Horkerkiin

Name: Pyrrah Silver
Age: 26
six: Female
Race: Imperial

Appearance: Pyrrah is slim and athletic build. She has red volumous hair (Not Ginger, Red) that she wears in a high ponytail that reaches down to her lower back, she is avarage height with bright green eyes. Would be considered attractive by a fair few people.

Occupation: Mercenary

Combat Style and Proficiancy: Pyyrah Fights using a spear and shield and also has a short sword that she sheatsh along her lower back. She can use a few spells, Mainly sheilding spells and a few minor healing spells but magic is definitley her weakest point.

She is agile and fast and can hunt, Is however a poor cook.

Weapons: Pyrrah's spear is comprimised of two diffrent metals, making up the length of the spear is a gold material and towards the end it turns read with the tip of the spear being outlined with gold. She has a gold Dipylon type shield which is enchanted with a form of magic resist, with a short sword sheathed along her lower back. Lastly she has a few thowing knifes

Armor/Clothing: Her upper armour consists of two layers, The top layer consists of a light brown strapless top slit in two vertically along the front it is made of hardened leather, the bottom layer is a low gold v-neck made of a lightweight metal. She wears a brown elastic pencil skirt that ends mid thigh, she has gloves that end halfway up her upper arms that are made out of a brown material. Around her wais she has a red draqery that extends down her right leg to her ankle that is held in place at the waist by a small brown belt. she wars brown heeled boots and then up her legs she wears golden armor which runs up to just below her skirt. Lasty on her head she wears a gold circlet with a jade stone in it.

Personality: Pyrrah is kind person, Is willing to help most but can be prone to holding grudges this can be down to the fact that she can be emotianlly fragile especially if eh is hurt by those close to her. Has a wanting to be the very best at what she does, sometimes has a tendancy to act before she thinks. Is a team player but is by no means a leader and lastly is proffesional when there is a job to be done.

Backstory: Pyrrah grew up in Chorral, Her father and mother where priest's at the Chapel , Pyrrah however never really cared ot had much time for the nine only when she grew older did she start to pay any attention and even then it was only to Dibella.

Her parent never approaved but Pyyrah always wanted to fight, she wanted to learn combat, she would watch the fighters guild members practice how to fight and soon enough she got noticed by the head of the fighters guild who decided to take her in a teach her to fight, he saw potential in the girl and thought she could be a great asset to the guild one day.

After the years of determined training Pyrrah finaly joined the Fighters guild as a contractor. She spent years taki9ng contracts and rising in rank even so to a point of offering her services outside of the fighters guild.

She is revered as one of the best fighters in the guild and so is prehaps the reason she was chosen by Hircine for his hunt.

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Eraptor145

Name: Erickir mattias

Gender: Male

Race: Wood Elf

Age:19

Height: 5'10



Class: Alchemist/archer

Appearance



:eye color: Grey-blue



Hair color: Dirty-Blonde



Hair style: meduim, a little less then shoulder length.



skin color: Fair



build: Medium, a little on the leaner side.



weight:140 lbs



Equipment:

Clothing: A light gray tunic, brown leather boots.



Armor:Half-leather Half-steel Chain Curiass, Leather boots. leather guantlets.



Weapons: Steel Short-sword, Hunting Shortbow, 24 steel arrows



misc: mortar and pestle, 3 home-made healing potions, and his godmother's necklace.



Personality: Rather serious, but can be comical. Is distrusting of strangers, and protective of friends. Distrusting of high elves. Kind to the less fortunate, but is hard to be suaded to do things.



Background:



Erickir was born to two wood elf parents nineteen years ago, they were humble farmers. Then on erickir's first birthday, undead attacked the small four home village. A patrol of adventures rolled through the town an hour or so, after the attack. They found him in his home hidden in a closet, his parents dead right outside. Erickir is sent to live with the people his parents trusted to care for there son. A nord couple, his godfather was a town guard and his godmother was an blacksmith. He grew up in a small village close to whiterun, he was raised the nord way but the other children always treated him diffrently.



As a teen, he trained with a bow and a shortsword. Because of his natural skill with archery he became great at it; His sword skills.... not so much. He also practiced and experimented with alchemy. He would make some pocket money by selling his various cures. When he was out hunting and searching for alchemical ingredients one cold skyrim afternoon, he was observing a saber-cat mother. It was walking a long with it''s rather large cubs, but a very small runt was lagging behind, As they were running the runt couldn't keep up. Erickir walked up to the tired cub, took it home, and cared for it back to health.



At 17, he left home to adventure, he has been wandering since.

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LukeKB

Name: Hiss-Kaw (and Mean)

Age: 13

six: Male

Race: Argonian



Appearance: Very small, even for his age, and extremely thin, due to malnourishment. However his arms, legs, and shoulders have a smidgen of muscle on them, they are infact the only part of him that doesn't appear to be purely skin-and-bone. He is mostly an albino looking lizard, but with some purple details here and there. The area around his eyes, his belly and middle of his chest, and the under part of his tail, arms, hands and feet are all purple. He has a thick head of feathers (the Argonian "hair") that are longer than most, they fall in front of his eyes and just above his shoulders, these feathers are also purple. The horn on the right side of his head is broken off, leaving a jagged stub that is about 2 inches long, the left horn is a simple and average sized horn (about 8 inches) that simply angles backwards from his head. He also has very long and sharp nails that are usually painted an assortment of colors.



Occupation: None, He is grade-A "hobo". He is however quite gifted at identifying what bit of nature is edible and what bit is deadly (alchemy w/o making potions)



Personality: Hiss-Kaw suffers from a split-personality disorder. His main personality appears to be very kind curious and innocent. He is however very deceptive, and will often lie and steal to get what he wants, but he does not wish to hurt anyone. Hiss-Kaw refers to his split personality as "Mean". Mean is 10 times as deceptive as Hiss-Kaw, and far more evil. Mean enjoys killing and often takes over Hiss-Kaw while he sleeps, and thus causes him to wake up in a pool of blood next to a dismembered body. Mean views Hiss-Kaw as weak and pathetic, but seeing as they share the same body Mean will often protect Hiss-Kaw by killing those who threaten Hiss-Kaw and put him in danger. Hiss-Kaw and Mean often have conversations, usually in private.



Combat Style and Proficiancy's: Hiss-Kaw is cowardice and will run from conflict if Mean gives him the chance. However, Mean jumps at the chance to fight, and usually doesn't stop till the other is dead. Mean fights like a savage beast, tooth and nail. He even occasionally uses his tail (for blunt-force trauma.)



Weapons: Mean does not use any weapons, he simply uses his long sharp claws and his disfigured and deadly teeth. The paint on his finger-nails is actually juices from the poisonous berries and other ingredients that Hiss-Kaw collects. He even occasionally puts poison on his teeth. Overtime this has caused an immunity to poison.



Armor/Clothing: He wears a pair of beat up old trousers that Hiss-Kaw often paints on. This has resulted in ragged tan trousers, with eerie black drawings all over them. Mean has an obsession for collecting jewelry (rings and necklaces, not circlets), this has resulted in many rings on every finger and tons of necklaces of all types. He also wears a small bag tied to the waistline of his trousers, this is where he stores all the berries, flowers and other ingredients Hiss-Kaw finds and collects.



Backstory: Ever since Hiss-Kaw could remember it has only been him and Mean. Yet at first Mean, had no name, this is only what Hiss-Kaw nicknamed him after he realized how cruel he can be to other people, and sometimes even Hiss-Kaw himself. The "sort-of-duo" wanders all of Tamriel, traveling from city to city, and stay for as long as they can. They are usually forced to leave when people realize or begin to develop suspicions as to why random people are beginning to show up brutally murdered. Hiss-Kaw, though friendly, has learned to avoid making friends, because Mean always ends up killing them. And though the two are very different, they are similar in that the both have obsessions with collecting things. Hiss-Kaw has an innocent obsession with collecting flowers, berries, bugs, rat tails, rabbit feet, things of that nature. On the other hand Mean has an obsession with collecting jewelry and will do anything to make sure he keeps what he has "earned".



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Character sketch (and color)

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Pegaro

Name: Pegaro

Age: 58 (Human Age Equivalent: 34)

six: Male

Race: Bosmer



Appearance: Pegaro is respects to other Bosmer is an oddity; while most of the race appears almost child-like and whimsical, Pegaro looks rugged, worn, and endlessly tired. He's young for a man of his skills, barely scratching the realm of late advlthood, but he already displays deep creases in his face. His head is bald and he has a blonde beard in the style of friendly mutton-chops. His eyes throughout are deep brown that appears almost black giving him a cold an alien look. Other than sharp facial features including a protruding chin and cheekbones, his apprentice is unremarkable.



Occupation: Ex-Thalmor Assassin, Retired Hunter



Combat Style and Proficiency: Pergaro's body isn't built for a sword-and-board style, he's always known this, but where that lacks he is extremely talented with a bow and arrow, crossbow, stealth, and the formation of traps.



Weapons: None



Armor/Clothing: Will be awaking without so much as a stitch



Personality: The best way Pegaro could be summed up is a cold pacifist. If he's not bothered, he won't mess with you; a sort of a "one-strike" policy on not crossing him. He values brutal efficiency and anything less is wasted effort. Not so much xenophobic as he is cautious due to his upbringing. He's a soft-spot that's been slowly been growing since he retired, especially more after he embraced Talos, but in essence he's a husk of a man with the sole intention of living his days in peace.



Backstory: Originally from a small village in Valenwood, Pegaro much resembled all the other Bosmer: he laughed, he played, he loved, and he was most importantly happy; there was seemingly nothing that could bring down this young Bosmer. Well, that is until the Thalmor's annex of Valenwood into the Aldermeri Dominion.



The news of the event didn't even reach Pegaro's village due to the remoteness. He and his kinsmen were only first introduced to the Thalmor when an official and some armored people came along with him. The group were comprised nearly entirely of Alter with the token inclusion of a Bosmer or two which called to them and explained the situation. Usually the idea that you nation's sovereignty being wiped completely away messes with people, but not to the rural Bosmer, no, politics was nothing. Laws passed in the Capital never effected them, why would they now? The team tried to establish order but the Villagers didn't seem to care. No one seemed to give the Thalmor officials so much as a glance as their peaceful, if not monotonous, lives continued.



Pegaro and his friends, barely teenagers, were one of the few to notice them. They decided they wanted to have a friendly little joke on the officials at their expense. The man seemingly in charge wore all black, a nice suit that was unfortunately sullied by the jungles various stains, and most importantly, a silly looking hat. The boys giggled to one another that they would compete in swiping the hat.



When a plan was finally devised, a simple swing and grab, they set to it. They climbed a tree that had many vines to it along the path of the officials. They seemed to be reading notes and checking for stuff, a list of some sort. The boys giggled further and Pegaro remembers well who grabbed the vine first; he. He was the first to grab the rope and was about to swing when another boy, damned if the name could be recalled, and with a shaky hesitation, the job was transitioned; probably some boyish ritual of acceptance through tasks. Pergaro relented and the swing was away.



The boy whom has taken Pegaro's place swung downwards, succesfully swiping the hat to the hoots and hollers of his friends, but the vine unfortunately broke on it's apex to safety. The boy plummeted to the ground, unhurt, but stared frightfully towards the officials. They looked none too pleased. To Pegaro's memory, the boy backed up slowly with one arm and held the hat out in an offer to the looking men approaching, but it was no use; these men didn't seem to think him more than a rat that needed to be stomped. Their blades were out, an almost malicious march to their step, and the look of death to their eyes. However, there was hope from when they all heard "Part ways!". The soldiers did and instead of the kind official to rescue the boy, he was met with a fire ball of a skilled mage.



Oh Talos, the sheer screams of anguish, they penetrated him memory like the deep grooves of a record never to be scratched away. The boy would obviously die, he was black and practically hallowed, hardly clinging to the mortal coil, but by some act of instinct he hollered and hollered a song of the dying. More unsettling, even though the officials voice should've been drowned out by the wails, Pegaro remembers one word clearly: "Purge".



Pegaro often wonders how things would have been different if he had simply swung; maybe that moment of fiery agony would've spared him a lifetime thereof.



Everything else in his life has been a blur. He was luckily recruited, more so by the threat of the same fate as his friend than newfound patriotism, and was designed to be a throw-away assassin; in other words, he was the guy who knifed a high figure in the street and immediately rotted in prison or was executed for the crime whilst never opening his mouth. Luckily though, he was shown skill to get away and keep his nose clean even in the direct scrutiny of law enforcement. His task givers saw this and he was sent back to Summerset to become an official assassin of the Thalmor.



In his long career, spanning roughly fifteen years, he's killed everyone from children, beggers, nobles, and even a king or two. He wasn't the most talented nor the best shot of his fellow assassins, but he did have a reputation of keeping his nose clean. While others could easily get away with the assassination, Pegaro was one of the few who could make all of his kills look like accidents and never have one of his jobs tied back to the Thalmor.



Eventually though, this robotic style of his life seemed to become endless. He thought he'd simply kill today, kill tomorrow, and kill for countless centuries thereon. It was an absolute shock when roughly five years ago, while living in Markarth, that he received note and congratulations that he'd successfully been relieved. He was guaranteed a generous salary, hush-money really, for the remainder of his life. While most forced conscripts would be joyous at this news, Pegaro was devastated; his life's purpose was now over.



The schism he needed, either death or climix, wasn't achieved. He needed the crucial schism that brought him into this life to take him out. Knowing only death, he decided he would kill the top official of the Thalmor in Skyrim; one last hurrah. Now to skip the planning and everything, we'll skip straight to the end; Pegaro killed the official through all odds and with what he believes the help of Talos, the man he spent the majority of his life thwarting.



Now in retirement, Pegaro married and even had a child, not so much out of love as it was expected, but his real thrill was his exorberant hunting trips. He'd been all across Tamriel hunting all the beasts of the world and facing challenges no others would take. These were the only times he smiled, when challenged and finally reaching his mark. A beast, especially of folk-tale, was always more thrilling than man or mer. He's glad to think that High Ranked thalmor is the last man he's killed in all these years despite many opportunities with bandits and highwaymen approaching on his trips.

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