Private OOC: Seeking Answers

[CapObvious]

Excellent!

 

[The Honorable Gidian Diva of Sass]

Just got a little carried away with a few ideas I had. The one in particular he spoke about, at least I believe so, was that I had been playing ESO recently, I was interested to see they trained bears to be mounts during the conflict. So I thought it would be cool to add that for some flavor. Haha

Maere can have a bear in TCG if we win

And uh... I'm off topic now... I'm sorry... I'm just impulsive... good job with the RP guys... Yeah I'll leave now

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

Sweeeeet

 

[CapObvious]

Shameless Bump

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

I know specs been busy with the CC. I don't know I'm allowed to view the full CC yet, but I have a link to the google doc, so I check if he's on it now and then and then jump off real quick and sneaky like. He's been on it pretty often.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

So yeah, no one worry. I'm sure it's just some slight delays, all in order to make this RP as good as possible.

 

[Specter of Death]

OKAY GUYS. There have been some mix-ups the last couple of days, and so I am just doing my own separate CC, and Hlif will as well, but she will come into story later when she can post hers for us. (We have both been pretty busy, her even more than myself, so we are talking and thinking of ways to make that work, so no worries.)

With that said, I have finished my CC. Its something that I haven't done before for written role-play, and I really enjoy it. Keep in mind that this isn't just going to give my characters info in the regular format. It is meant to come across like an RP would, or a fan fiction, or whatever. But yeah, sorry it took so friggin' long. Here it is!!! (next post)

 

[Specter of Death]

The Grey
Umbren Soul-Scorn
​

The loose cobblestone path that lines the earthen floor of the thick pine forest, seems loose and disheveled beneath your feet as you walk. Ahead of you, the sight of Falkreath’s broken stone walls tapering into the city’s gate, leave you wondering. Somehow the large guarded entry had stood tall and stoic, surviving whatever travesty that had torn apart the rest of the settlement’s defenses. The smell of the nearby falls mixed with the scent of the petrichor coming from the ground below, brings a comforting and soft aroma that tickles your nose. The fur cloak wrapped around your body, though doing it’s best to keep you dry in the sky’s endless downpour, still lacks the strength to protect you from the sharp drops of the storm above.

You take a moment of shelter as you make your way to safety from the deluge underneath the city’s western gate. The sounds of hammering steel and the faint call of laughter, coming from what you suspect to be the tavern, fills your ears. As you stand in the opening of the city, you notice that the evening’s almost impenetrable darkness that had once surrounded you, was now kept at bay with many lanterns dotting the path ahead. Snaking it’s way through the plethora of thatch roofed homes and buildings, the road in front of you seems to be more taken care of and whole than the bedraggled remains of the road that led you here.

Just before starting to navigate your way towards the warmth of the city’s inn, you pause as you remember the reason for traveling all this way. Instinctually your hand finds it’s way to the breast pocket of your dark canvas shirt, carefully searching within to reveal the small envelope that your grandfather had given you just before you had started your trek to this rainy forest community.

“Take this, and do not open it until you arrive in Falkreath,” his words echo in your mind, “Your search will begin when you arrive.”

Peeling the wax seal away from the envelope to reveal a single piece of parchment within, you mindfully scan the letter. Taking in every detail of the handwriting, you notice it looks as if it was written in a hurry. The handwriting is messy, and the words are scribbled, but somehow you find yourself reading the letter without difficulty:


My Grandchild,

There is no way that I could help you in getting the answers that you deserve. However, there is one who can. Long before his passing, your father told me of a sell-sword he had once hired. He was the only one willing to take the job he was offering, and had exceeded your father’s expectations greatly. This man, he is the one you must find, for he may likely be the only one willing to help you uncover the mystery of your father’s assassination.

He won’t be easy to find, for he is not well known by anyone outside of those who have paid for his expertise. His name wasn’t something your father had known, but rather an alias: The Grey. He described the man as dark, quiet and very intelligent. A mer, well versed in ways of violent brawls, and silent prowls.

Your father found him in Falkreath, so that is where I have sent you, for it is your best chance at finding this elusive warrior. And your best chance at getting the answers you seek.

I wish you luck, and await your return. Be safe, child. This world is difficult and unforgiving.

-Grandfather


You tuck the letter back into the envelope from which it originated, and hide it back into the pocket you plucked it out of. Something about how little your grandfather had known, washed a sense of unease over you. The sound of a virtually unknown mercenary didn’t seem like the safest, or the most viable course of action. However, you have never been one to go against your grandfather, and something about your father even mentioning hiring him, gave you some reassurance. Your father rarely used the help of others, and when he seldom did, it had only ever resulted in success.

After a short moment to contemplate your actions, you take your first steps into Falkreath, headed in the direction of the sounds of laughter, lutes, and singing. You would find this mercenary, and the tavern was the best place to start.

~--8--~​

The look on the woman’s face as you posed your question, was one of worry and surprise. As you read the description your grandfather had given you, her demeanor twisted. Like she had never heard somebody actively seek out the man you had come all this way for, or better yet, someone who wanted to learn more about him.

“Ma’am?” You ask once more, sitting forward against the taverns sturdy oaken bar. She had been frozen in awe, before returning her attention to your call.

“The Grey?” You repeat yourself, “who is he?”

The look of worry on her face washes away, as she mimics the posture you hold over the bar top. You notice her fatigued and experienced eyes squinting, staring at you in an unsettling manner, as she scans your face.

“A sell-sword, your letter had that right,” she starts, keeping her voice hushed, attempting to make it difficult for any would be eavesdropper to hear.

“His true name is Umbren… I think, but I can’t be certain. He’s an elf; Bosmer would be my guess. Young, taller for a mer, with the build of an experienced swordsman. Always dressed in dark armor, shrouded in an even darker cloak and hood. He takes refuge under the safety of that hood, examining every detail around him with eyes that I will never forget. They burn red, like an inferno; glowing brighter than any flame I have ever seen. He desperately tries to hide his face, but I have gotten a glimpse of it and understand the reason why. Scars and burns cover it’s entirety, a symbol of unimaginable agony, that constantly he bears.”

A pit in your stomach forms, growing into a vortex of emotions as the woman describes the man. A combination of fear, mixed with some sense of curiosity. The way that he, this Umbren, had built such an elusive and unknown reputation for himself by looks alone was intriguing, and if all that had been said was true, you could see why your grandfather predicted difficulties in finding him.

“Rumors say he’s a man of sinister and sadistic beginnings that would tear at the sanity of most. Beginnings that he can never forget, that changed him, and made him what he is; the embodiment of his past. Maybe this has something to do with his appearance, or his scars. But, I’m afraid these are all things said to create some sort of idea of who he could be, and nobody can know if any of what’s said is even the truth. And, if you ask me? I think he likes it that way.”

Her stare, and hushed tone ceased as the woman rose and started to move away from you, momentarily tending to another patron before returning. You sit up straight as she approaches, still sifting through everything she had shared. You had all the information that you could get, and though you didn’t feel sure about hiring him; your father did. And your father was ultimately the reason you had come all this way. That was enough to drive you, and it would until your mission was complete.

"Where can I find him?"

~--8--~

(Idea of what his armor looks like. Pay no attention to the head or face here)

Basic Info
(stuff not already described in the intro)

Name: Umbren Soul-Scorn or “The Grey”

Age: Early to mid twenties

Class: Battlemage | Warrior

Gear: Dark Leather Armor and Clothes, Black Cloak w/hood, Dual Damascus Steel Short Swords, Two Steel Daggers, Rucksack containing Food and other Survival materials, a Water Skin, a Bed Roll Fighting Style: He is very capable with his dual swords, usually staying at the center of any frey he finds himself in. Ruthless and unforgiving, he will cut down any that stand against him in battle, and if he doesn’t get the chance, he will make sure he does at some point. Whether that means prowling and stalking his enemies from the shadows then striking them down, or tearing after them with rage and determined violence. He does have the ability to use destruction magicka, but refrains to do so unless he finds it absolutely necessary, due to the unique type of this magicka he has at his disposal.

Personality: He is very quiet, and introverted in virtually everything that he does, keeping as far away from others as he can. With his lonesome nature, he doesn’t ever have the opportunity to show how very loyal, and defensive he is towards those he cares about. This is because he has never truly had friends or allies of any sort, mainly due to him not wanting any; out of fear of himself and others. He is very wise, intelligent, and strategic, even despite how young he is. And if the time is taken to talk to him, one could see that despite the suffering that scarred him into being a loner and recluse, he is deeply passionate about helping others, and keeping them from becoming what he sees himself as.​

 

[Specter of Death]

Hey all, let me know if y'all have any questions before we start discussing the start. And, if any of you would like a signature similar to mine, but with art of your own character, let me know! They are fun to make and I can usually bust one out in under and hour! I won't be active again until after my shift at work is over in about an hour and a half or so.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

Wow Spec! I was expecting the duo so I gotta say this one really surprised me. I love it though!

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

And if you could make a sig with the top pic in my CC that'd be great! Thanks!

 

[Specter of Death]

Thanks! When I said separate CC, I also meant separate character. LOL. And I will have your Sig done here real soon!!

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

Alrighty, Thank you very much good sir!

 

[CapObvious]

Definitely dig the cc as well, Spec. I had enough time earlier to rate them but not enough to say it. Haha.

Also if you would make a sig thing like that for Maere with her pic, that would be awesome.

 

[Specter of Death]

Thanks Cap! And don't worry, your ratings made me figure you had read but didn't have typing time. So it's all good!

Here's your Sig Valin!!

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

Thanks man

 

[Specter of Death]

Thanks man

Of course, my friend! Any time!!

So who is all ready to begin discussing the start of this here story?

 

[CapObvious]

*Flips every nearby table*

PICK ME

 

[CapObvious]

What, was I too enthusiastic?

 

[shadowkitty]

I'm ready