[Danielle Brown]

The Gray Blood Company

Mission Four: New Blood

Role Playing Thread

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We are still accepting new players; post in the sign up thread if you are interested with a character sheet for approval.

"The Emperor's decision to fight his way out of the city rather than make a last stand was a bold one. No general dared advise him to abandon the capital, but Titus II was proven right in the end."

The Great War

By Justianus Quintius

The Story So Far:

The year is 174, of the Fourth Era. The Aldmeri Dominion, comprised of the former provinces of Valenwood, Elsweyr, and the Summerset Isles, has been at war with the fractured remnants of the Empire for three long years. The Thalmor, leaders of the Dominion, seem set on nothing less than the conquest of all of Tamriel. The main elven army, led by Lord Naarifen, has struck north from Elsweyr, and is now advancing on the Imperial City itself. The embodiment of ruthless ambition itself, Naarifen has ordered anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the army's path to be taken captive, to prevent advance warning from reaching the emperor. Focused on his goal, so close at hand, the Thalmor general has left the prisoners lightly guarded. A fact he will come to deeply regret.

Two nights before the siege is fated to begin, the alarm goes up in one of Lord Naarifen's camps. The soldiers had set up for the night outside the remains of Fort Homestead, on the southern shore of the Rumare. The prisoners they had gathered along the way were forced into the crumbling ruins of the fort's yard, and at the blackest hour of the night they began their desperate plans for escape. The small but hardy crew managed to break free of their shackles and fight their way through the interior of the fort, killing almost two dozen Aldmeri soldiers in the process. After a bloody battle in the depths of the fort, the prisoners, led by a disgraced Bosmer commander, found a secret exit that led right onto the Rumare.

From there the prisoners made a reckless dash for freedom, skirmishing with several Thalmor patrols during their flight, and taking a few of their enemies captive. Many of their number were killed or wounded in the effort, but the prisoners had no time to grieve. After what felt like days running under the fading moonlight, the group stumbled across an Imperial patrol, just south of Weye. The captain of the patrol at first thought them Aldmeri spies, and was ready to give the order to attack when the prisoners managed to convince him of the truth. After that they were led, carefully watched but unharmed, to the first steps of the Imperial Bridge. Finally, bloodied and exhausted but alive, the prisoners had found their freedom.

The refugee's victory was short lived, however. As several of their number spread throughout the city, quietly recruiting more citizens to their numbers, the core of the group was confronted by an high ranking member of the Legion, the Tribune Vaultren. The legionnaire overheard the exhausted company's discussion about their Aldmeri prisoner, and before long they were taken to an Imperial interrogation chamber. In short order Faendal, self proclaimed leader of the refugees, was at Vaultren's throat, and as the guards swooped down on the prisoners it seemed they would be captured again. Just as the Legion was ready to put the whole group to the sword, however, a messenger came from the emperor himself, summoning the company to the White Gold palace.

After the still haggard group had assembled in the imperial antechamber they were shown into the throne room, where a dour emperor arbitrated between the Tribune Vaultren and Faendal. Just as the stoic Imperial seemed ready to pass the death sentence, however, he surprised all of them by agreeing to let the company enter into his service as mercenaries. Once the ex-prisoners had sworn their loyalty to the Empire they were dismissed, to be outfitted and rested for the upcoming battle. For every minute they waited, however, the Aldmeri armies marched closer, encircling the city, bringing doom on the tips of their swords.

Just as the company, and the empire itself, looked doomed, the legion marched. Emperor Titus II broke the siege before it had even begun, outflanking the Thalmor army and retreating to the north. Despite heavy losses- and the sacrifice of the city itself- the emperor would not be beaten. For their role in the battle, the emperor granted the survivors of the mercenary company their freedom, a deal the weary soldiers gladly accepted. All Titus asked was that the company obey Imperial law and help preserve order in Skyrim, as well as giving them a message to deliver to every loyal citizen they met: hope. Hope, and wait for news of victory. With that, the emperor rode off, taking what was left of his army to meet up with reinforcements from Skyrim.

Now the company finds itself suddenly alone, with only itself for protection. On the long trek north the surviving members have little to do but talk, and before long they are a company in truth, with nothing but opportunities for them in the vast wintry lands of Skyrim. With their new found freedom, however, comes many great dangers; they have already made enemies of the Thalmor, and rumors have already spread of Reachmen to the north. For now, however, they have only one goal in mind: warm beds in Falkreath.

"While the Eighth Legion fought a desperate (and doomed) rearguard action on the walls of the city, Titus II broke out of the city to the north with his main army, smashing through the surrounding the Aldmeri forces and linking up with reinforcements marching south from Skyrim under General Jonna."

The Great War

By Justianus Quintius

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The Scenario:

It is the sixteenth of Second Seed. After four long days of travel, the company has finally reached the walls of Falkreath. The sun has set, however, and the company has little left on their minds but a hot meal and real beds at the town's only inn. Peace, however, is hard to come by in Skyrim, as the motley band of soldiers is soon to find out.

Note from the Host:

The fourth official section of the Gray Bloods series is now open! For those of you that have been with us from the beginning, you may choose to stick with your old character or make somebody new. Everyone looking to join for the first time, you have complete freedom in your character creation: the Company accepts anyone that will be useful in the coming struggle. If you have any doubts about a character idea, just ask me, and I'll let you know if it's okay.

The RP itself will be the first of our mini-series adventures, decided entirely by you, the players, and acted out however we see fit. Plot ideas are to be discussed in the OOC thread, but given this is a player driven RP, you will be free to do most whatever you'd like. We have a general plot line, but in the meantime we are free to do whatever we'd like, whether that's just chatting in the inn or going to hunt bandits. Whatever it is you do, make sure you have at least a small group with you (minimum 3 players) for interaction's sake. If you need something to do, tack on to another group. Faendal will be at the inn, recovering, so if you just want to stay with him that's fine. Please run any other ideas by myself or a co-host first; it will most likely be accepted, but it's always good to be sure. Thanks!

A final note from the host: these RPs are going to be driven almost solely by you, the players. I have an overall plot in mind, and will be moving us along steadily, but for the most part the day to day action will be up to you. If you want to do something, do it! Unless it directly contradicts another player (or myself), you have near complete freedom. I do reserve the right as the host to stop or alter anything in the RP, however, so don't get too crazy, obey the RPing rules, and check with me before you do anything totally out there. Thank you, and happy RPing!


PLEASE DO NOT POST UNTIL I HAVE THE CS LIST UP. THANK YOU.

[Nina Mccormick]

Character Sheets:

Darkom- Faendal and Francois Wickcroft

Spoiler

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.

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.

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.

Spoiler

Name: Francois Wickcroft

Crimson Paladin - Errialor

Spoiler

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. Or when he escapes or is rescued.

Weapons: Elven sword and shield, elven bow with 10 arrows. After being captured, his weapons were taken from him.
Clothing: Brown shirt and pants. He used to have full elven armor, but it was discarded when he was taken captive.

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.

At Fort Homestead, he was ambushed and subdued by the escaping prisoners and taken into the Imperial City. While there he was interrogated and tortured by a Penitus Oculatus, and only saved by his captors' intervention. Now he has managed to escape both the Imperials and the former prisoners, and is headed back to the Dominion camp.

Luminite - Rashaava

Spoiler

Name: Rashaava
Race: Argonian (Male)
Age: 38

Birthsign: The Thief
Major Skills: Alchemy, Sneak, Marksman
Minor Skills: Short Blade, Illusion, Acrobatics, Tracking
Class: Rogue
Class Description: Rashaava's experience with combat does not extend past wild animals and the occasional bandit. Aware of his weaknesses, he prefers to avoid toe-to-toe swordplay in favor of either avoiding combat or keeping his enemies at a distance. While he has become very precise with his bow, most of the effectiveness comes from his considerable skill in brewing potent poisons; in an ideal situation, his target will not know that anything is amiss until they find an arrow in their back, and the poison will finish them off before reaching him. If forced to engage, Rashaava tries to nimbly avoid blows until he is able to escape; to remain in combat would be too dangerous.

General Appearance: Rashaava is of average height, about 5' 10'', with a wiry build due to years of travel and living on what he could hunt. Like many of the true Saxhleel, his pupils are slightly slitted, reinforcing the unfortunate tendency to refer to his people as “lizards.” His scales are a very dark green, with small red patches ranging from the back of his head to his mid-forearms and a lighter green/brown covering the front of his neck. Rashaava bears no prominent horns or other growths on his head, except for very small chin-horns that are characteristic of most Argonians.

Clothing/Armor: Having spent the last few years as a hunter, Rashaava usually wears simple leather armor, with a dark brown hood. Everything bears noticeable signs of continued use: the thick leather used on his gloves bears some small cuts, and the lower portion of his boots seem to have permanent mud stains. With years of use, the armor is comfortable enough to wear in most settings, but if not, Rashaava wears a black tunic, leather belt, and hooded cloak when particularly cold.
Weapons: An Elven dagger, which Rashaava has had for a long time, and a simple hunting bow with a small number of hand-crafted iron arrows.
Miscellaneous Items: A modest amount of gold typical of a hunter, a small waterproof pouch used for holding spare bowstrings and other sensitive items, a bulging apothecary's satchel on his left hip that contains various alchemical ingredients found on his travels as well as a number of small potion vials on the strap, and a pack used to carry personal items and spoils of the hunt.

Biography/History: A native of Black Marsh, Rashaava spent his childhood in the area just south of Thorn, in the northeastern part of the province. His mother had some formal training in the magical arts, and operated a respected alchemy stall in the Thorn market. While he had some innate talent in alchemy, Rashaava struggled with almost all of the magic schools; only with lots of study was he able to cast some adept illusions. However, his mother's natural skill was not inherited, and casting higher-level illusions is very taxing.
Having grown tired of the simple life in Black Marsh, Rashaava left home at the age of 23 in search of adventure. Upon arriving in Morrowind, the decimated post-eruption landscape repulsed him; he was seeking change, but the province was too alien for one used to the lush wetlands of his home. Veering westward, Rashaava came to the Blackwood region, near Leyawiin. He liked the landscape, and decided to hone his skills as a huntsman in the area. In time, he was led to the northwest by some game that he was tracking, and took up residence in Bravil due to the large number of his kinsmen in the town. He lived there for five years before increasing corruption in the city guard forced him to leave for financial reasons. Heading north, Rashaava migrated between self-made camps, local towns, and the Imperial City itself, where he is now, having returned from a typical hunting trip.

Personality: Like many Argonians, Rashaava is generally reserved, and is slow to trust strangers. However, his heritage has instilled a deep understanding of the importance of cooperation and loyalty. He is a perfectionist, perhaps to a fault: his arrows and bow are kept in top condition and he can select and apply a poison with his eyes closed, but he takes far too much time to make simple plans and is unable to cope when something goes wrong. Easily overwhelmed and perhaps a tad bit paranoid, he dislikes large crowds and loud environments; his trips to the Imperial City are almost exclusively to re-supply.

Magic: Illusion is the only school in which Rashaava has studied. He cannot make himself invisible, but he can muffle his footsteps. Beyond that, he is able to impose limited influence on the dispositions of others, but his skill does not exceed simple charms.

The Irish Midget - Waylas

Spoiler

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

Skills: Swords, Sneak, Acrobatic, Pickpocket, Unarmored, Hand to Hand, Persuasion
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 is moderatley built and stands at around 5' 8''. He is dark skinned and has black wirey hair that is done in a series of ridge rows, along with brown eyes and a slight goatee. He has a more mature apperance that's fit for being 36.

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 other people is purely for business and monetary gain. He enjoys taking part in the pleasures of life such as drinking and gambling. 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 on the tropic island city of Stros M'kai. He became orphaned at a young age after his mother died of illness and was forced to turn to a life of petty street crime and thievery just to survive, while similary being an errand boy for local crime syndicates. As Waylas began to age he began to develop skills such as picking people's pockets, sneaking around to steal a loaf of bread, and fist fighting kids who looked at him funny.

When he turned 17 he joined up with a local pirate crew, and thus began his career as a pirate of the Abecean sea. He spent time aboard the ship helping to smuggle illegal drugs such as Skooma and Moon Sugar across the empire. The pirate crew made quite a name for itself, but Waylas was unsatisfied with captains effectivness to lead, and felt he was too soft and cautious.

After a while Waylas and a few other crew members held a mutiny to overthrow their captain. Having successfully overthrown their captain Waylas declared himself the new captain of the pirate crew. Taking the reins of the pirate, Waylas became much more agressive and risky than his predecessor, and was able to greatly excel the capabilities of his pirate crew. Soon he led one of the largest and most feared pirate crews in all the Abecean sea.

Unfortunatley the Imperial Navy had become increasingly vigiliant on bringing an end to piracy in the Abcean sea. After a short drug bust on Waylas setup during a sting operation in Anvil by the Imperial Watch, Waylas was arrested and taken to prison. Shortley after his arrest Waylas was broken out by his pirate crew and they made their run for the coast. There they boarded their ship with the rest of Waylas's crew and began to make their escape in open waters. The Imperial Navy soon followed Waylas and his crew and they surrouned them out in the middle of the sea. Trapped the Imperial Navy opened fire on Waylas and his crew, killing many of his crew members and setting Waylas himself adrift. Waylas later found himself alive on open shore, along with a large group of Imperial watchmen wating to arrest him.

Waylas was eventually tooken into custody and set to stand trial. The Imperial court sentenced Waylas to life in prison, and Waylas was placed in one of their most maximum security prisons. The next two years Waylas would spend time rotting away inside an Imperial prison only to escape on the off chance that the Thalmore would secretly insight a prison riot to overthrow the Imperial Watchmen stationed there. Narrowling escaping the Thalmore's slaughter of the inmates after overthrowing the prison's guardsmen Waylas began to make run for the Elsweyr boarder, only to be captured by the advancing Aldmeri army as they began their invasion of Cyrodil. Once again Waylas would spend the next few months as a prisoner of the Thalmore.

Werewolf & Vampire - Lycus and Vaultren

Spoiler

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.

Spoiler

Name: Vaultren.
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: Undetermined. Appears in his early twenties.
Sign: The Warrior
Home Country: Cyrodiil
Faction and Rank: Empire-Tribune.

Class: Nobleman.
Skills: Athletics, One Handed weapons, Light Armor, Sneak, Hand to Hand, Destruction.

Appearance: Once a man with a tousled, wavy black hair, Vaultren had a prince-like appearance about him. Though over the passing years, he had cut his hair short to where it was cropped as most Imperial males in his line of work. Though his muscular face distinguished him from the others, as his white unblemished skin which had little pigmentation. He also grew a bit more strong with a sturdier built. He bears a strong jaw, and is often seen without a smile or any positive expressions. His eyes bore dark circles beneath, convincing most people of his lack of sleep.
Hair: Black. Cropped.
Build: Average. He is a tad bit muscular, but not too much for a soldier. He stood six feet and was 178 pounds. He has no scars nor any distinguishing birth marks, even if he fought in many battles. Being a graduate from Synod, he knew how to use his powers to heal himself.

Personality: Vaultren was a mature and self-confident man who staunchly supported the Empire, though not it’s ways. As he grew up he was taught to face his problems head on and to face them without hesitation or reservation. This mindset led him into learning new things that would shape him into what he is in the present day. A man of utopian ideals. Years ago some would call him a seductive womanizer and a generally somewhat social man. While he retains such social skills, he is diagnosed by lifestyle to live with borderline personality disorder.

As he matured in title, his mindset did not change but simply manifested into his acts. As Praetor, Vaultren was uncertain of his duties, but was confident in his own abilities following his conquests in the battle field. He had trouble in tolerating failure, and was had a tenuous relationship with those beneath him in rank who did not prove their worth, so much as choking a noble who was later proved and convicted as a thief and another whom attacked. This led the mundane soldiers despise Vaultren for his “arcane antics” and sense of superiority. Despite his shaky relationship with diplomats and other soldiers in the Empire, Vaultren got along with his own branch of legion personnel, admiring them for their lack of cowardice and sheer mercilessness when it came to destroying an enemy under his command.

His reputation for a genteel yet cruel man increased twice fold. He became a staunch supporter of Man’s place in the world, even if he believed himself above them. While he remained a dilettante of foreign arts antiques, he secretly hated most of he perceived as the “corrupt” Mer in the High Council. He separated society into dual, distinguished categories; threats and assets. The first standing for governmental powers and individuals that would hinder any of his hopes of personal advancement and otherwise would have to be eliminated and destroyed. The latter being for individuals who could aid, or simply be persuaded. By the time of the tension with the Thalmor, Vaultren knew that the only response for the horrors and the injustices of the world was hate and anger. While often appearing as a civilized and genteel young man, Vaultren had no issues with torture or being held responsible for the deaths of various enemies, nor being leader of the clandestine atrocities behind the scenes of the Empire such as torture and executions.

Weapons: A fine sabre made of silver bearing Daedric filigree in the handle. He also has an ancient blade’s weapon, a katana. Though he does not use it as much as he did in his earlier years.
Clothing: He wears a nobleman’s clothing when he is off-duty, the hallmark of a true aristocrat. A black and burgundy outfit with gold-trimmed shoes, and even up to date. Most of them comes in shades of black, red and grey. He wears a crimson amulet around his neck and a few ruby rings which bedecks his fingers. He also owns a single black hooded robe. When on duty, Vaultren wears his standard Imperial outfit and also the Penitus Oculatus armor.
Magic: Racial powers and destruction spells. Mainly the use of fire such as fireballs and flame attacks.

History: Born in Cyrodiil, Vaultren was heir to numerous amounts of wealth and title of nobleman. His parents were strict, but proud of his intelligence and ambition, so much that they surrendered him to procure an education in the various branches of academics and universities in the Empire.

Being the most efficient learner, Vaultren graduated over brief years, having studied diplomacy and the art of combat. Of course, this did not include his skill in destruction magic. Due to his passion for war and battle and diplomacy, as well as a sense of intelligence, Vaultren rose in ranks faster than most of those around him, which coincidently had died in mysterious ways. Given the title of Praefect, he took command of a elite sect in the Imperial Legion he dubbed “The Thirteenth”. The Thirteenth was often deployed in locations where its ferocious fighting skills utilized to create a political statement. Most of its tasks were clandestine, so as to conceal what it was accomplishing from the Imperial Senate. Yet the High Council had trusted Vaultren over this time, enough to allow him to pursue his own goals.

Following that event, he became tribune not only when he fought valiantly near the edges of Cyrodiil against a rebellious coup that threatened to overrun the countryside, putting to death over forty men and women, but also warning the Emperor of various possibilities regarding the survival of the Empire in the upcoming days. As his advice proved to be valuable, he was granted title in his political station in the Imperial City palace.

The Emperor’s trusted advisers grew wary of Vaultren in what they seemed to call an “unhealthy obsession with the Thalmor.” Some believed he was in league with them when he began to publicly state his disillusionment from the Empire’s policies and ways, and even claiming the Thalmor had a certain efficiency when it came to getting things gone that the Empire lacked. This had placed him in the dossier of the Dominion itself, who believed Vaultren could have been an asset to their cause.

The Thalmor’s beliefs were short-lived as the Emperor and the High Council’s trust increased when Vaultren sniffed out a group of High Elf traitors and had them impaled on stakes deep in the prison dungeons where they remained alive for a period of three days. He even made a speech as to declare the Thalmor menace had to be “bled dry” for their “arrogance and misguided sense of superiority”.

Vaultren was later recruited into the Penitus Oculatus as well, and is planning on making a name for himself within that branch of the Empire’s military. He stands as a man of principle and reputation among the Empire, with a dark drive that would surely rival even the most insidious men and women of the Thalmor.

Motivation for Joining: An unnatural hatred for the Thalmor and it’s representatives. Also due to his support for the Imperial bureaucracy in the Third and Fourth Era which he does not wish to see collapse just yet. Believes the Thalmor are not worthy of the power-base they claim to hold, and so seeks out to destroy them with even more heinous acts and atrocities.

Lord Veneficius - Henrik Snowmane

Spoiler

Name: Henrik Snowmane
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: 41
Sign: The Lover
Home Country: Cyrodiil

Faction and Rank: Imperial Legion; Legate

Skills: Due to Legionnaire training, Henrik is proficient in most weapons and an expert in swordplay. Smithing, Repair.

Height: 7 feet 2 inches
Weight: 200 pounds
Hair: Black, shoulder length hair flecked with gray. Black, gray flecked beard of about an inch and a half in length.
Eyes: Bright blue.
Appearance: Henrik is a lean, muscular man who towers over nearly everyone.Henrik is darker than most of his kinsmen and an average looking Nord, he has a tattoo of his family's crest on his inner left forearm and has several claw shaped scars on his torso and upper right arm.

Primary Weapons: Legionnaire standard issue steel longsword and standard issue axe.
Secondary Weapon: Steel hunting blade emblazoned with the Empire's symbol (albeit the symbol is a bit worn from repeated rubbing.)
Clothing: Standard Legion issued heavy armor (Romanesque version to be precise). Pair of leather boots, red tunic, and brown leather pants.
Miscellaneous: Bedroll, Blanket, Two days rations, Small pouch with 127 Septims, Journal, Quill and Ink, Whetstone to sharpen weapons, and cloth to shine them.

Magic: Weak fire and frost spells to create fires and heat food or cool warm drinks and other hot liquids.

Issa Yojimbo - Aravis Venim

Spoiler

Name: Aravis Venim
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Age: 200-ish
Sign: The Serpent
Home Country: Morrowind

Faction and Rank: Dominion Battlemage
Faction Description: For the past four years, Aravis has served in a division of battlemages for the Aldmeri Dominion during the war with the Cyrodiil Empire. However, he carries out his duties without the zeal or commitment of his compatriots, and as such has so far led an unimpressive military career.

Class: Mage
Class Description: Much to the chagrin of his superior officers in the Thalmor army, Aravis seems less interested in practicing magic for the sake of combat than he does studying the nature of magic and its effects on the world. He prefers to think of himself as a scholar of the arcane.
Skills: Aravis is very old, and has had time to develop proficiency in all schools of magic. Despite his magical expertise, he lacks any formidable combat skills.
Appearance: Aravis looks like he once possessed the kind of graceful physiognomy of his merrish blood, but his appearance has been twisted by his disease. Underneath his robes and the scarf he wears loose around his neck in attempt to conceal his face, his body appears somewhat disproportionate. His back is slightly hunched and he seems to limp when he walks. His hair was once as red as his eyes, but has since darkened and greyed.


Personality: Aside from his enthusiasm for the study of magic, Aravis is rather somber and morose; defeatist in disposition and introverted. Curiously, despite his aptitude for magic, he comes across as slow-witted.

Weapons: He carries a standard issue Thalmor Shock Staff and tends to favor its use in battle over his own Destruction magic.
Clothing: While on the battlefield, he wears the standard Thalmor armored robes, but because of his disfigurement, he must wear a suit that is too large for him, which doesn't seem comfortable and actually lends to an altogether awkward appearance.
Miscellaneous: Aravis doesn't seem to have any personal possessions.


History: Long ago, Aravis Venim grew up in Ald Ruhn where he was a nobleman of Great House Redoran and cousin to its master, Bolvyn Venim. When he was infected with corprus, however, he was disowned and sent to Divyath Fyr's Corprusarium. Some years later, when the Nerevarine defeated Dagoth Ur, Aravis' infection ceased to worsen, but he was left with a permanently deformed body and and addled mind. However, in time he found that he had become immune to disease and senescence. For the ninescore years that followed, he drifted from city to city dressed as a beggar. The corprus had affected his mind in such a way that his memories became a blur. He took interest in little outside of his magical endeavors, which had progressed over many long years from their beginnings as a desperate search for a cure to his affliction and eventually became something to occupy his time, which, like many things, he eventually would begin to see as worthless.

Motivation for Joining: Aravis' life had recently slipped into a terrible ennui. He began to feel bored with magical pursuits, took up habitual Bittergreen and Skooma, having totally lost grip of a purpose in life. Aravis' fate had changed again when, by chance, he discovered the Thalmor's true intentions: to unmake the world of men. He enlisted with a new hope to end his age-old suffering.

Antlive - Ermac

Spoiler

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 theknee (lol).

Bio: Has been explained through the RP, but will be fleshed out here.

Polish Gamer - Tyranus

Spoiler

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

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: Ty is equiped with a steel sword and an elven shield, as well as a hunting bow and elven arrows. He also has an elven dagger, which he keeps hidden on his person.

Clothing: Ty is wearing his leather armor, boots, and bracers he recovered from the Thalmor. He is also wearing the black cloth shirt and pants he wears with that armor.

Miscellaneous: Ty wears a silver chain around his neck and a nondescript ribbon on his left wrist.

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.

After a successful escape attempt, Ty managed to make it to the Imperial City with some of his fellow escapees. They are now attempting to warn the Emperor of the impeding Thalmor invasion, but have stopped in the Feed Bag, a tavern in the city. After a crisis of thought, Ty ended up leaving Imperial City for Chorrol to warn his family and friends of the impending Thalmor invasion. He never got the chance, as Thalmor forces were already advancing on the Imperial City, forcing him to return. His will now even more resolute, Tyranus is looking to reunite with his fellow escapees.

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

Big Boss Balrog - Titus

Spoiler

Name: Titus Rommulas
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Sign:Warrior
Home Country: Born in Skyrim

Faction and Rank:Imperial Legion, Prefect/
Faction Description: Imperial Legion, 8th Cohort.

Class:Warrior
Class Description:Prefers to fight with sword and shield, and heavy armour.
Skills: Block, One-handed, Heavy Armour.

Appearance: Medium build, tall, 2 large scars on his right eye.
Hair: Light black
Eyes :Light brown

Personality: Cold, Pragmatic ,Ruthless,

Weapons: Imperial Sword , Shield, Steel Dagger.
Clothing: Heavy Imperial armour, Red cloth hood.
Miscellaneous:Carries a locket, with a picture of his wife and daughter, tragically turned into vampire's.

Magic: Uses healing occasional.

History: Born in Skyrim, moved to cyrodil with his wife and 1 year old daughter to his old family farm, restored the farm in a period of 5 years, When his daughter was only 6 his family farm was attacked by vampires(Unknown clan), he was force to watch vampires turn his daughter and wife into vampires, he escaped the vampire's captivity but never saw his family again, joined the imperial legion a few months after the ordeal. .

Motivation for Joining: Has a sub-conscious need to kill, to inflict suffering on his enemies. He also can trace his families military history since the infamous Oblivion crisis.

Spoiler

Lady Syl - Arileth

Spoiler

Name: Arileth
Race: Wood elf
Gender: Female
Age: 30 (but she looks to be between 20-25)
Sign: The Thief
Home Country: Falkreath, Skyrim

Faction and Rank: ??

Faction Description: ??

Class: Huntress

Class Description: She has spent her life hunting and trading in Falkreath, sometimes venturing west into the Rift...

Skills: Taught to hunt from a young age by her father, she is highly skilled with a bow, and she is very stealthy. Her mother, who was a well-known healer in the Falkreath Hold, taught her how to use plants and herbs to make all kinds of tonics, poultices, potions, and poisons. She is also good at cooking with herbs, thanks to her mother. As a wood elf, she is agile and quick, able to run and leap with the grace and ease of the deer she has spent her life hunting in the forests of Falkreath. She can dual wield daggers exceptionally well, because her father taught her to fight. She also knows how to tan hides, for trading or using them to make or repair weapons and armor. (She has a very minimal skill in smithing.) She is pretty good at setting traps, but prefers to hunt primarily with her bow, because the rush is exciting.

Appearance: Of petite stature, she has a well-toned body thanks to years of hunting. She is pretty, by elven standards, with high cheek bones. Her time spent out in the sun has given her skin a slightly tan color, and she even has light freckles across her nose and cheeks, but she is otherwise of a fair complexion. See here: http://s1220.photobucket.com/albums/dd459/Lady_Syl/?action=view¤t=68Studsarebackbaby.jpg

Hair: She has long, thick black hair which she usually pulls back with a leather cord—either into a pony tail on the top of her head, or a half-pony tail if she wants a slightly more feminine look.

Eyes: Her eyes are blue—a rarity among wood elves, which makes her stand out in a way, and her gaze is striking.

Personality: Serious and quick-witted, but she doesn’t hold back from having fun. She loves to laugh, and often does so at the expense of others, though she is not mean-spirited about it. She is feisty but good-natured; generally, she is patient but has a quick temper if pushed to it. She is good at keeping secrets, and usually knows when to speak up and when to remain silent. She has a deep understanding of people that is uncommon, and she prefers to be the peacekeeper in a fight. But that doesn’t mean she won’t join a fight against injustice, or to protect someone she cares about.

Weapons: Her father’s hunting bow, simple but strong and powerful. She starts out with a quiver of twenty steel arrows. She carries two steel daggers on her at all times.

Clothing/Armor: She wears a light-weight studded leather armor that is lined in fur (you know, the simple studded armor from Skyrim…), hide boots and hide bracers. She doesn’t like showy armor, having more simple tastes. And she hates wearing anything that will weigh her down. She doesn’t wear regular clothes very often, and no one quite knows why that is, but secretly she longs to dress up in a nice but simple dress because she hates being perceived as being masculine. She wears an amulet of Kynareth, a gift from her father for killing her first deer when she was twelve.

Miscellaneous: She keeps a journal, with random thoughts and useful information—but she rarely puts anything in it that she wouldn’t easily share with others. She carries quill and ink, and sometimes sketches in the journal—occasionally adding color to her sketches with watercolor paint, when she is capable of doing so. She also presses flowers or plants into its pages, sometimes. She also carries food, some money, and anything else she manages to pick up along the way.

Magic: None

History: At the age of fifteen, Arileth lost her father, to whom she had been close. He was killed while out hunting alone, and he stumbled across a bear while setting a trap. The loss was hard on the whole family, who depended on him for their main source of food. Arileth willingly stepped up to take her father’s place as the main provider for the family. It was also the only way she could still feel close to her father, whose loss she took harder than she let on. Her brother was only a few months old when their father died.

She was eighteen when her mother passed away from illness, leaving her to care for her little brother on her own. It was a big responsibility, but like always she stepped up to the plate and did the best she could to raise him. They are very close, and she has taught him to hunt, but it is clear he will never be the hunter she hoped he would be. She sometimes blames herself, wondering if he might have learned to be a better hunter if their father had been the one to teach him.

Motivation for Joining: My idea is that her brother goes missing, and she believes the Thalmor are involved, due to his involvement with a certain Thalmor agent’s niece. Then she goes out looking for him, crossing the border into Cyrodiil and there she would stumble upon the company of mercenaries. At first, they capture her, thinking she may be a threat. Then when they realize she isn’t a threat, but could actually be of use to their cause, they ask her to join them…

Sibera

PCVorholzer - Varic

Spoiler

Name: Varic Laniel
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Age: 53 [or appears to be]
Sign: The Ritual
Home Country: Camlorn, High Rock

Faction and Rank: Order of Arkay/Knights of the Circle (both former). Worked in the Temple Libraries as a young advlt, granting Varic nearly unlimted knowledge on life and death. He joined the Knights at the age of 27 and acted as a healer, mage, and shield bearer.

Faction Description: (from Daggerfall game)
“The Knights of the Circle are the military arm of the Order of Arkay. It is our solemn duty to protect the Order and to fight their battles. Our devotion to the God Arkay and the Order are complete. Only those of exceptional fighting prowess and unswerving loyalty to the Order and the God Arkay are considered for inclusion in the Knights of the Circle.”

Class: Priest of Arkay, Necromantic Priest

Class Description: Trained in the knowledge of life and death. He combines basic martial skills with powerful shock touch spells which we channels through jabs and punches that are mainly meant to incompacitate rather than kill. Most of his necromancy skills aren’t used all that often, except in tight situations.

Skills: Varic has some experience using a spear, though his true skills lie in hand to hand combat which he combines with shock touch based spells. His skills with Necromancy (which he practiced in secrecy while with the priesthood) are very proficient. He has okay healing knowledge which is equal to that of an average healer.

Appearance: Stands at 5’11”. He is surprisingly fit for his age, and could even be considered youthful. He stands straight and proud but also walks with his spear for a little extra support. On the inside of his left forearmhttp://images.uesp.net/e/e0/Daggerfall_Signs_Order_of_Arkay.png of the order of Arkay are branded. A faint and far off smile always adorn his face, he appears welcoming but his attitude is more like a veil covering the truth.

Hair: Shoulder length and mostly grey streaked with jet black, with a portion of it pulled back in a ponytail. Has a well maintained and very full beard that is gathered with a copper ringlet.

Eyes: Blue-Grey, but seem to have a faint glow emanating from deep within. His eyes is the only aspect that reflects his true age.

Personality: He has a deep resonating voice (think Christopher Lee/Sauroman). The most important thing to him his loyalty in the form of friendship and will always try his hardest to save the lives of those close to him. While he seems almost shy, he can be very friendly towards all strangers. Not outgoing whatsoever.

Weapons: A dull Steel shortspear (3.5 foot shaft with a 1.5 foot spear head) which he also uses as a walking stick, and a very small and old ebony knife which is worn around his neck on chain.

Clothing/Armor: Refer to this http://images.uesp.net/9/9e/DaggerfallAncientVampire.gif for his outfit. He often wears the hood down. (The image is the Daggerfall, Ancient Vampire)

Miscellaneous: He carries the books http://www.imperial-library.info/content/palla. A pack with a hefty sized soul gem, with a large wool blanket tied above it.

Magic: Touch shock spells, Healing knowledge (enough to mend a gash or fractured bone), basic Raising of the dead spell, and something else which I will reveal through in the story.

History: Born and raised in High Rock... At the age of 12 he witnessed his parent’s death at the hands of a street thug. His uncle ended up "inheriting" the young Varic, and not wanting anything to do with the child, gave him to the Order of Arkay to scrub the floors and brush away cobwebs. He often would help the aging Librarian, who had become a friend, by putting back books and reaching where a bowed back could not. After several years Arkay’s merciless grip had caught the Librarian and took his life slowly and painfully, all Varic could do was watch in fear. He was later accepted into the Knights of the Circle as a shield bearer at the age of 27, he joined in order to take his mind from the lost ones that were close to him. He fought and took life and got a new understanding of death and even a new fear.

When he was 30 years old when he married a young Dunmer woman that he met along the road. Alavesa and Varic were near inseparable, always holding hands and laughing. She was the only thing that took his mind off death and focus on the joys of life. She was 189, young for an Elf and was leaving Varic’s side to visit her family in Morrowind… but the ship never made it and she never returned.

Motivation for Joining:...
Death, it’s always looming along the horizon, always waiting and ever present. When you are a part of the Order of Arkay you are expected to be prepared for death and never fear it, but ever since he was a child... after seeing the murder of his parents, the painful passing of a close friend, and the loss of his wife: the fear of death was the only thing he could feel. But he hid it as time went on, hid the deep, agonizing fear behind a smile and a nod. Before he left the Temple, Varic sneaked into the deepest parts of the libraries and opened the tomes, absorbing the knowledge of life and death written there by ancient Lichs. He discovered how to svck the life from a weak body to extend his own life, and possibly even reverse someone else’s death. Death is a tool now, the fear is still there, but he isn’t afraid to take someone else’s life.

Death follows an army, and the remnants of a battlefield seem a better prize than anything else. Now I will have the souls I need, soon Alavesa, soon I will hold your hands again.

El Barto - Elanin

Spoiler

Name: Elanin
Race: High Elf
Gender: Female
Age: 74
Sign: Shadow
Home Country: Born in Summerset Isles, but resides in Skyrim

Faction and Rank: N/A
Faction Description: N/A

Class: ???
Class Description: Elanin uses daggers, her crossbow and magic, comined with stealth and her lightweight armour.
Skills: Destruction, Illusion, Enchanting, Marksman

Appearance:
Hair: straight, auburn hair. Shoulder-length
Eyes: gold and almond-shaped, with a hint of green

Personality: Elanin is usually cold to people she doesn't know, and often condescending. She is kinder to friends, but does not tolerate foolishness from anyone. She enjoys a challenge but can be a sore loser. she can also be quite stubborn and determined at times

Weapons: a variety of custom daggers hidden in her boots, inside her jacket, up her sleeves and one sheathed on her hip. She can throw them short distances with a fair amount of accuracy. her crossbow, Soulstealer, has a Soul Trap enchantment

Clothing: http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/File:FineClothes000f8715.jpg
Miscellaneous: she wears a wedding ring on her right hand.

Magic: Destruction

History: Her mother was a con artist after the Oblivion Crisis, but Elanin prefers a more honest line of work. her mother taught her magic and how to use daggers. She worked as a freelance vampire hunter in the Summerset isles, along with her husband, but recently had an argument with him and left. She now works as a mercenary, but regrets leaving him. Their relationship is far from over, but for now Elanin is going to join with the Gray-Blood Company.

Motivation for Joining: joined the Gray-Bloods looking for adventure and an escape from her past. But soon she may discover a reason to stop procrastinating and reconcile her relationship with her husband.

Mr_Swoops - Tarek

Spoiler

Name: Tarek Vindictus
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: 39
Sign: The Lady
Home Country: Skyrim

Class: (Ex) Vigil of Stendarr
Class Description: Skilled and trained to kill Deadra and any other abominations. Tarek specialized in killing vampires and is highly skilled in using crossbows and short swords. Tarek also has some skill with restoration.
Skills: One handed, Archery, Sneak, Light Armor, Restoration

Appearance: Tarek has a decently fair complexion and an average face for an imperial. He was quite the charmer in young advlthood years, but life has taken it's toll on his features and a sad expression haunts his everyday face. He stands at almost exactly six feet. Tarek usually keeps himself well groomed.
Hair: His hair is black and hangs down from his head somewhat, but not long at all, and also not short.
Eyes: HIs eyes are a dark green.

Personality: Kind, but logical. He has become somewhat hardened during his years as a vigilant, but a certain kindness and mercy resides within him. Tarek always tries to choose the most just path in any situation, as justice is what he strives for most in life.

Weapons: A wooden/steel crossbow made for him by his brothers in the Vigil of Stendarr. It has neat/small intricate and decorative carvings in the steel. It's extremely sturdy and has held up great for him over the years. He carries around thirty or so steel bolts and a few silver bolts in a quiver down on his right thigh. He also carries a medium sized steel sword on his left side in a sheath.
Clothing: The usual Vigilant of Stendarr clothing that can be seen here: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/File:SR-npc-Vigilant_of_Stendarr.jpg
Miscellaneous: Wears a small ruby necklace that was previously worn by his deceased daughter.

Magic: Somewhat skilled restoration skills and sometimes specialized as a medic in vigilant missions.

History: Tarek grew up as the child in a farmer family in Falkreath. He was taught discipline, justice, and mercy by his loving father. At the age of sixteen, while he was out on a lone hunting trip, his entire family was slaughtered by vampires. There were a few other casualties in the town, but his family seemed the main victims. He grew sad and lonely for a year or so and worked at the local tavern, abandoning his family's farm. At 19, after romancing many girls, he decided to finally marry one and he rebuilt his family's farm.

Life was slowly coming back together as he started a family of his own. At age 24, he was a proud father of a five year old girl, who he loved dearly, and another child was on the way. Then, in a strange act of fate, his daughter and pregnant wife were also slaughtered by a lone vampire while he slept. He awoke to the monster feeding on his family's corpses. He killed his first vampire that same night.

Torn by feelings of vengeance and sorrow, he was convinced that the gods were trying to send him down a different path. He did the only thing that made sense to him at the time and traveled to the Hall of the Vigilant, once again abandoning his farm and all his belongings. He trained for five years as a Vigilant of Stendarr and the virtues of mercy, kindness, and justice were driven into him harder. He grew to despise the Daedra and all other "abominations", especially vampires. For many long and hard years, he served the hall well and his name fastly became a respected one in the order. At first, he would often serve as a medic on vigilant missions, but eventually he would lead missions on his own. Many vampire and other creature's hearts were pierced by the bolts of his crossbow.

However, his life would drastically change one more time. At age 39, he lead a mission to rid a cave of a family of vampires that the order had been hunting down. He killed a few of the creatures easily as he headed deeper into the cave, moving too fast for his brothers to keep up. Then, at the very back of the cave, he saw a small girl, with a ruby necklace on. The girl's features were eerily similar to his daughter's and he realized the necklace was actually the one he had made for her on her fifth birthday. The girl was in fact a vampire, and as far as Tarek could tell, it was not his daughter. His memories ad feelings got the best of him as he took the ruby necklace from the trembling vampire girl's neck and left her alive. Leaving this girl alive, (as he learned later) cost the lives of many of his brothers and sisters in the order. She retreated to another family of vampires where she told them what had happened. The vampires attacked the hall in an act of revenge, resulting in many casualties on both sides. However their attack was a failure, and many vampires were captured and interrogated. The Hall of the Vigilant learned that it was Tarek's fault and his actions that provoked the attack. Tarek admitted his crime and was banned from the order. Stricken by guilt and sorrow, he traveled back to Falkreath to drown his sorrows in mead.

Motivation for Joining: Tarek is looking for a new line of work, preferably something that can put his combat skills to use.

X-Monarch - Jardel

Spoiler

Name: Jardel
Race: Wood Elf
Gender: Male
Age: appears 28 (human aging)
Sign: The Lady
Home Country: Cyrodiil

Class:Healer
Class Description: He has taken oaths to Mara to heal. He is a master at restoration and alchemy.
Skills:
Alchemy
Restoration
Unarmed

Appearance:He is young and thin. He has a pale, gaunt face and a small scar above his left eyebrow.
Hair: Reddish brown
Eyes: Brown-green

Personality: Bright and friendly.

Weapons: None
Clothing: Common shirt, pants, shoes.
Miscellaneous: He has a very valuable signet ring.

Magic: Skilled in Restoration with basic knowledge of other schools.

History: Jardel grew up in Bravil. His mother was a priestess of Mara, his father a wandering adventurer. He had a pretty uneventful childhood (no werewolf murders).

Motivation for Joining: Everyday was the same at the Bravil Chapel of Mara. He felt his father's adventuring spirit calling him.

Forlorn Prophet - Phineas
[spoiler]Name: Phineas Moore

Race: Nordish [he is nordic, but appears a little more noble than what most Nords may find suitable for a noble looking nord]

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Sign: The Steed

Home Country: Skyrim

Faction and Rank: NA
Faction Description: NA

Class: The Writer

Class Description: This would seem to be a rather obvious guess as to what the class, the writer is. Writers are well versed in speech and batering, they are transcribers and quill dabblers of the world. They are the people who produced The Lusty Argonian and the many famed words around Tamriel.

Skills:

Speechcraft
Bartering
Luck
Surprisingly has some sword skills too

Appearance:
As you wondered the market you found yourself bumping into a man. He appeared rather boistorous, as if he were use to schmoozing people with good charm. As you stared at him, you couldn't happen to notice that this man hadn't seen the light of hard work. He wasn't well fit, not large, but he certainly seemed to have more of a relaxed job. He wore a raiment [think shivering isle, the coat, the boots, the pants] with a bear pelt.[basically the shivering isle's raiment, combined with the fine raiment of skyrim. Except with a less long and more like a coat, like shivering isle] His blond hair was thick and curled ever so sligtly at the bangs.
http://i1129.photobucket.com/albums/m507/Dream_Sequencer/orion.jpg

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Blue

Personality: He appears rather boistorois, he is use to schmoozing people with good charm and good wit. He's also a liar and likes to exagerate stories. He's a lucky coward, but is also completely underestimated as well. He can be serious from time to time, but ends up hiding everything behind an extravagant smile. He's loud, obnoxious at times people mistakeningly believe he's an idiot. Maybe he is. He doesn't particularly enjoy battle or even fighting. He also has an extreme fear of death. He happens upon saying some offensive things from time to time and making off putting and horrible jokes.

Motivation for Joining: To Finish his book Phineas and The Gray Blood Company

Weapons: A rapier at his side

Clothing: In Appearance

History:

Oh you surely must have heard of me. I'm Phineas Moore and have written many books on the shelves. You must have read them. Here is a recorded list of my stories

Phineas Moore and the Troll
-I Phineas Moore have stumbled upon my adventures a troll with the most fearsome call. As I stare at its large body, and its intimidating glance it opens it mouth and belches out a loud "Woawrf"

Phineas Moore and the Hagraven
-It so happens upon my journeys that I have met a Hagraven named Melka. Whom had kidnapped me for some unknown reason. I thought she was to turn me into stew, but it happens that she had only wanted a life partner.

Phineas Moore and the Escape of the Raven
-Fleeing for my life I escape the Hagraven's clutches before our wedding day. I fear the woman may still be after me.

Phineas Moore and the Not So Secret Dark Brotherhood Assassin
-I spend a little time and a little chat with eighty year old dark brotherhood assassin Felix Wright, as he speaks to me about the details of his life. All while trying to kill me. What an exciting number.

Phineas Moore and Phineas's Adventures
-My teenage adventures all explained in one little nice summary. It includes stories such as phineas and the troll, phineas and the hagraven, and much much more.

Phineas Moore and the Bandits
-I stumble upon a fearsome bandit crew, whom sets out to kill me. While I set out for a killer interview. [ahaahha]

X27 - Willik
[spoiler]Name: Willik
Race: One of the humans, they all look the same to Shira [Breton most likely]
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Sign: The Apprentice
Home Country: Skyrim

Faction and Rank: NA
Faction Description: NA

Class: Spiritualist

Class Description: Benders and weavers of the fates given to their opponents. They steal souls and enslave minds. Entropic mages of chaos and the randomness of the time around them. Their gifts lie in their natural ability to deal spiritualistic damage. Not be convinced with Necromancy, many of the spriitualist abilities are of a manipulation magic, but not of the dead. But the energy around.

Skills:

Mysticism
Spellcrafting
Enchanting

Magic: [Some of the spells don't occur in TES, but I feel they would fit into the Mysticism branch and fit into TES]

Shimmering Shield- The mage is surrounded by a shimmering shield of energy that blocks most damage and grants large bonuses to armor and all resistances. When active, however, the Shimmering Shield consumes mana rapidly.

Soul Touch- A touch spell that forcibly takes the enemy's soul. However, can only work on those with a weakened state of mind. Cannot be forced out otherwise. Does cause minor spirit damage otherwise.

Horror- Terrifying visions rend an enemy's mind, leaving the target stunned inflicts recurring spirit damage for as long as the enemy remains stunned.

Appearance:
His blue robes billowed in the wind as he towered over you, you lay on the ground staring into this soulless figure. His arms wore tribal like tattoos of a nature you didn't understand. He was pale skinned and you could feel a malicious intent coming off of him. If you hadn't envision these horrible dreams you would tower over him, he was short when you first noticed him. Standing around 5'2". His face was hidden to you, but you could only imagine the things under his hood.
http://i1129.photobucket.com/albums/m507/Dream_Sequencer/willik.jpg

I'll go unto describing his face. Willik is rather young and handsome, at twenty-five I wouldn't say that he has a properly flawless face. He has some scaring on his face. He has beautiful wispy blonde hair that to the touch is soft and wispy, like a cloud. It's cut short to the nape of his neck and the front has some bangs to each side of his forehead. His eyes are silver and he appears to have one lazy eye. Some dark circles around his eye and some brusing as well. His tattoos are enfused with arcane magicka and glow when he uses his magicka.

Hair: Blonde with light brown highlights

Eyes: Silver

Personality:
Despite his rather intimidating presence, Willik is rather calm and intelligent. He appears as one who is older than his age, bestowing wisdom and knowledge that take many years to know. All though studying and practicing still in his abilities as mage, Willik likes to push beyond the boundaries of knowledge. He wants to ascend human limitation and become something more than his parts. He's fascinated by all kinds of arcane knowledge. He is respectful and polite. He can be fickle at times changing his mind if he feels a certain outcome doesn't suit what he wants. He only sees two people friends and those who are pawns. Pawns will be twisted in any way he imagines and he seems to somewhat enjoy bringing horror to their faces. Friends are people he trust his most dark and lucrative secrets too. He is rather melancholy, enjoys the occult and the macabre, but despises Necromancy and will not pull himself that far. He enjoys reading and writing, and there are a few books in his satchel that he carries around with him. He always seen with a mysterious black journal where he writes down all his failed spells or spells that he has successfully created. He also writes down his ideas in this journal. He tends to be blunt and honest, even at times cruel. But what he says has a point to it and seems rather logical. He's a realistic, logical thinker and doesn't like thing beyond those limitations. He dislikes those whom discriminate. And he likes to study.

Motivation for Joining: To find the knowledge to ascend human limitation

Weapons: NA

Clothing: The Blue robes in the picture

Miscellaneous:

Theme Song- Witcher 2 Soundtrack-Sorceresses

History:

Embers. Embers not very pretty embers, the dead useful, but more useful alive. Such destruction, such chaos, that is no good. Not so useful, not so useful at all. She walked, she was the one they called Matriach or Mother. Simply those. She went by the name they gave her, Shira. And now they were dead, they lay dead on the ground. Her home destroyed by not so pretty people. Her tower all, but a husk of its former glory. It no longer stood in pride where Shira hid herself, it no was distraught and ugly. Everything burning. As she scuffled across the grass of Skyrim she wondered through the broken tents and dead of Forsworn. She hadn't thought much of it, hadn't thought much of the future. She always believed her home would be her home. She hadn't considered that they'd take it away from her. Then she heard movement not to far from here. Movement, from what. Maybe one of the ugly attackers. Shira scuffled as quickly as she could towards where she heard the shuffling. Prepared for a battle, she pulled back one of the broken tents to find a baby. The baby only stared at her as she loomed over it.

"Pretty pretty baby," Shira said in her rough voice.

As she was carer of all Forsworn even this babe, she was careful to not nick the child with her claws. She had no care for what it was, race wise. For her alone enough, the fact that this here was a Forsworn was enough for he to carry on to find a new home. Somewhere away from the ugly tot trash around here. But where to go? For Shira would not be welcomed into any other home, Matriachs were very particular about their towers. There was a story of history where one Matriach took another's tower, the one casted out reentered her tower for vengeance. No that would not do. Even if Shira had sisters they would not accept her. She must find somewhere else. She must find. She was matriach after all. Matriach and must have those she cared for lived on. With babe in her hand she took the babe with her. Down stone steps, her feet making a wet sound as she scuffled. The babe was mellow. Than Shira realized something. These humans. They had a tradition of naming things.

She couldn't just call the babe, babe for long. For babes grew up, they grew up and became people. She must enslave this babe to a name to an indentity. She stared, she couldn't think of any names. For she was not a name maker. She was Matriach, but to those whom named her and enslaved her to an indentity of Shira. She had to considered, names were not in her mind. Names were nothing. Names were something, something for pretty fleshy things to have. As she began to make her way down to the valley she held the babe close to her. Where was Shira to go? She didn't know. Somewhere secluded. Somewhere to raise a brood.

She made her away across grassy fields, and as she wondered she passed many many creatures. They weren't so pretty, they were ugly and she could easily flail their flesh. But none bothered her. All knew not to impose on a Hagraven. Though they were mightly curious of the babe that she held with her. As she wondered, she saw it. She saw the new place to call home. It didn't stand so tall, it was a nameless tower close to an ancient ruin. She was not going to name it, she refused to name it. Names were not her thing to think. She walked inside and as she walked to find her way to the tower, the dead arose to defend their home. But Shira stared at the dead and the dead stared at her. There was one, their lord of the dead whom walked to Shira.

"Wo?" the dead spoke.

"Shira is Shira. Ugly ugly thing. Now out of Shira's way, Shira want tower. Tower so pretty to Shira," she replied.

She didn't understand a darn thing this thing grumbled, but she had no problems with the dead before. The dead only seemed cautious of the mortal soul she brought. They wouldn't have had problems with Shira had plans to devour the child, but she was Matriach she was to care for the Forsworn whom she cared for. Shira pushed on ahead towards the tower she saw that sprung behind the buildings of the ancient ruins of the dead. The dead seemed to not care and went back to rest and Shira made it to the tower. She was not good at names, but she put the babe down unto the stone pedastal.

"Willik," she said, "I shall call you pretty pretty thing Willik."

She didn't know what it meant. But she had now bonded this babe to the enslavement of an indentity and a name.

STILL EDITING, PLEASE BE PATIENT.