CapObvious
A Rotten Scroungeral
Name: Falco Laran
Alias: N/A
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Race: Imperial + Breton
Class: Archer | Trapper
Laterality: Right Handed
Sexuality: Straight
Marital Status: Single
Family: All deceased
Properties: None
Affiliations: Private merc outfit (All now deceased)
Afflictions: Depression, Some form of PTS
Religion: 9 Divines
Skills: Archery, Sneak, Destruction, Illusion, Alteration
Appearance
Height: 6'2
Build: Lean, Athletic
Eyes: Pale green
Skin tone: White
Hair Style: Short
Hair Color: Mahogany
Scars: Many small scars. Only noticeable scar on his forehead, past is hairline above his left eye, tracing down close to his right eye.
Tattoos: N/A
Piercings: N/A
Personality
Description: He is seemingly good humored, able to get along with most others. Sometimes he can be too focused on humor, but never when he is on the job. When it's time to work, he becomes almost another person. Quiet, observant. His eyes always searching for his target, prey, or opponent. His focus is unshakable, unless things become too much to bear, then he begin's to become worried, to the point where he becomes protective of those around him, worried that history will repeat itself.
At night, he becomes quiet, aloof. When in a safe place, he hides away until morning, and will act as if nothing happened. If questioned, he will ignore or deny it ever happened, usually followed by a humorous quip.
Temper: Medium/Short -He is calm and collected in most spots, but if he believes someone is in danger, he will become pushy, rude, or at his worst, violent. Whatever it takes to keep them alive. If someone is being reckless, he will snap a little quicker.
Outlook: Pretty Good to Poor - Changes frequently
Honor: Good
Alignment: Neutral Good to Chaotic good.
Good: Friendly, Loyal, Observant, Intelligent, Strategic, Caring, Good-Humored
Bad: Sarcastic, Stubborn, Can become over-protective, can become violent if pushed.
Likes: Runes, Archery, Particular women, Silence, a good laugh.
Dislikes: Disregard for safety, Arrogance, Foolishness on the battlefield.
Fears: Being surrounded, losing friends in battle, Death.
Habits: Popping his fingers
Goals: Atone for his failures, Avenge those that were lost.
Gear & Fighting Style
Head: N/A
Chest: Black jacket with fur-lined collar, harnessed around the stained brown leather shoulders and a similarly colored Leather chest plate
Arms: Leather bracers with small steel ornamentation
Waist: Leather based belt, is capable of holding small items of importance.
Legs: Black pants, comfortable to climb in
Feet: Brown Leather Boots, same ornamentation as on bracers.
Every Day Carry: His bow and quiver, a shortsword (family heirloom) A novel, the title varying. He reads through them rather swiftly. Other than his gear, only a small drawn picure of a group of people, which he is included in. Believed to be his old group.
Weapons: He carries two weapons, A sighted, nordic steel laden bow, engraved with the symbol of something on it's riser (grip). The symbol is covered, hidden from view to any who look upon it. It is sighted, so he may be more accurate. It is not as advanced as sights are now, but it is rather good for it's time. He also carries a his father's shortsword, which looks to be of a simple steel.
Magicka: He is quite skilled in between Destruction, Illusion and Alteration, as all have ways of incapacitating your foe for the best possible shot. He has some training in restoration, but is not skilled with it. Runes are his main focus, but relies on paralyze when things get tricky.
Fighting Abilities: He uses runes as a preemptive strike against his foes, but in combat prefers to use bow. He is capable of incapacitating the enemy, holding them off as best he can so that he can keep them away from his friends, in range of his shot.
Fighting Style: He stays back, getting up close only to set up traps and such. He will provide ranged support, but can fight up close, but he lacks the finesse that is required to stay up there. He is most comfortable in a vantage point, such as a tree or hill. However, he can remain on the ground, should the option not be available.
Here is an image of a sighted bow like his, just for reference. It it not designed exactly like this, however, as it is more lore friendly for my purposes.
Backstory:
Falco Laran had known the ways of the Vigil since he was young. His parents both being a part of it's fabric. He grew revering their ways and practices, hoping that one day, he would be able to take up with them and scour the land like they did, cleansing it of the darkness that plagued it so often.
As he grew, he took up the bow, wanting to help from afar, as his skill with up close combat was abysmal. He took the bow, as it seemed his only shot at taking down the darkness.
Don't all tragic stories start like this, though?
At the age of 19, his parents were ripped apart by what was explained to be undead. No more detail was given. He had to just take it and move on. Upset by this explanation, which was only to keep him from feeling more upset than he was, he left his love of the Vigil behind, taking what skills he knew and selling them. During this time, he picked up some magicks, especially destruction and illusion, learning to find creative ways to incapacitate those he hunted.
As time went on, he became a part of a group of mercenaries that he became friends with at the tavern they often waited at, creating a group that he believed to be unstoppable. And for the most part they were.
Except for their only failure, which would be their last contract.
They were hired to protect Morthal, and aid their city guard in turning away the dragon terror as long as they could. It was an unspoken truth that they were only there to prolong the wait for the townspeople to escape, to find shelter from the dragons that would surely destroy them without the dragonborn to protect them. They all knew this, but fought anyway, hoping that their luck would turn the tide
Their presence only prolonged the fight, which in retrospect was what they wanted...but for Falco it felt nothing like a victory.
After only a day or so of preparation, they struck. The battle was pitiful, people fleeing, guards valiantly falling from the strength of their fiercest foe. The group held their own for a time, but they were no match, and soon all but one fell. Falco himself.
Details of the destruction of Morthal are foggy at best. The only details that were known for sure?
1. The group had failed. Even with the combined might of the guard and the group, they weren't any sort of match for the onslaught.
2. The undead laid waste to the city, leaving no survivors amongst the townspeople.
3. The group had been slaughtered, one by one, all except for Falco. He survived the night, only because one of the men locked him in a room too keep him safe, and fought off the dragons until he fell.
Falco was the only one he knew of to walk out of the city that following morning, still in shock but also feeling something else.
A deep rooted anger, toward the dragons and those who took up arms to aid them, who had now taken all he had left He longed for something he could do to return the favor. Something to eradicate these fiends before someone else fell to the same fate.
He heard whispers of a group that was being handpicked to take on the dragon threat, as the Empire and Dominion were to embroiled in their stupid throne war to be bothered to do it themselves. They were gathering in the mountains, past the fabled 7000 steps. He knew not if they were rumor or truth, but he was boiling in his anger and need of vengeance for so long...
He was about to find out.
