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  • Don't Look! Oct 28, 2015

    [IMAGE COMING... or maybe not. We'll see.]

    » NAME Hallis
    » ALIAS
    » AGE
    » RACE Human
    » BIRTH DATE November 25th
    » CLASS Sailor
    » GENDER Female
    » HEIGHT 5'4
    » WEIGHT 140
    » BUILD Short, nothing special.
    » LATERALITY Right-handed
    » SEXUALITY Heterosexual


    » HABITS Braiding strands of grass together, humming,


    » LIKES Food, walking, puzzles and riddles, learning new things
    » FEARS Fi


    » SKIN COLOR Tan

    » SCARS No scars, just calloused feet
    » GEAR

    Onyx Black and Gidian like this.
  • Haeda Free-Foot Mar 26, 2014

    Haeda Free-Foot


    » NAME Haeda Free-Foot

    » ALIAS None

    » AGE 19

    » BIRTH SIGN The Apprentice

    » RACE Nord

    » BIRTH DATE 15 Sun’s Height

    » BIRTH PLACE Unknown, Skyrim

    » CLASS Hunter/Ranger

    » GENDER Female

    » HEIGHT 5’6

    » WEIGHT 130

    » BUILD Lean and healthy

    » LATERALITY Right-handed

    » SEXUALITY Heterosexual


    » AFFILIATION Hunters of Skyrim

    » AFFLICTIONS Poor memory

    » RELIGION Prefers not to mess with deities.

    My tablet won't let me attach images, so here are the links. All images are credit to their respective artists.

    » HAIR LENGTH Long, some inches below the shoulders

    » HAIR COLOR Brown

    » FACIAL HAIR None

    » EYE COLOR Blue

    » SKIN COLOR Like the average Nord’s

    » SCARS Nothing big enough to notice

    » TATTOOS None


    » POSITIVE TRAITS Trusting, welcoming, positive, a good follower

    » NEGATIVE TRAITS Stubborn, inexperienced, reckless, nosy

    » LIKES Hunting, tracking, hiking, meeting new people

    » DISLIKES Daedra, argumentative people, conflict, serious situations

    » FEARS Daedra

    » ASPIRATIONS To explore Skyrim, to know more about her past

    » STRENGTHS – Tracking, hunting, cooking, using a bow

    » WEAKNESSES – Fighting, reading, writing, remembering things

    » PERSONALITY – Is a carefree soul, prefers to make light of serious situations, can be naïve due to her young age and inexperience, is friendly to strangers and easily trusting.


    » WEAPONS – A few hunting knives and her trusty wooden bow

    » ARMOR – Simple set of armor [pictured] made of leathers, furs, and other materials found in the outdoors.

    » FIGHTING STYLE – Long range, away from the source of the conflict. Is a sharpshooter who rarely misses. Very unexperienced and easily overtaken from close-distance. Will use a dagger as a last resort.


    » SHORT BIO – Haeda doesn’t remember much about her past – just vague memories of fire and walking through the forest. Her earliest clear memories start around 12. By then, she was already part of a group of 5 similarly aged children who wandered Skyrim’s wilds.

    At first the group survived by begging for food. They weren’t hunters or fighters, and were too young to get jobs. They preferred to travel and explore than to stay in one place.

    Eventually they grew too old to gain the sympathies of the adults that once spared them food. They would either need to learn how to survive and adapt, or they would die. After an incredibly small amount of time, the small group of teens taught themselves to hunt.

    As the years passed, the group was satisfied with this life. However, they were harboring a dark secret. It wasn’t natural for 5 children to be able to adapt and survive as well as they did. At 19, Haeda learned about the truth. As a result, she left the group.

    Her future plans consist of traveling the world and finding out more about her past.
  • RP Characters Jan 23, 2014

    Haeda Free-Foot
    Free-spirited Hunter​
    Giant Redguard Bard​
    Tree-hugging socially inept Bosmer​
    Nord with Money Trouble​
    Natch Lex
    Skooma Addicted Genius​
  • Natch Lex Jan 23, 2014

    Natch Lex
    » NAME Natch Lex
    » ALIAS Twig, Baby Face
    » AGE 20 years old
    » RACE Imperial
    » BIRTH DATE First Seed 10
    » CLASS Thief
    » GENDER Male
    » HEIGHT 6'0
    » WEIGHT 150
    » BUILD Stringy and twig-like, but muscular
    » AFFILIATION Crimson Caravan/Silver Hand
    » AFFLICTIONS A slight skooma addiction
    » HAIR LENGTH Short, about 1 inch long
    » HAIR COLOR Black
    » FACIAL HAIR Occasional stubble around his lower jaw. Often criticized for having a "baby face"
    » EYE COLOR Brown
    » SKIN COLOR Tan
    » SCARS A few messy ones on his right forearms, but nothing huge. He's a young kid who although gifted, hasn't seen much battle time.
    » WEAPONS Natch carries two curved blades, a dagger, and a light wooden bow.
    » ARMOR Natch doesn't wear traditional thief garb. He prefers furs and leathers. In warmer areas of Skyrim, Natch would leave his chest bare (minus a strap to carry his bow on his back), which in the wintery climates he would wear a simple shirt with a fur cloak to keep warm. He feels restricted with too much armor on his upper body. Last but not least, Natch is never without his helmet - a piece given to him by his father.
    » SHORT BACKGROUND STORY – Natch knew crime his entire life. His grandfather was a notorious jewel thief, his his father was as far into the drug smuggling system as it got, and he ran around with the Crimson Caravan.
    He wasn't your typical thief. Natch grew up well off and was often shielded from the crime his family was into. When he turned 12 he was exposed to the world of drug smuggling, and began to help with the family business. Very few people suspected a young boy to have bags full of moon sugar and jugs full of skooma. To everyone, he was simply the son of a farmer who was selling his flour and storing water for the long journey home.
    While Natch was a cunning liar and excellent at negotiating (especially when he was as high as a kite), he didn't use words as his primary weapon. Natch loved to duel wield his two curved sword, but he also liked to end "negotiations" via dagger as well. While an excellent fighter, he has very limited experience in real battle situations.
    As the young Imperial grew into a man, the art of smuggling became a hard job. Private work was too pricey, as the bigger smuggling groups would often tax Natch. That would mean he didn't have any extra coin to cover his own addictions. Struggling to find private work, Natch was forced to join the Crimson Caravan, the most dominant group in his profession.
    Natch desperately wanted some skooma. No, he needed it. His body shook, an uncontrollable nervousness having been cast upon him the last few days. He watched the various patrons at the inn merrily go about their day, unaware of the feeling that he may burst at any moment. He himself had been waiting several days for a Dunmer who would be smuggling a gracious amount of his precious drink over the border of Cyrodiil.

    "Natch," a familiar voice spoke from over his shoulder. Antus, his informant and longtime partner gave him a stern look. How long had he been there? Natch should have been asking this question - instead, his mind immediately traveled to where his skooma could be. If Antus was here, what did that mean for his skooma?

    "Where's the Dunmer?" Natch questioned immediately. His normally quiet demeanor was shaken up, and by the look on Antus's face, his voice was telling.

    Antus sighed before speaking, "We have a problem... the Elf got a better deal from some other guys. Crimson Caravan. Been taking a lot of our work lately."

    Natch froze, his eyes growing wide. The Imperial had the look of a crazed man. "No skooma?"

    "Well," Antus pursed his lips before reaching into the pocket of his pants and taking out a small glass bottle. Natch snatched it from his hand, taking a sip. It took only seconds for the effects of the liquid to set in. The shaking stopped, and his nerves were once again settled down. Everything was back to normal - he could go back to his relaxed self. Skooma was damn amazing.
  • Nike Jan 23, 2014

    » NAME Nike
    » ALIAS None
    » AGE Appearance is 25 years old, aged 145 years (For TGA:II) aged 26 (for TL)
    » BIRTH SIGN The Warrior
    » RACE Imperial
    » BIRTH DATE Last Seed 1, 3E 263
    » BIRTH PLACE Imperial City, Cyrodii
    » CLASS Warrior
    » GENDER Female
    » HEIGHT 5’7
    » WEIGHT 150
    » BMI 23.5
    » BUILD Physically fit
    » LATERALITY Right-handed
    » SEXUALITY Heterosexual
    » AFFILIATION Cyrodiil's arena faction
    » AFFLICTIONS Vampirism (Appears about 26)
    » RELIGION Nike’s not necessarily religious towards any deity, but she has a particular interest in Akatosh.
    » HABITS While usually more than friendly and kind to others, Nike is prone to violent outbursts that get quickly out of hand. She isn’t necessarily one to love violence and gore, but she is simply violent by habit due to her upbringing.
    » HOBBIES Nike enjoys watching fights and taking part in them. While she doesn't wish to go back to her violent lifestyle in the arena, she undeniably loves the thrill when she is able to bloody her sword.

    » POSITIVE TRAITS Friendly, strong-willed, determined, helpful
    » NEGATIVE TRAITS Violent, overly friendly, disregards personal space, a creature of habit
    » LIKES Winning, blood, fighting, fighters, alcohol, people
    » DISLIKES Losing, not being trusted, wimps, vampires, evil
    » FEARS Death, rejection
    » ASPIRATIONS Nike’s greatest aspiration is to visit every inch of Tamerial and beyond.

    » HAIR LENGTH For lack of better wording, Nike's hair is grown out to a length just below the armpit at its longest points. However, years of fighting in the arena has resulted in an uneven and choppy cut, due mainly to it being sliced off mid-battle.
    » HAIR COLOR Dirty-blonde
    » FACIAL HAIR None
    » EYE COLOR Brown
    » SKIN COLOR Tan
    » SCARS It would have been a miracle if Nike had gotten by in the arena without a single scar. Nike hasn't been witness to any miracles, and thus has quite a few scars. The most prominent of her collection are a gash from an axe upon her left shoulder, a large scar within her ribcage from a single sword thrust, and a small one across her cheek from when her helmet was knocked off in a battle.
    » ATTIRE [CASUAL] Casual attire for Nike is battle attire. She never is without her armor, as it has grown to be a part of her.

    » Imperial Legion [LIKES] – Nike believes in loyalty, and she is loyal to her people and her city of birth, the capital of Cyrodiil.

    » The Thieves Guild [DISLIKES] – Nike believes that the Thieves Guild is made up of cowards who sneak around and avoid fighting directly. However, she dislikes making enemies, and will only express her opinion of the group as "dislike" over hate.

    » Fighters Guild [LIKES] – Nike respects these warriors beyond reason.

    » Mages College [NEUTRAL] – Never liking magic herself, Nike never had any interest in the College. However, she does respect how powerful mages can be.

    »Thalmor [ENEMIES] Nike openly hates the Thalmor. Growing up in the capital of Cyrodiil cause Nike to be an extremely loyal Imperial, and therefore extremely against and angry at the Thalmor for their actions.

    » The Dark Brotherhood [NEUTRAL] – This organization is rather ruthless, but Nike doesn't feel right to judge the assassins since up until recently, she too made a living off of killing.

    » Blocking - Nike would be nothing without her shield. By far, her greatest strength and advantage is her natural ability to anticipate and block incoming attacks.
    » One-handed swords - It's a big step down from her blocking abilities, but her sword skills are Nike's next greatest advantage in a fight. She isn't afraid to slice, stab, and break down her enemy in a gruesome manner with her sword, which is the kind of confidence a lot of her enemies have hesitation with.

    » Heavy Armor - Nike considers her armor to be a second layer of skin. She knows every inch of it: from the weaknesses between plates, to where it is strongest. Her understanding of her armor allowed her to have a successful reign as a champion within the arena.
    » Endurance - Nike boasts a resilient spirit which seems to allow her to work through pain.

    » Speech - Nike has a lot to say, and every once in a while she'll say something that actually seems well thought out.
    » Smithing - In order to understand and know her armor so well, she had to be taught the basics of smithing and craftsmanship.

    » Strength - Nike is quite strong for a women. Although she may not exactly look it, she can rival most men in a weaponless brawl. Her only problem with her strength is that she needs to be careful not to reopen a wound on her ribcage from her final arena fight.
    » Archery - Nike ultimately dislikes the idea of such a painless weapon like the bow, but she knows how to use one.

    » Two-handed Weaponry - Being a warrior, she's tried it all.
    » Alchemy - After suffering a grave wound that ended her arena career, Nike had to learn alchemy in order to aid its healing.

    » FIGHTING STYLE – Nike becomes a completely different person when fighting. Normally, she is a friendly and kind woman, but when facing an opponent, she is pointlessly violent. Nike is a close range fighter with a lack of sympathy and consideration for her enemy. She will often find the most brutal way to take down an enemy to be the most conventional for her, purely out of habit.

    » Health – Denotes vitality and the amount of damage able to be taken.
    » Magicka – Denotes amount of magicka and the magical capacity to cast spells.
    » Stamina – Denotes amount of physical energy and the ability to perform strenuous activities.
    » Strength – Denotes physical strength and the ability to deal damage with melee attacks and block melee attacks.
    » Endurance – Denotes physical toughness, the ability to withstand pain, illness, and fatigue.
    » Agility – Denotes balance, coordination, reflex, speed, and steadiness in combat.
    » Intelligence – Denotes ability to learn, reason, plan, solve problems, strategize, ability to comprehend complex ideas and general mental capability.
    » Will – Denotes magical strength, the general ability to cast spells and magicka regeneration.
    » Spirit – Denotes mental toughness, willpower and the ability to keep fighting past fatigue, injuries and one’s own limitations.

    Health ■■■■■□□□□□
    Magicka □□□□□□□□□□
    Stamina ■■■■□□□□□□
    Strength ■■■■■■■□□□
    Endurance ■■■■■■□□□□
    Agility ■■■■■■□□□□
    Intelligence ■■■■□□□□□□
    Will □□□□□□□□□□
    Spirit ■■■■■■■■■■

    » BIRTH – Injured from a freak training accident earlier that year, Orval was an an Imperial spearman who's dreams and aspirations of becoming an officer in the Imperial Legion were shattered before he even reached 30. Devastated by the loss of one of his arms, Orval's life took a turn for the worst, and the hopeful prospect began a life of drinking, fighting, and sleeping around with any woman who wouldn't reject him. One of these women happened to be 24 year old Lethe, a daughter of a wealthy family within the Imperial City.

    Upon realizing she was carrying a child, Lethe's family disowned her. Lethe took a job at the city's arena as a gatekeeper, taking bets on the countless fights. This job was able to provide her with enough income to support herself and her future child. Another woman who worked at the arena as bladesmaster offered to be her midwife. Immediately, she noticed that Lethe's stomach was unusually large for her current stage of pregnancy. Either something was incredibly wrong with the child, or there would most likely be more than one baby on the way. The truth came when Lethe gave birth to two healthy children. The first was a large, brown haired boy, while the second was wide eyed girl. The lack of experience that her midwife held didn't allow the new family to have a happy ending however. There was a third, less healthy child on the way whose condition caused complications during the process of delivery, and inexperience ultimately was the difference for both the mother and baby. Both Lethe and this child didn't live through the night.

    The midwife who had assisted Lethe during the final hours of her life took both surviving children in out of guilt. She named the boy Zale and the girl Nike. The midwife was unable to support both children with her job at the arena, and soon found the support of one of the fighters within the faction. Antus was a stern man with a son of his own, and he immediately grew fond of the two adopted children.

    The couple married after only several months together, but their time was cut short unexpectedly. During a fight where the Grand Champion of the arena was being challenged by a complete underdog, all hell broke loose. Many bets were placed on the Grand Champion, who would surely annihilate his unsuspecting foe. However, the underdog proceeded to outwit the reigning champ, and defeated him. The crowd who had come to watch the fight immediately went into a frenzy, all of their surefire bets on the champ now immediately lost. Things became violent quickly, and Nike's adopted mother was part of the casualties that had fallen on the Imperial City that night. Antus was now baring the weight of raising the babies that she had chosen to adopt.

    » CHILDHOOD – Upon realization that he was now responsible for raising three children, Antus immediately retired from the arena. He gained a new, less dangerous position of a trainer of some of the less experienced members of the arena faction. His own son was only two years older than Nike and Zale, so he was an able man when it came to the care of babies. Members of the arena would describe the single father as an attentive, but serious father who rarely smiled.

    Almost as immediately as Nike and Zale could walk and talk, they were given a much more free reign around the arena. Antus often felt so comfortable leaving the children around the place, which he often wouldn't feel worried if he didn't see them between when he arrived and when they left to go home. Naturally, the children were exposed to violence within the arena. Fights would be held, and they would watch. Bodies would be carried out of the pit in front of the three siblings, often displaying gruesome deaths before the toddlers' very eyes.

    At 8, Adrian was the first to pick up a dagger. As the eldest of the three, it was only natural that the others follow his lead as they "played", pretending to be fighters in the arena. Their enemies would be rats or bugs that lurked within the bloodworks. Adrian would often etch brutal examples of how to "properly" kill for his younger siblings - just like the fighters in the arena. The only one who seemed uncomfortable with taking a life was Zale, who often would get sick at the sight of blood.

    Antus did not discipline his children when he caught wind of their games. In fact, the man replaced their iron daggers with swords, and began to prepare them for killing their fellow man. It seemed extreme to teach these children the basics of how a body functioned, only for the purpose of killing in a more accurate manner. To Antus it was like passing on the family's greatest knowledge, and preparing them for a life that they seemed to have naturally embraced.

    » ARENA YEARS – Nike's first fight was at 13. Adrian had been successfully fighting for two years now, and she was prepared to live up to the standards he set in the arena. Everything she had learned was leading up to this very moment. It was the meaning of her existence. The pinnacle of her being.

    Nike was an underdog, laughed at as she entered the pit. Antus and his sons sat watching, their expressions unreadable from where she stood in the pit. Her opponent was a large man wielding a mace, and she was sure he would have felt bad for attempting to bash her skull with his weapon if he weren't about to be paid for it. Nike would grin as the man over swung on his first try, thrusting her sword between the man's breastplate and shoulder guards, stunning him before using all her strength to slam her shield into his head. A thud was heard as the helmet her opponent wore slammed against his skull, the pain and shock being so great that he dropped his mace and allowed Nike to go for the final blow. As she left the pit, she knew Antus would be angry at her for not immediately going for his throat.

    Nike's greatest aspirations were to be able to live up to the grand standards that Adrian had set. Antus always seemed to be proud of him and show him the most praise of the three siblings. She yearned for that kind of compliment and appreciation, but such heights were beyond her reach. This frustrated Nike, who didn't live for the fight, but instead for her father's praise. In order to earn his praise, she had to not make any mistakes within the pit... and to stoop to Adrian's level of violence. Her eldest brother had a disregard for life. Specializing in his work with knives, he would often go the extra length to cause pain and prolong the suffering for his unfortunate opponent.

    Zale was the strongest of the siblings, having the muscles to wield a battle-axe at 13, but he was also the most gentle. He preferred swift, quick deaths to his opponents, and had the mindset that he was fighting to defend, unlike his siblings who were fighting to kill. He hated it though, and expressed this to Nike several times, but she didn't understand. Killing came as second nature to her. It was built into her to the point where her challenge wasn't killing, it was how she killed. An art she strived to perfect.

    Nike became a Champion of the arena at 18, becoming known for her bloodstained shield, which she never washed once. Most citizens of the Imperial City would recognize her wooden shield as she carried it on her back, and attempt to avoid Nike, knowing of her violence within the arena. However, the Imperial was a friendly and relatively kind woman. She would often congratulate other fighters in the arena, offering to buy them a round of whatever they fancied at the nearby tavern after a battle. She had a massive amount of respect for the Imperial Legion, and would thank veterans and taking the time to visit the wives of soldiers sent out into battle. Nike was a nice person, just with a natural instinct to want to spill blood. The title of Champion was a huge honor, but her accomplishment was overshadowed by the fact that Adrian had become the Grand Champion a week later. Zale eventually took on the title as well, but that was nearly 5 years later.

    Zale and Nike were close. It was almost as if Adrian was a third wheel when he was around, silently watching the two blood-siblings enjoy themselves. He would study them as if they were some type of phenomena, two fighters who were friends. Zale was a surprisingly great leader, his interest piqued by the Legion, watching wishfully day after day as a groups of soldiers would march through the city. The male Imperial had brief displays of extraordinary leadership and bravery, training new fighters of the arena as well as breaking up brawls within the spectators. Nike remembered the day that Zale was turned down when he applied to join the Legion. He held sorrow in his eyes, and had seemed to lose hope. Nonetheless, he still fought bravely and with mercy, something that was not abundant within the arena.

    The two were a perfect match when it came to fighting together. Doubles matches, as they were referred to by the fighters, were a simple two versus two battle that was won when both of the teammates on the opposing side were killed. They were fantastic as a team, taking advantage of their years of training together to understand each and every strategy that could be played. Most of the time, one of them would initiate the battle, while the other would pick up non-verbal cues and swiftly take down their opponent in perfect harmony. It was like they were two machines, programmed perfectly to fight together. They always knew where the other was in the arena, what they were doing, and why they were doing it.

    Nike just turned 24 when Zale challenged Adrian. It was one of the few moments in her life where she visibly saw Antus smile. The old man was finding few things which seemed to amuse him in life lately, and apparently watching his children fighting against each other to the death was one of those few things. Nike immediately knew Zale wouldn't stand a chance unless Adrian could be disarmed somehow. The eldest sibling's intelligence and natural instincts when fighting were far superior to his younger brother's. This strategy for beating Adrian wasn't beyond hope though. With Zale's pure strength and ability to make wielding a battle-axe look weightless, the elder could fall.

    The day of the fight was the only day Nike had ever felt worried. Never before had she lacked confidence for her brothers in the pit, but now it was inevitable that one was going to meet his end. Adrian entered, and the crowd cheered wildly for their Grand Champion. Zale attacked immediately with a powerful swing of his axe. The elder brother seemed like he didn't expect the force of the impact that Zale's battle-axe had on his swords, and consequently fell backwards, hitting the wall of the pit with a thud. Cheers sounded as Zale went for another strike, the fear in his eyes visible from even where the spectators watched in anticipation. Nike's eyes widened as she saw the critical mistake Zale was making; by attacking so openly, he disregarded the fact that he was now in the proximity of Adrian's blades. Zale seemed to freeze in his tracks as he stood over his elder sibling. Adrian stood up emotionlessly as he gripped the blade within his palm. Nike could see that he had thrust it into his brother's chest, and was now going to show his violent side.

    Nike gathered Zale's things from the pit after the fight, attempting to contact someone to figure out how she could get him properly buried. She was proud of Zale for challenging Adrian. It was brave and an honorable way to die. She would have personally preferred Adrian take him down than his death be at the hands of a stranger. However she also wasn't going to forgive Adrian for treating it like another routine kill, prolonging the pain and working without mercy.

    Nike was almost immediately paired with a Nord named Adidas for her doubles matches in replacement of Zale. She already knew him, and was one of the few fighters that the Imperial actually held a strong dislike for within the arena. This wasn’t because he was arrogant or mean, it was simply due to the fact that he was a mercenary at heart, and Nike was not fond of the mercenary-like values he held. When they had first practiced together, Nike compared him to a brick wall: No matter how many relentless attacks she forced upon him, he did not lower his shield nor move into an offensive mode. It was maddening and did not start out their partnership on the right foot.

    Their first fight was unlike anyone watching could have predicted. Nike had a grand reputation within the Arena, and Adidas was a very successful up-and-coming fighter. Unlike Zale, whom she had worked with in perfect harmony, the two new teammates had absolutely no communication and teamwork. Instead of being against their enemy, they seemed to be more concerned about their dislike for one another. By the end of the match, Adidas had suffered a grave injury.

    While her partner survived the first fight, their future battles ended in a similar fashion. One or both of them would end up injured due to lack of communication and general willingness to work together. Within the time period of only a few battles, Nike’s reputation was becoming a joke within the arena. A Champion who could barely win in doubles matches was unworthy for the position. Nike hated the disapproval and mockery she received from Antus. All she wished was for his reassurance and a pat on the back, but he never offered it.

    The stress Nike continuously held as she search for Antus’s approval forced the Nord to take action. A night before their next battle, Nike grabbed and Adidas and took him into the bloodworks to train. It was the first time they had bothered to do so since their initial meeting. As Nike would slash and attack with her sword, she insulted, questioned, and repeatedly yelled at the silent Nord until he finally snapped. He attacked back, the frustration welling up to its peak and flooding out. Nike had broken through – a huge accomplishment. A friendship wasn’t necessarily born that day – not yet anyway – it was more of a mutual understanding. Nike didn’t condone stealing from the dead or taking up jobs for evil and unjust causes, but she understood that this was his version of “honor.” Anything to do with money was as fulfilling for him as it was for her to do good deeds.

    They began winning in a much more glorious fashion immediately. With understanding came more communication, trust, and success.

    Months after they had enjoyed their first actual success as a team, Nike and Adidas faced their greatest challenge yet. It originated in the Arena. Despite their great communication and outstanding victories, there were always cuts and bruises suffered within their doubles matches. Nike had been worried about a particular cut for several weeks. She had received the gash upon her right shoulder during a singles match against an axe wielder; while he wasn’t much of a challenge to dispatch, he ended up casting an odd spell in a final attempt of defending himself before the Imperial went for the fatal blow. The unusually pale skin around the wound was starting to concern her.

    She realized the problem was vampirism during a doubles match with Adidas. Blood splatter was a pretty common thing for fighters, and when her enemy’s blood managed to spray into her face, she immediately recognized the hunger and need for more which had to be satisfied.

    Adidas wasn’t talkative, but he was a rather smart Nord. Nike knew that he knew something was up when his friend. She had a slightly paler complexion and attitude, was less joyful and willing to clap the members of the blue team on the shoulder, and in a way, she seemed fearful and paranoid. Nike, not willing to confide in Adrian or Antus (in fear that they would show her even greater disapproval) turned to Adidas and told him of her problem. In what was really an unsurprising turn of events, Adidas seemed almost careless about her admission. Nike was at first angry, and even feeling betrayed due to the great amount of trust she had given Adidas, but realized that it was simply how the Nord was by nature. Everything she had been taught about the foul creature she had turned into had to do with them being evil and ruthless, and therefore it spurred a significant amount of inner conflict.

    He would never admit it to her, but Nike was almost certain Adidas cared. The next morning when Nike had awoken, a small vial of blood sat next to her bedside. There was only one person who could have known to bring it. Upon bringing up the event, Adidas remained silent and maintained a refusal to speak about it. The blood continued to show up though.

    Things began to drive Nike slightly crazy. Having to worry about feeding was a common and horrible thought that was stored within the back of her head throughout the day. It made her feel evil having to break the law in such an uncivilized manner. Most of all, it made her feel like she would never gain the approval of Antus. So she challenged Adrian.

    The arena spared no time scheduling the match between the siblings. Nike took her shield and sword in each hand, waiting for Adrian to attack first. The brother looked at her with the same violent glare which he had given the rats and bugs from the bloodworks all of those years ago. It hit Nike then that for Adrian, it was never about gaining Antus' approval. The skills and habits that Nike had been attempting to perfect in order to squeeze praise out of her father were natural for Adrian. He was violent by nature, while Nike was violent by habit. She blocked a flurry of sword slices, her brother's skill challenging her reaction time with each movement. A well timed block allowed Nike to catch him off balance, and she immediately went into attack mode. The elder had regained his footing, but was prepared for the attacks his sister had coming. The shifts in power continued, but every time one sibling would seem to gain an edge, there would be an exposed opening that the other would utilize. Finally, Adrian broke through her defenses. The wooden shield, bathed in blood, which she held in her left hand splintered apart by the impact of his sword. Wide eyed and shocked at this development, Nike didn't see the weapon in his other hand already heading for her ribs, a weak spot in her armor.

    Everything was suddenly numb as Nike watched her own brother twist the sword around a bit before pulling it out. She was at least able to register the fact that he walked away before doing any worse.

    » RECOVERY - PRESENT – Nike was certain she was dead when she woke up. It was impossible that she hadn't died from Adrian's attack. Arena fights only ended in death, and she was certain that Adrian wasn't the dead one at the end of the fight. Nike felt a heavy pressure around her ribcage, and realized that it was bound by something. Out of pure habit, the Imperial attempted to sit up in order to get a better look at it, but pain immediately pierced her entire body, causing Nike to scream in shock.

    A figure appeared from another room and Nike could now see she was within a temple. A pillow propped up her head, and a blanket covered most of her body. She felt odd without her armor. The figure approached and seemed to acknowledge her scream, but did not say anything. Typical Adidas. Nike wasn't dead. That was obvious. She just wasn't sure why she was alive.

    Adidas, in his customary few words, explained that he had managed to stabilize her condition before things became too grave.While Adidas refused to say much about the events directly after the fight, it was apparent that he had used an unusual amount of effort. For whatever reason, and by unknown means, he brought her to Skingrad, within the Great Chapel of Julianos where she received treatment from the healer on duty. She was lucky, he repeatedly would tell her during the year it took to fully recover. Adrian's sword had pierced her liver, but nothing else. Luckily the liver was one of the most resilient organs – even moreso for a vampire, and her condition was not beyond saving when he got to her. The main problem with the injury was the bleeding. Nike's liver was repaired enough with magic that it would be able to heal completely. The gaping wound within her ribcage was another story completely. Nike was bedridden for 5 months as it healed. Eventually she was able to get up, but not without a lot of pain and struggles for even the most simple of tasks.

    10 months later, and Nike was able to pursue getting back in shape. She rigorously trained with Adidas, figuring out how to move without being in pain and relearning her stamina limit. Nike was able to recreate her old armor set, smithing it along with another shield. This one was stronger and less prone to break on impact.

    Nike, holding a new appreciation for life, left approximately one year after the battle. She wouldn't go back to the arena for revenge; Nike had moved on and wanted to do more, to see all of the things she had been missing out on. Both her and Adidas left, coming up with a mutual plan to become mercenaries but, (as Nike would stress) they were only to do jobs for those that were deemed “good” and “honorable.” Their main client was a high ranking Imperial agent. He contracted the pair for several mission, each varying in difficulty and tasks that needed to be completed. One of these particular quests was to track down and eliminate a coven of vampires in Southern Skyrim.

    Nike was noticeably cautious and stressed by her condition still, and although Adidas would not say anything, it was quite frank it bothered him to see his friend this way. When they both finally found the location of the vampires, Adidas did something she didn't expect: He forced a vampire to bite him.

    She was at first angry and absolutely fuming with him for what he did. She owed him a lot for saving her life, and she absolutely didn’t want him to go through the same hell she was going through. In the end (and Nike would never admit it) it did end up working out quite well. Between the two, Adidas was the one who took up a more active part with vampire activities. It didn’t lie on his conscious nor bother him to have to gather blood in order to feed. He just wasn’t the same person as Nike, but in this case is wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

    Soon after, their Imperial client contacted them, stating he had dropped their names for a very unique mission...

    » Nike is the name of the Greek goddess of victory
    » Pallas, the father of Nike in mythology, was a titan known for using his spear. Orval has a meaning "spear strength" - which I found appropriate
    » Styx is the name of Nike's mother in Greek mythology. She is associated with water, thus the name "Lethe," which also has a Greek meaning pertaining to water
    » Kratos, said to be the sibling of Nike in mythology, is the god of strength. Zale was chosen as a name due to its meaning of strength in order to parallel with this piece of mythology
    » Zelos is a sibling of Nike in mythology, ruling over zeal. Adrian was chosen due to its meaning as "dark", as zeal can sometimes be a negative quality
    » Adidas and Nike are two shoe brands, who often compete against each other.
  • Kjan Jan 23, 2014

    ***CREDIT TO REXTORET who allowed me to shamelessly steal his blank CC form.***

    Kjan Strong-Hammer

    » NAME Kjan Strong-Hammer
    » ALIAS None
    » AGE 19
    » BIRTH SIGN The Lover
    » RACE Nord
    » BIRTH DATE Sun's Dawn 17, 4E 182
    » BIRTH PLACE Winterhold
    » CLASS Close Combat Thief - Utilizes melee-style combat, but carries thief attributes.
    » GENDER Female
    » HEIGHT 5’6
    » WEIGHT 130
    » BMI 21.0
    » BUILD A runner’s build – strong legs, but not as much upper body strength in comparison.
    » LATERALITY Right-handed
    » SEXUALITY Heterosexual
    » AFFILIATION Treva's Watch Bandits/Rift Hold Bandits
    » AFFLICTIONS Due to a case of ataxia as a young child, Kjan’s upper body muscles never developed properly. Consequently these muscle are very weak and somewhat uncoordinated.
    » RELIGION A firm believer in Talos
    » HABITS Kjan has the bad habit of attempting to steal things, and making very poor decisions about when she attempts to steal things. She also loves to gamble.
    » HOBBIES Kjan’s primary hobby is to run long distances, something that is quite easy to do in Skyrim. Many instances of running away from guards have helped build up a natural reserve of stamina and endurance.


    » POSITIVE TRAITS Street-smart, fast thinking, strong minded, and the potential to be a good friend
    » NEGATIVE TRAITS Skeptical, untrusting, greedy and stubborn
    » LIKES Money, valuables, running, winning, and animals
    » DISLIKES Guards, nosy people, bards, losing, and alcoholic beverages
    » FEARS Water – she does not know how to swim
    » ASPIRATIONS Kjan’s greatest wish isn’t to repay the debt she owes. It’s to accelerate to when the time to pay it is up, so that Kjan may move on with her life.


    » HAIR LENGTH Unevenly cut, just below the shoulder. Normally Kjan prefers to tie her hair up when traveling or initiating a fight. When relaxed and not expecting to break a sweat, Kjan takes it down.
    » HAIR COLOR Brown
    » FACIAL HAIR None
    » EYE COLOR Blue
    » SKIN COLOR Light tan
    » SCARS A small scar on her left palm from tripping on a stone and landing on a piece of metal when she was young.
    » ATTIRE [CASUAL] When not in armor, Kjan will wear a simple green dress. This appearance is a way for her to easily gain a stranger’s trust before robbing them.


    » Thalmor [DISLIKES] – As someone who was raised to worship Talos, Kjan maintains a great hatred toward the Thalmor.

    » Imperial Legion [DISLIKES] – Similar to her reasons for not having such a great relationship with the Thalmor, Kjan also does not care for the Imperials. She considers them cowards for bending at the will of the High Elves.

    » Stormcloaks [LIKES] – Kjan doesn’t believe in the overall Stormcloak cause, but they have enough of a common interest in Talos for her to be somewhat fond of them.

    »Falmer [DISLIKES] – While she hasn’t encountered any herself, Kjan has heard many stories about the Falmer and is quick to judge.

    » Forsworn [NEUTRAL] – Not being too fond of the hold guards in Markarth, Kjan doesn’t have much of a problem if the Forsworn are wreaking havoc in the Reach.

    » The Thieves Guild [ENEMIES] – After killing one of their members, the Thieves Guild is not fond of her, and Kjan is not fond of the Thieves Guild.

    » The Companions [NEUTRAL] – Kjan really has no opinion on the group due to having no history with the group.

    » Mages College [NEUTRAL] – Similar to The Companions, Kjan knows the Mages’ College is there, but lacks enough history to give an opinion of the group.

    » The Dark Brotherhood [NEUTRAL] – Despite the countless crimes she has been caught in the act of committing, Kjan has never been sought out by an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood. Therefore Kjan couldn't care less about the group.


    » Speed - Kjan's greatest strength is her speed. It's unmatched and allows her to gain an equal ground against stronger opponents, where she is weakest.
    » Stamina - Being an avid runner, Kjan has been able to build up an unusually large natural reserve of stamina.
    » One-handed swords - Being given her first sword at a young age, Kjan had plenty of time and opportunities to attempt to excel at her weapon of choice. While she is very young for having such sword skills, she has had an unusual amount of time to train and experience to have trained against.
    » Light Armor - Kjan knows how to choose and wear her armor well to fit her style of fighting.
    » Lock picking - Growing up with a bunch of bandits allows one to pick up a few things, one of them being picking locks.
    » Speech - Kjan's a fairly well spoken woman when she chooses to speak.
    » Alchemy - Kjan is somewhat familiar with ingredients and their effects from having to help treat plenty of injuries during her time in Treva's Watch.
    » Blocking (with a sword) - While she is not very good at it due to her lack of strength, Kjan can put up a block or two with her swords during a fight.
    » Sneaking - Kjan tries to be sneaky, but most of the time she is terrible at it.
    » Pick pocketing - Kjan sometimes also succeeds at this action, but it usually is futile.

    » FIGHTING STYLE – Not having a lot of strength, Kjan had to figure out how to fight against some of the more powerful opponents she came across. It was then that Kjan figured out she had to utilize her speed and stamina. Often, she would dodge attacks and wait for an opening, but at other times she would have to create one. Kjan's strongest muscles were in her legs, so she figured out that using them to trip or kick an unsuspecting opponent helped her a lot.The lack of upper body strength also forced the young thief to have to learn to take advantage of gravity and momentum. With all of her attacks, Kjan has to either get a running start, or use her own body weight and gravity to stab into an opponent.


    » Health – Denotes vitality and the amount of damage able to be taken.
    » Magicka – Denotes amount of magicka and the magical capacity to cast spells.
    » Stamina – Denotes amount of physical energy and the ability to perform strenuous activities.
    » Strength – Denotes physical strength and the ability to deal damage with melee attacks and block melee attacks.
    » Endurance – Denotes physical toughness, the ability to withstand pain, illness, and fatigue.
    » Agility – Denotes balance, coordination, reflex, speed, and steadiness in combat.
    » Intelligence – Denotes ability to learn, reason, plan, solve problems, strategize, ability to comprehend complex ideas and general mental capability.
    » Will – Denotes magical strength, the general ability to cast spells and magicka regeneration.
    » Spirit – Denotes mental toughness, willpower and the ability to keep fighting past fatigue, injuries and one’s own limitations.

    Health ■■■■■□□□□□
    Magicka □□□□□□□
    Stamina ■■■■
    Strength ■[COLOR=#909090]□[/COLOR]□□□
    Endurance ■■■■□□□
    Agility ■■■■■■■■■■
    Intelligence ■■■■■
    Will □□□□□□□
    Spirit ■■■■■□□□


    » BIRTH – Fenren Strong-Hammer met Val at the College of Winterhold in the year of 4E 180. Strong-Hammer, a mercenary, had just finished a job for one of the mages at the college and now was returning for his payment. Upon his arrival he met Val, a Nord from Cyrodiil studying Illusion magic, and the two immediately hit it off. Despite Fenren’s unpredictable job which sent him across all of the holds in Skyrim, the couple was able to maintain a relationship.

    On Sun's Dawn 17, 4E 182, Val gave birth to a healthy baby girl named Kjan. The event came with the request that the couple go to Cyrodiil, where her family lived, to raise their daughter. Fenren denied the request angrily, and stormed off to the place his childhood friend had taken refuge years before: Treva’s Watch.

    » CHILDHOOD – Due to Fenren’s connections with one of the leaders of the bandit group living within Treva’s Watch, Kjan and her father were welcomed and treated well. While her father was very focused on his duties within the group, he was a surprisingly dedicated father. The man filled the void that Kjan’s mother left out, being attentive and caring when it came to all of his daughter’s needs.

    Kjan was raised at a young age to worship Talos. Her father was quick to tell anyone that questioned his choice in beliefs, that he was more than certain his faith in the deity had saved him while he was just a young, foolish mercenary. Because her father rarely ever seemed so serious, Kjan simply believed him.

    When Kjan reached 3, the group of bandits found some uses for her. Given that the young girl was now able to speak, walk, and follow directions, they began to use her as a setup for ambushes. Often, Kjan would pretend to be lost or in some type of trouble, gaining a traveler’s trust and eventually leading them down the path and into an ambush. For Kjan, it was all a good game. A game in which she was rewarded with books, toys, and paper in which she could draw on.

    Around the same time as she began participating in these bandit activities, Kjan contracted a severe case of ataxia, which was very poorly treated. This sickness did permanent damage to the development of her upper body muscles, causing her strength and coordination to be damaged as an adult.

    When Kjan was not busy setting up ambushes and spending time with her father, she spent most of her time with her best friend, Jon. Even though Jon was 2 years older than her, they were the only children around, and consequently, they had to spend a lot of time together.

    When Kjan turned 8, the two children began to have an even more active part within the group of outlaws. Instead of pretending to fight with wooden swords over fake treasure, the two were given real weapons. Jon received 2 one-handed swords while Kjan was given two daggers. Even though they were undersized compared to the one-handed weapons Jon had received, the steel daggers were heavy for the young girl with weak muscles, making it tough for her to wield more than one as the two children would practice fighting. With their new weapons, the two children were told they were now expected to fight if the fort were under attack.

    » TEENAGE YEARS – PRESENT – As Kjan grew older she began to notice that she was treated differently than the other bandits. More specifically, it became apparent that she was a female among males. Many of the men in the group of bandits would be hesitant to allow her to fight, with her in attacks or against her during training sessions. They saw her as a liability – someone who lacked the strength to be able to last in the world they lived in. The unavoidable fact that these men also hadn’t been around women in quite some time lingered. While Kjan didn’t exactly meet the standards of beauty expressed in much of Skyrim (living with bandits had made her naturally a bit rugged), Kjan wasn’t necessary ugly either – and this was enough to gain unwanted glances from some men. Such events naturally caused Kjan to be untrusting and wary. Never did she let her guard down or turn her back to anyone. It may have seemed unnecessary and paranoid, but it was how Kjan learned to live. This mentality continued to carry throughout the rest of her life.

    Kjan grew into a very competitive young woman. Often, she would gamble – hating the feeling of losing, but loving the thrill of a win. The gambles were simple most of the time; how many travelers would they encounter today? Could someone beat her in a running contest? Who could eat the most cheese before getting sick? Even small fights that she would pick were fair game for earning coin.

    Being both younger and naturally weaker than the men in Treva's Watch, Kjan learned to fight using her greatest strength - her legs. Often she would use a combination of speed, brutal kicks, and footwork to overcome her opponents. While using her legs for actual physical attacking was something that worked well against new enemies, foes like Jon - whom she had trained against countless times - were able to use it as an opening. Nonetheless, Kjan's speed was exceptional, truly acting as her one unmatched weapon.

    At age 18 Kjan’s life took an unexpected turn. At first there was just panic throughout the group of outlaws, but then there was anger. Kjan quickly found out through word of mouth that Jon’s father, one of the more senior members of the group, had taken off with every septim and treasure that they had collected over a 20 year span. Years of work, blood, and carefully calculated raids and ambushes simply disappeared overnight.

    The bandits weren’t stupid. They knew that if they didn’t locate Jon’s father soon, he would forever be out of their grasp. For two weeks, a party headed by Kjan’s father attempted to discover and follow any leads. Two weeks, and they came back empty handed and more bitter than ever. Anger blinded the group of outlaws. Someone had to pay the price for what had happened, and if it couldn’t be the traitor himself, it would be the next best thing. When Kjan heard that the group had plans to take their aggressions out on Jon, she wasn’t sure what to think. Fenren had raised his daughter well, instilling the belief that her greatest loyalty was to the group. However, at the same time Kjan felt the overwhelming sense that what was happening was wrong.

    Without much prior thought, she turned to the Bandit Chief’s right-hand man, Fenren Strong-Hammer. The man took sympathy in his daughter’s words as Kjan explained the confusion she had been experiencing. While he understood that she felt it was unfair, it was also how things worked. If enough bandits in the group came to the same conclusion, there was no stopping them. It was a strange, corrupt way that the outlaws governed themselves, but it worked.

    In a an attempt to desperately save her only friend, Kjan proposed an idea – one she regretted. Kjan would return the spoils that Jon’s father had stolen. She would collect the same sum of septims for the bandits in exchange for Jon’s life to be spared. Most of the bandits in the group liked the idea, while others were skeptical that Kjan would ever return. In order to fix this problem, they’d give her a time limit. Kjan hated herself for getting into such a mess. She wasn’t built to be a thief, and it would be next to impossible to gather so many septims in just 5 years. While the bandits had been able to collect the coin in 20 years, Kjan was a single person. It would be at least 4 times as difficult.

    With one last farewell to her friend before she left, Jon presented Kjan with the two swords he received when he was 10. They both knew the chances of him coming out of the situation alive were slim. Although they refused to say it, they would most likely not see each other alive. Without so much as a hug or goodbye to her father, Kjan left Treva’s Watch knowing that the seconds – lost moments that she would never be able to have back – were ticking by.

    Kjan carries two smaller than average Nordic Swords that were given to her by her friend Jon before leaving Treva's Watch. These are her only weapons she chooses to carry.
  • Faolin Jan 23, 2014

    Name: Faolin
    Class: Archer/Tree-hugger
    Race: Bosmer
    Gender: Female
    Age: 72
    Height: 5'2''
    Day of Birth: 2 of Morning Star
    Birthplace: Falinesti, Valenwood
    Marital Status: Single

    Traits: Faolin is a natural born archer, she is quite good at sneaking when she has a forest to blend in with, but does not do so well in places with little to no vegetation. She can be quite talkative, and always has something to say.
    Flaws: She is very opinionated, socially awkward, and takes the term "tree-hugger" to the extreme.

    Alliances: Anything that you can call vegetation.

    Weapons: Faolin carries a common bow found in Valenwood - one made of an animal bone rather than from wood. She also tends to carry a small dagger, the blade which is made from the tooth of a Sabre Cat.

    Description: For the most part, Faolin has the appearance of the average Bosmer of Valenwood. She has long brown hair down to her shoulders, usually kept down, but occasionally up on a pony tail when in deep thought. She wears basic hide armor which shows years of living in forests. Her appearance does not show her physical age, as she appears to be in her 20s while she is really in her early 70s.

    Personality: Like most of her kind, Faolin has a personal connection to plants and wildlife. Like most Bosmer, she traditionally holds the plants of Valenwood sacred, but her love for vegetation goes beyond her homeland's forests. Wherever she travels, she loves to seek out the plants. She is quite caring, but her kindness is mostly reserved for plants - whom she often talks to as if they were people. Towards others she can appear quite strange and socially awkward.

    Background: Born to an average Bosmer family, Faolin was nothing special. Like most of her kind, she could raise and fire a bow with natural success at a very young age. In Valenwood, one is strictly a carnivore, and often put through the trial of hunting for their own food. Having spent 60+ years hunting on her own, she is a seasoned and skilled hunter as well as cook when it comes to meat.

    Most of Faolin's youth was spent alone in the forests - except for the plants which she had come to talk to. Having poor social skills was a trait she could not help no matter how hard she tried, and eventually the young Bosmer came to accept this.

    When she turned 20 she sought to leave Valenwood. There were certain customs of the Bosmer she did not agree with. Leaving was an easy decision in some ways - her bad history interacting with others left her few friends. However, she realized she would be leaving the forest she had grown to love as well as her parents. In the end, she left to Cyrodiil.

    The Imperial province was quite different from Valenwood. When she arrived in her first city, Kvatch, it was like a complete and utter reality check. It was easy to see that the Imperials cut the trees away to build such a place, and that greatly angered the young Bosmer. Upon seeing a man picking flowers, Faolin snapped, strung her bow, and fired a deadly shot at his head. Where she came from, harming a plant like that was a strict offense - handled like killing another person.

    Instead of finding peace from Valenwood's customs in a foreign land, she found herself growing with hate for the land's inhabitants. Over the next 50 years, much of Faolin's time was spent wandering from province to province, only occasionally speaking with others when she would wander into towns to find food when the lands did not offer any game.
  • RP Characters Jan 23, 2014

    Natch Lex
  • Farthlion Jan 23, 2014

    Name: Farthlion
    Class: Bard/Warrior
    Race: Redguard
    Gender: Male
    Age: 26
    Height: 6'9''
    Day of Birth: 22 of Last Seed, 4E 172
    Birthplace: Dragonstar, Hammerfell
    Marital Status: Single

    Traits: He is an excellent blacksmith and negotiator, he does not judge anyone until he gets to know them, he dislikes violence, and he is a very friendly person.
    Flaws: His hands are deeply calloused and often blistered, he has several burn scars from bad experiences at the forge, he can be cowardly and avoid confrontation, he is obsessed with making any armor or weapons of his creation perfect, and his philosophy to fight with words and not swords can be quite annoying.

    Alliances: While Farthlion doesn't like to be outspoken about who he supports and who he does not (he is a firm believer of freedom of opinion and respects others), his first family is the Bards College, and his second is the Imperial Army. The first being his home and those who took him in as a young man, and the latter being many of his friends who he has crafted and repaired weapons and armor for.

    Weapons: Farthlion always prefers to use speech as a weapon first, then his swords. He is skilled in using his words, preferring to use them to keep matters peaceful rather than intimidate or start fights. Farthlion can also wield a sword well, keeping his own handmade piece at his hip at all times.


    Farthlion is towering Redguard who has dark skin and black hair. His hair is short and falls to his neck in a cornrows style. He has dark brown eyes and slight stubble around his mouth which goes down to his chin. He is a very healthy male, having the stamina and strength to to handle larger weapons and be able to hammer materials with great ease at a weapon forge. His muscular appearance matches that of the typical Redguard, but not as pronounced in the chest and abdomen, as he can be rather lazy at times. As a Redguard, his muscles are natural and it would take a great deal of laziness to negate their appearance. When knowing he will be fighting, he often paints red dashes under his eyes, a trait taken up from his father. Farthlion is often seen in scaled horn armor, fur boots, and magically enhanced gloves. He prefers not to wear any headgear unless necessary, feeling as if it messes up his concentration rather than narrow it.

    Personality: As explained before, Farthlion prefers not to fight, and is an oddity - a peaceful Redguard. He seems intimidating at a first glance, but once spoken to he becomes a calm and positive presence in the room who would only hurt a fly if the fly was threatening to kill someone. Farthlion is one to see humor in all things, and enjoys the company of others as well as his own solitude. He can be quite cowardly when it comes to violent confrontation, and only will draw a weapon in defense.

    Background: Farthlion was born in Dragonstar in Hammerfell to a family of warriors. He was trained at a young age to handle one handed swords and to forge his own metal. Much to his family's disappointment, he disliked the idea of violence with a sword, and instead focused his early years on mastering smithing, reading books about how orcs would smith their own weapons with so much emotion and effort, he yearned to do the same. His parents had attempted to unlock his love for fighting, as they knew it was in his blood (he was a Redguard), but he did not embrace it with the same feelings as they did.

    Many of his nights were spent at the weapon forge for Farthlion in his youth. One of these nights, when he was 17, he was approached by a violent Redguard who wanted a fight. Farthlion managed to calm him down, and upon asking what was wrong, the violent Redguard began shouting his story in anger. His parents had heard the disturbance and rush to protect their son, killing the Redguard without question as soon as they saw him. Farthlion was shocked and disturbed by their actions, telling them that the Redguard meant no harm to him and that violence wasn't the answer. His father grew angry at this, pent up frustration spewing out as he demanded Farthlion either fight or leave Hammerfell, for he was no Redguard without a thirst for blood.

    His son then left in silence, crossing the treacherous border into Skyrim and not stopping until he made it to Dragon Bridge, where a kind guard was nice enough to point out that he would fit well within the Bards College. Upon arrival to Solitude, Farthlion gained many strange glances. Due to the history of the two races, there were many hateful glares and watchful looks - a massive Redguard was not to be overlooked in times when things were tense between the warriors of Hammerfell and the Empire. He was not like his kin, and after several months in Solitude, everyone else seemed to realize this.

    Farthlion found his place in the Bards College very quickly. He was widely accepted and his presence was enjoyed within its halls. It was nothing like Hammerfell, but he enjoyed that - the fact that he was not expected to fight and instead expected to be himself verbally was exactly what he had been looking for all his life. He still retained the abilities to hunt and go into battle with a sword if needed, but growing into a man in the presence of bards changed him and his outlook on life. He kept these skills to protect in dire emergencies when his words could be no help. Farthlion was the peaceful Redguard, a common face in Solitude, and a friend to all.