» Mon Nov 16, 2009 8:36 pm Divayth Fyr claims to have found the cure for corprus. Test subjects already infected with corprus show 100% improvement, becoming completely human in a matter of weeks. Tests on normal subjects (subjects without corprus) have shown the opposite effect; the subject transforms into a full-fledged corprus beast in a matter of days. Divayth Fyr decides to have the cure confined to his corprusarium.
Year 4E35
Divayth Fyr decides that one of his cured subjects, known only as Mike, is ready to be released back into society. But Mike has bigger plans. When Divayth takes Mike to Balmora for release, Mike steals a bottle of the cure, taking it with him.
One week later
For unknown reasons, certain citizens of Balmora have shown signs of corprus, and the disease is rapidly spreading. Divayth Fyr attempts to give those who are infected the cure, but then finds that the disease has mutated, forming a new, more resistant strain. Fyr returns to his tower indefinitely, trying to find a cure for the new strain. All clues point to Mike as the culprit.
Year 4E38
All of Vvardenfell has been infected, the status of Divayth Fyr is unkown. The disease has spread to the mainland, and corprus beasts have destroyed Mournhold and killed all of its inhabitants, including King Helseth. The Horde now moves to the other provinces, the majority heading toward Cyrodiil...
You play as a normal person, trying simply to survive the onslaught of the corprus horde, which is right at your doorstep in Cheydinhal. The Empire has lost all communication with Morrowind, and nobody alive is aware of the looming corprus threat. Ocato has dispatched a large portion of the imperial legion to guard the Cyrodiil-Morrowind border, spread thin across the contryside. You can work with others, go it alone (not advisable), or take the fight to the monsters in the fight to survive.
Some info on the corprus beasts.
About 80% of the horde will be mad up of generic, but powerful, corprus beasts. Although quite strong, they move obnoxiously slow due to their extensive muscle and bone decay. They can run clumsily to a certain extent. These beasts have heavily decayed brains, only able to make simple thoughts, and have only the most primal of instincts: To stay alive, and to eat.
Another 19.9% of the corprus beasts will be made up of the recent infectees; these beasts have only recently be infected, and therefore will not have suffered from the same muscle and bone decay as their slow counterparts. Their brains, however, are just as damaged as the others and stil cannot carry out complex thoughts.
The other 0.1% (one in a thousand) is quite different. This group is made out of corprus beasts that were exceptional in their life. These beasts had immense willpower as a human, and therefore retained much of their mind, stil able to carry out complex thought processes. These few can cast spells, use weapons and tools, even command lesser corprus beasts. Be wary of them, as they can match and even outsmart your character.
All corprus beasts, no matter how powerful, are extremely sensitive to UV radiation, and therefore stay out of the sun. Thus, they only come out at night, often hiding from the sun in caves, ruins, or even people's basemant's during the day.
Character sheet format
Name:
Race:
Gender:
Apparent Age: (How old you appear to be)
Actual Age: (How old you really are)
Skills: (Not necessarily those in the games, just whatever you're character is good at)
Armor/apparel: (Please don't pick anything better than Mithril or its heavy armor counterpart)
Unique apparel: (Jewlery, etc.)
Weapons: (Nothing ebony or daedric, please)
Equipment: (money, food, etc. If you have a horse put it here)
Physical Appearance:
Unique Appearance: (Scars, Tattoos, etc.)
Mental Description:
Short Bio:
Rules:
1. No ubering/character controlling
2. No one-liners
3. You are not immune to corprus
4. PM all character sheets to me
5. My word is law. Disobedience will be punished by me killing/crippling/dismembering/eating your character alive
6. No short posts. All IC posts must be a minimum of 50 words.
7. No OOCs without also including and IC.
8. Romance and cursing are both fine.
9. You know the '0.1%' of corprus beasts that can think for themselves? Well it is me and only me that gets to decide who those are, when they appear, and what they do.
What's happened so far
Part 1
The Corprus Horde, its existence unknown to the public, attacks the city of Cheydinhal one rainy night. The horde engulfs the city, devouring all who stand before it. The lucky survivors start to form small groups. Fanier and Amiel (an altmer/bosmer cross-breed and an imperial, respectively) make their way to the Cheydinhal castle, with Primo, a legion captain, and Calendras, an altmer necromancer, folowing close behind. The group survives the night hold up in the castle.
Morning comes, and the Corprus beasts flee teh sunlight, leaving the city in ruins. Fanier, Amiel, and Calendras scavenge through the ruins for survivors and supplies. Calendras separates fro the group to search his house, finding a large group o survivors hiding within. Rather than offering them refuge, Calendras sees an oppurtinity to practice his prodigious skill in necromancy, slaying the lot. He then piles the bodies into a large cart, which he totes around with him for later use.
Fanier, after seeing the bodies, examines them, and finds out that it was Calendras that killed them. Outraged, Fanier nearly starts a fight with Calendras, but deems their current situation too urgent to lose another worker among the group. Meanwhile, Primo meets up with Adrian, an imperial mage. Rothis, a dunmer blacksmith, and Trisha, an argonian girl, continue to wander the ruins independently from any of the others.
All the while, Durus Broad, an imperial, is barely surviving in his village outside Cheydinhal, one of the first to be attacked by the corprus beasts...
Part 2
The tension between Fanier and Calendras escalates, eventually leading to Fanier attempting to take Calendras's life. Calendras runs, and Fanier, Amiel, and Primo and co. chase after him. Calendras, during the chase, jumps off a roof and breaks his leg, leaving him at the mercy of his persuers. Amiel takes his life without objection from the others. By this time, another survivor, a dunmer named Tadave, meets up with Fanier and the group. They return to the castle, later joined by Dynter, a huge Nord/Altmer, and Kiel, a redguard.
Two argonians, Trisha and Radek, are holed up in the former's attic, tryin to make it through the night.
Fanier, Amiel, and company barely make it to the castle, on the run from the huge horde of corprus beasts. The group makes plans to journey to the Imperial City the next morning, and stockpile a wagon of weapons for the trip. But their plans go awry as the corprus make their way into the castle, forcing the group to leave evacuate with their wagon with their newfound comrade, Basher, a big imperial. They battle their way out, but the battle is cut short when the horde seemes to stop, drop everything, and absent-mindedly make their way to a figure on a hilltop theat seems to be commanding them. Fanier and Dynter make their way among the horde to the hilltop, and what Fanier sees horrifies him...
Meanwhile, Fimmion, a bosmer, makes his way through the woods, with three infected wolves he has enchanted to follow his orders. Xa-raku, an argonian, is hiding in among the rooftops, trying to survive. And Durus Broad still survives in his village, reading a journal he found to keep him company.
Part 3
Fanier, after encountering the "corprus mage" on the hilltop, finds that this mage was the one responsible for the infection of his wife. He and the group flee, and make their way to the Imperial City with little resistance. They arrive at daybreak, and find the city deserted. The band of survivors proceeds to search for supplies and survivors. A healer named Lucien and a group of knights led by a breton named Francois.
After searching both the market district and the Arcane University, the group decides to spend the night at the waterfront. They fight through the corprus in the waterfront tunnel, while Ronin, an argonian bombmaker, protects a food warehouse from a group of murderous knights. While in the tunnel, the band of survivors sets off a trip mine previously set by Ronin. The tunnel collapses, and while most escape, Francois and Fanier are trapped inside.
Meanwhile, Trisha and Radek, along with Xa-raku, remain in their attic, while Durus Broad lives on, alone in his house...
The Characters
Krimsin
Name: Xa-raku
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: Late thirties
Actual Age: 31
Skills: Martial Arts Mastery (H2H, Acrobatics, Block, etc.), Free-running, Athletics, Alteration, Meditation
Armor/apparel: Black travel robes w/ hood, leather braided sandals
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: His own body
Equipment: Barely any money, a decent amount of food. Some health potions
Physical Appearance: Mostly black or dark green, with splashes of green on his face, chest, hands, and feet.
Unique Appearance: Fins
Mental Description: Rather stoic and peaceful. Avoids combat unless necessary. Hates slavers.
Short Bio: Xa-raku was given over to a teacher of martial arts, Lin-koh, at a young age to ensure his safety from slavers and the ever-present dangers of the Black Marsh. Xa-raku rarely saw real combat, but eventually became Lin-koh's top student, and inherited the argonian's school after Lin-koh passed away. Xa-raku was hesitant to take on the new responsibility, but agreed. During Mehrunes Dagon's invasion of Tamriel, an oblivion gate opened near his village. He urged everyone to stay inside the village, but one of his students took it upon themselves to lead an attack into the gate and successfully closed it. That student, Luah, criticized his indecision, got into a heated argument with him, and finally left the school entirely.
forrest gump951 (me)
Name: Fanier
Race: Wood Elf/High Elf mix
Apparent Age: 25
Actual Age: 63
Gender: Male
Skills: Fanier's a master at close quarters combat, very deadly with shortswords and hand-to-hand. He's also pretty good with long blades and bows. When necessary, he can cast a basic fire or restoration spell.
Armor/apparel: Fanier has a full suit of leather armor minus the helm. When he's not wearning armor he has some simple clothes and a nice burgundy jacket for when its cold.
Unique Apparel: Fanier always wears the amulet of his late wife.
Weapons: Fanier has an elven shortsword, along with a simple shortbow with a quiver of 30 arrows.
Equipment: He's got about 50 gold in his savings, aong with a bay horse named Perce kept not in the stable, but tied outside his house.
Physical Appearance: 6 feet, 2 inches, due to high elf ancestry. 160 pounds, little body fat, average muscle mass. Brown hair, often tied in a short ponytail or let loose in a short, ruffled fashion. Hazel eyes, some stubble around chin and upper lip.
Unique Appearance: Fanier has several scars across his chest from a nasty fight with an argonian a while back.
Mental Description: Charming man, though has a bit of somberness behind the charm from the death of his wife fifteen years ago. When forced to talk about his wife, he becomes irritable, sometimes breaks down. Always carries her amulet to remember her by. He doesn't like it when people try to feel sorry for him. He isn't bothered by blood, gore, etc.
Short Bio: Son of a nobleman in summerset isle, left his family as he grew tired of the noble life. Traveled across Tamriel, and met a beautiful wood elf named Lathora in Cyrodiil. They traveled together, and were married in the Temple of the One. A year later, during a visit to Morrowind, Lathora came infected with Corprus, and eventually became a fully fledged corprus beast. Devastated, Fanier took her amulet and left Morrowind. He became a privateer for well-paying customers, sometimes easy jobs like pest-extermination (rats), sometimes doing the dirty work for skooma dealers. Although he sometimes murdered, he never did so unless his employers told him what they did to deserve such a fate. Fanier never told anyone of his wife.
DarthRavanger
Name: Amiel
Race: Imperial
Gender: male
Apparent Age: 34
Actual Age: 37
Skills: blade, cooking, light armor, block, tracking
Armor/apparel: Leather armor (whole set minus headgear), a ragged gray shirt, a worn pair of black pants, a leather overcoat, a chainmail shirt, and a left steel pauldron.
Unique apparel: Nothing
Weapons: A steel longsword, along with a steel shortsword and a silver dagger stapped to his ankle.
Equipment: About 1200 drakes, The real barenziah volume 1, a small amount of bread, and a bottle of mead.
Physical Appearance: A muscular imperial, he has black hair reaching to the base of his neck, and has brown eyes.
Unique Appearance: he has minor scaring on his torso.
Mental Description: Amiel on the outset appears to be a very stoic individual, however this image is shattered whenever he's drunk or among friends.
Short Bio: Amiel has been in the fighters guild since his early twenties. He has had a successful career in the guild, and has reached the rank of protector. Unfortunately Amiel's family has been much more difficult, and he has on more then one occasion been forced to bury a sibling or cousin who died thanks to his family's internal conflicts.
RavenVW
Name: Durus Broad
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age:27
Skills: Tracking, Bow, Light Armour, Blade, Speechcraft
Class: Hunter
Mental Profile: Although still relatively young, Durus knows a lot about different forms of hunting. Be it deer or daedra, he is familiar with adventure, battle and misery at a young age, but he likes to feel it hasn't affected him, which is true to an extent. He's witty, fun to be around and generally a pretty talkative fellow, but his past has made him vengeful, and aggressive. It's a flaw to his character that has helped him survive in life.
Weapons: A strong wooden bow that he crafted himself, and a delicately balanced steel longsword. He is skilled with both.
Armor: Prefers light armour, as he is a fast mover rather than a big hitter. Most of the time sports simple leather armour.
Physical Appearance: Genuinely handsome, with a straight nose, strong chin and short, clean brown hair. He nonetheless has something underneath that exterior appearance that doesn't reveal itself until he gets angry, he has a stare that can break a man, and his glare is twice as strong. His eyes are so dark they're almost black, and his forehead is already beginning to get noticeable frown lines.
Unique Appearance: Several scars across his arms and body from hunting, but no particularly mentionable ones.
Short Bio: At the age of fifteen his mother was killed by a vampire, and his father was badly wounded. Knowing that he would turn into a vampire, the father asked to be killed by his own son, and after Durus denied, he threw himself off a cliff. Now an orphan, Durus stayed with a close friend for several years, learning the basics of swordplay and marksmanship. Already out of schooling of any form, he began to hunt, small, relatively safe animals at first, he soon began to get bigger aspirations.
He killed his first mountain lion at eighteen, his first bear at nineteen. But it wasn't until twenty that he killed his first vampire, it wasn't the one who killed his family, he never did find that one, but he didn't care. Since then he went after bigger things, even making a name for himself in small circles.
It is these skills, he thinks, that have helped him survive thus far. The village he was in was one of the first place in Cyrodil to bear the brunt of the undead, and now he is imprisoned within his own home, which he has made into a full on fortress. Barricaded on every window and door, the dead have never got inside, but he is running short on supplies.
Aulakauss
Name: Trisha Cerrius; Dessinta [Lapsed]
Nicknames: Trish, Tiim-Kast (male alias)
Gender: Female
Race: Argonian [Morrowind variety]
Age: 19
Birthdate: 5th, Sun's Height
Birthplace: Drellor Plantation, mainland Morrowind
Class: Tinker
Class Description: Trisha is a tiny being of massive curiosity, and as such, reads, researches and experiments a lot. She works mostly with Alchemy and the study and (attempted) assembly of Dwemeri-style technology. She refers to herself as 'A scholar and a tinker.'
Major Skills: Enchant, Alteration, Acting, Alchemy, Mechanical Construction
Minor Skills: Restoration, Illusion, Destruction, Athletics, Mysticism
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Eyes: Bluish green
Hair: Fins, purple on the back tips.
Skin/Scale Color: Tan-green flesh with both purple and leaf green scales
Height: 5' 4"
Build: Scrawny and Thin, save for her legs; often misses meals.
General Description: The best words to describe Trisha's physical appearance are unkempt and cute. She is one of those people that you're never quite sure of their gender until they tell it to you, since they look and sound like they could be either an adolescent boy or a young woman. Her body lacks briasts and a navel entirely and the only reason her waist is curved at all is because of how wispy she is; with nothing to support it in way of muscle or fat, the skin between her ribcage and hips has simply pulled tight and curved inwardly.
Her skin is a tannish green color and is only visible on her fingers and palms, around her eyes and mouth and on the bottoms of her feet. Otherwise, leaf-green scales dominate the surface of her tiny frame, covering her in most places. In others, her scaling fades from green to a reddish-purple. These include her rear, the backs and inside of her thighs, the underside of her tail and a large patch from her groin up her belly to the top of the little upside-down V-shape of the bottom of her ribcage. A little smudge of purple is also visible on the very back tips of the fins that run from just above her eye on either side and end at the rear-sides of her skull.
Primary Clothing: Among the few she associates with enough to be herself around, Trisha wears a patchwork shirt and skirt or long, sack cloth pants with a heavily patched blue coat. Otherwise, she either hides herself under her armor or dons a Huntsman vest and pants. She wraps the bottoms of her feet with strips of leather in place of shoes.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Burns and cuts of various sorts from mechanical and alchemical mishaps, mostly on her hands. Her right fin is pierced twice with golden rings. She'd never dream of having a tattoo anywhere, ever, for any reason.
Armor: This sans the boots. Only donned to hide herself or for protection when traveling
Inventory: Apprentice-level Alchemy gear, save for her Master Calcinator, which was a gift from a friend for her 18th birthday. Has a bunch of little organized sacks of ingredients in the smallest, front pouch of her pack and her alchemy gear, gold and potions in the larger one. A homemade steel pocketwatch sits in her pocket, attached by an iron chain to her belt, powered by a shard of a Varla stone. Also carries some bottles of tea and loaves of bread along with two full changes of clothing.
The two small side pouches of her pack are filled with a pair of notebooks, one each: the left one contains machinery schematics and all sorts of miscellaneous notes written in quick quillstrokes that few but her can read, and the right is an exhaustive documentation of every ingredient she has ever found, what effects it has and where it can be found, again along with random scribbled notes only legible to their author. The core notes themselves in both volumes are hard enough to read by themselves, but the margin notes are almost entirely undecipherable.
Weapons: A razor-sharp glass dagger sheathed in leather at her left hip, stained with all sorts of ingredient juices. She has no idea how to wield it in battle.
Magic:
Conjuration: N/A
Illusion: Apprentice
Destruction: Apprentice
Restoration: Journeyman
Mysticism: Apprentice
Alteration: Expert
History: Trisha was hatched a slave, though she thankfully recalls little of her first four years of life. After she'd hatched, she was taken from her parents and sold to a nearby plantation that wanted beast children to raise and sell. Two weeks after turning two, Trisha, then named Dessinta and redesignated Argonian Female #219, was put up on sale in Suran. The tiny Argonian was forced to labor for the slave trader until she was rescued two days before her fifth birthday.
Her saviors weren't heroes though, not in the common usage of the word. A pair of upper-middle-class Imperials, Savain and Marina Cerrius, were visiting relatives in Morrowind and had found themselves appalled at the slave trade and the cruelty with which the Argonians and Khajiit were treated. Marina was, despite their repeated tries, unable to conceive a child and they'd all but given up hope of having a child when Savian suggested they visit the local slave trader and buy a beast-child their freedom.
Upon reaching the trader, though, they found that most of his 'stock' was full-grown. They'd almost given the idea up when Marina spotted a tiny scaled child holding the bars of a cell they'd thought empty before, its little right fin bearing an iron piercing with a little metal tag on it. They took her home to Cheydinhal and raised her as their own, giving her the Imperial name of Trisha. At the age of ten, she showed interest in the local Mage's Guild and, after a little convincing, was allowed to join despite her age.
Now, at the age of nineteen, she is an unsung heroine of her local Guild chapter, a little wunderkind that even the older mages go to for advice regarding Dwemeri and Alchemical studies. She is fairly poor at actual spellcraft, but her vast knowledge and skill in her fields of expertise are enough for most people to overlook that particular flaw.
Personality: Trisha is an introvert, a reclusive little girl that hides in her room in the Cheydinhal Mage's Guild and only comes out for visits to the kitchen, toilet or ingredient room. As such, she hasn't the slightest idea how to deal with regular people. By nature, she is timid, softspoken and if anyone argues with her she backs down and nods while murmuring in mild fear. If faced with something scary or traumatic or given physical threats she will either scream and run, try to hide or, on more extreme occasions, faint. Sarcasm and innuendo are almost entirely lost on her.
Despite this meekness and innocence, she is very useful when in her element. Despite not even being two decades old, Trisha knows more about Dwemer technology and alchemy than a great majority of the entire Cyrodiilic Mage's Guild and will happily recite tidbits of her knowledge to anyone she overhears having trouble with something in her field (unless you look at her menacingly or tell her to be quiet, in which case she falls silent and slinks off).
Sadly, her expertise is rather confined to these two elements of arcane study; her spell casting abilities are limited at best and she can't cast anything more powerful than a small healing spell on anyone but herself, her casting attempts frequently either backfire or fail entirely and she forgets incantations that she doesn't use constantly.
As another result of her reclusive lifestyle and the constant ribbing and ridicule of her magickally-skilled peers, Trisha also has severe self-confidence issues. As she is more reptilian than most Cyrodiilic Argonians, she does not have the shape of most females and is often mistaken for a male, something she is very aware of and extremely self-conscious about. Envious of practically every other female she meets, embarrassed by her lack of femininity and fearing being made fun of, Trisha prefers to speak and act as though she is a male around strangers, leading to some strange and awkward moments of realization for any new friends she makes.
Other Traits/Oddities:
- Cannot tell a joke to save her life.
Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Considering her meek nature, Trish is strangely good at lying and has no problems with stealing/borrowing the property of others sans permission. With exception of ingredients, she usually puts back what she takes when she's done with it, though.
- Trisha can mimic almost any sound or voice she hears. One of the mages lovingly calls her 'Mockingbird'.
Jerod Kayne
Name: Ronin
Nickname: 'Demo'
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Birthsign: Serpent
Focus: Invention and Self-Defense
Skills(In Game): Alchemy, Marksman, Sneak, Acrobatic, Athletics, Hand-to-Hand, Destruction (Fire)
Skills(NonGame): Bomb making, Cooking, Extreme Conditioning, Accuracy and Precision
Class: Grenadier
General Appearance: Ronin is rather skinny. He doesn't have a strong muscle build up like regular people, but one would be foolish to think that he is actually weak. His unnatural dark red scales, and long, razor sharp teeth are enough to keep most offenders at bay. His eyes are a bright green, with a yellowish tint to it. A long scar travels from his nose to his mouth, all the way to the bottom of his chin.
Hair: Horribly scarred, and torn up fins
Eyes: Bright green eyes, with a yellowish tint
Height: Roughly 6 feet
Build: Gaunt
Skin: Dark red scales
Tattoos/Scars: A lot of scars over his body, a long one on his face.
Personality: Ronin's personality in one word is 'awkward'. He's rather playful, and not afraid to speak his mind.
Weapon(s): Posion-Enchanted Dagger, Wooden Crossbow, various types of bombs
Clothing/Armor Wears this set (Minus the Morag Tong belt/gadget), wears a black diagonal belt holster where he keeps several of his self-made bombs at the ready. Also wears Black leather gloves and boots. Keeps a Gray cloth backpack filled with his survival tools, as well as a Bolt Quiver for his crossbow.
Inventory(Diagonal Belt): Various types of explosives
Inventory(Pockets): Gold, small amounts of alchemical ingredients
Inventory(Backpack/Quiver): 20 Steel Bolts, Map, more gold, cooking utensils, small steel pot and pan, ingredients, small sack of various cheeses
Misc Skills and Traits:
-Has a speech impediment, and will occasionally use the wrong word in a sentence, also speaks with a heavy hiss-like accent.
-Never seems to take down his hood
-Deathly allergic to mushrooms
-Likes to try new things
-Has a thing for cheese
-Likes to bite things
Short Bio: A scientist who has been working with explosive compounds for too long. What else is there to say?
Name: Radek
Nickname: Wild-Eye
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: Early Teens (16-19)
Actual Age: 20
Skills: *Hand to hand, *Athletics, *Acrobatics, Blade, Sneak
Armor/apparel:Dark Green shirt, Old raggedy Chain mail Shirt (Wears over Green shirt), Black Trousers, Leather Boots, Chain mail Gauntlets with half finger-sleeves.
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: Steel Dagger
Equipment: Food, little gold, map
Physical Appearance: clicky
Unique Appearance: Long cut marks, scraqes, scars all over his body, incredibly long claws on his feet and hands. Long sharp teeth.
Mental Description: He's not the most sanest person you'll ever meet. Sometimes, he can act incredibly crazy, almost like an animal. In other times, he can be peaceful, calm, even happy.
Short Bio: Radek used to be normal. Which was before the Corprus Plague, during which, he lost part of his mind. His parents were killed a few moths before the Corprus Invasion, they're deaths unknown. Dealing with both the trauma from his parents deaths and of the Corprus plague, he went crazy, and developed a split-personality, one side being his normal self, the other being a crazy-animal side.
He now wanders the wilderness, mostly in hiding from the Corprus, nearly being killed dozens of times by them. He barely scraqes by each day, which has made him incredibly skinny. He is incredibly skilled in Hand-to-hand combat, due to his 'crazy' side, in combat, Radek's foes usually end up a bloody mess.
Wild-Eye's been on his own for several months, scavenging through out ruins and destroyed cities.
Faldom
Name: Kiel
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Race: Redguard
Birthsign: The Steed
Class: Ranger
Class Description: (DF) Rangers are at home in the wilderness, and are excellent hunters. They are very skilled at survival and tracking.
Skills: (Mostly DF) Long Blade, Short Blade, Marksmen, Alchemy, Climbing, Running, Jumping, Spriggan, Light Armor, and Sneak
Non TES Skills: Horse Riding, Crafting, Sailing, Tracking, Survival, etc.
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 204
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Hair Color: Black
Appearance: Has short frizzy hair and a small goatee. His left ear is slightly deformed from where a piercing used to be. He has a broad jaw, and well defined facial features. He has small scars all over his body that has been hardened from physical training. He bears a tattoo of Yokuda on his right Bicep.
Weapon(s): Elven long sword, Elven dagger, and a set of an Elven Bow and arrows
Misc. Items: A white stallion named Thunder, a pouch full of herbs, wilderness equipment and a few maps held in another bag. The pouch and bag are both concealed under his cloak.
Armor: Hard, black, leather boots and a vest, over dark brown pants, a lighter brown shirt, and draqed in a green cloak. Under all of that is a suit of mithril chainmail. He always wears a silver medallion
Mental: Kiel can be headstrong and tends to have a one-tracked mind, but he has great perseverance. His behaves rather calmly outside of combat, but in combat he lets his natural adrenaline take over. He also finds it had to trust others.
Background History: Kiel was born to a couple of Redguard pirates. They raised him on the ship, teaching him the tricks and trades of sailing, and little bit of training with a cutlass. They intended to teach him more of those. When he was age 10, they both died on a large raid. He was stranded in Valenwood; he spent a year wandering until he was taken in by a Wood Elf man named Delaeon.
Delaeon was harsh to Kiel at first, disciplining him strictly for the rude child he was. But eventually, Delaeon grew fond of Kiel, teaching him all he knew about being a Ranger. The training was hard and intense, but fortunately Kiel was a natural and became almost as good as Delaeon. At eighteen, Delaeon kicked Kiel out on his ass, giving him nothing but a bow, (in poor condition) eighty rusty iron arrows, and an iron short sword. Kiel wasn't happy, and neither was Delaeon, but it was what was best for him. He spent seven years of being a freelance adventurer making his fame and fortune. He did this through various quests, looting dungeons, and he even did some work for the emperor. He success combined with youth made him a little bit too full of himself.
At age twenty five, a horrible surprise came to him, his Father was alive. He had only been wounded in the raid. Kiel discovered this by accident; he was in the city of Sentinel with a contract to clean out a pirate ship. He scaled the side of the docked pirate ship and killed two pirates on top of the deck. He made his way down and killed off the rest. He then entered the captain's quarters, he was not there. He searched the room and found a silver medallion; it was the same one Kiel's father told him he would inherit when he became a man. At first, Kiel was filled with rage. He believed that whoever had this medallion had stolen it off of his father corpse. Kiel dropped the medallion in his pocket. Kiel heard footsteps coming down the hall way, Kiel drew his cutlass, and prepared to kill his father's murderer. The door swung open, the ship's captain entered the room. It was Kiel's father. Kiel was shocked; he turned around and ran from the ship. He kept the medallion to remember where he came from.
Since that day he lost the spirit of his youth. He was now unable to trust others fully and pushed away all kinds of relationships. As a result he found himself alone and with nothing to lose.
When the corpus first struck he was out in the wilderness, away from the corpus outbreak. But one day he encountered a large group of corpus and had to fight them all to their deaths. But the fight had left him wounded; he needed to find other people to survive.
Name:Lucien Girarde
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: N\A
Actual Age: 84
Skills: All scholls of magic, but especially non-violent ones. Has scribe and researching skills.
Armor/apparel: Mages robes of the Arcane University.
Unique apparel: A variety of enchanted rings, and an enchanted amulet that heals wounds.
Weapons: A plain brown wooden staff.
Equipment: A bag containing research notes, another bag containing magical items and alchemical ingredients
Physical Appearance: Short, small, and old. His head is blad but he was a long grey beard, seems very healthy and youthful for a Breton his age.
Unique Appearance: None
Mental Description: Is gentle and a pacifist. He cares deeply about everyone, and tries to only use his magic to help others.
Short Bio: Was born to two powerful Breton battlemages. Both of his parents were great war heroes, and they wanted their son to become one as well. They decided weapons training could come when Lucien was older, but for the time being they focused in on Magical training. At the age of six his parents died in battle, creating the reason for Lucien's pacifism. Lucien was taken in by the Arcane university, that raised him as a community. When he turned 18, the Mages Guild accepted him without the reccomendation process due to his parents legacy and his natural magical abilities.
Lucien took part in the studies of all kinds of magics and philosophies. He found himself less interested in Magics, and more interested in his research. At a young age he was already one of the mages guilds most brilliant minds, he researched solutions to many of society's problems, mostly cures for diseases. When he first heard of corpus and the toll it was taking on Morrowind, he aided Divayth Fyr in his research on corpus. But, due to Lucien life being busy as a healer and teacher, he had to return to Cyrodiil, and his only contact with Divayth was through letters. Now that the corpus pandemic has struck, Lucien wants to get back to Divayth's tower and pick up where Divayth left off. He is currently in hiding from the Corpus beasts.
Hairdo Galosh Jam
Name: Grash Gro-Brogul
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: early 40's
Actual Age: 25 (Orcs have lower life spans than most races)
Skills: Good with blunt weapons, especially one-handed maces and clubs. Is proficient in duel wielding them. Very strong and athletic. Quick for an Orc. Does not wear much or any armor in most situations. Can use basic alchemy and very basic healing spells. Proficient in blocking and parrying. Can leap from respectable heights without hurting himself and can defend himself with his hands. Very much a monk-like melee fighter.
Armor/apparel: Worn denim pants. No shoes. No shirt. Orcish Gauntlets over both hands. No other armor.
Unique apparel: wears a Jailer's Ring, which slightly fortifies his stamina and health. wears his father Brogul's Lucky ring as well, offering a small boost in luck.
Weapons: Simple wooden club with specially ordered silver spikes. Orcish Gauntlets with modified silver spikes on the knuckles. Also bites when all else fails.
Equipment: 150 gold, satchel of bread and cured ham, bottle of cyrodillic brandy
Physical Appearance: Five feet eight inches. Lean but heavily muscled as most male orcs are. Lime green skin. Hair shaven bald with one long black top knot.
Unique Appearance: Face heavily tattooed in severe tribal designs. Nose pierced in four places. Eyebrows shaven and replaced with patterns of pierced studs. Lips pierced. nipbles pierced. Ears pierced in multiple places. Tattoo of Akatosh over heart.
Mental Description: Trained as a Prison Guard, Grash is mentally disciplined as well as physically. Alert and intelligent, and good at living off the land from his experience as a Barbarian. Business like and no-nonsense but warm and friendly to those who earn his trust.
Short Bio: Grash Gro-Brogul is the son of an Orc man who gained acceptance in the Legions in Daggerfall and who later moved to the Imperial City to patrol the waterfront. When Grash came of age he trained as a Prison Guard and often was called in as muscle to control prison riots. When the Horde invaded the city and began slaughtering people, he survived by retreating into secret sewers beneath the prison, locking and barring the doors behind him.
Benrahir
Full char info/lore
Name: Arthur Codill
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 23
Actual Age: 23
Skills: Master in the Way of the Sword, can summon spirit-swords, some powerful spells and summons, practically invulnerable to physical attacks.
Weaknesess: Very weak to magic (can easily die with 2 powerful spells), weak to magic weapons. Due to his pride, he doesn't wear any protective/fortifier item besides his Signet Ring.
Armor/apparel: See pics.
Unique apparel: Codill's Clan Signet Ring (Ebony diamond ring with Fire Shield 50% on Self).
Weapons: Godai (unique katana), 2 combat knifes, mostly used for cutthoathing.
Equipment: Enough money not to ever have to worry about it. A nice collection of poisons. Little else.
Physical Appearance: Muscular, tall, good-looking and disturbing at the same time (because of his eyes).
Unique Appearance: Bright red eyes.
Mental Description: Cold, sarcastic, pesimist, cinic, elitist, snob, very jealous with his honor and the honor of his Clan...but unexpectedly warm and kind with his servants, and loyal to those ones he considers his friends.
Misc characteristics: Loves boar meat and good wines, he REALLY can't stand bears and goblins. When in towns, he always sleeps in expensive inns. Owner of two vineyards near Skingrad, a house in that city, and a Clan Temple in the Jerall mountains.
jobs: Wine and Skooma producer/trader. Assasin (sometimes).
Hi!
Name: Tharasn Dalvas
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 30-35
Actual Age: 28
Skills: Using Hammers, Maces, Axes, and pretty much anything heavy. Even makeshift weapons like a branch or rocks. Hunting, scouting, and a little bit of cooking.(So basicly the skills for survival)
Armor/apparel: A rugged hunter vest, black, makeshift, baggy pants, and black leather boots.
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: A large sliver hammer he won in a wrestling match with an orc, and a wooden club with thorns protruding outward at the top that he had made on his own.
Equipment: Just the clothes on his back and his weapons
Physical Appearance: His pale muscular body enhancing every cut, scratch, and tear by only visual means. His hair, usually a waterfall of inky blackness, is torn and wild from his constant running and hiding. With green eyes that resemble those of a cat he is a predator in the night that fools most for being a creature of only those in horror stories
Unique Appearance: A tattoo that starts off as a spiral sun on both palms and then snaking up his arms with an exotic design that finally reaches in between his shoulder blades. Along with hundreds of scars from battles and run ins with wild animals.
Mental Description: Appearing calm on the outside his is really a slightly psychotic predator to be feared by many. He is as strong as a bear, fast as a wolf, cunning as a fox, and wise as an owl. He is the ultimate foe.
Short Bio: Born and raised in Bruma, he was raised with all the other Nords and had to become strong or he would be left in the dust. He trained in fighting and scouting, learning to live off the land. But soon he would surpass his master and leave in search for another one. At the age of eight-teen he left Bruma and built a cottage on Dive Rock and hunting for food. But soon his small desolated cabin was found by a horde of corpus beasts and after killing them all off and burning their bodies he left in search of more survivors. He found some but ended up killing them because they all suffered under the hands of the corpus disease. He never added those kind of kills to his death toll for they were mercy kills.
woolymammoth45
Name: Ongar No-Eye.
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 29
Actual Age: 27
Skills: Swordsmanship, repairing armor, alchemy. Cooking, a moderate bow skill used to hunt, lockpicking.
Armor/apparel: Blades armor. Wool shirt with coarse linens.
Unique apparel: Wears an eye-patch over his left eye.
Weapons: Akaviri katana
Equipment: 150 septims, rat, and crab meat from hunting the sewers
Physical Appearance: Nord, short black hair, and brown eyes. He wears an eye-patch over his left eye-socket. He is muscular, but not has a normal-looking build. Has a large scar that runs down his left eye-socket. He Is very tall, with a sturdy face build. His muscles used to stand out, but he has been somewhat weakened from living off rat and crab meat, as any man would have been.
Unique Appearance: He is rugged and dirty, from his head to his feet, from spending much time in the sewers.
Mental Description: Is prepared to die, knows a lot about survival. Thinks that restoring the world is over, and he is trying to survive as soon as possible. He is very smart.
Short Bio: Joined the Blades at 18. After the crisis, and the great growth of the corpus disease, the blades disbanded, and he made his way to the Imperial city. After the Corpus came, he climbed down into the sewers, and he has lived there. Hunting daily in the sewers, he has found a decent food supply, and is able to survive.
Lord Dren
Name: Iakan Yorec
Age: 33
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Iakan is a rather husky Imperial with dark brown eyes, fair skin, and sleek black hair pulled back into a pony-tail.
Gear: Leather Cuirass, Leather gloves, leather boots, huntsman's pants, brown hood, fine steel shortsword, Staff of Unbecoming(Drains health)
Class: Battlemage/Ranger
Skills(Major): Destruction, restoration, shortsword, light armor, marksman, alchemy, armorer
Misc: Journal, 2 ink quills, a container of ink(All stuffed into a brown leather satchel)
Location: Imperial City (Market District)
Bio: Iakan has spent every minute of his life in Cyrodiil. His mother was a noblewoman and ex-Hlaalu House Cousin and his father worked as a merchant. They both lived in Morrowind and were close friends. They soon fell in love and Iakan was the result. They moved during Iakan's mothers pregnancy and arrived in Cyrodiil on the day of his birth. They lived in the Imperial City and were living quite comfortably. During the first attack by the corpus beasts, Iakan's father was brutally killed. His mother was evacuated along with some close friends. Iakan, determined to stay and avenge his father's death, will stop at nothing to find and end the cause of the corpus chrisis.
W00tz
Name: Fimmion
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be very young, and is fairly young compared to many Elf. At least 370 years.
Birthsign: the Lady
Physical Description: Long, dark brown hair reminiscent of damp, fertile soil. Green eyes the color of Valenwood's many plants, looking out over a flawless, childish face. Leaf shaped ears and several other features are clear indications of his elvish bloodline, however it can be seen he is not entirely Bosmer. Altmer dwell in the forests, former Maormer invaders still remain, and Ayleid's chose the wild home of the Bosmer as their refuge. It is quite possible some, or all of these are present in Fimmion, although he retains the main characteristics of his kind, and clearly lacks scales. His height is certainly a product of Valenwood at 4'11. Buildwise, he could be thought of as a very healthy, lean child, immaculate and defined.
Class/Skills: As a bet amaraldane, Fimmion has a great command over animals, although the larger the beast, the more energy it takes. This may be due to some amount of Maormer blood, as they have mastered the taming of the massive sea serpents of their homeland, and this skill could in theory be transferable to some other creatures. An animal may be summoned, bound, or enchanted through the use of singing, humming, or in some cases even a telepathic link is possible. However useful this skill is, without much mastery or a natural talent, it can be very draining and only masters can control any beast for any long period of time. As a Bosmer who has returned to his roots, he has gained another strong link with the forest. He has become well learnt in an art known as "tree singing", a magick known to some bosmer which involves singing to trees, as is explained by the name. Bows, blades, spears, and several other weapons, even shelters can be formed. It has been rumoured this has something to do with the roaming tree-city Falinesti, yet there is no proof attesting to this. Many of the Tree singer's are difficult to find, able to produce shelters within the trees themselves, put everything back into order and move on. As a side product, the tree singers have the ability to perform certain spells similar to restoration through singing, although a master of restoration is often more effective than a tree singer in that aspect. Fimmion is not without combat prowess, having learned a graceful style of fighting with weapons sung from the trees, useful with other Elven weapons as well. Agile in little to no armor, and can be sneaky when it is called for, particularily in the forest. In an urban setting his sneaking is somewhat comprimised by the unfamiliar setting.
Weapons: A Bone Dah nicked and pitted with use. A fine wooden spear sung from the trees.
Armor/Apparel: This, and a cape made from leaves.
Misc. Items: A finely crafted silver circlet, gifted to him by his teacher. A small pack, including a leather skin of Rotmeth, a skin of Jagga, and a small wooden canteen of water. Small bone knife.
History: (Not to be lame but, to be revealed. I'd rather just have his history be gathered from references in posts and whatnot.)
Name: Xa-raku
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: Late thirties
Actual Age: 31
Skills: Martial Arts Mastery (H2H, Acrobatics, Block, etc.), Free-running, Athletics, Alteration, Meditation
Armor/apparel: Black travel robes w/ hood, leather braided sandals
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: His own body
Equipment: Barely any money, a decent amount of food. Some health potions
Physical Appearance: Mostly black or dark green, with splashes of green on his face, chest, hands, and feet.
Unique Appearance: Fins
Mental Description: Rather stoic and peaceful. Avoids combat unless necessary. Hates slavers.
Short Bio: Xa-raku was given over to a teacher of martial arts, Lin-koh, at a young age to ensure his safety from slavers and the ever-present dangers of the Black Marsh. Xa-raku rarely saw real combat, but eventually became Lin-koh's top student, and inherited the argonian's school after Lin-koh passed away. Xa-raku was hesitant to take on the new responsibility, but agreed. During Mehrunes Dagon's invasion of Tamriel, an oblivion gate opened near his village. He urged everyone to stay inside the village, but one of his students took it upon themselves to lead an attack into the gate and successfully closed it. That student, Luah, criticized his indecision, got into a heated argument with him, and finally left the school entirely.
forrest gump951 (me)
Name: Fanier
Race: Wood Elf/High Elf mix
Apparent Age: 25
Actual Age: 63
Gender: Male
Skills: Fanier's a master at close quarters combat, very deadly with shortswords and hand-to-hand. He's also pretty good with long blades and bows. When necessary, he can cast a basic fire or restoration spell.
Armor/apparel: Fanier has a full suit of leather armor minus the helm. When he's not wearning armor he has some simple clothes and a nice burgundy jacket for when its cold.
Unique Apparel: Fanier always wears the amulet of his late wife.
Weapons: Fanier has an elven shortsword, along with a simple shortbow with a quiver of 30 arrows.
Equipment: He's got about 50 gold in his savings, aong with a bay horse named Perce kept not in the stable, but tied outside his house.
Physical Appearance: 6 feet, 2 inches, due to high elf ancestry. 160 pounds, little body fat, average muscle mass. Brown hair, often tied in a short ponytail or let loose in a short, ruffled fashion. Hazel eyes, some stubble around chin and upper lip.
Unique Appearance: Fanier has several scars across his chest from a nasty fight with an argonian a while back.
Mental Description: Charming man, though has a bit of somberness behind the charm from the death of his wife fifteen years ago. When forced to talk about his wife, he becomes irritable, sometimes breaks down. Always carries her amulet to remember her by. He doesn't like it when people try to feel sorry for him. He isn't bothered by blood, gore, etc.
Short Bio: Son of a nobleman in summerset isle, left his family as he grew tired of the noble life. Traveled across Tamriel, and met a beautiful wood elf named Lathora in Cyrodiil. They traveled together, and were married in the Temple of the One. A year later, during a visit to Morrowind, Lathora came infected with Corprus, and eventually became a fully fledged corprus beast. Devastated, Fanier took her amulet and left Morrowind. He became a privateer for well-paying customers, sometimes easy jobs like pest-extermination (rats), sometimes doing the dirty work for skooma dealers. Although he sometimes murdered, he never did so unless his employers told him what they did to deserve such a fate. Fanier never told anyone of his wife.
DarthRavanger
Name: Amiel
Race: Imperial
Gender: male
Apparent Age: 34
Actual Age: 37
Skills: blade, cooking, light armor, block, tracking
Armor/apparel: Leather armor (whole set minus headgear), a ragged gray shirt, a worn pair of black pants, a leather overcoat, a chainmail shirt, and a left steel pauldron.
Unique apparel: Nothing
Weapons: A steel longsword, along with a steel shortsword and a silver dagger stapped to his ankle.
Equipment: About 1200 drakes, The real barenziah volume 1, a small amount of bread, and a bottle of mead.
Physical Appearance: A muscular imperial, he has black hair reaching to the base of his neck, and has brown eyes.
Unique Appearance: he has minor scaring on his torso.
Mental Description: Amiel on the outset appears to be a very stoic individual, however this image is shattered whenever he's drunk or among friends.
Short Bio: Amiel has been in the fighters guild since his early twenties. He has had a successful career in the guild, and has reached the rank of protector. Unfortunately Amiel's family has been much more difficult, and he has on more then one occasion been forced to bury a sibling or cousin who died thanks to his family's internal conflicts.
RavenVW
Name: Durus Broad
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age:27
Skills: Tracking, Bow, Light Armour, Blade, Speechcraft
Class: Hunter
Mental Profile: Although still relatively young, Durus knows a lot about different forms of hunting. Be it deer or daedra, he is familiar with adventure, battle and misery at a young age, but he likes to feel it hasn't affected him, which is true to an extent. He's witty, fun to be around and generally a pretty talkative fellow, but his past has made him vengeful, and aggressive. It's a flaw to his character that has helped him survive in life.
Weapons: A strong wooden bow that he crafted himself, and a delicately balanced steel longsword. He is skilled with both.
Armor: Prefers light armour, as he is a fast mover rather than a big hitter. Most of the time sports simple leather armour.
Physical Appearance: Genuinely handsome, with a straight nose, strong chin and short, clean brown hair. He nonetheless has something underneath that exterior appearance that doesn't reveal itself until he gets angry, he has a stare that can break a man, and his glare is twice as strong. His eyes are so dark they're almost black, and his forehead is already beginning to get noticeable frown lines.
Unique Appearance: Several scars across his arms and body from hunting, but no particularly mentionable ones.
Short Bio: At the age of fifteen his mother was killed by a vampire, and his father was badly wounded. Knowing that he would turn into a vampire, the father asked to be killed by his own son, and after Durus denied, he threw himself off a cliff. Now an orphan, Durus stayed with a close friend for several years, learning the basics of swordplay and marksmanship. Already out of schooling of any form, he began to hunt, small, relatively safe animals at first, he soon began to get bigger aspirations.
He killed his first mountain lion at eighteen, his first bear at nineteen. But it wasn't until twenty that he killed his first vampire, it wasn't the one who killed his family, he never did find that one, but he didn't care. Since then he went after bigger things, even making a name for himself in small circles.
It is these skills, he thinks, that have helped him survive thus far. The village he was in was one of the first place in Cyrodil to bear the brunt of the undead, and now he is imprisoned within his own home, which he has made into a full on fortress. Barricaded on every window and door, the dead have never got inside, but he is running short on supplies.
Aulakauss
Name: Trisha Cerrius; Dessinta [Lapsed]
Nicknames: Trish, Tiim-Kast (male alias)
Gender: Female
Race: Argonian [Morrowind variety]
Age: 19
Birthdate: 5th, Sun's Height
Birthplace: Drellor Plantation, mainland Morrowind
Class: Tinker
Class Description: Trisha is a tiny being of massive curiosity, and as such, reads, researches and experiments a lot. She works mostly with Alchemy and the study and (attempted) assembly of Dwemeri-style technology. She refers to herself as 'A scholar and a tinker.'
Major Skills: Enchant, Alteration, Acting, Alchemy, Mechanical Construction
Minor Skills: Restoration, Illusion, Destruction, Athletics, Mysticism
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Eyes: Bluish green
Hair: Fins, purple on the back tips.
Skin/Scale Color: Tan-green flesh with both purple and leaf green scales
Height: 5' 4"
Build: Scrawny and Thin, save for her legs; often misses meals.
General Description: The best words to describe Trisha's physical appearance are unkempt and cute. She is one of those people that you're never quite sure of their gender until they tell it to you, since they look and sound like they could be either an adolescent boy or a young woman. Her body lacks briasts and a navel entirely and the only reason her waist is curved at all is because of how wispy she is; with nothing to support it in way of muscle or fat, the skin between her ribcage and hips has simply pulled tight and curved inwardly.
Her skin is a tannish green color and is only visible on her fingers and palms, around her eyes and mouth and on the bottoms of her feet. Otherwise, leaf-green scales dominate the surface of her tiny frame, covering her in most places. In others, her scaling fades from green to a reddish-purple. These include her rear, the backs and inside of her thighs, the underside of her tail and a large patch from her groin up her belly to the top of the little upside-down V-shape of the bottom of her ribcage. A little smudge of purple is also visible on the very back tips of the fins that run from just above her eye on either side and end at the rear-sides of her skull.
Primary Clothing: Among the few she associates with enough to be herself around, Trisha wears a patchwork shirt and skirt or long, sack cloth pants with a heavily patched blue coat. Otherwise, she either hides herself under her armor or dons a Huntsman vest and pants. She wraps the bottoms of her feet with strips of leather in place of shoes.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Burns and cuts of various sorts from mechanical and alchemical mishaps, mostly on her hands. Her right fin is pierced twice with golden rings. She'd never dream of having a tattoo anywhere, ever, for any reason.
Armor: This sans the boots. Only donned to hide herself or for protection when traveling
Inventory: Apprentice-level Alchemy gear, save for her Master Calcinator, which was a gift from a friend for her 18th birthday. Has a bunch of little organized sacks of ingredients in the smallest, front pouch of her pack and her alchemy gear, gold and potions in the larger one. A homemade steel pocketwatch sits in her pocket, attached by an iron chain to her belt, powered by a shard of a Varla stone. Also carries some bottles of tea and loaves of bread along with two full changes of clothing.
The two small side pouches of her pack are filled with a pair of notebooks, one each: the left one contains machinery schematics and all sorts of miscellaneous notes written in quick quillstrokes that few but her can read, and the right is an exhaustive documentation of every ingredient she has ever found, what effects it has and where it can be found, again along with random scribbled notes only legible to their author. The core notes themselves in both volumes are hard enough to read by themselves, but the margin notes are almost entirely undecipherable.
Weapons: A razor-sharp glass dagger sheathed in leather at her left hip, stained with all sorts of ingredient juices. She has no idea how to wield it in battle.
Magic:
Conjuration: N/A
Illusion: Apprentice
Destruction: Apprentice
Restoration: Journeyman
Mysticism: Apprentice
Alteration: Expert
History: Trisha was hatched a slave, though she thankfully recalls little of her first four years of life. After she'd hatched, she was taken from her parents and sold to a nearby plantation that wanted beast children to raise and sell. Two weeks after turning two, Trisha, then named Dessinta and redesignated Argonian Female #219, was put up on sale in Suran. The tiny Argonian was forced to labor for the slave trader until she was rescued two days before her fifth birthday.
Her saviors weren't heroes though, not in the common usage of the word. A pair of upper-middle-class Imperials, Savain and Marina Cerrius, were visiting relatives in Morrowind and had found themselves appalled at the slave trade and the cruelty with which the Argonians and Khajiit were treated. Marina was, despite their repeated tries, unable to conceive a child and they'd all but given up hope of having a child when Savian suggested they visit the local slave trader and buy a beast-child their freedom.
Upon reaching the trader, though, they found that most of his 'stock' was full-grown. They'd almost given the idea up when Marina spotted a tiny scaled child holding the bars of a cell they'd thought empty before, its little right fin bearing an iron piercing with a little metal tag on it. They took her home to Cheydinhal and raised her as their own, giving her the Imperial name of Trisha. At the age of ten, she showed interest in the local Mage's Guild and, after a little convincing, was allowed to join despite her age.
Now, at the age of nineteen, she is an unsung heroine of her local Guild chapter, a little wunderkind that even the older mages go to for advice regarding Dwemeri and Alchemical studies. She is fairly poor at actual spellcraft, but her vast knowledge and skill in her fields of expertise are enough for most people to overlook that particular flaw.
Personality: Trisha is an introvert, a reclusive little girl that hides in her room in the Cheydinhal Mage's Guild and only comes out for visits to the kitchen, toilet or ingredient room. As such, she hasn't the slightest idea how to deal with regular people. By nature, she is timid, softspoken and if anyone argues with her she backs down and nods while murmuring in mild fear. If faced with something scary or traumatic or given physical threats she will either scream and run, try to hide or, on more extreme occasions, faint. Sarcasm and innuendo are almost entirely lost on her.
Despite this meekness and innocence, she is very useful when in her element. Despite not even being two decades old, Trisha knows more about Dwemer technology and alchemy than a great majority of the entire Cyrodiilic Mage's Guild and will happily recite tidbits of her knowledge to anyone she overhears having trouble with something in her field (unless you look at her menacingly or tell her to be quiet, in which case she falls silent and slinks off).
Sadly, her expertise is rather confined to these two elements of arcane study; her spell casting abilities are limited at best and she can't cast anything more powerful than a small healing spell on anyone but herself, her casting attempts frequently either backfire or fail entirely and she forgets incantations that she doesn't use constantly.
As another result of her reclusive lifestyle and the constant ribbing and ridicule of her magickally-skilled peers, Trisha also has severe self-confidence issues. As she is more reptilian than most Cyrodiilic Argonians, she does not have the shape of most females and is often mistaken for a male, something she is very aware of and extremely self-conscious about. Envious of practically every other female she meets, embarrassed by her lack of femininity and fearing being made fun of, Trisha prefers to speak and act as though she is a male around strangers, leading to some strange and awkward moments of realization for any new friends she makes.
Other Traits/Oddities:
- Cannot tell a joke to save her life.
Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Considering her meek nature, Trish is strangely good at lying and has no problems with stealing/borrowing the property of others sans permission. With exception of ingredients, she usually puts back what she takes when she's done with it, though.
- Trisha can mimic almost any sound or voice she hears. One of the mages lovingly calls her 'Mockingbird'.
Jerod Kayne
Name: Ronin
Nickname: 'Demo'
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Birthsign: Serpent
Focus: Invention and Self-Defense
Skills(In Game): Alchemy, Marksman, Sneak, Acrobatic, Athletics, Hand-to-Hand, Destruction (Fire)
Skills(NonGame): Bomb making, Cooking, Extreme Conditioning, Accuracy and Precision
Class: Grenadier
General Appearance: Ronin is rather skinny. He doesn't have a strong muscle build up like regular people, but one would be foolish to think that he is actually weak. His unnatural dark red scales, and long, razor sharp teeth are enough to keep most offenders at bay. His eyes are a bright green, with a yellowish tint to it. A long scar travels from his nose to his mouth, all the way to the bottom of his chin.
Hair: Horribly scarred, and torn up fins
Eyes: Bright green eyes, with a yellowish tint
Height: Roughly 6 feet
Build: Gaunt
Skin: Dark red scales
Tattoos/Scars: A lot of scars over his body, a long one on his face.
Personality: Ronin's personality in one word is 'awkward'. He's rather playful, and not afraid to speak his mind.
Weapon(s): Posion-Enchanted Dagger, Wooden Crossbow, various types of bombs
Clothing/Armor Wears this set (Minus the Morag Tong belt/gadget), wears a black diagonal belt holster where he keeps several of his self-made bombs at the ready. Also wears Black leather gloves and boots. Keeps a Gray cloth backpack filled with his survival tools, as well as a Bolt Quiver for his crossbow.
Inventory(Diagonal Belt): Various types of explosives
Inventory(Pockets): Gold, small amounts of alchemical ingredients
Inventory(Backpack/Quiver): 20 Steel Bolts, Map, more gold, cooking utensils, small steel pot and pan, ingredients, small sack of various cheeses
Misc Skills and Traits:
-Has a speech impediment, and will occasionally use the wrong word in a sentence, also speaks with a heavy hiss-like accent.
-Never seems to take down his hood
-Deathly allergic to mushrooms
-Likes to try new things
-Has a thing for cheese
-Likes to bite things
Short Bio: A scientist who has been working with explosive compounds for too long. What else is there to say?
Name: Radek
Nickname: Wild-Eye
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: Early Teens (16-19)
Actual Age: 20
Skills: *Hand to hand, *Athletics, *Acrobatics, Blade, Sneak
Armor/apparel:Dark Green shirt, Old raggedy Chain mail Shirt (Wears over Green shirt), Black Trousers, Leather Boots, Chain mail Gauntlets with half finger-sleeves.
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: Steel Dagger
Equipment: Food, little gold, map
Physical Appearance: clicky
Unique Appearance: Long cut marks, scraqes, scars all over his body, incredibly long claws on his feet and hands. Long sharp teeth.
Mental Description: He's not the most sanest person you'll ever meet. Sometimes, he can act incredibly crazy, almost like an animal. In other times, he can be peaceful, calm, even happy.
Short Bio: Radek used to be normal. Which was before the Corprus Plague, during which, he lost part of his mind. His parents were killed a few moths before the Corprus Invasion, they're deaths unknown. Dealing with both the trauma from his parents deaths and of the Corprus plague, he went crazy, and developed a split-personality, one side being his normal self, the other being a crazy-animal side.
He now wanders the wilderness, mostly in hiding from the Corprus, nearly being killed dozens of times by them. He barely scraqes by each day, which has made him incredibly skinny. He is incredibly skilled in Hand-to-hand combat, due to his 'crazy' side, in combat, Radek's foes usually end up a bloody mess.
Wild-Eye's been on his own for several months, scavenging through out ruins and destroyed cities.
Faldom
Name: Kiel
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Race: Redguard
Birthsign: The Steed
Class: Ranger
Class Description: (DF) Rangers are at home in the wilderness, and are excellent hunters. They are very skilled at survival and tracking.
Skills: (Mostly DF) Long Blade, Short Blade, Marksmen, Alchemy, Climbing, Running, Jumping, Spriggan, Light Armor, and Sneak
Non TES Skills: Horse Riding, Crafting, Sailing, Tracking, Survival, etc.
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 204
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Hair Color: Black
Appearance: Has short frizzy hair and a small goatee. His left ear is slightly deformed from where a piercing used to be. He has a broad jaw, and well defined facial features. He has small scars all over his body that has been hardened from physical training. He bears a tattoo of Yokuda on his right Bicep.
Weapon(s): Elven long sword, Elven dagger, and a set of an Elven Bow and arrows
Misc. Items: A white stallion named Thunder, a pouch full of herbs, wilderness equipment and a few maps held in another bag. The pouch and bag are both concealed under his cloak.
Armor: Hard, black, leather boots and a vest, over dark brown pants, a lighter brown shirt, and draqed in a green cloak. Under all of that is a suit of mithril chainmail. He always wears a silver medallion
Mental: Kiel can be headstrong and tends to have a one-tracked mind, but he has great perseverance. His behaves rather calmly outside of combat, but in combat he lets his natural adrenaline take over. He also finds it had to trust others.
Background History: Kiel was born to a couple of Redguard pirates. They raised him on the ship, teaching him the tricks and trades of sailing, and little bit of training with a cutlass. They intended to teach him more of those. When he was age 10, they both died on a large raid. He was stranded in Valenwood; he spent a year wandering until he was taken in by a Wood Elf man named Delaeon.
Delaeon was harsh to Kiel at first, disciplining him strictly for the rude child he was. But eventually, Delaeon grew fond of Kiel, teaching him all he knew about being a Ranger. The training was hard and intense, but fortunately Kiel was a natural and became almost as good as Delaeon. At eighteen, Delaeon kicked Kiel out on his ass, giving him nothing but a bow, (in poor condition) eighty rusty iron arrows, and an iron short sword. Kiel wasn't happy, and neither was Delaeon, but it was what was best for him. He spent seven years of being a freelance adventurer making his fame and fortune. He did this through various quests, looting dungeons, and he even did some work for the emperor. He success combined with youth made him a little bit too full of himself.
At age twenty five, a horrible surprise came to him, his Father was alive. He had only been wounded in the raid. Kiel discovered this by accident; he was in the city of Sentinel with a contract to clean out a pirate ship. He scaled the side of the docked pirate ship and killed two pirates on top of the deck. He made his way down and killed off the rest. He then entered the captain's quarters, he was not there. He searched the room and found a silver medallion; it was the same one Kiel's father told him he would inherit when he became a man. At first, Kiel was filled with rage. He believed that whoever had this medallion had stolen it off of his father corpse. Kiel dropped the medallion in his pocket. Kiel heard footsteps coming down the hall way, Kiel drew his cutlass, and prepared to kill his father's murderer. The door swung open, the ship's captain entered the room. It was Kiel's father. Kiel was shocked; he turned around and ran from the ship. He kept the medallion to remember where he came from.
Since that day he lost the spirit of his youth. He was now unable to trust others fully and pushed away all kinds of relationships. As a result he found himself alone and with nothing to lose.
When the corpus first struck he was out in the wilderness, away from the corpus outbreak. But one day he encountered a large group of corpus and had to fight them all to their deaths. But the fight had left him wounded; he needed to find other people to survive.
Name:Lucien Girarde
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: N\A
Actual Age: 84
Skills: All scholls of magic, but especially non-violent ones. Has scribe and researching skills.
Armor/apparel: Mages robes of the Arcane University.
Unique apparel: A variety of enchanted rings, and an enchanted amulet that heals wounds.
Weapons: A plain brown wooden staff.
Equipment: A bag containing research notes, another bag containing magical items and alchemical ingredients
Physical Appearance: Short, small, and old. His head is blad but he was a long grey beard, seems very healthy and youthful for a Breton his age.
Unique Appearance: None
Mental Description: Is gentle and a pacifist. He cares deeply about everyone, and tries to only use his magic to help others.
Short Bio: Was born to two powerful Breton battlemages. Both of his parents were great war heroes, and they wanted their son to become one as well. They decided weapons training could come when Lucien was older, but for the time being they focused in on Magical training. At the age of six his parents died in battle, creating the reason for Lucien's pacifism. Lucien was taken in by the Arcane university, that raised him as a community. When he turned 18, the Mages Guild accepted him without the reccomendation process due to his parents legacy and his natural magical abilities.
Lucien took part in the studies of all kinds of magics and philosophies. He found himself less interested in Magics, and more interested in his research. At a young age he was already one of the mages guilds most brilliant minds, he researched solutions to many of society's problems, mostly cures for diseases. When he first heard of corpus and the toll it was taking on Morrowind, he aided Divayth Fyr in his research on corpus. But, due to Lucien life being busy as a healer and teacher, he had to return to Cyrodiil, and his only contact with Divayth was through letters. Now that the corpus pandemic has struck, Lucien wants to get back to Divayth's tower and pick up where Divayth left off. He is currently in hiding from the Corpus beasts.
Hairdo Galosh Jam
Name: Grash Gro-Brogul
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: early 40's
Actual Age: 25 (Orcs have lower life spans than most races)
Skills: Good with blunt weapons, especially one-handed maces and clubs. Is proficient in duel wielding them. Very strong and athletic. Quick for an Orc. Does not wear much or any armor in most situations. Can use basic alchemy and very basic healing spells. Proficient in blocking and parrying. Can leap from respectable heights without hurting himself and can defend himself with his hands. Very much a monk-like melee fighter.
Armor/apparel: Worn denim pants. No shoes. No shirt. Orcish Gauntlets over both hands. No other armor.
Unique apparel: wears a Jailer's Ring, which slightly fortifies his stamina and health. wears his father Brogul's Lucky ring as well, offering a small boost in luck.
Weapons: Simple wooden club with specially ordered silver spikes. Orcish Gauntlets with modified silver spikes on the knuckles. Also bites when all else fails.
Equipment: 150 gold, satchel of bread and cured ham, bottle of cyrodillic brandy
Physical Appearance: Five feet eight inches. Lean but heavily muscled as most male orcs are. Lime green skin. Hair shaven bald with one long black top knot.
Unique Appearance: Face heavily tattooed in severe tribal designs. Nose pierced in four places. Eyebrows shaven and replaced with patterns of pierced studs. Lips pierced. nipbles pierced. Ears pierced in multiple places. Tattoo of Akatosh over heart.
Mental Description: Trained as a Prison Guard, Grash is mentally disciplined as well as physically. Alert and intelligent, and good at living off the land from his experience as a Barbarian. Business like and no-nonsense but warm and friendly to those who earn his trust.
Short Bio: Grash Gro-Brogul is the son of an Orc man who gained acceptance in the Legions in Daggerfall and who later moved to the Imperial City to patrol the waterfront. When Grash came of age he trained as a Prison Guard and often was called in as muscle to control prison riots. When the Horde invaded the city and began slaughtering people, he survived by retreating into secret sewers beneath the prison, locking and barring the doors behind him.
Benrahir
Full char info/lore
Name: Arthur Codill
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 23
Actual Age: 23
Skills: Master in the Way of the Sword, can summon spirit-swords, some powerful spells and summons, practically invulnerable to physical attacks.
Weaknesess: Very weak to magic (can easily die with 2 powerful spells), weak to magic weapons. Due to his pride, he doesn't wear any protective/fortifier item besides his Signet Ring.
Armor/apparel: See pics.
Unique apparel: Codill's Clan Signet Ring (Ebony diamond ring with Fire Shield 50% on Self).
Weapons: Godai (unique katana), 2 combat knifes, mostly used for cutthoathing.
Equipment: Enough money not to ever have to worry about it. A nice collection of poisons. Little else.
Physical Appearance: Muscular, tall, good-looking and disturbing at the same time (because of his eyes).
Unique Appearance: Bright red eyes.
Mental Description: Cold, sarcastic, pesimist, cinic, elitist, snob, very jealous with his honor and the honor of his Clan...but unexpectedly warm and kind with his servants, and loyal to those ones he considers his friends.
Misc characteristics: Loves boar meat and good wines, he REALLY can't stand bears and goblins. When in towns, he always sleeps in expensive inns. Owner of two vineyards near Skingrad, a house in that city, and a Clan Temple in the Jerall mountains.
jobs: Wine and Skooma producer/trader. Assasin (sometimes).
Hi!
Name: Tharasn Dalvas
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 30-35
Actual Age: 28
Skills: Using Hammers, Maces, Axes, and pretty much anything heavy. Even makeshift weapons like a branch or rocks. Hunting, scouting, and a little bit of cooking.(So basicly the skills for survival)
Armor/apparel: A rugged hunter vest, black, makeshift, baggy pants, and black leather boots.
Unique apparel: None
Weapons: A large sliver hammer he won in a wrestling match with an orc, and a wooden club with thorns protruding outward at the top that he had made on his own.
Equipment: Just the clothes on his back and his weapons
Physical Appearance: His pale muscular body enhancing every cut, scratch, and tear by only visual means. His hair, usually a waterfall of inky blackness, is torn and wild from his constant running and hiding. With green eyes that resemble those of a cat he is a predator in the night that fools most for being a creature of only those in horror stories
Unique Appearance: A tattoo that starts off as a spiral sun on both palms and then snaking up his arms with an exotic design that finally reaches in between his shoulder blades. Along with hundreds of scars from battles and run ins with wild animals.
Mental Description: Appearing calm on the outside his is really a slightly psychotic predator to be feared by many. He is as strong as a bear, fast as a wolf, cunning as a fox, and wise as an owl. He is the ultimate foe.
Short Bio: Born and raised in Bruma, he was raised with all the other Nords and had to become strong or he would be left in the dust. He trained in fighting and scouting, learning to live off the land. But soon he would surpass his master and leave in search for another one. At the age of eight-teen he left Bruma and built a cottage on Dive Rock and hunting for food. But soon his small desolated cabin was found by a horde of corpus beasts and after killing them all off and burning their bodies he left in search of more survivors. He found some but ended up killing them because they all suffered under the hands of the corpus disease. He never added those kind of kills to his death toll for they were mercy kills.
woolymammoth45
Name: Ongar No-Eye.
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 29
Actual Age: 27
Skills: Swordsmanship, repairing armor, alchemy. Cooking, a moderate bow skill used to hunt, lockpicking.
Armor/apparel: Blades armor. Wool shirt with coarse linens.
Unique apparel: Wears an eye-patch over his left eye.
Weapons: Akaviri katana
Equipment: 150 septims, rat, and crab meat from hunting the sewers
Physical Appearance: Nord, short black hair, and brown eyes. He wears an eye-patch over his left eye-socket. He is muscular, but not has a normal-looking build. Has a large scar that runs down his left eye-socket. He Is very tall, with a sturdy face build. His muscles used to stand out, but he has been somewhat weakened from living off rat and crab meat, as any man would have been.
Unique Appearance: He is rugged and dirty, from his head to his feet, from spending much time in the sewers.
Mental Description: Is prepared to die, knows a lot about survival. Thinks that restoring the world is over, and he is trying to survive as soon as possible. He is very smart.
Short Bio: Joined the Blades at 18. After the crisis, and the great growth of the corpus disease, the blades disbanded, and he made his way to the Imperial city. After the Corpus came, he climbed down into the sewers, and he has lived there. Hunting daily in the sewers, he has found a decent food supply, and is able to survive.
Lord Dren
Name: Iakan Yorec
Age: 33
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Iakan is a rather husky Imperial with dark brown eyes, fair skin, and sleek black hair pulled back into a pony-tail.
Gear: Leather Cuirass, Leather gloves, leather boots, huntsman's pants, brown hood, fine steel shortsword, Staff of Unbecoming(Drains health)
Class: Battlemage/Ranger
Skills(Major): Destruction, restoration, shortsword, light armor, marksman, alchemy, armorer
Misc: Journal, 2 ink quills, a container of ink(All stuffed into a brown leather satchel)
Location: Imperial City (Market District)
Bio: Iakan has spent every minute of his life in Cyrodiil. His mother was a noblewoman and ex-Hlaalu House Cousin and his father worked as a merchant. They both lived in Morrowind and were close friends. They soon fell in love and Iakan was the result. They moved during Iakan's mothers pregnancy and arrived in Cyrodiil on the day of his birth. They lived in the Imperial City and were living quite comfortably. During the first attack by the corpus beasts, Iakan's father was brutally killed. His mother was evacuated along with some close friends. Iakan, determined to stay and avenge his father's death, will stop at nothing to find and end the cause of the corpus chrisis.
W00tz
Name: Fimmion
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be very young, and is fairly young compared to many Elf. At least 370 years.
Birthsign: the Lady
Physical Description: Long, dark brown hair reminiscent of damp, fertile soil. Green eyes the color of Valenwood's many plants, looking out over a flawless, childish face. Leaf shaped ears and several other features are clear indications of his elvish bloodline, however it can be seen he is not entirely Bosmer. Altmer dwell in the forests, former Maormer invaders still remain, and Ayleid's chose the wild home of the Bosmer as their refuge. It is quite possible some, or all of these are present in Fimmion, although he retains the main characteristics of his kind, and clearly lacks scales. His height is certainly a product of Valenwood at 4'11. Buildwise, he could be thought of as a very healthy, lean child, immaculate and defined.
Class/Skills: As a bet amaraldane, Fimmion has a great command over animals, although the larger the beast, the more energy it takes. This may be due to some amount of Maormer blood, as they have mastered the taming of the massive sea serpents of their homeland, and this skill could in theory be transferable to some other creatures. An animal may be summoned, bound, or enchanted through the use of singing, humming, or in some cases even a telepathic link is possible. However useful this skill is, without much mastery or a natural talent, it can be very draining and only masters can control any beast for any long period of time. As a Bosmer who has returned to his roots, he has gained another strong link with the forest. He has become well learnt in an art known as "tree singing", a magick known to some bosmer which involves singing to trees, as is explained by the name. Bows, blades, spears, and several other weapons, even shelters can be formed. It has been rumoured this has something to do with the roaming tree-city Falinesti, yet there is no proof attesting to this. Many of the Tree singer's are difficult to find, able to produce shelters within the trees themselves, put everything back into order and move on. As a side product, the tree singers have the ability to perform certain spells similar to restoration through singing, although a master of restoration is often more effective than a tree singer in that aspect. Fimmion is not without combat prowess, having learned a graceful style of fighting with weapons sung from the trees, useful with other Elven weapons as well. Agile in little to no armor, and can be sneaky when it is called for, particularily in the forest. In an urban setting his sneaking is somewhat comprimised by the unfamiliar setting.
Weapons: A Bone Dah nicked and pitted with use. A fine wooden spear sung from the trees.
Armor/Apparel: This, and a cape made from leaves.
Misc. Items: A finely crafted silver circlet, gifted to him by his teacher. A small pack, including a leather skin of Rotmeth, a skin of Jagga, and a small wooden canteen of water. Small bone knife.
History: (Not to be lame but, to be revealed. I'd rather just have his history be gathered from references in posts and whatnot.)
