JoeReese
Well-Known Member
Hi all,
I am going to try to build on this. It started as my character bio, but I enjoyed writing it so here goes. There may be some language and there will be violence.
This first section was posted already on the character bio thread in the main discussion. I'm putting it here, to serve as the framework of the build. Bear with me, and any/all criticism is appreciated.
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Rahn is a Nord in his thirties. He was found as an infant, raised by a grizzled old veteran widower, and still doesn't know if he has family out there, nor does he care. The three people who meant the most to him are dead. His father figure, mentor, and best friend, Wuulfgar, passed peacefully while Rahn was away in the Legion. The locals later told him Wuulfgar's last words were of him, filled with pride and concern. His wife, a delicate flower in appearance, but with soul of iron, died during childbirth along with their son. She had smitten him with but a glance, two years prior in Solitude, become the center of his world with the warmth of her smile, and later the warmth of her arms. She was the driving force behind Rahn's every move, surviving to look upon her again, or to bring glory to her in his deeds. For their deaths, despite his many requests and appeals for leave, Rahn was again away in the Legion. It marked the end of his Legion career, and he has seldom looked back.
Rahn owed the Legion, of course, as he owed Wuulfgar. Of this, he was acutely aware, but there the similarities ended; for Wuulfgar had raised him out of compassion, with no expectation of payment. The Legion had used him, as the Legion uses all who serve them. He owed the Legion indeed, but so the Legion owed him. Rahn and a few others were the types of soldiers on which the Legion could always depend, and depend it did. He was moved from place to place, sometimes in the span of only a few days, solving one problem or another, only to be sent elsewhere to do it all again.
Rahn and his companions were special troops, trained in, and very good at, surreptitious movement and low key attack. The Legion had taught him well. Experience had taught him even better, and to Wuulfgar he owed his ability to grasp those lessons. Wuulfgar, a gnarled old veteran, whose valor and skill were well known, had raised Rahn as a soldier. He was neither intellectually nor culturally rich, but for that he relied on other villagers, bartering hard work or protection in return for their teaching Rahn. What knowledge he could bestow, he did like no other could. Rahn grew into a solid, strong man, enlisting in the Legion with a skill-at-arms far beyond his peers. Wuulfgar had been best with one-handed weapons and shields, and so too had Rahn.
The Legion taught Rahn in a way Wuulfgar could not, by blood. Gone were the wooden dummies and the gentle sparring sessions, for the Legion's chief instructor was experience. In battles large and small, Rahn learned the practical side of Wuulfgar's teachings. Some of his lessons were elementary, others painful, but Rahn survived them all and grew to become a warrior of minor legend within the Legion.
As he rose in rank, so rose his responsibilities, and Rahn soon found himself in charge of the guard detail at a large Legion installation.
He took a personal interest in the performance and welfare of his men, drilling them regularly and seeing to their needs. He led from the front, asking nothing of his men that he himself was unwilling or unable to do. His men soon learned, much to their chagrin, that this was not to amount to the easy life they allowed themselves to expect. But with time, practice, and a fair and consistent disciplinary hand came a sense of pride and a cohesion unknown in other units, many commanders of which indeed later began to mimic his methods. Rahn and his men began to enjoy a reputation for their cool-headed efficiency and honor. It was by this reputation that their legacy, Rahn's legacy, was forged.
Rahn was one day summoned to report to the commander, where he learned that a caravan of settlers on their way to a large mining camp had been accosted by Thalmor troops. Most had been killed, but two of the miners' wives and several children had not been found among the bodies at the scene. Imperial investigators discovered the body of a Thalmor warrior some distance away, believing him to have been dragged away from the scene. The mining camp council had appealed to the Legion for help. Because of the White-Gold Concordat, the Legion didn't dare ask, much less accuse the Thalmor, though their affinities for kidnapping and torture were common knowledge.
The chief investigator lectured over a parchment map of the area, pointing out the one location he felt would be ideal to hide captives, were he in the Thalmor's shoes. Rahn expected a rescue, but that was not to be. He was told quite bluntly that there was no way for the Legion to help these people, without risking a new war. The commander left no room to mistake the fact that he agreed with the investigator, and a seething Rahn was sent from the room.
Later that night, the commander appeared in the guardroom alone. He had been drinking heavily, something Rahn had never seen, and his anger was unbridled. Alone, drunk, and with unconcealed hatred, the commander ordered Rahn to "go and flay every last one of those pointy-eared bastards, and to Oblivion with that cursed Concordat." With conflicting thoughts and a sense of professional dread, Rahn and his men prepared to carry our their dubious orders as best they could.
In the morning, the Commander had awakened to two undeniable facts, a terrible headache and his imminent arrest. This sense of doom pervaded his waking thoughts for the better part of a week, but no arrest came. Several days later, he was disappointed but not surprised to see a Thalmor representative in his office. Swallowing his dread and setting his iron expression, he strode through the door and slammed it behind him, too-gruffly asking what the Thalmor needed from him.
In the moments that followed, Rahn's career path was laid, as the Commander listened to the Thalmor agent's rather sheepish request for Legion assistance in apprehending four traitors to the Dominion. These traitors, the elf explained, were prison guards at a nearby Thalmor facility, who had squandered the trust of their comrades, murdering the entire staff and absconding with several criminals and Thalmor weapons. The icing on the sweet roll came when the embarrassed elf approached the map and pointed to the precise location, to which the Commander had dispatched Rahn. The Commander quickly, if falsely, assured the elf of the Legion's cooperation and hurried him on his way. For the entirety of that sleepless night, he had pondered the miracle of Rahn.
Three days later, Rahn entered the Commander's office and unceremoniously laid a Thalmor hood and an elven dagger on his desk. He saluted the commander stiffly, his eyes glinting with pride, turned on his heel and left. Not a word was exchanged. That same day, the Commander received an unsigned scroll which said only "Thank you." Inside it, but not attached to the parchment, he found the wax seal of the mining company and the tips of four elven left ears.
From that day forward, Rahn and his men were no longer a security detail, but something much, much different. Thus began the untold, oft unknown, story of the Legion's Special Troops, the Gold Helms.
Oh yes, the Legion owed Rahn indeed.
I am going to try to build on this. It started as my character bio, but I enjoyed writing it so here goes. There may be some language and there will be violence.
This first section was posted already on the character bio thread in the main discussion. I'm putting it here, to serve as the framework of the build. Bear with me, and any/all criticism is appreciated.
********************************************************************
Rahn is a Nord in his thirties. He was found as an infant, raised by a grizzled old veteran widower, and still doesn't know if he has family out there, nor does he care. The three people who meant the most to him are dead. His father figure, mentor, and best friend, Wuulfgar, passed peacefully while Rahn was away in the Legion. The locals later told him Wuulfgar's last words were of him, filled with pride and concern. His wife, a delicate flower in appearance, but with soul of iron, died during childbirth along with their son. She had smitten him with but a glance, two years prior in Solitude, become the center of his world with the warmth of her smile, and later the warmth of her arms. She was the driving force behind Rahn's every move, surviving to look upon her again, or to bring glory to her in his deeds. For their deaths, despite his many requests and appeals for leave, Rahn was again away in the Legion. It marked the end of his Legion career, and he has seldom looked back.
Rahn owed the Legion, of course, as he owed Wuulfgar. Of this, he was acutely aware, but there the similarities ended; for Wuulfgar had raised him out of compassion, with no expectation of payment. The Legion had used him, as the Legion uses all who serve them. He owed the Legion indeed, but so the Legion owed him. Rahn and a few others were the types of soldiers on which the Legion could always depend, and depend it did. He was moved from place to place, sometimes in the span of only a few days, solving one problem or another, only to be sent elsewhere to do it all again.
Rahn and his companions were special troops, trained in, and very good at, surreptitious movement and low key attack. The Legion had taught him well. Experience had taught him even better, and to Wuulfgar he owed his ability to grasp those lessons. Wuulfgar, a gnarled old veteran, whose valor and skill were well known, had raised Rahn as a soldier. He was neither intellectually nor culturally rich, but for that he relied on other villagers, bartering hard work or protection in return for their teaching Rahn. What knowledge he could bestow, he did like no other could. Rahn grew into a solid, strong man, enlisting in the Legion with a skill-at-arms far beyond his peers. Wuulfgar had been best with one-handed weapons and shields, and so too had Rahn.
The Legion taught Rahn in a way Wuulfgar could not, by blood. Gone were the wooden dummies and the gentle sparring sessions, for the Legion's chief instructor was experience. In battles large and small, Rahn learned the practical side of Wuulfgar's teachings. Some of his lessons were elementary, others painful, but Rahn survived them all and grew to become a warrior of minor legend within the Legion.
As he rose in rank, so rose his responsibilities, and Rahn soon found himself in charge of the guard detail at a large Legion installation.
He took a personal interest in the performance and welfare of his men, drilling them regularly and seeing to their needs. He led from the front, asking nothing of his men that he himself was unwilling or unable to do. His men soon learned, much to their chagrin, that this was not to amount to the easy life they allowed themselves to expect. But with time, practice, and a fair and consistent disciplinary hand came a sense of pride and a cohesion unknown in other units, many commanders of which indeed later began to mimic his methods. Rahn and his men began to enjoy a reputation for their cool-headed efficiency and honor. It was by this reputation that their legacy, Rahn's legacy, was forged.
Rahn was one day summoned to report to the commander, where he learned that a caravan of settlers on their way to a large mining camp had been accosted by Thalmor troops. Most had been killed, but two of the miners' wives and several children had not been found among the bodies at the scene. Imperial investigators discovered the body of a Thalmor warrior some distance away, believing him to have been dragged away from the scene. The mining camp council had appealed to the Legion for help. Because of the White-Gold Concordat, the Legion didn't dare ask, much less accuse the Thalmor, though their affinities for kidnapping and torture were common knowledge.
The chief investigator lectured over a parchment map of the area, pointing out the one location he felt would be ideal to hide captives, were he in the Thalmor's shoes. Rahn expected a rescue, but that was not to be. He was told quite bluntly that there was no way for the Legion to help these people, without risking a new war. The commander left no room to mistake the fact that he agreed with the investigator, and a seething Rahn was sent from the room.
Later that night, the commander appeared in the guardroom alone. He had been drinking heavily, something Rahn had never seen, and his anger was unbridled. Alone, drunk, and with unconcealed hatred, the commander ordered Rahn to "go and flay every last one of those pointy-eared bastards, and to Oblivion with that cursed Concordat." With conflicting thoughts and a sense of professional dread, Rahn and his men prepared to carry our their dubious orders as best they could.
In the morning, the Commander had awakened to two undeniable facts, a terrible headache and his imminent arrest. This sense of doom pervaded his waking thoughts for the better part of a week, but no arrest came. Several days later, he was disappointed but not surprised to see a Thalmor representative in his office. Swallowing his dread and setting his iron expression, he strode through the door and slammed it behind him, too-gruffly asking what the Thalmor needed from him.
In the moments that followed, Rahn's career path was laid, as the Commander listened to the Thalmor agent's rather sheepish request for Legion assistance in apprehending four traitors to the Dominion. These traitors, the elf explained, were prison guards at a nearby Thalmor facility, who had squandered the trust of their comrades, murdering the entire staff and absconding with several criminals and Thalmor weapons. The icing on the sweet roll came when the embarrassed elf approached the map and pointed to the precise location, to which the Commander had dispatched Rahn. The Commander quickly, if falsely, assured the elf of the Legion's cooperation and hurried him on his way. For the entirety of that sleepless night, he had pondered the miracle of Rahn.
Three days later, Rahn entered the Commander's office and unceremoniously laid a Thalmor hood and an elven dagger on his desk. He saluted the commander stiffly, his eyes glinting with pride, turned on his heel and left. Not a word was exchanged. That same day, the Commander received an unsigned scroll which said only "Thank you." Inside it, but not attached to the parchment, he found the wax seal of the mining company and the tips of four elven left ears.
From that day forward, Rahn and his men were no longer a security detail, but something much, much different. Thus began the untold, oft unknown, story of the Legion's Special Troops, the Gold Helms.
Oh yes, the Legion owed Rahn indeed.