what is your current character's roleplaying story?

Post » Fri May 22, 2015 4:22 am

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MISS KEEP UR
 
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Post » Fri May 22, 2015 12:40 am

I have two current characters. One is an Argonian. Here's his history in his words.

Spoiler
Why am I writing this? I can't say. I don't know why anyone would want to read it. Maybe if I'm found dead somewhere in this wretched land and not eaten, then somebody might find this and there's a tiny speck of a chance that person might send it on to my tribe back home so that they'll know what became of me.

My name is Haand-Wei. Nobody ever calls me that anymore. It was changed by people who thought it was amusing to call me Hard Way, because of my nature. That's fine. It suits me as well as any other. I am of the Oaxalihanchi tribe. Argonians will know of it, and be able to pronounce it, dry-skins will not. Until a couple years ago, I spent my life there, living like everyone else. What possessed me to leave and seek a better life, I'll never know. Needless to say, I haven't found a better life and it doesn't seem likely I will. Yet, The Hist reveals, as they say.

I left my cozy home for the coast and tried working the docks. Briefly. Hauling rope and cargo all day for a couple of coins isn't even as nice as it sounds. There, I met an Imperial named Hecto with a ship. He was looking for crew. Life at sea sounded appealing to me and he promised a good cut of what his ship earned. His activities didn't sound perfectly legal, but who am I to judge.

It was exciting at the very first, but several weeks out of sight of land, Hecto showed his true self. He and his other Imperial mates began to treat the rest of us - the Argonian crew - like slaves, lashings included. This didn't sit well with me or the others. Now we knew why he was short-handed. We got all the nasty chores, of course, while they lounged around the deck, playing games, when they weren't cursing and beating us. There were six of us, and five of them. We decided that was good enough odds. They had the weapons, but we had our lifetimes in the swamp. All Marsh-Friends will know of what I speak.

Soon enough, Hecto and his friends were overboard and we had ourselves a ship. It occured to us then, that none of us really knew how to sail it. Or what, exactly, to do with it, even if we did. Hecto's connections weren't likely to greet us the same as they would him.

A rough few days followed, ended by a large rock in the night. We are kept warm, even in cold waters, by The Hist in our blood. But a long swim in a dark, ice-cold sea is death for any. Except the things swimming below, of course, which aren't too choosy about their food. Three of us made it to shore. Which shore was unknown.

The next day arrived like a pale, grey corpse wandering into camp. We deduced, mostly by argument, that we were on Solstheim. Hecto had been heading to Skyrim to sell his "supplies" to the troops there. He had gotten us most of the way. We failed to make it the rest. It could have been worse. We were thankful enough that we didn't hit Morrowind proper. No welcome for us there, surely. We decided, for the health of our little group, that the blame for driving the ship into the rock lay on those who had perished in the night. We set out to find a port. Or town. Or something to eat. Anything.

What we found was an incredibly unpleasant place. What wasn't covered with snow was covered with ash. The hills were filled with hostile beasts. Even the men were beasts, as we found out to our loss. One of us was killed by those monsters. The two of us remaining ran. It was all we could do. They were too strong for us to fight. We ran for a day and a night. Then it was only myself. I don't know what became of my last friend. One moment I turned and he wasn't there. I don't know if he was taken, or if he simply fell. I heard no sound. I attempted to turn back and search for him, but the blowing snow and ash had covered our tracks. It was futile. So I stumbled on. And stumbled into a settlement.

A Dunmer settlement. Not the first people I would have liked to see. They didn't kill me, or throw me in a cell, so that's something. Now here I sit, in this smoky, strange tavern. The innkeeper is staring at me. I think he was amazed that I could write when I asked for pen and paper. The others are ignoring me aside from a few suspicious glances. There is a ship here and the Nord captain has said he can take me to Skyrim. He wants gold for the trip and I have none. Tomorrow I'll find a way to acquire some.

The Hist is so far. I can hardly feel the Connection and I fear losing it completely. Yet there is something closer. Something else that calls in a similar way. It is strange. It shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here.

Hard Way did make it to Windhelm. He found the other Argonians there. He met a wonderful lady named Shahvee who brings cheer into his gloomy heart, like a warm spring flowing into chilly waters. He stays in the Argonian Assemblage with her and the others. He tries to help them, and some other Argonians he met in Riften, as much as he can. He goes out and finds opportunities. He comes back and fills the chests in the Assemblage with gold, treasures, and weapons for all of them to share.

He's still searching for the mysterious thing that feels like The Hist. He's getting closer to finding it. He is skilled in stealth, nature magic, illusion, and with his dagger.

http://i.imgur.com/oLgB6vi.jpg. http://i.imgur.com/Eu0dfCV.jpg He's wearing a sword in those pictures. He switched to dagger shortly after that.

*Live Another Life mod started him lost in Solstheim with no armor, weapons, or money. The nature magic he uses is from a couple of mods, also. He's much fun to play.

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AnDres MeZa
 
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Post » Fri May 22, 2015 2:27 am

My Redguard, Aida, has been living in Skyrim for quite some time.

"Five hours. That is what it took to follow the information gained from those bloody Vigilants. I was a woman with revenge on her mind, one who would pay little heed to the ideals of mortal existence. What I would follow, would be a pittance in comparison.

For the last hundred years, I existed as a Vampire. A creature of shadow, of blood. The reason? Love. Perhaps some would cast ill stares, but I did not care. I found love in the arms of someone who cared, not just for blood, but for me. She gave me more purpose in death, than I was to ever have in life. With her, the cares of an Empire, of Skyrim, was nothing.

I knew what stories can tell. I know that tragedy awaits those who find happiness. At least, it does when they are complacent. When they have secrets. Which we did, but we were not feral monsters in a cave. We were respectable people, even if we did have habits that would be frowned upon. We did not leave corpses in the streets, we did not kill any who were innocent. Highwaymen and bandits on the roads faced our wrath, which spared innocent lives and kept coin in rightful hands. But that did not matter to these...Vigilants.

Once they found out, it was only days before we were run out of town like rabid dogs. Cast into the night, we did not run like they expected. No, we ran only far enough where we would face them down, and we did. Their actions in the foggy swamps were hindered, where we could see perfectly. We would not act with remorse. No matter how innocent they may be, they were to commit violence towards those who had done little to warrant it. By nature? Perhaps, perhaps not. By deed? Certainly not!

Just before the last one fell, I watched my love...fall. She lost control for a moment, and I was to be eternally tormented by the sight. The man seemed cheerful about it. He almost couldn't help but express his glee at the sight of a dying Vampire.

This, was his undoing.

I ran my hand through his chest, showing the man his still beating heart, before I sunk my fangs into his neck, draining any remaining blood in his body.

The last sight of her face was one I cannot forget. I held her, and she expressed her sorrow, knowing that mine was to far exceed her own. She was right.

Watching her body fall to dust, I stood. Suddenly, I had no direction. No purpose. No love. No attachment to this world. Nothing to really hold me here."

Spoiler

That is when I heard this roar. A sound that surely was further away than a mortal could travel within a day, likely coming from distant mountains. But what it came from, puzzled me. It sounded deeper, like it was from something....ancient.

I started to walk away, when I saw one holding a book. I picked it up and thumbed through it, reading the entries of what seemed to be a diary. The last entry was dated two days ago.

Isran was of no help. As usual, he seems loathe to expand his efforts to rid Skyrim of Vampires. Even if he has resurrected the Dawnguard, few seem to join. No, matter. I have my own things to attend to. I've recently received word of two Vampires living in Solitude, perhaps three. We shall eliminate them, and then deal with the more pressing issue. Dimhollow Crypt, a cave northeast of Morthal, and Southwest of Dawnstar, located close to the peak of a mountain. The location worries me, as it is also close to our Hall We will investigate the activities in the cave, and hopefully, Isran will soon send some support. If not, and we are unable to deal with the Vampires inside, then may we find peace in Sovengarde.

I had heard enough. I threw the book at one of the fallen torches, watching only briefly as it created a small pyre. I would go to this cave, and see what the Vampires wanted, and what these Vigilants wanted to stop.

What would I do with it? Perhaps use it to build myself a future. To exist day to day, a reason to continue.

Most of this lining up with with a start that LAL offers.

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maria Dwyer
 
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