Name: Veyar Nydelvu
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Age: 34 (84 in Human years)

Height: 6'2"
Eye Color: Crimson
Hair Style: Veyar has his long dark blue hair pulled back to cascade over his shoulders
Skin Color: A grayish-blue tone accentuates Veyar's striking features, more suited for a politician or charmer than a soldier.

Class: Captain of the Buoyant Armigers
Class Focus: The Buoyant Armigers of Vivec are the elite warriors of Morrowind, second only to the Hands of Almalexia. Although not granted any powers from Vivec, his Buoyant Armigers take a firm stand on their beliefs and train relentlessly in the ashlands. It was the Armigers who kept the forces of Dagoth Ur at bay for as long as was possible until the Neraverine had to come to defeat Morrowind's devil once and for all.
Trained in the arts of the sword, the bow, survival and the use and repair of both armor and an assortment of secondary weapons, the Buoyant Armigers use supportive magick spells to supplement their already exceptional physical prowess.

Major Skills: Blade, Medium Armor, Marksman, Athletics, Speechcraft
Minor Skills: Beast Riding, Destruction, Blunt Weapon, Block, Survival

General Appearance: Veyar's face is smooth, with chiseled features and relaying an underlying strength in the man. The hardships of the Armiger training create a strength of will that often shows through one's features. http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/HK-50/Veyar2.jpg http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/HK-50/Veyar1.jpg
Tattoos/Scars: A small scar runs vertically two inches down from Veyar's left ear. The left ear itself is half-gone, having been sliced off years before by a blade during a sparring session. Across the right side of his face, near the eye, Veyar has a series of small, intricate blue tatooes marking his position as the captain of the Buoyant Armigers. Small arcing scars crisscross Veyar's chest now, reflections of hard lightning strikes.
Apparel Worn Most Often: Most often Veyar wears a set of bonemold armor specially crafted for Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers (though many Armigers prefer lighter armor such as Chitin or Glass). A ceremonial sash arcs across one shoulder, and the armor itself is painted with ceremonial designs of praise to Vivec
Apparel worn least often: Less often than his armor, or in situations where a set of armor would not be appropriate, Veyar has some nondescript, very average clothes of Dunmer design
Weapons: Veyar carries a small armament of weapons. Across his back lay a bonemold bow and a quiver of arrows. At his left side, his ebony katanas rest in scabbards, while a silver tanto is tucked into his belt sash along the waist. A small pouch of Dunmer throwing stars is hidden behind his chest sash, and a silver wakazashi is strapped horizontally across his lower back.
Spells: Aside from his armament of physical weapons, Veyar is trained in the casting of frost and thunder magick as well as supportive shielding and self-enhancing magicks, though he is not as powerful in these schools as one who has trained as a mage for their entire lives

Mental Description: Considering himself to carry the moral high ground, Veyar follows the code of honor held by the Buoyant Armigers, and is a devout follower of the man-god and warrior poet, Vivec, even after rumors that Vivec lost his power began floating through Morrowind. Noble, strong and generous, Veyar is known for his kindness and sympathy to those in danger or in dire need.

Brief History: Born in Seyda Neen, Morrowind, Veyar was the son of a prosttute. His father; an Ordinator of Vivec City's Temple Canton. Far be it for a holy Ordinator to be known as having slept with a prosttute, Veyar's mother was found dead mere days after his birth, and his father took him to Molag Mar, claiming that he was an orphan. Molag Mar became Veyar's home as he trained from early childhood to be a Buoyant Armiger under the tutelage of Ra'Zikahn, a master bladeswoman from Elsweyr, who was also Veyar's adoptive mother.

Raised among a society of cultural prejudice, Veyar studied the Thirty-Six Sermons of Vivec deeply, learning messages hidden between the words. His Khajiiti adoptive mother taught him the err of racial prejudice, and Veyar grew to be known as a fair and just Armiger, skilled in the arts of combat. It was not long before he was appointed by Vivec personally as the Captain of the Buoyant Armigers at the unthinkable age of 71, the youngest ever to hold the title.

As the Oblivion Crisis began, Veyar fought against the Daedra alongside Telvanni mageheads, Hlaalu warriors and the remains of the Redoran Honor Guard against the Oblivion Gates that began popping up across Vvardenfel. It was thus with some measure of dissappointment when Vivec commanded Veyar to travel to the homeland of the Imperial Dragon, Cyrodiil, to safeguard the life of the Empire's newest ruler. . .

Recently, Veyar has returned to Morrowind to confront demons from his past, and is now returning to Cyrodiil...

Name: Viuven-Ru
Gender: Male
Race: Person of the Root ("Argonian" in elven)
Age: 21
Birthsign: The Shadow

Height: 6'2"
Eye Color: Crimson
Hair Style: N/A (Viuven has spinities!)
Skin Color: Red with splashes of green

Class: Shadowscale
Class Focus: Shadowscales are born under the sign of The Shadow. They are a cult based within the Black Marshes of Argonia who work hand in hand with the Dark Brotherhood. The first born of every villaige on the first night of The Shadow is taken to be trained as a Shadowscale, as this Argonian is imbued with a natural ability of stealth. Shadowscales are agile and swift.

Major Skills: Stealth, Illusion, Martial Arts, Halberds, Acrobatics, Athletics, Tracking

General Appearance: http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/HK-50/Viuven5.jpg http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/HK-50/ViuvenwithHerliefatanAyliedRuin.jpg
Apparel Worn Most Often: Most often, Viuven wears a simple black robe, if anything at all. Viuven's modesty leaves something to be desired.
Apparel worn least often: In dangerous situations, Viuven-Ru wears http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p204/HK-50/ViuvenwearingOkan-RusBlackChainmail.jpg
Weapons: Viuven-Ru rarely needs any weapon aside from his own body. However, in a more dangerous scenario, he uses his fathers halberd, Herlief.

Spells: Viuven possesses a magickal block that prevents him from using even the most basic of spells. However, as a natural-born Shadowscale, he can hide himself from view with the curtain of invisibility at will.

Mental Description: Viuven-Ru is not the brightest fellow to walk the land of Nirn. He has only been using Tamrielic for a year, and so his grammatical skills are somewhat. . . lacking. Viuven follows orders easily, though he questions immoral commands. He has a strong sense of morality, but his lack of general intelligence makes him easily fooled. Viuven is quiet and generally introverted by nature. He has strong beliefs in purity of life and the wrongness of corruption and mutation.

This stems from his dislike -one could even go so far as to call it hatred- of lycanthropes and vampires, but more so from his mental 'condition'. Viuven-Ru is schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder. He pents and traps his emotions inside him until they build up into another person made solely of pure emotion - emotion that most often translates into unmitigated rage, anger and lust for violence. This 'Other', as Viuven calls it, is something with which he has struggled for years, and his only defense to keeping his sanity is the mental shielding he has built up. As a result, he is not easily influenced by many emotions, and mind-affecting spells often have little effect on him as well.

Brief History: (Or not so brief, in my case!): Viuven-Ru was born under the sign of the Shadow in the small town of Moonmarch; one of a set of twins. It was not long after his birth when the Dark Brotherhood came to take Viuven and his brother, Hrisska, to become Shadowscales. Viuven's parents managed to keep him hidden, but Hrisska was found by the Dark Brotherhood, and injured in the process. The Argonian would grow up to be a Shadowscale dubbed 'Scar-Tail'.

At an early age, Viuven was trained in the martial forms of the priests of Hun-Marka; the nature goddess worshipped by the citizens of Moonmarch. The town of Moonmarch was prosperous during Viuven's early childhood, and he was a kind and gentle boy with an outgoing personality.

The priests took a special interest in Viuven, giving him paticular and favored training. He had "The Gift", they said. Invisibility was in his blood. Viuven found he could turn invisible at will, having been born under the sign of the Shadow, but that he could do it without voicing a spell and could retain the invisibility indefinately. Apart from this, Viuven found all other areas of magick extremely difficult to utilize.

It all went to hell when Viuven was five years old. A school of werecrocodiles came to Moonmarch for food. Viuven's best friend, Vi-Wasus, was eaten before his eyes by the lycanthrope. This event destroyed Moonmarch's economy, and scarred Viuven for life.

From that point, everything went wrong.

Moonmarch was constatly plagued by troubles of every kind each year after that. A famine one year, a plague the next, a raid from a hostile Naga tribe or even a deceptive Sarpa thief who stole precious artifacts from the Temple of Hun-Marka, the only stone building in the town (for workable stone was extremely rare and very valuable in Black Marsh). Worse turned to worst when Moonmarch was attacked by a slaver band. Viuven's sister and mother were taken.

Driven by rage and a curse that Viuven shared (The curse of the 'Other', the priestesses of Hun-Marka called it), Okan-Ru, Viuven's father, went out in search of the slavers, taking with him only his halberd, Herlief.

The village of Moonmarch never saw Okan-Ru again. A year after Okan-Ru's dissappearance, Viuven at 14 years of age went out in search of his father. He tracked him for months until he reached Onyx Cave at the border of Black Marsh and Cyrodiil; east of Leyawiin. Inside, Viuven found his father murdering the slaver band who had kidnapped his mother and sister a year before.

This was the point in time when Viuven went insane. This was the point where Viuven's own Beast was birthed; a birthing process which resulted in Okan-Ru lying in a pool of his own blood, slain by his own son in a fit of righteous anger. In Viuven's eyes, Okan had become no better than the slavers. Far worse, in fact, since he was killing them instead of kidnapping them.


It had been three years since he murdered his father when Viuven spoke to another living being. He had spent the time in solace and meditation in the jungles and swamps. He emerged a few months before the Oblivion crisis in the city of Leyawiin. Viuven tolerated the racist comments that he quickly started gathering; he was an ample target because of his mangled speech and low intillect.

It took only a week of living in Leyawiin for Viuven to leave and sign up with the Imperial Legion. He was taken to a training camp west of Skingrad along with some other new recruits. It took some time, but Viuven began to open up to them. After displaying exceptional prowess in defending the training camp from a necromancer's attack, the small unit that Viuven was a member of was promoted directly into the Blades and transferred to Cloud Ruler Temple, where they began the important job of fighting in the Oblivion Crisis.

As time went on during his tenure in the Blades, Viuven fell in love and was engaged to an Altmer woman named Jordanna. His friends in the Blades unit helped Viuven to deal with his internal struggles and problems speaking with people. As the Oblivion Crisis wore on, Viuven received orders of transfer to another unit, without explanation...

OOC: And my last post of the previous thread!


IC:

Viuven-Ru
Ancient Runestones outside Bruma

Viuven nodded and circled around quietly, completely invisible. He felt the inky shroud clinging to his clothes, his scales, weighing like a gently tug on the very blood that coursed through his veins. Viuven saw only two of the Mythic Dawn men, if they were indeed Mythic Dawn. The intel suggested that they would be, and at this hour and in this weather Viuven doubted any random civilian would be out to the ancient runestone.

He was not even sure why the Runestone was there, or what it was. It seemed to glow with the symbols of the Cyrodiilian stars on it, but the shapes and alignments held no meaning for Viuven. The Argonian had been raised on the stars of Black Marsh, which had some similar alignments, but many different ones. Our gods and the softskin gods are not the same, yet are the same. It is confusing at best, and downright painful to try to contemplate at worst.

It was doubtful that the Mythic Dawn spies were contemplating their gods or the signs in the heavens as they stood by the Runestone. More likely this was to be a meeting place, Viuven figured, so that they might meet somebody in private. Hmph, it might do to find out who it is that they are supposed to be meeting. Viuven thought. It would be a moot point soon enough, though.

Viuven walked up as silent as a wraith towards to two spies, approaching from the East. Although the north would have been a better vantage for him, Viuven stuck to the path Iris provided him. He didn't want to idly walk into the path of one of their magick spells. Viuven approached quietly, waiting for everybody to get into position. He couldn't see them from where he was, so Viuven gave them a few minutes to get ready. When he thought they would be prepared, Viuven took the initiative.

A silent puff of black smoke was the only sign that accompanied Viuven's appearance behind the Mythic Dawn spy. His leg arced up in a high kick that landed square between the softskin's shoulder blades. The only sound, the brief rustle of cloth and the spy's cry of pain and alarm as he fell face-first into the snow. Viuven ducked as the second man swung, and the Argonian jumped backwards, reaching for Herlief. In a flash of amber light, the Mythic Dawn spy summoned his unholy armor.

As Viuven took a few steps back, he twirled his weapon once. The halberd's staff slapped against the first spy's skull with a sickening thud, rendering him past the point of dazed confusion and into unconsciousness as the Argonian backed away from the fully armed and armored spy. Now would be a good time... Viuven thought, hissing as he bore his fangs at the foe.

Name: Demona (Called Mia by the others in the group who do not know who she actually is)
Gender: female
Race: Daedra Seducer (Appears as a young breton girl)
Age: Appears 18 (True age unknown)

Height: 1.7 meters
Eye Color: grey
Hair Style: black and chest length, no longer in a braid
Skin Color: now a light tan due to the traveling

Class: healer
Class Focus: Healing

Major Skills: Restoration, illusion, Destruction, alchemy, unarmoured

General Appearance: In mortal form Demona appears to be frail looking girl, with a slightly tanned skin from her travels so far. she has a pale blue tattoo which glows from time to time (in place to hide the marks where the wings come out). As a daedra, She looks fairly similar, other than her eyes, and the emerald green wings that sprout from her back when she transforms back.

Tattoos/Scars: small light blue rune on her upper back, now dulled as the magic seal was nullified

Apparel Worn Most Often: White Shirt and skirt

Apparel worn least often: N/a (no other equipment)

Weapons: Duel Curved Knives, only needed as a last resort, but now Demona uses them efficiently.

Spells: Heal, Cure Poison, Cure Disease, invisibility, Charm mortal, night eye

Mental Description: Demona was once sadistic at the best of times, and enjoyed hearing the screams of her victims as she made them live through pain she caused. Now that she regained her memories, she she confused, and the two mentalities are struggling to cope with each other, resulting in a split personality.
Brief History (Updated):

Demona has been a dedicated servant to her lord Mehrunes dagon, and was sent on a extremely risky mission, which involved her memories being removed temporarily, to infiltrate the blades and get close to the Emperor. Something had gone horribly wrong and the daedra lost all her memory, and could not be returned without aid of another daedra close to her.

As a result Demona was brought up in the mortal world for four years, thinking she was a healer by the name of Mia. When captured by the cultists, they had been unaware that the girl they had captured was one of Dagon's servants, and as a result were punished for it. With the arrival of Savara, Demona's memories returned, leaving her confused to who she was, or what she was meant to do now that she realised what she once was.

Name: Lucifer
Gender: M
Race: Seducer (primary form Imperial)
Age: unknown (appears 25)

Height: 1.8 m
Eye Color: black (blue in Primary form)
Hair Style: black and upper chest height
Skin Color: regular toned skin (imperial wise).

Class: spell blade
Class Focus: magic/combat

Major Skills: blade, destruction, conjuration, illusion, block

General Appearance: http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b334/shadow620/SamuraiShowdown.png

Lucifer is appears as a handsome imperial with a good physique. his body is fre of scars other than his right eye in his true form (no scars are

visible in his primary form) as a seducer he has jade-green scaly wings which is normal for all Seducers. Often when enraged, Lucifer's eyes change to

a more daedric red, as more of a means to scare off the less brave.
Tattoos/Scars: daedric L-shaped scar at the base his eyes, many tourture wounds on his body for not completing a task due to his falling out.
Apparel Worn Most Often: an extravagant outfit of black with gold trimming on both the shirt and pants.
Apparel worn least often: armour of any kind
Weapons: a unique daedric longblade that appears almost silver in appearance due to its enchantment. (does shock and frost damage)

Spells: Summon daedra, fireball, freeze, lightning bolt, miscellanious destructive and copnjuration spells, charm mortal, paralyse.

Mental Description: many millenia have made Lucifer an expert at what he does, seducing women, among other things. He has learnt that patience is a virtue, and that emotional attachment with mortals was something that would always end in tragedy. He is loyal to his sphere and his daedric prince Mephala, and will do what must be done in his/her name. He has come to control his emotions when in mortal form, and has no morals when dealing with the tasks at hand. After all, morals were for mortals.

Brief History: Lucifer has lived since the dawn of creation as all daedra have, his history dating even further than early recorded history. the mortal plane was always a strange thing to understand from a daedra's point of view, and even now, many things allude the Seducer.Being a servant of the Daedra prince Mephala, Lucifer was her blade, her eyes and ears, as all that were created. most of his life was built around loyalty to his master, and being a symbol of perfection, or so he thought.

Many missions on Nirn he had never become attached to any of the women he used to gain information and as an anchor to the plane. However on one mission of gathering intelligence of the status of Tamriel in particular, Lucifer discovered something he had not experienced before. Love. It was a strong sensation for him to feel.. something he had never felt before in his long life. Lucifer was in the form of an Imperial to infiltrate a royal family, when he met a beautiful woman. Unlike many of the mortals he had wooed, this woman was perfect in everyway. When he played his part, he couldn't help but be enthralled by her.

Disregarding his mission, Lucifer ended up marrying the noble woman and living with her a great number of years. However he was about to feel another emotion he had never felt before. Grief, and Saddness. Being a daedra, he would never die of old age, or truely die at all and seeing the one he had blindly fell in love with on her death bed, broke his mind for the next millenia.Upon returning to his realm, he was punished severely for an era never receiving the blow to send him to the waters. Since that day Lucifer had become cold, and was able to keep his Emotions in check, never to fall for another mortal again. During the time that he spends on Nirn, wether it was being summoned or otherwise, Lucifer has been taught many skills that he never would have picked up in Oblivion. Most of which were fighting skills, and unique spells.

Being involved in many battles between daedric realms, and on Nirn itself, Lucifer had made a name for himself, being one to never surrender, and to fight like one possessed. His nickname was 'Fallen One' because of his betrayal, that had never been repeated. A formiddible opponent, many daedra themselves do not wish to get on the badside of the seducer who would betray a prince to get what he wanted. In recent years, Lucifer had begun teaching other seducers how to experience mortal emotions, to be able to mimic them when on Nirn. As to be able to infiltrate completely one must act like one, and even goes to lengths of sealing a Seducer's memory away so they can understand the Mortal mind. his most recent one, Demona, was placed within a powerful organisation that had ties to the emperor of Tamriel, and was to remain until she was able to fully understand them and mortal feelings. However something went wrong and the power that was felt from a seal being broken was felt, causing Lucifer to investigate what had happened, and if the Grandmaster was the one responsible..

Name: Gregory Rolston
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Age: 28

Height: 5’9’’
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Style: Short, neatly combed blonde hair.
Skin Color: Pale.

Class: Mage/Scholar
Class Focus: Magic

Major Skills: Destruction, Restoration, Alteration, Illusion, Mysticism

General Appearance: Gregory is the typical mage. He’s frail, pale, and otherwise quite weak looking physically. He often has dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He has a slight beard, but it’s hardly noticeable.
Tattoos/Scars: None.
Apparel Worn Most Often: A red silk robe with a hood and gold trimmed shoes.
Apparel worn least often: A highwaymen’s shirt, black wide pants, and leather boots.
Weapons: Only his magic.

Mental Description: Gregory can act quite differently, depending on the situation. In normal conversation, he is often quiet and doesn’t offer his own opinion on matters, but rather listens to what others have to say. He will usually only speak if he’s asked a question, and even then is usually quick and blunt.

By himself, he’s constantly working, barely ever stopping to take a break. He is very dedicated to his studies, and may snap at someone if they interrupt him in the middle of something. Overall, he could be described as somewhat anti-social. Not because he dislikes people, but rather because he simply sees socializing as a waste of his time.

Should someone mention something that interests him though, such as history or a particular type of magic that he’s studying at the time, he could go on talking for hours. In times of danger, he could be seen as rather cowardly, trying to avoid combat as long as possible, but when it becomes obvious that there’s no avoiding it, he becomes utterly ruthless, often leaving people wondering what happened.

Brief History: Gregory was born in Chorrol to a rich family of mages, and was introduced to it early on in life. Both his parents molded him to carry on their legacy, and as soon as he turned eighteen, he joined the Mage’s Guild. Since then, he has steadily risen through the ranks, though he is somewhat disliked among his fellows for his anti-social behavior. None of that matters to him though. All he cares about is finishing his next mission for the Guild, continuing his studies of magic, and investigating the next curiosity to catch his eye.

Vivian seemed to act more nervous when Mia rested her foot on his calf, and it made her giggle a little, maybe from drinking a bit too much already, or from the cuteness of the assassin's situation. Taking another sip, she placed the glass to one side, and rested her head on her hands, looking at Vivian again, and placing her foot back down on the ground.

"You are so cute when you are nervous" she said and smiled, looking up to see their dinner coming towards them. "And don't worry, with me I think you might learn a few things" she said hearing what he had to say, and knowing that this was probably the first time he actually spent with a woman in a setting like this.

Name: Elinhir Eloisuus
Gender: Male
Race: Altmer
Age: 121 (Appears in his early 40's)

Height: 6 Feet 5 Inches
Eye Color: Gray
Hair Style: Blonde Rogue-Knot
Skin Color: Golden

Class: Necromancer
Class Focus: Magick

Major Skills: Blade, Destruction, Conjuration (Necromancy), Illusion, Mysticism, Alteration, Alchemy

General Appearance: A tall, stately looking Altmer. Elinhir is every bit a personification of his race. When the company of other Altmer, his features are usually carefree and kind (his teeth are dazzling). But when he is in the presence of lesser folk, his mouth is set in a perpetual frown, and his eyebrows are always raised disdainfully.

Tattoos/Scars: Has a number of scars that can impede his abilities in combat and magick

Apparel Worn Most Often: Simple white shirt with a brown vest. His pants are made of tough deer-hide. His boots come up to just below his knee, and fold to make a lip. He also wears a short travelers cloak of brown wool.
Apparel worn least often: N/A
Weapons: Wooden Staff, Silver Shortsword

Spells: A plethora of different spells from all the schools he has studied.

Mental Description: On the surface, Elinhir is a courtly individual, having been taught the social graces of the High Elves from his tutors at a young age. As he grew older and began to dabble in magick, his inner-self grew cold and distant, which will sometimes surface when he is incredibly annoyed or hurt.

Brief History: Born in Sunhold, in southern Summerset, Elinhir was raised in a noble family. Being the elder of two children, the Altmer was groomed to be the finest heir in the city. He was taught how to wield a blade for defense at an early age, proving himself when goblin slaves got out of hand in the fields.

But his true abilities shown forth when he spent one year at the Isle of Artaeum, studying under the masters of the Psijic Order. After a year (when he was already in his 40's) Elinhir left the Order, proclaiming it to be holding him back. The parting was not amiable, and Elinhir was added to a long list of people no longer allowed on the Isle of Artaeum.

Using his families wealth, Elinhir travelled all over Tamriel, taking years to study under various master of the Art. When he was one century old, Elinhir made his contact with a group of Necromancers in the cold climes of Skyrim. Utterly fascinated by the power that Necromancy could give, Elinhir spent 18 ? years with the vile spellcasters, learning their ways, until he eventually became a disciple of the God of Worms.

Elinhir has traveled Tamriel again for 2 ? years after the Necromancers were broken up by Mages Guild war-parties.

Name: http://s173.photobucket.com/albums/w41/pandut/?action=view¤t=Lizardman1.png
Gender: Male
Race: Argonian
Age: 31 (Due to his good shape, he looks around 25)

Height: 6'5
Eye Color: Crimson
Hair Style: Fins
Skin Color: Green, yellow, traces of orange

Class: Freelancer
Class Focus: Combat

Major Skills: *Blade, Light Armor, Heavy Armor, *Blunt, *Athletics, Hand to Hand

General Appearance:
Tattoos/Scars:
Apparel Worn Most Often: Chainmail Cuirass, Large Steel Shoulder Pads, Orcish Gauntlets, Iron Greaves
Apparel worn least often: Red Shirt, Black Pants.
Weapons: http://s173.photobucket.com/albums/w41/pandut/?action=view¤t=Pikeaxe.jpg (Shock Damage), and Dwarven Longsword
Misc Items: Food, Gold, Map, Crimson Bead Necklace made by his Mother.

Spells:

Mental Description: Devious, Calculating, and Smart. Three words to describe Teegus. He has excellent control over his temper, but can sometimes loose it while enduring a lot. He's calm most of the time, and incredibly social. Though he has a small problem with following orders, but works together with the people that hired him.

Brief History: Teegus is a professional Mercenary known all around Cyrodill. He was hired by the Imperial Legionnaire and Fighters Guild dozens of time. His specially made Steel Pike is well feared among his enemy's, it was specially crafted and enchanted for him as a reward for his help. The Mage that enchanted it, made it so it would never go dull, cause a decent amount of Shock damage. The Made also used a spell that allowed the Pike to be folded up (Like one of those fold up chairs), doing so would allow the pike to be used as an axe.

He travels alone, not really having any sort of home, he spends his time exploring and fulfilling contracts.

Teegus was recently hired by the Bruma Guard to help stop Marauder Raids on the Bruma Outskirts. But he fears it was not the only reason...

Misc Facts:
*Is an incredibly good guitarist, but does not want to admit it.
*Does not use any Magicka at all, only in his Enchanted Pike.
*Has a very dark history that no one knows of.
*Was born with a rare digitigrade gene. For those of you dont know what digitigrade is http://www.lunixmonster.org/hosted/coil/tuts/tutorials/poses-6.jpg

Veyar shook his head, smirking as Karst pointed out the quality of the 'replica' the man Jet had provided. Although Veyar honestly could not tell the difference, he was not surprised that Karstine could. She was expert in all things Daedra, it seemed. Jet seemed thoroughly chastised, and Veyar decided that it was time enough that the man had a little respite before Karst decided to show him the short sword she looted from a Dremora.

"Yes, I think it would be best if you ran along." Veyar said to Jet, "However, you will find my boots outside my room this evening, and I expect them to be cleaned and polished by early tomorrow morn, if you hope to pass off your crimes." Veyar smiled at Jet, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what will happen if you disobey an officer of the law."

Although Veyar had no legal authority in Cyrodiil and he had no intention of trusting this thief with his boots overnight, he enjoyed watching the man squirm. Especially after he has the gall to stalk us. He deserves some kind of punishment for that.

Karst spun on her heel as she turned abruptly. Her feet gave way, and with a light thud she landed flat on the floor. Veyar was not close enough to try and catch her, nor did he try. She had nobody but herself to blame for her drunkenness, he decided. The thought that he was the one to buy her a drink at Olav's bar and then give her some sujamma in the first place did not have any bearing on Veyar's thoughts.

"Are you having fun down there?" Veyar asked her with a slight laugh, "Or would you like a hand up?" The Dunmer offered a hand, extended down towards Karst.

Name: Karstine Maranay Zeterra
Gender: Female
Race: Dunmer/White Khajiit [Heavy on the Khajiit]
Age: 23
Birthsign: The Thief
Birthdate: 17th of Evening Star, 3E 409

Class: Vagabond
Class Focus: Stealth
Major Skills: Sneak, Light Armor, Security, Marksman, Short Blade
Minor Skills: Alchemy, Acrobatics, Restoration, Unarmored, Athletics

Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Blood colored, comes to just below shoulders. Ends are singed.
Skin Color: Snow white with quarter inch long white fur. Fur has black striping on her sides and the outsides of her arms and legs. Also, the tip of her tail is black.
Height: 5' 6"
Build: Slender, with stringy muscles.

General Description: Karstine is, in a sentence, a small but pretty young Khajiiti woman. She has stark white skin and similarly colored fur with black striping on her sides, arms and legs, alongside a pair of sparkling emerald colored eyes, all attributes from her mother. From her father's elven lineage, Karst has blood colored hair and a soft elven face, as apposed to the usual feline snout that her mother bore.

In body, she is somewhat curvy, though what beauty she has is a warrior's beauty rather than a maiden's; her arms, legs and stomach have stringy-yet-strong muscles under them and there's not an ounce of fat on her body. Her hands are scarred but otherwise delicate looking, her fingers oddly long for the size of the rest of her, and her toes, while human in appearance, bear little claws on the ends of them.

Karst's soft face often bears a look of determination, making her otherwise cute features look somewhat sinister. Like her hair, her eyebrows are a deep crimson, a drastic contrast to the snowy fur, and her eyes themselves are slightly slanted inwards, almond shaped with long eyelashes and highly expressive. Like most Khajiit, her ears and tail are easily noticeable indicators of her mood at most times and her movements are graceful and smooth. Unlike most Khajiit, though, her voice is that of an elven woman, with only traces of her Khajiiti blood audible when she speaks.

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Many small whip scars along her back from mistreatment in the Imperial prisons, a scar from a stab wound just under her collar bone, a gold, jeweled ring (the type you wear on your finger) in the base of her left ear (which is hidden under her hair normally), and a small tattoo of her name in Daedric between her shoulder blades.

Clothes: Corset style red and black shirt [slightly revealing], loose brown pants, long black leather strapped boots when unarmored, long form-fitting black trenchcoat [worn unbuttoned and open].
Armor: Black Adamantium boots, Dark Brotherhood gauntlets, pauldrons and greaves, fitted mithril cuirass.

Pack [main pocket]: Various assorted types of arrows (ten or less arrows total), spare steel short blade, 2 healing potions from Odeen, sack with 2263 gold from the Arena, her spare armor parts.

Pack [secondary pocket]: 2 Standard Restore Health potions, and 2 empty flin bottles, 2 loaves of bread, blanket, old black shirt with several cuts in it, pair of long silk gloves, loose black pants and ruffled skirt with purple lace trim on the bottom.

Pouch [right hip]: Purse with 125 gold, Zanna's burnt necklace and her pouch of 400 gold, two random rings, 8 lockpicks, small canister of stolen tobacco.

Other: Emerald necklace given to her by her mother which protects from disease around neck, silver dagger tucked in between self and pants on left hip.

Weapons: Steel Longbow, Enchanted steel blade [shock enchantment], Dremora Shortsword, claws.
Magic: Mara's Kiss [restore health, can be used on others as well as self], Flash Bolt [mid-level shock spell, cast on target], Wind's Companion [invisibility 65 secs on self. This uses up enough of her magicka she cannot cast anything else for at least a couple minutes], Dead Bolt [lock 30pts/add easy lock on target], Trespass [open level 50/average lock on touch]

History: Karst was born in Elsweyr, a product of an unlikely love between a Khajiiti wise woman and a Dunmeri man who was taken into the tribe after being rescued from the desert. Until the age of three, she was cared for and nurtured both by her mother and father, but also by her elder brother. When her brother left after his fifteenth birthday, she clung to her mother and father most of the time as the other kittens in the tribe picked on her for being a half-breed.

Another two and a half years passed in relative peace, Karst burying her little nose in the various documents that the tribe kept to pass most of her time. Sadly, as later turned out to often be the case for her, the simple happiness didn't last. Her mother fell ill with an odd curse and, over the next seven months, died a very slow and painful death. Her father held on another year despite his grief, trying to raise his daughter, but he could only go on so long. Karst's father died in his sleep one night and left her horribly alone in the world.

She lived an uneasy and bothered life in the tribe until she turned eleven. An incident with an older boy left her guilty of slaying one of her fellows and, despite the killing being in self-defense, it was a perfect excuse for the elders to do what they'd been itching to do for years: get rid of her. Karst was thrown out with only a week's supplies, exiled for merely defending herself.

Her life didn't go much better from then on, either. After a few failed relationships as a wanderer, Karst was taken in by, and subsequently found love in a Dunmeri nobleman in a small town in northern Elsweyr. Again, though she spent many a happy day and night with the man over the following year, it didn't last. Angered by such a respected and powerful member of their community not only romancing a Khajiit, but one of no noble blood or deed, the villagers rose up and stormed the manor at night. The next morning, Karst was forced to endure the sight of her love being publicly executed and, for fear of being killed herself, fled.

Heading north over the next few years, she viciously slaughtered bandits and highwaymen to vent her pain until coming to the town of Skingrad. She lived there for a month or so before a nobleman who she'd frequently stolen food from decided it'd be better to pay off the guards to harass her than to have her arrested. After a month, she snapped. One night, Karst picked the lock to the manor as she'd done before, but instead of stealing from him, she marched up to the bedroom and robbed him at dagger point.

Or at least she tried to.

The man spun around and disarmed her with a twist of her wrist, grabbed her dagger as it fell and rammed it into her collar. Though she remembers nothing after that point, the guards have told her they found her passed out in the manor, the only one alive. Even the servants were dead. Since then, she has been imprisoned in the Imperial City Prisons, where her sharp tongue, stubbornness and violent outbursts have made her a good deal of enemies, many of whom have done unspeakable things to her in return. Over the past seven years, Karst fought in the Arena to vent her anger at her captors and keep up her combat practice. Though she was forced to give up most of her winnings to the Legion, the only reason they agreed to allow her this small luxury in the first place, it offered her a chance to escape and breathe fresh air for a while, so she gladly welcomed it.

For reasons unknown, a mere couple months before the assassination of Uriel Septim VII, she was released, supposedly on the Emperor's orders, to go to Morrowind. From what she knew of it, Morrowind was a place she didn't exactly want to go, so when bandits attacked the Legion-guarded carriage that was transporting her, she fled to Kvatch where she lived until the beginning of the Oblivion Invasion.

Personality: Under normal circumstances, Karst is playful, energetic, carefree and witty. She boasts a strong will, a twisted and somewhat dark sense of humor and rather striking lack of physical shame. Karst is naturally tolerant of pain, able to endure amounts of it that would make most folk black out, a skilled marksman and swordswoman, excellent sneak and an extremely compassionate person to those who she thinks deserve it.

On the other side of the coin, Karst has problems with her temper and often speaks her mind when it'd be far better to be quiet. Displays of blatant arrogance and (what she views as) misuse of authority often garner fiery and violent reactions from the small woman. Though highly intelligent and quick-witted, she often does irrational and even incredibly stupid things in anger. She has a serious lack of confidence in herself in almost every way, is a frequent alcoholic and has a habit of judging people severely by first impression.

However, her biggest weakness by far is her emotions. At the best of times, she is subject to mood swings and broods sometimes for days after being angered. At the worst of times, she is manic-depressive and sometimes even suicidal. Despite all her weaknesses, though, Karst is a kindred woman and, if one earns her trust, a fiercely loyal friend.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Despises arrogance.
- Enjoys pulling pranks.
- Drinks when depressed.
- Copes with certain kinds of trauma by masking it with humor. This sometimes leads to jokes at very inappropriate times.
- Karst's manner of movement is eccentric; the way she walks seems exaggerated and she occasionally makes odd hand gestures when talking.
- Her fingers are slightly longer than most humanoid creatures her age by about half an inch.

Misc Skills [Non-Combat]:
- Is a good cook, but never admits to it when complemented.
- Can be persuasive if need be, though she never claims to be smooth about it.
- Is good at creating medicines from raw ingredients, a skill she leaned from her mother when she was young.
- Has psychic potential that she cannot harness. Though she knows and accepts that she has it, the only use she currently has for it is the sort of sixth sense that it grants her, allowing her to sense and feel the emotions of those near her. This can often be as much a curse as it is a blessing, however.
_______
Name: Melanarde Annabell Dorayn
Nickname: Mel, Melani
Gender: Female
Race: Altmer/Dunmer [leans towards Altmer]
Age: 131 [looks 25-30, but is more equivalent to 45]

Class: Fire Adept
Class Focus: Magic
Major Skills: Light Armor, Destruction, Alteration, Unarmored, Long Blade
Minor Skills: Speechcraft, Enchant, Alchemy, Athletics, Mercantile
Birthsign: The Lady
Eyes: Red
Hair: Blond and Orange mixed, worn either loosely or in a ponytail. Comes to mid-back.
Skin Color: Pale Orangish-Yellow
Height: 6' 1"
Build: Moderately muscular, but still looks distinctly feminine. Her actual feminine features; the curve of her waist and size of her briasts, are not very substantial, though.

General Description: Melanarde is an elegant sight to behold; her silken clothing flows around her when she moves, occasionally shining in the light, her steps are light and graceful and her movements are fluid as water. Her voice is soft but firm, not commanding, but speaking of someone who expects you to listen to her, she has an exquisite vocabulary and a twinge of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

However, if you look more closely, you'll see she is not your average noblewoman. A glint of silver at the top of her blouse indicates the armored corset she wears, and her body is well-toned and muscled. Under the skirt, mail greaves and a knife slipped into her garter are worn over her strong, nimble legs. The clothes on the outside hide the warrior she truly is.

Primary Clothing: Long, layered silk skirt of various shades of orange, Orange silk blouse with ruffled sleeves, reinforced with leather in the chest, brown leather heeled boots. All have charms on them that make them fireproof.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Elaborate fire tattoo running from her shoulder, wrapping around her arm and coming to her fingertips on left arm, many small burn scars all over her body, small gold navel ring.

Armor: Mithril mail corset worn as underwear, covers chest and torso, greaves of same material and occasionally worn Elven plate gauntlets.

Inventory:

[Pockets]: Embroidered orange handkerchief,

[Medium-sized Travel Pack]: Folded blanket, one week's worth of food, jug of rum, purse of 902 septims, various personal effects.

Weapons: Daedric Longsword sheathed at hip in similar design to Daedric Shortswords encountered in Morrowind, silver dagger slipped into her garter under her skirt.
Magic: Fire spells of all makes and ranges, flame-based healing spells that she created, various Alteration spells.
History: Melanarde is the child of Elanende and Vedalamus Dorayn, her mother an Altmer, her father a Dunmer. Because of this, she was born with very potent magickal potential and natural resistance to flames.

Her parents were not wed when she was born on the twenty-seventh of Evening Star in the middle of a rainstorm in the basemant of the Bruma Mage's Guild, but the mages that delivered her and helped her mother through labor swore not to tell anyone about this fact for the shame and humiliation it would bring to both parents and child.

Growing up, she usually lived in the Guild hall, spending most of her time as a little girl wrapped up in a blanket, reading by the fire. Through her reading, she gained a vast vocabulary by the age of fifteen and sometimes even had to explain her words to a few of the older mages. She wrote poetry and small stories that entertained and delighted even the most callus of men and she was a sweet, if somewhat bossy, young woman. Due to an unknown flip side of her fire resistance, though, the chill of Bruma often landed her in bed with colds.

As she grew older, her parents and their friends in the Guild trained her, and she took quickly to the schools of Destruction and Alteration, mastering many fire and lock altering spells, and a frost shield spell to keep her out of the sick bed, by the age of twenty-two. She continued her literary studies, poetry and writing as she got older, but her parents worried about the somewhat violent nature of some of her works. She developed an unhealthy fascination with fire as well, and would sometimes be heard screaming as she ripped off a flaming piece of clothing.

At forty-three years of age, she finally left Bruma and her parents, saying it was simply too cold for her, and moved to Skingrad, buying a small home just outside town with the money she'd saved from odd jobs done for the Guild and got a job as a bartender in the local tavern to pay for her own food and clothing.

After a year, she could no longer take the jeering and flirting of drunken tavern goers, though, and took up the blade, taking on freelance quests from, ironically, many of the same people she wanted to get away from in the tavern. After several years of success, she had a manor built in town with her earnings. When she met the count to arrange it, he was taken by her beauty, and as his own wife had been comatose for years, wanted company. He agreed on the terms that she spend dinner him. As they ate later that night, he told her of what had happened to him and how he had become a vampire and gave her an amulet enchanted to protect against Porphyric Hemophilia, saying he could never let such a thing happen to such a pretty woman. He also offered her a position clearing out vampires from nearby caves since the vampire hunters asked too many questions for his liking. Flattered by the treatment he gave her, she agreed, and over the years they occasionally spent and intimate night or two together. She cared for him, but despite sleeping with him, never fell in love with him. Janus, on the other hand, was mad over her.

Being the count's employee and bedmate came with its fair share of bonuses as well; she was given a daedric longsword he'd been keeping as a collectible and was made mithril armor that could fit easily and comfortably under her clothes, specially fitted to her body, and often wears the armored corset as underwear despite the coldness of the metal. In her free time, she studies the workings of fire magicka, and has, through many years of literally painful research, manged to make her body and clothes fireproof, and develop healing methods using flame energies. One side-effect of this, however, is that she gets sick from cold very easily and must keep warm at all times. Later, in boredom, she also got herself an elaborate tattoo on her left arm of flames, and pierced her navel.

Personality: In business and to those she doesn't know, she is manipulative, often insulting, and very self-centered. She will do about anything to get her way and always makes sure she gets the most out of deals, even if she has to do things that are less than morally sound to get them. She rarely gets angry, but uses taunts and insults freely with those she dislikes.

To friends, though, she is witty, cracks jokes, and is very relaxed and casual. Those who she invites into her home receive the finest of hospitality and are given nearly full access to all the commodities of her house, including her magickally heated and run shower and bath and are often served meals during their stays.

On her own, she often shuns clothing altogether and relaxes either in the bath with a book or someplace near [or in] the fireplace. She makes it no secret that she does this, however, and occasionally even answers her door completely nvde or in thin nightclothes or undergarments, or leaves a note on the door for people she's expecting to come in while she's in the shower. Some think she gets a sort of twisted joy out of the shock on people's faces when she does this, and they are most definitely correct.

When out in the community, she often spends time reading in the sun on harasses the churchgoers. On occasion, she stops by the tavern for a glass of rum.

Other Traits/Oddities:
- Obsessed with having her things neat and arranged
- Flesh and hair are immune to burning; sometimes relaxes in her fireplace
- Can be very blunt and insensitive at times, but at others is compassionate to a fault
- Often rash and impulsive, occasionally to the point of arrogance
- Is a totally different person once you know her than she is when conducting business
- Obsessed with fire
- Flesh, clothes and hair often smell faintly of burnt wood due to her habit of 'fire bathing'
- Extremely vulnerable to cold

Misc Skills [non-combat]:
- Exquisite cook; she's made meals for the count himself before
- Can use magicka to repair broken items. Cannot restore missing parts or sharpen weapons, however
- Persuasive, though not exactly smooth about it
- Makes perfume out of herbs for herself

Gregory glanced at Mel briefly as she explained about the Mythic Dawn. Ah, so I was right! I knew it had something to do with Daedra. Perhaps I should study conjuration and Daedra more. There does seem to be a lot of Daedric related things going on... He watched as Teegus continued his interrogation, and took special note of the word Paradise. Was he speaking of a Daedric realm? No, Mehrunes Dagon's realm is the Deadlands, I at least know that. So then what is he referring to? I think I'll pick up a few books on Deadra the next time I return to the Arcane University.

A few moments later he nearly jumped in shock as the Imperial exploded in flames. His look of shock soon turned to a scowl. "I knew it was a self inflicted fire spell... Ah, if only that could have been prevented. I would have loved to ask him some questions about his cult and Mehrunes Dagon. Such curious people, these cultists are. Oh well, maybe I'll get another chance later. After all, if these people were attempting to kill you, then they will undoubtedly send more after you when they learn of this failure. I wonder why they're coming after you though. Mehrunes himself may have ordered them to kill you. What could you have done that would anger the Daedric Prince of destruction?"