18+ (OOC) Song of Blood, Dance of Blades

[Madrar]

The Civil war is over. It has been for some time now, and those that were oppressed by Ulfric during the war have been liberated by the victorious Empire. Near Falkreath, a new power is rising, one of darkness, and blood. Something too powerful even for the formidable coven of vampires that call that dreary place home. Both those that think themselves heroes, and those that do not, must unite, if they wish to stop this growing menace.
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Rules

1: No Godmodding. Overpowered characters, weapons, armour, etc.

2: Grammar and proper spelling is a must. If you are lacking either of these in your RP sample, you won't be accepted.

3: Keep it classy, folks. This may be rated 18+, but that doesn't mean I want a smut thread.

4: If you lose interest in the thread, or are unable to continue, please inform myself or Aethalia.

5: You may have up to two (2) characters.

6: Be creative, and descriptive.

Note: This is rated 18+, so please be mature, but you don't necessarily need to be eighteen to join.

Aethalia and Madrar will be moderators for this role paly.

We will only be accepting five or six people.

Character Card Template. You do not need to follow this template, it's just a suggestion.

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Race:

Allegiance:

Alignment:

Occupation (class):

Appearance:

Weapons:

Armour:

Personality:

Background:

Roleplay sample:

 

[Madrar]

Name: Salthar Vivarian

Age: 230 years, looks to be in his late twenties, to mid thirties.

Gender: Male

Race: Altmer (Vampire)

Allegiance: ShadowFang Coven

Alignment: Orderly Evil

Occupation: Sorcerer, Spell-sword.

Appearance: Tall, (6'5') with two scars just under his left eye. Has golden-red eyes, as an effect of his vampirism, as well as pale golden skin. Has the typical high cheekbones and pointed ears of the Altmer, and midnight black hair, that descends to his shoulders.

Weapons: An ebony sword, with an enchantment of life drain.

Armour: Instead of armour, Salthar wears Thalmor robes, with customized red designs. Underneath, he wears black pants, and a grey tunic, with delicate elven script on it.

Personality: Cold, and detached, the Altmer vampire has a soft spot for both children, and innocents, although he doesn't hesitate to do what he sees as necessary.

Background: Salthar Vivarian was a commanding officer of Dominion forces along with his brother, during the battle of Red Ring Road. After the signing of the White Gold concordant, he was dispatched to Falkreath to root out Talos worshippers. There, he met his wife, a vampire, was turned by her, and the pair lived fairly peacefully for several years. After the death of his wife at the hands of several Nords, he developed a deep hatred for the Nordic people in general. He established a coven at the Bloodlet Throne, and built the ruin into a mighty fortress. He and his kin terrified the populace of Falkreath during the war, and gradually spread out through the province of Skyrim.
Vivarian and his coven fought the Stormcloaks on several occasions, mostly near and around Falkreath, though they often attacked remote outposts and cities, such as Dawnstar. After the war, the coven retreated to the Bloodlet Throne, happy to allow the Empire free reign in the province.

RP sample: The burning village stank of fear, blood, and charred skin. Black armoured figures stalked among the ruins of houses, finishing with the blade, what magic had started. Salthar Vivarian stood in what had once been the center of the village. He viewed the carnage with something varying between pleasure and sadness. His long, hair whipped around in a smoke-choked wind, obscuring his pale gold features. He sighed as he lifted the struggling young woman, the last of the villages occupants, by the throat. "Somethings,"he murmured softly to her, "just can't be helped" and sank his fangs into her throat.

 

[Aethalia]

Looking forward to this. Especially since I don't teach again until September.

Name: Aliah Stormwind

Age: 90, looks twenty five.

Gender: Female

Race: Altmer, vampire

Allegiance: none

Alignment: Neutral evil

Occupation: Bladesinger

Personality: Distant, but not unkind.

Appearance: Just under six feet (5'8"), Aliah has gold-red eyes, pale gold skin, the high cheekbones and slanted eyes of most Mer. She has long, arterial blood coloured hair, and several long scars along her back and legs.

Armour: A long , black leather trenchcoat, with leather pants, and a silk shirt. (Think Selene, from underworld)

Weapons: A pair of ebony swords.

Backstory: Once Aldmeri nobility, Aliah was attacked by a vampire, turning into one herself, three days later. She was shunned by other nobles, and eventually decided to sail to Skyrim and help her kinsmen put down the illegal worship of Talos. She also met her lover, Dalamir there and served in and around the Thalmor Embassy. After the Empire was defeated, the Nords stormed the embassy, and Dalamir, along with dozens of elite Thalmor soldiers sacrificed their lives defending it.

Aliah escaped, although not before suffering humiliation at the hands of her Nord captors, that had taken her and two other Altmer on the road. After that particular incident, Aliah faded into the background of Skyrim, narrowly avoiding capture on many occasions. After Ulfric's death, security became less strict in Skyrim, and Aliah made her way to Falkreath, tired of all the death and destruction that had occurred in the last decade.


RP Sample: Aliah Stormwind entered the city, a stiff wind blowing her leather, knee length coat open, revealing the dark red shirt she wore beneath it. That, plus the two ebony swords on her left and right sides. The way the tall, slender, red headed vampiress walked made it clear that she knew how to use the weapons. She'd heard whispers of some resistance coming together in Whiterun. That had been three days ago, when Aliah was near Markarth. Now she was in the city, tired, irritated, and had no idea where this damnable meeting was taking place.

Well, the guards outside the hall of the dead gave her some idea, but she couldn't exactly walk up to them. She imagined the scene, an Altmer vampiress strolling up to a pair of Stormcloak Nords, and saying "Excuse me, guardsmen, but do you know where the secret meeting of rebels against Ulfric is taking place?" Oh yeah, that wouldn't end in a fight. Huffing in exasperation, the woman went over her options. One: wait for the guards to get tired and try to slip past them. Two: Wait for dawn, and see if anyone left the crypts. Or Three, distract the guards, and make a dash for the door. One was no good because they probably had comrades ready to switch with them. Two wouldn't work because she was pretty sure they'd get suspicious if an Altmer woman stared at the doors to a crypt all night.

So that left option three, hardly her favourite course of action, but she didn't want to wait around too long. Walking at a reasonable pace, as one on business might do, she passed the guards, close enough that they took notice, but not so close that they could see her pale gold skin and pointed ears. Stepping into an alleyway, she drew prepared a minor flame spell. She was no mage, but bladesingers were taught minor spells in order to disorient the enemy during combat. Shattering an empty barrel with her boots, she set the dry wood on fire, waiting for the smoke to begin drifting above the roofs of shops and houses.

An alarmed shout had the vampiress leaping up onto the roof, and moving quickly to get back to street level. Both guards had gone to investigate, and she estimated she had a couple of minutes before they put out the fire and returned to their posts. Slinking through the winding side passages, Aliah was starting to think she should have asked the soldiers for directions. Within minutes, she was hopelessly lost, coming across rooms and rooms full of bodies. "I'll bet that half of these people died trying to find there way out of here" she growled to herself, trying to get the disgusting scent of dusty, preserved corpses out of her nose and mouth.

She could hear voices, faint, but definitively there. Unfortunately, she had no real idea where to start looking. Eventually, the voices began to get louder and more defined, and she picked up the scent of living flesh and blood. That meant she must be close, because, while some vampires senses were heightened to the point they could smell mortals thousands of metres away, Aliah could only smell them within about twenty metres or so. Five minutes later, she stumbled across a closed door, almost certainly containing the rebels. She pushed open the door, and stepped inside. She took in the people already inside, surprisingly, a Khajiit and a Thalmor robed vampire among them. She took a spot near the door, resting her hands on the pommels of her swords

 

[Seanu Reaves]

So... is this a private 1 on 1 or may I join though I might get busy I want to RP again.

 

[Madrar]

No, put up your cc, if you're interested.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Hehehe like I would turn down joining one of your stories. I'll throw my vampire up soon.

 

[Ivory]

Been looking for something to catch my eye and this one has me curious, though I do have a question. Would you be against the use of a Snow elf character? If so, it's no big deal. I have other characters, I just figured I'd ask first.

 

[AS88]

I'm also interested in this, but have a question.

Are you looking for just vampires, or also 'those who think themselves heroes' as you described them in the intro?

Currently considering creating a vampire character for this, but might have to rethink if you're looking for these 'heroes' as well

 

[Madrar]

You don't need to be a vampire. If you want to use one, that's fine, if not, that's fine too.

 

[Aethalia]

Yeah, we don't really need you to be vampires. I think when Madrar and I were discussing the plot, we just thought it would be fun to start out with his coven fighting whatever it was and losing. Aliah will also have a 'disturbing' experience, in Riften.

 

[Ivory]

So was the snow elf thing cool or not?

 

[Aethalia]

sure

 

[Seanu Reaves]

I'll split the difference and use Lazarus then lol

 

[Nocte Aeterna]

Can’t go wrong with a decent-looking “dark” RP.

Name: Nenothrys Favala

Age: 87 (though due to elven aging, looks approximately 28-30)

Gender: Male

Race: Dunmer

Allegiance: None currently.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Occupation: Alchemist/Spellsword

Personality: Sarcasm is the name of Nenothrys’ game. He is intelligent and passionate, albeit manipulative. Though uneasy to sway, he’s not sure exactly whose side he’s on.

Appearance: 5’10”, somewhat lean in build. Skin has a purple-gray pigmentation, with very few scars. His eyes, a bright red hue, are often compared to strawberries in the peak of summertime. He has a neatly kept mass of jet-black hair, the bulk of which is most often kept in a single ponytail. The front side of his hair is generally seen in a curtain-like fashion, divided in two. His face is also garnished with a small goatee of facial hair.

Armour: Elven Armor, though colored dark violet/indigo rather than gold.

Weapon(s): Glass Sword of Devouring, spells (Nenothrys specializes in Illusion, Alteration, and Destruction)

Backstory: Nenothrys’ familial roots lie in Vvardenfell, the central island of Morrowind. When Red Mountain erupted, his parents fled the country, and sought out refuge in neighboring Skyrim (Windhelm area). Nenothrys himself was born a decade or so later, and quickly became a laughingstock due to his Dunmeri heritage. Growing up in Windhelm’s infamous Gray Quarter didn’t help matters, either. Constantly scant of funds, Nenothrys was often forced to scavenge for food with the help of his rapidly deteriorating family, since they were either denied service or too impoverished to pay for anything substantial.

The relentless hounding courtesy of Windhelm’s Nords made it difficult for the young Nenothrys to make friends. At the request of his father, Nenothrys chose to pursue alchemy as a means to cope – after all, talent always made a person’s worth mount up. Nenothrys began to sell potions of his own creation soon after, having developed a flair for the art. He soon became enticed with the arcane and martial combat alike as well. Straddling three professions was difficult, but the income that his potions supplied made the family prosper for a time.

Initially, Nenothrys wished to remain in Windhelm and operate an apothecary there. However, at the age of thirty, that notion would be forever fractured. The Nords, dissatisfied with a Dunmer overseeing a certain aspect of their city’s economy, took matter into their own hands. The Favala residence, now a lavish household, was ransacked and raided, and although Nenothrys managed to escape the assault, his remaining family was kidnapped as a whole.

It was apparent that they had died; after all, Nenothrys spent years looking for them, having left Windhelm in a vehement huff. The next 57 years were spent wandering the continent, occasionally lending his prowess in both alchemy and combat alike to a few carefully chosen clients. He eventually settled in Falkreath Hold, in a small abandoned fort.


RP Sample:

(Yeah, came up with this on a whim. xD)

Witches. Defilers of the arcane.

Nenothrys would revisit this notion several times during his trek to a nearby coven. Sometimes, procuring alchemy supplies was all but easy. Yet there was a certain aspect of fighting for hanging moss or swamp fungal pods that implanted some form of adrenaline into the young Dunmer. He was eighty-seven; aged by human standards, but in elven terms, any denizen under a century in age was still considered quite young. This differed from race to race, but it was safe to say that Nenothrys was still in the first half of his lifetime.

He furtively scanned the shallow cave’s outer perimeter, enlisting the help of auditory vigilance to aid him. There was definitely something stirring inside said cave; most of these alcoves were only one or two “rooms”.

“ – Four sackfuls of void salts!”

Whether or not this eavesdropped claim was a farce remained to be seen. Dropping to a crouch, Nenothrys crept closer to the cave entrance. Within, two mere witches. Textbook procedure, in the eager Dunmer’s eyes.

Raising his left hand (opposite to the one that carried his malachite blade), he directed a stream of red light at the witch to his left. When it struck, the hag immediately rose from her sitting position and began firing balls of flame at her partner, who screamed in response.


Grinning madly as the fracas ensued, Nenothrys finished off the remaining witch with a swift blast of lightning, then entered the now-vacant coven to claim his prize.

 

[Ivory]

Name: Belvurth

Age: 3552 years old (Looks in his late thirties/early forties)

Gender: Male

Race: Snow Elf

Allegiance: None.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Occupation (class): Ice Paladin.

Appearance: 7'3'' Male with snow ivory skin with a thin blue tone to it. His eyes are an Arctic white color and his hair is a pure white color that glows in the sun. His hair is kept, but is thick and rather wild for an elf, with bangs split down the middle and even a small pony tail on the back of his head. His eyes have bags under them that show his age by human standards and a thin beard that is growing in from his sideburns down along his jawline only, up to his chin.

Weapons: A Glass Dagger literally coated in layers of Ice where the Malachite would usually be placed. Works just like a Glass Dagger of Blizzards, only looks different. (Suppose you could think of chillrend in dagger form, ridges and all but with a sort of smoother stahlrim design.) He uses frost magics, alteration magics (non-combat based spells like Telekinesis/water breathing/transmute ore etc.), and of course Restoration both non-combat and combat against the undead.

Armour: He wears a Medium white armor with a design similar to that of Ebony Mail, but with Snow Elven designs much like the Ancient Falmer armor. Ivory chain mail makes up the bulk of the armor's protection along his arms and legs, while his forearms, feet, knees and chest are guarded by several strong plates of the refined white moonstone that it's made from and no Pauldrons. He always wears a brown, faded and slightly decayed robe over his armor to hide himself when he visits cities and walks along the roads. Also carries around two spare Elven daggers on his lower back each enchanted with Hunter's prowess and Ice enchantments respectively. Meant as tools for hunting, not combat.

Personality: Warm to be around, but passionately fierce and always on guard.

Background: A survivalist by nature, Belvurth has lived under many names, pasts and locations throughout Solsthiem and Skyrim. He was only a child around the time of the fall of his people, traveling with group to group, learning the ways of being a Paladin to protect his remaining people. Throughout the years, as his kind dwindled, he broke off from the rest and chose to traverse Skyrim alone. It wasn't until many years later that he had found the group he had grown up with was slain by a cult of Nordic Vampires. A group that he never was able to track down.

Roleplay sample:

There was always something unique about the combined scent of Blood and Ice. It was a strange mixture that never tired to frustrate the Snow Elf. Belvurth had just finished drying the meat of his daily hunt of rabbit and elk. It always reminded him of the sight of his people that had been slaughtered by those damned vampiric abominations. The fire within the ice cave he lived within always brought life into the dull, and rather remote location for him. It burned with strength despite the cold, wet surroundings and continued to do so. It reminded him so much of himself, a flame in this wicked land he lost all connection with at the fall of his people. He carried little malice for the Nords, or actions of the past. All he cared about now, was the future and his survival of his people, he just needed to find them first.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Name: Peytr "Le Musicien" Orpheyas

Age: appears to be 23 (vampire lord)

Gender: Male

Race: Breton

Allegiance: To airheaded for anyone to tell

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Occupation (class): Minstrel (Illusion, Speech, and Pickpocket)

Appearance: A pale man with short well-groomed brown Hair, Fine chiseled features, average body-type, scarf always wrapped around his neck. no facial hair.

Weapons: A dark purple Lute that he uses to channel his magic. A small ebony dagger he sometimes forgets he has.

Armour: No armor. Fine gray clothes, Tan boots(with the golden buttons on the side), a black silk scarf.

Personality: Air-headed, seems to just want to wander and play his music. Seems to be trapped in a child-like state of mind. Often is a trickster, playing pranks when he is bored. Very detached at times.

Background: Son of a noble in High Rock, Peytr was said to be touched by Sheogorath. The child would often stare out into the wilderness at night, ignoring the world. His father worried that he had offended the god of madness, began honoring the god in the only way he could think of: Music. The Arts prospered and so the noble found his son humming along with the music. The Lord believing Sheogorath was pleased soon had his son trained in the playing of the lute. The boy was overjoyed at soon took to the instrument with great zeal. The boy grew into quite the player and as such to the courts of high rock became known as Peytr "Le Musicien." This magic would soon come to end, for the Orpheyas estate was on the border of Hammerfell. That is when the Oblivion gates opened and no reinforcements could make it there in time. When they finally did arrive they found Peytr playing his lute, the song broke the veteran soldiers more than the signs of slaughter. Soon, the young man disappeared from High Rock, and now he has reappeared in Skyrim, said to be running from a man in a black hat.

Roleplay sample: It was a beautiful night, Sven thought. As Sven considered making a pass at Camilla again he heard something strange. Music. Music so perfect that it made the bard's heart jump and fall even though he could barely hear eat. It seemed to be coming from the forest. Sven had to know who was producing the heart wrenching sound. He wandered into the forest, he didn't notice how the wolves also seemed enthralled. He soon came up to the cliff of the mountain, and saw a man there. Covered in shadow like he was simply a part of it. Sven watched in awe as the man's fingers danced along the strings. With a screech the music stopped and a soft sing song voice rang out. "Oh how wonderful. Dinner has finally arrived."

 

[Madrar]

Okay, we'll wait for AS88 to put up a cc, then we'll start.

 

[AS88]

Okay, we'll wait for AS88 to put up a cc, then we'll start.

Thanks, but I'll be a couple of days until I can get a CC up, really hectic with job interviews and stuff at the minute.

You guys get started, and it'll give me a little more to go on for my CC and first post, etc

 

[Nocte Aeterna]

Okay, we'll wait for AS88 to put up a cc, then we'll start.

I'd rather you all wait until the 13th at least, since I'm going to be out of town starting tomorrow.

 

[Aethalia]

Well, I'm going to get the actual RP started, and you guys can post when you want/can.