Private {18+} |OOC| Ascension

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    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    It is the hundredth year of the fifth era of Nirn. And it is a time of strife. Over a hundred years ago, near the close of the fourth era, the second great war between the Aldmeri dominion and the Mede Empire ignited. Ten years later, it is over. Emperor Titus Mede the third, is dead. His family is gone. A new power has risen. A new emperor, beloved by the people, and if the new church, the Imperial Faith, is to be beleived, he is more than a mere man. A god in human form.

    The new emperor is kind to his people. Or so they think. Every man and woman capable of bearing arms is recruited into the legions. There is no refusal. The church of the Imperial Faith have replaced the old divines. Worship of any of the Nine is punished by death...or worse. Confessors patrol every city, every town, every village, with a keen eye, watching for heresy.

    Magic is strictly controlled. Mages must be licensed and provide their location to the office of the high judicator when asked. Legion mages are bound to service with arcane oaths. Those found practicing magic without a license are put to death, regardless of their reason for doing so.

    The Aldmeri dominion, once a powerful faction capable of conquering the empire, is no more. In a cruel twist of fate, the Thalmor who once rooted out cells of 'heretics' are now forced to operate in rebel cells themselves. Morrowind, High Rock, and Skyrim are under the emperors' iron fist, as are the former territories of the dominion.

    However, there are some who resist. The first rebellion started in Skyrim. However, unlike his predecessors, the new emperor was not caught off guard. At the first hint of independence, several full legions were sent in to the frozen tundra. The nordic rebellion was utterly crushed, and the Road of Repentance, stretching from Windhelm to the Imperial City, was built by the enslaved population, and paved with the bones of the fallen rebels. A lingering reminder to those who dare rise up against their new god.

    Despite this spectacular failure, Hammerfell, High Rock and several factions from Morrowind to the Summerset Isles continue to fight back, against the odds. The legions are stretched thin, and the new gods powerful underlings, charged with ruling his lands, the Archons, are desperate for manpower.

    To this end, they turn to the dregs of society. Mercenaries, criminals, outcasts. All of these can be used, and later discarded. Their is no shortage of these people throughout the empire. Things may appear clean and happy on the surface, but below is ripe with crime and corruption. And so a call goes out to the scum of the new empire, to serve a new god.

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    Rules
    1: Overpowered weapons, abilities, and armours are out. Such would include an armour that absorbs all damage, or a sword that forms magic barriers, or kills large groups of enemies with magical pulses, etc. Abilities, would be shouts, master-level spells, etc.

    2: Decent spelling/grammar is required.

    3: You may NOT be a leader of any guild/faction. Besides the usual tie ins with the 'overpowered/overpowered gear' thing, most of the guilds have changed so much in the time that's passed, (almost two centuries) that being the leader simply isn't feasible.

    4: You may NOT have your character be a 'champion' of the divines/daedra.

    5: You may Not have your character know any shouts. The Last Dragonborn (main character of Skyrim), has been dead for decades now.

    6: You may have between one and three characters, so long as you can write them properly. In fact, I encourage the use of more than one characters , due to the nature of this roleplay.

    7: As it says in the title, this is an 18+ RP. That means there may/will be gore, coarse language, and sexual situations.

    8: Tying in with rule 7. If a pair of writers do decide to have a sex scene between their characters, please keep it classy. We don't need someone who lied about their age being scarred for life. Fade to black if you think it's getting a little too graphic.

    9: Shouldn't need to be said, but; don't go around controlling other writers' characters. If you've both agreed to co-write a scene, that's fine, or if someone gives permission. Otherwise, leave it alone.

    10: There will be a character card template posted. Follow it. It isn't hard. If you your card doesn't follow the template, I won't consider it for acceptance.

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    Additional information
    This roleplay will be divided into three 'parts': Hunters' Gathering, Emperors' Prize, and Become Immortal. It is the most ambitious sequence of writing I've done since the Dusk and Nightfall roleplays that crashed and burned some years ago. To that end, I've assembled a list of writers to join me. That does not mean that I won't be accepting writers.

    If you plan to join this roleplay, please read up on the background here: http://skyrimforum.com/sf/threads/ascension-background-information.139241/#post-2355241
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
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    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    List of Approved Writers

    Madrar as Thalien Naast and Joren Crowe

    @Drahkma as Kyros Duenfeur

    @TheShadedOne as Athara

    @Harkatti as Cyrius Valiel and Elwyn Suvarion

    @Rafen as Caleb Briarstone

    @Rell Uzar Sal Malog

    @Signus as Orien Catus

    @Screeching Spasmodically as Adalia Suthran and Lilliana Numaria

    @Morbidbread as Elrasur Moraven

    @TheArgonianDrell as Iornath Greysong

    @Thesius as Vintor Haskal

    @The_Lost_Foxtrot as Mathias

    @The Seraph as Sylandres Telindial

    @fellowknight as Karsan Myre and Morva Savaain

    Current amount of characters: 19


    Open Spaces

    0/4

    NPC Characters'

    Any accepted writer can submit an NPC for consideration. They can be one off characters, or fellow mercenaries that will tag along with the main group, for a time, anyways. If you are hoping to submit an NPC, include their gender, race, appearance, and a brief backstory and personality. See Var'Hess, below.

    NPC speech will always be written in white.

    Var'Hess- Khajiit male, friendly, professional ex-dominion soldier, missing the tip of his right ear, and with a hoop earring in the left. Blue eyes, and black fur, except for white spots along his chin and neck.


     
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    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Name: Joren Crowe

    Alias: The Crow, Nightwing.

    Age: 34

    Sex: Male

    Race: Nord (50%) Breton (50%)

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: N/A

    Laterality: Ambidextrous

    Afflictions: N/A

    Appearance: Joren stands at 5'11", and has a muscular, lean build, typical of most warriors. His hair is black, falling almost to his shoulders. Many scars mark his body, most on his chest and back, and one long one that stretches from the base of his skull the his right shoulder. However, these are not his most distinguishing features. Jorens' skin, despite having traveled throughout most of Tamriel, has remained snow white, leading to some assuming he is a vampire. His eyes are even more noticable. The irises so dark that they seem as black as his pupils, and as those fortunate enough to look into his eyes and live, seem to absorb light.

    Armour: To match with his combat style, Joren wears light leather armour over most of his body. The only exceptions are his torso, which is covered in fine, dark chainmail, his shoulders, which are covered by lightweight, though equally dark, steel plates, and his forearms, which are covered in a similar metal to his shoulders. He wears fingerless gauntlets, made of the material previously mentioned, and leather boots that do not quite reach his knees. Over all of this, he wears a hooded cloak of midnight black cloth.

    Weaponry: His primary weapon is an ebony steel bladed halberd. The weapon shares the physical shape of a standard halberd, save for the colouration. As a secondary weapon, he carries a long steel dagger, that he keeps on his person at all time. A smaller dagger is sheathed at the small of his back, for emergencies.

    Class: Assassin

    Combat preference: When he has the element of surprise, Joren prefers to stalk his enemy from a distance, and preferably a height. When ready, he drops nearby, cutting them down with a practiced swipe of his halberd. In a fair fight, he forms a nearly impenetrable shield by spinning his weapon, deflecting the blows of the enemy while lining up his own. Above all else, Crowe will seek a quick, decisive end to a fight. If that means fighting dirty, then so be it, so long as the enemy is dead, he is satisfied.

    Personality: Joren comes across as cold and calculating, perhaps unsurprisingly. Despite the common saying 'don't judge a book by it's cover', in this case, first impressions of Crowes' personality are overwhelmingly correct. He will not hesitate to sacrifice his 'companions' or innocents to achieve his goals. The law has meant nothing to him since he was a young boy. Kindness, is not something he truly understands. Surprisingly, he does understand loyalty, and is fiercely loyal to his companion. The one person in this wretched world he is willing to die for. He is also extremely anti social, and it is rare for his companions to hear him speak more than a few words.

    Religion: None. His mother never spoke of the Nine when he was growing up, he certainly doesn't believe the emperor is a god.

    Positive traits: Unwaveringly loyal. Clever.

    Negative traits: Arrogant. Callous. Extremely antisocial.

    Likes: The night, stealth, completion of a good plan.

    Dislikes: Bright light, chaos (without purpose), most living beings.

    Fears: As Thalien is the only living person he considers a friend, he is privately terrified of losing him, and willing to do anything in his power to prevent it.

    History: The new empire had already risen when Joren was a boy. Born on the border of Skyrim and High Rock, his childhood was filled with violence, death, and misery. Shortly before he turned ten, the jarls of Skyrim declared their war against the new emperor, and his father, a nord through and through, left to join his brethren. He never came back. His breton mother, understanding the danger, took Joren and fled over to High Rock, to live with relatives.

    They had a few blessed years before the war came to the homeland of the bretons. Jorens' mother was killed by a stray catapult shot several weeks into the war. With his home destroyed, and most of his family dead or fighting, he was left to survive on his own.
    This was when he met his lifelong friend Thalien Naast. Another orphan of the war, Thalien was unique in that he was gifted with foresight, often seeing prophetic visions of the near or...not so near future. Together, the two boys survived the wars terrors, eventually learning how to defend themselves. Late in their teenage years, the pair joined a mercenary band fighting for the king of Daggerfall, known as the Nights' Talons.

    The group lead dozens of raids on imperial supply lines and prisoner convoys. They were also tasked with assassinating enemy commanders, something Joren quickly gained a talent for, earning himself the name 'nightwing.' However, the Night's Talons were eventually tracked back to their lair, and slaughtered in open battle. Only Joren, Thalien and a handful of others escaped, and only because of Thaliens prophetic abilities.

    The group managed to infiltrate the imperial city of Bruma, but skirmishes with the enforcers that constantly patrol the empires' towns whittled the group down to just Thalien and Joren. Now the two lead a shadowed existence, though news of a call for mercenaries has caught their attention.

    Dialogue Colour: This


    Name: Thalien Naast

    Alias: Seer. (Which he hates.)

    Age: 34

    Sex: Male

    Race: Breton (50%) Nord (50%)

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: N/A

    Laterality: Right handed

    Afflictions: His visions. Most of the people he know call them 'blessing from the gods'. This often causes Thalien to laugh, and compare them to a curse of the foulest type. The one with no known cure.

    Appearance: Thalien isn't quite as tall as his companion, Joren. He stands at 5'9", with black hair, and deep blue eyes. His hair is kept short, as well as his beard, revealing several scars along his scalp, and one just under his left eye. He is noticeably muscled, though not so much as to appear bulky. If one can ignore the scars, he could be classified as handsome, with thin arching brows, high cheekbones, and a thin nose.

    Armour: He wears the same leather and chainmail as his companion, though he has fully armoured his arms, legs and upper torso in dark steel plate. He wears full gauntlets, as he relies on a longsword, and in his own words 'prefers to keep his fingers.' He wears no helm, believing it would obscure his vision in combat, despite the risk of a lucky blade or projectile getting through. Like Joren he owns a black and hooded cloak.

    Weaponry: His only weapon, is the longsword, which he has named Ferrum Noctis. The nightblade. The reason for this is obvious; the entire blade of the weapon is forged from ebon steel. The cross guard angles forwards, with a leather and wire wrapped grip, and a pommel in the shape of a fanged bats' maw.The blade has been in his possession since his childhood, and only death will part them.

    Class: Spellsword

    Combat preference: Thalien learned early on that it is imperative to end a fight as soon as possible. The longer one drags on, the easier it is to make mistakes. Fatal mistakes. To this end, Thalien uses a combination of quick, close combat focused magic, and his sword, the Ferrum Noctis. Though he is a capable spell caster, at least of simple elemental magic, he relies more on his blade.

    Personality: Thalien isn't quite as ruthless as his friend. He can be compassionate at times, and is posseses a sardonic sense of humor. He can, however, be astonishingly brutal, though he hides this behind a fairly friendly veil. He is less likely to betray his allies, unless he feels he has no other choice, and beleives in paying back a debt, no matter how long it might take him. His prophetic visions often put him in a foul mood, and he is much more likely to lash out in the aftermath of one.

    Religion: None, though he will often curse them.

    Positive traits: Loyal. Quick thinking. Determined.

    Negative traits: Slightly manipulative, though never of his friends. Cynical

    Likes: Seeing a plan come to fruition, quiet, night.

    Dislikes: Betrayal, his visions, anarchy.

    Fears: Being unable to do anything about his visions. A fear that is far too often realized.

    History: Unlike Joren, Thalien never knew his father, and his mother never spoke of him. She died of a wasting sickness shortly before the war broke out in High Rock. With no other family to care for him, Thalien was left to fend for himself at the age of nine. For years he scavenged what food he could, hiding in terror from the imperial legions, and the hordes of Penitent that followed in their wake.

    He met Joren when as the other boy fought an imperial legionaire with a broken spear. The boy had already killed one man, but a gash on his neck was slowing him, bleeding him as the fight wore on. With little thought for his own safety, he rushed to the skirmish, and picked up the fallen soldiers sword. While the living imperial was distracted, Thalien ran him through from behind, saving Jorens' life. Though neither boy knew it at the time, this was the start of an unbreakable friendship.

    The two fought the empire as members' of the Nights' Talons, and later on their own, disrupting the enemy with cunning traps and assassinations. A vision has lead the pair to Bruma, where they keep out of the sight of the enforcers, and the far more intimidating confessors. However, an announcement may herald the end of their concealment...a call for warriors.

    Dialogue Colour: This
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    So this is the 'thing' Shaded mentioned? Very nice. I'll get a CC up in the morning.
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    Oh MAN Madrar!!!! I barely have free time to write anymore as is, and this RP is BEGGING me to join up. I might consider it later on but for now I am definitely going to keep interested and reading. Cannot wait to see how this thing plays out!
     

    Screeching Spasmodically

    Spasmodic Screecher
    Two characters, you say? Well, I happen to have a couple in waiting in the wings....I mean. <_< I don't have a document with a bunch of characters just waiting to be used....that would be... >_> crazy.

    Name: Adalia Suthran

    Alias: N/A

    Sex: Female

    Race: Redgaurd

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Widow

    Laterality: She can use both hands to cast spells, but favors the right.

    Afflictions: N/A

    Appearance: Adalia is a slim woman with moderate curves, a thin nose, and full lips. Her skin is best described as the rich, golden butter shade of caramel, making her paler than most redguard people. Adalia's dark hair is braided, with small sea shells being woven into it. Most of her body is devoid of scars. A few small ones mark her face, the most notable being barely an inch in length,angling down from the right corner of her mouth. It only really draws attention when she smiles. She wears a necklace set with a round sapphire the size of a human thumbnail.

    Armour: Being a mage, she doesn't beleive in covering herself head to foot in constricting armor. Instead, she wears a light tunic, the color of beach sand, and pants slightly darker in tone. Over this she wears a multi-colored robe, that ranged from the turquoise of the sea, to a deep, navy blue. It is lighter toned around the shoulders and chest area, and gradually gets darker the lower it reaches. For footwear she has a pair of leather boots that don't quite reach her knees.

    Weaponry: Adalia relies solely on destruction based magics. Specifically, lightning spells, from concentrated shocks, to chained lightning, capable of downing three or four enemies at once. She does have some close combat spells, but the vast majority are mid to long range.

    Class: Storm mage

    Combat preference: Wearing robes and lacking any type of melee weapon means that Adalia is very poorly suited to close combat. Blades typically don't have much of a problem hacking through robes, so she will almost always stay to the rear of a group, lending her powerful destruction spells to the battle. If required, she has some close combat-physical spells, but she prefers to keep out of melee range.

    Personality: Adalia is generally a warm caring person, with a mischivious streak. However, she is quick to anger, and is often the first to act, rather than sit around and deliberate. She tends to look after the younger of her companions first, with an almost motherly concern. To most others, she comes off as aloof, with a bit of arrogance, especially towards what she considers to be 'dull warrior types.'

    Religion: The Nine Divines

    Positive traits: Caring, determined, friendly

    Negative traits: Hot-headed, aloof, a little arrogant.

    Likes: The sea, sailing, rain, thunderstorms

    Dislikes: Intense heat and cold, pirates, thugs.

    Fears: Losing friends, failing to follow through on a promise.

    History: Adalia was born and raised in capital of Hammerfell, Sentinel. From a young age it was clear that she was a gifted sailor, heading out onto the boats any chance she got. She became more and more adventurous as she aged. By the time she was eighteen, she discovered her arcane powers. The distrust the redguard people have for sorcerers was less of a problem for Adalia. She spent so much time on the open water, very few of her fellows actually knew she was gifted. Of course, she often used her magics to influence the winds in the sails, or warn of a coming storm. She was greatly valued by the crew of her ship, the Diadem.

    After several years at sea that she was finally promoted to captain, and given a ship and crew of her own to command. She named it the Stormsprite. The new vessel soon lived up to its' name, sailing through storms that would have ruined even the greatest of warships. Many a raider or pirate vessel learned this the hard way, as they attempted to sail through storms, only to be chased down by the pirate hunter, or destroyed by the sea and winds.

    It was on her wild adventures along the coast of Hammerfell and Highrock that she met her husband, Tarir. His ship had been sunk by pirates just off the coast of southern Hammerfell, and as luck would have it, Adalia had been passing by in time to see his pitiful form desperately clinging to the ruin of his ship. Her crew fished him from the sea, and Adalia herself nursed Tarir back to health. The grateful man joined her crew, and proved himself a capable swordsman and sailor. Eventually, the two became lovers, marrying at sea. Much to their despair, they were unable to concieve children.

    Despite this, the two became closer than ever, supporting each other through the bad days. Of course, this couldn't last. Adalia and the Stormsprite had become known as dreaded pirate hunters along the coast of Hammerfell. A cunning pirate leader managed to ambush the Stormsprite. Tarir was killed in the defense of the ship, and wracked with grief, Adalia gathered However, the Stormsprite was lost, and Adalia ordered her surviving crew to abandon ship.

    Without a ship, a husband, and her remaining crew either drowned or scattered, Adalia left Hammerfell, and her pain, behind. She knew well the dangers of wandering through the empire, especially since they now controlled about half of her homeland. As an unregistered mage in the empire, she knew she would be hunted, and so heads to the seedy underworld of the empire, with a her goal being survival, whatever the cost.

    Dialogue Colour: That teal-turquoise colour


    Name: Lilliana Numaria
    Alias: n/a
    Age: 18
    Sex: Female
    Race: Imperial

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: N/A

    Laterality: Right handed.

    Afflictions: Vampirism (not the 'usual' kind)

    Appearance: Lilliana has passed slim and is bordering on unhealthily skinny. Her chestnut colored hair reaches to the base of her neck, and her bangs hang down, occasionally getting in the way of her forest green eyes. She has no real curves to speak of, leading to many often confusing her for a boy at a distance, or when she's wearing her robes. For most of her life, Lilliana lead a sheltered life in the imperial city, meaning she has no scars.

    Armour: Since she's lived most of her life as a scribe in the imperial city, she wears nothing that could be considered armour. She wears a plain, off-white tunic, dark, brownish pants, and a similar robe that she uses to carry her equipment as well as conceal her identity.

    Weaponry: She's a scribe. Quill, ink and paper?

    Class: Scribe.

    Combat preference: Usually, running and hiding.

    Personality: Lilliana is a kind and gentle soul, heavily averted to violence, and will avoid any kind of confrontation, if she can. She's not one to seek out conversation or company, and if she is surrounded by people, she will keep to herself as much as possible. However if someone is desperately in need of help, she will do her best to lend assistance, so long as she doesn't have to charge into battle.

    Religion: The god-emperor publicly, the nine divines in secret.

    Positive traits: Caring, smart, reasonable

    Negative traits: easily frightened, naive.

    Likes: Books, writing, libraries

    Dislikes: Violence, rude people, illiterate/ignorant people

    Fears: Losing her books, or losing her treasured journal.

    History: Born in a small village several hours ride west of the imperial city, Lilliana was born to a retired scribe and his wife. Her father taught her how to read and write so that someday she might rise to prominence, or at least be able to feed herself. So it was a pleasant surprise when her father received a notice from the imperial archives from the capital, calling for skilled writers to detail the god-emperors' rise to power and his salvation of the empire, Lilliana and her parents were thrilled.

    Within the week, the young imperial was headed for the capital of the empire, and destined for a life of comfortable living and easy work. For the first few months, she spent poring through decades old scrolls and history books, taking notes, picking out the highlights of the emperors rise to power. That was when she came across the first snag. Her superiors came to her in the archives, bringing the rough copy of her work. The emperor didn't want another history book, they told her. He wanted a saga of his deeds. And only his. So Lilliana had started again.

    The second visit was more disturbing by far. It was not her superiors who came to see her. Or at least, they weren't scribes. Though Lilliana had only ever heard of them in stories told by her father, she recognised them by the robes, and their tattoos that seemed to move with a life of their own. Did she understand, they asked her, the holy work she was doing here? How important it was that the work was nothing short of perfect? The young scribe said she understood, but she could see the doubt in the Confessors' eyes.

    It was nearing the end of the first month of her stay in the city that the nightmares started. Pounding heartbeats and screams of terror. Wails of pain and anguish. And the pleasure it brought. When she woke on that first morning, she was sickened by the dreams, the nightmares. However, she chose to ignore them, and say nothing, continuing her work for the emperor. Soon, the nightmares transferred into reality, and to her horror, Lilliana realised she was 'hearing' the fears and pains of those around her. A broken wrist from a bad fall, the fear of the ever present Confessors'...

    Several nights later, Lilliana fled, taking only some provisions, her scribe robes, and a journal with several inkpots and quills. Knowing that to flee home would endanger her parents, she ran north, eventually ending up in Bruma. News of her 'slandering the emperors' name' spread there soon after, forcing her ever deeper into the seedy underworld of the northern city.

    Dialogue Colour:
    Pinkish


    I hope I included everything from your background information thread okay. I'll change it if needed.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    Name: Vintor Haskal

    Alias:N/A

    Age: 39

    Sex: Male

    Race: Imperial

    Sexuality:Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: N/A

    Laterality: Right handed.

    Afflictions: N/A

    Appearance: Vintor is just under two meters tall, with a broad chest and muscular arms. His hair and beard are both relatively short, and dark blonde, almost brown, though both are beginning to be marked with grey. Pale blue eyes are set in a chiseled, scarred visage. Of the many scars Vintor has acquired, the most notable is the one that crosses his face, from just over his right eye, to end beside the left corner of his mouth. His armour covers the rest of the scars, though the beginning of one at the left side of his neck is just barely visible.

    Armour: Steel plate covers most of his body, reinforced in the torso area, to provide greater protection from straightforward assaults. Under the heavy plate he wears chainmail, offering additional protection to his arms and legs. His helm is often compared to a sinister, metalic skull. The eyes are upside down half-ovals, and four narrow slits, two angling to the left, and two to the right, form a skullish mouth.

    Weaponry: Vintor wields an ebony bladed flanged mace, ideal for crushing through the armour of all but the toughest enemies, and lacerating the flesh beneath. The haft of the weapon is slightly longer than an average mace, giving the former paladin a better chance at countering longer weapons.

    Class: Dark Paladin/Warrior

    Combat preference: Prefers to be in the thick of the fight, where his heavy armour will protect him from most assaults, and where he can deal the most damage. Vintor will primarily use his mace in combat, sometimes in concert with the dark magics he's learned since he was a paladin of Arkay. In his travels he met a mage who he convinced to enchant his armour with an aura of cold. While useless against undead or magically shielded individuals, it gives him a slight edge against mortal enemies, slowing them enough for him to get in a crippling or killing blow.

    Personality: Vintor possesses a dry wit, mixed with a slightly warped sense of humour. He also comes across as a bit of a pessimist. Pessimism that is justified by the former paladins experiences. He is often the first to hint that something is not quite right, or suggest that something that seems simple is more often than not a trap. However, he will honour his word, and will endeavor to repay any debts.

    Religion: Formerly, Arkay of the Nine Divines. Now, he is without faith, and sneers at those who are.

    Positive traits: Experienced. Focused, honourable

    Negative traits: Pessimistic. Sarcastic. Arrogant

    Likes: Reading, open spaces, travel

    Dislikes: Godly men and women, the 'new god' and his followers, people who kill without reason.

    Fears: Confined spaces, being underground.

    History: Born the son of an imperial noble, Vintor had no interest in languishing in nobility. Instead, he joined the paladins of Arkay shortly after he turned eighteen. For a decade, the imperial paladin traveled throughout Tamriel, helping those he could, and smiting evil in Arkays' name. Of course, that was before the new emperor and his 'imperial faith' came to power.

    Declared heretics, the paladins were hunted by the people they had onced helped, along with the new emperors' forces. It was a slaughter, on both sides. Dozens of enemies died for every paladin cut down. When the enemy regrouped, Vintor lead a small group out, hoping to gather aid. They, apparently, found it in Skyrim. Unknown to them, the emperors' new faith had moved faster than the beaten and battered group.

    Desperate for help, Vintor had lead his comrades directly into the empires' grip. At the end, only he survived, mourning friends of over a decade, and cursing a god that had done nothing to stop their deaths. From that point on, Vintor Haskal swore that he would follow no god. He destroyed the symbols of Arkay on his armour and fled, becoming a nightmare to the 'confessors' of the new faith, while engineering his formerly faith-gifted abilities into something....darker.

    Dialogue Colour: Gold
     
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    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.

    The_Lost_Foxtrot

    Luwd uf Shoduws
    Name: Mathias

    Alias: The Grimm

    Age: 23

    Race: half nord and half Breton

    Sex: male

    sexuality: Heterosexual

    religion: doesn't belive in gods

    Relationship/Marital status : Single

    Laterality: right handed but can use left hand if needed

    Combat preference: Mathias has always been in a Warrior who relays on his mastery over shadow and Magic. He can use both illusion and sword/dagger to take Down an enemy, and knows some alchemy for potions and poisens. and because of his training he is agile.

    Class: assassin/illusionist

    Character Appearance: Mathias stands at 5'10 and has a light skin color, he has medium leangth raven black hair and unusual deep purple eyes that glows when he uses Magic and a well built body from all the training. Has rune looking scars carved all over his body from the ritual (will be explained), and a scar that goes from the right eyebrow, over the bridge of the nose and ends under his left eye.

    Crow appearance: in his crow form he has Pitch black feathers, that fades into Crimson red at the ends of the feather tails and wings, as well as Crimson feathered markings in the chest and head. he still has Purple eyes that glow slightly.

    Armor: he wears a black and crimson robes that goes a little bit over his knees along with black leather gloves and knee leangth boots, along With light black armor over his chest, shoulders, forearms and some on his boots, and a hood and black mask that resembles a fox wich has cimson metal plating for protection, and a black face mask that goes over the nose and chin, and Down his neck also With Crimson metal plating under the fox mask. the same goes for for the rest of the armor, With Crimson plating out lining the black.

    Weapons: he has a one and a half handel steel and silver sword that has ha fox head at the pommel With he Calls The Fallen One and a dagger of the same metal combo for taking Down undead wich he named Ravens Claw, and have nine thowing knives, four strapped to his chest and five on his belt.

    Personality: Mathias is a strange person, he can be mischievous one second. And cold and emotionless against enemies the next but usually he is serious on "jobs", he isn't so trustworthy of strangers but once you get to know him, he will protect that person With his life.

    Likes: flying, the thrill of fighting strong opponents, eventually those Close to him, and sketching in his book.

    Dislikes/Fears: spiders, open waters (Oceans and such), bows (not that he hates bow users or anything just that he can't shoot with one to save his life) and necromancers.

    streanth: is almost always calm, a master of stealth and illusion and a good swordsman, good spymaster and scout.

    weakness: is usually in pain from the ritual, has to take a mix of Health potion,a small dose skooma and any form of alcahol to reduce the pain, can't aim a bow for s**t. has become slightly addicted to the medicine because of the skooma, and turns frantic from the pain without it.

    History: when Mathias was born in High Rock he was abandoned by his parents and grew up on the streets of Wayrest, where he started to become a ghost and observed the legionaries as they trained and patrolled the streets. after some years he was kidnapped and used by necromancers in a ritual wich backfired on them, killing everyone exept for him.

    Later on as the years went by he trained in the arts of shadow, Magic and sword. as time went on he found out he had abilities like changing his appearance and a deep connection to the arts of illusion, he can even turn into a crow.

    when he beacme older he took on work as a mercenary and assassin and became infamous throughout most Courts and political powers for his skills and successful jobs, and since no one knows his real name the Empire gave him the title The Grimm, the only thing telling it was him is a white rose tainted slightly in blood. And now he is traveling, through Cyrodiil learning everything he can and looking for work.

    dialogue color: This
     
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    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    Obviously I'll be joining this, but I do have a question about the under empire. Is it throughout the proper empire, or just certain locations in individual cities?
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Yeah, I'll probably be rewriting that part. In my defense, I'd just gotten back from work and was fairly exhausted. I'm surprised you were able to make any kind of sense out of it.
     

    Harkatti

    Sorceress Supreme!
    Name: Cyrius Valiel

    Alias: N/A

    Age: Well over two centuries. Appears to be in his early thirties.

    Sex: Male

    Race: Imperial

    Sexuality: Heterosexual (straight)

    Laterality: Right handed, though he can use his left hand when he needs to.

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Afflictions: Vampirism. Though he doesn't see it that way.

    Appearance: Cyrius is quiet handsome, with an aquiline nose, high cheekbones, hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair. He's of average height and weight, with snow pale skin, due to his vampirism. His face is clean shaven, and he has no tattoos or piercings to speak of. His face is unscarred, though he does have a large one just over his heart, where a vigilant of Stendarr hit him with a blessed hammer.

    Armour: Reinforced leather covers his torso and shoulders, though it's hidden under a high necked, dark leather coat that reaches down to his knees. It offers little in the way of protection, but Cyrius doesn't really care about that, relying on speed and skill rather than his armor in any case.

    Weaponry: A steel hand and a half sword, in impeccable condition, with a gently curving crossguard and a leather wrapped hilt.Cyrius has wielded the blade for the greater part of his two centuries, and has an almost unhealthy attachment to the weapon. Other than his sword, he carries a thin, long bladed dagger, and a curved flaying knife, which he keeps hidden in a sheathe on the small of his back.

    Class: Swordsman.

    Combat preference: Cyrius prefers to meet his enemy head on, and preferably one on one. However his decades of swordsmanship mean he's skilled enough to fight two or three enemies at once. Unless the circumstances are extremely dire, he will refrain from using his dagger, relying on his sword in conjunction with his vampiric speed.

    Personality: Even though Cyrius is a competent killer and a vampire, one would not know it from speaking to him. He is generally a calm and courteous individual, who rarely, if ever raises his voice, even in the midst of combat. That does not, however, mean that he is a saint. He is still a dangerous predator, that lulls his prey into a sense of security before striking.

    Religion: None

    Positive traits: Strong willed, reliable, friendly.

    Negative traits: Proud, vain.

    Likes: Displaying his swordsmanship, those that don't judge him for his affliction,winning duels

    Dislikes: Priests, unskilled fighters, superstitious folk.

    Fears: Losing his skills.Falling back into Molag Bals' clutches.

    History: Cyrius is perhaps one of the few to remember life before the new empire rose to power. He lived in the city of Anvil for most of his life, and was already a master swordsman long before he was turned into a vampire. He often ranged along Cyrodiils southern border, visiting Kvatch, Skingrad, and Bravil, before returning home. He became dreaded for his skill with a blade, and bandits hid whenever they recieved news of his approach.

    Such was his pride, that when he heard of monsters terrorising a small village a little ways west of Bravil, he made for it at once. What he didn't realize, was that those 'monsters' were in fact a small coven of vampires. They ambushed Cyrius intending to cut him down so that they could hunt in peace. Even surprised, Cyrius slew several of the bloodsuckers. Their leader, surprised by his skill, decided to turn him, rather than kill. Using his sorcerous skills, he finally brought the imperial to heel, before turning him into a creature of the night.
    As a vampire, Cyrius was free to enhance his swordplay to new levels. However, he'd always been a free spirit, and chafed at the knowledge that Molag Bal had claimed his soul. He visited numerous sorcerers and wise men, seeking a way to free himself from Bals' grasp. Of course, he had no problem with being a vampire- eternal life suited him nicely.

    Finally, he found his answers. A mage in the Cynod, who'd studied the history of vampirism, declared that he would need to complete several tasks for Bal, if he wished his soul to be freed. He found an altar of Bal. Completed the tasks, and regained his soul. He had a few decades to enjoy his freedom, crossing blades with some of the most dangerous individuals in Tamriel. Then the new emperor came to power, and the hunter became the hunted.

    Dialogue Colour: Ice blue



    Name: Elwyn Suvarion

    Alias: The crimson justiciar

    Age: 173, looks to be more like 20-25.

    Sex: Female

    Race: Altmer

    Sexuality: Homosexual (Lesbian)

    Relationship/Marital status: Single


    Laterality: Right hand dominant, but she uses her left for spellcasting.

    Afflictions: N/A

    Appearance: Elwyn is not one somebody would describe as a 'ravishing beauty.' Her dark blonde hair is almost always bound in a ponytail, and long enough that it falls down to the base of her neck. Her eyes are an emerald green, though often they are narrowed with anger or suspicion. She has moderate curves and her armour does very little to emphasise that. When out of armour, it is fairly obvious she is used to fighting. Faded scars mark her body, a testament to over a century of violence.

    Armour: Wears light elven armour, coloured a dull red. Though this does catch the eye, it is still more inconspicous than the gold of her comrades. The armour has been modified slightly to be a little more form fitting,though it offers less protection than the more bulky armours worn by line soldiers. More often than not she will forgo the helmet, as it makes her a little too identifiable in a crowd, instead wearing a dark cloth mask that covers the lower half of her face.

    Weaponry: A longsword, forged from steel and moonstone, giving the blade a pale tan-gold colour. Because of the moonstone added to it, the sword is slightly lighter than most of its'
    size, allowing for faster movement. As a secondary, she uses a standard elven dagger.

    Class: Swordswoman/spellsword

    Combat preference: Unlike most of her kin, Elwyn is not a superb spellcaster. To compensate for this, she focused on becoming a skilled swordswoman, complimenting her sword play with blasts of magic, throwing her opponents off guard, or finishing a particularly dangerous enemy before they could get within weapon range.

    Personality: The best way to describe her would be aloof. Elwyn doesn't particularly care for the company of others, nor does she generally seek it out. She dislikes the empire in general, because of the massacre of her companions that took place outside the imperial city. She dislikes the emperor in particular for obvious reasons. While not exactly a team player, she can be...persuaded to work with a group, mostly for mutual survival or gain.

    Religion: Auri-el

    Positive traits: Focused, experienced,driven to succeed.

    Negative traits: Cold, antisocial, selfcentred

    Likes: Solitude, quiet.

    Dislikes: Loud places, people, imperials, being underestimated

    Fears: Being captured by the empire. Daedra

    History: Elwyn was born in the Aldmeri city of Dusk, and spent most of her childhood and teenage years there. It quickly became apparent that she was a sub-par mage, much to her parents embarrassment, leading to mocking from her peers in the academy. Rather than dwell on her failings, she focused on swordsmanship. Pouring everything she had into fighting with blades, those that had mocked her for her weak spellcraft, were soon silenced.

    When the second great war broke out, Elwyn was not on the front lines like so many others. This may be the reason she survived when the daedra defeated the dominion armies at the imperial city. When she learned of this, the emperors' forces were already retaking territory from the dominion, assissted by the summoned daedric soldiers. With little refuge to be had in her homeland, she went to ground in the the heartland of the empire-Cyrodiil itself. There, she laid low, seeking opportunities for vengeance against this new, dangerous empire.

    Dialogue colour: This
     
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    Snoball

    23rd President of the United States of America
    Not sure if the 4/4 open slots means they are all filled or none are yet, but this is definitely interesting! Would love to apply, or if not, read as it's going
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Go ahead and apply if you're still interested.
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Hey, happy birthday, Rafen!
     

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