin, though if pressed he could muster up some strength. Still, he won't be beating many people in arm wrestling.
Birthsign: The Mage
Class: Stealth Mage (Not feeling creative enough to come up with a good one atm)
Abilities: Illusion (Master), Destruction (Expert: Only uses Lightning spells), Conjuration (Expert: able to summon a familiar, a flame atronach, or a bound sword: doesnt bother with anything else), One handed (with his bound sword, could not effectively use many other weapons), Sneak.
As both an Altmer and a vampire, Volathine is very susceptible to fire, and will often recoil from it out of self-preservation.
Misc. Items: wears a silver pendant inlaid with a blood red soul gem. No special properties. An enchanted flask, which keeps any liquid stored in it fresh for much longer. Currently filled with blood.
Armor: None. wears Black robes, and wears the hood during the rare times when he's forced to travel by day. He covers his hands with a pair of black gloves, inlaid with silver threads.
Personality: On the surface, and for a very long way down, Volathine is, well... a smug, arrogant, snarky, and rude person. In short, a typical altmer. Always ready with a demeaning comment or comeback, he enjoys getting under people's skin. He rarely lets emotions other than boredom, contempt, or amusemant slide through his demeanor. He rarely deems someone his friend, though if it happens, one will notice a slight change in his attitude towards them. slightly. He respects those who are clever, and mocks those who think physical strength is all that matters.
As for other races, he differs slightly in his views from most Altmer. He doesn't feel particularly malevolent towards any of the other races of Tamriel, having seen that each are capable of being just as stupid. Even his own race. On a side note, he absolutely despises the Thalmor, believing they are the embodiment of all the worst traits of his people. It doesn't help that many assume he is one due to his smug attitude.
Bio: Born in a small island in the Summerset Province to a wealthy family, Volathine enjoyed a privileged early life. though at a very young age, in an event he himself barely remembers, he stumbled onto a vampire and was attacked. He survived, in a way. Infected with the Vampire disease, he has wandered through the provinces over the years, staying in towns, crypts, and even the dens of other vampires when he could find them. Over the years, he learned much about magic, his natural talent proving itself. He learned to control his hunger, and trusted himself to stay in towns more, blending in with various societies. Until one day in Skyrim, where a reformed Dawnguard caught wind of his presence in a small Skyrim village. Three of them had him cornered, and he offered to just walk out of town and be on his way, but they refused. With a sigh, he raised his hands, lightning crackling around his fingers.
When all three were disposed of, the whole town watching, he announced his intentions to leave, and if anyone wanted to try to stop him, they were welcome to try. None volunteered. He is currently in an abandoned crypt, attempting to lay low for a bit.
Race: Altmer (High Elf) / Vampire
Age: 952
Appearance:( Ignore the armor ) He has a smooth face, with two long black tattooed streaks going down his face from his eyes, which, when angered, may glow red. normally, however, his eyes are a bright green. His default expression is a look of condescending boredom. His long black hair is kept swept back, and somehow manages to stay nearly immaculate most of the time, though whether this is accomplished magically is anyone's guess. He is very tall, being a high elf and all, at around 6'8". His build is very thin, though if pressed he could muster up some strength. Still, he won't be beating many people in arm wrestling.
Birthsign: The Mage
Class: Stealth Mage (Not feeling creative enough to come up with a good one atm)
Abilities: Illusion (Master), Destruction (Expert: Only uses Lightning spells), Conjuration (Expert: able to summon a familiar, a flame atronach, or a bound sword: doesnt bother with anything else), One handed (with his bound sword, could not effectively use many other weapons), Sneak.
As both an Altmer and a vampire, Volathine is very susceptible to fire, and will often recoil from it out of self-preservation.
Misc. Items: wears a silver pendant inlaid with a blood red soul gem. No special properties. An enchanted flask, which keeps any liquid stored in it fresh for much longer. Currently filled with blood.
Armor: None. wears Black robes, and wears the hood during the rare times when he's forced to travel by day. He covers his hands with a pair of black gloves, inlaid with silver threads.
Personality: On the surface, and for a very long way down, Volathine is, well... a smug, arrogant, snarky, and rude person. In short, a typical altmer. Always ready with a demeaning comment or comeback, he enjoys getting under people's skin. He rarely lets emotions other than boredom, contempt, or amusemant slide through his demeanor. He rarely deems someone his friend, though if it happens, one will notice a slight change in his attitude towards them. slightly. He respects those who are clever, and mocks those who think physical strength is all that matters.
As for other races, he differs slightly in his views from most Altmer. He doesn't feel particularly malevolent towards any of the other races of Tamriel, having seen that each are capable of being just as stupid. Even his own race. On a side note, he absolutely despises the Thalmor, believing they are the embodiment of all the worst traits of his people. It doesn't help that many assume he is one due to his smug attitude.
Bio: Born in a small island in the Summerset Province to a wealthy family, Volathine enjoyed a privileged early life. though at a very young age, in an event he himself barely remembers, he stumbled onto a vampire and was attacked. He survived, in a way. Infected with the Vampire disease, he has wandered through the provinces over the years, staying in towns, crypts, and even the dens of other vampires when he could find them. Over the years, he learned much about magic, his natural talent proving itself. He learned to control his hunger, and trusted himself to stay in towns more, blending in with various societies. Until one day in Skyrim, where a reformed Dawnguard caught wind of his presence in a small Skyrim village. Three of them had him cornered, and he offered to just walk out of town and be on his way, but they refused. With a sigh, he raised his hands, lightning crackling around his fingers.
When all three were disposed of, the whole town watching, he announced his intentions to leave, and if anyone wanted to try to stop him, they were welcome to try. None volunteered. He is currently in an abandoned crypt, attempting to lay low for a bit.
Sawyer the Mindspeaker.... (Fisheye) (Currently Dropped)
Spoiler
Name: Sam Servius (or "Sawyer)
Age: 22
Appearance: Sam stands at about 5'11 and has lanky, non muscled limbs. The Breton's waist is extremely skinny, matching the rest of his body.
Sam is obviously not made for combat and is not ashamed of it, saying that steel is an inferior tool to the mind. On top of his head Sam sports a mane of dark gold, messy hair. His eyes radiate green and are set far apart, giving him a ponderous look. His jaw is well defined and
square, uncoated by facial hair. Sam's ears stick out a little to far and hold back his hair. Overall the Breton can be described as attractive by human and elven races, using this to his advantage.
Race: 90 percent Breton, 10 percent High Elf.
Birth sign: The Mage
Class: (Custom) Mindspeaker
Abilities/Skills: Illusion (Master, the rest aren't used much), Unarmed, Speech, Agility, unarmored, Violin (just for the fun of it).
Armor/clothing: Asortment of civilian clothes,
always paired with a light brown leather long coat, complete with a cowl.
Weapons: small bone handle dirk, scissor at times. (Ancient bladed gauntlet.)
Misc: multiple healing salves, poisoned needles (from a sea urchin, coated with various poisons), hair dye, various different extra clothes for disguises, brass bracket on left wrist.
Special: Intense understanding of the mind, more than gameplay allows (just a warning). The rest is to be decided.
Bio: Sam was born into a rich Breton family in Skingrad. The family made fine "Servius' Secret" wine, a moderately popular wine throughout Tamriel. The young Breton grew up in a nice household with a loving mother, father, and three sisters. From an early age Sam received extensive schooling in all subjects, however the boy cared nothing about his studies, usually getting into all sorts of trouble. Early on Sam's father discovered his sons aptitude in the school of Illusion. Excited that his son could be something (because he was uninterested in his studies) his father sent Sam off to the Imperial City to be privately mentored by an old High Elf.
So the boy set off on a carriage against his will at the age of nine on a rickety old carriage. The Breton nothing with him but some clothes, a bank account in his name provided by his father, and his mothers bracelet. The boy immediately took a disliking to his new ancient high elf mentor. The man was cranky and cold, caring only about increasing his own knowledge in Illusion and earning Mr. Servius' money. Sam's knowledge slowley increased with the aid of his mentor and by the age of 17 he had become par with most wizards three or four times his age. This however was when Sam started to divulge from his past. Just like any other teenager with a large amount of money Sam spent it... All. Hurting on money the Illusionist searched for a way to make some profit before his mentor kicked him out of his home at the age of 18.
So the young man started doing the only real way to make money fast, stealing. So the Breton stole, and stole... And stole. He did this with increasing success, sometimes simply pressing thoughts of urinating into guards minds so he could take the goods the guarded. But just like everyone else his luck eventually ran out. On one particular heist the Breton, now 19, went after his hardest mark ever, his master. Sam entered the building that was once his house, intent on stealing his masters amulet, an amulet that never left his neck. The Breton avenged the stairs to his masters sleeping quarters and entered, not worried about guards that he knew didn't exist. Sam slowley opened the door and crept inside, not making a noise, drifting towards his mentors bed. The old elf was there, slumbering peacefully, gentely snoring. Sam's hands reached for the amulet, fingertips lifting the chains up off of his neck. The amulet was almost off of his head when the elf awoke, eyes shooting open.
The ancient master immediately assaulted Sam. However this assault was not of the blade, the hand, or even the flame, it was of the mind. The elf forced overwhelming thoughts of death and suffering into Sam's mind, petrifying him. However Sam was trained by this very man in these very skills. Sam pushed back, apprentice against master, their minds battling, intertwining. But Sam was not strong enough, he did not have the hundreds of years of practice that the elf did and quickly knew he could not win.
So the Breton did something unexpected, he punched the elf, then again, and again, and again. He beat his face until it was nothing but a pile of mush, continuing without emotion, killing the man that he had spent the last 10 years with. When the deed was done Sam ran, forgetting the amulet. He ran for three years, never staying in one place for two long, stealing, killing, and drinking to stay alive and sane.
Age: 22
Appearance: Sam stands at about 5'11 and has lanky, non muscled limbs. The Breton's waist is extremely skinny, matching the rest of his body.
Sam is obviously not made for combat and is not ashamed of it, saying that steel is an inferior tool to the mind. On top of his head Sam sports a mane of dark gold, messy hair. His eyes radiate green and are set far apart, giving him a ponderous look. His jaw is well defined and
square, uncoated by facial hair. Sam's ears stick out a little to far and hold back his hair. Overall the Breton can be described as attractive by human and elven races, using this to his advantage.
Race: 90 percent Breton, 10 percent High Elf.
Birth sign: The Mage
Class: (Custom) Mindspeaker
Abilities/Skills: Illusion (Master, the rest aren't used much), Unarmed, Speech, Agility, unarmored, Violin (just for the fun of it).
Armor/clothing: Asortment of civilian clothes,
always paired with a light brown leather long coat, complete with a cowl.
Weapons: small bone handle dirk, scissor at times. (Ancient bladed gauntlet.)
Misc: multiple healing salves, poisoned needles (from a sea urchin, coated with various poisons), hair dye, various different extra clothes for disguises, brass bracket on left wrist.
Special: Intense understanding of the mind, more than gameplay allows (just a warning). The rest is to be decided.
Bio: Sam was born into a rich Breton family in Skingrad. The family made fine "Servius' Secret" wine, a moderately popular wine throughout Tamriel. The young Breton grew up in a nice household with a loving mother, father, and three sisters. From an early age Sam received extensive schooling in all subjects, however the boy cared nothing about his studies, usually getting into all sorts of trouble. Early on Sam's father discovered his sons aptitude in the school of Illusion. Excited that his son could be something (because he was uninterested in his studies) his father sent Sam off to the Imperial City to be privately mentored by an old High Elf.
So the boy set off on a carriage against his will at the age of nine on a rickety old carriage. The Breton nothing with him but some clothes, a bank account in his name provided by his father, and his mothers bracelet. The boy immediately took a disliking to his new ancient high elf mentor. The man was cranky and cold, caring only about increasing his own knowledge in Illusion and earning Mr. Servius' money. Sam's knowledge slowley increased with the aid of his mentor and by the age of 17 he had become par with most wizards three or four times his age. This however was when Sam started to divulge from his past. Just like any other teenager with a large amount of money Sam spent it... All. Hurting on money the Illusionist searched for a way to make some profit before his mentor kicked him out of his home at the age of 18.
So the young man started doing the only real way to make money fast, stealing. So the Breton stole, and stole... And stole. He did this with increasing success, sometimes simply pressing thoughts of urinating into guards minds so he could take the goods the guarded. But just like everyone else his luck eventually ran out. On one particular heist the Breton, now 19, went after his hardest mark ever, his master. Sam entered the building that was once his house, intent on stealing his masters amulet, an amulet that never left his neck. The Breton avenged the stairs to his masters sleeping quarters and entered, not worried about guards that he knew didn't exist. Sam slowley opened the door and crept inside, not making a noise, drifting towards his mentors bed. The old elf was there, slumbering peacefully, gentely snoring. Sam's hands reached for the amulet, fingertips lifting the chains up off of his neck. The amulet was almost off of his head when the elf awoke, eyes shooting open.
The ancient master immediately assaulted Sam. However this assault was not of the blade, the hand, or even the flame, it was of the mind. The elf forced overwhelming thoughts of death and suffering into Sam's mind, petrifying him. However Sam was trained by this very man in these very skills. Sam pushed back, apprentice against master, their minds battling, intertwining. But Sam was not strong enough, he did not have the hundreds of years of practice that the elf did and quickly knew he could not win.
So the Breton did something unexpected, he punched the elf, then again, and again, and again. He beat his face until it was nothing but a pile of mush, continuing without emotion, killing the man that he had spent the last 10 years with. When the deed was done Sam ran, forgetting the amulet. He ran for three years, never staying in one place for two long, stealing, killing, and drinking to stay alive and sane.
Halon the Mage.... (Hasn't been seen since first OOC forum Assumed Dropped)
Spoiler
Name: Arcteron (Known publicly as Halon)
Age: 380 (Appears about 40)
Appearance(includes height): Average height for a high elf. Golden skin, eyes, and hair. His golden hair is about shoulder length. He has a gaunt, clever face and sharp, cunning eyes.
Race: Altmer
Birth sign: The Atronach
Class(how you would describe it): Mastermind. He is a great planner and an knowledgable mage.
Abilities list: Skilled in Destruction, Alteration, Illusion, and Sneak. He is also skilled with a dagger.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): None; wears fine clothing or Thalmor Robes.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): Expensive gold ring and amulet.
anything special we should know: Not that I can think of.
character bio(don't include your characters recruitment, I intend to recruit everyone personally):
Arcteron was a Thalmor Justiciar during the time of the Dragonborn. (I am right that this is after Skyrim, right?) He was known for his harsh treatments of Talos worshippers and his unusual methods of sniffing them out.
He discovered that a master of Illusion living in Skyrim was a suspected Talos worshipper. Since he had no evidence, he decided to go undercover and become the man's apprentice. After a few days, Arcteron found proof of this man's worship, and confronted him.
His master, knowing of the extreme punishments used by the Thalmor and not wishing to be caught, tormented Arcteron's mind with Illusion. He tormented Arcteron's mind with the most profound magic he knew for a few minutes, and Sheogorath did the rest. That day, Arcteron lost his sanity.
The Illusionist ended up escaping and Arcteron failed. The thought of his failure tormented him even more. That was when he started murdering people.
First it was an old man in Morthal that Arcteron planted evidence on. Then he poisoned a beggar in Markarth. After that, meticulously murdered a family, then sunk the boat they were on to cover his tracks. Finally, he was caught while trying to kill a drunk in Whiterun. He fled and kept running, and made his way south to Cyrodiil, where he changed his name to Halon and bought a small cottage in Bravil.
Age: 380 (Appears about 40)
Appearance(includes height): Average height for a high elf. Golden skin, eyes, and hair. His golden hair is about shoulder length. He has a gaunt, clever face and sharp, cunning eyes.
Race: Altmer
Birth sign: The Atronach
Class(how you would describe it): Mastermind. He is a great planner and an knowledgable mage.
Abilities list: Skilled in Destruction, Alteration, Illusion, and Sneak. He is also skilled with a dagger.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): None; wears fine clothing or Thalmor Robes.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): Expensive gold ring and amulet.
anything special we should know: Not that I can think of.
character bio(don't include your characters recruitment, I intend to recruit everyone personally):
Arcteron was a Thalmor Justiciar during the time of the Dragonborn. (I am right that this is after Skyrim, right?) He was known for his harsh treatments of Talos worshippers and his unusual methods of sniffing them out.
He discovered that a master of Illusion living in Skyrim was a suspected Talos worshipper. Since he had no evidence, he decided to go undercover and become the man's apprentice. After a few days, Arcteron found proof of this man's worship, and confronted him.
His master, knowing of the extreme punishments used by the Thalmor and not wishing to be caught, tormented Arcteron's mind with Illusion. He tormented Arcteron's mind with the most profound magic he knew for a few minutes, and Sheogorath did the rest. That day, Arcteron lost his sanity.
The Illusionist ended up escaping and Arcteron failed. The thought of his failure tormented him even more. That was when he started murdering people.
First it was an old man in Morthal that Arcteron planted evidence on. Then he poisoned a beggar in Markarth. After that, meticulously murdered a family, then sunk the boat they were on to cover his tracks. Finally, he was caught while trying to kill a drunk in Whiterun. He fled and kept running, and made his way south to Cyrodiil, where he changed his name to Halon and bought a small cottage in Bravil.
Aeron the Marksman.....(Tommy Bozzer)
Spoiler
Name: Aeron
Race: Bosmer
Age: 121 (Looks 24)
Appearance: 5'7 Aeron holds a small nimble frame, typical of a Bosmer. He keeps his light brown hair tied back, keeping it away from his tanned face. Emerald green eyes, that are little more than small slits, are usually the last thing people see, if nothing at all. His elven features are quite prominent, his eyes spread out.
Birthsign: The Thief
Class: Blood Thief
Skills: Blade, Sneak, Marksman, Pickpocket, Acrobatics, Athletics, Security
Armour: Aeron wore a simple green shirt and torn pants, hiding a leather satchel for storing stolen items. On more dangerous heists, the young Bosmer wore leather armour, allowing room for his equpiment.
Misc: A Steel Dagger and occasionally a bow, if it's required. Lockpicks.
Bio: Aeron grew up in the slums of the Imperial City and quickly fell in with the Thieves' Guild. Growing up, his rank grew up too, but he was constantly frowned upon by his conduct during heists. If, when he deemed neccessary, he had no qualms in killing those who opposed him. Marks, witnesses, it didn't matter. The thing that his elders worried about was that he seemed to take great pleasure in commiting these vile acts. Eventually, a heist was botched due to a death Aeron caused and he was exiled from the guild. Despite this, the Wood Elf carried on stealing and selling to the few independant fences, but he was ratted out by his former guildmates. Fleeing the city, Aeron is trying to keep a low profile in Bravil.
Race: Bosmer
Age: 121 (Looks 24)
Appearance: 5'7 Aeron holds a small nimble frame, typical of a Bosmer. He keeps his light brown hair tied back, keeping it away from his tanned face. Emerald green eyes, that are little more than small slits, are usually the last thing people see, if nothing at all. His elven features are quite prominent, his eyes spread out.
Birthsign: The Thief
Class: Blood Thief
Skills: Blade, Sneak, Marksman, Pickpocket, Acrobatics, Athletics, Security
Armour: Aeron wore a simple green shirt and torn pants, hiding a leather satchel for storing stolen items. On more dangerous heists, the young Bosmer wore leather armour, allowing room for his equpiment.
Misc: A Steel Dagger and occasionally a bow, if it's required. Lockpicks.
Bio: Aeron grew up in the slums of the Imperial City and quickly fell in with the Thieves' Guild. Growing up, his rank grew up too, but he was constantly frowned upon by his conduct during heists. If, when he deemed neccessary, he had no qualms in killing those who opposed him. Marks, witnesses, it didn't matter. The thing that his elders worried about was that he seemed to take great pleasure in commiting these vile acts. Eventually, a heist was botched due to a death Aeron caused and he was exiled from the guild. Despite this, the Wood Elf carried on stealing and selling to the few independant fences, but he was ratted out by his former guildmates. Fleeing the city, Aeron is trying to keep a low profile in Bravil.
Mottiere the Spearman... (Yesman)
Spoiler
Name: Mottiere Siccus
Race: Breton with small traces of an Imperial Bloodline
Age: 30
Height: 5ft 7in
Appearance: http://www.screwatta...nter_RENDER.jpg but with longer hair and a thicker beard
Birth sign: The Steed
Class: Spearmen
Combat Skills: Mottiere uses a unique blend of stealth and spear to engage his foes
Non Combat Skills: He is a fast runner, but he doesn’t have any real armor on him
Weapons: A Spear made of darkened steel, and a small dagger that he uses only when he doesn’t have his spear on him… a very rare event.
Armor: http://www.screwatta...nter_RENDER.jpg
misc items: One scroll of teleportation
anything special we should know: Refuses to use anything but healing magic, he believes it ruins the fun of the hunt, uses spears as a tool for sneaking…
History: Mottiere found himself on the run after a… misunderstanding in Bruma. He found himself killing for the joy of the hunt even though he was considered the hunted, but soon his actions were observed by forces unknown to him…
Race: Breton with small traces of an Imperial Bloodline
Age: 30
Height: 5ft 7in
Appearance: http://www.screwatta...nter_RENDER.jpg but with longer hair and a thicker beard
Birth sign: The Steed
Class: Spearmen
Combat Skills: Mottiere uses a unique blend of stealth and spear to engage his foes
Non Combat Skills: He is a fast runner, but he doesn’t have any real armor on him
Weapons: A Spear made of darkened steel, and a small dagger that he uses only when he doesn’t have his spear on him… a very rare event.
Armor: http://www.screwatta...nter_RENDER.jpg
misc items: One scroll of teleportation
anything special we should know: Refuses to use anything but healing magic, he believes it ruins the fun of the hunt, uses spears as a tool for sneaking…
History: Mottiere found himself on the run after a… misunderstanding in Bruma. He found himself killing for the joy of the hunt even though he was considered the hunted, but soon his actions were observed by forces unknown to him…
Aries the Proper assassin (Athell) (ezio)
Spoiler
Name: Aries
Age: 27
Appearance: . By a quirk of fortune he is a surprisingly attractive man. His blue eyes stand out the most, bright blue as if lit from behind. Aries has blond hair that he keeps well cut but not too short. At 6ft it's not his height that makes him stand out in a crowd.
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: Lover
Class: High Class Assassin
Abilities list: Speechcraft, Shortblade, Alchemy, Throwing Weapons, Sneak.
Armor: Two sets of fine clothing and various other clothes of varying quality.
Misc items: A stilleto dagger he keeps up his sleeve, a brace of throwing knives of various lengths coded with braille for easy selection, a range of poisons of different effects and a steel short sword he wears more for show than use.
Anything special we should know: Aries specialises in talking his way close to his target and killing them silently, if he is unable to charm his way close to the target then he has to knock anyone in the way out. He dislikes collateral damage and always avoids killing anyone except his target.
Character Bio: Aries grew up the son of wealthy parents but the ease of this life made him seek for his excitement elsewhere. He spent his time chasing women in the Imperial City and became skilled at seducing them, a skill he would use later. It was during one of these seductions that he learnt of a plot to remove his fathers wealth. Like a good son would he instantly informed his parents of the conspiracy against them. Together they formed a plan to kill the leader of their enemies and crumble the plot. The plan called for someone to infiltrate a party and kill him in the open as a message.
Aries was the obvious choice for the assassin and he took the job willingly. The plan went smoothly up until the kill, his inexperienced hand caused him to slash wildly at his foe, he severed the Carotid artery causing blood to shoot across the party hall. This messy kill served to send two messages, the intended one and one that described Aries as an assassin.
It wasn't long before he was approached with a request, he was to kill a high born lady who was blackmailing another lady. This kill went far better than the last, he talked his way into the lady's bedroom and poisoned her. More requests followed and Aries began to build a name for himself amongst certain circles.
Age: 27
Appearance: . By a quirk of fortune he is a surprisingly attractive man. His blue eyes stand out the most, bright blue as if lit from behind. Aries has blond hair that he keeps well cut but not too short. At 6ft it's not his height that makes him stand out in a crowd.
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: Lover
Class: High Class Assassin
Abilities list: Speechcraft, Shortblade, Alchemy, Throwing Weapons, Sneak.
Armor: Two sets of fine clothing and various other clothes of varying quality.
Misc items: A stilleto dagger he keeps up his sleeve, a brace of throwing knives of various lengths coded with braille for easy selection, a range of poisons of different effects and a steel short sword he wears more for show than use.
Anything special we should know: Aries specialises in talking his way close to his target and killing them silently, if he is unable to charm his way close to the target then he has to knock anyone in the way out. He dislikes collateral damage and always avoids killing anyone except his target.
Character Bio: Aries grew up the son of wealthy parents but the ease of this life made him seek for his excitement elsewhere. He spent his time chasing women in the Imperial City and became skilled at seducing them, a skill he would use later. It was during one of these seductions that he learnt of a plot to remove his fathers wealth. Like a good son would he instantly informed his parents of the conspiracy against them. Together they formed a plan to kill the leader of their enemies and crumble the plot. The plan called for someone to infiltrate a party and kill him in the open as a message.
Aries was the obvious choice for the assassin and he took the job willingly. The plan went smoothly up until the kill, his inexperienced hand caused him to slash wildly at his foe, he severed the Carotid artery causing blood to shoot across the party hall. This messy kill served to send two messages, the intended one and one that described Aries as an assassin.
It wasn't long before he was approached with a request, he was to kill a high born lady who was blackmailing another lady. This kill went far better than the last, he talked his way into the lady's bedroom and poisoned her. More requests followed and Aries began to build a name for himself amongst certain circles.
Reco Shawdowscale deserter (hasn't been seen since second OOC assumed Dropped)
Spoiler
Name: Reco Soucek
Age: 38
Appearance(includes height): 5' 11", He has many spiky horns on his head, a few of the horns are broken after many fights, he has a scar over his right eye, his skin is a reddish-green tint and yellow eyes.
Race: Argonian
Birth sign: The Thief
Class(how you would describe it): Assassin-Thief
Abilities list: He can use daggers, arrows, and can smooth talk people.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Shadowscale Armor
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): His father's amulet, lockpicks, money, and his personal dagger he forged himself (Elven kind of), and scars are on appearance.
anything special we should know: Former Shadowscale, he smooth talks people before stabbing them in the back, if he doesn't have his weapon he uses the environment to his advantage.
character bio(don't include your characters recruitment, I intend to recruit everyone personally): From the time Reco was born he was raised as a Shadowscale. His father was his teacher but he had to kill his father after he plotted the Shadowscale's downfall. He took his father's amulet which he believes is blessed and helps him see in the dark. He continued working for the Shadowscales but they were always cautious of him after his father. One night he got in a fight with a fellow member after they insulted his family. The Shadowscales finally found their evidence to get rid of him and he was expelled from the Shadowscales. One day he was out in a swamp when he saw a group of Imperials. He snuck behind them and followed them. One night when he was watching from a tree he fell asleep and fell out of the tree. The Imperials caught him and enslaved him, along with a few other Argonians. They stripped him of his gear and threw it away in a box that they locked up and kept in the back of their cart. When they got to Cyrodiil he had to work as a slave in an illegal mine that used to be abandoned. One day, after a few years, he got all the other Argonians together and with their pickaxes they began to kill the Imperials who captured them. He found his gear in the basemant of their house and ran off to the Imperial City. He heard about the arena and wanted to make a name for himself and signed up. He has a house in the Talos District but find the arena boring and he wants something more. He longs for redemption of the Shadowscales, or something better.
Age: 38
Appearance(includes height): 5' 11", He has many spiky horns on his head, a few of the horns are broken after many fights, he has a scar over his right eye, his skin is a reddish-green tint and yellow eyes.
Race: Argonian
Birth sign: The Thief
Class(how you would describe it): Assassin-Thief
Abilities list: He can use daggers, arrows, and can smooth talk people.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Shadowscale Armor
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): His father's amulet, lockpicks, money, and his personal dagger he forged himself (Elven kind of), and scars are on appearance.
anything special we should know: Former Shadowscale, he smooth talks people before stabbing them in the back, if he doesn't have his weapon he uses the environment to his advantage.
character bio(don't include your characters recruitment, I intend to recruit everyone personally): From the time Reco was born he was raised as a Shadowscale. His father was his teacher but he had to kill his father after he plotted the Shadowscale's downfall. He took his father's amulet which he believes is blessed and helps him see in the dark. He continued working for the Shadowscales but they were always cautious of him after his father. One night he got in a fight with a fellow member after they insulted his family. The Shadowscales finally found their evidence to get rid of him and he was expelled from the Shadowscales. One day he was out in a swamp when he saw a group of Imperials. He snuck behind them and followed them. One night when he was watching from a tree he fell asleep and fell out of the tree. The Imperials caught him and enslaved him, along with a few other Argonians. They stripped him of his gear and threw it away in a box that they locked up and kept in the back of their cart. When they got to Cyrodiil he had to work as a slave in an illegal mine that used to be abandoned. One day, after a few years, he got all the other Argonians together and with their pickaxes they began to kill the Imperials who captured them. He found his gear in the basemant of their house and ran off to the Imperial City. He heard about the arena and wanted to make a name for himself and signed up. He has a house in the Talos District but find the arena boring and he wants something more. He longs for redemption of the Shadowscales, or something better.
Marcus The Gladiator (Assumed Dropped)
Spoiler
Name:Marcus
Age:37
Appearance(includes height): 5' 11"
Race: Imperial
Birth sign:The Warrior
Class(how you would describe it): A former Legionairre turned gladiator. Marcus was always a bruiser. He isn't especially bright or clever, but he can punch down a horse. He fights with light armor and a gladius, prefering to get close to his enemy.
Abilities list: He is strong, well trained in short swords, light armor, and unarmed combat.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Arena Armor, with the left pauldron replaced with the face of a dragon, and no right pauldron. On the chest plate was the mark of the legion.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): The brand of the Legion in his right shoulder.
anything special we should know: He is a legion deserter, and ran from the arena when his real identity was found out. He turned to the brotherhood because he had no where else to go. He is not very religious, and finds it hard to buy all this "Sithis Crap."
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary): Marcus joined the Legion two years before he came of age by faking his signature. He was well respected as a fighter, and was often used as a vanguard. However, he was also dangerous outside of battle, and he murdered a fellow soldier in a bar fight, and ran away.
After that, he joined the Arena under a false name, and became a gladiator, until the Legion found him, and forced him to go back under cover.
A Speaker finally found him, and recruited him, telling him to kill a corrupt Imperial Watch Captain. Marcus beat his head in in front of his men, laughing.
He was then sent to the new Cheydinhal sanctuary.
Age:37
Appearance(includes height): 5' 11"
Race: Imperial
Birth sign:The Warrior
Class(how you would describe it): A former Legionairre turned gladiator. Marcus was always a bruiser. He isn't especially bright or clever, but he can punch down a horse. He fights with light armor and a gladius, prefering to get close to his enemy.
Abilities list: He is strong, well trained in short swords, light armor, and unarmed combat.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Arena Armor, with the left pauldron replaced with the face of a dragon, and no right pauldron. On the chest plate was the mark of the legion.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): The brand of the Legion in his right shoulder.
anything special we should know: He is a legion deserter, and ran from the arena when his real identity was found out. He turned to the brotherhood because he had no where else to go. He is not very religious, and finds it hard to buy all this "Sithis Crap."
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary): Marcus joined the Legion two years before he came of age by faking his signature. He was well respected as a fighter, and was often used as a vanguard. However, he was also dangerous outside of battle, and he murdered a fellow soldier in a bar fight, and ran away.
After that, he joined the Arena under a false name, and became a gladiator, until the Legion found him, and forced him to go back under cover.
A Speaker finally found him, and recruited him, telling him to kill a corrupt Imperial Watch Captain. Marcus beat his head in in front of his men, laughing.
He was then sent to the new Cheydinhal sanctuary.
Tul The Assassin (WITYM)
Spoiler
Name:Tul
Age:26
Appearance(includes height):5'9, average height, Tul appears to look like a typical lizard. Slim, black eyes. There is just nothing unique about his appearance to a non Argonians. (Except for being an Argonian.)
Race:Argonian
Birth sign: The Shadow
Class(how you would describe it): He does not give how he does his "Profession" a class. He just goes as an assassin or Hitman. Though he uses Illusion, (Not an expert) Alchemy, (To brew poisons.) and overall sneak around.
Abilities list: He can disguise as others, sneak in the dark, persuasive, poison with weapons and food.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Leather armor
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): A gold ring.
anything special we should know:Despite wanting to be in the brotherhood, he does not care about Sithis or the Night Mother. All he wants is to do what he was trained his whole life. To kill. So there may be situations that will question his loyalty to the Brotherhood.
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary): In short, he does not remember much of his life. He grew up as a slave Child in Morrowind. At 13, he managed to escape from the chains of house Dre by managing to avoid detection. Throughout his life, he self taught himself in the arts of stealth and became an expert at it. Several years later, at age 26, he inflitrated his former master's compound and slit his, and his families throat for revenge of his mistreatment as a slave. By the time they were found dead it was too late and Tul was on his way to Black Marsh. He is currently in a camp, not knowing that he attracted the attention of the Brotherhood.
Age:26
Appearance(includes height):5'9, average height, Tul appears to look like a typical lizard. Slim, black eyes. There is just nothing unique about his appearance to a non Argonians. (Except for being an Argonian.)
Race:Argonian
Birth sign: The Shadow
Class(how you would describe it): He does not give how he does his "Profession" a class. He just goes as an assassin or Hitman. Though he uses Illusion, (Not an expert) Alchemy, (To brew poisons.) and overall sneak around.
Abilities list: He can disguise as others, sneak in the dark, persuasive, poison with weapons and food.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Leather armor
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): A gold ring.
anything special we should know:Despite wanting to be in the brotherhood, he does not care about Sithis or the Night Mother. All he wants is to do what he was trained his whole life. To kill. So there may be situations that will question his loyalty to the Brotherhood.
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary): In short, he does not remember much of his life. He grew up as a slave Child in Morrowind. At 13, he managed to escape from the chains of house Dre by managing to avoid detection. Throughout his life, he self taught himself in the arts of stealth and became an expert at it. Several years later, at age 26, he inflitrated his former master's compound and slit his, and his families throat for revenge of his mistreatment as a slave. By the time they were found dead it was too late and Tul was on his way to Black Marsh. He is currently in a camp, not knowing that he attracted the attention of the Brotherhood.
Alecor the Instructor (Magus the Red)
Spoiler
Name: Alecor Valterayn
Age: 712.
Appearance(includes height): a high elf, he has Purple eyes, unsettling to those unused to such a colour, he stands at 6ft 2inches, he has grey and black hair, a grizzled veteran of various fights, this however has come with various adornments, visible in a longitudal scar on the right hand side of his forehead, various scars on his body, albeit few as befits his experience, when he speaks, if his weapon is sheathed, his left hand will rest on the hilt of his sword while the other will emphasise his point, he is muscular for a high elf, but not rippling like a nord barbarian.
Race: High Elf
Birth sign: The Warrior
Class(how you would describe it):Dark Brotherhood Instructor
Abilities list:a skilled swordsman, he can use his wit, while not weak in magic he isn't too strong in it either, having the magic skill of an average but a very firm grasp of theory, he prefers the use of heavy armour.
Armor: in the training room or whenever in battle, he wears a strange armor, the armour is black steel (Skyrim Style, apart from the helmet and waist cloth bit) but rather than wearing a helmet as that restricts his vision, he wears a grey coak and hood. when normal, usually apparel that suits him.
weapons:He utilises a steel schiavona with silver mixed in, forged by a master smith who's last request was to forge one last sword, before being given the grace of having a quick death than the one asked for in the contract.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): other than the scar on his forehead, he does wear a silver ring on his left hand, the gem displayed on it is actually a store of Magicka reserves, stored over time and used when needed.
anything special we should know: has a son, wife died after childbirth, holds the rank of warlock with the mages guild, thats about it.
character bio: born in Chorrol he was raised by his middle-class High elven parents and travelled around as a Battlemage-for-hire for a time before joining the imperial legion, he served for a while before retiring and working as a battlemage-for-hire again in the profitable political zone of the summerset isles, earning a reputation, he returned to mainland tamriel, being used in the courts of high rock, then hammerfell, then elsweyr and finally morrowind where he joined the dark brotherhood, he put his skills to use as a trainer for new recruits, before retiring from the business after around 400 years service on the premise that he return if called and would harbor any brotherhood assasins on their way to a mission, he rested combfortably having elevated his social position in cyrodiil, mainly with the mages guild and the church of julianos.
one day however he was walking back to his house after a lecture to some new hopeful on the properties of ritualistic summoning of the daedric and how to sufficiently bind them so as to serve you, visible in the fact that he once had a scamp butler, a voice spoke from the darkness "Alecor Valterayn? yes it is you, the dark brotherhood calls upon your services once more, a new era is to begin and requires your expertise to shape it into a more potent weapon than some past families" alecor paused, his hand lowered from the crackle of a shock spell.
"Its been nigh on 100 years since I served the Brotherhood as a family member, I assume my position of Assasin will be returned, along with transportation of Items I will require", the reply was cold "Both are already yours, I expect to see you soon, welcome back to the family brother" with that the shadow moved away leaving a note "The password" alecor said simply, a guard walked round the corner "Its a bit late Mr. Valterayn, I'd suggest returning home in case any vagabonds are at hand", alecor chuckled "That I'll do Cassius, That I'll do" he replied and walked off home to prepare for a return to the family.
Age: 712.
Appearance(includes height): a high elf, he has Purple eyes, unsettling to those unused to such a colour, he stands at 6ft 2inches, he has grey and black hair, a grizzled veteran of various fights, this however has come with various adornments, visible in a longitudal scar on the right hand side of his forehead, various scars on his body, albeit few as befits his experience, when he speaks, if his weapon is sheathed, his left hand will rest on the hilt of his sword while the other will emphasise his point, he is muscular for a high elf, but not rippling like a nord barbarian.
Race: High Elf
Birth sign: The Warrior
Class(how you would describe it):Dark Brotherhood Instructor
Abilities list:a skilled swordsman, he can use his wit, while not weak in magic he isn't too strong in it either, having the magic skill of an average but a very firm grasp of theory, he prefers the use of heavy armour.
Armor: in the training room or whenever in battle, he wears a strange armor, the armour is black steel (Skyrim Style, apart from the helmet and waist cloth bit) but rather than wearing a helmet as that restricts his vision, he wears a grey coak and hood. when normal, usually apparel that suits him.
weapons:He utilises a steel schiavona with silver mixed in, forged by a master smith who's last request was to forge one last sword, before being given the grace of having a quick death than the one asked for in the contract.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): other than the scar on his forehead, he does wear a silver ring on his left hand, the gem displayed on it is actually a store of Magicka reserves, stored over time and used when needed.
anything special we should know: has a son, wife died after childbirth, holds the rank of warlock with the mages guild, thats about it.
character bio: born in Chorrol he was raised by his middle-class High elven parents and travelled around as a Battlemage-for-hire for a time before joining the imperial legion, he served for a while before retiring and working as a battlemage-for-hire again in the profitable political zone of the summerset isles, earning a reputation, he returned to mainland tamriel, being used in the courts of high rock, then hammerfell, then elsweyr and finally morrowind where he joined the dark brotherhood, he put his skills to use as a trainer for new recruits, before retiring from the business after around 400 years service on the premise that he return if called and would harbor any brotherhood assasins on their way to a mission, he rested combfortably having elevated his social position in cyrodiil, mainly with the mages guild and the church of julianos.
one day however he was walking back to his house after a lecture to some new hopeful on the properties of ritualistic summoning of the daedric and how to sufficiently bind them so as to serve you, visible in the fact that he once had a scamp butler, a voice spoke from the darkness "Alecor Valterayn? yes it is you, the dark brotherhood calls upon your services once more, a new era is to begin and requires your expertise to shape it into a more potent weapon than some past families" alecor paused, his hand lowered from the crackle of a shock spell.
"Its been nigh on 100 years since I served the Brotherhood as a family member, I assume my position of Assasin will be returned, along with transportation of Items I will require", the reply was cold "Both are already yours, I expect to see you soon, welcome back to the family brother" with that the shadow moved away leaving a note "The password" alecor said simply, a guard walked round the corner "Its a bit late Mr. Valterayn, I'd suggest returning home in case any vagabonds are at hand", alecor chuckled "That I'll do Cassius, That I'll do" he replied and walked off home to prepare for a return to the family.
Phenix (Currently Banned from this RP Via order of GM)
Spoiler
http://imageshack.us...sambavideo.jpg/
Name: Phenix PureBlood Werewolf
Age: looks 20 but older then dirt
Appearance: 5/6 Slender-with all the right curves in all the right places, Icy blue eyes, Waist length waving blonde hair, unblemished sun-kissed skin w/no scaring
Race: PureBlood Werewolf
Birth Sign: The Lady
Class: Lover not a fighter but will fight for the innocent
Abilities: mounted horse combat
Armor: White long sleeve/off shoulder Leather & Lace corselet top, lace up legs leather pants, matching gloves with silver tip claws in fingers, 3in.stiletto knee-high lace up leather boots. Seduction armor: white sheer satin/silk bustier/ off shoulder/low cut back form fitting gown
Weapon: dagger, silver clawed leather gloves
Misc: Transform to Wolf at free will, master at Seduction of all kinds, Master Horsewomen
Bio:
They say I am a Mythical creature (Sacred,) who dates back to the God Akatosh the chief deity of the Nine Divines. They say I was created as a gift to his Wife the Goddess Mara. The Goddess took a liking to the white wolves that Akatosh made and when he saw Mara smile he simply asked her to choose one. As she looked down below she chose a small slender female wolf with snow white fur and icy blue eyes. Akatosh asked, "why that one my dear, don't you want the strongest of that pack?" She simply said "no my dear, I want the one that that is showing the pack love and trying very hard to keep the peace, that is the female wolf I choose." With such love and compassion Mara took the white frail wolf in her embrace and whispered, "I am your Mother now." Akatosh was overcome with joy seeing how he pleased his Wife, and when he leaned in and kissed her Goddess Lips the Wolf immediately changed into a female Women who resembled Mara's unsurpassed beauty. Both Gods were surprised by this and over joyed by their new creation. Akatosh said, "what shall we call her?"
"I don't know, we should wait and see who she becomes before we give her a name," Mara replied.
For many years who can really say how long to the Father of time himself but Akatosh taught me many things of the Tamerialic religions. He gifted me in Wolf form all his Blessings of Endurance, Invincibility and Everlasting legitimacy. He gifted me a magical Unicorn mare named Marsamba to act as my Guardian.
Mara gifted me in Women form Willpower, compassion, and the greatest gift of them all was Love. She withheld from me fertility for both Gods were in agreement my blood was pure and one of a kind and should stay that way for all eternity.
The news spread quickly around the Divines some came to see me and welcomed me with open arms like the Goddess of Beauty Dibella. She had some of her best Artist even paint beautiful pictures of me that to my knowledge hangs on the walls of the Imperial palace and some in Dibella's chapels. Dibella taught me what it is like to be a beautiful women in this harsh world below and how to use my beauty as a weapon if I needed too. She like my Mother Mara lavished me with spoils beyond understandings.
Not all Divines where happy with what Akatosh and Mara made, they so feared that the cosmic balance has shifted in all these years as I lived with the Gods. Soon the news spread and the Daedric became involved (as they love to do) and sided with the other Divines demanding that I be Cast down to live in a Mortal world and that Akatosh take back what they like to call Immortality and that would satisfied them. The others agreed and so the story goes like this:
Human Historians describe me as a Werewolf or Pure Bred Werewolf with snow white fur and icy blue eyes. I am small in stature as a wolf (no more than 100 lbs.) with the blessings of Akatosh: speed/endurance. He also bestowed upon me Magicka that was Time itself. They say I have a 500 to 1000 year life cycle, near the end of which I die and burn fiercely and I'm reduced to ash. From this ash I am reborn anew to live again. My Unicorn Guardian was to follow me but was stripped of her horn and only I could see her true identity. In Women form I am small and thin with snow white long blonde hair with the very same icy blue eyes. Mara blessed me with: her Compassion for wanting to help people, she bestowed in me the biggest heart of love for all creatures, she gave me a heart that wanted to find peace and harmony in all that I do. Goddess Dibella's blessing was of continuous Beauty, for my skin would glow as if it was sun kissed forever never showing any scars threw the battles she knew was coming my way. She gifted me with unbridled Passion that burns from within my very soul in all that I do.
When the Gods cast me down they erased my memory of them and only left their teachings in my mind. They feared I would be persecuted and always chased, hunted for being the Pure Blood wolf. I knew the Divines now only as Gods that people worship. For I know not who or what I am, I do know I am an instrument of love for the world to see to give hope and faith to the lost. They say my cry is like a song of truth and love for
all things. From love I was created and from Passion I burn and die, from ashes I rise up to be Reborn again. Destined to walk this world alone or so I thought....
"Life is hard when you don't know WHO you are, it's harder still when you don't know WHAT you are. I have been lost for years searching while hiding. Only to find myself in a world of hate and fear. I won't Hide anymore!
I will live the life I choose," Phenix.
Name: Phenix PureBlood Werewolf
Age: looks 20 but older then dirt
Appearance: 5/6 Slender-with all the right curves in all the right places, Icy blue eyes, Waist length waving blonde hair, unblemished sun-kissed skin w/no scaring
Race: PureBlood Werewolf
Birth Sign: The Lady
Class: Lover not a fighter but will fight for the innocent
Abilities: mounted horse combat
Armor: White long sleeve/off shoulder Leather & Lace corselet top, lace up legs leather pants, matching gloves with silver tip claws in fingers, 3in.stiletto knee-high lace up leather boots. Seduction armor: white sheer satin/silk bustier/ off shoulder/low cut back form fitting gown
Weapon: dagger, silver clawed leather gloves
Misc: Transform to Wolf at free will, master at Seduction of all kinds, Master Horsewomen
Bio:
They say I am a Mythical creature (Sacred,) who dates back to the God Akatosh the chief deity of the Nine Divines. They say I was created as a gift to his Wife the Goddess Mara. The Goddess took a liking to the white wolves that Akatosh made and when he saw Mara smile he simply asked her to choose one. As she looked down below she chose a small slender female wolf with snow white fur and icy blue eyes. Akatosh asked, "why that one my dear, don't you want the strongest of that pack?" She simply said "no my dear, I want the one that that is showing the pack love and trying very hard to keep the peace, that is the female wolf I choose." With such love and compassion Mara took the white frail wolf in her embrace and whispered, "I am your Mother now." Akatosh was overcome with joy seeing how he pleased his Wife, and when he leaned in and kissed her Goddess Lips the Wolf immediately changed into a female Women who resembled Mara's unsurpassed beauty. Both Gods were surprised by this and over joyed by their new creation. Akatosh said, "what shall we call her?"
"I don't know, we should wait and see who she becomes before we give her a name," Mara replied.
For many years who can really say how long to the Father of time himself but Akatosh taught me many things of the Tamerialic religions. He gifted me in Wolf form all his Blessings of Endurance, Invincibility and Everlasting legitimacy. He gifted me a magical Unicorn mare named Marsamba to act as my Guardian.
Mara gifted me in Women form Willpower, compassion, and the greatest gift of them all was Love. She withheld from me fertility for both Gods were in agreement my blood was pure and one of a kind and should stay that way for all eternity.
The news spread quickly around the Divines some came to see me and welcomed me with open arms like the Goddess of Beauty Dibella. She had some of her best Artist even paint beautiful pictures of me that to my knowledge hangs on the walls of the Imperial palace and some in Dibella's chapels. Dibella taught me what it is like to be a beautiful women in this harsh world below and how to use my beauty as a weapon if I needed too. She like my Mother Mara lavished me with spoils beyond understandings.
Not all Divines where happy with what Akatosh and Mara made, they so feared that the cosmic balance has shifted in all these years as I lived with the Gods. Soon the news spread and the Daedric became involved (as they love to do) and sided with the other Divines demanding that I be Cast down to live in a Mortal world and that Akatosh take back what they like to call Immortality and that would satisfied them. The others agreed and so the story goes like this:
Human Historians describe me as a Werewolf or Pure Bred Werewolf with snow white fur and icy blue eyes. I am small in stature as a wolf (no more than 100 lbs.) with the blessings of Akatosh: speed/endurance. He also bestowed upon me Magicka that was Time itself. They say I have a 500 to 1000 year life cycle, near the end of which I die and burn fiercely and I'm reduced to ash. From this ash I am reborn anew to live again. My Unicorn Guardian was to follow me but was stripped of her horn and only I could see her true identity. In Women form I am small and thin with snow white long blonde hair with the very same icy blue eyes. Mara blessed me with: her Compassion for wanting to help people, she bestowed in me the biggest heart of love for all creatures, she gave me a heart that wanted to find peace and harmony in all that I do. Goddess Dibella's blessing was of continuous Beauty, for my skin would glow as if it was sun kissed forever never showing any scars threw the battles she knew was coming my way. She gifted me with unbridled Passion that burns from within my very soul in all that I do.
When the Gods cast me down they erased my memory of them and only left their teachings in my mind. They feared I would be persecuted and always chased, hunted for being the Pure Blood wolf. I knew the Divines now only as Gods that people worship. For I know not who or what I am, I do know I am an instrument of love for the world to see to give hope and faith to the lost. They say my cry is like a song of truth and love for
all things. From love I was created and from Passion I burn and die, from ashes I rise up to be Reborn again. Destined to walk this world alone or so I thought....
"Life is hard when you don't know WHO you are, it's harder still when you don't know WHAT you are. I have been lost for years searching while hiding. Only to find myself in a world of hate and fear. I won't Hide anymore!
I will live the life I choose," Phenix.
Arakazi's Character, Zalhen the Master of Disguise.
Spoiler
Name: Zalhen
Age: 25
Appearance(includes height): 5’9. Brown hair and eyes. The very essences of average.
Race: Imperial
Birth sign: The Serpent
Class(how you would describe it): NightBlade/ Assassin
Abilities list: Excels in the use of dagger and throwing knives as well as the bow. Well versed in stealth as well as the mystic arts of the illusion school.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Depends on what I’m doing.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): None. Nothing that makes him stand out or draws attention.
anything special we should know: Master in disguising himself. Well versed in history and politics and languages of all provinces. Enjoys games of strategy.
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary):
Born to a courtesan in one of the brothels in the imperial city Zalhen discovered at an early age how hard life could be for those not born to a higher station. At the age of 10 one of his mother’s “gentlemen” visitors became to aggressive and ended up killing his mother as he lay in the next room. All that he remembers of that night is the man with a scar over his left eye and a lope-sided grin and the feel of the sticky floor has he ran into the night. Living in the streets of the waterfront district of the city brought many challenges to the young boy and forced him to mature at a callous rate.
Zalhen found he had a natural talent for the stealthy arts of a thief and worked to develop those skills to ensure his survival. Of course thieves working independently of the thieves’ guild are frowned upon in the imperial city, so a visitor came calling one day and so began Zalhen’s life in the guild. As his talents grew, he found that the thrill of formulating a plan and seeing it pay off in success was as addictive as the theft itself. He took it upon himself to studying his marks and learning their ways and manners, so as to get closer to them and give him a better chance of succeeding in his endeavors. With such dedication Zalhen learned to disguise himself in various ways, so much so that even those close to him couldn’t know him if they were looking. This helped save his life many times over the years.
Though he didn’t agree with all the guilds tenants Zalhen made a name for himself within the guild until one job turned his life around and set him upon his true calling. Killing isn’t something that the guild tolerates as it calls unwanted attention to those who prefer anonymity, but this night was different. Zalhen entered The King and Queen Tavern in the elven district of the city in a mood to par-take of some of the entertainment to be found there. As he sat down he noticed a face that jumped from his nightmares as a child…. It was the man with the scar and lope-sided smile! Time stopped! Sitting across from him was a man he though dead and forgotten for 15 years, the murder of his mother, a key player in a recurring nightmare. It took everything that he had and all his years of training to stop him from rushing the table and killing the man on the spot. Instead Zalhen watched the man for the rest of the night and followed him out as the man got up and left the tavern in the arms of tipsy bosmer female. Silent as a shadow and harder to see, Zalhen followed the man to his home. He took up a vantage on the roof of the building across from the man’s abode and watched, lost in thought. Patients was a hard-won but lifesaving virtue that Zalhen had worked out to master, he watched the comings and goings of the man for nearly 3 weeks before finding the opening he needed to get close to the man. Using his talents Zalhen disguised himself as a serving boy in a tavern that the man frequented and waited. The man, right on schedule, showed and ordered his drinks. He was served promptly and often as was his normal routine. In the last round the man received a little extra than what he payed for, that being a slow acting poison that Zalhen had slipped in to the drink. Zalhen slipped out of the tavern before the man and watched from the shadows as the man stumbled out of the tavern on his way home again in the arms of another female. Zalhen allowed the man to make it home and enjoy his last tryst, waiting for the poison to take effect. A groan alerted Zalhen that the time was near, and using the sounds of the man’s pain as a cover, entered the house. The scene that greeted was fitting. The man was beside the bed on his hands and knees vomiting while his lady friend backed toward the door in terror. She was so focused on the main and his pain that she bumped into Zalhen. Turning around she looked at Zalhen with eyes full of fear and started to scream but only a wet gurgle issued forth. She never seen Zalhen move but he had drawn his blade across her throat and passed her by to stand over the dying man. As the body of the female hit the ground Zalhen whispered to the man, “No witnesses”. Even in the pain he was in the man stared at Zalhen and asked “why”. Zalhen looked the man in the eyes and told him “I just wanted to you to know who it was” and so saying stabbed the man in the heart.
Zalhen left the house as silently as he had entered it and started down the street with a feeling of completion. As he passed by a shadowed alcove he froze. “What do you want?” he spoke in to the night air as his hands inched towards his daggers. A chuckled greeted his question from the direction of the lightless alcove. “There is no need for that” said the voice and Zalhens hands stopped. “Well done back there by the way. It seems patients is one of your virtues, a quality I think we could use. Why don’t you come with me, I have some “friends” I want you to meet.” Zalhen turned around to see a man dressed in shadows step from the alcove his eyes shining in mirth. “Oh yes, but I think the Night Mother chose well. The brotherhood will be pleased indeed” Zalhen’s only answer has he followed this deadly shadow of a man was a smile.
Age: 25
Appearance(includes height): 5’9. Brown hair and eyes. The very essences of average.
Race: Imperial
Birth sign: The Serpent
Class(how you would describe it): NightBlade/ Assassin
Abilities list: Excels in the use of dagger and throwing knives as well as the bow. Well versed in stealth as well as the mystic arts of the illusion school.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): Depends on what I’m doing.
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): None. Nothing that makes him stand out or draws attention.
anything special we should know: Master in disguising himself. Well versed in history and politics and languages of all provinces. Enjoys games of strategy.
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary):
Born to a courtesan in one of the brothels in the imperial city Zalhen discovered at an early age how hard life could be for those not born to a higher station. At the age of 10 one of his mother’s “gentlemen” visitors became to aggressive and ended up killing his mother as he lay in the next room. All that he remembers of that night is the man with a scar over his left eye and a lope-sided grin and the feel of the sticky floor has he ran into the night. Living in the streets of the waterfront district of the city brought many challenges to the young boy and forced him to mature at a callous rate.
Zalhen found he had a natural talent for the stealthy arts of a thief and worked to develop those skills to ensure his survival. Of course thieves working independently of the thieves’ guild are frowned upon in the imperial city, so a visitor came calling one day and so began Zalhen’s life in the guild. As his talents grew, he found that the thrill of formulating a plan and seeing it pay off in success was as addictive as the theft itself. He took it upon himself to studying his marks and learning their ways and manners, so as to get closer to them and give him a better chance of succeeding in his endeavors. With such dedication Zalhen learned to disguise himself in various ways, so much so that even those close to him couldn’t know him if they were looking. This helped save his life many times over the years.
Though he didn’t agree with all the guilds tenants Zalhen made a name for himself within the guild until one job turned his life around and set him upon his true calling. Killing isn’t something that the guild tolerates as it calls unwanted attention to those who prefer anonymity, but this night was different. Zalhen entered The King and Queen Tavern in the elven district of the city in a mood to par-take of some of the entertainment to be found there. As he sat down he noticed a face that jumped from his nightmares as a child…. It was the man with the scar and lope-sided smile! Time stopped! Sitting across from him was a man he though dead and forgotten for 15 years, the murder of his mother, a key player in a recurring nightmare. It took everything that he had and all his years of training to stop him from rushing the table and killing the man on the spot. Instead Zalhen watched the man for the rest of the night and followed him out as the man got up and left the tavern in the arms of tipsy bosmer female. Silent as a shadow and harder to see, Zalhen followed the man to his home. He took up a vantage on the roof of the building across from the man’s abode and watched, lost in thought. Patients was a hard-won but lifesaving virtue that Zalhen had worked out to master, he watched the comings and goings of the man for nearly 3 weeks before finding the opening he needed to get close to the man. Using his talents Zalhen disguised himself as a serving boy in a tavern that the man frequented and waited. The man, right on schedule, showed and ordered his drinks. He was served promptly and often as was his normal routine. In the last round the man received a little extra than what he payed for, that being a slow acting poison that Zalhen had slipped in to the drink. Zalhen slipped out of the tavern before the man and watched from the shadows as the man stumbled out of the tavern on his way home again in the arms of another female. Zalhen allowed the man to make it home and enjoy his last tryst, waiting for the poison to take effect. A groan alerted Zalhen that the time was near, and using the sounds of the man’s pain as a cover, entered the house. The scene that greeted was fitting. The man was beside the bed on his hands and knees vomiting while his lady friend backed toward the door in terror. She was so focused on the main and his pain that she bumped into Zalhen. Turning around she looked at Zalhen with eyes full of fear and started to scream but only a wet gurgle issued forth. She never seen Zalhen move but he had drawn his blade across her throat and passed her by to stand over the dying man. As the body of the female hit the ground Zalhen whispered to the man, “No witnesses”. Even in the pain he was in the man stared at Zalhen and asked “why”. Zalhen looked the man in the eyes and told him “I just wanted to you to know who it was” and so saying stabbed the man in the heart.
Zalhen left the house as silently as he had entered it and started down the street with a feeling of completion. As he passed by a shadowed alcove he froze. “What do you want?” he spoke in to the night air as his hands inched towards his daggers. A chuckled greeted his question from the direction of the lightless alcove. “There is no need for that” said the voice and Zalhens hands stopped. “Well done back there by the way. It seems patients is one of your virtues, a quality I think we could use. Why don’t you come with me, I have some “friends” I want you to meet.” Zalhen turned around to see a man dressed in shadows step from the alcove his eyes shining in mirth. “Oh yes, but I think the Night Mother chose well. The brotherhood will be pleased indeed” Zalhen’s only answer has he followed this deadly shadow of a man was a smile.
Avenince(Boss) the Listener (my personal character)
Spoiler
Name: Avenince Amour goes by "boss"
Age: 35
Appearance(includes height): much taller than normal imperials about 6'9, muscular but not body builder muscular, just fit, not skinny or fat
but muscular or fit, black hair, paler skin than normal but it isn't abnormally pale, his eyes were at one point blue but over time have turned black(not the entire eye)
Race: Imperial
Birth sign: the shadow
Class(how you would describe it): scout
Abilities list: unarmed skill, would prefer to fight and block with his hands rather than with a weapon
but carries a interesting dagger just for looks, stealthy as all assassins should be, but it inst a naturally born skill
he learned it over time of being in the brotherhood, it is entirely possible for one of the newer members to out-sneak him.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): n/a
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): a amulet on his neck with a deadric character/letter
(the symbol on the game-case of oblivion/a daedric "o")
anything special we should know: unnaturally fast and magic is EXTREMELY weak, even for a imperial,
everything about him is fast, he thinks fast, speaks fast, moves fast, and wants everything to move quickly, for everyone to get what they need to get done and move forward
character bio(i'm including recruitment since i cant recruit myself obviously):
From a young age he was normal. Nothing odd about him, only he was faster than his brother.
However his brother was stronger than everyone else his age, including his brother.
When they came of age, he joined the thieves guild after being arrested for pick-pocketing someone and running out of city.
His brother was regarded as the more honorable and joined with the fighters guild. When he was about 30, he was in a house stealing a few gems, a sword, and a amulet(which he still wears) in the middle of him leaving the house, he heard a voice in his head...
"find meee....."
it was female, he knew it was but it was extremely disoriented and it sounded like a faint whisper, That scared him
to the point where he Ran at a full sprint back into the guild's main headquarters.
During this his brother was also in a job for his guild,
defending a farmers' property from looters. After he killed them all he heard the same voice, after hearing this he swung his large war-hammer in a circle nearly taking the farmers head off. When both brothers got back into their respective houses They heard the same voice saying this time.
"I'm in Skingrad's abounded house....help...me" This time the voice sounded legitimately in pain,
The first one to suit up and get moving was the stronger brother, but by the time he hit the front door his brother was already looking
around the house, looking for a way in
since the doors were barred due to the mass murder MANY years before even their parents were alive.
"brother is that you?"
"indeed it is, i'm looking for someone...i think"
"what do you mean?
"i've been getting voices in my head and it told me to come here, the doors are barred up."
"no problem..."
while the faster of the two would've found an alternate route his brother had simply smashed his way in.
"very well... lets move."
the two look around and found a basemant with a spectral woman standing/floating there, and this time actually spoke.
"one of you is meant to be the listener, but there can only be one..."
originally they thought that one of them would simply walk away.
"the listener...? so...meaning one of us leaves?"
the woman actually seemed amused by this
"-chuckle- you think the listener of the night mother would choose a listener who lets anyone who opposes him walk away?"
"what if neither of us wants this title?"
"then you both die"
At the shock of this the stronger brother, instead of attempting to think it through swung his hammer at his brother.
"IDIOT!"
with this the faster of the two caught the hammer and threw it on the floor by using his brother's momentum against him , and began pummeling his brother, after nearly an hour of fist fighting the faster brother, although he didn't want to do it had killed his brother.
"You are the new listener...."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? I JUST KILLED MY OWN BROTHER AND ALL YOU SAY IS YOU ARE THE LISTENER?"
"the dark brotherhood..... You now lead them, meet with the black hand.... "
through the amount of emotions flowing through his mind avenince's eyes had become black as night, even though his eyes were blue before. He had climbed back out of the basemant with the spectral "night mother" to find five people with black robes, with a red hand on them standing in a semi-circle.
"we are the black hand."
they said in unison
"you lead the black hand, you lead the dark brotherhood."
with these they explained EVERYTHING about the brotherhood to this newcomer and gave him a set of black robes similar to theirs. He needed a new title since he was now a thieves guild deserter, he was now called "boss" and he introduced himself as such. The first order of bushiness from the night mother was to start a new dark brotherhood sanctuary inside the basemant of that house, the spirit of the night mother disappeared and a black door appeared, with a note attached to it, the note read
"what is the feeling of death? cold love from sithis."
When boss tried to leave the door asked him
"what is the feeling of death?"
"umm....cold love from sithis?"
"you may pass...." and the door opened.
And he went out to for five years learned the art of assignations, who sithis was, how he related to the night mother, and how to recruit, he learned everything faster than most others, and he quickly earned the title of listener from members within the brotherhood, and they accepted that he was the listener, now with the knowledge and skill he needed the work truly begins in getting this sanctuary started.
Age: 35
Appearance(includes height): much taller than normal imperials about 6'9, muscular but not body builder muscular, just fit, not skinny or fat
but muscular or fit, black hair, paler skin than normal but it isn't abnormally pale, his eyes were at one point blue but over time have turned black(not the entire eye)
Race: Imperial
Birth sign: the shadow
Class(how you would describe it): scout
Abilities list: unarmed skill, would prefer to fight and block with his hands rather than with a weapon
but carries a interesting dagger just for looks, stealthy as all assassins should be, but it inst a naturally born skill
he learned it over time of being in the brotherhood, it is entirely possible for one of the newer members to out-sneak him.
Armor (before joining the brotherhood): n/a
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars): a amulet on his neck with a deadric character/letter
(the symbol on the game-case of oblivion/a daedric "o")
anything special we should know: unnaturally fast and magic is EXTREMELY weak, even for a imperial,
everything about him is fast, he thinks fast, speaks fast, moves fast, and wants everything to move quickly, for everyone to get what they need to get done and move forward
character bio(i'm including recruitment since i cant recruit myself obviously):
From a young age he was normal. Nothing odd about him, only he was faster than his brother.
However his brother was stronger than everyone else his age, including his brother.
When they came of age, he joined the thieves guild after being arrested for pick-pocketing someone and running out of city.
His brother was regarded as the more honorable and joined with the fighters guild. When he was about 30, he was in a house stealing a few gems, a sword, and a amulet(which he still wears) in the middle of him leaving the house, he heard a voice in his head...
"find meee....."
it was female, he knew it was but it was extremely disoriented and it sounded like a faint whisper, That scared him
to the point where he Ran at a full sprint back into the guild's main headquarters.
During this his brother was also in a job for his guild,
defending a farmers' property from looters. After he killed them all he heard the same voice, after hearing this he swung his large war-hammer in a circle nearly taking the farmers head off. When both brothers got back into their respective houses They heard the same voice saying this time.
"I'm in Skingrad's abounded house....help...me" This time the voice sounded legitimately in pain,
The first one to suit up and get moving was the stronger brother, but by the time he hit the front door his brother was already looking
around the house, looking for a way in
since the doors were barred due to the mass murder MANY years before even their parents were alive.
"brother is that you?"
"indeed it is, i'm looking for someone...i think"
"what do you mean?
"i've been getting voices in my head and it told me to come here, the doors are barred up."
"no problem..."
while the faster of the two would've found an alternate route his brother had simply smashed his way in.
"very well... lets move."
the two look around and found a basemant with a spectral woman standing/floating there, and this time actually spoke.
"one of you is meant to be the listener, but there can only be one..."
originally they thought that one of them would simply walk away.
"the listener...? so...meaning one of us leaves?"
the woman actually seemed amused by this
"-chuckle- you think the listener of the night mother would choose a listener who lets anyone who opposes him walk away?"
"what if neither of us wants this title?"
"then you both die"
At the shock of this the stronger brother, instead of attempting to think it through swung his hammer at his brother.
"IDIOT!"
with this the faster of the two caught the hammer and threw it on the floor by using his brother's momentum against him , and began pummeling his brother, after nearly an hour of fist fighting the faster brother, although he didn't want to do it had killed his brother.
"You are the new listener...."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? I JUST KILLED MY OWN BROTHER AND ALL YOU SAY IS YOU ARE THE LISTENER?"
"the dark brotherhood..... You now lead them, meet with the black hand.... "
through the amount of emotions flowing through his mind avenince's eyes had become black as night, even though his eyes were blue before. He had climbed back out of the basemant with the spectral "night mother" to find five people with black robes, with a red hand on them standing in a semi-circle.
"we are the black hand."
they said in unison
"you lead the black hand, you lead the dark brotherhood."
with these they explained EVERYTHING about the brotherhood to this newcomer and gave him a set of black robes similar to theirs. He needed a new title since he was now a thieves guild deserter, he was now called "boss" and he introduced himself as such. The first order of bushiness from the night mother was to start a new dark brotherhood sanctuary inside the basemant of that house, the spirit of the night mother disappeared and a black door appeared, with a note attached to it, the note read
"what is the feeling of death? cold love from sithis."
When boss tried to leave the door asked him
"what is the feeling of death?"
"umm....cold love from sithis?"
"you may pass...." and the door opened.
And he went out to for five years learned the art of assignations, who sithis was, how he related to the night mother, and how to recruit, he learned everything faster than most others, and he quickly earned the title of listener from members within the brotherhood, and they accepted that he was the listener, now with the knowledge and skill he needed the work truly begins in getting this sanctuary started.
Feel free to discuss anything about the RP below, Or to send one of the GM's a character sheet
As for a quick overview of whats happening in RP:
The Boss has recruited everyone he needed in order to begin a proper sanctuary and he is working out the first contracts with the Night mother.
The Boss has brought a stranger into the sanctuary named Phenix, who, thanks to a dark ritual performed by Volathine, Alecor, and a member of the black hand, is now Keeper of the sanctuary, bound with the spirit of a deceased Dark Brotherhood assassin
There is a portal in the sanctuary which leads to a magical training ground. for the moment, only the boss is permitted to use it
Aries has agreed to renovate the mansion outside.
Volathine has summoned a Flame Atronach which is bound to his service.
First round of contracts has been completed.
Phenix has escaped and has been bound to a blood magic by Alecor and the spirit has been removed.
Boss is gone with every member of the black hand on a contract to remove an assassination guild stealing Brotherhood Contracts
Should you wish to send me a character sheet Do so in this format:
Name:
Age:
Appearance(includes height):
Race:
Birth sign:
Class(how you would describe it):
Abilities list:
Armor (before joining the brotherhood):
misc items (jewelry or tattoos or scars):
anything special we should know:
character bio(include you're recruitment into the brotherhood and into my sanctuary):
