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⤜| Cedrida Ibn'nar |⤛
× The Ace of Spades; He goes by Spadi (SPAH-DIE; short for Spadille) to those he is not familiar with.Image
× Age is estimated in the range of his late thirties, but he could be much older due to his condition.
× An Imperial with traces of Redguard
× His sexuality is undefined; he has yet to find anyone.
× Currently Single
× Right-Handed, Left Eye Dominant
× Afflicted with Vampirism
× He classifies as a ranger. He is a detective for part of his time.
× He can be categorized as a lawful neutral, though he respects freedom and the choice to think outside laws.
× He is moral, but he does not follow a religion.
× His hair leans towards light brown, flipping off to the side if he neglects cutting it. His roots are dark, adding the "rich" effect in addition to the occasional blond highlight.Skill
× His face is diamond-like and his lips are full.
× The most characteristic scar is at the very right corner of his mouth where cold sores commonly appear, and the scar continues down his jaw. Another scar marks his sternum- the mark of his vampirism.
× Light stubble, faint mustache; he tends to the hair about his face better than the strands on his head.
× His skin used to be a pale bronze, now lighter with a dusky hint. Occasional dark specks dot his lower eyelids and nose.
× His eyes are amber, rich in gold especially when light is abundant.
× He wears armor that is free to move in, basically armored robes (though he is not a mage of any sort). Silvery plates mask his shoulders, upper back, and chest. Underneath his robes is tough padding, just enough to protect him from a graze, not enough to weigh him down. The fabrics follow a scheme of grey tones with streaks of ivory and dull blue. A scarf and hood shield his face. He will equip a shoulder cape made from the hide of a wolf if the area is cold (just to "blend in"). Something akin to this.
× He has a rope attached to a belt if he must detain someone.
× He carries a black suede journal to log investigations, and memorizes almost every face he so much as glances at.
× He wields an ebony bow, and his quiver is colorful with a variety of arrows placed at his lower back. Behind his bow, a silver short sword is secured to his back, with a hilt seemingly in the shape of a sun.
× His voice is low, rough, a little sour. He has a heavy slur, in which an "s" will occasionally sound like a "z", the result of his parents. However, his voice can be somewhat soothing (Voice of the Emperor?). To be more clear, refer to Bandit from Rainbow Six Siege.
× He has a strong build, though he has a little more lissomeness than the average brute soldier. He stands a little over 6 feet.
× He is efficient at evasion.
× He prefers long range to close combat; his bow over his knife. Were either to be unavailable, he can use his own body, his vampirism is a bonus.
× If it is necessary, his full-body coordination allows for wielding a two-handed weapon.
× He is excellent with his quick-thinking; last seconds are not a concern for him, and he accurately identifies weak points.
× He snoops, and therefore he picks locks. He usually only carries five to seven picks. It is all he needs.
× He can tolerate poison, his Redguard blood is to thank.
× He can be persuasive, mainly through intimidation, but he is rational enough not to use it excessively.
× While he is adept in sneaking, he is more apt for sniping.
× His kills are swift. He does not let his opponent suffer, dreading what will become of him if he sat and watched too long.
× Smart with horseback, whether it's combat or fleeing.
× He is reserved and mildly pessimistic. His face at rest is not quite a scowl, but he appears unapproachable. He is terrible at expressing his care. He acts phlegmatic. He is distrusting. He will not react to anything if he is galled. With the greatest of his wrath comes brutality; he becomes volatile. His straightforwardness is more rude than honest. His casual tone is boorish, making it difficult at times to identify sincereness or sarcasm. Skepticism comes naturally, and he refrains his utterance of it. He is assertive. His alignment aside, there is always faint disapproval in his brow when a reasonable law is broken, as if he is restraining visible judgement. He talks only loud enough to sound audiable and maintains sternness without making the presence of his teeth too obvious.
× He is witty. His remarks would be more entertaining if it weren't for his tone of voice. He is stubborn with his morals, only breaking them in exchange for something greater. He tries to correct his bitterness when he catches it. When he recognizes pessimism in his speech, he ceases talk. He is rational; he will listen. He does not attach without difficulty, but when trust is fought for and earned, he is unforgivingly loyal. He is humble, but unsure of how to respond to admiration. He has an abundance of self-control. Lastly and obviously, he is observant and watchful.
× The Stars
× Watching the Flickering of Fire
× People Who Take Everything Personally
× Pretentious Attitude
× Being Incompetent
× Being Manipulated
× Being Controlled
Cedrida was once a soldier. He fought wars only occasionally, however.
Cedrida was born into the Legion, with his father (the source of his imperial blood) already being a well-respected figure. Unlike the rest, Cedrida was trained to have more finesse than his foolhardy counterparts. He can be considered akin to an assassin, without the rebellious mind. He became known as Spadille (The Ace of Spades), as he was highly valued for his role.
Cedrida's father was good-natured and loyal. Jokes regarding how his father was enamored with a Redguard were not uncommon, and certainly were friendly and non-offensive. The jokes ended when the woman was on display in their own home, with her neck rived around a corner of her jaw.
His father suffered the same fate after two years of mourning and ensuring his son would not be marked for the same doom.
Cedrida had to be curious for the duties that required a spy. The connection between his parents' deaths and many others reported conflicted him too much to not start searching. That's when he saw them. Documents, seemingly hit-lists, were on display for his eyes.
His father's name presented itself on the parchment, bisected by a stripe of ink. Below it was his very own first name followed by his mother's surname. Curiosity kills. On cue, he had seen the traitor's face just as he was bashed into the wall. This was the first time he ever raised his voice above a strict demand.
He tore out the man's cold heart with his own blade. He sat there, watching the man die slowly, and his own heart beginning to feel unfeeling. This man was a vampire, and also second-in-command at the time. The highest command was killed shortly (and permanently) before Cedrida, and the Ace never knew. Clutching his torso, Cedrida burned the body until it was nothing but ash, and he laid down on the opposite end of the room.
He woke up to a damp sensation. He was cocooned in fine fabrics, heavy with water from the roaring falls. Whoever sent him away never succeeded in getting him to Sovngarde. He lives with the fact that he essentially faked his death.
As if Meridia pitied him.
All he has now is a duty to track snakes.
× He is ironic for a vampire.×
⤜ Theme ⤛
† Morthaine "Morgan" Ever †
" My loyalty lies not with who, but why they would need my loyalty."
"A bird sitting on a branch is never afraid of the branch breaking; its trust is not on the branch, but in its wings."-Unknown
× Age is estimated to late 20's; she couldn't care less about time and the limit it has one one's schedule.Image
× Reserved in terms of romance/sexuality. She has never been able to define love, nor has had any real interest in it (this could change over the course of role-play). The concept of romance is a confusing one to her.
× Discreet assassin. She is purely solo, and - in fact - despises the known guilds.
× Travel is routine. She is a wanderer rarely seen-easily dismissed- one may note her lack of a traveler's bag. She visits inns, and occasionally soldier camps. The most sleep she ever gets or cares for is around 4 hours at most.
× Family is her mother alone. Her mother was the one that taught her defence (though Morgan took some of that skill to fighting). Her father, however, was never a part of her life, except the cause of her existence. Doubtless if he were one of the two that tried dragging her mother into submission, him being the only one that actually succeeded.
× The view on the war is not entirely specified when asked. She finds all parties to be an annoyance.
× Gods are merely an existence; she will never worship any, nor speak of them in good manner. She claims to create her own luck, her own fate, her own time. It is not uncommon for her to face the wrath of the deities for being supposedly ungrateful. She has minor history on dealing with priests.
× Though her immune system is very secure, she is still mortal. She has a habit of picking at open wounds, said for the various scars she bears. Rest is scarce. She has no real concern for her physical condition.
× She is purely nord (and resistant to cold temperatures- or she simply refuses to acknowledge when she is within the first stage of frostbite).
× Her voice is rather low to be feminine, but high for a male- part of the reason she can be mis-gendered. Her tone is clear, though her accent is bland enough to not be an accent at all- it is a hard guessing game to place her location of origins.
× She goes by Morgan to those she labels a stranger/acquaintance.
"A fine coat is not always an indication of an attractive mind."-Aesop's Fables
× Her eyes are probably the most notable attribute. The iris is unnaturally pale, and almost makes her sclera appear rather dim. It does not help with the addition of darkness about from unhealthy sleep.Skills
× The most distinguishable scars are on her face and ring fingers. The duo of fingers was sloppily amputated by a man that she refused to "go home with", which resulted in a violent act- she was "not going to be married any time soon". The scar on her face is the average battle scar, running from the center of her lips to the outermost left brow.
× Her body is honed by years of battle and experience in agility. Lean, broad- her skin, however, almost a deathly pale.
× Her hair is messy, rarely tended to, and fit to her hood that 'most never comes off. It is not entirely lustrous, almost a rather dull brown.
× Prone to causing discomfort, she shamelessly observes people with a bold but blank stare- when she's not eyeing her hands.
× She wears ragged attire, dotted by a variety of tears and a few ends scorched. There is metal protection in the suspected shape of a feather on her left arm (possibly silver), constructed to block while still maintaining some flexibility with the curve of her arm. Tassels hang from a pristine bird skull (this too is made of silver) on her waist's belt, the skull being the holster for her sword. Lastly, her hood and mouth-mask are hardly ever removed in the eyes of others. Her attire allows for "blending", often taking up silent reputation of a Vigilant of Stendarr or travelling mages on the roads.
× Her weapons include a quicksilver bastard sword and up to 5 ebony kunais hidden under her sash. The sword has a subtle engraving written in Dovahzul-"Risk Taker"- of which can describe both her and her sword. With the weapons, she also has a secure satchel worn on a thigh, containing poisons and linen bandages, along with a few scripts.
× She favors her left hand, but her right hand proves just as useful.
× She stands around 5"10, relatively lissome limbs being the main reason.
"I did not fail, I found a way to do it wrong." -Benjamin Franklin
× A nord, yet considered to be her own breed. Her "battle cry" is not a roar, but rather a shrill scream. It can temporarily stun an opponent, if not deafen them. The skill is rather hard on her throat, sometimes even leaking blood out of her mouth from its use.Personality
× She is focused mainly on one-handed swords and smaller, axes and maces are an exception when the first-mentioned are unavailable. As for two-handed, she is only able with halberds. She has no skill in the bow. However, arrows are her friend when she misplaces her throwing blades.
× Maintaining her own poisons, it is figured that she has experience in alchemy. However, she only has experience with making poisons. She has no knowledge on healing or "boost" potions, claiming that bandages come by cheaper.
× She cares not for magic. In fact, she becomes oddly hawkish when she is being preached at about the "wonders of Winterhold".
× She stays in no single place. She is not repetitive in her movements, though she does stick to the swift, clean route. She can be generally identified from the clean, precise marks on her opponents.
× Her weak area is magic. Relatively, she is unable to use scrolls or tomes; not even a staff. She has a lot more potential in dodging fired spells than learning them. Blessed she might as well be when her opponent has no form of life-detection in their abilities.
× No doubt that thieving would be a stat. Uses her superior sneak to her advantage, though she sees coin as a joke. At most, she steals uncooked meats and sometimes a temporary horse. "Coin is merely an illusion and lazy way to obtain", she'd say.
× Her coordination is found everywhere on her body. It would be expected from someone that scales cliffs and bounds from surface to surface with ease.
"Her actions are predicted to not be predictable."
Morthaine is not very giving- same can be said for taking. Dismissive, she has no intentions of polite mannerism, holding the door for none. With stubbornness, she often keeps her matters in her own hands, taking little to no heed of offers to heal her recent battle wounds or to sustain her hunger. Overall, she is insensitive and stoic, but curiosity lies underneath the facade. Her snarky side would show more often if it weren't for her quiet watchful nature. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise if she lusted for blood... A vampire without suckers.
Arrogance is a negative. She can be flashy in combat, and she has to be reminded that she is not invincible, said for the patterns of sores about her hide. Reckless to the extreme, she will leap off maddening heights; she can be considered "really brave or very foolish." Often probable, her actions can be shocking (and without a single regret), affirming that everything is allowed, as long as she is willing to take the consequences. She is seen unnaturally calm in all scenarios, but the true emotion lies within her eyes, and perhaps the occasional twitch in her nimble fingers.
The closest to "genuine" would be brutally honest answers, laced with a sincere voice (that she can muster).
She assassinates for she believes is beneficial, whether it be to her or for the common. Due to her wish to stay discreet, she rarely takes "inferior contracts worth a single grain of a brick".History
Nestling, oh tyke
How Mother wishes your presence so. She knows you are officially beyond tears, beyond any sorrowful emotion, beyond any feel for misery.
Mother is full of apologies yet spoken for how you stand, but she only knows air will be in your wings' favor.
Mother made quite the mess today. She did not bother cleaning it. It stained the floor. But Mother did it for the best. Mother was attacked by a thirsty man. He pinned her to the floor. Don't fret, darling, she ended his thirst and more. All liquids he could have ever needed are merely red stains on the floor. He was served well by ebony. Messy was the engraved tattoo on his throat that led down his chest.
Your name is engraved as well, fledgling. She hopes this new light will serve your path. She hopes that light will give you good friends. She hopes that light will serve and be served with your admirable mind of the shadows.
My darling, you always were skilled in playing hide and seek. More than ever
The journal was almost obliterated by the flames, but with second thoughts, Morthaine hurriedly scrambled for it with the fire poker, the same fire poker that left the home messier than the story within the journal scrap. Furniture was skewed out of the burst of a pulsing mental vein, a burst of fury alone. Her hands at this very moment and the eventful moments before were so spastic.
Father was none known to her world. A father figure was probably a man of her mother's forgotten inn that was one of two that tried dragging the woman to submission, and the only one that succeeded. After that, her mother was overwhelmed with a desire to owe justice. She passed her personal training to her daughter, with the exception that Morthaine was able to be much more developed as the skill began at an early age of nearly nine.
Her mother's inn is abandoned, and will forever remain. Her mother was still breathing when it was left, and she became a smithy, and a rather good one as well, designing weapons with a hilt that enabled throwing them. Her mother's death caused by an intruder unknown, but could be assumed to be in relation to those her mother slayed in self-defense.
Her mother's written thoughts are within her tactics. Many of the ink that is scribbled in the secure journal is relived by Morthaine to finish tasks that her mother couldn't/wouldn't do, whether it be thieving for her own survival or completing the abandoned designs of armor.
× She can be figuratively depicted as one of Skyrim's eagles. She can go unnoticed, but when trouble arrives- she is a very hard target to hit, and sticks to where most find difficult to reach, whether it be the narrowest platform on a mountain or a hold's towering walls.×
× Chaotic Neutral/Good ×
× Inspired from Assassin's Creed ×