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    Name: Valmir
    Race: High Elf
    Class: Thalmor Wizard
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: His stature is 6'1 and weighs in at 143lbs. He has slate gray eyes and smooth black hair with a clean face. Valmir wears the dark hooded thalmor robes.
    Personality: Valmir believes like all the Thalmor that he is superior to all races and will do anything to show it. He is also deceitful and has no qualms with torture or death when it comes to those who oppose him.
    Misc: Valmir doesn't like brute force so he heavily relies on magic using his staff of destruction when needed. His person carries a sword only as a last resort. He grew up in a privileged life, so he also has an intolerance for the uneducated and poor as well.

    Sounds interesting I may steel this... ;)
     
    Name: Balinor

    Race: Nord

    Class: Woodsman

    Gender: Male

    Looks: His hair is dark blonde and straight reaching the shoulder, a wind-braid hanging down along his jawline which is covering with a unkempt braided beard.He bears wide shoulders from his years of living in the wilds, his frame as large as his shoulders, approximately six feet tall, large muscles overlaid with lightly tanned skin. His eyes are light blue as if reflecting a clear sky. His skin clear except for three white scars running from the upper right side of his chest running diagonally over his solar plexus stopping a few into his abdominal muscles from a standoff with a bear.

    Personality: He does not talk much as he has never truly needed to. He does not enjoy fighting and deems it only fit if necessary for his survival or the survival of one he holds dear. He does not like cities with thoughts that they are too noisy and prefers to be among the wayward pines and large conifers of his home, the forest. He is extremely patient and rather optimistic when he chooses to speak but not so much so that he comes short of being realistic.

    Background: He has lived in the forests of southeast Skyrim for much of his life his parents, both Nords, having done the same. When he came of age he set out on his own taking only a hunting bow. He was trained from a young age by his father in the art of combat and through this has come to be able to efficiently wield great swords, daggers, maces, bows, and has a small knowledge of shields. He now sells furs to The Warmaiden and the smith at the Skyforge.

    Weapons: He wears a hunting bow and his quiver of steels arrows, along with two steel daggers strapped at his hips. He wears two steel swords on his back, one of which was a gift from his father, and the other he has acquired from The Warmaiden.

    Armor: He wears simply made hide armor (Skyrim) and hide boots (Skyrim) made from the hide of the bear which gave him his scar. This allows him to move quietly through trees and blend in well with the forests and allows for fleeting escapes from any potentially deadly situations.

    Im going to try this very soon
     
    Name: The Shaded One (people address her as shade)
    Class: Assassin


    Race: Dunmer

    Gender: Female

    Looks: She uses Shrouded Armor, a daedric dagger, and an ebony bow, she rarely ever shows her face so no one knows what it looks like.

    Personality: although she is an assassin, she holds high morals and is loyal to the nightmother. When she kills she doesn't do it for the gold she does it for sithis. she doesn't talk much and keeps to herself but she is compassionate and friendly to the ones that she trusts

    Misc: she never knew my family, I can only assume that they were fleeing from the argonian army when they overrun Morrowind. she came to skyrim in a merchants cart and was adopted by the Dark Brotherhood who was ordered to ambush that merchant. They taught her everything she knows, and seeing how she didn't have a name and she blended into the corner of the cart they named her The Shaded One.

    (so just wondering can I join your story at the bannered mare? I have a good idea for a way to come into the story)

    Awesome build . I have one just like it torlar the shaded dunmer male assassin its my first time doing the DB I love it. His personality is like "shade" in that the only people right now he is opened up to is his brotherhood family. hes loyal to those he trusts and nice to those he trusts but if he dont trust you its best to stay away. If you insult him you may end up with ciceros dagger in your gut (He took it off him when he killed him for harming his family) He kills for coin sithis the night mother and because astrid said so lol. He prefers to use daggers and small swords with a bow occasionally ( stealth archers are OP so I use dagger mostly) even in combat its a dagger until he needs a sword. He considers himself a courier of sithis. he likes poisons and is somewhat fascinated with death sort of addicted to it now. its a fun roleplay he gains gold very fast with the DB.
     
    Name: The Shaded One (people address her as shade)
    Class: Assassin


    Race: Dunmer

    Gender: Female

    Looks: She uses Shrouded Armor, a daedric dagger, and an ebony bow, she rarely ever shows her face so no one knows what it looks like.

    Personality: although she is an assassin, she holds high morals and is loyal to the nightmother. When she kills she doesn't do it for the gold she does it for sithis. she doesn't talk much and keeps to herself but she is compassionate and friendly to the ones that she trusts

    Misc: she never knew my family, I can only assume that they were fleeing from the argonian army when they overrun Morrowind. she came to skyrim in a merchants cart and was adopted by the Dark Brotherhood who was ordered to ambush that merchant. They taught her everything she knows, and seeing how she didn't have a name and she blended into the corner of the cart they named her The Shaded One.

    (so just wondering can I join your story at the bannered mare? I have a good idea for a way to come into the story)

    Will u do the Thieves guild. Mine will mainly for extra coin using his skills at hand. But will hate the no killing.
     

    Harkatti

    Sorceress Supreme!
    Name: Lyrissia Alethia
    Race: Dunmer
    Gender: Female
    Age: 43, though she appears a couple decades younger
    Birthsign: The Shadow
    Profession: Assassin/Bounty Hunter

    Laterality: Ambidextrous
    Height: 5'6"
    Weight: 145 lbs.

    Appearance: Lyrissia is a typical dunmer woman, except for two distinguishing attributes; her hair, which is a deep red, and a pair of long scars on her left cheek. She has a modest bust, and shoulder length hair, a thin nose, and the charcoal grey skin of her race.

    Apparel: Lyrissia wears a set of cuir bouilli armour, which offers her manueverability and moderate protection in battle. She is almost never seen out of her combat garb, but when she is, she prefers muted clothing, that allow her to blend with a crowd. When travelling, a mask covers her lower face, concealing her scars, and a hooded, grey cloak, offering protection from the elements.

    Weaponry: Though competent with a number of weapons, from axes to daggers, she prefers weapons that are easily hidden. At the moment, she wields a matched set of blades, one a sword, the other a dagger. Both are slightly curved, though not to the point of a scimitar. This makes them ideal for both slashing and stabbing attacks.


    Personality: Lyrissia is generally a focused and quiet dunmer, contrary to the common belief that all young dark elf females are rather...promiscuous. Part of this is due to the profession she has chosen, and part is because of the loss she has suffered.

    When forced to partake in conversations, she is revealed to have a dark sense of humour, and will not hesitate to humiliate others around her. This is, of course her way of coping. Those few that know her well, know that she harbours a deep seated lust for revenge, one that she will see through, even if it costs her her life.

    Likes : Quiet, being paid, a well laid out plan.

    Dislikes : Anarchy, loud noises, clumsy people, and Stormcloaks.

    History: Lyrissia was born in a quiet village just outside Leyawiin, in Cyrodiil. For most of her life, she was content, and loved by those around her. Though she had plans to eventually, become the villages medical practitioner, tending to minor wounds with her mothers' supervision, fate had other ideas.

    War broke out in Skyrim- a nord by the name of Ulfric Stormcloak rebelled against the Empire, and declared the northern province an independent kingdom. Predictably, the response by the emperors' legions was swift. Soldiers marched north, intent on putting down the rebellion before it could gain any ground.

    One afternoon, a cohort of Imperial legionnaires came through the village, among them, a young man stood out to Lyrissia. His name was Decius Commodious, and he was as smitten with her as she was with him. Against her parents' wishes, she accompanied him to Skyrim.

    The two spent their off duty time, he from fighting, and she from tending to wounded soldiers, together. They were well and truly in love, and planned to start a family, once the insurrection was dealt with. Once again, fate intervened, this time, for the worse. Decius' patrol was ambushed, and slaughtered. Word of his death reached Lyrissia at camp a day later.

    A change came over the usually friendly woman. She became cold, withdrawn, and one morning, several days after her lovers' death, she left the camp. Unknown to the imperials, she fell in with darker characters, who were all to happy to turn her onto the path of murder and mayhem. And she was more than willing to oblige.

    Since that day, Lyrissia has become a nightmare in the dark, stalking Stormcloaks and their supporters throughout Skyrim. Willing to take contracts from anyone, so long as it ends in Stormcloak blood watering the frozen ground.
     

    dancesmooth

    New Member
    Name: Kiandro Faeoth
    Race: Altmer
    Height: 6'7
    Weight: 260 lbs
    Age: 51(In elf years that's still extremely young)
    Birthdate: 20th of Last Seed 4E 150
    Class: Two-handed warrior/Battlemage

    Appearance: Typical Altmer man with shiny golden skin, a full beard and short hair. 6'7 of pure muscle.

    Apparel: A set of regular Steel-Plate armour with enchantments suited for spellcasting.

    Combat: Capable of conjuring weapons, but prefers the feel of real weapons hands. Master at conjuration, destruction, restoration and uses all three in battle. When he runs out of mana, he pulls out his battle axe and hacks his opponents down

    Weapons: Enchanted Dragon-Bone battleaxe

    Magic: Adept at Illusion and Alteration. Master enchanter. Master at conjuration, destruction and restoration.

    Alignment: Imperial Army as they are the ones most capable of fighting the Alderi Dominion

    History: As a child growing up in the Summerset Isles, Kiandro showed exceptional talent in magic. The son of esteemed eleven nobles, he was expected to excel his peers in magic and become a battlemage for the Aldmeri Dominion. Kianrdo had a different plan for his future however. He was fascinated by the culture of different races, especially the supposed 'savage' Nords. He would train with swords and axes for many hours of his day against practice dummies and planned on becoming a warrior instead of a mage.

    He enlisted in the Aldmeri Dominion as a battlemage at the young age of 18 (practically a baby elves) after constant pressure from his parents and fought in the great war. He was disgusted at the way his fellow soldiers regarded the other races but kept his sympathy towards the other races to himself. He killed many people in the war and he became somewhat of a legend for his ability to cause mayhem on the battlefield with both magic and his axe. After the war ended and he learned of the oppressive things that the dominion would enforce on other races, he had enough and left the Dominion and the Summerset Isles to wander Tamriel.

    Near the border of Skyrim, a group of former Imperial soldiers recognized Kiandro and were absolutely infuriated that he would dare to show his face in Skyrim and attacked him. He killed them in self-defense but was then spotted by a group of Imperial soldiers walking by and with a pile of dead people around him, it didn't look good. He was promptly arrested and sent to Helgen to be executed.

    After escaping Kiandro realized that the Dominion must be stopped and that it was the Imperials, not the Stormcloaks who would lead the fight against the elves. He went to Solitude to enlist in the Imperial army to quell the rebellion and to unite the Empire so that it may stand a chance against the Aldmeri Dominion.

    Personality: Hates discrimination and racism which is what drove him away from the Dominion and had him fight the Stormcloaks.
     
    Name: Giselle Gestal
    Birthsign: The Atronach
    Gender: Female
    Age: 25
    Weight: 105lbs
    Race: Breton
    Height: 5'2"
    Sexuality: Straight
    Laterality: Right-handed

    Appearance: Short and lithe in stature, with fair skin, strawberry blonde hair, and big, light-blue eyes.

    giselle.png

    Giselle, with her horse Betsy behind her. Camera quality in Tamriel is notoriously poor in the Fourth Era.

    Apparel: Her arrival in Skyrim saw her lose most of her luggage and coin at the border, leaving her with nothing but the clothes she was wearing - which got ruined when she tried to raise some extra coin chopping wood in Riverwood. She has since replaced them with an ill-fitting blue dress which she wears when she isn't travelling, and a basic set of unenchanted robes which she wears at all other times. She always wears a gold and sapphire circlet, which used to belong to her mother and which she was able to hold onto when entering Skyrim.

    Magic: Giselle is a self-taught mage, and is capable of a few basic destruction and restoration spells - she is naturally talented in lightning spells, and uses those almost exclusively for self-defence, and she can generate some simple wards too. She is much more interested in advancing her conjuration skills though, and thus far she has largely perfected the art of summoning a spectral wolf with some degree of reliability. She has also been able to conjure a flame atronach with... less consistent success. Her atronachs have a roughly 40% chance of emerging from Oblivion in a very bad mood, however. As such, she has developed an unusual tendency to summon a spectral wolf first, so that if something goes wrong it can help to defend her from the atronach. She has learned a frost atronach spell too, but performing it heavily taxes her magicka reserves, and she has decided not to try it again until she's figured out why her flame atronachs are often so annoyed with her first.

    Personality: Jubilant and curious, Giselle has an insatiable thirst for knowledge and learning. About everything. Bored with her quiet life in Anvil, Cyrodiil, she has used all of her modest wealth to commence a Tamriel-wide journey of discovery, starting with Skyrim. She has a natural affinity for magic, and wishes more than anything to become a full-fledged mage, but owing to the state of the Synod and the College of Whispers in Cyrodiil, she is entirely self-taught and unmentored, which can make some of her spells... unreliable. Undeterred, she is intent on joining the College of Winterhold to pursue her dream and hone her skills.

    She maintains an optimistic and often naive outlook on life, finding all things fascinating. Her journey from Cyrodiil took thrice as long as necessary because she insisted on stopping whenever her hired carriage passed by anything remotely interesting to her, so that she could study it - and unfortunately, 'remotely interesting' can include anything from new alchemical ingredients and unexplored ruins, to interesting pebbles and bugs. When she lost all of her coin and luggage at the border, she was more upset at losing the samples she'd collected along the way, rather than losing her all of her wordly goods and life savings. This tendency for her to be easily distracted seems to affect nearly everything she does - she once spent an entire day in Candlehearth Hall, Windhelm studying the ever-burning candle there, after the innkeeper told her that it never went out, and on her very first encounter with a draugr she attempted to engage it in conversation, nearly losing her life in the process.

    She dislikes combat, and dislikes taking lives even moreso - even if she has no other choice. Her first real life-or-death fight in her life happened immediately after she'd left her hired carriage on arrival in Skyrim, and she was attacked by a pair of wolves on the road to Riverwood. While she defeated them and suffered no injuries, she became extremely depressed afterwards, and had nightmares about the creatures dying in agony because of her. She has since been in a few more fights, and become better at handling them, but she still suffers with guilt whenever she's forced to take a life.

    Fighting Style: Desperate and haphazard. She has only been in a handful of real fights, and these have always been thrust upon her, rather than as a result of her seeking them out. At her best, she will summon her spectral wolf (or a flame atronach, if she is feeling particularly brave) and hang back to study how her opponents fight, only offering destructive spell support in the event that it seems absolutely necessary. When her life is in immediate danger, or her summoned ally is defeated and she cannot summon another in time, she will panic and fall back on her natural affinity for lightning spells, hoping that the shock will deter her foes long enough for her to run away. Nevertheless, these spells are remarkably effective for an untrained mage, and if she can remain focussed rather than panicking, she can do some decent damage with lightning bolts.

    Likes: Learning and discovering new things. Anything to do with magic is particularly fascinating to her, and alchemy is one of her hobbies, but even something as simple as an interesting-looking stone, or the unusual behaviour of a deer, can just as easily enthral her. She spent several days in the village of Riverwood when she first arrived in Skyrim, and much of that time was her indulging in learning about the local culture and politics, as well as the non-magical crafts of the people who lived there. She befriended Alvor the blacksmith, and took a few lessons in smithing from him - and decided quite quickly that while manual labour clearly wasn't her strong suit, she found it fascinating how much thought and knowledge went into even non-magical vocations.

    She reads excessively, and hopes one day to have a library of her own to match the Imperial Library. She loves animals, even the violent ones. Outside of knowledge, she likes meeting interesting new people, has a soft spot for pretty clothes, and is overjoyed if she is able to help somebody with a problem. She believes that magic exists to benefit the world, and is part of the reason she pursues the craft.

    Dislikes: Fighting. Giselle can fight, sort-of, but dislikes doing so, and dislikes killing even more. This is probably why she dislikes violent people as well, especially those who revel in violence and seek it out. She finds wilful ignorance to be frustrating, given her inquisitive nature and open-mindedness, and would rather not spend time around people who are set-in-their-ways, or who refuse to learn even when there is a gap in their knowledge.

    While she is a fan of meeting new people and learning all about them, she dislikes large cities, and tries to avoid them if she can.

    Affiliations: None. She is seeking to join the College of Winterhold, but has yet to find the place.

    Afflictions/Fears: Giselle has no particular fears or 'phobias', besides those rational fears that most mortals share, but she is easily panicked when things become chaotic or violent.

    Properties: As a fairly recent arrival to Skyrim, and a relavtively impoverished one at that, Giselle owns no properties in Skyrim. Her expectation is that she will obtain lodgings in the College of Winterhold, when she finally reaches the place and if she is accepted as a student. For now, she stays in inns, and makes coin doing odd-jobs as she travels. She managed to scrape enough money together to purchase a horse, whom she has named Betsy and whom travels with her everywhere.

    Job: Giselle was a clerk in Castle Anvil in Cyrodiil prior to embarking upon her journey. She is now unemployed, but has undertaken a number of odd jobs around Skryim since arriving. She attempted to make some coin in Riverwood from chopping wood, but proved to be inept at the task. Instead she has helped people with things ranging from collecting alchemical ingredients and making simple potions, to using magic to solve small problems here and there, and has made enough coin to get by so far, and she even bought a horse.

    Weaknesses: Curiosity. Giselle is fairly undisciplined, and lets her curiosity get the better of her, which is usually how she has ended up in the few fights she's been in. She is also untrained, having taught herself everything she knows. She's not very physically imposing either, even by Breton standards, and could easily be overpowered if caught unawares or her magicka is depleted.

    History/Backstory:

    Giselle was originally born in High Rock, of two Breton parents - Geraster and Jylienne Gestal. They moved to Cyrodiil in search of a better life, but in the aftermath of the Great War things in the capital province were highly unstable, and her father was killed by bandits on the journey. He left enough inheritance for her mother to start a new life, which they did quietly in Anvil, her mother working as a cleaner in the castle.

    Inquisitive from an early age, Giselle devoured every book her mother could get her hands on, and realised at the age of 10 that she had an affinity for magic, after nearly setting a passing Khajiit traveller on fire by accident (he asked for directions, she pointed, and flames came out). She initially feared this affinity, and tried to keep it under control for a few years after that, but gradually became less afraid of her abilities and started to spend hours at a time in their garden, training herself on makeshift targets. When she was 17, her mother managed to get her a job as a clerk in Castle Anvil, and she used nearly every spare Septim she earned to buy spell tomes and other books of learning. Less than a year later, her mother contracted a particularly nasty case of blood rot, which proved fatal.

    Giselle continued living in their small home and working as a clerk in Castle Anvil for several more years, and after spending a year in mourning she resumed her training - notably, adding restoration spells to the mix and taking up alchemy too, perhaps in response to her mother's death. She began stockpiling as much coin as she could, determined to leave Cyrodiil in pursuit of knowledge, and to become a proper mage, feeling that the Synod and the College of Whispers were both inappropriate to her outlook on life. Several months ago she resigned from her job at Castle Anvil, sold all of her possessions, including her parents' house, and hired transport to Skyrim.

    Unfortunately, just like Cyrodiil when her parents first moved there, Skyrim was unstable and rife with lawlessness, being as it was in the midst of a civil war. Mirroring the fate of her father, almost as soon as she bid her carriage driver farewell, she was accosted by raiders and robbed of her luggage and coin. Fortunately she was unharmed, and knew better than to try and resist them, but all she had left to her name was her mother's old circlet - hidden in her clothing, fortunately, but not something she could ever part with - and the clothes on her back. She arrived in Riverwood not long afterwards, and began doing odd jobs around the small village such as wood chopping, and even befriended the local smith, who attempted to give her lessons (which she failed, though she was able to keep the 'dagger' she forged as a souvenir). After a few days, she raised enough coin to purchase some supplies and fresh clothing, and continued on her journey.
     
    Last edited:

    JimmyMcKnight

    New Member
    Full Name:
    Arrald Strong-Arm of Falkreath


    Preferred Name:
    Arrald


    Race:
    Nord


    Age:
    Twenty-eight

    Appearance:
    • Just over six feet tall

    • Weighs approximately 260 pounds

    • Heavyset muscular build gained through many years of farm work in younger years, and combat training in his early twenties

    • Has brown eyes that are usually the first thing noticed by people he encounters

    • Dark brown hair is kept short

    • Beard is kept to short, but is still visible (slightly more than stubble), and is the same color as his hair

    • He has a variety of scars covering his torso from many different wounds he received from fighting off a variety of adversaries (mostly bandits)

    Positive Traits:

    • Very diligent and honest. He does not believe in breaking the law.

    • Charismatic personality makes him an easy person to get along with.

    • Very compassionate personality causes him to often be very charitable and selfless

    Negative Traits:
    • Has little self control in certain situations which can get him into trouble at times.

    • He is easily seduced by the daedra and opposite sex.

    Clothing:
    • Casual clothing includes regular civilian clothing

    • Armor choice is usually iron armor, but usually without a helmet

    Weapon Choice:
    • Steel broadsword for close encounters

    • A steel shield for blocking his foes’ attacks

    • A standard wooden longbow for attacking from a distance

    Likes:
    • Drinking

    • Smithing weapons and armor

    • Eating

    • Putting an end to threats to the general public (bandits, dragons, etc.)

    Dislikes:
    • Crime

    • Criminals

    • Lazy people

    • Mages

    Bio:

    He was born and grew up in a successful family in Solitude, he lived in peace until he was about 6 years old, but at that point things changed.

    He lost his older brother in a horrible accident. One evening the two were on a stroll outside city walls when a pack of wolves pounced out of the woods. His brother drew his dagger and ordered him to run. As he sprinted towards home he could hear his brother’s screams. He was labeled a coward after the incident. Even at a young age, it seemed to his family that he could have done more. He became very outcast.

    After years of abuse he finally decided to run away. He left home at 12 and never turned back. In his bag he had a dagger, water, and a small supply of food. He ran out of city walls one night, and didn’t stop. He ran for three days, only sleeping a total of two hours. Eventually, he came across a small farm. The farmer happened to see him running and stopped him. After a long conversation and a warm meal the boy was hired as a farm hand.

    Nobody truly knows where his combat experience comes from, as this is the only part of the story he tells. (Learn the rest, and more detailed version, through RP)


    Occupation:

    Currently a city guard, who wishes to protect the general public.

    Allied Factions:
    • City guard

    • Companions

    Enemy Factions:
    • Any bandits

    • Foresworn

    • Vampires
    WPCvS.jpg
     

    Mirro9@

    Mirro9@
    Name:Micael Reinhart

    Race: Breton

    Age:27

    Appearance: Height:5'8"
    Weight185 lbs.
    Hair: Dark Brown and curly cropped close on the sides with the hair longer and forming rings on top.
    Eyes: Dark green
    Skin:Tan by Breton standards
    A stocky build with a large chest. Criss-crossing scars across his mouth. Although he is a magic user combat and conditioning have made him physically fit and more than capable of wearing his heavy armor casually.

    Personality: Micael is charismatic and he knows it. He grew up a decendent of a house of knights in high rock that fell from favor but retained the dignified mannerisms. He is quick to flash a disarming smile but this hides his calculating nature.

    Guild(s): He is not a member of any standing guilds but is an auxiliary in the Imperial Legion.

    Background: The Reinhart's were a prominent knighted family in high rock until two short generations ago they became the victims of political intrigue and espionage casting doubt on their otherwise prestigious heritage. After the family lost favor they turned their martial prowess to Imperial service in the legion serving with the same dedication and skill for which they were once so renowned. Micael continued this tradition and though he trained from a young age to become a legionaire, his skill for destruction magic became quickly apparent. He continued his martial training setting out on his own limited personal time to hone his magical prowess. This has lead him to worshipping Julianos in his studies and he carries a pendant to the divine on him although he does not see himself as overly devout. After several years serving the Empire he was reassigned to Skyrim to, "Aid in the crushing of this Stormcloak upstart in anyway that opportunity and your skills deem fit."

    Political Affiliation: He is an unwavering soldier and supporter of the Empire.

    Weapons/skills: Micael is highly skilled in the use of his shield(Block) the wearing of his armor(Heavy Armor) and in the wielding of damaging spells(Destruction). He is also skilled to a lesser degree in the use of swords(One-handed) due to his training as a child and as a legionaire and also knows some rudimentary healing spells(Restoration) that help him fight on through the long gruelling fights that occur on the battlefield.

    Extra: While he is intelligent and his family's history should warn him, he is trusting almost to a fault. He also is a heavy drinker and when in his cups can quickly turn from moody and dour to jovial and merry.
     

    JRMoosePaul

    Stormcloak Warrior
    Name: Hulgar
    Race: Nord
    Gender: Male
    Class: Warrior
    Birth Sign: The Lord
    Appearance: Tall battle-scarred veteran wearing a bear pelt with steel plated armor underneath. Blue eyes and dark brown hair that drapes down to his shoulders. Full beard coming down from his face and light blue war paint covering half of his face. He boasts a large steel battle axe on his back.
    Likes: Mead, Mead, and Mead
    Dislikes: All elves unless they prove themselves trustworthy to him.
    Background: Hulgar is a veteran of the Great War who fought on the front lines, cutting down Thalmor soldiers one after another. He believes in the Nordic Pantheon and not the Imperial Cult. After the war he worked as a mercenary and built a name for himself. He then joined the Companions, knowing his comrade from the war, Skjor, would vouch for him. Now he does work for anyone if they've got the coin.
     
    Last edited:
    Name: Iosif
    Race: Nord/Vampire
    Gender: Male
    Class: Warrior
    Age: 27
    Appearance: 'Don't like those eyes you have, there's a bad hunger to them', Iosif is fierce demon hunter and a force to be reckoned with. Tall, intimidating. Metal armour underneath bear pelt, face covered except for eyes and nose. Ice blue eyes, remained this colour after becoming a vampire. He travels alone with only his horse and black wolf, 'Storm' for company, hunting demons. He doesn't like the creature he's become but he has no qualms about feeding when he needs to or biting those who anger him. A skilled hunter who's masterful with sword and bow.
    Likes: His own company, killing.
    Dislikes: Demons, people who disturb his peace or get in his way.
    Background: Comes from a long family of demon/vampire hunters, he killed his father/mentor after his father became afflicted with vampirism. Iosif contracted the disease during the struggle.


    (Disclaimer: image is not mine, copyright of
    Rob-Joseph at Deviant Art. Image temp until I make my own).
     

    Attachments

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    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what her visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in her CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)
    elf_mage_by_xx_rainyday_xx-d5u3w04.jpg

    Lilium Lancif
    ~----~

    "Ar molag anyammis, av latta magicka."
    From fire, life; from light, magic
    ~----~

    NAME: Lilium Leidela Lancif

    ALIAS: Lily by loved ones


    AGE: 24


    BIRTH-DATE: 17th of Rain's Hand, 4E 178


    BIRTH PLACE: Unknown, but she was taken in as a young child in Anvil, Cyrodiil


    GENDER: Female


    RACE/ORIGIN: Altmer/High Elf [100%]


    CLASS: Scholar, Mage


    LATERALITY: Ambidextrous


    SEXUALITY: Straight


    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single


    FAMILY: Her adopted father, Lucius Lancif


    AFFILIATIONS: Arcane College (Cyrodiil) [Excommunicated], Mage's College of Winterhold [Apprentice Mage]


    AFFLICTIONS: N/A


    RELIGION: Standard Pantheon (The 8 Divines), acknowledges but does not worship Talos as a divine


    maya_cartson__pathfinder_by_miguelregodon-d90l2em.jpg


    ~----~

    Appearance
    ~----~

    HEIGHT: 6'1"

    WEIGHT: 140 Lbs.


    BUILD: Lean, Fair, and Tall


    FACE: Soft and Angular


    EYES: Soft, with almost glowing Emerald irises


    SKIN TONE: Soft Golden Complexion


    HAIR STYLE: Cut Short, worn down and usually relatively messy


    HAIR COLOR: Soft Auburn


    SCARS: A violent looking scar, running across her left cheek from below her ear, to just before the left corner of her lips


    TATTOOS: N/A


    PIERCINGS: N/A


    astrianna_by_zynthex-d7ri1zm.png


    ~----~

    Personality
    ~----~

    TEMPER: Even-tempered, she almost never loses her temper

    OUTLOOK: Positive, though she knows the world has it's darkness, but she believes the light and love of the good outweighs the shadows


    HONOR: High, she highly respects those she thinks deserves it (Most individuals)


    ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good


    POSITIVE TRAITS: Intelligent, Witty, Scholarly, Wholesome, Selfless, Caring, Warm, Intuitive, Friendly, Helpful, Strategic, Trusting


    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Selfless, Overly Focused on Knowledge and Magic, Sometimes Oblivious to Danger, Naive, Overly Trusting


    LIKES: Aetherius, The Night Sky, Magic, Reading, Books, Libraries, Adventure, Anthropology, History, Geography, Botany, Animals, Other Mages and Scholars, Adventurers, and she is secretly fond of Chiseled and Brawny Warriors


    DISLIKES: Ignorance, Bigots, Liars, Evil, The Undead, Poachers, Belethor (He has a tendency of Hitting on her every time he's in Whiterun)


    FEARS: Death, Loss


    PHOBIAS: Snakes


    HABITS/QUIRKS: She reads when she isn't doing anything else (even while walking, and talking sometimes)


    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: To know everything that she can before she joins her father in the afterlife; to make her father proud


    skyrim_mage_by_isolenta-d79erii.png


    ~----~

    Gear and Fighting Style
    ~----~

    HEAD: A simple Copper and Sapphire Circlet, and a Hood depending on the weather conditions

    TORSO: A set of College Styled robes, that she opted to weave herself. The colors are matching that of the standard Apprentice robes, however the cloth draping over the top of her left shoulder carries the color of ebony.


    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: Her shoulders and arms are covered by the standard style of the College's Apprentice robes, however her arms while traveling and adventuring are embraced with Ebony colored Elven style gauntlets.


    WAIST: Around her waist a standard leather, steel clasped belt holds her robes warmly to her slender body


    LEGS AND FEET: Underneath her robes she wears a pair of thick fur and cloth pants, which run underneath Ebony colored boots matching the Elven style of her guantlets.


    EVERY DAY CARRY: Inside the small bag she carries over he shoulder, you will often find a small alchemist pouch filled with the ingredients to make health and magic potions. Along with this pouch a filled water-skin can be found next to a small count of assorted potions. Likely the most noticeable masses are a few of whatever books she may be reading and/or studying at the time.


    WEAPONS: As a pure mage, and because she has no clue how to wield any weapon; she carries none, and intends to keep it that way. It's a waist of energy and time to carry them around with her when all the offensive and defensive capabilities that she needs reside within her mind and her connection with the plane of Aetherius.


    MAGIC: Lilium is fairly proud of the fact that she refuses to pick only one school of magic to practice, and prefers to use all of them. Her goal is to be as powerful at wielding magic like the master mages of old - who knew every spell for any situation. With this, she has a plethora of mastered spells at her disposal that she masterfully and strategically uses. The list is as follows:


    ~ Alteration: Candlelight, Magelight, Ironflesh, Detect Life, Detect Dead, Equilibrium


    ~ Conjuration: Soul Trap, Revenant, Conjure Flame Atronach, Conjure Ice Atronach, Conjure Storm Atronach


    ~ Destruction: Flames, Firebolt, Fireball, Ignite, Fire Cloak, Frostbite, Ice Spike, Freeze, Frost Cloak, Sparks, Lightning Bolt, Chain Lightning, Lightning Cloak


    ~Illusion: Muffle, Frenzy, Rally, Pacify, Rout, Invisibility


    ~ Restoration: Greater Ward, Close Wounds, Heal Other, Heal Undead, Stendar's Aura, Turn Undead


    FIGHTING ABILITIES: While in battle, she is able to do numerous things, depending on the situation she finds herself in. Weather it means summoning support, healing comrades, raising the dead or striking fear in the hearts of her foes; she's a fierce competitor on the battlefield. However, she doesn't ever feel comfortable with going into a battle alone, and prefers to have friends or comrades at her side as she can only pull from her deep connection to Aetherius for so long. However, if need be, she has managed to master a spell that most mages refuse and almost never use - Equilibrium; in which she pulls from her own life energy to continue drawing from the Realm of Aetherius.


    FIGHTING STYLE: Heavy Support, Decent Defense, Formidable Offense, Major Influence


    magelight_by_isriana-d5tt8q8.jpg


    ~----~

    History
    ~----~

    Lilium never knew her birth parents, but at some point in her young life her adopted father took her in. Lucius Lancif, a soldier in the Imperial Army. Nothing more than a lowly soldier, he was assigned to new areas of Tamriel, moving them fairly often. Never making much money, or staying in one place for any more than a year, Lilium and her father kept mostly to themselves outside of the barracks'. When her father was out on duty, Lilium often wandered the roads in whatever town they were in at the time; with some of the few possessions her father could afford for her - books.

    This is how their tiny family lived, bouncing from place to place, until she was almost 18 years old. Just before she turned 18, Liliums father retired himself from the Legion, and purchased a small home inside the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. He had joined the city's guard, and for the first time in all her years she had a definitive place to call home.

    On her 18th birthday, after months of searching for a way to join the Arcane College, Lucius surprised Lilium with an invitation into the school. An old friend of his, from 'back in the glory days' as he so eloquently put it, was a member of the College and managed to pull some strings.

    Though she wasn't a proper student, and merely a handmaiden, Lilium took every chance she could to snatch a book to read in her free-time only to put it back and grab another. She would often make excuses to clean during lectures, in order to learn from the Master mages about the realm of Aetherius and the art of magicka.

    She was able to do this without notice until she was 21, before she managed to make an enemy out of the Lore-keeper and Librarian of the college. Lilium was caught stealing a spell book, and had admitted to only borrowing it. The College did not feel the same, and excommunicated her in an instant, forcing her to leave and never enter the grounds again.

    Her day of excommunication was only the beginning of her bad luck, as on her return home, a courier met her with a note from the Captain of the city's guard. Her father was mortally wounded in action.

    She got to speak with him only in his last moments. A robbery in the Market District went awry, and he ended up getting stabbed in the chest; puncturing a lung. Lilium didn't bother to tell him about the trouble she had gotten herself into, rather, she focused on making the last moments of his life as happy as she could make them.

    His last words echoed in her mind as she packed up the few things she needed, and sold the rest of the belongings and her first home. And then she was in the wind, on her way to the north. To a college that would accept and teach her no matter who she was or where she came from.

    "Never stop reaching for your dreams, my Lily. You're the best and smartest person I have ever known, and you have always made me proud. And I cannot wait to see you become the best that you can be, that I know you can be. I am always with you, and I love you to the moons and back."

    College of Winterhold, Lilium Lancif, at your service.
     
    Last edited:

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    So here's a new little project that I'm gonna be doing, a Revival of some of my very first Roleplay Characters that I ever did - revamped, re-imagined, and redone. They'll eventually be compiled into a list of links so that they can be easier to find! Here's the first of the 'Revived'!

    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what her visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in her CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)

    archercopy.jpg


    Serenity Amaria


    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    Basic
    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    NAME: Serenity Amaria


    ALIAS: The Ice Shot (Self Called)

    AGE: 18

    BIRTH-DATE: 14th of Second Seed, 4E 183

    BIRTH PLACE: Falkreath

    GENDER: Female

    RACE/ORIGIN: Nord

    CLASS: Archer/Thief

    PROFESSION: Thief, Craftswoman, Bounty Hunter, and Area Guide (wherever the coin is)

    LATERALITY: Lefthanded

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

    FAMILY: None, Orphaned at Birth

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: The only thing of significant importance to her is her bow

    AFFILIATIONS: She did some training with the Companions, and a freelance blacksmith but is no longer associated with either

    AFFLICTIONS: N/A

    RELIGION: Standard Nordic pantheon, with particular interest in Kyne and Talos

    from_the_storm_by_justingedak-d8pnnxb.jpg


    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    Appearance
    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    HEIGHT: 5'2"


    WEIGHT: 125

    BUILD: Lean, Lithe and Attractive

    FACE: Soft, Naive and Caring

    EYES: Icy Blue

    SKIN TONE: Fair Skinned, like most Nords

    HAIRSTYLE: Long, Straight

    HAIR COLOR: Brown

    SCARS: Many scars along her back from lashings

    TATTOOS: She has the symbol of Kyne on her chest between her breasts. and the symbol for Talos on the top of her draw-string hand

    PIERCINGS: One in her left eyebrow, and 2 in the earlobe of her right ear

    __rubina___by_ice__depth-d4uc4tf.jpg


    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    Personality
    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    TEMPER: Relatively Even-tempered; she doesn't regularly lose her cool


    OUTLOOK: Bright; she is bright and young, and sees the world as her oyster

    HONOR: High; she believes that all those who have fallen deserve the respect and honor as any fallen hero

    ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Observant, Vivacious, Perky/Bubbly, Studious, Respectful, Headstrong, Bright-eyed, Passionate, Borderline Hyperactive

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Naive, Stubborn, Opinionated, Vindictive, One-track minded

    LIKES: Nature, Animals, People, Sun and Sky, Rainstorms, Hunting, People

    DISLIKES: Racism, Bigotry, Rudeness, Insults, Ignorance, Ice Wraiths

    FEARS: Ice Wraiths

    PHOBIAS: Ice Wraithaphobia

    HABITS/QUIRKS: She likes to Whistle, Hum or Sing as she walks and treks the wilderness alone

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: She wants to hunt alongside Aela and serve the children of Skyrim with the Companions

    1280x1000px-LL-2721833c_2012-08-11_00006.jpeg


    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    Gear and Fighting Style
    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    HEAD: While in cities in towns, nothing, but while out in the wilderness or hunting she wears the hood of her fur cloak


    TORSO: She has a thin, forest green, sleeveless tunic that she wears underneath her leather cuirass which is also sleeveless

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: The only thing that covers her shoulders is her fur cloak, her forearms are wrapped with thin leather bracers matching her cuirass, and on her right hand (her drawstring hand) she wears a green cloth glove

    WAIST: Her waist is wrapped in a simple hide belt, with two sheathes on her right hip

    LEGS AND FEET: Her legs are covered by tight fitting brown cloth, on her feet and lower calves she wears leather iron-shinned boots

    EVERYDAY CARRY: A leather quiver on her back, which she keeps stocked with 30 steel arrows, and a few other random type arrows ranging in strength and distance abilities. Attached to the side of the quiver is a small satchel, which she keeps a large length of rope - which she uses to tie together pelts to carry easier and room for a few simple potions.

    WEAPONS: Her weapons all hold a significant value to her, as she crafted them herself and hopes to only continue upgrading them or replacing them with better self-crafted gear (outside of her arrows). However, none more than her bow, a tough northern-wood recurve bow. It's length has complicated hand-carved designs inlayed with skyforge steel ingots, it's string is a unique combination of horse hair and woven spider-strings. [LINK] Her sword was crafted with her attempt of damascus skyforge steel and dwarven metal, in the the style of a xiphos sword; it's hilt and pommel is a more intricately shaped and designed form of the same metal with the handle wrapped in green-stained horse hide. [LINK] The last weapon in her arsenal is her dagger, which is crafted from simple skyforge steel but almost all intricately inlayed and carved; it's handle is wrapped in the same horse hide as her sword, and it's pommel has her attempt at a dragon's head. [LINK]

    MAGIC: She's never used it, been able to use it, or had the inclination to try and use it. She does, however, respect the craft unlike most Nords, and enjoys watching complex spell casting when she sees it.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: Her most practiced and skilled weapon is her bow. Learning from Aela the Huntress how to shoot with power and accuracy, along with countless hours of hunting and trapping, she is quite the marksman. She was briefly trained with her sword by Aela as well, and she practiced by watching other's practice their own swordsmanship. She has never been trained in dagger-wielding, and hasn't really needed to. She only ever uses it for dispatching, skinning and gutting her prey; however she probably could use it in a fight if she had not other option. How hard could it be?

    FIGHTING STYLE: In the few battles she's had while fulfilling bounties and encountering Bandit Camps, she is surprisingly good at shooting in close combat. She also cleverly uses her bow to parry and hit her opponents if they decide to get too close. Whenever she finds herself out of her league with shooting at close range, she will pull her sword and use it wildly and maniacally. She isn't super accurate or controlled wit the blade, but she's hacking and slashing madly most of the time; and against the opponents she finds, that's all that is needed to be effective.

    waityourenotezio.jpg


    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    History
    <---{{ ~8~ }}--->

    Not sure I am going to do these in the revivals of these character cards, but if I do, they'll be here :p



    Here's the Original Character Card (Brace yourself :p)


    Name: Serenity (The Ice Shot) Amaria

    Race: Nord


    Gender: Female


    Class: Archer/Warrior/Theif


    Armor: Pentulis Oculatus armor, without the imperial emblem, and instead of read, blue, And long sleeves and pants. Wheres a cloak of Snow bear fur, but is relatively thin. As well as no face paint.


    Weapons: Custom made ebony like bow. It has blue tribal designs all down the bow from the ice enchantments that are bound in the bow. With blue trim. A set of hidden throwing knives on her belt, and a black Dwemer like long sword, also custom made. Likes to get really close in hand to hand combat, and sword dueling. Usually she is in the middle of the action with her bow, killing as many as she can. The enchantment in her bow freezes some parts of the body, near where the arrow strikes.


    Physical Description: 5'2" 125 lbs, long, straight, brown hair, very fast, strong in accordance to her size, pretty good looking in a general sense of things. Blue eyes, scars on her back from forced work in her past.


    Biography: She was born in Falkreath, but was moved by a slave caravan to Dawnstar shortly after. She was forced to work in both of the mines up there, and hated it. He learned to fend for herself for 16 years, then escaped. She ran to the Winterhold, where she practiced the ways of enchanting, and some frost destruction magicka. In interest of fighting, she came to Whiterun, where she learned archery from Aela the Huntress, and learned expert smithing from a blacksmith called Oric Ironhand, who owned a forge a couple miles north of Whiterun. Since then she has been earning money buy stealing things, and reselling them, as well as taking down bandit camps, and private escorting.


    Personality: Very strong willed, much like Aela, whom she has deemed her hero, and very observant of almost every little thing. Comes with the occupation of an archer. Very protective of most wildlife, and can befriend most animals quickly. She will protect most she trusts, especially her friends (since she has no family).


    Reference Pictures:


    archercopy.jpg



    1280x1000px-LL-2721833c_2012-08-11_00006.jpeg
    waityourenotezio.jpg
     
    Last edited:

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    Here's another revival of some of my very first Roleplay Characters that I ever did - revamped, re-imagined, and redone. They'll eventually be compiled into a list of links so that they can be easier to find! Here's the second of the 'Revived'!

    Just wanna do a little note here, this is likely going to be and is my favorite of these revivals that I have done so far. I loved recreating this guy, and I really wanna roleplay with him now :p

    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what his visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in his CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)
    bloodborne_by_robasarel-dawow7i.png


    Lytahlas Auvraeplith

    -~ Basic ~-


    NAME: Lytahlas Auvraeplith


    ALIAS: None

    AGE: 260 (Aging slowed around 25, so he looks approximately in his late twenties)

    BIRTH-DATE: 4th of Sun's Dawn, 3E 375

    BIRTH PLACE: Greenwood, Valenwood

    GENDER: Male

    RACE/ORIGIN: Bosmer/Wood Elf

    CLASS: Forester/Ranger/Assassin

    PROFESSION: High Priority Bounty Hunter and Head Hunter, Vigilante Assassin

    LATERALITY: Ambidextrous

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single, Widower

    FAMILY: Parents Deceased, Kormuvan

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: His daggers, both were created by him and his father at a young age, one was his and one was his fathers

    AFFILIATIONS: He was involved in the 5 year war in 3E 395, in the Bosmeri faction

    AFFLICTIONS: PTSD, Lycanthropy

    RELIGION: He recognizes the existence of the gods, but doesn't worship any from any of the pantheons

    zevran_by_justanor-d2xrx9e.jpg


    -~ Appearance ~-


    HEIGHT: 5'8"


    WEIGHT: 149 lbs.

    BUILD: Lean, Powerful, Flexible

    FACE: Firm, Stern, Stoic and Semi-angular

    EYES: Shining Yellow

    SKIN TONE: Olive Skinned

    HAIRSTYLE: Long, Straight and Wild

    HAIR COLOR: Ebony, Soft Black

    SCARS: His face is unscathed, the rest of his form is hard opposite

    TATTOOS: Most of his face is covered in intricate, soft black Bosmeri designs

    PIERCINGS: None

    BEAST FORM: Considered a Gevaudan Werewolf (just a size classification) in Beast form, Lytahlas stands taller than most were's at 8'8", and a monstrous 438 pounds. His fur becomes sickly, ashy black sleekly covering dangerously large muscles ripe and ready to destroy, his eyes bleed blood red, and his teeth become as long as daggers and sharper than razor-blades. A couple of pictures for reference - [one][two]

    assassin_by_rehail-d8nwmze.jpg


    -~ Personality ~-


    TEMPER: Short to Medium; Sometimes he is in pretty good control, other times his grip on emotions is thin


    OUTLOOK: Grim; He's seen a lot in his time, it only takes so long before somebody becomes desensitized to the inevitable darkness of the world

    HONOR: None; He had honor at some point in his life, but the amount of people he's met without any has tainted his soul and permeated into his heart

    ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Intelligent, Experienced, Strategic, Masterful, Efficient, Effective, Thorough, Vigilant, Observatory, Unattached, Fearless, Critical, Alpha-personality, Fierce

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Head Strong, Apathetic, Unsociable, Hyper-vigilant, Short Tempered, Aristocratic, Vain, Unforgiving, Ruthless

    LIKES: Rain-forests and Forests in general, Rain, Thunderstorms, Animals, Nature, Pine-trees, Scent of Pine, Hunting, Tracking, Thinking, Exploring, Stalking, Climbing, Free-running, Being Alone (aside from Kormuvan)

    DISLIKES: Attention, Large Cities, Unnatural Noise, Ignorance, Bigots, Racism, Admeri Dominion and their Agents (Including the Thalmor and in his eyes the Empire), Legionaries and Soldiers, Authority, People trying to control him

    FEARS/PHOBIAS: Losing Kormuvan is the only fear he can feel anymore

    HABITS/QUIRKS: He tends to dissociate and lose himself in thought and his surroundings, Talking to Kor and thus; himself

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: To kill all those who deserve to die until his last breath

    BEAST FORM: Despite his short temper, his control of his beast blood is surprisingly great. While the ferocity of the beast tends to bleed into his regular personality once his anger is triggered, it takes much more pushing for him to lose his grip as himself. When he does lose control of his human form, as a beast he is in enough control to choose the direction of which his power is aimed. This is enough to avoid needless slaughter and death, and attempt to either make it useful, or make it useless and point it toward nothing.

    dao-poster-dalish-elf.jpg


    -~ Gear and Fighting Style ~-


    (note: all his gear has been self crafted and upgraded over time)
    HEAD: While traveling alone, and with nobody around, he only keeps the hood sewn into his armor on his head; shrouding his face in natural shadows. When in the public eye, or while hunting and stalking his targets he adorns a leather mask along with his hood, that way even if his hood manages to come off he is still anonymous; it also adds a level of intimidation and fear to the mix as only the faint glow of his haunting and hunting eyes show through. [Here's the Mask]


    TORSO: On his torso covering his chest and belly is a leather chest piece, with fur lining in some spots [Here's an idea of what that looks like]. Strapped around his back, is his quiver with attached blade sheathes, the quiver can hold up to 30 arrows and the sheathes are custom fit to his specific daggers [Here's the look of the quiver] [and here's the look of the attached sheathes].

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: His shoulders are covered in the attached leather pauldrons on his armor, matching it's design. His forearms are guarded and adorned with leather bracers of similar design [here's what those could look like].

    WAIST: Wrapping around his waist, pulling his armor tight to his stomach and making it seamless into protecting his upper legs, is a leather utility belt. It holds room for a small count of throwing knives, some sharpening materials, potions and poison vials, septims and other items while also having 2 sheathes for his different swords on each side [here's an idea of that].

    LEGS AND FEET: While his legs are covered in black trousers, over the upper portions of each limb the skirt portion of his armor cover his thighs while a pair of leather boots protect his shins and feet [here's those].

    EVERYDAY CARRY: He doesn't carry much on him aside from his major weapons, but the items include up to 6 throwing knives, 4 vials of miscelanious poisons, 2 potions of resistances, anywhere from 200 to 500 gold pieces, a sharpening set, strong leather twine, and dried meat/animal hide for Kor.

    WEAPONS: He has a pretty full arsenal of weaponry, and has no preference as to which he uses in any given situation as at this point in his life he has virtually mastered all of them. His bow, which he affectionately calls 'Claw", is a classic medium sized bow made of the strong, flexible and now rare Summerset Rosewood, and Elsweyrian Osage wood with a complex horse hair weaved bowstring. It has decorative claws or teeth attached to it's front with leather from the same beast, that Lytahlas replaces semi-often [Here's a look at that]. He carries two separate swords on his person, a short-blade and long sword. The shortsword, is that of royal Breton descent, made with Wrothgarian steel and symbols of ancient royalty. He has masterfully restored the blade, replacing the once decayed handle with smooth cherry wood [here's an idea of that]. His other sword is self created, and one of the first blades he ever forged; it's blade is made from an elven steel without imperfection curved into a long, lithe blade. It's handle is curved mahogany, matching the flow of the blade; it's dimensions makes the long sword as light as any dagger and as deadly as any executioner's sword [here's a look of what that could be]. His last two weapons, are his most prized; his daggers. They are not of the same design, but of the same descent. They were made from a damascus steel he and his father crafted together at a young age, and were formed at the same time. His father's blade a straight blade, styled similar to that of a classic sword, while his own blade is sharpened on one side, curving like his elven sword. His father's handle is the very wood his home was built with, cedar, while his own was made with ebony [here's his father's][and his own].

    MAGIC: None. Rather indifferent on it as well, it's just never served him any purpose, and he's found no need for it in all his years.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: He's a veritable master of all his weapons, and thus, is capable of using them all to their fullest potential. He's also quite the capable free runner, and easily traverses most types of terrain; whether it be through the canopy of trees, rock faces and cliffs, or city walls and buildings.

    FIGHTING STYLE: He prefers to get things done quickly in most scenarios, and because of this he tends to stay a distance away from his targets, planting arrows in lethal points. If the situation doesn't fit that option, he will quickly switch to whichever sword he deems necessary, or even both. His short blade is usually better against smaller, more nimble opponents while the longer blade is more useful for larger, slower foes. His daggers are usually used for close combat situations and quick assassinations and kills. in the rare cases where he tortures or dissects his victims by customer order or whilst hunting, he'll use them accurately and painfully if need be.

    BEAST FORM: As a wolf, he is pretty unable to choose the target of his attacks and his power. He is, however, in control of his strikes and attacks. Once somebody or something is in his line of "fire" he properly dispatches them in whatever way he deems fit at the time. Whether that means a mauling, or a good mouthful of flesh, varies from person to person.

    archer_by_artangelo-d65t2n9.jpg


    Companion


    evesske_icon_comm_1_by_wolfroad-d71i4lz.jpg


    -~ Basic ~-


    NAME: Kormuvan "Kor" Auvraeplith


    AGE: 214

    RACE/SPECIES/ORIGIN: Lupislycan - A wolf given lycanthropy (no beast form)

    GENDER: Male

    RELATIONSHIP/FAMILY: Kor's master and agreed Father, is Lytahlas. As Mer/Man are not wolves, the usual canine hierarchy doesn't apply to their relationship, and thus their friendship is based wholey on love, trust and innate and instinctual understanding. This understanding comes from Lytahlas being the giver of Kor's Lycanthropy, and their understanding is as close to telepathic as it can get. While Lytahlas is in his Beast Form, that hierarchy appears, and Kor becomes the Beta to Lytahlas' alpha and pack, and performs as such.

    AFFLICTIONS: Lycanthropy - adds to his lifespan, enhances his intelligence, strength, speed and senses

    thane__wolf_adopt__sold_by_kfcemployee-daus3u2.jpg


    -~ Appearance ~-


    HAIR/FUR COLOR: He's a shadowy looking canine, with charcoal colored fur and smokey colored underbelly and spots


    EYE COLOR: Blazing Red

    BODY/BUILD/SIZE: Standing at a tall 4' at the shoulder, and measuring from nose to tail 6'4", this 200 pound monster of a wolf puts most other wolves to shame. Despite his size, his muscles are lean, accurate and powerful. His Body is just as battle-worn and scarred as his master's and this adds a decent amount of intimidation to his form.

    evil_by_wolfroad-d8m6hs5.jpg


    -~ Personality ~-


    TEMPER: Short to medium; his temper fluctuates with that of his master, and due to his natural protective instincts, tends to be slightly more intense


    POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, Well Trained, Well Socialized, Well Mannered, Surprisingly Intelligent, Strong, Fast, Protective

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Intimidating, Misunderstood, Too Inquisitive in Cities and Public, Uncontrolled Instinctively

    LIKES: Lytahlas, Nighttime, Rain, Thunderstorms, Forests, Horker Meat, Mammoth Tendon, Horse Hide, Elk Meat and Bones

    DISLIKES: Strangers, Loud Noises, Giants, Spider blood, Troll blood, Slaughterfish

    FEARS: Slaughterfish, Being alone

    HABITS/QUIRKS: Likes clawing deeply into tree trunks and roots, howling at thunder occasionally, and barking at a butterfly every now and again



    Here's the Original Character Card (Brace yourself :p)


    Name: Lytahlas Auvraeplith


    Gender: Male


    Race: Wood Elf


    Class: Archer/Assassin


    Armor: Custom Leather Armor, Sangartii Armor. Check Reference Pictures.


    Weapons: Orcish Bow & arrows (or hand made bow), 2 Orcish war axes, Glass sword.

    In battle he prefers to stay "high and dry", but when he runs out of arrows (very often), he is fierce in close combat. He is trained in parkour because of his Valenwood origin. On a full moon, or when angered, he will turn into his wolf form, and kill. He has control, but only after the transformation. If he is confronted during, or right after the transformation, he will go on a blood rampage, killing until he is killed.

    Physical Description: 6'2", 185 lbs, dark, long, smooth hair, yellow eyes, well built, one large scar on his face, and a tattoo on his right arm of a wolf. Very hunter/assassin/archer looking. Check Reference Pictures.


    Biography: Born in the forests of Valenwood, and trained by his father. His parents died in a planned forest fire by the imperial legion, which is why he hates them. After his parents death, he constructed his armor and his bow. He traveled to to Skyrim to learn the art of the bow, and wolf, from the Sangartii Elves. On his way there, he found a young wolf pup, who he named Kenon, and trained to be his companion. They traveled to Skyrim, mastered the bow, recieved the wolf blood, and was hired by the dark brotherhood. Now he fights in any war against the Thalmor and Imperial Legion. He likes anyone who respects him and Kenon, and hates the Thalmor and Imperials as much as he.


    Personality: Very serious, and cold. Almost emotionless. Gets angered easily.


    Reference Pictures:
    dao-poster-dalish-elf.jpg

    Kenon: Lytahlas' Wolf:


    black-wolf-50218.jpg

     
    Last edited:

    Sweetroll76

    Member
    Jinn
    ~----~
    "Make sure you are always the hunter. Never the hunted"
    ~----~

    FULL NAME: Naja-lin (Nah-sha-len) Eyes-of-Ghost Turone

    ALIAS: The Djinn of the South, Jinn

    AGE: 28

    BIRTH-DATE: 4th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 175

    GENDER: Female

    RACE/ORIGIN: Argonian aka the Saxhil aka the People of the Root

    CLASS: Ranger

    LATERALITY: Ambidextrous (extra: prefers to write with right hand but can write with left hand)

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single (Everybody is too intimidated)

    RELIGION: Acknowledges and respects the religions of Skyrim but does not personally partake in worship

    Appearance
    ~----~

    Standing at 6 feet and 3 inches, Jinn can loom over many Nord men and perhaps even a few mer. Speaking of mer, she is not unlike them in physique. She is tall, with a slim build that gives her small bust and hips a sense of equality. What she lacks in femininity, she makes up for in muscle and agility. Her speed is similar to a slaughter-fish, as well as her sharp ferocity in combat. Her lithe body keeps her at a good solid 163 lbs, most of which she trained very hard for. Compared to many of her race, Jinn is very unique in her appearance: Her scales are a deep blackish brown with lighter brown undertones, with a deep red tint underneath the eyes. She has long horns that curl inwards slightly as they stretch back, and sometimes she wraps the base of these horns in colorful cloth or with jewelry, but these occasions are very rare and most likely for special events. Her eyes are an unsettling amber with needle-like pupils, baring an x-shaped scar across the eye ridge and below the eye itself. She does not bare the feared set of needle teeth, but the normal set of Argonian teeth, which only have the slightest hint of yellow. The most unusual thing about Jinn's appearance is the black hair she bares on the back of her head which is rather short and often kept out of the way, but it is hair nonetheless. She tends to simple shrug at questions regarding it, and brushes off any accusations of being a half-breed abomination when the rest of her is so clearly Argonian. It appears even she doesn't know, and doesn't really care enough about it to know. If you have the privilege of her being comfortable with you to which she openly changes clothes, you may notice the native black runes tattooed all the way down her spine to the base of her tail, which have an elegant tribal quality to them.


    Personality
    ~----~

    At her core, Jinn is a woman of business. She takes a liking to the sound of septims hitting the counter, and does not take kindly to those that try to swindle her for her hard-earned pelts. While clearly not a woman of many words, the words she does speak are often eloquent, and persuasive, and before you know it she has haggled the items she needs to the lowest possible price, and the ones she is selling to an impressive price. Her physical intimidation may have to do with this, but during her 'discussions' she makes no move to threaten the merchants, instead she appears more open. Outside of business, she is very stoic, and rather hard to interpret, and it's more than just an argonian thing. She is calm and collected, and very logical and perhaps even tactical about the way she goes about things. Even with her business woman's charm and tactic, she is by no means dishonorable. She has a strong sense of honor, and will aid and/or protect those that she deems honorable. Despite her cynical outlook on life, Jinn has a soft spot for aiding those in need, but will be less helpful when those people are those of poor standing, or simply have no use to her (she refuses to be a courier). While she may be observant and rational, she can also be very controlling, and even at points tactless by being insensitively blunt. Jinn is also very secretive, and because of her tact as a business woman, she can appear sleazy and suspicious. But in truth Jinn is simply not afraid to do what she must to get what she wants. She is a woman of her word, as well as one of action.

    Despite appearing unemotional, Jinn has some very clear habits and hobbies that which make up her person. What seems to be most obvious however, is her dislike of bandits. Whether it's because they swindle good business, or because they are nothing more than rotten criminals, Jinn is merciless toward them. When she usually tends to avoid trouble, she will slay a bandit on sight if she sees one. This may also be connected to her profound hatred of liars, which the mere thought makes her scalene lip curl in disgust. It is inferred that the hatred of dishonest people, and the desire to help those that are honest and good may be interlinked and have something to do with her mysterious past.

    Jinn loves the outdoors, and will sometimes even dryly joke that she should have been born a wood elf. She has an extensive knowledge of the herbs, animals, and hunting grounds in Skyrim, most likely because her lifestyle as a nomad grants her such opportunities. She seems to prefer to be toward the south however, especially during the winter due to her cold-blood, but will travel north during the summer. She enjoys swimming, and most of her gear, if not all, is water resistant to some capacity. She is not against abruptly jumping off the path into the nearby steam for a brief swim. Despite her borderline painfully analytical behavior, it would be wrong to assume she is a buzzkill. It is clear in her eyes that she lives for the thrill of hunting, and enjoys occasionally letting loose while out in wilderness. She has a deep, genuine appreciation for nature, one which she strives to respect. It is noteworthy that she will avoid the territories
    of Spriggans and only kills them as a last resort. Even so, she does not take their deaths lightly, and evidently has far more respect for the spirits of nature than bandits. The same goes for Giants. As an honorable woman, she sees no sport in slaying the peaceful giants and their herds, and frowns deeply at those who do for their amusement or even fear. An odder rule of hers is not to kill a fox. Her support for this is, "To outfox a fox by killing it is foolish. To outfox it by learning what it knows is better."

    The inverse of her love for the open spaces is her dislike, or even fear, of tight ones. Her restlessness is especially evident in Markarth, and will quote in contempt: "the city of stone never changes". Her restlessness in large crowded cities can be a combination of tight spaces and her dislike of the arrogance that surrounds such places. However, the thing that makes her the most evidently nervous and fearful are the mentioning of Dwemer ruins. She has a strong distaste, even fear, for Dwemer ruins. This most likely stems from the lack of knowledge and control of her surroundings. Upon further inquiry she will quietly explain: "I do not enjoy feeling like the prey", which provides insight on her distrust of Dwemer ruins. This is further connected with her combined wariness of magic, and the technology of the dwemer. She is not against voicing her beliefs on giving something 'false life', and believes that such creations are wrong and like necromancy, are against the laws of nature. Unlike dwemer creations however, Jinn is not against going into burrows in search of wealth despite the undead. Despite her denial of it, Jinn seems to be to some extent, claustrophobic.


    HABITS/QUIRKS: Sometimes will hum as she sharpens her dagger or skins her game. The tip of her tail will move side to side like a clock when she is nervous or on edge. The corner of her lip starts to twitch if someone is really grating on her nerves. Often will show fondness of affection by draping her tail around the person. She also demonstrates responsibility and or protectiveness of a person by leading them with her tail around them. She doesn't seem fully aware of her tail's behaviors or maybe she simply doesn't stop them. Her laugh sounds something like a bird or perhaps even swine, as it sounds like a high pitches squealing and or hiccuping (this is a VERY rare occurrence)

    SKILLS: Bow and arrow, dual wielding, basic smithing, stealthy, high speech, knowledgeable in alchemy (note: does not use rare or 'exotic' ingredients as those are very rare. Mainly things that can be found in nature). A rather impressive cook. Literate.

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: To become a prosperous hunter/merchant [Secretly: To find a mate and settle down with her own home in Falkreath]

    Gear and Fighting Style
    ~----~

    Wears full leather armor, minus the helmet, with a quiver of Orcish arrows and her imperial bow on her back.

    HEAD: Cowl?

    TORSO: Well worn Leather armor with nicks and scratches, as well as indications where it was fixed and resown together.

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: Leather bracers allow her the proper mobility and control that a full-fingered-gauntlet would hinder in terms of her bow

    WAIST: Instead of the usual belt she has something of a tool belt: which holds a small dagger (for skinning), an apothecary satchel, a set of ominous phials, a small pouch of soul gems, and a smaller pouch of septims.

    LEGS AND FEET: Wears leather boots that are often muddy and well worn.

    EVERY DAY CARRY: Almost always has arrows strapped to her back (which is an assortment of every arrow in various numbers except iron arrows), keeps phials of poison on her belt to apply to her weapon/arrow. A large bag on her back filled with furs and meats from the day.
    Has a smaller emergency bag of healing potions and cures for poisons. See tool belt for more info.

    WEAPONS: Her imperial bow's name is La-shak and it is her baby. In close-combat she wields an enchanted orcish axe and an elven one.

    MAGIC: Jinn is wary of magic and tends to avoid it.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: Is a formidable opponent in both long-ranged and close-combat. She becomes focused on her prey and nothing but her prey. This focus is deadly. She will first aim at the leg to send a target down, and grab the attention of the rest of the group, and then with her poisoned arrows will hit them one by one. She is not brawny, but she can disappear into the shadows like a khajit and strike when you least expect it. She will catch you off guard. She will catch you by surprise. But she won't let you live long enough to wonder what happened. She has incredible stamina and will often use one swift blow to decapitate her enemies up close. In close combat she uses dual one-handed weapons, and more often than not they are two different things.

    FIGHTING STYLE: Strong Defense, Formidable offense, uses strategies such as surprise attacks but otherwise fights honorably... most of the time.
     

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    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what his visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in his CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)

    204cd_d030.png


    Thorriniir Kyne-Son
    "A test to prove your worth in the eyes of Kyne. Show that you're a hunter and no simple butcher."

    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Thorriniir Tiberius Kyne-Son

    ALIAS: Thorr, Frost-Heart

    AGE: 25

    BIRTH-DATE: 7th of Last Seed, 4E 177

    BIRTH PLACE: Temple of Kyne, Whiterun

    GENDER: Male

    RACE/ORIGIN: Nord [100%]

    CLASS: Hunter/Ranger

    PROFESSION: Hunter, Vigilante Ranger, Stormcloak Agent

    LATERALITY: Righthanded

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

    FAMILY: Father [Deceased], Mother [Deceased], Meadow

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: His carved Amulet of Kyne

    AFFILIATIONS: The Forests, Creatures, and People of Skyrim; Ulfric Stormcloak, and a friend to the Companions

    AFFLICTIONS:
    None

    RELIGION: The Full and Original Nordic Pantheon of worship, with the specific worship of Kyne


    duncan_by_theminttu-d5ytr3y.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEIGHT: 6'1"

    WEIGHT: 177 lbs.

    BUILD: Muscular, Strong, Rugged, Stoic

    FACE:
    Square, Stern, Powerful, Heroic

    EYES: Dark, Forest Green

    SKIN TONE: Fair Nordic complexion, Muddied by lifelong exposure to the wilds of Skyrim

    HAIR STYLE: Moderately Long, Unkempt, Usually with the Upper portion Tied Back

    FACIAL HAIR: Thick, Rugged beard and goatee

    HAIR COLOR: Ashy, Oak Brown

    SCARS: Countless dotting his body, the most noticeable is a Sabercat Scar; One claw mark above his right brow, and two more down his left cheek

    TATTOOS: The story behind his tattoos is one of devotion to his heritage, and can be found in the "History" portion of this character card. Wrapped around the back of his neck, is the depiction of Shor's Fox (it's head on the direct back of his neck) [See that Here], directly on his jugular between the ends of his Shor tattooo, is a moderately small symbol of Talos/Ysmir [See that Here], stretched across his shoulders and shoulderblades on his back, is the depiction of Kyne's Hawk [See that Here], Across his collarbone and upper chest, is the depiction of the World Eater's Dragon [See that Here], wrapped around his right bicep is the depiction of Tsun's Bear [See that Here], wrapped around his left bicep is the depiction of Stuhn's Whale [See that Here], on the top of his right shoulder facing out to his right, is a symbol of Maloch(Malacath but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], on the top of his left shoulder facing out to his left, is a symbol of Herma-Mora(Hermaeus Mora but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], stretched out underneath his pectoral muscles on his chest, is the depiction of Dibella's Moth [See that Here], Stretched across his lower waist just below his naval, is the depiction of Mara's Wolf [See that Here], Wrapped around his lower right leg, is the depiction of Jhunal's Owl [See that Here], and Wrapped around his lower left leg, is the depiction of Orkey's Snake [See that Here]

    PIERCINGS: None


    badass_by_88grzes-d6pgeuj.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: Even-tempered; he can lose his temper now and then, but it's very rare and takes quite a lot to do so.

    OUTLOOK: Positive; he knows that the world is dark and foreboding, but refuses to let that dim the light of the world he serves to protect.

    HONOR: Incredibly High; he holds hatred and resentment towards many, fear and judgement as well, but none of which takes away his belief that all beings deserve their lives, no matter how he feels about them, to be honored in the way they sought them to be.

    ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good; he stands for the greater good of all beings and the world, and recognizes a lot of authority out there restricts this belief, and thus willingly stands against them when need be.

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Honorable, Respectful, Intelligent, Friendly, Jolly, Passionate, Strong, Strategic, Protective, Compassionate, Selfless, Empathetic, Caring, Devoted

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Strong-willed, Rigid in his Lifestyle, Reserved, Shy, Stoic, Slightly Intimidating, "Resting Bitch Face", Slightly Overzealous

    LIKES: Nature, Animals, Snow, Rain, Clouds, Thunderstorms, Blizzards, the Sun, the Moons, Blue Skies, the Night Sky, Stars, Mountains, Trees, Forests, Lakes, Rivers, Ice, Plains, Lush and Diverse terrain and ecosystems

    DISLIKES: Disrespect in any form to anything and anyone, Ignorance, Bigotry, Poachers, Thalmor, Egocentric Individuals, Selfish Individuals, Apathy, Pollution, Urban Cities, Urbanization, Oppression, Needless Violence and Killing

    FEARS: The Destruction of Nature, Animals and everything he loves and protects, losing touch with Kyne

    PHOBIAS: None

    HABITS/QUIRKS: Whistling the occasional Bard tune, Stopping and staring at he sky, playing with his amulet

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: Fall in Love and start a Family, Serve Kyne's will, Help Skyrim stay Sovereign and Follow Tradition


    _hawk__poster___adult_rowan_by_bikerscout-d3d3iao.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Gear and Fighting Style ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEAD: He prefers to wear nothing, aside from his hood if the weather permits; however he does own a leather, ram horn helmet that he wore while serving for Ulfric Stormcloak and his rebellion. It looks something like THIS. His hood is woven, mixed animal furs and hides like the rest of his armor, and sewn into the armor itself.

    TORSO: He wears fur-hide armor, it doubles as comfort-wear, and battle-wear as well as serving him well as he travels and hunts in the wilds of his province. While wearing it, he has been mistaken as a true bear wearing the skins of it's prey - according to his comrades and friends. He also carries his leather and hide quiver, usually filled with his own self-crafted iron arrows. [Here's an idea of that]

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: His shoulders are covered in the armor that surrounds his upper body and upper legs, while his arms are wrapped in a similar way, with the hides and furs of the animals he hunts. His hands are never covered, however. Despite the risk of hypothermia in some of the places he travels, he prefers not to sacrifice dexterity for warmth, or most anything for that matter.

    WAIST: His waist has nothing but a simple leather belt, with an attached sheathe for his sword. Sometimes he wraps his water-skin up to it as well, or the occasional satchel of coins.

    LEGS AND FEET: His feet and legs, like the rest of his form, is covered and wrapped in the furs and hides of his hunts. Underneath these furs, however, is a thin pair of black cloth leggings.

    EVERYDAY CARRY: The one and only object he carries with him outside of the occasional coin, stone pipe and water, is his Amulet of Kyne. He made this Amulet after concluding the trials that Kyne set before him to prove his worth and respect to her, the gods, and to Skyrim with all it's denizens. It is crafted from him putting together pieces of wood from all the 9 holds.

    WEAPONS: Thorr carries only 3 simple weapons with him; A Bow, a Sword and a Knife all he crafted from materials found throughout all the holds of Skyrim.

    His bow, Pine, he made as a Spruce-lined Birch bow; crafted with Birch from the Rift and Spruce of the Falkreath, with a string spun with the silk of frostbite spiders in Hjaalmarch. From it, he shoots simple random-metaled arrows which he crafts with whatever ingots he may collect on his travels [Here's an idea of what Pine could look like].

    His sword, Zeal, he forged within the ancient stone walls of Markarth. The Pommel and Hilt were smithed with an Iron ingot given to him by Ulfric Stormcloak during his service, "cast in Windhelp to be purer than all the other Iron in Skyrim, as pure as the Ice of Eastmarch"; the blade was crafted with a Skyforge Steel damascus from Whiterun, it's handle cut from a Northern Ceder in Haafingar, and it's sheathe made of Troll hide from the Pale [Here's an idea of what Zeal might look like].

    Last is his dagger, Shale. It's blade is crafted from ancient nordic metal, found in the glaciers north of Winterhold, while it's handle was cut and shaped from one of the frozen oaks in the Pale, and wrapped in the fur of on of it's norther mammoths [Here's a look at what that could be like].

    MAGIC: He uses none, has no use for any, but respect those that are able to harness and use it's power.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: A formidable warrior and archer who once fought for the Stormcloak cause, Thorr is proficient in wielding his blade in close combat, as well as his bow. With his life spent as a hunter, his prowess with a bow at any distance is matched by few, and his ability to traverse any terrain without being seen or heard is like that of the formidable predators in the land that shaped him. Though his knife isn't necessarily meant for any offensive means, he is able to wield it as expertly as he is dissecting his prey.

    FIGHTING STYLE: He's a good fighter anywhere on the battlefield, and more than willing to be. Need somebody covering you from afar? He's got you. Need somebody behind you, watching your back while clashing steel? He's got you. Need somebody to get in and out without being seen? He's got you. Give him a place, he'll find it. Give him a role, he'll fill it. Give him a job, he'll get it done.


    hjortr_old_iron___pipe_by_iseijin-d5s0bsr.png


    Companion

    lozen_by_tod_e-db9bk89.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Meadow

    ALIAS: Mei (pronounced 'may')

    AGE: Unknown, but an adult in her prime

    RACE/SPECIES/ORIGIN: Coyote

    GENDER: Female

    RELATIONSHIP/FAMILY: The pet, friend, family and thrall of Thorriniir Kyne-Son

    AFFLICTIONS: Unnoticeably Dead


    nope_by_canis_ferox-d4x86zs.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HAIR/FUR COLOR: Her pelt is colored like the thrush in Whiterun she feeds on, as tan and yellow as the grassy plains, with a spotted cloud underbelly like the earth beneath it.

    EYE COLOR: A dull almost "dead" orangish brown

    BODY/BUILD/SIZE: 2'8" at the shoulder, and 3'4" from nose to tail, her lithe 45 pound body nimbly and quickly traverses whatever terrain that lies before her, effortlessly invisible and unheard.


    morning_apathy_by_bonnie_wonder-d41t5db.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: As Even-tempered as her master, she is a wild animal however and her bark isn't as bad as her bite

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Quick, Quiet, Well Behaved, Trained, Polite, Friendly, Happy, Curious, Playful, Jolly, Goofy

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Wild, Restless, Moody, Slightly Short Attention Span

    LIKES: Dirt, Running, Grass, Thrushes, Hunting, Climbing, Chasing both Small and Large game, Swimming, Mud, Snow, Horse Hide

    DISLIKES: Trolls, Thunder, Blizzards, Chickens

    FEARS: Trolls, Thunder, Chickens

    HABITS/QUIRKS: She likes roll in warm dirt, Sunbathing, Chewing Wild Grass, Chasing Bugs, Nipping and Playing with Thorr's hands while he's doing things, Talking to Herself


    loki___fenrir_by_angiechow.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ History ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    UPBRINGING: He unfortunately never got to meet his father, but his mother told him stories about how good and strong a man the Nord was. He was a soldier of the Empire, a veteran and hero of the Great War and a true son of Skyrim. When asked about his father, his mother would simply say, "he joined Sovngarde like the heroes in your story books, fighting those who look to oppress the true sons and daughters of Skyrim, young one." It was only until his mother was taken that he understood what really happened to his Father, as his mother shared the same fate. They were taken by the Thalmor on their rare visits to Whiterun. Examples of the consequences that disobeying the laws enforced by the White Gold Concordat led to. Worshiping their Warrior God, the god that guided his father through the death-filled battles for the empire, Talos, had been the condemnation of their souls from living.

    He was taken in by the priestesses of Kyne, in the shrine near where his home once was. They opted to change his name, eliminating the possibility of the Dominion's return for him; as they would likely look for the same namesake as their previous examples for ease of discovery and assumption of guilt. Kyne-Son he was affectionately called, and they taught about the traditional Nord gods and their affects and connection to mortal man.

    Along with their raising of the young boy, the Companions also had a roll in his upbringing, teaching him the ways of honor and protection, the greatest gifts any Nord can give to Skyrim and her people.
    Over time he grew into a smart, well mannered, devoted and honorable adolescent, slowly growing more and more independent with every day. It was only when the then young Aela, Farkas and Vilkas of the Companions invited the young boy to accompany them on a little adventure, that he found his purpose and respect for his home and province. It was nothing more than a simple hunt, to bring food home for the people of Whiterun and the warriors in Jorvaskrr, but it turned to be much more than that for him. Kyne spoke to him that day, with every arrow that flew. From then on, he devoted himself to her and his divines; hunting the wilds for it's bounty and protecting his home and all the life within it.

    HIS TRIALS: After some long years learning his craft, Thorriniir grew to be quite the young hunter, and at the age of 17 he was called upon by Kyne once again, this time a little more literally. She came an apparition on the wings of a hawk, interrupting the long tracked hunt of an elk. Without words, and only on instinct, he knew to follow the bird, who led him up the mountainside north of his home city. She brought him to the apparition of a rabbit, plump and ripe. Out of instinct alone, Thorr drew the string of his old longbow, skewering the animal on it's head. As his prey dropped, it's form disappeared leaving the lone arrow resting on the ground as if it was caught and set down. He looked to the hawk, who sat in a tree above, as it nodded and took off once more. It led him home where he briefly spoke to his matron, the elderly Priest of Kyne, who told him he was being given the ancient trials of the goddess; a great honor among all Skyrim's hunters and one he would take. He never looked back at his home leaving that day, and trusted the wind to guide him. He hunted true game, wandering his homeland from village to village, awaiting the sight of a sign from Kyne. She would come to him in the wind, or as a feather or in the call of a hawk - and when she did, he would diligently track the path she had left for him. From salmon to mudcrab, from finch to pheasant, Thorrin was given the spirits of game from the sizes of fox to Mammoth, in service and in challenge from the goddess. It was only on his final test, that he was tasked with facing more than just the spirit of a creature. A duo of Sabercats, one an apparition and one breathing and true. Without fear he faced the challenge of the hunt like he would any other. The boy of a mere 19 years, emerged his final challenge with a signature of his fallen foe upon his face and the winds of Kyne at his back. He had proven his worth in the eyes of the gods, and in return, a symbol of his victory; the experience of a hunter well beyond his years.

    HIS TATTOOS: At the conclusion of his trials, Thorr felt as if he was slowly disconnecting from his gods while focusing so primarily on the mother goddess. "Study, my friend, study with me. Follow me through the fall, winter and spring. Follow me until the next summer sun rises, and together we will have regained the truest of connections a Nord can reach with his gods." He met Odiir while walking the shore of lake Ilinalta, finding him sitting in the water. It's surface submerged the entirety of his body, all the way up to just under the nostrils of his nose while around him a school of slaughterfish swam. As calm as he, they surrounded in slow concentric circles as the man seemingly slept in the lake. He "woke up", and waded into the shore without taking a bite from the carnivorous fish with nothing but a friendly grin. After short introductions, Odiir quickly extended this invitation, and Thorriniir accepted. They traveled from mountain top to mountain top, from river to river, from cave to cave; a pilgrimage of study and devotion. He taught him how to feel the god's, and once he learned the skill, together they found the locations where they felt the strongest of pulls. Meditation would be all they did in these locations, sometimes for days on end, ceasing words and relying merely on thoughts and feelings. In one of their meditations, Thorriniir was surprised to feel sharp needle works on a part of his body while the images of an aetherial fox filled his mind. He left his dreamlike state, only to be guided to a sharp tool and ink, and the need to design curves and shapes upon his friends frozen body. Together, they'd awaken to find they had envisioned the same images, and felt the same feelings. Along with this, the thick and intricate patterns of what they had seen found a spot on their bodies. Twelve times this happened, one for each of the deities worshiped in their Nordic heritage - both ancient and modern.

    -- On their throats, where the power of their voices originated, they found the symbol for Ysmir, or Talos. The Dragon of the North, and once the Dragonborn; user of the Thu'um. They learned that his mark and it's location symbolized the power and passion that came from all Nords' voices; once they took down the plight of dragons and if unified once more, they could keep their lands sovereign and true.

    -- Curling along their necks to the back of them, lay the face of a Fox; the image of Shor. The Warrior god and creator of Sovngarde. They learned that his mark and it's location represented their origin and the gateways of their souls when departing to his realm after lifetimes of heroic service in battle.

    -- Opposite Shor's mark across their collarbones, was the face and foreboding wings of the World Eater Alduin. His symbol and it's location, they learned to represent the inevitability of all the world's end with a single flap with the powerful muscles in that location, and one's willingness to accept and live willingly in spite of it.

    -- Across the backs of their shoulders the wingspan of a hawk stretched out; the symbol for Kyne. The goddess of the wind, the mother of men and the widow of Shor. They learned that her symbol and it's location represents the openness of life and it's endless opportunity in which she has given all of man to fly.

    -- On their biceps were the symbols of Bear and Whale; representing the brother gods Tsun and Stuhn. The god of facing adversity and the god of the benefits of war, they learned the locations of Shor's shield-thanes and their symbols to represent the strength and willpower all Nords have to conquer and control all battles that lay ahead of them.

    -- On their shoulders are the symbols of Maloch and Herma-mora. The gods of War and Wisdom, they learned their symbols and their location represents the ability for one to choose the best of the paths that lay ahead of them, whether it be the power conflict or the power of harmony.

    -- Across their chests near their hearts are the stretched wings of a moth, the image of Dibella. The goddess of love and beauty, they learned her symbol and it's location represents man's ability to love openly and the beauty within every being.

    -- Across their stomachs below the navel, they found the heads of wolves; the symbol of Mara. The goddess handmaiden of Kyne, love and family, they learned her symbol and it's location to represent the origins of birth and family, and the source of loyalty and kinship.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their right legs are the wings and face of an owl; the symbol of Jhunal. The fallen god of order, they learned his symbol and it's location represents how weak the call of rules and following order is for all beings, and the difficulty that comes with deciding what is right and wrong.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their left legs are the tendrils and length of a snake; the symbol of Orkey. The enemy god of mortality and ruin, they learned that his symbol and it's location represents the constant and ever-existent call to evil and darkness one has over others and the choice one has to decide whether or not to follow the urge.

    What compelled these uncontrolled, trance like events which gifted them this symbols, they could only assume were the beings with which they drew. Odiir left Thorr's company when the summer returned, following the same call that had guided him and Thorriniir on their meditations. It had pulled at him to leave Skyrim, while it tethered Thorriniir to his home. They've not seen each-other since, but the warmth of his presence and guidance is something Thorr still feels to this day.

    MEADOW: Against his core values, Thorriniir respects all life and it's place in the plane of mundus; especially when it comes to wildlife, the flora and fauna he naturally surrounds himself in. He prefers to kill and hunt for what he needs, use what he can and sell for the good of others. With this, he defends nature and it's denizens against those who aim to kill without reason, and stands harshly against the violence some aim to pose against it.

    On a particularly windy and rainy afternoon, while tracking a small herd of elk in the western reaches of Falkreath hold, Thorr came across the sounds of what could only be described as slaughter. The sight he stumbled upon when following the noise, was the remnants of hunter camp, belonging to hunters he knew well. Hjork and Vorii, a couple from Karthwasten. When he was close enough to take aim, Thorr drew an arrow ready to fire at one of the two bandits who had lain waste to the camp, also killing Vorii. With a blade at Hjork's neck, Thorr's sight down the his arrow focused on him as he threatened and warned the Bandits to leave the man. Else they stood to face arrows in painful places that would only emasculate them. One took flight. Sprinting through the forest in the opposite direction of Thorr. The other stood strong, his blade tight against the man's throat. Thorr warned once more, but mid call the bandit moved. His blade tore through Hjork's flesh. The murderer began a step to run. An arrow shot violently, without mercy. The savage had planned ahead. His direction betrayed his step. Thorr's aim was tricked. The arrow flew, suddenly aimless. The bandit made away with a pouch of coin. Leaving Thorr alone, surrounded by carnage.

    Weary and torn with sorrow, Thorr did his best to pack up the couple's camp, and lay the two next to each-other in respect. His plan was to turn tail back to Falkreath as swift as he could, in search of a shovel to bury his friends in a way he knew they would see fit. Before he did, however, the whimpers and labored breathing of a creature filled his ears. He must have been blind to the noise in his grief, however his regret lasted only a second as he searched for the source. A Coyote, just at the beginning of it's adulthood; suffering at his hand. As he rushed to it's side, it whimpered it's last breathless plea and fell still. The young man's grief and regret doubled in that moment, breaking his stoic, respectful attitude into a bumbling mess of sadness. He laid next to the body of fallen animal and his murdered friends, ruminating on the thoughts of his regret. Had he arrived a moment sooner, he could have saved both of his friends, and spared the small canine's life. Had he been a better shot, he could have saved Hjork at least, rid the world of one worthless individual, and again, spared the small canine. The moment was suddenly too much for the young man, he had felt loss greater than this before but at a much younger age. Since then, he had never lost anyone he knew so unnaturally, or killed a creature so needlessly and so painfully. Even the violent seizing of his matron priestess that took her didn't fill him with near as much grief. It was like a lifetime of witnessing death had exploded within his mind.

    He laid quietly letting his sadness bleed from his eyes with tears, staring into the cloudy, rainy sky. In the midst of his swirling sadness, the sky cleared with a soft rush of warm wind which also ended the bustling air currents that came with the rain. His vision cleared for a moment, as the warmth filled him with a familiar feeling. He let his head turn to the body of the coyote. Standing just beyond the lifeless creature, was a large hawk, staring softly into his mourning eyes. There was no words, no sounds, and then the hawk slowly extended it's wings and took off from the ground with a powerful gust of wind. He watched it propel itself, dashing away through the canopy and into the sky. It's call echoed through the entire focus as it seemed to disappear from existence, and he watched the sky fill with clouds once more; returning the rain and wind around him. He closed his eyes, returning to his sadness but this time wondering why such a symbol from Kyne would have visited him in a time such as then. It was only when he felt gentle, warm breaths through a wet nose on his cheek, that his eyes shot open. He sat up as straight as a board and stared at the coyote who sat up with him, returning his gaze. It's head tilted to one side, before it laid itself down on it's fore-paws and continued to return his blank stare.

    "Life is fragile young one. You know it should not be taken needlessly. But to think all life is your responsibility is to lose your life. You have honored the gods and life in every step you have taken. We know you will do so until your final days. But we have seen your path, and there is something you forget time and time again without fail. This is one lesson you cannot be taught We cannot remind you at every time you forget more than once. So may she be a constant reminder of what life means. How fragile it is and how futile it is to deny its loss. How responsibility is different than respect and protection. So to look after her is your lifelong responsibility. To learn from her, is to know what it means to respect life. Because she knows what it's like to lose it. This is her second chance- her afterlife. She will not take it for granted while you walk together and learn from each-other. You are bound now. She will breathe with you in unison until your last breath. Which she will share with you as her own."


    The voice was profound in his head; booming and stern. It was clear, Kyne was clear, the gods were clear. He knew it was true, he knew he would never be able to tell the difference between him being responsible for all wildlife and him protecting and defending it, whenever a creature died. It would blur his outlook, like it had in that moment. Something so simple to comprehend, something so easy to understand. Something he could get when it was said, but that he couldn't feel sitting on the ground in the rain. But he could feel her, the canine, and through her, the instinct to protect wildlife without any feeling of being responsible for it. She was his guiding light in a fight he would lose with every death he was close to.

    He looked into her eyes, and felt every inhale and exhale of her lungs. Her eyes matched his, and he knew they both felt a mutual warmth. A warmth that brought him back to his first memories of hunting with Aela and the brothers. The warm summer air, orange flame colored rays catching the blades of wild grasses glowing gold in reflection. The gentle wind tickling the expanse of dancing brush carrying the gentle, beckoning scent of hay from the farmlands close by. The feeling of the plants almost exhaling as he ran his fingers through their strands, while walking across their roots. He let his hand reach out to her, and she stood. They never broke eye contact, and he felt the pull his hand created, beckoning her closer. Her head pressed into his open palm, and the feeling of her affectionate push sent a comforting chill through his body.

    "Meadow."
     

    JRMoosePaul

    Stormcloak Warrior
    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what his visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in his CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)

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    Thorriniir Kyne-Son
    "A test to prove your worth in the eyes of Kyne. Show that you're a hunter and no simple butcher."

    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Thorriniir Tiberius Kyne-Son

    ALIAS: Thorr, Frost-Heart

    AGE: 25

    BIRTH-DATE: 7th of Last Seed, 4E 177

    BIRTH PLACE: Temple of Kyne, Whiterun

    GENDER: Male

    RACE/ORIGIN: Nord [100%]

    CLASS: Hunter/Ranger

    PROFESSION: Hunter, Vigilante Ranger, Stormcloak Agent

    LATERALITY: Righthanded

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

    FAMILY: Father [Deceased], Mother [Deceased], Meadow

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: His carved Amulet of Kyne

    AFFILIATIONS: The Forests, Creatures, and People of Skyrim; Ulfric Stormcloak, and a friend to the Companions

    AFFLICTIONS:
    None

    RELIGION: The Full and Original Nordic Pantheon of worship, with the specific worship of Kyne


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEIGHT: 6'1"

    WEIGHT: 177 lbs.

    BUILD: Muscular, Strong, Rugged, Stoic

    FACE:
    Square, Stern, Powerful, Heroic

    EYES: Dark, Forest Green

    SKIN TONE: Fair Nordic complexion, Muddied by lifelong exposure to the wilds of Skyrim

    HAIR STYLE: Moderately Long, Unkempt, Usually with the Upper portion Tied Back

    FACIAL HAIR: Thick, Rugged beard and goatee

    HAIR COLOR: Ashy, Oak Brown

    SCARS: Countless dotting his body, the most noticeable is a Sabercat Scar; One claw mark above his right brow, and two more down his left cheek

    TATTOOS: The story behind his tattoos is one of devotion to his heritage, and can be found in the "History" portion of this character card. Wrapped around the back of his neck, is the depiction of Shor's Fox (it's head on the direct back of his neck) [See that Here], directly on his jugular between the ends of his Shor tattooo, is a moderately small symbol of Talos/Ysmir [See that Here], stretched across his shoulders and shoulderblades on his back, is the depiction of Kyne's Hawk [See that Here], Across his collarbone and upper chest, is the depiction of the World Eater's Dragon [See that Here], wrapped around his right bicep is the depiction of Tsun's Bear [See that Here], wrapped around his left bicep is the depiction of Stuhn's Whale [See that Here], on the top of his right shoulder facing out to his right, is a symbol of Maloch(Malacath but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], on the top of his left shoulder facing out to his left, is a symbol of Herma-Mora(Hermaeus Mora but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], stretched out underneath his pectoral muscles on his chest, is the depiction of Dibella's Moth [See that Here], Stretched across his lower waist just below his naval, is the depiction of Mara's Wolf [See that Here], Wrapped around his lower right leg, is the depiction of Jhunal's Owl [See that Here], and Wrapped around his lower left leg, is the depiction of Orkey's Snake [See that Here]

    PIERCINGS: None


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: Even-tempered; he can lose his temper now and then, but it's very rare and takes quite a lot to do so.

    OUTLOOK: Positive; he knows that the world is dark and foreboding, but refuses to let that dim the light of the world he serves to protect.

    HONOR: Incredibly High; he holds hatred and resentment towards many, fear and judgement as well, but none of which takes away his belief that all beings deserve their lives, no matter how he feels about them, to be honored in the way they sought them to be.

    ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good; he stands for the greater good of all beings and the world, and recognizes a lot of authority out there restricts this belief, and thus willingly stands against them when need be.

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Honorable, Respectful, Intelligent, Friendly, Jolly, Passionate, Strong, Strategic, Protective, Compassionate, Selfless, Empathetic, Caring, Devoted

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Strong-willed, Rigid in his Lifestyle, Reserved, Shy, Stoic, Slightly Intimidating, "Resting Bitch Face", Slightly Overzealous

    LIKES: Nature, Animals, Snow, Rain, Clouds, Thunderstorms, Blizzards, the Sun, the Moons, Blue Skies, the Night Sky, Stars, Mountains, Trees, Forests, Lakes, Rivers, Ice, Plains, Lush and Diverse terrain and ecosystems

    DISLIKES: Disrespect in any form to anything and anyone, Ignorance, Bigotry, Poachers, Thalmor, Egocentric Individuals, Selfish Individuals, Apathy, Pollution, Urban Cities, Urbanization, Oppression, Needless Violence and Killing

    FEARS: The Destruction of Nature, Animals and everything he loves and protects, losing touch with Kyne

    PHOBIAS: None

    HABITS/QUIRKS: Whistling the occasional Bard tune, Stopping and staring at he sky, playing with his amulet

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: Fall in Love and start a Family, Serve Kyne's will, Help Skyrim stay Sovereign and Follow Tradition


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Gear and Fighting Style ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEAD: He prefers to wear nothing, aside from his hood if the weather permits; however he does own a leather, ram horn helmet that he wore while serving for Ulfric Stormcloak and his rebellion. It looks something like THIS. His hood is woven, mixed animal furs and hides like the rest of his armor, and sewn into the armor itself.

    TORSO: He wears fur-hide armor, it doubles as comfort-wear, and battle-wear as well as serving him well as he travels and hunts in the wilds of his province. While wearing it, he has been mistaken as a true bear wearing the skins of it's prey - according to his comrades and friends. He also carries his leather and hide quiver, usually filled with his own self-crafted iron arrows. [Here's an idea of that]

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: His shoulders are covered in the armor that surrounds his upper body and upper legs, while his arms are wrapped in a similar way, with the hides and furs of the animals he hunts. His hands are never covered, however. Despite the risk of hypothermia in some of the places he travels, he prefers not to sacrifice dexterity for warmth, or most anything for that matter.

    WAIST: His waist has nothing but a simple leather belt, with an attached sheathe for his sword. Sometimes he wraps his water-skin up to it as well, or the occasional satchel of coins.

    LEGS AND FEET: His feet and legs, like the rest of his form, is covered and wrapped in the furs and hides of his hunts. Underneath these furs, however, is a thin pair of black cloth leggings.

    EVERYDAY CARRY: The one and only object he carries with him outside of the occasional coin, stone pipe and water, is his Amulet of Kyne. He made this Amulet after concluding the trials that Kyne set before him to prove his worth and respect to her, the gods, and to Skyrim with all it's denizens. It is crafted from him putting together pieces of wood from all the 9 holds.

    WEAPONS: Thorr carries only 3 simple weapons with him; A Bow, a Sword and a Knife all he crafted from materials found throughout all the holds of Skyrim.

    His bow, Pine, he made as a Spruce-lined Birch bow; crafted with Birch from the Rift and Spruce of the Falkreath, with a string spun with the silk of frostbite spiders in Hjaalmarch. From it, he shoots simple random-metaled arrows which he crafts with whatever ingots he may collect on his travels [Here's an idea of what Pine could look like].

    His sword, Zeal, he forged within the ancient stone walls of Markarth. The Pommel and Hilt were smithed with an Iron ingot given to him by Ulfric Stormcloak during his service, "cast in Windhelp to be purer than all the other Iron in Skyrim, as pure as the Ice of Eastmarch"; the blade was crafted with a Skyforge Steel damascus from Whiterun, it's handle cut from a Northern Ceder in Haafingar, and it's sheathe made of Troll hide from the Pale [Here's an idea of what Zeal might look like].

    Last is his dagger, Shale. It's blade is crafted from ancient nordic metal, found in the glaciers north of Winterhold, while it's handle was cut and shaped from one of the frozen oaks in the Pale, and wrapped in the fur of on of it's norther mammoths [Here's a look at what that could be like].

    MAGIC: He uses none, has no use for any, but respect those that are able to harness and use it's power.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: A formidable warrior and archer who once fought for the Stormcloak cause, Thorr is proficient in wielding his blade in close combat, as well as his bow. With his life spent as a hunter, his prowess with a bow at any distance is matched by few, and his ability to traverse any terrain without being seen or heard is like that of the formidable predators in the land that shaped him. Though his knife isn't necessarily meant for any offensive means, he is able to wield it as expertly as he is dissecting his prey.

    FIGHTING STYLE: He's a good fighter anywhere on the battlefield, and more than willing to be. Need somebody covering you from afar? He's got you. Need somebody behind you, watching your back while clashing steel? He's got you. Need somebody to get in and out without being seen? He's got you. Give him a place, he'll find it. Give him a role, he'll fill it. Give him a job, he'll get it done.


    hjortr_old_iron___pipe_by_iseijin-d5s0bsr.png


    Companion

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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Meadow

    ALIAS: Mei (pronounced 'may')

    AGE: Unknown, but an adult in her prime

    RACE/SPECIES/ORIGIN: Coyote

    GENDER: Female

    RELATIONSHIP/FAMILY: The pet, friend, family and thrall of Thorriniir Kyne-Son

    AFFLICTIONS: Unnoticeably Dead


    nope_by_canis_ferox-d4x86zs.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HAIR/FUR COLOR: Her pelt is colored like the thrush in Whiterun she feeds on, as tan and yellow as the grassy plains, with a spotted cloud underbelly like the earth beneath it.

    EYE COLOR: A dull almost "dead" orangish brown

    BODY/BUILD/SIZE: 2'8" at the shoulder, and 3'4" from nose to tail, her lithe 45 pound body nimbly and quickly traverses whatever terrain that lies before her, effortlessly invisible and unheard.


    morning_apathy_by_bonnie_wonder-d41t5db.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: As Even-tempered as her master, she is a wild animal however and her bark isn't as bad as her bite

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Quick, Quiet, Well Behaved, Trained, Polite, Friendly, Happy, Curious, Playful, Jolly, Goofy

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Wild, Restless, Moody, Slightly Short Attention Span

    LIKES: Dirt, Running, Grass, Thrushes, Hunting, Climbing, Chasing both Small and Large game, Swimming, Mud, Snow, Horse Hide

    DISLIKES: Trolls, Thunder, Blizzards, Chickens

    FEARS: Trolls, Thunder, Chickens

    HABITS/QUIRKS: She likes roll in warm dirt, Sunbathing, Chewing Wild Grass, Chasing Bugs, Nipping and Playing with Thorr's hands while he's doing things, Talking to Herself


    loki___fenrir_by_angiechow.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ History ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    UPBRINGING: He unfortunately never got to meet his father, but his mother told him stories about how good and strong a man the Nord was. He was a soldier of the Empire, a veteran and hero of the Great War and a true son of Skyrim. When asked about his father, his mother would simply say, "he joined Sovngarde like the heroes in your story books, fighting those who look to oppress the true sons and daughters of Skyrim, young one." It was only until his mother was taken that he understood what really happened to his Father, as his mother shared the same fate. They were taken by the Thalmor on their rare visits to Whiterun. Examples of the consequences that disobeying the laws enforced by the White Gold Concordat led to. Worshiping their Warrior God, the god that guided his father through the death-filled battles for the empire, Talos, had been the condemnation of their souls from living.

    He was taken in by the priestesses of Kyne, in the shrine near where his home once was. They opted to change his name, eliminating the possibility of the Dominion's return for him; as they would likely look for the same namesake as their previous examples for ease of discovery and assumption of guilt. Kyne-Son he was affectionately called, and they taught about the traditional Nord gods and their affects and connection to mortal man.

    Along with their raising of the young boy, the Companions also had a roll in his upbringing, teaching him the ways of honor and protection, the greatest gifts any Nord can give to Skyrim and her people.
    Over time he grew into a smart, well mannered, devoted and honorable adolescent, slowly growing more and more independent with every day. It was only when the then young Aela, Farkas and Vilkas of the Companions invited the young boy to accompany them on a little adventure, that he found his purpose and respect for his home and province. It was nothing more than a simple hunt, to bring food home for the people of Whiterun and the warriors in Jorvaskrr, but it turned to be much more than that for him. Kyne spoke to him that day, with every arrow that flew. From then on, he devoted himself to her and his divines; hunting the wilds for it's bounty and protecting his home and all the life within it.

    HIS TRIALS: After some long years learning his craft, Thorriniir grew to be quite the young hunter, and at the age of 17 he was called upon by Kyne once again, this time a little more literally. She came an apparition on the wings of a hawk, interrupting the long tracked hunt of an elk. Without words, and only on instinct, he knew to follow the bird, who led him up the mountainside north of his home city. She brought him to the apparition of a rabbit, plump and ripe. Out of instinct alone, Thorr drew the string of his old longbow, skewering the animal on it's head. As his prey dropped, it's form disappeared leaving the lone arrow resting on the ground as if it was caught and set down. He looked to the hawk, who sat in a tree above, as it nodded and took off once more. It led him home where he briefly spoke to his matron, the elderly Priest of Kyne, who told him he was being given the ancient trials of the goddess; a great honor among all Skyrim's hunters and one he would take. He never looked back at his home leaving that day, and trusted the wind to guide him. He hunted true game, wandering his homeland from village to village, awaiting the sight of a sign from Kyne. She would come to him in the wind, or as a feather or in the call of a hawk - and when she did, he would diligently track the path she had left for him. From salmon to mudcrab, from finch to pheasant, Thorrin was given the spirits of game from the sizes of fox to Mammoth, in service and in challenge from the goddess. It was only on his final test, that he was tasked with facing more than just the spirit of a creature. A duo of Sabercats, one an apparition and one breathing and true. Without fear he faced the challenge of the hunt like he would any other. The boy of a mere 19 years, emerged his final challenge with a signature of his fallen foe upon his face and the winds of Kyne at his back. He had proven his worth in the eyes of the gods, and in return, a symbol of his victory; the experience of a hunter well beyond his years.

    HIS TATTOOS: At the conclusion of his trials, Thorr felt as if he was slowly disconnecting from his gods while focusing so primarily on the mother goddess. "Study, my friend, study with me. Follow me through the fall, winter and spring. Follow me until the next summer sun rises, and together we will have regained the truest of connections a Nord can reach with his gods." He met Odiir while walking the shore of lake Ilinalta, finding him sitting in the water. It's surface submerged the entirety of his body, all the way up to just under the nostrils of his nose while around him a school of slaughterfish swam. As calm as he, they surrounded in slow concentric circles as the man seemingly slept in the lake. He "woke up", and waded into the shore without taking a bite from the carnivorous fish with nothing but a friendly grin. After short introductions, Odiir quickly extended this invitation, and Thorriniir accepted. They traveled from mountain top to mountain top, from river to river, from cave to cave; a pilgrimage of study and devotion. He taught him how to feel the god's, and once he learned the skill, together they found the locations where they felt the strongest of pulls. Meditation would be all they did in these locations, sometimes for days on end, ceasing words and relying merely on thoughts and feelings. In one of their meditations, Thorriniir was surprised to feel sharp needle works on a part of his body while the images of an aetherial fox filled his mind. He left his dreamlike state, only to be guided to a sharp tool and ink, and the need to design curves and shapes upon his friends frozen body. Together, they'd awaken to find they had envisioned the same images, and felt the same feelings. Along with this, the thick and intricate patterns of what they had seen found a spot on their bodies. Twelve times this happened, one for each of the deities worshiped in their Nordic heritage - both ancient and modern.

    -- On their throats, where the power of their voices originated, they found the symbol for Ysmir, or Talos. The Dragon of the North, and once the Dragonborn; user of the Thu'um. They learned that his mark and it's location symbolized the power and passion that came from all Nords' voices; once they took down the plight of dragons and if unified once more, they could keep their lands sovereign and true.

    -- Curling along their necks to the back of them, lay the face of a Fox; the image of Shor. The Warrior god and creator of Sovngarde. They learned that his mark and it's location represented their origin and the gateways of their souls when departing to his realm after lifetimes of heroic service in battle.

    -- Opposite Shor's mark across their collarbones, was the face and foreboding wings of the World Eater Alduin. His symbol and it's location, they learned to represent the inevitability of all the world's end with a single flap with the powerful muscles in that location, and one's willingness to accept and live willingly in spite of it.

    -- Across the backs of their shoulders the wingspan of a hawk stretched out; the symbol for Kyne. The goddess of the wind, the mother of men and the widow of Shor. They learned that her symbol and it's location represents the openness of life and it's endless opportunity in which she has given all of man to fly.

    -- On their biceps were the symbols of Bear and Whale; representing the brother gods Tsun and Stuhn. The god of facing adversity and the god of the benefits of war, they learned the locations of Shor's shield-thanes and their symbols to represent the strength and willpower all Nords have to conquer and control all battles that lay ahead of them.

    -- On their shoulders are the symbols of Maloch and Herma-mora. The gods of War and Wisdom, they learned their symbols and their location represents the ability for one to choose the best of the paths that lay ahead of them, whether it be the power conflict or the power of harmony.

    -- Across their chests near their hearts are the stretched wings of a moth, the image of Dibella. The goddess of love and beauty, they learned her symbol and it's location represents man's ability to love openly and the beauty within every being.

    -- Across their stomachs below the navel, they found the heads of wolves; the symbol of Mara. The goddess handmaiden of Kyne, love and family, they learned her symbol and it's location to represent the origins of birth and family, and the source of loyalty and kinship.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their right legs are the wings and face of an owl; the symbol of Jhunal. The fallen god of order, they learned his symbol and it's location represents how weak the call of rules and following order is for all beings, and the difficulty that comes with deciding what is right and wrong.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their left legs are the tendrils and length of a snake; the symbol of Orkey. The enemy god of mortality and ruin, they learned that his symbol and it's location represents the constant and ever-existent call to evil and darkness one has over others and the choice one has to decide whether or not to follow the urge.

    What compelled these uncontrolled, trance like events which gifted them this symbols, they could only assume were the beings with which they drew. Odiir left Thorr's company when the summer returned, following the same call that had guided him and Thorriniir on their meditations. It had pulled at him to leave Skyrim, while it tethered Thorriniir to his home. They've not seen each-other since, but the warmth of his presence and guidance is something Thorr still feels to this day.

    MEADOW: Against his core values, Thorriniir respects all life and it's place in the plane of mundus; especially when it comes to wildlife, the flora and fauna he naturally surrounds himself in. He prefers to kill and hunt for what he needs, use what he can and sell for the good of others. With this, he defends nature and it's denizens against those who aim to kill without reason, and stands harshly against the violence some aim to pose against it.

    On a particularly windy and rainy afternoon, while tracking a small herd of elk in the western reaches of Falkreath hold, Thorr came across the sounds of what could only be described as slaughter. The sight he stumbled upon when following the noise, was the remnants of hunter camp, belonging to hunters he knew well. Hjork and Vorii, a couple from Karthwasten. When he was close enough to take aim, Thorr drew an arrow ready to fire at one of the two bandits who had lain waste to the camp, also killing Vorii. With a blade at Hjork's neck, Thorr's sight down the his arrow focused on him as he threatened and warned the Bandits to leave the man. Else they stood to face arrows in painful places that would only emasculate them. One took flight. Sprinting through the forest in the opposite direction of Thorr. The other stood strong, his blade tight against the man's throat. Thorr warned once more, but mid call the bandit moved. His blade tore through Hjork's flesh. The murderer began a step to run. An arrow shot violently, without mercy. The savage had planned ahead. His direction betrayed his step. Thorr's aim was tricked. The arrow flew, suddenly aimless. The bandit made away with a pouch of coin. Leaving Thorr alone, surrounded by carnage.

    Weary and torn with sorrow, Thorr did his best to pack up the couple's camp, and lay the two next to each-other in respect. His plan was to turn tail back to Falkreath as swift as he could, in search of a shovel to bury his friends in a way he knew they would see fit. Before he did, however, the whimpers and labored breathing of a creature filled his ears. He must have been blind to the noise in his grief, however his regret lasted only a second as he searched for the source. A Coyote, just at the beginning of it's adulthood; suffering at his hand. As he rushed to it's side, it whimpered it's last breathless plea and fell still. The young man's grief and regret doubled in that moment, breaking his stoic, respectful attitude into a bumbling mess of sadness. He laid next to the body of fallen animal and his murdered friends, ruminating on the thoughts of his regret. Had he arrived a moment sooner, he could have saved both of his friends, and spared the small canine's life. Had he been a better shot, he could have saved Hjork at least, rid the world of one worthless individual, and again, spared the small canine. The moment was suddenly too much for the young man, he had felt loss greater than this before but at a much younger age. Since then, he had never lost anyone he knew so unnaturally, or killed a creature so needlessly and so painfully. Even the violent seizing of his matron priestess that took her didn't fill him with near as much grief. It was like a lifetime of witnessing death had exploded within his mind.

    He laid quietly letting his sadness bleed from his eyes with tears, staring into the cloudy, rainy sky. In the midst of his swirling sadness, the sky cleared with a soft rush of warm wind which also ended the bustling air currents that came with the rain. His vision cleared for a moment, as the warmth filled him with a familiar feeling. He let his head turn to the body of the coyote. Standing just beyond the lifeless creature, was a large hawk, staring softly into his mourning eyes. There was no words, no sounds, and then the hawk slowly extended it's wings and took off from the ground with a powerful gust of wind. He watched it propel itself, dashing away through the canopy and into the sky. It's call echoed through the entire focus as it seemed to disappear from existence, and he watched the sky fill with clouds once more; returning the rain and wind around him. He closed his eyes, returning to his sadness but this time wondering why such a symbol from Kyne would have visited him in a time such as then. It was only when he felt gentle, warm breaths through a wet nose on his cheek, that his eyes shot open. He sat up as straight as a board and stared at the coyote who sat up with him, returning his gaze. It's head tilted to one side, before it laid itself down on it's fore-paws and continued to return his blank stare.

    "Life is fragile young one. You know it should not be taken needlessly. But to think all life is your responsibility is to lose your life. You have honored the gods and life in every step you have taken. We know you will do so until your final days. But we have seen your path, and there is something you forget time and time again without fail. This is one lesson you cannot be taught We cannot remind you at every time you forget more than once. So may she be a constant reminder of what life means. How fragile it is and how futile it is to deny its loss. How responsibility is different than respect and protection. So to look after her is your lifelong responsibility. To learn from her, is to know what it means to respect life. Because she knows what it's like to lose it. This is her second chance- her afterlife. She will not take it for granted while you walk together and learn from each-other. You are bound now. She will breathe with you in unison until your last breath. Which she will share with you as her own."


    The voice was profound in his head; booming and stern. It was clear, Kyne was clear, the gods were clear. He knew it was true, he knew he would never be able to tell the difference between him being responsible for all wildlife and him protecting and defending it, whenever a creature died. It would blur his outlook, like it had in that moment. Something so simple to comprehend, something so easy to understand. Something he could get when it was said, but that he couldn't feel sitting on the ground in the rain. But he could feel her, the canine, and through her, the instinct to protect wildlife without any feeling of being responsible for it. She was his guiding light in a fight he would lose with every death he was close to.

    He looked into her eyes, and felt every inhale and exhale of her lungs. Her eyes matched his, and he knew they both felt a mutual warmth. A warmth that brought him back to his first memories of hunting with Aela and the brothers. The warm summer air, orange flame colored rays catching the blades of wild grasses glowing gold in reflection. The gentle wind tickling the expanse of dancing brush carrying the gentle, beckoning scent of hay from the farmlands close by. The feeling of the plants almost exhaling as he ran his fingers through their strands, while walking across their roots. He let his hand reach out to her, and she stood. They never broke eye contact, and he felt the pull his hand created, beckoning her closer. Her head pressed into his open palm, and the feeling of her affectionate push sent a comforting chill through his body.

    "Meadow."

    Great character. I like how you included the Nordic Pantheon.


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what his visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in his CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)

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    Thorriniir Kyne-Son
    "A test to prove your worth in the eyes of Kyne. Show that you're a hunter and no simple butcher."

    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Thorriniir Tiberius Kyne-Son

    ALIAS: Thorr, Frost-Heart

    AGE: 25

    BIRTH-DATE: 7th of Last Seed, 4E 177

    BIRTH PLACE: Temple of Kyne, Whiterun

    GENDER: Male

    RACE/ORIGIN: Nord [100%]

    CLASS: Hunter/Ranger

    PROFESSION: Hunter, Vigilante Ranger, Stormcloak Agent

    LATERALITY: Righthanded

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

    FAMILY: Father [Deceased], Mother [Deceased], Meadow

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: His carved Amulet of Kyne

    AFFILIATIONS: The Forests, Creatures, and People of Skyrim; Ulfric Stormcloak, and a friend to the Companions

    AFFLICTIONS:
    None

    RELIGION: The Full and Original Nordic Pantheon of worship, with the specific worship of Kyne


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEIGHT: 6'1"

    WEIGHT: 177 lbs.

    BUILD: Muscular, Strong, Rugged, Stoic

    FACE:
    Square, Stern, Powerful, Heroic

    EYES: Dark, Forest Green

    SKIN TONE: Fair Nordic complexion, Muddied by lifelong exposure to the wilds of Skyrim

    HAIR STYLE: Moderately Long, Unkempt, Usually with the Upper portion Tied Back

    FACIAL HAIR: Thick, Rugged beard and goatee

    HAIR COLOR: Ashy, Oak Brown

    SCARS: Countless dotting his body, the most noticeable is a Sabercat Scar; One claw mark above his right brow, and two more down his left cheek

    TATTOOS: The story behind his tattoos is one of devotion to his heritage, and can be found in the "History" portion of this character card. Wrapped around the back of his neck, is the depiction of Shor's Fox (it's head on the direct back of his neck) [See that Here], directly on his jugular between the ends of his Shor tattooo, is a moderately small symbol of Talos/Ysmir [See that Here], stretched across his shoulders and shoulderblades on his back, is the depiction of Kyne's Hawk [See that Here], Across his collarbone and upper chest, is the depiction of the World Eater's Dragon [See that Here], wrapped around his right bicep is the depiction of Tsun's Bear [See that Here], wrapped around his left bicep is the depiction of Stuhn's Whale [See that Here], on the top of his right shoulder facing out to his right, is a symbol of Maloch(Malacath but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], on the top of his left shoulder facing out to his left, is a symbol of Herma-Mora(Hermaeus Mora but in the Nordic Pantheon) [See that Here], stretched out underneath his pectoral muscles on his chest, is the depiction of Dibella's Moth [See that Here], Stretched across his lower waist just below his naval, is the depiction of Mara's Wolf [See that Here], Wrapped around his lower right leg, is the depiction of Jhunal's Owl [See that Here], and Wrapped around his lower left leg, is the depiction of Orkey's Snake [See that Here]

    PIERCINGS: None


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: Even-tempered; he can lose his temper now and then, but it's very rare and takes quite a lot to do so.

    OUTLOOK: Positive; he knows that the world is dark and foreboding, but refuses to let that dim the light of the world he serves to protect.

    HONOR: Incredibly High; he holds hatred and resentment towards many, fear and judgement as well, but none of which takes away his belief that all beings deserve their lives, no matter how he feels about them, to be honored in the way they sought them to be.

    ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good; he stands for the greater good of all beings and the world, and recognizes a lot of authority out there restricts this belief, and thus willingly stands against them when need be.

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Honorable, Respectful, Intelligent, Friendly, Jolly, Passionate, Strong, Strategic, Protective, Compassionate, Selfless, Empathetic, Caring, Devoted

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Strong-willed, Rigid in his Lifestyle, Reserved, Shy, Stoic, Slightly Intimidating, "Resting Bitch Face", Slightly Overzealous

    LIKES: Nature, Animals, Snow, Rain, Clouds, Thunderstorms, Blizzards, the Sun, the Moons, Blue Skies, the Night Sky, Stars, Mountains, Trees, Forests, Lakes, Rivers, Ice, Plains, Lush and Diverse terrain and ecosystems

    DISLIKES: Disrespect in any form to anything and anyone, Ignorance, Bigotry, Poachers, Thalmor, Egocentric Individuals, Selfish Individuals, Apathy, Pollution, Urban Cities, Urbanization, Oppression, Needless Violence and Killing

    FEARS: The Destruction of Nature, Animals and everything he loves and protects, losing touch with Kyne

    PHOBIAS: None

    HABITS/QUIRKS: Whistling the occasional Bard tune, Stopping and staring at he sky, playing with his amulet

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: Fall in Love and start a Family, Serve Kyne's will, Help Skyrim stay Sovereign and Follow Tradition


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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Gear and Fighting Style ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEAD: He prefers to wear nothing, aside from his hood if the weather permits; however he does own a leather, ram horn helmet that he wore while serving for Ulfric Stormcloak and his rebellion. It looks something like THIS. His hood is woven, mixed animal furs and hides like the rest of his armor, and sewn into the armor itself.

    TORSO: He wears fur-hide armor, it doubles as comfort-wear, and battle-wear as well as serving him well as he travels and hunts in the wilds of his province. While wearing it, he has been mistaken as a true bear wearing the skins of it's prey - according to his comrades and friends. He also carries his leather and hide quiver, usually filled with his own self-crafted iron arrows. [Here's an idea of that]

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: His shoulders are covered in the armor that surrounds his upper body and upper legs, while his arms are wrapped in a similar way, with the hides and furs of the animals he hunts. His hands are never covered, however. Despite the risk of hypothermia in some of the places he travels, he prefers not to sacrifice dexterity for warmth, or most anything for that matter.

    WAIST: His waist has nothing but a simple leather belt, with an attached sheathe for his sword. Sometimes he wraps his water-skin up to it as well, or the occasional satchel of coins.

    LEGS AND FEET: His feet and legs, like the rest of his form, is covered and wrapped in the furs and hides of his hunts. Underneath these furs, however, is a thin pair of black cloth leggings.

    EVERYDAY CARRY: The one and only object he carries with him outside of the occasional coin, stone pipe and water, is his Amulet of Kyne. He made this Amulet after concluding the trials that Kyne set before him to prove his worth and respect to her, the gods, and to Skyrim with all it's denizens. It is crafted from him putting together pieces of wood from all the 9 holds.

    WEAPONS: Thorr carries only 3 simple weapons with him; A Bow, a Sword and a Knife all he crafted from materials found throughout all the holds of Skyrim.

    His bow, Pine, he made as a Spruce-lined Birch bow; crafted with Birch from the Rift and Spruce of the Falkreath, with a string spun with the silk of frostbite spiders in Hjaalmarch. From it, he shoots simple random-metaled arrows which he crafts with whatever ingots he may collect on his travels [Here's an idea of what Pine could look like].

    His sword, Zeal, he forged within the ancient stone walls of Markarth. The Pommel and Hilt were smithed with an Iron ingot given to him by Ulfric Stormcloak during his service, "cast in Windhelp to be purer than all the other Iron in Skyrim, as pure as the Ice of Eastmarch"; the blade was crafted with a Skyforge Steel damascus from Whiterun, it's handle cut from a Northern Ceder in Haafingar, and it's sheathe made of Troll hide from the Pale [Here's an idea of what Zeal might look like].

    Last is his dagger, Shale. It's blade is crafted from ancient nordic metal, found in the glaciers north of Winterhold, while it's handle was cut and shaped from one of the frozen oaks in the Pale, and wrapped in the fur of on of it's norther mammoths [Here's a look at what that could be like].

    MAGIC: He uses none, has no use for any, but respect those that are able to harness and use it's power.

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: A formidable warrior and archer who once fought for the Stormcloak cause, Thorr is proficient in wielding his blade in close combat, as well as his bow. With his life spent as a hunter, his prowess with a bow at any distance is matched by few, and his ability to traverse any terrain without being seen or heard is like that of the formidable predators in the land that shaped him. Though his knife isn't necessarily meant for any offensive means, he is able to wield it as expertly as he is dissecting his prey.

    FIGHTING STYLE: He's a good fighter anywhere on the battlefield, and more than willing to be. Need somebody covering you from afar? He's got you. Need somebody behind you, watching your back while clashing steel? He's got you. Need somebody to get in and out without being seen? He's got you. Give him a place, he'll find it. Give him a role, he'll fill it. Give him a job, he'll get it done.


    hjortr_old_iron___pipe_by_iseijin-d5s0bsr.png


    Companion

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    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Meadow

    ALIAS: Mei (pronounced 'may')

    AGE: Unknown, but an adult in her prime

    RACE/SPECIES/ORIGIN: Coyote

    GENDER: Female

    RELATIONSHIP/FAMILY: The pet, friend, family and thrall of Thorriniir Kyne-Son

    AFFLICTIONS: Unnoticeably Dead


    nope_by_canis_ferox-d4x86zs.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HAIR/FUR COLOR: Her pelt is colored like the thrush in Whiterun she feeds on, as tan and yellow as the grassy plains, with a spotted cloud underbelly like the earth beneath it.

    EYE COLOR: A dull almost "dead" orangish brown

    BODY/BUILD/SIZE: 2'8" at the shoulder, and 3'4" from nose to tail, her lithe 45 pound body nimbly and quickly traverses whatever terrain that lies before her, effortlessly invisible and unheard.


    morning_apathy_by_bonnie_wonder-d41t5db.png


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: As Even-tempered as her master, she is a wild animal however and her bark isn't as bad as her bite

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Quick, Quiet, Well Behaved, Trained, Polite, Friendly, Happy, Curious, Playful, Jolly, Goofy

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Wild, Restless, Moody, Slightly Short Attention Span

    LIKES: Dirt, Running, Grass, Thrushes, Hunting, Climbing, Chasing both Small and Large game, Swimming, Mud, Snow, Horse Hide

    DISLIKES: Trolls, Thunder, Blizzards, Chickens

    FEARS: Trolls, Thunder, Chickens

    HABITS/QUIRKS: She likes roll in warm dirt, Sunbathing, Chewing Wild Grass, Chasing Bugs, Nipping and Playing with Thorr's hands while he's doing things, Talking to Herself


    loki___fenrir_by_angiechow.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ History ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    UPBRINGING: He unfortunately never got to meet his father, but his mother told him stories about how good and strong a man the Nord was. He was a soldier of the Empire, a veteran and hero of the Great War and a true son of Skyrim. When asked about his father, his mother would simply say, "he joined Sovngarde like the heroes in your story books, fighting those who look to oppress the true sons and daughters of Skyrim, young one." It was only until his mother was taken that he understood what really happened to his Father, as his mother shared the same fate. They were taken by the Thalmor on their rare visits to Whiterun. Examples of the consequences that disobeying the laws enforced by the White Gold Concordat led to. Worshiping their Warrior God, the god that guided his father through the death-filled battles for the empire, Talos, had been the condemnation of their souls from living.

    He was taken in by the priestesses of Kyne, in the shrine near where his home once was. They opted to change his name, eliminating the possibility of the Dominion's return for him; as they would likely look for the same namesake as their previous examples for ease of discovery and assumption of guilt. Kyne-Son he was affectionately called, and they taught about the traditional Nord gods and their affects and connection to mortal man.

    Along with their raising of the young boy, the Companions also had a roll in his upbringing, teaching him the ways of honor and protection, the greatest gifts any Nord can give to Skyrim and her people.
    Over time he grew into a smart, well mannered, devoted and honorable adolescent, slowly growing more and more independent with every day. It was only when the then young Aela, Farkas and Vilkas of the Companions invited the young boy to accompany them on a little adventure, that he found his purpose and respect for his home and province. It was nothing more than a simple hunt, to bring food home for the people of Whiterun and the warriors in Jorvaskrr, but it turned to be much more than that for him. Kyne spoke to him that day, with every arrow that flew. From then on, he devoted himself to her and his divines; hunting the wilds for it's bounty and protecting his home and all the life within it.

    HIS TRIALS: After some long years learning his craft, Thorriniir grew to be quite the young hunter, and at the age of 17 he was called upon by Kyne once again, this time a little more literally. She came an apparition on the wings of a hawk, interrupting the long tracked hunt of an elk. Without words, and only on instinct, he knew to follow the bird, who led him up the mountainside north of his home city. She brought him to the apparition of a rabbit, plump and ripe. Out of instinct alone, Thorr drew the string of his old longbow, skewering the animal on it's head. As his prey dropped, it's form disappeared leaving the lone arrow resting on the ground as if it was caught and set down. He looked to the hawk, who sat in a tree above, as it nodded and took off once more. It led him home where he briefly spoke to his matron, the elderly Priest of Kyne, who told him he was being given the ancient trials of the goddess; a great honor among all Skyrim's hunters and one he would take. He never looked back at his home leaving that day, and trusted the wind to guide him. He hunted true game, wandering his homeland from village to village, awaiting the sight of a sign from Kyne. She would come to him in the wind, or as a feather or in the call of a hawk - and when she did, he would diligently track the path she had left for him. From salmon to mudcrab, from finch to pheasant, Thorrin was given the spirits of game from the sizes of fox to Mammoth, in service and in challenge from the goddess. It was only on his final test, that he was tasked with facing more than just the spirit of a creature. A duo of Sabercats, one an apparition and one breathing and true. Without fear he faced the challenge of the hunt like he would any other. The boy of a mere 19 years, emerged his final challenge with a signature of his fallen foe upon his face and the winds of Kyne at his back. He had proven his worth in the eyes of the gods, and in return, a symbol of his victory; the experience of a hunter well beyond his years.

    HIS TATTOOS: At the conclusion of his trials, Thorr felt as if he was slowly disconnecting from his gods while focusing so primarily on the mother goddess. "Study, my friend, study with me. Follow me through the fall, winter and spring. Follow me until the next summer sun rises, and together we will have regained the truest of connections a Nord can reach with his gods." He met Odiir while walking the shore of lake Ilinalta, finding him sitting in the water. It's surface submerged the entirety of his body, all the way up to just under the nostrils of his nose while around him a school of slaughterfish swam. As calm as he, they surrounded in slow concentric circles as the man seemingly slept in the lake. He "woke up", and waded into the shore without taking a bite from the carnivorous fish with nothing but a friendly grin. After short introductions, Odiir quickly extended this invitation, and Thorriniir accepted. They traveled from mountain top to mountain top, from river to river, from cave to cave; a pilgrimage of study and devotion. He taught him how to feel the god's, and once he learned the skill, together they found the locations where they felt the strongest of pulls. Meditation would be all they did in these locations, sometimes for days on end, ceasing words and relying merely on thoughts and feelings. In one of their meditations, Thorriniir was surprised to feel sharp needle works on a part of his body while the images of an aetherial fox filled his mind. He left his dreamlike state, only to be guided to a sharp tool and ink, and the need to design curves and shapes upon his friends frozen body. Together, they'd awaken to find they had envisioned the same images, and felt the same feelings. Along with this, the thick and intricate patterns of what they had seen found a spot on their bodies. Twelve times this happened, one for each of the deities worshiped in their Nordic heritage - both ancient and modern.

    -- On their throats, where the power of their voices originated, they found the symbol for Ysmir, or Talos. The Dragon of the North, and once the Dragonborn; user of the Thu'um. They learned that his mark and it's location symbolized the power and passion that came from all Nords' voices; once they took down the plight of dragons and if unified once more, they could keep their lands sovereign and true.

    -- Curling along their necks to the back of them, lay the face of a Fox; the image of Shor. The Warrior god and creator of Sovngarde. They learned that his mark and it's location represented their origin and the gateways of their souls when departing to his realm after lifetimes of heroic service in battle.

    -- Opposite Shor's mark across their collarbones, was the face and foreboding wings of the World Eater Alduin. His symbol and it's location, they learned to represent the inevitability of all the world's end with a single flap with the powerful muscles in that location, and one's willingness to accept and live willingly in spite of it.

    -- Across the backs of their shoulders the wingspan of a hawk stretched out; the symbol for Kyne. The goddess of the wind, the mother of men and the widow of Shor. They learned that her symbol and it's location represents the openness of life and it's endless opportunity in which she has given all of man to fly.

    -- On their biceps were the symbols of Bear and Whale; representing the brother gods Tsun and Stuhn. The god of facing adversity and the god of the benefits of war, they learned the locations of Shor's shield-thanes and their symbols to represent the strength and willpower all Nords have to conquer and control all battles that lay ahead of them.

    -- On their shoulders are the symbols of Maloch and Herma-mora. The gods of War and Wisdom, they learned their symbols and their location represents the ability for one to choose the best of the paths that lay ahead of them, whether it be the power conflict or the power of harmony.

    -- Across their chests near their hearts are the stretched wings of a moth, the image of Dibella. The goddess of love and beauty, they learned her symbol and it's location represents man's ability to love openly and the beauty within every being.

    -- Across their stomachs below the navel, they found the heads of wolves; the symbol of Mara. The goddess handmaiden of Kyne, love and family, they learned her symbol and it's location to represent the origins of birth and family, and the source of loyalty and kinship.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their right legs are the wings and face of an owl; the symbol of Jhunal. The fallen god of order, they learned his symbol and it's location represents how weak the call of rules and following order is for all beings, and the difficulty that comes with deciding what is right and wrong.

    -- Wrapping around the calf and shin of their left legs are the tendrils and length of a snake; the symbol of Orkey. The enemy god of mortality and ruin, they learned that his symbol and it's location represents the constant and ever-existent call to evil and darkness one has over others and the choice one has to decide whether or not to follow the urge.

    What compelled these uncontrolled, trance like events which gifted them this symbols, they could only assume were the beings with which they drew. Odiir left Thorr's company when the summer returned, following the same call that had guided him and Thorriniir on their meditations. It had pulled at him to leave Skyrim, while it tethered Thorriniir to his home. They've not seen each-other since, but the warmth of his presence and guidance is something Thorr still feels to this day.

    MEADOW: Against his core values, Thorriniir respects all life and it's place in the plane of mundus; especially when it comes to wildlife, the flora and fauna he naturally surrounds himself in. He prefers to kill and hunt for what he needs, use what he can and sell for the good of others. With this, he defends nature and it's denizens against those who aim to kill without reason, and stands harshly against the violence some aim to pose against it.

    On a particularly windy and rainy afternoon, while tracking a small herd of elk in the western reaches of Falkreath hold, Thorr came across the sounds of what could only be described as slaughter. The sight he stumbled upon when following the noise, was the remnants of hunter camp, belonging to hunters he knew well. Hjork and Vorii, a couple from Karthwasten. When he was close enough to take aim, Thorr drew an arrow ready to fire at one of the two bandits who had lain waste to the camp, also killing Vorii. With a blade at Hjork's neck, Thorr's sight down the his arrow focused on him as he threatened and warned the Bandits to leave the man. Else they stood to face arrows in painful places that would only emasculate them. One took flight. Sprinting through the forest in the opposite direction of Thorr. The other stood strong, his blade tight against the man's throat. Thorr warned once more, but mid call the bandit moved. His blade tore through Hjork's flesh. The murderer began a step to run. An arrow shot violently, without mercy. The savage had planned ahead. His direction betrayed his step. Thorr's aim was tricked. The arrow flew, suddenly aimless. The bandit made away with a pouch of coin. Leaving Thorr alone, surrounded by carnage.

    Weary and torn with sorrow, Thorr did his best to pack up the couple's camp, and lay the two next to each-other in respect. His plan was to turn tail back to Falkreath as swift as he could, in search of a shovel to bury his friends in a way he knew they would see fit. Before he did, however, the whimpers and labored breathing of a creature filled his ears. He must have been blind to the noise in his grief, however his regret lasted only a second as he searched for the source. A Coyote, just at the beginning of it's adulthood; suffering at his hand. As he rushed to it's side, it whimpered it's last breathless plea and fell still. The young man's grief and regret doubled in that moment, breaking his stoic, respectful attitude into a bumbling mess of sadness. He laid next to the body of fallen animal and his murdered friends, ruminating on the thoughts of his regret. Had he arrived a moment sooner, he could have saved both of his friends, and spared the small canine's life. Had he been a better shot, he could have saved Hjork at least, rid the world of one worthless individual, and again, spared the small canine. The moment was suddenly too much for the young man, he had felt loss greater than this before but at a much younger age. Since then, he had never lost anyone he knew so unnaturally, or killed a creature so needlessly and so painfully. Even the violent seizing of his matron priestess that took her didn't fill him with near as much grief. It was like a lifetime of witnessing death had exploded within his mind.

    He laid quietly letting his sadness bleed from his eyes with tears, staring into the cloudy, rainy sky. In the midst of his swirling sadness, the sky cleared with a soft rush of warm wind which also ended the bustling air currents that came with the rain. His vision cleared for a moment, as the warmth filled him with a familiar feeling. He let his head turn to the body of the coyote. Standing just beyond the lifeless creature, was a large hawk, staring softly into his mourning eyes. There was no words, no sounds, and then the hawk slowly extended it's wings and took off from the ground with a powerful gust of wind. He watched it propel itself, dashing away through the canopy and into the sky. It's call echoed through the entire focus as it seemed to disappear from existence, and he watched the sky fill with clouds once more; returning the rain and wind around him. He closed his eyes, returning to his sadness but this time wondering why such a symbol from Kyne would have visited him in a time such as then. It was only when he felt gentle, warm breaths through a wet nose on his cheek, that his eyes shot open. He sat up as straight as a board and stared at the coyote who sat up with him, returning his gaze. It's head tilted to one side, before it laid itself down on it's fore-paws and continued to return his blank stare.

    "Life is fragile young one. You know it should not be taken needlessly. But to think all life is your responsibility is to lose your life. You have honored the gods and life in every step you have taken. We know you will do so until your final days. But we have seen your path, and there is something you forget time and time again without fail. This is one lesson you cannot be taught We cannot remind you at every time you forget more than once. So may she be a constant reminder of what life means. How fragile it is and how futile it is to deny its loss. How responsibility is different than respect and protection. So to look after her is your lifelong responsibility. To learn from her, is to know what it means to respect life. Because she knows what it's like to lose it. This is her second chance- her afterlife. She will not take it for granted while you walk together and learn from each-other. You are bound now. She will breathe with you in unison until your last breath. Which she will share with you as her own."


    The voice was profound in his head; booming and stern. It was clear, Kyne was clear, the gods were clear. He knew it was true, he knew he would never be able to tell the difference between him being responsible for all wildlife and him protecting and defending it, whenever a creature died. It would blur his outlook, like it had in that moment. Something so simple to comprehend, something so easy to understand. Something he could get when it was said, but that he couldn't feel sitting on the ground in the rain. But he could feel her, the canine, and through her, the instinct to protect wildlife without any feeling of being responsible for it. She was his guiding light in a fight he would lose with every death he was close to.

    He looked into her eyes, and felt every inhale and exhale of her lungs. Her eyes matched his, and he knew they both felt a mutual warmth. A warmth that brought him back to his first memories of hunting with Aela and the brothers. The warm summer air, orange flame colored rays catching the blades of wild grasses glowing gold in reflection. The gentle wind tickling the expanse of dancing brush carrying the gentle, beckoning scent of hay from the farmlands close by. The feeling of the plants almost exhaling as he ran his fingers through their strands, while walking across their roots. He let his hand reach out to her, and she stood. They never broke eye contact, and he felt the pull his hand created, beckoning her closer. Her head pressed into his open palm, and the feeling of her affectionate push sent a comforting chill through his body.

    "Meadow."

    Great character. I like how you included the Nordic Pantheon.


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
    Thanks friend! :)
     

    Specter of Death

    Omnipresent Moderator
    Staff member
    (The art used in this CC are not 100% depictions of this character, but rather accurate ideas of what his visage is. Please keep this in mind while reading, and rely mainly on the descriptions in his CC and use the photos as reference points and imagery.)

    black_butterfly_by_selenada-d6tmuqf.jpg


    Kalila Zahra
    "Journey many and many miles, but do not leave the Hall of the Virtues of War"

    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Basic ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    NAME: Kalila Lololi Zahra
    (pronounced [Kah-lee-luh]; [Luh-low-lee]; [Zah-rah])

    ALIAS: Desert Rose, Sword-singer

    AGE: 27

    BIRTH-DATE: 7th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 175

    BIRTH PLACE: Skaven/Ska'vyn, Hammerell

    GENDER: Female

    RACE/ORIGIN:
    Redguard [75%] Nord [25%]

    CLASS: Swordsman/Rogue

    PROFESSION: Historian/Sell-sword/Traveler/Occasional Vigilante

    LATERALITY: Ambidextrous

    SEXUALITY: Straight

    RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

    FAMILY: Father [Deceased], Mother [Deceased], Elder Brother [Status Unknown]

    POSSESSIONS/HEIRLOOMS: An amethyst amulet that her father had given her mother while they were courting [Click for Example]

    AFFILIATIONS: None

    AFFLICTIONS: Deathly Allergic to Most Flying Bug Species

    RELIGION: The standard 8 divines, has also studied the other pantheons of Tamriels different religions - with particular interest in the Yokudan and Ancient Nordic pantheons


    inquis_by_pheberoni-d88bd5g.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Appearance ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    HEIGHT: 5'11"

    WEIGHT: 132 lbs.

    BUILD: Lean, Tight, Toned, Curvy, Attractive

    FACE: Soft, Warm, Bashful, Endearing

    EYES: An Arid, Olive Green

    SKIN TONE: Olive Skinned, with a warm glow like soft sand

    HAIR STYLE: Always cut to just below her jaw line, with a natural wave and curl; sometimes worn with part of the front portion of her hair braided to frame her face, and on rare occasions she wears it up like her mother had liked to honor her - she often embarrassed her by saying "you can see more of your face, love. The world needs more beauty like yours."

    HAIR COLOR: A soft, dark brown

    SCARS: Plenty on her body that are never seen, and one crescent shaped scar wrapped around the far corner of her left eyebrow

    TATTOOS: In the soft curve between her shoulder-blades she has a sword wrapped in rose vines [Click for Example]

    PIERCINGS: None In each of her earlobes there is a small stud, while the edges of them are wrapped in two small rings [Click for Example]


    inquis_2_by_pheberoni-d89yo1k.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Personality ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    TEMPER: Moderate temperament; she has a decent amount of patience but there are some times where certain things just don't sit well with her - she can also be just generally moody from time to time.

    OUTLOOK: Somewhat positive; she prefers to look only on the bright side of things, but given the things that she has seen and experienced in the last few years of her life, some things easily bring her to a much more dark, cynical way of thinking.

    HONOR: Significantly High; She staunchly believes most people deserve the honor that they themselves have earned and require, there are always exceptions however; she has strict honor when it comes to the dead, and tries to avoid any dishonor to the dead by both not fighting the undead if she can help it, or desecrating their resting places of possible. This is because doing so can destroy and disturb their souls in the afterlife, which is the greatest of injustices.

    ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good; she believes and stands for the greater good of all people and the world, however she does so knowing that most authorities don't always stand the same way and thus relies on her own judgement rather than that of the law.

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Intelligent, Honest, Studious, Strategic, Strong, Agile, Loyal, Compassionate, Selfless, Giving, Loving, Focused, Passionate, Eclectic, Particular

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Naive, Antisocial, Cautious, Over Protective, Easily Overlooked, Easily Used/Slightly a Pushover, Self-Conscience

    LIKES: Blue Skies, The Sun, A Warm Breeze, Meadows and Plains, Beaches, Trees and Forests, Animals, Traveling, Walking, Running, Climbing, Dueling and Fighting, Tracking, History, Reading, Writing, Botany, Cooking, Stars, Nighttime, The Moons, Warmth and Heat

    DISLIKES:
    Disrespect, Bigotry, Racism, Ignorance, Arrogance, Flying Bugs, Drunks, Oceans, False History, Liars, Manipulators, Womanizers, Most Mercenaries and Sell-swords, Being Cold

    FEARS: Death, Flying Bugs, Whales, Horkers, Ash Hoppers, Assassin Beetles, Hagravens, Forsworn

    PHOBIAS: Entomophobia, Apiphobia

    HABITS/QUIRKS: Nodding her head side to side in unison with her body while walking alone, or reading as if to be dancing to music that isn't there

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: Fall in Love and start a Family, To make her parents proud, To master her craft and bring honor to her ancestors


    standing_and_chillin__by_wwysocki-d7hykvx.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Gear and Fighting Style ~{]===|}:::::::::>
    [Note that the Artwork Above this is an almost spot on idea of what I would like her to be wearing]

    HEAD: She usually prefers nothing covering her head or face, however when it does get particularly hot or cold, the thin red cloak that hangs down her back carries the hood she wears.

    TORSO: She wears a fairly thin under-shirt the color of her cloak, over that, is a thin hide vest-and I mean really thin, that runs rather long, and over that, is an upper-torso/chest pad type armor crafted from Duneripper hide/shell - which is also incredibly light and rather flexable. These layers give her the exact amount of protection she needs without sacrificing virtually any mobility.

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: Her shoulders are covered by the same armor that covers her upper torso, with small and low profile pauldrons. Her forearms are rapped in a cloth similar to that which her cloak is made of, and attached over top the cloth are plates made of the same material as her chest and pauldron armor. Her hands are wrapped in black cloth, excluding the fingers, to allow for better grip of her blades and to resist blisters.

    WAIST: Her waist is belted together rather simply, holding the leather from her cuirass to her body, and adding hip plating the same as her chest armor, as well as holding sheathes for her swords and daggers.

    LEGS AND FEET: Outside of her hip padding, her legs are rather uncovered aside from the cloth pants she wears. Wrapped around her lower legs and feet, as simple leather and hide boots, matching the color of her dark brown cloth pants.

    EVERYDAY CARRY: A waterskin, a pouch of coins, both attached to her belt, some pages of the Book of Circles folded up and tucked into her armor, and her mother's amulet around her neck.

    WEAPONS: She carries 4 tools which she expertly turns to weapons; two swords and two knives. Trying to bring honor the ways of old traditions, Khalila has crafted her swords as such. Made from hours and hours of ceremonial crafting, the high-carbon steel blades have been sharpened and are maintained sharp enough to shave an egg without shattering it's shell, just as the master Hunding directs in the pages of the Book of Circles. Though possessing a profile similar to that of a traditional Hammerfell Scimitar, she designed the shapes of the blades to be slightly more efficient, light and controlled; the hilt, instead of having the hand guarding length, forms and blends in from the blade to the handle. Like the hilt, the pommel also blends with the handle made from mahogany, and are made from the left over steel folded on top of itself and other grades of steel 100 times into a dark colored Damascus [Click for Example]. Differing herself from the ancient traditions, her swords aren't the only set of blades she carries on her person. She has two unique daggers she has sheathed on the back of her body, both of which she purchased from a shop in High Rock. With blades perfectly sharpened and shined, and jewels adorned on either sides of their purple heartwood handles, the perfect craftsmanship of these blades are a testament to the true master-smiths of Highrock [Click for Example].

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: The title Sword-singer isn't truly one used anymore, because the last of them died out long ago, along with their schools of training and the masters themselves. The once true art form and form of martial combat revered and almost worshiped by Redguards so widely hasn't existed for Eras, and likely never will again. Yet, this has not stopped many Redguard warriors from trying to revive this ancient art. Kalila is one of them. As a self proclaimed historian on the subject, most of her research has revolved around learning and uncovering all that she can about this ancient practice. Though she has never been formally trained in any combat techniques outside of what her brother and father have shown her, her readings of the ancient texts on the subject combined with the witnessing of many master swordsman have made her quite the skilled fighter. She puts forth everything that she has learned and taught herself when it comes to fighting opponents and believes in all the ancient rules she has learned were taught when the Sword-singers were still alive and well. To her, the swords are merely a tool, for she is the real weapon - as is taught and told by what she has researched. She has practiced with many objects and weapons alike to prove this statement true; many a battle has been won with the limbs of trees to the oars of boats - because any true master of the sword is capable of lethality with any extension. Along with many other teachings of the practice, crossing swords with her is quite a challenge to walk away from.

    Just as he swords, she is equally as deadly with her daggers. Though more than capable of using them in open combat, she seldom does so, as the weapons are much more effective in a quick and stealthy type of way. Dispatching foes from behind and by surprise is the most efficient way she has found to kill with these blades.

    FIGHTING STYLE: She prefers to be in the fray, flaying and abusing the bodies and psyches of her enemies with swift strikes. With her mind quick and her blades quicker, it takes more focus and determination to keep up with her than most other blade wielding fighters. Disarming tends to be a more secondary route of attack, as quickly carving, impaling and dominating her opponents is more than enough to make her foes drop. She particularly enjoys to use only one blade, quickly swapping from one hand to the next in a complicated flurry of attacks; for nothing more than just proving to herself that she can. Her default is a blade in each hand, like a whirlwind of lethal steel carving it's way through anything standing in it's wake. Those with shields only have seconds to thank them before she finds a way to get between them. Those with balls of flame and of magical fame find their attacks firing every which way, missing the target before it's to late. Arrows from afar will leave her scarred, but can only stop her briefly; because before too long, her stamina will return and no matter the wounds she'll go out of her way to make even.

    Her secondary blades provide an equal amount of grace, though many don't get the chance to see it. A sparkle in the corner of their eye will only give them seconds to wonder, and before they know it their bodies are no longer breathing. In the rare cases the glint of her silver short-blades yield a quick reaction, her retaliation is more than prepared, and her faults look nothing more than planned.

    Only a fool could tell and assume they have complete immunity, however. Once out-manned, or overwhelmed, she can only last so long before the flurry becomes a flail. Her defenses are slim, and parries and deflects can only go so far; for so long. If unable to defend long enough to disarm, and her opponent can hold strong against her, it's easy to feel the tides of war turn against her. At a range, is where she finds her greatest weakness. While magic and arrows can fly without meeting their target, it won't be long until they inevitably do. When her ranged opponents place themselves far out of reach, without decent cover she'll only be met with defeat.


    assassin_ver_2_0_by_giby_joseph-d8iv4yk.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ History ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    UPBRINGING: Her mother a half-Nord pilgrim and her father an acclaimed historian and relic collector, Kalila's life at home was rather abnormal in the area they lived. Nothing more than a quiet settlement, the fame her father had gained came from the areas not far outside of their home. The Hall of Virtues of War was found less than a mile's walk from their front door, and it's importance in the traditions of Hammerfell's most ancient of history drew many a traveler, sight-seer and pilgrim to the landmark. Her father was a veritable expert on the hall and it's contents, no matter how much was missing within and how bedraggled the building actually was. Daily, he'd manage to uncover something new to add in it's history, slowly growing a small museum for all the traveler's to witness. Many were Redguard warriors, native to the sands and cities of the province, come to learn and pay homage to the location where every Redguard warrior's ancestors once trained.

    Her mother had told her the story of her parents meeting quite often, at her very request, as the story of their love was something she had looked forward to finding herself. She had come to the settlement with her family for rest on their way to the coast, and that's when her father laid eyes on her. She said he couldn't take his eyes off of her, and stared with a face so blank it seemed like he had been looking right into her soul. So she talked to him. And from there, a bud of love was planted, and it never stopped growing. He gave her an Amethyst pendant he had made the night before her family's departure, as a parting gift; something to remember him by for the rest of her life he said. She returned a mere month later, with her family's blessing to stay in the small settlement with him if that was indeed what she wanted to do.

    From there it was only a matter of time before she was born, and her brother before her. Kalila grew up with that story, among many others ranging from stories of heroes from her father, or stories of elves and great cities from her mother. Along with her brother, her father gave them an education within their own home, teaching them to read and write and all sorts of useful knowledge for their lives ahead of them. What she and her brother both favored learning, was that of the blade. While most would think any mother would forbid such teachings at a young age, most mothers are not like theirs, or like mothers of Redguard descent. The act of swordsmanship was a form of art practiced and passed down by those in Hammerfell for generations, or those who believed in tradition, that is.

    Until their adolescence, they were taught this way and then their parents gave them the world and infinite avenues to follow for the rest of their lives. Her brother, being many years older than her, took to the wind. He wanted to follow in the steps of their mother, and see the world while chronicling every step of the way. He wanted to return to Ska'vyn with stories of adventure and the study of the many places that he passed through, and add a library of books to their father's collection. Kalila, on the other hand, wanted to help her father continue to add to his collection, and learn what she had always found fascinating. History. History of the world and of Hammerfell, of her people and their beliefs and religion, of the world and the people around them.

    She did this for quite some time, and before to long, she found herself becoming obsessed in something she hadn't expected; the very Hall and practices it once taught. In the entire life she had near the Hall, she had never found it particularly interesting. In fact, she hadn't really preferred using the sword either, she was too fascinated with the gods and stories of those who had mastered the sword so long ago. Escaping in the mastery of others instead of seeking it for herself. But somewhere along the line all of that changed. She got lost in learning the paths that Sword-singers had to take in order to master their craft, and how respected and necessary their order was. Their cause was one of the things that truly inspired her, to protect herself and more importantly others. The idea of a society where everyone knew how to wield a sword is what had bored her, but knowing about a society where everyone knew the sword and those who mastered the sword so well they were capable of winning unwinnable wars and defeating danger no matter how ungodly it may have been. She suddenly grew drawn to that mastery, and her parents could sense it. So they sent her on her way. Her father gave her the parting gift of knowledge, ancient pages of the Book of Circles, the very pages that belonged to his private collection. Her mother, the very pendant her father had given here when they first met.

    With guidance toward the North, she went on her way to begin her journey. From crafting her blades, and meeting the greatest of smiths, high nobles, and places she had only ever heard about in stories and history; it wasn't long before she found herself an adult, and a skilled self taught "Sword-singer". And just when she was prepared to make the trek back home, a letter came to her. It held the most grave of news, and news that had stopped her heart. Her parents had passed away, and her father's work lost in a collapse of the ruin.


    The weeks and months that followed were aimless for her. Until she meditated on the teachings she had memorized and the pages her father had given her. Her key for success, her key for mastery, and her key to happiness, was to never return to where she once called home. Sacrificing everything she knew to search for a new place in life was all she had left. Sure, her brother was still away on his journey, but he had likely gotten the news too. And he likely had made the same decision as she. So for the last handful of years, she has traveled Tamriel. She now finds herself in the North once again, crossing through the borders once more. Skyrim may be her next stop, as there is plenty of ancient history left to be learned there.

    girlie_by_pheberoni-d9o058o.jpg


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ Voice and Score ~{]===|}:::::::::>

    (Trying this part out, inspired by some of my old CCs as well as @Zelda's Lovely CCs)

    VOICE: Soft with a tinge of what can only be described as a "warm" rasp

    VOICE REFERENCE: Zoe Saldana [Example]

    PERSONAL SCORE THEME: "Silva Arsia" composed by Krale
     

    Puffin

    New Member
    Just gonna throw up something simple and quick!

    Name: Althea
    Race: Breton
    Class: Healer/Mage - specialises in restoration and conjuring magic
    Gender: Female
    Looks:
    • Height: 5'1"
    • Hair: Shoulder length and strawberry blond, usually tied into a ponytail
    • Eyes: Pale blue
    Personality:
    • + Lighthearted: She is easy to get along with due to her easygoing nature, however, some may see it as incompetence or a lack of discipline
    • + Witty: Surprisingly smart, but hides this useful trait
    • + Daydreamer: She has a good imagination, although sometimes her mind can delve into inappropriate places
    • + Monster lover: Very interested in nasty beasties that would make others go pale, even Frostbite spiders, she adores monsters
    • + Joker: She is playful and has a good sense of humour; this may also make things difficult for those who are serious workers
    • - Distracted: Very easily loses attention, and not very focused; she struggles to pick up details the observant would have no trouble with
    • - Lazy: She has little motivation, and doesn't enjoy physical work; would much rather take a nap
    • - Non-fighter: In both mind and form, she scarcely enjoys violence and avoids if when possible, and conjures monsters to defend herself- however, she is also weak physically
    Misc:
    • History: Raised within a small family of travelling Breton healers temporarily settling in Riverwood; she was a sickly child who, through a miracle, kept fighting despite her poor health...and it paid off. Her parents kept her swaddled in cotton as they were afraid that anything could break her. Due to this though, she became spoiled and undisciplined. Her approach to magic when she grew interested in it was frowned upon, but not enough that she was shunned by her own family. She delved into conjuration spells and loved to summon familiars, while growing experienced in restoration magic. At thirteen, when she grew more wild, her family's overbearing nature grew too much, and she ran away from them
    • Fears: She has few fears. However, as she snuck out of the house to explore the river, she was bitten by a Slaughterfish and was rescued by her parents - she did develop a phobia of deep water as a result
    • Alias: Her birth name is not known; she took the alias Althea
     

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