Here is my CC entry for the thread.
Character Name: Arthonnen Gilandil
Class: Noble/Lord
Alignment: Neutral, he does as he wants most of the time (which isn't always good, but is also not always bad)
Occupation: Unemployed (He can afford not to have one), does the occasional job for the Morag Tong
Birth Sign: The Lord
Currently Resides: In a newly built manor house just off the coast of Solstheim
Hometown: Almalexia, Morrowind
Age: 30
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Factions: The Temple (and what is left of House Indoril), Morag Tong, the Ordinators
Worships: Nerevar
Appearance:
Height: 6'2
Weight: 168 lbs
Eyes: Red (As is normal for a Dunmer)
Skin Tone: His skin is lighter than most Dark Elves, though still grey (it is reminiscent of a faded white).
Hair: His hair is long and well kept. Much of it is pulled back to keep it out of his face, and it goes on and down to shoulder height at the neck. Often the two exterior most strands are braided, with more hair keeping it back, meeting at the back in a small ponytail. It is a dark brown colour, and despite his youth, has strands of grey in it.
Facial Hair: He is clean shaven.
War Paint: He has no war paint.
Facial Features: His red eyes sit above high cheekbones, a normal distance apart. His nose is quite thin, bridge and nostrils. And his mouth is thin lipped and small. His ears, like most elves are pointed, and he tucks his hair over his ears to keep it in place. His jaw is also high, with it ending in a fairly pointed chin.
Other Physical Appearance: He is well built, though lean. He has a fine posture, as one would expect someone who is rich to have, and walks gracefully and somewhat fluidly. His fingers are long and slender, ending in perfectly shaped nails.
Clothes: He mostly wears a variation of the "Embroidered Garments" found in game. However there are some slight adjustments, the blue is a far deeper and richer navy, and the accenting is a golden colour. He also wears cuffed boots, and tends to wear a light cloak, again in navy, with golden trim and fastenings. In the winter/when it is colder, he wears a heavier, warmer cloak, that is fur lined. Around his neck he wears a golden chain, with the sigil of House Indoril on it, and has a signet ring of the same design on his right hand.
Armour: When armour is required, though he may dislike it, Arthonnen wears all of an Ordinator's armour (refer to image), exactly like the armour shown. It is well polished and appears to be unscratched. The armour, though not made of gold, shines like it, and underneath an ebony mail can just be seen. It is surprisingly lightweight, and fulfills all of the needs duelling requires.
Personality:
Laterality: Bilateral
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
Likes: Wine, Captain of his Guard/Sellswords Galtus (in a bro kinda way), Travelling
Dislikes: Thieves, Not Getting his own Way
Description: Arthonnen Gilandil is a wealthy lord, and he flaunts this. His wealth has made him arrogant, and he does what he wants, when he wants. Though seemingly disgusted by the poor, he is willing to pay them to work as eyes and ears for him (for this he tends to use other valuables as opposed to gold). To his equals (economically, physically, mentally) he is honourable, and respects them for that. He also expects to get his own way on his travels no matter where he is.
Fighting Style:
Weapons: He weilds an ornate rapier and main gauche as his primary weapons. The rapier has a fourty-five inch long blade that gets to two inches at its widest. Up to a third of the way of the blade there are engravings, each one signifying a duel/fight Arthonnen has won with the rapier. The main gauche (a parrying dagger) is quite a bit thicker than the rapier, and is 16 inches in length. For hilt designs see image. He also can be seen using a golden polearm (refer to ordinator armour image for design) or rarely even his own fists, both of which he is trained in using well due to his ordinator training.
Style: Arthonnen's preferred style of fighting is through duelling, be it one on one, one on two or other. And so, he uses an elegant and fluid fighting style which consists of dodging, countering and quickly thrusting at his opponent. However should a situation arise in which he cannot use his rapier, he uses the polearm to keep enemies at bay whilst agiley dodging and countering their blows. He has never fought in a full-flegded battle, and so tends to avoid such moshpits. He rarely uses his fists in combat, but can thanks to his ordinator training.
History:
Arthonnen Gilandil was born to Galos and Alenus Gilandil during the year 4E196 in the city of Almalexia, Morrowind. A rich and powerful family, his first five years were carefree living in the city. However when he was six, his mother died. This led to him and his father moving to Necrom, yet another city that used to be in the Indoril District of Morrowind. Despite being confused and lost, Arthonnen lived happily in Necrom for the next few years. He had no problems money couldn't solve, and he made a point of it to the other children.
On his eleventh birthday, he was taken on a trip to Almalexia. One he didn't return from for another seven years. His father had organised everything perfectly. He was to go on a trip to Almalexia, so he could visit his mother's final resting place. And then, someone would attack him, but allow him to get away. Lost and scared, Arthonnen would run to the person he knew best in Almalexia; Galen Ienith. He was of course allowed in, and was asked the customary questions "Are you okay? What happened? Did they get away?" Now it was at this point when Arthonnen, a weak and defenceless child stated, "I wish I could defend myself..."
Now, Galen, was a member of the New Temple, which was combined with the remains of House Indoril. He offered a simple solution, come and train with the Ordinators. Yes, he was young. Yes, many joined the Ordinators when they started growing the first hairs on the cheek, something Arthonnen did not start doing for another three years. But a young mind, and an eager one, was easy to teach and mold. Arthonnen naturally accepted. All of the arrangements were made, his father was notified that his plan had gone according to plan, and Arthonnen started training.
The next seven years were a blur. He learnt so much. He started with basic training, and was treated no differently from other trainees. So he trained and trained. When he struggled to lift the polearm and broadsword of an adult, something else was needed. And so, a lightweight weapon was created that fit him. A short rapier. No more than twenty inches in length. So he trained with this day in, day out. At the age of sixteen he had outgrown his short rapier, and so forged for him was a long rapier, forty-five inches in length. Even though he did standard training with polearms and such weapons, for he could now carry them, he continued practising with his rapier, and shortly a main gauche, as he found he preferred the more fluid and elegant style.
He left at the age of eighteen, trained and taught in more ways than he ever thought he would be. He was officially inducted into the Ordinators, and the temple, and was given a lightweight set of Ordinator armour. As he rode home to Necrom for the first time in seven years, he looked upon the poor and shuddered. "How could people live like that?" He asked himself, whilst he also thought simply "Scum." He arrived at his father's house, only to find it empty. So he waited inside, helping himself to some vintage Surlie Brothers wine.
*Father's name* walked in on a total stranger. An Ordinator's helmet was on the dining room table, and a fairly attractive youth sat at the table in the rest of the Ordinator's armour. "Father" he said, "I have returned home." They embraced, and Arthonnen spent the evening recounting to his father the events of his training completely unaware that his father was dying before his eyes.
He was dying from an infected wound, that had been caused by a rusted iron shiv tearing his skin as some con tried to steal his money. Arthonnen watched his father just fall forward in the morning, after he had woken up from an unplanned sleep. He was now an orphan. One who could tell, from the wound, that no rich person would kill him. So, donning his helmet, he ventured into the poor market district of Necrom, searching for the con. When at last he found him, after weeks of searching, and demanding, he impaled him on the rapier. No hesitation. Just cleanly slid the blade between his ribs, and left him to slowly die.
And so he left home, to journey far and wide for no reason other than feeling of being out of place in his father's house with no father. So he travelled for a long while, for an exact amount even he doesn't know. But sometime during his travels, he came across a master smith, who forged for him a rapier and main gauche of some strong, steel-like metal. It is this rapier that he carries with him to present. A few weeks later he was in a duel, and a lead member of the Morag Tong witnessed his skill. And so, in the middle of the night the Morag Tong member met with Arthonnen. This meeting, didn't happen on the best of terms, as it started with a kidnapping. But it ended well, with Arthonnen accepting the job and being set free.
After that job, he was paid in gems. And decided, that he needed to remember each kill. So, with the payment, he had an engraving put on the blade. Six months towards the end of his travels, he found himself on the island of Solstheim. After travelling the ashen wasteland, he found a small island to the west. He purchase this plot of land from the slightly hostile Redoran residents of Raven Rock. He then travelled to Cyrodiil, to contract an architect and builders to design and build Arthonnen a manor house reminiscent of the houses of Cheydinhal.
The building took a year to build the house. Over this year, Arthonnen travelled, on a ship he bought. He bought furniture to furnish his house as well as amassing a large amount of sellswords to work as guards for him. The first sellsword he hired was a stout Imperial simply went by the name of Galtus, was made head of the guard, due to his skill and prowess. They hit off instantly, sharing many a late night drinking wine and talking. Upon completion of his house, he returned, and lived there, only leaving to travel and explore, or to do jobs for the Morag Tong.
Twenty-five years after the death of Alduin, Arthonnen heard of the tournament set up by the Dragonborn. Though not entering himself, Galtus wanted to participate in the competition. So, they travelled to Skyrim to partake in the competition. Arthonnen himself on a mission. One of the entrants, an Orc, was his target.
k. thx. bye.