OOC |18+| When Gods Fall

Consider me interested In this thread. Like the premise

 

Is this still open. I am interested.

 

Name: Karon Ashur
Age: 34
Race: Breton
Sex: Male

Class and Combat preference: Karon is a typical knight, charging straight into the heat of combat, swinging his longsword with deceptive skill. Though he is a master swordsman, he has relatively little combat skills besides that. Those attacks he cannot parry, he lets' his heavy armour absorb, returning the blow with righteous fury.

He lacks any skill with bow or magic, preferring to focus on the sword. Unlike most knights, he realises the usefulness of those who are schooled in such arts. As he uses a longsword, he forgoes as shield to deal as much damage as possible.

Character Appearance: Karon stands at just under two metres tall, and is well muscled from years of knightly training. He sports several scars from several desperate battles. His eyes are a pale grey, and his hair is as dark as a ravens' wing.

He wears heavy plate armour and chainmail when ready for battle. Though the weight slows him down somewhat, he has worn it for long enough it feels like a second skin to him. A visored 'sugar loaf' helm, conceals his features most of the time, though when resting, he often takes it off. Over this, he wears a tattered, dark brown traveling cloak.


Character image: Helm is wrong, but otherwise accurate.)

Personality: Karon is generally a kind soul, though he has little tolerance for those that engage in blatant cruelty or lawbreaking. Wherever he goes, he is willing to help those in need of it, whether that be his swordarm, or a sturdy shoulder to lean on. He is feircely loyal to those who gain his trust, and will stop at nothing to keep them alive.

His primary fault is his tendency to rush into combat. This has often lead to him becoming surrounded by enemies. Some might speculate that he is trying to make up for some shameful event in the past.

History: Karon used to be a knight of Wayrest, patrolling the borders of the Breton kingdom with his brother knights. His skill with the blade, as well as his knightly virtues, saw him shoot up the ranks of the knighthood.

Unfortunately, things were soon to take a turn for the worst. While on a routine patrol, they were ambushed by corsairs that had made landfall further up the coast. Karon and his brothers easily cut down the lightly armoured attackers, but they were badly outnumbered. One by one, the knights began to fall, dragged down by the corsairs.

The knights triumphed, but at great cost. Out of the five of the patrol, Karon and one other survived, both gravely wounded. So ashamed of his defeat he was, that as soon as he'd recovered, Karon resigned from his post. Within a day, he was riding away from the capital of High Rock.

Despite leaving his brethren in Wayrest behind, he is still a knight. Karon has made his way through High Rock, putting foul bandits and monsters to the sword, seeking something not even he is conciously aware of. When word for adventurers and heroes reaches him, he departs at once. Perhaps, this challenge will wipe the shame of his great defeat away.

text: This.

 

Name: Elspeth Adrastia

Age: 155
Race: Nord
Gender: Female
Height/weight: 5'9" 160 lbs
Preferred dialogue colour: Orange

Appearance

Hair: Brown in a pixie cut. The pic below shows her hair and eyes only. Nothing else looks like her.

Eye colour: Brown
Skin colour: Pale
Build: Tall and strong, the perfect proportion of fat and muscle for a woman her age and height.
Usual clothes:

Full ebony armor with a trailing black cape, elbow length ebony gloves, armored ebony knee high boots with pointed toes and a tall wide brimmed hat. Also has a two piece pair of white long underwear underneath to keep her warm and relatively comfortable (basically long johns).

Personality: Extremely calm and tranquil. Extremely disciplined, strict and has a routine she never deviates from. She is most comfortable around those of like mind and habit but welcomes those of any walk of life in order to keep her perspective balanced. She is often hard and judgmental but only because her code demands it of her. She is warm and kind-hearted when she can afford to be, such as in private with people that have proven their trustworthiness or when caring for children or other innocents.

Positive traits: Strong, focused, honorable, unshakably loyal to those she fights alongside, honest, almost impossible to distract or frustrate, near perfect discipline, selfless, kills without mercy, remorse or reflection.

Negative traits: Strict, rigid, very conservative, predictable, can have her own code used against her, has difficulty relaxing, sees much of the world in black and white with no room for interpretation or compromise, kills without mercy, remorse or reflection, follows her code regardless of moral, legal or social conflict.

Likes: The order her code brings to her life, watching people, making up stories about them based on what she can observe, being warm, a soft bed, red wine, hot well prepared food, meditating, gazing into the night sky, the warmth and peace a fire brings.

Loves: Her daughters, children, cats, shepherds pie, boiled cabbage, Stendarr.

Dislikes: Daedra, undead, drunks, killing innocents, retreating, thieves, assassins, those she deems without honor, laziness, those that put pleasure over work.

Fears: Losing her daughters, having to kill her daughters, being imprisoned, failure.

Aspirations: To wander Tamriel for as long as she is able, serving the code, removing evil and meeting out justice. If she dies in battle it would be a good death but if she dies an old woman warm in bed then she will know without a doubt that her life had meaning. She would be able to die in peace.

Weapons: A silver longsword as shown above except it glows white instead of the bluish colour. It is enchanted with restoration magic to produce a white hot flame that can cleave through armor, flesh and bone. That isn't to say it can cut through anything in one stroke but it will break any substance with enough force and repetition. Flesh wounds become cauterized and armor becomes cracked and weakened when struck if it is not cut through outright. Pairs it with a large Ebony kite shield with Stendarr's emblem emblazoned in gold.

A device that is made like a hand crossbow but uses magika to produce a constant stream of flame. Elspeth calls it a flametongue wand. It works just like a staff of flames except it's smaller and has a more limited range. She can press and activation rune on the top to produce the licking flames at the muzzle and pull the trigger to produce the cone of flame. Looks like the picture above.

Elspeth also has a heavy ebony crossbow she carries across her back. Not shown but it looks just like the one in Skyrim.

Fighting style: Elspeth is a front line melee fighter. When with a group, she is always at the front. When alone she charges without fear or hesitation. She activates her flametounge wand as soon as she gets close enough, then engages her foes in melee combat. The flametounge wand is handy enough to be used as a close combat weapon and is deadly at point blank range but she must be mindful of what she shoots at to avoid burning an ally. She strikes quickly, making the sting of her blade felt through small quick cuts, then pouncing on any foe who stumbles. She executes said foe with as little flair as possible to demoralize his fellows and to make sure he's dead. If taking on a winged foe or an exceptionally large one, Elspeth will use her crossbow to kill or weaken it, engaging in melee combat if necessary to finish it off. If she expects heavy ranged fire, a drawn out melee fight or an opponent who appears faster she will use her shield. Either her shield or her flametongue wand can be dropped instantly for the other to be drawn.

Skills: A master of one handed combat, heavy armor, shields, crossbows, restoration magic, alteration magic, fire based destruction magic and smite magic, essentially weaponized restoration magic. Its use against the undead and daedra is obvious but it is also potent against the living. Elspeth can create a flash of light that blinds and disorients enemies or bolts of golden magic or beams of light similar in effect to fire spells. She can even press her hand against a foe's exposed skin to summon a burning brand of Stendarr. The brand causes incredible pain for its bearer and gives them an overwhelming compulsion to fall to their knees and confess their sins. If placed on armor, the brand has a less severe but more widespread effect, slowly heating the wearer until he starts to cook inside his own armor. Most either fall to the ground from heat exhaustion or madly try and rip their armor off. Both easy prey for Elspeth and her holy blade.

Family: One deceased husband and three daughters, all vampires.

Reputation: Elspeth is a member of the Inquisition of Stendarr, a monastic order created after the Oblivion Crisis to protect the Empire from undead, daedra and other extraordinary threats before they can cause harm. As Cyrodiil is the heart of the Empire any threat to it must be quickly and mercilessly stamped out. The Inquisiton of Stendarr was created with the same goals in mind as the Vigil of Stendarr and was formed around the same people but where the Vigilants are the rank and file monster hunters of Tamriel Inquisitors are the best of the best. The Inquisition deals with situations that have exceeded what normal men and even Vigilants can cope with. They are the finest monster hunters in all Tamriel and are completely free to carry out their holy mission anywhere they desire. Some Inquisitors are on a lifelong mission of revenge or penance. Others seek a life of service out of duty or fulfilling a purpose. Many members come from the Vigil or the Dawnguard and their experience is invaluable but they all must give up their lives and everything in them to become an Inquisitor. It is a total commitment. There are few who are willing to give of themselves so completely and there is a high casualty rate during training. Those who survive with both grace and honor must prove themselves worthy during initiation, a long and brutal time of training, fasting, scripture education and prayer that ends with taking the Code of the Inquisition. The Code is a long and detailed tome that covers almost any situation but at its heart it is relatively simple. Protect the weak when you can, strike at evil when you encounter it, give the enemies of mortals no quarter or mercy and let nothing stand in your way. Destroy evil by any means necessary.

This last part of the code is what Inquisitors of Stendarr are best known for and is the strongest reason why they are viewed with as much fear as awe. An Inquisitor will do anything and everything, even kill innocents, to complete her mission. If a vampire and his teenage victim must die to save five others, so be it. If a house must be burnt to the ground with its family still inside in order to prevent a werewolf's escape, so be it. If an entire village must be burnt to the ground with its people locked inside their homes to ensure a vampire coven's destruction or its people crucified along the main road to destroy a coven of witches, so be it.

The biggest benefit of being an Inquisitor if Stendarr is being gifted a Flask of Eternal Purity, a powerful and ancient artifact that holds a liquid that extends the imbiber's life well beyond that of human years. The liquid never runs out so long as the flask is undamaged and an Inquisitor who drinks from it will have her wounds restored almost as fast as a vampire heals. Any wound or malady can be cured by drinking from a Flask of Eternal Purity and those who drink regularly will never age. They will age again if they stop drinking for several months but otherwise they will live and fight forever. This is the source of the incredible skill and experience of the Inquisitors and is their most closely guarded secret. If the Inquisition's enemies are immortal monsters, then they will fight forever.

Backstory: Elspeth spent her youth as part of a bandit clan, joining at 16. For a relatively normal farm girl from Rorikstead, it was the most exciting and freeing thing she could have imagined. She spent her days killing, making love to men, doing everything to excess and experiencing all life has to offer. By the time she was 24 however, her choices caught up with her. The clan was ordered by a very wealthy client to storm a small village and take everything in the town center. They were expecting weapons, gold and other riches but what they found was the town's children. Half the clan, including Elspeth, realized their client was a slaver and objected. The other half, including the leader, wanted to continue the job anyway. What resulted was a full on melee in which most of the clan slaughtered each other. Elspeth used the distraction to free the children and lead them to safety in nearby Morthal. She and the clan she was with were well known throughout Skyrim but she was granted a pardon by the High King of the time as thanks for her heroic deed on the condition that she end her life as a bandit. Considering what she had just been through, Elspeth had no trouble accepting and decided to settle in quiet Morthal and rekindle her love of the Divines. The gods she had been taught to revere as a girl and had selfishly cast aside during her maiden years. She found a husband, a priest of Stendarr, and together they started a family.

Elspeth bore three beautiful daughters and was looking forward to sitting back and enjoying her matronly years with her family. For years she did but on her oldest daughter Lassa's 20th birthday, disaster struck. Lassa had taken a shine to a boy named Istvan several months back. There was no boy more handsome, more charismatic or more polite in all of Morthal. He showered Lassa with gifts and was enamored by even her most mundane qualities. She was deeply in love with him and for her 20th birthday he promised her the grandest birthday party a girl could ask for. Preparations began weeks in advance, the entire town was abuzz, the entire inn was rented out just for the party. There were even rumors that Istvan was going to ask Lassa to marry him. The party came and everyone was invited and it was just as wonderful as everyone expected and more. Lassa was the happiest girl in Skyrim and her sisters, far from being jealous, looked forward to their own birthdays, for Istvan had many friends. All just as handsome and wealthy as he and there were many who were interested in Elspeth's girls.

That night, as everyone slept peacefully, Istvan and his friends revealed their true nature. They were vampires from a nearby coven, the same that would be destroyed by the Dragonborn years later but much more powerful at the present time. Lassa and her sisters Yvette and Ria were raped and fed upon by the vampires. The screams from the inn were all the warning Elspeth and her husband got. She rushed to it as fast as she could, donning armor and weapons she hadn't used in years, but she was too slow. It was too late. All three of her daughters were carried off by these monsters and taken to their coven in the wilderness. Over the next few hours Imperial Soldiers, Vigilants of Stendarr and any able bodied men were assembled and Elspeth led them into the vampire lair with the fury only a mother could feel.

Casualties were heavy and her husband was lost in the assault but Elspeth's blade pierced Istvaan's black heart. Even so he had the last laugh. Elspeth's daughters were infected with vampirism and were slowly turning. She could not bear to kill her daughters and could provide precious little comfort over the next three days. The disease worked its way into each of them and drove them mad with pain. They all wished for death and their mother wasn't strong enough to give it to them. When they finally turned and had their first taste of blood in the form of a cow, Elspeth felt as if her daughters were already dead. As a priestess she could not keep them with her and she could not kill her own daughters so she looked for another option. Any other option.

The Count of Skingrad in Cyrodiil heard of her situation and summoned the lot of them down south. Elspeth was shocked to find that the Count was also a vampire but was beyond relief when he offered to take her daughters in. They would live here, isolated but safe and comfortable, where all their needs were met. After a long discussion and many tears Yvette and Ria accepted but Lassa did not. She proclaimed that she was free at last from rules and her mother's strict ways and ran off to explore her new powers. Elspeth's heart was broken because she knew exactly what path her daughter was headed down. The next day she traveled to the Imperial City and became an Inquisitor of Stendarr. That was over one hundred years ago and mother and daughter have grown as apart as could be possible. Elspeth a paragon of discipline and pitiless justice, determined to rid the world of evil at any cost. Lassa a hedonist and murderer, traveling all over Tamriel in search of vice, pleasure and victims to ensnare and then kill in the most ecstatic of ways. Elspeth has not seen her other daughters since then and has given up everything except what she needs to complete her mission. She owns nothing but her armor, weapons and purpose. She has completely embraced the role of an Inquisitor. She has become a holy warrior immune to all vice and fear. Her life has real meaning for the first time ever and she can never truly repay Stendarr for such a gift. But Lassa is still out there somewhere and Elspeth knows that the killing will never stop until her own daughter is dead and buried.

 

Hello! I absolutely love this idea and was just making sure this was still open before I got my hopes up and created a character

 

Hello! Hopefully this is still open, as I like the idea, and felt compelled to put together a character. Let me know what you think, if this is still active.


Name: Hallen Vaeur

Age: 27

Race: Redguard

Sex: Male

Class and Combat preference: Hallen is a skilled swordsman, though he'd be best classified as a rogue. Years of matching blades with corsairs off the coast of High Rock and Hammerfell have taught him the value of pragmatic fighting. He prefers to open with a thrown knife or two, before closing into melee. Once engaged, he will use every dirty trick in his arsenal to make sure he comes out on top. He's vulnerable to ranged, and magical damage, so if forced to deal with those types of enemies, he will do his best to close the gap quickly.

Character Appearance: Hallen isn't all that tall, standing only at 5'6". His build is more lean than it is the muscular build of a warrior, but years at sea have granted him iron hard musculature. He is dark skinned, with a shaven face and scalp, with green eyes. His left ear has several diamond piercings, and his right arm is decorated with a tattoo of a sea serpent. Besides a small scar at the right corner of his mouth, his body is unmarked by blades or magic.

As for attire, Hallen wears a light leather and mail cuirass which covers' his torso and hips. Underneath that, he wears a navy blue silk tunic, unusually resplendent and flashy for a so-called rogue. Leather boots cover his legs to the knee, and he dons a pair of baggy tan trousers, with leather armour over the thighs and knees. A leather eyepatch, enchanted to protect against illusion magics covers his left eye.

Character image: Might be able to get something for this today or tomorrow.

Personality: Hallen is a charmer, much preferring to schmooze his way through life, rather than go looking for fights. He is easy going and doesn't tend to hold grudges. He doesn't care for uptight, law-abiding types, though he won't go out of his way to piss them off,either.

History: Hallen never knew his birth parents- he was found off the coast of High Rock by the servants of a low ranking noble house. With no children of their own, duke and duchess Vaeur decided to raise the redguard baby as their own. It quickly became obvious that Hallen was not one to adhere to rules. Frequently running off to play with children outside the Vaeur estate, or getting lost in the city of Wayrest, until a house servant could retrieve him. As he grew older, he developed a talent for both swordplay and wordsmithing, winning the hearts of many a lass.

He also developed a penchant for games of chance, and could be found into the late hours in the taverns of the city. Winning most of his games, though many of them through a sleight of hand, rather than honest play. Eventually, corsair raids became a real threat, and a call for men at arms was issued. Though it was against the wishes of his adoptive parents, the adventurous Hallen took to the sea. He adapted well to the sailors life, hunting down many a pirate and raider along the coast. This was also when he lost his eye, though luckily for young Hallen, the wound was treated before infection set in.

With the corsairs diminished, he once more returned to land with a taste for adventure and gambling and set out for Skyrim, hearing strange stories from the lands of the nords.

Text colour: This

 

Awesome! I appreciate the opportunity! Aaaand I got Hallens' pic up.

 

† Morthaine "Morgan" Ever †

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" My loyalty lies not with who, but why they would need my loyalty."

-----†-----

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General

"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.
× 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 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.

​

Image

"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.
× 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.

​

​

Skills

"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.
× 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.

​

Personality

"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 ×​

Dialogue | White​

 

Name: Kajira

Race: Khajiit

Age: 25

Sex: Female

Class: Rogue/warrior

Combat Preference: Khajira is an extremely acrobatic fighter, throwing rolls and leaps into her fighting style, sometimes using the enemy against themselves. Her main defence is not being where the enemy expects her to be. This allows her to leap into the thick of the fighting and come out the other side unharmed. She prefers to open the fight with her glaive, slashing and stabbing as she engages the enemy. Should the press of bodies become too close for her longer weapon, Kajira switches to the elven daggers, allowing for extremely close combat. If she should somehow lose those, she switches to her natural claws, shredding the unarmored flesh of the enemy.

Appearance: Kajira is a slim, unassuming woman, with beige/cream coloured fur, and darker stripes starting at the corner of her eyes, and running to the back of her neck, and ending just before her shoulders. She has deep golden eyes, almost a bronze, and tufted, narrow ears. You wouldn't know it to look at her, but she is surprisingly strong, due to her years of combat experience. She stands at 5'5", and weighs around 100 lbs, soaking wet.

Weapons: Her primary weapon is her glaive, which she wields two handed,and a pair of elven daggers she keeps strapped to her thighs.



Apparel: She wears cuir builli armour, allowing her to take some hits, before she is any real danger. However, the main reason she chose the leather is because of the mobility it gives her. Heavy plate and chainmail is well and good, but only if the wearer intends to take hits. Leather boots offer her feet some protection, as do her gauntlets. She refrains from using headwear, except in foul weather, when she covers herself in a hooded grey cloak.

Personality: Kajira is an outgoing, friendly individual when not in the midst of a fight. She's eager to discover new things and meet new peoples, though her disregard for the law has gotten her in trouble from time to time. Despite her eager exterior, she is slow to trust, and not likely to forgive a betrayal. Often times, she comes across as naive, only to reveal a dangerous understanding of the motives of men and mer.

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Backstory (work in progress): Born and raised in Elsweyr, Kajira didn't leave her home due to any trouble with the law, tragedy, or other such drama. She simply is afflicted with wanderlust. She has trouble staying in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. Since she was a young woman, she has traveled Tamriel, usually as a blade for hire. Her unique fighting style has built her a reputation with some people in several provinces. However, she is often in trouble with the law due to either misunderstandings, or her simple disregard for their customs. On the other hand, she is greatly sought after for her skillset. Once she's been paid for her services, she is on the road again, looking for her next adventure.

Dialogue colour: This

 

Name: Andros Haorsson

Race: Nord

Age: 38

Sex: Male

Class and Combat preference: Andros is a warrior, performing best when in the thick of combat. His bearded axe, wielded by capable hands, is capable of chopping through light armour, and the flesh beneath, with absurd ease. Using a long weapon like an axe, of course means he needs plenty of room to swing.

Should he get trapped in narrow confines or somehow lose his weapon, Andros switches over to his long steel dagger. He lacks any magical skills, and isn't much of an archer. In extreme circumstances, he can throw his dagger, but there's no guarantee he'll cause any damage.

Character appearance: Haorsson stands at just under six feet (5'10"), and weighs in at nearly 200 lbs. He is extremely fit, his job as a bounty hunter, and his weapon of choice having built up impressive musculature. He has dark, steel grey eyes, and his hair and beard are cut short and a black as night. His entire body is covered in scars, but the ones he works to hide are the two circular marks on his throat.

He wears a mix of scale and leather armour, steel capped boots, and a helmet that covers the upper half of his face. The lower half of his face, including his neck, is concealed by a cloth mask. It is thin enough for him to be heard without lowering the mask.

Character image:

Personality: Andros is a cold, focused individual. He makes little to no attempt at communication, besides the occasional curt word or grunt. He was not always like this, but the traumatic events of his past have scarred him irreparably. He prefers to work alone, but he will do his best to keep his companions alive, should he work with others.

As a bounty hunter, he has an interest in seeing the law upheld. However, his main concern is taking down his target. If this means the others of his group must suffer, so be it.

History: Several years ago, Andros Haorsson was a simple man, living in the Rift with his wife and two children. He worked as a bounty hunter for the jarl of Riften, bringing criminals of the hold to justice. Though he was by no means a rich man, the nord and his family were comfortable, and by no means starving.

However, Andros made the mistake of taking a bounty on a high ranking fence, operating out of redwater den. As was the usual, he brought the man back to Riften, turning him over to the city guard. What he didn't know, was that the fence was a thrall for a powerful vampire, who'd been using him to finance his own operations in the Rift.

Several nights later, the vampires attacked. Andros' family lived in a small cabin outside of the city. The attack was fast and brutal. Andros, desperate to save his family, fought the master vampire. It was a short and one sided affair.

The vampire, imbued with unnatural strength, speed, and centuries of experience, brought Andros to the brink of death. With his family dead, the broken nord waited for death. But something so much worse awaited him.

To his horror, he awoke the next morning, flesh burning in the sunlight. Through enormous strength of will, he forced himself to seek shelter, determined to bring the murderers to justice. Three words keep him going. They.Will.Pay.

Text colour: This.

 

Alright! Nice to see some action on here. So, Harkatti, when do you want to get started?

 

I would like to know if this is still open for newcomers

 

I'd also like to know if this is open. New to the site but not rps.