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Info Character Profiles

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

  1. Sweetroll76

    Sweetroll76 Member

    Aug 18, 2017
    Likes Received:
    "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


    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.


    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.

    Attached Files:

    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    lizardisok: 20 Points Sep 25, 2017
  2. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:
    (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.)


    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


    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


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


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

    HEIGHT: 6'1"

    WEIGHT: 177 lbs.

    BUILD: Muscular, Strong, Rugged, Stoic

    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]



    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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.




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

    NAME: Meadow

    ALIAS: Mei (pronounced 'may')

    AGE: Unknown, but an adult in her prime


    GENDER: Female

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

    AFFLICTIONS: Unnoticeably Dead


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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.


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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.

  3. JRMoosePaul

    JRMoosePaul Stormcloak Warrior

    Aug 18, 2017
    Likes Received:
    Great character. I like how you included the Nordic Pantheon.

    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
    • Like Like x 1
  4. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:
    Thanks friend! :)
  5. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
    Likes Received:
    (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.)


    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

    Redguard [75%] Nord [25%]

    CLASS: Swordsman/Rogue

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

    LATERALITY: Ambidextrous

    SEXUALITY: Straight


    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]


    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


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


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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

    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


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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.


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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.


    <:::::::::{|===[}~ 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
  6. Puffin

    Puffin New Member

    Sep 25, 2017
    Likes Received:
    Just gonna throw up something simple and quick!

    Name: Althea
    Race: Breton
    Class: Healer/Mage - specialises in restoration and conjuring magic
    Gender: Female
    • Height: 5'1"
    • Hair: Shoulder length and strawberry blond, usually tied into a ponytail
    • Eyes: Pale blue
    • + 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
    • 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
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    lizardisok: 2 Points Sep 25, 2017
  7. TrannyTrain5000

    TrannyTrain5000 New Member

    Oct 4, 2017
    Likes Received:
    Name: Ra'Sava Sahir






    Ra'Sava has short orange fur, and jet black markings lining his body and tail. The left half of his face is mostly black, along with part of his right cheek. He has short jet black hair and a mustache that he braids. He has scars that dot over his face and his body. He's decently built, but relies more on speed than strength.

    He enjoys being near people, though he despises talking to anyone he doesn't have to. Ra'Sava tends to have a cold expression on his face no matter what mood he's in.

    Misc: He loves to travel, and will walk until he HAS to stop to rest. Although he is a thief, he will collect small treasures and sell them to local shopkeeps. He's very skilled with a dagger, but he's not perfect. Same with sneaking, he's very good, but he still gets caught sometimes.
    Latest Given Reputation Points:
    lizardisok: 1 Point Oct 4, 2017
  8. Kim243

    Kim243 New Member

    Nov 18, 2017
    Likes Received:

    Name: Garakh Murzush

    Alias: N/A

    Age: 22

    Birth Date: 4E 189, 2nd of 1st Seed

    Birth Place: Midwife’s hut, Dushnik Yal

    Gender: Female

    Race/Origin: Orc (100%)

    Class: Fighter (Heavy Armor/Polearms)

    Profession: Bounty Hunter (Armorer during peacetime)

    Laterality: Left Handed

    Sexuality: Bisexual

    Relationship Status: Single (Sinmir’s ex)

    Family: Sheoth Murzush, Mother (deceased); Bormok Buruk, Estranged Father; Muga Buruk, Estranged Half-Brother on father’s side; Rulum Rugdek, Auntie on mother’s side; Urzgat Bhaar, Estranged Grandmother on father’s side

    Possessions/Heirlooms: Steel plate armor she forged for herself; tiny, carved wooden figure of Malacath; silver & sapphire earring she occasionally wears

    Affiliations: The orcs of Dushnik Yal, though their relationship is strained; initiate status with the Companions, though she also left them; loosely with the Imperials, as she forged armor for them for a while, but was never really a part of the Empire, nor did she desire to be.

    Afflictions: Awkward right shoulder from when she dislocated it as a child; Anxiety that presents itself in an aching chest, which she berates herself over and tries to ignore.

    Religion: Prays to Malacath and tries to appeal to his affinity for strength; also respects Zenithar

    Appearance: 5’9” tall, 200 pounds, mostly muscle, though some fat; pierced eyebrow with orichalcum ring through it; short, black hair around two inches long; pretty muscular, with a slightly larger left arm thanks to smithing; heavy lower jaw associated with orcish blood, though her tusks are small, as befitting her sex; tries to offset her masculine appearance by speaking in her upper register, which results in her sounding like a human woman, though sometimes also results in voice cracks; when wearing more form fitting clothes, her broad hips and breasts are perceptible, but she usually dresses more utilitarian than that; when naked, there is no question of her sex, though the muscles are usually more readily apparent than the breasts. Several scars, the two most prominent a draw cut down the back of her left arm and a lateral one across her right cheekbone.

    Personality: Boisterous and irreverent around people she doesn’t know well, and often is around people she does know well, too. Definitely has a softer side, but hardly ever shows it, and pretty much only to people she very much likes or even loves. Tends to anger quickly when people accuse her of things, or when talking about sensitive subjects, as a result of the anxiety she tries so hard to suppress. She keeps her cool during fights, usually, and uses work as a form of meditation. She exercises and trains regularly, and also tries to use that as a form of meditation, though it is less effective. In fighting, she is brutally efficient, and doesn’t usually take extra strides to act mercifully. Regularly gives beggars and orphans extra money when it’s convenient, but usually when no one’s looking.

    Habits/Quirks: Twiddles a coin between her fingers absentmindedly, sometimes putting off the wrong message by accident; habit of cleaning dirt from under her fingernails with a tusk; eats overly properly in public, but overly messily on the road; voice often cracks when she laughs; mutters to herself as she works, sometimes counting hammer strikes, sometimes having imaginary conversations; cracks her knuckles a lot; tends to sneer at people she dislikes without thinking about it;

    Skills: Quite skilled with polearms and large axes, but truly shines when wrestling; smiths armor quite well, but is less skilled at other kinds of metalworking; cooks food that isn’t much besides edible; basically proficient with a bow; great at beating people to death when she’s wearing gauntlets; can fight in full plate armor without flagging too bad for a good fifteen minutes

    Aspirations/goals: Earn a comfortable living right now, but long term, survive the war and reconcile with her family and tribe, while also (warning) killing the plops out of her dad for forcing her mother into sex and beating his kids, and end it all with setting up a smithing trade in Markarth or Whiterun, depending on which way the war goes.

    Gear and fighting style

    Wears full steel plate armor, though sometimes moves the faceplate to keep fighting longer. Wields a lucerne with an orichalcum head and a one handed warhammer and dagger, usually, but could swap the lucerne for a bow or shield, should the situation call for it.

    Head: bascinet w/hinged, perforated face plate and a chainmail coif

    Torso: sturdy, skyforge steel breast and backplate, loose steel hip guards, thick steel codpiece, with gambeson and riveted mail beneath

    Arms and shoulders: standard shoulder pauldrons, elbow guards, and lobstered gauntlets that cover most of her forearms and have slightly protruding knuckles, with gameson and riveted mail beneath

    Legs and feet: riveted mail down to her ankles, with sturdy leather boots and steel knee guards

    Every day carry: see above for when she’s doing mercenary work or is travelling in dangerous areas. In cities, thick, fine clothes and a dagger on her belt, with a few extra pieces of jewelry, and when smithing, a thick blacksmith’s apron, heavy leather gloves, a hammer, and a dagger.

    Weapons: Usually fights with a lucerne that has an orichalcum head, a steel, one handed warhammer, and a slim bladed, steel dagger. Also has a hunter’s bow, a quiver of 20 steel tipped arrows, and an oaken heater shield, should the situation call for it

    Fighting abilities: see skills

    Fighting style: A brutal, efficient fighter. Kills or disables as efficiently as possible in order to end the fight in her favor. This means charging lighter armored opponents to defeat them before her armor can tire her out, or, if they are also heavily armored, crushing their helmets with the lucerne, or tripping them up with it, and then sticking them with the dagger after maintaining a dominant position over them. If an enemy closes past her lucerne, then it is time for the warhammer, or for some wrestling. If her enemy is lightly armored, she’ll go for elbows and punches in the clinch or on the ground, as she is quite dominant there against most opponents. Outside of her armor, she will do whatever it takes to win, if that means killing, maiming, strangling, beating them until her hands break, stabbing them with her dagger, or if she can’t win, then getting help, running away, or surrendering.
  9. Talia Wind-Strike

    Talia Wind-Strike Collector of Dwemer Artifacts

    Dec 12, 2017
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    Talia Wind-Strike
    Nord (moddifed facial structure to look more like an elf with the RaceMenu mod)
    Standing Stone:
    The Warrior
    Heavy Armor(Juggernaut 4\4, Well Fitted, Cushoned)
    Two Handed(Barbarian 1\4)
    One Handed(Swordsman 4\4, Blademaster)
    Block(Shield Charge)
    Modded Ability:
    Tonal Resonence(activates the Tonal Archetecture Spells.)
    Tonal Archetecture Spells:
    Tonal Teleport(instantly moves the player to wherever the spell is being cast. has to be cast on the ground.)
    Modded Spells:
    Steam(shoots a gout of steam that does 10 Damage to Health)
    Vanilla Equipment:
    Dwarven Armor of Emenent Destruction
    Dwarven Bracers of Emenent Wielding
    Dwarven Boots of Muffling
    Dwarven Helmet of Emenent Destruction
    *Dwarven Sword of Sparks
    *Dwarven Shield
    *note: the reason why my sword and shield in the picture are really big is because i have scaled them up using the RaceMenu mod and also because with the Dwarven Hyperion equiped the armor is supposed to one whole Powersuit (read backstory) and it has a strength boster allows her to wield them that big in RP.
    Modded Equipment:
    Dwarven Hyperion Master(from the Space Wikings Dwemer Exo-Skeleton mod)
    Dwemer Goggles(Worn with helmet to make it ocular enhanced)
    Dwemer Scouter(Worn with Hood)
    Heavy Dwarven Mage Hood
    (note: see my profile for the pictures of the armor and weapons equiped)
    Seinor Member of the Archeology Guild of Tamriel
    Archeological Advisor to the College of Winterhold

    She is a Nord female with elven features that she gets from her father who is a Bosmer(Wood Elf) Noble from the provence of Morrowind. Her Backstory starts like this: Her life began as most kids do with the instant curiosty to explore like most babies
    but as she got older instead of the curiosty going away like most kids it became even more intense she would question everything and just kept wanting to know more about the world.
    so one day when she was old enough and had learned how to protect herself her father had brought her to Cyrodill to join the Archeology Guild in hope that she would be happy there and she was! all until one day during an expiditon to Morrowind to explore a newly discovered dwemer ruin. while she was exploring the lower levels of the ruin she came across an intresting artifact it was round sphere-like gem and what was intresting about it was the fact the when she got near it she heard whispers and when the other members of her group came into the chamber where she found it they could not hear the whispers so later that night when she was alone in her tent she took the gem out of its box and as both of her palms pressed flat against the gem suddenly time stopped around her and the whispers became voices, very deep and gruff voices she couldnt understand what they were saying but she did recognize a few words that were said because they were the names of dwemer ruins she had read about, and then she realized: she was hearing the dwemer, then she rememberd one of the theories she had read about during her studys on how the dwemer disapeared it said that during the war between the dwemer and the chimer, The head dwemer Tonal Architect Lord Kagrenac took Keening and struck the heart of Lorkhan and ever single dwemer vanished! they just disapeared! Then it made sense why she was hearing the dwemer: she had just tapped into the tonal structure of the universe! and so she began to tap into tonal magicks that no one except the dwemer ever had access to! and as she used the magic she got more confident in her ablities and took more risks not realizing that doing so would prove to be a fatal mistake because 30 years after her discovery she decided to try and change somthing about the tonal structure of her being and it went very very wrong. when she tried to expand her lifetime she instead made it so that her lifeforce was draining out of her and slowly killing her! so she tried as best she could to stop it. and so being the resourceful type, she managed to take the blueprints of a dwemer powersuit and modifed them so that the powersuit had a modified dwemer power core that acted as a life support so when she wore it it would constently fortify her lifeforce, but what she did not expect was that the power core not only kept her alive, it had also increased her lifeforce one hundered-fold making her basicly immortal but still able to get hurt! so now that she knew the consqences of being reckless she deceded to never again use her tonal magic and take her second chance at life knowing that there is some magic that should not be used! so she travels to skyrim and gets caught crossing the border and when she is made a prisoner of war she tells the soldiers not to remove the powersuit because if they did she would have died a few minutes later luckly when the guards didnt believe her there were a few battlemages there who could tell the powersuit was keeping her alive so they ordered the guards to leave her powersuit alone and when they got to helgen they just removed her helmet because it wouldnt matter if her health was being fortified the axe would still cut her head clean off! And there you go her backstory up until the start of Skyrim.
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    Last edited: Dec 12, 2017
  10. Hlíf 'Ulfr

    Hlíf 'Ulfr Nothing but a lyre

    Mar 21, 2013
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    Céleste Moulin

    “...unforgivingly, and forcefully magnificent...” - Maquita Donyel Irvin


    Alias: She takes pride and or ownership of all her actions and needs no other name attached to them. This means that some more informed may recognize her name and her status.

    Apparent age: The tenderness of youth has not left her to wrinkle and shrivel and yet there is an age to her face, a weight on her shoulders that denied any illusion of innocence. She is not young enough to be coddled but still within her prime, made evident in her movements. She appears in this way to be exactly what she is, a rare occurrence.

    Sexuality: She would keep the company of men, should she be able to find one she thought suited her however unlikely that may be. Despite that, she does appreciate beauty, an appreciation that extends to the finery and tenderness of women. With an inclination to covet beautiful things this could be confused with desire and has managed to create the occasional spell of uncertainty.

    Marital status: Single

    Occupation: Her family name presented her with the opportunity as one of many advisors to a young lord, however, she was able to quickly distinguished herself amongst them. Her voice held more weight, and her words and opinions more appreciated. She was important in all of the many roles she played. Someone that commanded respect and fear and so often sent out from court to court in search of solutions that she could easily have been considered a diplomat, likewise manipulative and sly enough to be called a politician. She had claimed the secrets of many and knew just how much of her hand to show, just when to play each card. Officially she was an advisor but there was not a soul who knew of her that believed she was that alone. Perhaps most accurately she was a facilitator.

    With all this lost she tends to travel aimlessly with no need to make extra coin for all her hidden wealth and ability to make something of so little. What she does do serves to occupy her attention, to aid in ignoring the void left by lack of purpose.

    Residence: Her old haunts are vacated, dust gathering and their old tenant cast out to drift in the wind. She roams now, searching.

    Family: Her living, immediate family consists of her mother, father, and brother (Émile) all of whom are estranged. Her twin sister (Cécile-Élise) died suddenly as a child.

    Affiliations: Having mostly operated within Highrock and other surrounding territories only when needed her affiliations in Skyrim are limited.

    Note-worthy Personal Relationships:
    Camille: He goes by one name, though recognizes none. While living he was known as a great hero to many within his homeland, a brilliant tactician and an exemplary warrior sadly killed in his prime. While it was a loss for most it presented an opportunity for a select few. It was rumored that after his tragic death the body disappeared. In truth it was collected and gifted by a lord, as reward for the discretion and loyalty of one of his advisors. Once decorated with titles and notoriety for his service, his animated corpse now goes without such formalities.

    As things stand he would have been unrecognizable in his current state even uncovered in Highrock. His wounds and mutilations only aided in maintaining the facade. When brought out in public, as well as when hidden in storage, he wears a respectable set of heavy armor that seemed to never be in disrepair. His visage hides in a simple helm, while his shoulders support a worn cape with layers of fabric falling around his neck and across his chest. His weapons and shield, though without flash, were well made. One might not, therefore, immediately recognize him as a husk if caught off guard.

    Frédéric Bouchard: The closest thing to a true companion she had ever gained during her adulthood was this man. A romantic affection existed between the two, alluded to often but kept unspoken publicly due to a love of mystery which injected the whole affair with excitement. As was proper they shared the same social and political circles and were both otherwise unattached. Nothing forbidden or inappropriate existed there which might have foreshadowed the traumatic betrayal that saw them separate, though it came regardless.

    Auguste: A proud and loyal creature, of fine breeding who commands the uptmost adoration. Magnificent in his colouring, a dark bay steed worthy of nobility whose black mane, tail and stockings contrasted beautifully with the blood red undertones, and small blooms of amber. Certainly not a draft horse, the trim and sleek stallion offered both stamina and speed but would never pull a plow.
    Political Views: Her thoughts on the politics of Skyrim are very critical as she finds them and their guardians often indelicate and brash.

    Religion: Though she recognizes “Talos” as a hero, a notable figure within history, she does not view him as a god. She believes that his worship should be treated more so as ancestor veneration. It's a middle ground which can be manipulated to be minimally abrasive if ever it was to be brought up in a political setting. Otherwise, religion is not what motivates her. She has a healthy respect for the divines and recognizes them but she is no temple priestess.

    Affliction/Disease/Ailments: Most likely she could be diagnosed with some form of anxiety and depression.



    She was dark, in presence and in look with just enough mystery to put one ill at ease. Even The air that hung about her seemed to be heavy as if it was difficult to breathe in her midst. It could have been that deep-set gaze, distrusting and only a hair's breadth from ebony that made her beautiful in the way all things unobtainable are, or perhaps it was simply the way she held her shoulders back as she considered the room with an inexplicable sternness resting like a veil over her face. She was like smoke, I decided then, as I watched the delicate pale skin of her throat grow taunt before a curtain of inky black tresses obstructed my view. If she came too near, and I should breathe her in, I feared I would never recover.

    She walked as if the world waited on her alone, a slow and purposeful walk which emphasize the smooth sway of her hips and the long legs that lead her. She was never generous with her laughter, no smile lines marked her, preferring to languidly extend a slender, soft hand in greeting with an undeniable sense of poise. It was all she needed, to cast her net of intrigue and to pull the unsuspecting in, a knowledge that was conveyed perfectly by the overwhelming intensity of her eyes. Indeed, she had a way of commanding respect, and expected it, as only those who had been impressive throughout their lives could. She was elegant and controlled but the darkness circling her eyes betrayed many sleepless nights, almost as much as that which lived in her gaze. Celeste Moulin was an embodiment of the pure essence of midnight, it pumped through her veins, with tragedy being its terrible consequence. It went without saying that within that women, somehow condensed to fit her 5’6 frame, was the power to build an empire or ensure it's destruction.

    Voice: A voice soaked in bourbon, raw and smokey. Steady and unwavering.


    “Confident and strong, and as all of the best stones, most likely formed under intense pressure.”​


    The ability to take what was given to her and grow it into something far more fantastic, as she had done with herself, was learned young. She had been subjected to constant pruning and pushing, and many other such attempts to manipulate her to fit into the tight space they wanted her to fill throughout her youth. Whereas many would have submitted, and been tempered she rejected limitations and thrived.

    Each opportunity became tenfold with her own effort and tenacity, her overwhelming desire to succeed, and ambition for which she made no apology. There was always a drive for excellent fueled by recognition she refused to seek out or accept without earning it first. It brought her more pleasure than most anything else, and although not immune to pride, it had always been confidence that consumed her and helped to define the elusive woman in the eyes of the onlookers. To others, she was reliably true to her own agenda and strong beyond what was expected of her. Her charm, a particularly palatable variety of poison.
    She was an unpredictable team player, however, and not opposed to exposing the weaker members. The gift of her loyalty was so incredibly rare, and temporary alliance much more common, that it made her intense passion for safeguarding those she pledges herself to seem extreme, an opinion not without truth. Balancing diplomacy and a blunt and fiery temperament with unsettling ease made her uniquely suited to her position and though she felt no need to bite her tongue or hide her opinion she was still deeply private. Always keeping her own secrets hidden.

    In the political sphere she seemed to operate seamlessly but away from the space in which she shone, Celeste was profoundly tragic. She discouraged most physical affection, like her bones were made of glass and she was wary of being broken. Though she had built herself something worthy of gratification no satisfaction was awarded to her for any length of time, a soul stuck perpetually between questioning her worth and knowing exactly what she deserved. She was desperate for relief from the weight of her own scrutiny and the pressure that gripped her lungs and caused her heart to flutter wildly. But she had no right to feel this way, she believed firmly, for all she had and all those whose troubles here far beyond her own. So she caged her tortured thoughts and presented only her strength to those that were allowed to know her intimately, to her own detriment.

    Despite these dramatic statements, however, darkness did not rule her. Forceful, and pensive behaviour hid a dark sense of humor and the enjoyment of a little foolishness between friends for which she yearned. Likewise, though appearing serious she found that frivolous things pleased her, so much so that she fought herself not to collect them for the joy of it. It meant she made constant reminders that like people, possessions needed to have some use, to fulfill a purpose or she would drown in her own imprudence. A thought that likely revealed something unsettling about the way she viewed others. This was not helped by a concealed yet deeply sentimental nature and great tendency towards nostalgia. For this reason, all of her possessions held more meaning as they had utility, and were injected with traits that brought her happiness often through their luxury.

    Due to a great disturbance in her life, however, it is important to note, she has become increasingly unpredictable. What still lives of the political player is fractured, a creature evolved to suit a specific environment then cast from her biome. The risk of danger associated with her presence, therefore, has increased tenfold.

    “she was completely whole
    and yet never fully complete”

    -Maquita Donyel Irvin

    Positive Traits:
    Headstrong, Smart, Problem solver, Independent, Thorough, Disciplined, Discrete

    Negative Traits:
    Moody, Evasive, Pessimistic, Demanding, Mistrustful, Abrasive, Spiteful


    Gems and other finery
    Hot springs or being drawn a hot bath
    A strong and astute leader
    Stimulating and complex conversation
    Intricate lace and the feel of velvet
    Triumphing over an adversary
    Solving a difficult problem


    Unseemly public displays of affection
    Being impacted by the social ineptitude of others
    Underserved or foolish leadership
    Having outsiders expect services of her

    Fears: Failure, Betrayal

    Current Goals: To redeem herself and expose those who have wronged her and chased her from her home. She is also ever searching for another hero to fall in her midst and to be recruited into her personal ranks.

    Alignment: Chaotic Good



    It was always excepted and natural that magic should be her field of study, though she could never accept being ordinary. Not that there was ever much of a choice. Céleste would have liked to claim that she had chosen necromancy, that it's taboo nature and intrigue drew her in, but it had chosen her in a most terrible of ways. From the unsettling past, however, she was able to build on a skill many refused to acknowledge with immense speed as if gifted. Using such skills, combined with a variety of other wells of knowledge she fortified herself to be a formidable opponent both in the verbal sphere and in the realm of physical warfare.

    She used them like walls to guard her, or did once. It is more accurate to say she used him to guard her with shield and sword and unshakable devotion. Camille was her wall, pushing against the tide as she sent courage through a body where nothing but emptiness. As in life, when her walls failed, she used fear to poison them and send the enemy to cower and await their demise in the shadows. To wait for the moment that she would choose as the end or to turn them against each other. Sending ice to hold them, to burn their skin with sick irony. To appear without a sign and use an embodiment of her power, summoned to take their souls. A shadow of a blade, glowing blue with its hate.

    Class: Necromancer, Witch

    Major Skills:


    Other Note-worthy Skills:

    Lock Picking

    Weapons: Her biting wit and magical talents don’t tend to fail her, however, it is always prudent to carry a supplementary dagger or two. Dagger and cloak as the saying goes…


    The black velvet of her doublet was perfectly fitted and seemed to hold her in a way that no other was permitted. Bordered with a half inch of white ribbon with overlaying lace along its hem and climbing along each side of it's joining point which ran along its front. An inch away another similar ribbon mirrored the placement of the first. Structured until it reached the waist it gave way to flattering pleats and opened at this point in the front. Pearls were sewn carefully, scattered like stars bursting from the darkness of the upright collar though they faded and never reached very far. The scoop of its neckline could reveal any number of chemises, though while traveling a luxurious and lightweight linen was preferred for its breathability.

    During inclement weather, a great, heavy woolen cape swallowed her in its expanse, hood all but eliminating her from sight. Over black trousers and long leather boots which ended just above her knee, a layer of elegant travel skirts could be used to fight off the bite of cold. A jacket was also available, with long tails and demonstrating exemplary tailored work. Finally, though wool was often sufficient in its ability to retain warmth when soaked, a roll of waxed canvas was almost always to be found on her steed while she traveled.

    Laterality: Right-handed

    Inventory: TO BE ADDED



    “She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands,appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer


    Pronunciation of Céleste:
    Pronunciation of Moulin:
    Auguste: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/13/60/02/13600276eb3c5322ff59ef3146225d5f--cleveland-bay-horse.jpg

    • Creative Creative x 2
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    Last edited: Jan 8, 2018
  11. Old soul

    Old soul New Member

    Jan 23, 2018
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    Name: Obron Azarain Race:Nord/Dark elf Class: Combat Rouge (Hybrid) Weapons: Dual wielded War knifes (blade of woe) destruction magic(fire) and crossbow. Birthstone: serpent Backstory: Obron Azarain was born into a life of hell and misery being a small and frail not to mention he wasn’t even a pure blooded which in turn made the Ashlanders mock him and treat him as a nothing he was teased for being different and not having ash skin like his brethren and was mocked but his mother was always there to stand for him and never let anyone hurt her child. His father was a nord who he’d never met before his mother always told him that his father was a valiant warrior who saved her life. But as one day when obron was playing with the other children they noticed a black hole in the ground where a stone laid with peculiar markings the other children bullied obron and threw him into the hole as obron hit the bottom he was broken and destroyed the kids he could hear teasing him from the top but then silence came. You do not pray for your gods said a voice obron looked up and said no, the being asked why and obron said the gods have never helped me aedra not daedra why should I ask for help now? The being grew form and turned into a black shadow with with only red/ orange eyes with a swirling blackness in the center the being reached out and grabbed him and comforted him in the place child there is no pain only empty no love or hate only silence this is the music of life. Obron began to cry as the being was comforting him and then his mother jumped down to save him but as she descended down the hole the being closed the entry my boy I have watched you struggle and I’m not like these gods your people worship I take no affairs in mortal life for I’m not bound to I am the inescapable darkness, the silent night, the empty all around you I am the void. My name is sithis. The boy looked up and said what will you do to me sithis shadow no human form wrapped around the boy and said I will grant you death the boys eyes faded to black and the world grew cold but as quickly as death took him it was gone he re awoken but felt different his mom screaming from the other side couldn’t see or hear him. Until a distinct sound rang out the sound of fire erupting from the hole obron came flying through black fire surrounded him and two blades in each hand rose and thorn a gift from sithis
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  12. Specter of Death

    Specter of Death Forum Moderator
    Staff Member

    Oct 30, 2012
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    (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.)


    Verros Cassian
    "You can either change the world or waste your time protecting yourself from it."
    - Faleen, Housecarl of Jarl Igmund

    ~-- Basic --~

    NAME: Verros Cassian
    (pronounced [Veh-roh-ss]; [Kas-sea-en])

    ALIAS: Boy, Cassian, Squire

    AGE: 21

    BIRTH-DATE: 1st of Midyear, 4E 380

    BIRTH-PLACE: Unkown

    GENDER: Male

    RACE/ORIGIN: Imperial [100%]

    CLASS: Warrior/Housecarl

    PROFESSION: Squire to Faleen, Housecarl of Jarl Igmund of Markarth

    LATERALITY: Right Handed

    SEXUALITY: Straight


    FAMILY: Unkown

    HEIRLOOMS: His sword, a gift from his master; and his armour, crafted as a badge of his service.

    AFFILIATIONS: Markarth's Ruling House

    AFFLICTIONS: Night Terrors, Mild Insomnia

    RELIGION: Agnostic


    ~-- Appearance --~

    HEIGHT: 5'7"

    WEIGHT: 143 lbs.

    BUILD: Average, Active, Youthful

    FACE: The softness of his youthful face is betrayed by the maturity in his eyes and stoic stare; a single scar divides his face while soft stubble accentuates his jaw and chin

    EYES: Hazel-brown

    SKIN-TONE: Slightly Tanned Caucasian, with somewhat of a "farmer's tan"

    HAIR STYLE: Cut comfortably short, thick with natural waviness

    FACIAL HAIR: Gently peppered stubble beard and moustache

    HAIR COLOR: Dark Brown, almost Black

    SCARS: Many small nicks dot the skin all over his body, none noticeable enough to be of note

    TATTOOS: None



    ~-- Personality --~
    the ultimate introvert

    TEMPER: Even-tempered; through his upbringing Verros has grown an extremely high tolerance for the poking, prodding and sharp words of others. He virtually never loses his temper, and if he has he can't remember it ever happening

    OUTLOOK: Mixed, but mostly pessimistic; much like his temper, his past has greatly impacted his view of the world and its workings. If asked he may put on a visage of uncertainty, though this is just to cover up his embarrassingly low opinion and expectations of the world.

    HONOR: Intense and High; as somebody who has never been granted the luxury of honour or honourable treatment, he refuses to treat others the way he has been treated and strives to give others the highest honour he can in hopes of earning the same.

    Alignment: Lawful Good; his training tells him to follow the law no matter what the situation, no matter his opinion. He holds himself to this expectation, as it's what separates him from those who may do him or others wrong.

    POSITIVE TRAITS: Surprisingly and Highly Intelligent, Naturally Protective, Inquisitive, Astute, Loyal, Lawful, Compassionate, Selfless, Charitable

    NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bull-headed, Stubborn, Specific, Shy, Willful at times, Loner

    LIKES: Reading, Exploration, Rain, Weather, Night Sky, Star Gazing, Sword Fighting/Dualling, Weapons Crafting & Repairing, Honorable Behavior, Protecting the Defenseless and Innocent

    DISLIKES: Upper-class Snobs, The Silverbloods, Forsworn, Prejudice, Racism, Sexism, Assuming Behaviors, Dishonesty, Disloyalty, Hate

    FEARS: Daedra; Monsters from other Worlds

    PHOBIAS: None that he's discovered yet

    HABITS/QUIRKS: He has a very stoic face, almost never showing emotion without proper motivation

    ASPIRATIONS/GOALS: To be promoted from Squire to Housecarl, and being Chosen to Serve in someone's name, to protect the people of Markarth and the Reach as a master warrior


    ~-- Gear and Fighting Style --~
    [Note that the Artwork Above this is an almost spot on idea of what I would like him to be wearing]

    HEAD: Most commonly nothing, he doesn't own any helms, hats or hoods of any sort.

    ARMS AND SHOULDERS: His arms are covered will by his white undershirt, while a leather gauntlet and a matching bracer over his left and right hand and forearms. His upper arms and shoulders are covered with a secondary, slightly heavier and denser stone-grey tunic. His leather chest-piece rests overtop each shoulder, while a single pauldron sits on his left shoulder.

    TORSO: His white undershirt sits under his more protective stone-grey shirt, while a thick leather chest-piece/vest wraps around his frame. Occasionally around his torso he wears--from left shoulder to right hip, is a thick leather strap that holds a quiver to his back.

    WAIST: A wide waist cover and belt with 2 pouches and 2 sheathes on either side.

    LEGS AND FEET: He wears thick dark-grey leggings, with shin-high leather boots.

    EVERYDAY CARRY: He never takes his sword or knife off his body unless he is sleeping or engaging in activities that don't allow them, but outside of his weapons nothing but the clothes on his back.

    WEAPONS: His main and most frequently used weapon is his Steel Colovian Longsword, Shira Hel or "Noble Sword". A gift from his master and teacher Faleen, she named it in Yoku--an ancient Redguard language, and retrieved it when she landed her first strike on her teacher. Which is how Verros earned it from her [CLICK HERE FOR PHOTO]. He carries with him alongside his sword, a simple steel knife he crafted with the guidance of Moth gro-Bagal--the Understone Keep Blacksmith [CLICK HERE FOR PHOTO]. His last and most underused weapon is his simple Maple-Wood longbow [CLICK HERE FOR PHOTO], with his own self-crafted arrows--which he crafts in his free time frequently [CLICK HER FOR PHOTO].

    FIGHTING ABILITIES: He's young, and has only a small fraction of the skill his master possesses herself; but for his age, she says "you got the stuff." He's never been sure what that meant exactly, but he always took it as a compliment and assumed it meant he was pretty good with a sword. He's been able to land a total of 366 strikes on his master in their duals so far, which is impressive compared than when she first started training him. He aims to be as good as Faleen one day, and eventually better. He's never really used his bow or knife for anything more than hunting small game, though he can see the usefulness they could carry in other situations.

    FIGHTING STYLE: Verros, like his teacher, is a calculated one-handed longsword user. While most blade users would fight quick and offensively, Verros has been taught to fight reactively. Using the power of his foe against him, choosing to go on offence selectively and strategically. A much different style of blade mastery than most have seen in the northern province--one underestimated and looked down on by many. But the wisest and smartest of men choose this style over most others when given the option.


    ~-- Voice and Score --~

    VOICE: Youthful, Calm, Friendly, Purposeful, Proud

    Matthew Broderick as Simba from The Lion King [CLICK FOR EXAMPLE]

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