Name: Balis Favani
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer (Dark Elf)
Age: 29
Appearance: 5’6, average build, Ashen grey with minimalistic hints of blue. Eye colour: Deep Crimson. Hair: shoulder length of the darkest ebony in a loose wave and a cascade of bangs (Beautiful).

Birth sign: The Atronach
Class: Specialty: Rogue Mage
Specialty: Alteration
Abilities: Illusion, Mercantile, Alteration, Hand-to-hand, Speechcraft, Conjuration (soul trap only) and Enchanting.
Weapon of Choice: Intelligence

Armour/Clothing: Black gold-trimmed boots, black gold-trimmed gloves, puffy white shirt (soft!), black embellished over coat (sleek), exquisite oxblood pants, volcanic glass ring with no special properties.
Misc. Items: Crystal knobbed walking stick (dapper), small satchel carrying a hair brush enchanted with restorative properties, various potions (magicka types and stamina potions. Some damn fine Flin as well) and soul gems.

Personality: Balis feels a strong sense of entitlement towards his environments and often his peers. Ever striving for a legitimate way of living, Balis is not above using under handed tactics to achieve this goal; everything is a means in which to achieve his end, and he revels in the manipulation of others. Balis often comes across as a (savvy) bastard.

Notable Quirks: He has a penchant for collecting souls and an obsession with crystalline structures. He’s also an avid player of the tambourine... when drunk.

Character Bio: Raised by his affluent merchant father, alongside his sister, Indara. Balis inherited partial control of his Father’s business upon his death during a botched negotiation. He has worked hard to get where he is in a scholastic sense; trained by the College of Whispers since being gifted in magicks at a young age, trained in business by his Father. Realising that there is only a certain level of ‘mastery’ through legal channels in the College of Whispers, Balis recognised the virtues of a materialistic way of life; in order to attain true power, he needed a more illicit and efficient means of acquisition, hence the birth of The Association.

Name: Indara Favani
Gender: Female
Race: Dunmer (Dark Elf)
Age: 27

Appearance: 5’6” tall with a lightly toned build and dark ash grey skin. Her facial features are stern yet graceful, complimenting her piercing eyes of vivid scarlet. Her dark walnut hair is kept pushed back from her face, falling to the top of her shoulder blades, while two small braids frame her face. Favours wearing dark eyeliner and lipstick of such a deep red it’s nearly black. There’s usually a sinister little smirk on her face.

Birth sign: The Lady
Class: Theif
Specialty: Alchemy
Abilities: Acrobatics, Alchemy, Sneak, Marksman, Lockpicking, Pickpocket
Weapon of Choice: Alchemical mixtures.

Armour/Clothing: A hooded navy blue tunic that falls about mid-thigh, a short and fitted leather vest that laces in the front, scaled greaves the colour of tarnished silver, fingerless netch hide gauntlets, worn leather slouch boots, and a belt that’s specially made to hold/give easy access to potion bottles. She also wears a deep purple bandana around her neck that she will sometimes pull up over the lower half of her face.

Misc. Items: Two satchels worn on belts that criss-cross her hips, various potions, poisons and ingredients, lock picks, two braided slings, some leaden sling-bullets, small tongs, a silver knife, a paintbrush, homemade ink, and a simple dagger made of blackened steel.


Personality: Due to the losses of those dear to her, Indara has become bitter, cynical and selfish towards people in general; even her sense of humour has twisted into something not wholly pleasant, with it best described as mischievous and cruel. She doesn’t go looking to make new friends, however the few she does have she’s fiercely loyal to, doing anything in her power to help or protect them. Indara rarely, if ever, shows her softer side as she tries to suppress any feelings that she deems show weakness, which in turn causes her stress and often makes her an all-around [censored].


Notable Quirks: Indara’s fond of reaping mischief, inciting confusion and just plan tormenting people for her own amusemant (like reorganising her marks’ homes, framing random people for advltery, and spiking the ale in the guard’s barracks with potent frenzy poisons, etc.). She won’t readily admit it, but these acts are done largely to vent and to lessen her distress by having others suffer along with her.
She’s also been a bit obsessed with alchemy and alchemical components since childhood, constantly collecting ingredients and experimenting with mixtures when she can.

Character Bio: Indara and her brother, Balis, were raised by their father who was a rather successful merchant. During her ninth summer her father was killed during a trading expedition, leaving his fortune and business to both his children. The loss hit Indara hard; months after she received the news sorrow still consumed her, and she could barely bring herself to eat or sleep. Her insomnia eventually lead to her to sneak out at night to try to clear her mind, which is how she met and was befriended by a few shady people. One thing lead to another and Indara started her career in crime, becoming quite adept over the years at acquiring objects and getting in and out of hard to access places. Sadly she was parted from many of her friends over this time as well, which in turn has profoundly affected her state of mind.
When she learned Balis was starting up his own outfit Indara jumped at the opportunity to lend him her talents, as well as watch his back.

Name: Adrian
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial/Vampire
Age: 25

Appearance: Adrian is 6'3, 195 pounds with long brown hair {shoulder length}, brownish/reddish eyes and a slender/athletic build. He keeps a 5'oclock shadow beard, because he doesn’t like to shave {maybe once or twice a month}.

Birth Sign: The Shadow

Class: Assassin
Specialty: Trap Making

Abilities: Illusion {novice}, pickpocket {novice}, sneak {moderate}, all vampire resistances/vulnerabilities, daggers{moderate}, bows/arrows {moderate}, trap maker/tinkerer {moderate}, lute player {master}

Weapon of Choice: Bow and arrow mostly, but switches between dagger depending on the situation.

Armor/clothing: Adrian wears a ring given to him by his father that allows him to be in the sun without taking sun damage, but in return, his abilities are weakened. He sometimes will not wear the ring during missions for this reason. Adrian chooses to wear light armor head to toe for flexibility and low weight, and it is a matte black color. The mask/hood is only worn on adventures/missions.

Misc. Items: Adrian carries a satchel with personal items, blood vials {for feeding}, various poisons, mini tool kit, and the occasional sweetroll.

Personality: Adrian is very laid back, easy to get along with and often jokes around. Although when something serious arises he is deadly focused. Adrian has a problem with trust considering his father’s actions. He tries to mainly feed on animals in fear of killing humans, but will still occasionally feed on people.

Notable Quirks: When he was a human he had extraordinary reflexes and was very athletic, which in turn magnified when he became a vampire. However he is still trying to get better with his basic vampire abilities. In his spare time Adrian loves to play the lute and occasionally will hit the streets at night to help beggars by giving food or cure potions. He is also interested in mechanics and will often create traps for animals so he can feed on them instead of humans.

Bio: Adrian’s history of becoming a vampire consists of his father being a vampire. Adrian’s father left Solitude when he was born, and returned when Adrian was 25 to explain his absence. He offered Adrian a chance to become a vampire, so he could spend a lifetime making up for never being there for Adrian. With Adrian’s mother recently dying, Adrian hesitantly accepted the offer to bond with what family he has left. Adrian then turns vampire, and when he does, he is left alone, yet again, when his father magically disappears. Adrian believes that his father had other motives besides bonding with him, and plans to find out if he can find his father, and kill him. Adrian most recently was recruited by the dark brotherhood and he decided to join in attempts to hone his skills in stealth combat as well as hoping they would help him find his father. Maybe his father has a secret agenda for Adrian…

Name- ívarr Halfface AKA ívarr Skinsplitter AKA ívarr the Snake for his lack of loyalty
Gender- Male
Race- Nord
Age- A man of experience.

Appearance- Pitch black hair. Black pitiless eyes, these are the empty eyes of a ruthless killer. Rare in a race of light haired and eyed folk. ívarr is a man who is on the run. A vicious character, he looks mean. He has a thin desolate, narrow face that is always dissatisfied by things. He is tall and of muscular build. ívarr sports a terribly disfigured face. His left side was scarred in a cave bear attack. His hair is long and kept braided, His nose has been broken and didn’t set correctly.

Birth Sign- The Serpent

Class- Warrior

Specialty- Tracking

Abilities- Blade, hand to hand, heavy armor, blunt, armorer, cooking, speechcraft

Weapon of choice- A bastard sword with a poisoned edge, or a two bladed axe.

Armour/Clothing- A hooded ragged cave bear cloak that had seen better times, studded Leather armor. When in battle plate, or whatever he can find. He had to leave his stuff behind as he is on the run.

Misc. Items, - A scalp (his first trophy) , a lock of hair ( a lovers token?), a few coins. His sword, an eating knife, A ring that grants the user strength and resistance to magical attacks.

Personality- Nasty on principle. Yet can be very persuasive when it suits his needs. Very racist. Is suspicious of magic users, especially hates witches. Very strong religious beliefs, he is highly superstitious. Loves to boast of his prowess in battle and with women. He will do anything to achieve his ends.

Notable Quirks- Spits when he is displeased by remarks or actions which he finds superstitious. ívarr is known to engage in the occasional act of cannibalism. He believes that by consuming his enemies he will gain their strength’s. He is not a firm believer but given his superstitious nature will not discredit it.

Character Bio- From one of the Northern Holds where old Nordic traditions are strong. ívarr is a Named man in the North. He is known commonly as a ruthless scourge and mercenary, he had to leave his homeland due to revenge murders he had committed. His victims were rumored to have been flayed alive and hung from the beams of the long houses. There is a hefty bounty on his head. He has to lie low for the time being and stays away from places Nord’s would frequent. He has given himself a new name for the time being, and a new identity, however the lust for battle calls to him. He cannot keep away, and he never was suited to any other living. He is a vicious and cunning fighter.
His scarred face was earned as he hunted a man eating cave bear; he killed it with his fists and took its hide as his trophy. He sometimes takes trophies of notable foes to remind him of worthwhile enemies and battles.

Name: Renrij
Gender: Male
Race: Khajiit
Sub-species: Suthay-raht
Age: 33
Appearance: Height: 6'00"
Weight: 190 lbs.
Eyes: Green and black
Hair (Fur): Deep gray with thin, black, horizontal striping.
Distinguishing Features: Renrij has three patches of missing fur with scar tissue on the skin: one on the left side of his neck, one on his left side centered between his armpit and waist, and one on his left pectoral muscle. All are about three times the size of a septim, and are the result of a Vampire encounter.

Birth sign: The Lord (First Seed)
Class: Mercenary (Fighting Thief)
Specialty: Agility
Abilities: One-Handed, Sneak, Lockpicking, Light Armor
Weapon of Choice: Imperial Sword

Armour/Clothing: black Leather Cuirass, black Leather Gauntlets, black cloth pants, black Leather Boots, black Hood
Misc. Items: Water Skin on a black leather belt, five Lockpicks, a fork, Sabre Cat Eye worn around his neck on a thin silver chain. Throughout his travels in Cyrodiil and Skyrim, Renrij has hidden 50-foot lengths of standard rope in many places, for access later.

Personality:
Renrij chose to take the name Renrij, which means "scum" or "mercenary" in the Khajiit language of Ta'agra. His birth name is lost to him; it died the night his parents did. Renrij cares little for socializing. He's perfectly content to live and work alone, and rarely plans farther in life than the next job. The death of his parents has left him bitter, and mistrusting of anyone or anything that he cannot control. Coin is his only concern, and the "how" and "why" are simply business details. But like his parents, there is a good heart and gentle spirit buried deep within him, although he has found no reason to embrace that part of himself. He will do his part when working with others so that his fair share will be rendered. If the others are not up to the tasks before them, then he will gladly accept their cut as well should they not make it alive.


Notable Quirks: Because of a nasty encounter with a Vampire, Renrij has a blind, raging hatred for them. Should he encounter one, he is likely to attack without thinking or with regard for his surroundings.

Character Bio:
Renrij was born the son of two struggling Khajiit, who were trying to establish themselves as a merchant Caravan in Skyrim. They bartered on the roads and outside the cities of Skyrim, but met with little acceptance. As a result of Nord disdain for their kind, business was rare and they had little of their own, but were of good hearts and gentle spirits. They tried to recruit other Khajiit for their business, yet were turned down time and time again. Renrij does not speak of his parents, nor thinks of them by name. They are only "Mother" and "Father".

When Renrij was five years old, his parents took him to Cyrodiil. They wanted to show him that Khajiit were accepted in other parts of Tamriel. They had left Elsweyr before Renrij was born, to explore the world, and learn of the different races and cultures, and were mostly accepted wherever they went. While traveling to the Imperial City on the Silver Road, they were met by a lone Khajiit. He offered to join their caravan, but Renrij's parents politely declined; there was something disconcerting about the Cat, although it wasn't exactly tangible. That same night, Renrij awoke to a commotion outside their tent. He scampered out into the moonlit night, and was met with the horror that would shape his life.

A burning torch lay on the road, and in its orange glow lay the face of Renrij's mother. A dagger was buried in her chest, and her eyes were cold and empty. Renrij howled and scrambled to her side, grabbing her left paw in both of his. He frantically mewed for her to get up, although he was old enough to know what had happened. From behind him, the sound of hissing and spitting began. Renrij turned; his father and the Khajiit from the road were facing one another, barely a few feet apart, and were pacing in a circle. Father had a nasty gash across his snout, and the Khajiit stranger's left ear lay bloody and shredded along the side of his head. The hisses and spits became guttural growls, coiling in Father's throat and then striking as roars as he bared his fangs.

The two beasts clashed, and the sounds of their conflict were terrifying. Father screamed, and Renrij cried as a large amount of blood spattered the road. But Father did not falter, and grabbed the Khajiit by the neck. He thrust his clawed thumbs into the stranger's throat, and when the stranger howled, Father sank the rest of his claws in. Blood bubbled from the stranger's mouth and nose, and he gurgled as he fell to the ground clutching his neck. After a few more moments, he was still.

Father fell to his knees and Renrij rushed to him. The proud father held his boy close, and whispered the things that Renrij needed to know in order to survive; not just for the night, but for the future. The moments that followed have veiled themselves from Renrij's mind; he recalls Father's last words, and then waking up somewhere in the Great Forest the next day. The next thirteen years were lived savagely in the wilds of Cyrodiil and Skyrim, where Renrij survived off the land. Civilization was only approached when the seasons were hard, and he had no choice but to steal from farms and homes. He eventually fell into a group of Bandits that routinely crossed the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, and raided whatever they could. At twenty-five, Renrij went off on his own again, and began making wages as a freelance Mercenary. He took up solitary residence in a small cottage on the southern hills of Lake Ilinalta in Skyrim. Word of his "talents" spread among the sort of Man and 'Mer inclined to hire such a "worker," and he has been successful with freelance work. However there is more coin to be made, and Renrij is looking for an organized outfit, as much as he hates to work with others. During his childhood and teenage years alone in the wilderness, he learned to climb, crawl, jump, run, tumble, flip, and maneuver his feline body. He practiced and perfected his coordination, and is able to perform agile feats that even other Khajiit would be envious of.

Name: Black-Throat
Gender: Male
Race: Argonian
Age: 31
Appearance: Black-Throat's scales are a dull grey color, dark, but not black. He has a large black patch on his neck, which gave him his name. Standing at around 6'6" he's of a lean build, not much fat on him, but lot's of muscle packed into his lean frame. His body is covered in a myriad of scars, ranging from a large claw mark on his chest from a bear to the numerous tiny scratches around his eyes, from the terrible flies that lived in Argonia. His eyes are a deep blue, the color of a stormy sea, and his horns resemble those of the dragons of Skyrim,they were the color and stuck straight out from behind his eyes.

Birth sign: The Shadow
Class: Thief(As he used to be an adventurer, he's also great as warrior type character.)
Specialty: Intimidation/Torture
Abilities: As an Argonian he can breath underwater, and he has considerable practice as a torturer which allowed him to build up a resistance to pain. He can still feel it of course, but he doesn't flinch as much from a knife blade or a sword thrust.
Weapon of Choice: He uses a steel shortsword, hidden under his robes attached to his side by leather cords.

Armour/Clothing: He wears a set of leather armor(Similar to the Thieve's Guild armor in Skyrim but much more plain.) under a plain black robe the opens at the front and ends at his waist. He uses the robe to cover the armor, putting on the guise of a harless trader or scholar before unleashing his true deadly skill with a blade.
Misc. Items: In addition to his steel shortsword Black-Throat carries a small iron dagger. He also carries around 5 poisions at any time, 3 to paralyze and silence a target, while the rest cause extreme pain. He prefers to carry nothing else except for a healthy sum of gold to avoid being a target for bandits. He also carries his bone pipe, carved from the bone of a horker. (http://img.auctiva.com/imgdata/1/1/9/2/7/0/7/webimg/527601068_tp.jpg.)

Personality: Black-Throat is extremely confident, not arrogant, but just confident that he can handle most situations. He always prepares for any mission carefully, studying his targets long before approaching them, and mapping out any areas before entering them. Though this may give you the idea that he's a quiet, skilled thief. He's actually very loud and boisterous(I think that's how you spell it) often getting drunk in taverns and starting bar brawls.

Notable Quirks: Black-Throat has a habit of smoking a pipe, filed with a special type of plant from Argonia.

Character Bio: Black-Throat was born in Black Marsh under a different name, but that is long forgotten, in a small, un-named argonian village. His life growing up was tough, his village often being pillaged by mercenaries and even other argonians. But he quickly learned how to fight, and after he turned 15, he went off on his own. His misson: To gain extra protection for his village. He planned to travel Argonia, gathering friendly Argonian warriors and even mercenaries where he could to bring back to his tiny village, turning it into a succesful village. But unfortunately, his mission was unsuccseful. He began his journey with high hopes, but as he went on, he found that it was extremely tough to survive, let alone gather men for his village's defense. He was almost killed on multiple occasions, obtaining many of the scars that remain today. Around age 20, he had taken up residence in a small abandoned fort, the place where he tortured his first victim. A small argonian girl, he had no idea who she was, had crossed his path, and, desperate for food, he attacked her, locking her up for interrogation. He grilled her for days, torturing her for every bit of information he could get. At first it was simply to find a source of food, but as time went on, he got caught up in the act, realizing that he was a a sadist. After his first torture session, he became addicted to the torture, loving to inflict pain on others. But he wasn't careful enough at first, and he was caught in the act after a string of 15 victims(mostly small children and the weak) and was sent to prison. Now, Black-Throat knew that it would be tough, but the argonian prison that he was sit to was extremely brutal. But this time in prison helped him build muscle, tactics for the dark deeds that he participated in and, most importantly, skill with a blade. The prison was rife with corruption and many prisoners smuggled in weapons and armor, turning the prison into a small town, filled with the terrible scum of Black Marsh. The day Black-Throat turned 28, he escaped the prison, fleeing to Cyrodill on a stolen horse, riding all the way to the Cheydinhal. For five years he lived there, stealing, cheating, and murdering his way in life, but soon, the citizens grew tired of him and he fled to Anvil, where he joined up with a new Thief group, known as the Association.

Name: Larry "Brick" Wall
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 25
Appearance:
http://img259.imageshack.us/img259/8996/larryua2.jpg: Larry is your ordinary civilian, he's thin with little muscle and is of average height. His hair is scruffy and unkept, like most of his attire; it's black. Larry isn't an interesting person to look upon, he's not ugly but he's not overly handsome either and his face is usually neutral in emotion. His eyes are probably his strongest feature, being bright blue.

Birth sign: The Steed
Class: Spy
Specialty: Information gathering/Sneaking
Abilities: Sneak, Throwing Knives, Athletics, Acrobatics.
Weapon of Choice: Steel throwing knives.

Armour/Clothing:Light black cotton trousers with a black short sleeve shirt, he's usually in tan coloured leather boots or fur boots. He can also be seen wearing a long grey trench coat.

Misc. Items: He always wears a wristguard which he uses to store one or two throwing knives. Gold, maps, letters and various notes, he usually brings with him a notepad so he can write details about his target.

Personality: Being a spy, Larry can stand or sit quite happily for hours without interruption, he can remain hidden easily and run away if spotted. To most, he seems boring and uninteresting, yet he has seen alot of things and enjoys peoples company just as much as he enjoys his own, if someone gets to know Larry, they would find he's a loyal, passionate man who is devoted to his friends and family.

Notable Quirks: Larry has never killed before and attempts to simply subdue his opponents or remain undetected.

Character Bio: Born and raised in Bravil; one of the poorest towns in Cyrodiil, he was introduced to Poverty early in life. Through this sudden introduction, he was taught to do all he could to survive and in most circumstances, that meant learning to become a thief, a brawler and on his favourite occasions, a spy.

Generally speaking, he wasn't very good at brawling, he could hold his own in a fight but he always held back - too afraid of the consequences. Larry struggled finding work as a mercenary as he all he saw in most organisations was cruelty and random spouts of violence. Larry wanted to be part of something more, something bigger - Something with actual values.

Name: Amarie Mabrel
Gender: Female
Race: Breton
Age: Looks 28 is actually 150
Appearance:http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/240/7/a/the_vampire_by_deathknowz-d5crgmi.jpg

Birth sign: The Shadow
Class: Dark-Whisperer
Specialty: Necromancy
Abilities: Destruction, Illusion, Sneak, Speechcraft, Agility, Conjuration, Necromancy and vampire buffs/debuffs
Weapon of Choice: Magic

Armour/Clothing: Light crimson and black robes that cover her feet. Black gloves and a black hood which is not always worn.

Misc. Items: A belt around her waist that contains scapels, forceps, and a variey of other instruments used in her arts. An amulet of Namira around her neck, and a Ring of Namira on her finger.

Personality: Persuasive and cunning Amarie always has her whisperings in someones ear. Very dark and pessimistic when not doing something she enjoys, but when she is, she lightens up a little and becomes more friendly. Will do anything to get what she wants.

Notable Quirks: As a devout worshipper of Namira, Amarie often engages in cannabalism. She has a fascination about the insides of men and mer, and studies them in great detail. She has a strange penchant for high elf blood, claims that it tastes sweeter.

Character Bio: Amarie was raised in a remote cave in the mountians of High Rock. Her parents were both worshippers of Namira , and they taught her how to survive on human flesh and blood. Amarie became very devoted towards the diety and her practices, and wondered how to perfect herself even more for her master. She thought that by becoming a vampire it would allow her to achieve perfection, and left her parents to join a coven. She spent many years there before finally growing restless and moving to Anvil, where she fund herself part of a local gang.

Name: Falco Molvirian (pronounced Mol-Veer-E-In)
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Age: 25

Appearance: Medium length shaggy brown hair. Sun tanned skin. Eyes as green as the leaves in the Great Forest. More tall than short, he also is more wiry than built.

Birth sign: The Lover

Class: Infiltrator

Specialty: Getting into places he shouldn't, as well as an affinity for masquerading as any alternate persona he chooses. In short, Faldo is a dominus de disguise.

Abilities: Decent with a lock. Falco is also an entrepreneur in the business of disguises. He's also somewhat of a ladies man, and is very good at getting what he wants if the obstacle is a woman.

Weapon of Choice: An Elven Dagger he "found" at the seaside market one day.

Armour/Clothing: For Casual Purposes: Black shoes, with gold trim. A pair of loose fitting dark brown leggings, that tighten around the calves. A black sheepskin tunic, with no sleeves.

Misc. Items:He always keeps something on his person that he can use a gift to woo his targets

Personality: Charming, funny, and a little bit arrogant, Falco knows he's good with people. Surprisingly sensitive, he doesn't let his true emotions show, preferring to put on a dramatic display of whatever emotion he imagines will produce a reaction. He likes to toy with people, and can sometimes tease to the point of bullying. Never the less, he knows when to stop, although he can be rash in the heat of the moment, sometimes almost jeopardizing the mission.

Notable Quirks: At certain times, Falco can become incredibly cynical towards the world.

Character Bio: Growing up in Anvil, Falco learned at an early age just how easy it was to manipulate someone. From tricking his mom into giving him a few extra septims for sweetrolls, or finagling good marks from his lessons master, he could always talk his way into a better situation.
In addition, Falco showed a definite interest in finding his way inside the forbidden wings of the county castle. To accomplish this, he would often dress in extravagant outfits that he stole from his father's good cabinet, strolling into the castle as if he was a noble doing business.
As a result of always being able to talk, or disguise himself in unorthodox ways to avoid conflict, Falco never really learned how to fight. Realizing that he didn't wanna be stuck selling trinkets and dying skins at the docks for the rest of his life, Falco is turning to a life of organized crime, trusting that his gilded tongue, and skill with camouflage would save him.