OOC And Justice for all

[Kimrisvik]

Was feeling like actually joining you anyway, but as it seems, this RP is filling up soon. Since I don't really have a must of joining it, I'll just step aside and watch it from the distance

 

[Boudica]

Ermahgerd ermahgerd ermahgerd
I must join this
Please have room left

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

If I am able to join here is my CC

Name: Brynn Ráðúlfr
Race: Nord
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Class: Warrior/Hunter
Weapons:
( Main )-Dual Weild- Skyforge Swords
( Secondary ) Nordic Bow
Armor:
Ancient Nord
Affliction: Lycanthropy (Werewolf)
Appearance:
Years of the hunt, of stalking her target have instilled a certain animalistic grace into Brynn. Her eyes, in shades of bright to grey blues, may flicker in an instance from the full intensity of what lay in her heart or mind to a cold, protected, indifference but always contain a certain intelligent feral shine. For all her time spent outside the confines of four walls Brynn’s skin remains fair in colour drawing further attention to the dirty red of her war paint surrounding messily each eye. Her face, framed by long brown hair falling in large, soft, loose waves or curls remains my some miracle void of visible scaring. However with the perfect combination of the ideal company and enjoyable situation a broad smile breaking across her full lips will cause the barely visible indent of dimples to appear.


As an active huntress Brynn remains trim and fit. A slightly high waist and round hips lend a certain swing to her step, giving her a rather distinct walk. Although not easily lost in a marketplace crowd the same cannot be said for an shaded forest.

History: (This is quite long, I have tried removed any parts that do not follow the background of the Rp)

Spoiler

“Mama,” The most innocent voice, that of a child questioned from behind huge blue eyes “Where’s Daddy?”

Spoiler

The question was simple; none could have expected a child of her age to know what had happened when many of the elders had not a single inkling. All she knew in her small child mind was that her father, who had always loved her, had seemed to have disappeared. She could remember even now stories before the blowing out of the candle beside her bed, how he used to twirl her around making her feel as if she could fly, allowing her to be the hero of every story, making her believe that she could do anything, she could remember the warm embrace and his rough shirt against her face when hot tears spilt down her face. She knew then and knew even now that he had loved her but still again to this days she was blind to the events that had torn her away from him.She couldn’t have known how such an innocent question would lead to the stripping of all innocence in her world and illicit such a brutal response.

Her mother turned to look at her and sneered ripping her dress out of the young girls hands. Her mother had never been what anyone would call a loving woman but something had broken within her that opened the flood gates upon this little girl.

“Where’s Daddy? Where’s Daddy?” she mocked her brutal tone cutting through the little girls fragile psyche “Am I not good enough for you dearest? Well Daddies not coming back for you he’s gone. Don’t you dare look at me that way, what did you expect. It’s all your fault he left anyway.”

The little girl looked up at her in shock bringing her hands up to her mouth as her eyes filled and began to overflow with hot tears.
“Mama!”

She said throwing herself towards her mother arms widening for a hug but she never quite made it there, her mother’s hand came flying down and across her face was left a throbbing red mark. The girl fell catching herself wither her hands she cried out;
“Mama!”

“Get away from me”

Stumbling back up she watched her mother turn her back to her and walk further back in to the room of which she stood in the door. She stood and cried as any child of her age, between 6 and five would do with one hand near her mouth with a balled fist and the other hanging to her side but she instead cried quietly. She could see her mother begin to walk back towards the door and she stared babbling apologies

“I’m sorry Mama, sorry” she cried out as she stood in the doorway “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Although she cried and pleaded as her mother approaches all she had was a hard look across her face then as she came closer she looked down at the girl trying to get her attention and smacked her hard with whatever was in her hand and said:

“get out of my way. Learn your place girl.”

Brynn fell to the floor and could feel the blood rushing from her head. She slowly lay down and the last thing she could remember was everything going black.

She woke up in the “servants quarters” as her mother called them or “The downstairs bedrooms” as her father referred to them, mother had always told her not to go down here so why was she here? She decided to lay still for a while, well as long as a 5 year old would consider a while. She began to reflect on what had happened, she resisted the desire to curl up and sob but wouldn’t shake the feeling that if she couldn’t trust her family who could she trust and if her mother couldn’t lover her who could? She could no longer hold still or hold back the tears and thinking no one was around she began to sob, she sat up with her small feet dangling over the bed and her hands over her eyes with her loose curly golden blond hair hanging over her beet red face. Her sobs grew louder and she began to breathe in short jerks. Over her weeping she could not hear the sound of footsteps quickly approaching.

“Little one,” crooned the voice as its owner whomever he was sat down next to her drawing her into his arms “Do not cry, you are healed now. All is well sweet girl.”

Brynn looked up with her red puffy eyes and beheld a young Dunmer man. She wanted to speak but couldn’t stop blubbering, the Dunmer handed her a glass of water. Grasping it with both hands she drank it all and finally managed to stop crying. Handing it back to her she parted her pouty lips slightly looking up at the man then she reached with her little arm and felt her head. She looked confused, there was no bloody clump in her hair and although there was a scar and it continued to ache and she was confused.

“Don’t touch it,” said the Dunmer kindly as he looked at her with a smile “as I said all is well.”

Over the years her mother’s fits became a regular occurrence and the Dunmer became her best friend as well as a regular healer. She learned from him that their fathers had been close friends they had grown up together in Windhelm. Her father ignored the racism as he seemed to share many traits with his daughter believing all were equal. It seemed as well from childhood to when they were both grown her father coming from a more privileged family had aided in the Dumner’s father in every way he could. When it happened that her father married her mother and was convinced to move to Hammerfell he agreed to allow his friend’s son, her protector to come along and see more of the world.

Perhaps it was for this reason that her protector did all he could for Brynn but Brynn believed it was because he had a kind heart. He would always take care of her, watch out for her, and on top of this all he taught her everything he knew. There was no shortage of funds in the house as Brynn had come from a family of privilege but it had become law that she was not to leave the house. The bruises were becoming too hard to explain for her mother she’s clumsy only work for the first while. Thus it became that the Dark Elf was her only friend. This did however play in her favour from time to time. Her mother was a social butterfly and liked to show off all her things Brynn being one of them. She would give her reprieve leaving her untouched for a short while to allow all her bruises and cuts to vanish just in time for her friends to arrive. She would dress Brynn in beautiful clothing and spend hours making her look like a perfect porcelain doll. Brynn would sit with her hands clasped on her lap looking down her body present but her spirit, her mind would be safe somewhere far away finding safety in a land of fairytale and make believe. In her mind she was free to be that great warrior her dad had always told her she would be one day, she was a companion. One of the great warriors that her Dunmer protector told her stories about; in her mind she was free. This state however safe it was was like purgatory. She no longer had to sneak around when her mother was home or hideaway but she knew that soon after the afterglow of the parties and of the old money was gone from her mother’s face she would receive all the pain she had missed those weeks or days before.

She did however being locked away in her home develop skills that perhaps she would not have before. Brynn found that she had a love to pain and draw. She would sit when her mother was away visiting one of her gentleman friends up looking out the highest windows and paint all these things she longed to touch and all these colours she wished to properly see. This was again thanks in all part to her Dark Elf friend. He somehow managed to procure the paints and hide and as she found out much later keep all the paintings she had come to finish. She had other similar hobbies such as reading. It was lucky then that they had an extensive library and had an endless supply of interesting books. She did however crave to be in the outdoors and when her mother went on trips this was her heaven. She was almost exclusively outdoors during these times supervised to a point but aloud to explore. This was when she rediscovered her intense connection with nature. There was no company she liked better than the animals of the forest and would sit still for hours in order to catch if only one glimpse. She would run with an expression of pure bliss barefoot through the forests laughing her haunting bell like laugh as the air would whip against her face. These were again the best times of her childhood but they could not last and were the most fleeting of her childhood days.

It went on in this way for years, growing as an animal in a cage not truly knowing the outside world. She had however not grown without knowing love, her and her protector had come to be as brother and sister and the bond became stronger and stronger every day. Looking back on these days she would refer to him as her first shield brother. This did however begin to around when Brynn was the age of 11 cause problems. She began to notice her protector acting strangely. He was hiding something from her she could tell as well as he began to grow angrier. As was to be expected seeing someone you love being hurt he had always been hurt himself but he had constantly managed to keep level headed around Brynn for her sake. This new brother scared her at times, he had been the only calm she had known for her childhood she could remember and although she enjoyed change this was unsettling. It could have been due to the fact that Brynn’s situation was getting worse. She was no longer a small doll and her mother no longer found joy in dressing her up this hand in hand with the fact that Brynn looked nothing like her mother distanced Brynn as a daughter in her mother’s eyes even further. She had become as distant as hired help, no good for anything but releasing pent up aggression.

It was one day that the tension boiled over and things became unfamiliar. She was at her mother’s feet, lying on the ground with her vision starting to blur from the pain. She refused to let a single tear fall from her stone face. For the past few years it had been the hardened exterior she had taken on, if she could see how badly she was hurting her physical she would not let her see how much she was hurting on the inside. To her tears were worth more than blood. She could see her mother starting to walk away. She tried to remember what had brought this on but she could not recall if there had even been an incident to prelude the violence. She could tell her mother was talking but she couldn’t quite hear, she did however notice a shape appearing in the shadows. Her mother had turned back around and began walking towards her, a hot iron poker in hand. Brynn’s eyes widened in horror and sat up pushing herself backwards. Everything seemed to go slowly after this moment. Her mother started laughing at her horrified face and as she drew nearer she began to swing the poker more and more. Then suddenly she stopped. Her face looked off, to blank for a moment then a dark hand quickly glided around her mother’s waist and reaching out grabbed the poker then disappearing once again. She was so confused, why had her mother just stopped.

“Wha…”

She began squinting her eyes then widening them as her mother’s eyes rolled back into her head and she began to fall backwards. Quickly the same dark figure caught her in its arms and began carrying her away. Brynn began to stand up and shouted at the figure.

“WAIT!”

She now had her wobbly feet beneath her, her head was spinning and her fragile body demanding her to sit back down. Then firming her stance she yelled again;

“Where are you going with my mother?!”

It was strange, although she had not a good experience with her mother for years she was not about to let this figure take another parent without explanation. The figure with the shrouded face looked over to her then hiking the mother up in his arms pulled what appeared to be an arrow out of her. He laid her down on the nearest couch then rushed towards the girl. Brynn started yelling for her brother as he approached but he reached her before anyone could have heard her. He covered her mouth with an oddly familiar feeling hand and riping his face wrappings off he yelled;

“Brynn! Brynn, little one it is me,” it was indeed her brother “I am sorry to have frightened you.”

There they stayed for a moment Brynn standing confused and slightly startled while her brother embraced her. She was so confused. Was her mother dead? What would they do now? She was sure not to forget this. Then the Dunmer let the embrace go and with a gleam of excitement and panic in his eyes began to speak.

“I have no time to explain now, quick little one follow me.”

He grabbed her realizing it would go faster if he carried her and ran down the many flights of stairs. They came to the rooms in which they both slept, where she had awoken on that first night and all she could think of is how bare the room looked. Where have all our things gone? She wondered her mind swimming. The Dark Elf put her down on her bed and looked her in the eyes and with great intensity gave her these directions

“I know it is terribly confusing to you now but I’ll need you to, once I leave this room put on those clothing that are on the bed there,” he said point and standing up “Knock when you are done changing. Make haste sweet one.”

He walked out and closed the door and Brynn did as she was told. She would always trust her brother and she had a feeling whatever was happening was for the best. She hurried and undressed then pulled on the inconspicuous clothing of a traveler. She turned after smoothing everything out. The potions that the Dunmer had given her were taking effect, she was feeling stronger already. She knocked softly and stood back letting her brother come in. she noticed her feet were moving even more silently then what was the norm and was impressed. Then focusing back on her brother whose hand was extended she listened.

“Come,” he said as she grabbed his extended hand “Follow me, and if we are stopped let me do the talking. That shouldn’t be a problem, at least not for tonight. No one would recognize you anyways. That’s one positive to being caged like a bird.”

She now knew what was going on, before she had a suspicion but now she knew. She followed both moving as silently as shadows. Leaving the house through the back doors they neared the stables. A horse, a wonderful proud looking black steed she did not recognise stood outside tethered and waiting for them. She could see no bags and looked confused until of course noticing the pack that the Dunmer must have picked up while she was changing. She was lifted up onto the horse and sat poised as Brother lifted himself to sit behind her.

“Now we ride Brynn,” Brother whispered in her ear “Now you are free song bird.”

A lovely smile broke across Brynn’s face as the horse began to carry them away, the more distance they covered the broader her smile got. The rest of the journey was just as exciting to her as the first night. Everywhere she looked there was something new. Oh and all the people! During the first night they had switched from their black steed to a carriage pulled by a much sturdier looking horse. It seemed in the back they had everything they needed to start a new life, wherever it was that Brother was taking them. Along the road they would run into the a few travelers looking to be the same as themselves though obviously not. Due to the limited amount of contact with the outside world Brynn found everyone and everything absolutely fascinating. She was quite shy at first barely talking or making eye contact but once she was lured out of her shell she would ask as many questions as she could and listen to even the most mundane stories with complete interest.

It was not long until they crossed the border into Skyrim. It was a beautiful place to Brynn who felt finally as if she was somewhere she belonged.

“I’m bringing you back to the land of your father,” Said brother to her upon nearing the boarder “And the place, my dear where you were born.”


Brynn let the past be behind her leaving any anger or hatred she had in the past asking not to know the fate of her mother. She was ready and happy to accept this new life that Brother had given to her. The two settled in a cabin in the mountain range dividing Falkreath and The Rift. It was a small place but with room plenty enough for the both of them. On the one side was an extensive garden along with a chicken coup, a stable, and an area for the cows and goats to be fenced in. On the other side of the house there were training dummies to be set as well as targets for practicing archery as well as a shed for pelts as well as a training rack. Within a few months of living in the woods Brother had begun to teach Brynn how to handle herself in combat. Soon she found herself growing more and more successful with the bow. The two supported themselves off their small menagerie of animals, their garden, but most off their hunting and soon Brynn began bringing in her weight.

To Brynn however every life she took was important she recognized that they gave their lives for her to live. She appreciated the animals as part of the hunt. Still as before she would spend long periods of time out in the woods attempting to become one with nature, she had particular interest in the quiet foxes and the fearsome wolves. She would as before still sprint through the forest trying to imagine how a deer would feel doing the same enjoying every branched that whipped her face. She loved the fresh air and the feel of dirt beneath her feet. She was meant to be here.

As time progressed and a year had passed Brynn began training in the usage of weapons and armor. It became apparent that she favored the heavy armor, feeling more secure being encased within it although she had always felt that the lack of manoeuvrability was frustrating. Once she had chosen her armor she moved onto weapons. She began to train in both one handed and two handed but it was by her choice that she found dual wielding. Brother would have much preferred one handed with a sword and shield or perhaps for her to not fight at all but she was determined to fulfill these dreams that unknowingly her father and Brother had instilled within her. Thus as she wished he taught her the prefer techniques and slowly she became more and more skilled. It was a calm life, a satisfying, soul healing life. There was nothing but happiness in those four years but nothing perfect or so happy it seems can ever last.

It happened during the warmer months, Brynn had been out late. No doubt Brother will be worried but just wait until he sees the hides I’ve got for him now! Brynn though as she moved towards the cabin, it was just becoming night and she knew she should have returned home earlier but she had been trailing deer beginning early that morning. She had a pack full of venison and hides and was sure that she would be forgiven. Brynn had also stopped to gather an armful of flowers on her returning path and would present them as a gift seeking further forgiveness. She had just started breaking rules as out of habit she once followed them to a tee but now that it had started it was not about to stop. With a carefree smile on her face she observed the smoke rising from the cabin and the windows beginning to glow as the light faded. She reached the door and noticing it was slightly ajar pushed it open. Forgetting to close the door, unlike brother she though with an odd expression on her face. Looking down at the ground as she stepped inside and turning to where she assumed he would be seated by the fire she began to recite her apology

“Brother, I know you must have been ill with worry but I am safe and there is no need to be upset. None at all. I in fact have brought back enough venison to fill our bellies for…”

Brynn dropped her back and began to unload the meat then noticed the strange silence and looked up. Brother was not in his seat by the fire, not only that but the fire seemed to be dying just lighting s small portion of the room.

“Brother?” she asked as she stood up grabbing her flowers and began walking towards the area where they slept “Brother I am sorry… Broth-“

Her words were cut short. Her heart began to race. Her breath coming in short gasps. Time began to slow down for Brynn as the flowers all fell to the floor. She tried to walk forward; she shuffled bringing her hands to her mouth as she had that very first time that she had met her mother’s wrath. She opened her mouth as if to wail but all she could do was shaking. She dropped to her knees once she reached the bed and looked up at the most painful thing she had ever seen. There with an arrow between his eyes was Brothers cold corps. She sat on her knees for what seemed like ages before the silence was broken with a single sob set off a waterfall of tears. She shook violently as she wept; she had never felt so much loss as this moment now. It was a burning, raging, stinging pain that felt as if it were eating away at her soul. It seemed nothing would relive her of this endless darkness that had invaded her heart but finally the morn took pity on her and allowed the sobbing girl to finally escape into sleep.

It was days before she emerged from that cabin and she emerge not the same person as had entered. Though now as she stood looking down at him in his makeshift coffin it could not be more apparent. Her face was hardened and serious. It was as if she had turned to stone.

“Brother”

She called out softly to him wishing for nothing more than for him to rise up and take her hand. He did not. He could not she told herself as she looked down with lost eyes at the Dunmer. His dark grey skin seemed to be stretched tighter across his angular face with his prominent cheek bones jutting out. It made her almost choke again looking down at his lips, they were without the smile that she had loved and it made him look almost alien. She kneeled beside the coffin and adjusted his black hair that fell like wisps around his peaceful face. Who would have wanted you dead brother? If only you could speak to me now… how would the dark brotherhood find us. Why would they leave behind the contract? She mental shook herself and bit her lip then sighing heavily she began to croon her voice choking

“all is well,” she began to him as he had said to her those many years ago when her tiny feet dangled off of the side of the bed “Can’t you hear me? All is well.”

These were the last words she spoke for months. The first year without Brother was the hardest but it aloud her in solitude to figure out whom she was. She spent it honing her abilities, hunting, trying to support herself and save enough coin for the adventure ahead. By the time this year had past she had a full set of armor and upon selling all the farm animals she was able to buy herself a horse. This was the beginnings of her true adventure. Brynn spent the first year proving herself as a mercenary worthy for hire and soon found many jobs available. Then once this became boring she set out to explore on her own. She favoured the ancient crypts or ruins as they posed the most challenge as well as the most interesting artifacts and architectural beauty; it was during this time that she procured her favorite armors. The ancient Nordic set solved her original unhappiness with the heavy armor, allowing for manoeuvrability as well as protection she also found it suited her personality quite well.

It then became a favourite past time of hers to hunt down bandits. The joy that would make her spirits soar as the bandits called out to her mocking the girl that stood before them.So unsuspecting she would think as she turned to them a huge grin upon her face. Brynn would then turn drawing her swords and begin the massacre. The thrill of besting an opponent and by the same coin ridding Skyrim of another threat filled her spirits with glee. She felt as if she was performing perhaps in a silver dance as she slashed and spun about in battle. She became stronger as the years went by and the intricate dance of the swords became more and more beautiful.

 

[Boudica]

Name: Abel Ulfsson

Gender: Male

Age: Old



Race: Nord

'Affliction': Pure vampirism



Notable skills: Short-sword and Shield - Allure - Enhanced strength, speed and reflexes

Notable weaknesses: Compassion - Self-Loathing/Self-Destructive - Unpredictable - Crippling reliance on blood



Physical Appearance: Anyone could tell this 'man' is Nord - there are no two ways about the matter; he is broad without sacrificing grace, rugged without being haggard, and fair to an almost ethereal degree; his pure blood amplifying his Aryan complexion with blonde hair having become near platinum and blue eyes turning a few shades towards glacial - a colour that makes many, be they man, mer or beast, look twice at haunting eyes which have, beyond the youthful exuberance, seen the darkest hours of Tamriel unfold before them.

The hair is braided in the usual Nordic style and helps him manage the long locks in a practical fashion. These braids are done with simply rawhide bands and hang at either side of his face, although at times they are tied together at the back of his head instead.

His skin keeps signs of tan however the majority of it has long since faded - the flesh maintaining the light pallor that is natural to him and his specific kinsmen - the Nordic men of Winterhold.

He stands tall and with a prowess that is not unusual when you consider the men of Skyrim - but he possesses a grace and power that seems to hail from somewhere else. A substantial frame of 6'3" should not be capable of entering the room like the perfect Imperial gentleman and carry out tasks with the utmost delicacy and soft-touch; yet he manages to do so - whilst all the while keeping at bay that carnal beast, that killing machine that lurks beneath the handsome fleshy surface.

His fingers lack the rings of lords although there are marks present that they were there at one point, and numerous other markings adorn his body - some not gained through the harmlessness of a silver ring. There are slivers of silver and gashes of pink that hint at a long and bloody past all over his body, and his nose looks as though it has been reset after being broken at some point or other.

The cheekbones are high yet evident beneath the skin and they have become even more so during these past years as his abstinence from the one thing that sustains him, has severely weakened him. His 'fangs' (as mortals call them) are not restricted to the canine, no, they are a double set - 'fangs' are apparent in the lateral incisor and canine teeth; the canines still being the longer pair however.

The clothing of Abel is simple, to try and tone down his appearance in people as much as possible besides still garnering a few looks here and there because of his manner and look - some pleasant from women, and some unpleasant from the suspicious and pious mobs that make inns their habitual territory.



Personality: Now, here is one thing to never forget; Abel was and still is, a ruthless, sadistic murderer - of men, women and children - it doesn’t matter whom and it doesn't matter how - the bloodlust that was present when he was a living breathing creature was only enhanced when he was gifted with the immortal blood by his dear friend and brother in arms - Lord Harkon.

However, age has caught up with him and he has eventually began to have his own version of an 'existential crisis' - the curse was a double edged sword; it amplified his bloodlust, but granted him the years to learn to regret it - and if you see him walking as if he is bearing a great burden - that is his curse physically manifest.

The animal within that Abel has supressed and starved and tortured through lack of blood still writhes and beats at the fragile ribs that house its madness, and his guilt presses down upon him as if he were physically carrying it from place to place, allows upon his back, crushing him into the cobbles inch by inch, year by year.

He has grown to learn the values of forgiveness and of compassion, and that makes it extremely difficult to even be who he is - and that is a creature that survives off the pain and blood of others.

He puts on his façade of brilliant enigmatic charm and struggles to bring forth that genuine happiness and calm - yet underneath the beast still yowls for blood and this cauldron of hatred and fury that has been gradually building in the cold reaches of the north - may be opportunity to give it the release it so desperately wants…



History: Abel was born a very long time ago - and was older than Lord Harkon when the pair first met - the first sons of Jarls and thus bound to meet at some point or another. Harkon was from the milder eastern reaches and thus had a passion that translated into his actions more so than the cold and icy Northerner. They shared a bloodlust and grew close over an affinity for warmongering and power. From Harkon, Abel became crueller and more callous - learning to delight in the pain of another, whilst from Abel, Harkon learned a flippancy for taking life, the ability of cold-indifference to the suffering and torment of others. Individually, they were merely bad men, but together, they were a killing force to be reckoned with…

So, when Harkon took it one step further and accepted the boon of Molag Bal after the slaughter of hundreds - Abel was unknowing of this change that has taken hold of his once dear brother-in-arms. The two had distanced themselves in the years between and it came to pass that they ended up on opposing sides of the battlefield one frigid, overcast day on the tundra's of Dawnstar. It was that battle that Abel was mortally wounded and carried to a pine thicket by two of his closest friends, kinsmen of the north - the spoke to him of Sovngarde, and ale and women - and they were slaughtered as they stood guard over the body of their lord.

Harkon had picked up Abel's scent and tracked him to the thicket. Abel could not and had not recognized him as who he was, only as the man he had thought he had killed upon the snow - and as the vampire pressed down upon his chest and forced blood and sputum from his damaged lungs out in a cough, the mortal was chilled and nearing death.

That is when the bargain was made, the ability to cheat the death that Abel so desperately did not want to meet - not out of fear, oh-no, out of a sense of incompleteness, a sense that he had not achieved all that he could have done. Harkon gave him the gift of the blood in exchange for a lifetime as his brother-in-arms once again, not a friend, a means to an end…

And that was how Abel's life was lived for a great portion of it - as murderer alongside his 'sire' - but as Harkon grew darker with age, Abel grew regretful and guilt-ridden. At the first sign of these hesitations upon the battlefield, at the reluctance to torture another victim - Harkon decided as swift as passing rain, that Abel deserved nothing less than complete destruction - of body, soul and legacy…

It was ill-timed, the night upon which the order rang through the halls of Volkihar Keep, was the night the champions of the Dawnguard had come to call. As the Keep went up like a pyre at Midsummer - Abel escaped through a tower window and plummeted into the icy depths - miraculously missing the rocks, but the impact itself had broken a leg and an arm of the weakened vampire, drained of energy from the fact he had not been partaking in the daily blood-feasts his ilk grew fat and plump upon. He fought against nature and dragged himself to shore - furthering himself in a similar fashion, into a meagre hole in the cliff side were he lingered for two whole months - recovering from his wounds and living off the blood of any unfortunate animal, be they four-legged rats or unfortunate criminal or hermit.

Upon leaving his hovel he began to try and find life anew - despite his sporadic sessions of melancholy and self-loathing, and the fierce and constant inner civil war between himself and himself. If he were only to find something worth fighting for, something that would be the route to his redemption…if only…

 

[Osiris]

Yepp, still room to apply guys, we have 3 more spots which are reserved for you

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Great! If that means we are accepted may I chose this colour for Brynn?

 

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

I will choose White for Jokar Valeri, not because I am racist.

 

[Kimrisvik]

Jace Thorsson

Race- Nord
Gender- Male
Age- 22
Birth Sign- The thief

PERSONALITY
Religious Views- Talos
Likes- Pickpocketing, money, gambling
Dislikes- Horkers, guards, dogs, laws

PERSONAL
Sexuality- Straight
Martial Status- Single
Hobbies- Robbing people
Positive traits- Good at talking, almost perfect at pickpocketing and stealing.
Negative traits- Not good at fighting, often gets himself into dangerous situations.

APPEARANCE
Hair- Blond and shoulder length
Facial Hair- None
Eyes- Yellow
Skin Color- Average
Build- Average
Height- 5'10
Weight- 150lbs

WEAPONS
Right Hand- Steel dagger
Armor- Iron chain-armor

BIO (For both him and his brother. Didn't bother to rewrite it to fit for only Jace. Hope it's okay ;3)

Born in Riften, Rogga and Jace had heard abut the thieves guild since they were young. Their family was rich, and in fear of getting robbed, they kept most of their wealth locked in safes or hidden rooms. At a young age, Rogga developed a inspiration of how the Thieves guild did their work, and started to fiddle with spare locks around the house, learning how they worked, and how to unlock them the fastest way.

Roggas younger brother, Jace, had always been one to steal things he wanted. At first he just took the things, but after being yelled at several times, he started to take them more and more unoticeable until he could manage to steal items straight out from someones pockets.

One day, Rogga and Jace decided to break into their parents safes and steal some of the gold. Jace first stole the key to the room from their fathers pocket, before Rogga quickly unlocked the safe, giving them acces to the gold. However, before they could get out again, their father noticed them and kicked them out of the house, telling them to go join the thieves if they wanted to steal stuff. And they did.

After joining the Thieves Guild, Mercer Frey saw their talent and potential, and personaly took them under his wing to teach how best to evolve their abilities. Rogga learned how to break in and out from well guarded vaults, without being noticed. And Jace mastered the art of stealing almost anything from a mans pockets without any problem. Both also learned how to use distractions to make their robberies easier. This made them a perfect team, and they're now traveling around Skyrim looking for targets.

(Bio sucks. I know. lol)

 

[Blackdoom59]

Garret Rendon​

"When you have nothing less to lose, you only have everything left to gain"​

​

Basic Information​

Name: Garret Rendon​

Alias: The Cold Benefactor​

Age: 28​

Birth Place: Evermor, High Rock​

Birth Sign: Tower​

Origin/Race:Breton​

Class: Thief/Expert Swordsman/Alchemist​

Gender: Male​

Laterality: Right Handed​

Sexuality: Straight​

Marital Status: Single​

Properties: A cave made to look like a home, in a mountain north of Markarth​

Affiliations: Thieves Guild, East Empire Trading Company, Houses of Morrowind, Multiple Nobles from Cyrodiil, High Rock and Hammerfell​

Alignment: True Neutral​

Afflictions: Lost sight on left eye​

Religion: Nocturnal, Agonostic​

Patron Deity: Nocturnal​

Habits: Plays with septims​

Hobbies: Alchemy, Drinking, Whoring​

Family: None left​

​

Personality​

Garret is very social, as he spends most of his free time in inns and pubs. He has developed an expertise of speechcraft, as he can be both persuasive and intimidating. Garret likes to think he is funny, as he will always tell jokes no matter who hears them, he is quick to make friends but he can also anger the wrong people.​

Positive Traits: Temperate, Friendly, Tolerant, Funny, Persuasive, Cunning​

Negative Traits: Greedy, Ill-Mannered, Overly Confident, Competitive, Alcoholic, Curious​

Likes: Female company, gold, mixing herbs, alcohol/skooma​

Dislikes: Judgemental People, Soliders, Sailors/Pirates​

Fears: Assassins, The Thieves Guild, Falling from large heights​

Aspirations: To become rich, To uncover all alchemy mixtures, To regain sight on his left eye, To make up with the guild.​

Quirks: Will always make jokes, and people won't always find them funny.​

Philosophy: Garret is not a man of principle, he dislikes solders and people who throw their life away on an idea. Garret lives live for what it's worth, enjoying the small things and ignoring the big ones.​

​

Skills​

Master:​

Alchemy: Garret was mixing ingredients since he was a kid, and he kept doing it for his entire life. An alchemist as skilled as him is hard to find in Tamriel.​

Stealth: Garret has spent enough of his time in the guild to understand how one can blend in with shadows, crowds and foliage. He can be very sneaky and hard to detect.​

Fingersmith: Having spent most of his time as a thief doing fishing and heist jobs, Garret is a Master pickpocket and lock picker.​

Expert:​

Light Weaponry: Even if he will most likely try and avoid combat, if the situation calls for it, Garret is a master Swordsman, as he had spent countless hours training in the art of dagger and sword.​

Speech: Garret has developed an expertise in Speech Craft over time. He can barter with you and make you give your most precious and expensive item for almost nothing, he can persuade you into doing what he wants and if you don’t seem to be able to handle yourself, Garret can also be quite intimidating.​

​

Adept:​

Free Running/Parkour/Climbing: Garret dislikes riding horses, you would rather find him in a carriage rather than on a horse. However he has enough stamina to climb and run, as sometimes he is forced to escape certain situations.​

Light Armor: Garret never wore a plate mail, as he finds the weight of such armors too big for his liking. He has used light armor as a mean of defense for as long as he’s been a thief.​

Marksmanship: Garret understands how strong an arrow can be. It can apply a strong poison, it can trigger a trap, it can open a door, it can distract, it can kill. Even if he’s not the combat archer type, Garret won’t hesitate to use his bow at any given point.​

Apprentice:​

Enchanting: He enchanted his own equipment, although his enchantments are weak, they do their job, and Garret couldn’t ask for more.​

Illusion: The only illusion spell you will see Garret use is clairvoyance, which he will use if he ever gets lost or is looking for something.​

Perks​

​

​

Appearance​

Height: 1.86 M​

Weight: 85 Kg​

Build: Fit, Athletic​

Hair Length: Short​

Hair Color: Crimson​

Facial Hair: Short Beard​

Eye Color: Green​

Scars: Large scar on left eye​

​

Gear​

Armor: Just like in the pic, however the color is dark green instead of black.​

Weapons: Ebony Bow, Ebony Longsword, With a dwarven dagger hidden in his boot for harsh times.​

Misc: If engaged in combat, Garret’s left arm will be empty, leaving him space to disarm, break defence or grab a potion.​

​

History/Biography​

Childhood: Garret was born in Evermor, High Rock. He dosen’t know much about his past and he is always looking for more, although the hunt went terribly so far. His mother, Felicia, was a Breton alchemist and his father was a forsworn. At his birth his father was assassinated for betraying the forsworn, and Garret took his father’s only known name. After giving birth, Felicia started to suffer from a terrible disease, and she died when Garret was only 10, leaving him the alchemy shop.​

Teenager: His teen years started tough, as he had to take care of an adult’s business. That, however, strengthened him, making him much more mature for his age. As he grew up, he became quite popular among the youth at the inns, as he always had money to spend, his alchemy paid off well.​

Adult: When he reached adulthood, Garret sold his old shop and went to Markarth, To set his new shop there. He encountered the Thief Guild in that city, and he left selling potions behind, and became a full on thief. In the guild he learned a lot, and made many good friends. After a couple of years with the Guild, Garret was already rich. He was building a manor next to Riften, he was engaged to a lovely maiden, and life was good for him. However Garret is a curios fellow. He heard rambling in the guild about nightingales, and he went to a temple of Nocturnal to check it out. There the daedric princess revealed him the truth about the Guild and how the nightingales were formed. Garret wanted to share this information with his fellow guild mates, however the leader didn’t share his enthusiasm. He was framed for betraying the guild, his house under construction was burned down, and his future wife left him. He had nothing left, and so he went back to his old business - Alchemy. He gained quite a reputation, as his years in the Guild did nothing but empower his alchemist abilities. Garret became renowed as The Cold Benefactor, and contracts from around Tamriel started using his services. Lately however, with a tyrant on the Throne, his business started falling apart, and he feels like he has to do something about this.​

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Will we be starting soon seeing as the spots have been taken?

 

[MagicBlade]

Yay thanks, Hlif! Wassup! Long time no see bro. Ill use This for Grunt

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Hey yeah, long time no see! I'm back! Looking forward to RPing with you again.

 

[MagicBlade]

likewise~

 

[Kimrisvik]

It will be fun RPing with me too! Don't forget that you two!

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Oh I'm sure your right, I'll try my best not to forget!

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Is it terribly bad that I already have my intro written out? :$

 

[Osiris]

Is it terribly bad that I already have my intro written out? :$

Haha not at all, ambitious I see

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

Looking forward to this Roleplay, certainly
I just hope it fits because if not that is all down the toilet


Edit: I am not sure if I missed your CC or you haven't posted one yet. Everyone's characters seem so interesting thus far!

 

[Blackdoom59]

If I'm in I'l use dis for Garret

 

[Kimrisvik]

I'll use the ORANGE if I may