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Info Character Profiles

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by NikolaTesla, Dec 30, 2011.

  1. Oberon

    Oberon New Member

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    Name: Oberon
    Age: 75
    Sex: Male
    Height: 6'7"
    Race: Altmer
    Guild: College of Winterhold
    Position: Arch Mage
    Afflictions: Vampire Lord

    Armor: College Robes/Dragonscale armor both enchanted with fortify destruction, magic and health (depending on the power of his enemies and his current quest)
    Weapons: pfft as if, duel wielding destruction magic suits Oberon.
    Appearance: Long golden wavy hair kept back by either a circlet or sheer force of will (and Spriggan sap), pale skin, glowing amber eyes set in dark heavy lidded sockets. Here's a painting I did of him Oberon by ~ThePurpleSorcerer on deviantART

    Major Skills: Destruction, Enchanting, Restoration, Alteration, Illusion and Conjuration
    Personality: Flamboyant and confident, he could be described as querky and his humour is famous around Tamriel, where he's known as the runnaway son of a Summerset Isle dignitary.

    Bio: Oberon's father was the son of the Champion of Cyrodil, a well known and rich Altmer, who returned to the Summerset Isles to live out his final century or so. His father, young at the time, fitted in well with the snobbery, he grew up with little of his father's good humour or kindness. However his son, Oberon, was quite the opposite, his pretentious father had little to do with his upbringing and his mother was in Cyrodil, an Ambassador for the Summerset Isles, it fell to his Grandfather's numerous servants to raise him, but soon after discovering this, his Grandfather, took him under his wing, and they spent many happy hours in libraries all over the Summerset Isles and when of age, he attended lessons in the Crystal Tower. He excelled at Magic, it was as easy for him as breathing. He became fascinated with the Daedra, he had no interest in worship, merely study. But, soon it became apparent to Oberon, that the Politics of the Summerset Isles were seeping into his studies, makeing their vile way into his beloved libraries and lectures. Soon he decided to leave for Cyrodil, his father was outraged, their fight was lengthy, though the two kept their magic at bay, despite what their servants may say. Seething with anger for his father, he left, blasting the ornate gates of his father's estate as he rode off, with only his prize possesions. He rode to Cyrodil, his mother, who for as long as Oberon could remember had always been rather dis-enchanted with her husband, had little time for Oberon during his two years at the arcane university, where he further researched the Daedric Princes. Again, Oberon left, sick again of the Politics he found in the places of learning. News of the great collapse had reached Oberon and he changed his course from Valenwood to Skyrim, studying, he thought, in the northern most reaches of Tamriel in a Hold empty of much but the few surviving dull witted nords and fellow Scholars with whom I can relate would be perfect. He made for Skyrim only to be caught in an Imperial Ambush, captured with Stormcloaks, he was disgusted, like he'd join with them, they were just stirring up trouble, trouble that might disturb his research. After escaping singed and with a trail of bodies behind him, he made his way to Winterhold, noting the lack of book shops and libraries and the locatioons of daedric shrines. Finally he reached the College, only to find a fellow Altmer there who caused a lot of trouble, but his corpse should have returned to the Summerset Isles by now. He eventually after not only ridding the college of the Thalmor Meddler, but keeping its students safe rose to the position of Arch Mage, much to the suprise of fellow wizard J'zargo. The struggles finally over Oberon soon married a student, Onmund, a pairing his parents would not have approved, but they needn't know and his grandfather only said that Oberon's Alteration tutor had lost their bet and owecd him 50 septims. Oberon and Onmund settled in Whiterun away from the College but close enough to correspond. Soon Oberon's research into Daedric princes, led him to Molag Bal, Vampires and the Danguard, he met with the Dawnguard and aided them, to gain access to information for his research. He soon discovered the Ancient Volkihar, and their offer for extra powers and the chance for a connection to a daedric prince meant that now every four days or so, it's not a kiss Oberon plants upon Onmund's neck. Onmund and Oberon have sinced moved to a manor Oberon had built, above a lake, their two Francois and Lucia have once again brought Oberon's flamboyency and fun loving side to the surface, though he stil forgoes the food they eat, they live now quietly and simply, studying magic together and swimming in the lake they over look. Though the secret knowledge of Apocrypha's libraries call to Oberon, whispers of Hermaeus Mora have entered his scryings and for some reason the docks of Windhelm seem an awfully interesting place to visit.

    If you read this far well done.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  2. Felidae

    Felidae The White Wanderer

    Joined:
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    Basic Information

    Name: Felidae Lioria (Fel-id-ay)
    Alias(s): Geinhaal, The White Wanderer
    Race: Khajiit (Cathay)
    Gender: Female
    Age: Late 20s
    Class: Wandering Bounty Hunter

    Alignment: True Neutral
    Birthplace: The Red Mountain, Vvardenfell
    Birthsign: The Thief
    Birth Date: 12th of Evening Star
    Current Residence: N/A
    Affiliations: Imperial Legion (former), Khajiit Caravan (former)




    Appearance
    • Lithe but muscled frame
    • White & silver fur w/ black cheetah-like patterns
    • Shoulder-length braided dark red hair
    • Bright amber eyes
    • Diagonal scar on forehead
    • Chipped fang on left side
    • Three claw scars on abdomen
    • Numerous whip scars on back
    • Slave brand on left wrist
    • 5'5" (5'8" in heels)

    Gear


    Weapons
    • Repeating crossbow
    • Twin Orcish daggers
    • Air-Saber shurikens
    • Bare hands
    Attire
    • Fur-lined black poncho
    • Skin-tight suit of black leather armour
    • Tattered red scarf
    • Sleeveless, scoop-neck white crop top
    • Leather gauntlet on left hand
    • Knee-high Cuban heeled boots
    • 5 hooped earrings (3 on right ear, 2 on left)

    Major Skill-Set


    Master
    • One handed (duel wielding)
    • Acrobatics
    Expert
    • Archery (crossbows)
    • Athletics/parkour
    • Hand-to-hand

    Occupations

    • Bounty Hunter
    • Mercenary


    P
    ersonality


    Felidae is a quick-witted yet dour young Khajiit. Due to her not having a very good way with words Felidae rarely speaks, and when she does she only says what she needs to and usually doesn't tolerate idle chit-chat. Most of the time she would much rather settle a dispute through violence than negotiation. Even the rare few who manage to "befriend" her are typically given the cold shoulder and are treated with the same aloof, severe attitude as everyone else; regarded merely as tools that will help her achieve her own personal goals only to be left by the wayside once she has no further use for them (though she does have the courtesy to leave each of her ex-companions a fair amount of gold depending on how useful they were to her). So in a nutshell, she isn't particularly loyal either.

    Having quite a biased type of attitude towards modern arsenal, she welcomes advanced weaponry such as repeating crossbows (her weapon of choice). In a typical display of her own naivety, anything Felidae considers "old" is therefore weak and pointless compared to the superiority of modern weapons, although she does harbour a guilty and somewhat hypocritical soft-spot for ancient Akaviri arsenal; a secret which is quite clearly evidenced in the fact that she's rarely seen without her beloved Air-Sabre shurikens. However, these deadly throwing stars are almost always kept concealed beneath her poncho in preparation for a surprise attack.

    Both cunning and ruthless in battle, Felidae uses her wits, speed and unmatched agility to elegantly snag her kills. Whilst she doesn't particularly enjoy killing she certainly feels no remorse from it and sometimes uses combat as a way of releasing pent-up stress, but from her point of view taking a life is just part of the job and is the only thing she knows she's good at. She holds a bitter prejudice toward most Elven kind (especially Dunmer) due to her childhood being spent doing forced labour in a recluse Vvardenfell mine, but she is struggling to put her past behind her and has even taken it upon herself to single-handedly seek revenge on the Great House who she spent the majority of her childhood enslaved to. She also somewhat resents her own race in a way, feeling angry and ashamed of how her kind have sunk to becoming stereotypical thieves and do-badders, shunned by the rest of society, although in more than a few cases her own actions can tend to contradict this (she could also be considered a hypocrite).

    Whilst not really a bad person at heart, Felidae can be mean-spirited, arrogant and even cruel at times and has an exceedingly short temper, resulting in many violent and often uncalled for outbursts due to her impatience with other people. Even when she's in a friendly environment she tends to remain stony-faced when others are being jovial, revealing no sense of humour beneath her hard, seemingly emotionless exterior. Whilst she isn't physically unattractive for a Khajiit, Felidae wears a constant grimace that doesn't help her looks and, when she's really angry, can make her appear downright fearsome. People who have encountered the Wanderer in person have even described her as only having three facial expressions: "annoyed", "scornful" and "furious", the latter of which having the inevitable effect of making her appear rather scary and pretty much unapproachable, so it isn't surprising that even being mistaken for a male isn't an uncommon occurrence whenever she's wearing her angry face. Notwithstanding her restrained personality, the Wanderer can be very intimidating if she wants to be; her fiery orange eyes have been known to induce a strong feeling of unease or even distress when gazed directly into.

    She has no need nor want of friends and family, as past experience has taught her relationships can only lead to hurt and betrayal, and would act only as a hindrance in her travels. This makes it extremely difficult for her to trust other people and make friends, and instead chooses to remain distanced from everyone else in order to prevent any emotional ties being formed. She has little romantic interest in men, shunning any advances made towards her (not that there are many) and considering the majority of them to be dirty, egotistical brutes obsessed with sex and violence, so she could perhaps be seen as asexual due to her frigidness. Growing close to someone is one of her two main fears, the other being quite a severe case of claustrophobia after a childhood spent crawling through cramped tunnels. She is not afraid of death, and is more terrified of being locked away than anything else.
    Her entire existence revolves around revenge and retribution, and if she could be summed up in just one word it would be "austere".



    Combat

    Felidae, preferring the elegant art of stealth over that of pure combat, uses her keen feline eyesight to achieve mid-distance kills with her repeating crossbow from the cover of darkness, and can use the weapon with only one hand (when not in use it is kept holstered on a leather lanyard across her back). The crossbow, whilst not particularly powerful or long-range, is compact, lightweight and carries up to five small bolts in a special compartment, allowing each bolt to quickly slide into place after the last one is fired by means of a lever on top of the weapon. Despite its ridiculous size the crossbow is very lightweight and easy to conceal, and doesn't require much strength or time to use. If the victim survives the initial attack she isn't afraid to get up close with her trusty twin blades and finish the fight in a much more personal manner (kept sheathed on her left thigh and right boot respectively). She also takes advantage of her flexibility and fights in a very acrobatic manner to confuse her opponents, using handsprings, somersaults and ariels, almost like a dance. Albeit a very complex, deadly dance.

    Like most duel-wielders she sees no need for defence and instead opts for a flat-out, savage, unrelenting attack method intended to batter down an enemy's resistance before they can get in a hit, whilst utilizing her speed and agility to avoid any strikes coming her way. Unfortunately, due to her impatience to get things done she isn't very tactical and prefers to act on the spur of the moment rather than spend ages planning her attack beforehand, sometimes leading to a lot of mishaps further on.

    Hidden under the cover of her poncho she wears a leather bandoleer equipped with twelve Air-Sabre shurikens which she can use with pin-point accuracy, managing to hit arteries and other vital areas of the body with little effort. These unique throwing stars are utilized when the target is too close for a crossbow kill but too far for melee, and are also often used for a surprise attack; being thrown before the opponent even knows that her hands have left her poncho. If done right she has the ability of taking out up to five or even six enemies at the same time, although this is a rare occurrence and usually she can only take out around three using this method. Felidae disdains the use of her claws in combat, considering it barbaric and unsophisticated, and will always prefer to use her fists instead if engaged in unarmed combat. She has the most trouble when pitted against magic users or especially those who share her own style of fighting, and prefers engaging in combat against larger, more burly opponents.

    Felidae has no interest whatsoever in the arcane arts, and barely raises an eyebrow when watching mages perform big, flashy destruction spells, remaining completely unimpressed by their magical abilities. Decent feats of archery, on the other hand, have been known to occasionally win her over, even if she chooses not to show it. She is exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand combat, even for a Khajiit, and knows many ways of taking down an armed opponent larger than herself using a form of martial art her monk father taught her before his death known as the "Whispering Fang", even though she isn't a Master of it and tends to customize the style with her own personal techniques. Felidae loathes heavy armour as she can barely even move in it, let alone fight, and two-handed weapons are practically useless when wielded by her (usually resulting in a lot of nasty toe injuries). She doesn't bother with any type of magic, considering it far too complicated and preferring to leave her whiskers un-singed.



    Other Information

    Having been raised by an upper-class Imperial gentleman in the province of Cyrodiil for six years of her life, Felidae's speech is unlike that of most Khajiit; being spoken in first-person, losing most of the nasal inflection that is common among the native cats of Elsweyr and is noticeably low in pitch. Her dialect is monotone with a very stern, authoritative edge to it, and some have even regarded her accent as being 'posh', at least in comparison to other Khajiit (think Captain Janeway from Voyager). However, this is mostly unapparent as she speaks only when she feels the need to, remaining quiet and reserved most of the time.

    She has no personal opinions of the civil war, viewing the chaos as an effective cover for any shady business she's currently getting involved in and making it easier to slip around unnoticed. Although she does maintain a slight level of empathy for the soldiers on either side, and feels the carnage is just a waste of decent warriors, she mostly considers the war as being none of her concern. Felidae couldn't care less about the Divines as in her opinion they have done nothing to either hinder or help her in her exploits, even though she isn't ignorant of their existence and occasionally blames them for a lot of things that are wrong with the world. The Daedra, on the other hand, she considers scum, including the princes. People that talk too much and children are also on her list of pet peeves. Felidae has a guilty pleasure in the form of Skooma as the narcotic helps to repress her anger and temporarily forget her anxieties, but she isn't an addict and only takes it when she's feeling particularly distressed.

    Felidae is mainly a drifter, travelling from town to town, village to village, never staying in one area for too long and taking whatever jobs are thrown at her, as long as they involve combat in some way (although if someone was to ask about what line of work she's in, most of the time she'd call herself a bounty hunter). People often assume that she's an assassin due to the skin-tight black armour she wears, which only results in aggravating her due to the "untrustworthy" stereotype people associate with her kind.

    The armour itself, consisting of a two-piece leather "cat"suit that protects every part of her body save her head, hands and feet, is designed more for flexibility and freedom of movement rather than damage-absorption and moulds so close to her form that it acts almost like a second-skin, plus it weighs next-to-nothing. It is perhaps best described as a mix between the Shrouded and Guild Master armour sets, can be opened and closed at the front via a set of small straps that run from the waistline to the neck and is extremely effective for keeping out the cold. As for the Dark Brotherhood, Felidae has no desire whatsoever to join their ranks; she may be a ruthless killer, but she's not completely cold-blooded.
    Being a fairly modest woman, Felidae chooses to wear a sleeveless, scoop-neck white crop top instead of a bra, figuring it appears a little less ostentatious whenever she has to remove her armour.


    Felidae also wears a brown leather gauntlet over her left hand to hide the black Hulking Fabricant slave-mark burned onto her wrist when she was a child, as simply looking at the brand brings back vivid and disturbing memories of the mine she was forced to work in (although she claims she wears it to help her archery, not wanting to bring up the uncomfortable subject of her childhood). The cuff also partially contributed to the birth of her nickname.

    The tatty red scarf that she has worn since youth was made by her mother, who she never met, and is the only item she owns that was given to her by her parents. Despite being just a ratty piece of cloth it holds a strong sentimental value which means she has an immense reluctance to part with it or even take it off, and has developed a lifelong habit of fondling it whenever stressed or nervous. When in stealth mode, she has been known to pull it over her muzzle and wear it as a face bandanna to cover up her fur, which has let her down on more than one occasion due to its light colour.
    Felidae carries all of her belongings in a black leather saddlebag which she keeps slung over one shoulder, with one side of the bag reserved only for the severed heads of her bounties.

    She is renowned for doing pretty much everything with only her right hand, such as eating, drinking, writing and even engaging in combat, her left remaining constantly hidden beneath her poncho in case a situation arises that forces her to quickly grab a weapon, which tend to be her shurikens or dagger. For this reason, she has been dubbed the somewhat unflattering alias "Geinhaal", meaning "one-handed" in the Dovah language.

    Though she does not know it, Felidae is one of the many reincarnations of Shiva Mor'khrass; a powerful Nightblade that roamed Tamriel during the Second Era. Though they are not related or connected in any way, they still share the same soul after it was preserved by the Daedric Prince Meridia as a form of insurance.


    Bio

    Childhood
    [​IMG]
    Hulking Mine

    On the 12th of Evening Star a female Khajiit simply named "No.62" (or "Six" for short) was born into captivity in a recluse Vvardenfell mine which was being illegally operated by one of the Dunmer Great Houses, and from the age of three was forced to work alongside about thirty other slaves. Due to her mother passing away during childbirth the only person who ever showed her affection was her father who did his best to raise her alone despite the fact that he could barely keep himself alive, let alone a daughter. But rather than educate her on how to read or write he chose to teach her the more important skill of how to defend herself, specifically by using a style of Khajiiti martial arts he had studied during his life as a monk before being captured by the Dunmer; the Whispering Fang. Unbeknownst to Six, the Slave Master that ran the mine harboured a bitter grudge towards her father due to him also being a notorious rebel leader, which made him a main target of the Dunmer's wrath and unfortunately resulted in a lot of his insubordinate attitude rubbing off on his daughter, making her equally defiant in nature.
    Every day she was worked almost to breaking point in the harsh conditions of the mine, at some point having a black slave-mark branded painfully onto her left wrist in the form of a Hulking Fabricant (the mine's emblem), enchanted so it could never be removed. Her main job was to crawl through small tunnels scouting for valuable items or resources, and she soon developed a fear of cramped or enclosed areas. Refusal to obey usually resulted in a savage beating and starvation.


    Things worsened when at the age of eight she accidentally knocked a large amount of valuable minerals into a lava pit, exhaustion making her inattentive, and as punishment was beaten by a Dunmer guard until her father came to her aid and severely injured the Elf, saving her but forfeiting his own life in the process. For his assault on the guard he was condemned to death on the spot and was brutally murdered by the Slave Master, within arms reach of his daughter. Traumatized and painted crimson with the blood of her only friend and guardian, Six confronted the Dunmer in a blind rage but was lashed across the face for her disobedience, leaving a jagged scar that ran from above her left eye to just below her right. A constant reminder of the man who inflicted it. With her father dead the Slave Master then began directing most of his abuse onto her, the fear of the mine being discovered slowly driving him insane. But, now left without any companionship whatsoever, the only motivation keeping the girl going was her hatred towards the Dunmer and bitter-sweet thoughts of vengeance.

    When she was ten years-old the mine was suddenly discovered and ransacked by soldiers, giving her and the other slaves an opportunity to escape. During the commotion she was attacked for a final time by the deranged Slave Master, and in her panic to get free she slashed his jugular vein open with her razor-sharp claws, inadvertently killing him. Six escaped the mine amidst the chaos of the battle and found herself wandering the Ashlands of Morrowind alone, frightened, starving and without a purpose.
    Nearly a week later, whilst sheltering for the night in a small cave she had discovered at the base of a cliff, the young Khajiit was set-upon by a ravenous pack of Alit and she fled into the wastes, the creatures snapping at her heels. Luckily she happened upon a small camp occupied by three Khajiit siblings, Jisada, Ra'Sada and Dro'Sad. They were nomads who wandered the province as master thieves responsible for countless heists and robberies, and were temporarily hiding out in the wilderness after some unspecified incident in the nearby town of Ald'ruhn. But instead of leaving the girl to her untimely fate, they rescued her from the beasts and decided to take her under their wing (much to the reluctance of the bullying egotist Ra'Sada). Over the course of the next few months they proceeded to show her the way of the thief, how to sneak, pickpocket and swindle, and they discovered that she was a fast learner when it came to stealth, quickly deducing that she was born under that particular Sign.

    Despite being constantly ridiculed and picked-on by Ra'Sada, the strongest and most violent member of the group, she soon formed close friendships with the wise but stern leader Dro'Sada, who was the oldest of the three siblings, and in particular the caring and bubbly female Jisada, who was the youngest. Dro'Sada, being the brain of the group, began to make use of his new accomplice's age and taught her how to effectively utilize her disarming appearance (plus a slightly fabricated back story) to con others out of their money, and her size also proved useful when it came to squeezing through tight gaps into houses. It wasn't long before the group were making more money than ever before thanks to her, and although the highly-superstitious Ra'Sada continued to bully the young girl (believing her to be an omen that would end up tearing the family apart), Jisada took it upon herself to look after her and became an almost mother-like figure. The foursome soon left Vvardenfell for good to seek wealth throughout the rest of Morrowind, particularly in Blacklight.


    After three years of roaming the province with them, committing various break-ins, heists and cons throughout Morrowind, they decided to gain access to Cyrodiil using the money they'd accumulated. Adopting new names and identities the group managed to slip across the border into by way of Shadowgate Pass; a decision which, whilst saving them the trouble of having to trek over the perilous Valus Mountains, put them severely out of pocket as a result. So after stopping by the town of Cheydinhal for a couple of days to rest and unload some hot merchandise, the foursome immediately headed for the Imperial City where Dro'Sada believed they would make their fortune and finally end their lives as thieves. Setting up their camp in the City's Waterfront, they prowled the streets at night looking for shops and homes to burgle and during the day picked the pockets of passer-by; enthusiastic in the belief that they would soon make it big.

    However, after nearly five long months of getting nowhere they finally realized that all the stories they had heard about the City being a hotbed of wealth wasn't as true as they had once believed (mostly due to the results of the Great War), and quickly decided that they needed to aim even higher in order to succeed in making their fortune. So one fateful night they planned a raid on a stately manor house in the Talos Plaza District of the City, getting desperate and thus careless in their greed. However, due to their negligence they failed to realise that the owner of the house was a powerful, well-respected noble who had served as a general in the Imperial Legion, and the house was well guarded. Needless to say the plot was foiled before they could steal so much as a candlestick, and although only Six was caught in the act and arrested (Ra'Sada having abandoned her in his attempt to escape) she refused to divulge the existence of her companions. However, it wasn't long before Jisada and Dro'Sada, both torn with guilt, gave themselves up and the four thieves were sentenced to six years each in the Imperial Prison
    . But to Six's good fortune the elderly gentleman, who had been widowed some years previously and had never had a child of his own, took pity on the thirteen year-old Khajiit girl and decided to foster her.



    Adolescence
    [​IMG]

    The Lioria household

    While the three Khajiit thieves rotted in the Imperial dungeons, the young girl slowly adapted to her new lifestyle. She took up a job delivering papers for the Black Horse Courier and her new foster father, Vodus Lioria (whom soon revealed his past as a member of the Blades before joining the Legion after they disbanded), taught her the skills he learned and excelled at in Blades training as well as basic education that she had never had the opportunity to receive. And so, driven by the intense fury that festered constantly within her, she soon started to hone her body into a lethal weapon under his expert tuition. It was also from Vodus that she acquired the name 'Felidae' (meaning the biological family of cats). In order to do her new job quicker, she took to using the rooftops for faster deliveries and quickly developed a knack for climbing and athletics, scaling the buildings of the City with complete ease. It wasn't a particularly exciting job, but each time she traversed the stone canopy she began to experience a sense of freedom and soon found herself passing more time above the City than within it; spending every night perched atop the City wall and gazing out across the lake towards the distant mountains, wondering what lay beyond.

    Five years passed, and Felidae grew into a strong-willed young woman living a life of (what most people would consider) complete contentment, earning bonuses at work due to the unmatched speed at which she delivered her papers and, due to her skills in fighting and notoriously hot temper, she was mostly avoided by the other citizens, which suited her just fine. Under the impression that she wished to join the Imperial Legion, Vodus trained her intensely in the art of combat and she began to hone her body into a lethal weapon under his expert tuition, even though she had no intention whatsoever of following in his footsteps; even at her young age, all that mattered to the Khajiit was finding and destroying the Mer who enslaved her family. She was occasionally given tasks by the City guard who, having noticed her ferocity and enthusiasm in combat, occasionally sent her on tasks to settle brawls or even spy on suspected criminals, all without her foster father's knowledge (as he tended to be very overprotective). However, as soon as he felt she was competent Vodus began to send his young protégé on regular trips to Chorrol, a pleasant town nestled in the Great Forest north-west of the City, in order to carry out unofficial contracts at the Fighters Guild branch situated there (which was only possible due to him being on good terms with the Guild Master) and in return Felidae received a decent pay in gold and extra training from the Master himself.
    Despite Vodus's wealth and common misconception amongst her neighbours, the Khajiit had a very austere upbringing.


    [​IMG]

    The Chorrol Fighters Guild

    Despite the seemingly perfect lifestyle however, she still felt as though she didn't fit in with life in the City and began to feel trapped within its huge walls. She was tormented every day by memories of her childhood, her sleep was continuously broken by vivid nightmares of her father's death, and the mere sight of the slave-mark on her left wrist caused her so much distress that she was forced to wear a white bandage over her lower arm to cover it. She had trouble with keeping friends due to her cold exterior and violent tendencies, preferring to stay indoors and train rather than keep up with her social life, and she rarely left the City other than to go for long walks by Lake Rumare and simply enjoy being alone (even her trips to Chorrol were taken on horseback with Vodus' bodyguard as an escort). Her detachment from the rest of society inevitably led to her being bullied and harassed by other teenagers, in particular a pampered Orc girl who also lived in the Taloz Plaza, but out of respect for Vodus she tried her hardest to ignore the threats and taunts and simply get on with her life. Despite her close relationship with Vodus she saw him as more of a mentor than a father, and as she grew older her hatred for the slavers grew more and more intense until every day was spent thinking about how she could get her revenge, thus turning her into a bitter, resentful person.

    This all culminated on Felidae's eighteenth birthday when, after a heated argument, the Orc girl made the ultimate mistake of tearing the scarf from her neck in a random act of spite, knowing full-well of the item's sentimental value. And driven wild by an almost primitive fury, Felidae finally snapped.
    Using all the knowledge that her father and Vodus had taught her about unarmed combat, she promptly launched herself upon the offender, quickly sweeping the Orc to the ground and smashing her fists into her face repeatedly until the usual greenish hue of her skin was reduced to a messy mix of red and purple, and a pool of blood began to form on the pavement and drip down the curb. The frenzied Khajiit didn't cease the assault until no less than three guards had managed to drag her off and restrain her, resulting in a hefty fine that Vodus was forced to pay off when the Orc's parents pressed charges, and as a consequence Felidae became even more of an outcast. Deep down, the young Khajiit knew she would never be able to settle down and escape her past. At least, not in the confines of the City.



    Adulthood
    Meanwhile, deep in the Imperial Prison, the two weaker Khajiit Jisada and Dro'Sada had passed away from disease during their years of captivity, but the third thief was finally released back into Tamriel a free man, alone, insane, and with naught but one purpose; to exact revenge on the young girl who had gone on to a good life whilst his own family slowly wasted away in their cells. The girl who had, in his eyes, torn his family apart. In his mentally handicapped state Ra'Sada retraced his steps to the old man's house that night and managed to break in once more through an open window, carrying a lit torch, before making his way down to the cellar. After breaking open several wine barrels and spilling the contents over the stone floor, he retreated to the cellar's entrance and flung the torch back inside, igniting the alcohol and causing a large fire that began to spread rapidly through the house.

    Panicked by the fire, Ra'Sada began to beat a hasty exit but instead came face-to-face with Felidae who, being the only one in the house awake, had detected the smell of smoke and was now blocking his escape route, but for the moment didn't recognize her old ally. The two faced off in the smoky entrance hall, sizing each other up, before Ra'Sada went for her with his bare hands and a desperate scuffle ensued. Lost in her own bloodlust, and because the intruder was now weak and feeble due to his six years incarcerated within the Imperial dungeons, Felidae easily overpowered him and with a dangerous gleam in her eyes slowly advanced on her cowering adversary, claws unsheathed.

    His nerve finally failing him, Ra'Sada started to grovel for his life, desperately attempting to assure the enraged Khajiit that all the times he had bullied and tormented her in the past were completely unintentional and he had never actually meant any of it.

    Felidae, finally realizing who her opponent was, paused in her tracks and for a brief moment snapped back to reality, the bloodlust lifting slightly. It was at that moment that a large billow of flame suddenly erupted from the basement and the two Khajiit, forgetting their fight for the moment, both rushed up to the first level of the house to escape the fire. Now distracted by her priority to warn the aged Vodus of the impending danger, Felidae turned her back for a second and Ra'Sada took his chance, launching himself at her with claws unsheathed. But Felidae, sensing the attack, countered his swipes at the last second and slammed him into the wall by his throat. Switching his tack again Ra'Sada began to beg her to let him live, claiming that he had been driven mad with grief by the untimely deaths of his brother and sister who had been too physically weak to survive in jail. Saddened by the news that her old friends and comrades were dead, Felidae released him a second time in a final, reluctant act of mercy and Ra'Sada, finally knowing he was defeated, attempted to flee through Vodus's study on the top level of the building.

    However, he had barely made it to the top of the stairs when Vodus suddenly emerged from the loft hatch, dragged him through with surprising vigour and pinned him to the study floor, unable to let the Khajiit get away due to the extreme views of law and order that had been hammered into him during his life in the Legion. Felidae, alarmed, immediately began to argue with her mentor, telling him that there was no time to deal with Ra'Sada's punishment due to the severity of the situation, and despite his fury Vodus finally relented. But Ra'Sada, desperate not to be imprisoned a second time, seized a blade off the wall and drove it into the old man's back in a fit of blind panic before Felidae could do anything, fatally wounding him. Vodus Lioria, one of the last surviving Blades, passed away in his student's arms.


    Suddenly realizing the enormity of what he'd done, the Khajiit attempted to plead with his old companion to join him, so they could escape the province together and start life anew. But Felidae, her mind returning to the same incident eleven years before, lashed out with her claws and tore Ra'Sada's throat out before flinging him out of the study window. The gurgling Khajiit thudded down the sloped roof in a shower of glass, leaving a trail of blood in his wake, and for a brief moment he teetered on the edge as his fingers scrabbled feebly at the tiles for a handhold. After a couple of seconds of fruitlessly attempting to prevent his own weight from pulling him down, Ra'Sada's quickly deadening eyes met hers for the last time before he slipped over the precipice, landing with a muffled thud in the garden below. For a moment Felidae stood at the shattered window, gazing over the City wall to where the shadow of the Jerall Mountains were just visible over the stone parapets, and as the room slowly began to fill with smoke she made a life-changing yet reckless decision. Coming to the realization that this was her chance to start a new life and not wanting to be present for questioning due to her reputation with the guards, she quickly recovered Vodus's Orcish daggers from the blazing wreckage and escaped the City via the rooftops, while the only home she'd ever known burned to the ground behind her.

    For nearly a month Felidae wandered Cyrodiil's western Heartlands in a state of guilt and depression; starving, penniless and constantly avoiding Imperial patrols due to a paranoid-induced fear of being recognized, not knowing that she'd been given up for dead in the fire. One day, whilst foraging in the wilderness north-west of the City, a pair of mountain lions suddenly emerged from the undergrowth and one of them pounced upon her, raking its claws her across her abdomen and leaving three large wounds on the right side of her rib cage. Using her last ounce of strength she managed to kill her attacker and drove its companion back into the woods, but after staggering agonizingly along the road looking for help she soon collapsed in a ditch, bleeding to death. After nearly an hour of clinging desperately to life, terrified that the remaining beast would return to finish her off, the pain proved too much for her to bear and she blacked-out.

    When her eyes finally fluttered open, she found herself tucked-up in bed in a small dimly-lit room with Vodus seated beside her, his concerned face half-illuminated by candlelight. Upon seeing him she attempted desperately to sit up, blurry-eyed and in pain, but once her sight cleared and it became evident that the man was not her beloved foster father, the effort became too much and sleep quickly overtook her.

    For the next three weeks she continued to slip in and out of consciousness, her body wracked by fever. One moment she was burning up, her skin blistering hot. The next she was bitterly cold, huddled up in a tight ball under the sheets, teeth chattering and body violently shivering, constantly gasping for breath.
    Visions of fire and noises from outside permeated her dreams. The night cries of the nocturnal creatures, the hushed chatter of people hurrying past her door; sometimes the wind howling or rain pounding on the roof, sometimes the disjointed sounds of muffled activity as daily life went on downstairs. Every now and then she would be awoken by someone busying themselves about her bed, occasionally replacing the wet cloth on her forehead or applying stinging ointment to the angry wound on her abdomen. Without any idea of whether it was night or day she soon lost all sense of time, and her weight dropped drastically. But, gradually, the fever began to lift.


    When she finally awoke daylight was streaming through the window and an elderly Breton lady was pottering around the room, storing linen sheets in drawers and humming to herself quietly. After realizing that Felidae was awake the woman came forward and introduced herself as Dabinna Atriel, before explaining that they were locals of a small village called Aleswell located on the Red Ring Road north of the Imperial City, and the establishment in which Felidae was currently residing was an inn owned by her Imperial husband Moriis (the man who Felidae had mistaken for her foster father upon her arrival). She explained that the Khajiit had been discovered not far from the settlement by one of the local farmers and, knowing that Dabinna was a talented healer and alchemist, he had carried her to the inn for medical treatment, where it turned out she had contracted a particularly bad case of Wither. According to Moriis it hadn't looked like she was going to pull through, but Dabinna had tried her best regardless and her hard work had ultimately paid off. It was the closest she'd been to death since escaping the mine nine years before.

    [​IMG]
    Aleswell


    It took another week to shake off the last of the fever, but despite Dabinna's cautionary scoldings she decided to explore the rest of the village which consisted of the inn, a couple of cottages where the farmers lived, a vegetable garden at the centre and a sheep pen. All in all it was a pleasant but unremarkable place, and Felidae realised that when she and her Khajiit companions first arrived in Cyrodiil they must have walked right past it on their way to the City.
    It also didn't get much in the way of visitors. Every now and then a traveller or two would stop by the inn for a rest and something to eat, but they never stayed for more than a couple of days and had little of interest to impart but their gold and idle gossip.
    In return for the Atriel's hospitality she made sure to help out as much as possible around the village, such as keeping the livestock safe from predators, tending to the crops and cleaning the inn from top to bottom, receiving food and shelter as payment. It was honest work, but boring, and she knew that she would never be able to fit into that kind of lifestyle. In the meantime, she was content to wait for an opportunity
    to present itself.


    Her chance came nearly a whole year later when six rowdy Khajiit turned up at the village shortly before nightfall and began to pile into the tiny dining room, knocking things over and demanding something to drink. Initially annoyed at the disturbance Morriis prepared to throw them out, but, after being persuaded to let them stay by his sympathetic wife, relented and reluctantly sold them victuals before retiring to his room. After consuming half of Moriis's supply of ale, they cleared the tables and chairs to allow room for them to set up their bed mats on the dining room floor, stoked up a fire in the hearth, and by midnight were all snoring loudly. They didn't rise till half past seven the next morning and immediately began to prepare breakfast, but were finally kicked out when one member of the party accidentally jabbed his greatsword through a window while searching for sweetroles, and Moriis lost his temper.

    Whilst they were gathering up their belongings the young Khajiit girl approached them with a proposition: to take her on as an extra bodyguard in exchange for merely food, shelter and adventure. Despite being a little begrudging at first the caravan knew a bargain when it saw one and soon accepted, revealing that they were en-route to Skyrim in an attempt to "improve business", but were going to have to take the longer, more dangerous route over the border because Pale Pass had been closed due to avalanches. As a goodbye gift from everyone at Aleswell, Dabinna presented the young Khajiit with a specially-made black poncho designed to not only protect the wearer from the harshest, most inclement weather but also allow complete freedom of movement, and managed to be both distinctive and practical at the same time. After more goodbyes and thank-yous had been exchanged, Felidae turned her back on the village and set off north towards her new life; confident and optimistic about her future.

    After stopping briefly at the mountain town of Bruma to resupply and recuperate, the caravan wasted little time in embarking upon the long trek north across the harsh terrain of the Jeralls, fighting off attacks from wolves, bears and even ogres as well as braving fierce blizzards that threatened to hurl them off the cliffs. The journey was extremely arduous and pushed the group to its limits, even claiming the life of one of its members when she was torn apart by a frost troll, and Felidae couldn't help but wonder whether the "improved business" was worth all the danger. But despite her concerns she pushed them to the back of her mind and struggled on, deciding that it must be or else they wouldn't be going to all the effort. Surely her comrades knew what they were doing?

    [​IMG]
    The Jerall Mountains

    Since their departure from Bruma it took a full week of arduous, seemingly non-stop travelling before they finally crossed over the border and set up camp in the woods of Falkreath Hold, not far east of Helgen. However, it didn't take long for Felidae to realize that they were situated within easy walking distance of another camp site occupied by Nordic soldiers in blue armour, whom frequently visited the Khajiit to buy or sell wares. She also found it odd that her companions had chosen to hunker down in the wilderness rather than outside of the town, and the fact that she was conveniently sent away from camp on errands whilst the transactions took place also suggested that the other members of the caravan - shady characters who rarely talked - were keeping something from her. But any suspicions she had were swept aside by the anticipation of more adventure.


    One night, after a mere two weeks of defending the camp from wild animals and even a small bandit attack, Felidae was jolted from her slumber by an almighty commotion going on nearby. After stumbling around in the darkness for a few minutes searching for her comrades she realized with shock and fury that the caravan had abandoned her, leaving only a smoking camp fire and several neglected bags of wares behind to prove they were ever there. She was caught in the midst of an intense battle between the Nords and what looked to her like Imperials, judging by the unique attire and weaponry.

    Despite being practically surrounded by soldiers, she immediately attempted to flee from the scene but was inevitably caught and brought before the triumphant Imperials. More angry than afraid, she desperately attempted to convince them that she wasn't working for the Stormcloaks and was simply passing through the area with a caravan. However, after one of the bags was split open only to spill out masses of Moon Sugar and several bottles of Skooma were discovered partially buried in the ground nearby, it was finally revealed to her that she had been unwittingly helping the Khajiit smuggle contraband into Skyrim to sell to the Stormcloaks, and had been kept under close surveillance the moment they crossed the border. Despite her pleas that she had been completely unaware of the caravan's intentions and had been deceived, the soldiers were having none of it and thus tried to bundle her onto the prisoner wagon, but were forced to knock her unconscious when she struggled.
    When she eventually awoke, head throbbing, she was slumped on a rickety cart with other Nordic prisoners; hands bound, blurry-eyed, and heading inexorably toward whatever fate had in store for her.


    Present
    After escaping execution, the twenty year-old Khajiit girl goes on to wander Skyrim alone under the moniker "Geinhaal", putting all of her skills to use in an attempt to get by in a land fraught with danger. Sometimes she's a mercenary, paid to sort out trouble in different parts of Skyrim for either the Empire or the Stormcloaks (it doesn't matter which side she's working for, as long as the pay is good). At others she's a bounty hunter, chasing and capturing dangerous criminals for a reward, which quickly becomes her preferred method of earning money. She takes to wearing a leather gauntlet over her left hand, attempting to hide away the painful reminder of her childhood that's forever burned onto her wrist (even though she claims it's to help with her archery). She even stumbles across the unscrupulous Khajiit caravan she used to work with, all of them robbed blind and slain by bandits in a remote mountain pass, their less-than-innocent wares vanished.

    Upon claiming an extremely rare repeating crossbow from an ex-bounty target (and receiving a nasty bolt-wound on her thigh in the process) Felidae decides to ditch her bow in favour of this new, more advanced weapon. After five hard years of perfecting her skills she soon becomes one of the most notorious bounty hunters in Skyrim, renowned throughout the criminal underworld as "Geinhaal", or "the White Wanderer". But despite this new-found fame (and perhaps infamy) she continues fighting, driven on by naught but one purpose: to one day escape the torments of her past by taking down the Great House that enslaved her family.


    Theme

    (Images by Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages)

     
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    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    LordNaskill: 1 Point (Awesome character my friend love it you should add some art of your character) Dec 18, 2012
    Majir-Dar: 5 Points (A fantastic CC. I would give more but I can't.) Oct 6, 2013
    #622 Felidae, Dec 18, 2012
    Last edited: Dec 4, 2016
  3. Benthos

    Benthos Proud Mer

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    Name: Tonybob Jenkins III or Tonaro Jenkinir III (Work In Progress)
    Race: Bosmer
    Class: Adventurer/Archer
    Gender: Male
    Age: 16
    Appearance: Disheveled, wavy, dark brown hair, 5'3, dark brown eyes with a purple tint. Young face, smooth complexion, keeps war painted on face when adventuring (which is most of his time), since his dream of Azura, he keeps painting a symbol of Azura on his face as a symbol of his loyalty to her.
    Personality: Friendly, well-mannered, has undying loyalty, fun-loving, clumsy, considered unlucky by all Bosmer, determined, great survivalist, and keeps value in simplicity and effectiveness. Many say he's a great leader if you remove his bad luck.
    Primary weapon - Enchanted Imperial Bow (passed down through generations)
    Secondary weapon - Enchanted Steel War axe (passed down through generations).

    Family flag:
    [​IMG]


    Hey, did you draw that? That's awesome, can I make a request? I have a Bosmer I would really like to be drawn in that style if you don't mind me requesting.
     
  4. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name: Vistra-Dum
    Race: Argonian
    Gender: Male
    Age: 20
    Class: Hunter
    Looks:
    [​IMG]
    Personality: Calm dose not intend to speak much but will often speak in tongue
    Bio: Vistra came to skyrim looking for a new home he came from a small tribe on the southern edge of black marsh woods Vistra was raised to hunt in the wilderness he can hide and thrive in the woods he is a master hunter but also a deadly fighter at hand to hand.

    [​IMG]

    Art work credit goes to GloomyLavv
     
  5. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name: Dar Renji
    Race: Khajiit
    Age: 20
    Class: Assassin
    Looks

    [​IMG]

    Personality: Shy,calm,smart,Confident
    Bio: Renji was raised with 5 sisters and 3 brothers he was the youngest of them all many of them are successful traders or mercenary's but Renji self trained him self with a bow he also taught him self a running ability he was able to run from rooftop to rooftop and sneak around the guards Renji was good at what he did he came to skyrim to work for a local bandit leader by the name of Riggmor.Renji was giving targets to kill and he did so with no regret until one of his targets was his oldest brother who was blamed for treason by telling the guard about Riggmor Renji made the choice of killing his brother by doing that he went a little insane Renji
    tried to hide the fact he killed his older brother but when his family found out they wanted answers but Renji job came first he killed every one of his family members 1 by 1 after that he went completely insane from there Renji had no family to love or hate he just had his job to kill who he was told to kill but when Renji turned 20 Riggmor thought that Renji was going to kill him so he ordered Renji out after that Renji joined with another bandit group again he was given targets to kill so he killed from there and on.
     
  6. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name: Tragrim
    Race: Dark Elf
    Age: 27
    Class: Pirate
    Looks:
    [​IMG]

    Personality: selfish snob and dislikes Nords
    Bio: Raised on a ship Tragrim got his name from the ship he was born of the mighty Tragrim.
    Tragrim was trained with a cutlass as soon as he could walk Tragrim was a mighty fighter and captain
    he earned his ship Buccaneers Storm Tragrim is not only good a fighting but he is also good at trading and
    persuading he has traveled from high rock to Black marsh Tragrim has been able to get respect on the high seas by beating many opponents on ship and off ship Tragrim came to skyrim thought the frost waters and made his way to solitude and has been in skyrim since his crew and him split up from there they went there ways he went his.
     
  7. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name:Azuk
    Race: Orc
    Age: 18
    Class: Mercenary
    Looks
    [​IMG]

    Personality: Fierce strong reliable
    Bio: Azuk was trained and raised at an Orc stronghold when he came of age he left the stronghold and headed towards skyrim when he reached skyrim he became a merc he earned enough money to keep his stomach full and his weapons new

     
  8. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name: Meredith Alis
    Race: Imperial
    Age:24
    Class: Battlemage
    Looks:
    [​IMG]

    Personality secretive and unknown

    Bio:raised in the woods by her father and tought to be a mage with a difference she would wield magics in one hand and a sword in the other from there she would be a hunter and fighter and mage in one
     
  9. Loltome

    Loltome The Kaiser. Bow before my Millitary!

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    Name: Elko
    Race: Imperial
    Class: Mechanic
    Gender: Male
    Looks: Dirty and Smokey hair, dirty face
    Age: 27



    Gear: Fire-Salt "boom-stick" slung across back, Large Wrench slung across back, Grey jumpsuit, Drab plated overalls, corundum goggles, leather gloves, Dwemer mobile chest



    Bio: As a young boy, Elko has had an obsession with the Dwemer, as he had grown up in a Dwemer ruin. A gang had killed his family, and he had fled for the nearest building in search of security. His father always said to stay away from the Dwemer ruin, but he saw no other option. he spent his days in the higher levels of the structure, as it was the safest place to be throughout the ruin. He became more nimble, and managed to slowly descend the ruins to the inner sanctum. he discovered some old Dwemer schematics, and interpreted many of them into his own creations. the inner sanctum became his base of operation, as it contained a workshop with much Dwemer schematics, and an elevator to the surface, as many Dwemer ruins do. occasionally, he would visit a town for food, supplies, or maybe, just a good time and companionship.
     
  10. Hale Loneshadow

    Hale Loneshadow Well-Known Member

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    A Revised Card of Hale Loneshadow, with a short history.

    Name: Hale Loneshadow

    Race: Evondalian (human) -Unknown to others except close friends-

    Sexuality: Heterosexual


    Age: 177 (Looks like he's in his late twenties; explanation further down)

    Equipment/Gear: His mithril bastard sword, Sindar, is blessed with an enchantment of Ice, to dispel fire both natural and magical. His great-bow, Toril, has a minor lightning enchantment, to give each arrow fired an added kick! He wears a black cowl with a green-white outline, which he typically dons on the road during overcast and rainy days. Hale also wears a sturdy leather breastplate, underlined with woven chainmail, with a metal plate covering his heart and a pauldron on his left shoulder. Four kunai-style throwing knives as well as a ranging knife (think smaller Bowie knife) are hidden amongst his person, as well as three wands: one of a barrier of protection, one of banishment, and one of fireball. Unfortunately, the fireball wand takes much time to recharge, the banishment wand can only be used 9 times in its existence, and the barrier spell has a very limited range.

    Personality: Hale is a charming, good nature'd man. As a Ranger, while he seeks the thrill of the road and adventure, Hale was taught to never sell himself out. As his adoptive father, Avalin the Seeker taught him many times over: the true Hero never actively seeks glory or adulation; they seek to better the world and help the goodly races through no other reasoning than to do just that. Due to this, Hale tended to clash with those of the more rouge-ish nature, as well as the glory-hounding types such as sellswords, thieves, and. fame-seeking warriors and mercenaries. Although, recent circumstances have somewhat warped this paladin-like attitude, with Hale now being a bit more jaded and rakish than his past self would have ever allowed him to be. Although, this does lighten the loads of both his humorous and debaucherous sides!

    History:

    The full tale of Lord Hale De'Telamanter --more commonly known among the smallfolk as The Loneshadow -- is not a short nor simple one. However, the story of how this Paladin-Ranger came to become an exile to Skyrim (and Tamriel in general), is an important one.

    Seventy years before the Civil War of Skyrim, Hale resided in the Holy Kingdom of Evondale, a classic fairytale kindom of a righteous King and Queen, paladins and rangers, and happy commonfolk. He was born of semi-royal blood, first cousin (and best friends) to the Prince of Evondale, Pelham Telamanter. As such, he was blessed at an early age with the Oath and Divinity of a Paladin - a hero whose destiny it was to smite the evils that would threaten the lands. He was also trained as a master ranger at the hands of Avalain the Seeker, the most renowned ranger in the realm, and also the man who became an adoptive father to him. Hale De'Telamanter was also betrothed to marry his true love, Princess Ashera Telamanter.

    That was, until, the evil empire of Thayvar attacked, led by the powerful sorceror-emporer Garumn the Mad.
    The war was swift and brutal, with the king and queen brutally killed, the princess captured and held in a magical cell of ice, and both Hale and Prince Pelham fled. Both of the great friends knew not where the other was, not even knowing if the other was alive, as the Prince - in order to save his greatest friend's life - shoved Hale through a dimensional portal created long ago as a last contingency. Hale arrives in Skyrim as an exile (around 4E 180), vowing revenge while the same time, vowing to honor his mentor and Oaths, to help this strange land out however possible. For the next ~22 years posing as a Breton ranger, he continues to use his gifts for exactly that purpose, while continuing his search for a way to find and retake his homeland.


    Unfortunately, even a nearly two-hundred year old protector of the people can still fall to despair, which inevitably leads to vices. While he has never once abandoned his Oaths to continue his many quests, he has fallen in with rakish and rouge-ish crowds as of late, imbibing in late nights, wanting women, particular herbs, and more, shedding some of his paladin-like attitudes with them. Regardless, Hale Loneshadow marches on, if he marches somewhat aimlessly..


    Unknown to Hale, there was an old, old prophecy that not only fortold the Fall of Evondale, but also of a Hero that would one day retake the ancient kingdom, but first must go through many trials in a different kingdom...



    [​IMG]
     
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    #630 Hale Loneshadow, Dec 26, 2012
    Last edited: Jun 16, 2018
  11. KaitoGhost

    KaitoGhost Sea Sponge First Mate

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    Name: Ariella
    Race: Bosmer
    Class: Mercenary
    Sex: Female
    Age: 32
    Preferred weapons: Greatsword, bow.
    Preferred armor: Steel, Medium
    Height: 5'6"

    Physical features: Amber eyes, auburn hair. Slightly tall and stocky for a Wood Elf. No facial scars.
    [​IMG]

    Personality: Quiet, reserved, suspicious. Dislikes magic, mistrusts those who use it.

    Background: Ariella was born in a small village in the Bosmer homeland of Valenwood, where she lived until her 12th year. Her parents were outspoken against the Aldmeri Dominions influence over Valenwood. Her father was a steelsmith, her mother a huntress. Her parents were very devoted and loving, teaching her everything they knew. By her 10th birthday, she was already accompanying her mother on hunts, and a talented apprentice smith.

    In the summer of her 12th year, Thalmor soldiers came to her village, to purge any dissidents. Ariella's father and a number of villagers met them, armed with swords, in order to drive them off. The Thalmor wizards burned them alive, then turned on the rest of the village. Her mother, and most of the remaining villagers were killed trying to flee. The last Ariella saw of her home was the Thalmor burning everything down.

    Ariella spent the next few years slowly making her way north, away from Valenwood. She settled for a time in the town of Anvil, where she fittingly finished her apprenticeship, with Relen Stoke-Heart and his wife, Ysra. Ysra was a member of the Fighters Guild, and taught Ariella what she knew of combat, how to wield greatswords, how to read her advisary's movements and avoid their blows, how to parry the blows she couldn't avoid.

    In her 19th year, graduated to a Journeyman smith, she left the Stoke-Hearts, and signed on with an expedition exploring Aelyid ruins in northern Cyrodil. The expedition was ill-fated, and when the number of the hired guards began to dwindle low, she was called upon to not just repair their arms and armor, but to fight alongside the mercenaries. It was here that she found her true calling. Ysra had taught her well, and she soon distinguished herself with her battle prowess. When the expedition was over, almost 2 years later, Ariella began to travel Tamriel, selling herself out as a freelance mercenary.

    The next decade took her from Cyrodil, to Hammerfell, to Morrowind, and briefly to High Rock, before eventually ending up in Skyrim. But she has never forgotten what the Aldmei Dominion did to her home, to her parents. And she has never forgiven.
     
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  12. dwemerDESTRUCTION

    dwemerDESTRUCTION New Member

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    Name: Drebin "Storm-Blade"
    Race: Nord
    Class: Dwemer Scholar, Adventurer, Sellsword
    Gender: Male


    Looks: Brown hair cut down short. Deep blue eyes, thin mouth but a long chin. Dirt from battles, scar running from the bottom of his left eye to his cheek. Heavy build and tan skin

    Personality: Drebin has a no-quit attitude, if you knock him down hill get right back up again. He's quiet and not much of a drinker. But if you challenge him a drinking contest get ready to lose. He's on the road a lot but finds time to play with his two kids. He's not as soft-spoken as he's thought to be and is often sarcastic. He is religious and always wears his Amulet of Talos into battle. He isn't married and has trouble finding love, but he is very loyal to his friends and is willing to die for them. He is very proud of his his heritage and helped Ulfric beat back the Imperials, earning him the title "Storm-Blade". He is always willing to give a helping hand and will often do odd jobs for people.

    Likes: Dwemer ruins (next to Cacelmo he considers himself an expert on them), dogs, kids, open spaces, fair combat, some thievery, Dragon Priest masks, Nord and Dwemer artifacts.

    Dislikes: Bandits, assassins, and hired thugs. Murderers, and thieves. He also has a unexplainable grudge against Farkas.

    Combat Prefs: Heavy armor, he prefers to fight in his Ancient Nord Armor. He is an accomplished archer but doesn't use his Nord Hero Bow, named Isabelle, very often. Despite his armor he likes to move fast and uses a Nord Hero Sword, which he named Autumn, in battle. He uses Unrelenting Force often and although he has to ability to, he doesn't often become a werewolf.

    Bio: Drebin was his parents only son. They owned an inn and he often helped his father while his mother Isbelle took care of the house-keeping and his little sister Autumn. Then the unspeakable happened, his father contracted Rockjoint and after days of suffering, finally died. With no one to run the inn his mother was forced to cell and they moved to a dirty apartment in Riften. His mom married a member of the Black-Briars and they could afford to move to better conditions of living. His step-father despised him and his sister. And while his mother was at work, he took them deep into the wilderness and threw them into a Falmer infested cave. Drebin was able to grab a Falmer sword and held off many in an effort to save himself and his sister. But she was hit with and arrow and was killed instantly. Running from the cave he made the long and hard journey back to Riften only to find his mother dead and his step-father slated for execution. It turns out that his mother confronted his step-father with his deed. They fought and he broke a mead bottle over her head. She never woke up. Stricken with grief he vowed to never give up fighting in the hopes that when he finally died, he could rejoin his family as a grown-man. He stowed away on a carriage to Solitude, where he worked to docks until he turned 18 and struck out on his own.
     
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  13. Harc

    Harc Nelecar the Spellwright

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    Name: Lord Aerinir
    Race: Altmer
    Class: Mage
    Gender: Male

    Role: commanding officer of the thalmor mages

    Resides: court of aldmeri wizardry Northeast Alinor

    Appearance: 6'9 muscular for an elf 310 pounds, eyes as gold as the sun, short blonde hair, small blonde beard, nearly 200 years old.

    Bio: born 6 days after the oblivion crisis, Aerinir was a curious altmer. His father closed oblivion gates when they opened in his homeland, summerset isle (now known as Alinor). His father taught him much about the arcane and combat. He liked to explore areas as a child with his cousin elenwen, and his friend Naarfin. Once he turned 20, the aldmeri dominion was starting up, so he joined and later, elenwen would go into politics, Naarfin would go into the army, and Aerinir the wizards. Aerinir fought in the Great War along with Naarfin who quickly rose up in the ranks, but so did Aerinir, by the time Naarfin was general, Aerinir was the grand Mage. Elenwen was just a 3rd emissary to the ambassador in valenwood.
     
  14. bug7897

    bug7897 New Member

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    Brakir Alok, or "Bug"
    Race: Nordic Redguard
    Class: Daedric Weaponmaster
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: Light skin with hazel eyes, 6 feet tall, brown long hair and beard. A scar runs across his face from reasons he will never say.
    Personality: An honorable warrior that excels in battle. Can be brash at times of mental weakness but keeps a cool head most of the time. He trusts only those he truly knows, for he has been betrayed too many times before. Finds it hard to get attached to people.
    Misc: Prefers to fight in Daedric armor and with Daedric weaponry. His signature weapons are his two Daedric Swords, Veritas and Aequitas. He is known to carry them everywhere he goes. Fights in the thick of battle and views anything else as cowardly, especially using Magic. Fascinated with insects since he was young. Despises the Thalmor for reasons also unknown.
    BACKSTORY
    Brakir Alok, or “Bug” as he is called now, was born in Hammerfell to a Nord father and a Redguard mother. As a result, his appearance wasn’t that of a pure-blooded Redguard, but rather a mix of both. Growing up, Brakir always had a fascination with insects, leading to him being called “Bug” by his parents. This name would stick with him. As soon as Bug came of age he enlisted in the native warriors of the Alik’r. Bug would become a high-ranking member of the Alik’r, excelling in the heat of battle with his dual swords. While Bug was known for being an honorable and powerful fighter, he would constantly be berated because of his Nordic blood. As a result, he became distanced from the Alik’r and eventually left. Once Bug left the Alik’r they began to suffer huge losses in the battles only so recently they would prevail in. A few vengeful members of Bug’s old regiment in the Alik’r decided that their losses were due to him leaving, and he needed to pay one way or another. One day Bug was out trying to find a new group to get settled in when a group of Alik’r invaded his house and murdered both of his parents. Bug came back to his house only to find his two parents dead in cold blood. Vowing to never let anyone come into his life again he left Hammerfell and never looked back. To this day Bug searches for a way to cope with the loss of his parents, promising to himself that one day he will avenge them somehow.
     
  15. fellowknight

    fellowknight Private Lil' Num-Nums

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    Update
    This card is under construction and may change in the future.
    Thank you for your patience.

    Jen Arcshot
    "If archer shoots for fun, he has all his skill. If archer shoots for score, his hand tremble and his breath is uneasy. If archer shoots for gold, he is mad and blind. His skill was not lessened, but the vision of the target changed him."

    Name: Jen Arcshot

    Age: 628 (Looks 43)

    Birth Date:21st of First seed, 427 3E.

    Birth Place: Elden Root, Valenwood

    Birth Sign: The Thief

    Origin: Bosmer

    Class: Archer
    Being the most ranged of all other classes, the archer is one to be trifled with. While infantry prefer sword and shield while in battle, the archer much prefers Bow and Arrow from afar. Having the greatest advantage from a distance, archers are among some of the most respected and feared fighters to grace Tamriel's landscape. The piercing, stab of a sword may be hurtful, but the searing, sharp pain of the arrow is deadly. Nearly every army has had a branch of archers, and for good reason. An Archer's primary duty, in any battle, is to cover their comrades as they move in, and, if possible, eliminate the threat with a swift, sharp arrow. An archer can not only wound but devastate any warrior on the battle. You never know, it may be a swift flying arrow that carries you to death over a sword. Though as talented as an archer may be, the work of an arrow-wielder, is never easy. But overall, if ever you find yourself in the heat of battle, be sure to watch out for, The Archer.


    Gender: Male

    Height: 5'6"

    Weight: 156 pounds

    Laterality:Left-handed

    Sexuality: Straight

    Martial Status: Single

    Health: Well

    Affiliation: The Elden Root Archers
    A rag-tag group of archers based in the capitol city of Elden Root. It was started by a Bosmer named, Endras Forond. They never became famous enough to be put into records or books, but when Valenwood rebelled against the empire, they answered. They were, and always will be, a free-lance group of archers, bound only to Valenwood's dense forests. And damn were they good at it. Though they weren't famous, they knew what they were doing, and how to do it. They saved a great many lives and are at peace when maneuvering among the branches. In fact, many of their guild halls were located in the 'mile-high' trees that covered Valenwood's surface. They were successful, until The Great War. They were smashed during the heated battles against the Thalmor. Yes, they went against their Altmer cousins, and sided with the Empire. A choice they would soon pay greatly for.


    Afflictions: None

    Religion: None

    Deities: Y'ffre, Akatosh, Julianos

    Appearance
    Hair: Long, silk-like hair reaching an inch or two past his shoulders, colored a Light Brown.

    Eye Color: Electric Blue. Unique, considering most of his kin have green eyes.

    Skin Color: Nice, tan shaded skin. Compliments his hair perfectly, like the rest of his kin.

    Build: Stocky, for a Bosmer.

    Scars: One on his lower left side.

    Physical: Being a Bosmer, Jen is just as stocky as his kin. He's nimble, swift, and fairly strong, though not nearly as strong as the Nords. He's at the height of his skill when in a forest, and at the lowest when he's in places like a desert. Overall, he looks just as intimidating with the bow as without it and handles himself all the same.

    ] images (8).jpg


    Personality
    Positive Traits: Focused, mature, likeable, peaceful

    Negative Traits: Skeptical, hesitant, anxious

    Likes: Wine, hunting, honing his skills through practice, exploring forests

    Dislikes: Mead, obnoxious people, arrogance, bragging, racism.

    Fears: Bears, werewolves, draugr, bats

    Aspirations: Becoming a great archer, visiting Valenwood again, visiting the Imperial City again,

    Quirks: Breathes fast when scared

    Jen is a focused, yet relaxed kind of mer. He's not too social and it takes him a minute of analysing before he trusts anyone. But once one gets to know him, he's the sort of peaceful archer and doesn't mind the occasional wine every now and then. Though, he doesn't let it go to his head, especially in public taverns and inns. All and all, he's a loyal friend, a reliable ally, and a good shot.

    Combat Diagnostic
    Skills

    Master
    Archery, Light Armor, Sneak, Speech


    Expert
    Lockpicking, One-handed, Pickpocket, Healing


    Adept
    Enchanting, Smithing, Alchemy, Destruction


    Novice
    Illusion, Alteration, Conjuration, Heavy Armor.


    Gear
    Custom-made Valenwood armor with metal breastplate under leather chestplate and a forest-green cloak that covers it up, allowing for more agile hunting, parkour, and aerobatics. (Like the one below but without the weapons or quiver. Just the armor.)


    nSt1Is6.jpg

    pTxslCe.jpg

    Mithril under-armor said to be made from the ancient scales of the third dragon in history.


    meshmailshirt.jpg

    Leather archer gloves and boots wrapped in forest green cloth that makes them more air light for travel and more durable to wearing and tearing.


    3140055-1351524759.jpg

    Two finely crafted elven daggers strapped to his waist, hidden under his cloak

    Dragondagger.png

    Finely-carved Bosmer bow made from one of the trees surrounding Elden Root and has a smooth center grips for more comfortable aiming.

    32405-3-1361834573.jpg

    Finely forged arrow-heads with smooth arrow shafts that allows a quick, silent firing sequence. (The last arrow, from the top.)


    16214-1-1335858151.jpg

    Leather quiver, crafted and handed down by his great grandfather and said to be made from the hide of one of the largest species of deer in Valenwood.


    DeluxeRoyalBackQuiverLeatherHandLaced.jpg

    Assorted potions: Healing (6) Stamina (5) Magicka (7) Cure Disease (4)

    Assorted scrolls: Fireball (3) Chameleon (7) Frost Spike (5) Healing (12) Heal Ally (10)

    Relationships

    Thalmor [ENEMIES]: Being that they are his cousins, Jen has a VERY small amount of respect towards them. The reason being is, well, they're power hogs. All they want are to rule Tamriel and lord over it's inhabitants. They'd like nothing better than a goverment under their rule and an empire at their command. And they don't mind killing anyone who tries to stop them, especially the Nords.

    Imperial Legion [ENEMIES]: The legion, third and strongest empire. The only reason why he hates them is because of, guess who, the Thalmor. The fact that they won't wise up and team up with the Stormcloaks to take down the Thalmor. He sometimes loses his temper and openly defies them. But as of late, he's been avoiding them all together.

    Stormcloaks [NEUTRAL]: Jen basically sees the stormcloaks as the one strand of hope in Skyrim. The only hope against the Thalmor. But their strong racial discrimination can't be ignored. For that reason, he remains neutral with them.

    Falmer [DILIKES]: Though many may feel pity for the Falmer, Jen feels that they kind of deserve it. One ill turn deserves another after all. They betrayed the Nords by slaying all but three in the night and in turn, they lost their vision, plain and simple.

    Forsworn [NEUTRAL]: The fact that they will kill anyone in the reach without mercy angers Jen. On the other hand, they only do it because their land was taken from them. But still, innocent murder is wrong in Jen's eyes and thus, he remains neutral with them.

    Thieves Guild [NEUTRAL]: Jen has a sort of, mutual respect for this guild. Not saying he LIKES the fact that they still from innocent people under contracts. Not saying he ENJOYED his time there. But he DID, indeed, learn most of what he knows about sneaking, lockpicking and pickpocketing from them. Plus, they're organized, smart, and talented. A group to be trifled with.

    The Companions [LIKES]: Jen knows family when he sees it. And that's exactly what the companions are; a close-knit family bound only by honor and loyalty. And though he hasn't joined them, he admires their work. He would join them but, he sees no reason behind it. He has no 'fire in his heart' and thus, remains in the open wilds of Skyrim.

    The Mages College [NEUTRAL]: To be honest, Jen has no real feelings for the Mages College. They are probably innocent and not responsible for the Winterhold incident. But he doesn't like them nor hate them. They merely keep to themselves and keep away from the local Nords. He realizes that many of his cousins use magic and thus magic is frowned upon by Nords. And on top of that, the oblivion crisis plus the Winterhold incident didn't exactly help their reputation.

    The Dark Brotherhood [DISLIKES]: While he won't openly admit it, Jen loathes the dark guild of cutthroats. Why won't he admit it? Well, he'd rather not have trained assassins hunt him down. He can understand mercenaries and thugs, but trained assassins killing ANYONE over a contract spoken by a dead corpse? Then again, he did run into one of their members. It wasn't pretty.

    History
    Jen was born and raised Valenwood. His life was that of all other Bosmer, peaceful and fair. The forest was absolutely beautiful, and still is. He thought the gods themselves planted the seeds for the trees of Valenwood. Early on, he learned that he owes all of this beauty to a god named, Y'ffre. In exchange for worship, he allows the Wood Elves to reside in the enchanting forest of Valenwood. When he reached the age of 18, he decided to join The Elden Root Archers. Here, he spent most of his life time, learning the skills of Archery and Sneak. Considering his race has the natural ability to control animals to aid them in combat, his guild used this ability to help them along. Well, the years went by and Jen aged as all elves do, very slowly. His life was taking a turn for the boring. Until the Great War.

    His guild, which he now gained leadership of, had heard of the Thalmor conquering Valenwood for their support in the war. They left almost two days before the province was taken over and arrived at Cyrodiil. It was a long and dangerous journey, few died on the way, many made it out alive. They didn't get a warm welcoming either and it took a lot of explaining before they were trusted to enter the city. The coming years proved costly for the guild, and they lost mer by the hundreds. Four years later, The White-Gold Concordat ends the massive war and leaves Jen alone and wounded. He was, quite literally, the sole survivor of the Great War and the last member of the guild he called home. Mer he once called brother and sister were all corpses lining the fields of Cyrodiil, dead and gone. The imperials pay him compensation for their deaths, an amount that has to shipped to his home residence, and bid him farewell. Jen bids the doomed imperials farewell, and travels back to Valenwood. Why are they doomed? Hmph,we all know a treaty with the Thalmor is not to last.

    Once back home, he resided in relative peace with his family and kin for many years. It is here he would have spent his entire life, it is here he would have died. Belaying of old age until he went peacefully with the land and the trees. But, as is a common problem with most bosmer, he got bored. The everyday routine of waking up, getting ready for the day, having house parties, hunting, and going back to sleep simply bored him. So, with high heart, he left his homeland of Valenwood, determined to find adventure, in whatever form. He bid his family farewell, his mother crying and clutching him, begging him to reconsider. But he was, and still is, determined to find adventure. So, he calmed his mother, bid his family farewell once again and left Valenwood, wearing the gear he has now.


    Upon reaching Cyrodiil, he noticed he was low on supplies, as he had a long journey thus far, and decided to stop in the Imperial City for restock and rest. after his quite short visit, a day at most, he left the White-Gold city and made for Skyrim. Rumors had floated around that there was a civil war, and that dragons had returned. He smelt adventure but with it, he also smelt despair, and sorrow, and grief. War. he moved towards Skyrim, when something peculiar happened. He was beat up and taken by a group of what he thought, at the time, were lowlife thugs. Soon, he found himself in a dark, damp cave room, with nothing but the clothes on his back. So, through a complex series of planning and waiting, he was ready when the lowlife came back. Upon killing (more like strangling) him, he found a note beneath his belt. It read:


    Initiate,

    Head back to the prisoner's cell and execute the newest prisoner. After you're done there, head back to the main cave and bring his stuff to the master. He might like it. And don't waste a moment doing these tasks. You know how impatient the master gets. Also included is a map, so you don't get lost. Good luck. -Fendrol

    After reading the note, Jen took the man's red robes and headed for the 'Main cave' using the map as a sort of guide. Upon reaching the main cave area, he was relieved to find it empty and abandoned-looking. He redressed himself in his own gear, grabbed what else lay on the table, and fled the main cave still using the map as a guide. He ran into a few guard on the way out, and stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed a banner. The banner of the Mythic Dawn. Baffled and scared out of his wits, he ran blindly ahead, discarding the map out of fear. He stumbled upon the guard barracks, alerting nearly everyone in the room. After such a discovery, he was scared beyond scared, fleeing the room immediately. He ran into much resistance on his way out, but he made it. He ran, as fast as his nimble feet would carry him, until he could run no more . He eventually returned to his original path, after a day of refuge in the Imperial City.

    It was a long, cold, perilous journey to Skyrim. But in the end, to him at least, it was worth it. The mighty rivers and simply breath-taking mountains were a sight to admire and behold. he took but a moment or two, to admire this amazing view of the snowy province, before taking shelter in the closest tavern. Over the next few years, he moved around alot. He joined the thieves guild for a few years and even had a close encounter with a dark brotherhood assassin.

    ...
    It was a full moon midnight, the light of the moon gleamed on Jen's cloak as he notched an arrow. His target was a few yards off, grazing on some grass, acting as if the world was completely at peace. He inhaled and and exhaled, slowly, trying to get rid of the extra nervous energy. He closed his left eye, aimed for the deer's head, and released the arrow.

    SSSHUNK!!
    A clean, swift kill. The deer fell over and landed on it's side with a hard thud. Jen sighed and trudged his way towards the deceased deer. As he reached it, and began taking out the arrow, he noticed a light far off, deep in the wilderness across the field. Above that, smoke, and a few wooden walls were also visible. A cabin. Suddenly, there came a dark figure, running from the cabin. As this lone figure was steadily making his way towards Jen, he had already taken cover behind a nearby boulder. Jen closed his eyes and listened for the footsteps. He heard them. They were getting louder, and louder, and louder. So loud, Jen knew he had to be atleast five feet from the deer. Jen had already made his way around the boulder, notched an arrow, and aimed for the figure's back.

    "Stop! Move and you die. Who are yo-" He was cut off as the figure suddenly shifted and threw a dagger that would have pierced Jen's stomach. Jen shifted to the right as the dagger cut him deep in his left side, flying past him. He released the arrow and it buried itself in the figure's right shoulder. He yelped in initial pain. In but a few seconds, Jen slung his bow over his back, unsheathed his two elven daggers, and charged.

    The man had already taken out the arrow, unsheathed a sword, and brought up a lightning spell. Jen was already in front of him, as he took a low slice across the man's stomach. The man jumped back, almost dodging the blade as the tip cut across his stomach. Jen's right hand went upwards, towards the man's head. As the blade neared his head, the man swung his sword and parried the thrust. He then shot a blast of electrical energy at Jen, who, out of pure instinct, rammed into the man.

    They crashed to the ground and were in a heap of unarmed jabs. The man had placed both of his feet on Jen's chest and kicked him onto his back. Then the man climbed on top of the mer, held his neck with his left hand, and began punching Jen's wounded side with his right. All the while, Jen was inching his right hand towards one of his elven daggers. As the man got in his final punch, Jen grabbed the hilt off the dagger and took the blade to the man's side several times, before kneeing him in the crotch and punching him in the face.

    As he went into shock, Jen pushed the man off his chest, climbed on top of him, and jabbed him in the chest, lower chest, upper chest, and throat multiple times. He stopped when he realized the man was dead, or dying. He was not man, but orc. His two long teeth stuck up from his lower lip, as he gargled his own blood, and eventually died. Jen stood from the bloodied corpse he'd made, and looked down at his own hands. They were painted with the blood of the now deceased orc, limp by the boulder side. And that armor he wore, it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The image would stay with Jen for the rest of his life.

    He left the deer, he had no desire for it anymore. All he desired now was the warm embrace of an inn's hearth. And the healing sensation of a potion.
     

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    #635 fellowknight, Dec 31, 2012
    Last edited: Feb 16, 2016
  16. DurableDiction

    DurableDiction Paladin of the Old Order

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    Name: Athramz


    Race: Dwemer

    Appearance: Medium length brown hair and a shaved face. Yellow eyes (turn electric blue when influenced by magic). He usually wears a full set of specially crafted Dwarven armor when in combat, but will swap out for a set of purple robes with golden hems when relaxing.

    Weapons: The Vampire's Fist. A warhammer he forged himself. The head has two different ends: one end has Aetherium studs that trap the opponents magicka, the other end is a viscous spike inlaid with Aetherium grooves that drain vitality.

    Personality: Intelligent and far more peaceful than his cousins, but he is easily annoyed by ignorance and will return to his ruthless demeanor when angered. He is also very cautious when it comes to his identity. He fears what would happen should he be discovered.



    Skills: Though many people who meet him will think he is a scholar, Athramz is surprisingly skilled in combat (having had to protect himself in Oblivion for thousands of years). He also is very knowledgeable about magic, though he rarely uses it for offense. Instead, he uses it in the form of Alteration and Enchanting. He also has the unique ability to detect magicks and their potency. He was one of the best smiths in his time, having been one of the few to have worked with the Aetherium Forge, but he does not have much experience working with foreign metals (ebony, orichalcum, steel). He prefers to use The Vampire's Fist and crossbows, but will use a dagger when in a small area


    Story: Athramz was one of the many who disapproved with the tempering with the heart of Lorkhan. His father was a friend of Kagrenac and had attempted to dissuade him from his plan. When this did not work, Athramz's father gave in and eventually sided with Kagrenac. Athramz knew that meddling in the affairs of gods would come with a terrible price. Out of extreme fear, he made a deal with Lord Clavicus Vile. He wanted protection from the Dwemer's fate. Vile answered by imprisoning Athramz in Oblivion, where he tormented him with visions and attacks from daedra. Athramz eventually escaped and appeared in Skyrim. Now he seeks revenge on Vile, but can't do it alone. He has to go against the proud nature of the Dwemer and seek help from the other races.
     
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    LordNaskill: 2 Points (Like it different and good) Jan 6, 2013
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  17. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

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    Name: Dagos Fallrealth

    Race: Imperial

    Class: Agent (Spy For Himself which means he is paid to spy by people with the coin)

    Gender: Male

    Age: 28

    Personality: Calm non talkative he prefers to be away from large crowds but can handle him self if in one he will rarely be aggressive and wont care what you do he will engage in talk with a good mouth he can be very persuasive but never bothers to be.

    Looks:

    [​IMG]


    Bio: Dagos was raised in the darkest hour of life his family was not much in the way of money his father was a thief stealing and selling what he could when he could it was not much but it keep food on the family table eventually his father was caught in the act trying to steal from a noble men he was then flogged of his thievery and put into hard labour and that's where he died his death reached the boy when he turned 7 he did not know much about his father but knew he was the one keeping the family alive dagos was tought by his older sisters he leant alot of his fathers skills from his sister they gave Dagos some amazing skill in escaping when trapped he learnt fist fighting and earned money on the side from that
    when baroth hit 16 he was no longer human is what his sister called him he began writing alot and watching he stayed inside alot and just sat and barley moved until the new lord of his town heard about him and orded his death for being possessed his sister began begging that he was fine and not to hurt him but the guards pushed on Dagos own mother took a guards life so they took hers in exchange when they reached dagos he was ready for them he stood and raised his hands the guards thought it was a joke but dagos quickly change there attitude by killing them he quickly fled after that but was found by his sister they began heading far south east to skyrim were they would soon start there new life doing what they must.

    ( I might add the sister later)
    (give us a response on the story and all of it give us some headers if you want of course)
     
  18. MeleeMinstrel

    MeleeMinstrel The Man

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    Name: Belroth Nipper
    Race: Nord
    Class: Assassin
    Gender: Male
    Age: 14
    Looks: wavy, copper hair, medium sized, slightly skinny.
    Personality: This youngish boy is a ladies man, and will often flirt with any ladies around him, even if they are older than him. Despite his tough background, he's got a decent reputation in the town he grew up in, Mirleth, and is quite popular.
    Background: When he was only 5, his home town was ransacked, and he was made a slave. After a sawmill "accident", which involved his master's death, 9 year old Belroth grew up the rest of his life in Mirleth. Away from his popular life in Mirleth, he has a second life; as an assassin. He uses the money to pay for clothes, food and water, and has become, somewhat a master at pickpocketing, theivery, and assassination. Having taken on over 100 contracts, this boy is not to be underestimated.
     
  19. Humbungala

    Humbungala Active Member

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    Name: Irelius

    Race: Nord – Imperial mix.

    Age: 24

    Class: Mage

    Appearance:He’s around 5’10. He has short blonde bed hair and blue eyes. He has slightly tanned skin with a young boyish face. He’s not all brawn, but he’s fairly toned. Wears a brown robe, much like the arch mages robe’s in skyrim, however he only wears the hood when it is cold/raining/snowing.

    Skills:Adept Level Alchemy and Restorations, Expert almost Master in Destruction.
    Combat: Irelius harnesses his natural ability to wield magic and combines it with finesse and agility. He is skilled in hand to hand combat, and whilst in battle includes his magic in the sum. His quick movements make him a hard target, for his cloth robe is no match for a blade. He uses no blades or weapons, just his hands and his magic.

    Personality: Irelius is a kind hearted peachy person. He is quite naïve to the creatures that exist, for he has not explored much further than his personal spring and the wild animals he had seen on his journey from imperial city to winterhold. Out of all his magic he prefers frost. He dislikes people who are pompous and think much of themselves. He’s quite the charmer, however has never been in a serious relationship. He likes to take light of serious situations and will often make a joke if the environment around him seems too serious or sullen. He is smart however and thinks before he acts.

    Story: Irelius was born into a medium class family in Skingrad. His owned a clothing store and his mother was one of the chefs for the count and countess. Amazingly, Irelius actually began using magic before he could walk, and it had played a large importance in his life. His parents, however, despised magic more than any person could. Because of this, Irelius would leave Skingrad and go to a spring he had found and practice his magic there. He would use the trees that surrounded the spring as places to train his body physically. He would practice his hand to hand combat on his own, devising different strategies and ways to defeat a person in a quarrel. Since Irelius’ life was very conservative, he used the spring as an escape. His parents trusted him to become an alchemist, and never suspected him to be capable of magic or hand to hand combat.

    When Irelius was 18, he had gotten sick of the confines of his home and made the decision to join the arcane university. He told his parents that he was joining to pursue his alchemy in order to get their consent. He went through the trials of the university and helped out every single college in Cyrrodil. The process took him two years, but Irelius was grateful for every single minute. Upon acceptance he was sent on an expedition with a few other novice mages to ancient ruins south of Leyawiin. There were reports of some necromancers and this was the novice mages’ test to see if they were capable of handling the new mage way of life. The battle in the ruins was dreadful. The novice mages managed to kill the necromancer coven but not without the deaths of everyone but Irelius. Although saddened about the loss of his comrades, he returned to the university in triumph and joined their ranks to begin his official mage training. He made a name for himself as the “Mage Assassin” for his mix of magic and agility made for an uncommon sight, a sight of which was seen in awe by many of his colleagues. After training for four years, Irelius was then sent to Winterhold to help rebuild the guild in Skyrim. He currently resides there now.
     
  20. LordNaskill

    LordNaskill Active Member

    Joined:
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    Name: Solena Fallreal

    Race: Imperial

    Gender: Female

    Age: 32

    Class: Thief

    Looks:
    [​IMG]

    Personality: Charming quick to open her mouth and will talk to men in a flash she can be very persuasive and tends to keep away from fights she dose not wont to start

    Bio: Solena was born oldest in her family she knew her father she learnt off her father he was a thief quick and agile steady but she was soon to be a sister after her baby brother dagos was born she was thrilled to
    have a brother younger then her but the happiness began to change her father began losing the money that he got from the fences he was selling to he began stealing cheap things not the dear stuff he use to they lost the estate they lived in and Solena began helping her mother by teaching her brother dagos but sooner after the loss of the estate her father died in a mine they said it was a failure of his body giving up but she never thought that when she first saw dagos in his weird way she began to panache when the guards cam to kill him she stood in there way she was thrown out of the way by the guards and then she saw her mother die right in front of her she ran to aid but it was to late she was dead and gone forever she then ran to her brothers room where 4 guards laid dead she then knew it was time to run but she had to find her brother and she did he was hiding in one of the trees in the wilds on the outskirts of the town
    Solena began to take her brother to skyrim from there when he came of age he left to do his own thing and she followed in her fathers steps but she got better so good that she could pickpocket any one without them noticing.
     

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