Name: Sebastian Fawkes
Race: Imperial
Faction/Rank: Dark Brotherhood, Silencer
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Birth sign: The steed
Physical description: Sebastian, Being a man of combat (as he should be, considering his chosen line of work) Is both healthy and fit, he is built well but show the physical signs of aging. A few streaks of grey shoot along the sides of his thick mahogany coloured hair, which falls just past his ears and is usually scraqed back out of his eyes. His eyes are a soft green colour with fleks of brown splashed into them, as if a wry old painter had lost his zeal on his last great portrait, and could not hold the brush steady while choosing a colour. His facial features are nothing benevolent, he has a strong jaw line, and slightly hollowed cheeks. But other than that, he considers himself nothing past average as far as attractiveness goes, but that's only his opinion. His arms and torso are marked with many small scars from battle or other activities, nothing bigger than an inch and nothing smaller either.
Short Bio: Born in the Imperial city, son to an aristocratic father and mother. He grew up much the same way of many children from his shared background; Spoiled, educated, and well fed. Unlike many in the world. He had a good child hood.
Following the noble footsteps of his grandfather, who had recently passed away, Sebastian joined the legion. He became a scout and tracker, before moving up further into the ranks. He was assigned to several jobs which where tailor made to be deniable, he had to wipe himself from every record which said he existed to do them, simply because the empire could not admit to these acts which he was ordered to undertake. If he where to be caught, he would not speak. If he did, he would be branded a liar, and the empire would deny all knowledge of him.
As the jobs got bigger, he corrupted. He no longer served in the name of justice and honour, to him. This was sport.
On the night of his 'retirement' (this is what his commanding officer liked to call it, Sebastian felt more like he was being cast out like an incriminating letter, he was bad evidence to the legion.) A faced draqed in shadows told him of a wonderful family, who would embrace him as a brother. And no matter what, would always know if his existence. Almerion Enveri, a large Nord, took Sebastian under his wing. And removed him from Cyrodil, the country which he was exiled from by his brothers in the legion, to join a new family, in the Summerset Isles
Weapons: A silver short sword, and matching bow. The quiver is leather, and strapped to his right thigh rather than his back.
Armor/Clothing: When needed, or when away from civilisation, The customary Dark brotherhood leathers and hood. When not needed, or wanted, usually black cotton pants, with a cream cotton shirt and black wool travel cloak, if its cold enough to wear that is.
He always wears black leather boots.
Misc. Items: A small dagger, not for combat. A bag of jerked meats and half a loaf of break, a flask of water.
Sheet two
Name: Almerion Enveri
Race: Nord/Vampire - Volkihar Clan
Faction/rank: Dark Brotherhoo, Speaker
Gender: Male
Age: 86, looks around 66
Birthsign: The lover
Physical description: Almerion, a Nord by blood and birth, stands like you would expect, like two Bosmers atop each others shoulders. He is around 6'7/8. He is old and decrepit upon first impressions, but only because he wishes to look so, those who are all to eager to believe this illusion will often pay dearly. His handsome, yet pale face seems extended in length due to his long white beard, which grows from what once could be considered a goatee, but now reached midway down his chest, his cheeks are hollowed and shaven. His hair is also long and white, reaching halfway down his back, he tied it with a red ribbon.
He still has the body of a 45 year old, for this is when he was bitten. He was fit and healthy. Even then he was a slayer in the name of Sithis. Some who dare to, compare his eyes to the void itself, for they are cold and empty, yet the shine red with the blood of his kills. He cannot recall a single time in which they have shown mercy. Though laugh lines can be seen beside them.
Though in appearance he is old, he still holds on to the handsome vestiges of youth, he can use both to his advantage when he needs to, women fall for his charm and looks with a push from his Vampyric gifts, Men fall for his false weakness of age, only to underestimate him and pay a fatal price.
Short Bio:
Almerion Enveri adopted the name in memory of his old master, and father figure. For many years he rotted in the pestilential town of Bruma, working as a body guard of a rich retired merchant, who had more malice and spite than a coven of bitter forgotten nuns.
He had worked for this man since his teenage years, for low pay and little respect. The men and women of the town would look down on him in pity when they saw his broken form wander into the tavern, only to sit alone at the bar, nursing one drink for hours before retiring to bed.
After the merchant passed on, Almerion was thrown onto the streets, with no money and no home, he turned to the one place he thought he may be useful, the fighters guild.
After many weeks of painstaking training and hardship, the branch leader simply told him he was not good enough. Almerion murdered him in cold fury, beating him with his bare fists until he could no longer feel the skin of his knuckles.
He fled from the town, bloodied and confused, confused because the feeling of ecstasy at taking the mans life invigorated him.
In the night, through the shadows a voice whispered to him beside his bed, he was not alarmed when the voice first woke him, he lay their, expecting death for his actions, but instead, was rewarded. He grew more elated as he savoured each word from the speakers lips. The void, had seen him and loved him like a son. Sithis the dread father was now the one he served.
After training for many years in the Darkbrotherhood, one contract went wrong. He was contaminated by a vampire, he did not return to his family in Cheydinhal, he fled, fearing reprisal and rejection.
"You have been gifted again my child." A soft voice spoke to him, it was not Almerion, the speaker whose name he had taken. It was Vicente Valtieri, a breton Vampire who lived in the sanctuary of Cheydinhal. After a night of talking, he agreed, under the eye of Vicente, to embrace the dark gift. He used its advantages, the strength and speed it granted would serve him better than the others it gave, but all where used in equal measure.
The Brotherhood unleashed him when they needed the grand effect. He would often compose the death of his victims like an opera, a play or poetry. His speaker had taught him well, he had embraced the Altmers teachings and cultural roots, tossing aside the barbaric Nordic ones he had been bred upon. When the speaker died, he adopted his name, casting away the old name which tied him to his old life.
Like his master before him, he grew powerful in the art of Alteration, eventualy mastering it in ways no other man knew of, he could use it for both combat and defence.
Nearly twenty years after joining the Brotherhood, Almerion Enveri was named speaker, and sent to the province of the Summerset Isles.
Now, due to the rebellion of the isles, he has returned to Cyrodil, to seek guidance from the listener regarding the situation in the neighbouring province.
Weapons: Proffering unarmed combat over armed combat, Almerion has honed his fighting techniques beyond that of any man alive which he knows of, his left arm is encased in metal, a modified armour from a suit of ebony, the kind of armour you would expect to see on the arm of a gladiator, only there are not breaks in this armour. The tips of the gauntlet are modified, each finger has a talon like claw upon the end of it. The knuckles are each studded with a small steel sharpened stud.
Armor/Clothing: for armour, see above. Almerion wears a fine red silk tunic, with black silk pants. He hides his armoured arm with a thick black travel cloak and black gloves, he often leans on an old staff, limping along at a gentle pace in his leather shoes. He likes being underestimated, The guise of a weak old man suits him well.
Misc. Items: a bottle of Cyrodillic Brandy, a thin chorded rope, a knife, and a small sack of herbs. A smoking pipe and a leather pouch of tobacco.
Sheet three.
Faction and Rank: Freelance.
Name: Sun-Tzu Akina
Race: Khajiit - Unkown clan
Gender: Male
Age: 46
Physical description: Contrary to most common Khajittm Sun-Tzu is tall and broad, roughly standing 6'9. His fur, even more uncommon, is Grey and black striped, similar to that of a Pahmar Khajiit.
Although he is a battle mage or sorts, he is highly conditioned, his muscles are all in complimenting equal proportions, no one muscle will other power the other and weaken or slow down any movement he makes.
Unlike most Khajiit, Sun-Tzu is the owner of fierce Green eyes, rather than tawny orange.
Short Bio:
Sun-Tzu has been, for the past many years, A wanderer of sorts. A nomad, he is not tied to any one person or place for more than a few days at a time. His Nomadic wanderings began when he entered Senchal, on the lands end of Elsweyr. He saw the town as little more than a defenceless run down hive of violence corruption and feral addiction. For a great amount of time, he wandered throughout the city, learning it history and its people as he did. He grew no attatchment to any as he moved on away. Many where glad to see the back of him. "He had an ominous presence." Some would say, in less articulate words in most sugar addicted cases.
After his time in Senchal, Sun-Tzu travelled northwest, through the fabled Tenmar forrest, where it was said that none but the Khajiit where allowed to step, a holy ground of the feline beast race. He found nothing of interest save for sugar can allotments, until he met a few more of the provinces inhabitants.
Sun Tzu, knowing little of his kins men, was enthralled and amazed by the cycle of life in Elsweyr. The different breeds of cat for different lunar cycles, he often pondered to which lunar cycle he himself belonged, but didn't dwell on it for too long lest he be forced into recollections of his shrouded past.
For many months after, Sun travelled through the province, learning what he can by word of mouth, and the rest of his knowledge was gathered fist hand. He was never attacked though, many of the inhabitants of the settlements and cities throughout the province seemed un-nerved by him. They sensed something he did not wish to show. Their beast like instincts honing in on something their sentient intelligence could not explain.
Sun-Tzu, a master of his body mind and soul, soon became the stuff of fantastic rumour and hearsay. Word spread fast throughout the province, of the strange Khajiit whom dared to stare the Mane in the eye.
The rumour however was spawned from fact. It was true, Sun-Tzu, whom was denied council with the mane of the land, stood atop a half cut tree stump, his feet placed together, his hands clasped around each other. He stood for two days and two nights in torrential downpour, staring into the eyes of the mane. Many gathered to watch the peculiar event unfold before them. Some believed they where both mystical beings batteling on a distant spiritual plane. Some where evidently under the influence of the coveted moon sugar.
Sun-Tzu saw this as little more than a test, he knew the mane could see into his very soul, he could see into his past and future. The mane himself, although denying council, did it in such a way to invite Sun to challenge him. And he did, in a battle of the wills.
After the two days, the doors closed and Sun-Tzu could no longer see the mane, whom was held high above the floor by his panther like servants, as he sat pondering the ways and means of existence, staring into Sun's eyes, weighed down by his own hair.
An hour later the door opened, Sun-Tzu was invited inside to speak with the mane, The mane himself did not speak a word throughout the interview, he merely gazed upon the grey and black figure before him with curiosity, before nodding in acceptance and holding his hand aloft in polite dismissal.
Since his departure, many have believed him to be a person of deep spiritual beliefs, whom is searching for his place in the world one faith at a time, the basis of the rumour is unknown and questionable.
Now, Sun-Tzu has left the province of the Khajiit, and it travelling through the wilderness of Cyrodil, in search for something else, something more.
Weapons: http://www.northstarzone.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/1JS-667.jpg,
Armor/Clothing: http://www.squadronhq.com/ekmps/shops/squadronhqlim/images/ch1%5Bekm%5D502x300%5Bekm%5D.jpg , http://asianorientalclothes.com/pics/kung-fu-suit01.jpg , http://wirelessdigest.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/jedi_1.jpg
Misc. Items: A travel pack, over his newly acquired horse. Contains maps, cooking utensils, herbs and spices, water, a canvas sheet with tent poles and a bed roll.
IC:
Shortly after the castle incidentHis knees where numb with the cold of the black scorched stone beneath him, light flickered around him, throwing eerily long shadows around him. The shadows seemed to dance in the candle light, strange shapes formed upon the walls as shadows from more than one angle of lighting met. Almerions eyes fingered a soft petal from a dark violet plant, several nightshades where scattered around him, if anybody was to look upon them, they would see a stack of flowers which had fallen upon the floor in no particular order. Almerion saw what he needed, they where placed perfectly where they where supposed to be. He lifted his old hand to his mouth and blew the petal.
It danced, denying gravities allure, dropping by inches, only to jump by more. It spiralled around, dancing on a wind which Almerion could not feel, mocking gravity with its every movement. It flirted mirthlessly with the candle flames, which licked the petals body, but did not harm it. The Nightshade petal fluttered wistfully in front of Almerion, He spoke in a low baritone voice, it stayed exactly where it was even though the candle light flickered with the cold breath which he exhaled.
The petel emitted a bright green light, every shadow that danced where quickly executed violently in the power of such light. Around him, each night shade began to levitate, glowing in equal measure, all in the same light. Bathing Almerion, dismissing his shadow as a spy, ordering it away from Almerions side.
Each orb of light moved towards a pre-destined point in the black sacrament. Almerion was deafened, but no noise was released, he was blinded by it but she allowed him to see. This was to be the first time, and perhaps the last. That any speaker would be allowed such an honour, not even the listener himself can claim that he has seen a face of such ferocious beauty.
She stared through his very soul, but he could feel its warmth. Her smile froze him, but he felt its love. He was transfixed, he couldn't move a muscle.
"My child.. You seek guidance, you have summoned me." The night mother spoke gently, softly. But her voice reverberated throughout the sanctuary, Almerion could feel the air in his lungs vibrate as her words passed through him. "Ask you're questions my child."
"Beloved night mother, I thank you for appearing before me. I am humbled that you allow me to gaze upon you're face." He whispered, his body quivered with nervous anticipation of the knowledge she would give him. "As you will already know, the brotherhood has been crippled, but just one man, I do now know where the listener is, he is surely In hiding. So it is you I seek for my orders."
"Serosi." Her mouth didn't move as a warm wind fluttered around the room, whispering the name of the Dunmer into Almerions ear. "He destroyed my children and you're brethren, He has the blood of Sithis on his hands. He is marked by the void, Sithis' will dictates his destruction."
"But, I have fought him already, neither of us has the ability to better the other. I cannot destroy him alone." Almerion whispered again, averting his eyes from the beauty of the night mother, he dared not gaze upon her. "I do not know who he is or where he came from. I do not know his weakness'."
"You know him more than you think Almerion, and the power you wish is yours to have my child. Prove you're self worthy and it will be unlocked." Her ghostly voice spoke. A voice which would fill any other man with dread. "Look in the brotherhood records for a recent contract, one the brotherhood would usually deny, but fate dictated that it would be taken, then you will know where to begin you're search."
"What? What power?" Almerion asked, looking up to a dark now candle lit sanctuary. The nightshades had disappeared, no trace of the void maiden could be seen.
Almerion stood up on weak legs, shaking still, even though he was quite warm. His left arm felt lighter, the armour was still there, he could feel it. He threw back his cloak to see a more rounded, less bulky ebony arm. She had transformed it, made it more human, easier to hide. But that wasn't all, a faint light glowed from his shoulder, Almerion gazed upon a green pommel jewel embedded into his arm, he could feel it pulsating with the energy of the void.
He spent the rest of the nights hours studying the jewel, probing it with his alteration abilities, testing its limits against his magic. He could not believe its power, which from what he could feel seemed to be unlimited, he craved to use it, to be able to harness its power for his own ends.
------
Sebastian opened his eyes. He blinked several times, trying to focus. He was lying upon a hard mattress, a threadbare blanket was thrown over him, his brow tingled with cold sweat.
"Wh- Where am I." He blurted, trying to sit up, but was pushed back down. He looked around for the owner of the hands and spotted a greying Altmer smiling above him.
"You need rest my child, It has been a long night and you shouldn't exert you're self." He spoke gently, wiping Sebastian's brow with a damp cloth.
"Where am I?" He repeated, but stayed in the bed, to weak to fight against the Altmers grip.
"You are In the chapel undercroft, in the city of Cheydinhal. On of the guards found you passed out before that wretched burnt out house, fighting for you're life." He spoke gently, smiling the same way an old man would to his grandson, who has just scrapped his knee while playing. "You're arm had been cut off." He added to Sebastians quizzical stare.
It all came flooding back to him, The castle, the tortured Redguard, Serosi. Almerions sacrifice, was he alive? Did Serosi best him?
Sebastian forced himself upwards, sitting up at the edge of the bed, against the Altmers protests. He tried to stand, but was forced back down. Not by the Altmer this time, but by a case of vertigo. He drank lung full's of air, forcing his body into recovery.
A deep welt ran around Sebastians left arm, a large amount of violently black and purple bruising surrounded it. He didn't care, he was just happed to have all his limbs.
"Thank you for you're help, I cannot think of a way I could possibly thank you." He said to the Altmer as he stood again, on more stable legs this time.
"There is no need, I pray that you're faith in the nine will be thanks enough." He said with a bow and a grin. "You're things are on the table, I might ask why you are so heavily armed?"
"I'm fighters guild, I just got back into the city last night after a job went bad, I lost some good men, pray for them for me, I will do the same." Sebastian called back into the room as he strode through the under croft, hopefully quelling the Altmers suspicions. He would kill him if it didn't.
The light dazzled him, it kissed his skin with welcome warmth, but still berated his senses. He took a few seconds to adjust to the glare before setting out again. He wouldn't search the Sanctuary for Almerion, something foreboding played about in his heart at the thought. Instead he made his way to the Cheydinhal bridge inn, a second pre-designated meeting point after the undercroft, which was no good at this time of day, it was only useful at night.
He wasn't disappointed as he walked through the door, he spotted Ticedo instantly, lulling back on his chair lazily, tapping his cane against the floor in a characteristic way.
"Hello brothers, it is good to see you all alive and well after last night." He muttered as he sat down, earning a few curious stares as he raised his hand to the barmaid requesting a drink, revealing the welt and the bruising. He shook his sleeve over it before turning back to his brothers. "Ticedo, what happened? How did I end up in the chapel? And where in oblivion is Almerion and Parthia?"
--
Almerion watched as Sebastian walked into the in and sat with the others, he felt a flutter of relief play about in his chest for a second before it was dispelled with a feeling of shock at the sight of his arm.
Almerion sat upon the opposite side of the inn, hidden from view of the front door, his hood hung over his features, and his pipe smoke obscured the rest. He was watching, listening. Waiting for any Tong members who may have been tailing the brotherhood. He read and re-read the contract the night mother had spoke of as he waited, folding it up each time and putting it away, before pulling it back out to search for another clue.
He beckoned to the Barmaid who was now leaving Sebastians Table, she quickly scurried over with another goblet of mulled wine before leaving without a word.
OOC: Thar we go.
» Fri May 27, 2011 4:24 am 
