» Thu May 03, 2012 8:45 am 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 (crossed out jobs being taken) : alchemist,
Head on to the RP thread if you're already on the list: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1338764-valton-the-new-hold-rp-thread-2/.
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:
List of accepted characters:
Semi-Mythical GM - Lizard Wizard
Lliro Spurvhauke-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Lliro Spurvhauke
Age: 21
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 9”
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: He has a lean but strong build, and a perfectly straight posture. He has a strong jaw line with a slight cleft chin. His eyes are almond shaped, and have a golden hue to them, and he possesses a straight nose. His dark brown hair is usually cropped close to his head and his sideburns end midway past his ears. He generally has light stubble at all times, and he has a single circular earring in his left ear made out of ebony.
Class: Archer
Skills and known spells: He is an extremely skilled archer, and he also has a decent level of skill with blades. He is very athletic and is capable of amazing acrobatic feats. He is fairly sneaky, and he uses this to his advantage when hunting. He only knows the spell flames.
Clothing / armor: He has a white long-sleeve undershirt with the sleeves rolled midway up his forearms, a short-sleeve steel chainmail tunic above that, and above that a sleeveless brown leather cuirass with a hood. He has faded blue pants with a thick brown leather belt, and steel plated brown leather boots. On his left arm he has a fingerless brown leather glove with a steel plate on the back of it, and a brown leather archery armguard. On his right hand he has a brown leather traditional three-fingered archery glove.
Weapons: An Orcish bow, a dwarven quiver slung across his back that is filled with steel arrows, and a dwarven sword sheathed on his left hip.
Miscellaneous items: A small knife for skinning animals, a fishing pole, and a small row boat to go fishing with.
Personality: He is generally a kind man, and is tolerant of all the races. Lliro is quiet most of the time, though when he’s in the mood to talk you can’t get him to stop. He is incredibly loyal to his friends, and is generous as well.
Major flaw: He is headstrong, reckless, and quick to anger. He is also somewhat vain.
Background: Lliro is the son of Jarl Radwulf Spurvhauke, and is a high ranking member of the Valton guard. He grew up in Anvil where his family had lived for several generations. 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. Lliro, his mother and father lived well like this, and they would have remained in Anvil if not for the day Lliro’s mother, 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: 21
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 9”
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: He has a lean but strong build, and a perfectly straight posture. He has a strong jaw line with a slight cleft chin. His eyes are almond shaped, and have a golden hue to them, and he possesses a straight nose. His dark brown hair is usually cropped close to his head and his sideburns end midway past his ears. He generally has light stubble at all times, and he has a single circular earring in his left ear made out of ebony.
Class: Archer
Skills and known spells: He is an extremely skilled archer, and he also has a decent level of skill with blades. He is very athletic and is capable of amazing acrobatic feats. He is fairly sneaky, and he uses this to his advantage when hunting. He only knows the spell flames.
Clothing / armor: He has a white long-sleeve undershirt with the sleeves rolled midway up his forearms, a short-sleeve steel chainmail tunic above that, and above that a sleeveless brown leather cuirass with a hood. He has faded blue pants with a thick brown leather belt, and steel plated brown leather boots. On his left arm he has a fingerless brown leather glove with a steel plate on the back of it, and a brown leather archery armguard. On his right hand he has a brown leather traditional three-fingered archery glove.
Weapons: An Orcish bow, a dwarven quiver slung across his back that is filled with steel arrows, and a dwarven sword sheathed on his left hip.
Miscellaneous items: A small knife for skinning animals, a fishing pole, and a small row boat to go fishing with.
Personality: He is generally a kind man, and is tolerant of all the races. Lliro is quiet most of the time, though when he’s in the mood to talk you can’t get him to stop. He is incredibly loyal to his friends, and is generous as well.
Major flaw: He is headstrong, reckless, and quick to anger. He is also somewhat vain.
Background: Lliro is the son of Jarl Radwulf Spurvhauke, and is a high ranking member of the Valton guard. He grew up in Anvil where his family had lived for several generations. 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. Lliro, his mother and father lived well like this, and they would have remained in Anvil if not for the day Lliro’s mother, 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.
Raest Kivaan-(Nord/Bosmer, Werewolf)
Spoiler
Name: Raest Kivaan
Age: 25
Race: Half Nord and half Bosmer, werewolf
Gender: Male
Height: 5’11”
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: He is a light tan, and mostly resembles an average Nord in his facial features, and in that he has a strong build with wide shoulders. His eyes and ears are distinctly Bosmer though, with almost completely black eyes, and pointed, elven ears. His hair is pure white and hangs down to his shoulders, but his eyebrows are black, as is his stubble. He has tattoos all over his right arm that resemble tiger stripes, and he paints his finger nails black. When in his werewolf form his fur is pure white with black claws, and his eyes are still black.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Spellsword / Scout
Skills and known spells (if any): He is skilled with spears, swords, and shields. He is also skilled in acrobatics, athletics and is incredibly stealthy. He has a small amount of training in destruction and alteration. He knows the spells flames, frostbite, sparks, magelight and telekinesis.
Clothing / armor: He wears leather armor, faded blue pants with a thick brown leather belt, steel plate boots, fingerless black leather gloves, a steel bracelet on his left wrist, and a steel helmet.
Weapons: He has a steel tipped boar spear, a dwarven sword which is sheathed across his back, and a steel shield with a single conical spike protruding from it so he can stab an enemy by bashing them with his shield.
Miscellaneous items: A flute that he doesn’t know how to play.
Personality: He likes to talk, and will do so whenever given the chance, though he refuses to talk about his past however, and becomes very bitter and sad if it’s brought up in conversation. He is kind, helpful, generous and tolerant of all races, though he is also rather secretive. He tends to dislike what others would see as luxury, and even prefers to sleep outside near a campfire than on a warm bed in a house. He has a natural affinity for wandering the wilderness due to the Bosmer in him.
Major flaw: When he’s alone he has a tendency to talk to himself, so other people might think him to be insane if they overhear him. He is half Bosmer and half Nord, and isn’t fully accepted by either race, so he is forced to cover the features that mark him as elven in order to fit in with the Nords. He also suffers from lycanthropy, and has to hide this fact. On occasion his more bestial side may show through even when in his humanoid form, in that he may growl when angered, or roar in battle.
Background: His mother was a Bosmer and his father was a Nord, though his father left before he was born. Such unions are both rare, and frowned upon, and so when Raest was growing up in Valenwood, his mother kept his half elf nature a secret from everyone, including young Raest. Fortunately when he was young he resembled the other Bosmer, and he lived a normal life for a while, but as he got older he quickly outstripped the other children in height and strength. When his facial features began to become obviously more Nordic than Bosmer, it was clear to everyone what he was, and so he was shunned.
His mother died when he was fifteen, and so with no connection left to the Bosmer tribe he had grown up with, he left to travel across Tamriel to find some where he would fit in. During his travels he entered the province of Cyrodiil, and when in the Colovian Highlands he encountered a werewolf in the wilderness. He managed to fend it off, but the beast managed to bite him before fleeing, and he was infected. He tried to make his way back to civilization to get a cure disease potion, but he didn’t get very far before passing out from the intense pain and blood loss.
When he awoke he was a beast, cloaked in white fur and twice his normal size. He wasn’t in control of himself, but he was far enough away from civilization so that it didn’t matter. After an hour or so he returned to his normal self, though he began thinking of ways to train to control himself while in werewolf form. For years he remained in the Highlands until he had a semblance of control over his wolf self, before finally heading north to Skyrim. When he heard of the new hold in the Rift he headed there, hoping he could fit in with the local Nords if he covered his elven features.
Age: 25
Race: Half Nord and half Bosmer, werewolf
Gender: Male
Height: 5’11”
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: He is a light tan, and mostly resembles an average Nord in his facial features, and in that he has a strong build with wide shoulders. His eyes and ears are distinctly Bosmer though, with almost completely black eyes, and pointed, elven ears. His hair is pure white and hangs down to his shoulders, but his eyebrows are black, as is his stubble. He has tattoos all over his right arm that resemble tiger stripes, and he paints his finger nails black. When in his werewolf form his fur is pure white with black claws, and his eyes are still black.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Spellsword / Scout
Skills and known spells (if any): He is skilled with spears, swords, and shields. He is also skilled in acrobatics, athletics and is incredibly stealthy. He has a small amount of training in destruction and alteration. He knows the spells flames, frostbite, sparks, magelight and telekinesis.
Clothing / armor: He wears leather armor, faded blue pants with a thick brown leather belt, steel plate boots, fingerless black leather gloves, a steel bracelet on his left wrist, and a steel helmet.
Weapons: He has a steel tipped boar spear, a dwarven sword which is sheathed across his back, and a steel shield with a single conical spike protruding from it so he can stab an enemy by bashing them with his shield.
Miscellaneous items: A flute that he doesn’t know how to play.
Personality: He likes to talk, and will do so whenever given the chance, though he refuses to talk about his past however, and becomes very bitter and sad if it’s brought up in conversation. He is kind, helpful, generous and tolerant of all races, though he is also rather secretive. He tends to dislike what others would see as luxury, and even prefers to sleep outside near a campfire than on a warm bed in a house. He has a natural affinity for wandering the wilderness due to the Bosmer in him.
Major flaw: When he’s alone he has a tendency to talk to himself, so other people might think him to be insane if they overhear him. He is half Bosmer and half Nord, and isn’t fully accepted by either race, so he is forced to cover the features that mark him as elven in order to fit in with the Nords. He also suffers from lycanthropy, and has to hide this fact. On occasion his more bestial side may show through even when in his humanoid form, in that he may growl when angered, or roar in battle.
Background: His mother was a Bosmer and his father was a Nord, though his father left before he was born. Such unions are both rare, and frowned upon, and so when Raest was growing up in Valenwood, his mother kept his half elf nature a secret from everyone, including young Raest. Fortunately when he was young he resembled the other Bosmer, and he lived a normal life for a while, but as he got older he quickly outstripped the other children in height and strength. When his facial features began to become obviously more Nordic than Bosmer, it was clear to everyone what he was, and so he was shunned.
His mother died when he was fifteen, and so with no connection left to the Bosmer tribe he had grown up with, he left to travel across Tamriel to find some where he would fit in. During his travels he entered the province of Cyrodiil, and when in the Colovian Highlands he encountered a werewolf in the wilderness. He managed to fend it off, but the beast managed to bite him before fleeing, and he was infected. He tried to make his way back to civilization to get a cure disease potion, but he didn’t get very far before passing out from the intense pain and blood loss.
When he awoke he was a beast, cloaked in white fur and twice his normal size. He wasn’t in control of himself, but he was far enough away from civilization so that it didn’t matter. After an hour or so he returned to his normal self, though he began thinking of ways to train to control himself while in werewolf form. For years he remained in the Highlands until he had a semblance of control over his wolf self, before finally heading north to Skyrim. When he heard of the new hold in the Rift he headed there, hoping he could fit in with the local Nords if he covered his elven features.
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.
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.
moonjester
Theadas-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Theadas
Age: 22
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 6’0
Birthsign: The Thief
Appearance: Standing at 6’0, he has Blonde hair and Blue eyes. His hair is usually spiked up and to the side. A full beard, a sandy blonde colour but not very thick. A muscular, athletic build, strong from doing a hard day of work. He and others would consider him handsome.
Class: Thief/ Shopkeeper
Skills:
Sneak – good at sneaking and moving unseen. Likes moving in the shadows.
Athletics/Acrobatics - A fast runner with a great jumping ability. He has the strength to pull him self up onto ledges if he hasn’t already jumped up there and has the agility to jump of high places and land safely.
Speech - A shrewd salesman and a good sweet talker prefers to talk or run his way out of things.
Pickpocket – loves having his hands in other peoples coin purses and is quite good at it.
Marksman – has skill with a bow and likes to use it if the need to fight likes to shoot first and stab later.
Blade – uses small blades a short sword or two daggers small but strong, piercing strikes. Prefers the stealth approach when using his blades, like to stab unnoticed.
Security – has a knack to getting places where he is not supposed to be.
Clothing: A leather cuirass, and leather gloves. Dark pants and hunting boots. His cuirass was not a regular leather cuirass found in Skyrim, it has smaller shoulders and sleeves that go down to his wrists (looks like the leather cuirass from oblivion). A strap hangs over his shoulder down to his waist which he uses to hold smaller items. Over all of this he has a long dark green and grey cloak with a hood. He usually has his hood up.
Weapons: Two iron daggers that he keeps at his sides. An iron short sword, and a Hunting bow with a quiver full of usually 12-15 arrows.
Miscellaneous items: He carries around a mortar and pestle and some dried food.
Personality: A charismatic person but prefers to stay quiet and listen. When in taverns he likes staying at the bar and listening to the cluster of noise or the conversation of the patrons around him. Unless he sets his eyes upon a pretty lady, which he then proceeds to trying and smooth talk his way into her room. He is a confident person but when he feels threatened he tends to be a little cocky. And when he is around people he has become comfortable with he will talk more often and likes joking around. Doesn’t mind helping people out but will do things for him self to get ahead.
Major Flaw: From many hardships when given the opportunity to succeed in life he will take it even if it means going behind people’s backs or deceiving them.
Background: Theadas was born in the Imperial City. His parents were poor and got by on the other side of the Law. He was brought up a thief and it became an instinct. When he was thirteen both of his parents were caught stealing from a house and were hanged. His Father was footpad in the Thieves guild and through his connections; Theadas was sent to his father’s friend who lived in Skyrim. The Bosmer, Falian, Theadas was sent to live with was an ex thief and now hunter. He was of very low class, which Theadas was used too, and didn’t own a home. This caused trouble as Theadas only knew a city life so when he found out he was going to have to hunt for a living and move from city to city selling hides, furs and other things from their kills he was unhappy. Though it wasn’t all bad, Falian taught Theadas how use a bow and blade. He also added to Theadas’ knowledge of his thief skills. He showed him run fast and get away in an open area, how to sneak in an open field or a snowy forest. He taught him how to get a good deal on low priced items. Theadas was never a great hunter and still loved the city life; even though his was never a good one. Every time they went to a city to sell their merchandise Theadas was very excited. When the market stalls closed he would get permission from Falian to go explore the city while Falian set up camp out side of the city walls. Theadas would walk around town “finding” new trinkets, and he always seemed to come across a few gold pieces. Whether it was from someone’s coin purse or just on a table he just loved the thrill of stealing. Though he was not the master thief he would have liked to think he is. He did get caught sometimes but when in that situation he would run away and fast. When he turned 17 Theadas parted ways with Falian and began hunting by himself. When Theadas went into big cities he would spend more time in them and practice his talents, it was also this time when he developed his strong interest in women. But when he wasn’t sneaking around town or chatting up the local bar maid, he was at the market stalls selling and buying, learning the trade; for, he wanted to open his own business one day, a tavern or general store, and settle down in a city. When Theadas heard of a new town coming he jumped at the opportunity to set up shop.
Age: 22
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 6’0
Birthsign: The Thief
Appearance: Standing at 6’0, he has Blonde hair and Blue eyes. His hair is usually spiked up and to the side. A full beard, a sandy blonde colour but not very thick. A muscular, athletic build, strong from doing a hard day of work. He and others would consider him handsome.
Class: Thief/ Shopkeeper
Skills:
Sneak – good at sneaking and moving unseen. Likes moving in the shadows.
Athletics/Acrobatics - A fast runner with a great jumping ability. He has the strength to pull him self up onto ledges if he hasn’t already jumped up there and has the agility to jump of high places and land safely.
Speech - A shrewd salesman and a good sweet talker prefers to talk or run his way out of things.
Pickpocket – loves having his hands in other peoples coin purses and is quite good at it.
Marksman – has skill with a bow and likes to use it if the need to fight likes to shoot first and stab later.
Blade – uses small blades a short sword or two daggers small but strong, piercing strikes. Prefers the stealth approach when using his blades, like to stab unnoticed.
Security – has a knack to getting places where he is not supposed to be.
Clothing: A leather cuirass, and leather gloves. Dark pants and hunting boots. His cuirass was not a regular leather cuirass found in Skyrim, it has smaller shoulders and sleeves that go down to his wrists (looks like the leather cuirass from oblivion). A strap hangs over his shoulder down to his waist which he uses to hold smaller items. Over all of this he has a long dark green and grey cloak with a hood. He usually has his hood up.
Weapons: Two iron daggers that he keeps at his sides. An iron short sword, and a Hunting bow with a quiver full of usually 12-15 arrows.
Miscellaneous items: He carries around a mortar and pestle and some dried food.
Personality: A charismatic person but prefers to stay quiet and listen. When in taverns he likes staying at the bar and listening to the cluster of noise or the conversation of the patrons around him. Unless he sets his eyes upon a pretty lady, which he then proceeds to trying and smooth talk his way into her room. He is a confident person but when he feels threatened he tends to be a little cocky. And when he is around people he has become comfortable with he will talk more often and likes joking around. Doesn’t mind helping people out but will do things for him self to get ahead.
Major Flaw: From many hardships when given the opportunity to succeed in life he will take it even if it means going behind people’s backs or deceiving them.
Background: Theadas was born in the Imperial City. His parents were poor and got by on the other side of the Law. He was brought up a thief and it became an instinct. When he was thirteen both of his parents were caught stealing from a house and were hanged. His Father was footpad in the Thieves guild and through his connections; Theadas was sent to his father’s friend who lived in Skyrim. The Bosmer, Falian, Theadas was sent to live with was an ex thief and now hunter. He was of very low class, which Theadas was used too, and didn’t own a home. This caused trouble as Theadas only knew a city life so when he found out he was going to have to hunt for a living and move from city to city selling hides, furs and other things from their kills he was unhappy. Though it wasn’t all bad, Falian taught Theadas how use a bow and blade. He also added to Theadas’ knowledge of his thief skills. He showed him run fast and get away in an open area, how to sneak in an open field or a snowy forest. He taught him how to get a good deal on low priced items. Theadas was never a great hunter and still loved the city life; even though his was never a good one. Every time they went to a city to sell their merchandise Theadas was very excited. When the market stalls closed he would get permission from Falian to go explore the city while Falian set up camp out side of the city walls. Theadas would walk around town “finding” new trinkets, and he always seemed to come across a few gold pieces. Whether it was from someone’s coin purse or just on a table he just loved the thrill of stealing. Though he was not the master thief he would have liked to think he is. He did get caught sometimes but when in that situation he would run away and fast. When he turned 17 Theadas parted ways with Falian and began hunting by himself. When Theadas went into big cities he would spend more time in them and practice his talents, it was also this time when he developed his strong interest in women. But when he wasn’t sneaking around town or chatting up the local bar maid, he was at the market stalls selling and buying, learning the trade; for, he wanted to open his own business one day, a tavern or general store, and settle down in a city. When Theadas heard of a new town coming he jumped at the opportunity to set up shop.
Valtiel
Geddon-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Geddon
Age: 118
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5'8
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: Black shoulder length hair usually worn in a ponytail. Bright blood red eyes.
A tattoo of a serpent snakes its way around his body, ending at the base of his neck. He has a lithe, muscled athletic build & is
considered handsome by all who meet him.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Assassin & Priest/Healer
Skills and known spells (if any):
Sneak - Required in his profession.
Speech - A quick tongue is needed for everything.
Blades - Never hurts to be handy with a blade.
Marksman - Needed for the hunt.
Restoration - Never know when you might need some healing.
Destruction - What would a Dunmer be without this knowledge?
Conjuration - Knowledge of how one may summon his Ancestors is always good to have.
Light Armour - Proficient protection with lack of noise.
Clothing / armor: A black robe with an image of flames around its base. Under these is equiped a Black leather cuirass, greaves, gloves, pauldrons & boots. The pants are held together by a snow white belt. An enchanted Gold necklace inlaid with Glass & Rubies.
Weapons: Two custom crafted daggers made of pure Ebony from the mines of Morrowind. An ancient Dwemer crossbow also from Morrowind, & a bag of scrolls to help incase more direct magical means are recquired.
Miscellaneous items: A book written in the Daedric tongue, gifted to him by Boethiah.
Personality: A two faced personality. On the outside & to the general public he maintains an outgoing, jovial demeanure. Laughing & joking, always happy to make someone smile. On the inside & to private audiences he is a cruel & masochistic deviant, always enjoying in the pain & terror he can inflict upon others.
Major flaw: Acute case of Megalomaniacy.
Background: Born after the Oblivion crisis, Geddon was raised under the tutelage of his Grandfather, parents having perished at the hands of the Argonians. He was taught from a young age about the importance of worshipping the Daedra & Helping others. At age 16 he was inducted into the Imperial Cult. Rising through the ranks he was posted throughout the Empire, directed to the areas most lacking faith. After many years travel, Geddon grew tired of his dull life & desired a more challenging profession. Stumbling by chance or divine will, upon an Assassin, he impressed the man with his skill at survival & was introduced into the Guild. After decades of honing his art, he struck out on his own, reestablishing his links to the Imperial Cult & requesting a more permanent placement in Skyrim. With this he has ended up in Valton as the new priest at the Temple of the Divines, though he has also secretly set up a Murder for Hire business, always available to those who can track him down & have the recquired gold.
Age: 118
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5'8
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: Black shoulder length hair usually worn in a ponytail. Bright blood red eyes.
A tattoo of a serpent snakes its way around his body, ending at the base of his neck. He has a lithe, muscled athletic build & is
considered handsome by all who meet him.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Assassin & Priest/Healer
Skills and known spells (if any):
Sneak - Required in his profession.
Speech - A quick tongue is needed for everything.
Blades - Never hurts to be handy with a blade.
Marksman - Needed for the hunt.
Restoration - Never know when you might need some healing.
Destruction - What would a Dunmer be without this knowledge?
Conjuration - Knowledge of how one may summon his Ancestors is always good to have.
Light Armour - Proficient protection with lack of noise.
Clothing / armor: A black robe with an image of flames around its base. Under these is equiped a Black leather cuirass, greaves, gloves, pauldrons & boots. The pants are held together by a snow white belt. An enchanted Gold necklace inlaid with Glass & Rubies.
Weapons: Two custom crafted daggers made of pure Ebony from the mines of Morrowind. An ancient Dwemer crossbow also from Morrowind, & a bag of scrolls to help incase more direct magical means are recquired.
Miscellaneous items: A book written in the Daedric tongue, gifted to him by Boethiah.
Personality: A two faced personality. On the outside & to the general public he maintains an outgoing, jovial demeanure. Laughing & joking, always happy to make someone smile. On the inside & to private audiences he is a cruel & masochistic deviant, always enjoying in the pain & terror he can inflict upon others.
Major flaw: Acute case of Megalomaniacy.
Background: Born after the Oblivion crisis, Geddon was raised under the tutelage of his Grandfather, parents having perished at the hands of the Argonians. He was taught from a young age about the importance of worshipping the Daedra & Helping others. At age 16 he was inducted into the Imperial Cult. Rising through the ranks he was posted throughout the Empire, directed to the areas most lacking faith. After many years travel, Geddon grew tired of his dull life & desired a more challenging profession. Stumbling by chance or divine will, upon an Assassin, he impressed the man with his skill at survival & was introduced into the Guild. After decades of honing his art, he struck out on his own, reestablishing his links to the Imperial Cult & requesting a more permanent placement in Skyrim. With this he has ended up in Valton as the new priest at the Temple of the Divines, though he has also secretly set up a Murder for Hire business, always available to those who can track him down & have the recquired gold.
Jovu Valleres
Giovu Lepidus-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Giovu Lepidus
Age: 32
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Very thin and weak in appearance, but also lithe and agile. Thick, dark brown shoulder length hair sits in a disorderly mess on his head. Has large dark bags under his green eyes and a slightly crooked nose. Wears a short and relatively neat beard, that only partially obscures a line of scar tissue that runs across his neck and chin. Has olive skin and looks young for his age.
Class: Alchemist/Acrobat
Skills and known spells (if any): Alchemy, Acrobatics, Athletics, Short blade, Light armour, Sneak, Is a skilled horseman.
Clothing / armor: Leather boots, faded and worn linen trousers, white shirt, wolf fur cuirass, cloth bracers, thin leather gloves, grey cowl.
Weapons: Steel stiletto(normally poison coated), Chitin shortsword
Miscellaneous items: mortar and pestle, retort, skooma pipe, Cyrodiilic brandy
Personality: Giovu is awkward and introverted. He is cautious and suspicious of others, rarely acting on impulse. Dithering indescision has often been mistaken by others as calmness under pressure. He is loyal and proud and tends to look down on people. He is lazy and apathetic, prefering to take the easy option. Giovu is not happy with the choices he has made in his life, but does his best to repress any feelings of inferiority and guilt. This leads to him appearing to be disinterested and somewhat flippant. He often prefers to play a character than reveal his true nature, telling people what they want to hear and performing a reasonable interpretation of what he considers to be normal. Favours logic and reason over wild superstition and intuition.
Major flaw: See above, there are many. Self loathing and self doubt are probably the most debilitating
Background: Giovu was born and raised in Skingrad in the Colovian Highlands. His parents were moderately wealthy traders, but the young Giovu showed little interest in learning the trade, spending his time chapel climbing and exploring the rooftops of the town. He worked in one of Skingrad's many wineries. The work was dull, but easy. He learned much about Cyrodiil's native flora in this time and experimented with varying results. The city's drunks and beggars were more than willing test subjects for his creations and no one seemed to mind or even notice the often debilitating effects. Giovu lost his job after an error in the fermentation process that caused much embarrassment in the court of Leyawiin and ruined some quite exquisite garments.
Giovu moved on to Bravil and fell in with one of the many skooma gangs in the city. He quickly learned how to process moon sugar, becoming an invaluable part of the profitable operation. For a time life was good, but stability is a rare state in the underworld and things went sour. Accusations were made and friends turned on one another. Giovu reluctantly played his part, out of fear more than anything. Loyalty was proven through blood and those that survived grew fat on the profits of their treachery. Next time the cycle of recrimination and violence came around a frustrated and disillusioned Giovu refused to have anything to do with it. Paranoia set in and Giovu became convinced that a contract had been taken out on him. He took what he could a got out, fleeing, first to the Imperial City before heading north onto Skyrim.
Age: 32
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'11"
Birthsign: The Serpent
Appearance: Very thin and weak in appearance, but also lithe and agile. Thick, dark brown shoulder length hair sits in a disorderly mess on his head. Has large dark bags under his green eyes and a slightly crooked nose. Wears a short and relatively neat beard, that only partially obscures a line of scar tissue that runs across his neck and chin. Has olive skin and looks young for his age.
Class: Alchemist/Acrobat
Skills and known spells (if any): Alchemy, Acrobatics, Athletics, Short blade, Light armour, Sneak, Is a skilled horseman.
Clothing / armor: Leather boots, faded and worn linen trousers, white shirt, wolf fur cuirass, cloth bracers, thin leather gloves, grey cowl.
Weapons: Steel stiletto(normally poison coated), Chitin shortsword
Miscellaneous items: mortar and pestle, retort, skooma pipe, Cyrodiilic brandy
Personality: Giovu is awkward and introverted. He is cautious and suspicious of others, rarely acting on impulse. Dithering indescision has often been mistaken by others as calmness under pressure. He is loyal and proud and tends to look down on people. He is lazy and apathetic, prefering to take the easy option. Giovu is not happy with the choices he has made in his life, but does his best to repress any feelings of inferiority and guilt. This leads to him appearing to be disinterested and somewhat flippant. He often prefers to play a character than reveal his true nature, telling people what they want to hear and performing a reasonable interpretation of what he considers to be normal. Favours logic and reason over wild superstition and intuition.
Major flaw: See above, there are many. Self loathing and self doubt are probably the most debilitating
Background: Giovu was born and raised in Skingrad in the Colovian Highlands. His parents were moderately wealthy traders, but the young Giovu showed little interest in learning the trade, spending his time chapel climbing and exploring the rooftops of the town. He worked in one of Skingrad's many wineries. The work was dull, but easy. He learned much about Cyrodiil's native flora in this time and experimented with varying results. The city's drunks and beggars were more than willing test subjects for his creations and no one seemed to mind or even notice the often debilitating effects. Giovu lost his job after an error in the fermentation process that caused much embarrassment in the court of Leyawiin and ruined some quite exquisite garments.
Giovu moved on to Bravil and fell in with one of the many skooma gangs in the city. He quickly learned how to process moon sugar, becoming an invaluable part of the profitable operation. For a time life was good, but stability is a rare state in the underworld and things went sour. Accusations were made and friends turned on one another. Giovu reluctantly played his part, out of fear more than anything. Loyalty was proven through blood and those that survived grew fat on the profits of their treachery. Next time the cycle of recrimination and violence came around a frustrated and disillusioned Giovu refused to have anything to do with it. Paranoia set in and Giovu became convinced that a contract had been taken out on him. He took what he could a got out, fleeing, first to the Imperial City before heading north onto Skyrim.
Jaqen H'gar
Jal Wolfsbane-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Jal Wolfsbane
Age: 57
Race: Nord
Height: 6"2
BIrthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Grey, which runs down to his neck, pulled back into a pony-tail. Once fit, strong and athletic, age has taken its toll. While still fit and broad of chest and shoulder, Jal is not the man he used to be. He walks with a limp. - and he uses a sturdy walking stick to support himself. He has a weather worn face, strong laugh-lines around his mouth and his eyes. His face, once possibly passably attractive, has suffered by years of battle. He once took an axe to the face leaving his left eye blind and his left cheekbone shattered, as well as a deep, crooked scar running from his left temple, through his eye to the corner of his mouth. His nose it flat from being broken more times than he cares to remember. He also is the proud bearer of a number of other scars and tattoos, signalling the various armies and mercenary groups he has sold his sword to.
Class: Barbarian. (Retired - wants to set up his own inn now.)
Skills: One handed, block, heavy armour. He can also cook pretty well.
Clothing/ Armour: Jal sold his old armour to make up the gold he needed to set up an inn in Valton. His only clothing item of note is a large, wolf fur cloak, with a hood and a gold chain that links the cloak across his chest.
Weapons: Again, Jal sold them so he could move to Valton. His only weapon now is his walking stick which also doubles as a cudgel.
Miscellaneous items: (nothing I can think of right now)
Personality: Jal was once a ball of fury, eager for battle and glory but age has tempered him. Now he is satisfied with a warm fire, mead, and good company. He drinks. Probably too much, maybe to forget his past life. He can be both quiet and introspective or loud and boisterous.
Major flaw: Addicted to the drink, partially crippled.
Background: Mother a [censored], Irik grew up street urchin on the docks of the Imperial city. When he was 10, he was picked up by a captain of a trading vessel and spent the next 10 years at sea, sailing around Tamriel. During one particularly ferocious storm, the crew were shipwrecked off the northern coast of Skyrim. With their captain dead, Jal (to whom the captain had become a father), the crew fell of a life of banditry as they struggled to survive in the cold, harsh land. It didn't go well. After a 6 months wondering the northern reaches of Skyrim, more than half the crew had died of starvation, sickness, or had simply frozen to death. One night, a pack of wolves, sensing an easy meal, attacked their camp. Jal fought like a man possessed, killing a number of wolves. Only 3 of the crew survived the attack, but those that remained gave him a new name - Wolfsbane. They ate well that night.
For the next 20 odd years, Jal has roamed Skyrim. He found some solace in the Companions, who paid well for his sword and gave him a home, family, mead and food. Once Jal found out their terrible secret, however, he quickly left. Without the protection of the Companions, Jal was easy prey, and the Silverhand ambushed him as he was making his way to Marketh - where he had heard a sellsword might earn a decent living.
In the fight that followed, Jal face was split open by an axe and he was left for dead. Whether it was the gods that saved him, or sheer luck, Jal could not say but he woke up in a log cabin with an old healer tending his wounds. After spending 6 months recovering, Jal made it to Marketh and joined the city guard, where in a battle against the Forsworn, his knee was smashed open by a mace - ending Jal's career as a warrior.
Age: 57
Race: Nord
Height: 6"2
BIrthsign: The Steed
Appearance: Grey, which runs down to his neck, pulled back into a pony-tail. Once fit, strong and athletic, age has taken its toll. While still fit and broad of chest and shoulder, Jal is not the man he used to be. He walks with a limp. - and he uses a sturdy walking stick to support himself. He has a weather worn face, strong laugh-lines around his mouth and his eyes. His face, once possibly passably attractive, has suffered by years of battle. He once took an axe to the face leaving his left eye blind and his left cheekbone shattered, as well as a deep, crooked scar running from his left temple, through his eye to the corner of his mouth. His nose it flat from being broken more times than he cares to remember. He also is the proud bearer of a number of other scars and tattoos, signalling the various armies and mercenary groups he has sold his sword to.
Class: Barbarian. (Retired - wants to set up his own inn now.)
Skills: One handed, block, heavy armour. He can also cook pretty well.
Clothing/ Armour: Jal sold his old armour to make up the gold he needed to set up an inn in Valton. His only clothing item of note is a large, wolf fur cloak, with a hood and a gold chain that links the cloak across his chest.
Weapons: Again, Jal sold them so he could move to Valton. His only weapon now is his walking stick which also doubles as a cudgel.
Miscellaneous items: (nothing I can think of right now)
Personality: Jal was once a ball of fury, eager for battle and glory but age has tempered him. Now he is satisfied with a warm fire, mead, and good company. He drinks. Probably too much, maybe to forget his past life. He can be both quiet and introspective or loud and boisterous.
Major flaw: Addicted to the drink, partially crippled.
Background: Mother a [censored], Irik grew up street urchin on the docks of the Imperial city. When he was 10, he was picked up by a captain of a trading vessel and spent the next 10 years at sea, sailing around Tamriel. During one particularly ferocious storm, the crew were shipwrecked off the northern coast of Skyrim. With their captain dead, Jal (to whom the captain had become a father), the crew fell of a life of banditry as they struggled to survive in the cold, harsh land. It didn't go well. After a 6 months wondering the northern reaches of Skyrim, more than half the crew had died of starvation, sickness, or had simply frozen to death. One night, a pack of wolves, sensing an easy meal, attacked their camp. Jal fought like a man possessed, killing a number of wolves. Only 3 of the crew survived the attack, but those that remained gave him a new name - Wolfsbane. They ate well that night.
For the next 20 odd years, Jal has roamed Skyrim. He found some solace in the Companions, who paid well for his sword and gave him a home, family, mead and food. Once Jal found out their terrible secret, however, he quickly left. Without the protection of the Companions, Jal was easy prey, and the Silverhand ambushed him as he was making his way to Marketh - where he had heard a sellsword might earn a decent living.
In the fight that followed, Jal face was split open by an axe and he was left for dead. Whether it was the gods that saved him, or sheer luck, Jal could not say but he woke up in a log cabin with an old healer tending his wounds. After spending 6 months recovering, Jal made it to Marketh and joined the city guard, where in a battle against the Forsworn, his knee was smashed open by a mace - ending Jal's career as a warrior.
jacb547
Tourmund Steelfist-(Nord)
Spoiler
;Name: Tourmund Steelfist
;Age:50
Gender:Male
;Race: Nord
Height::5′9
Birthsing:The warrior
Appearence: Like all nords he is hardened man, with a grizzly beard and brown hair. He is a strong man with a scar that run from his eye to his neck,altought a big man he is not very tall. he lost three fingers in a fight with a an ice wraith and his hands fells like leather.
;Class: Warrior
;Skills:
;Two handed-He unleashes his warhammer if the fights get fierce9and he does so very well)
;Heavy armor-His armor has survived many battles and its hard to break
;One handed-He keep his enemies at bay with his sword and shield(altought he is better with the warhammer)>
;Clothing/Armor-When in combat he uses his iron armor,gaunlets,boots and helmet.When he is not at combat he uses to walk with his clothes of bear pelt.
;Weapons-His warhammer, an iron shield and an iron sword.
;Miscellaneous itens-he walks with his gold purse and some trinkets he earned.
;Personality- He is a hard and severe man, he is very proud,loves drinking and fighting.He also likes to tell war tales.He has a deep hate for the Thalmor for what he has seen in the great war and that makes people think he support the stormcloaks but in truth he supports the Empire for he thinks they are the best hope against the elves(but he keeps a shinre to talos anyway)
;Major flaw: For what he has presenciated in the great war he hates any kind of elves even with they dont have anything to do with the Thalmor.
;Background: He was born in Winterhold from a poor family of warriors.His father trained him in martial way and when he was 15 he was sent to kill an Ice Wraith as a test of valor,he boast that when the wraith knocked him to the grond and shattered his weapon he killed it with his fists.When he was 20 his father let him to Cyrodill to try to put him on the figherts guild but when the great war began he was sent to Hammerfell with the legion he was serving at the Battle of the red circle his father was killed by the elves and he lost his left eye,he hates the Thalmor since then.He has been wandering is Skyrim since after but when he saw this new hold and the prices of the houses he decided to go and try to settle himself there.
;Age:50
Gender:Male
;Race: Nord
Height::5′9
Birthsing:The warrior
Appearence: Like all nords he is hardened man, with a grizzly beard and brown hair. He is a strong man with a scar that run from his eye to his neck,altought a big man he is not very tall. he lost three fingers in a fight with a an ice wraith and his hands fells like leather.
;Class: Warrior
;Skills:
;Two handed-He unleashes his warhammer if the fights get fierce9and he does so very well)
;Heavy armor-His armor has survived many battles and its hard to break
;One handed-He keep his enemies at bay with his sword and shield(altought he is better with the warhammer)>
;Clothing/Armor-When in combat he uses his iron armor,gaunlets,boots and helmet.When he is not at combat he uses to walk with his clothes of bear pelt.
;Weapons-His warhammer, an iron shield and an iron sword.
;Miscellaneous itens-he walks with his gold purse and some trinkets he earned.
;Personality- He is a hard and severe man, he is very proud,loves drinking and fighting.He also likes to tell war tales.He has a deep hate for the Thalmor for what he has seen in the great war and that makes people think he support the stormcloaks but in truth he supports the Empire for he thinks they are the best hope against the elves(but he keeps a shinre to talos anyway)
;Major flaw: For what he has presenciated in the great war he hates any kind of elves even with they dont have anything to do with the Thalmor.
;Background: He was born in Winterhold from a poor family of warriors.His father trained him in martial way and when he was 15 he was sent to kill an Ice Wraith as a test of valor,he boast that when the wraith knocked him to the grond and shattered his weapon he killed it with his fists.When he was 20 his father let him to Cyrodill to try to put him on the figherts guild but when the great war began he was sent to Hammerfell with the legion he was serving at the Battle of the red circle his father was killed by the elves and he lost his left eye,he hates the Thalmor since then.He has been wandering is Skyrim since after but when he saw this new hold and the prices of the houses he decided to go and try to settle himself there.
Not Provided – (ON HIATUS)
Elena Wickhart-(Breton)
Spoiler
Name - Elena Wickhart
Age - 27
Race - Breton
Gender - Female
Height - 5'4
Birthsign - The Lover
Appearance - Elena is short and and relatively well tanned. She has light brown hair which she keeps no longer then her ears, and she has pale green eyes. She has a tattoo of Vivec (an artist's interpretation which is probably nothing like the real Vivec) on her back, which she got when she was more then a bit drunk (it was weeks before she got an old Dunmer to explain who Vivec was). She's attractive enough to rely on looks instead of talent as bard, but physical appearance isn't something she thinks about much, and as such she's not nearly as attractive as she could be.
Class - Bard/Assassin
Skills:
Music - Music is, more or less, her passion, and she's often said that she can play anything with strings. She can also sing beautifully.
Illusion - Mostly self taught, she learned so that she could safely avoid capture, if need be.
Sneak - Learned for the same reason as Illusion.
Alchemy - She rarely makes potions, but she has an acute awareness of the effects of virtually every useful plant in Skyrim, be they helpful or dangerous.
Marksman - Mostly for hunting purposes, although she has taken the occasional 'practice' shot at wandering Thalmor.
Short Blades - She is barely adequate at one to one combat, but she's a skilled assassin, so she can handle herself so long as she remains unnoticed.
Bluff - She's a skilled liar, which has gotten her out of quite a few pinches.
Clothing - A heavy green cloak, with leather armor underneath.
Weapons - A hunting bow, and an ebony dagger.
Miscellaneous Items - A lute, a book of poems, an Amulet of Dibella and a bottle of mead.
Personality - She is kind and compassionate to a fault, never letting go of an opportunity to help others. That being said, she has almost no mercy or forgiveness in her heart, and see's absolutely nothing wrong with seeking out revenge against her enemies. She's quite snarky and rude, and has a strong sense of mischief. Despite her playful and sarcastic demeanor, she's quite a depressive and wistful person, mostly because of the seeming hostility of the world as a whole. She has a nostalgic fascination with the Third Era, considering the reign of the Septims to be a Golden Age. She is a worshiper of Dibella, more out of romanticism then faith. However, it's sometimes been remarked that she comes off as more of a Sanguine worshiper then anything else.
Major Flaw - She is recklessly benevolent and emotionally driven; she see's little issue in completely blowing her cover for the sake of a good deed, much to the chagrin of her more cautious and rational allies.
Background - She grew in the Post-Great War Imperial City, the daughter of a wealthy, noble family who'd lost their wealth after the war. Her parents were noticeably unused to borderline poverty, although she rarely noticed. She grew up with a devout hatred of the Thalmor, although it was custom in Cyrodiil at the time to keep such things private. This was, however, something she had quite a bit of trouble doing; she was nearly executed once for speaking out against the ban of Talos worship, although she was eventually pardoned, with a warning. When she was sixteen she left home, trying to live as a bard. She traveled to a small Dunmer settlement in Western Morrowind, settling there for a few weeks. During her time there, she met an old Dunmer by the name of Saras (he never gave her his surname). The Dunmer took a liking to her music, and the two became fast friends. Eventually, Saras revealed that he was a former Blades agent, in hiding from the Thalmor. For the next two years, she served as his apprentice, learning how to gather information, assassinate opponents and defend herself. However, there came a point when the Thalmor tracked Saras to the town, nearly burning it to the ground in pursuit of him. When it seemed like the two of them had managed to escape, a lone Thalmor scout arrived, nearly subduing the two of them in combat. They managed to finish him off, but not before Saras took a fatal hit, bleeding to death before Elena could manage to do anything.
After burying her teacher, she decided to move north, hiding in Windhelm for a few months, and then deciding to pursue a career as a bard again. For years she worked with the Bard's College as a tutor, playing for the locals in Solitude by night and teaching by day. Aside from the occasional dangerous and adventurous quest into the depths of some long forgotten ruin to find some legendary artifact (whenever they were out of good stories), it was a quiet, uneventful life, although she tried her hardest to make it more noteworthy, even once robbing the Thalmor Embassy itself.
About a year ago, she chose to start traveling again, traversing Skyrim and making her living as an entertainer (and, on bad nights, having to choose between alcohol and food), her life as Blades Apprentice only a memory. However, upon hearing that a new Hold was being opened, she immediately decided to journey there, in search of the thing that all great bards sought after; a good story, and the possibility of eating at some point in the near future.
Age - 27
Race - Breton
Gender - Female
Height - 5'4
Birthsign - The Lover
Appearance - Elena is short and and relatively well tanned. She has light brown hair which she keeps no longer then her ears, and she has pale green eyes. She has a tattoo of Vivec (an artist's interpretation which is probably nothing like the real Vivec) on her back, which she got when she was more then a bit drunk (it was weeks before she got an old Dunmer to explain who Vivec was). She's attractive enough to rely on looks instead of talent as bard, but physical appearance isn't something she thinks about much, and as such she's not nearly as attractive as she could be.
Class - Bard/Assassin
Skills:
Music - Music is, more or less, her passion, and she's often said that she can play anything with strings. She can also sing beautifully.
Illusion - Mostly self taught, she learned so that she could safely avoid capture, if need be.
Sneak - Learned for the same reason as Illusion.
Alchemy - She rarely makes potions, but she has an acute awareness of the effects of virtually every useful plant in Skyrim, be they helpful or dangerous.
Marksman - Mostly for hunting purposes, although she has taken the occasional 'practice' shot at wandering Thalmor.
Short Blades - She is barely adequate at one to one combat, but she's a skilled assassin, so she can handle herself so long as she remains unnoticed.
Bluff - She's a skilled liar, which has gotten her out of quite a few pinches.
Clothing - A heavy green cloak, with leather armor underneath.
Weapons - A hunting bow, and an ebony dagger.
Miscellaneous Items - A lute, a book of poems, an Amulet of Dibella and a bottle of mead.
Personality - She is kind and compassionate to a fault, never letting go of an opportunity to help others. That being said, she has almost no mercy or forgiveness in her heart, and see's absolutely nothing wrong with seeking out revenge against her enemies. She's quite snarky and rude, and has a strong sense of mischief. Despite her playful and sarcastic demeanor, she's quite a depressive and wistful person, mostly because of the seeming hostility of the world as a whole. She has a nostalgic fascination with the Third Era, considering the reign of the Septims to be a Golden Age. She is a worshiper of Dibella, more out of romanticism then faith. However, it's sometimes been remarked that she comes off as more of a Sanguine worshiper then anything else.
Major Flaw - She is recklessly benevolent and emotionally driven; she see's little issue in completely blowing her cover for the sake of a good deed, much to the chagrin of her more cautious and rational allies.
Background - She grew in the Post-Great War Imperial City, the daughter of a wealthy, noble family who'd lost their wealth after the war. Her parents were noticeably unused to borderline poverty, although she rarely noticed. She grew up with a devout hatred of the Thalmor, although it was custom in Cyrodiil at the time to keep such things private. This was, however, something she had quite a bit of trouble doing; she was nearly executed once for speaking out against the ban of Talos worship, although she was eventually pardoned, with a warning. When she was sixteen she left home, trying to live as a bard. She traveled to a small Dunmer settlement in Western Morrowind, settling there for a few weeks. During her time there, she met an old Dunmer by the name of Saras (he never gave her his surname). The Dunmer took a liking to her music, and the two became fast friends. Eventually, Saras revealed that he was a former Blades agent, in hiding from the Thalmor. For the next two years, she served as his apprentice, learning how to gather information, assassinate opponents and defend herself. However, there came a point when the Thalmor tracked Saras to the town, nearly burning it to the ground in pursuit of him. When it seemed like the two of them had managed to escape, a lone Thalmor scout arrived, nearly subduing the two of them in combat. They managed to finish him off, but not before Saras took a fatal hit, bleeding to death before Elena could manage to do anything.
After burying her teacher, she decided to move north, hiding in Windhelm for a few months, and then deciding to pursue a career as a bard again. For years she worked with the Bard's College as a tutor, playing for the locals in Solitude by night and teaching by day. Aside from the occasional dangerous and adventurous quest into the depths of some long forgotten ruin to find some legendary artifact (whenever they were out of good stories), it was a quiet, uneventful life, although she tried her hardest to make it more noteworthy, even once robbing the Thalmor Embassy itself.
About a year ago, she chose to start traveling again, traversing Skyrim and making her living as an entertainer (and, on bad nights, having to choose between alcohol and food), her life as Blades Apprentice only a memory. However, upon hearing that a new Hold was being opened, she immediately decided to journey there, in search of the thing that all great bards sought after; a good story, and the possibility of eating at some point in the near future.
Scow2
Tsavani-(Allegedly Khajiit)
Spoiler
Name: Tsavani
Age: 28
Race: Allegedly Khajiit.
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 6"
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: Her body was once on the chubby side quite busty, but she's lost much of that weight in the years of hard living on her own. Her fur ranges from red to tawny, but spotted with a mix of spots and rosettes, while her face shows tabby markings. Her front and the insides of her limbs are white, though she has black "Spines" running down her back, tail, and the outsides of her limbs, with vibrant oranges, reds, and tawnies between, with a glossy sheen that catches the light from her body's jiggling when she moves. She's still kept a fair amount of once-abundant fat on her body, but her limbs and thighs do show a fair amount of muscle definition, even under the fur.
Class: Adventurer
Skills and known spells (if any): Cooking, Cleaning, Innkeeping, Archery (Kinda), Two-handed Weapons(Kinda), sneak, trapping, Flames, Healing
Clothing / armor: (None Yet - this SHOULD change quickly)
Weapons: The Spear of Bitter Mercy
Miscellaneous items: A giant Sabrecat corpse.
Personality: (Undecided yet... and it's bound to change anyway)
Major flaw: Has nothing but a fancy spear and dead cat, has been isolated from society so long it shows (And Smells)
Background: Tsavani has a boring past. She was raised in Chorrol, down in Cyrodiil. For most of her childhood, she was little more than a pest. Eventually, she inherited her family business, the local "upscale" tavern, the Oak And Crosier, which had been in her family since before the Oblivion Crisis. However, she didn't really take to the business very well... She was much more enraptured by the tales of an elderly elf who'd lived in the county as long as anyone could remember, who told tales of adventures and the beauty of the wilderness. As she matured, her fascination with adventurers grew, as she went out of her way to ensure that such men and women were given the best service she could offer (She probably went TOO far in this regard a few times).
She eventually decided to "sell" the inn to her younger sister after she recieved a reasonably simple bounty notice. Buying herself a basic suit of armor, an axe, and a bow, she quickly found the job was MUCH harder than it sounded. Still, she managed to complete the bounty, get paid, get better gear, and began exploring the Colovian Highlands and Jerral Mountains for herself. She ended up running afoul of bandits, losing her bow, armor, and much of her dignity, and was forced to retreat north to Skyrim.
She spent three years lost in the Jerrals, forcing herself to live off the land. She had no skill in tanning, bowmaking, or fletching, making her life quite miserable as she struggled to get by with a rusted battleaxe found on a less-fortunate mountain dweller. With the loss of all her gear, she'd have perished if not for a simple Flames spell she'd learned back in Chorrol, that she used to use to lazily light cooking fires.
However, just as she started to "Settle" into a life of being a mountain-hermit, a new threat reared its head. She found herself hunted, stalked, and pursued by a great pale-furred Sabrecat. The beast hunted her to the exclusion of all other prey, for almost a year. It had long hunted the treacherous mountains, and had claimed the lives of hundreds of unwary travellers and hikers.
One too many close calls eventually changed her resolve, and she sought to fight and slay the creature. After weeks of complex maneuvering, attempting to stay a step and a jump ahead of the beast, she eventually suceeded in trapping and crushing it beneath a rigged rockslide. Looking around frantically for something to finish the creature off with, she tripped over and pulled up a straight, stiff branch with a broken end that functioned as a spearpoint... Upon running Hircine's Aspect through, the blood ran across the surface of the branch, transforming it into the legendary Spear of Bitter Mercy. She pulled the corpse free, and headed east, down from the mountains to a newly-formed town.
Age: 28
Race: Allegedly Khajiit.
Gender: Female
Height: 5' 6"
Birthsign: The Lady
Appearance: Her body was once on the chubby side quite busty, but she's lost much of that weight in the years of hard living on her own. Her fur ranges from red to tawny, but spotted with a mix of spots and rosettes, while her face shows tabby markings. Her front and the insides of her limbs are white, though she has black "Spines" running down her back, tail, and the outsides of her limbs, with vibrant oranges, reds, and tawnies between, with a glossy sheen that catches the light from her body's jiggling when she moves. She's still kept a fair amount of once-abundant fat on her body, but her limbs and thighs do show a fair amount of muscle definition, even under the fur.
Class: Adventurer
Skills and known spells (if any): Cooking, Cleaning, Innkeeping, Archery (Kinda), Two-handed Weapons(Kinda), sneak, trapping, Flames, Healing
Clothing / armor: (None Yet - this SHOULD change quickly)
Weapons: The Spear of Bitter Mercy
Miscellaneous items: A giant Sabrecat corpse.
Personality: (Undecided yet... and it's bound to change anyway)
Major flaw: Has nothing but a fancy spear and dead cat, has been isolated from society so long it shows (And Smells)
Background: Tsavani has a boring past. She was raised in Chorrol, down in Cyrodiil. For most of her childhood, she was little more than a pest. Eventually, she inherited her family business, the local "upscale" tavern, the Oak And Crosier, which had been in her family since before the Oblivion Crisis. However, she didn't really take to the business very well... She was much more enraptured by the tales of an elderly elf who'd lived in the county as long as anyone could remember, who told tales of adventures and the beauty of the wilderness. As she matured, her fascination with adventurers grew, as she went out of her way to ensure that such men and women were given the best service she could offer (She probably went TOO far in this regard a few times).
She eventually decided to "sell" the inn to her younger sister after she recieved a reasonably simple bounty notice. Buying herself a basic suit of armor, an axe, and a bow, she quickly found the job was MUCH harder than it sounded. Still, she managed to complete the bounty, get paid, get better gear, and began exploring the Colovian Highlands and Jerral Mountains for herself. She ended up running afoul of bandits, losing her bow, armor, and much of her dignity, and was forced to retreat north to Skyrim.
She spent three years lost in the Jerrals, forcing herself to live off the land. She had no skill in tanning, bowmaking, or fletching, making her life quite miserable as she struggled to get by with a rusted battleaxe found on a less-fortunate mountain dweller. With the loss of all her gear, she'd have perished if not for a simple Flames spell she'd learned back in Chorrol, that she used to use to lazily light cooking fires.
However, just as she started to "Settle" into a life of being a mountain-hermit, a new threat reared its head. She found herself hunted, stalked, and pursued by a great pale-furred Sabrecat. The beast hunted her to the exclusion of all other prey, for almost a year. It had long hunted the treacherous mountains, and had claimed the lives of hundreds of unwary travellers and hikers.
One too many close calls eventually changed her resolve, and she sought to fight and slay the creature. After weeks of complex maneuvering, attempting to stay a step and a jump ahead of the beast, she eventually suceeded in trapping and crushing it beneath a rigged rockslide. Looking around frantically for something to finish the creature off with, she tripped over and pulled up a straight, stiff branch with a broken end that functioned as a spearpoint... Upon running Hircine's Aspect through, the blood ran across the surface of the branch, transforming it into the legendary Spear of Bitter Mercy. She pulled the corpse free, and headed east, down from the mountains to a newly-formed town.
ThatOneNwah
Felix Sulla-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Felix Sulla
Age: 21
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance:
-Neck-length light brown hair
-Sharp angular features, particularly in the jaw area
-High cheekbones
-Emerald green eyes
-Lithe yet muscular frame
-Several faded scars spanning a large portion of his upper back, visible on the back of his neck as well.
-Generally considered to be "beautiful" by many, though this often causes him to be underestimated.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Knight
Skills and known spells (if any):
-One-Handed
-Heavy Armor
-Block
Clothing / armor: During combat he'll dawn a set of plain old steel plate with very little decor and more than a few dings. Outside of combat he wears a simple brown tunic with dark brown leggings. Owns one set of fine black boots that he wears everywhere as well.
Weapons: A well maintained steel sword (much thinner and more practical then the silly in-game model though) and a razor sharp steel dagger for shaving and other stuff. Basically a utility knife that can function as a weapon when needed.
Miscellaneous items: Small portion of venison jerky, two full waterskins, a few chunks of bread and a small bag of septims.
Personality: Supremely confident in his own abilities, Felix rarely finds himself doubting he can accomplish a given task. In spite of this he can and will stop to weigh his options when a bit of calculation is called for. Gets along with people who respect him but is also quite hot tempered when the right buttons are pushed.
Major flaw: His general cockiness tends to put him at odds with those around him.
Background:
Felix was born in the slums of the Imperial City even though he came from noble stock, a situation that reflected how bad times were during his childhood. In spite of his humble beginnings Felix had come to the resolution at a very young age that he would rise to greatness one day, whether the cost be in blood or gold. Around age twelve Felix began to squire for a knight of little renown, learning the warriors trade at a rapid pace in the process. By sixteen Felix had won his "spurs" on the field of battle, receiving the honor of being knighted for valor and skill-at-arms.
Though it seemed as if the young knight would finally be able to redeem his family name and restore their standing among the other noble families, his rise to glory was brutally cut short when a terrible fire scorched more than half of the city's lower slums, killing thousands in the process with his entire family among them. The incident shook young Felix to his very foundations and caused a drastic change in the way he perceived the world around him. After spending five years as a sort of wandering knight and lending his blade to whichever lord or count that paid well Felix used his amassed wealth to travel across the country, far north to very borders of Skyrim. Upon hearing of the formation of a new hold Felix made his way into the country of ice and steel, a desire to start anew burning within him.
Age: 21
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance:
-Neck-length light brown hair
-Sharp angular features, particularly in the jaw area
-High cheekbones
-Emerald green eyes
-Lithe yet muscular frame
-Several faded scars spanning a large portion of his upper back, visible on the back of his neck as well.
-Generally considered to be "beautiful" by many, though this often causes him to be underestimated.
Class (what would you describe your character as?): Knight
Skills and known spells (if any):
-One-Handed
-Heavy Armor
-Block
Clothing / armor: During combat he'll dawn a set of plain old steel plate with very little decor and more than a few dings. Outside of combat he wears a simple brown tunic with dark brown leggings. Owns one set of fine black boots that he wears everywhere as well.
Weapons: A well maintained steel sword (much thinner and more practical then the silly in-game model though) and a razor sharp steel dagger for shaving and other stuff. Basically a utility knife that can function as a weapon when needed.
Miscellaneous items: Small portion of venison jerky, two full waterskins, a few chunks of bread and a small bag of septims.
Personality: Supremely confident in his own abilities, Felix rarely finds himself doubting he can accomplish a given task. In spite of this he can and will stop to weigh his options when a bit of calculation is called for. Gets along with people who respect him but is also quite hot tempered when the right buttons are pushed.
Major flaw: His general cockiness tends to put him at odds with those around him.
Background:
Felix was born in the slums of the Imperial City even though he came from noble stock, a situation that reflected how bad times were during his childhood. In spite of his humble beginnings Felix had come to the resolution at a very young age that he would rise to greatness one day, whether the cost be in blood or gold. Around age twelve Felix began to squire for a knight of little renown, learning the warriors trade at a rapid pace in the process. By sixteen Felix had won his "spurs" on the field of battle, receiving the honor of being knighted for valor and skill-at-arms.
Though it seemed as if the young knight would finally be able to redeem his family name and restore their standing among the other noble families, his rise to glory was brutally cut short when a terrible fire scorched more than half of the city's lower slums, killing thousands in the process with his entire family among them. The incident shook young Felix to his very foundations and caused a drastic change in the way he perceived the world around him. After spending five years as a sort of wandering knight and lending his blade to whichever lord or count that paid well Felix used his amassed wealth to travel across the country, far north to very borders of Skyrim. Upon hearing of the formation of a new hold Felix made his way into the country of ice and steel, a desire to start anew burning within him.
Erasmos
Burne-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Burne
Age: Eighty-nine
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: Six foot two
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Burne has old, frightening eyes which often watch. His face is often hidden beneath a deep hood. Gnarled hands grip a wooden stick tightly and he walks extremely slowly, and as he does so seems to snarl and judge everyone around him. His hair is slowly receding though it is still long, white and tatty.
Class: Alchemist
Skills:
Alchemy
Restoration
Destruction
Mysticism
Merchantile
Clothing: Wears a long brown tatty robe. He refuses to wear footwear as it makes him feel young, though his feet can’t often be seen and are normally hidden beneath his robe.
Weapons: A wooden staff
Miscellaneous items: A variety of alchemical ingredients and potions, all on the back of a cart which he normally pulls around and travels with.
Personality: As Burne has grown older he has slowly turned into a grouchy, bitter old man with no time for ‘todays youth’. He moans and groans about the slightest thing and incessantly judges everyone for every action that they make. He is a nosy person who often will sit near a conversation and eavesdrop, or watch from afar.
Major Flaw: He is extremely protective of his daughter and often worries about her.
Background:
Burne was born a long time ago in Skyrim. Not much is known about his youth, other than the fact that he was a carefree innocent child for a long time, who like all children had a great ambition and longed to know more. This desire for knowledge led him to train as a mage for a short time, a magicians life was interesting, he discovered, but he soon learned to hate the rules and regulations that the mages guild contained and left, deciding to pursue other paths in life.
It is said that after leaving the guild Burne eventually became apprentice to a famed alchemist who taught him much about alchemy, but also about the world itself and even CHIM. It was a long time before he discovered, as the alchemist lay dying, that the man who had taught him so much was actually a member of the Psijic Order. It was then that he become a hermit and began to experiment in the far reaches, he was lost to the world for a long time and when he finally left his little cave in the middle of no-where he had reached the age of sixty. Shocked at himself he set about to find companionship, he knew someone, somewhere would want him. He found his love in a woman named Elena and with her he had a child, a young girl named Rosaline. His wife died in childbirth and from that point on he became a travelling merchant, selling potions to people throughout the land. His daughter now grown up, he yearns for a place of his own so that she will visit.
Age: Eighty-nine
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: Six foot two
Birthsign: The Shadow
Appearance: Burne has old, frightening eyes which often watch. His face is often hidden beneath a deep hood. Gnarled hands grip a wooden stick tightly and he walks extremely slowly, and as he does so seems to snarl and judge everyone around him. His hair is slowly receding though it is still long, white and tatty.
Class: Alchemist
Skills:
Alchemy
Restoration
Destruction
Mysticism
Merchantile
Clothing: Wears a long brown tatty robe. He refuses to wear footwear as it makes him feel young, though his feet can’t often be seen and are normally hidden beneath his robe.
Weapons: A wooden staff
Miscellaneous items: A variety of alchemical ingredients and potions, all on the back of a cart which he normally pulls around and travels with.
Personality: As Burne has grown older he has slowly turned into a grouchy, bitter old man with no time for ‘todays youth’. He moans and groans about the slightest thing and incessantly judges everyone for every action that they make. He is a nosy person who often will sit near a conversation and eavesdrop, or watch from afar.
Major Flaw: He is extremely protective of his daughter and often worries about her.
Background:
Burne was born a long time ago in Skyrim. Not much is known about his youth, other than the fact that he was a carefree innocent child for a long time, who like all children had a great ambition and longed to know more. This desire for knowledge led him to train as a mage for a short time, a magicians life was interesting, he discovered, but he soon learned to hate the rules and regulations that the mages guild contained and left, deciding to pursue other paths in life.
It is said that after leaving the guild Burne eventually became apprentice to a famed alchemist who taught him much about alchemy, but also about the world itself and even CHIM. It was a long time before he discovered, as the alchemist lay dying, that the man who had taught him so much was actually a member of the Psijic Order. It was then that he become a hermit and began to experiment in the far reaches, he was lost to the world for a long time and when he finally left his little cave in the middle of no-where he had reached the age of sixty. Shocked at himself he set about to find companionship, he knew someone, somewhere would want him. He found his love in a woman named Elena and with her he had a child, a young girl named Rosaline. His wife died in childbirth and from that point on he became a travelling merchant, selling potions to people throughout the land. His daughter now grown up, he yearns for a place of his own so that she will visit.
Allard Maine-(Altmer)
Spoiler
Name: Allard Maine
Age: 120, appears in early 20s
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6’4
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: Tall even for an Altmer, although not as tall as some, Allard can be described as quite a striking looking mer, his skin is more tanned than most Altmer’s, which he says is due to how close he is with his Ayleid roots. His eyes are deep orange and are reminiscent of a cats. From his training he possesses a lean, muscular, athletic build and is extremely flexible. His hair auburn hair is cut quite short and scruffy, doing nothing to hide his long pointed brown ears.
Class: Warrior
Skills:
Swordsmanship: After being trained by various tutors his skill with a blade has been honed to a tee.
Destruction: The magic of destruction is one which all Altmer are taught from a young age and as a result Allard knows some of the spells from the school, however he loathes the use of magic as a weapon and very rarely uses it.
Restoration: After studying under the Thalmor and escaping from that life, Allard turned to the one school of magic he most respected Restoration. As he began to help the resistance in Hammerfell, he found himself being used more and more as a healer rather than a warrior, a job he didn’t mind.
Poetry: Though one of his lesser skills Allard considers himself a poet and will often recite some sonnet or poem if asked.
Clothing/Armor: Normally Allard would wear a long chain mail coat, iron greaves and boots and gauntlets He also has a riveted mail hood which he pulls over when he fights.
Weapons: He carries with him a long one and a half hand sword, which he wields with a surprising amount of grace and finesse. Under his armour he also has a short dagger strapped to the underside of his thigh.
Miscellaneous Items: Carries very little money and nothing but the smallest amount of food.
Personality: Allard is driven by a burning hatred for the Thalmor, the very people who reared him. As much as he wishes to shake off their effect on him, he sometimes can’t help but fall into the familiar arrogance that the Altmer are renown for. The hatred for the Thalmor causes him to do thinks just to spite them, like take up Talos worship, something he had no thought of doing before they banned it. He tries his best to help people and be calm but having fought so often, he finds himself beset with fits of rage.
Major Flaw: An extremely short temper.
Background: Allard was born and raised in the Summerset Isles under the Aldmeri Dominion, he came from a very poor family, something which would have caused him great strife if not for his great ability with magic being picked up on by a passing official. It was then that he was given a superb education and spent many of his early years obsessed with the doctrine that the Altmer teach. He adored magicka but his passion truly lay for sword work, a practice which was often looked down upon by his tutors for not being fitting of an Altmer. He cared very little for politics or anything of the sort and only worked to please his master for the time being at least.
His education ended just years before The Great War between the Mede empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, it was there that Allard began to slowly become troubled by the actions of his people. He was just a soldier, a soldier who ransacked, murdered and pillaged. A soldier who could survive. Allard slaughtered countless innocents along with the enemy and could not forgive himself of that. The fact that he managed to stay alive please his superiors and brought him into their gaze. After the war had ended and the insatiable bloodlust that Allard felt began his superiors saw to it that he was offered the rank of a Justicar. Something he refused.
His refusal of the post was the first step, The Thalmor did not appreciate such an action and when Allard returned to his family, who he had not seen in many years, he discovered that they had all been murdered. There agents of the Thalmor were waiting to kill him, he fought wildly and managed to killed many of them before he escaped and managed to get a ship back to mainland Tamriel. There he travelled for many months through the wilds of Elswyr and through Cyrodiil until finally he reached Hammerfell, the home of the resistance.
It took him a long time to persuade the Yokudan warriors to accept him into their ranks and whenever any fighting started he was not permitted to fight but instead healed any of the sick and injured. Allard appreciated the position, it was one of the few times in his life he had managed to escape the bitter force that compelled him to kill so often. Upon hearing of the Stormcloak uprising many Yokudan agents were employed to go out into Skyrim and nudge things into the Stormcloak side. Allard was lucky enough to be permitted to travel there with a unit of men, upon crossing the border however the group was first set upon by bandits and then later Thalmor Justicars who named them ‘heretics’. Allard and one other, Rescal, survived the attacks and moved forward intending to head up to Winterhold..
Age: 120, appears in early 20s
Race: Altmer
Gender: Male
Height: 6’4
Birthsign: The Lord
Appearance: Tall even for an Altmer, although not as tall as some, Allard can be described as quite a striking looking mer, his skin is more tanned than most Altmer’s, which he says is due to how close he is with his Ayleid roots. His eyes are deep orange and are reminiscent of a cats. From his training he possesses a lean, muscular, athletic build and is extremely flexible. His hair auburn hair is cut quite short and scruffy, doing nothing to hide his long pointed brown ears.
Class: Warrior
Skills:
Swordsmanship: After being trained by various tutors his skill with a blade has been honed to a tee.
Destruction: The magic of destruction is one which all Altmer are taught from a young age and as a result Allard knows some of the spells from the school, however he loathes the use of magic as a weapon and very rarely uses it.
Restoration: After studying under the Thalmor and escaping from that life, Allard turned to the one school of magic he most respected Restoration. As he began to help the resistance in Hammerfell, he found himself being used more and more as a healer rather than a warrior, a job he didn’t mind.
Poetry: Though one of his lesser skills Allard considers himself a poet and will often recite some sonnet or poem if asked.
Clothing/Armor: Normally Allard would wear a long chain mail coat, iron greaves and boots and gauntlets He also has a riveted mail hood which he pulls over when he fights.
Weapons: He carries with him a long one and a half hand sword, which he wields with a surprising amount of grace and finesse. Under his armour he also has a short dagger strapped to the underside of his thigh.
Miscellaneous Items: Carries very little money and nothing but the smallest amount of food.
Personality: Allard is driven by a burning hatred for the Thalmor, the very people who reared him. As much as he wishes to shake off their effect on him, he sometimes can’t help but fall into the familiar arrogance that the Altmer are renown for. The hatred for the Thalmor causes him to do thinks just to spite them, like take up Talos worship, something he had no thought of doing before they banned it. He tries his best to help people and be calm but having fought so often, he finds himself beset with fits of rage.
Major Flaw: An extremely short temper.
Background: Allard was born and raised in the Summerset Isles under the Aldmeri Dominion, he came from a very poor family, something which would have caused him great strife if not for his great ability with magic being picked up on by a passing official. It was then that he was given a superb education and spent many of his early years obsessed with the doctrine that the Altmer teach. He adored magicka but his passion truly lay for sword work, a practice which was often looked down upon by his tutors for not being fitting of an Altmer. He cared very little for politics or anything of the sort and only worked to please his master for the time being at least.
His education ended just years before The Great War between the Mede empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, it was there that Allard began to slowly become troubled by the actions of his people. He was just a soldier, a soldier who ransacked, murdered and pillaged. A soldier who could survive. Allard slaughtered countless innocents along with the enemy and could not forgive himself of that. The fact that he managed to stay alive please his superiors and brought him into their gaze. After the war had ended and the insatiable bloodlust that Allard felt began his superiors saw to it that he was offered the rank of a Justicar. Something he refused.
His refusal of the post was the first step, The Thalmor did not appreciate such an action and when Allard returned to his family, who he had not seen in many years, he discovered that they had all been murdered. There agents of the Thalmor were waiting to kill him, he fought wildly and managed to killed many of them before he escaped and managed to get a ship back to mainland Tamriel. There he travelled for many months through the wilds of Elswyr and through Cyrodiil until finally he reached Hammerfell, the home of the resistance.
It took him a long time to persuade the Yokudan warriors to accept him into their ranks and whenever any fighting started he was not permitted to fight but instead healed any of the sick and injured. Allard appreciated the position, it was one of the few times in his life he had managed to escape the bitter force that compelled him to kill so often. Upon hearing of the Stormcloak uprising many Yokudan agents were employed to go out into Skyrim and nudge things into the Stormcloak side. Allard was lucky enough to be permitted to travel there with a unit of men, upon crossing the border however the group was first set upon by bandits and then later Thalmor Justicars who named them ‘heretics’. Allard and one other, Rescal, survived the attacks and moved forward intending to head up to Winterhold..
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
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.
Zuke117
DarHonna-(Khajiit)
Spoiler
Name: DarHonna (Honna)
Age: Twenty-seven
Race Khajiit
Gender Female
Height 6'2"
Birthsign: The Thief
Description; A short pelt with ebony stripes in the form of a tiger's. Has an ashur pelt, and white hued underbelly. Typical dark green eyes, but a white muzzle and black a black eye shadow. White tipped tail along side a black ringed tail.
Class A thief and trickster. Though she works for the guard.
Skills; A silver-tongue, elusive, and in the slightest bit cunning.
Clothing/armor Wears her own brand of Leather Armor which she has equipped to also have leather pockets where she stores daggers, to Arrowheads, to cash. Apart from leather armor, she wears a necklace crafted by her mother; a supposedly gifted necklace. It has a gold strand and at the end a silver shield like shape that in the center consists a amber stone. The necklace is her family upon generation's heirloom, which she will pass on to her first-born. Apart from the necklace also wears fur boots crafted of bear fur and sabre cat.
Weapons; A Ancient Nord Bow that she got from her pa. Also a black dagger, normal dagger but it's originally steel blade is made out of a ebony substance, it also has a wooden handle that has decorated designs on it. Also sometimes she'll actually throw [if she has enough] steel points if at a decent-close but still not hand-to-hand combat situation. In medium-range combat if not her sharp claws - her black daggers which are typically used for stealth.
Misc.; Arrowheads, some preserved foods, various pelts and the occasional Sabre-Tooth tooth. [Her favorite prey.]
Personality; Honna is the typical not anti-social but cryptic feline, often in which she keeps to herself.Though, this being said, she loves to debate things among people. Rather it be about a small or large thing, though shes not the best at it. Apart from a heated debate, the only time you can get her to talk is when she is with one of her own species. Honna craves danger, what some might call upon a "extremist" it would be her. This being said, she also extremely dislikes cowards in which would most likely be the person or thing to hire her.
Major Flaw; Large fear over fire, not just a little spark of fire - but a huge out of control type of wild fire. That is an example of her past reflecting on her out come in the future, for ever since she was sixteen, she still couldn't get over it.
Background Honna was raised in a tribe of Khajiit cats. Most of which where kin by blood or via adoption. Her grandmother was the one who raised her since her mother died the following summer in which she was born. Her grandmother; Dro'Banji [Banji] was the pretty much elder of her tribe, existing since their first leader was made and formed the people. Banji cared greatly for her granddaughter, she let her observe the hunt and at about six taught her mild tactics; how to use a bow, how to sneak properly, and how to fire an arrow as well as predict drift or such. Come age thirteen, she was allowed to attempt a hunt, it was yes just a mere caribou calf, but it was the step on to the next for the young huntress Honna. From there, she grew, by age fifteen hunting full-grown bucks. But, at age sixteen, one night she went out on a night hunt, this was close to her first minus the few before, in which this one she was to actually take part in. It was a surprising success, but to her dismay, when she got home to her tribe along side the other hunters, she found the place to be alight. She, along side the others, drug out the corpses of the fellow kin. Among them, she heard whispers of the unknown such as "I never thought the thieves would take it this far!" this alarmed her, for she was not known of these problems with thieves. Come the morning, when all ash and crispy flakes of fire was set out via rain; she was alarmed to find Benji's corpse. It startled her mentally and for a while even physically, not eating, but she lived out the remained of teen-hood with the four males and two female khajiit who were on the hunt the day it was set to burn. Then, she moved, already a good hunter, she made a life in Riften as a scavenger until discovering her talent with stealing, from there on, she was renounced as a thief. To this day, though despite she had moved, she is still considered to some a thief, though she even works as a guard, she is still attempted to take small samples of money.
Age: Twenty-seven
Race Khajiit
Gender Female
Height 6'2"
Birthsign: The Thief
Description; A short pelt with ebony stripes in the form of a tiger's. Has an ashur pelt, and white hued underbelly. Typical dark green eyes, but a white muzzle and black a black eye shadow. White tipped tail along side a black ringed tail.
Class A thief and trickster. Though she works for the guard.
Skills; A silver-tongue, elusive, and in the slightest bit cunning.
Clothing/armor Wears her own brand of Leather Armor which she has equipped to also have leather pockets where she stores daggers, to Arrowheads, to cash. Apart from leather armor, she wears a necklace crafted by her mother; a supposedly gifted necklace. It has a gold strand and at the end a silver shield like shape that in the center consists a amber stone. The necklace is her family upon generation's heirloom, which she will pass on to her first-born. Apart from the necklace also wears fur boots crafted of bear fur and sabre cat.
Weapons; A Ancient Nord Bow that she got from her pa. Also a black dagger, normal dagger but it's originally steel blade is made out of a ebony substance, it also has a wooden handle that has decorated designs on it. Also sometimes she'll actually throw [if she has enough] steel points if at a decent-close but still not hand-to-hand combat situation. In medium-range combat if not her sharp claws - her black daggers which are typically used for stealth.
Misc.; Arrowheads, some preserved foods, various pelts and the occasional Sabre-Tooth tooth. [Her favorite prey.]
Personality; Honna is the typical not anti-social but cryptic feline, often in which she keeps to herself.Though, this being said, she loves to debate things among people. Rather it be about a small or large thing, though shes not the best at it. Apart from a heated debate, the only time you can get her to talk is when she is with one of her own species. Honna craves danger, what some might call upon a "extremist" it would be her. This being said, she also extremely dislikes cowards in which would most likely be the person or thing to hire her.
Major Flaw; Large fear over fire, not just a little spark of fire - but a huge out of control type of wild fire. That is an example of her past reflecting on her out come in the future, for ever since she was sixteen, she still couldn't get over it.
Background Honna was raised in a tribe of Khajiit cats. Most of which where kin by blood or via adoption. Her grandmother was the one who raised her since her mother died the following summer in which she was born. Her grandmother; Dro'Banji [Banji] was the pretty much elder of her tribe, existing since their first leader was made and formed the people. Banji cared greatly for her granddaughter, she let her observe the hunt and at about six taught her mild tactics; how to use a bow, how to sneak properly, and how to fire an arrow as well as predict drift or such. Come age thirteen, she was allowed to attempt a hunt, it was yes just a mere caribou calf, but it was the step on to the next for the young huntress Honna. From there, she grew, by age fifteen hunting full-grown bucks. But, at age sixteen, one night she went out on a night hunt, this was close to her first minus the few before, in which this one she was to actually take part in. It was a surprising success, but to her dismay, when she got home to her tribe along side the other hunters, she found the place to be alight. She, along side the others, drug out the corpses of the fellow kin. Among them, she heard whispers of the unknown such as "I never thought the thieves would take it this far!" this alarmed her, for she was not known of these problems with thieves. Come the morning, when all ash and crispy flakes of fire was set out via rain; she was alarmed to find Benji's corpse. It startled her mentally and for a while even physically, not eating, but she lived out the remained of teen-hood with the four males and two female khajiit who were on the hunt the day it was set to burn. Then, she moved, already a good hunter, she made a life in Riften as a scavenger until discovering her talent with stealing, from there on, she was renounced as a thief. To this day, though despite she had moved, she is still considered to some a thief, though she even works as a guard, she is still attempted to take small samples of money.
Zuufff
Glathor-(Bosmer)
Spoiler
Name: Glathor
Age: 120, looks around 20-25
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5’2
Birthsign: The Lover
Appearance: Short but built for running long distances. Long light reddish hair pulled back into a somewhat angled ponytail. Stubble lines the lower parts of his cheeks. Most call it war paint, but the two finger thick lines that lie just below each of his eyes are actually tattoos that he had given himself after his first successful hunt. He used red dye to represent the blood of the animal.
Class(what would you describe your character as?): Hunter/Hideworker
Skills and known spells(if any):
Archery-how he hunts the animals for their meat and hide
Light Armor-for protection against the more aggressive beasts
Sneak-so he can get a jump on his prey before they dart off
Speech-so when he goes to town to sell his hide workings some stiff shopkeeper doesn’t try swindle him
Clothing/Armor: He wears a very fine set of Studded Armor that he had procured in an archery contest in the Imperial City. A pair of Hide Boots and Hide Bracers that he made himself from the pelt of a bear that he had killed. And a Huntsman’s Cowl made from fox pelt.
Weapons: A good ‘ole Longbow and quiver full of iron arrows. And an intricately etched Steel Dagger.
Misc.: Various poisons, and a manual for various kill spots on different types of game
Personality: Keeps to himself but is passionate about what he does(all that he was close to are now gone which is a reason for this)
Major flaw: Takes so much care and pride in his work that he has no time for anyone else(not so much a bad thing for the people who buy his products)
Background: He was born in 4E 80 and raised in the forests of Valenwood in a small independent tribe. When he came of age around 4E 110 he journeyed north through Cyrodiil. He entered himself into an archery contest that was being held in the Imperial City. Being a better archer than most he blew threw it like a breeze. While in the Imperial Capital of Tamriel he experienced his first successful hunt. It was an unusually large brown bear that he had tracked into a secluded cave way up in the mountains north of Bruma. After making himself a fine pair of hide boots and bracers he continued over the mountains and found himself in Skyrim, the “Home of the Nords” he used to hear the elders call it. They said that its many different terrains flourished with all types of wild game. He decided that this would be his home for many years to come. After years upon years of honing his skill he has become a well known hunter in these lands. Although most that he knew when he first arrived have died. He is now 120 years of age, but looks around 20-25 in human perspective, and doesn’t have many close people left. Even his elven friends are becoming scarce. He heard from a barmaid in Solitude, that there was a group of settlers that were trying to set up a new hold. “Valton” she called it. He remembered from the days he first arrived in Skyrim that the game was good down there and that he could help them by bringing in meat and hide and making them fur coats and fine pelt robes, occasional hide based light armor for the passing adventurer. The barmaid told him it was in between Ivarstead and Riften. He took a carriage from Solitude to Riften. Once he arrived he headed in the direction of the “X” that was marked on his map. He made it to Valton shortly after leaving Riften.
Age: 120, looks around 20-25
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5’2
Birthsign: The Lover
Appearance: Short but built for running long distances. Long light reddish hair pulled back into a somewhat angled ponytail. Stubble lines the lower parts of his cheeks. Most call it war paint, but the two finger thick lines that lie just below each of his eyes are actually tattoos that he had given himself after his first successful hunt. He used red dye to represent the blood of the animal.
Class(what would you describe your character as?): Hunter/Hideworker
Skills and known spells(if any):
Archery-how he hunts the animals for their meat and hide
Light Armor-for protection against the more aggressive beasts
Sneak-so he can get a jump on his prey before they dart off
Speech-so when he goes to town to sell his hide workings some stiff shopkeeper doesn’t try swindle him
Clothing/Armor: He wears a very fine set of Studded Armor that he had procured in an archery contest in the Imperial City. A pair of Hide Boots and Hide Bracers that he made himself from the pelt of a bear that he had killed. And a Huntsman’s Cowl made from fox pelt.
Weapons: A good ‘ole Longbow and quiver full of iron arrows. And an intricately etched Steel Dagger.
Misc.: Various poisons, and a manual for various kill spots on different types of game
Personality: Keeps to himself but is passionate about what he does(all that he was close to are now gone which is a reason for this)
Major flaw: Takes so much care and pride in his work that he has no time for anyone else(not so much a bad thing for the people who buy his products)
Background: He was born in 4E 80 and raised in the forests of Valenwood in a small independent tribe. When he came of age around 4E 110 he journeyed north through Cyrodiil. He entered himself into an archery contest that was being held in the Imperial City. Being a better archer than most he blew threw it like a breeze. While in the Imperial Capital of Tamriel he experienced his first successful hunt. It was an unusually large brown bear that he had tracked into a secluded cave way up in the mountains north of Bruma. After making himself a fine pair of hide boots and bracers he continued over the mountains and found himself in Skyrim, the “Home of the Nords” he used to hear the elders call it. They said that its many different terrains flourished with all types of wild game. He decided that this would be his home for many years to come. After years upon years of honing his skill he has become a well known hunter in these lands. Although most that he knew when he first arrived have died. He is now 120 years of age, but looks around 20-25 in human perspective, and doesn’t have many close people left. Even his elven friends are becoming scarce. He heard from a barmaid in Solitude, that there was a group of settlers that were trying to set up a new hold. “Valton” she called it. He remembered from the days he first arrived in Skyrim that the game was good down there and that he could help them by bringing in meat and hide and making them fur coats and fine pelt robes, occasional hide based light armor for the passing adventurer. The barmaid told him it was in between Ivarstead and Riften. He took a carriage from Solitude to Riften. Once he arrived he headed in the direction of the “X” that was marked on his map. He made it to Valton shortly after leaving Riften.
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.
[font=arial, helvetica, sans-serif]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.
[font=arial, helvetica, sans-serif]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.
Uglius MaximusII
Raryn Hlaalu-(Dunmer Vampire)
Spoiler
Name: Raryn Hlaalu
Age: 250
Race: Dunmer Vampire
Gender: Male
Height: 6 feet (186cm)
Birthsign: Steed
Appearance: Due to Vampirism, Raryn's face has aged dramatically. Gone, is the silk smooth skin, replaced by pale gaunt features and cloudy red eyes. This has made him look around 400-500 years old, much older than he truly is. To play to this character, Raryn deliberately arches his back and walks with a stick.
His hair is now white and tied back in a pony tail, his body, underneath his fine clothes is well built for someone who doesn't train or look after themselves.
Class: Merchant/Lord
Skills and known spells: Due to Raryn being a merchant for most of his life, he has gained a fantastic understanding of Speechcraft, he's able to lie and deceive many people but when it comes down to doing anything else, he usually falls short. Due to being a vampire however, he has gained some understanding of lockpicking and stealth.
Clothing / armor: Fine black and gold trousers and shirt. He also wears a grey hooded cape which is rimmed with bear fur.
Weapons: Raryn carries a fine steel dagger at his waist and a painted wooden walking stick.
Miscellaneous items: Lots of money, health potions, vials of blood and a diary.
Personality: Raryn has a very dry personality, over the years he has become extremely arrogant and feels that he is much better than the average person. He hungers for excitement however, finding it in both murder and friendship. He is a natural liar, so much of what he makes himself out to be is in fact false.
Major flaw: No combat abilities, vampirism and extremely arrogant.
Bio: Raryn was born and raised in Cyrodiil where his family owned a large investment company based in the Imperial City. Raryn was bred to become the owner of the company and so, from an early age was educated and given private lessons in business management and mercantile. As a teenager, Raryn was reckless and a little angsty, he knew his life, no matter what avenue it would take would land him manager of the family company. He fought hard against his father and those who thought he would never earn his money but ultimately gave in, accepting the role at the age of 30.
The next eighty years went by without anything notable happening, he ran the company as was expected and eventually became bored of it, always wanting something more. So, one day, quite spontaneously, he handed the rights to the company over to his best friend, signing a contract that would still give him a sizeable amount of money while never actually working. With this consistent income, Raryn was free to explore. He explored Vvardenfell, High Rock and Hammerfell. However, while exploring Vvardenfell, Raryn gained the vampiric curse. This curse would normally have been a thorn to anyone else but Raryn enjoyed the idea of it, another exciting challenge to take on. Another challenge to prove himself against.
Thus he became a vampire and continued to travel, learning how to break into houses and deceive people eventually began to come naturally to Raryn. He has decided to continue his travels through Skyrim, where he has heard a small settlement has recently began to spring up, bringing another new challenge to this now bored vampire.
Age: 250
Race: Dunmer Vampire
Gender: Male
Height: 6 feet (186cm)
Birthsign: Steed
Appearance: Due to Vampirism, Raryn's face has aged dramatically. Gone, is the silk smooth skin, replaced by pale gaunt features and cloudy red eyes. This has made him look around 400-500 years old, much older than he truly is. To play to this character, Raryn deliberately arches his back and walks with a stick.
His hair is now white and tied back in a pony tail, his body, underneath his fine clothes is well built for someone who doesn't train or look after themselves.
Class: Merchant/Lord
Skills and known spells: Due to Raryn being a merchant for most of his life, he has gained a fantastic understanding of Speechcraft, he's able to lie and deceive many people but when it comes down to doing anything else, he usually falls short. Due to being a vampire however, he has gained some understanding of lockpicking and stealth.
Clothing / armor: Fine black and gold trousers and shirt. He also wears a grey hooded cape which is rimmed with bear fur.
Weapons: Raryn carries a fine steel dagger at his waist and a painted wooden walking stick.
Miscellaneous items: Lots of money, health potions, vials of blood and a diary.
Personality: Raryn has a very dry personality, over the years he has become extremely arrogant and feels that he is much better than the average person. He hungers for excitement however, finding it in both murder and friendship. He is a natural liar, so much of what he makes himself out to be is in fact false.
Major flaw: No combat abilities, vampirism and extremely arrogant.
Bio: Raryn was born and raised in Cyrodiil where his family owned a large investment company based in the Imperial City. Raryn was bred to become the owner of the company and so, from an early age was educated and given private lessons in business management and mercantile. As a teenager, Raryn was reckless and a little angsty, he knew his life, no matter what avenue it would take would land him manager of the family company. He fought hard against his father and those who thought he would never earn his money but ultimately gave in, accepting the role at the age of 30.
The next eighty years went by without anything notable happening, he ran the company as was expected and eventually became bored of it, always wanting something more. So, one day, quite spontaneously, he handed the rights to the company over to his best friend, signing a contract that would still give him a sizeable amount of money while never actually working. With this consistent income, Raryn was free to explore. He explored Vvardenfell, High Rock and Hammerfell. However, while exploring Vvardenfell, Raryn gained the vampiric curse. This curse would normally have been a thorn to anyone else but Raryn enjoyed the idea of it, another exciting challenge to take on. Another challenge to prove himself against.
Thus he became a vampire and continued to travel, learning how to break into houses and deceive people eventually began to come naturally to Raryn. He has decided to continue his travels through Skyrim, where he has heard a small settlement has recently began to spring up, bringing another new challenge to this now bored vampire.
Arcturis
Bayard Arcturus-(Imperial)
Spoiler
Name: Bayard Arcturus
Age: 33
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7
Birthsign: Atronach
Appearance: Bayard's face is compeletely shadowed over by his large hood, but small, deep breaths can be heard from underneath
his hood when he is not talking.. No hair seems to be trailing out from underneath his hood aswell. As for the rest
of his body, he is fairly normal sized for an Imperial, with large hands and somewhat skinny arms; not so much macho man,
but also not a toothpick. His chest area is, again, fairly normal, and his legs are a bit stumpy looking.
Class: Pyromancer (A mostly destruction mage/caster, that uses the efficiency of fire)
Skills and Known Spells: Bayard knows a basic Firebolt attack, along with a skill in 1 handed axes (because fire doesnt always stop a sword
in your face). He also has mediocre skill in light armor, but mainly uses his mage robes for encounters. He also
has a somewhat larger stamina than most other mages, who mostly exercise in magicka.
Clothing: Bayard wears a large, dark green mages robe, with some dark brown trim on the edges, the color of a redwood pine
tree. His robes feature a chainlink sowing design, and the inside of the robe is consisted of various animal pelts,
to keep him warm in the harsh climates. While he does support a large belt with a ornate carved silver buckle, the robe
splits just below the belt into 2 parts, to help him get full girth of his legs while running. His pants underneath
are the same color of the trim, and his shoes are large and black, with some mud splashed about them. On Willem's head
is his hood, which shadows his entire face. the back of the hood trails off into a long point, similar to a pony-tail.
He also sports a pair of hefty gloves, with a dark brown color and three stripes running off his knuckles.
Weapons: Along with his Firebolt spell in his left hand, Bayard supports a Steel War Axe in his right, given to
him by a strange but desperate traveler.
Miscellaneous Items: Few potions of all types (Healing, Stamina, Magicka), couple bottles of black-briar mead, his personal journal
Personality Type: Baynard is neither the one to start a fight, or the one to follow a fight. He is the kind that
simply hangs back and watches things play out- unless, of course, the situation involves him directly. He enjoys
travelling across Skyrim, enjoying almost any bar he runs into. He also really hates trolls. Alot.
Major flaw: Baynard's tendency to watch a situation play out can often get the bitter side of people, and provoke a fight without
warning. His absence of a face can also terrify some townsfolk, leaving Baynard distressed at his appearance.
Background:
Bayard Arcturus was born to a semi-wealthy family in Cyrodiil, living in the town of Anvil. He lived a fairly normal
life as a child, but was interested in the arts of magic when he read about it in the town library. A few years later.
around the age of 13, he and his family were ambushed by trolls on a carriage ride to Skyrim. The trolls brutally
gored and murdered his parents, as Baynard was mortally wounded by a troll cut to his face. Later, he clumsily
stumbled into the town of Falkreath, where the town doctor immediately took care to him. After several attempts
at healing him, he was healthy but his face was scarred forever and would preferably be not shown around town.
He decided to buy a large cloak, hide his face, and sneak aboard another carriage to the College of Winterhold, with
the fond memories of his parents still fresh in his mind. There he grew as a powerful pyromancer, and at the age of 33,
disembarked from Winterhold to the other regions of Skyrim in hope of adventure and revenge upon Trollkin.
Age: 33
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7
Birthsign: Atronach
Appearance: Bayard's face is compeletely shadowed over by his large hood, but small, deep breaths can be heard from underneath
his hood when he is not talking.. No hair seems to be trailing out from underneath his hood aswell. As for the rest
of his body, he is fairly normal sized for an Imperial, with large hands and somewhat skinny arms; not so much macho man,
but also not a toothpick. His chest area is, again, fairly normal, and his legs are a bit stumpy looking.
Class: Pyromancer (A mostly destruction mage/caster, that uses the efficiency of fire)
Skills and Known Spells: Bayard knows a basic Firebolt attack, along with a skill in 1 handed axes (because fire doesnt always stop a sword
in your face). He also has mediocre skill in light armor, but mainly uses his mage robes for encounters. He also
has a somewhat larger stamina than most other mages, who mostly exercise in magicka.
Clothing: Bayard wears a large, dark green mages robe, with some dark brown trim on the edges, the color of a redwood pine
tree. His robes feature a chainlink sowing design, and the inside of the robe is consisted of various animal pelts,
to keep him warm in the harsh climates. While he does support a large belt with a ornate carved silver buckle, the robe
splits just below the belt into 2 parts, to help him get full girth of his legs while running. His pants underneath
are the same color of the trim, and his shoes are large and black, with some mud splashed about them. On Willem's head
is his hood, which shadows his entire face. the back of the hood trails off into a long point, similar to a pony-tail.
He also sports a pair of hefty gloves, with a dark brown color and three stripes running off his knuckles.
Weapons: Along with his Firebolt spell in his left hand, Bayard supports a Steel War Axe in his right, given to
him by a strange but desperate traveler.
Miscellaneous Items: Few potions of all types (Healing, Stamina, Magicka), couple bottles of black-briar mead, his personal journal
Personality Type: Baynard is neither the one to start a fight, or the one to follow a fight. He is the kind that
simply hangs back and watches things play out- unless, of course, the situation involves him directly. He enjoys
travelling across Skyrim, enjoying almost any bar he runs into. He also really hates trolls. Alot.
Major flaw: Baynard's tendency to watch a situation play out can often get the bitter side of people, and provoke a fight without
warning. His absence of a face can also terrify some townsfolk, leaving Baynard distressed at his appearance.
Background:
Bayard Arcturus was born to a semi-wealthy family in Cyrodiil, living in the town of Anvil. He lived a fairly normal
life as a child, but was interested in the arts of magic when he read about it in the town library. A few years later.
around the age of 13, he and his family were ambushed by trolls on a carriage ride to Skyrim. The trolls brutally
gored and murdered his parents, as Baynard was mortally wounded by a troll cut to his face. Later, he clumsily
stumbled into the town of Falkreath, where the town doctor immediately took care to him. After several attempts
at healing him, he was healthy but his face was scarred forever and would preferably be not shown around town.
He decided to buy a large cloak, hide his face, and sneak aboard another carriage to the College of Winterhold, with
the fond memories of his parents still fresh in his mind. There he grew as a powerful pyromancer, and at the age of 33,
disembarked from Winterhold to the other regions of Skyrim in hope of adventure and revenge upon Trollkin.
Yes Man FTW
Xerces Redoran-(Dunmer)
Spoiler
Name: Xerces Redoran
Age: 310 (should be about 30-35ish in human years.)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5ft, 6in
Birth sign: The Mage
Alignment: Neutral
Appearance:
He has a darker skin tone compared to other Dunmer, black medium length wavy hair, in the front it stops right in front of his right eye; a scar runs across the right side of his face to his right cheek.
Class: Battle-Mage
Spells/Skills: Very powerful in Destruction magic and the art of using a Katana.
Clothing/Armor:
His clothing consists of a black cloak that has the Redoran symbol on the back with a hood that he only wears when he feels he is being watched or in any form of danger, underneath it is a suit of Chainmail he won in a duel with a Mercenary. He wears a ring of House Redoran’s symbol on his left hand (his wedding ring), and on his right hand he wears a glove he uses to power his spells. He wears enchanted boots.
Weapons: Throwing knifes and other small concealable weapons., and a single Ebony katana he calls Bludrend.
Miscellaneous: Letter’s from his wife and kids. His directions from House Redoran. 2500 septims he brought with him from when he was in Morrowind.
Personality:
A naturally persuasive person, but always puts his goals above other people’s. A relatively friendly person, but once you’re on his “bad side” you are always considered his enemy. He dislikes most Argonians and Khajjit. (That’s how you spell them right…) He absolutely hates it when people believe they are more important than him. He is very cocky.
Major Flaw: Tends to start unnecessary conflict with others, especially if the person who insults him, his family, or calls magic something cowardly or weak. Thinks of himself as more important than everyone else
Background:
Born into the Redoran bloodline he was the favorite son of the grandmaster. He was marked for death by House Hlaalu, for asking to marry the grandmaster’s daughter. He responded by attacking the assassins’ sanctuary with a large group of Nordic mercenaries the assassins and him were engaged in battle for 3 weeks, his patience was fading and decided the only way he could insure his safety was to burn the entire sanctuary to the ground, the result of the spell was devastating, he was so weakened by it that his entire body collapsed It took eight months for him to awaken from the coma induced by it.
After he survived House Redoran allowed him to marry Zelvi Hlaalu (current age 290). In the years that followed he had two children, Aidan (currently age 10) and Krystal (age: 5.) as the years went by House Redoran get weakened and was nearly destroyed, they decided to try espionage over valor and sent in Xerces to try and either convince the Jarl to aid Redoran or there was always a full on attack, Xerces could try to work his way up politically to a house-Carl or hopefully could become the political advisor to the Jarl.
That’s where our story begins.
Age: 310 (should be about 30-35ish in human years.)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Height: 5ft, 6in
Birth sign: The Mage
Alignment: Neutral
Appearance:
He has a darker skin tone compared to other Dunmer, black medium length wavy hair, in the front it stops right in front of his right eye; a scar runs across the right side of his face to his right cheek.
Class: Battle-Mage
Spells/Skills: Very powerful in Destruction magic and the art of using a Katana.
Clothing/Armor:
His clothing consists of a black cloak that has the Redoran symbol on the back with a hood that he only wears when he feels he is being watched or in any form of danger, underneath it is a suit of Chainmail he won in a duel with a Mercenary. He wears a ring of House Redoran’s symbol on his left hand (his wedding ring), and on his right hand he wears a glove he uses to power his spells. He wears enchanted boots.
Weapons: Throwing knifes and other small concealable weapons., and a single Ebony katana he calls Bludrend.
Miscellaneous: Letter’s from his wife and kids. His directions from House Redoran. 2500 septims he brought with him from when he was in Morrowind.
Personality:
A naturally persuasive person, but always puts his goals above other people’s. A relatively friendly person, but once you’re on his “bad side” you are always considered his enemy. He dislikes most Argonians and Khajjit. (That’s how you spell them right…) He absolutely hates it when people believe they are more important than him. He is very cocky.
Major Flaw: Tends to start unnecessary conflict with others, especially if the person who insults him, his family, or calls magic something cowardly or weak. Thinks of himself as more important than everyone else
Background:
Born into the Redoran bloodline he was the favorite son of the grandmaster. He was marked for death by House Hlaalu, for asking to marry the grandmaster’s daughter. He responded by attacking the assassins’ sanctuary with a large group of Nordic mercenaries the assassins and him were engaged in battle for 3 weeks, his patience was fading and decided the only way he could insure his safety was to burn the entire sanctuary to the ground, the result of the spell was devastating, he was so weakened by it that his entire body collapsed It took eight months for him to awaken from the coma induced by it.
After he survived House Redoran allowed him to marry Zelvi Hlaalu (current age 290). In the years that followed he had two children, Aidan (currently age 10) and Krystal (age: 5.) as the years went by House Redoran get weakened and was nearly destroyed, they decided to try espionage over valor and sent in Xerces to try and either convince the Jarl to aid Redoran or there was always a full on attack, Xerces could try to work his way up politically to a house-Carl or hopefully could become the political advisor to the Jarl.
That’s where our story begins.
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.
“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.
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.
Tom
Clayton Anarkhall-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Clayton Anarkhall
Age: 51
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2
Birthsign: The Warrior
Appearance:
- short, cropped silver hair and thick stubble
- his nose was broken at some point, and his face bares a few scars and wrinkles, he has hazel eyes and a strong jaw
- he is broad in build, still strong despite his aging
Class(what would you describe your character as?): Warrior
Skillsand known spells (if any):
- Two handed (Battle axe)
- One handed (Swords)
- Speech (Very persuasive through coercion or intimidation, also good at bartering)
- Sneak
- Heavy armour
- Block
- Hand to hand brawling
Clothing/ armor: Typically wears tough leather boots and gauntlets, along with simple trousers and a tunic worn under a leather vest, displaying the "Crimson Sons" logo, a twisted sword dripping with blood. He also has a full set of Iron armour when the need arises.
Weapons: He has a large, well crafted Steel battle axe, though like his armour, it is only worn when "on the job". More often, he has his Steel broadsword and steel dagger.
Miscellaneous items: A few potions and poultices, some moonsugar, Skooma,
Personality: At first he seems to come across as gentlemenly, even if bit of a bad boy. He puts up a good front of being a kind man, but he is ambitious, greedy and takes care of himself, capable of great acts of cruelty. As leader of the Crimson Sons, every decision he makes he does for the gang, but in reality, he does what will benefit him. Still, in his time as leader, the gang has enjoyed relatively easy living.
Major flaw: Mentioned above.
Background: Clayton was one of the original Crimson Sons, founded on the border of Falkreath and the Rift, and at first, they were like any other group of bandits; raiding caravans for loot, attacking farms. Then one of their number, Wulf, had the idea of trafficking Skooma. This soon went on to drug trafficking, arms smuggling and dealing, and prostitution. Seeing as they were no longer causing trouble, none that anyone could proove, the Guardsmen and the Jarls paid less attention to them. They eventually revealed themselves publicly as "The Crimson Sons Mercenary Company", allowing them to make a living legally and providing them a good front to hide their illegal dealings. They are still notorious, causing more than a few brawls and bar fights, broken windows and damage to property, but they are quite skilled fighters, and relatively cheap for their skill. When Wulf, the leader, was killed many years ago, Clayton took control of the Crimson Sons. Under his rule, the gang enjoys relatively easy living, but one thing that Clayton wants to improve is influence, furthering the gang's, and more importantly, his own power. A new hold may give him that opportunity.
Age: 51
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2
Birthsign: The Warrior
Appearance:
- short, cropped silver hair and thick stubble
- his nose was broken at some point, and his face bares a few scars and wrinkles, he has hazel eyes and a strong jaw
- he is broad in build, still strong despite his aging
Class(what would you describe your character as?): Warrior
Skillsand known spells (if any):
- Two handed (Battle axe)
- One handed (Swords)
- Speech (Very persuasive through coercion or intimidation, also good at bartering)
- Sneak
- Heavy armour
- Block
- Hand to hand brawling
Clothing/ armor: Typically wears tough leather boots and gauntlets, along with simple trousers and a tunic worn under a leather vest, displaying the "Crimson Sons" logo, a twisted sword dripping with blood. He also has a full set of Iron armour when the need arises.
Weapons: He has a large, well crafted Steel battle axe, though like his armour, it is only worn when "on the job". More often, he has his Steel broadsword and steel dagger.
Miscellaneous items: A few potions and poultices, some moonsugar, Skooma,
Personality: At first he seems to come across as gentlemenly, even if bit of a bad boy. He puts up a good front of being a kind man, but he is ambitious, greedy and takes care of himself, capable of great acts of cruelty. As leader of the Crimson Sons, every decision he makes he does for the gang, but in reality, he does what will benefit him. Still, in his time as leader, the gang has enjoyed relatively easy living.
Major flaw: Mentioned above.
Background: Clayton was one of the original Crimson Sons, founded on the border of Falkreath and the Rift, and at first, they were like any other group of bandits; raiding caravans for loot, attacking farms. Then one of their number, Wulf, had the idea of trafficking Skooma. This soon went on to drug trafficking, arms smuggling and dealing, and prostitution. Seeing as they were no longer causing trouble, none that anyone could proove, the Guardsmen and the Jarls paid less attention to them. They eventually revealed themselves publicly as "The Crimson Sons Mercenary Company", allowing them to make a living legally and providing them a good front to hide their illegal dealings. They are still notorious, causing more than a few brawls and bar fights, broken windows and damage to property, but they are quite skilled fighters, and relatively cheap for their skill. When Wulf, the leader, was killed many years ago, Clayton took control of the Crimson Sons. Under his rule, the gang enjoys relatively easy living, but one thing that Clayton wants to improve is influence, furthering the gang's, and more importantly, his own power. A new hold may give him that opportunity.
Erik Steelsheen-(Nord)
Spoiler
Name: Erik Steelsheen
Age: 27
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance:
- Fair haired, reaching his collar and a slight beard
- Muscled, but not overly so, lither and willowy
- kind green eyes
- over all, a rugged appearance that some would consider handsome
Class: Ranger
Skillsand known spells (if any):
- Bow
- one handed (sword)
- hand to hand (brawling)
- Light armour
- Speech
- sneak
- Healing (non magic, eg - local herb lore)
Clothing/ armor: Wears a Crimson Sons vest over a longcoat, trousers and tunic. He wears leather bracers and boots. He is also in possession of scale armour.
Weapons:Imperial bow, steel arrows, Steel hand-and-a-half longsword
Miscellaneous items: a few potions, gold.
Personality: He is loyal to his friends and to the gang. He doesn't enjoy or hate the illegal activities, he just sees it as something that has to be done; it's always been that way so why bother change it. He comes across as a decent guy involved in some unsavoury business, but he tries to make sure that the gang doesn't over step their boundaries and maintain a level of civility.
Major flaw: His loyalty to the gang and to Clayton, which can lead him to do things against his moral judgement.
Background: A respected member of the Crimson Sons, part of the reason being that he is Wulf's son, he is in a position to potentially challenge Clayton's authority. However, seeing as he is loyal to the gang leader, he poses little threat. Some people suggest that he could change the gang for the better, but he can't see the point; everything works now, no point in changing it. He had a hard life growing; his mother was sixteen when he was born, his father was killed a few years later. The Crimson Sons are his life, and he has spent his life living the lifestyle that his father had lived. The gang moves to a new hold, and Erik trusts that whatever happens there will be done for the interests of the gang. His conscious however is starting to creep up on him.
Age: 27
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Height: 6'
Birthsign: The Steed
Appearance:
- Fair haired, reaching his collar and a slight beard
- Muscled, but not overly so, lither and willowy
- kind green eyes
- over all, a rugged appearance that some would consider handsome
Class: Ranger
Skillsand known spells (if any):
- Bow
- one handed (sword)
- hand to hand (brawling)
- Light armour
- Speech
- sneak
- Healing (non magic, eg - local herb lore)
Clothing/ armor: Wears a Crimson Sons vest over a longcoat, trousers and tunic. He wears leather bracers and boots. He is also in possession of scale armour.
Weapons:Imperial bow, steel arrows, Steel hand-and-a-half longsword
Miscellaneous items: a few potions, gold.
Personality: He is loyal to his friends and to the gang. He doesn't enjoy or hate the illegal activities, he just sees it as something that has to be done; it's always been that way so why bother change it. He comes across as a decent guy involved in some unsavoury business, but he tries to make sure that the gang doesn't over step their boundaries and maintain a level of civility.
Major flaw: His loyalty to the gang and to Clayton, which can lead him to do things against his moral judgement.
Background: A respected member of the Crimson Sons, part of the reason being that he is Wulf's son, he is in a position to potentially challenge Clayton's authority. However, seeing as he is loyal to the gang leader, he poses little threat. Some people suggest that he could change the gang for the better, but he can't see the point; everything works now, no point in changing it. He had a hard life growing; his mother was sixteen when he was born, his father was killed a few years later. The Crimson Sons are his life, and he has spent his life living the lifestyle that his father had lived. The gang moves to a new hold, and Erik trusts that whatever happens there will be done for the interests of the gang. His conscious however is starting to creep up on him.
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.
sorry. I've changed it.
