Private {18+} |OOC| Ascension

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    Harkatti

    Sorceress Supreme!
    Okay. I have some time tomorrow morning and will try to get a post up.

    EDIT: Sorry, guys! I was busy most of yesterday before work, and I went out with some friends last night. But at least I got something up.
     
    Last edited:

    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    No worries. Hopefully my reply is good. Left it open, in case you want to do anything else with the guards. Or if someone else has something planned for them...
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    By all means, kill the imperials. But remember, there will be some pretty serious repercussions if you do.
     

    Rell

    Champion of Malacath!
    I don't think anyone would actually go for the soldiers though. Besides maybe Uzar, but he's batplops crazy anyways....sooo
     

    fellowknight

    The Devil In The Details
    ((I apologize in advance for the thickness ahead, I'll have to beat this into shape later :p)

    Name: Morva Savaain

    Alias: Morva the “Minx” (formerly), Mo-Mo (only by Karsan)

    Age: 76 (Appears in her late twenties, due to elven aging)

    Sex: Female

    Race: Dunmer

    Sexuality: Bisexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Ambidextrous

    Afflictions: Functioning alcoholic, gambler. Tendency for psychotic episodes.

    Appearance: Morva’s serpent-like figure stands at 5’3” and weighs in at 178lbs with her delicate curvatures to boot. Her hair, once shaved and patchy, is now a metallic-white trimmed at the neck and braided over a pair of cutting, crimson eyes. She has the prominent facial features expected of a Dunmer, with the telltale crooked lips and button-nose common of her family bloodline. She sports a few skid-scars from blades and arrows, but Morva’s most shameful features are those that lace her back and line her wrists; evidence of her haunting encounters with the unnatural, be it monsters, Red Wardens, or Penitent. Brand in the center of her forehead, cleverly hidden under a thick headband.

    Armour: The young dark-elf often fills a supple black and brown tunic styled with furs and secured with straps. And under her weathered linen cloak, she dons a wrist-to-shoulder piece of reddish armor styled with scales made of leather, and fingerless gloves. All remnants of her ruined acolyte uniform, obscure enough not to be recognized.

    Weaponry: She carries a small dagger and her ruined mace, refined and repurposed as a wicked battle-club by Karsan. Her affinity for illusion magic is perhaps the best and most unpredictable weapon in her possession; her incomplete training with it has both endangered and saved her life on multiple occasions.

    Class: Thief/Con-artist

    Combat preference: In truth, Morva was trained by one the greatest Empires in Tamriel. But a chosen life on the run and in hiding has greatly dulled her capacity to take kill; to that end, she’s light on her feet, quick to detect and react to danger, and adopts a swift, one-hit technique to (more often than not) maim/kill her foes.

    Personality: Morva is an emotional, wound-up, dreamy girl at heart, hiding her many insecurities near and far. She doesn’t handle high-stress situations well but in relying on her instinct she does right by herself, and sometimes others. She intently looks for companions, or affection, in most people but can distinguish kindred spirits from woeful ones. Time spent on the run has made her apprehensive of everyone, harmless or not. She can be flamboyant and chatty in groups, however, and has no qualms enjoying herself, especially when spirits are offered. But make no mistake, her mind is deeply disturbed, and she would sooner act on her suspicions than ignore them.

    Religion: Leaning towards Daedra worship

    Positive traits: Lively, Perceptive, Curious, Flexible, Fierce.

    Negative traits: Two-Faced, *slightly* Cynical, Paranoid, Critical, Externally-driven.

    Likes: Swimming, Star-watching, Horse-back riding, Peppered Horker-Steak, Cold Weather.

    Dislikes: Slavers, the Empire in whole, Muddy places, Mercenaries, Crowds.

    Fears: Dying, Confessors, Red Wardens, Being used (by someone she loves).

    History: Morva Savaain would be born to a has-been merchant couple in a little village in Morrowind, along the Inner Sea where their trade was made obsolete. Her father, Draloi Savaain, was the most vetted and experienced counterpart of her young and pragmatic mother, Tanvasie Dalvvo.Taking to the rapidly saturating market following Morrowind’s restoration, the retired merchants turned slave-makers, using their lucrative knowledge and intuition of their homeland to assist Red Wardens in hunting their prey. They netted a fortune over the next thirty years, and after a failed birth, they were finally able to afford a child.

    But their wealth wasn’t made to last, and they’d so arrogantly attracted some very influential enemies in their politically-driven twilight years. But the secret of a lost child, a sister to Morva, grew like weeds on the family’s name, causing Morva to flee into the as a child to find her twin. Not a few miles later, the girl was caught and ironically put to work by Red Wardens for the next three years. This servitude was wickedly cruel and unaccommodating, as the days saw her laboring over stone and mortar, and the nights swaddled her in a blanket of ash.

    But there came a day when she’d strike back, temporarily slipping her bonds and calling on magika she never knew she had. She blinded and killed another laborer, prompting her three-day torture to provoke such power again, until the arrival of a Confessor. He ‘blessed’ the magic child with the “Brand of The Awoken”, and sent her with a few others to the warring state of Hammerfell.

    The recruits were garbed and sworn in before blades and maces weighed their hands, and they were called to spill rebel blood, as acolytes. Overseers supervised their deployments and operations, while Confessors employed their brutal training and saw them into battle. There was no resisting. Nearly a month into her “service”, Morva was sent with an advance force to clear and fortify a string of rebel outposts just beyond the front-lines.

    What followed was a full week of assaulting and besieging, before her allies pulled back and sent in the Penitent. In their wake was carnage, destruction, and horror as they overwhelmed the enemy and killed many of their own in the collateral damage. A crumbling tower of stone was compromised and tipped for Morva as she’d tried to escape, crushing her under it’s massive weight..

    ..Yet Morva survived, just barely as one of the penitent threw himself on her and died for good. She rose to her feet, dazed and badly wounded, and simply disappeared into the dunes of Hammerfell. She scrambled for the next few months as she plotted her passage into Skyrim, but relied on the assistance of mercenaries to get her across. They delivered her into a trap instead, as Imperial officers paid the snakes handsomely and towed her off to Markarth, for conversion into the penitent legions and deployment into High Rock.

    Her escort was ambushed by rebels in Falkreath, however, and she slipped free, attacking the saviors who’d demanded her magick for her freedom, and kept running until she reached Solitude. She’d heard of the cargo ships carrying supplies back to Cyrodiil, and just nearly got caught boarding one as she left Skyrim for good.

    Cyrodiil wasn’t much of a better haven, but it was where she’d be expected the least. Or so she hoped. She stalked her way through the customs search of the ship and trekked for the Imperial City, where she could make the most coin fast, and finally return to her homeland. Her luck turned for the better after she met a small gang of thieves, based in a village just outside of the city. They offered to either train her or turn her in, and she graciously chose the former. The gang didn’t age well as years came by, and their numbers had dwindled to but a few. Remaining members grew paranoid and restless as they formed one-last heist to retire on, but were fooled by their arrogance. Members colluded with each other to cut everyone else out, leaving Morva to sell the whole gang out to the guards. The ambush was messy, but it was over quickly, and only one thief got away. Turning on her, the guards hoped to eradicate all the unloyal wretches, but only drove Morva further underground, into the sewers.

    It wasn’t long after the disaster that she met Karsan, or rather saved his hide from being burned alive. She watched over him as he rested or sulked, and indulged with him when he swapped his miseries for pleasures. She was convinced he was a kindred spirit, someone she was meant to be with. When he left, she initially followed him, but didn’t stay. She had to get clean, better, so she could live with him, in peace. And after severe withdrawals and vivid nightmares in a village just down the road, Morva eventually came back to him. Together they loved and lived, and when Karsan received a mysterious letter about his family, they traveled and suffered together. Morva relies on her instincts and her luck above all, now more than ever, as she has no idea where she’ll end up next.


    Dialogue Colour: Barney Purple
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Very nice. I look forwards to your introductions.
     

    Harkatti

    Sorceress Supreme!
    So, who's where right now? Joren just came back from the jarls hall, but everyone else who went is still there?
     

    The_Lost_Foxtrot

    Luwd uf Shoduws
    Wow been gone for so long that I have forgotten to check this out! Just saw that I’ve got notifs in my email by surprise

    But would love to rejoin if that is alright ^^
     

    fellowknight

    The Devil In The Details
    It’d be poetic if someone went to shake Karsan’s left hand and got shot down


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
     

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