• Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
  • Hey there, and welcome to our roleplaying section. Please take some time to read two of these useful resources below, if you're already a roleplaying expert, then there's no need to read the following beginner's guide, but be sure to read the rules.

    Free Form Role Playing Guide for Beginners
    JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Only Death Awaits - Prologue ~~~~~~~~~~


    Skyrim's people had prevailed through its darkest days. No more dragons were left to rule the sky's. No more armies ravaged through the land. Ulfric Stormcloak had claimed his rightful place as High King and Skyrim was once more at peace. Life had returned to a sense of normality. Skyrim's people no longer had to fear an impending doom. Inns were now filled with the sound of laughter. Love between partners once tarnished by war, now rekindled. The land could finally breathe.

    Until they came...

    ~

    The day was 14th of Hearthfire, Solitudes streets were bristling with people in celebration of The Burning of King Olaf. The sun beamed through the heavens, warmth filing the hearts of all those in attendance. Friends and family gathered to enjoy the festivity's together. Mead flowed through the streets and music filled the air. The atmosphere was one of unity and love between all people, divisions between races and social classes no longer impacting the views of one another.

    The day felt as if pure bliss had rained over Skyrim and its people, although that was until the sun turned black...

    The musicians stopped their delighted tunes, mead no longer filled the glasses of the parched and everything became still, as if time itself had ceased to exist, but then came the whispers. Quiet enough to ignore at first; although soon they began etching their way into the ears of any who dared listen. No one moved, no one spoke, everyone frozen, listening, waiting for whatever was to come.

    The whispers were too quiet to fully comprehend, but words were not needed to affirm the fears of many; as screams began piercing through the air like blades through flesh and the beginning of the end had truly begun. Bodies started to fall unto the flag stones beneath them, blood now running through the streets as helpless cries eclipsed the air.

    A young nordic boy, had sought refuge in a small rose bush, helplessly watching the display of death unfold in front of his eyes; with only light from a few dimly lit fires to aid his view. He scoured through the chaos with his honey coloured eyes in hope to see his mother managing to escape or find refuge like himself. However, all he could see was the devastation before him.

    Soon, what had begun had finished. Now only the young boy and the perpetrators of this mass genocide still remained, although these murderers were no more alive than the cadavers beneath them. The boy stared in horror as their bodies slowly shifted back to their natural form, some no more than skeletons, whilst others beheld the definitive characteristics of vampires. One of the creatures walked towards one of the corpses and rendered the head from the body. This head had belonged to none other than the Jarl of Solitude, Elisif the Fair, who's eyes were now bulging from their sockets, her once lavish hair now matted with blood. The creature then affixed her head upon a pike, undeniably as a warning for any who came to see what had befallen Solitude.

    The dead then turned their attention to the rose bush to which the boy had naively believed was his sanctuary. A draugr staggered towards him and dragged him from the branches by his trembling arms and brought him before his master, a dark figure dressed fully in black, his face shrouded by darkness.

    The figure then spoke in the same eerie whisper that was heard just before the slaughter and relayed this warning for all of Tamriel to hear; "this is only.. the.. beginning, every man, woman and child of Nirn will perishhh... , there is no magic or sword that may hinder us, no armies great enough to destroy us. 10 years.. from this day.. we will return.. and lay waste to everything in our path.. but for now accept your fate.. and live every day as your last.. for when we return.. all that will come.. is.. death". With that, the figure & their army vanished and the sun broke through the clouds once more. The tragedy that had befallen Solitude was now illuminated for all to see, foreshadowing the inevitable fate that the rest of Tamriel was soon to face.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Current Day ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    1st of Hearthfire: Almost 10 years from the day and Skyrim was now no more than 3 small outposts. These settlements contained all the remaining inhabitants of Skyrim, as all of the other major holds of Skyrim (with the exception of Falkreath) had suffered the same fate as Solitude. People still feared what the 14th of Hearthfire would bring and no one had truly recovered from had occurred on that very same day 10 years ago.

    The settlements were set up along the borders of Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. This was in the hope that if the same fate struck upon them again; they would be able to fall back into the safety of their neighbouring nations, despite the initial rejection the inhabitants of Skyrim had originally faced at the beginning of all of this. The Empire, the Aldmeri dominion and all other nations heard the warning and watched as Skyrim fell to ruin, none came to their aid in fear that the undead had disguised themselves amongst the survivors.

    The outposts were all that remained, no one left their outpost in fear of what lurked beyond in the now desolate plains past Falkreath and the Rift.

    The outposts that remained were all governed and ruled differently.

    Outpost 1 is home to bandits, murderers and thieves, where there is more of a code rather than law and they are over seen by the remaining members of the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves guild. They have taken up refuge in the hold of Riften, despite the constant reminder of what had befallen the inhabitants who once lived here and called this city home.

    Outpost 2 is ruled is by the remaining members of the Companions where its inhabitants follow the laws of old and inhabit the hold of Falkreath.

    The final outpost is ruled by the remaining members of the Mages Guild which is known little about except by the inhabitants who live there, keeping to their ways of magic and secrecy.


    The day of reckoning is however quickly approaching and a young fair haired Bosmer from outpost 1 has asked for aid in exploring the vast lands of Skyrim that is now practically foreign to them all. Many have ignored her call, but a few brave souls have heeded her rally and are prepared to try and put an end to this scourge before its too late for them all...



    ~~~~~~~~~~~ Role-playing information - PLEASE READ ~~~~~~~~~~

    Hello anyone who is still reading this, i'm so sorry for such a long intro, if you cant be bothered reading all of it i wont be offended, which is why the last little bit i tried cutting down so it didn't waffle on for too long (which it probably already has but o well).

    So yes all normal RP rules apply, although as this is an 18+ thread, any and all violence, profanity and sexual content is allowed, just keep it respectful. If anyone needs further clarification please let me know.

    If anyone is interested please post your character card and I'll review them as quickly as possible :p
    Just state what outpost you'd like to be from and maybe give a bit of background to why you ended up there, you don't need to be from an outpost but just say if you're living out in the wild, why etc.

    Also give a bit of background to where you were when all this was happening and how you managed to survive and yeah thats pretty much it :)

    Also a side note THIS IS NOT A GOT/TWD THEMED RP


    Cast List:

    @Lifts-Her-Tail - Seraphina Mae

    @Screeching Spasmodically - Mira Ironscorn

    @Rell - Jamiel Acosta

    @Morbidbread - Draj Kir

    @Hale Loneshadow - Hale Loneshadow

    @Snoball - Eldryk Raviro
     
    Last edited:

    Rell

    Champion of Malacath!
    Yeah, count me in! Just a question though: can our characters have joined one of the outposts from outside of Skyrim? Or do we have to start out inside Skyrim.
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    Yes Screech that’s fine!! I’ll have my own cc up tomorrow, so just post whenever you’re ready:)

    & Great Rell!! at this current moment in time it’s only Skyrim that’s been directly affected, but seen as the impact has been felt throughout all of Tamriel, starting off in another province would be fine!!:p If you have any more questions please don’t hesitate to ask.
     
    Last edited:

    Screeching Spasmodically

    Spasmodic Screecher
    Name: Mira Ironscorn

    Race:Nord

    Gender:Female

    Age:27

    Class:Barbarian

    Appearance: Life on Skyrims' harsh tundra has made Mira a very rugged appearance. She has a lean body type without much in the way of curves. Her most distinctive feature is her long red hair, often braided to keep it out of her green eyes. She is very tall, standing a couple inches over six feet. Her arms and torso are heavily scarred, but not so much to make her hideous to look at. There is one long scar that angles across her forehead from left to right.

    Armor: Her wild fighting style is more about hitting the enemy very, very hard, rather than defending herself. Her armour reflects that, made out of hides, furs, and leather that protects her torso and thighs. She wears light boots, allowing her to move quickly and their durability means she can cross a lot of rough country with not issue. She does wear a pair of scale bracers, that she looted from a bandit leader several years ago.

    Weapons: A steel headed warhammer. She firmly believes in carrying the largest weapon, and using it freely.

    Personality: Strongly believes in fighting to win. Can't abide cowardice and will quickly lose any respect she has for those who flee from a
    fight. She also hates cruelty and will gladly fight against anyone she catches being such. She respects the law when forced inside a settlement, but will happily punch anyone foolish enough to insult her. Her love of battle has gotten her into trouble on multiple occasions.

    Likes: Fighting, drinking, the outdoors.

    Dislikes: Cruelty, cowardice, cramped spaces.

    History: Born to a band of traveling nomadic nords near the city of Whiterun, Mira was always a free spirit. She quickly proved herself as a capable hunter and fighter. As a coming of age ritual, she defeated a sabrecat in one on one combat, and claimed its' pelt for her own. She has worn the treated hide as armour and a point of pride ever since. When she turned eighteen, she left her family to seek adventure and glory elsewhere.

    It was during this time that she joined the companions. While she never had the honour of joining their inner circle, she was glad to lend her weapon to such a noble cause. She hunted beasts from one end of Skyrim to the other, and was just as happy to take on bandits and thieves. She had little experience dealing with the undead, so it was a surprise to her when they came marching over Skyrim. She fought, of course, but like everyone else, was gradually forced back by the unrelenting tide of the dead. Finally, she found herself in one of three outposts, controlled by her comrades in the Companions.

    Oupost two, please.
    Text colour: Purple.
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    That's great Screech!! I will wait maybe a week or so, or until we have enough members to start and I'll set up the private thread :)
     

    Rell

    Champion of Malacath!
    Name: Jamiel Acosta

    Age: 28

    Sex: Male

    Race: Redguard

    Sexuality: Straight

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Doesn't really favour any hand over the other.

    Afflictions: None
    Appearance: Jamiel is both tall and broad chested, with little body hair to speak of. His head is bald, or nearly so, and his face is fairly clean shaven. Scars decorate his well muscled chest and flat stomach; a testament to years of violence and victories. His eyes are a pale blue, and seem to sparkle with a hidden kindness or mirth. He has a small, saphhire gemstone peiercing in his right ear.

    Armour: Wears a set of hide and lamellar over his torso and legs. Not the greatest for prolonged fighting, especially against people with peircing weaponry, but it has served him faithfully for over a decade. Patches and shinier peices of armour where his gear has been replaced. Wears oval shaped steel plates on his shoulders, light hide armour over his arms, and studded bracers.

    Weaponry: A steel longmace. The haft of the weapon is a little under two metres long, and the head of the weapon is identical to every other steel mace forged in that fashion. He also likes to use his fists.

    Class: Warrior

    Combat preference: Jamiel is often in the thick of a fight, his longmace smashing through shields and armor with ease. Most people would think that someone of his size is slow moving- an easy target. They'd be badly mistaken and Jamiel twists and dodges away from return swings, and easily parries those few blows he cannot avoid. Because of his light armor, he's not going to be able to take shots from arrows or crossbows, and he's pretty much helpless against magic.

    Personality: Even though his size makes him look intimidating, and his deep voice does little to alleviate that, Jamiel is a jovial and kind man. That does not mean he's not up for a bit of trouble making. He is a little too fond of his drink and he's always looking forwards to his next fight. He makes friends easily, and will stay loyal to them, even if the danger is great.

    Religion: The nine divines

    Positive traits: Jovial, Adventurous, Considerate
    Negative traits: Impatient, Alcoholic, Blunt

    Likes: Ale, Fighting, a good joke.
    Dislikes: Quiet, undead, extremely serious people.

    Fears: Being buried alive.

    History: Born and raised on the coast of Hammerfell, Jamiel served on a fishing vessel for most of his early life. However, he had an unquenchable lust for adventure, one that sailing the same stretch of ocean over and over did little to help with. So it was that he parted ways with those he'd known for most of his youth to become an adventurer.

    He was never a great hero, but he was a good fighter. Strong enough to swing his heavy longmace, and at the same time nimble enough to avoid most return strikes. He did collect his fair share of both coins and scars, both of which he used to benefit himself in the taverns he visited. Mostly on ales and wenches.

    Eventually, he found himself in Skyrim during an unprecedented outbreak of undead, with the provinces' defences overwhelmed by the dead. He eventually made himself to the second remaining outpost of Falkreath.

    Dialogue: This.
     

    Morbidbread

    Fight for the lost
    Name: Draj Kir

    Age- 30

    Sex- Male

    Race- Khajiit

    Class- Bounty hunter/warrior

    Sexuality- heterosexual

    Marital Status- single

    Laterality- Left handed, but wields a shield in his right.

    Afflictions- None

    Religion- Khajiiti pantheon, when it suits him.

    Appearance- Draj Kir is a well muscled, fairly tall khajiit with pale grey fur, over most of his body. His strong jaw is covered in snow white fur, that goes down his throat and terminates in a 'V' shape midway down his chest. His head is decorated with black 'tiger stripes' that go all the way down his back. His left ear has three small, gold hoop earrings in it. His eyes are an icy blue.
    Gear

    Armor- Draj Kir wears half-plate armour that protects his upper torso and back. Most of the rest of his body is protected by leather, offering protection against most blades, while allowing him to keep moving at a good pace, and allow him to easily retain his stamina. Steel gauntlets protect his forearms, and greaves of the same material. His shield is a simple round shield, made of thick oak and an iron rim. A leather strap allows him to carry it over a shoulder or across his chest.

    Weapons- A one handed steel war axe, with a blade on one side of the head, and a long, curving spike on the other. This is his primary weapon, and he carries a curved khajiit dagger on his left hip.

    Known Spells- Knows that spells are used by...spell casters. Which he is not.

    Misc. gear (clothing/jewellery/etc.) Besides the three earrings in his ear, he carries a pouch that includes some dried meat, several contracts, and a few dozen pieces of gold.


    Personality- Draj Kir is generally a friendly, honest individual when not working. He's quite flirtatious to those of the opposite sex, especially fellow khajiit. However, his demeanor changes when he's hunting. He is a persistent, ruthless hunter with a cruel streak and a penchant for taking trophies.

    Likes- Gold, Hunting, attractive females (preferably khajiit).

    Dislikes- Racists, thieves, people mispronouncing his name.

    Combat Preference- Draj Kir is not as much a power house as those who wear heavy armour like him. He prefers to take on his opponents one by one, but he is skilled with his shield and axe. If he loses both, he's a capable hand to hand fighter, and his dagger is his secret weapon.

    Background- Ever since his youngest days in northern Elsweyr, Draj Kir had a drive to wander the continent of Tamriel. He was trained in basic weapon use by his father, and surprised many of his fellow khajiit by donning halfplate steel, rather than the typical light gear favoured by his people.

    Shortly after leaving his homeland, Draj Kirs' had his first encounter with bandits. He triumphed and fought them off, but that was not enough for him. The khajiit warrior relentlessly hunted the survivors until he had cornered and executed them all, taking an ear or finger from each one.

    Upon reaching Cyrodiil, he became a bounty hunter known for his relentless tracking skill and dragging his targets back, usually, alive and screaming. Sometimes missing a finger or two. He was finishing up a contract in northern Cyrodiil, near Bruma, when he heard about the dead striking throughout Skyrim. He made his way to an outpost full of outcasts and bandits.

    Text: Orange
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    @Rell & @Morbidbread you’re both accepted, one small thing though is i’m not sure whether you’ve both used the same text colour (may just be my bad eyesight) however, if they are both different then just ignore me:confused:

    I’ll be getting my own cc up in the next day or two and will probably wait till early on next week to see if anyone else joins and if not i’ll set up the main thread :p
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    Hey everyone, sorry for being a bit MIA this week, I'll have my cc up this weekend and will set up the main thread on Sunday night if everyones okay with that?

    Each character will start in their own outposts and then everyone can make their way to outpost 1.

    How often do you all think you will be able to post? Just so i have an idea how much we should all write , so that the story will still be able to progress without having to post too often if people aren't able to.
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    All right thats great! Everything will be up within the next few hours, im really sorry for the delay, i've just been trying to focus on uni exams for this upcoming week so apologies for taking so long :/
     

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Seraphina Mae

    Race: Bosmer

    Sex: Female

    Age: 63

    Sexuality: Bisexual

    Marital status: Widowed

    Affiliations: Dark Brotherhood

    Afflictions: None

    Religion: The Green Pact

    Appearance:

    Seraphina’s stature is rather petite standing at an unimpressive 5’3. Her body is toned through her years of combat and athleticism, whilst still possessing some definitive curves around her waist. Upon hearing her age, it could possibly make one suspect that she would behold a more antiqued appearance, although this couldn’t be further from the truth; as the passion of youth still burned behind her baby blue eyes. Her skin is pale and only fairly worn, with very few wrinkles to lay eyes upon, still beholding enough beauty to be considered lust-worthy. Undoubtable the most dramatic feature of her appearance would be her erratically styled rufous coloured hair, which unarguably bore the resemblance to that of a lion’s mane.

    Personality:

    From before and during her years of service to the brotherhood she had taken upon a rather twisted nature. She no longer cared for the concept of life and death, she kills because she enjoys it, emotions playing no factor in how she carries out her duties. She had always been well accustomed to dark humour, often taking pleasure in the mockery of sensitive matters. Despite her sociopathic tendencies she can actually appear as friendly, even somewhat empathetic when the occasion arises. Although flawed she still attains the ability to care for others that she chooses and would most likely lay down her own life, if need to be, to protect them.

    Background:

    Seraphina was a natural born huntress, being one with nature from a young age, able to easily navigate and hunt prey through the dense foliage that blanketed Valenwood. By young adulthood she had become one of tribe’s most profound hunters. She was made responsible for the protection of her people against rival tribes, drawing blood from her first victim at the age of 17, where she then indulged in cannibalism for the first time.

    Despite her heritage she never enjoyed feasting upon the flesh of her enemies and often only had a few bites, leaving the rest for her people to argue amongst themselves over, whilst she would slump away into the shadows going unnoticed. Although this was not the life she chose, she accepted it and made sure to respect the custom of her elders.

    She became married by 20 to a much older Bosmer who she cared little for in the way of looks but still loved for his humorous and protective nature . Her life although lacking in importance and adventure, was enough to be contempt with. Although as fate would have it, one day their land was overrun by a neighbouring tribe who slaughtered all those she held closest to her, Seraphina being the only survivor.

    After this she left Valenwood and went travelling through Tamriel. Filled with hated she spent many of her years living off those she killed, who just happened to be unlucky enough to cross her path. She was eventually contacted by the Brotherhood whilst travelling around Skyrim. They had taken particular interest in how she left her victims, with 14 chunks of flesh bitten out of the them, one in memory to each individual member of her tribe.

    During the tragedy that befell Skyrim almost 10 years ago, Seraphina was out on a contract in the city of Whiterun. She had been lucky in the fact that she was inside an inn at the time, fulfilling her contract on a rich noblewoman and was able to quickly find cover until the undead had passed. This was more than could be said for the rest of the inhabitants of Whiterun. She had fled to the Dawnstar sanctuary, her family now noticeably a few members short, many of which had been caught in the fray brought upon by the undead.

    Seen as there was hardly anyone left to employ the brotherhood and the borders to the other provinces were closed, the members of the once infamous guild ended up relocating to Riften where they were joined by the last remaining members of the Thieves guild. More outcasts of society ended up joining them and the brotherhood alongside the Thieves guild ended up appointing themselves as the authority, all others too fearful to challenge them.

    Armour:

    Dark Brotherhood armour minus the hood, which now lacked the finesse it once held, looking more like that of a piece of armour worn by a bandit, than a professionally trained assassin.

    Weapons:

    Her primary weapon is a well-crafted recurve wooden bow that had been bestowed onto her on her 12th birthday. The immaculate craftsmanship of the bow allowed it to be used effectively from great distances, able to strike a moving target, almost effortlessly, from up to 250 metres. Her secondary weapons are two short steel blades that she dual wields with for close combat.

    Likes: Murdering, dark humour, drinking (particularly skooma if there’s any going) and heights.

    Dislikes: Having to listen to people she finds boring talk, undead and cowardice.

    Text Colour: This
     
    Last edited:

    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    Hey Hale, sorry, yes this is the OOC thread, I had just marked it as 18+ so that people were aware that this would be an 18+ RP.

    But yes of course! Just post your character card whenever you're ready :)
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Hale Loneshadow

    Race: Breton nobility

    Age: 30

    Sex: Male

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Attributes: Quick-witted; skilled in magic & survival; genuinely kind-hearted; has money; trained in lyre music; well-read; trained with father's outrider knights whole life.

    Detriments: Prone to drinking, stubborn and lazy when this way; has far fewer reliable "contacts" than he says he does; can actually be clumsy at times.

    Appearance:

    Six-foot tall, broad-shouldered and broadly built in general, Hale Loneshadow would not be mistook for peasantry. His swept-back, curly brown hair cut short at the sides fit neatly with his beard and mustaches, trimmed to fit his circular yet sharp-looking face. The longer top part of his hair was pulled back, and set into a trio of silver hair beads, accentuating the lines of the cut. Hale's eyes, the hue of a forest path strewn with the bark of trees, topped off a set of features that all but screamed his ancestry, yet in a manner unique of his people.

    His shirt is a worn, yet durable white-beige linen-cloth hybrid that serves as itself during the warmer months sans any greatcoat or armor. Instead, Hale opts now for an armored green-leather vest that denotes his heraldry, rank, and knightly intent. It's not just custom, it's the law of his land, even when he's not in his land. Over the leather sits plates of steel, but just on his shoulders and his chest; in his training, Hale was drilled to rely on his shield or, failing that, more fluid and technical movements that would only be hindered by heavier armor.

    Warmer months or not, Hale keeps the rugged tri-cornered hat firmly on his skull, its deep blue and stripe of red accentuate his darker features.

    Gear:

    Hale's prized possession (nonwithstanding his beloved horse, Eagle-Runs) is by far his hand-and-a-half orichalcum sword, enchanted with a blockbreaker. At range, Hale utilizes a repeating dwarven crossbow with a variety of bolts - all dependent on the situation! In his backpack and gear stashes on his horse, Hale carries two large and two small canteens, a sleeping kit, firestarter and mess kit, personal items, his journal, a hunting gear kit, throwing knives (on the saddle), medical supplies and healing herbs, rations, food, pipeweed and two pipes, and a small variety of valuables or other items Hale finds useful and helpful to take along.

    Backstory, (some) Personality, and Why He's Where He Is:

    Sent by his father years ago, just two years after the start of the infestation, to investigate the disappearance of his younger brother, Hale "Loneshadow" has found that his father has essentially sent him to die. Taking a new last name, Hale set out to help the people however he could, although his own demons occasionally got in the way of this. Still, he had learned to kill undead with at least middling efficiency, and there are leads out there as to his brother's survival after all..
     
    Last edited:

    Recent chat visitors

    Latest posts

Top