Name: Medril

Race: Woodelf

Gender: Male

Age: 50 (appears 20)

Physical Description: Round-ish face, Bright Blue Eyes and Light Blonde Hair.

Class/Profession: Bard of Hircine

Skills: skilled in the school of Illusion, he is also a very highly proficient Archer, he knows how to play the lute and is rather charming and charismatic.

Weapons/Magic: Bardsong (enchanted Elven bow), and Command humanoid + Command creature. Iron Arrow x20, Various PoisonsArmor/Clothes: Green Woodsmans clothes with scruffy fur boots

Personality: A loud, likeable fellow when with his friends in the tavern, but a silent, murderous predator when he is with an enemy.

Biography/History: A Valenwood citizen living with a small group of Hircine worshippers, he grew up to be a murderous and skilful hunter, and with the rest of the group, he couldn’t help being social, and they didn’t seem to mind. The Hunters eventually split ways for various reasons, and Medril went his own way north, to Hammerfell. There he was shunned and alienated for his background of Daedra worship. He moved East, towards Cyrodiil, where the enlightened population cared nothing of his background, he settled in Skingrad and enjoyed a quiet life of practising his people-skills

But his quiet life could go on forever, if not for when an old friend of his from the Hunter group arrived, breathless at the Grateful Pass stables, who told him of a sighting of Hircine in solstheim, they took off at once, gathering more Hunters, however when they finally arrived at Morrowind, the Oblivion Crisis had begun, and they had to fight for their lives inside one of the daedric portals. Afterwards, only Medril in his prime managed to escape alive, he started having dreams of an old woman, telling him to go to a village called Pine Seed. Eventually, the voices were louder and the dreams darker. Until the woman promised to stop if he obeyed her.

So he went south to Pine Seed. Where he found a group of nine people, one of each race, except for Bosmer.

Misc. Info: He carries a small necklace granted to Hircine’s followers which the leader of the Hunters gifted upon Medril in his dying breath, inside the Oblivion gate. Medril carries it always and it reminds him of the Hunt and grants him a shroud of Invisibility when squeezed, but the Talisman can only be activated once a day, and when shrouded, he may become lost in the Hunt...He does not carry anything but the bow, for he cherishes the extra thrill, if a hunt goes to close quarters, he has only his bow. He also owns a Lute, which he plays around the campfire to raise his comrades morale.

Name: Saryn Telvayn

Race: Dunmer

Age: 173 (looks early 40’s)

Gender: Male

Birthsign: The Steed

Class: Spellsword

Class Description: Saryn has no rigid “class” he is well rounded in combat and magick, he prefers light to medium armor with a blade.

Appearance/Physique: Saryn stands about 6’1”, he is very lean and muscular but not overly muscled up. His shoulder length hair is a deep black and tied in a pony tail behind his head with a few loose strands falling around the sides of his face. His eyes like all Dunmer are a piercing red. His face has a slightly rough look to it showing a few miniscule scars.

Skills: Saryn has lived a lengthy life compared to most, including some of his fellow mer. In this time he has trained and refined his skills so that he is extremely proficient with them. Most notably Saryn is a true master of Illusion magick as well as a master of bladed weapons. Saryn has also become very skilled with maintaining medium and light armors and how to properly wear them, however medium and light armor does not mitigate all blows. Therefore Saryn has learned to be very athletic, which is further aided by his birth traits, allowing him to be extremely fast when the need arises. Through years of training and studying Saryn has also become an expert in the fields of Destruction and Alteration.

Mental characteristics: Saryn has seen and experienced many things in his life. If he has learned one thing from them all it is to think before acting. Drathyn comes off as having a wise and thoughtful demeanor. He can come off as very irritated quite often however very seldom does it turn into true anger. Sometimes though, especially when dealing with matters that involve his race or homeland, like a true Dunmer he can become quite infuriated.

Armor/Clothing: Saryn typically wears his native Dunmeri netch leather armor with various custom made bonemold plates attached to it as well as a variety of scarves and sashes to protect him from the harsh environments encountered in certain places of Morrowind. He can be easily spotted in a crowd if he isn’t weaving an illusion around himself.

Weapons: Saryn carries a Dunmeri style ebony Katana as well as an enchanted steel dagger that stiffens the movements of anyone it cuts until they can no longer move at all. The dagger itself is of a very intricate design and is obviously not of Dunmeri make.

Misc items: in various pouches and a small bag that he has he carries these items: three extremely potent health potions in small unbreakable enchanted vials, a few small pieces of scroll parchment that have yet to be enchanted, and a few soul gems that are charged with very powerful souls.

History: Saryn was born into a noble line of Telvanni mages known for their magickal prowess. However after many years of studying the arcane arts Saryn grew tired of the seclusion and culture of the Telvanni. So at the age of 31 he left his father’s tower in Sadrith Mora and set out to explore the world. Over the next 110 years Saryn would roam across the entire continent of Morrowind and even into parts of Cyrodiil, Skyrim, High Rock, and Black Marsh. During this time span he was involved in many different groups including the Crimson Blades Mercenary Corps as the Chief Battlemage. One day however Saryn decided that it was time to settle back down and immerse himself in the arcane arts once more, now that he had traveled about and experienced a large portion of Tamriel. So for the next 40 something years Saryn studied in private until recently a very strange dream had interrupted his training.

Name: Anderathan
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Age: 29
Birthsign: The Mage

Skills: Anderathan is a mage, and an amazingly capable one at that. While he is proficient in all of the traditional schools of magic, he excels particularly in Mysticism, Restoration, and Alteration. His use of Mysticism and Alteration in battle is particularly magnificent to behold, as he uses telekinesis to deadly affect. When he fights, he often sends opponents flying, or picks them up and slams them into the ground, or places a curse of burden on them that crushes their bodies. Anderathan does hold Conjuration in particular distaste, however, finding trafficking with Daedra to be too risky and summoning undead to be too disgusting.

From his time in the Blades, Anderathan does have a certain amount of experience with wearing armor and using melee weapons; however, he never truly excelled with either of them, and thus rarely used them. Since leaving the Blades, however, he has become even rustier with those skills, and now could probably not use either skill well at all. He is very skilled at using his staff in melee combat

General Appearance: Besides his height, which at 6’3” is rather short for members of his race, Anderathan at first glance appears to be a rather typical Altmer: handsome and possessing a body with lean yet defined muscles. He has skin that is smooth and is a light shade of gold, and dark blonde hair that is tied back into a small ponytail. His right ear is pierced with a small ring of gold, and he has a thin scar on his left jaw.
Weapons: Anderathan’s only weapon is the staff that he had commissioned for himself when he joined the Blades at the age of 18. The staff in golden and the head of it is modeled after the dragon that is the symbol of the Empire. At the end of it is a steel ball, which looks suspiciously like the head of a mace. Over time, however, the staff’s golden shine has dulled, and it has picked up many scratches and scars. Anderathan uses the staff to channel his magical abilities, and thus it has no enchantment of its own. He also carries a small dagger on his right hip.
Armor/Clothing: Anderathan wears a dark blue and gold overcoat. The coat has a fur collar and fur on the forearms of the outfit. He generally wears the coat so that it is slightly unbuttoned, so that it bares the top of his chest. The bottom of the coat reaches to his mid thighs. He wears a black belt over the coat, on which there are several pouches for his valuables (gold, potions, etc.). He also wears dark brown pants and dark metal boots, which reach almost to his knees.

Personality: Anderathan is best described as care free and laid back, caring little for anything except his own personal health. That said, he’s not a coward or untrustworthy; just don’t expect him to come to your aid if there’s nothing in it for him. He’s a bit of a show off, simply because he’s good at what he does and knows it, but he’s not extremely arrogant. He recognizes that he has betters; he just hasn’t met one of them yet. He does have a soft spot for animals and children, and will generally try to help them in any way he can.

Brief History: Anderathan was born to a wealthy merchant. From a young age, he showed a remarkable aptitude for magic, and received the best training for his talents that money could buy. By the age of 17 he had surpassed his trainers, and wished to go somewhere where his talents would be useful. He decided to try to make it into the Blades, and within a year had reached the point of publicly serving the Emperor as an official member of the organization. However, when the Emperor was assassinated, Anderathan deserted the Blades, feeling that there was no purpose in serving a nonexistent emperor. As could be expected, the Blades didn’t take kindly to his desertion, and so chased him across Cyrodiil. Eventually Anderathan escaped them and made his way to Skyrim, hiding out in a small village near the border. When the dreams of the Old Hag began, he initially tried to ignore her summoning, not wishing to go back to Cyrodiil. But after a fair bit of time of not being able to sleep well because of the dreams, he decided to venture to this ‘Pine Seed’, and why the Old Hag had invaded his dreams.

Name: Darius Vosachati
Gender:Male
Race: Redguard
Age: 24
Birthsign: The Tower

Skills: Short Blades, Daggers, Climbing, Athletics, Acrobatics, Stealth, Speechcraft
Personality: Playful, somewhat ignorant, a joker. Knows when to act serious.
Appearance: Light-Brown Skin, black hair in a ponytair, six feet tall
Clothes: A dark red cloak, brown leather gloves, black boots. Has other clothes stored in cities he tends to go to often, hidden in unexpected places.
Weapons: A short sword, dagger, three throwing knives attached to his belt when he is geared.


Bio: Born to a noble family of knights, Darius was meant to become the next one amongst his family. Growing up in High Rock, his father taught him the basics of combat with blades and spears. At the age of twelve, a good dark elven friend of the family took Darius with him for a few months on a research journey. Along tthebway, the Dunmer taught him much about the arts of survival. Climbing, hiding, running, these things Darius mastered.

When he finally returned home, Darius found that the order his family served was having intense feuds with another. Growing weary of the tension that living among such a well know family involved, Darius found himself learning to blend in with groups to avoid detection. Over the next five years, Darius would without knowing have trained himself to hide and escape like a thief.

At the age of eighteen, the feud between the orders reached a breaking point. A series of fights and assassinations occured that would result in the death of Darius's entire family. Driven by hate and sorrow, the would-be knight proceeded to kill members of the enemy order, not honorably, but with great stealth.When his thirst for vengeance had been quenched, Darius left his homeland and moved south. He now spends his days hunting the corrupt and selfish.

Name: Sellik Varrius

Race: Imperial

Gender: Male

Age: 46

Birthsign: The Warrior

Class/Profession: Retired Legionnaire Forrester

Physical Description: Standing just under 5'11" Sellik doesn't carry with him an overly intimidating presence. His physique not quite built, however he does maintain a slim, athletic build thanks to his years of training in the Imperial Legion.
His head is covered by a mess of shoulder length brown hair, a hint of grey streaking through. Looking at his face one would easily presume him to be an Imperial. A slight tan, steel blue eyes, a slight crook to his nose and a thin scar across his forehead would be the only noticable features he owned. Those and a thick layer of stubble built up from a week or so without a shave.

Skills: In the Legion, Sellik was a quick learner in the uses of a blade, however he was never fully able to get to grips with fighting with his shield, preferring to use just his longsword or even a claymore or dagger if it was at hand to him. What he lacked in blocking capabilities however, he made up for in the use parryinbg with his blade and the use of marksman. Trained from a young age by his father, he developed a talent for the bow.
A talent that was further improved by the Imperial Legions excellent training system. Never a strong wielder of magicka however, Sellik knows little of spells. Only being able to cast some of the most basic Restoration and Destruction spells taught to him as a child.
His Imperial blood has also granted him skills in the art of persuasion and speechcraft and his many years serving as forrester taught him well in the skills of tracking and the use of alchemy.

Weapons: A thick silver longsword more akin to a broadsword than a regular longsword, a steel dagger with the letters S & V carved into the hilt and a silver longbow, with a tough leather quiver notched with a good supply of silver arrows.

Armour/Clothing: A leather cuirass with an Legion briastplate fitted over the top, he wears a set of Imperial greaves with leather boots and a pair of thin fingerless leather gauntlets as his protection. An old, yet finely woven cloak, dark green in colour, is usually wrapped around his shoulders, fastened by round brooch bearing the insignia of the Imperial Legion.
On his finger he wears a silver ring, a serpent spanning it's circumference, jewelled with an emerald. The ring is said to give the wearer a slight resistance to poison.
Around his neck a bronze pendant, only of sentimental value.

Personality/Biography: He often gives off a charming sense of trustworthiness, a sense that is rarely deceitful.
Quite an outgoing and protective man by nature though, Sellik joined the Legion at the young age of 20. There he trained for several years before making the rank of legionnaire, where he finally achieved a role in the Imperial City, albeit as a simple Watchman. This was shortlived however, as an influx of potential soldiers brought the Watch to a high capacity, with many soldiers wishing to simply stay in the Imperial City, close to their families and friends. Sellik took this as a chance to explore his homeland rather than be confined to the walls, albeit beautiful, of his capital. He applied for and was successful in gaining the promotion to Legion Forrester and for years he was very proficient, living off the land, travelling constantly. Eventually retiring from the Legion shortly after the end of the Oblivion Crisis, Sellik was happy to constantly be on the move no matter how tiring it was, a feeling that he quite regretted presently, as the long days of sprinting, hunting, fighting and surviving seemed to be taking it's toll.


Misc. Info: Sellik carries on his belt, several satchels of varying sizes, each containing useful equipment and provisions needed by a forrester including a mortar and pestle, a small map of Cyrodiil and a small metal canteen of water.

Name: Gunnar Witch-Killer

Gender: Male
Race: Nord
Age: 33

Birthsign: The Atronach
Class/Profession: Professional Witch Killer

Description: Tall, muscular. Stands at about 6' 6". Huge muscles - and rightly so, for all the heavy weapons he swings about. Wild blonde hair, kept tied back in a loose ponytail. Blue eyes. His only other distinguishing feature? A scar that goes from his left cheek, across his nose, to his right cheek.

Skills: Adept at using most two-handed weapons; however, he prefers blades to axes or hammers. A proficient brawler and tracker. Due to his natural ability to absorb magic, most powerful spells are weakened (to a small extent), while many weaker spells barely affect him at all. In addition, because of his race, he is practically immune to a plethora of frost-based attacks, spells, enchantments, etc.

Clothes: Leather vest, pants, gloves, and boots.
Weapons: Steel Claymore
Other Stuff: Pack, sack of gold (fifty gold pieces), hunting knife, about a pound of venison jerky

Personality: Jaded from a life of hunting witches. A mean bastard. Loyal to his friends, though. Hates drunkards, especially drunk Nords - thinks it only leads to trouble, so he never partakes of the stuff.

Brief Biography:
Gunnar Witch-Killer grew up in the frosty city of Bruma, to his parents, Svordenjal and Haggis. Svordenjal, his father, was a traveling merchant, so upon his 16th birthday, Gunnar headed out of Bruma to travel the world with his father. A few years later, he and his pappy found themselves selling goods in the lands of Morrowind. However, a strange sight befell dear Gunnar's eyes.

A Nord, like him, was just standing in the middle of the road, naked aside from his undergarments. Upon hailing the Nord, Gunnar learned that his fellow man had been en-chanted by a witch most foul. The reason? Why, the poor Nord had simply propositioned the witch for carnal relations! Being a cynical man, Gunnar laughed at the foolish Nord then continued on his way.

Five weeks later, Gunnar would come to regret his callousness. For the very same witch happened upon his very same father, who was smote with the very same enchantment as the previous Nord. Alas! If only Gunnar had helped the first Nord! He could have saved his poor father from a similar fate!

Taking up a plain steel claymore from his father's goods, Gunnar went in search of the witch, who was rumored to have a small shack in the middle of a swamp. Within the week, Gunnar found this woman's shack, and busted in with murder on his mind. However, upon seeing the witch's surprised young face, Gunnar realized that he would never be able to kill her; for, you see, the young Nord had fallen in love! Dropping his sword, Gunnar began to sing songs of the two getting married and having children, but woe!

The witch was not of a similar mindset, and so she attempted to cast a spell of killing upon the odd intruder who was spouting love songs in her shack. The spell did nothing to our young Nord, who stood up in shock. "Fair maiden!" he cried, "why hast thou betrayed me?" Gunnar's shock was interrupted by the witch's knife, which tore a large cut across his once-unmarred face. Before Gunnar could stop her, the witch disappeared in a flash of light and smoke.

Love unrequited, and father incapacitated, Gunnar left Morrowind with the steel claymore he had taken, and now travels the lands searching for witches to kill. One day, about a year after the Oblivion Crisis (which he wasn't involved with - no witches), Gunnar began to receive strange dreams, from, you guessed it, a witch! "Bad move," Gunnar muttered as he gathered his belongings, "bad freakin' move." And so, Gunnar Witch-Killer set off for lands far away from his city of Bruma, looking for a witch to kill.