» Wed May 02, 2012 7:41 pm Spoiler
The New Hold: 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.
‘The New Hold’ won the voting on Sunday night, and so I’m working on getting it going, and hopefully we’ll be able to begin soon once enough people have signed up and created characters. Of course, remember that what comes below is not set in stone until the actual RP begins, so if anyone has any suggestions at all for the RP, no matter what they are let me know, as I’d love to hear everyone’s input before we begin. I want everyone to feel like they have a say in how this RP will feel and play out. Without further ado:
Updated version:
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, and you can be an alchemist, barkeep,
Head on to the RP thread if you're already on the list: http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1335789-valton-the-new-hold-rp-thread/
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]
Please note that I’m still working on fleshing out the RP, I will post some rules, and I am actually working on a map of Valton and some surrounding points of interest, but I thought I’d post up the sign-up sheet so people could start filling out their character sheets.
List of accepted characters:
Lizard Wizard
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.
moonjester
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
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 - Recquired in his proffesion.
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 - Recquired in his proffesion.
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
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
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.
GorbadPS3
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.
Edit: Major Flaw: Hates X in the knee jokes.
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.
Edit: Major Flaw: Hates X in the knee jokes.
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.
Vincent McCool
Spoiler
Name: Fiona Barrow-HeartAge: 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.
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.
jacb547
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
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.
Undead Fiend
Spoiler
Name:Ticedo Fulbar
Age: 30
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Height: 5'9
Birthsign:Warrior
Appearance:http://www.thegamersdungeon.com/2011/11/your-guide-to-skyrim-tips-and-hints.html Scroll down 4 pictures, the fivth should be the picture that looks like my guy. The link wouldn't work for a bit. I couldn't get the pictures to fill the screen.
Class:Warrior
Skills:One Handed, Heavy Armor, Block
Clothing / armor: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=Guard+pictures+in+skyrim&hl=en&sa=X&qscrl=1&nord=1&rlz=1T4GGLL_enUS311US312&biw=1120&bih=577&tbm=isch&prmd=imvns&tbnid=RX4L86Ru9w0c7M:&imgrefurl=http://www.godisageek.com/2011/11/elder-scrolls-v-skyrim-review/&docid=q394f7rkPGhUjM&imgurl=http://www.godisageek.com/wp-content/uploads/Skyrim_Riften_Guard.jpg&w=640&h=360&ei=F3gXT-XkN83XtwfXrtCEAw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=224&vpy=149&dur=3596&hovh=168&hovw=300&tx=97&ty=112&sig=118230516858803331806&page=1&tbnh=85&tbnw=151&start=0&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0Link.
Weapons:Sliver Sword, Steel Shield
Miscellaneous items:Potion of Health, Broken bottle of poison,
Personality:Ticedo is a cold, unforgiving, and has the "I don't give a [censored] attiude."
Major flaw: Right leg never healed right from a injury and Tilcedo has trouble walking on it.
Background:Tilcedo became a guard in Valton after his wife was killed. He was coming home from his work as a guard for Riften and he walked into his house. Shouting as he came inside, "Sabrin, I'm home!" After getting no response, he was worried. He walked into the kitchen to see his wife cooking. "Sabrin? Didn't you hear me shouting?" He said. He grabbed her and turned her around. Only to see her face paralized, and a knife sticking through her throat. Not coming out the other way. "Sabrin?! NOOOO!" Tilcedo shouted, the guards came to him and pulled him away. They investigated, but nothing came of it. After that Til turned to drinking. Exactly one year after his wife died and he was putting flowers on her grave he found a note resting on top of Sabrin's grave. To find the man who murdered your wife, you must murder. The note said.
Til, was angred. Fueled by the chance to revenge his wife. Never taking the chance to think about it, he flipped over the note The Ratway, your victim will waiting.Til picked up his silver sword and headed towards the Ratway. He killed many crimnals that lived down there and walked into a room that was easy to open. He saw a person tied up. Covered head to toe with rope. Til ran towards the victim and went to plung his sword into the victim's stomach. Only to have a dagger pierce his kneecap. A voice said "Dammit, my aim is off!" Til pulled out the dagger and aimed it at the voice. Only to hear a slight grunt and the sound of someone running. "GET BACK HERE! YOU NO GOOD WIFE KILLING, LIFE RUINING, DAGGER TO THE KNEE, LOW LIFE!" Til shouted. That day he found a 1000 gold. He's been searching for years for that assassin, only to receive riddles upon riddles from his wife's grave. He's spent years trying to solve them, and he's turned back to drinking. After a few years the riddles stopped coming. He came to Valton to get a job to fuel his drinking addiction and get a fresh start. Even though he knows, "Everyone carries there own baggage, you can't simple drop it and start again because your in a new place."
Age: 30
Race:Imperial
Gender:Male
Height: 5'9
Birthsign:Warrior
Appearance:http://www.thegamersdungeon.com/2011/11/your-guide-to-skyrim-tips-and-hints.html Scroll down 4 pictures, the fivth should be the picture that looks like my guy. The link wouldn't work for a bit. I couldn't get the pictures to fill the screen.
Class:Warrior
Skills:One Handed, Heavy Armor, Block
Clothing / armor: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=Guard+pictures+in+skyrim&hl=en&sa=X&qscrl=1&nord=1&rlz=1T4GGLL_enUS311US312&biw=1120&bih=577&tbm=isch&prmd=imvns&tbnid=RX4L86Ru9w0c7M:&imgrefurl=http://www.godisageek.com/2011/11/elder-scrolls-v-skyrim-review/&docid=q394f7rkPGhUjM&imgurl=http://www.godisageek.com/wp-content/uploads/Skyrim_Riften_Guard.jpg&w=640&h=360&ei=F3gXT-XkN83XtwfXrtCEAw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=224&vpy=149&dur=3596&hovh=168&hovw=300&tx=97&ty=112&sig=118230516858803331806&page=1&tbnh=85&tbnw=151&start=0&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0Link.
Weapons:Sliver Sword, Steel Shield
Miscellaneous items:Potion of Health, Broken bottle of poison,
Personality:Ticedo is a cold, unforgiving, and has the "I don't give a [censored] attiude."
Major flaw: Right leg never healed right from a injury and Tilcedo has trouble walking on it.
Background:Tilcedo became a guard in Valton after his wife was killed. He was coming home from his work as a guard for Riften and he walked into his house. Shouting as he came inside, "Sabrin, I'm home!" After getting no response, he was worried. He walked into the kitchen to see his wife cooking. "Sabrin? Didn't you hear me shouting?" He said. He grabbed her and turned her around. Only to see her face paralized, and a knife sticking through her throat. Not coming out the other way. "Sabrin?! NOOOO!" Tilcedo shouted, the guards came to him and pulled him away. They investigated, but nothing came of it. After that Til turned to drinking. Exactly one year after his wife died and he was putting flowers on her grave he found a note resting on top of Sabrin's grave. To find the man who murdered your wife, you must murder. The note said.
Til, was angred. Fueled by the chance to revenge his wife. Never taking the chance to think about it, he flipped over the note The Ratway, your victim will waiting.Til picked up his silver sword and headed towards the Ratway. He killed many crimnals that lived down there and walked into a room that was easy to open. He saw a person tied up. Covered head to toe with rope. Til ran towards the victim and went to plung his sword into the victim's stomach. Only to have a dagger pierce his kneecap. A voice said "Dammit, my aim is off!" Til pulled out the dagger and aimed it at the voice. Only to hear a slight grunt and the sound of someone running. "GET BACK HERE! YOU NO GOOD WIFE KILLING, LIFE RUINING, DAGGER TO THE KNEE, LOW LIFE!" Til shouted. That day he found a 1000 gold. He's been searching for years for that assassin, only to receive riddles upon riddles from his wife's grave. He's spent years trying to solve them, and he's turned back to drinking. After a few years the riddles stopped coming. He came to Valton to get a job to fuel his drinking addiction and get a fresh start. Even though he knows, "Everyone carries there own baggage, you can't simple drop it and start again because your in a new place."
Scow2
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
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
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.
Gavril
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.
Tom
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.
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.
Kalamari
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
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
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
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.
