Info Character Profiles

[Gearuvagen]

Name: Trinak gro-Dushnik (formerly Bomir Winter-Wind)
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Religion: Follower of Malacath
Class: Berserker
Weapons: Orcish Warhammer

Description: 5'11 180 lbs, Shoulder length brown hair pulled back, Deep set green eyes, Three large scars on his left cheek and five across his back. Left Handed.



Personality: Strong Willed, Slow to trust others, Fiercely loyal, Haunted by a childhood tragedy



History: As a child Trinak (then Bomir) lived in Karthwasten with his father and two older sisters. The family owned one of the few mines in The Reach not owned by the Silver-Bloods. It was late Middas night on the 15th of Evening Star when he heard it, yelling had stirred Bomir from his sleep. One voice he was able to identify as his father Korig Winter-Wind the other he could not place, he carefully got out of his bed and walked to the doorway of his room. He could just barely see the mainroom where the chairs were arranged around a small fire pit, There looked to be three other men in the room with his father a tall thin man with a long beakish nose and balding grey hair. He wore expensive looking clothes with even more expensive looking necklace, The men behind Bomir was easily able to identify as Markarth city guards by their distinctive armor and shields.
"The Silver-Bloods are growing very bored of this game you're playing Korig" The Balding man said jabbing his finger into Korig's chest.
"I'm not playing a game" Korig responded knocking the mans hand away from him "This mine has been in my family since the 2nd era and you want me to turn it over to a group of thieves and traitors?"
"Watch your tongue cur!" The Bald man snarled his large nose wrinkling in anger.
"I will be rotting in the Hall of the Dead before I see a Silver-Blood run my mine" Korig snapped
"So be it" he turned and nodded to the guards. In a flash of movement the guard on the left unsheathed and thrust his sword into Korig's chest. Bomir flew from his hiding place at the guard grabbing the only weapon he could find, a pickaxe left leaning against a dresser. He swung it over his head the guard only chuckled and raised his shield. The blow glanced off throwing Bomir off balance allowing the guard to slam the shield into the side of Bomir's head. The boy laid there the room spinning, his ear ringing and a boot on his chest looking up at the balding man. "Just as pig-headed as your father" he snorted "Kill the others" he said pointing towards the back of the house. The other guard strode off unsheathing his sword on the way.
"Take this one outside make it look like he tried to run, oh and break his jaw or something so he can't talk."
"Why don't we just kill him?" The guard asked yanking Bomir up by his hair and placing the bloody sword to his throat. "If we kill the boy the mine goes to the next of kin and who knows who that is and how long it'll take to find them, but if the boy were to say burn his house down while performing some foul Daedric ritual" he smiled picking up a burning log from the fire pit he got within inches of Bomir's face "Well then he would be thrown in Cidhna Mine and all his property would be forfeit to the Jarl who will be a tad more inclined to sell to the Silver-Bloods, don't you think?" He smiled again revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth. "Make sure it all burns" he said handing the flaming log to the guard who reentered the room his sword now covered in blood as well.Bomir choked back tears as he thought of what just happened to his sisters. The guard holding Bomir sheathed his blade. "Let's step outside boy" he said pulling Bomir by the hair. He open the door it was then Bomir saw his chance, he elbowed the man in the groin and bolted into the cold darkness. He had no idea where to go as he ran, "I could go to Ainethach he hates the Silver-Bloods almost as much as my father...did" the last word sent wave of sorrow through Bomir "will Ainethach believe me over the guards though?" he thought. he decided he couldn't risk it even if he did believe Bomir the guards would probably just kill him too. There was no other option but to keep running he could hear one of the guards behind struggling to keep up in the deep winter snow. Bomir continued to run South he came to the top of the large hill that overlooked the road and the river it was blanketed in thick snow. He couldn't pause to find a gentler way down the guard was catching up he had no choice he threw himself off, rolling down, the snow softened most of the blows. He finally came to a stop lying flat on his back his entire body felt bruised. The sound of footsteps grabbed his attention he turned his head to see the guard coming down the hill in a much more reasonable manner. Bomir struggled to get up run again the guard was catching up even faster now. The snow was beginning to thin under their feet, then Bomir heard it a loud sharp 'Crack' followed by another and another. "This isn't the road" he thought. The ice covering the river began to groan more loudly with every step he took until finally his right foot broke through into the painfully cold water causing him to fly forward but instead of plunging into the deadly water he landed face first on the snow covered bank. He scrambled away from the river looking back expecting to see the guard hot on his trail only to see a rams head shield laying next to a large hole in the ice.

He stumbled around not knowing where he was or which way he was going for hours. Lights appeared in the distance he moved closer trying to make out what they were. The light were coming from a couple of lanterns and a smelter it looked like. "It must be Left-Hand mine" he thought he then noticed a fourth light this one moving. A torch...being carried by a Markarth city guard. Bomir's heart began to feel like it was going to beat out of his chest. He didn't know if the guard was looking for him but he couldn't risk it. He took off running to the South again, he found a small trail leading up into the mountains and began traveling up it. The path was dark save for the small instances when Masser or Secunda would peek through the now dense clouds. He slowed to a walk his entire body numb from the cold a strange smell caught his attention a deep musky smell it was getting stronger. Masser broke free and allowed Bomir to see where the scent was coming. No more than ten feet away stood a large brown bear. He froze the bear had already seen him standing there it's breath visible in the cold air. It let out a roar that brought Bomir back to his senses. He had come to far to be killed by a bear, the beast charged forward and so did Bomir he grabbed a large rock and threw it out the bears head. It crashed into it's skull causing it to stop and shake it head, not out of pain so much as shock at how defiant his snack turned out to be. The bear charged again Bomir now armed with only a thick stick swung madly at the beast sticking nothing but air. The Bear slashed out with it's claws Bomir dove to the right but was not fast enough the bear caught his left cheek with three of it's claws. Bomir tried to jump up but the bear slashed again this time catching him in the back causing him to fly forward onto his stomach. He flipped over to his back the pain immediate, the bear was walking towards him it's jaws open,already savoring his next meal. Heavy footsteps drew both the bear and Bomir's attention, the bear turned just in time for a steel war axe to sink into his skull. It took Bomir a few seconds to take in what had just happened his vision was beginning to blur whether it was due to the searing pain or the freezing cold he didn't know, even with the blurred vision there was no mistaking the man who just saved him was an Orc. The Orc was tall, as are most, his face dark and head shaved, He wore what looked like steel armor. "Who are you and what are you doing out here" he asked eyes narrowing to inspect the child. Bomir told the orc everything leaving nothing out he didn't know why he was telling him but he did. As Bomir vision began to fade the last thing he saw was a large hand reaching toward him.

He awoke later covered in furs and warm his face and back were covered in bandages that had been smeared with a putrid smelling salve. He could hear talking but couldn't raise up to see where it was coming from.
"You had had no right bringing him here Ghorbash" a deep voice growled clearly a male orc.
"Quiet Oglub,Your brother thought it was the right thing to do" a female orc responded.
"What do you say Burguk? a voice Bomir recognized as being the Orc who found him.
"What does Malacath say?" A voice who Bomir assumed to be Burguk.
"I've read the entrails several times" The female orc responded "Malacath sees no fault in Ghorbash's actions he says the boy has become an outcast, cursed by his people with no place to go."
"hmph, very well he may remain here" Burguk grunted.
"He's is not an Orc how can he live among us?" Oglub growled.
"I am chief! Oglub do not forget that! He stays because I said as much! You may go back to the mines" he yelled "Ghorbash! you brought the boy here he s now your responsibility you will teach him how to live and fight like an Orc. Is that understood?"
"Yes" Ghorbash replied "What about his name?"
"An Orc needs an Orc name" The Orc woman said standing and walking over to the bed where Bomir laid. "You are Trinak gro-Dushnikh now"
That had been 20 years ago but Trinak thought about it often he had become a full member of the stronghold, he worked like an orc, he ate like an orc he even killed Forsworn like an orc. Yet he still found himself sitting on the balcony of Reachwind Eyrie looking out on the breadth of Skyrim wanting to travel wanting to explore, seeing the thatched roofs of Karthwasten and wanting revenge.

(Went a little crazy on the history part sorry bout that)

 

[wootirockx]

ODAHVIING​

'I go my own way now'​

Name: Odahviing​

Meaning: "Winged Snow Hunter".​

Age: Unknown​

Gender: Male​

Race: Dragon​

Rank: Alduin's right-hand​

Physical Des: Odahviing is a rare dragon, with bright, vibrant red scales and a white underbelly. His back is decorated by tall, thick black spines and his tail ends in a white, fin like point. His wings are much more of a grey color with swirls of red, edged in blue. Eight horns crown his head and two smaller horns protrude from his chin.

History: Buried in a mound near Riften, in the south east of Skyrim. After being buried for thousands of years, he was resurrected by Alduin, and took his place as his right-hand dragon, helping him wreak havoc across Skyrim. Although after Alduin retreats to Sovngarde after his defeat by the Dovahkiin he begins to question his lordship, and so cannot resist the temptation to answer the Dovahkiin when he calls for him.

Personality: Odahviing has no real loyalty to anyone who cannot prove their power to him. Odahviing cannot resist the temptation of a challenge when it is presented to him. Although he is known for his hot-headed personality and being head-strong in battle, Odahviing keeps to his word and is not one to deceive. Though he may not tell the whole truth, he is not a liar. Odahviing expresses his dislike for Alduin's portal to Sovngarde to the Dovahkiin.

Other: Will become hostile if Dragonrend is used on him.Hostile toward Shadowmere.


Photo:

if there is any problem, or if he is taken please message me and I will gladly change! Thank you!

 

[buckdog3]

Name: Fenris O'Leary
Race: Nord
Occupation: hunter/nomad
Gender: male
Religion: Follower of hircine
Age:21
Appearance

Carries black one handed steel sword with bone handle 1ft knife on his hip and a 7 ft spear with a ebony tip. Rides huge paint horse does not wear shirt or armor except a chain mail sleeve. fur greaves and boots.

History: Was born on Solsteim his mother died at his birth so he and his father moved back to the main land.His family has all ways had wolfs blood Hircine granted his family. He was fed wolves milk when his mother died and that increased his beast blood. Him and his father began hunting and traveling all across Skyrim. He learned how to survive in the wilderness with nothing and his father trained him in the art of sword and spear. One day while he and his father were out hunting a group of bandits ambushed them. His father was overrun... His father told him to run and that was the last thing he said before there leader drove his sword into his fathers heart. The beast blood took over he shifted for the first time and slaughtered all of the bandits. After burying his father Fenris took over a group of bandits for a while. After that he began hunting the wilds of Skyrim again until he made his way to Windhelm.

Personality: Natural born leader, frontiers man, proud and has a quick temper.

 

[MagicBlade]

General
Name: Ballimus (His surname is unknown, and no one has ever given him one.)
Age: 30
Race: Imperial
Birth Place: Anvil, Cyrodiil
Birth Sign: The Warrior
Religion: Worships each divine equally.
Current Residence: Solitude, Skyrim.
Class: Soldier.
Current Occupation: Travels Skyrim, yet is called up by the Legion to do random missions.
Appearance: Brown short hair, dark brown eyes, medium sixed nose, pale lips, tanned skin.
Personality: Born from a politician mother and a soldier farmer, he had to begin hard and rugged work at a young age. He grew up mainly by himself, which has made him independent and easily amused by himself. He will enjoy company, though. His father told him the code of honour and loyalty, and now at 30 Ballimus will defend friends with no hesitations. He has undying loyalty, mateship and support, and aprt from his combat skills and fierceness he is a great friend and a reliable mate.
History: As a young boy he had to go through vigorous work and labour to earn his family's keep. His father enlisted as a solider to try and earn money, but he died 4 months after. His mother became a diplomat, and a very high ranking politician in the Imperial City. At 23, Ballimus joined up with the legion, with his mother finally stepping down from her title. She died a few months afterward, while Ballimus was on a campaign to move the Thamor away from Bruma. He trained hard, and showed great stamina and determination. He then was sent to Skyrim to help with the Stormcloak Rebellion. He moved to Solitude after slowly removing himself from campaigns in his older years.
Major Skills.: Ballimus is a skilled Swordsman and uses a shield well. He dons Imperial Armour (Like Gen. Tullius's) But it is white with the red cloth, and the decorations are gold.
Minor Skills: During the military training, he shot a bow a few times, yet he preferred to et in close. He is an allright shot, yet under pressure he will mostly miss. With some trainin gby his mother, he can cast simple restoration spells like Fast Healing and Healing Hands.
No Skill: He can't sneak, because of his stature, and he his hands can't make it in someones pockets. Any other schools of magic he has no knowledge of.
Misc. He is now a travelling man, seeking to take in Skyrim's beauty, knowing that when on military operations he has never been able to have a look at the mountains and tundra.

Availble for RPING.

 

[GoldenFoox]

Name: Dar'Hammu
Race: Khajiit
Class: Archer/Thief
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Looks: Dark Fur colour, Sharp eyes with pure white background, Red-ish pupils. Has a Dark Mane at the base of his neck and top of his back, Medium length hair meeting up with the mane, making it look like some sort of fur clothing. Has small vampire-like fangs at the front of his mouth, however he is not a vampire. His ears are pointy like a sharp blade.
Current Occupation: Hunter, sells meat and fur to make a profit. makes camps at various places to hunt different Animals
History: As a child Dar'Hammu was a sneaky little kid. He learned how to pickpocket effectively at a young age and learned how to use the bow at the age of 16. He also gained admittance to the Thieves guild at 19. He is an experienced thief. However he has put his criminal past behind him.
Major Skills: Dar'Hammu is an Experienced Archer. He can hit targets from a big distance! He is also a professional pickpocket and Lockpicker, Allowing him to break into things if the need be.
Lesser Skills: Dar'Hammu can use the blade, But he is not effective with it. He also has a small grasp of Magic, allowing him to cast basic Restoration spells, but nothing more. Dar'Hammu has a bit of experience in smithing, but he burns him self lots so he usually stays away from that. Dar'Hammu is a follower of Nocturnal, He has heard of the nightingales, and have been searching for them for most of his life, he is close.
Complete No skill in: Block, He does not have enough strength to block. It always gets him knocked down.

 

[Elgorym]

General Information:
Name: Elgorym Rylven
Race: Wood Elf/Bosmer
Birthplace: Southpoint, Valenwood
Religion: Worships the 8 Divine
Age: 25
Born: 15th of Mid Year
Birthsign: The Steed
Family: No siblings, deceased parents.
Marital Status: Single
Standing on the Civil War: Imperial, but doesn't fight for them.

Appearance: Medium height, fairly muscular (although he has a smaller body type), long and dark blonde hair that goes to his neck, normally wears a set of Steel Plated Armor or Glass Armor. Wields an ebony bow and ebony arrows, along with two glass swords. He has red war paint on his left side of his face that go across it in 3 lines as if he'd been raked with claws there. Since the finalization of "The Dark Quest", he is now equipped with an Ancient Dragonbone War Axe known as "Warmonger".

History: Born of Tasha Lynn and Alden Rylven, a married couple. Their family is wealthy and well known in Southpoint and nearby cities in Valenwood. Elgorym's parents made their living as politicians, which provided the family a large and fancy home and many septims. Elgorym was an only child, but had a friend known as Aranni. She hunted with Elgorym out in the woods to have some fun because their parents were often gone.

Most days were like this until Elgorym was 13, when he was kidnapped by a group of well-known bandits known as the Greypaws in his sleep, knowing that the Rylven family were very powerful and wealthy, and could take their son for ransom. He escaped the place he was being held at and now seeks revenge on the Greypaw Bandit Clan. Elgorym returned to the family property, only to see his childhood home burn in front of his eyes and as his parents corpses charred. The only thing left was his horse, Honey, which he took with on his travels. He wept and went to find his friend Aranni. She and her family seemingly disappeared, so he left Valenwood for Black Marsh to begin adventuring, as he had nothing else left. There, he met a young argonian named Derkeethus. Derkeethus left his home to follow Elgorym around Tamriel, which eventually led them to Skyrim when Elgorym was 21. They decided to stay there for a while, where Elgorym met many new friends.

Currently, Elgorym makes his coin by delving into dangerous ruins, hunting, and helping citizens and friends. To this day, Elgorym has sought out the Greypaw clan to eliminate them and find his childhood friend Aranni. When Derkeethus is not adventuring with Elgorym, he stays in Darkwater Crossing to make some septims mining or helping other adventurers.

-The Dark Quest-
(Concluded)
Objective: Kill Munaax
Status: Success

< http://skyrimforum.com/sf/threads/the-dark-quest.23286/ >

Elgorym hunted a dragon priest called Munaax with some helpers: Drapor, a vampire, Saloman, an old wizard, Tiaz, a demon, Tumio, Tiaz's companion, and Derkeethus, a friend of Elgorym's. Munaax planned to stop time and conquer Tamriel. They were under the aid of Ri'saad's Khajiit caravan until they arrived at Munaax's crypt to stop him.

In the end, Munaax was slain in his tomb by the warriors. Elgorym gained a lot of loot from the dungeon, as well as a Dragonbone War Axe known as "Warmonger" that he now uses. The rest of the band escaped the crypt while Elgorym got injured and suffered a dangerous head injury. Presently, Elgorym has trouble with memory and suffers from his injury although it is not chronic.

-Current Whereabouts-
Elgorym is presently in the Bannered Mare Tavern, in Whiterun. Here he seeks his next adventure while Derkeethus stays in Darkwater Crossing.

 

[TomLeViking]

Name: Thorek of Eastmarch
Race: Nord
Class: Berserker
Age: Late 40s
Born on the 29th of Last Seed

Appearance: Bald with a full, brown beard. Blinded in one eye with a clean cut down his face from a clash with Legate Adventus Caesennius in a heated battle. Tall and very muscular from years living in the wild for years.

Brief Backstory:
Grew up with his father in a small shack in Eastmarch, near Kynesgrove. His mother died in childbirth and he had a younger sister, who now lives in Windhelm. His father was a devout worshipper of Talos who served in the Great War, who died shortly after the White Gold Concordat was drawn. By this time he was a young man living in Windhelm. Joining the Stormcloaks when Ulfric first laid down his claim to Windhelm, Thorek quickly became a low-level military commander known for his ruthless ability to rush the enemies first line of defence.

He has an affinity with Skyrim's creatures, especially wolves, from his hunting days.
After his wife died delivering his troops supplies in the early rebellion, Thorek gave up hope and left Windhelm and the Stormcloaks to explore the land, becoming a bounty hunter and occasional bodyguard. He occasionally encounters old Stormcloak officers who implore him to continue the fight, but he warns them that he will not join up until he has seen all the beauty of Skyrim.

He is often remarked by Legion officers as a myth, to dispel fear among young recruits who say Stormcloak soldiers can rip a man's arms off (A story told by Legionaries after a battle where Thorek pulled off the arm of a dead Imperial, rinsed his chest in blood and threw the arm 100 yards into the Imperial's retreating position).

Apparel:
Fights with fur boots, fur gauntlets and fur breeches, with a large belt containing pouches of herbal medicine, many small knives and a horn which is usually filled with mead.
In situations where there is no bloodshed he will mostly don a cloak of wolf's coat, which includes a hood of the wolf's head which he can pull over his own.

He carries with him a sack of hunting supplies to keep a meager bow and some traps in, as well as any game he kills.

Weapons: Fights with a steel longsword and often uses the small iron axe on his belt as a sidearm.

 

[TomLeViking]

Sorry if I'm clogging up this thread but I gotta make another character :L

Name: Eridor of Valenwood
Race: Wood elf
Class: Archer
Age: 203 - 60ish in equivalent elven years to a human
Born 14th of Evening Star

Background: A Bosmer who came from Falinesti to travel the world. He currently resides in Skyrim but plans on moving on soon. He is a keen archer, hunter and alchemist, which he has learnt from his travels in the wild. In addition, he often communicates with other elderly Bosmer using birds, a skill he picked up in Valenwood. He prefers the simple things in life and doesn't desire great wealth.

Personality: He is wise and thinks out his actions. He doesn't care much about the war or honour and will offer himself up as a mercenary or caravan guard whenever he can. He is not cold hearted, though, and often tries to help others, particularly the vulnerable, and he has turned down many jobs on moral grounds. He prefers to stand back and assess a situation before making a decision and deciding on an opinion. He is easy to get along with as he talks little and tries not to offend. He is almost like a friendly grandfatherly figure, but will often talk down to younger people whom he believes to act foolish.

Appearance/apparel: Long and thick silvery-black hair, aged features with a few scars. Blood-red war paint streaked down his left eye and a full goatee beard.
Fighting style: He is most akin to using a Bosmer style sinew short-bow, but will draw a steel short-sword in melee combat.

 

[Nocte Aeterna]

Have I made one for Al? Well, I have now.

Name: Aldaril
Race: Altmer (High Elf)
Gender: Male
Age: 148 (since Altmer often live for centuries at a time and age very slowly, Aldaril appears to be about 31-33 in human terms).
Birthright/Upbringing: Common blood, Bruma.
Religion: Agnostic, but favors the lore surrounding Julianos.
Class: Sorcerer
Appearance: Olive-like skin tone and complexion, amber eyes, pointed nose, prominent cheekbones, long mane of white hair.
Apparel: Thalmor robes, fine armbands, pleated boots.
Occupation: Ex-Thalmor tactician/justiciar.
Weapons/Combat Style: Heavily gifted in Destruction, Illusion, and Conjuration spells; occasionally wields a silver sword enchanted with fire damage called Delbaeth.
Miscellaneous: His favorite drink is spiced wine.


I'd rather not reveal too much about his past experiences yet. It's more fun that way.

 

[TomLeViking]

I'd rather not reveal too much about his past experiences yet. It's more fun that way.

Now that's how to do it

 

[ComElephant]

Name: Kostas Grey-Mane
Race: Nord/Breton
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Birthright/Upbringing: Born in Wayrest, High Rock, Moved to Markarth, Skyrim
Religion: Worships the Nine Divines
Class: Wizard
Appearance: Black, braided hair. Un-evenly coloured peach skin with small scar on left eye. Round Nose.
Apparel: Master Wizard Robes of Destruction/Conjuration, Daederic Armor.
Occupation: Stormcloack General. Father. Killer of the Thalmor. Ex Imperial healer. Arch-Mage.
Weapons/Combat Style: Master Destruction/Restoration/Conjuration, Master in One-Handed Combat
Likes: Lydia, Magic, Sweet-Rolls,
Dislikes: Ria of the Companions, who tried to kill me after getting married to me, Thalmor,
Miscellaneous: Was almost murdered by his own wife in his own home.

 

[Patricia]

Name: Fialleacht
Race: Breton
Age, Birthday, Sign: 15, 7th of Frostfall, The Warrior
Description: Said to be stunningly beautiful. Heavily lashed, deep amber eyes, lined in brown, green, and gold. Long black hair, tan skin, C38, a little heavy (muscle from vigorous training), curvy, 4' 7". In this picture she is dressed formally, with the flowered band of vines around her hair and three natural artifacts dangling from her ear cuff.
Jewelry:An intricate blackened iron ear cuff, and a coil of chain necklace with a Sabercat tooth in the middle, a wolf claw on the right, a Hagraven claw on the left, a shard of a mammoth tusk to the right of the wolf claw, and an Orc's lower canine on the left of the Hagracen claw.
Wears: Casual: Soft brown leather shirt, sleeveless, shoulderless, and a brown leather corset. Darker brown leather pants, laced like in Oblivion, with studded patches on the hip, knee, shin, and around the top. Soft brown leather boots with strong leather sole. Will put a longer leather shirt over her top, then a chainmail shirt, then a piece of steel armor.
Wears: Formal/Winter/Casual Dress: 1st layer, plain white linen chemise. 2nd layer, long wool purple skirt, and a brown leather corset. 3rd layer, green/purple thick strapped wool shirt. 4th layer, faded green cloak with a cluster of leaves and flowers around a pheasant embroidered at the bottom.
History: She is the daughter of her tribes Briarheart, and wishes with all her heart to be the next Briarheart, and subsequently, the first female Briarheart. She raised by her mother, one of the artisans, and her father did not acknowledge being so. He was not married to her mother, and had his way with any of the unmarried women of the Tribe to their will. She had a few siblings on her father's side, and none on her mother's. She trained and trains extremely hard to secure her position as the next Briarheart. Her mother told her that when she was a baby, she was carrying her in the forest to gather some materials for paints, and a Sabercat attacked. Fialleacht was knocked out of her mother's basket, and lay crying on the ground as her mother ran back to the village for her life. When the Sabercat was dead, she and some others searched everywhere for her, and found her in the arms of the tribe's patron Hagraven. The Hagraven scratched a mark on her forehead, unhinged a claw, and set them both down on the ground, and sulked away. She was told she was blessed to be a great warrior.
Personality: She seems unhappy, but she aims to honor her friends and family. She loves telling/hearing/reading stories, and, though she will never admit it, is a hopeless romantic; always dreaming up a passionate adventure or silently swooning over the strong warriors from books. She will always understand sarcasm, and has a bit of a wit, but she will get flustered and confused if you poke fun at her, or use sarcasm against her, i.e. "Fialleacht is such a terrible fighter."

 

[CapObvious]

Name: Kaalys Oakthorne

Race: Bosmer

Gender: Female

Age: 105

Class: Assassin/Thief/Illusionist

Religion: Nocturnal
Does not accept the bosmeri traditional religion

Appearance: Warm tannish skin, Eyes as red as blood. Shoulder-length dark brown hair. Narrow, but beautiful face, slight scarring on right cheek and lower chin. Source unknown.

Back Story: Kaalys Oakthorne was raised on the Summerset Isles by Altmer parents, who found her alone in an alleyway with no one to guide her. She found comfort in the blade and bow, and showed much promise. She began to sell her services to the powers at be, locating lost soldiers, contacts, or even deserters and turncoats. She brought much honor to her family, despite being bosmer, and eventually was hired to round up a group of her best to fight against the Empire during the Great War, infiltrating forts and assassinating top legates. This group was kept under wraps, but no honors were necessary to Kaalys. She enjoyed her job, and that was reward enough. She eventually retired, holding her now tightly-knit group in contact in case they were needed again. She kept up with her training, knowing that there had to be someone who the Thalmor needed dead.

Finally, the Thalmor ask of her again, but this time alone. They tell her of a runaway altmer who got away during the war, but they hadn't had time to find. He wasn't going to get off easily, and they needed her to take care of it. After getting the information, she noticed his name was absent from the record. When she inquired, they shook their heads. They told her he had friends inside the Dominion who had almost completely removed him from history. Luckily, they had gotten wind of an armored Altmer who had been seen on a ship to Skyrim, so they were certain this mer was who they were looking for. They told her all they knew of the mer, including his alias. Rumare. Now, she is in Skyrim, searching high and low for the Altmer turncoat, and hoping that this won't be her last mission.

Personality: Among friends, she is warm and friendly, and is not afraid to look silly for humor. On the job, however, she is a completely different person. She goes under the name, Oakthorne when she is on contracts, so she cannot be tied back to her family in the Isles. This name is a very accurate description of who she is. A tough, callous outside, making sure no one can get in, as well as a prickly personality to make sure people she doesn't know or care for stay away. She stays among the trees when she trails her marks, and enjoys sniping and pouncing on her prey.

 

[LordNaskill]

Name: Tybalt Forthend

Age: 44

Gender: Male

Race: Imperial

Class: Bandit Leader Of White Hands (Former Imperial Solider)

Skills:
*One Handed
*Destruction
*Marksman
*Light Armor
*Heavy Armor

Looks:

Personality: Psychotic, paranoid and a drugged up human being.he is cold hearted merciless killer with no mind to tell him when enough is enough.Beaten battered and battle ready he gives no intention of being a slave as he would call it for human or other races society he kills with no facial no emotion of guilt or fear.He is the greatest and most destructive human monster to ever be created.

Story:
A fine brave and hardy fighter he showed no fear to his other brothers or sister he was a small nimbly child with the heart of a Saber cat and the fierce force of an Dwemer centurion.he was one of a few selected children to serve early in imperial ranks.But of course there was a complication being only 12 years of age he was to under-age to be taken but the imperial soldiers feared that his fighting ability would be useless if he was not taken so they did the complete unexpected and stole the boy from right in front of his father with no hope of seeing them again.

Tybalt was in distress and having constant anxiety attacks but that did not effect the soldiers one bit they through him straight into training.through thick and thin Tybalt survived but not only to be affected by what the soldiers did to him mentally and physically but what affects were soon to come.7 years Tybalt served with the legion fighting their wars and disputes and what did he get in return nothing but lousy pay.

It was to change though on the battle for small part of skyrim his emotional stress hit him harder then ever before a small dispute between his fellow war friends was soon to turn into a triple kill.He never meant to hurt any body he never meant to harm any one he just wanted them to be quiet he just was losing it day by day he staid in a small encampment near riften.That was going to change though soon Tybalt was found by a bandit who encouraged Tybalt to release his anger with a mixture of power and willpower.

What was to happen in the next few days change Tybalt's expression to life he began to gain followers because of his evil deeds looting and burning small farms again he would grow and soon a new drug was introduced to Tybalt skooma it was not just any skooma it was the empire style a powerful mix of ingredients.
It was getting hard for his group of bandits to expand in such a small area so Tybalt gave his group the idea of claiming there own territory he started by giving his group a look a white hand war paint cover the face and there armour was a mix of fur and steel.

He laid claim to a once owned imperial mine that was located far west of riften his group then gave them selves a name white hands was chosen he was to lead them to ultimate victory through his mindless power a once young brave and handsome warrior was to turn to ultimate madness and because of this he has never been know to be alive or know by his true name Tybalt Forthend he is only know as White Hand Himself .

 

[Fexon]

FEXON​

93 YEAR OLD MALE BOSMER​

15TH OF EVENING STAR, THE THIEF, SILVENAR; EASTERN VILLAGE; VALENWOOD​

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PERSONAL DETAILS​

Nicknames/Aliases:​

Sexuality: Heterosexual​

Religion: The Nine Divines​

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Current Residence: The vast forests of Tamriel | Currently near Riverwood | Province of Skyrim​

Affliction(s): n/a​

Occupation: Tracker / Hunter / Scout​

Affiliation(s): Thieves Guild​

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PHYSICAL DETAILS​

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Fexon stands proudly at approximately 5 feet and 7 inches and 154 pounds, with his bosmer skin tinted to a very light brown hue. A light shadow of fuzz protrudes the lower half of his face, masking his jaw with a faint beard. His face appears to be covered in a thin layer of dirt. Two scars run parallel along his face, starting around the bridge of his nose, and running along down his cheek ending at his ear. One of the scars splits slightly near the middle of his cheek. His dark brown hair lay pulled back behind his ears, grazing the middle of his neck. At a closer glance his hair appears to be mostly unkempt, as a layer of grime and dirt laid rest within. His angled eyes are a piercing black, large in size yet pulled almost shut. Fexon has a very athletic build, and he always seems to stand relaxed yet firm, with a permanently furrowed brow.​

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His clothing appears to be well put together, yet tattered in its condition. Dark shades of leather lay upon his chest and waist. A quiver of steel tipped arrows drape readily across his back, along with his favorite bow. Various pouches of miscellaneous goods are tied to his belt. (I’ll go into more detail on equipment later)​

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EQUIPMENT​

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MAJOR SKILLS: | Archery(Marksman) | Sneak | Athletics | Light Armor | One Handed (Blade) | Speechcraft | Security |​

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MINOR SKILLS: | Block | Mercantile | Hand to Hand |​

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SPELLS: Command Animal​

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GENERAL SKILLS: | Tracking | Hunting | Foraging | Survival | Mask-Scent |​

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WEAPONS:​

• Glass Short Sword (enchanted with absorb stamina)
• Elven Dagger
• Elven Bow
• Elven Arrows

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APPAREL:​

• Leather Guild Hood
• Blackguard Leather Armor
• Blackguard Leather Boots
• Blackguard Leather Gloves
• Bosmer Crest Necklace

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ITEMS:​

• Rope
• Powder
• Water Pouch
• Sharpening Stone
• Poisons (various)
• Rolled Cloth
• Ink, pen & rolled paper

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BIOGRAPHICAL DETAILS​

Family:​

Venda | Bosmer | Father | Alive​

Norell | Bosmer | Mother | Alive​

Doxen | Bosmer | Brother | Alive​

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Personality: Fexon is very quiet as he always seems to be vigilantly observing his surroundings. He comes off as shy at times but once he grows more comfortable he tends to open up much more. Fexon is clever and quick on his feet as he is always thinking, or trying to improve on any situation. He is loyal to a flaw. Fexon can be extremely stubborn and hard headed. He has a tendency to think he is always right, and this has been known to cause friction. Fexon is also very laid back and carefree, he seldom lets things bother him. He has a respectable amount of patience.​

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Interests: Writing, poaching, climbing, puzzles, sleeping, bard music, dancing​

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HISTORY:​

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Fexon was born to Venda and Norell in the province of Valenwood, during the one hundred and eighth year of the fourth era. Fexon was born and raised like most of the other Bosmer children. He learned quickly the traditions and values of his people; he respected the land, the trees, and all the nature throughout. Like most Bosmer he took quickly to the bow, and his archery skills were unmatched among his peers. At a very young age Fexon was expected to help carry the load of his family. His mother had become quite ill and his father took a traumatic injury to his head. These events forced to venture out into the wilderness to hunt the game for his family to eat. This is also when Fexon met the mer that would help shape his life. Her name was Veya, she was a year older than Fexon and all the wise. He learned the art of properly scouting and tracking from her, and in exchange he shared his vast knowledge of the bow. He helped her fine tune her marksmanship. The two would lose touch throughout the years, occasionally running into each other from time to time.​

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When Fexon was only fourteen he had heard news of a tragic event in the northern province of Skyrim. The city known as Winterhold had apparently started collapsing, as it eroded into the sea of ghosts. While many cared little of problems far beyond the woods, this proved only to heighten the interest and curiosity of the young Fexon. He found himself intrigued with Skyrim and its vast land of snow and harsh weather. How different it was from his homeland. Fexon knew one day that he would travel abroad to the great north. The only human people Fexon ever encountered were either Imperial or Redguard, and these encounters were usually brief. The Thalmor were almost always present whenever outsiders were involved.​

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At the age of 60, Fexon was recruited by the Thalmor and not by a choice of his own. His skills and abilities were readily known throughout his region. The Thalmor took a closer look at Fexon before his indoctrination. They planned to utilize his talents. The Thalmor were smart, they knew what was to come. This was during the time that a new emperor was being crowned. Titus Mede II was the new lord of the land. Within only a few short years with the Thalmor, Fexon would soon see lands far and outside his own. In the Fourth Era 171, the Great War began, Fexon found himself head on in a war he had no interest in. After the Aldmeri Dominion’s defeat in Cyrodiil, and the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, Fexon was relieved from his duties with the Thalmor. Already being so far from home, Fexon began to travel and explore the vast lands of Tamriel. He slowly made his way to the north…..​

 

[Blackfire]

Name: Jauul-ruhl' “Blackfire”
Race: Argonian
Age: N/A
Fighting: //- Alchemy -//-[Novice] Destruction -//- Sneaking -//- One Handed swords -//- Thievery [Generalization, I’m lazy GG]
Personality: Blackfire often displays a lack of loyalty and trust in other people, due to a hazardous upbringing she is often mistrustful of others; often she is caught checking her pouches every couple of seconds subconsciously or any of her other concealed weaponry. She is quick minded, often displaying an advance level of social integrity. She is greedy at heart, displaying a lack of interest in individuals who aren’t currently involved in her current affairs, leading her to be rather ignorant to some major facts and often irrational at times, easily led astray by things she deems as exotic.

Equipment: During her time in Skyrim she has taken to dressing herself as a hunter. She possesses relatively light leather attire with fashionable black dyed gauntlets and boots inspired after the Redguard mercenary wear. A set of concealed knives lay hidden across her left thigh with a pair of twin daggers neatly sheathed above her tailbone. A massive iron blade bearing a hint of rust across its surface lay nestled across her back with a leather harness. Two crimson vials jiggled across her silk imbued girdle; the Argonian had prepared a poisoning concoction in advance, disguising it as a health and magic potion. She is normally seen garbed in an overcoat reaching down to her boots, concealing her beneath her hood.
Magic: Flames
Lightning

History – To Skyrim: Respectively requested due to her olden ties to House Hlaalu, Jauul-Ruhl; the former Argonian freed slave brought up for servitude and taught the ideals of true freedom owed much to the Imperial ways. As a young youth she was taught their crafts and raised into an agent of their hand, she later renounced her vows to seek out her own racial identity with some minor in dealings with the local thief guild. It was only later that she was called upon with a specific request, naturally bounded to her oath she accepted to oversee a smuggling operation of Imperial importance to Skyrim. She took to boarding the vessel as a potential Argonian refugee seeking to illegal immigrate herself past the Skyrim boarders, unknowingly to the crew she oversaw their operations as she casted herself to the shadows. Granted it was an easy task, the crew were blind.

It wasn’t till the ship itself was boarder by enigmatic figures cloaked in blue, slaughtering the crew members brutally with Nordic fury and vigour the likes she had only seen written in poetically in books. The Nordic melody played out a crescendo of caved scalps, pulverized flesh like tender meat on a butcher’s table, the sound of cracked ribs echoing through the hulls of the ship. Favouring her own life the Argonian kept with her ruse, merely cowering away beneath the lower decks of the ship with the other refuges as the raiders in blue sabotaged the ship’s hull. The crashing tide of the ocean swept inside, seeking to claim the vessel whole and devour all its prized possessions as its own, the Argonian along with it. Sea water flooded her lungs, her vision blurred by the murky depths of the ocean, all went white and silent.

The Tribunal powers are damned even in the province of Skyrim. Washed amongst Skyrim’s icy shores the Argonian coughed up a gushing mess of sea water from her systems, struggling to her feet as she drank in her surroundings. She was left isolated on the outskirts of Dawnstar, figuring the true Argonian’s identity died amongst the raid, “Jauul-Ruhl” which to what she denounced herself to the native Nords ventured forward from Dawnstar, slowly collecting information upon the mysterious attackers to exact her revenge, for now she’ll relish in the delights this foreign land had to offer.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

This is an adaptation of another character of mine for Among The Stars.

Name: Alain the Fire-Hearted
Age: 22
Gender/Sex: Male
Home world: Theren
Race: Imperial
Class: Thief/Ranger
Religion: None in particular

Weapons: Mid-long range sniper rifle with three-round burst and single-shot settings and shortened and silenced muzzle, close-combat blaster which can fire single shots or can charge to fire stronger blasts, magicka-powered energy dagger which can be adjusted to do anything from cut titanium to stun anyone who touches the blade.

Commonly-used spells: Fast Healing, Become Ethereal, Stone-Bones (has Stoneflesh effect on bones, Alain uses it to protect against falls), Conjure Storage (magical "safe" which Alain uses to temporarily store loot in Nocturnal's realm)

Armour: Modern Thieves Guild armor, made of lightweight black kevlar mesh and black fluid metal, which covers the kevlar (looks like a Sigil Stone). This makes the armor very flexible while still offering protection, and the fluid metal can change its shape, moving to concentrate around the torso and legs while offering more freedom of motion, or covering the entire body up to the neck (he prefers to keep his arms bare and the metal on the rest of his body). The metal emits a cloaking field which allows the wearer to become virtually invisible, though the effectiveness depends on the wearer's speed of motion. The fluid metal is a good enough defense in its fluid state, but the wearer can at will solidify the metal into hard plating, which allows for less range of motion but allows the wearer to bear much heavier blows. He has a HUD visor with two separate eye visors; putting down both eye visors causes the metal in his armor to form up into a helmet in the shape of his head. Alain also wears electromagnet gauntlets and boots, which allow him to climb on metal surfaces easily. If the wearer so chooses, the fluid metal can retract into the central housing for the electronics in the armor (which is located near the back of the armor's neck area), leaving only a kevlar suit that covers the legs and torso. (If this is overpowered, please let me know.)

Appearance:
-Eyes: Hazel
-Hair: Reddish-brown cut medium-short
-Scars: One running from his elbow to his hand on his left forearm
-Height: 6'0"
-Weight: 187
-Skin: Barely tanned
-Physique: Fairly muscular

Personality: Alain is a risk-taker who makes the highest rollers in illegal gambling dens look like children. He will try almost anything once, and if he likes it, many more times afterward, even if it proves dangerous or unhealthy. Especially if it is dangerous or unhealthy. He is an adrenaline junkie who just loves to have a good time. He is generally quite nice, but if provoked into a physical fight, the adrenaline-seeking trait takes over and he will go beyond what is necessary to win the fight. When it comes to women, he is usually very sweet and cheeky, but he will not pursue romance, due to hidden insecurity. He will help out a person in need just as soon as he'll rob a house.

Likes/Dislikes: Likes fine cuisine, base-jumping and daredevil hobbies, women who like base-jumping, money, a nice night on the town. Dislikes people who can't take a joke, people who read too much, staying still, people who try to restrict him (so Thalmor and Empire both to an extent).

Bio: Alain was born on Theren and was an orphan from an early age. He avoided the orphanages and managed to stay on the streets, taken in by the Thieves Guild and allowed to stay in the Guild's hideout; time spent with the guild members helped him to excel at marksmanship, sneaking and picking pockets. As he grew, Alain found that he greatly enjoyed the adrenaline rush of successfully picking a pocket, not to mention the rush of escaping the guards if things went awry. As he grew, he began to travel further and further from his home slum and seeking adventure, occasionally returning to take on a Guild job. Alain used the coin made from theft and raiding bandit dens to fund his adventures, be they causing trouble in the nicer areas of the planet, starting bar fights, or scaling massive skyscrapers.

Combat preferences: Alain uses his rifle for medium to long range targets, preferring his blaster pistol and energy blade for when things get up close and personal.

Theme Song :

 

[Grob]

Name: Dan-Zaw
Age: 29
Race: Argonian
Race: Male
Class: Magician (Street Magician)
Religion: Does not follow such things.

Combat: He's not very useful, but can use his rather powerful Alteration and Illusion to trick the minds of those around him, so don't underestimate him. He prefers to be invisible, and will use the spell to be sneaky. He carries no weapons, but can unarm attackers and use Telekinesis to pick up their weapons. He can use a bit of Destruction, and is rather good at healing wounds. He prefers to speak things out or flee. He will only attack from shadows with strong Illusion magic, or (less likely) disarm his opponent and use their weapon against them.

Armour: Wears simple clothes in town, robes while travelling.

Apperance: A quite colourful Argonian, he is bright red and green, and has bright feathers on his head, and only a small amount of horns. His eyes are thin yellow slits. He is small, and because of this the other boy Argonians would often neglect him because he was rather useless and slow.

Personality: He doesn't trust those around him, but if you get to know him, you'll earn a friend who would jump in front of a blade to save you. He does not like snobbish people. He does not get along well with High Elves, but can come to trust them. He is very shy, and will hang around in the background. He is a deep thinker, and will often be quiet, only speaking when it is needed. When in very deep thought, he will often neglect anyone trying to speak to him. He suffers bad nightmares, and can be very violent after a particuly bad one. He is rather calm, but bursts sometimes, often resulting in him using his honed Illusion make people suffer bad head pains as they see awful visions. He has no patience for fighting and arguments, and will avoid people in his group if they recently fought. He is a child at heart, and can often be a cry baby. Things often bother him, and he always judges his past decisions thoroughly, thinking on ways he could of bettered himself or a group of people.

Bio: Born in the Black Marsh, Dan-Zaw was very bad at swimming and couldn't traverse the marshes as well as other Argonians, although he was always very quiet and could hide in plain sight. He learnt Illusion and Alteration to a Master level, and often tricked people. He left for the land of Skyrim at 20. He does simple magic tricks as a job.

His arrival in Skyrim for him was joyous. He thought that he would get a second shot, where his other skills might be appreciated. He sought the College of Winterhold, only to find out that many did not like the mages, and turned away from it as to give himself a better shot. It turned out that he was rather useless in this land too; he couldn't chop wood fast enough, couldn't haggle, ripped out plants that weren't ready for harvest and couldn't hit his rocks fast enough. He turned to his old magic, doing small tricks to entertain local Nords. Some gave him a small amount of money, but many spat at him. He hardly scrapes by, and can only manage to get a bed some nights. He started travelling recently, and found he was a good diplomat when he helped sort out a conflict in a Khajiit caravan.

He suffers from horrible nightmares, and they only got worse the further away he got from home. He has one nightmare that often keeps coming up, the reason he left Black Marsh. He was dating a fine Argonian woman (that he planned to marry soon), but one night she woke him up when he was shaking with the fear from his dream. He lashed out at her, and the once docile Dan-Zaw soon became a raging beast. He killed the woman, and was only stopped by a number of Argonian men. He quickly left the Black Marsh, and suffered the nightmare of his love lying dead on the ground. He sees his parents shaking their heads at him, ashamed of the useless son that has became a murderer.

He wishes he could return home, but knows that the people won't take him back in.

 

[LordNaskill]

Name: Ri'Mokir

Gender: Male

Race: Khajiit

Age: 20

Birth Date: 4E 180

Birth Place: Elsweyr,Alabaster

Religion: None

Class: Adventurer\Excavator

Looks:

Weapons Of Choice:

Dai-Katana(Weapon passed down from father to son)​

This weapon has a tradition to it.This sword was founded by Ri'Mokir's great great grandfather it was given to his father who got it from his so one so forth this blade is a morrowind forged blade, that is made from steel giving it endurance and the ability to chop slash its way through an enemy.​

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Steel Staff (A cheap steel made staff)​

Mokir obtained this staff from a cheap travelling merchant on the outskirts of Elsweyr.he got it for a cheap 5 gold coins it has come in handy many times,once he used it for a longer jumped to bypass all of the rubble and destroyed bits,he once used it for fighting of multiply bandits when he was ambushed.​

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Silver Bow (Bought from the city of bravil in cyrodiil)
Mokir gained this by persuading a local merchant to drop his Silver bows price from 60 coins to 25.This was a very successful barter to him he maybe could have dropped it lower but he decided not to rather not scam or persuaded a merchant into extremely low prices.


Skills:
Blade(Or One Handed)
Ri'Mokir was trained in the way of how to use blade.he trained for years getting more resourceful on how a blade is designed how is blends with the air how it slices the wind his skill took him 2 years to master, and now travelling around he has realized that he may only be a novice of blades.

Two Handed (Or blunt Or Staff)
Deemed necessary to learn how to use and fight with a two handed weapon due to his new staff at the time he self taught himself through book and stories after a few weeks of training he tested his skill against bandits who were hidden away in a cave of large fallouts and small crawlspaces once he had got passed all of that and fought he was ready to use it

Marksman (Bow)
After learning how to use a bow he struggled to master it. He would miss the target by a small space or it would backfire on him but soon he was ready to show his skill with using a bow to the world by competing in contest for gold and food also women so due to that he would be a skilled archer or assassin if he wanted.

Destruction (Magic)

He needed to be ready for anything and anyone so he learned a little magic to help him fight off certain enemies and creatures that duelled in magic so after 3 years and 4 mouths and 3 weeks he was able to use magic it took him quiet awhile but he managed to use Magic very well.


Personality:
A story teller with a difference. He is a Khajiit with a silver tongue and a strong physic to go with it, he convulses himself in a string of lies and stories to hide his true conflicted stories of the past he makes more friends then enemies. He likes the work of stealth and adventure.

Back-story:
Born into the life of crime his father a master thief his mother an ex-pickpocket. Ri'Mokir was taught the was of stealth mixed with many other traits of stealing at his earliest days he can remember his father showing him how to be and acrobat (how he could climb up onto things or jump down with out taking any damage) Mokir was inducted into the family of thieves when he was only 10 (cause of his great skill and intelligence he passed all 3 test given to him)

Mokir was not a Khajiit with a daily life but he was a nocturnal Khajiit only working at night stealing breaking into homes and warehouses.He did this to make a living he would sell all of his stolen goods to his local fence which to him was in a small village not far from his home in Alabaster,once 16 he was already skilled in blade,sneak,agility,marksman.these skills were of great use to him for breaking into and out of houses.

it was to change though, his father was imprisoned for life due to his plan to steal very nice jewels but his fathers greed to over him and forced him to try and steal without thinking what to do.this was harsh for Mokir but he had to accept the fact that he may follow the same thing but that's what made him change his mind he left the thieving and began to explore,this led him to places of excitement he never truly knew of what the world looked like until he began to explore.

 

[Andolina Septima]

Name: Andolina Septima, sometimes referred to as "Lina the Lovely"
Race: Breton
Gender: female
Age: 23
Height: 5'7"
Look: long, curly, dark hair, usually pulled back in braids; very pale skin, with full pink lips; voluptuous features which are accentuated by the usual Forsworn attire; when out of the Reach, can often be seen wearing a full set of Orcish armor
Favored weaponry: mainly duel wielding using the best available swords; also very capable with a bow
Likes: beauty of all sorts, honorable fighters
Dislikes: deception
Background story: Andolina was orphaned at a very young age, and raised by a Priestess of Dibella. When the Priestess was killed in a Thalmor attack, she travelled to Karthwasten, where she found herself surrounded by war as well as a general distaste for some of the Dibellan arts that she practised. She therefore sought refuge with the Forsworn, who welcomed her Breton blood and thirst for combat. Over the last couple of years, she has gained the nickname "Lina the Lovely" within the Forsworn, due to her failed attempts to hide her extreme worship of Dibella. After a brief romance with her camp's Briarheart, she often takes to exploring the rest of Skyrim, searching for fellow worshippers, which is only mildly accepted by her camp thanks to the gold and valuables (and occasionally a Thalmor prisoner) that she returns with.