Appearance: When not using illusion-magic, she looks like all the other vampires: black lifeless hair, dead eyes with red pupils, black claws where nails would be, visible fangs, skeletal-thin features and pale parchment-thin skin. However, she uses illusion when outside the clan and looks like she did before she was infected with vampirism: Strong, manly features generally considered unattractive, brown hair cut short, a scarred left face with a blind left eye, bulky build.

Class: Vampire
Skills and known spell-effects: Uses her natural vampiric speed to advantage in combat, but has forgotten how to fight with weapons effectively. Her speed is her best armor in combat and can leap dozens of feet. As a vampire, she can smell blood and detect life. Uses illusion-magic to appear normal. Her body remembers how it used to look, through the decease, and she uses this as fuel for her illusion, making it stable and easy to control. She would have trouble changing her look to anything else. She is immune to frost, but extremely weak against fire and the sun. Somewhat weak to lightning. She can sneak silently.

Clothing / armor: Doesn’t wear any armor or clothing in the clan, but recently stole some clothing from the camp. Comfortable shoes, green linen pants and a rough, green-brown tunic.
Weapons: Carries a steel sword at her hip, stolen from the imperial camp.
Miscellaneous items: Doesn’t carry any items.

Personality: Above all, she wants to be cured of her vampirism, to once again feel warm, rather than empty and freezing inside, to not be burnt by the warmth of fire and the sun.

She has forgotten much during her time under the lake, but was a hot-tempered woman before she became a vampire. The decades under ice have cooled her temper.
Major flaw: Her vampirism.

Background: She was a warrior at heart since a young age and an adventurer when she contacted vampirism. She has forgotten most of who she was, including her real name, where she was born, who her parents were and what the touch of a warm hand feels like. She’s at the camp to take the last three new-blood’s to the clan, but uses this unique opportunity to leave it all behind and finally seek a cure.

Age: 17

Race: Redguard

Gender: male

Height: 6'2"

Birthsign: The Serpent

Appearance: Thin, very tall, hawk-like features, thin scars network his face, also on back. Pale, almost persian complexion. Shaved head.

Class: archer/ hunter/ scout

Skills: archery, can ride a horse well enough to shoot off its back, literacy

Clothing / armor: leather jerkin and boots, otherwise, coarse fabric and old blanket

Weapons: Recurve bow, arrows, curved dagger

Miscellaneous items: some food, a few septims.

Personality: Amoral (or at least, enough that he'll quickly succumb to the urge to feed, and only have passing qualms) Views vampirism as a terrible curse, used to having to be quiet and somewhat unsure of himself. A bit cowardly.

Major flaw: Amoral, will flee rather than risk his life

Background: A son of the tribes of the Alik'r Desert, he was abandoned by his tribe when his father died at the age of eight. Living on his own, he had to hunt with his brothers, barely eking out a living in the tough land. His mother, a kidnapped noble, taught him to read and write, an extremely rare skill for the nomads. Once, while he was out hunting, he was captured as a slave. Suffering under the hand of his master for many years, he ran away, only to be stopped by legionaries, at which point he promised to serve them. Already short on numbers, the legion accepted. He's always had life thrust upon him, but wants much greater things for himself. Dreams of ending the tribal warfare and uniting the nomads (only dreams, of course)

Class: Thief
Skills and known spell-effects: Only Moonshdow from his birthsign. He can use it once a day. Lock-picking, sneaking, some skill with a bow and dagger.

Clothing / armor: Wears Leather Armor, Greaves and Gauntlets. Usually wears a blue or black hood. The Legionnaires allowed him to keep his armor and hood on during his imprisoned travel for his protection.
Weapons: He was relieved of his weapons upon capture. He usually carried two Elven Daggers and Elven Bow with Elven arrows.
Miscellaneous items: Had around 100 lock picks that were relieved of him upon capture, along with an assortment of stolen jewels and other items. His gold was relieved of him as well.

Personality: Appears jolly and carefree but is riddled with self-guilt and loathing. He steals to feed his drinking habit and sustain a lifestyle way beyond his means. He cares little about vampirism, because it does not affect his life in the least. He is happy and cheerful in public. Alone, he is bitter and grieving.
Major flaw: Greedy and self-absorbed. Reckless and now a drunk.

Background: Agaron was born in Haven, a small port city on the border of Elsweyr and Valenwood. It became a trading city of sorts due to its location between The Imperial City and Summerset Isles. Agaron’s parents are both Bosmers as well. They run a general goods store in town. His father, is an avid hunter and deadly with a bow. He tried to teach his son, who only paid attention half of the time. He would gather meats and skins and then bring them back to his wife to tan, butcher and cook for sale. They had a pleasant life in Haven. The store was Agaron’s to run once his parents wanted to retire but Agaron had no interest in that life. He was interested in a more fast paced fun life. His parents lived a moderate lifestyle but nothing too flashy. Agaron, on the other hand, wanted more. He longed to live a lavish lifestyle and wear rich clothes and drink the most expensive wines and mead. This lifestyle, however, had a price tag Agaron’s parents would not support.

Agaron, quickly found that the only way to support his lifestyle was to turn to a life of theft. He hooked up with a couple of Khajiit cubs from across the border and started to learn his way around the black market and quickly learned all the area fences to sell his goods from the night before. He would spend the day casing houses and shops and then at night, rob them blind and sell the goods. He then would find the local watering hole and spend all his earnings on drink and food and party into the wee hours of the morning. This became his daily routine. His parents became furious with him, since he spent his entire time shirking his duties in the shop and running the streets with his cat friends. They tried to forbid him from these friendships but that only made Agaron rebel and he plotted to teach his parents a lesson.

Agaron plotted with his feline companions to rob a little general store in Haven. That would keep them occupied for a little and leave him alone to pursue his lifestyle. That night the gang would raid the store and it was a gold mine. The Khajiit had no clue who owned the store, only that Agaron had cased it out and said it was a gem. What Agaron did not account for was what was to come next. Agaron’s father left his hat in the store and made a late night trip to come back and pick it up. He walked in on the robbery and surprised the Khajiit. Unarmed and startled, he headed for the door to alert the guards. The Khajiit were too fast for him and attacked him, quickly slicing his throat. Agaron came out from the back room when he heard the commotion to see his father lying in a pool of blood. He ran to him and tried to revive him. His father looked up at him and with his last breath asked “Why?”.

Filled with guilt and shame, Agaron fled Haven and lived in the wild for quite some time. He took his Elven bow and Elven daggers and about 1,000 septim with him. After a few months in the wild, he headed to the Skyrim, farthest away from his home, to start a new life. The one he pretended to live in the streets of haven, but now no one would know him there and he could pull off the rouse and drown away his past life and the thought of his mother, now a widow at his own hand. He never could face her after what he had done.

After only two weeks in Skyrim, Agaron was captured by the Imperial Legion after attempting to rob a traveling merchant on the roads outside of Falkreath. He was taken prisoner by the Legion and has been traveling with them for about 3 days as they roam the mountainous countryside.

Name: Jeanne Viera Valerius
Age: 18
Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Height: 5’3”
Birthsign: The Serpent

Appearance: Jeanne has big, vibrant blue eyes with long lashes and thin brows. Her straight blonde hair falls down to the small of her back. She is very fond of her hair, and keeps it in several styles. At the moment she has two braids on each side of her head meet at the back with a ribbon. She has a humble physique, with no real muscle. She is not very gracious, and tends to trip over herself when nervous. She would be best described as having an innocent and angelic appearance. She wears religious jewelry to signify her faith.

Class: Priestess of the Eight Divines

Skills and known spell-effects: Jeanne has studied the art of Restoration for several years. She is a natural talent, but has still much to learn. She can treat wounds with both magicka and medicinal herbs, and create wards to protect herself and others from harm. She has a mild knowledge of poisons, but is best with diseases.

Clothing / armor: She usually wears her traveling robes with a cloak over it. She carries her belongings in a leather satchel across her shoulder.

Weapons: Jeanne does not know how to use any weapons, but she carries a dagger on her belt. She only uses it for practical reasons like cooking and cutting samples of plants.

Miscellaneous items: One personal journal and one for studies, writing materials, a book of religious texts, a bottle of water, some food, a map of Skyrim with religious landmarks highlighted, a travel lantern, and some field equipment for examining herbs.

Personality: Jeanne has struggled with her extreme shyness and cowardice her whole life. She hates confrontation, and prefers to be a wall flower. She is a very loyal friend, and can be easy to lead on. She loves the Divines, and wants to spread their message to the masses.

Major flaw: She is a strong mage with great potential and it would seem like she could easily hold her own in the face of danger. This is far from the truth, as Jeanne does not have a sliver of courage in her. In the heat of battle she would be petrified with fear. She has continuously tried to conquer her fears, but her lack of self-confidence has kept her from succeeding every time.

Jeanne sees vampires as sinful and unholy beings, and would rather die than turn into one. Despite that fact, she is too scared to take her own life and is desperate to keep her humanity. She will do anything it takes to find a cure before she loses her mind.

Background:

Jeanne was a shy, but brilliant young child. She loved reading history books about famous mages and their revolutionary contributes to the studies on the arcane arts. Her favorite arcane art to read about was the one of restoration. The wonderful abilities of using magicka to heal and help those in need. It was Jeanne’s big dream to be able to help those less fortunate. She had been raised in a very religious household, and so she had decided that becoming a Priestess of the Eight would be her way in life.

Her family was of modest wealth, and went by more or less unnoticed in their home town Anvil. Her parents worked under the Aldmeri Dominion, pushing papers and keeping the wheels turning at the massive docks. One day when Jeanne was twelve years old her mother brought her along to work, where Jeanne met an old Aldmeri scholar. Her curiosity and fascination overcame her shyness, and after a few minutes of stuttering questions for the mighty Altmer she learned that he was in fact a scholar of Restoration sent to attend an important meeting at the Dominion’s headquarters in the city.

Jeanne and the Altmer became friends over time, and he often visited her family’s house after a long day at the Dominion headquarter. Jeanne loved every minute of it, talking for hours about her favorite historical figures and their endeavors. They discussed religion and the importance of contributing to society. The Altmer began teaching Jeanne about the Restorative arts after realizing her great intellect and willingness to learn.

The Altmer stayed in Anvil for six months before receiving orders to return to Alinor. Jeanne was heartbroken about losing her dear friend so soon. She begged to come with him, but he refused. Instead he promised to write a letter of recommendation for a contact he had at the College of Winterhold and get her an apprenticeship. True to his word, two months later Jeanne received a letter from the College of Winterhold, letting her know that she had been accepted as an apprentice of the restorative arts.

With the blessings of her parents she packed her things and hired passage on the first ship northbound. After a month at sea, and a week on horseback she arrived at the College. She began her studies immediately, and proved to be a natural talent. She made a few friends through the years despite her shyness, and managed to break out of her shell a little. Alongside her restorative studies she also devoted a large amount of time learning about the Eight Divines and figuring out how she could best serve them. She felt closest to the Divines Mara and Stendarr, and aspired to spread their love and goodwill once her arcane education was finished. Although chastity was not a requirement to become a Priestess, Jeanne decided that her heart and body would belong only to the Divines.

After several years of studies she had become quite proficient in Restoration. She had learned how to heal wounds and treat illnesses, both with the use of magicka and medicinal herbs with healing properties. She had also learned how to shield herself and others from harm. So far she had only left the college grounds accompanied by her teachers, and never strayed far. She had been safe, with a warm home to come back to every evening, and that suited her fine. Her superiors had begun to disagree, claiming that in order for Jeanne to grow both as a healer and as a person she would have to start standing on her own two legs and make her own decisions. After a month of bargaining back and forth, Jeanne agreed to go on a pilgrimage that would take her to each hold of Skyrim.

It was on the day of her eighteenth birthday that she began her journey. It was scary at first, but after a few days she gained enough confidence to carry out her mission without hesitance. She went from Winterhold, south through Windhelm and then to Riften. She spent some time at the Temple of Mara before continuing west to the city of Falkreath and then north. She visited several religious landmarks, among them a mountain where the Imperial Legion had set up a camp. She had been allowed to join them and got to share a tent with the female soldiers.

Jeanne had taken no sides in the civil war, choosing to help whoever was in need of her aid. After visiting the religious landmark in the mountain she had spent her time praying with those soldiers that wanted to feel closer to their Divines, and studying a medicinal herb that grew around the camp.

Age: 28
Race: Reachman
Gender: Male
Height: 1.78mt (5’8’’)
Birthsign: The Steed
Class: Hunter-gatherer

Appearance:

Dark eyes and hair, pronounced eyebrows and a two-week beard. His hair is loose and messy, and only long enough to cover his forehead. Average height, sturdy build, not imposing. Only moderately muscular. Has extensive tattoos all over his body, covering his torso, his whole arms, to the point where they look like sleeves, and his neck. Most were the result of rites of passage.

Skills and known spell-effects:

Very skilled at hunting, tracking and skinning animals. Very experienced navigating thick forests and mountainous environments, and identifying sources of food, water and shelter, as well as potential dangers.

He can be very stealthy, but mostly in the wild taking advantage of the terrain. He has little experience sneaking through a building.

His combat skills are moderate. They usually are employed in the context of guerrilla tactics, by striking weak points of much larger forces, and then immediately retreating into hiding. He’s not especially skilled in a conventional fight. Will attack wildly with poor form. Usually uses a spear to hunt, but he’s also comfortable with a knife or a bow. He can use a sword with very mediocre skill.

Has minor skill in magic, mostly based on alchemy along with tribal rituals. His magic is very unorthodox, and the results aren’t usually very effective. Just bits and pieces he picked up from the witches of the Reach. Much of his rituals are based on superstition and only serve a subconscious psychological purpose, at best.

Clothing / armor:

Makeshift garbs going down to his knees, made of bear’s hide and fur, and tied with a rope by the waist. Proudly displays a necklace made of bear’s teeth stringed together. (will probably have changed to more regular clothes by the time they reach Falkreath)

Weapons:

Carries a knife made of a sharp bone, with rope around the handle and adorning feathers. It can pierce but it can’t slice. It’s usually used as a tool or for ritualistic purposes, but it can be lethal against an unarmored opponent. He was able to recover it before leaving the camp.

Miscellaneous items:

Personality:

He’s uneducated. He can’t read or write, but speaks Tamrielic without a problem. Also, he’s used to a nomadic way of life, so he may fail to conform with societal rules from the more civilized settlements. Since his life was circumscribed to a small geographical location, he’s also ignorant about a great many deal of things about the world.

Sees Nords as an enemy who took away his peoples’ homes. Holds special contempt for Ulfric Stormcloak. He’s generally distrustful of unknown people (or anything unknown for that matter).

He’s a caring man and very loyal. The most important thing for him is to gain his people’s respect by providing for them with food and protection. He wouldn't hesitate to die to defend his clan.

His relationship with vampirism is of horror. Encounters between his clan and vampires have happened before, and he thinks he’d never be accepted back by his peers while suffering from such a condition.

Major flaw:

Ignorance of life outside his clan. Fear of the unknown.

Background:

Rayf was born in a fairly large clan of Forsworn. They lived a nomadic life, holding landmarks from time to time, and moving out whenever they started getting too much heat from the other contenders for power in the Reach. The clan suffered a great divide when it came time for the Hagraven matriarch to produce a Briarheart. Elric Grayspear took the unprecedented position to defy tradition, claiming the Forsworn didn’t have to surrender their souls to reclaim their homes. His defiance led him to be expelled from the group, but the brave stance inspired many clan members to follow him, including a very young Rayf. Since then, that splitting branch became known as the Headless Clan, for their refusal to produce a spirit of vengeance, as it was traditional from ancient times.

The small group endured the passage of time, and whenever they weren't struggling for survival, they kept causing minor problems to Markarth’s rule following the orders from Madanach, the King in Rags. During this time, Rayf became a respected member of the community by foraging and hunting in the harsh, mountainous environment of the Reach. There was no greater joy than being welcomed back home with cheers, while carrying a carcass on one’s shoulders. Conversely, there was no greater grief than returning empty handed to the sight of starving children. By 28, he had fathered a boy and a girl, and was seen as a dependable member of the society.

However, in such an unpredictable world, things don’t tend to stay unchanged for long. After a day spent unsuccessfully tracking a stag, Rayf and one of his brothers returned home, but as they reached their destination, they realized they were the ones being tracked. A particularly skilled mercenary working for Markarth had followed them right to their hideout’s doorsteps. If the mercenary went back to Markarth, a battalion of men would arrive next morning, so he’d either had to be hunted down, or they’d have to move out through the night. Since moving meant risking everything for the gamble of finding a new place to stay, he chose to hunt him down. His brother went inside to prepare the move, had the mercenary escaped.

The pursuit took them south through the rough terrain that the Reachman knew so well. The mercenary was nimble and a skilled scout, but there was no escape, unless the unexpected happened... and it did. The pursuit stumbled right into an unsuspecting patrol of Legionnaires. The mercenary foolishly stopped, thinking he was safe, but the unanticipated audience didn't stop Rayf from carving his dagger deep into the mercenary’s throat. He dropped down trying to cover the gaping wound with his hands, pointlessly gasping for air while blood spilt out violently at the accelerated rhythm of his heart. The confused witnesses of this surprising spectacle quickly surrounded Rayf, and he had no choice but to surrender. Blindfolded, he traveled for hours with his captors until they reached a military camp.