Private Airship Circus Character Cards

  • Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
  • Hey there, and welcome to our roleplaying section. Please take some time to read two of these useful resources below, if you're already a roleplaying expert, then there's no need to read the following beginner's guide, but be sure to read the rules.

    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
    JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.

    AirshipCircus

    The Duct-Taped Jack of Hearts
    I'm hoping this is in the right place. Just a thread to post my character cards for easy access by myself and anybody who'd like to take a look.
     

    AirshipCircus

    The Duct-Taped Jack of Hearts
    Name: Dar'Jhirr
    Age: 25
    Race: Khajiit is Khajiit, no? Perhaps you did not see the ears. Suthay-raht, most common of Skyrim.
    Sex: Male
    Sexuality: Khajiit sees only the females, yes.
    Class: Ranger/Bard
    Positive(ish) Affiliations: The Black-Briars/Thieves Guild/The Hunters of Hircine
    Negative Affiliations: The Vigilants of Stendarr/Most City Guardsmen of Nordic Race
    Religion: Azura is the Khajiit Patron Goddess. She is the divine-matron and intentionally created Khajiiti to be the most pretty people. On the other hand, Hircine holds claim over this ones soul so... I suppose they will have to fight over it when this one passes. In the meantime, Dar'Jhirr loves them equally.
    Alignment: Chaotic "Good"? Dar'Jhirr is known to have conversations with himself, believing that the clever bandit god Baan Dar and the Mother-Cat Lady Mara manifest themselves in his head to argue over his conscience. Baan Dar is generally harmless, however.
    Afflictions: Beyond the possible voices in his head? Dar'Jhirr suffers from the "moderate" kleptomaniacal urge to pocket small shiny things if he thinks no one will notice. Maybe that's just a quirk. This one blames breeding. Also, possibly ADHD and a bit clumsy at the worst of times. Maybe a bit too friendly with mead.
    Relationship Status: Single. Dar'Jhirr, however, thinks he is rather dashing.
    Property: A small room he frequents at the Bee and Barb, when he can afford it.
    Appearance: Picture for reference. His body is littered with the occasional scar (each with a story), but the most interesting is the one under his right eye in the vague shape of a cup much like the one in this stained glass window:
    Stendarr_sign.jpg

    navka_khajiit-dovahkiin.jpg
    TESV_Cicero_Boots.png

    Clothing/Armor/Misc: Leather Ringmail Breastplate and pants/ A leather bag for poisons, general survival items, and objects he may have "acquired" over the past day/ A heavy leather traveling cloak with studded shoulders/ A pair of beautiful but ruddy mysterious gold-trimmed boots which he absolutely fawns over/ A silver locket which never leaves his neck/ A pair of fingerless, studded leather gauntlets (sewn onto the left is a brace of 7 lockpicks)/ An ornately crafted shield he picked up off the body of a dead member of The Companions while traveling from Windhelm to Riften. It saved his life from a werewolf attack on the caravan. It's generally strapped on his back./ A simple bards flute/ A wooden pipe.
    elder_rim_shield_by_9thknight-d3gtihu.jpg

    Skills (Mastered):
    Archery/Marksmanship- Dar'Jhirr once nailed a skeever between the eyes from a mile away. Whether or not he was aiming for the deer next to the skeever was never brought up when he told the story. All kidding aside however, Dar'Jhirr is a substantially honed, natural marksman.
    Hand to hand/Pickpocketing- A Khajiit who has spent his life from birth to 7 in a courtesan house and 7 to 19 pit-fighting from the Imperial City to Stros M'Kai to Windhelm and Riften learns many things. He's been beaten senseless more times than he can remember, but he's won far more than he's lost and always gave more than he got in the rings of the pits. He's remained undefeated for several years now in the safety of the pits where he can't run his furry butt off in the opposite direction, shaking his fist at the enemy.
    Skills (Expert):
    Acrobatics/Sneak- As a bit of a squishy ranger who actually values his life in the harsh land of skyrim, it is essential that one utilizes the clever ability known as staying out of the gods-damned way of the pointy end of a weapon by all means possible. As one should know, Khajiits are natural jumpers and climbers. And runners (very important, running). This makes it easier for him to leave combat, jump off a cliff, get up and brush himself off, an proceed to run his furry butt off in the opposite direction, shaking his fist at the enemy.
    Alchemy- Dar'Jhirr loves to sniff and pick pretty flowers which he will later use in a deadly poison.
    Skills (Adept):
    One-Handed- He has the skill to use a rangers sabre that's gotten him out of a scrape or two when he needed to keep his distance from the enemy.
    Block- If there's nothing to climb, no high ground, Dar'Jhirr refuses to be without a way to defend himself while he's running his furry butt off in the opposite direction, shaking his fist at the enemy.
    Weapons: A malachite dagger (shown in character picture), a hunter's blade, and a surprisingly supple and effective hunting bow gilded with mammoth ivory.
    1002-3-1325445353.jpg

    Magical Abilities: Magic!? Gah! Where!?
    Personality:
    Drunk- Forward, charming in an eccentric, roguish (perhaps a bit too roguish) sort of way, laid back and confident. Dar'Jhirr often challenges people to contests of skill or strength when inebriated likely due to an increased drive to impress women or something.
    Sober- Still charming and forward, just a little more jumpy or paranoid in the presence of suspicious activity.
    General- Usually willing to aid a fellow Khajiit or Argonian worker, certain elves; random flashes of intuition; thinking out loud; boyish curiosity.
    Likes: Apples, Mead, Pit-Fighting, Exploring, The Fairer-Sex, Playing his Flute, Smoking "Elves Ear" and "Moon Sugar" in his pipe.
    Dislikes: Werewolves, Nord Warriors, Magic, Missing a shot, Occasionally The Fairer Sex, Losing a bet or contest, the color "Mauve".
    Bio:
    Dar'Jhirr was born a single cub to a single mother working as a courtesan in the Imperial City. Unable to afford a real home, and his mother Ji'Rasha unwilling to send him off to a relative, he resided in the courtesan house (a situation which he complained about very little). Suffice it to say his childhood was not..."average". Dar'Jhirr's mother always told him to work hard and become a "Big, strong cat" so he could "Jump out of this bad life". She didn't want him to end up as a criminal and the influence of the other courtesans while kind and with the best of intentions didn't do much to help. It's difficult to become an upstanding member of society when most of your motherly influences are prostitutes that teach you pickpocketing skills and the quickest way to knock a man out.
    Sometimes when his mother would leave, little Dar'Jhirr would become nervous to the point of near panic attack. She took him aside one night and told him that when he worried about her, he should sleep under the statue of Talos in the Market District. She told him Talos was great Nordic leader that protected the empire, and that if he could protect all Tamriel then he could protect them from harm.
    As Dar'Jhirr grew older, the winds of destiny began to shift. His mother was unable to continue paying for him on a courtesans salary and his penchant for getting into trouble was becoming too much to handle. After nearly getting his hand cut off by an overzealous Imperial Watchman who had stalked him for a day simply for snagging an apple, Ji'Rasha finally sent conceded and sent him to her brother Ro'Kharj in the Arena at 7 years of age. Unable to return and visit the courtesan house, Dar'Jhirr exchanged letters with his mother. After six months the letters stopped coming. Confused and alone, Dar'Jhirr spent the next 10 years growing into a mantraveling around Tamriel and fighting in the pits before he left to seek his fortune. It's during this time that he began hearing the voices of what he thinks are Mara and Baan Dar his head. It is also during this time that he renounced any belief he had in Talos for his uncle's deities Azura and Hircine. This led to a minor disagreement with the Vigilants and lead to Dar'Jhirrs feelings of distaste for those counted amongst their ranks
    He ended up in Riften, started working for the Black-Briars and the Thieves. He still works to find his mother and seek his fortune, but his contacts in the Guild are quickly being exhausted.
    Goal/Aspirations: To become a "Big, strong cat" and "Jump out of this bad life." like his mother wanted, and then to find (or find out what happened to) her.
     

    AirshipCircus

    The Duct-Taped Jack of Hearts
    GENERAL

    Name- Ma'Nchitar the Black
    Nickname- The Bear-Cat.
    Age- 36
    Race- Khajiit/ Cathay-Raht Khajiit is the best Khajiit. Because size matters, yes?
    Gender- Khajiit is very male. Male as they get. Let's take a look. You can't resist.
    Alignment- Chaotic Neutral. This one thinks all people are beautiful, unless you piss him off.
    Laterality- Ambidextrous. This one thinks all his hands are beautiful.
    Class- Pirate, Bard
    Sexuality- Heterosexual
    Relationship(s)- Do tavern wenches count? No? Okay.
    Afflictions/Diseases- A deep wound in his side, sustained during his capture that severely hinders his previously superior physical prowess/ A minor gimp in the right leg, likely to only get worse with the coming ages/Alcoholism/Recovering Moon Sugar addict
    Positive Affiliations- Hunters of Hircine, Pirates from Western Hammerfell to Eastern Skyrim/Cyrodil, Underworld contacts in Elsweyr.
    Negative Affiliations- The East Empire Trading Company, The Dark Brotherhood, Imperials, Stormcloaks
    Property- None
    Religion- There are no Divines. This one believes that the Aedra and the Daedra are equal halves of every man and should be treated thus. All gods are beautiful. Except Hermaeus Mora, very ugly. However, Dibella is the best. Hands down. Yes?

    VISUAL -http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/087/4/9/49e58f79997864df8448ae2dfc11f9f3-d5yxzr6.jpg <---Just with black fur, no eyepatch, and without all the weird, spiky armor and roman stuff. His clothing description is below in the visual section.

    I suppose this is more of a "Skyrimized" version in terms of graphics, still just with black fur and no Ancient Nord stuff..
    5267590-1360039137.jpg

    Khajiit wears red and yellow striped pants. Very important.

    Height- 7'4"
    Weight- 298 lbs
    Eye Color- Yellow
    Hair Color- Purple-black
    Clothes- Sack cloth shirt, dirty yellow and red striped pants in need of repair, dirty footwraps
    Weaponry- Claws, teeth, anything this one can get his hands on. They say Khajiit once beat a man to death with his own wife. Ma'Nchitar neither confirms nor denies this.
    Misc- Khajiit has tattoos on the molars of his jaw, but not his front. Those are his money-teeth. They can been seen when he flashes a toothy smile/ Assorted scars (mostly hidden by fur).

    ATTRIBUTES

    Primary-
    Hand-to-Hand, Sneak, Block
    Secondary-
    Pickpocket, Smithing, Marksmanship, One-Handed

    PERSONALITY

    Positive- Clever, Witty, Unyielding in a promise, among other things...
    Negative- Merciless, Cold to those he does not trust, and perhaps a tad batplops crazy.
    Likes- Hunting, Drinking, Women, Khajiit also enjoys the Swashbuckling
    Dislikes- This one dislikes the stuck-up Imperials and their stuck up Empire Trading Company. The damn Nords are no better with their docking prices and bad eye for prices.
    Goal(s)- This one has one simple wish. The humiliation and eventual murder of the people who put Khajiit here. Ma'Nchitar also wants his freedom on open coasts again. Two, then. Two wishes.

    BIOGRAPHY

    Ma'Nchitar is one of a set of triplets. There was Ma'Nchitar of course, then Dar'Khir, and Ki'haja. Left in an oasis by parents who did not want them, they grew together in the markets of Elsweyr working as thieves and beggars, living as the greatest of friends. All good things must come to and end though, and his brother Dar'Khir received the opportunity to become a monk in the service of the mane at the age of eleven. His loss was met with great sadness even though they knew Dar'Khir was now living a better life, and Ma'Nchitar and his sister Ki'haja were forced to survive without him.
    The older Ma'Nchitar and Ki'Haja grew, the more and more they came to rely on the other to watch the their back. By the age of 17 they were fighting together in the Death Pits of Western Elsweyr for the enjoyment of Imperial merchants and the Khajiit aristocracy. However as stated before, everything good will end eventually. Ma'Nchitar's growing taste for Moon Sugar was quickly putting them in debt and they were forced to flee to Senchal in the south and join a crew of pirates sailing around the Cyrodil and Hammerfell Coast where they spent their time growing in reputation, known as "The Jaquar" (Ki'Haja) and "The Bear-Cat" (Ma'Nchitar).
    After years of plundering on their ship "The Burned Hand", 2 missed attempts at assassination by the Dark Brotherhood, and 6 consecutive jail-breaks in Hammerfell, the Crowns sought aid from the Imperial Occupation of Skyrim in dealing with Ki'Haja the Jaguar and Ma'Nchitar the Black. Three warships were sent to take them down: The Pride of Akatosh, Stendarrs Mercy, and the Septim Interceptor. Finally, after a chase that lasted three weeks and a day, the Septim Interceptor was the last one left standing. This included "The Burned Hand". Shipwrecked and soon to be surrounded, Ma'Nchitar, seeing no other options, unexpectedly forced his sister to run to the last rowboat before she was taken. Separating in that moment was the most difficult thing either of them had ever done. Without Ki'Haja by his side, cornered like an animal, Ma'Nchitar the Black flew into a violent rage of temporary insanity which he can't fully remember himself.
    The Imperial Report is as follows:
    30th of Frostfall, 4th Era, 199, Evening
    The wreck of the Burned Hand yielded the bodies of the entire crew (with the exception of the targets). Believing them to have run into the jungle on the island, I sent 5 of the 37 remaining crewmen inside to scout ahead. That night while gathered in the camp, we heard the screams. At least we know they're here.

    31st of Frostfall, 4th Era, 199
    I took the entire garrison and searched the jungle outskirts this morning to no avail. On our return we discovered two bodies on a pyre near the outskirts of the camp. They were burned beyond recognition. Only when we discovered one was wearing an engraved wedding band could we confirm that these were two of the five sent in the night before. The men slept close to the middle of the camp that night. Legate Allectius swore he saw two dim yellow lights coming from the trees but I told him to keep quiet about it. I'll not have my men losing morale on this mission.
    32 men left.

    1st of Suns Dusk, 4th Era, 199
    I had fifteen of my best men stay in the camp today. If those cats tried to get in, they'd be dead before they could show a fang. We searched further into the jungle but we suspect there's still a mile of uncharted land. The boys have already started calling it the "Deep Jungle". Legate Allectius discovered a body near the edge of this "Deep Jungle" hanging from a tree by the neck. Well, when I say discovered I mean it fell on him. The body was quickly identified as Officer Gorn Wide-Arm, one of the few Nords in my garrison. I had difficulty believing that someone had actually managed to branch strong enough to string up Gorn until I saw the body, or lack thereof. He had been mutilated, and was missing his right leg and arm. We burned his body before the rest of the men could see. I would have given him a more fitting funeral if not for his state at the time. It didn't take much investigation to realize that it was no sword that cut him up, but teeth. I don't know what exactly is going on here, but I'm running out of ideas. We were supposed to be back in Solitude by now with that cat in chains. On return to the camp we took a count and realized that three of the seventeen men I took with me that day had disappeared. We held a memorial service that night and I doubled the guard. I'm taking my best men and entering the uncharted area tomorrow.
    29 men left.

    2nd of Suns Dusk, 4th Era, 199, Morning
    After a brief meeting with the men, I gathered the ten I trusted most and left the Legate with the other 17. We're going to take the trees apart branch by branch if we have to. I'll not be made a fool of. These cats are going to the block if I have any say in it, then i'm resigning from service.





    5th of Suns Dusk, 4th Era, 199, Evening
    This is Legate Allectius, now acting Commander. After two days of absence, the Commander's body washed up on the shore this afternoon and was discovered by five of the men who had gone in a group to relieve themselves. They found his journal in a water-soaked pack ten feet up the shoreline. Commander Ignacious' neck had been broken and his face was frozen in a scream. I don't know what he had witnessed to make him look like this but it seems like it's my responsibility now as all the men are looking to me. I can't sail back to Solitude in disgrace. The Commander's body was placed on the ship in a flag until such time that we can do a proper service on the ocean.
    As it stands, we have 17 men left including myself.

    6th of Suns Dusk, 4th Era, 199, Morning
    One of the men from the original party of five came running into the camp at 2 a.m. this morning. He was covered in blood, uniform in tatters and screaming something about "Yellow lights in the darkness" and "Swallowing them whole". We tried to make sense of his words but he died before we were able to get him to the healer. However after clearing him off, we discovered that beyond a few cuts and scratches he was unharmed. The healer could find no poison in the blood so of course the fools here claim that he died of fear. I can't let this continue, therefore I'll have to take my remaining forces into the Deep Jungle and flush these criminals out before a mutiny occurs. If need be, I'll burn this jungle to the ground.
    17 men left.

    7th of Suns Dusk, 4th Era, 199, Evening
    In all my years of fighting with the Legion, I'd never seen nor expected to see anything like that cat. A half hour after entering the deep jungle on the 6th, we discovered the last two missing men from the first party sent when we landed. They were hanging from their necks like Gorn had been. They were also missing limbs like Gorn. We pushed on, and I had to constantly put out of my mind the feeling of being watched. The sun was beginning to set when we finally entered into a clearing and discovered a crackling fire on which was roasting an unidentifiable piece of meat. Before we could take four steps, the beast let out a roar that chilled me to the core, sprung from the shadows, and tore out the throat of the man next to me. After cracking the skulls of two of my men together, breaking my arm, and throwing several of us the over into the treeline, one of us managed to get a blade into his side. The resounding howl noticeably curdled the blood of every man around me, and even with a legionares blade still in it's side it took ten of us to bring it down. I lost five good men to that monster, but he's in Imperial Custody, covered in chains, and under 24 hour guard. We were unable to treat the wound for several hours after securing the beast due to his being agitated when any of us got close. He eventually collapsed from blood loss and we did what we could. However, it seems the wound will likely never fully heal and the healer isn't willing to study him when he's awake.
    This all being said, we have yet to find his sister and have concluded that she is not on the island. This would mean that he could have caused the devastation to my crew single-handedly, and i'll see him carted off to Drahonnal if I have to send the orders and drive the carriage myself. He can rot in the ebony mines with that wound and the rest of the filth no one wants to think about.
    17 men alive. 9 bodies unaccounted for. Time to sail home.
     

    AirshipCircus

    The Duct-Taped Jack of Hearts
    Name: Erasmus Simcelier Fronstein III
    Age: Bloody nards if I know. Me hair's white-AINT THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU?

    General Characteristics

    Name: Erasmus Simcelier Fronstein III
    Appearance: Short, even for a Breton. ESF III's face is remniscient of royal features marred by time and heavy laugh lines. His body is surprisingly agile.
    Other Names: The Coin Tossing Poison Poncer; You n'wah!; Get your hands out of my pockets
    Titles: Sir, Lord, the Third
    Theme Song: Ain't no rest for the wicked; Bohemian Rhapsody; Let's All Get Demented

    Personal Characteristics

    Birth Date: Psh. White hair.
    Birth Place: Northpoint, High Rock
    Hometown: Northpoint, High Rock? Does a hometown throw rock at you when you pop in for visit? No? I'll just say "In Progress", then.

    Death Date:
    Age at Death:
    Death Place:
    Resting Place:
    Manner of Death:
    Last Words:

    Primary Objective: The honorable and venerable study of Alchemy, and the pursuit of knowledge that lies therein
    Secondary Objectives: Killing the Forsworn until they're dead. Dead dead dead. It was cute at first but now that foolish regression back to the old way has become preachy and tiresome. Time to show the feathery fools the fun of science! Science through murder.

    Desires: Knowledge, shiny things, rare alchemical ingredients, dead forsworn, fine dining
    Secrets: "Hello, my name is Erasmus Simcelier Fronstein III. I kill people because it's funny to watch the funny positions they fall into."
    Quirks: Dunno. A Breton wandering Skyrim, killing people with crazy magic stuff. Just like everybody else.

    Mental Characteristics

    Known Languages: Uh...Science.
    Lures: Alchemy, the prospect of killing a forsworn, or many forsworn
    Savvies: Creating potions, explosives, murdering, shooting (a crossbow is just a syringe with a bit of range to it)
    Ineptities: Dont...take your stuff, murder your family and pose them in funny positions? I don't follow.
    Temperament: Choleric/Sanguine depending on how the coin falls.
    Hobbies: Alchemy? That's just a hobby, old bean. Fine cuisine and dining are my specialty!-Wait. Vice versa.

    Intellectual Characteristics

    Logical-Mathematical: Yes, pointy end of the projectile goes into man. Good.
    Spatial: (How well can your character create an image in their mind?)
    Linguistic: (How good is your character with words, written and spoken?
    Bodily-Kinesthetic: (How well does your character control their body motions, how well do they handle objects? How clear is their sense of goal of physical action?)
    Musical: (How clear is your character's perception to sounds, music, tones, and rhythms?)
    Interpersonal: (How well does your character interact with and understand others?)
    Intrapersonal: (How well does your character understand their self?)
    Naturalistic: (How well does your character understand their natural surroundings?)
    Existential: (How well can your character understand phenomena or questions beyond sensory data?)

    Philosophical Characteristics

    Morality: There's that old coin flip again. Honestly in the name of science, what is right or wrong, really?
    Perception: Optimism is key to the intrepid scientist. Don't be disheartened when a patient dies. Next time make sure they die slower.

    Spiritual Characteristics

    Religion: The divines are a luxury that this one does not have time for. That was my Khajiit impression. Like it?
    Superstitions: You can't poison the dead. Makes for a difficult time without explosives.
    Virtues: Heh. Heh heh.
    Vices: Does your character exhibit Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, Pride, Envy, Wrath, or Despair? All of the above, but they can all be solved thru simple alchemy!

    Likes and Dislikes

    Likes: Altmer. I like to yell "timber!" when I paralyze them. Fine dining and cuisine are a beautiful thing, and a luxury every man should be able to afford when he isnt working. Children. Children are our future, you know. I've always wanted a kid. Someone to teach my craft to.
    Dislikes: Forsworn, Undead, Spiders (stuck up just because they naturally produce poison *sigh*), Skeevers (gotta knife the little bastards because they always come back. Then burn em if you can)

    Apparel

    Equipment: Drugs, potions, his alchemical equipment, a knife, also a crossbow
    Wardrobe: My science goggles! an whatever else I find that fits.

    Social Characteristics

    Emotional Stability: Nonexistant
    Humor: depends on what's funny. Altmers falling from paralyzation? that's funny. Same with orcs cuz they're almost as tall.
    Reputation: More fear than reputation, really. None in Skyrim though, which is a plus.
    Status: Boisterous and jovial or shadowy and secretiv depending on what he's after.

    School and Work

    Education: Studying at the knees of his tutors in High Rock, plus a lot of unorthodox field work.
    Learning Type: Experimental

    Occupation: Good question.
    Boss: Self employed.
    Work Schedule: Very busy. Almost always on the clock.
    Income: Depends on how much i loot off the bodies and get from the potions I sell.

    Interpersonal Connections

    Immediate Family: None. Dead.
    Close Relatives: None. Dead.
    Distant Relatives: A maid from High Rock. No idea where she is.
    Ancestors: My Grandfather Tiber Septim. One of the greatest- I'm kidding, gramps was a madman. It was my uncle who influenced me most. Taught me most of my Alchemy skills as my tutor in childhood. He's off trying to find the key to eternal life if the bastard is still alive.

    Allies: Whoever is crazy enough to let me pay them to help me.
    Enemies: Forsworn. Witch Hunters, yadda.
    Followers: Nobody.
    Friends: Books, my alembic. Maybe a son, someday.
    Heroes: My uncle. Pelagius the Mad

    Physical Characteristics

    Height: in ( cm)
    Weight: lbs ( kg)
    Nationality/Species:
    Skin/Fur Color:
    Hair Color:
    Hair Length:
    Eye Color:
    Tail Length:
    Tail Color:
    Scars:
    Tattoos and Piercings:
    Locomotion: (Plantigrade, digitigrade, or unguligrade)

    Health and Fitness

    Addictions:
    Handicaps:

    Sexual Characteristics

    Gender:
    Orientation:
    Significant Other:

    Story Information

    Archetypes:
    Tropes and Clichés:
    Role:
    Significance:

    Personality

    Anima: (How does your character act when they are really being their self?)
    Persona: (How does your character act to hide their real self?)

    Development

    Personal:

    Social:

    Physical:

    Spiritual:

    Biography

    Infancy: (What was you character's life like from age 0 to age 3?)

    Childhood: (What was your character's life like from age 4 to age 12?)

    Adolescence: (What was your character's life like from age 13 to age 19?)

    Adulthood: (What was your character's life like from age 20 to age 54?)

    Seniority: (What was your character's life like from age 55 until death?)
     

    AirshipCircus

    The Duct-Taped Jack of Hearts
    Viari (Vee-are-ee)
    Badger (Ba-jjer)

    Personal Details~

    Name: Viari and Badger, humbly at your service.-Ooh, are you gonna kiss their boots now? Shut it, Badger. You first, Sunshine! *CLANG!* Ow!

    Age: Well, that's nosy but alright. We're 57-I'm fifty seven and thirty seconds. Those thirty seconds are wholly useless! Like warts on a troll's arse!-Well you would know! That's it! C'mere!

    Race: Well mother was a one of those forest elves, and father...-Father was a bit of a mutt. He means Nord. Aye, but, not so. I thought he had a little Orc in him. What? Fairly positive. You know how diverse Valenwood is. He was a...Norsimer? No! A Norc! We're Forest Norcs! Ha! Wordplay!

    Sexuality: Women want us.-

    Sex: -And men want to be us. Barring the obvious height difference that would entail.

    Class: We're rangers. Y'know, scouts, canaries. Badger specializes in trapping and medium-long range combat. But I have a dagger-But, he has a dagger. And I would be the swashbuckling, poison-making, up close and personal kind of fellow. -You mean the show-off. Naturally.

    Positive(ish) Affiliations: Beggars, -other Scouts, that redhead who works with the cooks- and a couple of the Butchers around town. Not that it does us much good. We're pretty popular with the tailors and blacksmiths as well. When he says that, he means our line of work tends to have us routinely coming back for repairs. We're learning to do it ourselves. Slowly. That, and we're pretty sure every healer knows us by name at this point. For obvious reasons. Tavern people like us. You think so? 'Course I do! The stories you tell those kids about Valenwood and Tiber Septim and the Wilderking and such. You give 'em a well needed excuse to forget. Well you don't do so bad yourself, Badger. Thanks, Sunshine.

    Negative Affiliations: Guards. Cant' blame them. Turns out we have an issue with authority. Plus the fact that Nords hate mixed breeds about as much as elves. Not that we have a big rivalry or anything. Best to leave past squabbles in the past. Of course. No time for one of those anyways what with us being two of the most experienced canaries in Whiterun. Live and let live, I say.

    Religion: Sick of it. Tell me when they offer health benefits. Well, I mean, there's Hircine. Oh of course-wait, what? *ahem* Oh, nothing.

    Afflictions: Well, we're both about 5'5. I'm 5'6. What's an inch? What's thirty seconds? Point taken.

    Relationship Status: Brothers? Oh! you mean... Aye. Single. On both sides.

    Magical Abilities: I can play the lute and the flute at the same time. And I can wiggle my ears. Sorcery I tell you!

    General Information~

    Appearance:
    General Appearance:
    http://skyrimforum.com/sf/useralbums/35041/standalone?embedded=1&access_hash=d0b5f06514

    http://skyrimforum.com/sf/useralbums/35031/standalone?embedded=1&access_hash=d0b5f06514

    http://skyrimforum.com/sf/useralbums/35051/standalone?embedded=1&access_hash=d0b5f06514

    Viari's Sword/Axe:
    http://images.knifecenter.com/thumb/1500x1500/knifecenter/united/images/UC2953b.jpg

    http://heirsofdurin.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/thorin-axe-conceptart-frankvictoria.jpg?w=529

    Badger's Bow:
    http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YiHmlerTimY/UzKyVwJ84TI/AAAAAAAAK2g/1DvxUox83m8/s1600/Arcangelo Ambrosi Hobbit Kilis Bow Replica.jpg

    Property:
    -A little one-room place in the districts. Closer to the walls than it is to Dragonsreach. Not a palace, but it does the trick. The inside has some sacks of things found in the abandoned cities and two bedrolls (unless the boys are out of the city). On the furthest wall from the door is a large amount of tally marks carved into the wood.
    -A couple small supply caches dotted about their usual scouting paths. 'Course, there's no telling when a traveling adventurer or monster alike will stumble across one so they're not all totally reliable.

    Clothing/Armor/Misc:
    -Badger commonly wears a light combination of Leather, Quilted, and Cloth armor. Viari generally can be found in a combination of Hardened Leather, Quilted Cloth, light Scale, and his favorite fur coat. neither are heavily armored to allow for freedom of mobility.
    -Both have traveling bags equipped with the classic adventurer's kit along with small rations when needed for travel. They usually just consist some bread and cheese but I'm pretty sure Viari has an unopened, very old, very well preserved bottle of what could be Balmora Blue stashed away for a special occasion(but it could also be a bottle of quality fermented milk, he just hasn't opened it yet). He also carries an 11x14 leatherbound book in his bag with him wherever he goes.

    Weapons:
    -Viari: 1 sword, 1 hatchet, a small skinning dagger, 1 crossbow w/ 8-10 bolts maximum storage (though he's rarely got that many at a time). Also a flute and a lute which the brothers share.
    -Badger: 2 daggers, a variety of traps (should he be fortunate to have any on-hand), 1 composite hornbow, two quivers: one on his back w/ a capacity of 25-30 and one on his belt w/ a capacity of 10 (12 if he finds the sweet spot).

    Depth~

    Personality:
    -Badger: Badger can be pig-headed and rather passionate about his views at times, but deep down he has a good heart. Towards Viari he often comes off as teasing and mayhaps a little childish, yet the two play off each other considerably well having spent their entire lives together. Towards others, Badger is unordinarily open and trusting even in such dark times. While it may be refreshing for some, it means he has a bit of a tendency to wander into and around danger much like the baby from those Tom and Jerry cartoons (sorry, did I just break the immersion?). That said, his brother is usually there to get him out of it by one means or another. It's his scrappy attitude that gets him in to trouble more than his arrows do.

    Badger also has a sort of wild confidence about him. It's magnetic to some, while unorthodox to others. He can draw people in and tell them great stories of heroes and courage, keeping anyone willing to listen captivated for hours on end (a skill he's still learning from Viari).

    <<<WARNING, SPOILERS TO CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AHEAD! THOSE WITH DIFFICULTY SEPARATING CHARACTER AND WRITER KNOWLEDGE, OR WHO SIMPLY WISH BADGER'S DEEPER PERSONALITY/MOTIVATIONS TO BE A SURPRISE SHOULD SKIP DOWN TO THE FIRST END SPOILER TAG AFTER THIS MESSAGE!>>>

    No matter how hard he tries, Badger cannot remember his mother like Viari can. It eats him up inside, being unable to recall the days of his childhood before she was forcibly taken from them by a rusted arrow shot from the bow of an Orcish hunter. Now, as he and his brother grow older together, he finds his heart beckoning towards Valenwood. His desire to return to the place of his birth is strong, and grows stronger all the time. His only obstacle is his brother, Viari. Badger knows that he needs only ask his sibling to come with him, and Viari will accept before you can say "Jack Robinson". But Badger also knows the journey is perilous and Viari would be distraught if Badger didn't survive, nor could Badger accept the guilt if the tables were turned. Especially because Badger knows Viari would have likely died sacrificing himself for Badger's sake.

    Badger also knows that Viari has a natural capacity for greatness, but their continuing co-dependency on brotherhood takes away any chance for Viari to grab hold of his abilities and someday carve out a destiny both of them can be proud of. Something they could boldly mark themselves into history with. Badger wants desperately to convince his brother that he can let go and stop protecting, yet there's one thing stopping him.

    Jealousy.

    Badger can see Viari is made for something greater than this, but he covets it all the same. It's natural, regardless of whether or not Viari flaunts it. In fact, it could be worse that Viari does not flaunt, or even acknowledge his own mental abilities. For now, Badger can only imagine what he could do with his brother's gifts. He knows it's wrong, even a bit sick to think that way and he hates himself for it. Because when the last of the rain is gone and the skies clear, he know that it is he who needs Viari, and not the other way around.


    <<<END SPOILER>>>

    -Viari: Though Badger claims thirty second superiority, Viari is the older brother by right of his actions and maturity. He exhibits an impish cunning, and an eerily calm dry wit even during most situations in which others would crumble horribly under the pressure. While Badger will jump immediately to forceful and righteous argument, Viari will come off as impertinent, irreverent, satirical, cynical and undeniably, unequivocally charming. At times, this can have the adverse effect of driving a few people (Badger in particular) absolutely rivet-banging-bonkers.

    In addition, Viari is wasted talent. He's a natural born leader, a talented negotiator and a tactician. He's also an uncharacteristically engaging storyteller, an odd trait that most Wood Elves (even those of mized race) are not known to possess or even practice due to their religious ways of "living in the now". Unfortunately, he does not work to make much use of the abilities as of yet. A story or two for the children in the tavern every now and then.

    <<<WARNING, SPOILERS TO CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AHEAD! THOSE WITH DIFFICULTY SEPARATING CHARACTER AND WRITER KNOWLEDGE, OR WHO SIMPLY WISH VIARI'S DEEPER PERSONALITY/MOTIVATIONS TO BE A SURPRISE SHOULD SKIP DOWN TO THE FIRST END SPOILER TAG AFTER THIS MESSAGE!>>>

    Behind his walls of sarcasm and light-hearted passive attitude, Viari possesses a captivating, indescribable warmth. Turns out, yes, he's also a bit of a romantic at heart. The problem is that he's never been able to truly show his affection for another due both in part to his ever dueling fears of rejection (which constantly "keeps him from failing" by perpetually whispering his past failures in his ear) and intimacy: the ever-present electrifying dread that should he ever let his guard down even for a moment, fate and the universe itself will force him to suffer the consequences. Consequences that will cause his and by proxy, his brother's entire world to shatter into a hundred thousand pieces before their very eyes.

    That's something he can't allow. Not only for himself, but for Badger. Where Badger is careless and a little absent-minded, Viari is responsible and fiercely protective of his brother. He would more than willingly lay down his life for Badger, if only he knew he wouldn't have to do it again later. He starkly believes his brother does not share this deep of an allegiance, but it makes him no less loyal. He dreams of a life better for both of them, even if he doesn't know if they'll ever get it.

    However, there's a side of Viari that he's become less of a real crackerjack at hiding from everyone. Putting up so many walls over the core of his being takes its toll, and his constant stowing of emotions without release creates a sort of animal rage imprisoned deep inside. The longer he can keep it caged, the more dangerous it is when he finally releases it. Once the cage is open however, Viari is nearly incapable, almost loathe, to stopping it. When this incredibly rare thing occurs, he experiences a feeling of true freedom from inhibition. And he likes it. His brother has only ever seen this happen once. This release of emotion isn't purely confined to violence (though it is where it would make the likeliest appearance), just Viari's ability to keep in total control. Hell, it could be the only way to break him of his phobias. Therefore, it's not wholly bad, but certainly not wholly good either.


    <<<END SPOILER>>>

    Alignment: Chaotic Good-Neutral - Perhaps subject to change as the story progresses.

    Likes:
    Viari: A fresh, clean pair of boots; A freshly sharpened blade; Fresh bread; Fresh air; The taste of fresh water; Notice a pattern?

    Badger:

    Dislikes:
    Viari: Improperly weighted weapons; Werewolves, Werecrocodiles, Werevultures, and most any other creature who's name start's with the prefix "Were"...also Minotaur; Moldy bread; Falmer; Any variation on the color "fluffsia"; Most forms of magic.

    Badger: Most things with more that four legs; Obstacles that block a shot; People with something to prove; Tall people; Tall people with something to prove.

    Bio:
    The beginning of this story was many years before the death of the Dragonborn. South of the frozen land of Skyrim in the continent of Valenwood, in a city called "Greenheart" that sits high in the trees...

    Some elf lady was lettin' out a whole plops ton of screaming. I mean, damn. But giving birth ain't easy so, gotta give her props.

    Anyway, lotta screaming, then *pop!* out came a baby. It was a beautiful baby boy, with big beautiful brown eyes. But they only had like 26 seconds to appreciate it, 'cuz BAM! Out came another one, just as handsome as the last (Babies look creepy) except he had big beautiful blue eyes instead of brown... The mother, overjoyed and still in a bit of pain took them into her arms and named them right there surrounded by her sisters, friends, and the majority of tavern patrons from the tap next door who came in to see what was causing the racket. The brown eyed baby she named "Badger" after her father's favored shape to take in the wilderness. The blue eyed baby she named "Viari" after her grandfather.

    The mother of these children was a sylvan elf, or wood elf, or...*sigh* Bosmer(who's name will be left unmentioned for posterity's sake and just a dash of mystery) who had intended to bring her children up like a proper elf would. This consisted of days romping under the wooded landscape and dashing through the brush, climbing the trees and being generally carefree in a carefree world of their own. The little boys with beautiful eyes quickly grew strong both in body and mind, able to move with the quickest of feet and naught but the fleeting sound of a whisper to mark their presence. Life was good and they were happy together. But, it wasn't long before the boy with brown eyes began to grow curious about the rest of the wood around him, not just what his mother would show him. He felt a deep yearning to see what other creatures lay out in the wood, not just the people he would see passing through the city. The boy with brown eyes began to beg his mother to show him and his brother more. But, the little boy's mother said that it was dangerous to wander away from the city, though he persisted and persisted.


    "No." She would reply. "You must wait until you are older and stronger before venturing too far away, for I cannot keep you safe when you are not close to me, close to home." The little boy with brown eyes didn't think he needed his mother anymore. He was certainly brave enough to face anything in the deepest reaches of the forests. Surely nothing in the forest could stand up to him. Why, he was already seven and a half years old. So he decided to explore without her. His brother, the little blue-eyed boy, tried to make him stay. He said it would be dangerous if mother wasn't there to show them the way home. The little brown-eyed boy wouldn't hear it. Soon, the little brown-eyed boy had stolen away into the stormy night to explore deeper into the woods, followed quickly by the little blue-eyed boy. It wasn't long before the mother discovered her children were missing from home, and she became so worried that she took off into the stormy night to find them immediately. But fate does not let go of a chance such as this, and no matter how fast the mother ran, she would never see her little blue eyed boy and little brown eyed boy again.

    ~o~

    Nearby, a Wood Orc Hunter had spotted a deer sprinting through the trees. He happily nocked an arrow, and made his first kill of the night.
    It was only when he got closer to the body that he realized what he had done, for it was no doe he had slain, but a beautiful she-elf. She ran so quickly, so gracefully, that she was mistaken for a beautiful doe by the near-sighted Wood Orc, who's first and only shot flew fast and true directly into her sylvan heart.

    Hunched over next to the she-elf's body were two younglings making the strangest of wretching noises. The showering rain masked their faces so well, it took some time for the Orc to understand that they were crying; something he had never seen before. There, with the rain in his face, dripping down his chin and onto the blood-soaked dirt around his boots, the Orc realized what he had done. He immediately fell to his knees, wrapping the children in his heavy fur coat and taking them into his strong embrace. The little younglings cried and cried, and wrapped their arms around his as best they could for the warmth it provided. He took the chin of the first child and looked into his eyes. Even through the beating droplets from the sky and the tears streaming from the child's face, he could see a deep shade of hazel. The youngling had stony features, and the Hunter could tell that there was thick blood running through his veins. Orcish blood. He did the same with the second child. This one had stopped crying, and instead was staring right back into the hunter's eyes with what was probably the bravest face he could muster at the time. Deep down below those piercing blue eyes, a fire had ignited. The Hunter smiled. He could see the cold grip of fate tightening around these two younglings, shaping them into an image it had chosen for them long before their birth. He took them in his huge arms and carried them to his home.

    For thirteen years he raised them like his own sons.
    The Orc had buried their mother's body the morning after he found them, and as time passed a grand oak tree had sprung from the soil. It was as fitting a testament to their growth and her memory as they could have hoped for. They grew into strong and intelligent men; men their mother would have been proud to call her own. He had taught them many things: History, Literature, the Study of Survival, and the Art of Combat among the most prominent. The youngling with brown eyes had long, chestnut hair, and grew into into a marvelous archer, surpassing the skills of the Orc Hunter himself. The youngling with blue eyes had grown a great mane of blond hair, and excelled in quick usage of a blade and hatchet. They made an excellent team.

    The day finally came for the Orc to send the younglings away. So the trio journeyed north for several months, finding themselves in the city of Anvil. It was there that the Orc bade his goodbyes, and shed a tear for the first time in his life. To Viari, he gave the fur coat he had worn on the night he'd found them in the woods. To Badger, he gifted his trusty hunting bow.

    ~o~

    The next few years of Badger and Viari's lives are a bit of a blur. Plenty of it was spent in Cyrodil, learning much about the world around them from the resources available in the metropolitan capital of Tamriel. Some years later, the pair ended up in a small cottage straddling the border of Skyrim and Cyrodil. A little later, they had finally crossed over into Skyrim and began traveling the roads as adventurers, minstrels, mercenaries and more. Of course then the blight of alien creatures fell upon the land which made traveling small businesses a thing of the past.
     
    Last edited:

    Recent chat visitors

    Latest posts

Top