OOC Svart Varg Company

[QuiBears]

A young male Nord with fawn colour hair feathery hair that is tied simple tied back with a leather strip rushed towards you holding a leather bound parcel. His pine tree colour eyes glance up at you while he catches his breath for a moment.

"Oh, I have been searching all over for you," He paused for a moment while handing you the parcel that has an wolf's head branded into the leather, "I have a message for you from Svart Varg Company." The young man waits for a moment then starts to walk off away from you heading towards the nearest inn to get some well needed rest.

The parcel seems a bit weighted which you deduce it is more than just a simple letter to which you head into the nearest inn and find yourself a table where you can easily open the package and examine it. When you open the leather parcel you find the following items.

• A skinning kit
• A simple map that leads to Silent Moons Camp
• Two canine teeth from a wolf
• A parchment

The parchment is indeed a folded letter to which it reads the following:

The wind howls of your skills and we give you the choice to join our pack, Svart Varg. We are a mercenary company that specifically does the jobs that most will not wish to do. You are required to carry your own weight among the pack, however we take care of our own. If you are interested please join us in three days time.

Signed,
Fridtjof

_______________________________________________________________-
OOC: Hello and welcome to my concept for an Rp! This story takes place during the Skyrim game, so there will be the ongoing skirmishes between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. Basically, this concept is about a mercenary group that is basically like a black ops task force, though they are for hire. They are the best of the best and the worst of the worst, though the words best and worst do not reflect on their skills it is more which way their moral compass points.

If you are interested in this story please post your Character Cards here and include a RP sample. I am not a grammar nazi, I love creative, unique characters and detail. My usual request is between seven to twelve sentence minimum, though there is no kill like overkill. *wink*

I will be choosing six characters based on the following criteria:

• Your character is not the dragonborn
• Your character is not a guild or faction leader
• You are not a god/goddess or avatar of a god/goddess
• You are not a daedric prince/princess that is looking to destroy the world.

Other than that I welcome pretty much anything and I will be posting my Character Card later. *hugs everyone*

Current Cast: Recruiting is over!

• QuiBears as Riraynea Varavsa
• Valin Oakthorn as Valin Oakthorn
• Akhkharus as Diores Silvers
• Aerin as Alara the Younger
• Captaink11 as Carenen Larethor
• The Effelo as Hides-in-Shadows
• Tiaz Raydari as Tiaz Dir-kamal

Here is a link to the actual Rp thread Svart Varg Company

 

[QuiBears]

Name: Riraynea Varavsa
Age: 20
Race: High elf
Class: Druid
Hair Color: Black; tied in a simple bun
Eye color: Green/gray
Distinguishing marks: Always wears traditional markings or tattoos on her face: The design is that of her eyes outlined in a dark red clay and a line is drawn from that clay up and down her eyes. Her ears tips also are covered with the red clay.
Height: Five feet seven inches
Weight: 130lbs
Figure: hourglass

​

Armor:

• Deer hide tunic with vine embroidery, and sinew tying it all together
• Cloak made from the fins of a large fish
• Helmet made from the bones of a snake and a bird to make it look like a dragon
• Deer leather boots

Weapon:

• Oak tree branch wrapped with vines and animal bones

Skills:

• Alchemy
• Destruction Magic
• Illusion Magic
• Restoration Magic

Combat Style:

• Calls on the powers of nature to aid her.
  • She will summon a pack of wolves to protect her.
  • She will cast Destruction magic (lightening spells)
  • She heals the wounded
• When she is out of manna she will use her oak staff like a club and beat her enemy to death.

Family history:
Riraynea was born to a very poor high elf family to which they felt that if they sacrificed her to the gods then they would be doing her a favor. However they were both killed by a Dark Elf hunter who was watching they high elves attempted to murder the infant. Loelth Varavsa, the dark elf hunter, took the infant and cared for her as if she were his own child naming her Riraynea. He taught her the ways of the nature to which she, at first struggled with the more in depth concepts, however she eventually developed a simple understanding. Loelth and Riraynea, nicknamed Rira, traveled in the forests just on the outskirts of Skyrim, never daring to enter those forests, at this time the young high elf was thirteen year old, to which they would hunt and collect pelts to sell to a tanner. Yet as they were hunting young Rira found herself roaming the forest, feeling that something in the wind and trees was pulling her down a path, yet when she turned her head to look back the path was being devoured by the bushes and trees. She found herself not only in a part of the forest that was unfamiliar to her, but she was in a clearing to which she glanced over at a small black wolf cub that looked like it had been slashed brutally with a dagger. This brought a feeling of sadness in her heart to which she moved closer to the small creature to which she then knelled before the pup and started to pet it.

She quickly discovered that it was alive, but not for long as it yelped at her showing pleading eyes begging for either a swift painless death, or a chance to live. She pulled her dagger out from her belt and held it up over the pup watching it close its eyes whimpering at the weapon. Tears filled her eyes for she only witnessed her father kill older animals, never young. She then threw her dagger to the earth taking out a small tonic and helping the pup drink the healing medicine. She tore her burlap tunic and tried to cover the wound applying pressure to seal the wound so that the small animal would not bleed out. Rira felt something pulsating off of the pup to which she continued to try and help the small wolf cub. As her earthy green eyes glanced up for a moment she saw what looked like a rather large white wolf watching her. Rira felt a chill run down her spine as the wolf spoke to her in a language she did not understand.

"Hóigh beagleanbh"

The little high elf felt the white wolf walk over to her side to which it slowly transformed into a beautiful white haired Breton woman wearing only a white pelt over her slender form. She lightly touched the wolf cub as shining gold light escaped from her hands and poured into the wolf healing its wounds.

"Cros eagla, leanbh."

The woman ran her fingers through the raven hair for the little elf while radiating calm energy which soon caused the teenager to fall asleep. Hours later she awoke hearing her father and the strange woman talking about Rira's future. It was discovered that they were to be traveling to Skyrim where Rira was going to be left with the Breton woman. The next day the three traveled up a path heading into Skyrim where they dodged Imperial patrols moving North west towards Helgan. After about a weeks worth of travel the three finally arrive in an old bear cave to which a small clan of different raced individuals dwell.

(leaving out a chunk of history for a reason)
After the clan cleared out the Lunar forge a now older Rira stands wearing clothing made of nature. The clan transformed once White wolf, the female breton, passed. The clan turned into a mercenary company doing the difficult jobs...

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

General

• Name: Valin Oakthorn
• Race: Bosmer/Werewolf
• Gender: Male
• Birthsign: Shadow
• Age: 75 (looks 29 due to wolf blood.)
• Height: 5'9
• Weight: 145 lbs
• Hometown: Eldenroot, Valenwood
• Current Residence: N/A
• Personality: He's calm and collected, quiet and unnoticeable. He prefers not to draw attention to himself when possible. When he talks, it's quick and with a tone to it that commands one to listen. Though very relaxed, he is easily set off and can fly into rage in the blink of an eye.

Appearance

• Face
  - Emerald Green Eyes
  - Three claw marks under his left eye
  - Unsettling Wolfish Grin
  - Medium-long length Midnight black hair that is barely visible under his hood
  - A Medium-Short Goatee
• Body
  - Very Muscular for a bosmer
  - Slightly tan skin
  - A wolf paw marking over his heart
  - Very scarred hands
  - Fur coming out of his ears
• Apparel
  - A dark leather and Fur tunic, holding many pouches.- Black wolf fur shoulders and cape
  - A Goat horn canteen, and small pouch at side for other items.
  - A black hood, and attached mask (he only wears mask when in a place where people could see him)
  - A boot with a knife compartment
  
  

Combat

• Class: Ranger
• Skills-Major
  *Archery
  *Acrobatics
  *Sneak
  -Minor
  *Alchemy
  *Illusion
  *One handed
  *Light Armor
  *Restoration
• Weapons
  *A twin blade bastard sword, can be wielded with one and two hands, or pulled apart and dual wielded.
  *Utility arrows, along with killing, his arrows can be used for many things. (grappling hook, sleep dart, etc)
  *Elderwood Bow (A bow Valin made himself from the branch of one of the oldest trees in valenwood.)
• Battle Tactics: Valin is quick and agile, he hates fighting in a closed area such as a cave. He prefers to perch himself above in a tree or rooftop and rain arrows on his enemies as he darts from branch to branch or building to building.
  When on the ground he pulls out his blade. This blade is most often wielded with two or one hand, as it is short enough for one but two heavy to perform power attacks without two. This blade however is a twin blade and can be pulled apart and dual wielded as two identical blades.

Bio
He grew up in valenwood as hunter and eventually combined those skills with combat to become a ranger. He moved to skyrim and eventually became a werewolf, something he accepted and now he fights for them. (I left the backstory rather small as he will be revealed more in the future.)
Rp Sample:
Valin dashed along the trees, he had heard it, the unmistakable sound of a dog bark. This meant one thing, other hunters coming onto his ground. The woods to the west of Falkreath were his, and his alone. He slowed his jumps as the barks grew closer and closer. Finally he saw him, there he was. A nord poaching on Valin's turf.

"I suggest that you leave, now." Valin warned, pulling up the mouthpiece on his hood. Stepping ever so closer to the man. The man turned, laughing, "or else wha-". The man dropped the mace he had eagerly readied. "Y- Y- Your." "Valin Oakthorn, now I suggest that you start running, or by Hircine, I will drop and arrow in your neck." Valin warned in his calm but threatening voice. The man took off running but not without Valin dropping a arrow in a tree near his head to quicken his step.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

This seems like a very interesting roleplay that i think would be alot of fun to be a part of.

 

[QuiBears]

Thank you and welcome, I shall be trying to recruit more players. Though a slight suggestion, on my computer it's a bit hard to see the black font, but other than that I like your character.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

fixed it

 

[QuiBears]

Thank you, *hugs*

 

[Akhkharus]

Name: Diores Silvers
Race: Imperial
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Affliction(s): None
Birthplace: Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil
Current Residence: N/A, on the road
Affiliation: None
Occupation: Mercenary / Vigilante


Major Skills: Infiltration (Lockpicking/Sneak - Adept), Archery (Expert)
Minor Skills: Melee Combat (Two-handed - Apprentice), Bartering (Speechcraft - Apprentice),
Wooing (Speechcraft - Expert?)


Inventory:
• "Ertragen" - Oaken longbow reinforced with steel on the grip and both ends of the bow - used for blocking and striking. A few scorched marks on the wooden parts of it.
• Iron dagger - usually for utility purposes and only serves as a last resort for combat.
• Black leather vest over light, civilian clothing; black leather boots; black leather gauntlets.
• Utility belt that holds his dagger and a small bag that holds coins and a few potions.

Bio:
• Family - Both diseased, died during a bandit raid when Diores was 7.

• Appearance - 5'7" tall. Wavy, jet black, shoulder length hair usually tied in a pony tail. Slightly gaunt facial structure with pronounced cheeks and jaw accentuated by his faded goatee. Hooded, golden eyes. Pale olive skin tone. Light and toned body build.

• Personality: Confident and level-headed. Often enjoying company with those who possess the same freedom such as he - not held back by laws - although most of the time, the company he enjoys ends up being imprisoned or dead. Having a soft spot for the less-fortunate, he forgoes profit and would help them to the best of his abilities, he often feeling small regret once he realizes his purse is empty by the end of his favor-giving.
Spirited and carefree, he often encourages his companions to share a laugh or be merry with him when such times occur.
A self-proclaimed ladies' man, he aims to please any womenfolk he encounters and is quick to brush-off men in favor for the females.

• Likes - Women, bows, hunting, gold, having a good time
• Dislikes - Stiff people, undead, necromancers, lending gold, cramped spaces

• History:
Born from a poor family in Cheydinhal, Diores experienced hard work at an early age. Poaching and traveling from one city to another to trade, he picked up skills that he saw where necessary the day he reached adulthood.

He lived out in the wilderness only a few years after losing his parents to a group of bandits. Feeling that the law was too slow to move on its own feet, he took it upon himself to venture into a business where the authority stops and law couldn't help it when he reaches proper age.

After years of honing his skills, he became a vigilante; taking in criminal scum without reward. Soon after realizing that there is a need to profit from his "job", he started to alternate between helping the poor and the rich in order to have his own needs satiated.


• RP Sample:
The woods were quiet as the night was, its inhabitants going back to their homes nonchalantly after doing their business during the day. Although, a rather strange activity is happening deeper in the forested areas, animals run - fleeing - away from a certain spot. Trees that surround the area hold charred scars, the grassy ground littered with smoking dents.

"Imps. Why is it always imps?" said Diores as he run as fast as he could, chasing vile, winged creatures that are dragging a helpless woman away from civilized lands. The wicked creatures hurling balls of fire towards his direction, every time they do, the woman's fear growing exponentially. Diores drew his bowstring and aimed for one of the imps, releasing his hold on the string and letting the arrow fly towards its target. The imp fell as the arrow pierced its back, releasing its grip on the woman's arm. The other imp begun to struggle as the shared weight became all its own. Diores didn't hesitate for one moment to draw and release another shot, killing the other imp as the arrow pierced its neck.

He quickly ran for the woman, helping her up on her wobbly legs. "You'll be alright, milady. The vile spawns of darkness are gone." Diores helped her stand still, parting away locks of her brown hair to get a better look on her face. And on that moment did he realize that the innocent woman he risked getting burned for was not as helpless as he thought to be. With a grim smile forming across her pale face, the intentions of the woman became more clear as he feels a hot - almost scalding - aura in her hands.

Diores lifted his bow, grabbing it with both hands, and swung it overhead. The conjurer lifted her hands and released gouts of flames from them, burning the frail wooden structure of his bow. Taken aback from the sudden change of pace, he failed to notice the bolt of fire that struck his chest, sending him reeling away from the conjurer. "This is starting to become a bad day." he said, shaking himself off the pain. Diores picked himself up, gripping the lightly charred remains of his bow in both hands, and charging forward - very far from what he usually does.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

by vigilante do you mean the type that is not apart of the law organization but catches criminals, or the ones that kill daedra and drag people to stendarr's light?

 

[Akhkharus]

The former, although if the coin is good, he could be "persuaded" to be a great douche servant of Stendarr. Oh and I think what you are pertaining to is a Vigilant.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

oh yes i see, ok then.

 

[QuiBears]

May I please have some RP samples?

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

of?

 

[QuiBears]

Your character

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

i need a setting or something please

 

[QuiBears]

you can just make it up

 

[Akhkharus]

Included a sample for mine.

 

[Valin Oakthorn]

I have added some to mine.

 

[QuiBears]

thank you *hugs*

 

[Aerin]

This sounds like a wonderful idea, and I have a character I'd love to explore if you'll have her.

Name - Alara the Younger

Gender - Female

Race - Nord

Age (in human years) - 26

Alignment - Chaotic Evil


Appearance - Alara is strikingly pale, long white hair which she wears braided at all times. Her eyes are pale grey, cold and calculating at all times. Her figure is curvaceous, but toned after years of labour and training. It is clear that she would have some sway in hand to hand combat, but usually she is merely seen as a wench to be wooed. She has a light dusting of freckles across her face due to her fair complexion. Her features are sharp, nothing special, perhaps a little plain. However her gaze is penetrating, something which many have commented on, something which often makes those around her look the other way and keep their heads down.

RP Sample -

~ Credit to RainfeatherPearl




Equipment - Alara prefers the simplicity of a sharp blade. Rather than waste her strength on a longbow, or her efforts with a sword, Alara chooses to coat her dual daggers with poisons and venoms. The daggers themselves are enchanted with fire, cursing her opponents with a slow and fiery death should her blades find their target. As well as her beloved blades she keeps a set of throwing knives strapped to her waist for longer distance kills. Occasionally she dips into the arcane, harnessing the powers of the void to conjure deathly blades and raise those fallen to aid her in times of battle when a stealthier approach is no longer viable.


Personality - Alara is often thought aloof and inconsiderate which mostly rings true. She is prone to look at others with disdain or indifference, only truly paying attention to those around her once she has found reason for keeping them close. She is a cruel tactician and prefers to sit quietly and monitor than to raise her voice. As such she is a woman of very few words, only choosing to speak when she deems it necessary. There is no softer side to her as many have foolishly hoped. She has grown close to men in the past, using them for her own purposes before dropping them at a moments notice. She has felt affection however, but has her own warped way of expressing such emotions. Her humour is dark and twisted, often seeing amusement in situations many would deem inappropriate. She pays them no mind however, happy to live her life as she sees fit.


Background - Alara was raised by her mother, Alara the elder, and her aunt Bera, in a secluded cabin in the tundras of The Pale. Both women had been cast out of their homes when Alara had been born, her mother's family choosing to disown her after the child's birth had been seen as a dishonour to the noble family. Bera had chosen to stand by her younger sister and as such had also been disowned. Due to the nature of their exile both women chose to raise Alara alone, relying on their limited hunting and alchemy skills to provide them the coin to feed themselves. As she grew older the women taught Alara their limited trades, the young girl honing her new skills, determined to live a life free of fear and hunger. She bitterly listened to her mother's lament over how she ha been thrown out, choosing even as a child to repay her grandparents for the pain they had caused her mother. Now with purpose Alara began to train herself, initially with crude iron daggers she had looted from a dead Stormcloak guard.

When she turned 18 she left home, a gift of her mother's old cloak to remind her of the two women who raised her. She headed straight for her mother's old home, taking up residence in the local tavern. She took her time, learning the Thane's routine, spending weeks tracking him and finding out the layout of his homestead from the easily persuaded bard who worked there. After 3 weeks of observation Alara finally chose her moment, easily sneaking in through an open window left unlatched by the bard.

It was a slaughter. Each member of her mother's family was left choking on their own blood, their throats slit with no remorse. Not once did she reveal herself, choosing not to speak to her grandfather. she left him last, allowed herself to enjoy her kill, her vengence. She quickly returned home with various trinkets and riches for her mother and aunt to either keep or sell on, ensuring that they would no longer feel the pang of hunger in their guts. Her mother never spoke of what happened, nor did she inquire after the smattering of blood that covered her girl's hands. Instead she silently gave her thanks, before turing to her gods, praying that her daughter not tread down a dark path any longer.

But Alara had started and could not come back. After her first kill came more, the young girl enjoying the power she held in her hands after so long living as no more than a beggar's bastard child. She remains in contact with her mother and aunt, always sending half of what gold she earns to them to keep them warm and well fed




RP Sample - Knelt on the ground the sharp rocks dug into her knees, biting through the thick wool of her breeches. Brushing her finger curiously thought the soft earth and gravel she slowly began to examine the body that now lay bleeding into the roadside. Dull, sightless eyes looked up at the mercenary as she began to explore the contents of the satchel he had worn across him when a knife had found it's target in his heart. A bitter wind howled around the crouching figure, a low rising winter sun casting an eerie glow about her pale features as she carried out her contract. The scheming merchant lay motionless and stiff on the ground as Alara finally found what she was searching for, a small bag of coins and gems that had been stolen from her employer. She hadn't paid attention to the details of the contract, she hardly cared why she was being sent after someone, what mattered to her was that she got the job done quickly and quietly.

A cruel smile was spread across her face as nimble fingers pried the throwing knife from the merchant's chest, cleaning the blade lovingly with the corner of her cloak. Pale eyes glinted in the light as she reached back to the site of the wound, her hands pressing against sliced flesh, bright red blood oozing between her fingers. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards as she lifted her hand, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together as she enjoyed the sensation of the viscous fluid coating her hand. The call of a nightingale in the background brought the killer back to her senses, her gaze having grown far and distant as she had lost herself in the feel of blood. Looking behind her to make sure she remained undetected on the darkening pathway. Sheathing the throwing knife, she slipped the coin purse into the bag that hung at her hips and stood up, quickly throwing her hood up over her head as she began the long journey back to the company base.