OOC Sins of our Elders [[Accepting Applications]]

[death raider]

Just a few suggestions so far. Keep the setting in mind when you're writing up your characters. The Civil War is over, and has been for almost a decade, so there aren't going to be many seasoned and active soldiers floating around. With that, the Stormcloak uprising was completely crushed, and is virtually non-existent at this point in time. I assume there would be veterans, as my character will be one, but they are not currently an active movement. Most, if not all of the major organizations like the Thieve's Guild, Dark Brotherhood, and Mage's College have been virtually inactive and unheard of since the overtake, so it's unlikely they would have any advocates wandering about.

Ok I knew that

 

[The Phantom]

Your setting reminds me of Bethesda's new game Dishonoured. I would like to join also


Name: Funera Praeco

Age: 40

Sex: Male

Race: Nord

Position: Quartermaster

Birthplace: Skyrim, Solitude

Current Residence: Well aside from Helgen, a manor house in snowy pine forests overlooking the Weynon Stones.

Alliances or Affiliations: Devout follower of Jyggalag, Daedric Prince of Order (Or is it biscuits?) and authority. Albeit secretly.

Occupation: He is the quartermaster for the legion in Solitude (Order reference purposeful)

Appearance: Funera has short, brown hair similar to a stereotypical Roman style. He is obsessed with keeping himself orderly, thus he is clean shaven and well-groomed. When outside of battle he wears fine clothes with imbecible neatness and not a speck of dust to be seen. Due to his obsession with perfection and order he constantly works out so he is incredibly strong. He has typical six-pack abs and huge muscles. He has many handsome features and due to his strength and that he works out he is also very tall. In battle however he dons ice-like armour reminiscent of a medieval knight paladin albeit design less, simple, pure and orderly.

Personality: He is a perfectionist at the extreme. His impulse to make everything neat and tidy is simply ridiculous. The closest thing you could compare his personality to is his armour, cold, brutal and perfect. He dislikes just about everything that isn't perfect or organised. He fought in the Imperial Legion a decade ago during the Stormcloak rebellion due to the Stormcloaks lack of organisation and planning. He even goes as far as to mock, taunt, insult and get mildly irritated by people who don't use proper fighting techniques. He feels almost no emotion; love, joy, anger and pain are all meaningless to him. He knows only calm. Despite all this he would lay down his life for his lord, Jyggalag if he had to.

History: Funera was born in Solitude to 2 Nord parents. He one day went wondering through Solitude when he came across a mad beggar in the streets pleading to everyone he saw to help him. He tried to help the man was taken to a steange room in the Blue Pakace where he encountered a strange man wearing purple and orange clothes divided straight down the middle and had a curious accent. Sheogorath, Deadric Prince of Madnes. Since then Funera's life was never normal per se. He soon met all the other Daedra after doing various tasks for Sheogorath. He thought of the God like an uncle and one day he was told about the story of how Jyggalag used to ravish the Shivering Isles at the end of every era in an event known as the Greymarch and of how the Champion of Cyrodiil became the 'new me' or to put it in his words "Sheogorath is a title passed from me to me every few hundred years" but after ages if trying to turn the boy insane Sheo just couldn't do it!
So Sheogorath sent him to Jyggalag who became a sort of second father. Funera had less fun with Jyggalag than he did with Sheogorath but as he matured he began to like Jyggalag more and more. After many tasks for the Prince of Order he anointed Funera as his champion. His reward was the armour of the Knights of Order and Jyggalags mighty great sword. Years later and war broke out between the Aldmeri dominion and the Imperial Empire. Jyggalag sent him to fight for things on both sides, depending on what would make things most orderly. The war resulted in a truce known as the White Gold Concordat. Furthermore the same treaty that ended a war seemed to create when Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm started a full scale rebellion intending to free Skyrim from the Empire, albeit in a disorderly fashion. Funera couldn't let this happen so he joined the Legion until the insurrection was out down. He was present at the battle of Windhelm but did not have the honour of killing Ulfric.
The Empire and Skyrim fell to pieces shortly thereafter but he heard that a rebellion might be starting. Considering that the uprising was still in the making he joined, hoping to form it into more than an uprising do that this new nation may be used to his lords advantage.

Roleplaying Sample: Funera Praeco was marching through the camp barking orders at most if not all soldiers he came across. His commanding officer seemed very angry about this
"Praeco stop ordering my men! If you want your own command aply for one but you do not order my men, are we clear here?"
"Oh, perfectly sir! It's just that as soon as I started giving orders we turned the tide on the storm cloaks. But as you wish an order is an order." Funera's cold, callous comments almost always made people instantly dislike him but his officer was too busy in his anger to notice exactly what Funera said. "Now Praeco get in the battle we need you in the front lines."
As Funera charged into the field he saw the fighting unfurl. He composed himself with a steely calm before charging into the ranks of the enemy, claymore first. The blade impaled one Thalmor through the chest and to get him off Funera swung the blade in an arc sending the soldier toppling into his own ranks.


Well what do you think? Is the Jyggalag thing a bit much?

 

[ChiefScalyNipples]

I'm considering joining this but I don't know yet...Im in a couple of other RP's and I'm losing track of a bunch...but this sounds interesting.

 

[Sid]

Can I join here is my Character:
Name: Cirion of Vitharn
Age: 38(ish)
Sex: Male
Race: Altmer (High Elf)
Position: Count (Well he just takes the title, [in the Shivering Isles]) Trainer Position
Birth Place: Vitharn, Shivering Isles
Place of Residence: New Sheoth Palace (Before this Thread), The Winking Skeever, Solitude (Currently)
Alliances or Affiliations: Before the time of this thread he was Bodyguard of Sheogorath, but he was exiled for attempting to steal Sheogoraths Staff. He still remains a devout follower of Sheogorath attempting to appease him and gain his title back.
Appearance: He looks like Count Cirion, The Count of Vitharn. Out of battle he wears Black Finery (Shivering Isles Clothes, Below) and a Black Hood.

In Battle he wears a peculiar combination of armour. On his right he wears Madness Armour and on his left he wears Amber Armour (Both Shivering) But down the middle it seems to have merged together. On his head he wears the Diadem of Euphoria. (Armour on Far Left [Madness], Armour on Far Right [Amber], Crown Thing at Bottom [Diadem...])

He wields Duskfang/Dawnfang in right hand and a Madness War Axe in his Left. If at a distance he uses his Amber Crossbow that has been made in the style of a Dwemer Enhanced Crossbow. He uses Madness bolts with his Crossbow.

Personality: Cirion was a rather strange child in the Shivering Isles as he was absolutely sane. Due to this he was always shunned. However Haskill Chamberlain of Sheogorath almost took him under his wing. He grew to have a very likable personality. However he has never been one for organised or perfect; just nearly perfect. Whilst Bodyguard to Sheogorath he came to find that the Isles was a beautiful realm and learnt a lot about it from his superior.
History: Cirion was the youngest born to his two Altmer parents in the City of New Sheoth and as soon as he was 12 his parents sent him to live with Haskill who he had formed a good friendship with. Haskill then sent him one day to train with the Golden Saints, and then the next the Dark Seducers and kept on alternating (Hence his two different weapon choices). Once he was eighteen he was training the to factions. Sheogorath whilst waking about New Sheoth saw this and hired him as a Body guard as such. Many times he dreamed of seeing the outside world. When he was 29, he had been in service to the Mad God for 10 years. He felt a bit reckless one day and attempted to steal the mystical staff of Sheogorath. However he was caught and banished from the realm and sent to Tamriel, more specifically Sentinel, in Hammerfell. He had heard the Sheogorath worship was growing in Skyrim so he travelled for a year until he got there and found that the Country was falling apart.
He took refuge in the Thalmor Embassy for some time until he made his way to Solitude where he bought a permanent room in the Winking Skeever.
Roleplaying Sample: As Cirion walked between the trainees he noticed one Male Bosmer struggling to use his bow. As Cirion walked up to the other Elf he said "No, your not doing it quite right. Hold the Bow up here, and the Arrow goes here." Once he corrected the Bosmer's technique he said "Any way whys a Bosmer no good at Archery?"

"Ah well. I've always been rather clumsy, back home in Valenwood I was teased. I left when I was 15. Went to Orsinium, and was trained in the way of the mace. I'm more of a front line fighter." said the Bosmer.

"Aye well keep at it." Cirion said as he walked off. He enjoyed helping people. As he walked back down the line. "Now," he shouted "You know the technique try and aim as accurate as you can. If you find that to easy take a step back and do it; and again if still to easy."

 

[Sid]

Thanks. Whats so good about a Shivering Isles Person?

 

[A.Auditore]

sorry excuse me as im not trying to sound rude, but can we please keep convos not regarding this rp thread to pms? thanks... brought to you by someone who hates alerts every 60 seconds

 

[The Phantom]

Indeed. Although he seems remarkably sane! Wouldn't "count" be under the current occupation? Why do you have to be my polar opposite?! Written very informally. Anyway this thread seems promising and I think that it is a very good idea.

 

[Sid]

Alright Sorry about the convorsation. Oh and Malitiasicarius, he was meant to be remarkably sane. Thats why he was shunned. And I want to be you polar opposite; why not. I didn't actually read yours.

 

[death raider]

where is Andante by the way??

 

[The Phantom]

You don't need to read if I already told you in real life. For one thing if you are worshiping madness them you would be mad. The point of worshiping Sheogorath is to be mad, it is the very core of the religion. Now let's stop this, as Ashleigh said keep regular conversation to the pms.
And Death I saw Andante earlier today on the shout box. Wait you were there!

 

[death raider]

Ash rules all!

 

[Andante]

I'm beyond thrilled that so many people are interested in joining the RP, but I'm getting the feeling as I read over the applications that people aren't reading the original post thoroughly. I don't want to seem overly critical or demanding, but the guidelines and suggestions were typed up for a reason and in hopes that they would enrich the experience for everyone.

I'm finishing up some extra work in the Archaeology lab right now, but I'll be home where I can sit down and look over everything more thoroughly in the next hour or so. I'll be sure to post my own profile soon as well, if it would be beneficial.

 

[death raider]

I will look through my application to see if theres anything wrong with it

 

[Andante]

Hi
Application for consideration please:

Name: Cooky - been labelled as Cooky by the locals for so long, real name lost importance.

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Race: Halfcast Nord/Imperial

Position: Cook

Birthplace and current residence: Windhelm

Alliance: Conflicted between Imperial and Stormcloak. Unpredictable

Occupation: Prior to war: Baker's Apprentice, Post war: Runs a modest food stall in the market.

Appearance: Shaggy blonde hair with dark roots, dull grey eyes, just shy of 6 feet tall, slender, Imperial tanned skin. Usually seen in public in his work-clothes of pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, A stained apron that was once white in a previous life, he keeps a butcher's knife sheathed on his belt, along with a leather strop for sharpening. Plain brown trousers and boots.

Personality: Thick skinned due to the barrage of insults and discrimination of being half Imperial descent, he sympathizes with other innocent Imperials for this reason, however, prolonged exposure to the Stormcloak culture has instilled many Nordic morals - particularly the spark of rebellion. He is moderately educated. Cooky likes to haggle (sometimes just for entertainment's sake), enjoys banter throughout his workday, and cooking. He despises injustice, bullying, arrogance and narrow-mindedness. He absolutely loathes the unhygenic. He borders towards being a certified neat-freak, hates the smell of fish on his hands (has bartered with many travelling merchants for new kinds of soap, but none seem to work...yet).

History: Cooky's mother was Nordic, his father Imperial. His father ran a successful Bakery within the great walls of Windhelm, where Cooky would often spend his afternoons after school, either doing his homework in the back or helping his father with recipes, and later to become an apprentice.
The war was bad for business. The bakery risked foreclosure. His father, in an attempt to continue providing for his family, joined the Stormcloaks (despite the difficulties that posed), hoping this would validate his standing within the community - leaving Cooky and his mother to run the business.
His father never returned from the war.
His mother eventually grew old and fell ill, he took care of the Bakery and her, but his skin colour soon stopped selling bread and the money dried up. Medicine was at a premium during the war and without it, his mother died in her bed clasping his hand and telling him how proud she was of him.
Cooky didn't know what to, so, he got up the next morning and baked bread.
Rent couldn't be covered, large men with angry faces visited Cooky to tell him so. The bakery was shut and the remaining money bought him a kiosk within the market and few foodstuffs to continue.
His quick wit and bargaining tactics have seen him through ever since. Small humble house, a job to go to. Life is ok....but sometimes 'ok' just isn't enough.

Roleplaying sample: I don't know how to put up links but I have had involvement in:
Evening is wiser than the morning,
Will of Sithis,
and The Madman's Library.

p.s - If I get in, can I have the colour orange? please?

I want to go ahead and accept this one, simply for the fact that it's more like what we're looking for. A plain, but interesting character with lots of potential for development. Nothing overpowered or that wouldn't fit into the setting. He looks like he'll fit in well with the mismatched group.

 

[A.Auditore]

Yay kiwi!!!

 

[The Phantom]

Yes I did know what you mean. I thought it was a bit of a longshot with this character but he was meant to be like the last Jyggalag worshipper. Although if you don't like this character then I can change it

 

[shinobiJP]

Allow me to put forth my application.


Name: Jarandro
Age: Unknown. Around middle aged for Altmeri standards.
Sex: Male
Race: Altmer
Position: Blacksmith
Birthplace: Greenheart, Valenwood
Current Residence: No permanent home but last place he stayed at was Deadman's Drink in Falkreath
Alliances or Affiliations: None (Formerly Thalmor affiliated)
Occupation: Prior: Blacksmith's Apprentice, Post: Blacksmith


Appearance: Jarandro, like most High Elves is tall. Even more so than the average Altmer. Not only is he taller but he is also slightly bulkier due to his occupation as a Blacksmith. His skin is a typical golden hue but is covered in soot and dirt. His face is quite long and has two gleaming amber eyes. His blonde hair is shoulder length but is often tied up as to not get in his face during smithing. He is usually found wearing his smithing clothes but when called into battle, he dons steel armour that he crafted himself.


Personality: Unlike others of his race, Jarandro is quite humble and respectful of other races. He rarely ever shows any racial prejudice and judges someone on their quality, not their race. This is partly due to his upbringing. Jarandro is not overly religious. While he believes that the Gods do exist, he cares little for them, arguing that the Gods (Both Aedra and Daedra) have rarely cared for mortals. While Jarandro is an enjoyable person to be around and is often seen to be in a good mood, he will lash out at anyone that is unnecessarily rude. Respect is one of the qualities that Jarandro admires. If you don't give respect you don't get respect in his eyes.


History: Jarandro,born of Ondaren and Elenya immigrants from the Summerset Isles who crossed over to Valenwood to escape the Aldmeri Dominion's control yet found themselves somehow serving them. Ondaren was born from a line of Elven smiths and Jarandro, naturally, would join the family business. Though they were fantastic smiths, the Thalmor and other Altmeri looked down upon them. They appeared different to the other High Elves due to their size and they were also lacking in Magical ability. Instead, the family chose to become smiths long ago as a means of giving to the people of Summerset Isle but instead was the target of ridicule.
As a boy, Jarandro grew and played in the southern regions of Valenwood. He would often aid his father in smithing for the Aldmeri Dominion, albeit unwillingly. In turn, he became the local smith for the Thalmor Agents as his father grew with age and became too frail to continue his work. While initially he was praised for his work, the Dominion began to ask of him ridiculous requests. After a few years, Jarandro had enough and with his parents, he escaped over the border into Cyrodiil. Leaving them in Cheydinhal, he began to traverse the land to further improve his abilities in Smithing. He had heard rumours of a great forge in Skyrim. Situated in the great city of Whiterun was such a forge that could make swords and shields like no other. Jarandro's great dream was to visit this forge. But he could not venture into Skyrim. At that time, Skyrim was embroiled in a bloody civil war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks led by Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarandro was forced to wait. Finally when he had heard news of General Tullius' victory, he began to make his way up through the Pale Pass into the land of Skyrim.


Roleplaying Sample: Excerpt from a Fanfic/Story I wrote a while back.

Spoiler

The waves of the Faerwayer Sea slowly crept up onto the shore as a young boy played on a small beach of white sand and grey rock. Water flowed freely around his ankles as he splashed around, happy and content as a young boy should be. He waded a little more into the sea, the water almost reaching his waist.

“Don’t wander off too far” called a voice from the island, after the warning the woman turned again towards the person she was speaking to. It was his mother, an Elven woman.
“Yes, Mother” the boy shouted back before moving a few steps deeper into the water. The sea began to move stronger and more fiercely than before, and the boy turned around and waded towards the shore when a wave crashed into him, squarely at the back. He was pushed forward and then back as the rip of the tide pulled him into the sea.

“Help! Mother!” he yelled out frantically but the water was entering his mouth, causing his words to be impaired.

The Sea was merciless and continued to thrash about, causing the boy to be pulled out further and further away from the island, his Mother not knowing of the danger her son was in.

“Mo-th....he..!” screamed the boy as the water began to pull him under.

The Sea was relentless, with the current thrashing the boy around. Water began to enter his mouth, choking him. As his eyes began to close, he saw a shadow gliding through the water below him. It was large and serpentine, with the only distinction that he saw was what looked to be limbs. As his eyes closed and his life hanged by a thread, he heard a voice in his head speak to him.

“It’s okay, young one” the voice said in a calm and assuring way “I will save you”

He suddenly felt something take a hold of him and pull him towards the surface.

“Who are you..?” he asked in his head.

“It does not matter right now” the voice replied

The boy stilled his tongue as he felt air surround him as they broke the water’s surface. The being then placed him onto the soft sand of the beach. As the boy opened his eyes, he saw a splash in the ocean as a teal coloured tail slip into the water, disappearing from sight.

“What...was that?” the boy asked himself as he stood up and shrugged the sand off his clothes before making his way back to his mother, who had been oblivious the whole time to the event that had just transpired.

“Janus!” yelled his Mother as she saw him “Look what you’ve done to your clothes!”

The boy ignored his Mother and looked back into the sea, a million thoughts running through his mind. “Did you see that?” the boy asked.

“See what?” asked the Mother “Look what you’ve done to your clothes!” she turned to the person next to her, “Sorry, I’m going to have to get him some clean clothes, I’ll be back, can you mind him for me?”

Her friend who she had been talking to nodded as the Mother left.

“What was that...” the boy kept asking himself.

“I saw it too...” the Woman said “What saved you...”

The boy looked up at her, his face full of surprise that she had saw what had happened. “Why didn’t you come to save me then if you saw it?” he asked

The woman smiled enigmatically. “Because he told me he would save you”

“He? Who is he?” the boy asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

He looked into the woman’s eyes then at her mouth as she spoke.

“He is...”

The boy watched her lips move but heard nothing as a bright light began to shine towards him. The light became brighter, blinding his eyes.

“Brother.... wake up...” a female voice said

 

[rizen]

Heyya Dante, thanks. I'm looking forward to the development of character creations, selections and what kind of rag-tag team will form.

It would be cool if you did post up your character bio so potential applicants get an example of what is expected of an officer position. Plus, I'm just straight up curious.

 

[A.Auditore]

Eventually ill get mine up ^_^

 

[Andante]

Heyya Dante, thanks. I'm looking forward to the development of character creations, selections and what kind of rag-tag team will form.

It would be cool if you did post up your character bio so potential applicants get an example of what is expected of an officer position. Plus, I'm just straight up curious.

You're welcome. ...and it isn't that I want my ideas to stand out as what is "expected", or "required" from someone wanting to assume an officer's role. I only want it to show an example of what people can expect to face during times like these. The lack of food, medicine, water, decent materials for weapons and armor. I want to see more of what is driving each of them, on the most personal level, to join an almost hopeless rebellion. ^_^

Eventually ill get mine up ^_^

Take your time, we'll get started in the next day or so if all goes well.