» Thu May 03, 2012 3:48 pm (If you are new, reading this will help you understand how RPs work and what they are about: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/747418-so-you-think-you-can-rp/)
(In-game, Skyrim, Valton thread: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1358757-wip-valton-the-new-hold/ )
Here is the opening Info, under construction:
The RP Concept
As settlers we will begin to build a new hold in Skyrim in the Rift between Ivarstead and Riften. Some may choose to go to start a new life, others looking to earn coin by building, setting up a shop or becoming town guards. Others still may just find themselves there and end up deciding to stay. This RP will be very balanced between socialization and combat. Town RPs usually focus on character interaction, and that will be true with this one, but a new settlement far out in the woods may look like a ripe target to bandit clans, and wild life may come because of the scent of food (leading to hunting to lower the population of dangerous animals as well as for meat.
Valton:
An ambitious project began in the Rift several months ago: a new settlement sprung up alongside a river, between Ivarstead and Riften. Enough land was purchased for the new settlement, Valton, to be recognized as a new, separate hold, and the man who had purchased the land, Radwulf Spurvhauke, was given the title of Jarl. Valton is still growing, with the castle, Gudslott Keep, being erected first, and then several smaller buildings were built around it, though most of them are currently empty. In an attempt to attract as many citizens as possible to the new hold, Jarl Spurvhauke has set an extremely low price on these homes: a mere 1,000 golden septims, and settlers have been coming in from all over in a hope of a better life or a chance at making some coin, and as a new settlement, there is plenty of opportunity to do so.
In this RP you will enter the Hold as a settler, or looking for work. Your character can take up any job in the new hold you can think of, here are some examples (
Head on to the RP thread if you're already on the list: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1364736-valton-the-new-hold-rp-thread-5/
Character Sheet:
[b]Name:[/b][b]Age:[/b][b]Race:[/b][b]Gender:[/b][b]Height:[/b][b]Birthsign:[/b][b]Appearance:[/b][b]Class (what would you describe your character as?):[/b][b]Skills and known spells (if any):[/b][b]Clothing / armor:[/b][b]Weapons:[/b][b]Miscellaneous items:[/b][b]Personality:[/b][b]Major flaw:[/b][b]Background:[/b]
List of accepted characters:
Co-GM - Vincent McCool
Fiona Barrow-Heart-(Reachwoman-(Nord/Breton))
Spoiler
Name: Fiona Barrow-Heart
Age: 41
Race: Reachwoman (Nord/Breton)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'11
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Appearance: Being a native of The Reach, Fiona's appearance naturally falls somewhere between the average idea of a Breton and a Nord. Fiona Barrow-Heart is a tall woman, with an unruly mess of shoulder length auburn hair. Fiona has the long. lithe limbs of a Nord complimented by the more rounded facial features of a Breton. Her nutmeg coloured eyes are dashed with green, her pale skin is generally anoited with a simple pattern of face paint: black below the eyes and two marks on one cheek. Her lips are an unnatural grey. A certain light behind the eyes, an animation in her expressions provides Fiona Barrow-Heart with something of the look of a wild beauty. (or something like this: http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/259/fionabriarbarrow.png/ )
Class: Witch (Applying for position of Court Mage)
Skills and known spells:
Alchemy - An impressive knowledge of the magical propeties of flora native to Skyrim
Alternation - Journeyman level at best
Conjuration - A worrying affinity with the communion and summoning of undead and daedric creatures.
Destruction - Essentially capable in the flinging of lightening bolts, and the application of certain frost and fire runes
Enchanting - Skilled in the preperation and study of a vast array of enchantments
Illusion - Conspiculously talented
Restoration - Competent to a reasonable level in restorative magic
Clothing / armor: Fiona wears a simple, slightly ragged mage's robe, complete with various pouches. Around her wrists, her neck and in her ears she wears various ornaments, mainly fashioned of bone, mainly bone from creatures she herself has killed.
Weapons: Fiona carries a small hunter's knife for the gathering of ingedients, and a mage's staff which omenously finishes it what appears to be a human skull.
Miscellaneous items: Fiona brings with her a trunk full of various pieces of mage's miscellany; soul gems, scrolls, a few books, and a number of alchemical ingredients.
Personality: Fiona Barrow-Heart is often a severe woman. She takes the arcane arts rather seriously; her powerful mind is often far away in the contemplation of deep mystic mysteries, even when she is being addressed. She is an animated woman, hands always busy, mind never empty of ideas. Her own mastery of magic leans towards the practical side, and she is deeply pratical in all her dealings with other people. Her heart is profoundly spiritial, althought Fiona may often be sharp with those who do not understand her, she is an extremely empathetic, if not sympathetic woman.
Major flaw: While not actually mad, Fiona Barrow-Heart could easily be described as "away with the faeries". It has often been joked that she gets on better with Will-o-the-Wisps than with actual people, and this is hard to dispute. In actuality, human affairs seem to bother her a chillingly small amount.
Background: Fiona grew up amongst the natives of the Reach, in a community that became entangled in the Forsworn rebellion. Local witches noticed her unusual talent for magic at a young age and plucked her from her village, to educate the girl in the ways of their Hagravens. However, Fiona's thirst for knowledge was insaitable, and as a young advlt she rejected the oppertunity herself to become a Hagraven and left the covern to join the College of Winterhold, where she held a research position for many years. Though her research was undoutably brilliant, Fiona became increasingly detached from the other mages at the College, and, with a glowing recommendation from Arch-Mage Savos Aren, left to wander Skyrim and practice her arts alone. When word of a new Hold being opened and the position of Court Mage coming available reached her, Fiona Barrow-Heart rushed to The Rift in reply. It turns out one can only spend so much time living in caves and talking exclusively to Hagravens before one becomes insufferably bored.
Age: 41
Race: Reachwoman (Nord/Breton)
Gender: Female
Height: 5'11
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Appearance: Being a native of The Reach, Fiona's appearance naturally falls somewhere between the average idea of a Breton and a Nord. Fiona Barrow-Heart is a tall woman, with an unruly mess of shoulder length auburn hair. Fiona has the long. lithe limbs of a Nord complimented by the more rounded facial features of a Breton. Her nutmeg coloured eyes are dashed with green, her pale skin is generally anoited with a simple pattern of face paint: black below the eyes and two marks on one cheek. Her lips are an unnatural grey. A certain light behind the eyes, an animation in her expressions provides Fiona Barrow-Heart with something of the look of a wild beauty. (or something like this: http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/259/fionabriarbarrow.png/ )
Class: Witch (Applying for position of Court Mage)
Skills and known spells:
Alchemy - An impressive knowledge of the magical propeties of flora native to Skyrim
Alternation - Journeyman level at best
Conjuration - A worrying affinity with the communion and summoning of undead and daedric creatures.
Destruction - Essentially capable in the flinging of lightening bolts, and the application of certain frost and fire runes
Enchanting - Skilled in the preperation and study of a vast array of enchantments
Illusion - Conspiculously talented
Restoration - Competent to a reasonable level in restorative magic
Clothing / armor: Fiona wears a simple, slightly ragged mage's robe, complete with various pouches. Around her wrists, her neck and in her ears she wears various ornaments, mainly fashioned of bone, mainly bone from creatures she herself has killed.
Weapons: Fiona carries a small hunter's knife for the gathering of ingedients, and a mage's staff which omenously finishes it what appears to be a human skull.
Miscellaneous items: Fiona brings with her a trunk full of various pieces of mage's miscellany; soul gems, scrolls, a few books, and a number of alchemical ingredients.
Personality: Fiona Barrow-Heart is often a severe woman. She takes the arcane arts rather seriously; her powerful mind is often far away in the contemplation of deep mystic mysteries, even when she is being addressed. She is an animated woman, hands always busy, mind never empty of ideas. Her own mastery of magic leans towards the practical side, and she is deeply pratical in all her dealings with other people. Her heart is profoundly spiritial, althought Fiona may often be sharp with those who do not understand her, she is an extremely empathetic, if not sympathetic woman.
Major flaw: While not actually mad, Fiona Barrow-Heart could easily be described as "away with the faeries". It has often been joked that she gets on better with Will-o-the-Wisps than with actual people, and this is hard to dispute. In actuality, human affairs seem to bother her a chillingly small amount.
Background: Fiona grew up amongst the natives of the Reach, in a community that became entangled in the Forsworn rebellion. Local witches noticed her unusual talent for magic at a young age and plucked her from her village, to educate the girl in the ways of their Hagravens. However, Fiona's thirst for knowledge was insaitable, and as a young advlt she rejected the oppertunity herself to become a Hagraven and left the covern to join the College of Winterhold, where she held a research position for many years. Though her research was undoutably brilliant, Fiona became increasingly detached from the other mages at the College, and, with a glowing recommendation from Arch-Mage Savos Aren, left to wander Skyrim and practice her arts alone. When word of a new Hold being opened and the position of Court Mage coming available reached her, Fiona Barrow-Heart rushed to The Rift in reply. It turns out one can only spend so much time living in caves and talking exclusively to Hagravens before one becomes insufferably bored.
Vincent McCool
Radwulf Spurvhauke-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Radwulf Spurvhauke
Age: 57
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6’4”
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: He is fair skinned though dark circles have developed beneath his eyes, and he he appears to have a leathery toughness to his skin as well from his time spent in both the legion, and enduring the docks and ships of Anvil. He has green eyes, and dark brown, wavy hair that reaches down to his shoulders, and a fairly long, full beard, braided at the ends. Overly tall and lanky in his youth, years in the legion filled Radwulf out, giving him an impressive frame, complete with very broad shoulders.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Jarl
Skills and known spells (if any): Radwulf is more than competent with a blade, but his main weapon is his mind. Jarl Radwulf has a keenly anolytical brain, and is a hard man to fool.
Clothing / armor: He wears an orange cloak with a white fur collar over black finery, as well as steel plate boots, and steel bracers.
Weapons: A silver short sword, more for decoration than anything.
Miscellaneous items: N/A
Personality: He was once a shrewd, selfish man who cared only for himself and his family, but since his wife’s death, his personality has softened considerably. When the one thing in the world that mattered to him more than anything was gone, he no longer cared so much for worldly possessions, as he finally realized how little they meant to him. This isn’t to say he won’t surround himself by luxury, but that he takes little pleasure from it, and is far more generous than he was. He often appears melancholy.
Major flaw: He hasn’t been himself ever since his wife passed away. While this doesn’t tend to visibly affect him, he tends not to pay attention to people when he drifts down memory lane, as he has become prone to do.
Background: He grew up in Anvil where his family had lived for several generations, and spent much time learning of business practice from his father. When he came of age, he joined the legion, and quickly rose through the ranks. Radwulf kept the supply books for General Decianus during the Great War. It was said that the young Radwulf's acumen had saved the lives of thousands during that campaign in Hammerfall. During this campaign, Radwulf met his future wife, Allendra, and moved to Skyrim in order to marry her. Afterwards he and his wife moved to Anvil to take over the Spurvhauke family business.
In Anvil his family owned a shipping company that had been in business for well over a hundred years, and had made his family rich. Radwulf took to the business well, as his father had taught him to when he was younger, and he soon proved to be a shrewd businessman. His family had always been wealthy, but with Radwulf leading the shipping company, they soon gained riches to rival nobility. Radwulf, his wife, and son lived well like this, and they would have remained in Anvil if not for the day Radwulf’s wife, Allendra, grew ill.
They had healers come to tend to her, but she grew worse despite their efforts, and within a few days she was dead. Her dying wish was to be buried where she was born, which meant the Rift in Skyrim, and so Lliro and Radwulf traveled by boat around the continent arriving in the Solitude harbor. From there the duo took the coffin and their possessions to the Rift by wagon, and eventually they found a nice spot to bury her. Radwulf decided he didn’t want to return to Anvil, as he couldn’t bear to leave his wife behind, so he arranged for his shipping company to be sold, and he used his wealth to purchase as much land as he could in the Rift.
And so after much work, Valton was built, and became a new hold.
Age: 57
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6’4”
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: He is fair skinned though dark circles have developed beneath his eyes, and he he appears to have a leathery toughness to his skin as well from his time spent in both the legion, and enduring the docks and ships of Anvil. He has green eyes, and dark brown, wavy hair that reaches down to his shoulders, and a fairly long, full beard, braided at the ends. Overly tall and lanky in his youth, years in the legion filled Radwulf out, giving him an impressive frame, complete with very broad shoulders.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Jarl
Skills and known spells (if any): Radwulf is more than competent with a blade, but his main weapon is his mind. Jarl Radwulf has a keenly anolytical brain, and is a hard man to fool.
Clothing / armor: He wears an orange cloak with a white fur collar over black finery, as well as steel plate boots, and steel bracers.
Weapons: A silver short sword, more for decoration than anything.
Miscellaneous items: N/A
Personality: He was once a shrewd, selfish man who cared only for himself and his family, but since his wife’s death, his personality has softened considerably. When the one thing in the world that mattered to him more than anything was gone, he no longer cared so much for worldly possessions, as he finally realized how little they meant to him. This isn’t to say he won’t surround himself by luxury, but that he takes little pleasure from it, and is far more generous than he was. He often appears melancholy.
Major flaw: He hasn’t been himself ever since his wife passed away. While this doesn’t tend to visibly affect him, he tends not to pay attention to people when he drifts down memory lane, as he has become prone to do.
Background: He grew up in Anvil where his family had lived for several generations, and spent much time learning of business practice from his father. When he came of age, he joined the legion, and quickly rose through the ranks. Radwulf kept the supply books for General Decianus during the Great War. It was said that the young Radwulf's acumen had saved the lives of thousands during that campaign in Hammerfall. During this campaign, Radwulf met his future wife, Allendra, and moved to Skyrim in order to marry her. Afterwards he and his wife moved to Anvil to take over the Spurvhauke family business.
In Anvil his family owned a shipping company that had been in business for well over a hundred years, and had made his family rich. Radwulf took to the business well, as his father had taught him to when he was younger, and he soon proved to be a shrewd businessman. His family had always been wealthy, but with Radwulf leading the shipping company, they soon gained riches to rival nobility. Radwulf, his wife, and son lived well like this, and they would have remained in Anvil if not for the day Radwulf’s wife, Allendra, grew ill.
They had healers come to tend to her, but she grew worse despite their efforts, and within a few days she was dead. Her dying wish was to be buried where she was born, which meant the Rift in Skyrim, and so Lliro and Radwulf traveled by boat around the continent arriving in the Solitude harbor. From there the duo took the coffin and their possessions to the Rift by wagon, and eventually they found a nice spot to bury her. Radwulf decided he didn’t want to return to Anvil, as he couldn’t bear to leave his wife behind, so he arranged for his shipping company to be sold, and he used his wealth to purchase as much land as he could in the Rift.
And so after much work, Valton was built, and became a new hold.
Co-GM GorbadPS3
Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu-(Orc)
Spoiler
Name: Gorbad Yak-Bogadbu
Age: 72
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Height: 6’2’’
Birthsign: The Lord (Those born under the sign of the Lord are stronger and healthier than those born under other signs, which explains why is in such a good shape even at such a high age)
Appearance: A tall and muscular Orc, but age has made him look less tough and his face is full of wrinkles. His hair is bright white, but is merely a short mess at the back of his head. His skin has been exposed to the sun, the forges fire, cold and storms, giving his dark green skin a leather-kind look.
Class: Blacksmith and Enchanter
Skills:
-Armorer: Given enough heat and time, Gorbad can fix nearly anything that is broken and reinforce nearly anything.
-Smithing: As a master smith, he is able to make strong and durable weapons of any materials.
-Enchanting: His knowledge of weapons and armor is so wide that he can bless them with enchantments, if the soul gem is provided. He enchants the items with his master’s forge while creating them; he is unable to enchant anything that he doesn’t craft at that moment.
-Speech: His profession has made him quite proficient when it comes to selling and buying things, not that he needs his silver-tongue when selling his products.
Clothing / armor: A blacksmiths outfit with custom heavy armor reinforcement with a small amount of fire resistance, heavy Orcish gauntlets and boots.
Weapons: Two blacksmiths hammers that he uses in his forge.
Miscellaneous items: Tools needed at the forge, a collection containing small pieces of ore from all across Tamriel. Has a good amount of iron and leather at his forge, a small chest that used to contain his savings of gold septims, now merely 50 gold septims.
Personality: Calm and focused, loyal, friendly. Doesn’t get angry easily, but when he does, it’s serious business.
Major flaw: His age is a problem; he can feel his vigor and strength from his youth slowly fading him. The Lord-birthsign has kept him going for the last ten years and it hasn’t given up on him just yet. In a fight, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. He might be able to crack a skull with his hammer, but it'd be a game of luck for him, not skill.
Background: Gorbad has lived a long and tough life. He grew up in a stronghold. In early child-hood, his passion for smithing was far greater than his will to fight and never was an excellent warrior. That didn’t make him weaker than anyone else and he might even have been one of the strongest young-ones in the stronghold. His skills as a blacksmith were appreciated and Gorbad would surely have lived all his days in the stronghold if it wouldn’t have been for the attack against it, when he was 22. They never knew who attacked them in the darkness of the night, but there were spell casters, archers and warriors up against them and in overwhelming numbers. They were forced to retreat through the mines and blew it up behind them. This little group of Orcs eventually found their way to a new stronghold, but wasn’t welcomed with open arms. Especially the existing blacksmith didn’t like Gorbad’s arrival one bit. Out of jealousy, the strongholds blacksmith framed Gorbad for theft on his very first week there and fled the scene. Everyone thought he was guilty, eve the Orcs he had come there with. He didn’t want trouble and moved out. After that he spent time in many different places and got to learn the secrets of the arcane enchanting. It was on his travels he learned the art of business and trade and the mastery of every material known in Tamriel came from these decades of adventure and hard work. He even set up his own shop in a small town and was able to save up a nice amount of septims, around 1500 gold. Now, at the age of 72, he learned of Valton, a new hold on its making. He spent his savings to transport his forge, tools and materials to the new hold and bought a small house for the rest.
Age: 72
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Height: 6’2’’
Birthsign: The Lord (Those born under the sign of the Lord are stronger and healthier than those born under other signs, which explains why is in such a good shape even at such a high age)
Appearance: A tall and muscular Orc, but age has made him look less tough and his face is full of wrinkles. His hair is bright white, but is merely a short mess at the back of his head. His skin has been exposed to the sun, the forges fire, cold and storms, giving his dark green skin a leather-kind look.
Class: Blacksmith and Enchanter
Skills:
-Armorer: Given enough heat and time, Gorbad can fix nearly anything that is broken and reinforce nearly anything.
-Smithing: As a master smith, he is able to make strong and durable weapons of any materials.
-Enchanting: His knowledge of weapons and armor is so wide that he can bless them with enchantments, if the soul gem is provided. He enchants the items with his master’s forge while creating them; he is unable to enchant anything that he doesn’t craft at that moment.
-Speech: His profession has made him quite proficient when it comes to selling and buying things, not that he needs his silver-tongue when selling his products.
Clothing / armor: A blacksmiths outfit with custom heavy armor reinforcement with a small amount of fire resistance, heavy Orcish gauntlets and boots.
Weapons: Two blacksmiths hammers that he uses in his forge.
Miscellaneous items: Tools needed at the forge, a collection containing small pieces of ore from all across Tamriel. Has a good amount of iron and leather at his forge, a small chest that used to contain his savings of gold septims, now merely 50 gold septims.
Personality: Calm and focused, loyal, friendly. Doesn’t get angry easily, but when he does, it’s serious business.
Major flaw: His age is a problem; he can feel his vigor and strength from his youth slowly fading him. The Lord-birthsign has kept him going for the last ten years and it hasn’t given up on him just yet. In a fight, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. He might be able to crack a skull with his hammer, but it'd be a game of luck for him, not skill.
Background: Gorbad has lived a long and tough life. He grew up in a stronghold. In early child-hood, his passion for smithing was far greater than his will to fight and never was an excellent warrior. That didn’t make him weaker than anyone else and he might even have been one of the strongest young-ones in the stronghold. His skills as a blacksmith were appreciated and Gorbad would surely have lived all his days in the stronghold if it wouldn’t have been for the attack against it, when he was 22. They never knew who attacked them in the darkness of the night, but there were spell casters, archers and warriors up against them and in overwhelming numbers. They were forced to retreat through the mines and blew it up behind them. This little group of Orcs eventually found their way to a new stronghold, but wasn’t welcomed with open arms. Especially the existing blacksmith didn’t like Gorbad’s arrival one bit. Out of jealousy, the strongholds blacksmith framed Gorbad for theft on his very first week there and fled the scene. Everyone thought he was guilty, eve the Orcs he had come there with. He didn’t want trouble and moved out. After that he spent time in many different places and got to learn the secrets of the arcane enchanting. It was on his travels he learned the art of business and trade and the mastery of every material known in Tamriel came from these decades of adventure and hard work. He even set up his own shop in a small town and was able to save up a nice amount of septims, around 1500 gold. Now, at the age of 72, he learned of Valton, a new hold on its making. He spent his savings to transport his forge, tools and materials to the new hold and bought a small house for the rest.
Gavril
Nuramon-(Bosmer)
Spoiler
Name: Nuramon
Age: born in 4E110, 102 years old (appears in his late twenties.)
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: around 1.80meters
Birthsign: the thief
Appearance: He looks much like his father, Weldarion. He stands at around 1,76meter and has a slender built, although he has more strength one would give him, considering his light built. He has a face that people would consider somewhat handsome, but nothing more. His hair reaches is just past his shoulders and is of a brownish color and he has dark green eyes, encircled by fiery gold, they are almost exactly the same as his father's. he has several scars but except for a long scar on his right upper arm, none of them are really striking or noticeable.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Alchemist/Wizard/Assassin/Local citizen
Skills and known spells (if any):
Archery: he learned to shoot the bow at a young age from his parents. He has used and practiced it for almost his whole life and is very good at it.
Hunting & Tracking: also skills he learned from his parents at a young age. He also kept on using it for his whole life and he is very proficient in it.
Alchemy: A skill he learned from his mother who believed it was one of the most powerful forms of magic. He further studied it in Elswheyr for his job.
Dagger: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Sneak: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Unarmed: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Magic: he is especially skilled in the arts of conjuration, illusion and alteration. He was taught this by an old friend of his father, who he met many years after the Great War. He also has some basic skills in the other schools of magic but nothing big.
Minot skills: He can also read, write, play the lute, flute and sing.
Miscellaneous: although he is stronger and faster than most (this is barely noticeable most days of the month) he is also weaker. He can't take much damage and will not survive very long in head on fight.
Clothing / armor: he wears simple commoners clothes, in his closet in his home he has several sorts of leather and fur armors and also his orange and yellow Elsweyr robes.
Weapons: A simple wooden bow and two Steel daggers.
Miscellaneous items: A special necklace resembling the head of a mountain lion it was made by his father.
Personality:
Although he looks a lot like his father in appearance, they are not very alike to how they view others. Where his father saw the other people as lesser beings on which he hunted, Nuramon sees them as his equals and he does his best to control his nature. He is, however, seen by other as feral and un-educated because of his behavior. When things don't go the way he wants, or when people anger him, he tends to hiss and spit, much like a cat. it is this behavior that makes other people misjudge him as being simple-minded, which is a mistake.
He prefers the dawn and dusk, which are his most active moments of the day and by the time the sun reaches it highest place he can be found taking a powernap. He likes high places, like branches of trees, roofs, high rocks and mountain tops, … He is also carnivorous and a cannibal, although not strictly and he doesn't mind eating the animals he hunts down or even plants. Although when possible he prefers human flesh.
Major flaw: he believes nothing can hurt him due to his years of experience in a lot of fields.
Background: He was born in a small estate in Valenwood. His father, Weldarion, was a well known hunter and bounty hunter and his mother, Nardinel, who was also a gifted huntress. They settled down in the forests of Valenwood when she was pregnant of her only son. Nuramon was trained by his parents in the hunt, and close combat with all kinds of weapons, although he prefers the daggers or a shortsword.
His father taught also taught him about his family history and heritage that his blood carried. He also helped him through the first steps of accepting this heritage. He lived with them for more than a two thirds of his life. When his parents passed away due to old age he decided to leave Valenwood and pursue the same life his father and mother once lived.
He travelled around Tamriel for many years, offering his hunting and tracking skills to nobles who would organize hunting trips. This went great until a few years before the Great War started. Less and less Nobles offered him jobs and he eventually had to commit petty thievery to survive. At the start of the Great War he lived on the streets in Corinthe, committing petty thievery and even murder to survive. A high ranked nobleman hired him to take care of his shady business and as a personal bodyguard, and he accepted and started his training under the current person to have that position. After Nuramon thought he knew enough and deemed himself ready, he killed his master and killed him, making it look like an accident.
He took over the position and lived a good and wealthy life for many years. He didn't only offer his skills to the nobleman, but also to others who had the money to pay for it. When his employer was caught plotting against the current ruler of Corinthe he had to flee out of town. He stole a horse and travelled to the Imperial City as fast as possible. He travelled further, with his money, to skyrim and there he lived for many, many years. Meeting his father's friend, learning magic. But he eventually had to flee the hold after a bounty was put on his head after locals found out what he truly was and still is.
He decided to settle in the newly formed hold and start a new life without violence. He is thinking of maybe opening a shop or applying for court wizard and that fails he'll just become a local hunter.
Age: born in 4E110, 102 years old (appears in his late twenties.)
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: around 1.80meters
Birthsign: the thief
Appearance: He looks much like his father, Weldarion. He stands at around 1,76meter and has a slender built, although he has more strength one would give him, considering his light built. He has a face that people would consider somewhat handsome, but nothing more. His hair reaches is just past his shoulders and is of a brownish color and he has dark green eyes, encircled by fiery gold, they are almost exactly the same as his father's. he has several scars but except for a long scar on his right upper arm, none of them are really striking or noticeable.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Alchemist/Wizard/Assassin/Local citizen
Skills and known spells (if any):
Archery: he learned to shoot the bow at a young age from his parents. He has used and practiced it for almost his whole life and is very good at it.
Hunting & Tracking: also skills he learned from his parents at a young age. He also kept on using it for his whole life and he is very proficient in it.
Alchemy: A skill he learned from his mother who believed it was one of the most powerful forms of magic. He further studied it in Elswheyr for his job.
Dagger: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Sneak: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Unarmed: he learned this for his job during his years in Corinthe when he was trained to be an assassin/enforcer for local, high ranked noble.
Magic: he is especially skilled in the arts of conjuration, illusion and alteration. He was taught this by an old friend of his father, who he met many years after the Great War. He also has some basic skills in the other schools of magic but nothing big.
Minot skills: He can also read, write, play the lute, flute and sing.
Miscellaneous: although he is stronger and faster than most (this is barely noticeable most days of the month) he is also weaker. He can't take much damage and will not survive very long in head on fight.
Clothing / armor: he wears simple commoners clothes, in his closet in his home he has several sorts of leather and fur armors and also his orange and yellow Elsweyr robes.
Weapons: A simple wooden bow and two Steel daggers.
Miscellaneous items: A special necklace resembling the head of a mountain lion it was made by his father.
Personality:
Although he looks a lot like his father in appearance, they are not very alike to how they view others. Where his father saw the other people as lesser beings on which he hunted, Nuramon sees them as his equals and he does his best to control his nature. He is, however, seen by other as feral and un-educated because of his behavior. When things don't go the way he wants, or when people anger him, he tends to hiss and spit, much like a cat. it is this behavior that makes other people misjudge him as being simple-minded, which is a mistake.
He prefers the dawn and dusk, which are his most active moments of the day and by the time the sun reaches it highest place he can be found taking a powernap. He likes high places, like branches of trees, roofs, high rocks and mountain tops, … He is also carnivorous and a cannibal, although not strictly and he doesn't mind eating the animals he hunts down or even plants. Although when possible he prefers human flesh.
Major flaw: he believes nothing can hurt him due to his years of experience in a lot of fields.
Background: He was born in a small estate in Valenwood. His father, Weldarion, was a well known hunter and bounty hunter and his mother, Nardinel, who was also a gifted huntress. They settled down in the forests of Valenwood when she was pregnant of her only son. Nuramon was trained by his parents in the hunt, and close combat with all kinds of weapons, although he prefers the daggers or a shortsword.
His father taught also taught him about his family history and heritage that his blood carried. He also helped him through the first steps of accepting this heritage. He lived with them for more than a two thirds of his life. When his parents passed away due to old age he decided to leave Valenwood and pursue the same life his father and mother once lived.
He travelled around Tamriel for many years, offering his hunting and tracking skills to nobles who would organize hunting trips. This went great until a few years before the Great War started. Less and less Nobles offered him jobs and he eventually had to commit petty thievery to survive. At the start of the Great War he lived on the streets in Corinthe, committing petty thievery and even murder to survive. A high ranked nobleman hired him to take care of his shady business and as a personal bodyguard, and he accepted and started his training under the current person to have that position. After Nuramon thought he knew enough and deemed himself ready, he killed his master and killed him, making it look like an accident.
He took over the position and lived a good and wealthy life for many years. He didn't only offer his skills to the nobleman, but also to others who had the money to pay for it. When his employer was caught plotting against the current ruler of Corinthe he had to flee out of town. He stole a horse and travelled to the Imperial City as fast as possible. He travelled further, with his money, to skyrim and there he lived for many, many years. Meeting his father's friend, learning magic. But he eventually had to flee the hold after a bounty was put on his head after locals found out what he truly was and still is.
He decided to settle in the newly formed hold and start a new life without violence. He is thinking of maybe opening a shop or applying for court wizard and that fails he'll just become a local hunter.
Daikanos-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Daikanos
Age: 264 born in 3E381 (appears to be in his middle thirties.)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 1.96 meters
Birthsign: the warrior
Appearance: He has the usual ash-colored skin of the Dunmer but his is slightly darker. His eyes are a dark red colors like the others of his race. He has long, straight hair that reaches halfway his back. It is of a dark red color, like his eyes. He is tall for a dunmer and can even rival most Nords in height and in built. He stands at around 1.96 meters and has a strong, muscular build. He has several scars across his body, the most notable is a scar above his right eyebrow. He has a sharp, hawk like face and a pronounced cheek bones. Several tattoos adorn his body, they are all written in old dunmer or daedric runes and talk of his several accomplishments and are in a dark blue and purple color.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Spellsword/Ex-Royal Guard/Mercenary/mage
Skills and known spells (if any): Bladed weapons, Destruction, Alteration, light & Medium armor, conjuration, block.
Minor skills: cooking, survival, non magical medical treatment.
Through years of harsh training in the hardest conditions Daikanos has become a master of bladed weapons as well as the use of destruction, alteration. He also feels comfortable wearing light and medium armor, which feels like his second skin to him and he knows how to effectively use a shield although he prefers to fight without one.. He is also faster than his build would make you think and he has great endurance making him continue were others would have stopped. He is a warrior trough and trough.
This was years back during his mercenary life. He wanted to deeper his knowledge of the destruction and alteration school of magic and through his studies he came in contact with the other schools of magic. He started studying the school of conjuration and became very good at it, even gaining the skills to prolong ones own life. For some time he even dabbled in the black arts. His magical studies don't mean he has let his condition get bad or he lost his skills with the blade. He is still as good with those as he was before his studies.
Clothing /armor: he has lost his Royal Guard armor a long time ago and now instead he wears finely crafted, dark red armor, that is even better as his beloved Royal Guard uniform. The color matches perfect with his eyes and hair and weighs a bit less than the normal medium armor. It is the perfect mix of protection and movement. Over it, mostly only over his left shoulder, he wears a broken-white cloak, complete with hood.
When not wearing any armor he wears tunic of brown expensive cloth that reaches just past his knees with a golden edges and tan lines as pants, which are usually nicely tucked away in dark brown leather boots. Around his waist a belt on which he hangs his sword.
Weapons: A double edged, straight longsword with a grip fit for two hands made out of ebony. The blade is not much wider than five centimeters and extremely sharp. It is enchanted in a way to never become dull, break or chip off. And he has another dispel effect on it that enable it to cut through magical barriers. The handle is wrapped with a dark red cloth and in the pommel is a beautiful ruby in the shape of a teardrop. On the tips of the guard are also a ruby on each side.
Over his shoulder is a cresent dunmeri scimitar strapped and when he wears his armor he is also carries several daggers. One in each boot, two on his lower back and a dagger strapped to the scabbard of his ebony sword.
Miscellaneous Items: a tinderbox, bandages, a few potions to cure disease, poison and to restore his health and energy.
Personality: He is ruthless to his enemies and feels no qualms about ending lives, but if possible he refuses to kill innocent people. He is quick of mind and decisive. When he has made up his mind he will stick with his idea. He finds it hard to admit he is wrong and will generally start grumbling, and tends to act like an annoying child when someone points out he is wrong and proves it. he is actually pretty prideful and sees himself better as most others. He is destructive and kills first and asks later. Although he has learned to control his destructiveness and aggression. Towards his friends he is a nice guy, with whom you can have lots of fun if everything keeps going the way he want things to go.
Major flaw: he has a big pride and can be arrogant sometimes. He is also pretty destructive when he gets angry. Because of his years of dabbling in destruction and in conjuration he started to hear voices in his head. They are always present, but luckily they hold no real power over him. He believes it are the voices of daedra and dremora of the oblivion but he isn't sure. He just hopes that they won't start taking over his control over his body.
Background: from a young age he was selected to join the Royal Guard of king Helseth of Morrowind. He trained hard and showed great intelligence and was eventually selected to follow up the then current captain of the Royal Guard. There was another mer selected to and together with some members of the Guard they set up a trap to get Daikanos in prison for not doing his job good.
Daikanos, however, escaped and while doing so took the life of several Royal Guards. Proving once more that he was the best one of them. He fled to Cyrodill and there he eventually became a member of the fighter's guild. But he found the contracts he got were beneath him and as such cut most of his contacts with the fighter's guild and he started of on his own as a freelancing mercenary.
He travelled far and wide and visited most places of Tamriel. But all the while never going back to Morrowind, afraid that he might be recognized by someone. When Red Year came and Morrowind got destroyed he felt sad that he never visited his beloved homeland again and thus decided to go back.
He worked as a mercenary for several years there and helped locals rebuilt their homes, towns. He took care of the problems with wildlife harassing those locals and did his best to help rebuilting Morrowind. Eventually he got recognized and ratted away by a local who could use the money. In anger he killed the man and fled Morrowind again.
He roamed around Tamriel for many years afterwards doing mercenary jobs until he got the idea to deepen himself in magic. First he joined the Synod. But soon realized they were just a group of mages not interested in the actual study of magic but more so in acquiring as many artifacts as possible.
He left the synod together with an altmer called Lorundil who is one of the last remaining Telvanni master wizards. From him he learned a lot more about magic. And he deepened his knowledge of destruction and alteration while also learning a lot of conjuration. He studied for years also serving as the altmer's bodyguard.
The more he studied the bigger his knowledge became and the more frequent he began to hear voices. Lorundil said it was very normal and not something to worry about and as such Daikanos doesn't worry about it as long as he can keep it under control. By doing experiments he found out it were souls of oblivion speaking to him and they mostly try to convince him to kill or hurt other people.
He learned to live with his devils and one day told Lorundil that he wanted to continue on his own. Their ways parted and Daikanos was alone again. He lived through the Great War and became even older without visually aging that much. Eventually he decided to settle down and maybe become a miner or farmer and perform an honest job for once in his life since he is tired of always fighting. For this he chose a little place called Valton where he is now going to.
Age: 264 born in 3E381 (appears to be in his middle thirties.)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 1.96 meters
Birthsign: the warrior
Appearance: He has the usual ash-colored skin of the Dunmer but his is slightly darker. His eyes are a dark red colors like the others of his race. He has long, straight hair that reaches halfway his back. It is of a dark red color, like his eyes. He is tall for a dunmer and can even rival most Nords in height and in built. He stands at around 1.96 meters and has a strong, muscular build. He has several scars across his body, the most notable is a scar above his right eyebrow. He has a sharp, hawk like face and a pronounced cheek bones. Several tattoos adorn his body, they are all written in old dunmer or daedric runes and talk of his several accomplishments and are in a dark blue and purple color.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Spellsword/Ex-Royal Guard/Mercenary/mage
Skills and known spells (if any): Bladed weapons, Destruction, Alteration, light & Medium armor, conjuration, block.
Minor skills: cooking, survival, non magical medical treatment.
Through years of harsh training in the hardest conditions Daikanos has become a master of bladed weapons as well as the use of destruction, alteration. He also feels comfortable wearing light and medium armor, which feels like his second skin to him and he knows how to effectively use a shield although he prefers to fight without one.. He is also faster than his build would make you think and he has great endurance making him continue were others would have stopped. He is a warrior trough and trough.
This was years back during his mercenary life. He wanted to deeper his knowledge of the destruction and alteration school of magic and through his studies he came in contact with the other schools of magic. He started studying the school of conjuration and became very good at it, even gaining the skills to prolong ones own life. For some time he even dabbled in the black arts. His magical studies don't mean he has let his condition get bad or he lost his skills with the blade. He is still as good with those as he was before his studies.
Clothing /armor: he has lost his Royal Guard armor a long time ago and now instead he wears finely crafted, dark red armor, that is even better as his beloved Royal Guard uniform. The color matches perfect with his eyes and hair and weighs a bit less than the normal medium armor. It is the perfect mix of protection and movement. Over it, mostly only over his left shoulder, he wears a broken-white cloak, complete with hood.
When not wearing any armor he wears tunic of brown expensive cloth that reaches just past his knees with a golden edges and tan lines as pants, which are usually nicely tucked away in dark brown leather boots. Around his waist a belt on which he hangs his sword.
Weapons: A double edged, straight longsword with a grip fit for two hands made out of ebony. The blade is not much wider than five centimeters and extremely sharp. It is enchanted in a way to never become dull, break or chip off. And he has another dispel effect on it that enable it to cut through magical barriers. The handle is wrapped with a dark red cloth and in the pommel is a beautiful ruby in the shape of a teardrop. On the tips of the guard are also a ruby on each side.
Over his shoulder is a cresent dunmeri scimitar strapped and when he wears his armor he is also carries several daggers. One in each boot, two on his lower back and a dagger strapped to the scabbard of his ebony sword.
Miscellaneous Items: a tinderbox, bandages, a few potions to cure disease, poison and to restore his health and energy.
Personality: He is ruthless to his enemies and feels no qualms about ending lives, but if possible he refuses to kill innocent people. He is quick of mind and decisive. When he has made up his mind he will stick with his idea. He finds it hard to admit he is wrong and will generally start grumbling, and tends to act like an annoying child when someone points out he is wrong and proves it. he is actually pretty prideful and sees himself better as most others. He is destructive and kills first and asks later. Although he has learned to control his destructiveness and aggression. Towards his friends he is a nice guy, with whom you can have lots of fun if everything keeps going the way he want things to go.
Major flaw: he has a big pride and can be arrogant sometimes. He is also pretty destructive when he gets angry. Because of his years of dabbling in destruction and in conjuration he started to hear voices in his head. They are always present, but luckily they hold no real power over him. He believes it are the voices of daedra and dremora of the oblivion but he isn't sure. He just hopes that they won't start taking over his control over his body.
Background: from a young age he was selected to join the Royal Guard of king Helseth of Morrowind. He trained hard and showed great intelligence and was eventually selected to follow up the then current captain of the Royal Guard. There was another mer selected to and together with some members of the Guard they set up a trap to get Daikanos in prison for not doing his job good.
Daikanos, however, escaped and while doing so took the life of several Royal Guards. Proving once more that he was the best one of them. He fled to Cyrodill and there he eventually became a member of the fighter's guild. But he found the contracts he got were beneath him and as such cut most of his contacts with the fighter's guild and he started of on his own as a freelancing mercenary.
He travelled far and wide and visited most places of Tamriel. But all the while never going back to Morrowind, afraid that he might be recognized by someone. When Red Year came and Morrowind got destroyed he felt sad that he never visited his beloved homeland again and thus decided to go back.
He worked as a mercenary for several years there and helped locals rebuilt their homes, towns. He took care of the problems with wildlife harassing those locals and did his best to help rebuilting Morrowind. Eventually he got recognized and ratted away by a local who could use the money. In anger he killed the man and fled Morrowind again.
He roamed around Tamriel for many years afterwards doing mercenary jobs until he got the idea to deepen himself in magic. First he joined the Synod. But soon realized they were just a group of mages not interested in the actual study of magic but more so in acquiring as many artifacts as possible.
He left the synod together with an altmer called Lorundil who is one of the last remaining Telvanni master wizards. From him he learned a lot more about magic. And he deepened his knowledge of destruction and alteration while also learning a lot of conjuration. He studied for years also serving as the altmer's bodyguard.
The more he studied the bigger his knowledge became and the more frequent he began to hear voices. Lorundil said it was very normal and not something to worry about and as such Daikanos doesn't worry about it as long as he can keep it under control. By doing experiments he found out it were souls of oblivion speaking to him and they mostly try to convince him to kill or hurt other people.
He learned to live with his devils and one day told Lorundil that he wanted to continue on his own. Their ways parted and Daikanos was alone again. He lived through the Great War and became even older without visually aging that much. Eventually he decided to settle down and maybe become a miner or farmer and perform an honest job for once in his life since he is tired of always fighting. For this he chose a little place called Valton where he is now going to.
Kalamari (Away for an unknown amount of time, but Nellis RP'd by a GM if needed.)
Nellis Nelsh-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Nellis Nelsh
Age: 35
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5' 7"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearence: Large, Fish like lips. Small blue eyes. Hair is a brownish-red, put in a ponytail. Poofy sideburns on the side of his face. No scars or warpaint. Fair skin, a bit pale. Large nose. Sleek build, little muscle. Rather fast.
Class: Miner
Skills: A small amount of One-Handed to handle himself when need be. Bit of Marksmen for hunting. Slighty skilled in Light armor, mainly for protection when he leaves towns. Speech, mainly to get good deals with traders. A interest in Alchemy, and a skill that needs improvment. Unarmed combat, mainly due to bar brawls. Skilled in Mining, Woodcutting, and Running. Only known spells are flames and Healing, and he isn't that skilled with either one.
Clothing: A white set of miner's clothes with thin dirt stains covering the front and the collar, along with a orange colored fine hat with a white fur border/ (Basically the Miner's Clothes mixed with the fine hat)
Weapons: A pickaxe, long bow with about 20 or so iron arrows, a Iron dagger.
Misc. Items: Potatoes and Carrots, Few health and stamina potions, The book Pirate King of the Abecean
Personality: Nelsh is a rather meek man, but in no way shy. His life is rather bland, and likes it just like that. He can be fearful of large and imposing fighters, and is a bit nosey when it comes to other's conversations. He likes to be with other hard workers, and loses interest rather quickly with people.
Major Flaw: Weak and Cowardly, easily bored, few combat skills. An insane case of Rage can also over take him when someone who could have stopped a innocents death let's others die.
Background: History on Nellis Nelsh is fairly bare boned. He says he grew up in Anvil after the great war ended. Before that, he was raised on a ship sailing the sea, avoiding as much of the war as possible. He worked on the docks for most of his life, but decided to move to the "Land of his people" when money in Anvil grew sparse. He arrived in Dawnstar, and worked in the town, before leaving for Windhelm. He once killed a guard in Dawnstar for letting citzens die in a Horker attack. He doesn't care for the Stormcloaks, and hides the fact that he is a imperial supporter. He seeks wealth, and he comes to Valton in attempt to make enough money to live on.
Age: 35
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5' 7"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearence: Large, Fish like lips. Small blue eyes. Hair is a brownish-red, put in a ponytail. Poofy sideburns on the side of his face. No scars or warpaint. Fair skin, a bit pale. Large nose. Sleek build, little muscle. Rather fast.
Class: Miner
Skills: A small amount of One-Handed to handle himself when need be. Bit of Marksmen for hunting. Slighty skilled in Light armor, mainly for protection when he leaves towns. Speech, mainly to get good deals with traders. A interest in Alchemy, and a skill that needs improvment. Unarmed combat, mainly due to bar brawls. Skilled in Mining, Woodcutting, and Running. Only known spells are flames and Healing, and he isn't that skilled with either one.
Clothing: A white set of miner's clothes with thin dirt stains covering the front and the collar, along with a orange colored fine hat with a white fur border/ (Basically the Miner's Clothes mixed with the fine hat)
Weapons: A pickaxe, long bow with about 20 or so iron arrows, a Iron dagger.
Misc. Items: Potatoes and Carrots, Few health and stamina potions, The book Pirate King of the Abecean
Personality: Nelsh is a rather meek man, but in no way shy. His life is rather bland, and likes it just like that. He can be fearful of large and imposing fighters, and is a bit nosey when it comes to other's conversations. He likes to be with other hard workers, and loses interest rather quickly with people.
Major Flaw: Weak and Cowardly, easily bored, few combat skills. An insane case of Rage can also over take him when someone who could have stopped a innocents death let's others die.
Background: History on Nellis Nelsh is fairly bare boned. He says he grew up in Anvil after the great war ended. Before that, he was raised on a ship sailing the sea, avoiding as much of the war as possible. He worked on the docks for most of his life, but decided to move to the "Land of his people" when money in Anvil grew sparse. He arrived in Dawnstar, and worked in the town, before leaving for Windhelm. He once killed a guard in Dawnstar for letting citzens die in a Horker attack. He doesn't care for the Stormcloaks, and hides the fact that he is a imperial supporter. He seeks wealth, and he comes to Valton in attempt to make enough money to live on.
Quintillius
Varlamo Aicandil-(Altmer)
Spoiler
Name:Varlamo Aicandil
Age: 116 (Quite young for an Altmer.)
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Height: Relatively tall for an Altmer even, so he'd tower over your average Nord.
Birthsign: The Tower (Varlamo has a very acute understand of The Tower, and its metaphysical meanings, which seeps into his personality.)
Appearance: http://i40.tinypic.com/6sx2tj.jpg
Class (What would you describe your character as?): Altmeri Battlemage, Thalmor Justiciar and Thalmor Politician.
Skills and known spells (if any):
Combat: He has been trained by varying tutors in the art of combat from a young age. Varlamo has been taught in several sword martial arts, and in varying magic schools both by tutors and at magical colleges. His magical style and spells are based upon the Altmeri magical doctrine. He specialises in the Destruction (primarily a fire mage) and Alteration schools and has little knowledge of the other schools.
Other: Varlamo has experienced a long and detailed education, bred and reared to be a perfect Thalmor politician and missionary. He has a vast knowledge, almost all of which comes from biased Thalmor Lessonates however, possessing very little actual experience. He is slimy, sly, intelligent, perceptive, far-seeing and tactically very sound of mind.
Clothing / armor: He adorns full Elven (minus the helmet), however the elven armour has Ebony plates, the black metal covered in ornate gold gilding. A very large muddied black fur outlined velvet cloak/cape drags behind him.
Weapons: A traditional Ebony longsword, unenchanted and never properly used. (More like a Morrowind style Ebony longsword.)
Miscellaneous Items: Carries on his horse in small trapped chests a relatively large sum of money as assigned by his Thalmor superiors for any purposes possibly needed. Apart from a few books, he is travelling light.
Personality: He is known to be ambitious, very calm and highly intelligent, a promising young Thalmor battlemage. He is however utterly meglomanical and egotistical, and lives life like a game, a game in which he is playing and aims to win in. He is without emotion, and does not understand love and kindness, even such feelings as hate and dislike seem otherworldly to Varlamo. He is not even passionate or holds feelings towards the Thalmor cause and anti Talos worship, although he may pretend he does, he merely plays along with the whole ordeal. He's basically pure calculated evil, the worst kind of person. (Quite funnily, my main inspiration for him came from the UK Prime Minister David Cameron, it has obviously advanced quite a lot further, but still lol).
Major Flaw: He is not without his flaws however. His main flaw can be attributed to his huge inexperience. He has never left the safety and very unusual world of the Summerset Isles. He is young for an Altmer, and has seen little of the world. He is very naive and his inexperience and world view that is based purely on biased Thalmor education can lead him to have certain misconceptions and make mistakes. He cannot stand losing or being wrong, havind not had much experience in such circumstances. He is a psychoanolyst's dream, he could be attributed to have many mental disorders, primarily psychopathy. His simple incomprehension of emotion can be a huge weakness as well as a strength. He may also be well taught in combat, but in practise can be nervous and panicky due to his inexperience. His bark is bigger than his bite when it comes to combat, but still should not be underestimated as he is certainly a force to be reckoned with. He does not rely upon his combat skills for survival, but his wit and plotting.
Background: Born and raised in Alinor, capital ofthe Summerset Isles under the 2nd Aldmeri Dominion into a rich and influential noble family, Varlamo was brought up with all of life's privaledges and given a sublime education. He spent all of his early life learning and advancing in his already planned place as a political player and powerful Thalmor official. Absolutely smothered in Thalmor, master-race and anti-man propoganda, and surrounded by the finest tutors and academics money could buy, Varlamo began to lose emotion from an early age, and began to focus purely on his studies. Once his long period of education was beginning to draw to a close around the age of 80, the Great War began between the Mede Empire and the 2nd Aldmeri Dominion and the Aicandil family was at the heart of Thalmor politics. Varlamo however, did not depart as a military leader and tactician as offered by his family, and decided to stay at home and advance his studies. By the end of the Great War, the Aicandil family had lost some of its influence, and Varlamo was now beginning to be pestered for his inactivity. Being offered the rank and station as a respectable Justiciar, he accepted happily, and was now beginning to plan his surprise visit to the young and vulnerable Nordic hold of Valton. However, he did not just have Heretic hunting in mind, planning to do something more impressive that would be noticed back in Alinor, advancing himself on a poltical level.
Age: 116 (Quite young for an Altmer.)
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Height: Relatively tall for an Altmer even, so he'd tower over your average Nord.
Birthsign: The Tower (Varlamo has a very acute understand of The Tower, and its metaphysical meanings, which seeps into his personality.)
Appearance: http://i40.tinypic.com/6sx2tj.jpg
Class (What would you describe your character as?): Altmeri Battlemage, Thalmor Justiciar and Thalmor Politician.
Skills and known spells (if any):
Combat: He has been trained by varying tutors in the art of combat from a young age. Varlamo has been taught in several sword martial arts, and in varying magic schools both by tutors and at magical colleges. His magical style and spells are based upon the Altmeri magical doctrine. He specialises in the Destruction (primarily a fire mage) and Alteration schools and has little knowledge of the other schools.
Other: Varlamo has experienced a long and detailed education, bred and reared to be a perfect Thalmor politician and missionary. He has a vast knowledge, almost all of which comes from biased Thalmor Lessonates however, possessing very little actual experience. He is slimy, sly, intelligent, perceptive, far-seeing and tactically very sound of mind.
Clothing / armor: He adorns full Elven (minus the helmet), however the elven armour has Ebony plates, the black metal covered in ornate gold gilding. A very large muddied black fur outlined velvet cloak/cape drags behind him.
Weapons: A traditional Ebony longsword, unenchanted and never properly used. (More like a Morrowind style Ebony longsword.)
Miscellaneous Items: Carries on his horse in small trapped chests a relatively large sum of money as assigned by his Thalmor superiors for any purposes possibly needed. Apart from a few books, he is travelling light.
Personality: He is known to be ambitious, very calm and highly intelligent, a promising young Thalmor battlemage. He is however utterly meglomanical and egotistical, and lives life like a game, a game in which he is playing and aims to win in. He is without emotion, and does not understand love and kindness, even such feelings as hate and dislike seem otherworldly to Varlamo. He is not even passionate or holds feelings towards the Thalmor cause and anti Talos worship, although he may pretend he does, he merely plays along with the whole ordeal. He's basically pure calculated evil, the worst kind of person. (Quite funnily, my main inspiration for him came from the UK Prime Minister David Cameron, it has obviously advanced quite a lot further, but still lol).
Major Flaw: He is not without his flaws however. His main flaw can be attributed to his huge inexperience. He has never left the safety and very unusual world of the Summerset Isles. He is young for an Altmer, and has seen little of the world. He is very naive and his inexperience and world view that is based purely on biased Thalmor education can lead him to have certain misconceptions and make mistakes. He cannot stand losing or being wrong, havind not had much experience in such circumstances. He is a psychoanolyst's dream, he could be attributed to have many mental disorders, primarily psychopathy. His simple incomprehension of emotion can be a huge weakness as well as a strength. He may also be well taught in combat, but in practise can be nervous and panicky due to his inexperience. His bark is bigger than his bite when it comes to combat, but still should not be underestimated as he is certainly a force to be reckoned with. He does not rely upon his combat skills for survival, but his wit and plotting.
Background: Born and raised in Alinor, capital ofthe Summerset Isles under the 2nd Aldmeri Dominion into a rich and influential noble family, Varlamo was brought up with all of life's privaledges and given a sublime education. He spent all of his early life learning and advancing in his already planned place as a political player and powerful Thalmor official. Absolutely smothered in Thalmor, master-race and anti-man propoganda, and surrounded by the finest tutors and academics money could buy, Varlamo began to lose emotion from an early age, and began to focus purely on his studies. Once his long period of education was beginning to draw to a close around the age of 80, the Great War began between the Mede Empire and the 2nd Aldmeri Dominion and the Aicandil family was at the heart of Thalmor politics. Varlamo however, did not depart as a military leader and tactician as offered by his family, and decided to stay at home and advance his studies. By the end of the Great War, the Aicandil family had lost some of its influence, and Varlamo was now beginning to be pestered for his inactivity. Being offered the rank and station as a respectable Justiciar, he accepted happily, and was now beginning to plan his surprise visit to the young and vulnerable Nordic hold of Valton. However, he did not just have Heretic hunting in mind, planning to do something more impressive that would be noticed back in Alinor, advancing himself on a poltical level.
Jonasvault101
Sargon Hlaalu-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Sargon Hlaalu
Age: 226 yrs, Born near the End of the Third Era during the height of the Oblivion Crisis.
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Sargon is an old Dunmer, although he has the face of a 35 yr old. With deep orange eyes and almost stark white hair, Sargon looks fairly noble, accented by the small, intricately patterned braids and knots in his hair and short beard. His features are sharp, almost hawk-like, sometimes seeming a tad intimidating. Sargon isn't just handsome though, his whole life has been about survival, honing his body into a well muscled, athletic frame.
Sargon's body is also his own personal canvas with which to paint his life upon, having Dunmer, Daedric, Nordic, Dwemer and even Orcish tattoos and ornaments covering his body. The upper portion of his back is dominated by Nordic runes and drawings, the lower half bearing Orcish tattooing, black swirls and sharp-edged ritual scars making it up. Sargon's most important tattoos are the ones most easily noticeable though, his fore-arms, covered in Daedric and Ancestral Dunmer runes and scars. The left half of his face also bears these runes. At last, his neck is wrapped in Dwemer runes, with the Daedric 'Beht' separating it in the middle.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Partisan/Pirate/Assassin/Hunter
Skills and known spells (if any):
Medium Armor: Sargon has trained and fought in various suits of leather, chain, scale, and medium plate such as Bonemold.
Curved Blades: A common Dunmer sword is the scimitar, although katanas are just as popular. Sargon has used scimitars and katanas in combat since he began wielding them in the 7th year of the 4th Era.
Block: Sargon learned the art of using his ornate whale-bone crescent shield both for defense and offense.
Destruction Magic: As a Dunmer, Sargon was born with a natural affinity for magic, Destruction being the most obvious. He is no master, but has learned to dual-cast basic spells such as Flames and Lightning.
Pole-arm: Sargon's most unique combat skill is the use of a spear or staff in combat. He learned under the tutelage of an Ohmes-raht monk in Elsweyr.
Survival: Morrowind is a savage place, its strange beauty being just as abundant as the terrors and harshness that accompany much of the Province. Sargon learned from his Ashlander cousins (his grandfather was Sargon Zansatanit, of the Zainab), how to survive in the harsh environments. In the wake of the Red Mountain's eruption, these skills became invaluable.
Cooking: Damn good cook.
Brewing: Sargon's father was brought into Great House Hlaalu because of the great Matze and Sujamma he'd brew and sell, making him rather wealthy and almost forcing him to teach Sargon the tricks of the trade.
Revelry: Among these combative and basic skills, the ones most near and dear to Sargon were those his mother passed to him. A fine singing voice, and the playing of the Lute, Drum, and Flute.
Clothing: Sargon wears simple cloth pants and a long sleeved silk shirt. Over this, he wears a long, sleeveless, dark-blue hooded robe; embroidered with mithril thread on the lapels, hood, and skirting. His boots are Netch Leather, and he wears ornate bronze bracers crafted in Hammerfell.
Armor: (Worn only on special occasion and combat). Sargon has a suit of armor, somewhat of his own make. His briastplate is old Gah-Julan Bonemold, with the traditional embroidered Dunmer scarf and the Moon and Star burned into the chest-plate itself. His helm is Indoril, the plume cut down to small tufts of hair and the face-plate carved with Daedric letters spelling out blessings of Boethiah and Hircine, the right and left halves respectively. Sargon wears two leather http://www.theknightshop.co.uk/catalog/images/sr100989.jpg of Bosmer-make, worn on the biceps and partially raising over the shoulder, rather than covering over the shoulder itself, lending better flexibility in combat. His boots are the same as he wears always, Netch leather. The same goes for the ornate bronze bracers he wears.
Weapons:
-Sargon keeps his beloved katana, Dwemer made with ebony filigree praising Meridia inlaid on the blood-groove, locked in a chest along with his armor.
-He carries with him always a spear made of whale-bone, burnt-in Daedric letters adorning the top half of the spear; the spear-head itself broad with a moonstone edge.
-Sargon's shield is also a weapon of sorts, the crescent shape lending a sharp edge that can be used as a killing tool.
-A simple yew long bow and 32 arrows.
-The last weapon Sargon carries is an old ebony dagger, found in the aftermath of Vvardenfells' nearly complete destruction. It was gifted to him by Boethiah herself, each slain enemies' soul going to her realm through the dagger.
Miscellaneous items: A lute, flute, drum, wine-skin, bottle of sujamma, an old Amulet of Moon and Star, as well as two amethyst and malachite rings. He also has small idols of Azura, Meridia, Hircine, and Boethiah wrapped in cloth, kept in secret.
Personality: Sargon, to put it plainly, is a stoic old Dunmer. His eyes have seen countless wonders, and witnessed innumerable tragedies. However, even though he is a rock in the storm, always strong, always ready, Sargon has a human side. He is polite and kind to friend and neighbor, will never say a harsh word unless another does so first, and above all respects the gods and deeds done on Nirn.
Major flaw: Sargon has a dark and troubled past. He receives visions from Boethiah. Although Meridia is good, and Azura (his patron goddess) is better, Boethiah and Hircine are not. Hircine, Sargon has found, rarely troubles the mortal world, only once has he tried to rule and he was put to shame. Hircine's visions detail places of worship and other followers for Sargon to find... Boethiah is not so kind. Once, long ago in Sargon's life, she commanded and empowered him as her instrument. These visions Sargon receives are ultra-rare, even more so now in his later years, the last vision from his dark Goddess was 30 yrs ago. But should he have another, it must be fulfilled.
Background: Sargon 'Odairan' Hlaalu was born during the peak of the Oblivion Crisis, in the waning years of the Third Era. Born in the bustling town of Balmora, Sargon began working for his father at the age of 5, a job he didn't much care for at the time, but everything takes time to understand. His father, Reman, had bought a small building to turn into a brewery. It was a great success within just two short months, brewing a batch of matze and sujamma was easy work, and it was the best in Vvardenfell.
Soon enough, the Great House of Hlaalu found Reman's success, and they invited him into the House itself. Within just a few years, Sargon's family was living a great life in a fine manor, with all the niceties a Dunmer could desire. But it changed, at the age of 17, Sargon witnessed the greatest tragedy in the history of his people. While staying further north with his cousins in the Ashlands, Sargon felt the Ministry of Truth slam into the city of Vivec. Only seconds later, Red Mountain cloaked Morrowind in ash and debris.
Only a week before the destruction of Vvardenfell, Sargon's father gave him a great amount his wealth, his sword, and his briastplate. Sargon fled north, knowing the fate his father would suffer at the hands of the Morag Tong. With this wealth, his mother, two sisters, and 13 of the Zainab men and women, the refugees set of to the eastern coast of Vvardenfell, where they would live a new life. This life was to be one of piracy, but in the name of the Dunmer.
When the Argonians invaded Morrowind, Sargon and his crew harassed the Argonians mercilessly. Finally, though, after the death of his mother, a peaceful one, Sargon left behind his pirate's life. His sisters, Merena and Rayla, went north to Skyrim in hopes of joining the College of Winterhold. They all managed to slip past Argonians lines, and that was the last they saw of each other. Brother and sisters, but only for a while. Sargon took a separate path.
Sargon's life was spent as a wanderer, a warrior, a bard... an assassin, a mercenary. He learned great things from great people, and saw the world in all its beauty, as well as its ugliness. Now, he simply wishes to settle down, and the new Hold of Valton being built in Skyrim's southern reaches, seems just the place. Sargon heads there now, he leads a horse and carriage. Its cargo being of great wealth, as well as his most prized possessions. He'd like to continue his father's work, but he was sure these Nords would hate Sujamma or Matze.
... Perhaps, he could try his hand at mead.
Age: 226 yrs, Born near the End of the Third Era during the height of the Oblivion Crisis.
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Sargon is an old Dunmer, although he has the face of a 35 yr old. With deep orange eyes and almost stark white hair, Sargon looks fairly noble, accented by the small, intricately patterned braids and knots in his hair and short beard. His features are sharp, almost hawk-like, sometimes seeming a tad intimidating. Sargon isn't just handsome though, his whole life has been about survival, honing his body into a well muscled, athletic frame.
Sargon's body is also his own personal canvas with which to paint his life upon, having Dunmer, Daedric, Nordic, Dwemer and even Orcish tattoos and ornaments covering his body. The upper portion of his back is dominated by Nordic runes and drawings, the lower half bearing Orcish tattooing, black swirls and sharp-edged ritual scars making it up. Sargon's most important tattoos are the ones most easily noticeable though, his fore-arms, covered in Daedric and Ancestral Dunmer runes and scars. The left half of his face also bears these runes. At last, his neck is wrapped in Dwemer runes, with the Daedric 'Beht' separating it in the middle.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Partisan/Pirate/Assassin/Hunter
Skills and known spells (if any):
Medium Armor: Sargon has trained and fought in various suits of leather, chain, scale, and medium plate such as Bonemold.
Curved Blades: A common Dunmer sword is the scimitar, although katanas are just as popular. Sargon has used scimitars and katanas in combat since he began wielding them in the 7th year of the 4th Era.
Block: Sargon learned the art of using his ornate whale-bone crescent shield both for defense and offense.
Destruction Magic: As a Dunmer, Sargon was born with a natural affinity for magic, Destruction being the most obvious. He is no master, but has learned to dual-cast basic spells such as Flames and Lightning.
Pole-arm: Sargon's most unique combat skill is the use of a spear or staff in combat. He learned under the tutelage of an Ohmes-raht monk in Elsweyr.
Survival: Morrowind is a savage place, its strange beauty being just as abundant as the terrors and harshness that accompany much of the Province. Sargon learned from his Ashlander cousins (his grandfather was Sargon Zansatanit, of the Zainab), how to survive in the harsh environments. In the wake of the Red Mountain's eruption, these skills became invaluable.
Cooking: Damn good cook.
Brewing: Sargon's father was brought into Great House Hlaalu because of the great Matze and Sujamma he'd brew and sell, making him rather wealthy and almost forcing him to teach Sargon the tricks of the trade.
Revelry: Among these combative and basic skills, the ones most near and dear to Sargon were those his mother passed to him. A fine singing voice, and the playing of the Lute, Drum, and Flute.
Clothing: Sargon wears simple cloth pants and a long sleeved silk shirt. Over this, he wears a long, sleeveless, dark-blue hooded robe; embroidered with mithril thread on the lapels, hood, and skirting. His boots are Netch Leather, and he wears ornate bronze bracers crafted in Hammerfell.
Armor: (Worn only on special occasion and combat). Sargon has a suit of armor, somewhat of his own make. His briastplate is old Gah-Julan Bonemold, with the traditional embroidered Dunmer scarf and the Moon and Star burned into the chest-plate itself. His helm is Indoril, the plume cut down to small tufts of hair and the face-plate carved with Daedric letters spelling out blessings of Boethiah and Hircine, the right and left halves respectively. Sargon wears two leather http://www.theknightshop.co.uk/catalog/images/sr100989.jpg of Bosmer-make, worn on the biceps and partially raising over the shoulder, rather than covering over the shoulder itself, lending better flexibility in combat. His boots are the same as he wears always, Netch leather. The same goes for the ornate bronze bracers he wears.
Weapons:
-Sargon keeps his beloved katana, Dwemer made with ebony filigree praising Meridia inlaid on the blood-groove, locked in a chest along with his armor.
-He carries with him always a spear made of whale-bone, burnt-in Daedric letters adorning the top half of the spear; the spear-head itself broad with a moonstone edge.
-Sargon's shield is also a weapon of sorts, the crescent shape lending a sharp edge that can be used as a killing tool.
-A simple yew long bow and 32 arrows.
-The last weapon Sargon carries is an old ebony dagger, found in the aftermath of Vvardenfells' nearly complete destruction. It was gifted to him by Boethiah herself, each slain enemies' soul going to her realm through the dagger.
Miscellaneous items: A lute, flute, drum, wine-skin, bottle of sujamma, an old Amulet of Moon and Star, as well as two amethyst and malachite rings. He also has small idols of Azura, Meridia, Hircine, and Boethiah wrapped in cloth, kept in secret.
Personality: Sargon, to put it plainly, is a stoic old Dunmer. His eyes have seen countless wonders, and witnessed innumerable tragedies. However, even though he is a rock in the storm, always strong, always ready, Sargon has a human side. He is polite and kind to friend and neighbor, will never say a harsh word unless another does so first, and above all respects the gods and deeds done on Nirn.
Major flaw: Sargon has a dark and troubled past. He receives visions from Boethiah. Although Meridia is good, and Azura (his patron goddess) is better, Boethiah and Hircine are not. Hircine, Sargon has found, rarely troubles the mortal world, only once has he tried to rule and he was put to shame. Hircine's visions detail places of worship and other followers for Sargon to find... Boethiah is not so kind. Once, long ago in Sargon's life, she commanded and empowered him as her instrument. These visions Sargon receives are ultra-rare, even more so now in his later years, the last vision from his dark Goddess was 30 yrs ago. But should he have another, it must be fulfilled.
Background: Sargon 'Odairan' Hlaalu was born during the peak of the Oblivion Crisis, in the waning years of the Third Era. Born in the bustling town of Balmora, Sargon began working for his father at the age of 5, a job he didn't much care for at the time, but everything takes time to understand. His father, Reman, had bought a small building to turn into a brewery. It was a great success within just two short months, brewing a batch of matze and sujamma was easy work, and it was the best in Vvardenfell.
Soon enough, the Great House of Hlaalu found Reman's success, and they invited him into the House itself. Within just a few years, Sargon's family was living a great life in a fine manor, with all the niceties a Dunmer could desire. But it changed, at the age of 17, Sargon witnessed the greatest tragedy in the history of his people. While staying further north with his cousins in the Ashlands, Sargon felt the Ministry of Truth slam into the city of Vivec. Only seconds later, Red Mountain cloaked Morrowind in ash and debris.
Only a week before the destruction of Vvardenfell, Sargon's father gave him a great amount his wealth, his sword, and his briastplate. Sargon fled north, knowing the fate his father would suffer at the hands of the Morag Tong. With this wealth, his mother, two sisters, and 13 of the Zainab men and women, the refugees set of to the eastern coast of Vvardenfell, where they would live a new life. This life was to be one of piracy, but in the name of the Dunmer.
When the Argonians invaded Morrowind, Sargon and his crew harassed the Argonians mercilessly. Finally, though, after the death of his mother, a peaceful one, Sargon left behind his pirate's life. His sisters, Merena and Rayla, went north to Skyrim in hopes of joining the College of Winterhold. They all managed to slip past Argonians lines, and that was the last they saw of each other. Brother and sisters, but only for a while. Sargon took a separate path.
Sargon's life was spent as a wanderer, a warrior, a bard... an assassin, a mercenary. He learned great things from great people, and saw the world in all its beauty, as well as its ugliness. Now, he simply wishes to settle down, and the new Hold of Valton being built in Skyrim's southern reaches, seems just the place. Sargon heads there now, he leads a horse and carriage. Its cargo being of great wealth, as well as his most prized possessions. He'd like to continue his father's work, but he was sure these Nords would hate Sujamma or Matze.
... Perhaps, he could try his hand at mead.
Manu
Graymane-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Graymane (Eralian Anarys)
Age: 165 (45 by human standards)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: male
Height: 6'5''
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: A tall and muscular dunmer, in his late middle age but keeping in a very good shape. His skin is somewhat weathered from years of being outdoors, but his face don't bears much more marks of age.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Sellsword - a Tamriel-born relative of Earth's condotierre, the sellsword is a sword for hire, specializing in hit-and-run tactics, on dirty tricks rather than brute force. But there' more to to the job than killing : leading mens, plotting tactics and strategy and most important keeping a firm eye on the bottom line....
Skills and known spells (if any): His forte are two-handed weapons, illusion and destruction magic as well as light armors. He's also reasonably skilled with sneaking around, restoration magic and acrobatics. From his years as a mercenary he's at least somewhat familiar with just about any weapon one might encounter.
Clothing / armor: a set of mithril mail armor, comfortable suede travel clothes - when socializing, dark red trousers, white silk shirt and dark red silk and gold brocade coat.
Weapons: dwemer greatsword and a glass dagger
Miscellaneous items:
Personality:Quite a cynic, Elarian is a mercenary through and thorough, mainly concerned with keeping his pockets full to finance his taste for grand living. But he maintains a tight grip on his temper, having seen too many idiots destroy themselves by overindulgence, laziness or blood-lust. He follows the mercenary's code (respect your contract, no pointless killing or destruction, an offence to your brothers in arms is an offence to you)
Major flaw: Elarian's has two main flaws – the first is greed, his expensive tastes requires a lot of money to sustain. A lesser problem is a propensity to show off – a well known mercenary gets better pay than a nobody.
Background: Born in a merchant family in what's left of Morrowind under dunmer control, Elarian soon felt the desire to escape the dull life of a provincial merchant, and embraced the way of the sword. Getting embroiled in various troubles with the local authorities, he left his home town to embrace a mercenary career that carried him all over Tamriel, fighting along and against about just any military force to be found there. The Great War was more boon than curse to him as the meatgrinder chewing the Legion meant plenty of people found in need of protection.
Somewhat tired of hte mercenary life he has decided to settle down, managing to save enough to buy a decent home in the new hold (and to finance some ameliorations – his new home uses a warm spring for heat and a nice indoor warm bath). He's currently seeling lessons in weapon handling, hoping to catch enouhg ot the Jarl's attention to become a thane with enough holdings to finance the sort of lifestyle he's aspiring to.
Age: 165 (45 by human standards)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: male
Height: 6'5''
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: A tall and muscular dunmer, in his late middle age but keeping in a very good shape. His skin is somewhat weathered from years of being outdoors, but his face don't bears much more marks of age.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Sellsword - a Tamriel-born relative of Earth's condotierre, the sellsword is a sword for hire, specializing in hit-and-run tactics, on dirty tricks rather than brute force. But there' more to to the job than killing : leading mens, plotting tactics and strategy and most important keeping a firm eye on the bottom line....
Skills and known spells (if any): His forte are two-handed weapons, illusion and destruction magic as well as light armors. He's also reasonably skilled with sneaking around, restoration magic and acrobatics. From his years as a mercenary he's at least somewhat familiar with just about any weapon one might encounter.
Clothing / armor: a set of mithril mail armor, comfortable suede travel clothes - when socializing, dark red trousers, white silk shirt and dark red silk and gold brocade coat.
Weapons: dwemer greatsword and a glass dagger
Miscellaneous items:
Personality:Quite a cynic, Elarian is a mercenary through and thorough, mainly concerned with keeping his pockets full to finance his taste for grand living. But he maintains a tight grip on his temper, having seen too many idiots destroy themselves by overindulgence, laziness or blood-lust. He follows the mercenary's code (respect your contract, no pointless killing or destruction, an offence to your brothers in arms is an offence to you)
Major flaw: Elarian's has two main flaws – the first is greed, his expensive tastes requires a lot of money to sustain. A lesser problem is a propensity to show off – a well known mercenary gets better pay than a nobody.
Background: Born in a merchant family in what's left of Morrowind under dunmer control, Elarian soon felt the desire to escape the dull life of a provincial merchant, and embraced the way of the sword. Getting embroiled in various troubles with the local authorities, he left his home town to embrace a mercenary career that carried him all over Tamriel, fighting along and against about just any military force to be found there. The Great War was more boon than curse to him as the meatgrinder chewing the Legion meant plenty of people found in need of protection.
Somewhat tired of hte mercenary life he has decided to settle down, managing to save enough to buy a decent home in the new hold (and to finance some ameliorations – his new home uses a warm spring for heat and a nice indoor warm bath). He's currently seeling lessons in weapon handling, hoping to catch enouhg ot the Jarl's attention to become a thane with enough holdings to finance the sort of lifestyle he's aspiring to.
“What is that! your mom”
Danus Maximus-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Danus Maximus
Race: Imperial,
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Height: 6.2
Birthsign: The Lord.
Appearance: Short, blonde hair, Blue eyes. Whiter than a normal imperial yet not as pale as a nord, And quite muscular for an imperial diplomat.
Skills/spells: He is not a big fan of magika but he does uses a minor healing spell once on a great while. And if he is in a tough situation he would use the voice of the emperor to get out of it. He is decent with a one handed sword but prefers to use persuade people so as a result he is a master of speech craft. In fact compare to most imperials who are naturaly good diplomats he is could be one of the best the empire has to offer.
Clothing: He just wears typical clothes that wealthy nobles tend to wear.
Weapons: He uses an enchanted imperial sword he calls. "Septima" in honor of the previous Dynasty of the third era,
Misc: Mostly just a bag of gold as well as some books. (including speech skill books and the lusty argonian made)
Personality: Danus is quite a humorous person. When not serving as an ambassador in a situation he tend to tell jokes about the current events of Tamriel. Funny but offensive. However when need to he is quite serious and is a determined to serve the empire till his last breath. And he is also quite calm.
Flaws: Despite being an excellent diplomat he is quite stubborn an ignorant of former empire provinces. (though he does secretly respect the stormcloaks despite disagreeing with them) Also he has anger issues, A huge alcoholic, and has a deep hatred of the thalmor that could be a threat to his life. (though he will be safe as long as he keeps it to himself)
Background. Born during the start of the great war he never knew his father. In fact his father left there home in the imperial city as a soldier heading to fight the dominion before he was born. When he was three the thalmor attacked the IC. Having somehow escaped the city his mother had to stay behind and would die in the brutal occupation. (Thus giving him his hatred for the thamlor) Eventually he was raised by an imperial called Julius Maximus. Thus how he got his last name. As the war came to an end he was raised as a farmboy. However by 16 He decided to leave the village he called home ever since Julius found him as a toddler hungry on the road North of the IC; to return to the IC to find out what happen to his mother after the siege. Eventualy after 3 years he found out that she was kept in Thalmor barracks as a six slave along with other women during the occupation only to be killed when she was impregnated by a thalmor soldier. That his when his hatred for the thalmor grew. At 25 he self taught himself the arts of speech craft and combat. He then joined the legion leaving nothing besides of the village he grew up in behind. Over the next few years he was earned the rank centurion. After given orders to clear out a bandit cave he somehow convinced the leader to give up and surrender. That was the start of his career.
At 28, after being a very successful imperial diplomat he was personally sent to Skyrim by the emperor Titus Mede II To help stop violence in Skyrim by convincing as much jarls as possible to stay loyal to the empire. While it did not work as plan he did managed to convince Falkreath hold to remove their stormcloak supportive jarl and replaced by one loyal to the empire. Over the next couple of years the high king was assassinated, the civil began. and Danus was no longer needed in Skyrim. However General Tulius quite trustful in Danus convince the emperor to make him stay should there be a situation that be can resolved peacefully.
Over the next few months there is a new mission for Danus. There is report of a new hold. It is simple Danus is to go into the hold. And convince the Jarl to fight on the imperial side. However the jarl is quite stubborn when it comes to the civil war and it could be proven a challenge. Even for Danus.
Race: Imperial,
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Height: 6.2
Birthsign: The Lord.
Appearance: Short, blonde hair, Blue eyes. Whiter than a normal imperial yet not as pale as a nord, And quite muscular for an imperial diplomat.
Skills/spells: He is not a big fan of magika but he does uses a minor healing spell once on a great while. And if he is in a tough situation he would use the voice of the emperor to get out of it. He is decent with a one handed sword but prefers to use persuade people so as a result he is a master of speech craft. In fact compare to most imperials who are naturaly good diplomats he is could be one of the best the empire has to offer.
Clothing: He just wears typical clothes that wealthy nobles tend to wear.
Weapons: He uses an enchanted imperial sword he calls. "Septima" in honor of the previous Dynasty of the third era,
Misc: Mostly just a bag of gold as well as some books. (including speech skill books and the lusty argonian made)
Personality: Danus is quite a humorous person. When not serving as an ambassador in a situation he tend to tell jokes about the current events of Tamriel. Funny but offensive. However when need to he is quite serious and is a determined to serve the empire till his last breath. And he is also quite calm.
Flaws: Despite being an excellent diplomat he is quite stubborn an ignorant of former empire provinces. (though he does secretly respect the stormcloaks despite disagreeing with them) Also he has anger issues, A huge alcoholic, and has a deep hatred of the thalmor that could be a threat to his life. (though he will be safe as long as he keeps it to himself)
Background. Born during the start of the great war he never knew his father. In fact his father left there home in the imperial city as a soldier heading to fight the dominion before he was born. When he was three the thalmor attacked the IC. Having somehow escaped the city his mother had to stay behind and would die in the brutal occupation. (Thus giving him his hatred for the thamlor) Eventually he was raised by an imperial called Julius Maximus. Thus how he got his last name. As the war came to an end he was raised as a farmboy. However by 16 He decided to leave the village he called home ever since Julius found him as a toddler hungry on the road North of the IC; to return to the IC to find out what happen to his mother after the siege. Eventualy after 3 years he found out that she was kept in Thalmor barracks as a six slave along with other women during the occupation only to be killed when she was impregnated by a thalmor soldier. That his when his hatred for the thalmor grew. At 25 he self taught himself the arts of speech craft and combat. He then joined the legion leaving nothing besides of the village he grew up in behind. Over the next few years he was earned the rank centurion. After given orders to clear out a bandit cave he somehow convinced the leader to give up and surrender. That was the start of his career.
At 28, after being a very successful imperial diplomat he was personally sent to Skyrim by the emperor Titus Mede II To help stop violence in Skyrim by convincing as much jarls as possible to stay loyal to the empire. While it did not work as plan he did managed to convince Falkreath hold to remove their stormcloak supportive jarl and replaced by one loyal to the empire. Over the next couple of years the high king was assassinated, the civil began. and Danus was no longer needed in Skyrim. However General Tulius quite trustful in Danus convince the emperor to make him stay should there be a situation that be can resolved peacefully.
Over the next few months there is a new mission for Danus. There is report of a new hold. It is simple Danus is to go into the hold. And convince the Jarl to fight on the imperial side. However the jarl is quite stubborn when it comes to the civil war and it could be proven a challenge. Even for Danus.
Bandits Leader: Wolfgar Cut-Throat-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Wolfgar Cut-Throat.
Age: 37
Race:Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9
Birthsign: the steed.
Appearance: Blond, long viking like hair, Left eye been cut out. Scar on his throat, and left cheek. And like any Nord. Really muscular.
Class: Bandit leader.
Skills: Lockpicking, 1 handed, and light armor
Armor: leather armor.
Weapons. A steel sword.
Items: A bag of gold and the lusty argonian maid.
Personality: Uflgar is a violent individual. Though he views himself as a hero for challenging the riften government many poeple see him as an evil person.
Major flaw: A drunkard, very greedy, and due to losing an eye, he can't see well.
Background: It is simple, he was born in Riften. His mother was a prosttute who died in child birth and his father was drunk and abusive. When he was 12 his father died drinking himself to death. He spent 2 years in the streets begging until he meet a kahjiit called R'zeer. R'zeer got him into the thieves guild and for 11 years served it well. However despite their promises of making the members rich he barely got enough money from the guild.
Wolfgar was left with no choice but to raid caravans. After taking some members from the guild the bandit group prospered from the gold from the caravans. After 7 years Wolfgar began to become more Gruesome. After every caravan raid he would kill every victim except for the young who might eventually become part of the group. When the bandits started to raid villages it became clear to the Jarl that Wolfgar is a threat.
When Wolfgar was 37 the riften guardsmen hunted the group down. They then attacked a fort which was Wolfgar's HQ. Barely escaping with a few other bandits they heard of a new hold..
His bandit group has 3 experienced bandits, 2 recruits and Wolfgar himself.
Age: 37
Race:Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5'9
Birthsign: the steed.
Appearance: Blond, long viking like hair, Left eye been cut out. Scar on his throat, and left cheek. And like any Nord. Really muscular.
Class: Bandit leader.
Skills: Lockpicking, 1 handed, and light armor
Armor: leather armor.
Weapons. A steel sword.
Items: A bag of gold and the lusty argonian maid.
Personality: Uflgar is a violent individual. Though he views himself as a hero for challenging the riften government many poeple see him as an evil person.
Major flaw: A drunkard, very greedy, and due to losing an eye, he can't see well.
Background: It is simple, he was born in Riften. His mother was a prosttute who died in child birth and his father was drunk and abusive. When he was 12 his father died drinking himself to death. He spent 2 years in the streets begging until he meet a kahjiit called R'zeer. R'zeer got him into the thieves guild and for 11 years served it well. However despite their promises of making the members rich he barely got enough money from the guild.
Wolfgar was left with no choice but to raid caravans. After taking some members from the guild the bandit group prospered from the gold from the caravans. After 7 years Wolfgar began to become more Gruesome. After every caravan raid he would kill every victim except for the young who might eventually become part of the group. When the bandits started to raid villages it became clear to the Jarl that Wolfgar is a threat.
When Wolfgar was 37 the riften guardsmen hunted the group down. They then attacked a fort which was Wolfgar's HQ. Barely escaping with a few other bandits they heard of a new hold..
His bandit group has 3 experienced bandits, 2 recruits and Wolfgar himself.
Mhund
Roymund Inventius-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name:Roymund Inventius
Age:28
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Height:5ft 8"
Birthsign:The Thief
Appearance:Weather worn facial features, Grim appearance, Brunette, Slender build.
Class/Career:Woodsman
Skills and known spells (if any):
- Archery
- One-Handed weapons
- Light armour
- Stealth
- Fletchery/craftsmanship
Clothing / armor:
- Dark olive Tunic
- Brown trousers
- Leather boots
- Long travellers robes (Fur-trimmed & hooded)
- Fur Gloves
Weapons:
- Imperial bow
- Iron Shortsword
- 20 Iron-tipped Arrows
Miscellaneous items:
- Backpack
- Flint & Tinder
- Whetstone
- Journey bread
- Small craft knife
- Partly whittled light wooden statue
- Bedroll
- 400 Septims
Personality:
- Shy, Perceptive, Mistrustful
Major flaw:
Too long spent alone in the woods has lead him to become mistrustfull of others, leading him to come across as mistrustworthy instead.
Background:
Roymund was born in the city of Anvil in the Imperial province. His family all worked various Woodsman crafts such as Hunters, trackers, trapper, etc.
Aged 17, Roymund signed up with the Imperial Legion who soon assigned him into the Scouting regiments. After many years of uneventful soldiering, his unit was merged with another and tasked to head upto Skyrim. Whilst travelling, arguments with another Scout named Keller broke out and eventually led to a fight between the two leaving them both discharged from the military. Roymund fell back on his Woodsman background and starting carving out a living as a in the trade whilst travelling, He offer services through small hamlets and towns as a primarily a Hunter, though should the need arrive he could make a few septims from Fletchery, Tracking, Trapping and occasionally as an archer for passing merchant caravans.
Age:28
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Height:5ft 8"
Birthsign:The Thief
Appearance:Weather worn facial features, Grim appearance, Brunette, Slender build.
Class/Career:Woodsman
Skills and known spells (if any):
- Archery
- One-Handed weapons
- Light armour
- Stealth
- Fletchery/craftsmanship
Clothing / armor:
- Dark olive Tunic
- Brown trousers
- Leather boots
- Long travellers robes (Fur-trimmed & hooded)
- Fur Gloves
Weapons:
- Imperial bow
- Iron Shortsword
- 20 Iron-tipped Arrows
Miscellaneous items:
- Backpack
- Flint & Tinder
- Whetstone
- Journey bread
- Small craft knife
- Partly whittled light wooden statue
- Bedroll
- 400 Septims
Personality:
- Shy, Perceptive, Mistrustful
Major flaw:
Too long spent alone in the woods has lead him to become mistrustfull of others, leading him to come across as mistrustworthy instead.
Background:
Roymund was born in the city of Anvil in the Imperial province. His family all worked various Woodsman crafts such as Hunters, trackers, trapper, etc.
Aged 17, Roymund signed up with the Imperial Legion who soon assigned him into the Scouting regiments. After many years of uneventful soldiering, his unit was merged with another and tasked to head upto Skyrim. Whilst travelling, arguments with another Scout named Keller broke out and eventually led to a fight between the two leaving them both discharged from the military. Roymund fell back on his Woodsman background and starting carving out a living as a in the trade whilst travelling, He offer services through small hamlets and towns as a primarily a Hunter, though should the need arrive he could make a few septims from Fletchery, Tracking, Trapping and occasionally as an archer for passing merchant caravans.
Smig
Alguidar-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Alguidar
Age: 34
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 1.80 cm (~6' 0'' I think)
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Sturdy, wide body. Short neck. Strong arms and back. Tends to sit in a bad posture, hunched over the table. His hair is light brown and pushed back to his shoulder line. His eyes are green and deep within the eye sockets giving him a mysterious and not very expressive look. He has a full, thick beard.
Class: Farmer
Skills and known spells (if any):
Alchemy - Working the land for a living, he has come to know most flora in Skyrim and many useful recipes to treat wounds, diseases and fortify stamina for the long hours of work.
Barter - Due to the low profit margin of his products, he got used to haggling for every last Septim.
Two-handed - Basic skills using an axe to defend himself. Farms, being outside city walls, are very exposed to bandits and wildlife, a woodcutter's axe is usually close by when city guards aren't.
Cooking - Not the best but he knows how to turn his farm's products into a delicious stew. He can do wonders with beef.
Clothing / armor: He's usually seen wearing common clothing that doesn't draw attention to himself. Usually in darker tones. He also has a full set of leather armor stored in his house that he never used.
Weapons: None.
Miscellaneous items: None.
Personality:
- Impatient, sometimes rash in his decisions. Will tend to take action quickly instead of pondering his decisions at length.
- Strong nationalist and supporter of the rebellion. Tolerates other races but feels more comfortable around other Nords.
- Hard worker. Doesn't make much eye contact. He usually keeps to himself, especially when he's focused on his job.
- He loves a good joke though and he's very loyal to those he considers he's friends. Can talk for hours if alcohol is involved.
Major flaw: Close minded. He looks down to magic, outsiders and laziness. He frowns on exterior signs of wealth.
Background: Born in a family of farmers near Windhelm. Life was rough and he helped around the farm for as long as he can remember. The farm was fairly successful for a while, supplying Windhelm and Winterhold with all sorts of products, most notably beef. The harsh climate up north has always hindered its yield though. Eventually, his brothers started leaving, seeking new jobs around Skyrim but his father was always too stubborn to leave the farm.
Alguidar thought they could still turn things around so he stayed behind helping. As the seasons passed though, they were slowly dragged into a life where they were just barely surviving. They just couldn't compete with the cheaper production from the south, where the climate was much more forgiving.
News of a new hold being built somewhere along the fertile shores of the Treva River, reached him at that point. It stroke him as a great opportunity to buy the best piece of land on the hold before others flocked in, and leave this dying farm for good. His father still refused to sell the farm though. Both argued violently for days until his father finally succumbed from old age and disease.
Alguidar knew exactly what to do then. In a mix of anger and hope, he sold the property in a hurry for as little as 2000 Septims and traveled south, looking for a new start in the Rift.
Age: 34
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 1.80 cm (~6' 0'' I think)
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Sturdy, wide body. Short neck. Strong arms and back. Tends to sit in a bad posture, hunched over the table. His hair is light brown and pushed back to his shoulder line. His eyes are green and deep within the eye sockets giving him a mysterious and not very expressive look. He has a full, thick beard.
Class: Farmer
Skills and known spells (if any):
Alchemy - Working the land for a living, he has come to know most flora in Skyrim and many useful recipes to treat wounds, diseases and fortify stamina for the long hours of work.
Barter - Due to the low profit margin of his products, he got used to haggling for every last Septim.
Two-handed - Basic skills using an axe to defend himself. Farms, being outside city walls, are very exposed to bandits and wildlife, a woodcutter's axe is usually close by when city guards aren't.
Cooking - Not the best but he knows how to turn his farm's products into a delicious stew. He can do wonders with beef.
Clothing / armor: He's usually seen wearing common clothing that doesn't draw attention to himself. Usually in darker tones. He also has a full set of leather armor stored in his house that he never used.
Weapons: None.
Miscellaneous items: None.
Personality:
- Impatient, sometimes rash in his decisions. Will tend to take action quickly instead of pondering his decisions at length.
- Strong nationalist and supporter of the rebellion. Tolerates other races but feels more comfortable around other Nords.
- Hard worker. Doesn't make much eye contact. He usually keeps to himself, especially when he's focused on his job.
- He loves a good joke though and he's very loyal to those he considers he's friends. Can talk for hours if alcohol is involved.
Major flaw: Close minded. He looks down to magic, outsiders and laziness. He frowns on exterior signs of wealth.
Background: Born in a family of farmers near Windhelm. Life was rough and he helped around the farm for as long as he can remember. The farm was fairly successful for a while, supplying Windhelm and Winterhold with all sorts of products, most notably beef. The harsh climate up north has always hindered its yield though. Eventually, his brothers started leaving, seeking new jobs around Skyrim but his father was always too stubborn to leave the farm.
Alguidar thought they could still turn things around so he stayed behind helping. As the seasons passed though, they were slowly dragged into a life where they were just barely surviving. They just couldn't compete with the cheaper production from the south, where the climate was much more forgiving.
News of a new hold being built somewhere along the fertile shores of the Treva River, reached him at that point. It stroke him as a great opportunity to buy the best piece of land on the hold before others flocked in, and leave this dying farm for good. His father still refused to sell the farm though. Both argued violently for days until his father finally succumbed from old age and disease.
Alguidar knew exactly what to do then. In a mix of anger and hope, he sold the property in a hurry for as little as 2000 Septims and traveled south, looking for a new start in the Rift.
AyumiFan
Jacqueline "Jack" Hawkford-(Breton)
Spoiler
Name: Jacqueline Hawkford (Nickname: Jack)
Age: 19
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Height: 5’2”
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Jack inherited her Mother’s soft and curvy features, and her Father’s golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Her hair is somewhat short. She cuts it herself so it is uneven and messy. She doesn’t really care about how her hair looks as long as it doesn’t get in her way when she works.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Mason/carpenter.
Skills and known spells (if any): Masonry, carpentry, farmwork, writing/reading and math. She has no magic talent and has never been educated in the arcane arts.
Clothing / armor: She wears a light grey sleeveless cotton shirt and light brown linen breeches that stop right below her knees. Around her neck she carries a small amulet in the shape of the Hawkford family insignia.
Weapons: I guess all her tools can count as weapons if she finds the need to protect herself.
Miscellaneous items: Masonry- and carpentry tools (hammers, mallets, chisels, measuring tools, etc.) She also owns a donkey, a goat and two chickens. The donkey pulls a small cart containing a tent, food, Jack’s tools, cookware, clothes and blankets, various personal items and the chickens in their cage.
Personality: Jack is a very cheery and friendly girl. She is not a fan of conflicts and drama, but instead tries to make friends with everyone she meets. She might come off as a bit pushy by some, but she only means well.
Major flaw: Jack talks a lot. She rarely knows when to shut up and often ends up saying more than she should. Her dialect (butchering grammar) can also get on the nerves of the educated upper-class citizens of Skyrim.
Background: Jacqueline was born in north-eastern High Rock as the youngest daughter of the Hawkford family, renowned for their excellent masons and carpenters. Along with her brothers and sisters she was taught from a very young age how to read, write and do math. She was also taught the art of masonry and carpentry, and she was set to work with her Uncle and his team of workers. When Jack reached her nineteenth birthday she had a falling out with her Father and she decided to leave the family home and find a new place to call home.
Name: Jacqueline Hawkford (Nickname: Jack)
Age: 19
Race: Breton
Gender: Female
Height: 5’2”
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Jack inherited her Mother’s soft and curvy features, and her Father’s golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Her hair is somewhat short. She cuts it herself so it is uneven and messy. She doesn’t really care about how her hair looks as long as it doesn’t get in her way when she works.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Mason/carpenter.
Skills and known spells (if any): Masonry, carpentry, farmwork, writing/reading and math. She has no magic talent and has never been educated in the arcane arts.
Clothing / armor: She wears a light grey sleeveless cotton shirt and light brown linen breeches that stop right below her knees. Around her neck she carries a small amulet in the shape of the Hawkford family insignia.
Weapons: I guess all her tools can count as weapons if she finds the need to protect herself.
Miscellaneous items: Masonry- and carpentry tools (hammers, mallets, chisels, measuring tools, etc.) She also owns a donkey, a goat and two chickens. The donkey pulls a small cart containing a tent, food, Jack’s tools, cookware, clothes and blankets, various personal items and the chickens in their cage.
Personality: Jack is a very cheery and friendly girl. She is not a fan of conflicts and drama, but instead tries to make friends with everyone she meets. She might come off as a bit pushy by some, but she only means well.
Major flaw: Jack talks a lot. She rarely knows when to shut up and often ends up saying more than she should. Her dialect (butchering grammar) can also get on the nerves of the educated upper-class citizens of Skyrim.
Background: Jacqueline was born in north-eastern High Rock as the youngest daughter of the Hawkford family, renowned for their excellent masons and carpenters. Along with her brothers and sisters she was taught from a very young age how to read, write and do math. She was also taught the art of masonry and carpentry, and she was set to work with her Uncle and his team of workers. When Jack reached her nineteenth birthday she had a falling out with her Father and she decided to leave the family home and find a new place to call home.
Sarynetta “Sarya” Vycomte-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Sarynetta Vycomte (Sarya for short)
Age: 42
Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Height: 5'4"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Her face carries the typical regal features of fullblooded Imperial women. A soft but strong nose, a gaunt jaw, sharp eyebrows and a slightly tall forehead. Her eyes are emerald green with a hint of grey around the iris. Faint wrinkles have begun to appear in the corner of her eyes and lips. Her black hair falls to her waist in long, soft curls.
Her body is curvatious and lean with wide hips and generous briasts, though it has lost its youthful bounce and vigor.
Class/profession: Baker/cook/merchant
Skills and known spells (if any): Cooking, reading and writing, haggling and shopkeeping. She has no knowledge of magic.
Clothing: Sarya only wears dresses, and prefers a simple and practical style while working. Most of the time she will wear her favorite work dress. It is moss green with a brown underskirt that shows when she walks or moves around. It reaches her ankles and has long, snug sleeves that are folded up to stay out of her way while preparing food. Around her waist is a soft brown leather corset made only for fashion purposes. On her feet she wears simple doeskin shoes.
Weapons: None. She is not a fighter.
Miscellaneous items: She carries her little bag of money tied to her corset along with a keyring.
Personality: She is friendly and polite, and always enjoys a good conversation. She has a weak spot for children, and she absolutely loves parties. All the dancing and music brings a feeling of bliss to her aging heart.
Major flaw: She can sometimes be too trusting, and it often results in people taking advantage of her kindness and generousity.
Background: She was born and raised in Skingrad where she lived with her parents her entire life. Her parents were running a very successful business selling food and drink from both local farms and by importing from all the corners of the continent. The shop had been passed down through generations and made quite a name of the Vycomte family in the upper class society.
When Sarya was 40 years old she and her younger brother made the desicion to leave Skingrad and find a new place to set up shop in order to spread the Vycomte name and success. Her brother traveled west and Sarya went north. They both took with them goods and gold for the journey, and left their younger sister and parents to take care of the shop in Skingrad. Sarya traveled for months with a heavily guarded convoy headed for Skyrim.
Name: Sarynetta Vycomte (Sarya for short)
Age: 42
Race: Imperial
Gender: Female
Height: 5'4"
Birthsign: The Tower
Appearance: Her face carries the typical regal features of fullblooded Imperial women. A soft but strong nose, a gaunt jaw, sharp eyebrows and a slightly tall forehead. Her eyes are emerald green with a hint of grey around the iris. Faint wrinkles have begun to appear in the corner of her eyes and lips. Her black hair falls to her waist in long, soft curls.
Her body is curvatious and lean with wide hips and generous briasts, though it has lost its youthful bounce and vigor.
Class/profession: Baker/cook/merchant
Skills and known spells (if any): Cooking, reading and writing, haggling and shopkeeping. She has no knowledge of magic.
Clothing: Sarya only wears dresses, and prefers a simple and practical style while working. Most of the time she will wear her favorite work dress. It is moss green with a brown underskirt that shows when she walks or moves around. It reaches her ankles and has long, snug sleeves that are folded up to stay out of her way while preparing food. Around her waist is a soft brown leather corset made only for fashion purposes. On her feet she wears simple doeskin shoes.
Weapons: None. She is not a fighter.
Miscellaneous items: She carries her little bag of money tied to her corset along with a keyring.
Personality: She is friendly and polite, and always enjoys a good conversation. She has a weak spot for children, and she absolutely loves parties. All the dancing and music brings a feeling of bliss to her aging heart.
Major flaw: She can sometimes be too trusting, and it often results in people taking advantage of her kindness and generousity.
Background: She was born and raised in Skingrad where she lived with her parents her entire life. Her parents were running a very successful business selling food and drink from both local farms and by importing from all the corners of the continent. The shop had been passed down through generations and made quite a name of the Vycomte family in the upper class society.
When Sarya was 40 years old she and her younger brother made the desicion to leave Skingrad and find a new place to set up shop in order to spread the Vycomte name and success. Her brother traveled west and Sarya went north. They both took with them goods and gold for the journey, and left their younger sister and parents to take care of the shop in Skingrad. Sarya traveled for months with a heavily guarded convoy headed for Skyrim.
Glass Argonian
Itan-Ru -(Argonian)
Spoiler
Name: Itan-Ru
Age: 23
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Dark blue scales, with Light Blue spots and stripes. He Has Acid Green eyes, and a row of short spikes in a mohawk pattern on top of his head.
He is very thin, and though he has some muscle, is by no definition very strong.
Class: Magician, Alchemist, Priest.
Skills and known spells:
Alteration (Novice Level: Oakflesh, Candlelight, Magelight)
Destruction (Journeyman Level: Fireball, Fire Rune, flames)
Restoration (Apprentice: Healing Hands, Lesser Ward, Turn Undead, Healing)
Conjuration (Novice Level: Summon Familiar)
Alchemy (Expert Level) only knows potions, not poisons
Clothing / armor: Wears a simple blue robe (without a hood)most of the time, with plain pants and shirt underneath.
Weapons: Carries a small Steel Dagger, though he mostly uses it for gathering samples instead of fighting
Miscellaneous items: carries several basic potions with him, as well as a mortar and pestle and a small puch of gold. often carries sweet foods for snacks, as they are his favorite
Personality: Itan-Ru is a somewhat nervous individual, though he is very friendly. He is rarely purposefully rude or impolite. He is easily frazzled or distracted, due to his nervous nature, and this isnt helped by his affinity for sugar-rich foods
Though his high levels of energy let him accomplish tasks rather quickly. He is a bit uncomfortable around new people, but will warm to them eventually. The only time when he seems calm is when casting Magic or mixing potions
Major flaw: His nervous, twitchy energy, while allowing him to quickly power through most tasks, also has its drawbacks.
He's found that he can only achieve regular sleep with the aid of a potion his former caretakers created out of local flowers an roots.
Without this potion, within a week his temper goes foul, and he cannot focus enough to reliably cast even simple spells.
Background: Born in Riften, Itan-Ru spent his ealry years on the streets, trying to scraqe by.
He lacked the talent to steal or pickpocket, but was always fascinated by flowers and their properties.
The local priesthood noticed him one day attempting to make a potion out of some flowers and river water,
and out of amusemant and pity decided to take him under their wing.
over the next few years, he learned much about alchemy and surprisingly a good deal about magic from his teachers, Which, considering the argonian's unusal energy, was quite the chore. When the chance to have his own start in a new hold came up, his teachers forced him accept, insisting that the argonian had learned all that he could teach, and that the rest he would have to learn on his own. And so he moved to Valton to join the priesthood there so he could help a new town.
Name: Itan-Ru
Age: 23
Race: Argonian
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Dark blue scales, with Light Blue spots and stripes. He Has Acid Green eyes, and a row of short spikes in a mohawk pattern on top of his head.
He is very thin, and though he has some muscle, is by no definition very strong.
Class: Magician, Alchemist, Priest.
Skills and known spells:
Alteration (Novice Level: Oakflesh, Candlelight, Magelight)
Destruction (Journeyman Level: Fireball, Fire Rune, flames)
Restoration (Apprentice: Healing Hands, Lesser Ward, Turn Undead, Healing)
Conjuration (Novice Level: Summon Familiar)
Alchemy (Expert Level) only knows potions, not poisons
Clothing / armor: Wears a simple blue robe (without a hood)most of the time, with plain pants and shirt underneath.
Weapons: Carries a small Steel Dagger, though he mostly uses it for gathering samples instead of fighting
Miscellaneous items: carries several basic potions with him, as well as a mortar and pestle and a small puch of gold. often carries sweet foods for snacks, as they are his favorite
Personality: Itan-Ru is a somewhat nervous individual, though he is very friendly. He is rarely purposefully rude or impolite. He is easily frazzled or distracted, due to his nervous nature, and this isnt helped by his affinity for sugar-rich foods
Though his high levels of energy let him accomplish tasks rather quickly. He is a bit uncomfortable around new people, but will warm to them eventually. The only time when he seems calm is when casting Magic or mixing potions
Major flaw: His nervous, twitchy energy, while allowing him to quickly power through most tasks, also has its drawbacks.
He's found that he can only achieve regular sleep with the aid of a potion his former caretakers created out of local flowers an roots.
Without this potion, within a week his temper goes foul, and he cannot focus enough to reliably cast even simple spells.
Background: Born in Riften, Itan-Ru spent his ealry years on the streets, trying to scraqe by.
He lacked the talent to steal or pickpocket, but was always fascinated by flowers and their properties.
The local priesthood noticed him one day attempting to make a potion out of some flowers and river water,
and out of amusemant and pity decided to take him under their wing.
over the next few years, he learned much about alchemy and surprisingly a good deal about magic from his teachers, Which, considering the argonian's unusal energy, was quite the chore. When the chance to have his own start in a new hold came up, his teachers forced him accept, insisting that the argonian had learned all that he could teach, and that the rest he would have to learn on his own. And so he moved to Valton to join the priesthood there so he could help a new town.
Magus the Red
Juluis Scipion-(Altmer)
Spoiler
Name: Julius Scipion
Race: Altmer
Gender: male
Age: 173(appear's in early 40s-late 30s)
Height: 6'4
Birthsign: The mage
Class: Ex-battlemage now mason
Appearance: Black hair with tinges of grey in the hairline,Lean but not overly muscular,grey eyes.
Combat Skills: Trained in the use of longswords and heavy armor, but his abilities aren't what they used to be back when he was a battle-mage. He knows how to maintain his armor and weapons in good shape.
Magic skills: Destruction mainly shock and frost spells, but will run out of magicka quite fast, some restoration and Illusion for basic changes E.G to change appearance.
Clothing: Usually Black leather boots, black linen tousers and white shirt and usually a blue woolen jumper
Armour: Steel armour reinforced with corondum. It gives the armor a rusty-gold look.
Equipment: Dwarven longsword, Maps, Mapping equipment, Measurement tools and some biscuits plus a brown horse with a white star down nose.
Personality: Quiet,reserved but usually speaks He has a long temperament but can snap.
Major flaw: He has sars on his right shoulder from a wolf attack and a deep wound on his right thigh from an old battle,when temper snaps alot happens.
Background: Raised in an orphanage Julius Was instilled with Imperial doctrine due to the orphanage being run by the legion. He was found to have Magical skills but was strangely weak for an altmer, he served with the legion until in 4E150he was put in charge of supervising the building of a new fort after talking and learning from some of the masons Julius had found his true calling. He resigned from the legion and has been a mason ever since even through the great war unable to fight his Brethren he requested to be a quatermaster until the end of the war where he resigned and his been in masonry ever since and has recently come to valton hoping to aid the hold in its infancy as to insure a northen bravil was not built.
Name: Julius Scipion
Race: Altmer
Gender: male
Age: 173(appear's in early 40s-late 30s)
Height: 6'4
Birthsign: The mage
Class: Ex-battlemage now mason
Appearance: Black hair with tinges of grey in the hairline,Lean but not overly muscular,grey eyes.
Combat Skills: Trained in the use of longswords and heavy armor, but his abilities aren't what they used to be back when he was a battle-mage. He knows how to maintain his armor and weapons in good shape.
Magic skills: Destruction mainly shock and frost spells, but will run out of magicka quite fast, some restoration and Illusion for basic changes E.G to change appearance.
Clothing: Usually Black leather boots, black linen tousers and white shirt and usually a blue woolen jumper
Armour: Steel armour reinforced with corondum. It gives the armor a rusty-gold look.
Equipment: Dwarven longsword, Maps, Mapping equipment, Measurement tools and some biscuits plus a brown horse with a white star down nose.
Personality: Quiet,reserved but usually speaks He has a long temperament but can snap.
Major flaw: He has sars on his right shoulder from a wolf attack and a deep wound on his right thigh from an old battle,when temper snaps alot happens.
Background: Raised in an orphanage Julius Was instilled with Imperial doctrine due to the orphanage being run by the legion. He was found to have Magical skills but was strangely weak for an altmer, he served with the legion until in 4E150he was put in charge of supervising the building of a new fort after talking and learning from some of the masons Julius had found his true calling. He resigned from the legion and has been a mason ever since even through the great war unable to fight his Brethren he requested to be a quatermaster until the end of the war where he resigned and his been in masonry ever since and has recently come to valton hoping to aid the hold in its infancy as to insure a northen bravil was not built.
Daroska
Jormaw-(Argonian)
Spoiler
Name: Jormaw
Age: 24
Race: http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=argonian&source=web&cd=2&ved=0CEYQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.uesp.net%2Fwiki%2FLore%3AArgonian&ei=C0taT-GjBsni8AOltZDjDg&usg=AFQjCNEvIxH4aZk47-lghQP3pm6sIW50OA
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1"
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearence:
Slightly mesomorphic in build, has a long gator-like snout, ridged scales going from the tip of the nose
to the end of his thick and long tail, the base of his short stubby legs are given expanded feet for keeping balance in mud,
his claws are webbed- showing an amphibious ancestry. He holds himself in a hunched position at most times to appear smaller.
Colour wise his scaled skin is covered in a dark murky texture of brown, the underside of his neck, stomach and tail are of
a lighter almost bleached shade with his upper ridged scales being a tinge of dark grey and what could be described as moss green.
His slit eyes are covered in a light coat of black, which aid Jormaw in finding prey in the watery abyss, wherever they may be lurking.
Occasionally he will apply a mixture of bird dung and specific tree sap to his face to form a temporary, plain white, ritualistic tattoo.
Class: Fisherman | Former Mercenary
Skills:
He has expertise in most hand-to-hand techniques and is moderately proficient in the use of the blade.
Both were practiced in his time among the Ukoa-Sieen and of course his former occupation as a mercenary to wealthy nobles.
His only magically imbuned skills are in that of alteration and mysticism, (Detect Life, Spell Absorption, Feather & Slowfall). Learned grudgingly from a whet-fang hermit whom's lair
had been discovered by Jormaw in his hatchling days of wandering the darkness of Lilmoth's surroundings, looking for food and shelter.
The vampire offered the training in exchange for his lair not being revealed to the general populace, which Jormaw surprisingly agreed on.
He can also be said to be skilled in cooking and preparing seafood or even forming basic herbal mixes to cure ailments.
Clothing:
He'll casually appear to wear a garb of durzog leather: including a ripped kama with two rootworm grubs hanging off each side-
both of which are next to the large tail. Two bands hang just beneath his knee and elbowcaps that are of woven bandage make.
Underneath those bands are fur shorts and a wrinkled tunic of the aforementioned durzog leather; conjoined with this is a set of
cloth made shoulderpads made in vertical layers of flapped material. Sometimes he will wear a scarf of an albino netch's leather
for the cold climate as well. One sling satchel is carried so that he can luggage any of his coin or needed materials around.
The argonian appreciates the addition of beaded or feathered embroidery to the depths of his apparel.
When fishing or in the water he will strip down to be only wearing his kama, fur shorts and his bands.
Weapons:
The young lizard prefers to keep his poison dipped claws as his weapons, but when needed he'll draw his self crafted dagger; shaped
from the tooth of a sea-drake and hilted with a single exposed root's stub. He may also wield his bloodied carving knife into combat.
Miscellaneous items: a carving knife, some insect bait, a satchel full of medical supplies and materials, a tool belt.
Personality:
Jormaw is a comfortable individual to get along with, if a little paranoid and alien-minded at times.
For his age he has decent amount of life experience, making him a perceptive person to be around. He can definitely be stubborn
in his views but wields a sharp, protective attitude to those whom he trusts. His greed can get in the way of goals, as well as his
quick-wit and boggled temperament do in getting in the way of the 'land-striders' at the most conveniently helpful of moments.
Major flaw: is reclusive about his nature and secretive about his past. A good liar when it comes down to it.
He isn't very appreciative of any sort of authority figure and will seek to undermine them if a chance crops up.
History: Jormaw is not the usual archein of Black Marsh. He lived as an outcast in the swamps near Lilmoth for
much of his life, cast out of his tribe, Ukoa-Sieen, for consorting with the dark folk of the north. From here his life
changed inevitably once he found a well paying job as a mercernary to a representative of an ann-xileel patron.
Such a career gave him brief moments of renown for his bravery in bringing Black-Marsh back into the isolationistic comfort of the Hist,
even if he did not know about this himself. Such work even brought him to many different provinces, where he learned the common tongue of Tamriel.
In these provinces he befriended new peoples and learned their ways. In time, he found a comfort he had not felt since his days among the Ukoa-Sieen.
But war changes any man's heart to soil in time, so did this happen to Jormaw. An event which occured when he was about to take
the head off a lone redguard smith, as he was payed to do. However, a little girl of maybe nine or ten stopped in him in his path,
whom fighted at his bare stomach and begged him not to kill her father. A flash of memory came to him, or you could say a realization..
The child reminded him of himself when he was her age. Prideful, headstrong, commanding. He remembered back to a day when he lost a spear head.
He begged the Ukoa-Sieen's mystic to help him locate it, as it was the only thing that he had left of his now dead father.
The mystic smiled, gave the stalwart young man a wink then passed him a riddle to be pondered on: "the spear is headless; but is it rusted or lost?"
He dropped his blade. Walked on untill he was tired, then he rested, got up and walked again. Soon he was in new lands, now a traveller perhaps?
Jormaw would not know or care. He had problems of his past to set his mind on. His destination was unknowable. He wanted time to think and rest.
Name: Jormaw
Age: 24
Race: http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=argonian&source=web&cd=2&ved=0CEYQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.uesp.net%2Fwiki%2FLore%3AArgonian&ei=C0taT-GjBsni8AOltZDjDg&usg=AFQjCNEvIxH4aZk47-lghQP3pm6sIW50OA
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1"
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearence:
Slightly mesomorphic in build, has a long gator-like snout, ridged scales going from the tip of the nose
to the end of his thick and long tail, the base of his short stubby legs are given expanded feet for keeping balance in mud,
his claws are webbed- showing an amphibious ancestry. He holds himself in a hunched position at most times to appear smaller.
Colour wise his scaled skin is covered in a dark murky texture of brown, the underside of his neck, stomach and tail are of
a lighter almost bleached shade with his upper ridged scales being a tinge of dark grey and what could be described as moss green.
His slit eyes are covered in a light coat of black, which aid Jormaw in finding prey in the watery abyss, wherever they may be lurking.
Occasionally he will apply a mixture of bird dung and specific tree sap to his face to form a temporary, plain white, ritualistic tattoo.
Class: Fisherman | Former Mercenary
Skills:
He has expertise in most hand-to-hand techniques and is moderately proficient in the use of the blade.
Both were practiced in his time among the Ukoa-Sieen and of course his former occupation as a mercenary to wealthy nobles.
His only magically imbuned skills are in that of alteration and mysticism, (Detect Life, Spell Absorption, Feather & Slowfall). Learned grudgingly from a whet-fang hermit whom's lair
had been discovered by Jormaw in his hatchling days of wandering the darkness of Lilmoth's surroundings, looking for food and shelter.
The vampire offered the training in exchange for his lair not being revealed to the general populace, which Jormaw surprisingly agreed on.
He can also be said to be skilled in cooking and preparing seafood or even forming basic herbal mixes to cure ailments.
Clothing:
He'll casually appear to wear a garb of durzog leather: including a ripped kama with two rootworm grubs hanging off each side-
both of which are next to the large tail. Two bands hang just beneath his knee and elbowcaps that are of woven bandage make.
Underneath those bands are fur shorts and a wrinkled tunic of the aforementioned durzog leather; conjoined with this is a set of
cloth made shoulderpads made in vertical layers of flapped material. Sometimes he will wear a scarf of an albino netch's leather
for the cold climate as well. One sling satchel is carried so that he can luggage any of his coin or needed materials around.
The argonian appreciates the addition of beaded or feathered embroidery to the depths of his apparel.
When fishing or in the water he will strip down to be only wearing his kama, fur shorts and his bands.
Weapons:
The young lizard prefers to keep his poison dipped claws as his weapons, but when needed he'll draw his self crafted dagger; shaped
from the tooth of a sea-drake and hilted with a single exposed root's stub. He may also wield his bloodied carving knife into combat.
Miscellaneous items: a carving knife, some insect bait, a satchel full of medical supplies and materials, a tool belt.
Personality:
Jormaw is a comfortable individual to get along with, if a little paranoid and alien-minded at times.
For his age he has decent amount of life experience, making him a perceptive person to be around. He can definitely be stubborn
in his views but wields a sharp, protective attitude to those whom he trusts. His greed can get in the way of goals, as well as his
quick-wit and boggled temperament do in getting in the way of the 'land-striders' at the most conveniently helpful of moments.
Major flaw: is reclusive about his nature and secretive about his past. A good liar when it comes down to it.
He isn't very appreciative of any sort of authority figure and will seek to undermine them if a chance crops up.
History: Jormaw is not the usual archein of Black Marsh. He lived as an outcast in the swamps near Lilmoth for
much of his life, cast out of his tribe, Ukoa-Sieen, for consorting with the dark folk of the north. From here his life
changed inevitably once he found a well paying job as a mercernary to a representative of an ann-xileel patron.
Such a career gave him brief moments of renown for his bravery in bringing Black-Marsh back into the isolationistic comfort of the Hist,
even if he did not know about this himself. Such work even brought him to many different provinces, where he learned the common tongue of Tamriel.
In these provinces he befriended new peoples and learned their ways. In time, he found a comfort he had not felt since his days among the Ukoa-Sieen.
But war changes any man's heart to soil in time, so did this happen to Jormaw. An event which occured when he was about to take
the head off a lone redguard smith, as he was payed to do. However, a little girl of maybe nine or ten stopped in him in his path,
whom fighted at his bare stomach and begged him not to kill her father. A flash of memory came to him, or you could say a realization..
The child reminded him of himself when he was her age. Prideful, headstrong, commanding. He remembered back to a day when he lost a spear head.
He begged the Ukoa-Sieen's mystic to help him locate it, as it was the only thing that he had left of his now dead father.
The mystic smiled, gave the stalwart young man a wink then passed him a riddle to be pondered on: "the spear is headless; but is it rusted or lost?"
He dropped his blade. Walked on untill he was tired, then he rested, got up and walked again. Soon he was in new lands, now a traveller perhaps?
Jormaw would not know or care. He had problems of his past to set his mind on. His destination was unknowable. He wanted time to think and rest.
aSaPp!5@
Roland-(Imperial/Nord)
Spoiler
Name:Roland
Age: 32
Race:Imperial/Nord
Gender:Male
Height:5’10”
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance:http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/RolandFace.jpg is a gruff man. His body is lean and in good physical condition. His scruffy dark brown hair falls down almost to his shoulders. His eyes are a deep hazel green and look as though they belong to a man much older than he. His face is rough and unshaven leaving dark brown stubble across his strong jaw and thin cheeks. His face is slender but not gaunt.
Class: Ranger
Skills and known spells:
Archery- Roland is extremely talented in archery and more than at home with a bow and arrow in his hands.
Blade- Roland is also extremely proficient in the arts of the sword. He prefers a hand-and-half sword.
Alchemy- Roland has a strong grasp of alchemy. Not in the same way a mage would. Roland instead focuses on creating poultices and herbal remedies from things found in the outdoors.
Riding- Roland is a good rider and knows how to sit a horse well.
Tracking- Roland is a master tracker, of both game and other quarry.
Survival- From many years of training and being in the wilderness Roland has figured out how to survive on even the most minimal of resources.
Ranging- Roland possesses all skills that most associate with rangers, from climbing to cooking to basic first aid, if it is required for ranging he knows how to do it.
Clothing / armor: Roland wears a beige linen shirt under a worn leather jerkin. Over the Jerkin he wears wool tabard trimmed in leather, and on top of that he wears a worn leather vest and mantle for extra protection. He also wears light wool trousers and high leather boots. Around his shoulders he wears a travel-worn brown cloak clasped together by a bronze brooch. (http://www.alleycatscratch.com/lotr/Human/Gondor/Ranger/Ranger_A_8354_GLeaf.jpg)
Weapons:Roland carries a steel http://www.the-mathom-house.com/images/strider_scabbard-H.jpg as well as a http://images.wikia.com/deadliestfiction/images/5/5b/English_longbow3.jpg composed of hickory and lemonwood. To accompany his bow Roland carries at least 20-25 steel tipped arrows with him at all times. Roland also carries a steel hunting knife on the back of his belt. It is more of a tool than a weapon, but can be used to as one if need be.
Miscellaneous items: Roland carries a thin bedroll, a small hatchet, a few small wooden alchemical tools such as a mortar and pestle, a few first aid ointments and bandages, flint and tinder, and various other small items used for ranging or camping.
Personality: Roland is a kind person at heart, but he has seen much in his life and it has made him a different man. He's a friendly man most of the time, if not a bit rough. He tends to keep to himself, but once he's acquainted with someone and gets to know them he tends to be a bit more extrovertive.
Major flaw: Roland has seen some pretty gruesome things in the past few years, and it has left a large imprint on his mind. He sometimes relapses into periods of extreme abrasiveness and becomes extremely touchy when matters of his past are brought up.
Background:(Not going to give too much away here, most of his character development will be through revealing his past) Roland was born to an Imperial father and a Nordic mother in the town of Bruma. He joined the Bruma guard like his father at the age of 16 and from there went on to join the Imperial Legion’s 6th Forester Division. The 6th division was transferred from Cyrodiil to Skyrim soon after his enlistment. Roland spent close to 13 years in the 6th division. During the Civil war of 4E204 his Uncles and the rest of his mother's family declared allegiance to Ulfric Stormcloak. Much to Roland's dismay the 6th Forester division, acting as outriders and scouts for the 4th Legion, was dispatched on campaign against the Stormcloak rebellion. During their campaign the 6th Forester Division engaged in a large skirmish with Stormcloak forces around a village on the White River. The village was home to his mother's family. The 6th Division won the skirmish with aid from a 4th Legion regiment. However Roland deserted shortly afterward and has been running from the legion ever since. Some claim he runs on chargers of treason, deserting, and murder.
Name:Roland
Age: 32
Race:Imperial/Nord
Gender:Male
Height:5’10”
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance:http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/RolandFace.jpg is a gruff man. His body is lean and in good physical condition. His scruffy dark brown hair falls down almost to his shoulders. His eyes are a deep hazel green and look as though they belong to a man much older than he. His face is rough and unshaven leaving dark brown stubble across his strong jaw and thin cheeks. His face is slender but not gaunt.
Class: Ranger
Skills and known spells:
Archery- Roland is extremely talented in archery and more than at home with a bow and arrow in his hands.
Blade- Roland is also extremely proficient in the arts of the sword. He prefers a hand-and-half sword.
Alchemy- Roland has a strong grasp of alchemy. Not in the same way a mage would. Roland instead focuses on creating poultices and herbal remedies from things found in the outdoors.
Riding- Roland is a good rider and knows how to sit a horse well.
Tracking- Roland is a master tracker, of both game and other quarry.
Survival- From many years of training and being in the wilderness Roland has figured out how to survive on even the most minimal of resources.
Ranging- Roland possesses all skills that most associate with rangers, from climbing to cooking to basic first aid, if it is required for ranging he knows how to do it.
Clothing / armor: Roland wears a beige linen shirt under a worn leather jerkin. Over the Jerkin he wears wool tabard trimmed in leather, and on top of that he wears a worn leather vest and mantle for extra protection. He also wears light wool trousers and high leather boots. Around his shoulders he wears a travel-worn brown cloak clasped together by a bronze brooch. (http://www.alleycatscratch.com/lotr/Human/Gondor/Ranger/Ranger_A_8354_GLeaf.jpg)
Weapons:Roland carries a steel http://www.the-mathom-house.com/images/strider_scabbard-H.jpg as well as a http://images.wikia.com/deadliestfiction/images/5/5b/English_longbow3.jpg composed of hickory and lemonwood. To accompany his bow Roland carries at least 20-25 steel tipped arrows with him at all times. Roland also carries a steel hunting knife on the back of his belt. It is more of a tool than a weapon, but can be used to as one if need be.
Miscellaneous items: Roland carries a thin bedroll, a small hatchet, a few small wooden alchemical tools such as a mortar and pestle, a few first aid ointments and bandages, flint and tinder, and various other small items used for ranging or camping.
Personality: Roland is a kind person at heart, but he has seen much in his life and it has made him a different man. He's a friendly man most of the time, if not a bit rough. He tends to keep to himself, but once he's acquainted with someone and gets to know them he tends to be a bit more extrovertive.
Major flaw: Roland has seen some pretty gruesome things in the past few years, and it has left a large imprint on his mind. He sometimes relapses into periods of extreme abrasiveness and becomes extremely touchy when matters of his past are brought up.
Background:(Not going to give too much away here, most of his character development will be through revealing his past) Roland was born to an Imperial father and a Nordic mother in the town of Bruma. He joined the Bruma guard like his father at the age of 16 and from there went on to join the Imperial Legion’s 6th Forester Division. The 6th division was transferred from Cyrodiil to Skyrim soon after his enlistment. Roland spent close to 13 years in the 6th division. During the Civil war of 4E204 his Uncles and the rest of his mother's family declared allegiance to Ulfric Stormcloak. Much to Roland's dismay the 6th Forester division, acting as outriders and scouts for the 4th Legion, was dispatched on campaign against the Stormcloak rebellion. During their campaign the 6th Forester Division engaged in a large skirmish with Stormcloak forces around a village on the White River. The village was home to his mother's family. The 6th Division won the skirmish with aid from a 4th Legion regiment. However Roland deserted shortly afterward and has been running from the legion ever since. Some claim he runs on chargers of treason, deserting, and murder.
Varyn Uvitith-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name:Varyn Uvirith
Age: Born 2E 386 (1148 as of 4E 204)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height:5’7”
Birthsign: The Mage
Appearance: http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/TESV2012-03-2320-11-16-10.jpg is getting quite old and it shows rather badly. Even though he stands at 5’7” he hunches over making himself seem a few inches shorter. His face is somewhat gaunt, making his already pronounced cheekbones even more noticeable, and covered in a rough grey beard that he keeps tied in a knot. Upon his head, surprisingly, is a wild mess of grey/white hair showing a rather bad receding hairline. Varyn’s brow is also somewhat pronounced and home to thick flared white eyebrows.
Class: Mage
Skills:Once upon a time Varyn was an extremely powerful Telvanni Mage-Lord. However, that was a very long time ago. Old age has stripped Varyn of most of his power. While still maintaining the potential to wield the same power he had when he was younger, it is now much harder for him to do so.
When Varyn was in his prime he was a master in the arts of Destruction, Alteration, and Mysticism. His power was quite awe inspiring at one time. Even though he has aged and his power has waned, Varyn still retains the knowledge he acquired while achieving such power. He may not be able to blow things to pieces anymore, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how.
Clothing / armor: Varyn wears an ensemble of robes and sashes in the Telvanni fashion. Most follow an earthen palette, but a few are quite a bit flashier.
Weapons: Varyn has no need for weapons. However he does carry a Dunmeri dagger made of razor sharp glass as a last resort.
Miscellaneous items: Varyn is in possession of a large collection of scrolls and tomes with focus on the arcane arts and other less common things. He almost has enough to populate the shelves of a rather sizeable library. Other than his books and magical apparatuses Varyn has brought quite a few things to Valton. Mostly small insignificant items like his pipe, ink and quills, random chunks of dilapidated and seemingly inoperable Dwemer machinery, a set of alchemists tools (even though he knows almost nothing about alchemy), a few magical trinkets that seem to do nothing of importance, a bronze and glass dish engraved with runes that also seem to do nothing at all, and an assortment of other odds and ends packed into suitcases and trunks.
Personality: Varyn is a very opinionated and blunt person. He tends to speak his mind no matter what the consequences and is in no way scared of the outcome. Varyn can also come off as quite mad at times. Having almost 1200 years of memories tends to jumble things up pretty bad. He often mumbles random nonsense to himself or forgets even the most obvious things. Varyn also strongly believes that he’s still capable of the feats he was able to do while in his prime. This causes him to be quite feisty and strong willed. He often attempts to do things he used to do back in the day, and just as often he ends up failing miserably in some way or another.
Major flaw: Varyn is very old, even for a Dunmer. Even though he’s not disabled he finds it hard to walk for longer than ten minutes without the help of a cane, which he sometimes is reluctant to use as a walking instrument and instead uses it as a club to whack unsuspecting “Fetchers” and “imbeciles”. Varyn also is no longer able to use the arcane arts as he used to. However he still has the potential to do some damage, that is if he remembers how to cast the spell without blowing himself up (something that almost happens on a regular basis.)
Background: (This is the condensed version of Varyn’s extremely long history. It would be a nightmare to include 1200 years of back-story into a suitable post.)
Varyn was born into House Telvanni, and like all born in House Telvanni he strove to achieve greatness. He studied the arcane arts for centuries and eventually worked his way up in House Telvanni, through the normal means of backstabbing, murder, and trickery. After establishing himself as a Mage-Lord and Councilor of the Telvanni, through the rather brutal murder of his older brother, Varyn began construction of his tower, Tel Uvirith.
However, late in the 3rd Era Varyn’s younger brother, ironically, drove him from his tower and off of Vvardenfell. Since then Varyn has been plotting his revenge as he continues to age and wane in power. His obsession with killing his brother is almost comical at times due to his age and his extreme conviction.
Name:Varyn Uvirith
Age: Born 2E 386 (1148 as of 4E 204)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height:5’7”
Birthsign: The Mage
Appearance: http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab216/asapp152/TESV2012-03-2320-11-16-10.jpg is getting quite old and it shows rather badly. Even though he stands at 5’7” he hunches over making himself seem a few inches shorter. His face is somewhat gaunt, making his already pronounced cheekbones even more noticeable, and covered in a rough grey beard that he keeps tied in a knot. Upon his head, surprisingly, is a wild mess of grey/white hair showing a rather bad receding hairline. Varyn’s brow is also somewhat pronounced and home to thick flared white eyebrows.
Class: Mage
Skills:Once upon a time Varyn was an extremely powerful Telvanni Mage-Lord. However, that was a very long time ago. Old age has stripped Varyn of most of his power. While still maintaining the potential to wield the same power he had when he was younger, it is now much harder for him to do so.
When Varyn was in his prime he was a master in the arts of Destruction, Alteration, and Mysticism. His power was quite awe inspiring at one time. Even though he has aged and his power has waned, Varyn still retains the knowledge he acquired while achieving such power. He may not be able to blow things to pieces anymore, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how.
Clothing / armor: Varyn wears an ensemble of robes and sashes in the Telvanni fashion. Most follow an earthen palette, but a few are quite a bit flashier.
Weapons: Varyn has no need for weapons. However he does carry a Dunmeri dagger made of razor sharp glass as a last resort.
Miscellaneous items: Varyn is in possession of a large collection of scrolls and tomes with focus on the arcane arts and other less common things. He almost has enough to populate the shelves of a rather sizeable library. Other than his books and magical apparatuses Varyn has brought quite a few things to Valton. Mostly small insignificant items like his pipe, ink and quills, random chunks of dilapidated and seemingly inoperable Dwemer machinery, a set of alchemists tools (even though he knows almost nothing about alchemy), a few magical trinkets that seem to do nothing of importance, a bronze and glass dish engraved with runes that also seem to do nothing at all, and an assortment of other odds and ends packed into suitcases and trunks.
Personality: Varyn is a very opinionated and blunt person. He tends to speak his mind no matter what the consequences and is in no way scared of the outcome. Varyn can also come off as quite mad at times. Having almost 1200 years of memories tends to jumble things up pretty bad. He often mumbles random nonsense to himself or forgets even the most obvious things. Varyn also strongly believes that he’s still capable of the feats he was able to do while in his prime. This causes him to be quite feisty and strong willed. He often attempts to do things he used to do back in the day, and just as often he ends up failing miserably in some way or another.
Major flaw: Varyn is very old, even for a Dunmer. Even though he’s not disabled he finds it hard to walk for longer than ten minutes without the help of a cane, which he sometimes is reluctant to use as a walking instrument and instead uses it as a club to whack unsuspecting “Fetchers” and “imbeciles”. Varyn also is no longer able to use the arcane arts as he used to. However he still has the potential to do some damage, that is if he remembers how to cast the spell without blowing himself up (something that almost happens on a regular basis.)
Background: (This is the condensed version of Varyn’s extremely long history. It would be a nightmare to include 1200 years of back-story into a suitable post.)
Varyn was born into House Telvanni, and like all born in House Telvanni he strove to achieve greatness. He studied the arcane arts for centuries and eventually worked his way up in House Telvanni, through the normal means of backstabbing, murder, and trickery. After establishing himself as a Mage-Lord and Councilor of the Telvanni, through the rather brutal murder of his older brother, Varyn began construction of his tower, Tel Uvirith.
However, late in the 3rd Era Varyn’s younger brother, ironically, drove him from his tower and off of Vvardenfell. Since then Varyn has been plotting his revenge as he continues to age and wane in power. His obsession with killing his brother is almost comical at times due to his age and his extreme conviction.
Person from Anticlere
Leandra-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Leandra Flavia Lavidia
Age: 26
Race: Imperial (Nibenese)
Gender: Female
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: So long as she maintains a safe distance from her (certainly bizarre) equipment, Leandra looks like a fairly ordinary young woman of her age. Her lithe build belies a wiry strength that is well complemented by the swiftness evident in her step – light, bouncy, yet also firm and sure. Quite tanned skin and swirly patterns tattooed in light blue over her left arm, reaching up her neck and touching upon her face slightly, betray her Nibenese heritage – said tattoo being the only thing that might strike a non-Nibenese as inherently strange about her.
Her face is generally rather gaunt, having notable, rather pronounced cheekbones that, accompanied by her just slightly snub nose, give her a slightly ‘soft’ look. A slight glint to her deep blue eyes sitting beneath thin, slightly arced black eyebrows, suggests that she’s more experienced than her age might suggests, and her thin lips are usually curled in a smirk that speaks of no lack of confidence in the young Imperial. Her pitch black hair is usually the deciding factor in the first impressions people get about Leandra; when it is tied into a ponytail, which is most often when she’s ‘on business’ (or when the fancy simply strikes her), her looks lean towards someone who might be half-seriously considered an actual mercenary. When it’s left loose, however, she seems almost comical, a soft-looking girl dressed in the strangest things imaginable.
Height: 5’7
Class: Mercenary. Daedra Hunter extraordinaire. Traveling weirdo.
Skills and known spells (if any): A good shot with her crossbow, capable in a fistfight (so long as she’s not expected to stand still and take any blows herself) and handy with her dagger, Leandra also has the advantage of an education, being able to write and read several languages, having some rudimentary familiarity with the theory of magic (that is not to say she can cast any spells herself; she can merely tell what school of magic she’s being blasted with) and quite the repository of knowledge regarding various things Daedra.
Clothing / Armor: To call Leandra’s choice of clothing weird would be an understatement. A blouse of padded cloth and the steel briastplate worn over it are not so unusual for a woman of action as she (says she) is; neither are the slightly baggy brown pants or almost knee-high tough leather boots, with a plate of steel on the front and further steel reinforcement for the toes. The fingerless leather glove with a slim green gemstone in it and Daedric etchings that glow slightly – making its strength-augmenting enchantment plain to the skilled eye – might be considered rather off.
All that most often goes unnoticed, however, in favour of the fact her right arm seems quite a bit larger than her left. The long dark brown woollen trench-coat that she’s taken to wearing since beginning her journeys in Skyrim doesn’t help much, by virtue of the fact its right sleeve is slightly lighter than the rest of the fabric, as well as much wider to accommodate for what seems like a misshapen lump for an arm – but what is actually, as becomes apparent when Leandra removes the coat, a mess of Dwemer metal that will seem senseless and chaotic to all but the most knowledgeable in the field.
Starting with a gauntlet that seems slightly too large for her hand, it trails off into pistons and metal connections to her arm that look like they must feel quite painful to the wearer. That Leandra can move her arm easily beneath what seems to be a Dwemer Centurion’s limb torn off and slapped on top of her own is a true feat of Dwemer engineering; that she has a small, slightly steaming tube protruding out of the greatest lump on her shoulder that’s made by a somewhat clunky pauldron is a source of infinite wonder and suspicion to everyone she comes into contact with. Add to that a set of thick goggles that are rather too large for her, also clearly of Dwemer make and with quite a few small levers and witches on them, and it becomes little wonder Leandra is always received by strangers as a walking oddity at best.
Weapons: Her primary and most notable weapon is a http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FNW/50NH/G1QWB4FI/FNW50NHG1QWB4FI.MEDIUM.jpg of http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FET/2PYJ/G1QWB4FL/FET2PYJG1QWB4FL.MEDIUM.jpg (rather less shiny and more rusted and worn in person than the pictures depict), which she affectionately calls Veronica. Strapped to her hip is also a slightly curved steel knife with a silvered edge – ‘just in case’.
Miscellaneous items: A small silver locket on a chain of the same material, inside which is a painting of the White Gold Tower and the surrounding Nibenese countryside, and a Dwemer-looking key, tied to simple string. Both hang from her neck.
Personality: Leandra is an odd one, fluctuating between a rather extroverted state and a love for solitude quite a bit and often without warning. While she does enjoy company often, she just as quickly grows tired of it. A curiosity that once knew no bounds (particularly where Dwemer are concerned) is counteracted by a wary, almost fearful shade acquired through several years of intense dealings with Daedra and all the various horrors associated, which is why she most often avoids talking about her occupation, never outright shooting down anyone who might have some notions about the romantic side of being a wandering fighter, but rarely if ever speaking of it fondly; sometimes, it might seem she actually hates her profession. About the only part of her that is constant is the attachment – almost love, one might say – she formed towards her crossbow.
Major flaw: The Dwemer contraptions that cover the entirety of her right arm might make her capable of firing Veronica, her odd crossbow, but even Dwemer technology is not above acting up at the worst possible time – and when this particular device does, it tends to bend her arm involuntarily in whatever directions it sees fit, going as far as breaking it once or twice.
And that’s before Leandra’s chased out of town or openly ridiculed for looking like she raided a Dwemer Centurion’s wardrobe.
Background: Born into a house of minor nobility in the Imperial Heartland, not too far from the Imperial City itself, Leandra is reluctant to talk of what she did in the past, much rather deflecting to question other people about theirs. If pressed, she will most gladly about her education in the Synod – making mention of the fact she never possessed the aptitude for the arcane necessary for actual membership – and the past eight or seven years she spent travelling through northern Cyrodiil and southern Skyrim, which suggests she’s been a ‘Daedra hunter’ (as she describes her occupation) since the early age of 18 – quite a young age, especially for facing certainly far worse things than the horrible beds and food Leandra jokingly mentions recalling from her travels.
Age: 26
Race: Imperial (Nibenese)
Gender: Female
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: So long as she maintains a safe distance from her (certainly bizarre) equipment, Leandra looks like a fairly ordinary young woman of her age. Her lithe build belies a wiry strength that is well complemented by the swiftness evident in her step – light, bouncy, yet also firm and sure. Quite tanned skin and swirly patterns tattooed in light blue over her left arm, reaching up her neck and touching upon her face slightly, betray her Nibenese heritage – said tattoo being the only thing that might strike a non-Nibenese as inherently strange about her.
Her face is generally rather gaunt, having notable, rather pronounced cheekbones that, accompanied by her just slightly snub nose, give her a slightly ‘soft’ look. A slight glint to her deep blue eyes sitting beneath thin, slightly arced black eyebrows, suggests that she’s more experienced than her age might suggests, and her thin lips are usually curled in a smirk that speaks of no lack of confidence in the young Imperial. Her pitch black hair is usually the deciding factor in the first impressions people get about Leandra; when it is tied into a ponytail, which is most often when she’s ‘on business’ (or when the fancy simply strikes her), her looks lean towards someone who might be half-seriously considered an actual mercenary. When it’s left loose, however, she seems almost comical, a soft-looking girl dressed in the strangest things imaginable.
Height: 5’7
Class: Mercenary. Daedra Hunter extraordinaire. Traveling weirdo.
Skills and known spells (if any): A good shot with her crossbow, capable in a fistfight (so long as she’s not expected to stand still and take any blows herself) and handy with her dagger, Leandra also has the advantage of an education, being able to write and read several languages, having some rudimentary familiarity with the theory of magic (that is not to say she can cast any spells herself; she can merely tell what school of magic she’s being blasted with) and quite the repository of knowledge regarding various things Daedra.
Clothing / Armor: To call Leandra’s choice of clothing weird would be an understatement. A blouse of padded cloth and the steel briastplate worn over it are not so unusual for a woman of action as she (says she) is; neither are the slightly baggy brown pants or almost knee-high tough leather boots, with a plate of steel on the front and further steel reinforcement for the toes. The fingerless leather glove with a slim green gemstone in it and Daedric etchings that glow slightly – making its strength-augmenting enchantment plain to the skilled eye – might be considered rather off.
All that most often goes unnoticed, however, in favour of the fact her right arm seems quite a bit larger than her left. The long dark brown woollen trench-coat that she’s taken to wearing since beginning her journeys in Skyrim doesn’t help much, by virtue of the fact its right sleeve is slightly lighter than the rest of the fabric, as well as much wider to accommodate for what seems like a misshapen lump for an arm – but what is actually, as becomes apparent when Leandra removes the coat, a mess of Dwemer metal that will seem senseless and chaotic to all but the most knowledgeable in the field.
Starting with a gauntlet that seems slightly too large for her hand, it trails off into pistons and metal connections to her arm that look like they must feel quite painful to the wearer. That Leandra can move her arm easily beneath what seems to be a Dwemer Centurion’s limb torn off and slapped on top of her own is a true feat of Dwemer engineering; that she has a small, slightly steaming tube protruding out of the greatest lump on her shoulder that’s made by a somewhat clunky pauldron is a source of infinite wonder and suspicion to everyone she comes into contact with. Add to that a set of thick goggles that are rather too large for her, also clearly of Dwemer make and with quite a few small levers and witches on them, and it becomes little wonder Leandra is always received by strangers as a walking oddity at best.
Weapons: Her primary and most notable weapon is a http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FNW/50NH/G1QWB4FI/FNW50NHG1QWB4FI.MEDIUM.jpg of http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FET/2PYJ/G1QWB4FL/FET2PYJG1QWB4FL.MEDIUM.jpg (rather less shiny and more rusted and worn in person than the pictures depict), which she affectionately calls Veronica. Strapped to her hip is also a slightly curved steel knife with a silvered edge – ‘just in case’.
Miscellaneous items: A small silver locket on a chain of the same material, inside which is a painting of the White Gold Tower and the surrounding Nibenese countryside, and a Dwemer-looking key, tied to simple string. Both hang from her neck.
Personality: Leandra is an odd one, fluctuating between a rather extroverted state and a love for solitude quite a bit and often without warning. While she does enjoy company often, she just as quickly grows tired of it. A curiosity that once knew no bounds (particularly where Dwemer are concerned) is counteracted by a wary, almost fearful shade acquired through several years of intense dealings with Daedra and all the various horrors associated, which is why she most often avoids talking about her occupation, never outright shooting down anyone who might have some notions about the romantic side of being a wandering fighter, but rarely if ever speaking of it fondly; sometimes, it might seem she actually hates her profession. About the only part of her that is constant is the attachment – almost love, one might say – she formed towards her crossbow.
Major flaw: The Dwemer contraptions that cover the entirety of her right arm might make her capable of firing Veronica, her odd crossbow, but even Dwemer technology is not above acting up at the worst possible time – and when this particular device does, it tends to bend her arm involuntarily in whatever directions it sees fit, going as far as breaking it once or twice.
And that’s before Leandra’s chased out of town or openly ridiculed for looking like she raided a Dwemer Centurion’s wardrobe.
Background: Born into a house of minor nobility in the Imperial Heartland, not too far from the Imperial City itself, Leandra is reluctant to talk of what she did in the past, much rather deflecting to question other people about theirs. If pressed, she will most gladly about her education in the Synod – making mention of the fact she never possessed the aptitude for the arcane necessary for actual membership – and the past eight or seven years she spent travelling through northern Cyrodiil and southern Skyrim, which suggests she’s been a ‘Daedra hunter’ (as she describes her occupation) since the early age of 18 – quite a young age, especially for facing certainly far worse things than the horrible beds and food Leandra jokingly mentions recalling from her travels.
Ergy
Tippen Lucius-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Tippen Lucius
Age: 21
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'8"
Birthsign: The Thief
Appearance: Tippen has an athletic build, like a swimmer, and weighs around 175 lbs. He doesn't have a fully grown beard, as he shaves every week. His hair is black, and it is shoulder length. He is generally good looking, but someone would have a hard time pointing him out in a crowd. On his side, he has a brand of his gang's symbol (explained in clothing).
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Thief, Assassin
Skills and known spells (if any): Tippen is skilled with a bow, and knows his way around a sword. Also, he'd stand a decent chance against a Nord in a fist fight. He's pretty good at hiding, both himself and contraband. He's a decent lockpick as well. He is decent with words, as he has negotiated many contracts in his criminal past. To round it out, he's used to lighter armors, especially leather since it allows for a good amount of freedom as compared to others.
Clothing / armor: A set of leather armor that's been dyed black without the helmet. A black hooded cloak with a golden chain used to attach it. He also has a nice set of clothes that includes a blue tunic, black pants, blue shoes with gold lining, and a coat with fur lining if it's cold. He always wears a black leather belt that has a gold buckle with his gang's symbol (a skeleton dual wielding a sword and a staff).
Weapons: Steel Sword, Elven bow (one of his prized possessions), steel arrows, Steel Dagger
Miscellaneous items: A couple of health potions, some bread, a leather skein full of water.
Personality: Tippen is good natured around people he's comfortable with, but can be very standoffish with those who insult him. He's quick to fight, and only kills when necessary. That said, if he has to kill, he won't hesitate, but he thinks it's better for those to remember what happened to them at his hands. He's not happy with his past, and this has led him to become quiet as of late. Where he used to joke around a lot, it's not nearly as common to see him smile these days.
Major flaw: Tippen was born into thieving, but has grown to want more out of life. Leaving the gang will make them unhappy, and may lead to repercussions in the future. The real downside to his past is his attitude. He's very quick to become hostile, and this has led to him underestimating his opponents. This is especially true when he's had a few drinks, which he tends to overindulge in after something bad has happened to him.
Background: Tippen was born the son of a member of the Black Skull Bandits. While they did do a little actual robbery, their forte was smuggling. Anything you wanted, they could get it anywhere in Tamriel. There were even rumors of them smuggling brand new Akaviri weapons to the Empire during the Great War. Though the governments of Tamriel have tried to shut them down, they have always failed, and the Bandits have continued to turn a profit.
When Tippen was 15, he was brought into the group's chapter in Solitude. He was given a sword by his father, and was told to help receive the shipment. The city guard showed up, and Tippen made his first kill. Haunted by the feeling this brought about, Tippen continued to participate in Bandit activities as it made his parents proud of him. Through the Bandits, Tippen learned how to shoot a bow, handle a sword, and even give someone a good punch or two in a bar.
As he approached the age of 21, Tippen's father had become the president of the Solitude Chapter. The man had become paranoid, and even ordered the killing of some of the Bandits throughout Skyrim. Seeing some of his closest friends killed by his own father directly conflicted with how Tippen viewed the gang. To him it wasn't business like his father claimed. Instead, he saw it as his family killing his family. Eventually, he couldn't handle it and asked to leave the Black Skull Bandits.
Age: 21
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'8"
Birthsign: The Thief
Appearance: Tippen has an athletic build, like a swimmer, and weighs around 175 lbs. He doesn't have a fully grown beard, as he shaves every week. His hair is black, and it is shoulder length. He is generally good looking, but someone would have a hard time pointing him out in a crowd. On his side, he has a brand of his gang's symbol (explained in clothing).
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Thief, Assassin
Skills and known spells (if any): Tippen is skilled with a bow, and knows his way around a sword. Also, he'd stand a decent chance against a Nord in a fist fight. He's pretty good at hiding, both himself and contraband. He's a decent lockpick as well. He is decent with words, as he has negotiated many contracts in his criminal past. To round it out, he's used to lighter armors, especially leather since it allows for a good amount of freedom as compared to others.
Clothing / armor: A set of leather armor that's been dyed black without the helmet. A black hooded cloak with a golden chain used to attach it. He also has a nice set of clothes that includes a blue tunic, black pants, blue shoes with gold lining, and a coat with fur lining if it's cold. He always wears a black leather belt that has a gold buckle with his gang's symbol (a skeleton dual wielding a sword and a staff).
Weapons: Steel Sword, Elven bow (one of his prized possessions), steel arrows, Steel Dagger
Miscellaneous items: A couple of health potions, some bread, a leather skein full of water.
Personality: Tippen is good natured around people he's comfortable with, but can be very standoffish with those who insult him. He's quick to fight, and only kills when necessary. That said, if he has to kill, he won't hesitate, but he thinks it's better for those to remember what happened to them at his hands. He's not happy with his past, and this has led him to become quiet as of late. Where he used to joke around a lot, it's not nearly as common to see him smile these days.
Major flaw: Tippen was born into thieving, but has grown to want more out of life. Leaving the gang will make them unhappy, and may lead to repercussions in the future. The real downside to his past is his attitude. He's very quick to become hostile, and this has led to him underestimating his opponents. This is especially true when he's had a few drinks, which he tends to overindulge in after something bad has happened to him.
Background: Tippen was born the son of a member of the Black Skull Bandits. While they did do a little actual robbery, their forte was smuggling. Anything you wanted, they could get it anywhere in Tamriel. There were even rumors of them smuggling brand new Akaviri weapons to the Empire during the Great War. Though the governments of Tamriel have tried to shut them down, they have always failed, and the Bandits have continued to turn a profit.
When Tippen was 15, he was brought into the group's chapter in Solitude. He was given a sword by his father, and was told to help receive the shipment. The city guard showed up, and Tippen made his first kill. Haunted by the feeling this brought about, Tippen continued to participate in Bandit activities as it made his parents proud of him. Through the Bandits, Tippen learned how to shoot a bow, handle a sword, and even give someone a good punch or two in a bar.
As he approached the age of 21, Tippen's father had become the president of the Solitude Chapter. The man had become paranoid, and even ordered the killing of some of the Bandits throughout Skyrim. Seeing some of his closest friends killed by his own father directly conflicted with how Tippen viewed the gang. To him it wasn't business like his father claimed. Instead, he saw it as his family killing his family. Eventually, he couldn't handle it and asked to leave the Black Skull Bandits.
Prisoner Six
Titus Aetius-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Titus Aetius
Age: 24
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: Clean shaven, short dark brown hair, hazel eyes, with several small scars upon his face, gained from his 6 years of mercenary work.
Class: Knight
Skills and known spells : Heavy Armour, Blade, Block, Speech
Clothing / armor: Iron Armour, boots, gauntlets.
Weapons: Imperial Sword, Iron Shield
Miscellaneous items: Torch, Lockpicks,
Personality: Ruthless,Ambitious, Arrogant. Titus knows how to do anything to get what he wants, and forsakes honour and mercy for guile and murder.
Major flaw: Arrogance. Titus believes he deserves more in life, and whether he is given it or he takes it by force dosen't matter to him. While he shows capability at tactics and commanding men, Titus has a too much faith in his abilities.
Background: Titus is an Imperial from the family of a poor Imperial Legion soldier. Proud of the Empire and himself despite his low birth, Titus eventually grew bitter over the years, due to the White-Gold Concordat and the attitudes displayed towards him by Cyrodillic nobility. When he reached 18, Titus left to find money as a mercenary, being hired by some town or Count to kill some bandits. Upon hearing of the new hold in Skyrim, Valton, Titus made his way there, and has just arrived in the hold. Seeing how relatively new Valton is, Titus hopes to exploit the Jarl and the town for protection.
Age: 24
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: Clean shaven, short dark brown hair, hazel eyes, with several small scars upon his face, gained from his 6 years of mercenary work.
Class: Knight
Skills and known spells : Heavy Armour, Blade, Block, Speech
Clothing / armor: Iron Armour, boots, gauntlets.
Weapons: Imperial Sword, Iron Shield
Miscellaneous items: Torch, Lockpicks,
Personality: Ruthless,Ambitious, Arrogant. Titus knows how to do anything to get what he wants, and forsakes honour and mercy for guile and murder.
Major flaw: Arrogance. Titus believes he deserves more in life, and whether he is given it or he takes it by force dosen't matter to him. While he shows capability at tactics and commanding men, Titus has a too much faith in his abilities.
Background: Titus is an Imperial from the family of a poor Imperial Legion soldier. Proud of the Empire and himself despite his low birth, Titus eventually grew bitter over the years, due to the White-Gold Concordat and the attitudes displayed towards him by Cyrodillic nobility. When he reached 18, Titus left to find money as a mercenary, being hired by some town or Count to kill some bandits. Upon hearing of the new hold in Skyrim, Valton, Titus made his way there, and has just arrived in the hold. Seeing how relatively new Valton is, Titus hopes to exploit the Jarl and the town for protection.
The Ascended Sleeper
Scarpaius “Skarpi” Otavius-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name:Scarpaius Otavius (Skarpi for short)
Age:72
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Heigh:5’ 11’’
Birthsign:The Thief
Appearance:Scarpaius is an old man, but generally well fit for his age, taking time to work out daily and preform manual labor. Standing at roughly 5’ 11’’, he is a handsome man even in his old age, with high cheekbones and full lips, his looks wooed many women back in his day. http://cache.ohinternet.com/images/thumb/2/2d/Trollface_HD.png/618px-Trollface_HD.png now, and his shaggy head of hair is fringed with grey, but his eyes are still the color of pristine blue water, which seem to sparkle when he is telling a story. He enjoys portraying himself as a weak old man (which, in a way, he is), but it is only a fa?ade used to fool potential enemies, and a technique used to awe his audience.
Class (what would you describe your character as?):Ex-Sailor, Innkeeper and Bard
Skills and known spells (if any):Skarpi was once a brilliant swordsman and thief, talented with one handed weapons, stealth, lockpicking, and pickpocketing. While he has retained much of his knowledge and ability in his old age, his talent can be considered lack-luster at best. The two skills that he still uses to great effect are Alteration and Speechcraft. Skarpi used [and uses] alteration to create magical shields, fiddle with matter and the physical composition of materials, as well as further his own abilities. In combat, this is used in creative and unique ways, though more recently in his life, he has just been using it to help accomplish tasks, or for show-boating. His tongue and wit are sharp as steel, which is very useful when persuading a highway robber or a group of children listening to one of his stories.
Clothing / armor:Skarpi usually wears his old duster (http://hiltonstentcity.com/images-prod/filson-465-duster-lg.jpg), with common clothes underneath. He owns a simple pair of boiled leather boots, and he keeps an old suit of armor locked in his special chest, which hasn’t been put to use in several years. In addition, an innocent looking ring of coral resides on his right ring finger, though the sailor refuses to comment on its origin.
Weapons: Skarpi usually just keeps a simple dagger of steel on his person, as well as a small volcanic stone that has been enchanted to cast a weakish lightning spell, though it is unknown whether he discovered this trinket on his adventures or made it himself. In his special chest, he has a silver longsword, though it hasn’t been moved or used in several years.
Miscellaneous items:Skarpi has several books packed in what little luggage he has, as well as a few pairs of simple clothing. He also has a chest of lacquered redwood with him, that contains and old suit of armor, silver longsword, potions, and a few other odd trinkets from his adventuring days.
Personality: The old sailor is rather optimistic, cheerful, wise, and can be described as “a little loony”. On the outside, Skarpi seems rather open and happily willing to share his advice, wisdom, and tales of adventure, he is truly angry and world-weary from his persuer’s efforts to bump him off, but is far too stubborn and faithful to give up just yet.
Major flaw: Skarpi is old, thus hindering his combat abilities (ya know, cause he’s slower and such). Due to an old wound on his right leg, he has a slight limp.
Background: Skarpi was born in Bravil, and lived on the streets until he was about twelve years old until a friendly, wise Innkeeper paid for passage to Stormhold where he would procure an education at the Synod Enclave.
Skarpi took keen to the school of Alteration at the school, as well as your average subjects like arithmetic and lore. When he reached the age of 19, Scarpaius was weary of the Synod’s flawed system of education and greedy politics, and left the school behind in search for adventure, his ego brimming with arrogance. Leaving his friends and mentors in his wake, he got a job, raised enough money to procure some essential supplies, and ventured into the world in search of adventure.
His first attempt at an adventure, the plundering an ancient ruin will a small band of mercenaries, ended in utter disaster, to say the least, and opened the young man’s eyes as he narrowly escaped the vicious maw of Deadroth. He became far more cautious after that, and his ego slowly began to deflate.
A few years later, with a broadened knowledge of the world, he signed onto a crew of a cargo ship in Hammerfell, and worked as a sailor, moving goods from Skyrim to Morrowind and even to Elyswer. During these times, the crew encountered strange occurrences, and had a few brushes with the supernatural.
It wasn’t until Skarpi, now succumbing to the hands of becoming old, stole an artifact from a cult of Necromancers, in hope that its powers would help him retain his youth. The occultists discovered his heist, and nearly killed him, but he escaped. The mages of death hired and “created” minions to pursue Skarpi across the globe for many years.
During said time, Skarpi had an epiphany that almost crushed his spirit, caused by the deadly Necromancers that chased him. He gave up adventuring, and turned to being a traveling bard, poet, and inn keeper, still hailing that old man from Bravil as his hero. Skarpi kept moving around, growing old and more eccentric by the year, until he found the new hold of Valton. It is unknown if the old bard disposed of the artifact already, or if he still keeps, or if it even does anything. But one thing is for certain- those pesky necromancers are still after it, and the loony sailor who stole it.
Name:Scarpaius Otavius (Skarpi for short)
Age:72
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Heigh:5’ 11’’
Birthsign:The Thief
Appearance:Scarpaius is an old man, but generally well fit for his age, taking time to work out daily and preform manual labor. Standing at roughly 5’ 11’’, he is a handsome man even in his old age, with high cheekbones and full lips, his looks wooed many women back in his day. http://cache.ohinternet.com/images/thumb/2/2d/Trollface_HD.png/618px-Trollface_HD.png now, and his shaggy head of hair is fringed with grey, but his eyes are still the color of pristine blue water, which seem to sparkle when he is telling a story. He enjoys portraying himself as a weak old man (which, in a way, he is), but it is only a fa?ade used to fool potential enemies, and a technique used to awe his audience.
Class (what would you describe your character as?):Ex-Sailor, Innkeeper and Bard
Skills and known spells (if any):Skarpi was once a brilliant swordsman and thief, talented with one handed weapons, stealth, lockpicking, and pickpocketing. While he has retained much of his knowledge and ability in his old age, his talent can be considered lack-luster at best. The two skills that he still uses to great effect are Alteration and Speechcraft. Skarpi used [and uses] alteration to create magical shields, fiddle with matter and the physical composition of materials, as well as further his own abilities. In combat, this is used in creative and unique ways, though more recently in his life, he has just been using it to help accomplish tasks, or for show-boating. His tongue and wit are sharp as steel, which is very useful when persuading a highway robber or a group of children listening to one of his stories.
Clothing / armor:Skarpi usually wears his old duster (http://hiltonstentcity.com/images-prod/filson-465-duster-lg.jpg), with common clothes underneath. He owns a simple pair of boiled leather boots, and he keeps an old suit of armor locked in his special chest, which hasn’t been put to use in several years. In addition, an innocent looking ring of coral resides on his right ring finger, though the sailor refuses to comment on its origin.
Weapons: Skarpi usually just keeps a simple dagger of steel on his person, as well as a small volcanic stone that has been enchanted to cast a weakish lightning spell, though it is unknown whether he discovered this trinket on his adventures or made it himself. In his special chest, he has a silver longsword, though it hasn’t been moved or used in several years.
Miscellaneous items:Skarpi has several books packed in what little luggage he has, as well as a few pairs of simple clothing. He also has a chest of lacquered redwood with him, that contains and old suit of armor, silver longsword, potions, and a few other odd trinkets from his adventuring days.
Personality: The old sailor is rather optimistic, cheerful, wise, and can be described as “a little loony”. On the outside, Skarpi seems rather open and happily willing to share his advice, wisdom, and tales of adventure, he is truly angry and world-weary from his persuer’s efforts to bump him off, but is far too stubborn and faithful to give up just yet.
Major flaw: Skarpi is old, thus hindering his combat abilities (ya know, cause he’s slower and such). Due to an old wound on his right leg, he has a slight limp.
Background: Skarpi was born in Bravil, and lived on the streets until he was about twelve years old until a friendly, wise Innkeeper paid for passage to Stormhold where he would procure an education at the Synod Enclave.
Skarpi took keen to the school of Alteration at the school, as well as your average subjects like arithmetic and lore. When he reached the age of 19, Scarpaius was weary of the Synod’s flawed system of education and greedy politics, and left the school behind in search for adventure, his ego brimming with arrogance. Leaving his friends and mentors in his wake, he got a job, raised enough money to procure some essential supplies, and ventured into the world in search of adventure.
His first attempt at an adventure, the plundering an ancient ruin will a small band of mercenaries, ended in utter disaster, to say the least, and opened the young man’s eyes as he narrowly escaped the vicious maw of Deadroth. He became far more cautious after that, and his ego slowly began to deflate.
A few years later, with a broadened knowledge of the world, he signed onto a crew of a cargo ship in Hammerfell, and worked as a sailor, moving goods from Skyrim to Morrowind and even to Elyswer. During these times, the crew encountered strange occurrences, and had a few brushes with the supernatural.
It wasn’t until Skarpi, now succumbing to the hands of becoming old, stole an artifact from a cult of Necromancers, in hope that its powers would help him retain his youth. The occultists discovered his heist, and nearly killed him, but he escaped. The mages of death hired and “created” minions to pursue Skarpi across the globe for many years.
During said time, Skarpi had an epiphany that almost crushed his spirit, caused by the deadly Necromancers that chased him. He gave up adventuring, and turned to being a traveling bard, poet, and inn keeper, still hailing that old man from Bravil as his hero. Skarpi kept moving around, growing old and more eccentric by the year, until he found the new hold of Valton. It is unknown if the old bard disposed of the artifact already, or if he still keeps, or if it even does anything. But one thing is for certain- those pesky necromancers are still after it, and the loony sailor who stole it.
Od Fahliil
Zalabek ”Zal” Mirshimammu-(dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Zalabek "Zal" Mirshimammu
Age: 231
Race: Dunmer Ashlander
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Zal is fairly average by Dunmer standards. His build is slender, almost lanky, though he is nigh weak. Hair is ashen gray, like the burnt leavings after a roaring fire. Eyes are white as Skyrim's snows, and seem to pierce a soul like a Daedric arrow through Dreugh Wax. His face is tattooed in the traditional Ashlander fashion - a dark hand 'pon his left cheek, a splash of red 'round his right eye. A deep scar tears a horizontal valley across his stubbled chin; a relic of the life he's left behind.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Loremaster/Bookseller
Skills and known spells (if any):
Skills:
Archery - Adept
One Handed - Apprentice
Alchemy - Apprentice
---
Misc Skills/Descriptions
Zal has spent much of his life collecting tomes and volumes of any literature he could reach, and as such he may well have been one of the best educated Ashlanders in Vvardenfell before Red Mountain erupted.
---
Spells/Powers:
Summon Ancestral Guardian, Firebolt.
Clothing / armor: Zal wears simplistic clothing made from roughly patched Netch leather and Chitin. His waist is bound with multiple belts, bearing satchels and flasks filled with alchemical ingredients, simple potions, and often a few pinches of Moon Sugar. About his neck he wears an amulet bearing the likeness of Azura's Star - a gift given to him by his mother in his youth, and one of his most prized posessions.
Weapons: Zal carries a glass dagger on his person at all times. For hunting purposes he owns a weathered Chitin longbow, and the arrows to accompany it.
Miscellaneous items: Due to his Ashlander background Zal has accumulated a decent collection of odds and ends. Though most of his trinkets are quite useless he is in the posession of a journal, the very journal used by the Nerevarine in the Third Era while on his journey to defeat Dagoth Ur.
Personality: Though he carries himself with the usual pomp of a Dunmer, and oft barks out belittling comments without cause, Zal is a fairly softhearted individual. He has come to realize just how short one's life is, and sees no point in souring what is left of it.
Major flaw: Zal is fairly reclusive, being from a small tribe to the north of Morrowind and having not eperienced life around large crowds. He prefers to keep to his own affairs, and can often become farly shy and silent in stressful situations.
Background:Zalabek was born and raised in the old Ashlander camp of Urshilaku in Morrowind's north, on the Sheogorad coastline. He was raised with tales of the Nerevarine, who had visited their camp in 3E 427, and as such has always held a fascination for lore of all kinds. On his seventeenth birthday his mother and father presented him with two gifts - the Amulet of Azura, and the Nerevarine's journal - and was subsequently told to leave his home and explore the world.
For fourteen years young Zal explored Morrowind; from Dagon Fell to Vivec, Gnisis to Sadrith Mora...
Upon returning to his home in Urshilaku he found the place destroyed, raided by bandits from beyond the Ghostgate. Zal spent a week amongst the rubble, sleeping in his own bedroll near the bodies of his slain parents. Something had broken within the Dunmer, something that may nevere fully heal.
While he slept one night, there in the shadow of Red Mountain, Azura came to him in a vision. She told the Dark Elf to flee Morrowind - to let his past lay, and to travel West to Skyrim. The mountain was to burn the province, she said, and he listened. As Azura's star sparkled in the dawn's sky Zalabek buried his parents in shallow pits, gathered what scraps he could to travel with, and began his Westward journey...
Age: 231
Race: Dunmer Ashlander
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Zal is fairly average by Dunmer standards. His build is slender, almost lanky, though he is nigh weak. Hair is ashen gray, like the burnt leavings after a roaring fire. Eyes are white as Skyrim's snows, and seem to pierce a soul like a Daedric arrow through Dreugh Wax. His face is tattooed in the traditional Ashlander fashion - a dark hand 'pon his left cheek, a splash of red 'round his right eye. A deep scar tears a horizontal valley across his stubbled chin; a relic of the life he's left behind.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Loremaster/Bookseller
Skills and known spells (if any):
Skills:
Archery - Adept
One Handed - Apprentice
Alchemy - Apprentice
---
Misc Skills/Descriptions
Zal has spent much of his life collecting tomes and volumes of any literature he could reach, and as such he may well have been one of the best educated Ashlanders in Vvardenfell before Red Mountain erupted.
---
Spells/Powers:
Summon Ancestral Guardian, Firebolt.
Clothing / armor: Zal wears simplistic clothing made from roughly patched Netch leather and Chitin. His waist is bound with multiple belts, bearing satchels and flasks filled with alchemical ingredients, simple potions, and often a few pinches of Moon Sugar. About his neck he wears an amulet bearing the likeness of Azura's Star - a gift given to him by his mother in his youth, and one of his most prized posessions.
Weapons: Zal carries a glass dagger on his person at all times. For hunting purposes he owns a weathered Chitin longbow, and the arrows to accompany it.
Miscellaneous items: Due to his Ashlander background Zal has accumulated a decent collection of odds and ends. Though most of his trinkets are quite useless he is in the posession of a journal, the very journal used by the Nerevarine in the Third Era while on his journey to defeat Dagoth Ur.
Personality: Though he carries himself with the usual pomp of a Dunmer, and oft barks out belittling comments without cause, Zal is a fairly softhearted individual. He has come to realize just how short one's life is, and sees no point in souring what is left of it.
Major flaw: Zal is fairly reclusive, being from a small tribe to the north of Morrowind and having not eperienced life around large crowds. He prefers to keep to his own affairs, and can often become farly shy and silent in stressful situations.
Background:Zalabek was born and raised in the old Ashlander camp of Urshilaku in Morrowind's north, on the Sheogorad coastline. He was raised with tales of the Nerevarine, who had visited their camp in 3E 427, and as such has always held a fascination for lore of all kinds. On his seventeenth birthday his mother and father presented him with two gifts - the Amulet of Azura, and the Nerevarine's journal - and was subsequently told to leave his home and explore the world.
For fourteen years young Zal explored Morrowind; from Dagon Fell to Vivec, Gnisis to Sadrith Mora...
Upon returning to his home in Urshilaku he found the place destroyed, raided by bandits from beyond the Ghostgate. Zal spent a week amongst the rubble, sleeping in his own bedroll near the bodies of his slain parents. Something had broken within the Dunmer, something that may nevere fully heal.
While he slept one night, there in the shadow of Red Mountain, Azura came to him in a vision. She told the Dark Elf to flee Morrowind - to let his past lay, and to travel West to Skyrim. The mountain was to burn the province, she said, and he listened. As Azura's star sparkled in the dawn's sky Zalabek buried his parents in shallow pits, gathered what scraps he could to travel with, and began his Westward journey...
disturbing
Theseus Naik-(Nord/Redguard)
Spoiler
Name: Theseus Naik
Age: 21
Race: Nord/Redguard
Gender: Male
Height: 6 feet, 3 inches
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: Theseus is tall with broad shoulders and a medium build. He has ear length black hair and attractive brown eyes. He has a long scar that runs underneath his right ear and a burn on his left arm. Theseus always has a placated look of intensity on his face.
Class: Warrior / Vigilante
Skills: Theseus is a skilled swordsman and a master at throwing javelins. He can also create many makeshift traps. He knows no spells.
Clothing: Simple clothes underneath scaled leather armor that covers his whole body besides his head.
Weapons: Simple steel sword and three four-foot steel tipped javelins that he has in a makeshift quiver attached to his back.
Misc. Items: A small satchel that he uses to carry his supplies and a wineskin water jug.
Personality: Theseus has a strong sense of justice and will try to help anyone around him. He tends to be quiet around strangers but will be cheerful and hearty around anyone he considers a friend. He can also be reckless and loves danger.
Major flaws: Theseus's sense of justice and addiction to danger have gotten him into trouble on various accounts. He also has a weakness for women and will often freeze up and act awkwardly around them. He has a fear and hatred towards spiders. He also hates alcohol and refuses to drink any.
Background: Theseus was born in Markarth to a cruel drunken Nord. His father would often fly into a drunken rage and beat him. He never met his mother and would often day dream of her rescuing him from his father. At the age of twelve Theseus's father got a bit more drunk than usual and burned him with a firery piece of fire wood. At that moment Theseus decided to escape from his prison of a home. That night he gathered supplies and snuck out of the city.
He had not made it far before falling into a crevice face to face with a frostbite spider. The sight of the monster caused the young boy to faint. The creature was about to feast on its prey but was interrupted by a javelin to its back. It turned around only to be stabbed through the eye by an old imperial.
Theseus awoke in a small hut. His eyes fell upon his rescuer, A tall thin man probably in his early fifties. The man was an ex legionnaire who had witnessed many horrors of the Great War. His name was Andrell and he told the boy that he could stay as long as he carried his own weight.
Andrell became the father that Theseus never had and the two got along almost telepathically. During the day the two would fish by the stream that ran next to the imperial's hut and by night Andrell would school Theseus in the ways of combat.
Seven years passed as if they had merely been days. The now nineteen year old Theseus was returning to the hut after a long day of gathering ingredients for the nights dinner. Something seemed wrong though. He could see an unusual amount of smoke rising from where the two resided and Theseus broke into a run.
The sight he saw struck him like a punch to the gut. The charred remains of the hut lay in clumps around the dead body of his mentor. Three arrows protruded from his chest and his face was unrecognizable from what looked to be a mace strike. His steel sword lay limply in his dead hands. Now in a sobbing enraged state, Theseus swept up the sword and ran towards the foliage where the fresh steps of Andrell's killers where sprawled. I'm gonna kill them was the only thought on the young man's mind.
And indeed he did. I could go into detail but all that matters is that Theseus got his revenge, and since that day he vowed to become a force against evil and to stop tyranny wherever it may be.
His journeys eventually guided him to the town of Riften and that is where his story truly begins.
Name: Theseus Naik
Age: 21
Race: Nord/Redguard
Gender: Male
Height: 6 feet, 3 inches
Birthsign: The Atronach
Appearance: Theseus is tall with broad shoulders and a medium build. He has ear length black hair and attractive brown eyes. He has a long scar that runs underneath his right ear and a burn on his left arm. Theseus always has a placated look of intensity on his face.
Class: Warrior / Vigilante
Skills: Theseus is a skilled swordsman and a master at throwing javelins. He can also create many makeshift traps. He knows no spells.
Clothing: Simple clothes underneath scaled leather armor that covers his whole body besides his head.
Weapons: Simple steel sword and three four-foot steel tipped javelins that he has in a makeshift quiver attached to his back.
Misc. Items: A small satchel that he uses to carry his supplies and a wineskin water jug.
Personality: Theseus has a strong sense of justice and will try to help anyone around him. He tends to be quiet around strangers but will be cheerful and hearty around anyone he considers a friend. He can also be reckless and loves danger.
Major flaws: Theseus's sense of justice and addiction to danger have gotten him into trouble on various accounts. He also has a weakness for women and will often freeze up and act awkwardly around them. He has a fear and hatred towards spiders. He also hates alcohol and refuses to drink any.
Background: Theseus was born in Markarth to a cruel drunken Nord. His father would often fly into a drunken rage and beat him. He never met his mother and would often day dream of her rescuing him from his father. At the age of twelve Theseus's father got a bit more drunk than usual and burned him with a firery piece of fire wood. At that moment Theseus decided to escape from his prison of a home. That night he gathered supplies and snuck out of the city.
He had not made it far before falling into a crevice face to face with a frostbite spider. The sight of the monster caused the young boy to faint. The creature was about to feast on its prey but was interrupted by a javelin to its back. It turned around only to be stabbed through the eye by an old imperial.
Theseus awoke in a small hut. His eyes fell upon his rescuer, A tall thin man probably in his early fifties. The man was an ex legionnaire who had witnessed many horrors of the Great War. His name was Andrell and he told the boy that he could stay as long as he carried his own weight.
Andrell became the father that Theseus never had and the two got along almost telepathically. During the day the two would fish by the stream that ran next to the imperial's hut and by night Andrell would school Theseus in the ways of combat.
Seven years passed as if they had merely been days. The now nineteen year old Theseus was returning to the hut after a long day of gathering ingredients for the nights dinner. Something seemed wrong though. He could see an unusual amount of smoke rising from where the two resided and Theseus broke into a run.
The sight he saw struck him like a punch to the gut. The charred remains of the hut lay in clumps around the dead body of his mentor. Three arrows protruded from his chest and his face was unrecognizable from what looked to be a mace strike. His steel sword lay limply in his dead hands. Now in a sobbing enraged state, Theseus swept up the sword and ran towards the foliage where the fresh steps of Andrell's killers where sprawled. I'm gonna kill them was the only thought on the young man's mind.
And indeed he did. I could go into detail but all that matters is that Theseus got his revenge, and since that day he vowed to become a force against evil and to stop tyranny wherever it may be.
His journeys eventually guided him to the town of Riften and that is where his story truly begins.
Valenhiem
Frulgar Hrenelt -(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Frulgar Hrenelt
Age: 38
Race: Nord (culturally Imperial)
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10"
Birthsign: Steed
Appearance: Frulgar is an unremarkable figure, though distinctly Nord in appearance. Though rather tall, Frulgar does not tower above his Nord compatriots, with whom he shares most of his aesthetically predictable qualities. His hair is vaguely brown, though matted with such mud and so unkempt so as to preclude knowing its true color. The rough beginnings of a beard adorn his upper lip and chin. His eyes are deep-set, hidden beneath the shadow of an extensive brow, though they are dark-blue. His skin (slightly tan, though still unmistakably that of a Nord) is relatively unblemished, though a few scars (wounds from mishandled farm equipment as a boy, no doubt) are observable.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Architect and Carpenter
Skills and known spells (if any): Frulgar studied in an Imperial Academy, gaining some skills as a mathematician and architect. He is capable of wielding a weapon in combat, though he is unskilled and not battle-tested. Frulgar can ride a horse and has used a bow before (though he can barely recall his archery technique, having not used it in over a decade).
Clothing / armor: Frulgar usually wears a simple set of monochromatic brown clothes (a tunic, trousers, and boots), though, when travelling, he dons a thick fur coat and a simple hat.
Weapons: Iron axe
Miscellaneous items: Amulet of Akatosh, a few gems and Septims
Personality: Frulgar is a calculating, educated man, adept in the fine arts of architecture. A realist, Frulgar is an exceptional “problem-solver” in his field of work (construction), and he is incredibly dedicated to defeating the daunting challenges associated with his projects. Though shrewd and generally unemotional, Frulgar is generally thought of as a kind, though detached man, preferring to retain a level of distance from his fellow Nords. Frulgar is religious, wearing an Amulet of Akatosh, his patron.
Major flaw: Though skilled in architecture and physically capable of performing most jobs requiring labor (farming, mining, etc.), Frulgar is not adept in combat (though he is strong enough to perform the duties expected of a villager). A more glaring flaw regards his relative lack of communication skills (he is laconic and aloof).
Background: Born in a small Nord farm in Whiterun Hold, Frulgar was orphaned at the age of 11 when marauding bandits, starving, looted the Hrenelt family’s crop and killed his father and mother (who had attempted to defend their livelihood). This traumatic experience has since produced a skeptical, brooding man who, though respected by his peers, is generally avoided. Discovered by an attachment of the Imperial Legion the next day, Frulgar was taken in by an officer, Barcola Palastre, to live at his estate in northern Cyrodil. There, he was educated at a secluded monastery of Akatosh, studying philosophy, mathematics, engineering, and history. Excelling in his chosen profession of architecture, Frulgar assisted in the addition of several new wings onto the monastery at the age of 17.
Leaving his adoptive father and monk-educators at the age of 19, Frulgar assisted in the planning of several Imperial towns, experimenting with sophisticated plumbing and transportation infrastructure designs. This macro-level construction skill made him invaluable to several projects in Cyrodil, and a wealthy architect during his 20s. However, Frulgar’s adoptive brother, Clagius, was found guilty of treason (conspiring to assassinate the father of his bride who, interestingly enough, was a member of the Imperial court and a landed aristocrat… also Clagius’ superior officer) and later executed. Disgraced by the name Palastre, Frulgar was unable to find work in Cyrodil and was nearly bankrupted by his unemployment. Frulgar’s adoptive father, Barcola, had died in his sleep following Clagius’ execution (attributed to grief, but more likely due to a disease which had been passing through northern Cyrodil during that time) and, without a formal will, his estate had been acquiesced by the Imperial state (broken down and redistributed to small farmers).
Fleeing to Skyrim under his original name, Hrenelt, Frulgar found some employment building a minor canol off the White River. Frulgar assisted in some mining projects (both mining himself and coordinating mine-construction), stealing a few gems as safeguards against destitution. Though initially ignoring the supposed opportunity of Valton, the New Hold (which Frulgar had initially perceived to be destined for failure), Frulgar’s desperation for employment spurred him to action, leaving the mines of the southern Reach to investigate the newfound frontier.
Name: Frulgar Hrenelt
Age: 38
Race: Nord (culturally Imperial)
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10"
Birthsign: Steed
Appearance: Frulgar is an unremarkable figure, though distinctly Nord in appearance. Though rather tall, Frulgar does not tower above his Nord compatriots, with whom he shares most of his aesthetically predictable qualities. His hair is vaguely brown, though matted with such mud and so unkempt so as to preclude knowing its true color. The rough beginnings of a beard adorn his upper lip and chin. His eyes are deep-set, hidden beneath the shadow of an extensive brow, though they are dark-blue. His skin (slightly tan, though still unmistakably that of a Nord) is relatively unblemished, though a few scars (wounds from mishandled farm equipment as a boy, no doubt) are observable.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Architect and Carpenter
Skills and known spells (if any): Frulgar studied in an Imperial Academy, gaining some skills as a mathematician and architect. He is capable of wielding a weapon in combat, though he is unskilled and not battle-tested. Frulgar can ride a horse and has used a bow before (though he can barely recall his archery technique, having not used it in over a decade).
Clothing / armor: Frulgar usually wears a simple set of monochromatic brown clothes (a tunic, trousers, and boots), though, when travelling, he dons a thick fur coat and a simple hat.
Weapons: Iron axe
Miscellaneous items: Amulet of Akatosh, a few gems and Septims
Personality: Frulgar is a calculating, educated man, adept in the fine arts of architecture. A realist, Frulgar is an exceptional “problem-solver” in his field of work (construction), and he is incredibly dedicated to defeating the daunting challenges associated with his projects. Though shrewd and generally unemotional, Frulgar is generally thought of as a kind, though detached man, preferring to retain a level of distance from his fellow Nords. Frulgar is religious, wearing an Amulet of Akatosh, his patron.
Major flaw: Though skilled in architecture and physically capable of performing most jobs requiring labor (farming, mining, etc.), Frulgar is not adept in combat (though he is strong enough to perform the duties expected of a villager). A more glaring flaw regards his relative lack of communication skills (he is laconic and aloof).
Background: Born in a small Nord farm in Whiterun Hold, Frulgar was orphaned at the age of 11 when marauding bandits, starving, looted the Hrenelt family’s crop and killed his father and mother (who had attempted to defend their livelihood). This traumatic experience has since produced a skeptical, brooding man who, though respected by his peers, is generally avoided. Discovered by an attachment of the Imperial Legion the next day, Frulgar was taken in by an officer, Barcola Palastre, to live at his estate in northern Cyrodil. There, he was educated at a secluded monastery of Akatosh, studying philosophy, mathematics, engineering, and history. Excelling in his chosen profession of architecture, Frulgar assisted in the addition of several new wings onto the monastery at the age of 17.
Leaving his adoptive father and monk-educators at the age of 19, Frulgar assisted in the planning of several Imperial towns, experimenting with sophisticated plumbing and transportation infrastructure designs. This macro-level construction skill made him invaluable to several projects in Cyrodil, and a wealthy architect during his 20s. However, Frulgar’s adoptive brother, Clagius, was found guilty of treason (conspiring to assassinate the father of his bride who, interestingly enough, was a member of the Imperial court and a landed aristocrat… also Clagius’ superior officer) and later executed. Disgraced by the name Palastre, Frulgar was unable to find work in Cyrodil and was nearly bankrupted by his unemployment. Frulgar’s adoptive father, Barcola, had died in his sleep following Clagius’ execution (attributed to grief, but more likely due to a disease which had been passing through northern Cyrodil during that time) and, without a formal will, his estate had been acquiesced by the Imperial state (broken down and redistributed to small farmers).
Fleeing to Skyrim under his original name, Hrenelt, Frulgar found some employment building a minor canol off the White River. Frulgar assisted in some mining projects (both mining himself and coordinating mine-construction), stealing a few gems as safeguards against destitution. Though initially ignoring the supposed opportunity of Valton, the New Hold (which Frulgar had initially perceived to be destined for failure), Frulgar’s desperation for employment spurred him to action, leaving the mines of the southern Reach to investigate the newfound frontier.
Trixy901
Annika-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Annika
Age: 25
Race: Nord
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Birthsign: The Steed (of course ;D)
Appearence: Her hair is very long, but looks full and not strangly at the ends. It is a dark brown and slightly wavy. She has a paler complexion from the Skyrim cold, but no blemishs on her skin or face. Her eyes are large and a lighter shade of blue. She is thin, but not weak looking. She is pretty.
Class: Shopkeeper
Skills: Other than like speechcraft she is good with one handed skills, and archery. She moves well in light-armor.
Clothing: During the shop hours she usually just wears a nice long blue dress.
Weapons: She carries on her a dagger, but in a chest in her room she has a steel sword and a bow and arrows.
Miscellaneous: She has gold. (can't really think of anything else right now)
Personality: Friendly, kind, and usually gentle. She usually does not get angry very fast.
Major Flaw: She cannot swing a long sword for the life of her, and she has a fear of Frostbite Spiders. A paralizing fear of them.
Background: She was origionally from Windhelm, and after many attempts to join the Stormcloaks and everytime beinging turned down, she gave up and moved out of Windhelm. She discovered Valton as she traveled down with the ententions of finding Riften. But she decided to stay, settle down by herself, and when the shopkeeper went missing, she filled in for him.
Age: 25
Race: Nord
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Birthsign: The Steed (of course ;D)
Appearence: Her hair is very long, but looks full and not strangly at the ends. It is a dark brown and slightly wavy. She has a paler complexion from the Skyrim cold, but no blemishs on her skin or face. Her eyes are large and a lighter shade of blue. She is thin, but not weak looking. She is pretty.
Class: Shopkeeper
Skills: Other than like speechcraft she is good with one handed skills, and archery. She moves well in light-armor.
Clothing: During the shop hours she usually just wears a nice long blue dress.
Weapons: She carries on her a dagger, but in a chest in her room she has a steel sword and a bow and arrows.
Miscellaneous: She has gold. (can't really think of anything else right now)
Personality: Friendly, kind, and usually gentle. She usually does not get angry very fast.
Major Flaw: She cannot swing a long sword for the life of her, and she has a fear of Frostbite Spiders. A paralizing fear of them.
Background: She was origionally from Windhelm, and after many attempts to join the Stormcloaks and everytime beinging turned down, she gave up and moved out of Windhelm. She discovered Valton as she traveled down with the ententions of finding Riften. But she decided to stay, settle down by herself, and when the shopkeeper went missing, she filled in for him.
