Name: Caradin Ironspike
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Race: Nord
Born: 4E 158

Appearance: 6’3 and solidly built with scars on his arms and chest. He has black hair that is long and thick, kept from his face with two braids, and a short beard. His eyes are deep blue. He has heavy brows and a largish nose. He has the noble look about him, but also weary.

Personality: Caradin is occasionally hot-headed, with a dead hatred for the Thalmor and the Dominion. At the same time, he bares ill will towards the Reachmen of High Rock, and the Stormcloaks; the former for how they treated the local Nords in their uprising, and the latter for causing disunity within the Empire. He is wary of outsiders, but incredibly loyal to those who he calls friend. He is not easily impressed. Most of all however, his attitude is dour and grim. Having seen so many die fighting the Dominion, for seemingly no cause, has made him bitter towards the Empire. That said, he still remains loyal in the hopes that one day the Empire will regroup and renew the fight against the Dominion.

Skills:

- battle strategy (especially guerrilla warfare)
- One handed (mainly swords, but also handy with an axe)
- block (shield)
- hunting and tracking
- smithing
- Wilderness survival
- medium armour
- speech
- endurance

Weapons, Armour and Other gear:
- elven broadsword
- steel axe
- octagonal shield (made of steel and wood)
- steel Nordic bracers and cuffed boots, a sleeveless shirt of chainmail and light plate cuirass worn under a blue fur-trimmed surcoat, a black cloak with wolf pelt hood
- a silver chain with the point of an iron fire poker
- a small pack of supplies, such as a few poultices, rope, bandages, a few days worth of food, flint, and a waterskin

History:
Caradin’s father, Haedrian, was a mighty Nordic warrior who lived in County Skingrad, but originally lived in Eastmarch. He met a woman one night named Ayla and bedded her. When she fell pregnant, Haedrian asked her father for her hand, so that her honour may yet remain intact. But her father refused, and would not give his consent. So Haedrian and Ayla eloped and moved as far away as possible, settling in a small village in County Skingrad. Caradin was the result of their union. He learned to become a smith, like his father, also learning the basics of combat. However, things took a turn for the worst with the invasion of the Aldmeri Dominion and the outbreak of the Great War.

Skingrad soon fell to invaders, and from there the army continued a devastating rampage of destruction, with many raiding parties sent ahead of the army to torch the countryside. Caradin’s village was one of the last to fall. A small detachment of Nordic legionnaires (including one Aerys Borne) had been despatched in the area to halt, or at least delay the advance of the Aldmeri troops to allow more time for reinforcements to arrive. The aid of the legionnaires however did little to prevent Haedrian dying while defending his family. Despite being only fifteen years old Caradin joined the fight, half act of wild vengeance, half out of survival, and managed to survive the battle, committing a great act of valour that is seldom spoken of, involving the defeat of a mighty Aldmeri warlock. The legionnaires were able to defeat the Dominion raid, but the village was destroyed and their numbers were reduced to a pitiful count. The body of Caradin’s mother was never found.

From that day on, Caradin served the legion as a smith until the Great War ended. He left the legion’s service, and returned to Skyrim, needing a change of scene from the horrors of his youth. He made a living by offering his skills as a trapper and hunter. This soon expanded into mercenary work. It is for this reason that he finds himself leader of the rag-tag group of warriors, legionnaires and others, as he knows Skyrim’s landscape and people better than any other.

Name: Aerys Borne
Gender: Male
Age: 49 years
Race: Nord
Born: 4E 151

Appearance: Fairly tall, at around 6'1". Ice blue eyes that almost lack colour, and pale blonde hair, curly and cut short, with a slight beard to match. His face looks weather beaten and haggard, but above all - stern. His skin also looks very pale, as though he has spent most of time out of the sunlight, though he is clearly a man of the outdoors.

Personality: Stern, practical and austere. He has a grim sense of humour, and can be very cynical. He's easy to admire and respect, but hard to like and get along with. He's a decent military strategist, mainly in the art of defence, and taciturn. Seldom does he show any sign of compassion or kindness, but is a believer of 'tough love'. He does however, possess a solemn respect of soldiers. His position is difficult; as he isn't strictly a legion officer he can't officially issue commands to troops unless Tullius has given permission (eg, Aerys is sometimes called to serve as a temporary commander in various camps and forts). That said, his reputation tends to precede him, and it is highly advisable to carry out his orders.

Skills:
- Strategist (especially involving a defended position)
- Wilderness survival (particularly in the harsh northern climate)
- One handed (sword)
- Block (shield)
- Standard Legion Training (how to arrange camps, dig trenches, tend to wounds without magic, etc)
- Horseman
- Surprisingly good cook

Weapons, Armour and other gear:
- Steel hand-and-a-half sword
- Steel dirk
- steel shield (round shield)
- Splintmail cuirass, pauldrons and vambraces, all made of steel, unpolished and black in appearance
- sturdy boots
- Long black cloak featuring a wolf pelt hood
- a few poultices, various wild herbs, salted meats and bread

History:
Aerys was nineteen when he enlisted at the start of the great war. Thirty years on, Aerys has long since left official service of the Legion, but still aids them on occasion, delivering messages, taking temporary command of garrisons, even helping out in a few battles. He has a hatred of the Thalmor, but age mellowed him, and now he thinks only of the soldiers who died fighting them. Once General Tullius arrived in Skyrim, Aerys went forth and introduced himself, and a strange kind of friendship grew between them, if it could be called such. Since then, if Tullius has needed a little extra hand, he has called on Aerys, occasionally running garrisons or commanding units, and acting as his unofficial errand boy, performing the tasks no one else is really qualified (or can be bothered) to do. Now, he is part of a band of rag-tag legionnaires, ne'er-do-wells, do-gooders and others, and back in his element. Among friends old and new, as well as a few strange faces, he will prove that his skill in battle has yet to be dampened by age.

His reasons for joining the group:
- after delivering a less than favourable evaluation of a certain Quaestor, Aerys ruffled a few feathers, and Tullius decided that he should be under the radar for a while until the situation cooled down.
- messages and reports upon the situation in Skyrim can be delayed or inaccurate. Aerys is none of those things, and a local to boot.
- Aerys has been wanting to get back in the field for a long time, though he’d never admit that.

Name: Fara
Gender: Female
Age: 35 (by human standards she looks in her early 20s)
Race: Bosmer
Faction: Legion


Skills – sneak, light armor, marksman, acrobatics
minor skills : survival, armorer, 1-handed blades, alchemy, tavern brawls


General Appearance: Fara is a young bosmer woman of average size, on the slim rather than voluptuous side. Her face is far from outstanding, most would describe her as nice or cute rather than pretty. Her light built is misleading, as years of hunting followed by month of legion training have muscled and toned her frame.

Weapons: bosmeri bone bow - compact but quite powerful, and immune to humidity (Valenwood is a jungle afterall), quality steel saber (a cavalry blade, slightly curved, sharpened on half the blade's back). Quiver of thirty arrows, ten of them are silver-tipped.

Armour/Clothing: Legion leather armor, supplemented with pieces of steel mail and scales, along with whitish fur strips and patches for dissimulation. And an extra fur liner that cost a few wolves and rabbits their lives. Despite a shabby (and completely non-regulation) look, the armor is rather effective and silent, while reasonably comfortable This is supplemented with fur boots and light steel greaves and pauldrons. Over the armor she wears a large hooded cloak of mixed furs, for both warmth and camouflage.

Other Items: small mortar and pestle, hammoc, blankets, utility dagger, folding sapper's tool, first aid kit, a flask of moonshine, a pair of snowshoes

A small alambic hidden in the woods she uses to brew moonshine whenever she gets a leave (or sneaks out for an undeclared one).

Personality: Fara is quite a cynic – her destitute youth didn't leave her much faith in men, mers or beasts and her conscripting didn't help. As she feels having much simply means more to loose and attract trouble, she's just coasting along, fighting boredom with simple (and cheap) fun like carousing on someone else's money when off-duty. She don't cares about the war and isn't interested in becoming an officer. Watching over her own skin is already enough of a pain... Her definitively unmartial attitude make sure she'll raise in rank only through a stroke of luck. But since she's as low in rank as possible and holding one of the the most dangerous and undesirable jobs in the Legion, there's little she can loose beyond her life.

Brief History: Fara was born in a somewhat destitute bosmer family in southern Cyrodill, her parents scraping a living as hunters. She learned the way of the hunt and the bow, but didn't improve her condition much - owing to both being a bosmer after Valenwood parted from the empire and her spendthrift and lazy habits.
She was merely coasting along with that life when a night of drunken revelry suddenly changed her situation : with the fumes of alcohol dissipated, she found she had signed for joining the Legion. With a pair of firm and barely polite soldiers standing ready to enforce the contract by chaining and dragging her if needed....
Dumped in the Skyrim mess after a few month of not exactly relevant training (marching in ranks, using heavy armor, a bit of siegecraft - digging, hauling siege machine parts, that sort of things...), Fara's hunting skills have kept her alive and earned her a a scout affectation..

Her first taste of warfare saw her involved in the cleanup of bandits from an abandonned fort near Solitude. It turned out to the Stormcloaks had astrong party in the place along with the bandits, turning what ought to be a fairly easy mission into a bloodbath which saw the Legion victorious but decimated. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, their commanding officer was amongst the survivors. Which prompted her to ask for a transfer to another unit. Much to her surprise her wish was granted – and surprise gave way to dismay when she learned the oddball unit she was transferred to. Wandering though the frozen countryside with little to no support sounds about as good a way to get killed as a frontal assault on a fort...

Name: Lyria Shadowsong
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Race: Breton
Faction: Imperial


Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed:
Lyria’s training is all relevant to her occupation. Not one for sneaking about, she prefers Heavy Armour (1) backed up with a sword (2) and a choice of Destruction magic in the other hand (3). She’s also a fairly capable healer (4) although not on the same scale as her offensive magic.
Also, in keeping with her family traditions, she has studied Conjuration and binding magic, but applies it in reverse, using it as a weapon against summoned undead and Daedra (5) (although so far the most she’s had to deal with are mouldering zombies and the odd skeleton, the highest being a summoned Flame Atronach) She is also used to placing wards on weapons and armour, and is still learning more about enchanting (6).
Finally, she is capable of looking after herself for long stints without much in the way of resources, and can cook reasonably well (7/8)

1: Heavy Armour
2: One Handed
3: Destruction
4: Restoration
5: Reverse Conjuration/Banishing
6: Enchanting
7: Survivalist
8: Cook


General Appearance:
Lyria is pale, even for a Breton, paler even than most Nords. Her face is young but also gaunt, giving her a certain rugged ‘handsomeness’ rather than actual beauty. She tends to keep her long, jet black hair braided and curled over right shoulder to keep it out of the way, but when let down it reaches just past her shoulders.

She is also quite tall, at about 5’ 11”, and more solidly built then most women, although not unnaturally muscled. She’s simply toned and tough. Her piercing, ice blue eyes are the final point of note for her appearance.

She talks with a non-descript and precise accent (Precise text-book English to us) and usually quietly. It is not an unpleasant voice, usually soft, but also capable of taking on an edge when she is angry.

Weapons:
-Steel Legion sword
-Steel Dagger

Armour/Clothing:
-Steel Legion Heavy Armour
-Blue Mages Hood
-Steel Imperial Gauntlets
-Steel Imperial Boots

When out of armour Lyria wears a Blue Mages robes.


Other Items:
She wears three pendants around her neck and usually under her armour;
The first is her Shadowsong emblem, a necklace made for her when she became a Battle Mage to mark her as one of the family line
The second is an Amulet of Arkay
The third is an Amulet of Stendarr.
All three are kept on her at all times, and she is very protective of them.
Miq’a, familiar

Personality:
Well aware of her somewhat odd appearance and her job in Skyrim, Lyria tends to be quiet and somewhat self conscious.
Her almost reclusive nature should not be mistaken for cowardice, however; like all of the Shadowsong line she is more than capable of standing up for herself, and can be incredibly stubborn at times. She only remains so on personal opinion or in areas she feels she has the most knowledge, though, as she is more than happy to differ to those with superior knowledge, especially if she can learn from such experience.

Lyria’s family life has lead to her growing a fairly thick skin, meaning she is slow to anger and finds it easier to resist barbed comments. She does, however, possess a temper as fearsome as her father when roused, and she despises the presence of undead or Daedra.

Ultimately, Lyria does what she does because she wants people to be able to live without fear. The rebellion in Skyrim prays on her mind, as brother fighting brother is an idea abhorrent to her philosophies, as does the fact that some see her as a pawn of the likes of the Thalmor or as bad as the monsters she hunts. But she refuses to back down, and will serve the Empire and its people as best she can.


Brief History:
While the Shadowsong history is hard to fully trace, it is a fairly reliable point that they became better known after the Oblivion Crisis. As the Vigilants of Stendarr became more prevelant to combat the undead, supernatural and Daedric threats, a member of the Imperial Battlemages turned his or her (records are unclear) expertise to such threats.

Many years later, the Shadowsong family operate primarily out of the Imperial City. Lyria’s father is relatively well know, having retired to be a Priest of Stendarr in his old age. A man known for his fiery oration and unwavering resolve, it is hardly surprising that Lyria had her families morals and goals hammered into her from a young age. While her mother taught her skills such as survival and cooking techniques when they left the city to gather herbs and other supplies, along with building her strength by giving her heavy bags to carry, her father instilled in her the lessons of her forebears.

Joining the Imperial Mages College at the age of eighteen, Lyria has finally completed her training five years later as a relatively competent mage. Assigned to the Battlemages of the Imperial Legion, much like many of her ancestors, Lyria’s parting gifts from home were her father’s sword, amulets of both Arkay and Stendarr (the family’s chosen Divines) and an amulet made by her father’s own hand as a symbol of her lineage, a rare sign of affection from the old man.

Her first deployment in Skyrim wasn't a roaring success, although it was certainly a crash course in combat and action. While her actions in banishing a Flame Atronach and efforts in combat were well-looked upon, her clash of minds with her direct superior was of more note to the higher ranks. In the end she was transferred (along with one of the Bosmer scouts she served alongside...) to a detachment where it was believed her skillset could be best put to use...

Name:Cicero Velarius
Age: 36
Gender:Male
Race:Cyrodiilic Niben.

Appearance: standing at 6'2, quite high for an Imperial, Cicero has the stereotypical Niben appearence. His hair is dark brown and short. His eyes are green. Slightly more built than an average Niben but not as much as an average Colovian

Personality: Cicero is a selfish man. While he may have some pity, he generally only goes to the path that benefits himself. He can be quite intelligent given how Nibeneases focuses allot on education. And he is an alcaholic.

Skills He knows basic restoration spells, not bad but not good with a sword, prefers light armor, and can be persuasive.

Weapons, Armour and Other gear: He tends to wear Light Armor. He doesn't stick with a certain type though.

History: His life can be summed up like this:

He was born in The Imperia City, his family barely made it out of their during the siege of The Great War. (They did not returned their until the war was over.) His father was also an alcaholic and abused his mother frequently. He grew up in a life of crime mostly dealing Skooma and stealing. However, he was arrested for murdering a rival Skooma gang member and was sentenced to life in Prison. (How he avoided execution is a mystery.) After several years in Prison, he was offered to join an indepedent unit in The Imperial Legion for five years. He would mostly travel around Skyrim and winning popular support of The Population. In exchange, he would be released from Prison at some point in his life. Obviously knowing it's either this or rotting in Prison, he willingly accept.

Name: Lothren
Age: 55
Gender: Male
Race: Bosmer
Date of Birth: 4E 146

Appearance: Lothren stands at 5 feet and 6 inches tall, which is just a little bit above the average height for male Bomer. He's also more built than your average Bosmer too; he has a medium build. He's pretty strong for his size, but not enough to be a rank and file soldier. Lothren has golden hair tied into braids. He has very dark green eyes that almost pierce into you. He has your distinctive Elven features: High cheekbones, narrow jaw line, narrow chin, slit and almond shaped eyes, and full lips.

Personality: As a young Wood Elf, Lothren grew up in the constant fear of his family being purged by the Thalmor. When he was 22, almost his entire family was pruged for reasons unknown. The only family member he had left was his mother. The Thalmor came to him and said that if he didn't join the Dominion army, they would kill his mother and his fiancee. He knew friends that would disappear all of sudden the next day, so he harbored an absolute hatred for the Thalmor and the Dominion.

Skills: Lothren is very skilled with bows of all kinds: Recurve, Long, Short, any bow is comfortable in his hand. He's is very good at tracking wildlife which carried over into tracking as a scout for the Dominion when he was younger. He is adept in sword and shield combat too. He is very agile and fast and is very athletic. He is also skilled in Medium armors. Due to him being a Bosmer and a scout he has developed excellent sneaking skills. He is also good with plants and their properties.

1) Archery
2) Scouting
3) Tracking
4) One - Handed: Swords
5) Block
6) Athletics
7) Acrobatics
8) Medium Armor
9) Sneak
10) Alchemy

Gear and Weapons:

Weapons -
1) Falnesti Recurve Bow and 60 steel arrows
2) Elven Longsword
3) Steel dagger (for skinning deer and wild life)
4) Hide Shield

Armor -
1) Forest green and black thick leather armor (Medium)
2) Cowl (covers his face and topf his head. All you see is his eyes).

Misc-
1) Venison
2) Coin purse with 200 gold
3) Bottle of wine


History: Lothren was born to a fairly well off family in Falnesti, Valenwood. Lothren's father was a nobleman in the Kings court. The prblem was the King was merely a puppet of the Thalmor. His mother was a hunter and she would bring the meats and hides from her kills to the market to sell. When Lothren grew old enough he started to accompany his mother on her hunting outings. Through years of helping his mother hunt, Lothren developed a wide range of skills such as, Marksmanship, Tracking, Scouting, Alchemy (Ingredients were imported from elswhere mind you, due to the Green Pact).

When Lothren went on into his later adolescent years and early twenties, his family started to be the target of the Thalmor purges. He wanted to join a resistance group, but he knew it would just get him killed. He wanted to leave Valenwood and go to someplace like Cyrodiil or Hammerfell, but he didn't want to leave his mother, who was all he had left for family. Then one day a company of Thalmor Justicars, abducted him in the middle of night and brought him to a interrogation room. They gave him an ultimatum, either join the Dominion's Army as a scout and archer or witness the death of your mother and fiancee. The choice was clear to Lothren from that moment on, he would have to join the Dominion.

3 years later the Great War broke out and he pressed into service and was sent to Lord Naafarin's Army on the main assault of the capital of the Empire, Cyrodiil. This is where Lothren was going to plan his escape. When Lord Naafarin asked Lothren to scout ahead for the location of one of Legions, Lothren agreed. He set out at night to avoid detection by the Imperials. Once he got about two miles away from the main army, he broke for. He never go back to the Domnion or Valenwood.

For many months he lived off the land and fended for himself. Those years of going with his mother hunting had prepared him for these moments. One day he came a across a century of Legionnaires. He stopped in the middle of the road and threw his hands up as a sign of peace, because at first they thought he was a Dominion scout. He followed the Legionnaires to their small encampment where he met a Centurion by the name of Domicus Vinici. Lothren explained to the Centurion about his past and his pressed service into the Dominion army and his months of living off the land. Lothren asked the Centurion was in need of a scout and Centurion Vinici accepted his invitation.

Over the next 30 years Lothren served as a scout for the Imperial Legion. He is now ststioned in Skyrim is assigned to a group of rag-tag assortment of Legionnaires to deal with Skyrim's daya to day problems. He was aslo informed that would probably have to deal Stormcloaks if the situation presented itself.

Name: Cormac
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Race: Breton

Appearance: Like most Bretons Cormac has fair skin and dark hair. However, unlike most Bretons hes slightly more muscular than the typical High Rock Breton, and has blue eyes. Cormac keeps his thick black hair short and a shaven face, as the Imperial Legion dictates. Though his appearance was almost no different than a High Rock Breton, he was a mongrel with what some would non pure blood in his veins. Cormac was also five nine, had close set eyes, a thin & wide mouth, and blunt chin. Two small scars run along both cheeks, from a sparring “accident”.

Personality: As a child Cormac witnessed the massacre in Markarth by Ulfric Stormcloak's militia, friends and family alike were being slain. This has planted a seed of mistrust of Nords and the Empire, but he holds hatred for both the Stormcloaks and The Empire. The Stormcloaks committed the massacre and the Empire didn’t care even though, they were about to give the Reach back to the Reachmen. Bretons are infamous for their outgoing personality this is not Cormac. Instead hes quiet and reserved rather cleaning and polishing the blade of his sword or reading a book, than talking. If you looked up the words cold and aloof in the dictionary, you’d find his picture and name. Off duty Cormac often gets drunk which sometimes leads to fights even with his quiet and reserved nature, the mead numbing the pain of the past.

However, he will talk when pressed he just doesn’t go out of his way, to make friends. The Stormcloaks robbed Cormac of his heritage and identity as a result; he worships the Nine Divine every morning and every night instead of Reachmen Gods. In battle hes calm, calculating, steadfast, and alert. As a child growing up his favorite book was a The Mirror, so as result he adopted the fighting style of Mindothrax and his twin Jurrifax. Why waste unneeded energy and tire yourself out? Cormac like outside of battle feels nothing when his sword, plunges into person’s flesh. The only thing keeping the blood running in his veins is that one day the Reach will belong to his people again, cold hard septims, and the Stormcloaks will pay for what they’ve done.

Skills (max of ten, can include non-game skills): Cormac’s ma was a mage, but like most of the Reach a hedge mage.Under her loving care and tutoring with magic, he learned some basic Restoration spells (1). She also taught him Alchemy (2) so he knew which plants were beneficial, and which could kill a man. As a child Cormac almost remembers going out with his pa, and practicing with a wooden sword and shield. Though it was until he was apart of the group of sellswords, did he fully learn how to use a blade and shield (3 and 4). The sellswords horseman at heart taught young Cormac horseback riding (5), so they didn’t have to hear him whine or have to carry him. Occasionally the group had to hunt so he was taught how to use a bow and track (6 and 7).One of the sellswords was ex-legion so he was taught how make camp for legion standards and how to cook. (8 and 9). Like all the sellswords he wore medium armor (10) preferring both the mobility of it, over heavy.

1. Restoration
2. Alchemy
3. One Handed (Sword)
4. Block (Shield)
5. Horseback riding
6. Archery
7. Tracking
8. Camping
9. Cooking
10. Medium Armor

Weapons, Amour and Other gear:

Weapons:
-Steel Long Sword
-Hunting Bow

Armor:
- Sleeveless shirt of chain mail with a leather cuirass, underneath for added protection.
- Steel Bracers
- Steel Boots
- Steel Horned Helmet
- Round Shield (Made entirely out of steel with a leather grip)
Misc:

- Quiver with a dozen arrows
- Five healing potions
- Flint
- Waterskin
- Weeks worth of food
- Piece of cloth

History: Like many in the Reach Cormac learned the hardships, the Nords thrusted upon them. However, this didn’t last long for when he was six the Reach was taken back by the Reachmen. Cormac never knew of the executions of the harshest Nords, only that his people had their land back. Though their land would soon be stolen again by Ulfric Stormcloak’s militia. At eight he watched the walls crumble and Nords invaders pour in, killing women, men, and children alike.

Ma already killed Cormac’s pa took him and fought through the city, so they could escape. Just when they were almost out bow range, an arrow pierced his father’s chest. Placing Cormac upon the horse his father smacked the rear of the horse, sending the horse south. Water droplets poured from his eyes as he turned back, to witness a Nord chop his father’s head off. By the time the horse stop a group of sellswords found him, them taking him in as their own.

However, Cormac has to work for his keep doing tasks for the group. As he grew older he adopted their teachings, him becoming a sellsword. Though they were close as kin they could never replace the family, culture, and homeland that was taken from him. Most of Cormac’s septims were spent on books and alcohol, finding comfort the books gave and the numbness the alcohol gave. Though he had no love for the Nords or Empire he joined the Legion if only for the septims, revenge for his pa and ma, and maybe one day getting his homeland back.

Name: Lunia Roscius
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Imperial

Appearance: Just above shoulder length auburn hair. Ever so slightly red cheecks with the odd freckle upon them. Blue eyes and a slim build. Standing at 5'9” she is a little short.

Personality: Light-hearted and merry, first to laugh and last to frown. She is rarely serious and always joking. Loves to goad others and make them look foolish. However, she is actually wiser than she appears, and has the occasional nugget of good advice.

Skills (max of ten, can include non-game skills): Lunia loved to sing during her life as a bard (1). She also loved to leap around (2) while performing with her lute (3). She was able to captivate audiences with her tales(4), and get a little extra coin with her persuasive words.(5) Wore light armour to enable her to dance around (6) and fashioned her own props (7). When the patrons got to violent she could stave them off with her short-sword (8) and could spot a good patron a mile away.(9) Learned about enviroments of Tamriel from her performances.(10)

1- Singing
2- Acrobatics
3- Instrument playing
4- Acting
5- Persuasive speech
6- Light Armour
7- Crafting
8- One Handed (Short-swords)
9- Scouting
10- Survival

Weapons, Armour and Other gear: Short-sword called 'The Quill'. Wears light-fur armour while travelling, and while static wears colourful garments. Carrys a lute with her as well as a few materials for making props on the go such as leather and nails in pouches around her waist. Also has a small pouch with 50 gold in it.

History: Lunia grew up the daughter of a couple of travelling merchants. They travelled the land, peddling their wares wherever they could. Lunia would help her parents by enticing patrons with her honeyed words and angelic music. For many years Lunia lived like this her skills flourishing as she moved from place to place.

After many years of this, Lunia's parents finally passed away. She mourned them for a brief time, for she was told death was the celebration of new life somewhere else in Nirn. She travelled for a few more months, growing more and more restless for some excitement and adventure. She found herself looking to the Legion to satisfy this craving.

She enrolled in the Army as a bard, there to rally the troops and fill them with confidence. She gave many a grim man fresh hope on the battlefield, so she was soon sent to cheer up the most dismal of the soldiers in the army. A little known rag-tag group, who performed jobs nobody else wanted to.

Character Sheet:
Name: Nikolai Swift-Arrow
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Nord
Faction: Auxiliary


Skills – 10 max – non game skills allowed: Archery, hunting, speech, sneak, smithing, wood lore, hammer craft, light armor.

General Appearance:
-Short platinum blonde hair, falling in persistent thick strands around his face. Left to grow to mid length, longer parts often pulled back and out of his face.

-Ice blue eyes, cold and calculating. Sharp and extremely observant.

-Slight in frame but muscular in arm and broad in shoulders. He’s bulky where being a bowman is required, but other parts of his body less so.

-6’2” in height

-Facial scars from eye to cheek, varying in length and depth. Another scar from corner of his mouth to mid cheek. His body is also peppered with scars from hunting in the Pale from a young age. He makes no such effort to cover them, nor does he mention them.

-Smooth quiet voice, slightly deeper than expected considering his slightly ‘once pretty and fair’ features.

-One piercing: He also sports a part of a saber cat’s tooth, through his left earlobe.

Weapons:
-Long bow: Exceptional quality, reinforced with mammoth tusk. Iron arrows.

-Iron hammer: One handed, there was once an inscription but it has been worn away, chipped and scratched in places this hammer has clearly seen much use.

Armor/Clothing:
-Shirt of chainmail beneath a fine leather cuirass.
-Over top a padded long coat including a hood.
-Knee high fur boots, archery vambraces.
-Two strips of leather, one each on his middle and first fingers.

Other Items:
-Hunting knife
-Flint
-Water skin

Personality:
-Quiet: He is naturally a surly and stony character, though he doesn’t mind throwing his raw two cents worth in he’s usually more of a stand back and watch kind of guy. Depending on who he’s speaking to he can hold a rather prolonged conversation, though whenever he does he makes it apparent he’d rather not be speaking with you much at all, emitting quite the disinterested air.

-Charming: Despite his gnarly features he’s well aware of his silver tongue and of what remains of his good looks and though he’d rather avoid being looked at and utilizing such talents on occasion he’s not adverse to putting them to good use. He may not use them often but he is good with his words.

-Serious: By nature he’s serious, a bit of a downer, not exactly ‘the glass is half empty’ but rather ‘I refuse to acknowledge the glass’. But he usually looks at things with a negative slant, and while death is a very serious matter he no longer see’s the grim in it. He simply grins roughly and bares it. Often passing it over with poorly timed humor.


History:
As a child Nikolai was raised in the Pale, his father a hunter began teaching Nikolai’s older brother, Alexei the trade as a young boy, however the older Swift-Arrow became a self teacher when his father marched south to fight the Dominion. Incidentally (With Tom’s permission) he served alongside Aerys. This took place when the Alexei was ten years old. Nikolai only a baby. Unfortunately their father never returned, Nikolai’s mother, wracked with grief became sickly and eventually passed due to the harsh winter. It eventually became too much for even a woman of the Pale to bare. Nikolai and his brother, now left to fend for themselves left to live with their fathers father. Though the original reception was good and they were well fed, with clean warm beds to sleep in. It did not last, the elderly man grew sour, disliking the idea of sharing his house with so many young children. Especially as the two of them grew up alongside their cousin, Lukka, born a bastard with unexplained heritage (therefore a ‘True-shot’ like all other bastards of that family) though Lukka was more favored and therefore sheltered by their tyrant of a grandfather.

When Nikolai became old enough Alexei taught him to hunt and the skills of the bow so to appease their Grandfather by contributing to the household. Nikolai spent a majority of his child hood wandering the forests of the pale, refining his skills with the bow and his hunting abilities. Much preferring his own company rather than that of his cousin, grandfather or even his brother. Though forced to spend time with the older when being taught the ways of the wild, this training still did not prepare him. While mistakingly hunting a saber cat the younger was set upon by the beast who promptly fell on him. Scarring Nikolai’s face with a few deadly paw strikes he poorly fended his attacker with his hammer breaking one of its teeth. The cat soon lost interest in the smaller when Alexei enticed it with a few deadly accurate looses of arrow. The beast soon fell on the older with the same ferocity. Nikolai too shocked to move was unable to help his brother, and so the Pale-man, ill equipped for such an attack was killed. Bloodied Nikolai found his way back to his grandfathers Hall to report the death of the older. Alexei was twenty at the time of his death. Nikolai twelve. He then devoted his teen years to tracking the beast down, but was unsuccessful.

The families brief stale mate of luck ran out when Nikolai turned twenty one, his grandfather died, Nikolai was left his younger cousin to care for. Despite them not being close he felt a sense of duty and obligation to care for him. He decided that Lukka would benefit from a change of scene, due to the younger archer being close to his deceased grandfather. He took his younger cousin to Rorikstead, were he earned money smithing. Unfortunately they were present when Rorikstead experienced a dragon attack. During said attack Lukka and Nikolai assisted the hold guards in trying to drive the dragon back. Lukka, foolish young and inexperienced broke cover and was soon enveloped by flame and devoured.

In failing to protect his remaining family (however indirect) and left with a dark void marked by death Nikolai chose a different path. Deciding to take up his fathers path in joining the legion, traveling to solitude. Though once their it became abundantly clear he was not suited for traditional deployment. For that reason he found himself part of the group of rag-tags lead by Caradin Ironspike.