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    Enthuz22

    Member
    ᴏᴜᴛ─ᴏғ─ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ


    Power is control of ourselves, through self-awareness and having the strength to accept worldly truths. We misunderstand power, and therefore we misunderstand ourselves and the world around us, and we lie to ourselves and fall into corruption, which is evil incarnate; and there is no justice to be done of this evil except for a swift and brutal end.”
    - Enthuz22

    The people had seen what they perceived as the truth, as Ulfric Stormcloak had predicted before the battle of Whiterun began, and they would fight for it. General Tullius believed that the civil war of Skyrim in the fourth era of year 201 would end with Ulfric's death and scraping the remains of his rebels off the face of Nirn. He was wrong, as was Ulfric, both looking at the situation with bias. A rebellion rises now, reanimating Skyrim's civil war even after the dragon menace had been neutralized by the Dragonborn, a mysterious hero who returned to Sovngarde and never came back.
    What these rebels now fight for is much crueler to the Nordic province. The Stormkin, or Sons of the Storm, hold belief that Ulfric Stormcloak didn't go far enough to keep Skyrim pure; indeed, Skyrim had been tainted by foreign influences. When it was first founded, Skyrim had quickly become a strong and stable province; since it has touched with foreign provinces, it has weakened and become vulnerable – a province to connect other provinces. They want to purge Skyrim of foreign influences – primarily: Orc strongholds, Dunmer refugees, High elf populace, and Imperial stances. They hope to cleanse Skyrim using political agreements – and if that fails, then it would come to blows.
    The Redeemers are the party who hold back the rebels by appeasing to neutrality; like the rebels, they would resort to violence if need be, although they are much more slow coming to it. There is no successful province without trade or some kind of foreign relations, for no visitors to the province would mean no major business without resorting to goods not found naturally in Skyrim or items that are rare or unable to be reproduced.
    Some would think that the Thalmor would jump at the opportunity to take advantage of the reconstituted civil war. However, the true motives of the Thalmor have not always been wholly clear, even to themselves; they remain in the shadows, as of yet keeping their silence and staying shrouded in shadow and mystery since the Nords began to demand that the Empire remove it's grip from Skyrim, or there would be blood, which was when the Empire scrambled to create a temportary neutrality statement which is bound to shatter any given week unless this abrupt and fragile situation is handled with deliberate caution.
    But as Ebonarm, the Breton divine of wartime peace, taught us … the only way to reach peace is for both sides to understand that both of their causes will end in chaos. Nobody wants to accept the truth..war is inevitable.

    -~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

    Wondering 'what now'? Simply jump into this thread, only if, by signature or (perma)link, your character's bio is provided. Please attempt to be semi-advanced or advanced in text and roleplay. Please be noted that this is an 18+ thread – adult terms and curses will be used freely if it's use is called for, unless other members posting on this thread find that it is being overused or abused. I will, provided that I find it good material, be creating a weekly-or-so “story blog” on the character journals area; once it has been initated, I will post the link on this thread and also into my signature.
    Lastly, please note that I have gathered much experience over the course of several years of Rping; I have been humiliated and taught in the art by several different masters, the most notable being one who resides on these very forums, although I have long since forgotten his or her name. Yet I am still learning; feel free to commentate and correct me. Kishan is my only character as of now, and I have put much thought into him. Please consider that the murkwoods that he makes his camp in were disturbed by Stormkin soldiers who reclaimed the small, uncomely town of Morthal.
    This tale is of individuals who take it upon themselves to discover and reveal the truth upon both the Stormkin – their sigil a dead dragon upon a purple field with the Nordic runes for “Rise the Old Kingdom; Skyrim, Lone Mount, Stands Taller” upon the bottom, ringed by Celtic-like symbols – and the Redeemers – their sigil the hand of a fire atronach in a pale maroon backlight. Yet with truth-seeking also comes war; and as our party comes closer to their prize, they must discover and face their and their companions' deepest regrets, darkest desires, and their true natures. Truth is as deadly as their will. Time is against them, as seems the whole world, yet their endeavors are not without hope. Led presumably by Kishan Braudil, he leads them to what he hopes will end in worldwide peace provided by the instructions of the the Divines. Braudil has a few toxic ideas in mind, but with each one, the plan grows more dangerous and fragile; as they come closer to their prize, the band will begin to fall apart to reveal the bond that truly keeps these individuals together. The end is not far off, but it will not be abruptly peaceful, and there are many end-possibilities that speak only of chaos and ruin.
    Kishan's thoughts consist of many unrelated and broken things: the Dragonborn, the Daedra, death, renewal, and blood swiped clean off the edge of a blade, ready to be dirtied again when the time calls. Here Comes War. Kishan Braudil gathers now at the neutral city of Solitude, calling for all clear-minded and hardened by peace to come to him, for he has a plan that will reunite Tamriel, and he will need all the aid he can get if they are to succeed.
    Start a conversation with me if you have any curious questions, instead of plugging up this thread. If you have any plot ideas or concerns, please PM me for that as well; I will announce answers to big questions and concerns in OOC on this thread; it's the repeated questions themselves that I wish to keep to a minimum, so we don't spam the thread posts.


    Ιɴ-cнαrαcтer
    [Turdas, 24th of Last Seed, 4E 201]

    “I call you to hear my words today because of an urgent matter that you are all aware of: war.” Kishan Braudil stood on the execution stage just within Solitude's walls, standing before many faces, many familiar and more he did not recognize. Behind him, off to the sides, stood three bodyguards; although he had payed them well, Kishan feared that someone else could have payed them more for his head than Kishan had payed them to protect his back if the mob – or part of the mob at least – would become hostile and attempt to attack him. They were mercenaries, and although he had spoken to them long enough to understand what type of men they were, he still gave no trust to anyone, least of all the large group of mixed bodies before him. “A civil war that will never end. A civil war that would claim whether Skyrim will be an individual province with no foreign connections whatsoever, or an open trading state. I am on neither side; not both. I am a Nord and I fight to keep Skyrim safe and successful. War, is not safe! War is not success! I fight against war, for peace.”
    He turned and paces to the right side of the stage, which to the lot was to their left. “I have a plan – nay, a few plans – that if enabled with allies, will take to action and, in the long run, save not only Skyrim herself but Tamriel. The Dragonborn is not here with us today to claim neutrality, so I stand in his place; a figure to keep both sides of the raging mountain rivers – Stormkin on one side and Redeemers on the other – from flooding the land between them. I need your help; I need your trust, your blades, and your mind. Peace must be our only short-term end! The possibilities are endless, and almost all end in ruin and chaos and death! WE GO THIS PATH NOW! I know can make our own path! And I know what tools we need in order to do so, and therefore I know how we can achieve peace vital and strong enough to keep a nation saturated for eras yet to come! We have sunk low, and I am here to provide support to raise us back so we can once again feel the glory of the sun on our faces!”
    He paces back and stands in the center of the execution stage. “Both leaders from our previous civil war are dead, now. Ulfric Stormcloak believed that once the people saw truth, they would continue to fight for it even when he was long gone! General Tullius held in belief that the nation is stronger together fighting for an honorable and successful cause, than fighting battles confused and disoriented! Both were right, and yet both were wrong.”
    He stepped forward two steps and swept his gaze across the large group of people, holding a few of his eyes. Already he had spotted the grim face of an ally, and for that he was both glad and disquieted. “Fight with me. Meet me this coming Mordas at the neutral Fort Hraggstad at midday if you are interested. If you do not know where the Fort is, stay and I and my friends here will mark it on your map. Thank you.”
    He stepped back. Kishan Braudil was a generally handsome man, with a smoother complexion than he normally appeared with, for Kishan was a ranger who used to set up base in Morthal before he was forced from it's murkwoods by Stormkin (who he generally disliked in the first place; he strained to keep this to himself to avoid conflict) who reclaimed the dreary little paranoid town. He had managed to slip away, although he had the feeling that they didn't care that much and most likely just let him go, seeing as they were not being overly slack.
    His hair was dark brown, of medium length; he had cut it just that morning and trimmed his beard, which had grown thick, so it was once again neat and thin. His eyes were grey with flecks of pale green. Kishan's cheekbones were high and thin, his jawline high and wide, with a thin long nose and flat eyebrows curved downward at the edges. His armor was of leather-make, with a leather quiver-bond across the chestplate; his quiver hung at his right shoulder, his dark murkwood bow's curved and lines peering over his right shoulder and back of his head as well. He bore only one glove, which covered only three of his fingers, being an archer's glove; it was worn and bent, and well-loved and cared for, as was his arrows and bow especially. A sword hung at his waist, with a straight spine and clutched one-sided edge, with a curved hilt with the likeliness of a black wolf with it's eyes closed, and is best described as a fancy cleaver. It's sheath proved that it was used noticeably less that the bow, and his stance suggested that he was wary and weary, but not quite fearful or shy or bold in front of these many people, for he was more fearful of what type of people they were than anything else, generally speaking.

    He stood in front of this mob, scanning the faces among the crowd, tense and stubborn-jawed, waiting for their first movement, for he was unsure if anyone would attempt to assassinate him for his daring. People were fearful at these times, especially, and careless at times whilst at other times being too aggro. He was not ready to turn his back on any of them. And I will not, Kishan thought, relaxing his limbs slowly and turning to the right of the execution stage, pausing at the top of the stairs and staring at the lot of them, most staring back. It that is how it will be, let them make the first move. I will take violence here only for defense, if necessary. Enough people have died already.
     

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