1. Application
Name: Gwrtheyrn (ancient Celtic name meaning “supreme king”, from Welsh gor (over) and teyrn (king, monarch), shortened to Theyrn for informal purposes.
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Race: Breton
Position: Ally
Birthplace: The Reach
Current Residence: The Reach, specifically the Lost Valley Redoubt, although he travels constantly throughout The Reach to each Forsworn stronghold.
Alliances or Affiliations: Forsworn
Occupation: Leader of the Forsworn, after Madanach’s death in Cidhna Mine.
Appearance: Gwrtheryn has the pale-skinned, slightly elfish appearance of a Breton. He stands six foot and has dark brown shaggy hair. He has piercing blue eyes and a sardonic smile. He is of medium build. During times of battle, he paints his face with green warpaint in various patterns.
Personality: Gwrtheryn is in a hard place during a hard time. As such, his personality has hardened in order to do what he must for his people. However, he is a very ordered and principled man who has his own set of morals that he will not abandon under any circumstances. The burden of leadership weighs heavy on his shoulders and he takes his position seriously.
History: I want to take my time and thoroughly develop his history, but I know that there’s only one spot open for the RP thread, so I think I will leave this blank and reveal his history during the story.
Roleplaying Sample: Gwrtheryn sat on the stone chair and stared off into nothing, lost in his thoughts. He was oblivious to the darkening room and the cooling air, damp from the headwaters of the nearby Karth River. His mind was burdened with his people’s plight, and he hadn’t slept well in days. Something warm and leathery rubbed against his left hand and broke his concentration. With a start, he looked to his left and saw the scrunched up face of a hagraven staring at him, its head cocked to the side like a bird’s. Its face was inches from his, but Gwrtheryn could discern nothing from its black, pupilless eyes. Even though he grew up among the Forsworn, and was therefore exposed to hagravens since an early age, Gwrtheryn could never tell what one was thinking. Most people believed that witches gave up their humanity to become hagravens, but the Forsworn knew otherwise, although not all. Part of the witch’s personality survived the secret ceremony, but it was changed, along with her physical form. Some thought that the spirit was combined with a daedra, but the hagravens never shared that knowledge, if they even knew themselves.
Once, when he was ten, Gwrtheryn snuck into a back chamber of some redoubt where a new hagraven was recovering from the transformation. He knew the witch all his life—she had been the midwife for his birth after all—and snuck in with concern for her wellbeing. He stayed to the shadows and watched as the creature stirred. It was immediately evident that she did not remember who she had been before. She cried out in her confusion until other hagravens came to her side and calmed her. The next day, she walked past people who knew her well, but she did not seem to know them. When she passed Gwrtheryn, though, she stopped and turned to him. She cocked her head to the side, much like a bird would do before it stabbed a worm with its beak. She held out one clawed talon and gently stroked his cheek. Despite her carefulness, her talon accidentally left a scratch down his face, but he did not flinch. Dark, red blood seeped to the surface of his pale skin and slowly oozed down his cheek, as if he were crying bloody tears. The hagraven hissed her displeasure and quickly pulled back her hand, as if she were afraid she’d hurt him more, but Gwrtheryn just smiled and wiped the blood on his sleeve. Later, the wound would heal but leave a thin scar running down his face, but it proved to him that a part of the human still remained.
The hagraven lightly traced Gwrtheryn’s scar with her talon. He smiled at her and stood from his chair.
“Melka,” he said with a heavy sigh. “What news have you brought of our people?”
The hagraven followed him to a nearby table that held a map of The Reach. Red and blue markers were placed on the map, signifying Thalmor and Imperial forces. Outnumbered twenty to one, a scattering of green markers dotted the landscape, showing Forsworn positions.
“I have spoken with the other matriarchs,” the hagraven rasped. It seemed that even now, twenty years after her transformation, she still struggled with human speech. “The other clans of Forsworn are stable. Your command to purge those with disease has decreased the burden on our food stores. Our people do not go hungry, for now.”
Gwrtheryn winced at those last two words. The Forsworn had been living off the land for generations, so the change in Skyrim over the last eight years hadn’t had the same effect as on the Nords. Still, his people could not stay foragers for the rest of their lives. They looked to him to improve their standing. They looked to him to give them back The Reach.
“There is talk in the camps, however,” Melka continued. “They are getting restless. The men and women speak of increasing attacks on the elves and Nords. Some even whisper of taking Markarth.”
Gwrtheryn slammed his fists on the wooden table. “Then they are fools,” he said, almost shouting. Lowering his voice, he continued. “If we attack Markarth now, our forces will be dashed upon its walls. If we did somehow take it, we would not be able to hold it with the Empire and Dominion on our doorstep. And we cannot increase our attacks on the settlements or caravans. Right now, we are a nuisance; one that can be ignored in lieu of more important crises. But if we increase our attacks, then we’ll become a threat and we’ll be hunted to extinction!”
The hagraven patiently listened to his speech, nodding the entire way. “The matriarchs concur, and the clan leaders still support you. But the people only see their children shivering in the cold and remember warm hearthfires in the city. They long for a better life.”
Gwrthryn sighed heavily. “And I wish nothing more than to give it to them. Oblivion take me, if I thought it would help, I’d disband the entire clan system and have my people swear fealty to the Nords. But they can’t even feed and house their own people. There’s no way they would accept hundreds of more mouths to feed.”
A long silence ensued before Melka broke it. “We could always take…extreme measures,” she offered.
“No,” Gwrtheryn said immediately and emphatically. “Our bravest and most loyal men volunteer to become briarhearts. It gives them strength to surpass the strongest of Nords and willpower even the Altmer can’t challenge, but they lose themselves in the process. They become mindless vessels obeying only my command. Sure, we could wash over Skyrim in a sea of blood and take it all for ourselves if we make each man and boy into a briarheart and each woman and girl into a hagraven, but we would lose ourselves in the process. The Forsworn would be no more. I would be a king of puppets, no better than Mannimarco of old. I will not do that to our people. Ever.”
If hagravens could be said to smile, then Melka was doing it now. “We chose correctly when we raised you to King. You are a great leader.”
“Then why can’t I lead my people to greatness?” Gwrtheryn asked sadly, looking the hagraven in the eyes.
“You will be a hero to our people,” croaked the hagraven. “Our prophecy foretells it.”
Mustering his patience, Gwytheryn replied, “With all due respect, we don’t need prophecies, we need…events.”
Melka raised her talon, as if quoting a long-forgotten saying, “ ‘Each event is preceded by Prophecy. But without the hero, there is no Event.’ “
Gwytheryn walked slowly back to his stone throne and slumped, more than sat, in it. “And we’re back where we started. We don’t have the resources to move forward, we can’t go back to swearing fealty to the Nords, and we can’t stay how we are.”
“Change is coming,” Melka said knowingly, and caressed the Forsworn King’s cheek.
Why Take Me: As you can see, my character offers more than just one person, it offers an entire group of people and opens up The Reach to your story. Since everyone else is either in Helgen or Windhelm, I don’t see our groups allying with each other anytime soon, but down the line it may become an interesting, if tenuous, alliance.