Name: Fiona Barrow-Heart
Age: 41
Race: Reachwoman (Nord/Breton)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'11
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Appearance: Being a native of The Reach, Fiona's appearance naturally falls somewhere between the average idea of a Breton and a Nord. Fiona Barrow-Heart is a tall woman, with an unruly mess of shoulder length auburn hair. Fiona has the long. lithe limbs of a Nord complimented by the more rounded facial features of a Breton. Her nutmeg coloured eyes are dashed with green, her pale skin is generally anoited with a simple pattern of face paint: black below the eyes and two marks on one cheek. Her lips are an unnatural grey. A certain light behind the eyes, an animation in her expressions provides Fiona Barrow-Heart with something of the look of a wild beauty. (or something like this: http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/259/fionabriarbarrow.png/ )
Class: Witch (Applying for position of Court Mage)
Skills and known spells:
Alchemy - An impressive knowledge of the magical propeties of flora native to Skyrim
Alternation - Journeyman level at best
Conjuration - A worrying affinity with the communion and summoning of undead and daedric creatures.
Destruction - Essentially capable in the flinging of lightening bolts, and the application of certain frost and fire runes
Enchanting - Skilled in the preperation and study of a vast array of enchantments
Illusion - Conspiculously talented
Restoration - Competent to a reasonable level in restorative magic
Clothing / armor: Fiona wears a simple, slightly ragged mage's robe, complete with various pouches. Around her wrists, her neck and in her ears she wears various ornaments, mainly fashioned of bone, mainly bone from creatures she herself has killed.
Weapons: Fiona carries a small hunter's knife for the gathering of ingedients, and a mage's staff which omenously finishes it what appears to be a human skull.
Miscellaneous items: Fiona brings with her a trunk full of various pieces of mage's miscellany; soul gems, scrolls, a few books, and a number of alchemical ingredients.
Personality: Fiona Barrow-Heart is often a severe woman. She takes the arcane arts rather seriously; her powerful mind is often far away in the contemplation of deep mystic mysteries, even when she is being addressed. She is an animated woman, hands always busy, mind never empty of ideas. Her own mastery of magic leans towards the practical side, and she is deeply pratical in all her dealings with other people. Her heart is profoundly spiritial, althought Fiona may often be sharp with those who do not understand her, she is an extremely empathetic, if not sympathetic woman.
Major flaw: While not actually mad, Fiona Barrow-Heart could easily be described as "away with the faeries". It has often been joked that she gets on better with Will-o-the-Wisps than with actual people, and this is hard to dispute. In actuality, human affairs seem to bother her a chillingly small amount.
Background: Fiona grew up amongst the natives of the Reach, in a community that became entangled in the Forsworn rebellion. Local witches noticed her unusual talent for magic at a young age and plucked her from her village, to educate the girl in the ways of their Hagravens. However, Fiona's thirst for knowledge was insaitable, and as a young advlt she rejected the oppertunity herself to become a Hagraven and left the covern to join the College of Winterhold, where she held a research position for many years. Though her research was undoutably brilliant, Fiona became increasingly detached from the other mages at the College, and, with a glowing recommendation from Arch-Mage Savos Aren, left to wander Skyrim and practice her arts alone. When word of a new Hold being opened and the position of Court Mage coming available reached her, Fiona Barrow-Heart rushed to The Rift in reply. It turns out one can only spend so much time living in caves and talking exclusively to Hagravens before one becomes insufferably bored.

Name: Radwulf Spurvhauke
Age: 57
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6’4”
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: He is fair skinned though dark circles have developed beneath his eyes, and he he appears to have a leathery toughness to his skin as well from his time spent in both the legion, and enduring the docks and ships of Anvil. He has green eyes, and dark brown, wavy hair that reaches down to his shoulders, and a fairly long, full beard, braided at the ends. Overly tall and lanky in his youth, years in the legion filled Radwulf out, giving him an impressive frame, complete with very broad shoulders.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Jarl
Skills and known spells (if any): Radwulf is more than competent with a blade, but his main weapon is his mind. Jarl Radwulf has a keenly anolytical brain, and is a hard man to fool.
Clothing / armor: He wears an orange cloak with a white fur collar over black finery, as well as steel plate boots, and steel bracers.
Weapons: A silver short sword, more for decoration than anything.
Miscellaneous items: N/A
Personality: He was once a shrewd, selfish man who cared only for himself and his family, but since his wife’s death, his personality has softened considerably. When the one thing in the world that mattered to him more than anything was gone, he no longer cared so much for worldly possessions, as he finally realized how little they meant to him. This isn’t to say he won’t surround himself by luxury, but that he takes little pleasure from it, and is far more generous than he was. He often appears melancholy.
Major flaw: He hasn’t been himself ever since his wife passed away. While this doesn’t tend to visibly affect him, he tends not to pay attention to people when he drifts down memory lane, as he has become prone to do.
Background: He grew up in Anvil where his family had lived for several generations, and spent much time learning of business practice from his father. When he came of age, he joined the legion, and quickly rose through the ranks. Radwulf kept the supply books for General Decianus during the Great War. It was said that the young Radwulf's acumen had saved the lives of thousands during that campaign in Hammerfall. During this campaign, Radwulf met his future wife, Allendra, and moved to Skyrim in order to marry her. Afterwards he and his wife moved to Anvil to take over the Spurvhauke family business.

In Anvil his family owned a shipping company that had been in business for well over a hundred years, and had made his family rich. Radwulf took to the business well, as his father had taught him to when he was younger, and he soon proved to be a shrewd businessman. His family had always been wealthy, but with Radwulf leading the shipping company, they soon gained riches to rival nobility. Radwulf, his wife, and son lived well like this, and they would have remained in Anvil if not for the day Radwulf’s wife, Allendra, grew ill.

They had healers come to tend to her, but she grew worse despite their efforts, and within a few days she was dead. Her dying wish was to be buried where she was born, which meant the Rift in Skyrim, and so Lliro and Radwulf traveled by boat around the continent arriving in the Solitude harbor. From there the duo took the coffin and their possessions to the Rift by wagon, and eventually they found a nice spot to bury her. Radwulf decided he didn’t want to return to Anvil, as he couldn’t bear to leave his wife behind, so he arranged for his shipping company to be sold, and he used his wealth to purchase as much land as he could in the Rift.

And so after much work, Valton was built, and became a new hold.

Name: Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu
Age: 72
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Height: 6’2’’
Birthsign: The Lord (Those born under the sign of the Lord are stronger and healthier than those born under other signs, which explains why is in such a good shape even at such a high age)
Appearance: A tall and muscular Orc, but age has made him look less tough and his face is full of wrinkles. His hair is bright white, but is merely a short mess at the back of his head. His skin has been exposed to the sun, the forges fire, cold and storms, giving his dark green skin a leather-kind look.

Class: Blacksmith and Enchanter
Skills:
-Armorer: Given enough heat and time, Gorbad can fix nearly anything that is broken and reinforce nearly anything.
-Smithing: As a master smith, he is able to make strong and durable weapons of any materials.
-Enchanting: His knowledge of weapons and armor is so wide that he can bless them with enchantments, if the soul gem is provided. He enchants the items with his master’s forge while creating them; he is unable to enchant anything that he doesn’t craft at that moment.
-Speech: His profession has made him quite proficient when it comes to selling and buying things, not that he needs his silver-tongue when selling his products.

Clothing / armor: A blacksmiths outfit with custom heavy armor reinforcement with a small amount of fire resistance, heavy Orcish gauntlets and boots.
Weapons: Two blacksmiths hammers that he uses in his forge.
Miscellaneous items: Tools needed at the forge, a collection containing small pieces of ore from all across Tamriel. Has a good amount of iron and leather at his forge, a small chest that used to contain his savings of gold septims, now merely 50 gold septims.

Personality: Calm and focused, loyal, friendly. Doesn’t get angry easily, but when he does, it’s serious business.
Major flaw: His age is a problem; he can feel his vigor and strength from his youth slowly fading him. The Lord-birthsign has kept him going for the last ten years and it hasn’t given up on him just yet. In a fight, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. He might be able to crack a skull with his hammer, but it'd be a game of luck for him, not skill.

Background: Gorbad has lived a long and tough life. He grew up in a stronghold. In early child-hood, his passion for smithing was far greater than his will to fight and never was an excellent warrior. That didn’t make him weaker than anyone else and he might even have been one of the strongest young-ones in the stronghold. His skills as a blacksmith were appreciated and Gorbad would surely have lived all his days in the stronghold if it wouldn’t have been for the attack against it, when he was 22. They never knew who attacked them in the darkness of the night, but there were spell casters, archers and warriors up against them and in overwhelming numbers. They were forced to retreat through the mines and blew it up behind them. This little group of Orcs eventually found their way to a new stronghold, but wasn’t welcomed with open arms. Especially the existing blacksmith didn’t like Gorbad’s arrival one bit. Out of jealousy, the strongholds blacksmith framed Gorbad for theft on his very first week there and fled the scene. Everyone thought he was guilty, eve the Orcs he had come there with. He didn’t want trouble and moved out. After that he spent time in many different places and got to learn the secrets of the arcane enchanting. It was on his travels he learned the art of business and trade and the mastery of every material known in Tamriel came from these decades of adventure and hard work. He even set up his own shop in a small town and was able to save up a nice amount of septims, around 1500 gold. Now, at the age of 72, he learned of Valton, a new hold on its making. He spent his savings to transport his forge, tools and materials to the new hold and bought a small house for the rest.

Name: Alfhed "Milk-Drinker" Melkedrikk
Age: 18
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5"11'
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: A typical young nordic youngling, but with much less muscle than most. He's slightly shorter than most nords. He has bright blond, short hair. He has a rather small nose, unlike other nords.

Class: The Jarl's Scribe and errand-boy.
Skills: Has a particulary good memory and is an able writer. He's a natural talent in math and problem solving. Would make for an excellent mage, but has never been interested in it. He was trained in the use of swords, but quickly got the nick-name "Milk Drinker", due to his lack of skill and strength.

Clothing: He wears a fine tunic of the same color the Jarl has, with the Valton symbol on the back. (two yellow axes that cross eachother, and a yellow sailors knot above them). Black boots and brown pants complete his outfit.
Weapons: Carries an iron dagger that has never seen action. Mostly used for opening letters.

Miscellaneous items: Pens and papers.
Personality: Tries to avoid conflict whenever possible, always eager to please and help.
Major flaw: He's weak and isn't fast either, making him terrible in a combat situation.

Background: His family knew the Jarl's family from a long time back during the Sparvhauke sailor years. It was almost a natural choice for young Alfhed to take up a job by Radwulf's side in the new hold.

Name: Nuramon
Age: born in 4E110, 102 years old (appears in his late twenties.)
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: around 1.80meters
Birthsign: the thief

Appearance: He looks much like his father, Weldarion. He stands at around 1,76 meter and has a slender built, although he has more strength one would give him, considering his light built. He has a face that people would consider somewhat handsome, but nothing more. His hair reaches is just past his shoulders and is of a brownish color and he has dark green eyes, encircled by fiery gold, they are almost exactly the same as his father's. he has several scars but except for a long scar on his right upper arm, none of them are really striking or noticeable.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Alchemist/Wizard/Assassin/Local citizen

Skills and known spells (if any):
Archery: he learned to shoot the bow at a young age from his parents. He has used and practiced it for almost his whole life and is very good at it.
Hunting & Tracking: also skills he learned from his parents at a young age. He also kept on using it for his whole life and he is very proficient in it.
Alchemy: A skill he learned from his mother who believed it was one of the most powerful forms of magic. He further studied it in Elswheyr for his job.
Dagger: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Sneak: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Unarmed: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Magic: He knows some things about magic, which he learned from his aunt and friends of his father but he isn't an expert. He knows most about illusion and conjuration, especially a good invisibility spell and multiple Daedra (no dremora's, atronarches, undead or any real intelligent daedra.) summons like Clannfears, Vermais, Hernes, morphoid daedras, … he also knows a little about the other schools like a simple healing spell, ...

Minot skills: He can also read, write, play the lute, flute and sing.
Miscellaneous: although he is stronger and faster than most (this is barely noticeable most days of the month) he is also less durable due to his posture. He can't take much damage and will not survive very long in head on fight.

Clothing / armor: he wears simple commoners clothes, in his closet in his home he has several sorts of leather and fur armors and also his orange and yellow Elsweyr robes.
Weapons: A simple wooden bow, some arrows (with heads for all different situations and targets) and two Steel daggers.
Miscellaneous items: A special necklace resembling the head of a mountain lion it was made by his father.

Personality: Although he looks a lot like his father in appearance, they are not very alike to how they view others. Where his father saw the other people as lesser beings on which he hunted, Nuramon sees them as his equals and he does his best to control his nature. He is, however, seen by other as feral and un-educated because of his behavior. When things don't go the way he wants, or when people anger him, he tends to hiss and spit, much like a cat. it is this behavior that makes other people misjudge him as being simple-minded, which is a mistake.

He prefers the dawn and dusk, which are his most active moments of the day and by the time the sun reaches it highest place he can be found taking a powernap. He likes high places, like branches of trees, roofs, high rocks and mountain tops, … He is also carnivorous and a cannibal, although not strictly and he doesn't mind eating the animals he hunts down or even plants. Although when possible he prefers human flesh.

Major flaw: he believes nothing can hurt him due to his years of experience in a lot of fields.

Background: He was born in a small estate in Valenwood. His father, Weldarion, was a well known hunter and bounty hunter and his mother, Nardinel, who was also a gifted huntress. They settled down in the forests of Valenwood when she was pregnant of her only son. Nuramon was trained by his parents in the hunt.

His father taught also taught him about his family history and heritage that his blood carried. He also helped him through the first steps of accepting this heritage. He lived with them for more than a two thirds of his life. When his parents passed away due to old age he decided to leave Valenwood and pursue the same life his father and mother once lived.

He travelled around Tamriel for many years, offering his hunting and tracking skills to nobles who would organize hunting trips. This went great until a few years before the Great War started. Less and less Nobles offered him jobs and he eventually had to commit petty thievery to survive. At the start of the Great War he lived on the streets in Corinthe, committing petty thievery and even murder to survive. A high ranked nobleman hired him to take care of his shady business and as a personal bodyguard, and he accepted and started his training under the current person to have that position. After Nuramon thought he knew enough and deemed himself ready, he killed his master and killed him, making it look like an accident.

He took over the position and lived a good and wealthy life for many years. He didn't only offer his skills to the nobleman, but also to others who had the money to pay for it. When his employer was caught plotting against the current ruler of Corinthe he had to flee out of town. He stole a horse and travelled to the Imperial City as fast as possible. He travelled further, with his money, to skyrim and there he lived for many, many years. But he eventually had to flee the hold after a bounty was put on his head after locals found out what he truly was and still is.

He decided to settle in the newly formed hold and start a new life without violence. He is thinking of maybe opening a shop or applying for court wizard and that fails he'll just become a local hunter.

Name: Greorn the Lumberjack
Age: 34
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Warrior

Appearance: He is a tall man, standing at around 6 feet 11. He has a strong built , with well trained muscles from years of wood chopping and carrying logs of trees onto the lumber-mill. His nose is cracked from a barfight he once found himself in and there is a large scar running from above his right eye to his left cheek going over his nose. He has steel blue eyes, the color being closer to the color of steel than blue. His hair is a little bit longer than shoulder length and is of a dark blond - light brownish color. He has two braids that are braided together in the back, and two in the front that hang down the right and left side of his head, both of them end in a little bone with Nordic runes on them. He has a rough beard. He has several scars adorning his body, but none have a special story attacked to them.

Class (what would you describe your character as?): Lumberjack,
Skills and known spells (if any): He has learned how to fight with his fists, a skill he picked up in the many tavern brawls he used to participate in for fun, apart from fistfighting he doesn't really know how to use a weapon, although he knows some basic skills which he has summarized in two important lessons: 'as long as you swing with enough force and you hit your opponent it's bound to do some damage.' and 'you stab them with the pointed end'. He also knows how to use a bow although he is by no means a proficient archer. He can play the lute and has a decent, deep voice with which he sometimes sings or hums to himself when splitting wood.

Clothing /armor: He wears warm, fur clothes (if he travels through colder regions) or simple wool clothes (if travelling through normal and hot regions). They aren't worth a lot and most of the time not really clean. However, he does own two pair of clean, higher class sets of clothes for special occasions that have yet to occur.

Weapons: The two-handed bastardsword, a well made weapon of high quality. It is an heirloom of his family and is passed down from father to son. The blade is as wide across as a man's hand and very sharp. The edge of the blade is specially made of silver and Greorn believes his ancestors used to hunt werewolves or vampires once although he has no idea if it is true or not. It has a slightly circular crossguard (the ends are bended upwards towards the blade) and the grip, which is long enough for two-handed use, is wrapped with white leather. The pommel has the shape of a wolf's head. Again, Old nordic runes run along the first inches of the blade itself. The weapon is hardly used anymore and is more an ornament hanging on the wall.

He also has a simple wooden bow with some arrows just in case he lacks the money to buy meat (he'll still have to be lucky to hit something with) and a large iron battle axe used to chop wood.

Personality: Despite his big and strong look he is in fact a very friendly and kind Nord. He is good with people and easy to get along with. One of his biggest flaws is that he tends to take his decisions without pondering over them for to long. He believes in the cause of the Stormcloaks and he is a worshipper of Talos and openly admits it to anyone who asks. One of his biggest wishes is for Skyrim to be free of Imperial control and in the hands of the Nords again, but he isn't racist like alot of the Stormcloaks are. He doesn't believe the Nordic race is the best race and he thinks everyone should get equal chances in Skyrim. That's why he isn't a stout follower of Ulfric and his regime since he inspires Nords to look down upon other races.

Background: He grew up in a small village higher up in the north of Skyrim where his whole family has lived for as long as they can remember. They have been lumberjacks for ages and it is pretty much all his family knows. That and barfighting which was seen as a sport in the village. Even when he was young it was already clear that he'd grow up to be tall, like his father was, and his father before him and the father before him and so on.
He lived a normal life for a long time until his father died. He lost his father during a fire in the mill, which got completely destroyed in the process and with his last remaining relative in the area dead, he decided to leave the town and finally settle somewhere new. He packed his stuff and set off towards the Valton

Name: Nellis Nelsh
Age: 35
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5' 7"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearence: Large, Fish like lips. Small blue eyes. Hair is a brownish-red, put in a ponytail. Poofy sideburns on the side of his face. No scars or warpaint. Fair skin, a bit pale. Large nose. Sleek build, little muscle. Rather fast.

Class: Miner
Skills: A small amount of One-Handed to handle himself when need be. Bit of Marksmen for hunting. Slighty skilled in Light armor, mainly for protection when he leaves towns. Speech, mainly to get good deals with traders. A interest in Alchemy, and a skill that needs improvment. Unarmed combat, mainly due to bar brawls. Skilled in Mining, Woodcutting, and Running. Only known spells are flames and Healing, and he isn't that skilled with either one.

Clothing: A white set of miner's clothes with thin dirt stains covering the front and the collar, along with a orange colored fine hat with a white fur border/ (Basically the Miner's Clothes mixed with the fine hat)
Weapons: A pickaxe, long bow with about 20 or so iron arrows, a Iron dagger.
Misc. Items: Potatoes and Carrots, Few health and stamina potions, The book Pirate King of the Abecean

Personality: Nelsh is a rather meek man, but in no way shy. His life is rather bland, and likes it just like that. He can be fearful of large and imposing fighters, and is a bit nosey when it comes to other's conversations. He likes to be with other hard workers, and loses interest rather quickly with people.

Major Flaw: Weak and Cowardly, easily bored, few combat skills. An insane case of Rage can also over take him when someone who could have stopped a innocents death let's others die.

Background: History on Nellis Nelsh is fairly bare boned. He says he grew up in Anvil after the great war ended. Before that, he was raised on a ship sailing the sea, avoiding as much of the war as possible. He worked on the docks for most of his life, but decided to move to the "Land of his people" when money in Anvil grew sparse. He arrived in Dawnstar, and worked in the town, before leaving for Windhelm. He once killed a guard in Dawnstar for letting citzens die in a Horker attack. He doesn't care for the Stormcloaks, and hides the fact that he is a imperial supporter. He seeks wealth, and he comes to Valton in attempt to make enough money to live on.

Name: Danus Maximus
Race: Imperial,
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Height: 6.2
Birthsign: The Lord.

Appearance: Short, blonde hair, Blue eyes. Whiter than a normal imperial yet not as pale as a nord, And quite muscular for an imperial diplomat.
Skills/spells: He is not a big fan of magika but he does uses a minor healing spell once on a great while. And if he is in a tough situation he would use the voice of the emperor to get out of it. He is decent with a one handed sword but prefers to use persuade people so as a result he is a master of speech craft. In fact compare to most imperials who are naturaly good diplomats he is could be one of the best the empire has to offer.

Clothing: He just wears typical clothes that wealthy nobles tend to wear.
Weapons: He uses an enchanted imperial sword he calls. "Septima" in honor of the previous Dynasty of the third era,
Misc: Mostly just a bag of gold as well as some books. (including speech skill books and the lusty argonian made)

Personality: Danus is quite a humorous person. When not serving as an ambassador in a situation he tend to tell jokes about the current events of Tamriel. Funny but offensive. However when need to he is quite serious and is a determined to serve the empire till his last breath. And he is also quite calm.
Flaws: Despite being an excellent diplomat he is quite stubborn an ignorant of former empire provinces. (though he does secretly respect the stormcloaks despite disagreeing with them) Also he has anger issues, A huge alcoholic, and has a deep hatred of the thalmor that could be a threat to his life. (though he will be safe as long as he keeps it to himself)

Background. Born during the start of the great war he never knew his father. In fact his father left there home in the imperial city as a soldier heading to fight the dominion before he was born. When he was three the thalmor attacked the IC. Having somehow escaped the city his mother had to stay behind and would die in the brutal occupation. (Thus giving him his hatred for the thamlor) Eventually he was raised by an imperial called Julius Maximus. Thus how he got his last name. As the war came to an end he was raised as a farmboy. However by 16 He decided to leave the village he called home ever since Julius found him as a toddler hungry on the road North of the IC; to return to the IC to find out what happen to his mother after the siege. Eventualy after 3 years he found out that she was kept in Thalmor barracks as a six slave along with other women during the occupation only to be killed when she was impregnated by a thalmor soldier. That his when his hatred for the thalmor grew. At 25 he self taught himself the arts of speech craft and combat. He then joined the legion leaving nothing besides of the village he grew up in behind. Over the next few years he was earned the rank centurion. After given orders to clear out a bandit cave he somehow convinced the leader to give up and surrender. That was the start of his career.
At 28, after being a very successful imperial diplomat he was personally sent to Skyrim by the emperor Titus Mede II To help stop violence in Skyrim by convincing as much jarls as possible to stay loyal to the empire. While it did not work as plan he did managed to convince Falkreath hold to remove their stormcloak supportive jarl and replaced by one loyal to the empire. Over the next couple of years the high king was assassinated, the civil began. and Danus was no longer needed in Skyrim. However General Tulius quite trustful in Danus convince the emperor to make him stay should there be a situation that be can resolved peacefully.
Over the next few months there is a new mission for Danus. There is report of a new hold. It is simple Danus is to go into the hold. And convince the Jarl to fight on the imperial side. However the jarl is quite stubborn when it comes to the civil war and it could be proven a challenge. Even for Danus.

Name:Roymund Inventius
Age:28
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Height:5ft 8"
Birthsign:The Thief
Appearance:Weather worn facial features, Grim appearance, Brunette, Slender build.

Class/Career: Woodsman
Skills and known spells (if any): Archery, One-Handed weapons, Light armour, Stealth, Fletchery/craftsmanship

Clothing / armor: Dark olive Tunic, Brown trousers, Leather boots, Long travellers robes (Fur-trimmed & hooded), Fur Gloves
Weapons: Imperial bow, Iron Shortsword, 20 Iron-tipped Arrows
Miscellaneous items: Backpack, Flint & Tinder, Whetstone, Journey bread, Small craft knife, Partly whittled light wooden statue, Bedroll, 400 Septims

Personality: Shy, Perceptive, Mistrustful
Major flaw: Too long spent alone in the woods has lead him to become mistrustfull of others, leading him to come across as mistrustworthy instead.
Background: Roymund was born in the city of Anvil in the Imperial province. His family all worked various Woodsman crafts such as Hunters, trackers, trapper, etc.
Aged 17, Roymund signed up with the Imperial Legion who soon assigned him into the Scouting regiments. After many years of uneventful soldiering, his unit was merged with another and tasked to head upto Skyrim. Whilst travelling, arguments with another Scout named Keller broke out and eventually led to a fight between the two leaving them both discharged from the military. Roymund fell back on his Woodsman background and starting carving out a living as a in the trade whilst travelling, He offer services through small hamlets and towns as a primarily a Hunter, though should the need arrive he could make a few septims from Fletchery, Tracking, Trapping and occasionally as an archer for passing merchant caravans.

Name: Alguidar
Age: 34
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 1.80 cm (~6' 0'' I think)
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Sturdy, wide body. Short neck. Strong arms and back. Tends to sit in a bad posture, hunched over the table. His hair is light brown and pushed back to his shoulder line. His eyes are green and deep within the eye sockets giving him a mysterious and not very expressive look. He has a full, thick beard.

Class: Farmer
Skills and known spells (if any):
Alchemy - Working the land for a living, he has come to know most flora in Skyrim and many useful recipes to treat wounds, diseases and fortify stamina for the long hours of work.
Barter - Due to the low profit margin of his products, he got used to haggling for every last Septim.
Two-handed - Basic skills using an axe to defend himself. Farms, being outside city walls, are very exposed to bandits and wildlife, a woodcutter's axe is usually close by when city guards aren't.
Cooking - Not the best but he knows how to turn his farm's products into a delicious stew. He can do wonders with beef.

Clothing / armor: He's usually seen wearing common clothing that doesn't draw attention to himself. Usually in darker tones. He also has a full set of leather armor stored in his house that he never used.
Weapons: None.
Miscellaneous items: None.
Personality:
- Impatient, sometimes rash in his decisions. Will tend to take action quickly instead of pondering his decisions at length.
- Strong nationalist and supporter of the rebellion. Tolerates other races but feels more comfortable around other Nords.
- Hard worker. Doesn't make much eye contact. He usually keeps to himself, especially when he's focused on his job.
- He loves a good joke though and he's very loyal to those he considers he's friends. Can talk for hours if alcohol is involved.
Major flaw: Close minded. He looks down to magic, outsiders and laziness. He frowns on exterior signs of wealth.

Background: Born in a family of farmers near Windhelm. Life was rough and he helped around the farm for as long as he can remember. The farm was fairly successful for a while, supplying Windhelm and Winterhold with all sorts of products, most notably beef. The harsh climate up north has always hindered its yield though. Eventually, his brothers started leaving, seeking new jobs around Skyrim but his father was always too stubborn to leave the farm.
Alguidar thought they could still turn things around so he stayed behind helping. As the seasons passed though, they were slowly dragged into a life where they were just barely surviving. They just couldn't compete with the cheaper production from the south, where the climate was much more forgiving.
News of a new hold being built somewhere along the fertile shores of the Treva River, reached him at that point. It stroke him as a great opportunity to buy the best piece of land on the hold before others flocked in, and leave this dying farm for good. His father still refused to sell the farm though. Both argued violently for days until his father finally succumbed from old age and disease.
Alguidar knew exactly what to do then. In a mix of anger and hope, he sold the property in a hurry for as little as 2000 Septims and traveled south, looking for a new start in the Rift.

Name: Brill Four-Fingers
Age: 39
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2'' (1.90 mt)
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Straight black hair, cut by the neck. Green eyes. He has a jovial look and a face that appears to have a constant smile. He's slightly out of shape.
Class: City Guard
Skills and known spells: His greatest skill is his tongue. He can usually talk his way out of trouble. Regular skill with most one-handed swords. He likes to have the protection of a shield. No skill in magic.
Clothing / armor: Standard city guard light armor, when on duty. Off duty, he wears a white shirt and some nice leather pants.
Weapons: Standard sword and shield, from the guards' armory, plus an iron knife.
Miscellaneous items: A gold pocket watch.
Personality: Often talks with sarcasm. He's very social, sometimes manipulative. Even though he's selfish, he's not ambitious. He's content with the simple pleasures of mead and women. He makes friends easily. He lies easily too, not out of malice, but to get out of trouble. Usually avoids physical confrontation. He tries hard to maintain a pristine public image, even though it may be at odds with his inner self. He's lazy and somewhat irresponsible. Does things his way, rather than by the book.
Major flaw: (I think there's already a good mix in the personality field, I can add something here too if necessary)

Background:

Brill was born in Chorrol, Cyrodiil. As the son of merchants, he traveled constantly, often participating in his parents' deals. As he came of age, he sought more excitement than the buying and selling of everyday items. He started a life of a mercenary, accepting odd jobs here and there, traveling and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

During his many travels, he fathered a daughter in Riften, Milli. The mother was an Imperial woman, working in a local inn. The decision to leave them haunted him ever since, but he couldn't bring himself to settle down and form a family. He kept working random jobs as he traveled far from Riften. Each year that went by pulled him closer and closer to Riften, as he felt the call to be close to his daughter. When the civil war broke out in Skyrim, he finally made the decision to go see them and confront his fears.

His fears proved to be right. He saw Milli briefly before he was kicked out of the house. Her mother was now living with another man. Heartbroken but wanting to stay close, he traveled west and he was among the first people to settle what eventually became a new hold. He made his living as a city guard ever since, now being one of the oldest serving guards on the hold.

Name: Jacqueline Hawkford (Nickname: Jack)
Age: 19
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Height: 5’2”
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Jack inherited her Mother’s soft and curvy features, and her Father’s golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Her hair is somewhat short. She cuts it herself so it is uneven and messy. She doesn’t really care about how her hair looks as long as it doesn’t get in her way when she works.

Class (what would you describe your character as?): Mason/carpenter.
Skills and known spells (if any): Masonry, carpentry, farmwork, writing/reading and math. She has no magic talent and has never been educated in the arcane arts.

Clothing / armor: She wears a light grey sleeveless cotton shirt and light brown linen breeches that stop right below her knees. Around her neck she carries a small amulet in the shape of the Hawkford family insignia.
Weapons: I guess all her tools can count as weapons if she finds the need to protect herself.
Miscellaneous items: Masonry- and carpentry tools (hammers, mallets, chisels, measuring tools, etc.) She also owns a donkey, a goat and two chickens. The donkey pulls a small cart containing a tent, food, Jack’s tools, cookware, clothes and blankets, various personal items and the chickens in their cage.

Personality: Jack is a very cheery and friendly girl. She is not a fan of conflicts and drama, but instead tries to make friends with everyone she meets. She might come off as a bit pushy by some, but she only means well.
Major flaw: Jack talks a lot. She rarely knows when to shut up and often ends up saying more than she should. Her dialect (butchering grammar) can also get on the nerves of the educated upper-class citizens of Skyrim.

Background: Jacqueline was born in north-eastern High Rock as the youngest daughter of the Hawkford family, renowned for their excellent masons and carpenters. Along with her brothers and sisters she was taught from a very young age how to read, write and do math. She was also taught the art of masonry and carpentry, and she was set to work with her Uncle and his team of workers. When Jack reached her nineteenth birthday she had a falling out with her Father and she decided to leave the family home and find a new place to call home.

Name: Sarynetta Vycomte (Sarya for short)
Age: 42
Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Height: 5'4"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Her face carries the typical regal features of fullblooded Imperial women. A soft but strong nose, a gaunt jaw, sharp eyebrows and a slightly tall forehead. Her eyes are emerald green with a hint of grey around the iris. Faint wrinkles have begun to appear in the corner of her eyes and lips. Her black hair falls to her waist in long, soft curls.
Her body is curvatious and lean with wide hips and generous briasts, though it has lost its youthful bounce and vigor.
Class/profession: Baker/cook/merchant
Skills and known spells (if any): Cooking, reading and writing, haggling and shopkeeping. She has no knowledge of magic.
Clothing: Sarya only wears dresses, and prefers a simple and practical style while working. Most of the time she will wear her favorite work dress. It is moss green with a brown underskirt that shows when she walks or moves around. It reaches her ankles and has long, snug sleeves that are folded up to stay out of her way while preparing food. Around her waist is a soft brown leather corset made only for fashion purposes. On her feet she wears simple doeskin shoes.
Weapons: None. She is not a fighter.
Miscellaneous items: She carries her little bag of money tied to her corset along with a keyring.
Personality: She is friendly and polite, and always enjoys a good conversation. She has a weak spot for children, and she absolutely loves parties. All the dancing and music brings a feeling of bliss to her aging heart.
Major flaw: She can sometimes be too trusting, and it often results in people taking advantage of her kindness and generousity.
Background: She was born and raised in Skingrad where she lived with her parents her entire life. Her parents were running a very successful business selling food and drink from both local farms and by importing from all the corners of the continent. The shop had been passed down through generations and made quite a name of the Vycomte family in the upper class society.
When Sarya was 40 years old she and her younger brother made the desicion to leave Skingrad and find a new place to set up shop in order to spread the Vycomte name and success. Her brother traveled west and Sarya went north. They both took with them goods and gold for the journey, and left their younger sister and parents to take care of the shop in Skingrad. Sarya traveled for months with a heavily guarded convoy headed for Skyrim.

Name: Itan-Ru
Age: 23
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Dark blue scales, with Light Blue spots and stripes. He Has Acid Green eyes, and a row of short spikes in a mohawk pattern on top of his head.
He is very thin, and though he has some muscle, is by no definition very strong.

Class: Magician, Alchemist, Priest.
Skills and known spells: Alteration (Novice Level: Oakflesh, Candlelight, Magelight), Destruction (Journeyman Level: Fireball, Fire Rune, flames), Restoration (Apprentice: Healing Hands, Lesser Ward, Turn Undead, Healing), Conjuration (Novice Level: Summon Familiar), Alchemy (Expert Level) only knows potions, not poisons)

Clothing / armor: Wears a simple blue robe (without a hood)most of the time, with plain pants and shirt underneath.
Weapons: Carries a small Steel Dagger, though he mostly uses it for gathering samples instead of fighting
Miscellaneous items: carries several basic potions with him, as well as a mortar and pestle and a small puch of gold. often carries sweet foods for snacks, as they are his favorite

Personality: Itan-Ru is a somewhat nervous individual, though he is very friendly. He is rarely purposefully rude or impolite. He is easily frazzled or distracted, due to his nervous nature, and this isnt helped by his affinity for sugar-rich foods
Though his high levels of energy let him accomplish tasks rather quickly. He is a bit uncomfortable around new people, but will warm to them eventually. The only time when he seems calm is when casting Magic or mixing potions
Major flaw: His nervous, twitchy energy, while allowing him to quickly power through most tasks, also has its drawbacks.
He's found that he can only achieve regular sleep with the aid of a potion his former caretakers created out of local flowers an roots.
Without this potion, within a week his temper goes foul, and he cannot focus enough to reliably cast even simple spells.

Background: Born in Riften, Itan-Ru spent his ealry years on the streets, trying to scraqe by.
He lacked the talent to steal or pickpocket, but was always fascinated by flowers and their properties.
The local priesthood noticed him one day attempting to make a potion out of some flowers and river water,
and out of amusemant and pity decided to take him under their wing.
over the next few years, he learned much about alchemy and surprisingly a good deal about magic from his teachers, Which, considering the argonian's unusal energy, was quite the chore. When the chance to have his own start in a new hold came up, his teachers forced him accept, insisting that the argonian had learned all that he could teach, and that the rest he would have to learn on his own. And so he moved to Valton to join the priesthood there so he could help a new town.

Name: Sae-Kas
Age: 28
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 3"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Similar to Itan-Ru, another Argonian would have no trouble in seeing that they are brothers, though men and mer might have difficulty. He has the same Acid-green eyes and dark blue scales, though the stripes and spots on his body are a dark red and dark purple. Like his brother, he has a row of spikes in a mohawk pattern on top of his head, though his spikes are a little longer than his brother's. He has a medium build, and is stronger physically than Itan-Ru.

Class: Smuggler
Skills and known spells: Sneaking, Speech, Illusion (Expert Level: knows Invisibility, though his time invisible rarely lasts more than ten seconds; can create small visual and auditory illusions (he wont make you think there's another whole person standing in front of you, but he can create distracting sounds and movements, the louder the sound or the larger the illusion the more energy it takes, and he typically only uses the visual illusions to back up the audio ones EG: the sound of a coin dropping might be accompanied by a small flash of light near the floor. nothing much bigger than that, and he can't do it often) muffle)
One-Handed (focuses on shorter blades, such as daggers and shortswords), Light Armor, Lockpicking

Clothing/ Armor: Wears dark leather armor, almost black when traveling or otherwise prepared for a fight. Wears simple clothing otherwise, never having been one for finery.
Weapons: carries a pair of curved steel daggers, with slight serration on one side of the blades. He is agile enough to use them both for stealth and open combat. Also wears a special glove on his right hand with a secret blade that extends when magicka is run through it.
Miscellaneous: carries a pouch of coin, and not much else

Personality: In contrast to his brother's nervous, twitchy energy, Sae-Kas is usually calm and collected, though is not above becoming enraged at incompetence. He is heavily sarcastic, and is fully aware of how infuriating it can be to others. When he chooses to, he can be quite charming, and is rather good at making deals which many would otherwise cringe at.
Major flaw: has a soft-spot for his brother, and would put himself in harm's way to prevent harm from coming to him. Aside from this, he is also arrogant and overconfident, and has gotten in over his head many times, only surviving through extreme luck.

Background: Born in Riften five years before his brother, Sae-Kas actually remembers his mother, who died due to illness when Itan-Ru was too young to remember her. Sae-Kas then took it upon himself to care for his younger brother on the streets of Riften. Forced to steal by the need to provide for his brother, he was quickly found by the Thieves Guild, becoming a runner for the Guild in exchange for coin, food, and other necessary supplies. After Itan-Ru's naming day, which took place in a similar manner to his own, the argonian dock workers providing the needed hist sap, when his younger brother had joined the priesthood, Sae-Kas began to take a more active role in the guild, his brother's wellfare now secured. He found that he enjoyed the lifestyle of the thieves.
Like his brother, he found he had a natural talent for magic, though instead of healing, he turned his abilities towards deceiving others with Illusion magic. eventually, he left the guild (On good terms) to form a small smuggling outfit known in criminal circles as the Red Scales, which does a good deal of its business with the guild, as Sae-Kas still has contacts among their ranks. He was last seen doing business in Markarth, though some recent news may just convince him to leave...

Name: Julius Scipion
Race: Altmer
Gender: male
Age: 173(appear's in early 40s-late 30s)
Height: 6'4
Birthsign: The mage
Appearance: Black hair with tinges of grey in the hairline,Lean but not overly muscular,grey eyes.

Class: Ex-battlemage now mason
Combat Skills: Trained in the use of longswords and heavy armor, but his abilities aren't what they used to be back when he was a battle-mage. He knows how to maintain his armor and weapons in good shape.
Magic skills: Destruction mainly shock and frost spells, but will run out of magicka quite fast, some restoration and Illusion for basic changes E.G to change appearance.

Clothing: Usually Black leather boots, black linen tousers and white shirt and usually a blue woolen jumper
Armour: Steel armour reinforced with corondum. It gives the armor a rusty-gold look.
Equipment: Dwarven longsword, Maps, Mapping equipment, Measurement tools and some biscuits plus a brown horse with a white star down nose.

Personality: Quiet,reserved but usually speaks He has a long temperament but can snap.
Major flaw: He has sars on his right shoulder from a wolf attack and a deep wound on his right thigh from an old battle,when temper snaps alot happens.

Background: Raised in an orphanage Julius Was instilled with Imperial doctrine due to the orphanage being run by the legion. He was found to have Magical skills but was strangely weak for an altmer, he served with the legion until in 4E150he was put in charge of supervising the building of a new fort after talking and learning from some of the masons Julius had found his true calling. He resigned from the legion and has been a mason ever since even through the great war unable to fight his Brethren he requested to be a quatermaster until the end of the war where he resigned and his been in masonry ever since and has recently come to valton hoping to aid the hold in its infancy as to insure a northen bravil was not built.

Name: Jormaw
Age: 24
Race: http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=argonian&source=web&cd=2&ved=0CEYQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.uesp.net%2Fwiki%2FLore%3AArgonian&ei=C0taT-GjBsni8AOltZDjDg&usg=AFQjCNEvIxH4aZk47-lghQP3pm6sIW50OA
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1"
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearence: Slightly mesomorphic in build, has a long gator-like snout, ridged scales going from the tip of the nose to the end of his thick and long tail, the base of his short stubby legs are given expanded feet for keeping balance in mud, his claws are webbed- showing an amphibious ancestry. He holds himself in a hunched position at most times to appear smaller.
Colour wise his scaled skin is covered in a dark murky texture of brown, the underside of his neck, stomach and tail are of a lighter almost bleached shade with his upper ridged scales being a tinge of dark grey and what could be described as moss green. His slit eyes are covered in a light coat of black, which aid Jormaw in finding prey in the watery abyss, wherever they may be lurking. Occasionally he will apply a mixture of bird dung and specific tree sap to his face to form a temporary, plain white, ritualistic tattoo.

Class: Fisherman | Former Mercenary
Skills: He has expertise in most hand-to-hand techniques and is moderately proficient in the use of the blade. Both were practiced in his time among the Ukoa-Sieen and of course his former occupation as a mercenary to wealthy nobles.
His only magically imbuned skills are in that of alteration and mysticism, (Detect Life, Spell Absorption, Feather & Slowfall). Learned grudgingly from a whet-fang hermit whom's lair had been discovered by Jormaw in his hatchling days of wandering the darkness of Lilmoth's surroundings, looking for food and shelter. The vampire offered the training in exchange for his lair not being revealed to the general populace, which Jormaw surprisingly agreed on.
He can also be said to be skilled in cooking and preparing seafood or even forming basic herbal mixes to cure ailments.

Clothing: He'll casually appear to wear a garb of durzog leather: including a ripped kama with two rootworm grubs hanging off each side- both of which are next to the large tail. Two bands hang just beneath his knee and elbowcaps that are of woven bandage make.
Underneath those bands are fur shorts and a wrinkled tunic of the aforementioned durzog leather; conjoined with this is a set of cloth made shoulderpads made in vertical layers of flapped material. Sometimes he will wear a scarf of an albino netch's leather for the cold climate as well. One sling satchel is carried so that he can luggage any of his coin or needed materials around.
The argonian appreciates the addition of beaded or feathered embroidery to the depths of his apparel. When fishing or in the water he will strip down to be only wearing his kama, fur shorts and his bands.

Weapons: The young lizard prefers to keep his poison dipped claws as his weapons, but when needed he'll draw his self crafted dagger; shaped from the tooth of a sea-drake and hilted with a single exposed root's stub. He may also wield his bloodied carving knife into combat.
Miscellaneous items: a carving knife, some insect bait, a satchel full of medical supplies and materials, a tool belt.

Personality: Jormaw is a comfortable individual to get along with, if a little paranoid and alien-minded at times. For his age he has decent amount of life experience, making him a perceptive person to be around. He can definitely be stubborn in his views but wields a sharp, protective attitude to those whom he trusts. His greed can get in the way of goals, as well as his quick-wit and boggled temperament do in getting in the way of the 'land-striders' at the most conveniently helpful of moments.
Major flaw: is reclusive about his nature and secretive about his past. A good liar when it comes down to it. He isn't very appreciative of any sort of authority figure and will seek to undermine them if a chance crops up.

History: Jormaw is not the usual archein of Black Marsh. He lived as an outcast in the swamps near Lilmoth for much of his life, cast out of his tribe, Ukoa-Sieen, for consorting with the dark folk of the north. From here his life changed inevitably once he found a well paying job as a mercernary to a representative of an ann-xileel patron.-----------------
Such a career gave him brief moments of renown for his bravery in bringing Black-Marsh back into the isolationistic comfort of the Hist, even if he did not know about this himself. Such work even brought him to many different provinces, where he learned the common tongue of Tamriel. In these provinces he befriended new peoples and learned their ways. In time, he found a comfort he had not felt since his days among the Ukoa-Sieen.---------------
But war changes any man's heart to soil in time, so did this happen to Jormaw. An event which occured when he was about to take the head off a lone redguard smith, as he was payed to do. However, a little girl of maybe nine or ten stopped in him in his path, whom fighted at his bare stomach and begged him not to kill her father. A flash of memory came to him, or you could say a realization.. ----------------
The child reminded him of himself when he was her age. Prideful, headstrong, commanding. He remembered back to a day when he lost a spear head. He begged the Ukoa-Sieen's mystic to help him locate it, as it was the only thing that he had left of his now dead father. The mystic smiled, gave the stalwart young man a wink then passed him a riddle to be pondered on: "the spear is headless; but is it rusted or lost?" -----------
He dropped his blade. Walked on untill he was tired, then he rested, got up and walked again. Soon he was in new lands, now a traveller perhaps? Jormaw would not know or care. He had problems of his past to set his mind on. His destination was unknowable. He wanted time to think and rest.

Name:Roland
Age: 32
Race:Imperial/Nord
Gender:Male
Height:5’10”
Birthsign: The Lord

Appearance:http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/RolandFace.jpg is a gruff man. His body is lean and in good physical condition. His scruffy dark brown hair falls down almost to his shoulders. His eyes are a deep hazel green and look as though they belong to a man much older than he. His face is rough and unshaven leaving dark brown stubble across his strong jaw and thin cheeks. His face is slender but not gaunt.

Class: Ranger
Skills and known spells:
Archery- Roland is extremely talented in archery and more than at home with a bow and arrow in his hands.
Blade- Roland is also extremely proficient in the arts of the sword. He prefers a hand-and-half sword.
Alchemy- Roland has a strong grasp of alchemy. Not in the same way a mage would. Roland instead focuses on creating poultices and herbal remedies from things found in the outdoors.
Riding- Roland is a good rider and knows how to sit a horse well.
Tracking- Roland is a master tracker, of both game and other quarry.
Survival- From many years of training and being in the wilderness Roland has figured out how to survive on even the most minimal of resources.
Ranging- Roland possesses all skills that most associate with rangers, from climbing to cooking to basic first aid, if it is required for ranging he knows how to do it.

Clothing / armor: Roland wears a beige linen shirt under a worn leather jerkin. Over the Jerkin he wears wool tabard trimmed in leather, and on top of that he wears a worn leather vest and mantle for extra protection. He also wears light wool trousers and high leather boots. Around his shoulders he wears a travel-worn brown cloak clasped together by a bronze brooch. (http://www.alleycatscratch.com/lotr/Human/Gondor/Ranger/Ranger_A_8354_GLeaf.jpg)
Weapons:Roland carries a steel http://www.the-mathom-house.com/images/strider_scabbard-H.jpg as well as a http://images.wikia.com/deadliestfiction/images/5/5b/English_longbow3.jpg composed of hickory and lemonwood. To accompany his bow Roland carries at least 20-25 steel tipped arrows with him at all times. Roland also carries a steel hunting knife on the back of his belt. It is more of a tool than a weapon, but can be used to as one if need be.

Miscellaneous items: Roland carries a thin bedroll, a small hatchet, a few small wooden alchemical tools such as a mortar and pestle, a few first aid ointments and bandages, flint and tinder, and various other small items used for ranging or camping.
Personality: Roland is a kind person at heart, but he has seen much in his life and it has made him a different man. He's a friendly man most of the time, if not a bit rough. He tends to keep to himself, but once he's acquainted with someone and gets to know them he tends to be a bit more extrovertive.
Major flaw: Roland has seen some pretty gruesome things in the past few years, and it has left a large imprint on his mind. He sometimes relapses into periods of extreme abrasiveness and becomes extremely touchy when matters of his past are brought up.

Background:(Not going to give too much away here, most of his character development will be through revealing his past) Roland was born to an Imperial father and a Nordic mother in the town of Bruma. He joined the Bruma guard like his father at the age of 16 and from there went on to join the Imperial Legion’s 6th Forester Division. The 6th division was transferred from Cyrodiil to Skyrim soon after his enlistment. Roland spent close to 13 years in the 6th division. During the Civil war of 4E204 his Uncles and the rest of his mother's family declared allegiance to Ulfric Stormcloak. Much to Roland's dismay the 6th Forester division, acting as outriders and scouts for the 4th Legion, was dispatched on campaign against the Stormcloak rebellion. During their campaign the 6th Forester Division engaged in a large skirmish with Stormcloak forces around a village on the White River. The village was home to his mother's family. The 6th Division won the skirmish with aid from a 4th Legion regiment. However Roland deserted shortly afterward and has been running from the legion ever since. Some claim he runs on chargers of treason, deserting, and murder.

Name:Varyn Uvirith
Age: Born 2E 386 (1148 as of 4E 204)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height:5’7”
Birthsign: The Mage
Appearance: http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/TESV2012-03-2320-11-16-10.jpg is getting quite old and it shows rather badly. Even though he stands at 5’7” he hunches over making himself seem a few inches shorter. His face is somewhat gaunt, making his already pronounced cheekbones even more noticeable, and covered in a rough grey beard that he keeps tied in a knot. Upon his head, surprisingly, is a wild mess of grey/white hair showing a rather bad receding hairline. Varyn’s brow is also somewhat pronounced and home to thick flared white eyebrows.

Class: Mage
Skills:Once upon a time Varyn was an extremely powerful Telvanni Mage-Lord. However, that was a very long time ago. Old age has stripped Varyn of most of his power. While still maintaining the potential to wield the same power he had when he was younger, it is now much harder for him to do so.
When Varyn was in his prime he was a master in the arts of Destruction, Alteration, and Mysticism. His power was quite awe inspiring at one time. Even though he has aged and his power has waned, Varyn still retains the knowledge he acquired while achieving such power. He may not be able to blow things to pieces anymore, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how.

Clothing / armor: Varyn wears an ensemble of robes and sashes in the Telvanni fashion. Most follow an earthen palette, but a few are quite a bit flashier.
Weapons: Varyn has no need for weapons. However he does carry a Dunmeri dagger made of razor sharp glass as a last resort.
Miscellaneous items: Varyn is in possession of a large collection of scrolls and tomes with focus on the arcane arts and other less common things. He almost has enough to populate the shelves of a rather sizeable library. Other than his books and magical apparatuses Varyn has brought quite a few things to Valton. Mostly small insignificant items like his pipe, ink and quills, random chunks of dilapidated and seemingly inoperable Dwemer machinery, a set of alchemists tools (even though he knows almost nothing about alchemy), a few magical trinkets that seem to do nothing of importance, a bronze and glass dish engraved with runes that also seem to do nothing at all, and an assortment of other odds and ends packed into suitcases and trunks.

Personality: Varyn is a very opinionated and blunt person. He tends to speak his mind no matter what the consequences and is in no way scared of the outcome. Varyn can also come off as quite mad at times. Having almost 1200 years of memories tends to jumble things up pretty bad. He often mumbles random nonsense to himself or forgets even the most obvious things. Varyn also strongly believes that he’s still capable of the feats he was able to do while in his prime. This causes him to be quite feisty and strong willed. He often attempts to do things he used to do back in the day, and just as often he ends up failing miserably in some way or another.
Major flaw: Varyn is very old, even for a Dunmer. Even though he’s not disabled he finds it hard to walk for longer than ten minutes without the help of a cane, which he sometimes is reluctant to use as a walking instrument and instead uses it as a club to whack unsuspecting “Fetchers” and “imbeciles”. Varyn also is no longer able to use the arcane arts as he used to. However he still has the potential to do some damage, that is if he remembers how to cast the spell without blowing himself up (something that almost happens on a regular basis.)

Background: (This is the condensed version of Varyn’s extremely long history. It would be a nightmare to include 1200 years of back-story into a suitable post.)
Varyn was born into House Telvanni, and like all born in House Telvanni he strove to achieve greatness. He studied the arcane arts for centuries and eventually worked his way up in House Telvanni, through the normal means of backstabbing, murder, and trickery. After establishing himself as a Mage-Lord and Councilor of the Telvanni, through the rather brutal murder of his older brother, Varyn began construction of his tower, Tel Uvirith.

However, late in the 3^rd Era Varyn’s younger brother, ironically, drove him from his tower and off of Vvardenfell. Since then Varyn has been plotting his revenge as he continues to age and wane in power. His obsession with killing his brother is almost comical at times due to his age and his extreme conviction.

Name: Leandra Flavia Lavidia
Age: 26
Race: Imperial (Nibenese)
Gender: Female
Height: 5’7
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: So long as she maintains a safe distance from her (certainly bizarre) equipment, Leandra looks like a fairly ordinary young woman of her age. Her lithe build belies a wiry strength that is well complemented by the swiftness evident in her step – light, bouncy, yet also firm and sure. Quite tanned skin and swirly patterns tattooed in light blue over her left arm, reaching up her neck and touching upon her face slightly, betray her Nibenese heritage – said tattoo being the only thing that might strike a non-Nibenese as inherently strange about her.

Her face is generally rather gaunt, having notable, rather pronounced cheekbones that, accompanied by her just slightly snub nose, give her a slightly ‘soft’ look. A slight glint to her deep blue eyes sitting beneath thin, slightly arced black eyebrows, suggests that she’s more experienced than her age might suggests, and her thin lips are usually curled in a smirk that speaks of no lack of confidence in the young Imperial. Her pitch black hair is usually the deciding factor in the first impressions people get about Leandra; when it is tied into a ponytail, which is most often when she’s ‘on business’ (or when the fancy simply strikes her), her looks lean towards someone who might be half-seriously considered an actual mercenary. When it’s left loose, however, she seems almost comical, a soft-looking girl dressed in the strangest things imaginable.

Class: Mercenary. Daedra Hunter extraordinaire. Traveling weirdo.
Skills and known spells (if any): A good shot with her crossbow, capable in a fistfight (so long as she’s not expected to stand still and take any blows herself) and handy with her dagger, Leandra also has the advantage of an education, being able to write and read several languages, having some rudimentary familiarity with the theory of magic (that is not to say she can cast any spells herself; she can merely tell what school of magic she’s being blasted with) and quite the repository of knowledge regarding various things Daedra.

Clothing / Armor: To call Leandra’s choice of clothing weird would be an understatement. A blouse of padded cloth and the steel briastplate worn over it are not so unusual for a woman of action as she (says she) is; neither are the slightly baggy brown pants or almost knee-high tough leather boots, with a plate of steel on the front and further steel reinforcement for the toes. The fingerless leather glove with a slim green gemstone in it and Daedric etchings that glow slightly – making its strength-augmenting enchantment plain to the skilled eye – might be considered rather off.

All that most often goes unnoticed, however, in favour of the fact her right arm seems quite a bit larger than her left. The long dark brown woollen trench-coat that she’s taken to wearing since beginning her journeys in Skyrim doesn’t help much, by virtue of the fact its right sleeve is slightly lighter than the rest of the fabric, as well as much wider to accommodate for what seems like a misshapen lump for an arm – but what is actually, as becomes apparent when Leandra removes the coat, a mess of Dwemer metal that will seem senseless and chaotic to all but the most knowledgeable in the field.

Starting with a gauntlet that seems slightly too large for her hand, it trails off into pistons and metal connections to her arm that look like they must feel quite painful to the wearer. That Leandra can move her arm easily beneath what seems to be a Dwemer Centurion’s limb torn off and slapped on top of her own is a true feat of Dwemer engineering; that she has a small, slightly steaming tube protruding out of the greatest lump on her shoulder that’s made by a somewhat clunky pauldron is a source of infinite wonder and suspicion to everyone she comes into contact with. Add to that a set of thick goggles that are rather too large for her, also clearly of Dwemer make and with quite a few small levers and witches on them, and it becomes little wonder Leandra is always received by strangers as a walking oddity at best.
Weapons: Her primary and most notable weapon is a http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FNW/50NH/G1QWB4FI/FNW50NHG1QWB4FI.MEDIUM.jpg of http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FET/2PYJ/G1QWB4FL/FET2PYJG1QWB4FL.MEDIUM.jpg (rather less shiny and more rusted and worn in person than the pictures depict), which she affectionately calls Veronica. Strapped to her hip is also a slightly curved steel knife with a silvered edge – ‘just in case’.
Miscellaneous items: A small silver locket on a chain of the same material, inside which is a painting of the White Gold Tower and the surrounding Nibenese countryside, and a Dwemer-looking key, tied to simple string. Both hang from her neck.

Personality: Leandra is an odd one, fluctuating between a rather extroverted state and a love for solitude quite a bit and often without warning. While she does enjoy company often, she just as quickly grows tired of it. A curiosity that once knew no bounds (particularly where Dwemer are concerned) is counteracted by a wary, almost fearful shade acquired through several years of intense dealings with Daedra and all the various horrors associated, which is why she most often avoids talking about her occupation, never outright shooting down anyone who might have some notions about the romantic side of being a wandering fighter, but rarely if ever speaking of it fondly; sometimes, it might seem she actually hates her profession. About the only part of her that is constant is the attachment – almost love, one might say – she formed towards her crossbow.
Major flaw: The Dwemer contraptions that cover the entirety of her right arm might make her capable of firing Veronica, her odd crossbow, but even Dwemer technology is not above acting up at the worst possible time – and when this particular device does, it tends to bend her arm involuntarily in whatever directions it sees fit, going as far as breaking it once or twice.

And that’s before Leandra’s chased out of town or openly ridiculed for looking like she raided a Dwemer Centurion’s wardrobe.

Background: Born into a house of minor nobility in the Imperial Heartland, not too far from the Imperial City itself, Leandra is reluctant to talk of what she did in the past, much rather deflecting to question other people about theirs. If pressed, she will most gladly about her education in the Synod – making mention of the fact she never possessed the aptitude for the arcane necessary for actual membership – and the past eight or seven years she spent travelling through northern Cyrodiil and southern Skyrim, which suggests she’s been a ‘Daedra hunter’ (as she describes her occupation) since the early age of 18 – quite a young age, especially for facing certainly far worse things than the horrible beds and food Leandra jokingly mentions recalling from her travels.

Name: Titus Aetius
Age: 24
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: Clean shaven, short dark brown hair, hazel eyes, with several small scars upon his face, gained from his 6 years of mercenary work.

Class: Knight
Skills and known spells : Heavy Armour, Blade, Block, Speech
Clothing / armor: Iron Armour, boots, gauntlets.
Weapons: Imperial Sword, Iron Shield
Miscellaneous items: Torch, Lockpicks,

Personality: Selfish, Slightly arrogant, Titus only cares how something benefits him, but is cheerful when the occasion warrants it.
Major flaw: Has a bit too much confidence in his own abilities, and demands respect when he hasn't earned it.

Background: Titus is an Imperial from the family of a poor Imperial Legion soldier. Proud of the Empire and himself despite his low birth, Titus eventually grew bitter over the years, due to the White-Gold Concordat and the attitudes displayed towards him by Cyrodillic nobility. When he reached 18, Titus left to find money as a mercenary, being hired by some town or Count to kill some bandits. Upon hearing of the new hold in Skyrim, Valton, Titus made his way there, and has just arrived in the hold. Seeing how relatively new Valton is, Titus hopes to exploit the Jarl and the town for protection.

Name: Theseus Naik
Age: 21
Race: Nord/Redguard
Gender: Male
Height: 6 feet, 3 inches
Birthsign: The Atronach

Appearance: Theseus is tall with broad shoulders and a medium build. He has ear length black hair and attractive brown eyes. He has a long scar that runs underneath his right ear and a burn on his left arm. Theseus always has a placated look of intensity on his face.

Class: Warrior / Vigilante
Skills: Theseus is a skilled swordsman and a master at throwing javelins. He can also create many makeshift traps. He knows no spells.

Clothing: Simple clothes underneath scaled leather armor that covers his whole body besides his head.
Weapons: Simple steel sword and three four-foot steel tipped javelins that he has in a makeshift quiver attached to his back.
Misc. Items: A small satchel that he uses to carry his supplies and a wineskin water jug.

Personality: Theseus has a strong sense of justice and will try to help anyone around him. He tends to be quiet around strangers but will be cheerful and hearty around anyone he considers a friend. He can also be reckless and loves danger.
Major flaws: Theseus's sense of justice and addiction to danger have gotten him into trouble on various accounts. He also has a weakness for women and will often freeze up and act awkwardly around them. He has a fear and hatred towards spiders. He also hates alcohol and refuses to drink any.

Background: Theseus was born in Markarth to a cruel drunken Nord. His father would often fly into a drunken rage and beat him. He never met his mother and would often day dream of her rescuing him from his father. At the age of twelve Theseus's father got a bit more drunk than usual and burned him with a firery piece of fire wood. At that moment Theseus decided to escape from his prison of a home. That night he gathered supplies and snuck out of the city.
He had not made it far before falling into a crevice face to face with a frostbite spider. The sight of the monster caused the young boy to faint. The creature was about to feast on its prey but was interrupted by a javelin to its back. It turned around only to be stabbed through the eye by an old imperial.

Theseus awoke in a small hut. His eyes fell upon his rescuer, A tall thin man probably in his early fifties. The man was an ex legionnaire who had witnessed many horrors of the Great War. His name was Andrell and he told the boy that he could stay as long as he carried his own weight.

Andrell became the father that Theseus never had and the two got along almost telepathically. During the day the two would fish by the stream that ran next to the imperial's hut and by night Andrell would school Theseus in the ways of combat.

Seven years passed as if they had merely been days. The now nineteen year old Theseus was returning to the hut after a long day of gathering ingredients for the nights dinner. Something seemed wrong though. He could see an unusual amount of smoke rising from where the two resided and Theseus broke into a run.
The sight he saw struck him like a punch to the gut. The charred remains of the hut lay in clumps around the dead body of his mentor. Three arrows protruded from his chest and his face was unrecognizable from what looked to be a mace strike. His steel sword lay limply in his dead hands. Now in a sobbing enraged state, Theseus swept up the sword and ran towards the foliage where the fresh steps of Andrell's killers where sprawled. I'm gonna kill them was the only thought on the young man's mind.

And indeed he did. I could go into detail but all that matters is that Theseus got his revenge, and since that day he vowed to become a force against evil and to stop tyranny wherever it may be.
His journeys eventually guided him to the town of Riften and that is where his story truly begins.

Name: Ra-Tara
Age: 25
Race: Khajiit (Cathay-raht)
Gender: Male
Height: 6’10”
Birthsign: The Warrior
Appearance: Ra-Tara is a Cathay-raht and he has the characteristic coloration of his peers, orange-yellow fur with black spots all over. He is also typical for another reason, his size, there are few amongst the races of men who can look into his eyes or boast his innate strength. His eyes are yellow with black, almost snake-like, pupils.
Class: Merchant/Smuggler/Thief
Skills:
-Speech: As the mouthpiece of the brothers Ra-Tara has learnt to use his voice almost as well as his claws
-Unarmed: Like most Khajiit Ra-Tara prefers to use his claws and teeth to fight and has learnt to use his strength and weight effectively when called upon to defend himself
-Light Armor: Ra-Tara prefers wearing light armor if he has to wear any at all as it avoids adding to his already impressive weight
Clothing / armor: When not on guild duty he wears a comfortable grey tunic made for his oversize, however when on a job he wears his, once again custom made, Thieves Guild Armor.
Weapons: His claws.
Miscellaneous items: Five lockpicks and a small roll of lock picking tools and a pouch of guild money to allow the brothers to set themselves up in Valton.
Personality: Gentle giant, loud but often not with his own words.
Major flaw: Unable to do anything fiddly or requiring a modicum of skill.
Background: See J’Shar’s history.

Name: J’shar (Often called ‘Little Tiger’)
Age: 26
Race: Khajiit (Alfiq)
Gender: Male
Height: 11” (28cm) from the ground to the top of his head.
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: J’shar is similar in build to an average housecat, like all of his sub-species. However his appearance is slightly different, he has bands of orange and black all along his body, it is this that invariably earns him the nickname ‘Little Tiger’ wherever he goes.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Mage/Thief
Skills and known spells (if any):
-Lock picking: Even as an Alfiq J’shar has learnt to pick locks through the use of Telekinesis spells.
-Sneak: A sort of byproduct of his sub-species but J’shar is very competent at sneaking and slinking.
-Alteration: As a necessity he has learnt to manipulate the world around him using magic to make up for his lack of ability otherwise.
-Destruction: He has no claws to speak of so had to learn to defend himself in other ways.
-Spells: Telekinesis, Detect Life, Telepathy, Lightning Bolt, Flame Cloak, Wall of Flames, Invisibility, Steadfast Ward, Healing.
Clothing / armor: None
Weapons: None except his not very fearsome claws
Miscellaneous items: None

Personality: Dependent upon his brother to act as his voice, strong willed and devious, will use people to achieve his goals.
Major flaw: Other than being less than a foot high and unable to manipulate the world if separated from magic and his brother?
Background: The brothers were born in the warm sands of Elsweyr in Dune, they quickly left though seeking adventure, fame and fortune (mostly fortune). They travelled together for a while and soon found themselves in Cyrodil, with no real interest in the war they made small amounts of gold trading with whoever had a need.
Quickly though they got bored of the inherent danger of trading with soldiers and looked for a safer haven. They had been told that Skyrim was safe and that many of their race had made a living in the area.
Skyrim was not the safe land they had been promised, Dragons and war disrupted their border crossing but cross they did. Eventually they fell in with a trading caravan run by Ri’saad. From here they forged links with the Thieves Guild, their unique set up allowing them to complete some of the more unusual requests received.
It is because of this skill that they have been sent to Valton, to establish a foothold for the guild in the fledgling hold.

Name: Erutáron (lit. "lofty God") (Air-oo-tar-onn)
Age: 45
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5'6
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearence: Well fit Bosmer with long red hair with an overlaying back hanging ponytail. He is clean shaven and well kept.

Class: Horse-Seller, archer.
Skills and Known Spells: He is a Master Archer and Alchemist. He is an established hunter and handy with making good use of pelts for clothes and armor. He can command animals and is resistant to poison and disease. He uses no spells.

Clothing/Armor: He wears Hide Armor and hide boots when hunting. He wears belted tunics and fines boots in towns and cities.
Weapons: He has an Elven Bow and an assortment of arrows. He also has a huting
Misc Items: Enchanted Gloves of Archery, given to him by his father.

Personality: Laid back and easy going. Hard worker and lover of animals.
Major Flaw: Too trusting.

Background: Erutáron was born in Valenwood on the 17th day of the First Seed. He was raised by his father, Artoro, since his mother was brutally attacked and killed by a rouge vampire wandering the hills of Valenwood. Artoro hunted dwn the vampire and killed it with Erutáron in tow. Artoro taught Erutáron everything there was about being a great hunter. They hunted everyday and learned to live on what the world offered them. His mother ran the stable in town and favored the animals more than people. After her death, Artoro would never let Erutáron hunt the Big Game animals though. In fact, Artoro hung up hunting all together and took over the stables that his wife ran. He spent all his time at the stables and forced Erutáron to work along side him. He longed to hunt them. Erutáron considered himself the greatest hunter of all Tamriel and wanted, so desparately to prove it with the pelts of bears, sabre cats and whatever else roamed Tamriel.

Erutáron won every archery contest in his hometown but still had a strong pineing to tackle, what he considered his greatest challenge, and that was Big Game hunting. Erutáronworked the stables all day but hunted every morning before te stable opened. His father never came with him. Artoro was too protective of Erutáron and wanted to stay as safe as possible. He wanted him to run the stable after him. He already lost his wife, he could not bear to lose his son or worse, leave his son alone in this world. One day Erutáron left his home and set out alone to hunt the game of his life. If his father wouldn't take him, he would do it alone.He had gone out to the plains he had hunted as a boy and knew once he crossed the river to the south, the hunt would be on. It took him 2 days to reach the river and he crossed it. He wondered what his father was doing and if he would be mad at him. He shook those thoughts and focused on what was truly important, the hunt. he spent 2 more days south of the river and to much dismay, nothing to show for it but some fox skins and a slew of deer meat. No big game here. He decided to head home.

He was about a few hours from home when he first saw the smoke rising above where his village usually sits. The black smoke rose like a tower hundreds of feet in the sky. Erutáron's heart sunk as he raced towards his village, his father? Was he alive? Was he hurt? How could he have been so selfish to leave his father after all he has done for me? He never left me alone, he always kept me safe. Why did I have to leave? These questions circled Erutáron's mind until he reached the village.

He was not ready to see what lay ahead. His whole village lay dead in the streets, murdered by what? How? He started shouting for his father, but no answer. Was there nobody left? He reached his house but not in enough time, there lay Artoro in a puddle of blood with his bow in his hand and a claymore in his back. The whole town was desolated. Nobody was around. He saw a shimmering light off in the distance. It was coming from the woods where he and his friends played as children. He raced t the woods and found 10-12 Bosmer folks huddled in the trees. He recognized them from the village and they explained that the village was attacked by Daedra and that they were able to escape but nobody else survived. They told Erutáron that his father refused to leave his house and come to the woods for safety. He would not come without you they said. "He died waiting for you so that you would be safe."

Erutáron was sick to his stomach and now riddled with even more guilt. He was asked to stay and help rebuild the village with the 12 that survived. He declined and set out towards Skyrim. He could not stay in Valenwood. He needed to get away. He decided to head to Skyrim. He needed to get far away and he decided to give up hunting. the thought of it turned his stomach. He decided to take the 6 horses that remained in his father's stable and head north to reopen his family's stable in Skyrim. He had one Chestnut Horse, one Bay Horse, two Painted Horses and two Black Horses. He would follow in his other and father's footsteps and thrive in the horsetrade.

After arriving in Skyrim, it did not take Erutáron too long to realize that this country was worse off than Valenwood. It was in the middle of a civil war and dragons were attacking towns. Erutáron His life was empty and for the tried to open a stable in manyof the holds in Skyrim but found that most had a stable or did not have the desiree to open one. First time, he realized he was lonely.He felt very frustrated and a faliure. He heard of a new hold starting up called Valton and decided he would head there to settle down, open a stable there, since most of the other Holds already had a stable, but Valton did not. He hoped to also find a wife there and start a family of his own and possibly have a son and name him Artoto and never leave him alone and always keep him safe.

Name: Trannigan 'Dratt' Drattmer
Age: 33
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 6'5
Birthsign: The Warrior

Appearance: A good bit taller than the average Imperial, and with a more muscular body build. He is stronger than most men of his race but less agile because of being slightly more built than most. He has tanned skin and unkempt hair grown a few inches past the shoulders as well as a grown out goatee. His hair is black and goes a about an inch past his shoulders and his eyes are a bright green with amber flecks in the outer edges. On his right cheekbone is a scar from where he got shot by an arrow head, a scar that still occasionally causes him pain and causes his face to not be able to take a punch like it used to.

Class: He used to be a mercenary, but once he wanted to settle down he thought he might use his experience to become a guard.
Skills and known spells (if any): One handed weapons, Heavy Armor, Hand to Hand, Destruction, Conjuration, pickpocketing/Slight of Hand, Speechcraft and Mercantile. He specializes in shock magic as well as various Damage Attribute spells.

Clothing / armor: Normal clothes consists of a short sleeved wool shirt and blacksmiths pants, as well as deer skinned moccasins.His armor consists of (oblivion styled) Orcish cuirass and gauntlets, Ebony greaves and an Imperial Horseman helm.
Weapons: His specially made Scimitar. It is made out of Quicksilver and Moonstone instead of the usual steel, and the hilt is black with jade designs. He also carries with him 2 Steel daggers
Miscellaneous items: Carries with him a large pack that has the potions, 2 health potions and 1 magicka potion. (The pack is large enough to also hold his armor when he's on the move and can't wear it.) He also has some hunted animal meat and preserved fruits to eat when ever he gets the chance to have his next meal. In the bottom of his pack is a coin-purse that contains 238 gold coins currently.

Personality: Confident in his abilities yet sometimes very arrogant and full of himself. He has been known to pick fights with individuals for various reasons, The main one being when someone insults him or insinuates that they are better then he is. He also tends to be quiet when in a group, which some people view that as him being a shady individual but he is usually just not a very chatty person unless in a good mood or drunk. Tends to have respect for the beast races of Tamriel on account of where he grew up as a child, he also has a respect for Orcs, Nords and Redguards while disliking most Dunmer for their thinking they can use others as their slaves and male Bosmer as very tiresome to be near for too long. Altmer and Bretons he is indifferent about, as he respects The arcane power that they wield yet finds them to be of The most arrogant of all races.

Major flaw: As stated above, the scar on his face sometimes causes him pain and makes his jaw susceptible to strong blows. He is also quick to annoyance. He gets impatient fairly quick and doesn't like to just sit around and talk things out for too long.

Background: Originally from his home land of Cyrodiil, Trannigan grew up in the city of Bravil, Trannigan figured out in his early teen years how much he liked doing tasks that let him use his natural talents, aswell as tasks that came with a payload; so he became a Mercenary. He then traveled the country for years doing most tasks he found that payed well enough, save for a few things that went against his moral code such as slavery or Skooma/Moon Sugar smuggling. Although Trannigan gained quite a bit of fame in the southern parts of Cyrodiil, he also earned himself quite a bit of infamy among some Orsimer Skooma peddlers. The syndicate was too large for him and his small circle of well trusted allies to take out on their own so the Imperial decided it best to leave the province and head up to Skyrim. He eventually grew tired of being on the run and wanted to try and find a place he could permenantly call home somewhere. He knew he probably couldn't go back to Bravil still, and so while wandering across the different holds of Skyrim he caught rumors of a brand new Settlement called Valton, and he set out to see if he could hopefully create a more stable life for himself.

Name: Uldar ( Pronounced Ooldarr )
Age: 167 ( Looks young for an Altmer, close to a 20's early 30's human )
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6'5
Birthsign: The Mage

Appearance: Tall, slim with his green eyes accenting his pale gold skin. He has no outstanding physical attributes as he uses magic to do his bidding. Gray-black hair sits atop his head, matching the same colored medium beard spanning his face.
Class: Necromancer
Skills: Destruction, Conjuration, and One-handed weapons.
Known Spells: Conjure Bound Sword, Reanimate Corpse, Soul Trap, Revenant, Frostbite, Ice Spike, Absorb Health, Summon Skeleton, Summon Zombie,

Clothing: Black Necromancer's robes of Conjuration laced with gold on the wrists, hood, feet, and waist.
Weapons: Flame-enchanted ebony dagger. Rarely used.
Miscellaneous: Both normal and black soul gems, various potions, gold, and tomes.

Personality: Uldar is snobby and vain as many of the Altmer are. He believes himself to be an authority on Destruction and Conjuration, furthering his self appointed master mage status. Despite his attitude he will take an interest to any who proves they're worth something. He usually likes to be alone, and could be described as evil.

Major flaw: Uldar is vain and arrogant. Believing himself better than most anyone.

Background: Uldar was born on Summerset Isle, growing up surrounded by his race's history. As a boy young Uldar was always infatuated with magic. His father was a powerful Altmeri mage who instructed his boy in the ways of his ancestors and in the way of Destruction. He advised his sun to always invest in his natural magical aptitude and to test his limits once he was experienced enough to know them. His mother was more a fixture at home than anything. Studies and teachings consumed all of Uldar's time.

He grew in power as he grew older. Less and less his father could teach as by advlthood Uldar had become the master. He still valued his father's wisdom and still had his counsel. Uldar eventually left his home in Summerset Isle and traveled to Cyrodiil to join the Mage's Guild. He found the state of the Imperial province's magic studies deplorable and disliked the direction it had taken since the Oblivion crisis. So the young Altmer traveled north to Skyrim and enrolled in the College of Winterhold. He loved the solitude and privacy the College allowed him. He stayed isolated though every so often he'd discuss his studies and research with his fellow and senior mages. He found himself entranced by the alluring prospect of learning the art of Conjuration, so he took to delving into it's studies. Uldar turned out to have a certain knack for the dark art and began to dabble in Necromancy.

He began to study under the resident Conjuration specialist Phinis Gestor. The expert of the trade taught his new pupil to wield his new magics well and even passed on a spell to harness black magic. While he was taught by Gestor he hungrily sought out more knowledge. The now advlt Altmer devoured books on Destruction and Conjuration. He attained superb command of their power. Uldar lost himself in the study of Necromancy. He raised the dead, manipulated, and studied them. He was always experimenting and conjuring, creatures from Oblivion were inside his chambers often.

Finally Uldar had achieved the level of power he'd always wanted. He became a Necromancer and fully enjoyed his craft. By this time he'd been studying at the College for quite some time, but he felt he should move on lest he be persecuted. So he packed up and left after a warm farewell, searching for another place to stay, he traveled the holds. He found nowhere that suited him until he heard of the new hold Valton. Uldar decided he should investigate the new hold, to see what it could offer. Hoping he could find a solitary place to practice his craft, maybe even create his own form of life.

Name: Wolfgar Cut-Throat.
Age: 37
Race:Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9
Birthsign: the steed.

Appearance: Blond, long viking like hair, Left eye been cut out. Scar on his throat, and left cheek. And like any Nord. Really muscular.
Class: Bandit leader.
Skills: Lockpicking, 1 handed, and light armor

Armor: leather armor.
Weapons. A steel sword.
Items: A bag of gold and the lusty argonian maid.

Personality: Uflgar is a violent individual. Though he views himself as a hero for challenging the riften government many poeple see him as an evil person.
Major flaw: A drunkard, very greedy, and due to losing an eye, he can't see well.

Background: It is simple, he was born in Riften. His mother was a prosttute who died in child birth and his father was drunk and abusive. When he was 12 his father died drinking himself to death. He spent 2 years in the streets begging until he meet a kahjiit called R'zeer. R'zeer got him into the thieves guild and for 11 years served it well. However despite their promises of making the members rich he barely got enough money from the guild.

Wolfgar was left with no choice but to raid caravans. After taking some members from the guild the bandit group prospered from the gold from the caravans. After 7 years Wolfgar began to become more Gruesome. After every caravan raid he would kill every victim except for the young who might eventually become part of the group. When the bandits started to raid villages it became clear to the Jarl that Wolfgar is a threat.

When Wolfgar was 37 the riften guardsmen hunted the group down. They then attacked a fort which was Wolfgar's HQ. Barely escaping with a few other bandits they heard of a new hold..

His bandit group has 3 experienced bandits, 2 recruits and Wolfgar himself.

Name: Skelen
Age: 56
Race: Argonian (Naga)
Gender: Male
Height: 7'4
Birthsign: The Ritual
Appearance: Even though his age is 52 he looks well over 60. His whole face looks worned out and the right side of his head is burned. His skinn is
red and he has two big horns going down from his head to the middle of his back. He has uncountable amounts of scars on his back, stomache,
arms en right leg. He misses 1 finger on both hands, on his right hand his pinkie and on his left hand his middle-finger. Summed up he looks like a
pretty scary argonian.

Class: Witch-hunter with a good skill in small knives.
Skills and known spells: His main skills are Illusion, Conjuration and Small knives / blades. But he also knows a few lesser destruction and mysticism spells.
Clothing / armor: A grey/black robe with a hood that he always wears, mostly to cover up his wounds. He has two rings on his right hand one is
black and has a red stone on it and the other one is just silver collored and has some weird symbols written on them.
Weapons: He carries two small knives inside his robe.
Miscellaneous items: He has a little flask inside his robe that he drinks out of constantly. Also he carries a little book with weird symbols inside his
robe.

Personality: He does not really care about other people, he is mostly disgusted by them. However he does enjoy talking to people once in a while,
but he always talks slowly and does not seem to really be listening. Once in a while he stumbles acros a person that interests him and then he
enjoys long conversations.
Major flaw: Because of all his wounds he suffers from a lot of pain constantly, even though he does not seem to pay much attention to it. Also due
to the fact that he has lost some fingers he can not take up stuff with his left hand easilly.

Background:
Skelen was hatched inland in black marsh in his naga tribe. At the age of eight he "accidentally" put an end to the life of a nine year
old argonian while they were playing a game. Because of his young age he was forgiven, but not by all. The familly of this nine year old boy
kidnapped Skelen in his sleep and sold him to dunmer slavers. He served a familly somewhere in Elsweyr.

When he was fiftheen he violently murdered his masters and set the house on fire. The body's were found burned and without limbs. Skelen has taken their limbs as food for his journey home. Also the man in the familly, his name was Ashin, was missing his skull, several bones and was skinned from top to bottom. They have never traced these murders back to Skelen, as the family was involved in some illegal stuff, so they were happy they cought them.

In the following night the dark brotherhood contacted Skelen, but he was not interested in their offer. Skelen was determined to go back to black marsh and take the lives of the people that have sold him to the slavers. On his way he has feeded
himself with the corpses of people he found in the night and on stolen food. On his return to Black Marsh he could not find his tribe. A woman told him that they left to the imperial city to make some more money. Skelen decided to go to the imperial city. On his way he met an old man with a caravan carrying books. Skelen was impressed by the books about magic, rituals and gods. He decided he wanted to help the man with his caravan rather than hopelesly trying to find his tribe, only for the taste of revenge.

After a few years when Skelen was 24 the old man died and he left his shop to Skelen. A few guards have linked Skelen to the murder of two couples in Elsweyr that he had eaten on his way back to Black marsh. He was send to jail.
In Jail one guard allowed Skelen to read books, and he brought him the books about the things that interested him. Eventually they broke Skelen out of prison legally by proving him unguilty of the murders. Skelen was 34 at that time.
For about twenty years he has travelled acros Tamriel, (the stories about exactly what he has done in that time will maybe be discovered in the
Roleplay, What I can tell you is that he carries a bunch of secrets and burdens with him)

When he was 54 he got a job in a bookstore in Skyrim. He had worked there for 1 year untill he heard rumours about a new city called Valton. He had also heard rumors about some people in the city that might help him getting corpses that he could use for his experiments, mutilate and eat.
as a cover he decided to get the books the old man with the caravan left him (They were somewhere in an old storage room in Cyroddil) and head out to the city to get a house, and maybe sell some books himself. After he left the bookstore in Skyrim the original owner was missing and was later found skinned from bottom to top, missing bones and pieces of his skull in the woods. They could not trace Skelen to the owner.

Name: Roscoe the Butcher
Age: 48
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6’7
Birthsign: The Lord

Appearance: Roscoe is a mountain of a man, even for a Nord, towering over even the average Altmer, He is heavily built and broad shouldered from years of wielding a massive battleaxe, and he keeps works to keep himself in shape. He wears his fair hair cut short to his head, and keeps his facial hair groomed into a neat goatee. His eyes are an icy blue color, his gaze more intimidating than his size. Scars line his body, with several being featured prominently on his face. One passes just over his right eye and ranges down to his chin, with his left cheek having several slash marks.

Class: Butcher/General Store Owner
Skills: Back in his heyday, Roscoe was quite the warrior. He was a barbarian, fighting with two handed weapons in light armor, decimating enemies with his quick movement and overwhelming strength. Now, Roscoe uses that arm strength to wield cleavers to cut meat for Valton. With his combat experience, Roscoe could easily step into a combat role to protect the town if he needed to. Hunting has taught him how to move unseen and fire a bow with accuracy. Roscoe has had to brush up on his mercantile skill in order to avoid getting shafted, but his days of hiring himself out have come in handy in procuring other supplies, as well as selling his own. Working with food and ingredients has given him a basic understanding of alchemy, and he dabbles in basic frost spells to keep meat fresh for longer.

Clothing / armor: Typically, Roscoe wears what he wears to work, which consists of boots, gray trousers, and a red shirt covered by a white apron, typically splattered with blood. As far as armor goes, Roscoe has a full set of scaled armor hidden away in his home.

Weapons: There is typically a cleaver within arm’s reach of Roscoe, as well as an assortment of various other knives that could be used for fighting just as well as they are for butchering. Roscoe uses an orcish greatsword to cut bigger pieces of meat. In his home, Roscoe keeps a steel battleaxe tucked away with his armor.

Miscellaneous items: Roscoe is typically in possession of various types of meat, as well as salt for preserving the meat.

Personality: Roscoe is a blunt man. He will tell people what he thinks, and he isn’t one to beat around the bush. He’s never had a reason to, as his life has been made up of conflict after conflict, and that is about as straight-forward as it gets. He believes that anyone can make something of their life, if they were willing to work hard enough for it, and as such he typically dislikes people who rely on divines or daedra for help in their daily lives. Roscoe is also highly frustrated a lot of the time, particularly when he’s working. He’s going from life or death battle every day of his life to cutting apart various selections of meat. The Nord absolutely despises the monotony of his work, but it is made worth it by his family. Roscoe is proud to say that he is a family man, and as such his little girl and his wife are his whole world. They’re the only reason he is working in the general store and as a butcher in Valton, and seeing his little girl everyday is what he lives for. His typical cheerful personality emerges when he is with them. You can gauge how recently Roscoe has seen his family by the expression on his face: the closer it is to a snarl, the longer it’s been. He tries to avoid conflict for his little girl, although if it came to it he would fight himself to Sovengarde to protect his family.

Major flaw: Roscoe’s love for his family is only matched by his hatred for the profession he finds himself in now. Every day he wakes up and drags himself to a monotonous job without anything really at stake. Compared to living a battle filled life where he risked his life every day, a butcher’s work pales in comparison. It wouldn’t be hard to goad him into conflict, just so he could get a taste again. The only time he is really happy is when he’s with his family. Other than that, he just misses the lifestyle he used to lead.

Background: Roscoe the Butcher was born in Skyrim to a pair of bandits. Needless to say, he was exposed to violence from an early age. Roscoe likes to remark that the only good thing his dad ever did was teach him how to hold an axe. The bandit life made him sick, preying on those weaker instead of protecting them. They didn’t treat him much better, and Roscoe was beaten and abused by every bandit in the group. He fought back vigorously, but there wasn’t much the young man could do against full grown bandits.

The young Nord ran away during his early teens, effectively breaking himself away from a future as a criminal. Roscoe began traveling to different holds, finding various out jobs to sustain himself. He worked chopping wood, picking crops, mining ore, whatever was available. This work put coin in his pocket, and allowed him to pay for the things he couldn’t make himself. He got most of his food and clothes from hunting, and he even sold various pelts and trophies to make some coin on the side. He started wearing light armor to protect against the more vicious creatures of Skyrim he might encounter while he was out hunting. It wasn’t an easy life, but Roscoe scraqed by.

After Roscoe’s 18th birthday passed, he found a new means to live on. He joined the Imperial Legion, which was a much more reliable way of life than the one he had been accustomed to. The Great War started shortly after the young Nord enlisted, but the Imperial training in addition to his life experience made Roscoe more than capable in battle. He was big for his age even then, and so he carried a heavy battleaxe into battle against the Thalmor. His penchant for cleaving elves apart along with their shields is what gave him the name the Butcher. Roscoe took to combat like a fish to water, wading ferociously into Thalmor forces and hacking them to pieces as he danced away from their blades.
Despite his young age, Roscoe was seen as a valuable asset within the Legion. Over the course of the war he was promoted several times, from actions ranging from fearlessly charging Thalmor forces in the course of his mission to carrying an ally out of combat on his back. He fought in countless battles over the course of the Great War, even participating in the Battle of the Red Ring. After the signing of the While Gold Concordant, Roscoe served with the Legion for another 10 years. Over the course of his career he had the opportunity to become an officer many times, however he always turned it down, preferring to be one of the men on the front lines, fighting the fight.

After several uneventful years, Roscoe left the Legion in the interest of pursuing his own interests. He traveled around Skyrim, doing mercenary work to fund his adventures, exploring the land that he called his home, eager to discover as much as he could about the Fatherland. He always loved a good fight, and he often went to inns exclusively to get involved in a bar fight for some coin. After a particularly rowdy fight in Whiterun, an invitation was extended for Roscoe to join the Companions. He eagerly accepted, happy to be part of a group that valued the warrior lifestyle.

While working with the Companions, Roscoe frequently found himself working with a particular Nord woman named Gundis. They were constantly at each other’s throat, arguing about pretty much any topic that was brought up. They trained together constantly, fighting each other in bare knuckle matches as well as sparring in full armor. Despite their squabbling, each had tremendous respect for the other, and they would have died for each other in an instant. This relationship eventually blossomed into love, and the two were soon married. Now they fought together as husband and wife, and argued even more about everything.

They fought together for years, becoming even closer after every battle. Their marriage was as strong as steel, and they were happy with each other. However, after several years together, the two decided that their family was not complete, and they decided they would try to have a child. Roscoe’s first child was born soon after that, naming the baby girl Eydis. There was talk of continuing to fight with the Companions, but Roscoe refused to neglect his daughter like his parents had neglected him. They took positions training newer members of the Companions in an effort to spend time with their child.

As Eydis grew up, it soon became clear that the little girl had a much softer nature than her parents. She was scared of weapons, and preferred petting animals to hunting them. After enough Companions were brought in bleeding in front of her, or one of her own parents were injured during training, it was evident that they needed to find a different place to raise their daughter. It was then that the concept of a new hold sprung up. Eager for a better setting to bring up Eydis, Valton seemed like the ideal place. Roscoe took a job running the general store on top of working as the town’s butcher in homage to his title, looking to do something that would keep him away from combat as much as possible. Roscoe, Gurdis, and Eydis all work together to run the general store, and that’s the only reason the two former warriors can stand this new life. The hope is that the lifestyle will make raising the now 10 year old Eydis much easier.

Family:

Gurdis, 42, wife- She has had as hard a time as her husband has had in getting used to a peaceful life, and so she is equally frustrated by the everyday trivialities of Valton. The Nord woman is tall, blond, buxom, and beautiful, if a bit more rough looking than many women. Her brown eyes seem full of barely restrained fury when she looks at anyone but her daughter. She typically handles most of the day-to-day trading, as she has much more patience than her husband.

Eydis, 10, daughter - The reason for her parents’ departure from the lives they knew, Eydis feels like a burden to her parents. She sees how much they dislike their lives in Valton, knows it’s because of her. With both her parents’ blond hair and her father’s blue eyes, Eydis is obviously Roscoe and Gurdis’ child. She’s a pretty girl, but any little boy who might show interest would probably be scared away by her parents. Where her parents are loud and aggressive, Eydis is quiet and soft, and as such Roscoe calls her his little flower. Although she has tried to get a taste for it, Eydis hates fighting and violence. She prefers to be out in nature or to read a book. She helps out at the shop with her parents, although she tends to avoid the basemant where her father does his butchering.

Name: Alavesa Oril
Age: 20
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Female
Height: 5’8
Birthsign: The Mage
Appearance: Alavesa isn’t tall for a dunmer, her skin is a dark blue in colour, her red eyes seem to see everything that someone wants to keep hidden. She has long black hair.

Class: A mage trained in Destruction. (Might settle down and sell magic items and books and offer training in Destruction magic)
Skills and known spells: Destruction, Speech, Restoration, Alchemy.

Clothing / armor: Alavesa wears blue mage robes.
Weapons: Her spells, but she has an elven dagger just in case.

Personality: A very kind person, easy to get along with although many mistrust her because she is a mage and a dunmer.
Major flaw: Her magic and ancestry.
Background: Born in Windhelm, her life has always been tough when her parent’s discovered that she had magical capabilities they sent her off to the College of Winterhold. There she became well versed in the School of Destruction, but life in the College was tedious and Alavesa desired adventure, she went to Whiterun and fell hopelessly in love with an Imperial named Dorlas Wolf-Bane. However she was restless in Whiterun and has ventured out into the Rift where she had heard news of a new settlement, maybe she could become a spell vendor, or maybe a seller of books.

Name: Roland Orelius
Age: in his early thirties
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5.11 ft
Birth-sign: The Thief

Appearance: Roland is a light skin Imperial who has short blonde hair and its side is almost shaved. His hair is straight backward and has somehow a tall forehead. He has dark brown eyes and is a little over weighed but because of his birth-sign. The weight and sign contradict each other and make his agility and speed like a normal person. Tip of his nose is read but when exposed to sun it gets better his forehead is a little curved inside cause his forehead broke when he was a 10 year old child. he also has a birth mark.

Class: One handed swordsman rogue. Unlike other people. his sword is not attached/fastened to his side. instead, it is attached/fasten to his back, its hilt pointing to his right shoulder ready to be wielded showing that he is right handed.

Skills: Persuasive ( moderate speech), decent one handed swordsman. moderate at blocking blows. novice in using flame-spells. An armature archer.

Armor: customized light armor. Dark blue and black as its base color with some white strip on the edge of his gloves and gloves fingertips and his footwear. a narrow black leather belt going from his left shoulder to his right side and fastened in x fashion in the middle. Wearing this http://eng.inkungfu.com/upload/201007/20100713135630000.jpg as its gloves. His armor is sleeveless but has a hood that is attached to it. And a red scorpion mark on back of his armor. Red so it is hardly seen. ( this except for his mask shows my Armor the http://www.ugo.com/games/ryu-hayabusa-ninja-gaiden-series)

Weapons: Fine imperial one handed sword. Imperial bow

Miscellaneous Item: enchanted hood that increases his arm stability while using bows. Enchanted footwear that let him move faster.

Personality: Roland is sometimes really hot tempered and gets angry really easily. But sometimes he is really tolerant and patient. He does not care what who says about him. Even if someone insult him in the face, he won’t do anything unless he is in the bad mood. But, he remembers everything and every enemy he has and things related to them really well and waits for a time to strike back. His vengeance can be really brutal and cruel. Once angry, he does not understand what he says or does and doesn’t care what happens to the person who has made him angry and he is unleashing his wrath on. He thinks of one thing; pain and revenge. He is also somehow an observant person who can find out the relation between people by looking at how they interact with each other. He is also a good talker and listener and if need be. He always tries to use the best and nicest way and things to say regardless of their gender but very bad mouthed and perv once angry. He is a sneaky person. He snuck out of home 4 times in a week despite the door was locked at the time. He also considers And he is not the type to listen to advice and does what he wants regardless of its outcome. and is good at picking things up sneakily. Despite all those bad things, there is one good thing in him. being helpful whenever and wherever he can. Even to strangers if they need help. and can show a great wisdom and can be really persuasive sometimes and speak like a well experienced person who knows many things.

Major Flaw: as stated above, being sometimes hot tempered and when angry, totally uncontrollable. considering stealing an act of mercy for the poor.

Background: Roland was born in Cyrodiil( if I am not mistaken). He was born from a middle class family. He was his parents first child. He was not the type to just sit in one place and be a "good" boy. he never stayed in. He always found a way to go out. To play, to make trouble AND to pick up his friends stuff without permission and bring them home to play. When they criticized him and told him he should not have done that, he would not say even a simple sorry. would run to his room, lock the door and say leave me alone. And would justify and say that if he has done a bad thing, he would have apologized. But he has not done anything wrong, it was his friends toy and he could have taken any of them any time he wanted, he always said .First signs of his future profession was shown back then. When he was 15 years old, the trait of picking other peoples stuff had become a habit for him but and some people in the town looked at him as a thief. His father did not believe them and kept siding with his son. Till one day, He stole his father’s money. OR just took some money of his father purse. His father turned a blind eye to this and said he is a child.. after a few years going with the same excuse, he finally kicked him out of his house for stealing his money over and over again. So he left out alone in the streets. What became of him? for like 14 years he spent days and night in the streets of Cyrodiil doing what he did great. Stealing from other people and doing deals and exchanging goods with some other smugglers. This kept him fed and warm till there was no one that he had not steal from in Cyrodiil. Everyone knew who he was and they all wanted him gun and kept harassing "an honest and hardworking citizen" he addressed himself. So he finally packed and left Cyrodiil for the hope of starting a new life and "business" or joining a "business" somewhere else. On his way, he heard of a place called Valton from some people. With the hope of finding what he seek, he made his way to the town.

Name: Annika
Age: 25
Race: Nord
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Birthsign: The Steed (of course ;D)

Appearence: Her hair is very long, but looks full and not strangly at the ends. It is a dark brown and slightly wavy. She has a paler complexion from the Skyrim cold, but no blemishs on her skin or face. Her eyes are large and a lighter shade of blue. She is thin, but not weak looking. She is pretty.
Class: Shopkeeper
Skills: Other than like speechcraft she is good with one handed skills, and archery. She moves well in light-armor.

Clothing: During the shop hours she usually just wears a nice long blue dress.
Weapons: She carries on her a dagger, but in a chest in her room she has a steel sword and a bow and arrows.

Miscellaneous: She has gold. (can't really think of anything else right now)
Personality: Friendly, kind, and usually gentle. She usually does not get angry very fast.
Major Flaw: She cannot swing a long sword for the life of her, and she has a fear of Frostbite Spiders. A paralizing fear of them.

Background: She was origionally from Windhelm, and after many attempts to join the Stormcloaks and everytime beinging turned down, she gave up and moved out of Windhelm. She discovered Valton as she traveled down with the ententions of finding Riften. But she decided to stay, settle down by herself, and when the shopkeeper went missing, she filled in for him.

Name: Lokir
Age: 26
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2"
Birthsign: The Steed

Appearance: He looks even younger then he is with a very unblemished, round and hairless face. Rather pale complexion. Large, light blue eyes. A short, flat nose. Wispy, wavy blond hair. A slight, wiry build.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Merchant and Spy
Skills and known spells (if any): Decent with small blades and a crossbow. A decent enough merchant. Speedy and agile, very good at climbing and moving quickly and quietly. Can pick locks well and can set and disarm traps. An exceptional liar and public speaker as well.
Clothing / armor: Assortment of basic, middle class clothing. No armor.
Weapons: A short iron blade. A medium-weight wooden crossbow.
Miscellaneous items: Small coin with a symbol showing he's a Stormcloak, but only know to other rebels, or those very knowledgeable of Stormcloak espionage (I cannot stress that enough).

Personality: Quite serious about his role, he will not mess around when it comes down to getting work done. However, he can play many personalities depending on what his job requires, moving between sarcastic, drunk, angry, comedic and everything in between.
Major flaw: Despite his skills, he is still young and thus rash in some of his decisions.
Background: Grew up in a very anti-Empire family, so he naturally joined the Stormcloaks. He is only a mediocre soldier however, despite his decent skill with a blade, so he applied his talents to the rebellion to act as a spy. He has done two minor jobs so far, on in Whiterun and one in Solitude, both trying to weed out informers, and he has had success on both of them. Now he has been assigned to this new hold that has sprung up to see if any notable people are in the settlement, as well as to see if the Imperials plan on interfering in the city and to determine where the Jarl's loyalties lie, along with the general populace's.

Name: Alessandra
Age: 23
Race: Nibenese (Imperial)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'8"
Birthsign: The Warrior

Appearance: Like her "husband" she looks very young, even for someone who is 23. She has a thin face, with short, straight black hair and narrow green eyes. She is fairly short, and also quite thin and wispy, definitely not an obvious physical threat.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Merchant, Illusionist and Spy
Skills and known spells (if any): Enough skill with a blade to defend herself adequately but not much beyond that. Good at Illusion magicks, able to cast strong Charming spells, as well as blinding flashes of light, Invisibility, and Calm spells. Supplements this with decent skill in Destruction, mainly used to supplement her torturing skills. Also good at moving silently, and is quite acrobatic.
Clothing / armor: No armor. Assortment of basic middle-class clothing.
Weapons: A small iron blade.
Miscellaneous items: Small coin with a symbol showing she's a Stormcloak, but only know to other rebels, or those very knowledgeable of Stormcloak espionage (I cannot stress that enough).

Personality: By all accounts she is a charming young lady with a winning smile, bright eyes and an innocent, youthful outlook on life. Like her "husband" she can play any number of personalities, and is not afraid of confrontation with most people. In private however, she is quite sadistic and also very serious about her job. She is capable of torturing captives for information, and doesn't seem to have any problem with doing it.
Major flaw: Like her partner, she is very young and rash, and her lack of powerful offensive skills can mean trouble if she doesn't calm your mind with her strong Illusion magick.
Background: Although she was born in Cyrodiil, she has lived in Skyrim with her family for most of her life. This is generally due to her parents disliking the way the Empire was going, and this led to her entire family joining the Stormcloak rebellion when it began. Soldiering was out of the question for her, but she quickly and naturally found a position in espionage. This is her first major job in the field, though she has done a few basic tracking jobs on targets before, and has been used by several soldiers to "interrogate" Legion captives.

Name: Sargon Hlaalu
Age: 226 yrs, Born near the End of the Third Era during the height of the Oblivion Crisis.
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2"
Birthsign: The Tower

Appearance: Sargon is an old Dunmer, although he has the face of a 35 yr old. With deep orange eyes and almost stark white hair, Sargon looks fairly noble, accented by the small, intricately patterned braids and knots in his hair and short beard. His features are sharp, almost hawk-like, sometimes seeming a tad intimidating. Sargon isn't just handsome though, his whole life has been about survival, honing his body into a well muscled, athletic frame.

Sargon's body is also his own personal canvas with which to paint his life upon, having Dunmer, Daedric, Nordic, Dwemer and even Orcish tattoos and ornaments covering his body. The upper portion of his back is dominated by Nordic runes and drawings, the lower half bearing Orcish tattooing, black swirls and sharp-edged ritual scars making it up. Sargon's most important tattoos are the ones most easily noticeable though, his fore-arms, covered in Daedric and Ancestral Dunmer runes and scars. The left half of his face also bears these runes. At last, his neck is wrapped in Dwemer runes, with the Daedric 'Beht' separating it in the middle.

Class (what would you describe your character as?): Partisan/Pirate/Assassin/Hunter
Skills and known spells (if any):
Medium Armor: Sargon has trained and fought in various suits of leather, chain, scale, and medium plate such as Bonemold.
Curved Blades: A common Dunmer sword is the scimitar, although katanas are just as popular. Sargon has used scimitars and katanas in combat since he began wielding them in the 7th year of the 4th Era.
Block: Sargon learned the art of using his ornate whale-bone crescent shield both for defense and offense.
Destruction Magic: As a Dunmer, Sargon was born with a natural affinity for magic, Destruction being the most obvious. He is no master, but has learned to dual-cast basic spells such as Flames and Lightning.
Pole-arm: Sargon's most unique combat skill is the use of a spear or staff in combat. He learned under the tutelage of an Ohmes-raht monk in Elsweyr.
Survival: Morrowind is a savage place, its strange beauty being just as abundant as the terrors and harshness that accompany much of the Province. Sargon learned from his Ashlander cousins (his grandfather was Sargon Zansatanit, of the Zainab), how to survive in the harsh environments. In the wake of the Red Mountain's eruption, these skills became invaluable.
Cooking: Damn good cook.
Brewing: Sargon's father was brought into Great House Hlaalu because of the great Matze and Sujamma he'd brew and sell, making him rather wealthy and almost forcing him to teach Sargon the tricks of the trade.
Revelry: Among these combative and basic skills, the ones most near and dear to Sargon were those his mother passed to him. A fine singing voice, and the playing of the Lute, Drum, and Flute.

Clothing: Sargon wears simple cloth pants and a long sleeved silk shirt. Over this, he wears a long, sleeveless, dark-blue hooded robe; embroidered with mithril thread on the lapels, hood, and skirting. His boots are Netch Leather, and he wears ornate bronze bracers crafted in Hammerfell.
Armor: (Worn only on special occasion and combat). Sargon has a suit of armor, somewhat of his own make. His briastplate is old Gah-Julan Bonemold, with the traditional embroidered Dunmer scarf and the Moon and Star burned into the chest-plate itself. His helm is Indoril, the plume cut down to small tufts of hair and the face-plate carved with Daedric letters spelling out blessings of Boethiah and Hircine, the right and left halves respectively. Sargon wears two leather http://www.theknightshop.co.uk/catalog/images/sr100989.jpg of Bosmer-make, worn on the biceps and partially raising over the shoulder, rather than covering over the shoulder itself, lending better flexibility in combat. His boots are the same as he wears always, Netch leather. The same goes for the ornate bronze bracers he wears.

Weapons:
-Sargon keeps his beloved katana, Dwemer made with ebony filigree praising Meridia inlaid on the blood-groove, locked in a chest along with his armor.
-He carries with him always a spear made of whale-bone, burnt-in Daedric letters adorning the top half of the spear; the spear-head itself broad with a moonstone edge.
-Sargon's shield is also a weapon of sorts, the crescent shape lending a sharp edge that can be used as a killing tool.
-A simple yew long bow and 32 arrows.
-The last weapon Sargon carries is an old ebony dagger, found in the aftermath of Vvardenfells' nearly complete destruction. It was gifted to him by Boethiah herself, each slain enemies' soul going to her realm through the dagger.
Miscellaneous items: A lute, flute, drum, wine-skin, bottle of sujamma, an old Amulet of Moon and Star, as well as two amethyst and malachite rings. He also has small idols of Azura, Meridia, Hircine, and Boethiah wrapped in cloth, kept in secret.
Personality: Sargon, to put it plainly, is a stoic old Dunmer. His eyes have seen countless wonders, and witnessed innumerable tragedies. However, even though he is a rock in the storm, always strong, always ready, Sargon has a human side. He is polite and kind to friend and neighbor, will never say a harsh word unless another does so first, and above all respects the gods and deeds done on Nirn.

Major flaw: Sargon has a dark and troubled past. He receives visions from Boethiah. Although Meridia is good, and Azura (his patron goddess) is better, Boethiah and Hircine are not. Hircine, Sargon has found, rarely troubles the mortal world, only once has he tried to rule and he was put to shame. Hircine's visions detail places of worship and other followers for Sargon to find... Boethiah is not so kind. Once, long ago in Sargon's life, she commanded and empowered him as her instrument. These visions Sargon receives are ultra-rare, even more so now in his later years, the last vision from his dark Goddess was 30 yrs ago. But should he have another, it must be fulfilled.

Background: Sargon 'Odairan' Hlaalu was born during the peak of the Oblivion Crisis, in the waning years of the Third Era. Born in the bustling town of Balmora, Sargon began working for his father at the age of 5, a job he didn't much care for at the time, but everything takes time to understand. His father, Reman, had bought a small building to turn into a brewery. It was a great success within just two short months, brewing a batch of matze and sujamma was easy work, and it was the best in Vvardenfell.
Soon enough, the Great House of Hlaalu found Reman's success, and they invited him into the House itself. Within just a few years, Sargon's family was living a great life in a fine manor, with all the niceties a Dunmer could desire. But it changed, at the age of 17, Sargon witnessed the greatest tragedy in the history of his people. While staying further north with his cousins in the Ashlands, Sargon felt the Ministry of Truth slam into the city of Vivec. Only seconds later, Red Mountain cloaked Morrowind in ash and debris.
Only a week before the destruction of Vvardenfell, Sargon's father gave him a great amount his wealth, his sword, and his briastplate. Sargon fled north, knowing the fate his father would suffer at the hands of the Morag Tong. With this wealth, his mother, two sisters, and 13 of the Zainab men and women, the refugees set of to the eastern coast of Vvardenfell, where they would live a new life. This life was to be one of piracy, but in the name of the Dunmer.
When the Argonians invaded Morrowind, Sargon and his crew harassed the Argonians mercilessly. Finally, though, after the death of his mother, a peaceful one, Sargon left behind his pirate's life. His sisters, Merena and Rayla, went north to Skyrim in hopes of joining the College of Winterhold. They all managed to slip past Argonians lines, and that was the last they saw of each other. Brother and sisters, but only for a while. Sargon took a separate path.
Sargon's life was spent as a wanderer, a warrior, a bard... an assassin, a mercenary. He learned great things from great people, and saw the world in all its beauty, as well as its ugliness. Now, he simply wishes to settle down, and the new Hold of Valton being built in Skyrim's southern reaches, seems just the place. Sargon heads there now, he leads a horse and carriage. Its cargo being of great wealth, as well as his most prized possessions. He'd like to continue his father's work, but he was sure these Nords would hate Sujamma or Matze.
... Perhaps, he could try his hand at mead.

Name: Cocius Gavanicus Jannus or simply, Gawain
Age: 29
Race: Nibenese father, Nordic/Breton mother
Gender:Male
Height: 5 feet 8 inches
Birthsign: The Warrior
Appearance: Gawain is about the size of your average Imperial, standing a little under six feet tall and fairly stout in musculature. Unlike the Colovian west, however, he has followed his father's roots and stuck to the Nibenese way of appearance. His skin, which is tanned from many days of outdoors labor, is also heavily tattooed in flowing, yet geometric designs. One tattoo in particular can be noticed regardless of what he wears, for it starts two inches above his left eye and separates into two lines which extend for another three inches below the eye. His hair is dark brown in color, about the same shade as the bark of the fir, pine, and other evergreens that make up most of the forests of Skyrim. Sticking to the Nibenese style, Gawain keeps it a medium length, letting it extend to his shoulders, but keeping it out of his eyes. Along with the tattoos, several scars mar his skin, but their stories are not notable.

Class: Dog breeder
Skills and known spells: Can calm creatures, perform some minor healing on himself and animals, and can also detect nearby animals. Gawain is also fairly adept at tracking and is skilled with the use of the war axe, while also being adequate with a short blade. His preferred method of combat is to dual wield two small axes, but will use whatever he has at hand, when the situation calls for it.

Clothing/armor: When the occasion calls for armor, Gawain dons an almost complete set of Leather armor. The only pieces missing are the shield, which he has no use for, and the helmet. In lieu of the typical leather helmet, Gawain uses a family heirloom that has been passed down through seven generations and has been cared for with the utmost care, for it is extremely rare. 'It' is a Dragonscale helmet. The family story says that Gawain's ancestor once saved the life of a master smith from a rival Nibenese hill tribe and to repay him, the smith disclosed to Gawain's ancestor the whereabouts of a full set of Dragonscale armor that had been buried with his mentor. Gawain's ancestor had set out with a few brothers and they had tackled the tomb and defeated several undead guardians, only to find that the helmet was all that was salvageable, for the rest of the suit was worn and far beyond repair. In general though, Gawain simply wears a belted, dark green tunic and dark brown pants with a cape made of the pelts of two snow wolves.

Weapons: Gawain has a certain affinity for axes, with war axes in particular, so those are his go-to weapons. When he knows that the fighting will be tough, he wields two Orcish War Axes that he had found in a cave when he was a younger man. However, those are rather impractical to carry around all the time, so instead, he carries two axes that he designed himself. They appear to be nothing more than shortened wood-cutting axes, but in reality, they are much more. They can still split wood with ease, but the heads of the axes have been lightened and the wood of the handles are denser than most, making them very well balanced. Carved into the bottom of each handle is the head of a wolf, which he carved himself. The breeder is quite deadly with them. He also has several other 'weapons' if you wish to call them such. His profession of dog breeding has given him several animals that are fearless, aggressive, and extremely protective. These dogs he keeps away from the rest of his animals, due to their nature. There is also a wolf pup that Gawain found on his journey to Valton, and he intends on keeping it and training it as well.

Miscellaneous items: A small satchel of jerky bits stays at his side, along with his coinpurse. He also owns miscellaneous cooking and eating utensils along with other everyday household items that stay in his wagon until he finds a house. Leashes and collars for all of his dogs are kept in a chest, along with blankets for them and his own bedroll.
Personality: Gawain's father was a rather eccentric warrior and son of the chief of a Nibenese tribe near the Corbolo River and Lake Poppad. This did a number of things to and for Gawain. Following in his father's footsteps, he became rather eccentric as well, and had a feeling of entitlement about many things, as did a lot of the Nibenese. However, this feeling of entitlement did not keep him from working for what he got, and so he became kind of an oxymoron, feeling as if he deserved something that he should not have to work for, but worked for it anyway. His mother, who was a Reachwoman, attempted to coax the entitlement out of him, along with civilizing him some more, but the young boy would immediately accuse her of being "too Colovian" and she would only shake her head and let out a sigh. However, as the years passed, Gawain lost some of his entitlement, but not his hard-working mentality. His love of tattoos and philosophy though, which were standard among Nibenese, never left, and while it may be odd for a Dog Breeder to discuss philosophy, it was common for him. Along with that, he did not lose the mindset that he was better than most other races, especially the Colovians, for whom he bore a special disdain.
Major flaw: This would more than likely be his personality, since it leads to him being rather anti-social and 'uppity.' He also seems to have a ceremony for everything, which most people feel gets old after a while.

Background: Coming from a Nibenese father, and a Reachwoman, Gawain has had some interesting cultural forces that played a part on his life. He was born to the equivalent of a Nibenese prince, and was therefore brought up as a Nibenese noble, regardless of how little power his family and title had outside of the small, yet very profitable village his tribe inhabited. His father had found his mother when they were both nearing the age of twenty, when his father had taken a few cousins to the Colovian Highlands, looking for adventure and had ended up slightly north in the northeast of Hammerfell, just south of its border with High Rock. It was love at first sight, he had been told. She had been the daughter of a retired adventurer and mage and so had known and learned a small bit of magic. It was that magic that she taught their son, Gawain. When he was around ten, his father became the head man in the village and gave Gawain his first dog. It was a purebred wolfhound from Skyrim named Forsta, and Gawain became immediately intrigued with the dog. As the years passed, he was taught how to fend for himself should it ever be needed, and also how to fight with a weapon. Originally, his favored weapons were two long knives, but when he traded them for axes one day, on a whim, they just flowed in his hands and he knew immediately that they were right. He had never much liked the shield, and his father had not used one either, nor had his father before him. In his position, it was necessary for Gawain to learn some diplomacy, since he would have to deal with other Nibenese "noble's" in the Basin and Valley, so it was that at the age of eighteen, he was fluent in the common tongue and the old tongue of the Nibenese, and could broker deals with the other "noble's" without breaking a sweat.

For a while, he lived the easy life of a prince, never wanting for much, sleeping with whatever woman he chose, besting his friends and the other men at arms in combat, drinking profusely, and amassing a pack of dogs that almost seemed to obey commands that he had not even spoken, for his love of dogs had never waned and Forsta had constantly stayed by his side. When he was twenty-six however, a smaller Nibenese tribe raided the village in the night, and had killed the majority of Gawain's family. Gawain had only survived because one of his newer dogs had run off and he and his pack had gone looking for it. Upon their return, they found the village burning and in ruins, with dead bodies scattering the streets. After several days of mourning, the young man had found a wagon and filled it with what was left of his possessions and some other miscellaneous items that he had found still in-tact in other homes before proceeding to hit the road and head north. He knew that his mother had come from the Reach, and so he figured that he would head there, but after reaching the southern edge of Skyrim, he heard rumors that a new hold was being established and settlers were encouraged. Gawain figured that it would be no worse than where he was already headed, and so it was that he came to Valton.

Name: Ulfgar Holdin
Age: 35
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6’0
Weight: 185lb.
Birth-sign: Warrior
Appearance: Ulfgar has a strong, rugged, and overall rough around the edges look to him, with well refined muscle definition. His dirty-blonde hair is long and unkept, and he has a thick bushy beard also somewhat unkept. He has a light tan from being out in the sun a lot, and a blue to his eyes that seem to have once been bright and lively, but have now become a dulled blue.

Class: Sailor and Trader. (Smuggler, Sell Sword)
Skills: One-Handed, Two-Handed, Speech, Light Armor, Archery

Clothing / armor: Fur Boots, Tan Pants, Brown Belted Tunic, Thick Black Hooded Cloak, Thick Gloves, Fur Hat
Weapons: Steel Dagger, Steel War Axe, Steel Sword, Crossbow
Miscellaneous items: Large personal collection of Alcohol, Dried Food Goods, Whet Stone, Several Healing Potions, Spyglass

Personality: Ulfgar is a Nord who has many sides to him, at a time when most have just one or two. When it comes to the trade and business Ulfgar does, he is a tough and unwavering trader, which comes off as a cold focus to many who deal with him. If a trade agreement doesn’t go in Ulfgar’s favor, he’s not at all unwilling to come at the situation another way, even if that means a more brutish approach the other side doesn’t know about. He has a very grey sense of right and wrong, nothing is black and white to him, and to many of those who see just one side or the other, Ulfgar usually avoids them. This lack of black and white morality, leads Ulfgar to also take seedier and more questionable jobs, along with the cleaner jobs he also takes. He’s not opposed to moving things illegal, or morally questionable that other traveling traders would otherwise keep away from. But aside from the cold trader side, Ulfgar’s less stringent and focused side often gets him into just as much trouble, usually with the city guard for being drunk and what follows. Aside from that though, respect and trust are two things Ulfgar holds in the highest regard, but often has a different way than usual of showing either.

Major flaw: Drunkard
Background: Born in the city of Markarth, Ulfgar lived the life of a miner’s son for several years. By the time Ulfgar was just 15, he himself had taken up the life of working a mine with no other viable options available to him, for just 3 years. His life in Markarth, when not working in the hot sweaty mines, was filled with reading about adventures and other exciting things that Markarth didn’t lead him to. His father had been a miner all his life, and his father before. Ulfgar, inspired and interested in what was happening out in the world, was not so set on continuing the family line. When he turned 20, Ulfgar set out into the world, set on having his own world adventures, just like the heroes and adventurers in his stories. He said goodbye to his mother and father in Markarth, and hit the road.

His life on the road for the most part, was uneventful and not as he imagined it being. What jobs he did take, didn’t pan out to be as he’d thought they be: they were dangerous in some cases, the payment was too little for the amount of danger Ulfgar took on, and in some cases, the pay wasn’t even handed over when completed. The adventures and people he’d read about in his books, just didn’t seem to be there for him. Slowly, Ulfgar began to get disillusioned with the life of being an adventurer.

But after several years of “adventuring”, Ulfgar found himself a job suitable for someone willing to move around and see places, but have a relatively steady flow of income at the same time, with the guarantee of being payed each time. It was in the city of Riften, Ulfgar joined the crew of a small, independent, and self-made trading group who went up and down the rivers of Skyrim when they could, to trade goods and other things. It was here, Ulfgar began to become the Nord he is today. Through the years of trading up and down the river ways, meeting the various traders and business dealers, Ulfgar began to see the life he’d looked for for so long.

Unbeknown to him until that time, the life of a traveling trader was an adventure all on it’s own, that was as adventurous and dangerous as the stories he’d read. All those stories he’d read in books, fit perfectly into the life of a trader who dealt with everyone, and knew a lot of things. Acting as an “apprentice” to his boss, Ulfgar saw first hand the deceit, backstabbing, and dirty underbelly of the trading life he and the crew were apart of. It was here, Ulfgar began to form his own ways of doing business, and taking care of those who double-crossed or were dishonest, among other things. He learned how to get even without necessarily having to use a sword or bow, and how to get his way in the business when the other side wouldn’t oblige.
But it was the murder of his boss, that Ulfgar and the rest of the crew became even more cynical and dark. While visiting the town of Dawnstar for business on one of their seedier jobs, Ulfgar and the crew’s boss was killed in the night. They had all been ordered to stay on the boat while their boss went and dealt with the people they were working with. It wasn’t until dawn, that someone from the town came and informed them of their murdered boss. Angry and wanting revenge, Ulfgar and the rest of the crew gathered their necessary things, and started out on land in search of their boss’s murderers. It wasn’t very far from Dawnstar, that the murderers had made camp and were discovered. Without hesitation or a second thought, Ulfgar and the crew butchered the murderers, leaving them in literally, dozens of pieces.

Since the death of their boss, Ulfgar and the small five man crew have continued to work as they had before. They currently find themselves in Riften.