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    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Sails-Deep-Seas
    Nicknames: Captain
    Race: Argonian
    Fame: Known Sailor
    Titles: Guardian of Raven Rock's docks, East Empire Sailor, Captain of the Dark Slaughterfish


    Gender: Male
    Class: Sailor/Pirate
    Faction: East Empire Company, The Dark Slaughterfish

    Looks: Short round horns, brown scales, small blue eyes
    Age: 28
    Marital Status: Single
    Current Residence: His ship, the Punisher
    Religion: Hist, Azura cult

    War: He used to support the Stormcloaks influenced by Windhelm, but due to the Nords' racism, he now stands for the Empire
    Diseases: He has very weak balance unless he is on ship that is balancing with waves, maybe due to the habit of being in the sea for too long

    Skills:
    • Sailing (Adept)
    • One-Handed (Expert)
    • Blocking (Adept)
    • Light Armor (Apprentice)
    • Rigging (Adept)
    • Sneaking (Apprentice)
    Personality: He is usually very brave and optimistic, and speaks with every new face he finds with ease. His boasting usually comes in friendly ways, and to avoid annoying people he talks to, Sails usually interacts with them with: How about you? or Do you agree?
    Equipment:
    • Stalhrim Light Gauntlets
    • Skaal coat, used to protect him from the harsh weather, not as a gift from the Skall
    • Slaughterfish scales' shield
    • An Ebony Scimitar, from his family's heritage
    • Stalhrim Light Boots
    Combat Style: Whenever on a ship, Sails despises any sort of shield, thinking they slow him down, and usually avoids being harmed through dodging or climbing up the mast. But on land, when speed isn't really important for Sails, he will gladly block blows with his shield, especially his toughest attacks to deal with: Arrows and bolts.

    Health: Medium
    Magicka: Low
    Stamina: High

    Likes: Sea, Fish, Sailing, Boats, Gold, Mudcrab
    Dislikes: Pirates, Archers, Land, Nords
    Acquaintances: Scouts-Many-Marshes (Windhelm), Nelur (Dark Slaughterfish)

    Bio: He was born in Solstheim and thus he has no dislike for Dunmer at all. Always working in the docks of Raven Rock, he learned to sail, fish, rig, pretty much anything there. During a storm, his crew, along with his father, were killed by the wreckage and he, somehow, survived. Found himself near Dawnstar and moved there, working as a crew member for hire. Later, he received the inheritance of his mother, realizing she died, he decided to stay in Skyrim for then on.
    Misc: Despite all his earnings, he never tried or intended to purchase a house. If argonians ask him why not hating dunmer, in front of one, he will get embarrassed, and will try not to make enemies from any side.

    Enemy Factions: Black-Blood Marauders, Blood Horkers

    Quotes:
    "Sails-Deep-Seas, captain of the Dark Slaughterfish."
    "I am Sails, captain of the Punisher."
    "Thank Azura I brought my coat..." (When walking on the tundra)
    "For the Hist!" (At the sight of a dangerous enemy)
    "Lovely sight..." (Usually near the ocean)
    "From my experience, a big chest was never bad..." (Near chests)

    Most hated foes: Pirates, Archers
    Weakness: He can't fight very fast on land
    Strength: His balance makes him almost impossible to hit on a ship or boat
    21.jpg
     

    Rayven

    Global Moderator
    Staff member
    These can't be in Fanfic. They're most appropriate to the RP section. I understand what you're trying to do, but you can put this anywhere and just link in your own sig to the post. Then, if you need to find these, just click on any post you've made and the link will be in your sig.
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    okay, then may I re-create this thread in the RP section?
     

    Bloodknight42

    Hircine's Champion
    Name: Godrel
    Race: Nord

    Gender: Male
    Class: Warrior/Assassin
    Faction: Dawnguard/Companions/Dark Brotherhood

    Looks: Pale skin, blind in left eye with accompanying facial scars caused by Vampire, long black hair, beard
    Age: 43

    War: Stormcloak Rebellion due to his hatred of the Aldmeri Dominion
    Diseases: Lycantropy

    Major Skills: One-handed, block, heavy armour
    Minor Skills: Sneak, archery

    Personality: Prefers to work alone, quiet and calculating
    Equipment: Dawnbreaker, Dawnguard armour set with Rune shield, Auriel’s Bow, Sunhallowed Elven Arrows

    Likes: His family, slaying Vampires, the Hunt, being a Werewolf
    Dislikes: Vampires (with the exception of Serana), Thalmor, being spited for having Lycantropy
    Acquaintances: Isran, Durak, Aela the Huntress

    Bio: Godrel grew up in Windhelm. At the age of twelve, his parents were attacked and killed by Vampires from the Volkihar Clan. This led to an extreme hatred of all Vampires. He was then raised by his uncle in Whiterun, regularly training with the Companions to hone his combat skills. After he was of age, he officially joined them and quickly became a member of the Inner Circle, gaining the gift of Lycantropy. With this new power he set out to slay all the Vampires he could, no matter the cost. He was approached by the Dark Brotherhood and he joined their family, focusing on Vampiric targets mainly, but with a few mortals here and there. After several years with both the Companions and Dark Brotherhood, he left to settle down with his wife Ysolda, and raise his two adopted children; Alesan and Sofie in his old family home of Hjerim. Years later he was approached by an old friend; Durak, now a member of the reformed Dawnguard. He eventually freed Serana; the daughter of Lord Harkon and later confronted him with her at his side, killing him together. He has since spent many years with her as his partner, killing the remaining Volkihar Clan…
    Enemy Factions: Volkihar Clan, Silver Hand

    Most hated foes: Vampires, Thalmor
    Weakness: His hatred for the undead clouds his judgement at times leaving him vulnerable, he is blind in his left eye, limiting vision
    Strength: His combat skills are at peak level, and his Werewolf powers are increased to their best by the Totems
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Godrel
    Race: Nord

    Gender: Male
    Class: Warrior/Assassin
    Faction: Dawnguard/Companions/Dark Brotherhood

    Looks: Pale skin, blind in left eye with accompanying facial scars caused by Vampire, long black hair, beard
    Age: 43

    War: Stormcloak Rebellion due to his hatred of the Aldmeri Dominion
    Diseases: Lycantropy

    Major Skills: One-handed, block, heavy armour
    Minor Skills: Sneak, archery

    Personality: Prefers to work alone, quiet and calculating
    Equipment: Dawnbreaker, Dawnguard armour set with Rune shield, Auriel’s Bow, Sunhallowed Elven Arrows

    Likes: His family, slaying Vampires, the Hunt, being a Werewolf
    Dislikes: Vampires (with the exception of Serana), Thalmor, being spited for having Lycantropy
    Acquaintances: Isran, Durak, Aela the Huntress

    Bio: Godrel grew up in Windhelm. At the age of twelve, his parents were attacked and killed by Vampires from the Volkihar Clan. This led to an extreme hatred of all Vampires. He was then raised by his uncle in Whiterun, regularly training with the Companions to hone his combat skills. After he was of age, he officially joined them and quickly became a member of the Inner Circle, gaining the gift of Lycantropy. With this new power he set out to slay all the Vampires he could, no matter the cost. He was approached by the Dark Brotherhood and he joined their family, focusing on Vampiric targets mainly, but with a few mortals here and there. After several years with both the Companions and Dark Brotherhood, he left to settle down with his wife Ysolda, and raise his two adopted children; Alesan and Sofie in his old family home of Hjerim. Years later he was approached by an old friend; Durak, now a member of the reformed Dawnguard. He eventually freed Serana; the daughter of Lord Harkon and later confronted him with her at his side, killing him together. He has since spent many years with her as his partner, killing the remaining Volkihar Clan…
    Enemy Factions: Volkihar Clan, Silver Hand

    Most hated foes: Vampires, Thalmor
    Weakness: His hatred for the undead clouds his judgement at times leaving him vulnerable, he is blind in his left eye, limiting vision
    Strength: His combat skills are at peak level, and his Werewolf powers are increased to their best by the Totems
    sorry, but i created this thread for my characters, i think you should try this link for your character card to be posted http://skyrimforum.com/threads/character-profiles.4020/
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    tnx, i dont think i ll make anymore for now, the argonians are a majority now, there are no altmer or dunmer to affect reptillianness, no other beastfolk either, they somewhat interact with each other in their past lives, yeah its «good enough
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Rahzeen
    Nicknames: N/A
    Race: Redguard
    Fame: Unknown
    Titles: None


    Gender: Male
    Class: Farmer
    Faction: Whiterun

    Looks: Dark skin, short brown hair, dark eyes
    Age: 30
    Marital Status: Married to Seya
    Current Residence: His farm, outside the Whiterun walls
    Religion: Eight Divines, unsure if Talos is or not a god

    War: Doesn't know about politics
    Diseases: He is a clostrophobic. Rahzeen is a werewolf of those who cannot control their power, and transforms when exposed to the moonlight. Even if the moonlight isn't shining him, he has a lot more strength during night time.

    Skills:
    • Planting (Adept)
    • Mining (Adept)
    • Wood Chopping (Apprentice)
    • Horse Breaking and Riding (Apprentice)
    • Light Armor (Novice)
    • Harvesting (Expert)
    • Animal Caring (Adept)
    Personality: Rahzeen is a common man, usually. He is happilly married, owns a farm, and gives quite a lesson about his work to the most experienced warriors. Even though he does that, sometimes he feels a void, a need for adventure and will go for anything he finds, if having someone to go with him. But he is very cowardly at the same time and can fear a lot of foes at the beginning. Rahzeen also cares little for coin and tries to be kind to anyone, as long as it is within reason. His main flaw is being very lazy, but Rahzeen accepts his need to work and doesn't complain, working for his life. It doesn't matter how low people may think his job is, he values honor and virtue, as well as honesty above anything else, being that the reason of why he doesn't exploit his occasional power.
    Equipment:
    • A fur armor that only covers him below the waist
    • A steel dagger
    • An axe to chop wood
    • A shovel, used as Two Handed weapon
    • A pickaxe assembled to be mounted, so it fits in his backpack when he explores a mine
    • Gloves
    • Boots
    Combat Style: If Rahzeen does not wish to flee, he will probably attack enemies with a shovel or dual wield a pickaxe and a woodcutter's axe. He doesn't have much of a strategy. Rahzeen will strike and strike and strike, until he flees or the enemy dies. On beast form, he won't have strategy either. Actually he has no control and attacks friend and foe in a powerful unaware rampage.

    Health: Low (Very High in Beast Form)
    Magicka: Low
    Stamina: Medium (High in Beast Form)

    Likes: Crops, Farming, Wolves, his Wife, Fresh Air, Animals, Adventures
    Dislikes: Bandits, Thieves, Worms, Bears, Working too Much, Bragging, People who Brag
    Acquaintances: Seya (Wife)

    Bio: Rahzeen farms for as long as he remembers, and lost his parents so young that he doesn't know their faces. He married Seya at the age of 17 and they both worked very hard to buy the farm they own. They had a daughter some time later, but when he went for a walk with her at night, the moon shined from a corner of a cloud and his blessing lost control. When he regained senses he had killed his daughter and was forced to say it was a wolf to his wife. No lies there, but his valuing for honesty lowered a bit that day.
    Misc: Since he has no cooking skills, Rahzeen usually eats raw vegetables he farms, and their quality is enough for him to get nourishment. His disease is known for as long as he can remember, and unless he is about to adventure with someone, he'll rather not revealing it. Even when he is turned into a werewolf, he has no control over himself and attacks anyone, friend or foe, in sight.

    Enemy Factions: Silver Hand

    Quotes:
    "Did you see my shovel?"
    "Die, demon!" (Fighting a vampire)
    "That means a farm that won't be pillaged." (After clearing a bandit hideout)
    "That looks familiar..." (Seeing a werewolf transformation)
    "Run, run, ruuuuun!" (Upon being defeated and fleeing)
    "Victory!" (After killing a tough enemy)

    Most hated foes: Bandits
    Weakness: Rahzeen is vary cowardly and loses his desire to venture quite quickly
    Strength: While being quite a weakling during the day, during the night time he is usually quite strong. When the moons aren't out, he doesn't transform, but wins a supernatural strengthm being once capable of decapitating a thief who broke in his house with his shovel
    21.jpg
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: J'Zengo
    Nicknames: None
    Race: Khajiit
    Fame: Unknown
    Titles: Keeper of the Hallucination Sanctuary


    Gender: Male
    Class: Hermit
    Faction: None

    Looks: Grey fur, pointy ears and deep blue eyes. Thin whiskers branch from his nose
    Age: Unknown
    Marital Status: Single
    Current Residence: His abandon, the temple or as he calls it, the Hallucination Sanctuary
    Religion: Knows the gods exist, but doesn't devote himself to any.

    War: No side
    Diseases: J'Zengo has hallucinations and very weak social skills. Not mad, oddly enough, he appears to be in the edge of sanity, morality, madness and thievery. His lack of human contact made him be unable to speak very much. Mostly, his communication is made between sylabs. (Gri-tings... for example)

    Skills:
    • Enchanting (Adept)
    • Smithing (Adept)
    • Illusion (Expert)
    • Destruction (Apprentice)
    • Alteration (Expert)
    • Blocking (Adept)
    • One-Handed (Apprentice)
    Personality: J'Zengo has such a powerful distaste for people he hardly manages to say two good sentences in a row when in social situations. Despite not being evil, he usually cannot help but fail in any situation that requires a good speech or persuasion.
    Equipment:
    • A set of dark robes, resembling Greybeard robes, despite having no connections to them
    • A staff on his back he forged. It casts fireballs repeatedly, yet with little strength. The staff has a sharpened tip where its base should be, if anyone gets too close.
    • Petty Soul gems, hanging around his torso as a guerrilla ammo style
    • Mixed Alteration and Illusion spells, which can turn people into animals, and make them behave like them. Sometimes, the spell goes wrong and it can turn enemies into stronger creatures.
    Combat Style: J'Zengo is commonly seen as that opponent who is completely impossible to predict. His staff wears enemies off most commonly after he turns them into mudcrabs, chickens or foxes. Other than that, he is awfully well adapted to melee damage, and developed a technique of staff blocking, plus spear piercing.

    Health: Medium
    Magicka: High
    Stamina: Medium

    Likes: Creativity, Hallucinations, Escaping the real world, Loneliness, Warm Places
    Dislikes: Boring People, Being dragged back from his imagination, Crowds, Cold, Prisons
    Acquaintances: None

    Bio: Little is known. J'Zengo has somehow brought himself up as a cub inside a chamber in a temple at a mountain, remote from humans. Somehow he kept himself alive... As he grew, his social skills became more and more disabled, until finally he had lost complete control over his mind to try and make friends. He learned to talk in adult age, very hardly, with little known social skills further than greeting, when he first found other humans
    Misc: When they say being kept away from human interactions is the most cruel punishment ever, J'Zengo will be the best arguement one can use. He cannot socialize for being away from civilization, his hallucinations come from being nearly driven to madness with little to do up there in the Temple and his dislike and distrust for human touch or intention makes one pity his soul. Even after a building holding the memories of such horrors he faced, J'Zengo still sleeps there and forges staffs there as well.

    Enemy Factions: None

    Quotes:
    "By the twin moons!" (Upon sight of a dangerous enemy)
    "Bye bye!" (When killing an enemy)
    "Am I actually imagining this?" (When a werewolf or a vampire transforms)
    "Come on, wake up!" (At the sight of a corpse)
    "Don't call J'Zengo carpet!"
    "This is just like the dreams of my earlier years..." (In front of a big ruin or an impressive sight)

    Most hated foes: Humans
    Weakness: Sometimes he can see more than the actual number of enemies and begin attacking thin air
    Strength: He made up a technique of blocking with a staff, which makes him a powerful battle mage
    26.jpg
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Harte Gesetz
    Nicknames: The Raw Officer, Harte
    Race: Nord
    Fame: Known among bandits as a cold blooded guard, fearsome bounty hunter
    Titles: Guard of all holds

    Gender: Male
    Class: Bounty Hunter
    Faction: Guards

    Looks: Bald, with many scars that can be located anywhere from his eyebrows to above the waist
    Age: 29

    Marital Status: Single
    Current Residence: Sleeps in any cleared hideout or barracks in any city
    Religion: None

    War: No side
    Diseases: He has xenophobia of khajiit and argonians mostly, because of their usual turning into thievery and smuggling. Completely unaware that attitude makes them choose their lives that way, he hates beastfolk deeply.

    Skills:
    • Axe throwing (Expert)
    • Light Armor (Adept)
    • One Handed (Adept)
    • Rope (Able to make knots to hung criminals and to hogtie them)
    Personality: Harte has a loyalty to the law that is beyond what used to be humanly possible. If he had a wife and she committed a crime, he would hang her for sure. No one shall speak badly about the chosen laws. He has no trouble if they spit in the name of whatever Jarl is in charge, but Harte will always defend the laws he enforces. Other than that, he usually likes to terrify most bandits before getting inside their forts. His reputation follows him and makes most of the criminals lose hope before even managing to fight him.
    Equipment:
    • Glass sword with no enchantment
    • Falkreath guard cuirass, as well as their helmet, occasionally worn
    • Fur gloves and boots
    • A whole belt full of forsworn tomahawks, loot from one of his jobs in Markarth
    • A rope for quick executions
    • Handcuffs, at least two pairs in his satchel
    • A small wooden club for interrogations

    Combat Style: Harte is a remarkably tough man. He has very high resistance to combat damage and can prove to be very challenging in ranged combat, as well as in melee fighting. His choices when encountering bandit chiefs rarely turn to sparing him, being his usual habit to hogtie them, just so that he can chop off their head inside their fort. However, if fighting someone NOT to the death, he will hogtie them as a finishing move to end the spar.

    Health: Extremelly High
    Magicka: Very Low
    Stamina: High

    Likes: Drinking, Killing bandits, Clearing Hideouts, Women (as long as they don’t become a pain in the neck)
    Dislikes: Bandits, Followers, Thieves, Assassins
    Acquaintances: None

    Bio: Harte’s father abandoned his mother after the unwanted gift of his existence. She hated men ever since and tried to turn Harte into her opinion. Her over repeated words only worked in him disliking women who spoke too much. A rapist then tried to attack his mother, but Harte managed to attack him from behind with a rope and slowly take out his oxygen until he was dead. To avoid any innocent to suffer like his mother would, he became a guard, but eventually started taking out bounty quests to put down as many criminals as he could. Harte has developed some sort of bloodlust if killing lawless mutts and tends to laugh when chasing and fighting criminals, which only weakens their ego inside.
    Misc: Despite disliking women who fail to remain silent long enough, Harte tends to be somewhat of a feminist when women are oppressed, changing from a rude douchebag to a pure gentleman.

    Enemy Factions: Bandits

    Quotes:
    "After the third raid on the same fort, most bandits seem to figure out I am there for their lives, not the gold."
    "I come accompanied by death!" (When entering a bandit hideout)
    "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" (Fighting bandits)
    "I can already see a rope ‘round your neck…" (Speaking to people with Guild or Brotherhood armor)
    "Catch!" (Throwing a tomahawk)
    "Animal cruelty? How many years of jail do you get? Bah, I will just kill you…"(If a domesticated animal is harmed)

    Most hated foes: Criminals
    Weakness: He has no magic protection, and despite making good use of his armor, he won’t be able to protect himself from spells.
    Strength: His confidence makes most enemies tremble, if not all, while he battles
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name:Reeve Unsterblich
    Nicknames:He is mostly called Mr.Unsterblich
    Race:Breton
    Fame:Widely known by the people with decent levels of culture
    Titles:Skyrim researcher

    Gender:Male
    Class:Historian
    Faction:Unsterblich Expedition

    Looks:Long dark hair that waterfalls from his head, blue eyes and no war paint, skinny and moderately tall.
    Age:Unknown
    Marital Status:Single
    Current Residence:Sets camps in the wilderness near any ruins
    Religion:Eight Divines, not very devote

    War:The leader of the Stormcloaks seems quite interested in becoming High King, despite having the justest cause. On the other hand, the Empire has kept the Thalmor away from the province for long and they appear to be right geographically speaking. Speaking of that, Skyrim has never welcomed many outsiders, a trait that most nords should erase. But oppressing someone’s religion can be so unfair. If there was a side at the war that could combine freedom of religion with racial equality, that side would undoubtedly defeat anything in its path. Unfortunately, given the poor choices we have, it would be most advisable for both sides to… (most people simply stop listening after this part)
    Diseases:Mr. Unsterblich is cursed with immortality. He doesn’t wish to have it, and it equals to an endless torture, for a man who feels a lot of main, since he isn’t very tough himself. He is unable of taking advantage of his curse, unless if serving as a bait for anyone else to kill his attacker.

    Skills:

    ·Speechcraft (Expert)
    ·One Handed (Apprentice)
    ·Botany (Moderate knowledge)
    ·Biology (Expert, after seeing his own body cut open more times than he can count, he had to heal himself to stop the pain somehow. Plus, who else would re-sew his own head when he was decapitated.

    Personality:He can be exuberant sometimes. Even if so, his friendliness never seems to fade away, making him a forgiving tolerant man when being insulted. He seldom wrongs people with his curse, bragging about being able to take any punch, mostly fearing pain, but also with some sense of honor.

    Equipment:

    ·An ancient nord sword, one of his first findings
    ·A pickaxe when needing to dig down a path in ruins
    ·Blue or red robes (vary)
    ·May or may not wear hood and gloves
    ·Fine boots

    Combat Style:Mr. Unsterblich doesn’t last very long in a fight. When he is killed he usually remains down on the floor resting and getting used to the pain for a few seconds, and then stands up sews his wound and frightens any enemy that thinks rationally. If the enemy doesn’t think, he is willing to die over and over again until he tires himself out and runs off.

    Health: Low
    Magicka: Low
    Stamina: Medium

    Likes:History, Knowledge, Elder Scrolls, Dwemer Research, Falmer Culture
    Dislikes:Pain, Bleeding, Sharp things, Noise, Undead
    Acquaintances:Eksplosiver (Unsterblich expedition)

    Bio:Born in Cyrodiil, Mr. Unsterblich was cursed by the gods with immortality for an unknown reason. Later in his life, he came up with the theory that maybe the gods had predicted he would not be devoted to any of them and had a prevenge on him. Unsterblich managed to die in many ways, to his parents’ shock. He cut his finger once, accidentally, was run over by a bull, kicked by a horse, eviscerated and decapitated by bandits, hung, castrated, thrown out of a cliff or even blown up by Eksplosiver’s powder. Somehow, after having to see the doctors tend his wounds over and over again, he managed to learn a lot about biology and now heals himself in case of any injury. If someone else is hurt… well his medical skills rarely extend to any non-lethal wound. Which means on other words he is most likely the only being he ever treats. Further down the road, he became a scholar in the imperial province, denied by many in his work. He met Eksplosiver being kicked out of a posse for being too insane and nearly killing the whole group in a cave, and after two drinks, they had become friends. With little in Cyrodiil after the unavoidable death of his mortal parents, Unsterblich moved to Skyrim with Eksplosiver’s toys and now searches for historical artifacts, ruins. Whatever he finds that has cultural value.
    Misc:Despite his work, Unsterblich is no brilliant man. In fact, he is simply an average minded Breton that worked hard on his study and managed to achieve a lot of knowledge.

    Enemy Factions:None

    Quotes:
    "What a marvel! Clever dwarves..." (Near animunculi or inside a dwarven ruin)
    "Sew me! Sew me!" (With his head severed)
    "Where did I leave my arm/leg?" (Looking for his respective members)
    "Simply... amazing..." (Seeing a dragon priest, wispmother, or enormous ruin)
    "How Falmer tamed the Chaurus remains a mistery to us all." (In a falmer camp)
    "Despite their guttural language, we must admit they are moderately smart." (Near a giant camp)
    "Daaaaaaagh!" (Losing a part of his body, drawing blood)
    "How I envy you sometimes..." (Finding a corpse)

    Most hated foes:Undead and frostbite spiders that usually guard the ruins he visits, he would hate animunculi, but their marvelous construction simply amazes him.
    Weakness:Anything can take him out, unless he has a lucky hit with his sword.
    Strength:Nobody really defeats him, in the end.
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Sentines Uacuatur, although everyone calls him Eksplosiver
    Nicknames: Eksplosiver
    Race: Imperial
    Fame: Unknown
    Titles: None

    Gender: Male
    Class: Miner/Mercenary
    Faction: Unsterblich Expedition

    Looks: Very muscled, dark eyes with short blonde hair army style
    Age: Around 30
    Marital Status: Widower
    Current Residence: Sets camps in the wilderness near any ruins
    Religion: Doesn't worship the divines, but recognizes their existance and superiority

    War: Neutral
    Diseases: Eksplosiver is lightly pyromaniac and has a small obsession with explosions and demolitions

    Skills:
    • Heavy Armor (Adept)
    • Destruction (Apprentice)
    • Bomb Hurling (Expert)
    • Explosive Planting (Expert)
    • Conjuration (Apprentice)
    Personality: Eksplosiver has never had much trouble talking to people. It's making new friends his real difficulty. Being really strange and insanely urging to see things blow up or burn, and mostly failing to not tell it to anyone, doesn't help at all in socialization.

    Equipment:
    • A complete set of Steel Plate Armor
    • Explosive flaming spiders scrolls
    • A spell to conjure a flaming familiar
    • Dozens of matches around his belt
    • Small red tubes full of dwarven oil, mammoth tusk powder and dragon tongue sap, which when ignited explode
    • At least three scrolls to make a weaker variant of the fire storm.
    • A stronger variant of flames
    • Small bulbs full of glow dust and fire salts, as well as imported powder from Elseweyr
    • Sometimes, bags full of powder, ingredients and coal
    • Bottles of oil
    • Small tight bags that once someone stomps on them, blow up
    Combat Style: As noisy as possible, as chaotic as well, Eksplosiver usually begins conjuring a suicidal familiar and then setting his enemies on fire. After the explosion he gains some distance and throws whatever explosives he finds. If the enemy is close, he throws oil or raw powder into the ground and ignites it.

    Health: High
    Magicka: High
    Stamina: Medium

    Likes: Explosions, fires, demolition, chaos, bombs
    Dislikes:Grumpy people, arrogance, fear
    Acquaintances: Mr.Unsterblich(Unsterblich expedition)

    Bio: Eksplosiver was born in Cyrodiil, son of a drunkard and a whore. His father didn't stay with his mother the night after he began to exist, while she only had him due to not knowing any method to stop him from being born. She always "worked hard", leaving him alone in her house while she was at the brothel. That was where Eksplosiver discovered the marvels of fire. Torches, fireplaces, everything would serve as purpose. One day, amused burning roadside plants, Eksplosiver's eyes were caught by a carriage loaded with barrels, each full of powder. The wooden wheel stopped right on one of the flaming plants as the driver unloaded the first keg. When he returned, the fire had spread all over the carriage and the powder had explosded. There was his new passion. Then he devoted himself to mercenary work and dangerously killed dozens of enemies. Until an expedition was gathered to go to Skyrim. Alftand. He tried to join up, but his skills were too dangerous and they refused to let him in. Right after his neglection, a strange breton broke words with him, invited him for a drink, and they became friends. His name was Unsterblich, and his research was about history in Skyrim. When he moved there, Eksplosiver didn't need to think much about it to decide to go as well.
    Misc: He is one of the few people that can call Unsterblich by Reeve without having him offended. His violent natural personality is very fit for dungeon clearing, making him a great advisable ally for an immortal researcher.
    Enemy Factions: None

    Quotes:
    "Kaboom!" (During an explosion)
    "Fire in the hole!" (While throwing something)
    "Is it locked? I have the cure for that!" (Near doors)
    "Let's tear this place down!" (Close to low quality buildings)
    "Go, my hellish pup!" (Conjuring a flaming familiar)
    "Watch it burn..." (When an enemy or object is on fire)
    "I'd go a little further..." (When an enemy runs away)

    Most hated foes:Ranged enemies that manage to get far enough from his explosions
    Weakness: He, as most who deal that kind of high damage, is somewhat deaf, but not much
    Strength: With such a high power in his hands, little withstand the first strike
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Thalia Cavalletto
    Nicknames: None
    Race: Nord/Imperial
    Fame: Nobody acknowledges her existence
    Alignment: Neutral

    Gender: Female
    Class: Thief
    Faction: None

    Looks: Thalia has long blonde hair that is wavy and easily reaches her shoulders. Her eyes are grey and she has small red lips, which fit with her small nose.
    Age: 28
    Marital Status: Single
    Current Residence: A cave below Dragon Bridge, it is highly furnished and no cartographer knows of its existence
    Religion: Nocturnal Worship

    War: Neutral
    Diseases: Her mental condition is a lot similar to a kleptomaniac’s, though she does it for greed, other than the rush and act of stealing

    Skills:
    · Sneak (Master)
    · Lockpicking (Expert)
    · Alchemy (Expert)
    · Her aim is similar to that of an adept archer, though she fires darts instead of arrows
    · Pickpocket (Apprentice)

    Personality: Thalia is cunning, very discrete and clever. Her introverted personality makes her not feel comfortable around people and wanting to be preferably alone. Although she has her own thoughts and opinions, she is never comfortable to reveal them and rarely trusts people. Thus, there is also the need to speak to people to trust them, something she rarely does and makes trust even harder to achieve. Despite disliking communication and being called a being with social needs, she understands that when cooperation is a must, unpleasant things like long talks must be done.

    Equipment:
    · A dark purple cape with no hood
    · Golden goggles that are either on her head or put. They have no effect
    · A dwemer drill used to go through glass or steel with no noise
    · Poisonous darts and a straw to fire them. The poison is weak and only stuns the enemies hit by it with hallucinations and dizziness
    · Lockpicks, never broken since her childhood
    · Spikes in her gloves and boots, used to climb up buildings
    · A rope with a hook, used to get down from high spots and to climb to them as well
    Spells: N/A
    Powers: N/A
    Combat Style: Thalia never felt the need to fight, and that made her unfit for battle. She has never taken a life and despite the many sharp things in her inventory, no blood was spilled in her criminal life.

    Health: Medium
    Magicka: Low
    Stamina: High

    Likes: Gold, Peace, Solitude (not the city), Silence, Darkness, Feeling Unseen
    Dislikes: People, Social Contact, Exposure, Men who flirt with her, Idiots, which is the common label for everybody when she first meets them, Arrogance
    Acquaintances: None

    Bio: Little to nothing is clear about her past. She was born in a city, the name was lost long ago, in Skyrim. Her father was a drunkard who flirted with all the women, which made her dislike any romantic approach towards her. Cavalletto tried to help her mother in chores, until she was brutally beaten and raped by her own husband in a drunken rage. When he tried to do the same to his daughter, she fled from home and begun her life on the streets. After some years running on rooftops and clearing whole basements of valuables, a letter of inheritance from both her parents was given to Thalia. Her father died of overindulgence in alcohol while her mother had a natural death. Never having a purpose, and with an inheritance incredibly low thanks to the burst in alcohol from her father, Thalia kept emptying entire buildings, and after being done with shacks and mansions, she begun robbing temples and castles. From the little everyone saw of her, it was reduced to glimpses of a mysterious blonde woman, whose eye color couldn’t be seen thanks to her goggles, who never said more than two words and always carried a lot of money. Her mastery in theft became so divinely good that the only evidence of her existence was the empty strongbox that she cracked open once a day in different places.
    Misc:
    · The reason why Thalia dislikes being flirted with is her hatred for her father.
    · She only keeps the unbroken lockpicks since her early years as a matter of challenge, because they are easier to break. Drawing that line, her proficiency increases and leaves less room for mistakes.
    · The only person who knows her name seems to be an investigator from Whiterun called Harte Gesetz.
    · She is very flexible, able to split her legs in 180º, dodge arrows by curving her spine backwards, slide down and climb up a rope and hang upside down from her knees in a trapdoor.
    Enemy Factions: Guards

    Most hated foes: None, she understands their reason for pursuing her
    Weakness: She cannot fight, nor even make an enemy bleed, and lacks experience in battle.
    Strength: Thalia is anonymous, unstoppable on rooftops, very fast and effective, which makes her an excellent choice for various different jobs.

    Description: Harte Gesetz’s journal

    … Although I know it is important to crack this case, my biggest concern is about Thalia Cavalletto. I found her a few weeks ago and pursued her through countless roofs, hoping she would fall or stop, but nothing. When I finally thought I had cornered her, she introduced herself, bowed when I said she had a good run, and dived into a pile of hay. I still fired a few bolts at it but it was all to no avail. She ran away, mocking my unceasing fire, and left me on that roof with no closed case. The only clues she leaves are the empty safes and drilled walls, and nobody but me seems to know she exists. I will get her… But first, I shoud catch that murderer…
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Koletis Tier
    Nicknames: None
    Race: Nord/Draugr
    Fame: Slightly Rumored as a beast of a fighter
    Alignment: Evil

    Gender: Male
    Class: Deathlord
    Faction: None

    Looks: Koletis is very muscled, even for a draugr and has a frightening look. His right arm is skeletal, though a lot stronger than his other muscled limbs. Unlike other draugr, his eyes glow with a weak red tint instead of the crystal blue. He has no hair and a few wrinkles, though less noticeable on him than other undead. His skin is not as pale as it is on the other abominations and he has yellow teeth.
    Age: Unknown
    Marital Status: ----------
    Current Residence: ----------
    Religion: Reveres Dragon Priests

    War: -----------
    Diseases: ------------

    Skills:
    • Heavy Armor (Master)
    • One Handed (Expert)
    • Block (Expert)
    Personality: Without a mind, he doesn’t fear death. Without a soul, he doesn’t mind killing. – The Necromancer who woke Koletis from his Slumber
    Koletis is brutal and merciless, not caring about the pain of others a single bit. In fact, during intense battles, he forgets the others do feel pain as well, which can cause him to be unnecessarily ruthless and cruel. He lacks kindness and feels no remorse for his deeds, tending to forget about them not long afterwards. His only objective is to seek the woman that woke him up to regain a purpose, and it doesn’t matter how many enemies he has to kneel down, how many spines he needs to brake, how many nails he needs to rip from fingers, how many people are forced to eat their own flesh, for him to get where he wishes to get. Even though he seems to have lost all the human traits he previously had, Koletis knows when and where to behave, and doesn’t start conflicts in cities unless it is really necessary, possibly due to once being among nords civilly.
    Equipment:
    • Ancient Nord Armor, tangled with his now exposed ribcage, impossible to remove or take out. On the back, it has many chains, which can be used as a whip or a weapon to strangle his enemies. Among all these chains, there is one that instead of being buried in steel is buried in his flesh, and if pulled by someone else, it automatically puts Koletis under their command like a homing missile. The only problem is… to get there.
    • Ancient Nord Helmet, his skull has a crack of which blood came out once, and the gore has stuck the helmet to his head. A few chains also hang from the helmet.
    • Ancient Nord Boots, with some moss growing on them by their age
    • A Falconer’s Glove on his left hand
    • A ring with three emeralds on the skeletal right one, it enhances all his three main skills
    • An ebony war axe, dull enough to be used as a club
    • An ebony shield nearly destroyed after so many battles
    Spells: N/A
    Powers:
    • Steel Burst – When Koletis is knocked down during a battle, his countless chains on the armor gain life and pursue his enemies, hanging them and strangling them cruelly as he regains some strength. If someone is unlucky enough to remain alive while only the chains are against him, he or she will have to escape from both Koletis and his steely serpents.
    • Call Eeok – If outside, Koletis can raise his left arm and call his undead eagle, Eeok to battle. Its claws can blind a foe and it is strong enough to make them fall on the ground. While, unlike Koletis, being immortal, Eeok, when defeated in combat, will shatter as a pile of bones and feathers and take a long time to rebuild herself and follow her master again.
    Combat Style: With a half shut down brain always forgetting about the occasional pain others might feel, Koletis became a rather inhuman fighter. He seeks to defeat his enemies no matter how it goes or what it costs him. If the price is setting himself on fire to kill his foe, then he shall do so. Being usually a melee fighter, the draugr prefers to strike ruthlessly with no visible end his foes with his rusty dull axe until he is able to see their skulls, just like they see his. If an enemy is enjoying his clubbing treatment too much, Koletis will either use his chains or his right hand or even call his undead eagle, and it can only get worse from then on…

    Health: Extremely High
    Magicka: Very Low
    Stamina: Above Average

    Likes: Feeling his enemies’ fear, Death, Inflicting Pain, Combat
    Dislikes: People, Arrogance, Feelings of Humanity, Forsworn, Sunlight, Silver
    Acquaintances: Eeok, his pet eagle, it died the same day he did and somehow was brought back like he was. She has a grey head and burnt feathers on the wings, while her thorax is skeletal, and so are her claws. Its tail is the only part that still holds some living beauty, having untouched feathers that are surprisingly clean.

    Bio: Koletis, despite what all the 'wimps' that fight him say, was once a honorable, almost merciful nord. He followed Ulfric’s commands and battled the forsworn to regain Markarth. Unfortunately, he didn’t know that day would be when both he and Eeok would die. The nords buried him in the Reach after the war was won, and he later figured out that the reason why he decomposed so quicky was because his burial spot was near a shrine of Namira, and the decomposition rate around it was a lot quicker. An unknown female necromancer with a dark hood opened his coffin, where all his battle belongings, including Eeok, were symbolically, and did not only revive him, but kill all the humanity inside him and give him a strange ring that empowered him more after every battle. But unlike what he expected, she disappeared and left Koletis roaming with no purpose or goal, and forced him to create an objective: Find his raiser.
    Misc:
    • Koletis doesn’t have the tip of his left pinky
    • Thanks to his tongue being still intact, Koletis can feel the taste of food, though he doesn’t need to eat because he has no stomach. It is also thanks to this characteristic that he can talk
    • If Koletis goes to a deep portion of water, he will fall to the depths and walk there with no need for air
    • Lacking lungs, Koletis cannot drown or be hung, though most of his attacks aren’t close to inhumanly strong since his stamina isn’t as good as it was when he was once alive
    • Since most of his brain is deactivated, Koletis tends to forget many small facts and only remember trivial things: faces, locations, movements and tastes, for example.
    Enemy Factions: Forsworn
    Most hated foes: Forsworn

    Weakness: His hidden leash can make him a temporary pet if found, and his legs are useless during walks and sprints.
    Strength: He plants fear and feels none, has no mercy and no concern about the pain of others. Having many heard of his combat style, it is likely that his enemies will fear him before even battling.

    Description: Adventurer’s thoughts
    We did it! It took the five of us but we did it! That monster is finally dead… Three of my friends died fighting it, and once those hellish chains exploded out of its armor, my last one was hung. I am the only one left. One of the chains got my foot but I should free myself soon. I am glad we purged this world from such a horror as that… Oh Gods! It is standing back up! How?!
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Name: Blyeon (Bli-é-on)
    Nicknames: None
    Race: Nord
    Fame: Unknown
    Alignment: Chaotic Evil

    Gender: Male
    Class: Close Range Powerhouse
    Faction: None
    Blyeon.png I drew this, can't do better, don't judge... The picture is indeed owned by me!
    Looks: Ridiculously tall. Even though it is unlikely for him to ever take off his hood, below it lies a pale face, with only a functional blue eye, being the left blind one replaced by a fake blue gem with no value. It is unknown how many scars are scattered across his body, but not even his lips, nose and eyebrows were spared of those markings.

    Age: Unknown
    Marital Status: Single, alone
    Current Residence: None
    Religion: He is aware of the existence of Arkay, the God of Death, as well as Daedra, wanting a chance to defy them in any way possible

    War: Neutral
    Diseases: Blindness in one eye and depression

    Skills: Blyeon is very dangerous once he gets near his opponents. Under his robes, he keeps many heavy chains with unknown length, which he can use to lash his foes or hang them. If he instead gets out of his sleeve a large iron ball, he will most likely fling it like a morning star. Alternatively, he might use his scythe as fearsomely to sweep whoever stands in his path. Still, what he has in the offensive strength, he lacks in social or magic strength.

    Personality: Blyeon is cold and distant most of the times, rarely caring much for the well-being of those near him. Still, he recognizes the meaning of teamwork and will protect the allies if he actually finds a use to them. Other than that, he is also brutal and carefree about feelings, finding them to be what makes humans weak. He believes in achieving the end he seeks no matter what, and will pursue a vengeance for as long as he breathes. He won't rest at all costs until feeling fullfilled. Still, he is capable of pretending he cares to use others as means to his ends, and won't give away his true personality so soon.

    Equipment:
    • Grey robes with long sleeves and a hood that shadows his face completely
    • A scythe that has a light blue blade, with a few iron rings around the wooden pole. At its bottom, a small crystal blue sting allows him to execute foes when they're down. If spun above his head, the scythe's blade is loosened, hanging to its pole by a thick chain, allowing Blyeon to do some short ranged attacks instead of melee
    • A leather vest behind the robes that protects from mild damage
    • Countless chains, wrapped around his wrists, neck, chest, shins and waist
    • A soul gem with his dog, Tears' soul inside
    Spells: N/A
    Powers:
    • Blyeon's Torment - Blyeon can bury his scythe on the ground and make the blade burst below his enemies after a few seconds, dealing an astonishing ammount of damage that is very hard to predict or block. This consumes stamina, as the chains move around his body, cut his breathing and tire him
    • Tear them Apart! - Tears' ghostly figure explodes out of Oblivion when Blyeon clashes his staff against the ground, defying the Daedra themselves, and mauls any enemy he finds. It is in vain, for the beast's remains are not capable of showing love, merely recognizing its master as the superior
    Combat Style: Blyeon is able to take some damage, and deal a threatening amount of it at the same time in close range. He is a force to be reckoned with once he raises his scythe, and ranged weaponry is advisable to fight him off. When the need to fight enemies at long distances bursts, he will try to tangle his chains around their legs and drag them closer to him.

    Health: High
    Magicka: Low
    Stamina: Above Average

    Likes: Animals, Vengeance, Inflicting pain on those he hates, Death, Meditating
    Dislikes: Daedra and their worshippers, Animal Cruelty, Unnecessary suffering, Most People
    Acquaintances: None, always alone

    Bio: Blyeon's story, like many others, began when he was a lovable youngster that earned his bread of every day. He had a dog called Tears, belonging to his dead father, being his truthful companion, the only friend he had, other than his wife and two girls. Tears was old, but kept him company while Blyeon used his scythe to gather wheat from his prosperous fields. Far away, he could see a large structure made of rock, and he had never figured out what it was, thanks to the distance. One day, all would change. His dog started running with a speed he hadn't seen with it a long time ago, towards the strange building. Blyeon's two legs hardly kept up with the canine's four, so his last sight of the mutt was when it entered the surprisingly unlocked doors of the temple. His steps became weaker, as he approached the building, and soon he would be allowed to her a sinister chanting. It became more hostile as he approached, scarier and actually hurting his soul.

    At first, he could hear Tears barking, which encouraged him to enter the strange castle. But a few steps later, he would come to regret that choice. The door behind him closed and locked itself once he was far enough inside. The dog's only noise heard afterwards was a continous whine that got weaker at every second. After a big run down a few marble stairs, he came to a basement to find many worshippers of Molag Bal, being their leader about to stab his dog with a killing blow through its heart.

    A strange rage consumed Blyeon right then. It was more than likely that filthy Daedra had something to do with it. Blyeon raised his staff and scythed his way through the many worshippers that tried to kill him with daggers and spells. Once even the Daedric champion had fallen, Molag spoke to him, insulting his temptation to rage. Then he would find himself trapped between four walls, all covered in a dark thick liquid. Soon, out of that same substance, came sharp chains against his body, scarring him permanently everywhere in his body. His last sight would be himself, dying, trying desperately to grab the soul gem where his dog would be trapped in.

    Once he woke up, he was no longer himself, despite being still at the temple. Taking off the mysterious hood that someone had put on him pained him unbearably, and there were chains circling around his limbs like snakes, that moved according to his thoughts and desires. All his scars hurt him.

    He managed to crawl back to his house and find his wife and daughters afraid of him, thinking Blyeon being a complete stranger to them. Out of the same rage that allowed him to kill the other worshippers, Blyeon uncontrollably killed them three, and fell to his knees, crying afterwards.

    It took him long to recover from the loss, but once he did so, Blyeon devoted his life to persecuting Daedra worshippers and killing their champions, causing the gods themselves to suffer a little at those losses.

    Once he was at the inn of Solitude, Blyeon found a young girl with a necklace, which he immediatly recognized as daedric origin, and tried to fake his interest in helping her, hoping it would lead him to a Daedric Prince to make him or her pay
    Misc:
    • Blyeon hates Molag Bal the most, among all the Daedra
    • He has nightmares of his family and Tears dying in front of him, powerless to stop it, so he meditates instead of sleeping, using the chains as legs while 'levitating'.
    • The blue material his blade is made of is aproximately as hard as a mineral between orcish and stalhrim
    • Blyeon is capable of distinguishing a daedric artifact on sight
    Enemy Factions: Daedra cults

    Most hated foes: Daedric beings
    Weakness: His line of sight is reduced and he has not many defenses against ranged foes
    Strength: Blyeon shows no mercy, and hates whoever opposes him, making him deliver every blow with the same terminating force

    Description: Molag Bal, upon setting his minions after Blyeon
    Blyeon is the degenerate that defiled many of my shrines. It is not punishment, but retribution. Bring him to Neptilon, my champion, and let his blade end his defiance once and for all. No man that defies Molag Bal shall live while my orders of dominion are burdened by my followers!
    Color: "Turn around... and feel my agony!"
     

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