» Sun Aug 14, 2011 1:34 pm Akil Darwish
Race: Redguard
Birthsign: Atronach
Class: Ronin
Specialization Combat/Stealth (a mod I use, SPAM, requires two specializations)
Favored Attributes: Speed, Luck
Major Skills: Blade, Block, Armorer, Marksman, Light Armor, Acrobatics, Alchemy
(SPAM uses a different system for attribute raises, so I can just pick the skills that fit the concept)
Akil was raised in Hammerfell in a very conservative faction of the Crowns outside of Skaven. At an early age, he showed promise as a warrior with both sword and bow, and his preference for lighter armor as well as penchant for acrobatics allowed him impressive mobility on the battlefield and in duels. He came from a family of smiths, but Akil's talents quickly attracted the attention of the local prefect, who conscripted him into royal service as the retainer and bodyguard to the prefect's healer, Samir. Though magic was explicitly prohibited, alchemical goods were allowed as they were seen as natural. On that note, being born under the Atronach only helped Akil's reputation. His stunted magicka and spell absorption was seen as resistance against the undesirable Nudri-hi. During his apprenticeship, he discovered that his master secretly practiced the magical arts. In fact, Samir revealed to Akil that the prefect had once contracted a disease that could only be cured by magical means, though Samir had to perform the ritual discretely and led the prefect to believe the cure came from a mere potion. This, and other revelations, led Akil to question his people's prejudice against magic, and Samir began to secretly school him in spellcraft. Akil was fascinated, though his scholarship was short-lived.
Early on, a custom conjuration spell of Samir's reacting to the effects of Akil's spell absorption caused an explosion. Nobody was injured, but when the nearby guards came to investigate the noise, Samir's secret study was discovered. The guards attempted to arrest Samir, but he used his magical talents to vanish, abandoning Akil. Having no recourse himself, Akil was apprehended and interrogated. He was able to resist the grueling interrogation and insisted that he had no previous knowledge of Samir's relationship with the arcane. The prefect doubted Akil, but without a proper confession, his choices were limited. Therefore, he decided to do the following. He had Akil brought before the court where there were three identical chests. In one chest was a bottle of Dragonstar hemlock, a rare poison that was instantly fatal, even to the poison resistant Redguard. In another chest was a set of manacles, symbolizing a life sentence in the castle's dungeons. The final chest contained a rusty shortsword, which would mean a duel with the captain of the guard and two other guardsmen, right there in the court. Should he actually manage to survive this fight, his sentence is banishment from Skaven. Should Akil use magic in this fight, guards would swarm the court and he would be executed on the spot. The prefect informed Akil what was in each chest, but not which chest was which, and ordered him to choose his fate.
Luckily, Akil chose the chest with the shortsword (be honest, you saw that coming). The blade was pitted and even notched in places. It was not even fit to cut through a tomato, nevermind the heavy armor of the guardsmen, who stepped out of the crowd into the center court with weapons drawn. Other guards formed a circle around the center court, partly to protect the crowd but mostly to keep Akil from getting out. One of the attacking quickly guards charged at Akil, while the other two slowly circled to flank. Akil parried the first strike, which put another notch in the shoddy blade, and followed with a counterstrike that only bounced off the guard's armor. The flanking guards were almost in position, but one glance at the unevenly crenated edge of his blade gave him an idea. The guard thrusted and Akil parried again, this time following with a circular riposte catching the guard's blade, flipping it out of his hand, and into the air. This clever maneuver stunned the crowd, as well as his combatants. Akil seized the opportunity, switching the rusty blade to his off-hand and snatching the guard's superior long sword out of the air. Before the guard could react, Akil maneuvered behind him, and with a deft low swipe, severed the guard's Achilles's tendon.
The crowd and combatants regained their senses as the impetuous guard fell to the ground. The captain and the guard readied themselves for what Akir expected would be a flanking pass and the defeated guard crawled to safety. Akir was nervous for a moment. They had a claymore and warhammer between them. Both outclassed his longsword, and could easily sunder the shortsword. The hammer-wielding captain noticed Akil's easiness and taunted him.
"C'mon, Akil, you didn't really think this was a battle you could win," he laughed, "just take comfort in being able to die like a warrior, which is more than a Nudri-hi witch like you deserves!"
They may hit harder, but Akil knew he was was faster. He braced himself, as if to ready to parry the flanking pass, and they charged. The loud-mouthed captain swung high, and the guard swung low. As they passed, Akil did a spinning dive through the middle and rolled to the side. Akil sprung to his feet while the guards recovered from their attack. He was still outnumbered, but at least he was not flanked. Not giving his adversaries a moment of respite he advanced on the guard, who was closer and also an appreciated obstruction between Akil and the captain. The guard's heavy claymore could not keep up to parry the fury of blows Akil unleashed. The captain tried to circle and assist, but Akil would do the same while continuing his onslaught. Had the guard possessed a sharper wit, he would have realized that the rusty short sword would likely shatter with another attack and was therefore only being used for feints. Instead, the barrage slowly wore him down until his final moment where his grip slipped, his guard dropped, and Akil performed a final spinning overhand strike on the guard's sword arm. The attack dislocated the guards shoulder, who dropped his weapon and fell to his knees in agony. Rather than a finishing blow, Akil took a step back, bowed slightly to the guard and said, "You may go now."
There was a murmur among the crowd as the guard slowly rose to his feet. Clutching his shoulder, he shuffled off of the center court. This left only the captain and Akil, who shifted into a defensive stance. The captain sneered. "Good. This will be much easier with these novices out of my way."
There was truth to his taunt. Other soldiers knew to give him a wide birth on the battlefield. His whirlwind fighting style with the warhammer could just as easily harm a friend as well as foe. Now, he began whirling his hammer and advancing on Akil. It was easy to dodge at first but the captain quickly built up momentum. Akil's dodging and tumbling barely kept him ahead of the hammer, leaving him no opportunity or opening for attacks of his own. At one point, he was forced to the edge of the crowd. The captain swung, and one of the guardsmen tried to push Akil into the strike. He barely dodged but the guard took the hit and fell to the ground.
"Serves you right!" A voice shouted from the crowd, and some others laughed. Akil, on the other hand, was not laughing. The hit to the guard gave him an opening, and so he lunged. However, he wasn't fast enough and instead was clipped by the warhammer. That slight glance was enough to knock Akil to the ground and rolling across the floor. The crowd gasped. The captain tried to take advantage, but Akil recovered too quickly and they resumed their stalemate. Akil needed an opening, but the only way to get an opening is for the captain to hit something. It was too risky to try for another guard. He had only one option. He had to make a sacrifice, and only had one shot to get it right. Akil tightened his grip on the battered shortsword and prepared for what would be his last maneuver, one way or the other.
"Let's...end this...witch," the guard grunted as he whirled, "I have...better...things...to do...than...take out...Nudri-hi...garbage..." Each pause signaled an attack for Akil to dodge, except for the last. The captain's backtalk would be his undoing, as his metronomic barbs only helped Akil time his final move. He punctuated the end of the captain's sentence, and overhand swing, with a failed parry from his longsword. The sword was knocked from his hand and the grazing blow sent a shooting pain up his arm. Akil couldn't let himself be distracted by the pain, as this hit was the opening he needed to thrust the rusty blade into the gaping maw of the captain. He felt the dulled point hit the back of the captain's helmet and the blade snapped off just short of the hilt, the sound of which hushed the pvssyr from the crowd. The captain recoiled. The silence momentarily broke by the sound of the him choking and staggering backwards. Within moments, he fell to the ground, dead.
A roar of cheering erupted from the crowd, but Akil had no illusions. He knew he had not won over the crowd. They were merely excited over the swordplay and showmanship. Akil had survived, but his time in Skaven was soon to be finished. He slowly approached the prefect, wielding only the broken hilt of the shortsword.
"H-H-How?" The prefect stammered. His nearby guards readied for what Akil might attempt.
"Just lucky, I guess," Akil noncommittally offered, and tossed the broken sword at the prefect's feet.
He spent one more evening patronizing the hospitality of the prefect's jail, while the prefect arranged a company of escorts to take Akil to the edge of Skaven territory. That morning, they departed with Akil allowed only the clothes on his back. When they reached the edge of Skaven, he was given a week's worth of provisions and a strongly worded "suggestion" to keep walking and never return. That was fine by Akil, as he had no intention of returning. Samir's tutelage soured him to the xenophobic mindset of Skaven and gave Akil a reason to leave; his betrayal and abandonment of Akil suggested where he should go. Akil suspected Samir would have fled to somewhere mages were safe, and the Imperial City in Cyrodiil seemed like a good place to start looking. The provisions lasted him long enough to get as far as Weye, when hunger forced him to steal a loaf of bread and an apple from the Wawnet Inn, which he took to the stables to eat in privacy. However, unbeknownst to Akil, an Imperial guard witnessed the theft and followed him to his dining spot. As he took his first bite of the apple, Akil heard a voice from the darkness.
"Halt! Thief!"
