Name: Faendal
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Age: 116 (Appears mid sixties)
Sign: The Serpent
Home Country: Valenwood - Bal Fall

Faction and Rank: Ex-Sergeant of the Aldmeri Dominion
Faction Description: The Dominion war machine is one of the most dangerous and efficient bureaucracies Tamriel has ever seen. Even the Legion cannot match its discipline and order. As such, to be put in command of one of its elite advance squadrons is an honor indeed, reserved only for the most skilled, commanding soldiers. With that discipline, however, comes harsh punishments; the Thalmor have little time for mercy, or fair trials.

Class: Thalmor Scout
Class Description: Faendal served as commander of one of the most infamous Aldmeri squadrons. They called themselves the Fury of Y'ffre, and they were notorious for their efficiency in killing Imperials. The Thalmor would send them out, in front of the main army, to silently kill any sentries, then launch surprise attacks on enemy camps. As Faendal and his elves assassinated generals and dismantled fortifications, the main Aldmeri forces would march in, slaughtering the confused soldiers in vicious ambushes.
Skills: Growing up a warrior-hunter in Valenwood, Faendal's hands rarely left his bow. Even among his village, renowned for their archers, he was considered one of the best. Along with his bowmanship, Faendal was a skilled hunter, tracking large game for weeks before finally taking it down. Since his recruitment into the Thalmor army, he has grown from a warrior to a true soldier, and from there into a very capable leader.

Appearance: Faendal is a soldier. He cares little for his looks, other than what he needs to intimidate his men and terrify his enemies. As such, few would consider his tough, scarred visage the least bit attractive. It is, however, the face of a warrior, and fewer still can feel entirely safe when the Bosmer is around.
Hair: The Bosmer keeps his dark hair long, pushed back from his face, falling nearly to his shoulders. The black tresses are so dirty and matted, however, there is little chance of it interfering in a fight. There are usually bits of leaves and twigs sticking from it at odd angles, like the mane of some dark beast.
Eyes: Faendal's eyes are hard, and so dark a brown that they appear black.
Build: Bosmer are naturally short of stature, and Faendal is no exception, but despite his height the elf maintains an intimidating, muscular posture. His whole body is made of hard, sharp lines, his skin rough to the touch. He is a warrior- a survivor- and his physique is a testament to that fact.

Personality: To be revealed (Aka, I'm lazy)

Weapons: During his time serving under the Aldmeri, Faendal used a traditional Bosmeri horn bow, along with bone arrows, in accordance with the Green Pact. He also had several bone or tusk daggers that he kept on his person. Upon his expulsion from the Thalmor army and subsequent incarceration, all of his weapons were taken from him.
Clothing: When on duty, Faendal wore tight fitting leather and hide armor, specially fitted for silence and ease of movement. This too was taken from him, however, and he was left with a few thin hides woven into makeshift trousers that barely reach his knees. His guards, both Altmer, threw a woven shirt at him once. After dodging the garment, Faendal proceeded to grab the nearest one by the wrist and claw at his face. Since then no one has questioned his choice of attire.
Miscellaneous: The old soldier was allowed to keep his leather bracelet, intricately cut in the shape of the sigil of Y'ffre, patron diety of the Bosmer. Other than that he was not allowed any possessions.

Magic: None, other than his racial ability to commune with animals.

History: To be revealed.

Motivation for Joining: He desires his freedom over all else, and a chance to take his revenge on the Thalmor that stripped him of his rank and put him in chains.

Name: Waylas
Age: 36
Race: Redguard
Sign: The Thief
Class: Pirate

Skills: Swords, Sneak, Acrobatic, Pickpocket, Unarmored
Attributes: Agility, Luck
Clothing: Waylas wears a simple green button up shirt with a collar, along with coarse linen pants with a belt wrapped around his waist, and a pair of leather boots on his feet.
Weapons: A long Steel Sword holstered around his waist.
Description: Waylas appears at 5' 8'', moderately built, and dark skinned. He has ridge row style hair and is clean shaven.

Personality: Waylas takes his personality from his rough upbringing in the streets of Stros M'kai. He only trusts himself and no one else. His alliance with others is purely for business and monetary gain. He enjoys taking part in the pleasures of life such as drinking and gambling, telling jokes, and hanging out with friends. He doesn't mind getting his hands dirty in order to accomplish his goals. Regardless he willing to stick to his word and wouldn't betray anyone who didn't already have it coming to them.

Biography:

Waylas was born in the tropic island city of Stros M'kai, just off the coast of Hammerfell. Orphaned at a young age after his mother died of illness, Waylas was forced to turn to a life of petty street crime in order to fend for himself. While living on the streets he developed his skills in pickpocketing and sneaking.

When he turned 17 he joined up with a local pirate crew and began his career as a pirate of the Abecean sea. After overthrowing the ships captain in a mutiny, he began to excel the capabilities of his crew. Together his pirate crew smuggled, stole, burned, and killed everything that stood in their way. Eventually he led one of the largest and most feared pirate crews in the Abecean sea. Sadly though Waylas's pirating days were brought to an end when he and his crew were tracked down by Imperial naval ships. The ships attacked and nearly all the crew members on board were killed, those few that survived were taken prisoner by the empire.

Waylas then spent the next 2 years locked in an Imperial dungeon with barely any hope of escape. Then one day a riot ensued inside the prison and he broke out. Soon after his escape he was captured by the Aldemeri Dominion while attempting to cross the boarder into Elsweyr.

Name: Varthlokkur (Varth for short)
Race: Dark Elf
Gender: Male
Age: Born in 3E 401 (roughly 230 years old)
Sign: Mage
Home Country: Vvardenfell

Faction and Rank: ex-Tribunal Temple, ex-Dark Brotherhood
Faction Description: N/A

Skills: Varth’s main magic skills focus on the magic school of destruction, illusion, and conjuration. He is also skilled in staying hidden, and using one handed weapons (particularly bladed weapons). Alchemy and Enchanting are also one of his fortes. In addition to these talents, Varth knows how to doctor wounds and cook food.

Appearance: Varth is tall, standing at 6’2’’, with hawk-like features and burning red eyes often associated with his race. His skin is a pale ash color, and he often conceals himself in dark cloaks and robes, making him appear ominous.
Hair: Longish, falls to his eyes, shaggy and dark brown in color.
Eyes: Crimson
Build: Light and wiry

Personality: It is difficult to pinpoint Varth’s personality. He seems very quiet and distant, but he is really just sitting back anolyzing everything that is said or done. He is often paranoid, but once you get him to open up, you have made friend who is loyal and discreet. Varth is very witty and sarcastic, once you get him talking, and can laugh in the face of anything, whether it’s a goblin warrior or Mehnrunes Dagon himself. He is the kind of person, however, who will save his own skin and leave you to die, but Varth is sometimes known to fall to the folly of pride and honor.

Weapons: Varth had an Orcish Longsword before he was captured, as well as several knives, and a few vials of corrosive/combustible alchemical liquids.
Clothing: Varth wore a black cloak and robe, as well as some soft leather boots.
Miscellaneous: A few books, ingredients, food, and some random supplies

Magic: Varth enjoys summoning unique Deadra, as well as using illusion magic to drive his enemies insane, and turning the tide of battle. He is very skilled with destruction magic, having the ability to tear enemies asunder with his spells.

History: Varth grew up in an orphanage with no parents, and at a young age, he decided to venture out into the world. He joined the Tribunal Temple very early on, yearning for spirituality and knowledge. After many years, he raised high into the ranks due to his cunning and intellect, and use of magic. He became a librarian at Vivic’s Hall of Wisdom, and eventually took the place of head scribe, who was in charge of finding books from all over Morrowind, cataloging them, and placing them in the library. In addition to this post, Varthlokkur was often assigned to kill under the name of the Temple due to his natural skills as an assassin. He burned out many ashlander cults, Neravine impersonators, dissident priests, and other civilians.
But, as he got to an even higher rank, Varth discovered the truth behind the Tribunal’s power. He felt betrayed and lied to, and all of the assassinations he performed for the Temple were against innocent citizens. Varth quickly pack up his belongings and fled Morrowind in a rage, but his exit was not as crafty as preferred.
He ended up killing two Temple personnel to escape, stealing a few tomes on necromancy and forbidden magic, and was branded a heretic. Varth ran from the Temple assassins for many years, and in said time, he joined the Thieves Guild and a few mercenary groups. Varth was finally able to stop running when the Neravine completed his quest and killed Dagoth Ur, and the number of assassins who hunted him finally trickled down to only one or two.
Varth continued to move around for many years, joining up with the The Dark Brotherhood until the he met a young Breton woman. The two quickly fell in love and got married, allowing Varth to finally settle down. It didn’t last long, however. She was killed in a raid by the Aldmeri Dominon before the start of the Great War. Varth flew into a rage, and tracked the Thalmor raiding party back to their base, where he killed every single one of them. The Dunmer was not satisfied, and became a terrorist in Thalmor lands.
Varth was captured by the Aldmeri Dominion’s advancing army when he was staying in Bravil.

Motivation for Joining: Hates the Thalmor, wants revenge.

Name: Tyranus Florentius
Race: Imperial (Colovian)
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Sign: The Lord
Home Country: Cyrodiil

Faction and Rank: Civilian, Citizen of the Empire

Class: Farmer/Hunter
Class Description: Up until his capture, Ty had been working as a farmer on his family’s farm outside Chorrol. Colovia is good hunting country, and so Ty has been taught how to use a bow, and his become quite the shot despite his dislike for hunting. His father, an ex-legion solider, taught him some tricks with a bow, as well as teaching him to use a shield and sword combo. Ty is comfortable using the light armor of hunters, which he would be much more familiar with than heavy armor, despite his desire to use it. Learning to hunt has also helped him to move unseen and unheard, avoiding detection with relative ease. As with many Imperials, Tyranus is gifted with a silver tongue, and can be very persuasive. He’s also screwed around with a lock or two, but isn’t much of an expert.
Skills: One-handed (Blade), Block, Archery, Sneak, Light Armor, Speech, Lockpick

Appearance: Ty is pretty average in size, he stands at just under six feet and weighs in a bit under 180 lbs. His satin blond hair falls just above his straight brow, covering his ears and extending to the nape of his neck. He keeps it above his collar, although sometimes it finds its way there before he can get it cut. It’s typically swept away to the left, however a few gaps allow his forehead to show through. His eyes are a sharp gray-blue color, but very friendly, seemingly on the edge of a laugh most of the time. He has a wide smile which lights up his face, as well as his eyes. His nose curves downwards, although its rounded shape makes it only noticeable when viewed from the side. Ty has a cleft chin, a bit more heroic looking than most. Ty doesn’t have an abundance of muscle, although he isn’t lacking either. Farming has made him broad shouldered, and discreet muscle lines his entire body. He carries himself with a strong set to his shoulders, indicative of his confidence.

Hair: Blond
Eyes: Gray-blue
Build: Average

Personality: Tyranus is quite intelligent, however he doesn’t lord it over people; rather he refers to it when needed. His intelligence, along with his insubordinate nature, allow for a quick wit, which is often littered in most of what he says. Ty is very outgoing, and he talks A LOT. Whether it be a smart-aleck comment or just an observance, he rarely stays silent for long. He loves to laugh, and is often heard telling jokes and stories to his friends. Ty doesn’t have much of a temper, however he tends to get highly frustrated every once in a while, and is extremely strong willed and stubborn at times. That strong will leads to him being fearless with his words, not caring who he is talking to if something needs to be said, or if he plain just wants to. Good-natured through and through, he is always up to helping someone in need, although he maintains a very care-free way of thinking. He was raised to believe in the Nine, but he doesn’t force his own beliefs on anyone else, and he doesn’t necessarily agree with everything the religion dictates.

Weapons: Seeing as though he’s being held prisoner, he doesn’t have anything, although he would attempt to make some sort of crude weapon just in case, or simply get his hands on a blade or a bow as soon as possible.

Clothing: Ty had been wearing leather armor, boots, and bracers when he was captured. The Thalmor were kind enough to let him keep his boots. He is left with the black cloth shirt and pants he wears with that armor.

Miscellaneous: The Thalmor didn’t care that he kept the silver chain around his neck and the nondescript ribbon on his left wrist, given as how neither is enchanted.

Magic: Tyranus knows a charm spell, and a healing spell. That is about all he knows about magic, and he doesn’t use either of them often, although he has picked up a tip or two from reading books.

History: Tyranus was born in Chorrol to a farmer and his wife, a teacher at the Chapel. He grew up on his family’s farm, learning how to tend to the animals and the crops from an early age. He was always a quick learner, and he took quickly to the school lessons at the Chapel during the week. His father taught him how to use a bow, which Ty enjoyed immensely. He also enjoyed sword fighting, having lessons in melee fighting from his father from an early age. However, Ty didn’t take as well to hunting. Although he enjoyed dressing up in armor and sneaking around the woods, he didn’t like killing animals. To this day Ty only hunts what he absolutely needs.

Ty developed his disobedient streak early in his teens, questioning authority and even his religion very early. He was raised to believe in the Nine, and he does, however he doesn’t blindly follow everything it states. However Ty was painfully aware that he knew very little about the world, despite his attempts, and he considered his own objections somewhat unfounded. He wanted to see more than just Chorrol, Ty wanted to become worldly, so that his questions might hold some weight.

As he grew older, Tyranus developed a desire to join the Legion, go out and experience the world. However, he fell for a girl, which soon put a kibash on that. He contented himself with the thought of exploring Cyrodiil, and at least knowing his own province. One day, after some preparation. Ty told his family (and his girl) that he would go off to explore for a while, and that he didn’t know when he would be back. His family assumed he wouldn’t be long, but the girl he loved knew him better, and feared for him with the war going on. However Ty would not be swayed, and he set out on his journey, towards Anvil. He happened across the invading Thalmor, and after a day or so of evading them throughout the countryside, Tyranus was captured.

Motivation for Joining: Survival mostly, however his need for adventure is a sizable factor as well.

Name: Urjoroh – Urjo for short.
Race: Khajiit - Suthay
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Birthsign: Lord

Class: Merchant
Skills: Crafting, Speechcraft, Blade, Alchemy, Illusion, Unarmoured, Restoration

Clothing: Urjoroh wears a Blue Tunic with a dull gold trim over a plain white shirt. Over his legs, he wears Tan trousers and Long Leather boots on his feet.
Weapons: Before his capture by the Thalmor, he would wield a Silver Shortsword and a Steel Dagger. However, the Shortsword was confiscated from Urjoroh, but he managed to conceal the dagger.
Other Items: Urjoroh has a dull brass ring with a flawed ruby in the centre on his left index finger. It may look unremarkable, but it is enchanted with a small Resist Fire enchantment, which makes up for some of his weakness. He also carries a small Satchel, with a copy of The Buying Game, thread & needles, some saved rations & plants and some small chunks of iron.

Physical Appearance: Urjoroh is not someone of a large physical stature, being a Suthay makes him smaller than the average Khajiit and small muscles make him look like a frail man, and he is often picked on by roadside Bandits and thieves. His skill with a sword and magic makes up for this, though.
His face has shallow, sunken cheekbones and small, droopy eyes. His nose is rather flat and his head is small in general. Urjo’s fur is a light grey, with black stripes.
Hair: The only additional hair on his head is some charcoal sideburns on his face. His ears are pierced.
Eyes: Normal Khajiit eyes.

Personality: From a young age, Urjo has been fascinated with Imperial Culture and Cyrodiil. He would absorb himself in books about the Septim Empire and especially loved reading The Pocket Guide to the Empire’s. This led him to be a very well-spoken and intelligent person. He, like most Khajiit, is laid back and enjoys telling jokes and drinking with friends. Also like most Khajiit, he holds his culture and religion close – despite being enthralled with Imperial Culture, he still believes in the Khajiit Pantheon.

History: Urjoroh was born and raised in Riverhold, the second and youngest child of a Seamstress and a Labourer. From a young age, Urjo was taught how to convince someone into buying goods and how to make textiles. In his spare time, he would play out in the nearby jungle, collecting plants and later experimenting potion combinations with his sister. One day, after getting bit by a Rat, his father gave him an old Saw to protect himself and taught the lad a small healing spell. Urjo would fight imaginary monsters (trees) and heal himself afterwards. He managed to forge some fighting skill with the Saw and got himself interested in blades. His father would take him to his friend – a Guard – who taught Urjo how to fight with a blade and minimal armour.
Throughout his school life, Urjoroh was bombarded with Thalmor Propaganda and was told how the Dominion saved the Khajiit by ending the Void Nights. During this time, he developed a fascination with the lush forests of Cyrodiil and the righteousness of the Septim Empire. The combination of Propaganda and scholars praising the Septims greatly confused Urjoroh, and he developed no opinion on either the Thalmor or the Mede Empire. All he knew was that he wanted to travel Cyrodiil as an advlt.
So at age 20, Urjoroh bought himself a Pack Mule and headed to Cyrodiil to sell treasures he’d found in his journeys for ‘cheap’ prices. He sold to mostly travelling Armies and small-town merchants. He kept in close contact with his family, who sent him the mother’s textiles and anything of value his father managed to steal while working.

Urjo was making himself a nice profit and had acquired some good supply lines by the time he happened upon a Thalmor camp near Ione. Unfortunately for Urjoroh, the soldier he was bartering with was in a bad mood and decided that the Khajiit was asking too much for goods. The soldier’s orders to capture anyone in the way made for the perfect excuse to capture Urjoroh.

Name: Errialor
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Sign: The Shadow
Home Country: Valenwood

Faction and Rank: Aldmeri Dominion Army - Recruit

Class: Soldier (former hunter)
Skills: Athletics, One Handed Weapons, Light Armor, Block, Marksman, Sneak, Alchemy

Appearance: He possesses a variety of small scars along his body, most from his pre-army lifestyle. Although he polishes his armor regularly, he rarely shaves or grooms his hair, resulting in a rather unkempt appearance without his helmet.
Hair: Light Brown
Eyes: Brown
Build: Average for an Altmer, Errialor stands 6'4" and possesses the typical build for an Altmer soldier: heavier than an average Altmer, but still lighter than the mannish races.

Personality: Errialor is a rather simple Altmer. He doesn't care for the Thalmor cause, but had little choice but to join to prove his loyalty to the Dominion. As he has no real loyalty to the Thalmor, he has a history of minor insubordinations. He's not very articulate, but he tries to be friendly and cordial to everyone he meets, something which has also gotten him into trouble. Socially, Errialor is not particularly shy, but not particularly outgoing either. He's still not sure what he wants to do with his life, but he plans on leaving the army once his tour of duty ends.

Weapons: Elven sword and shield, elven bow with 10 arrows
Clothing: Full elven armor

Magic: None

History: Errialor was born to a pair of Altmer hunters in Valenwood. Although both of his parents were Altmer, some of his family had mannish blood from the Third Era when Valenwood was part of the Empire. As a result his parents, lost several relatives to Thalmor purges but themselves were judged pure. enough that they could live. They rarely visited the cities, instead selling their wares in smaller settlements. He learned their trade and assisted them into advlthood, but one day, not long after the Great War started, they left on a hunting trip and never returned.

Knowing where they had probably gone, Errialor went searching for them, but was attacked by werevultures and nearly killed. Convinced that the lycanthropes had killed his parents, he informed the local Thalmor of the problem. While they did eliminate the werevultures from the area, it wasn't long before he was approached by a Justiciar. The Thalmor apparently were convinced that his parents had fled to Cyrodiil. The mage gave Errialor an ultimatum: demonstrate his allegiance to the Dominion by joining their army and doing his part in the Great War, or face investigation and possible arrest.

With little choice, Errialor joined the Thalmor army. Not long after his training concluded, he was sent to the front lines in Cyrodiil. When Bravil fell, he was stationed in the city. While there, he looked into the possibility that his parents had fled to Cyrodiil. Part of him hoped that they were alive, and wanted to see them again, another part believed them dead and wanted to prove to the Thalmor that his parents were not traitors. He made inquiries with his officers and questioned citizens, but never found any evidence for his parents being in Cyrodiil. It also resulted in him being repeatedly reprimanded for abandoning his post, fraternizing with locals, and interfering with Justiciar affairs. His superior decided to give him one last chance, guarding a group of prisoners. He knows that if he screws one more time, he'll be joining them.

Name: Akhel
Race: Redguard
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Sign: The Lord
Home Country: Hammerfell

Faction and Rank: Alik'r Mercenary
Faction Description: Nomads of the Alik'r desert who have left their tribe to travel Tamriel in search of either: gold, fame or just adventure.

Skills: Blade, Tracking, Disciplined, Sneak, Survival

Appearance: Akhel's has light brown skin, typical of a Redguard, but with a reddish tint. Tribal tattoos wrapping around each other stretch from his shoulders down to his elbows on each arms.
Hair: A black buzz cut and a soul patch which, since his capture, has grown into a messy goatee.
Eyes: Dark Brown
Build: Akhel stands at 5'11 and is moderately built. Strong enough to swing a sword with ease, but agile enough to dodge most blows.

Personality: Akhel is well disciplined from his upbringing in a tribe. When you first meet him, he would appear cold and blunt, but he views it as focused and business like. When he is with people he knows, Akhel relaxes and feels that he can open up. In battle, he could be described as being pure ruthless, but tactical. Despite his apparent dedication to his employers during mercenary work, he is mostly independent. If he sees an alternative which pays more, chances are, he'd take it. He is not without honour, especially towards people he can trust.

Weapons: Before he was captured, Akhel carried a scimitar and a small concealable dagger.
Clothing: Akhel wore a simple Hammerfell garb over lightweight leather armour. The garb has since become torn and faded since his capture. His belt buckle consists of two snakes coiled around each other. Their eyes are jewelled emeralds.
Misc: Akhel carries a sling around his should in which he keeps several poisons, a bag of gold and a small dagger, but it was confiscated by the Thalmor.

Magic: Basic self restoration spell.

Name: Guillaume de Bergerac
Gender: Male
Race: Breton
Age: early 20s

Appearance: Guillaume is tall and athletic, an epitome of heroism and of Bretonnic nobility. His recently nomadic lifestyle has however left its marks; from the unkempt brown beard growing beneath a long mane of rugged hair to his decidedly weathered features there can be no mistaking Guillaume for a pampered member of the aristocracy.

The reality: Guillaume cuts a foppish figure, obviously brought up wealthy he comes with a slightly spoilt attitude and the physique of a man who has never really had to work hard for his living. He stands out like sore thumb amongst the downtrodden masses that give up so much of their income in taxation so that people like him may live in luxury, this has never really occurred to though he’d likely be quite pleased with the idea that his inherent nobility set him apart. (Getting him to register the part about extorting the peasantry is nigh impossible.)

Lifestyle: Guillaume is an active and energetic man, driven by a lack of responsibility combined with a hedonistic desire to experience as much of the world’s various pleasures as possible, bankrolled by his family of course. Unsurprisingly then, his living conditions vary greatly from location to location, although his wealth ensures that he’s never too badly off. He’d like to claim that he was used to ‘roughing it’ but his current condition is by far the worst Guy’s ever experienced, even without the beatings it far outstrips his previous record holder; sleeping in a pavilion whilst it snowed outside.

Equipment: Thick leather travelling gear and a finely crafted steel longsword the quality of which is probably wasted upon someone of Guillaume’s distinctly average fighting ability.

Background: Guy is the youngest son of Cyrano de Bergerac, a minor Breton noble who rules over his small fiefdom with a severity that has become stuff of local legend. Nevertheless this harsh system is an effective one and Guillaume has grown up wanting for nothing. He is the family’s third son and, as such, is highly unlikely to inherit his father’s land. As a result, aside from his education and baptism into high society, Guillaume is essentially ignored by his father and has been spared the more intensive and practical training that his elder siblings have received, leaving him with no responsibility or goals in life.

Under these circumstances, Guillaume has done as many other directionless, young, well educated men have before him and set out for foreign lands, starting with a tour of Cyrodil. Unfortunately, it was about this time when war broke out, leaving Guillaume stranded in an unfamiliar country, though still comfortably wealthy. Life in the imperial province however has not been anywhere near as comfortable as Guy had expected. When he’d left home he’d wanted adventure, excitement, glory, not to spend the rest of his life in an Aldmeri prison.

Personality: Guy, was raised from a young age on tales of great heroes and evil villains. Sadly, where most children are eventually disillusioned by the harshness of reality, Guillaume remains ensconced in a bubble of chivalry and adventure that doesn't quite fit in with everyone else’s idea of reality. He is apt to day dream or to wax lyrical about the nobility of adventure, something he has yet to personally experience, save for apprehending the odd thief. This attitude also comes bundled with a mental caste system which has gotten him into trouble on many occasions with people who don’t appreciate being looked down upon and patronised.

Despite being somewhat detached from reality, Guillaume can be warm and friendly, sometimes sharp witted. Put simply; genial but unreliable. When the Breton does occasionally get his act together however, he proves to have a surprising intellect which most often manifests itself in his ability at cards.

Name: Fithvael (Fith-vul)
Race: Bosmer-Nord-Dunmer (on his mother's side)
Gender: Male
Age: 126
Sign: The Steed
Home Country: Skyrim

Faction and Rank: The Gallowglass, Galloglaich of Arvaanskyr

Faction Description- The Gallowglass are a small sect of warriors that protect Arvaanskyr, a haven deep in the Velothi Mountains that belongs to both elves and Nords. It was founded by Fithvael's great-grandsires, a tribe from Valenwood, a tribe from Vvardenfell, and a clan of Skyrim. They fought the Falmer guarding the great Dwemer ruins and claimed it as their home. They founded an order of sentinels who would guard the newly named Arvaanskyr.

They wielded longswords, capable of being used both with one or two hands, it was a Gallowglass. This is what the order was named. For generations, the kin of the these great families protected its walls. Occasionally, they would go to Valenwood and seek anyone wanting to join them, as they were also a partial mercenary order.

Class: Gallowglass
Class Description: A warrior wielding the Gallowglass, a bastard sword. As a mercenary, when not defending Arvaanskyr, the Gallowglass learns to use his bastard sword, spear, bow, as well as training in medium armor. Usually a thick boiled-leather cuirass with steel plates, and a scale hauberk and padding underneath.
Skills: One/Two-Handed, Spear, Medium Armor, Marksman, Tracking, Ilusion

Appearance: Fithvael is of average height, around 6'1", but perhaps taller than other Bosmer. He has a rather athletic build, accented by his Nordic and Bosmeri tattoos. His face is somewhat gaunt, very hawk-like, with a blue hand-print on his face. A mark of his Bosmer Tribe. The Moon-and-Star is tattooed on the left side of his neck, with the Old Nordic rune of his Nord kin tattooed on the right side.
Hair: His hair is stark white, worn in a Mohawk style. He also sports a long goatee tied in a warriors-knot.
Eyes: Reddish-Orange
Build: Very Toned and Athletic

Personality: Fithvael is a hardened old mer, but not without compassion. He shows kindness should it be needed, and toughness when it too is needed. He is a fierce friend as well as a fierce enemy.

Weapons: A simple bastard sword, sporting a Bosmeri blade with leaf, vine, and elvish filigree. The guard, hilt, and pommel all being of Nordic work.
Clothing: A simple cotton shirt, thick padded baldric, leather vambraces, black cloth pants and boots. Also wears a green cloak with hood.
Miscellaneous: Flask of sujamma, bread, journal, pipe, tobacco, matches.

Magic: Detect Life, a few Destruction spells.

History: Reason For Joining: Fithvael was captured in Valenwood, in Riverhold. He was overwhelmed when they found he held a sword. Fithvael has always hated the Thalmor, but now he really [censored] hated them. The Thalmor bastard, Aulrindel, now keeps Fithvael's sword on his person. Fithvael will get it back.

Name: Isabelle Paige Courtessèu.
Nickname(s): Though she is called by her first name by her parents, she refers to herself by her middle name, Paige, as she thinks it is a much less formal and prettier name. Occasionally she will be called Bella or Belle, though she doesn’t really like it herself and someday hopes others will refrain from using it.
Race: Breton.
Gender: Female.
Age: 17.
Birthsign: The Lover
Born and Raised: Waterfront District: Imperial City.

General Description: The epitome of beauty, pale skin, pure, and tender to touch, with pale scarlet lips contrasting against the back drop of her snowy flesh. Paige's tresses of silky black hair flow almost halfway down her back, it is clear that she takes pride in her hair, her fringe when left to its own accord often falls down diagonally in front of her right eye, a nuisance to Paige who spends what seems a life-time banolly flicking it from her vision.
Her radiant light brown eyes, so bright, verging on a yellowy-orange colour are an endless void and seem on appearance to gaze into the very depths of every soul they meet, shaded ever more by a surrounding of eye-shadow. Her button nose is only short, yet simple, with an elegant shape and a round tip. Her face is gaunt, not thin but her cheeks are concave and defined, going against the stereotypical Breton shape. Paige is not tall for a girl, nor is she short, she stands around 5’4’’, though does not look so as she is dainty and petite in build. Her body has no visible scars or tattoos of any sort, with little decorative features, except for the make-up around her eyes, and though it is not unusual that she attains scratches, cuts or bruises, this is no more than the average person.

Skills: Though Paige is far from assertive, she has a way with people that can assure often what she wants from situations; persuasion is her forte, though rarely through a manner of speech, she lacks the confidence to use words as often as she probably should, however her daunting attractiveness often gets her out of places she’d rather not be. Given her elegance in both movement and posture, it is unnatural for Paige to attain a sneaky persona, she is no expert at covert business, and there has been many a time when it has been her innocence that has swayed her away from danger. Paige was never brought up to fight, in fact she dislikes it entirely. Her father had insisted when she was young that she learnt to use both a dagger and bow and arrow to a satisfactory standard to protect herself in what he taught her was a harsh world. If she had to have a favourite weapon, it would be her most well mastered weapon; the dagger or shortsword, her primary and really, only weapon. Though she was never properly taught, Paige often as a young girl would experiment with alchemy making potions and occasionally poisons. Over the years this talent has matured and she is now rather handy when it comes to mixing and brewing up whatever the situation or task requires, and can make most things from life-saving potions to death harbouring poisons; given the right ingredients. Paige is also a studious type; she loves to learn, though she rarely gets such chance. Paige had always wanted to become a healer and takes great interest in the Restoration field of Magicka, however despite her Breton blood she barely classes as a novice when it comes to using it.

Apparel Most Worn: Paige adorns a light, free moving outfit as she tends to find this to be most comfortable. Her top half consists of a leather corset, festooned with buckles and belts, black mainly in colour, though with some crimson coloured etchings on the shoulders that run down the sleeves. On her lower half she wears rather tight, leather pants (trousers), plain black and simple in design, the belt she holds them with is very detailed and is designed with various patterns and etchings. Her boots are long, reaching high up her shins; her trousers are tucked into the boots which are made of fine leather, and are plain and built for comfort.

Weapons: A simple maple shortbow, as well as a small quiver strapped over her back. For close range combat – if ever, Paige carries with her a small knife, it resembles only a kitchen knife in size, though the hilt of the small blade is intricate embossed with a scarlet patterned ribbon tied neatly around it. Paige was stripped of all her weapons upon her capture.

Inventory: Paige wears a belt when on certain tasks, for this she wears an almost utility like belt, attached is her knife, as described in with her weapons, as well as a few lock-picks and coins depending on what she’s up to. Also, she may often carry, in pockets allocated on the belt, ingredients for potions, or sometimes potions themselves. This again was taken from her once she was captured by the Dominion.

Personality: Paige would be best described as timid or even shy, though it can be said that is passionate about the things she cares about, she will go out of her way to complete a job, or to earn extra money to help at home. Paige lacks confidence within herself, but she does try to express some outgoing traits whilst working with others; she will try to start conversation if she notices others shyness, but in a large, loud group she will no doubt take a back seat and remain silent. She is not so much afraid of leadership, and will take reigns when needed of her, though she prefers to shy away from authoritative positions or at best to work alone. She is more than happy to take command from ranked others and will try to complete any task set to the best of her ability. Most would consider Paige a kind-hearted girl, a trustworthy friend, a dependable companion and a hard working employee. Paige has, as most can tell, a desire for neatness, especially when it comes to her own appearance, and that of the things around her, but she is often praised for it usually results in tidy and elegant output.

Biography: Born and raised in the Waterfront in the Imperial City, her parents had been scavengers of the land; they lived on bread and water, with the little income her father earned on the passing and stopping ships. He was a ship maker by trade, though little trade ever really reached him. He was paid poorly by rich men for fixing their ships, that was, when a job arose. Paige had always loved her Father for his efforts. Her Father had always had the dream to one day own his own ship, and has spent his little extra income, mainly gained from the tips of the wealthy ship owners, on slowly building his own boat from scratch in the Imperial Cities Waterfront district. While her Mother stayed at home, Paige had been almost forced into the working world to support her family and help her Father achieve his dream. Paige started working with the Black Horse Courier at a very young age, specifically working primarily around the Imperial City as a mere delivery girl. She was always fascinated by current affairs and recent news.

Paige considered herself to be good at her job, and most of the Imperial City had grown to know, rely and warm towards the still young Breton. Her career with the service had recently improved, with developments between the Thalmor and the Empire becoming tense and war waging. Paige was soon offered the prospect of a new job opportunity, to travel around Cyrodiil and deliver news to the other cities. Though she was not keen to accept the offer, aware of its dangerous nature, her desire to keep her house and family going meant she needed the money, and she reluctantly took the promotion offer that had been proposed to her.

Paige had set up to ride for Anvil a few days before her capture. She had been aware of the Dominions power in the south but had figured herself relatively safe from harm due to the innocent nature of her work. She rode for a few days before Anvil came into sight. It was not long before Paige had reached the gates to realise that she was not as safe as she had once assumed. Overpowered by the forces very easily, Paige was soon captured and taken by the Dominion army, unaware of where she was going or why they wanted her.

Name: Lycus Castius Desselius. Nicknamed "Lycus The Hunter."
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Imperial

Skills: Hand to Hand, Spear, Blade and Blunt as well as archery. No proficient skills in magic. Lycus has much skill in playing the drums and the lute.

http://oi42.tinypic.com/25eusy0.jpgLycus stood 1.82 meters tall. As his father Kraven, Lycus had brown colored skin and hazel eyes as well as the muscular build and the long black hair. However, he is much thinner than his father. His lips and eyes were full and lively, often capturing the attention of some women.

Despite his strong build and status as a warrior, Lycus was subtle when it came to being a hunter and often relied on his guile as on muscle and skill in melee in contrast of his sister’s speed. Unlike his father who spoke with gravelly voice which was raspy, Lycus had more of a simple and low voice, as if he was sad and with low self esteem. Such displays of sadness was often seen in his facial expressions as well.

Weapons: Lycus carries with him a silver spear and an axe. The spear had ancient inscriptions along the body and the edge as well, a weapon that was passed onto him by his father. His axe was also in remembrance of his mother, who was skilled in the use. Among these things, he also has a sharp hunting combat knife which he holds close.
http://oi42.tinypic.com/i4l7oy.jpg He is usually garbed with his own armor made of fur. The armor covered his waist and thighs and was very durable. When in warmer climates such as Cyrodiil and some environments in Skyrim, he walks freely sans shirt. Most of the time, however, he is armored with silver or steel with a insignia on the shoulders.
Other Items: A number of books; Lycanthropic Legends of Skyrim, On Lycanthropy, and Physicality of werewolves. Other books such as the Totems of Hircine and “Kraven’s Journal.” Items such as food and potions he can salvage from animals and abandoned forts. As for jewelry, Lycus carries an ancient wolf amulet. He also has a lute in his possession.

Personality: Lycus is instinctive and knowledgeable. He is distrustful of new people, but he is known to have a softer side when it came to the people he knows and cares about. Lycus had an honorable code which was passed onto to him by his father. Much of his life as a warrior was done under these guidelines. These moral codes would shape his life as a Bounty Hunter and a man of respect. Lycus was more of a lone wolf who usually kept to himself, this was due to his mother’s fate and his father’s destiny years prior to his maturity in his condition.
He also adopted traits from his mother when he became a Bounty Hunter to honor her name. He took on fugitives and criminals in which he could bring down with brutal justice and merciless honor. He paid close attention to his situations and always double-checked his surroundings. Even so, he is not enamored about the business in Bounty Hunting as Illana.

The fate of his mother inspired within him a deeply rooted animosity against the Vigilantes of Stendarr and the Silver Hand. The events after his mother’s death that molded and shaped his future and also scarred his life. This resulted in him honoring and glorifying his parents whenever he could in his actions and at times, his speech. He also had a special love for his sister, whom he obsessively tries to protect.

History: Born to a relatively wealthy family of warriors and hunters of an ancient bloodline, Lycus grew up alongside his younger sister, Illana, in the Darksky manor near the Great Forest. From a young age, he learned how to hunt and fight as a warrior from both of his parents skilled in such use. His father was a former slave gladiator which was famous in Hammerfell and in Cyrodiil for his title as Champion. His mother was a huntress and a infamous Bounty Hunter who retired after she bore offspring.

His childhood was one of peace and tranquility. Growing up, he was well-educated in various topics of family history and worldly affairs; Politics, hunting, ancient legends and etc. Even though he has studied the field of politics to an extent, he never cared to get involved with it as guidance from his parents. Even with his wealth, he was humble to other who had less than him. His relationship with his sister was superbly positive, aside from the small sibling issues they faced. At the age of twelve, he learned how to use a real sword after years of practicing with the wooden sword. He was taught how to hunt by his mother and father, and was schooled in the ways of a warrior. His later life as a mercenary would be ultimately his to choose.

Following the fate of his parents, Lycus inherited the family manor and belongings. He also claimed much territory within the Great Forest. He was also given direction to look over his younger sister by a year. The two began to expand their ideas on how to preserve the family bloodline. Both became bounty hunters in honor of Vera, and in hopes to be as successful as the huntress herself when she lived. The two often hunted for targets around the province and left the manor in the care of bodyguards and loyal servants. Lycus had mind to transport the family belongings to Skyrim and begin anew while preserving the legacy, a direct contrast to his sister’s wishes.

Name: Illana Desselius
Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Home Country: Cyrodiil
Faction and Rank: Freelance Bounty Hunter and mercenary.

Class: Bounty Hunter, Huntress.
Class Description: Works for anyone who pays well. Often hunts for food and is very resourceful, able to make almost any environment a temporary home. Also a worshiper of Hircine. She was crafty and efficient, having a keen sense of guile imbued in her own manner of pursing her career.
http://oi40.tinypic.com/15558yg.jpg Illana was a professional. Due to her condition, she was stronger in her physical power, but she was more inclined to rely on speed and guile to take down bounties and her enemies. She is proficient in archery and a great fighter when it came to brawling and hand to hand, able to take down even her own brother in playful combat. She trained in the art of the sword by her father and is also as skilled as Lycus.

http://oi40.tinypic.com/zinewh.jpg Having dirty blond hair and amber colored eyes, Illana looked very close to her mother, Vera. Although despite the similarities, she was less muscular and more lithe, bearing more distinguishing birthmarks on her arms and shoulder areas. She often has a sarcastic or a grinning malice to her facial expression.
Hair: Dirty blonde hair which falls to her shoulders.
Eyes: Amber and golden.
Build: Strong and also lithe, maintained by a healthy lifestyle of running and pursing.

Personality: During her youth, she was often hostile and aggressive to the point where she was often kept away from other people. Growing up, she was more tied to her mother, Vera, and thus was more inclined to mirror some of her mother’s ways as oppose to her brother’s ties to his father. She was confident and displayed a dry sarcastic wit about her. Unlike her mother, she understood the sad nature of tragedy and often sought to understand her families unfortunate history. She was also determined in her line of mercenary work and saw it as the only way of life. She was very decisive yet grim and uncaring most of the time. The death of her mother softened and yet hardened her personality. She respected those who had similar backgrounds as her, yet she understood the value of fighting her own battles and casting away pity in dangerous times. Her perspective on life is considered harsh and unforgiving by most, she values strength and knows each day could prove to be her last. This particular trait also hardened her.

When becoming a huntress of bounties, she filled and occupied the position her mother left behind as a Bounty Hunter. She shared the same traits as well; cold, calculating, and merciless when it came to tracking down criminals and fugitives of the law. She was less worried about the morality of her work than her brother, Lycus. She regarded coin and drakes as a matter of importance. Even so, she wasn’t hesitant to demand more payment when the opportunity allowed. Illana also was very dedicated to her career if the pay was good. She took on jobs that were considered to be very perilous, costly and nearly impossible to complete. The thirst for life and glory stemmed from her desire to eclipse her mother’s legacy as the infamous Bounty Hunter and to further improve the Desselius and Darksky legacy.

Weapons: Illana carries with her a elven bow and silver arrows, as well as her mother’s old hunting combat knife. She is skilled in the use of the blade and the axe, but she usually salvages what she can from her defeated foes.

Clothing: Illana uses light armor, donning the item as one of the inheritance left behind by her mother; Her steel and silver armor, properly built to sustain some damage sans degrading. The two black shoulder pads on each of her shoulder bearing an ancient and ritualistic tribal symbol. Her gauntlets bore sharp spiked edges on tip to give a painful punch that could result in death and they carefully covered her hands and fingers. The knee-pads could carry poison and paralyses darts while her custom-made boots could conceal her sharp and efficient hunting dagger. Her entire gear could cover her body, the only exception was the sleeves which could be modified and removed from the overall gear if she desired. In cold areas, she could easily cover her arms, but in climates such as Morrowind, her elbows and arms were uncovered. Her liner shirt beneath the armor was made of thin ceramic plating to protect from intense heat and cold. On her hips, she had a leather utility belt that usually had a number of leather pouches. But to add to her fearsome armor was her helmet. A large metal piece which could withstand brutal punishment. It served to conceal her identity in several high-risk missions when dealing with drug-lords and other types of dangers. The helm complete covered her head and face, only her eyes could be seen from them in small visors. It was the ultimate armor and one of her favorite items in her equipment of Bounty Hunting trade.

When in her comfortable gear, she wears metal pauldrons on her shoulders and has a huntsman’s vest that is more like a metal bra of sorts. For pants she wears leather pants or huntsman’s pants depending on her mood and the climate.

Miscellaneous: Poison of paralysis, various jerky for snack. Family amulet which hangs on her neck. A few other books and a flute.

Magic: Only healing abilities applied to herself.

History: Illana was born into a family of wealthy hunters living near the border of the Great Forest. In a secluded home, she was raised and taught in the ways of the hunter and the ways of the fighter by her mother and father, who also taught more mundane things such as speaking properly and living responsibly. Growing up, Illana was known to be hostile and aggressive toward her brother and even animals, causing the parents to be more cautious about her. This “negative’ traits was taken advantage of by her father, who took her into the forest to hunt and to practice more with her archery. At the age of eleven, she killed her first bear with her wooden bow.

Thrilled with the hunt, she obsessively went into the forest day upon day to hunt, and eventually learned the territory around her home like the back of her hand. It wasn’t until one day when her mother died when she was sixteen years of age that she truly began to spiral down into insanity, even with the wise council of her understanding, yet distraught father. Eventually, her father died and she was left to take care of the family name with her brother, Lycus. Both grew even more attached to each other and agreed to try and live up to their parent’s name. Illana began to live under the family guidelines and began to start her own career in becoming a Bounty Hunter.

Illana started in Bravil and the lowest areas of Cyrodiil, eventually growing in name among the criminals in the area. Although she was more hated than feared. For the past years she continued to attempt to keep the territory her mother purchased and live a peaceful life with what was left of her family. It wasn’t long before her professionalism began to blossom with her work that the Thalmor invaded Cyrodiil. She was taken prisoner while doing a job in Bravil after she took a bounty to her employer.

Motivation for Joining: To live up to the family name and to eclipse her mother in the Bounty Hunting trade by becoming famous and becoming the best at her career. Sees the Thalmor as the end of her lifestyle.

Name: Tashiir
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Sign: The Steed
Home Country: Elsweyr

Faction and Rank: Aldmeri Dominion Army - Recruit

Class: Scout
Class Description:
Skills: Scouting, Athletics, Acrobatics, Sneak, Light Armor, Blade, Block

Appearance: Cute and Fluffy, like a kitten! As far as her fur goes, her face and the front of her body are a soft white, with a rich, orange-red fur coat wrapping around her sides toward the front, with the point of division pretty easily guessed (Attempting to confirm said point will either get an answer or a scratch). The fur darkens gradually toward her spine. Her face is asymmetrical, with a black patch of fur over one eye, while the other one has an orange crescent around it. Her palms and fingers are white, while the back of her hands are black-and-orange. The backs of her legs are white, as are the balls of her feet.

Hair: Tricolor mane, cut short, braided, and accented/secured with golden, jeweled rings.
Eyes: Kitten-blue
Build: Petiit Wiry and lean, with her young age very evident.

Personality: Very, very idealistic. Her loyalty to the Aldmeri Dominion is second only to her own survival, and followed shortly by her desire to return to her boyfriend back in Elsweyr. Along with her idealism, she's prone to believing that she's invincible - until faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Aside from political personality, she's also headstrong, brash, outgoing, and frequently aggressive. The culture clash between being raised on a farm and attending an Altmer Academy has made her an energetic tomboy

Weapons: Elven Sword, Shield, Bow, and quiver of twenty arrows
Clothing: Full Suit of Light Elven Armor. Unlike some Khajiit, she wears her full helm, instead of just the visor.
Magic: None yet, but she hopes to learn when she's done with her first tour of duty!

History: She's only 17 - Not old enough to really have a "Deep" history. She was born on a farm in the outskirts of Torval, before moving to a Dominion Academy within the city itself. She spent fairly equal time between the two, mostly living in the city for study and drill, and living on the farm for harvest and holiday and other frequent breaks.

She didn't really pay any attention to the war when it started, being more caught up in raising crops and chasing boys. She met her current boyfriend at a red-light cornerclub when she was 16, and they dated rather steadily until Tashiir could no longer resist the allure and propaganda of the Aldmeri Army.

She exaggerated her age to get into the army, after verbally blundering her way through the recruitment process. Surprisingly, she wasn't assigned as a rank-and-file grunt. For most of the final offensive onto the Imperial City, her small size and mobility made her an ideal scout, and as the Prisoner of War population grew, she found herself stuck with guard duty.

Motivation for Joining: Survival and opportunism.

Name: Fadril Dren
Gender: Male
Race: Dunmer
Age: 104
Home Country: Morrowind

Religion: Worships Boethiah, but also pays his respects to Azura and Mephala, as well as having a soft spot for Mehrunes Dagon. Despite not being born until after the collapse of the Tribunal, he has great respect for them and is very interested in tales of the Tribunal's apotheosis. Also celebrates the traditional Dunmer practice of ancestor worship.

Class: Warrior of Boethiah
Skills: Very knowledgeable of conjuration (specifically with Daedra and bound items). Talented with destruction magic. Though not professionally trained, he became very skilled with blades from annual dueling tournaments held to appease Boethiah on 2nd of Sun's Dusk. Well-versed in theology of Tamriel's religions and the history of the Dunmer.

Appearance: Just under six-feet in height and built solidly. His skin is rough and a faint blue in color. His facial features are sharp and aggressive, with jarring red eyes. Has dark black hair which thickens toward his scalp, forming a slight Mohawk. His most distinctive feature is a red ink tattoo of the daedric letter http://www.imperial-library.info/sites/default/files/DaeLt_b.png (for Boethiah) across his face.

Personality: Marked most significantly by his ambition. He dreams of returning the Dunmer to their former glory. Toughness and survival instincts have been instilled into him by spending a significant portion of his life living in Windhelm's Gray Quarter. Experience traveling abroad has curbed his xenophobia, but he is still not very friendly to those he meets.

Inventory: Nothing except clothes that have been weathered into rags from months of incessant use as a prisoner. All his possessions were seized and/or stolen by the Thalmor who captured him.

History: Born 4E 70 in Western Morrowind, not too far from Blacklight. Fadril's lineage on his father's side can be traced to the wealthy, aristocratic Dren family of Vvardenfell (Orvas and Vedam Dren). On his mother's side his ancestry is that of House Indoril.

Though of noble birth, he has not lived a life of nobility. The early portion of his life was spent living off the shadow of his families former wealth. A small estate at the foothills of the Velothi Mountains was his first home.

As he left adolescence, he was sent to study at the College of Winterhold like many of the sons of Dunmer nobility. It was there that he learned most of his destruction magics, but also fostered his interest in theology. The College provided an excuse for him to experiment with conjuration magic and Daedra worship, which had been taught to him from a young age by his mother.

As Winterhold eroded into rubble, so did the Dren family treasury. Fadril was incapable of returning to Morrowind and was no longer welcome at the College due to Nord superstition that the Dunmer were responsible for the cataclysmic collapse of Winterhold. His fellow Dunmer companions at the College and him were sent south to live in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm, a ghetto exclusively populated by Dunmer refugees.

The Gray Quarter packed Dunmer of all cultures into a small corner of the city where divisions quickly broke out based upon the Great Houses. Stricken by poverty, Fadril and his gang of former College members got involved in the trafficking of moon sugar and skooma, as well as bootlegging sujamma, mazte, and flin.

At night, they would sneak off to the Shrine of Boethiah in the mountains where they conjured daedra, held worship rituals, and combated each other in tournaments. Through the years, Fadril's friends were all weeded away by gang conflicts, skooma overdose, and deaths at his own hand in duels to the death commissioned by Boethiah.

Deciding that there was nothing left for him in the drug trade or Windhelm, he traveled south into Cyrodiil in search of an opportunity to materialize his dream of founding a new, powerful Dunmer nation. Fadril was in southern Cyrodiil discussing the potential of an Aldmeri Dominion sponsored independent Dunmer state with a Thalmor diplomat when the drunk Altmer slipped up and mentioned the secret plan to assault the Imperial City. The diplomat's escort quickly reneged the mistake by arresting Fadril and placing him under the Dominion armies control as a prisoner of war.

Name: Ermac [Saraam Ko'Daas]
Race: Orsimer
Gender: Male
Age: 46
Class: Battlemage
Birthsign: The Ritual
Skills: One-Handed Blunt/Sharp, Two-Handed, Staff, Illusion, Reincarnation, Alteration (usually holds a war axe in one hand with a staff in the other)

Appearance: Old black beard with a thick streak of gray. He has what's left of his faded hairline pulled back into a slick ponytail. Hi eyes are slightly red, frm his weariness, his anger, or his natural pigment no one knows Walks with a slight limp.

Armor (pre-capture): He dons sleveless mages robes with Gauntlets, Spaulders, and boots made of Steel
Weapons (pre-capture): Dwarven Axe, Solid Silver Staff of Rite
Items (pre-capture): Knapsack parchment detailing all of Skyrim with names of cities as well as holds, Scroll of Fortify Magicka, Sigil Stone, 2 Health Solutions

Personality: Usually with his own kind, Ermac kept to the mountains of western Morrowind, often traveling to the smaller settlements in the bordering Cyrdill, which gave him a curt, but patet regard for the Imperial and Breton merchants he often dealt with in the black market. He is a man of words, often using them with cunning and wit, geting him out of and in some cases into situations a he pleased.

Strengths: Smarter than most Orcs, affinity for magic, dangerous close range skills

Weaknesses: His age has robbed him of his edge in combat, as he is now slower and less prone to rage, as well as the de-habilitating arrow to the knee.

Bio: To be very soon completed.

Name: Karzon
Race: Khajiit – Cathay-Raht
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Sign: Serpant
Home Country: Elsweyr

Faction and Rank: Shadowfang Resistance Cell; Captain
Faction Description: Khajiit who are opposed to the Aldmeri Dominions rule and lordship over Elsweyr and despise the split of the country. Shadowfangs specifically hunt down anyone or anything that comes from the Dominion, burning their caravans, kidnapping officials and performing all kinds of other activities to thwart the Dominion, even taking more extreme activities as well.

Class: Assassin
Major Skills: Blade, Security, Light Armour, Sneak, Marksman, Parkour
Minor Skills: Acrobatics, Illusion, Speech, Alchemy
Appearance: For a Khajiit, Karzon is fairly odd with slate grey fur colouration and white underside, though plain at first sight if one were to look closer they’d see feint stripes amongst the fur. He has a tiger tattoo on the side of his neck marking him as a member of the Terrorfang Resistance Cell in Elsweyr.
Hair: Long mane, Grey
Eyes: Deep Green
Build: Muscled, toned like a Monk.

Personality: Karzon can be described as having a very cold front to him, He treats most elves with disdain, especially Altmer who he thinks are nothing more than glorified Slavers or murderers. Not one to make friends easily as he sports a darker and somewhat dirty sense of humor, Karzon enjoys indulging in Vices of all sorts from drugs, alcohol, women… anything that takes his fancy.

Weapons: Ebony Dagger, Silver Shortsword, Elven Longbow with a quiver of 20 arrows and 12 Arrows of penetration
Clothing: Leather armour under a black robe and hood, fitted to conform to his body for maximum movement. He wears a prized gold amulet with a small emblem of his family on it with a small flawless Diamond in the middle.
Miscellaneous: Rope, Food, Gold Coins, Skooma Pipe and Moon Sugar

Magic: Chameleon, Light, Charm, Demoralize, Paralysis

History: Karzon was born into a wealthy family in Senchal, both parents owners of a very well to-do shipping company who shipped primarily arms and armour amongst other supplies. He was in a large family, many siblings and being the youngest made both a target and the one to be protected the most. His oldest brother he stuck to like glue, the pair being very hard to separate. They grew up well enough, Karzon getting into trouble from stealing things and hiding them elsewhere for kicks. When they got older the Dominion had come, his brother joined the resistance when they took control. Disliking the way Elsweyr had bent to the will of elves. Beings who enslaved them for whatever reasons they desired and so Karzon joined as well, despite their parents not liking it but supporting them anyway with small shipments of weapons and armour.

Karzon’s brother rose in rank very quickly, followed by Karzon and soon the pair worked well within raid groups targeting Altmer shipments in the ports though Karzon began targeting high up officials when the opportunity presented itself which resulted his induction into the Shadowfang cell, a well organized group who’s aim was to specifically assassinate targets of opportunity as best they could to weaken the altmer and their supporters. They rose in infamy as being the best assassins in the Resistance and the most hated from the Aldmeri, they even formed a force to try and wipe them out with little success. Those whom the dark brotherhood approached rarely accepted the offer, putting their own country above that of some cult of assassins.