Name: Rythe Vedaren
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Race: Dunmer

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Prisoner

Birthsign: The Thief

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Long one-handed blades (rapiers, etc), sailing, negotiating, lockpicking, archery (for hunting)

General Appearance: Standing at just over 6ft, Rythe has the lean, wiry body of a man who's spent the vast majority of his life working outdoors. His lined face and dark skin are further testament to time spent at the mercy of nature's elements. The strength built up from sailing has atrophied a little due to confinement in prison, but Rythe always made a point of working his body whenever he got a chance, just in case.
Hair: Shoulder length red hair falls straight past his shoulders, to roughly the small of his back. Usually tied into a ponytail with brightly coloured scarves, his time in Blackrose has lead to his hair taking on a darker, grimy hue.
Eyes: Red, as with all Dunmer.

Weapons: None

Armour/Clothing: Nothing but the simple sack shirt and trousers give to all inmates, along with some rope sandals.

Other Items: None

Personality: Rythe is a happy go lucky kind of guy. Always looking for the bright side in everything. Years of sailing have taught him to rely on dark humour and a pragmatic way of thinking. Sarcasm drips from every other word he utters. It's been many years since he let his guard down and opened up, life on a pirate vessel and years in Blackrose have eroded any sense of trust he might have in another person.

Brief History: Rythe was born on at sea, along with his twin brother. Their father a revered sea-captain of many voyages. He spent all his life until the age of 20 working and living on his fathers ship, learning all there was to know about sailing a ship. Except the helmsman's duties. That was always denied Rythe, the sole dominion of his father and brother. In his 20th year, Rythe ran away when their ship docked at Anvil. The years that followed showed a decline in Rythe's moral standing, forced to steal to eat and fight to survive on the streets. Moving from city to city, hiding in caravans, he eventually ended up in Sadrith Mora where a pirate captain spotted his obvious talents. At sea again, Rythe couldn't have been happier. After a time, he progressed through the ranks on board the ship to First Mate, the captain's trusted confidante and aide. In his 50th year, the captain was killed in a freak meeting with a navy vessel whilst anchored off Stros M'Kai, weathering a storm. Only Rythe's confidence and quick mind saved the rest of the crew, cutting the anchor line and running up the sails, making use of the pirate vessel's superior speed to lose the navy ship. His wish had finally been granted, Rythe was now a Captain of his own ship. 10 years of unimpeded stealing, pillaging and general debauchery followed, before Rythe's legendary luck ran out. Someone recognised his face in a bar, and tipped off the authorities. Within the hour he was in chains and on his way to Blackrose, to stay the rest of his life for crimes against the empire.

Name: Illiyan
Gender: Male
Age: 57
Race: Bosmer

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Prisoner

Birthsign: The Lady

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Flute, Banjo, Athletics, Marksman, Speechcraft and Navigation.

General Appearance: Rugged and thin. Illiyans once proud mane of hair is nothing more than stubble and knots. His once muscular body is thin and bruised. His once charming smile hangs fragile next to his scared eyes.
Hair: Short, knotted and brown.
Eyes: Bright green.

Weapons: N/A

Armour/Clothing: Rags

Other Items: N/A

Personality: Illiyan is typically very well humored, he tries to make the most out of things and certainly tries to keep a smile on his face. He's had a lot of rough moments, living on the streets and poverty stricken so he's very accustomed to living off of nothing. He's definitely a people person, out of necessity rather than choice.

Brief History: Illiyan was always a traveling musician. Ever since he left Valenwood to come to Cyrodiil, he knew his lot in life was to play music, juggle or tell tall tales to anyone who would pay to listen. And people paid. There was a period in his life where he became quite rich and well known.

He became so fond of his money that he couldn't help but want more. This started the downward spiral that would eventually end him being locked in black rose prison. He approached various well known drug operations and told them he was more than willing to smuggle them into places where they would other gain no access. For a traveling musician with as much renown as Illiyan was a sought after party accessory.

After having mild success for a few years, he was eventually caught, he stupidly tried to fight his way out, killing a guard and seriously injuring another. This left him sentenced to life in Blackrose Prison. A place he wasn't keen on staying.

Name: Isabelle Paige Courtessèu.
Nickname(s): Though she is called by her first name by her parents, she refers to herself by her middle name, Paige, as she thinks it is a much less formal and prettier name. Occasionally she will be called Bella or Belle, though she doesn’t really like it herself and someday hopes others will refrain from using it.
Race: Breton.
Gender: Female.
Age: 17.
Birthsign: The Lover.

General Description: The epitome of beauty, pale skin, pure, and tender to touch, with pale scarlet lips contrasting against the back drop of her snowy complexion. Paige's tresses of silky black hair flow almost halfway down her back, it is clear that she takes pride in her hair. Her fringe when left to its own accord often falls down diagonally in front of her right eye, a nuisance to Paige who spends what seems a life-time banolly flicking it from her vision.

Her deep-set blue eyes, so dark, verging on a purple-black are an endless void and seem on appearance to gaze into the very depths of every soul they meet, shaded ever more by a surrounding of eye-shadow. Her button nose is only short, yet simple, with an elegant shape and a round tip. Her face is gaunt, not thin but her cheeks are concave and defined, going against the stereotypical Breton shape. Paige is not tall for a girl, nor is she short, she stands around 5’4’’, though does not look so as she is dainty and petite in build. Her body has no visible scars or tattoos of any sort, with little decorative features, except for the make-up around her eyes, and though it is not unusual that she attains scratches, cuts or bruises, this is no more than the average person.

Since she has been locked away in Blackrose, Paige has begun to care less about her appearence. As is natural over time in her cell her skin has become dry and dirty and her hair matted and tangled.

Skills: Though Paige is far from assertive, she has a way with people that can assure often what she wants from situations; persuasion is her forte, though rarely through a manner of speech, she lacks the confidence to use words as often as she probably should, however her daunting attractiveness often gets her out of places she’d rather not be. Given her elegance in both movement and posture, it is unnatural for Paige to attain a sneaky persona, she is no expert at covert business, and there has been many a time when it has been her innocence that has swayed her away from danger. Paige was never brought up to fight, in fact she dislikes it entirely. Her father had insisted when she was young that she learnt to use a bow and arrow to a satisfactory standard to protect herself in what he taught her was a harsh world. If she had to have a favourite weapon, it would be her most well mastered weapon; the crossbow, her primary and really, only weapon. Though she was never properly taught, Paige often as a young girl would experiment with alchemy making potions and occasionally poisons. Over the years this talent has matured and she is now rather handy when it comes to mixing and brewing up whatever the situation or task requires, and can make most things from life-saving potions to death harbouring poisons; given the right ingredients. Paige is also a studious type; she loves to learn, though she rarely gets such chance. Paige had always wanted to become a healer and takes great interest in the Restoration field of Magicka, however despite her Breton blood she barely classes as a novice when it comes to using it.

Apparel: Paige usually adorns a light, free moving outfit as she tends to find this to be most comfortable. The top half consists of a leather corset, festooned with buckles and belts, black mainly in colour, though with some crimson coloured etchings on the shoulders that run down the sleeves. On her lower half she wears rather tight, leather pants (trousers), plain black and simple in design, the belt she holds them with is very detailed and is designed with various patterns and etchings. Her boots are long, reaching high up her shins; her trousers are tucked into the boots which are made of fine leather, and are plain and built for comfort.

In prison, however, Paige only has the rags that were given to her. A dusty brown colour, torn and tatty. Paige gets the creepy feeling that she is not the first to adorn this cloth, but has no choice but to ignore it and try to forget about it, for the sake of keeping her sanity.

Weapons: A simple crossbow, with steel limbs and a maple crafted stock, she keeps it in a small quiver strapped over her back, to add to this on the side of the main quiver is a smaller pocket storing the small iron tipped bolts that the crossbow fires. For close range combat – if ever, Paige carries with her a small knife, it resembles only a kitchen knife in size, though the hilt of the small blade is intricate embossed with a scarlet patterned ribbon tied neatly around it.

Inventory: Paige wears a belt when on certain tasks, for this she wears an almost utility like belt, attached is her knife, as described in with her weapons, as well as a few lock-picks and coins depending on what she’s up to. Also, she may often carry, in pockets allocated on the belt, ingredients for potions, or sometimes potions themselves.

Obviously, once she was arrested, she was stripped of all her possessions. She no longer has anything other than the cloth rags that she wears and anything given to her by the guard, which is rarely anything other than a clay bowl or rusty spoon.

Personality: Paige is best described as shy or timid, it is clear to most upon first meeting her that she lacks confidence in herself and fears any position of leadership or control. That said, she is a good follower and is blessed with traits such as loyalty, kindness, compassion and sincerity as well as the desire to please others and do her best to help. Paige is often mistaken for what she thinks is helping, where her actions may be clumsy or a hindrance to a task, however this is not down to spite and Paige will always have the best interests at heart. Unfortunately for her own sake, Paige is overly-trusting. She is often found to place her faith in people who are likely to let her down, and accompanied by her forgiving nature it is often that she is taken advantage of, or hurt by those around her. Paige, in line with her timid, affectionate nature is a stranger to conflict. She despises arguments or fighting and would not want to hurt even a fly. However as proven by the reason she has landed in Blackrose, she will defend herself if necessary, despite the repercussions.

Biography: Born and raised in the Waterfront in the Imperial City, her parents had been scavengers of the land; they lived on bread and water, with the little income her father earned on the passing and stopping ships. He was a ship maker by trade, though little trade ever really reached him. He was paid poorly by rich men for fixing their ships, which was, if a job actually arose. Paige had always loved her Father for his efforts and while her Mother stayed at home, she had been almost forced into a childhood of crime and thievery in order to support her family.

At the age of just 13; she became a thief; her business included stealing from the docked merchants and selling the goods on to the Market District proprietors. Paige soon got in with the wrong crowds; involving herself with renowned criminals and working alongside groups of pirates, bandits and eventually even the Thieves Guild.

She hated it, and tried her best to escape the reigns of the mobs that controlled her, but she couldn’t. They threatened both her and her family, the people that she loved the most. Eventually Paige was caught; a member of the Imperial Guard caught her with hoards of drugs from a recently docked ship job. Scared that the people buying the drugs from her would find her family she ran from the guard, trying to escape and save her parents. However she was unsuccessful and the guard eventually caught her. As they tried to arrest her, she tore the knife from at her belt and slammed it into the neck of one of the many guards that soon tried to restrain her. She was taken to Blackrose on charges of theft, possession of illegal substance and murder. To this day she has regretted her actions, which she now see’s clouded by misjudgement. Paige faces a life sentence in fear of the fate of her parents and whether they have been found by the groups she had worked for.

Name: Katania (Last name stricken from records)
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Race: Imperial

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Prisoner

Birthsign: The Thief

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:
- Archery
- Sneak
- Lockpick
- Dagger/Knife expertise


General Appearance: Slim and slightly underweight due to the diet sustained in Blackrose. Could be good looking with effort though she now sports the tired eyes and slightly gaunt, withdrawn face of a prisoner. Under her chin is a slight scar from when she was caught and tackled to the floor.
Hair: Brunnette, slightly past her shoulders.
Eyes: Dull, tired blue.

Weapons: Blunt make-shift stake-like wooden shiv, made from splintering off the leg of the only commodity the prison guards saw fit, a stool.

Armour/Clothing: Shackles on both wrists, non-chained. Worn and uncomfortable pants with a sack shirt.

Other Items: None

Personality: Her personality is arguably nice. Over the time she has spent in Blackrose, her once fun loving, charismatic and happy to share and laugh with personality has slowly dwindled. She now shys away from people she doesn't know, becoming quite the recluse. Once introducing herself and chatting, her old personality will start to shine though, though to talk to her in the first place may prove troublesome, that said, if she were seperated from civilisation entirely she would surely break down in fear and desperation of being alone. She herself cannot express her feelings with out casting suspicion on the enquiring party.

Brief History: Born to rich Imperial parents she was raised in Valenwood close to the Cyrodilic border. From the moment she turned pubascent she lusted for adventure and fun, to get away from the bore of high class living. The only thing she looked forward to was archery in the gardens. Fortunately or rather unforunately, her older brother had the same lust. When she was just 14, her and her then 23 year old brother broke free from the protection of their parents and traveled north.

The first city they came across when entering Cyrodil was Skingrad. Having no money and no where to stay, the theiving began. For the first month or so it was just petty theivery so that they could survive on the bare essentials. This was until a shopkeeper caught her brother in the act. Katania was waiting across the road from the shop acting as lookout at the time. Upon hearing the commotion inside the shop she hurried in, finding the shopkeeper purple with rage and throttling her brother. As panick set in, she picked up the closed thing to hand. She raised the object and rammed it into the shopkeeper's back, planning to push him off her brother. Only then did she realise she had picked up the still hot poker protruding from the coals of the shop fire. The hiss and scorched smell of flesh reached her nose as the shopkeeper collapsed before her eyes.

Over the next year, the siblings ran from place to place. Kat never really recovered from what she had done and requently had nightmares. During this time there were a number of murders in each city. The easiest conclusion the Imperial guards came to was the her and her brother were behind the killings as they had been spotted by witness' in every major settlement. When they came for the siblings, the guards intended first to take them in for questioning for publicity, to show a fair trial. That was until Katania's brother tried protecting his sister, resulting in a volley of arrows.

Katania has resided in Blackrose ever since. Over the years, even she is unsure whether the killings in the cities were by her hand or not.

Name: Gabrielle Baptiste

Nickname: Most just call her, “Baptiste” or “Gabe” if they’re a close friend.

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Race: Breton

Prisoner

Birthsign: The Mage

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Persuasion, Sneak, (short) Blade, Marksmanship, Lock pick, Parkour, Acrobatics, Destruction, Illusion and Poisons.

General Appearance: Gabrielle reaches 5’11 in measured height – tall for a Breton her age. She has an olive complexion that remained untouched by the sun due to years cloaked in the dark – her home, her hiding place. Her skin is riddled with ugly scars from punishment, whippings or general injury in hard labour. She covers her ivory scars with long sleeved shirts and clothing, and does not allow others to see such. Gabe has an angular jawline and a mouth that never smiles. Would be considered pretty had she not been covered in grime and filth from Blackrose.

Hair: Long, wavy and once silky. Her hair is like coffee spun into threads; dark like rain in the night.

Eyes: Deep set, mesmerising, emerald green eyes with little emotion.

Weapons: A hooked, silver short sword, the handle bound tightly in black leather. Carved onto the blade’s side is: Liberator. She also carried with her a wooden bow and arrow. However, due to being in prison, such weapons were discarded (she will, however, acquire there weapons over time after the escape) . Over the first few weeks bound in chains, Gabrielle made a small shiv of a long steel nail, the handle being made up of wrapped bandages complete with knotted leather. She keeps the shiv close by, always on her body.

Armour/Clothing: Gabe adorns a light, dark leather suit with buckles on the boots along with a hood to cover the head. Black gloves are worn with the leather armour.

In Blackrose, Gabrielle wears rough, blood-stained and dirty grey rags. Whether the blood is her own or another raises a question.


Other Items: Lock picks, and a silver necklace.

Personality: Cunning and observant, Gabrielle is able to manipulate and weave her way out of trouble through words. She is somewhat dark and sadistic; unnerved by death and the stink of blood. She leads a closed life and mainly keeps to herself unless the moment arises. Prison has petrified her heart, and has stripped her of her being. Her secret heart bears pain, and although she may not know it yet, she strives for forgiveness of her past sins.

Gabrielle is known to pass snide remarks and can come off as rude. She does not care much for those around her.



Brief History: Born poor and hungry, Gabe grew up into petty crime – nicking and stealing food or goods to sell. As she grew older, Gabe was brought into the thief business, until it became a profession. Over the years, she skimmed past by authorities with luck on her side.

When sixteen, during a heist, she was caught by the victim – a Lord over an acre of land. Having seen her skills, the Lord decided not to send her over the guards – instead, he took her under his wing and showed her the Dark Brotherhood. While most recruits were made by their first innocent blood drawn, under these circumstances, it was different. By seventeen, she was to become a full-fledged member – a Dark Sister. Having under gone tough training, she was ready for her first kill. It was successful, and she was accepted into the Family.

Over the next three years, she murdered in cold blood. But during one mission – a spy sent out from the Legion was to investigate the Dark Brotherhood. The spy made a ritual to the Night Mother to lure out an assassin and capture him…or her.

The spy was successful in their work, and Gabrielle was captured. Now, in prison she stays, locked away. Her shiv proved useful and had protected her on many occasions. However, one time, the shive deemed useless, and Baptiste was beaten and [censored]. Through all her physical cuts, this mental wound was deep and scarring

Name: Hanniel Baal (Preferred name Baal, pronounced Han-yel Ball)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Age: 255 (Equivalent to late sixties)
Sign: The Atronarch
Faction: Prisoner


Class: Killer
Skills: Baal is a cold blooded serial killer, the worst kind of criminal, only made worse by his near madness. However, he is very persuasive, with a witty intellectual charm that has fooled many victims in the past. He is abnormally skilled with all kinds of weaponry, especially short blades and daggers, and is especially vicious unarmed. He is very quick and nimble despite his age, though is not particularly stealthy or adroit in the other skills commonly associated with murderers. Before his vicious killings became public knowledge, he was renowned across many scholarly institutions for his vast intelligence, notably in the fields of mathematics, anatomy, and psychology. He was also known for being somewhat of an epicurean, lavishing his home with the most expensive of Akaviri and Dwemer artifacts, as well as many fine works of literature and art. He is also an adept chef.


Appearance: Baal is, for all appearances, simply a withered old Dunmer, sustained only by his race’s natural longevity. His back has begun to bend, his thin face has deepened with wrinkles, and his sleek, dexterous hands have begun to curl with arthritis. His thin frame barely seems enough to hold himself up. Yet his eyes maintain a dangerous light undiminished by age, and his small, perfectly straight teeth send a shiver down the strongest man’s spine.

Hair: Gray as tarnished silver, Baal’s thinning hair is slicked back from his face with a pronounced widow’s peak, curling at the back in a gentle wave.
Eyes: Baal’s eyes carry a softer, maroon hue of the normal Dunmer red, and reflect light in pinpoints of dark fire.

Skin: Even Baal cannot escape the ravages of time. His previously dark Dunmeri skin has faded to a charcoal gray, loosening on his bones as his face, neck, and hands succumb to wrinkles. Liver spots have started to develop on his face and hands, dark black freckles spotted amongst his wrinkled features.
Height: 5’ 5’’
Weight: 125 lbs


Personality: Hanniel Baal is a pure sociopath. He lacks any sort of remorse or morals; all he seeks in life is entertainment, a release from the boredom that tortured him in his imprisonment. The Dunmer portrays a superficial, polished charm, but this thin veneer of decorum covers a sinister evil. His greatest strength has always lain in his quick wit and silver tongue- the majority of his victims were tricked into their own demise.

Even when not stalking his prey, Baal is a pathological liar. He has dozens of personas, hundreds of names, and he has only been caught at his game once. Because of this he has become incredibly narcissistic- considering himself above other mortals, in both his abilities and his ethics, and considers himself incapable of error.

Old age, however, has started to curb Baal’s murderous tendencies- though he still feels no remorse for his victims. He still engages in the torture of animals- and even the occasional sentient- but does not get as much pleasure out of it as he used to. He has grown rather cynical as well, and takes great pleasure from his own dark brand of sarcasm, frequently involving threats of murder.

Hobbies: Baal’s infamy comes not from his murders, numerous as they may be, but from the sadistic way that he treats his victims. After luring them into his clutches, Baal takes pleasure from breaking his victims. Torture is a constant favorite of his, as well as simply driving them mad with the terror of their impending death. The precious few that survived their horrific encounter with “The Monster of Weye” are reduced to blubbering insanity, their minds and spirits broken from the cold pleasure the elf takes in his work.
When not engaged in his ruthless killings, Baal enjoys reading, cooking, and puzzles, as well as being a master of several logic-based board games.

Fears: Baal is terrified of one thing, above all else: boredom. All of his efforts go towards reducing that bane of the educated man; which is why he then, in turn, fears the unending tedium of incarceration.
Goals: The Dunmer rarely has any long term goals- other than alleviating his boredom- preferring instead immediate gratification. His main purpose, at the moment, is to escape the Black Marsh and return to his homeland of Morrowind.
Religion: Baal pays homage to no gods- he never has- though he does respect several Daedra, including Boethiah, Mephala, and Dagon.


Weapons: Baal will use whatever he can get his deft hands on, or, if no weapon is available, his own body. He has great martial prowess, though not in any particular style, relying on his speed and precision to overcome his targets. His knowledge of anatomy allows him to kill with the greatest precision, striking arteries and nerve groups not known to even the most skilled assassin. His greatest weapon, however, is his blinding reflexes. Combined with his anatomical knowledge and frightening precision, Baal can bring even the greatest warrior to his knees with little more than a touch. Killing has become a second nature to him; he no longer even has to think to dispose of his victims. Death has imprinted itself on his muscle memory.

Clothing: Baal usually dresses himself in ordinary, if well cut, black or scarlet clothing. If he feels the urge, he also has an impressive collection of more formal attire, though usually only wears them when disguising himself as a noble or scholar. However, during his time at Blackrose, he has been demeaned, and forced to wear the same dark rags of the other inmates.

Miscellaneous: Baal always carries with him a picture of his murdered sister in a silver locket around his neck. He does not let anyone touch it, and has killed people simply for asking about it. Though the guards have tried to take it from him, none have gotten close enough to succeed.


History: Baal was born to a noble Dunmer family in Tear (176 3E), and during his childhood he was declared a child prodigy. He grew up around the best tutors money could buy, though none seemed to be able to keep up with his outstanding intellect, and all quickly ran out of material to teach him. He absorbed all information he could get his hands on, storing it away in his vast memory; he was particularly interested in the fields of mathematics, anatomy, and psychology, and surpassed many of the great scholars of Tamriel in the subjects.

However, his happy childhood came to an end when the Dunmer Empress Katariah made one of her many diplomatic missions to the Black Marsh. Baal and his family were on vacation in their summer home in south-eastern Morrowind when a band of rebel Argonians, dissatisfied with Katariah’s ideas, found them. The manor’s guards were quickly overwhelmed; only Baal and his beloved younger sister were spared, taken back to the Marsh by the Argonians for use as captives. Baal spent two horrid months with these refugees, barely fed and always on the brink of death himself. Baal distinctly remembers being forced to watch as the lizards abused and molested his nineteen year old sister, striking him if he ever spoke out (By human reckoning, his sister would be a child still; Baal would be a young teen). His salvation eventually came when a Dunmer patrol moving through the swamp chanced upon the Argonians. However, before the elves could save Baal and his sister, the Argonians attempted to murder their hostages, more out of spite and anger than any cohesive plan. The young Baal was stabbed in the stomach and left for dead; his sister was not so lucky.

Baal was soon saved by Dunmer healers, leaving only a large scar across his midsection, but for his sister there was no hope. Baal wept over the makeshift grave the soldiers had made while he was unconscious, and took a vow of revenge against his captors. The Dunmer soldiers killed most of the band, but several escaped, a fact that drove the teenage elf mad with hate. He was brought back to the Dunmer army and, after his status and genius was revealed, taken under the wing of one of the commanding officers. The elf was amazed by Baal’s zealous hate for the Argonians, as well as his military strategy, and allowed him to stay with them on the campaign. Baal persuaded the commander to help him hunt down the Argonians who murdered his sister, and for the next few years stalked through the Black Marsh with the soldiers, killing every Argonian he saw. (200)

Meanwhile, the Empress was killed in the rising Argonian rebellion, and the Dunmer troops were recalled back to Morrowind. Baal was forced to give up his search and return home. Over the years he had hunted down and killed nearly every one of his captors, only a few left unaccounted for, and those presumed dead already. The officer convinced Baal to go with him to Mournhold, where he became a well recognized scholar. Though every school in the city sought after his genius, Baal began working to become a healer, a physician who did not utilize magic, as he was incapable of doing so. After many years he became a successful healer and scholar, publishing many groundbreaking works in his chosen fields. He eventually moved to the Imperial City to take a position as the Emperor’s personal physician, along with a side business treating many Imperial nobles’ personal doubts and depressions, pioneering the field of psychoanolysis. Baal remained in the city during the invasion of the infamous Camoran Usurper, and, years later, the Imperial Invasion of Akavir. His services were still paid for generously by the surviving Elder Councilors and newly crowned Emperor Uriel VI. (290)

However, he never lost that spark of madness, and throughout the years continued his murders, though no authority ever suspected him of the crimes. Until, that is, he was caught within his own home, by a complete accident. An Imperial investigator, bent on catching the infamous Monster of Weye (as Baal was known to the public), sought Baal’s advice in creating a psychological profile of the killer. Baal agreed to help the man, and left him in his study to brew some tea for the investigator. The Imperial, waiting in the Dunmer’s home, noticed a book on Baal’s desk- “The Axe Man”, an interview with a Morag Tong assassin- and immediately recognized the volume. He also knew that one of the Monster’s victims was killed in a similar way to that of the uncle in the book. Piecing the two facts together, he immediately tried to leave for backup. However, Baal was waiting for him, and thrust a kitchen knife into the man’s belly. The investigator managed to escape, though his wounds were severe, and returned to the house minutes later with a swarm of guards. Baal was sitting in an easy chair, his perfect smile wide, and the bloody knife still in his small hand.

After the publicity surrounding his arrest died down, Baal began publishing a steady stream of intellectual treatises from his high security cell within the Imperial Prison. While Baal’s captor argued against his rights to publish books and papers from his cell, the scholars and nobles of the city, amazed by Baal’s genius, urged the Council to allow him to continue. Baal himself claimed that it was the only way to alleviate his boredom; between the occasional scholar that tried to interview him- whom almost always left crying- and the few men that would brave his dark corner of the dungeon long enough to play board games with him, his writing was all that Baal had left.

Baal spent nearly one hundred years in the prison, listening to news of the Empire’s continuous downfall, but the Dunmer felt little of the changes in the outside world while confined to his cell. He attempted to escape only twice, both times succeeding to break past the fortifications of the prison only to be hunted down in the Cyrodiilic countryside. His most recent attempt, during the confusion of the Imperial Simulacrum, gave him almost three years of freedom before he was caught again. Since then he has been transferred to the infamous high security fortress at Blackrose, after it was taken back from the Argonians during the Arnesian War. (396)

Now Baal has escaped once more, and is determined to remain free. He knows the swamps from his forays during his youth, and though the landscape has changed, his own ruthlessness remains undiminished.

Name: Daro Leonde
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Imperial

Prisoner

Birthsign: The Thief

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:

Athletics - Acrobatics - Alchemy - Blade - Hand To Hand- Light Armor - Marksman - Security - Sneak - Speechcraft


General Appearance: Roughly 6 feet tall. Olive skin tone. Long dark hair. Firm, lean body, though heavily scarred. Charming facial features. Generally pleasant aura, though gloomy at times.
Hair: Long and black. Shoulder length. Limp and straight.
Eyes: Brown.

Weapons: His own two fists.

Armour/Clothing: Torn, grimy shirt and pants. (Prisoner garb).

Other Items: A single lockpick.

Personality: Despite his profession and general situation in life, Daro is a bright and happy young Imperial. Gets what he wants most of the time due to his charm and looks, though is not the sharpest tool in the shed. Some of his most overbearing traits are overconfidence, cockiness, being sarcastic, happy-go-lucky, enthusiastic, and charismatic. Has a tendency to voice most of his opinions, but saves some so as to avoid being beaten to death. Agile and quick, but not particularly strong or magically gifted.

Brief History: Daro was orphaned at a young age as well as his older sister who lives in the Imperial City. While she went for pursuits of the mind and eventually came to open a store in the Market District, Daro fell in the wrong company and became a thief. Since the age of 10, Daro has been in and out of prison more times than he could count. Before this current sentence, he had found the whereabouts of his parents' murderers and followed them all the way to Black Marsh to exact his revenge. He did so, but in the process, was caught and thrown in prison. His current objective is to get out and report this act of vengeance to his sister. He isn't entirely sure if she would be pleased, but she's the only one left that would even remotely care about him. During his youth he had been affiliated with and done contracts for various criminal organizations and is well connected throughout Tamriel.

Name: Ra’savah
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: Khajiit (sub-species: Cathay-raht)

Prisoner

Birthsign: The Warrior

Skills: Ra’savah is an experienced warrior, having been fighting – either for himself or for the Renrijra Krin – since he was a young boy. He is an excellent hand to hand combatant, taking a sadistic pleasure in using his claws to eviscerate his enemies with his bare hands. He is also trained in the use of axes and improvised weaponry. Ra’savah is a crimelord, and as such is good at persuading people and making good deals.

General Appearance: Ra’savah is a member of the Cathay-raht strain of Khajiit, and is thus large, strong and agile, standing at about 6’5”. He has rather huge muscles covering his body, as well as scars. His fur is a light brown color, and the mane on his head is long and formed into dreadlocks, which he pulls back in a small ponytail.
Hair: Light brown
Eyes: Golden

Weapons: Ra’savah’s only weapons at the moment are his claws, which are deadly enough for him to be satisfied. He did have a makeshift axe that he made while in prison, but he left that buried in the skull of a guard during his breakout.
Armour/Clothing: Right now, Ra’savah’s only clothing is the prison uniform and several pieces of cloth tied around his wrists in makeshift bracers.
Other Items: Ra’savah is only carrying the clothes on his back at the moment.

Personality: Even though he’s racist, sadistic, greedy, and sociopathic, it’s impossible to tell that Ra’savah is an extremely twisted individual at first glance. To observers, Ra’savah appears to be a charming entrepreneur at best and only a slightly shady businessman at worst. However, when he gets mad, his true feelings will often come out, and he can be reduced to yelling, ranting and raving when he’s particularly bad moods.

Brief History: Ra’savah, even from a young age, was set apart from his peers. He was born a Cathay-raht, and was thus one of the biggest Khajiiti in the slums of Leyawiin where he grew up. He rose to the top of a violent Khajiiti gang through a mixture of intimidation, persuasion, and violence, and under him the gang became even more antagonistic to Leyawiin’s Argonian population. When the local Argonian gang responded in turn, a violent gang war erupted, and Ra’savah was personally responsible for 5 murders (2 guards, 2 Argonians, 1 civilian) committed during the riot. However, when the war was put down, he was forced to flee Leyawiin, and so fled to Elsweyr. There he joined the Renrijra Krin, and became even more skilled and brutal while working with the group. However, after several years and countless murders committed both personally and under his orders, he left the group, and returned to Leyawiin, where he became a crimelord specializing in both slave & skooma trade, as well as working as a local loan shark. While he was suspected for those crimes, and was linked to over two dozen murders, no concrete proof was found to convict him. Or, at least, no proof until the overconfident crimelord tried to hire the bounty hunter known as Broken-Scale to murder a rival of his. Neither men recognized the other as their old rival, but Broken-Scale wasn’t interested in illegal work, so he reported Ra’savah to the Legion. The Legion sent several soldiers to arrest the Khajiit, but Ra’savah brutally murdered them, and tried to flee Leyawiin. Broken-Scale was hired to hunt him down, and it was during the short chase through the streets of Leyawiin that the two recognized each other. Their chase, now personal, lasted for almost two weeks, with Ra’savah fleeing deep into Black Marsh, Broken-Scale on his heels. He was eventually caught, and delivered to Blackrose Prison. That was three years ago, and Ra’savah has spent almost every day since imagining his revenge on Broken-Scale. Now, he feels that his escape will almost certainly draw his nemesis to him, and will make every effort to murder Broken-Scale while escaping.

Name: Huleed
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Argonian

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Prisoner

Birthsign: The Steed

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:

Alchemy - Destruction Magic - LongBlade -Medium Armor - Light Armor - Restoration Magic - Staff - Athletics - Acrobatics - Marksman


General Appearance: Huleed is an Argonian of a deeply beautiful light blue and emarld almost jade green shade. He has two fins that run across the top of his head, and he has a noticeable over bit. His tail has a row of spikes.

Hair: Two Fins

Eyes: Green/Blue

Weapons: Steal Long Sword/ LongBow

Armour/Clothing: A slightly thicker than usual brown leather shirt, black leather pants that are in equal thickness.

Other Items: None

Personality: Huleed is a hard worker, he early years were in slaver camps for children. Through his training in the Mage's Guild he learned the magic, of well, magic. He began to study hard and explore everything with a keen eye. Through the Fighter's Guild he learned to get himself into a tight spot, and safely get his way out. In his more recent years he has grown a hunger for real adventure, something has driven him to dangerous places and situations.

Brief History: Born into slavery Huleed was freed by a High Elf Wizard that took him to the Mage's Guild and gave him the chance to grow up in the Guild hall. From the age of 3 to 18 Huleed studied the art of Restoration, Alchemy, and Destruction and rose through the ranks to Evoker. From the age 19 to 22 he worked odd jobs through the Mage's Guild and work for the Fighters Guild without ever actually joining. He managed to keep his stomach full, cloths on his back, and a weapon in hand. Most of the time in his years were spent on long journey quest and duties to the guild. He has seen most of Vvardenfell and knows the western side and south well. At the age 23 he began to seek out a real adventure, an adventure worth telling of. So he packed what little things he had and headed to his native land of Black Marsh.

Name: Evrard
Nickname: The Boar
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Race: Breton
Birthsign: The Lord

Prisoner

Skills – Stick-fighting, Knife Throwing, Axe-wielding, Endurance, Strenght, Light-Armor, Writing, Stone-carving

General Appearance: Evrard has a tanned skin, with plenty of hair covering his body, and is of great complexion. He measures more than the average Breton in height, and has very strong muscles on his arms and shoulders. His legs are also toned, and he is notable for having numerous scars on his body. In particular, his mid-back shows signs of past whipping, and his left cheek has marks of scratching by a wild animal. Near his ribs, he has a scar that is a constant reminder of his fight with a wild boar, single-handed: one of the boar’s tusks perfurated his flesh, thus creting the scar.
Hair: He has fair dark brown hair,that is now gradually becoming rarer on his head, as age progresses. He has facial hair also, an unshaven beard that covers his chin and maxilars
Eyes: Dark brown eyes

Weapons: A flexible and strong 150 cms wooden stick (which he also uses as walking stick); 1 iron knife.

Armour/Clothing: No armor, just his prison clothing (the one he had on when he was thrown inside that is), which consists of a rough, black leather sleeved shirt and black pants.

Other Items: While in prison, he managed to snatch from the guards improvised tools to carve into stone, which he kept hidden on his cell. He actually used them on his escape, sticking the chisel into a guard’s neck, before finding a wooden staff.

Personality: Evrard is a very serious and practical individual, shaped by all the hardships he went through in life. He does not speak much, staying in silence for the most of the time. Evrard can be kind, and has a loving side, but only shows it rarely. He almost never speaks much of his past, since he has the personal conviction that what matters, more than what a man claims he did before, is what he does in the present, and what actions does he practice. However, in his mind runs a profound hatred for noblemen and such, who have all the privileges from birth, without doing anything to earn them. To his enemies, Evrard is brutal. To his friends, he is loyal and trustworthy. He has a loving of literature, which he has cultivated since youth. He learned to read, and write too, at an early age, and never stopped doing it, despite what he went through.

Brief History: Evrard was born the last son of a minor noble, on the province of High Rock. His father’s land were located near the northern city of Northpoint. He was a little friendly boy in the early years of his life, but when he reached the age of seven, his family was murdered by another noble, in one of those petty clan quarrels so often in High Rock, their lands taken by the same baron who killed them. Evrard survived, since his mother managed to give his custody to one of the villager's before being slain. He grew up among them, a nobleman's son living the life of a peasant. His adoptive father was a lumberer, and Evrard often helped in the labour. He grew up among the other villagers, and started to think more like one than like a noble would. As he grew up, he got stronger and stronger, fruit of all the work he did in the woods, and the constant exercise. He prided in taking care of himself too, and used all his spare time to build his muscles. When he wasn't reading, that is. He never tried to kill the nobleman who had slain his family: he knew better than have foolish ideas. While a teenager, he learned how to fight with a wooden stick, the weapon of those who had no weapons, and how to throw knifes. When he came of age, he became a lumberer himself, getting proficient with the axe, and eventually marrying an Imperial woman named Rosentia. However, one day, a drunken guard killed his wife, and Evrard, enraged, dealt with him and one of his mates with cruelty.

He was chased out of the village, managing to hide himself on the woods, and eventually joined a group of outlaws. He became their leader, and led them in raids againts patrols and merchants: Evrard had gained a true hatred for richman and noble people. As the bandit band he was in grew bigger, to the point that it could be called a small army, the Breton made a mad attempt at revenge: with them, he charged the castle who belonged to him by right. It was a true massacre, as the bandits were no match for trained soldiers. Evrard was captured, accused of a great list of crimes like multiple homicide, mutilation of corpses, several robberys, subversion atempt, etc. He was sent to one of the most secure prisons of all time, Blackrose, and spent many years of his life there, until now.

Name: Arves Vedaren
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Race: Dunmer

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Bounty Hunter

Birthsign: The Thief

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Short blades, archery, light armour, use of herbs for healing, bushcraft

General Appearance: Arves is a spitting image of his brother, lean and wiry. A body that favours speed and agility over outright strength. His hands calloused from using his bow and hauling rope aboard the ships that formed the bulk of his former life.
Hair: Close cropped red hair as his family's traditional red mane proved to be too impractical in his line of work.
Eyes: Red, as with all Dunmer.

Weapons: Fine Elven Wakizashi and his father's bow, made from the wood of Valenwood trees.

Armour/Clothing: Black and brown cloth undergarments, allowing freedom of movement, with worn leather greaves, cuirass and left glove.

Other Items: Big pouch of cut up mandrake root, his father's golden medallion hung around his neck but tucked into his cuirass, given to him on his 30th birthday, as a sign of reaching advlthood.

Personality: Arves isn't a man of many words, preferring to stick to physical displays rather than wasting time with speech. Though when he does speak, one would be wise to listen as his wisdom belies his relatively young age.

Brief History: Born at sea with his twin brother Rythe, he never knew his mother for she died in childbirth. He stayed at sea with his brother and father, learning how to sail a big merchant's vessel and how to manage a crew of men. After Rythe ran away, their father was never the same. He took to locking himself away in his quarters for days and weeks at a time, leaving Arves to Captain the ship and maintain their trade contracts and livelihood. He was 38 when his father took his life by throwing himself overboard during a violent storm. No one knows for sure what caused it, but it's widely assumed that he heard word of Rythe's new life of piracy and couldn't bear that his son would prey on people like him. People that Rythe had once been a part of. Needless to say, Arves was crushed. He gave up sailing and became a Bounty Hunter, tracking down every last one of Rythe's crew members, trying to find any trace of his twin brother so he might track him down and make him face up to his actions. To what end? Arves would be lying if he said he knew how that eventual meeting would conclude.

Name: Goes by the name Broken-Scale (Real name is Behleez, but he hasn’t used that name in years.)
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: Argonian

Bounty Hunter

Birthsign: The Thief

Skills: Broken-Scale is a master of several different forms of combat. He is most proficient with the use of spears, both in long-range, short-range, and mid-range combat. He is also very capable with shorter bladed weaponry, such as daggers or short swords. Broken-Scale is also an extremely capable hand to hand combatant, using a special fighting style consisting of moves from basic Cyrodiilic boxing, the various fighting styles of the Dunmer of Morrowind, and from a style specific to a small Argonian Tribe in Black Marsh. Finally, he is a skilled marksman, both with bows and throwing weapons. In addition to his skills in combat, Broken-Scale is also a skilled information gatherer, decent with the school of illusion magic, and is talented at following his prey for long periods of time without being noticed.

General Appearance: Broken-Scale possesses dark green and brownish scales, and stands at about 6’1”. On his back, he has a long, nasty scar going from his left hip to his right neck that he picked up on his first bounty hunter mission. The scar is also where he got his name.
Hair: As an Argonian, Broken-Scale has no actual hair, but he does possess several spines on his head.
Eyes: Broken-Scale has deep yellow eyes.

Weapons: Broken-Scale’s main weapon is an ebony spear, which he can wield with deadly speed and precision. He also carries a steel short sword on his right hip, a bow and 30 silver headed arrows on his back, and 5 steel throwing knives on the strap of his quiver.
Armour/Clothing: Broken-Scale’s armor is a mismatched set of leather, chainmail and light metal plates. The armor does leave his right arm relatively unarmored, besides a fingerless glove and a leather bracer. However, despite its appearance, the armor is actually fairly sturdy and protective.
Other Items: Broken-Scale carries two small vials of poison on his belt: one is a poison of silence, and the other is a poison that briefly paralyzes the nervous systems of most creatures. He also carries a small bedroll, a lockpicking set, a bag of nonperishable food, and a jug of water.

Personality: Broken-Scale is somewhat atypical for an Argonian. While most are calm and reserved, Broken-Scale is excitable and extroverted, usually joking around, especially when in combat. He is an extremely loyal friend and is generally friendly to those he meets. However, he hates Khajiits with a passion, and will often times be outright hostile to any Khajiit he meets.

Brief History: Broken-Scale was born in Leyawiin, in the poor slums that Argonians were once forced to live in. He grew up during the most turbulent time of the Argonian-Khajiit hostilities, and eventually became the leader of a street gang for Argonians. Under his leadership, tensions increased with the Khajiit street gang headed by his rival, Ra’savah, until the tension erupted into violence when he was 17. The resulting gang war killed numerous guards and civilians, and nearly burned Leyawiin to the ground. The riot lasted for almost a week before it was put down, and Broken-Scale was one of the few people involved in it that escaped either death or incarceration. Now with a large bounty on his head, he took up the only skills he had – the skill of combat, and became a bounty hunter to pay off his bounty. After completing several small-time bounties, he got overconfident and went after a much more difficult target, a necromancer with a bounty on his head so large that Broken-Scale could easily pay off his debts and have a large amount to keep for himself. While Broken-Scale did manage to kill his target, the necromancer used his dying breath to send a bone shard at Broken-Scale’s back that ripped open his flesh and left him bleeding out in the dirt. Broken-Scale was fortunate that a wandering adventurer was nearby, and was willing to spare a potion of healing. Broken-Scale did collect the bounty, but split it halfway with his savior, leaving him no longer a wanted man, but without a septim to his name. So he took a journey to Black Marsh and Morrowind, becoming a very successful bounty hunter in both lands, with some claims that he has personally put about 1/5 of the prisoners in Blackrose Prison there and other claims that he has connections to the Morag Tong in Vvardenfell. However, with reports of Blackrose Prison being broken out of, he has returned to Black Marsh to recapture the prisoners.

Name: Sergius Maborel II
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Race: Imperial

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Bounty Hunter (More of a ‘Thief Taker’)

Birthsign: The Lord

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:
Swords, teaching, Light Armour, Information-gathering, Speechcraft, Getting people drunk,

General Appearance: Sergius is an average height, about 1.84m and a light build. He walks proudly and purposefully. He has a square jaw and a hard yet attractive face in typical Colovian style. His lips are thin and he rarely smiles, even when he is enjoying himself. His nose is thin and slightly pointy and the bridge of his nose is slightly sunken into his face. He has light stubble on his chin, as a sign of defiance to his father who would prohibit his boys from having facial hair.
Sergius is of a petite figure, with average muscles, not enough to show off. He has large feet for his size and it this makes him look slightly comical.
Hair: Light Blonde, reaching down to his lower neck at the back and jawbone on sides, but combed back off of his face, has small flicks at the bottom and on the right.
Eyes: Sergius has large, piercing blue eyes. He can refrain from blinking longer than average.

Weapons: Sergius uses his high quality Szabla. Although its main purpose is for threatening criminals, he also uses it in the few occasions where conflict arises. For closer situations, Sergius conceals a small Silver Dagger in his coat.

Armour/Clothing: Sergius wears a Burgundy Tunic and Dark Brown Trousers which are very fitting. Over top he wears a Deep Purple Coat in which he conceals his dagger and other trinkets. Under his tunic, Sergius wears a light mail shirt which has protected him from many a blow and surprised many a foe.

Other Items: A pipe, a Tobacco pouch, his coin purse – containing 350 Septims, a quill and some parchment. A brass emerald ring on his index finger. A small sack of sweets, some Mandrake root and a letter from Lucian Chase.

Personality: At first glance, Sergius may seem like an upper-class, silverware critiquing snob. But this is far from the truth, while coming from a Noble upbringing, Sergius dislikes conforming to the rest of the Maborel family, which is the main reason he moved from his native Kvatch to Blackrose. Sergius is a likeable enough fellow, who talks fast and knows what he is doing. This often works to his advantage when he is trying to get information out of criminals and greedy harbour-masters – he will be able to make them like him, get them drunk and then siphon information out of them.
Sergius is also a very smart man and great at thinking on his feet. He is known for often teaming up with other Bounty Hunters, because he does not have the brawn to take them in, but the brains.

(Not so)Brief History: Born into the Nobility of Kvatch, Sergius was born into proper manners and dinners with the Goldwine family, Sergius was often a bored child. It didn’t help that he was the second child, which meant his father paid all of his attention to his older brother – Lucret – who was going to inherit the family fortune. Mr. Maborel taught Lucret swords, how to converse properly, politics, limited magic and many other things that Sergius would have been very interested and excited to learn about but he was left out because he was younger.

Although he was well fed and well clothed, Sergius didn’t enjoy his childhood. He wished he could be one of the other kids, causing mischief and throwing pebbles at merchant carts or his brother, or being taught swords and the finer things of life. But he was left in the middle.

One of the few friends he had was the son of a Blacksmith, who accepted to teach the boy swords – albeit reluctantly. Not many people wanted to get on the wrong side of the Maborels. Sergius secretly attended Sword lessons once a week after Sunday school. Though progress was slow, Sergius had a natural flair for swords and enjoyed the lessons, always eager to learn more.

But of course there were benefits from being a Maborel, Sergius was given his aunty Javolia’s home after she ran away to worship Meridia. It was a modest home, not a large manor like Sergius was used to, but not a home your average person could afford. But even with all this, Sergius was not happy. He was still expected to go to Dinner Parties and Games of Chess. His family still frowned upon him even if he went to bet on the Arena.

At age 24, Sergius sold his home, took the money and left Kvatch – not saying a word to his family. Sergius decided to settle in Leyawiin, but it was a turbulent time for the southern city. This came as quite a culture shock for Sergius, who was used to Imperials and large stone buildings. The warring Argonians and Khajiits coupled with the brightly coloured shacks felt Alien to Sergius.

After a few weeks, Sergius grew to like Leyawiin and living a ‘normal’ life. He had picked up a job serving drinks at a local bar and was enjoying actually working for a living.

But one night, he was mugged. All of his earnings were stolen and the two fiends ran away before they were caught. Since the Guard couldn’t do anything, Sergius took the law into his own hands. He learned that talking to people was the best way to get information.

So he twisted arms, brought drinks and convinced people to let on about crims until he had enough information to go and get the fiends. Sergius got himself a big ol’ Szabla and went down to the poorer district to turn in the scum. It was easier than he thought, most people were scared of the big sword and the crims didn’t put up much of a fight.
When Sergius handed in the thieves to the guard, he was thoroughly impressed with the payout. It was enough, if you caught criminals regularly enough, to make a living out of. Sergius loved the feeling of handing in his muggers and decided that this was the career he wanted.

He teamed up with a struggling Argonian Bounty Hunter, named Maneema and went into the Thief-Taking business together. The pair were quickly renowned for their skill and efficiency, which led to big payouts and new things.

At age 26, Sergius met a Breton girl named Alexandrie. She was the most beautiful thing the Imperial had seen. Sergius would go out of his way to talk to the young Breton, slowly forging a friendship and eventually a relationship. They moved in with each other, enjoying each others company and their way of life..

But a couple of years past and Serigus & Alexandrie grew tired of Leyawiin. The City Guard was incompetent and Sergius was being overworked. They had always been fascinated by Black Marsh and decided that a move for Blackrose was for them.

Not long after arriving, Alexandrie’s paintings began to sell extremely well in the stores she sold them to, and she was under immense pressure to produce more. This and Sergius still being busy with Thief Taking, little time was left to themselves.

But as soon as they got the chance, Sergius and Alexandrie were wed. But there was no time for a honeymoon. The couple were still working themselves to the bone. In the last year, however, they have decided to slow down. They bought a large manor in Blackrose, with the substantial funds they had gained and are expecting a child. Sergius is taking one last hunt for a while, before settling down and focusing on his family.

Name: Aeulthamanza.
Nickname(s): Aeultha, Ultha.
Gender: female
Race: Orc
Age: 25
Birth date: 3E 406 on the 16th of Mid Year.
Birthplace: Cheydinhal

Class: Bounty Hunter
Class Focus: She's something of a mix. Strait combat-wise, she errs on the side of heavy armor and heavy weapons. However, she prefers to talk things out, and, when that fails, can be stealthy to obtain her target without bloodshed.
Major Skills: Heavy Armor, Axe, Hand-to-Hand, Mercantile, Security
Minor Skills: Blunt, Block, Speechcraft, Sneak, Athletics
Birthsign:The Steed

Eyes: Yellow-green
Hair: Black, drawn together in places with short pony-tails.
Skin/Fur Color: A dark green.
Height: 6'3''
Weight: 210 lbs
Build: Tall. Mannish. Bulky. Strong and muscular.

Physical Description: Her mother always said she was ugly. Large, even for an Orc female, Aeultha is tall and well muscled. She has a single, small scar running down her the side of her neck. Her wide shoulders, and biceps counter her more feminine traits of large briasts and thighs. Her tusks are typically seen as large for a female Orc, with the right tusk being larger but otherwise normal while the left tusk is stunted and curved outward. Her eyes are large and expressive.

Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Has a tattoo on her upper left bum cheek that says "Kiss my Axe" in Daedric lettering.

Clothing and Armor: She has a full iron set of armor, sharply polished and in excellent condition. She carries a large pack over her shoulder, with a shield mounted on her back. She wears a tool belt that carries anything that doesn't quite fit into the pack. When not in armor, she wears a sleeveless vest, a hood and cloak, padded cotten breeches, and leather boots.

Inventory: One cure disease, three health, three stamina, and one feather potion, a whittle stone for axe-sharpening, 30 feet of solid rope, a canteen full of water, a flask of hard whiskey, five bread loaves, several jerky strips, a collection of nuts and dried vegetables, an assortment of spices, a mess kit (including utensils, a pot, and two bowls), a spy-glass, a compass, various pieces of parchment, an inkwell, two pens, a knife, an assortment of perfumes, around 100 septims, a bedroll, an assortment of lockpicks, three mandrake root, a map of Blackmarsh, and a inflatable goatskin (used as a flotation device).

Weapons: A Morrowind-style Dwemer Battle Axe, and a single bola.

Magic: Not much to use magic, she has the Orcish berserk racial ability.

History: Born to a single mother and raised in Cheydinhal, she was drawn into that city's gang culture as a young teen in a rebellious move against her controlling mother. Five years later, however, Aeultha, matured and wanting an escape from gang life (and, perhaps at the behest of her mother), betrayed her fellow gang members by leading the city guard to their safe house. Many members were arrested, and the gang leader was killed. After receiving a large sum for this deed, Aeultha decided that it was safest to leave Cheydinhal to avoid a revenge killing, and took up bounty hunting as a trade.

Using the funds rewarded to her by the Cheydinhal Guard, she purchased for herself a complete set of steel armor from a merchant, a set that she became most proud of in the years following. She has now had several years of experience in bounty hunting, tracking down criminal, runaway, and missing persons, and as such can no longer be considered an amateur. She's done her share of killing, but she prefers to make a serious attempt at capturing someone alive before eliminating them, however. Working recently out of Bravil, she has answered the Empire's call for bounty-hunters, making a great trek in only eleven days across southern Cyrodiil and Blackmarsh to arrive at Blackrose.

Personality: Aeultha is rather complex. She is utterly confident in what she does, but constantly imagines herself to be criticized by her mother (dead now, but always complaining) and attempts to please this inner voice as best she can. She has a level head and a diplomat's tongue, and her perspective be counted on when dealing with many conflicts or obstacles. Conversely, she's awkward and outspoken and a bit of a bore, and although she leaves many (men) feeling uncomfortable, she is a very genuinely-friendly sort of person. She can develop a temper under strained circumstances, though, a trait her mother always attributed to her father.

Other Traits and Oddities:
-She's hardy and resilient and can put up with the most strenuous circumstances in good humor. She can keep up a strong pace and cover vast distances if need be.
-Essentially not a tracker, Aeultha prefers to "talk down" a target, as she finds that very often uninterested parties are more than willing to give up information on a target's where abouts.
-She wears a wide variety of sweet smelling perfumes.
-She likes to talk to herself.

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Skilled in forgery and lock-picking
- An excellent cook
- Very perceptive. She can pick out all but the best of liars. Very often she can discern the intentions of others before they realize she has, largely thanks to her impervious poker face.

Name: Gerald

Gender: Male

Age: 46

Race: Nord

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Bounty Hunter

Birthsign: Steed

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:

Blunt
Blade
Hand-to-Hand
Heavy Armor
Light Armor
Destruction
Armorer
Athletics



General Appearance: Gerald is a tall, imposing man. He stands at 6'5, and has husky, muscular, frame. His large arms carry many scars from perilous encounters.

Hair: His hair is a shade of light brown, and two braids guard either side of his face, while the rest is left natural and unkempt, and rests a little above his shoulders.

Eyes: Gerald's eyes are an icy blue.

Weapons: He carries a heavy iron mace, usually wielding it with one hand. A steel shorts sword usually remains attached to his hip, as does a crescent curved dagger.

Armour/Clothing: A shining steel cuirass protects his abdomen, while iron armor defends the rest of his body. He carries an old dwarven head piece as well, which serves as protection for his head, and intimidation against his enemies. Under his armor, Gerald prefers simple sack-cloth garments.

Other Items: A large pack adorns his back, with a sleeping roll attacked to the top. The pack contains a few rations, and maps that pertain to his adventure, as well as a few vials of poisons. Wrapped in cloth, at the bottom of his sack, are calipers, tongs, and various other implements of torture. Off the side of his pack hangs a hand axe.

Personality: Gerald is a torturer. He has a cold, wicked sense of humor, and shares these thoughts frequently. He finds pleasure in the suffering of his enemies. Killing doesn't really do anything for him - its too quick, but sometimes it has to be done. While he is basically sadistic, his social skills haven't suffered. As long a you are not his enemies, Gerald is glad to make conversation... just try to keep it away from torture techniques, or you'll get regaled in gruesome stories you don't want to here.

Brief History: Gerald originally served a Nordic lord in Skyrim as a warrior. After a few years on the front lines, he was placed in jail, of which he does not remember the name, as a jailor. Somehow, a few the prisoners were able to incite a riot, and a battle ensued, which claimed the lives of most of the guards and jailers on duty. Gerald, however, was a trained warrior, and with his trusty mace, held his quarters along side the Captain of the prison. The Lord ordered Gerald to unravel what had occurred to incite this riot. Gerald, angry that his friends had been killed by rotting, maggot-infested prisoners, had a simple solution: Line the surviving prisoners up, and bash every third's head once with his mace. After the second prisoner died, a few jumped at the opportunity to reveal the truth. Too make sure this was true, Gerald spent some quality time in his "office" with these prisoners, willing to do in the fellow inmates. For years after that, Gerald was that Lord's personal torturer. He was dismissed a few years back when the Lord's daughter was unhappy with the torturing of her ex-lover. Now, making his way as a bounty hunter of sorts, he's accepted a contract to hunt escaped prisoners - and this contract will put his old skills to new uses.

Name: Dante Adolphus
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Imperial

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Bounty Hunter

Birthsign: The Steed

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Dante is a skilled huntsman, as expected with such a job, able to track Men, Mer and Beast. Talented with the bow, his speciality however lies with blade and sneak. Blending in and out of shadows as if he was blessed by Nocturnal herself.

Other strengths lie in athletics such as running and climbing. Finding vantage points and being able to make a quick escape, running away from a fight doesn't necessarily mean he's on the retreat. The word, tactical withdrawal is a far more appropriate word.

General Appearance: Tall, a lean build and well developed but isn't the strongest man in the world but knows how to fight. He appears younger than he actually is with a youthful, almost boyish face with very little facial hair.

His hair is a soft-curly mousey blonde kept at short length for practical reasons and nowadays, personal preference. His skin is lighter than most Imperials, largely down to his face behind hidden for the majority of time and most tasks for him are performed at night.

His eyes are blue, though there's nothing special about them.

Weapons: Elven dagger, Ebony bow, Silver short sword, several throwing knifes.

Armour/Clothing: He wears the armour of a Brotherhood assassin. With more compartments to store various equipment such as a bandoleer and various pouches along his belt.

Personality: He enjoys a laugh and the little things of life, valuing friendship greatly. He's a quite man, slightly reserved but well-spoken and gentle, chivalrous if you will but enjoys his job and acknowledges Sithis and the Night Mother as his parents. He's disciplined and has control over his anger but when pushed to the limit by a enemy or peer he will break. On the flip side he can be threatening and serious, especially to the disrespectful, and the arrogant.

Name: Gerald

Gender: Male

Age: 46

Race: Nord

Prisoner or Bounty Hunter: Bounty Hunter

Birthsign: Steed

Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:

Blunt
Blade
Hand-to-Hand
Heavy Armor
Light Armor
Destruction
Armorer
Athletics



General Appearance: Gerald is a tall, imposing man. He stands at 6'5, and has husky, muscular, frame. His large arms carry many scars from perilous encounters.

Hair: His hair is a shade of light brown, and two braids guard either side of his face, while the rest is left natural and unkempt, and rests a little above his shoulders.

Eyes: Gerald's eyes are an icy blue.

Weapons: He carries a heavy iron mace, usually wielding it with one hand. A steel shorts sword usually remains attached to his hip, as does a crescent curved dagger.

Armour/Clothing: A shining steel cuirass protects his abdomen, while iron armor defends the rest of his body. He carries an old dwarven head piece as well, which serves as protection for his head, and intimidation against his enemies. Under his armor, Gerald prefers simple sack-cloth garments.

Other Items: A large pack adorns his back, with a sleeping roll attacked to the top. The pack contains a few rations, and maps that pertain to his adventure, as well as a few vials of poisons. Wrapped in cloth, at the bottom of his sack, are calipers, tongs, and various other implements of torture. Off the side of his pack hangs a hand axe.

Personality: Gerald is a torturer. He has a cold, wicked sense of humor, and shares these thoughts frequently. He finds pleasure in the suffering of his enemies. Killing doesn't really do anything for him - its too quick, but sometimes it has to be done. While he is basically sadistic, his social skills haven't suffered. As long a you are not his enemies, Gerald is glad to make conversation... just try to keep it away from torture techniques, or you'll get regaled in gruesome stories you don't want to here.

Brief History: Gerald originally served a Nordic lord in Skyrim as a warrior. After a few years on the front lines, he was placed in jail, of which he does not remember the name, as a jailor. Somehow, a few the prisoners were able to incite a riot, and a battle ensued, which claimed the lives of most of the guards and jailers on duty. Gerald, however, was a trained warrior, and with his trusty mace, held his quarters along side the Captain of the prison. The Lord ordered Gerald to unravel what had occurred to incite this riot. Gerald, angry that his friends had been killed by rotting, maggot-infested prisoners, had a simple solution: Line the surviving prisoners up, and bash every third's head once with his mace. After the second prisoner died, a few jumped at the opportunity to reveal the truth. Too make sure this was true, Gerald spent some quality time in his "office" with these prisoners, willing to do in the fellow inmates. For years after that, Gerald was that Lord's personal torturer. He was dismissed a few years back when the Lord's daughter was unhappy with the torturing of her ex-lover. Now, making his way as a bounty hunter of sorts, he's accepted a contract to hunt escaped prisoners - and this contract will put his old skills to new uses