OOC [18+] The War of the Holds

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    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    47 Years Have Passed Since the Dragon Crisis.
    Suffice it to say, nearly half a century of time passing in Skyrim? Yeah, that time's gonna include some necessary, some serious, all kinds of changes. But, if there was one seeming constant, it would be the people of the Hold's proclivity to kill each other to prove a posited point.

    That being said, this particular point was a prominent one (okay, I'll stop): to invade, or to not invade the Summerset Isles?

    Here's the timeline, fellow hopeful co-conspirators to-be:

    Sixteen months ago from the time of this letter, the High King - if not his immediate family, guard, and council as well - was given word that no word had been heard going in or out of the Summerset Isles for nearly half a year before that point.

    Needless to say, that news broke quick.

    And no. It wasn't me. But I may know who it was.

    Anyways.

    Twelve months ago, word was given to the military high command, lords, and governors that an immediate invasion of their old enemy was being handed to directly from the Gods themselves. Most of the Holds willingly followed suit; Whiterun stayed neutral after working out a trade deal that also included manpower, but only in the form of engineers and healers.

    However, Markarth, Solitude, and shortly later also Falkreath outright resisted the call, claiming that this war was an outright illegal one. The King and most of his vassals disagreed, yet it has been three years now and we are in a third major push by the "Mountain Three" against the Inner Kingdom.

    However, there is another more insidious plot taking place against both sides, and now we must band together to both end this senseless war, and to engage the Shadow Plot - what's being raised even now against the more frontier villages. The undead, being raised as a personal army by just a small handful of vampires and necromancers. Vamps or 'mancers alike, they feed off of the souls under their command, so even though the quickest way to end this kind of battle is to just dice up the dead's controllers.

    While this may not be the most existential threat the realm has ever faced, I'm still hiring with both solid gold, and rations for the first two days. So whether or not you give a skeever's arse about anything I just said, this should both prove to be profitable from your very own knighted, Bretonnian nobleman, and quite a rabble rousing of a time.

    If you feel inclined, I've an idea to profit from both ending the war, and, and, just have a teencey bit of fame come our way as well. If you feel so inclined, meet me at:

    Riverwood

    Most likely found at The Sleeping Giant Inn, or on the slopes up to that tower and up near those old crypts.

    If not there, seek near northern outskirts of Helgen. Bring overnight gear, silver, a holy symbol, a way to make mobile light, and a good attitude!

    Let us meet, drink a bit, chat a bit, and maybe adventure a bit. End a war or two, you never know.

    ~~~ Hale Loneshadow
    ~Knight of Breton
     

    Nascent

    Member
    Consider me interested. Gonna need to pull a bit of time travelling shenanigans to get my characters in the mix, but easy enough to blame that on some wonky Dwemer nonsense. I bring to the tale two young Khajiit: one rogue, one smith / fire mage. Being displaced in time, they'd likely see a job offer like this as a way to get their bearings and maybe even find a way back.

    Let's get questin'.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    This seems in need of a proper paladin. Probably won't get something up until much later though. It's like 3 in the morning here.
     

    A.Auditore

    maybe...
    -Gonna watch this too-
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    General Information
    Name: Kallus Briarhand

    Age- 32

    Sex- male

    Race- Breton

    Class- Paladin

    Sexuality- Heterosexual

    Marital Status- Single

    Laterality- Right handed

    Afflictions- None

    Religion- Arkay primarily, but respects the others.

    Appearance- Kallus often intimidates people due to his broad chest and height. While not quite two metres, he is still tall enough to tower over many others. Even out of his armour he is rather impressive physically, musculature built up over years of training and combat. He has a short, dark blonde beard, matching the short head of hair he possesses. Pale blue eyes, more often filled with righteous fury and condemnation, rather than pity or warmth.
    Gear

    Armor- Heavy steel plate, with underlying chainmail and leather. The breast plate is inscribed with a symbol of Arkay over the heart, a show of allegiance as much as it is a symbol of protection. He wields a heater shield, also inscribed with the symbol of the god of life and death. He wears an armet helm to complete his suit of armour.

    Weapons- Wields a one handed warhammer, which has been blessed by priests of Arkay to be especially effective against undead. However, at the end of the day, it is still a hammer and can crush a bandits ribs as easily as it can shatter a skeletons' skull.

    Known Spells- While he relies mainly on his physical strength to deal damage, several divine spells that allow him to smite undead are available to him, but are costly, and only can be used once a day.

    Misc. gear (clothing/jewellery/etc.) On his person, Kallus wears an amulet of his god, a satchel with several potions of healing, dried rations that can last for up to a month if divided carefully, and a waterskin.

    Personality- Kallus can come across as harsh, even merciless at times. The man himself sees himself as none of these things, rather, he knows that there is evil out in the world that will take advantage of the slightest hesitation. Kallus does what he feels he needs to do to uphold his oaths, even if it costs him allies in the process. He is not entirely cold and emotionless, as he will attempt to aid those of his party who are in need of it, and can offer a sympathetic ear in times of crisis. He will never leave a comrade behind while he is still capable of fighting, so long as they are not of an evil persuasion.

    Likes- Purging evil, seeing justice triumph, watching the sunrise.

    Dislikes- Undead, cramped spaces, having his values mocked.

    Combat Preference- As a heavily armoured paladin, Kallus will be where the fighting is thickest, either to smite the enemy or offer some healing to his allies. If given the chance, he'll open combat with calling upon Arkay to smite the nearest concentration of undead, before charging in with his hammer and shield at the ready. If he has his way, he'll be the first into combat, and the last out.

    Background- Kallus Briarhand grew up in a temple of Arkay, and had the orders' values hammered into the very core of his being at a young age. As a youth, he served as a squire to his paladin superiors, and as an attendant of the temple, teaching him both patience and humility. He was taught that the duties of a paladin were to serve and protect the living, while putting down revenant creatures and those who would summon them.

    Reality was somewhat...disappointing. When he first traveled into the world beyond the walls of his temple, he found that people not only distrusted his order, but feared them for their zealous actions. People would spit on their offers of charity and healing, or refuse to speak to them at all. It was only when, while riding through a narrow pass, they were ambushed by what the paladins initially assumed were bandits. It was only afterwards that they discovered that a local lord had ordered his men to 'deal with them'.

    Kallus' faith in the living and men in particular was shaken deeply by the incident, but unlike his fellows, who returned to the temple, he continued on his own, a cynical but dedicated knight, wandering on his own and rooting out undead and necromancers where ever they might be found.

    Dialogue color(s)- Gold
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    C'mon, get some more cards up peeps, I'm gonna get my own abridged character card up and then an introductory post so we can all get going whenever we want to
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Hale Loneshadow

    Race: Bretonnian; low nobility

    Class/Specialization: Templar - uses magic to diffuse/eliminate other magic/magic users.

    Rank: Knight-Sergeant

    Appearance/Clothing:

    Standing at 6'1" and with his curly brown hair pulled tight around the top and back of his head to accentuate how short his sides were shaved, Hale Loneshadow would not be mistaken for one of the commonfolk. Especially someone of his broadness.

    The three silver hair beads that Hale fed his locks through meld interestingly with his cavalier hat, worn brown leather with a small array of items in its blood-red band. The black-and-tan horseman's boots, armored at the heel and back, gave a slight impression of him being a knight.

    What gave an even greater impression was the suit of adventuring armor customized and tapered on to a beige shirt and leather vest, the worn but still visible familial crest faint on the breastplate.

    His horse, Eagle-Runs, swayed gently munching on grass as Hale went over his inventory lists.

    Gear:

    - enchanted orichalcum sword

    - repeating crossbow
    --- 50 bolts

    - sleeping gear

    - camp necessities

    - mess kit/firestarting gear

    - Four days of rations

    - 133 gold (personal)

    - spellbooks

    - research books

    - notepads and scribbles; pen and ink

    - climbing gear

    - extra rope

    - tobacco, pipeweed; pipe

    - 4 healing potions

    - medical kit

    - herb pouches

    - personal items pouch

    - bartering items (small bag)

    Background:
    (I'm saving most of this for the introductory post as that will be a better place to show what Hale's up to and why he's asking for help and such. Consider this yet another heavily abridged version!)

    After three more days of dangerous riding, Hale Loneshadow was just now entering the relative neutrality of Whiterun Hold. Jarl Balgruuf's son, Balgruuf the Younger, had been ruling since his father's death the past couple of decades ago, and had recently put out a call for non-military warriors, mages, and mercenaries of all shapes and sorts for an expedition.

    Hale was flattered to have personally received a ballot from the Jarl's shivering messenger whilst sipping on a warm mead, high in the cold sanctum of Winterhold and contemplating his next moves in The Frozen Hearth. Not only was he flattered, he was motivated - for some time now, Hale had put together what he had thought was a clever plan to end the war, heavily profit from that, and then of course turn to dealing with the Vampire Lords raising hordes of undead in the frontier, outlying villages with full intent to take over both Skyrim and the Empire!

    With this in mind, a bit of new wealth clanking in his pouches, and finally a damn good use for all of those flyers he had gone out for weeks ago, Hale packed and mounted up Eagle-Runs, and just a few days (and one small skirmish with some undead) later reached the fortified and guarded town of Riverwood...
     

    Rafen

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Djor Blackmane

    Alias: The lone wolf.

    Age: 34

    Sex: Male

    Race: Nord

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Ambidextrous, but prefers to use his sword in his right hand.

    Afflictions: None

    Appearance: Djor stands at a little under two metres tall, with a broad chest, and well muscled body. He is heavily scarred from numerous battles, and more than a few from sparring lessons in his younger years. His eyes are a light blue, similar to the sky. His hair is black and long, falling nearly to his shoulders. He braids it to keep it out his face, and binds it with leather ties. Despite the fact that he spends most of his time in the wilds, he keeps his beard trimmed short, but still thick and long enough that he has worked short braids into the sides of it.

    Armour: He wears a mixture of sturdy leather armour, thicker in the torso and upper leg area, that keeps him safe and allows him to move with some stealth. His shoulders and forearms are protected by somewhat lighter leather, all strapped over a dark green, long sleeved tunic. His trousers are dark wool, treated against the elements but still fairly comfortable. His boots are sturdily made, and durable enough to last through long periods of travel.

    Weapons: The weapon he relies upon the most is his bastard sword, which he has affectionately dubbed 'Woolftooth'. Not a horribly creative name, and given because of the wolfs' head pommel. The blade of the weapon is a dark grey, an unusual coloration, though the reason for it is known only to its' creator. His second weapon is a single headed steel war axe, that he wears on his belt. The weapon is unique in two ways; one, the head of the axe is slightly larger, curving down more along the haft than the standard hand axe. The haft of the weapon too is several inches longer than usual. This allows him to wield the axe with two hands if he desires. Finally,, he carries and ashwood longbow, that he uses for ranged combat and hunting, with steel arrows.

    Class: Ranger/Warrior

    Combat preference: Djor opens combat with shots from his ashwood longbow, striking down foes with near unerring precision. He can't compete with bosmeri path finders, but he is relatively skilled among men. When closing to melee, he either relies on his axe, a variant of the nordic steel axe, with an elongated haft, so that it may be used in two hands, or his sword, Wolftooth. He's a skilled but cautious warrior, preferring to end a fight as quickly as possible.

    Personality: Djor is a grim, quiet individual, at first meeting.The actions of his clans past haunt him still, and so he is slow to make friends and slow to open up. However, he is a steadfast ally, and once he has spent enough time around them, he is a loyal companion.


    Religion: Nine Divines

    Positive traits: Thoughtful, careful, considerate

    Negative traits: antisocial (initially), slightly paranoid.

    Likes: Solitude, wandering the wilderness.

    Dislikes:Arrogance, crowded areas/cities, enclosed spaces.

    Fears: Being unable to redeem his clan. Others finding out about his clans past.

    History: Djor has been taught from a young age to always carry the shame of his families actions with him. Back during the bloody strife of the civil war, Djors' father, Joren Blackmane, lead a guerrilla force of like minded men and women to harass imperial troops and supplies near Falkreath and Riverwood. Their tactics prevailed, for a time.

    While moving from Falkreath hold to Whiterun, they were ambushed and cut down nearly to a man. Joren himself was wounded in a holding action, but recovered by his comrades before he could be captured. As he healed, word reached him that the inhabitants of Riverwood had informed the imperials of Jorens' location, and were responsible for the ambush. Once recovered, a furious Joren lead his reformed band to Riverwood,and killed many of the villagers there as a warning to other would be informants.

    Several days later, however, a runner found his band hiding out near Falkreath once more. The message the man relayed struck Joren to his core. The people of Riverwood had been innocent, and the reports that they were working with the empire fabricated by imperial agents. Joren and his clan went into a self imposed exile, and the clan has been working to redeem themselves ever since.

    Djor still bears his fathers' shame, and upon receiving word of a shadowy plot to throw Skyrim back into another brutal war has stoked a fire of determination in his breast. With some trepidation, he heads for the the meeting place near Riverwood, to meet up with like minded fellows.

    Dialogue Colour: This
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Dareth Cauldrus

    Race: Dunmer

    Gender: Male

    Age: 78, looks about early twenties.

    Class: Warrior/fighter (sword/shield)

    Appearance: Dareth is about as scarred and rugged as can be expected for someone who's lead a life of fighting. The tip of his right ear is missing, a long scar traces his left jaw and his torso is marked with all manner of past injuries. His skin is a dark grey, and his eyes are the normal ruby red of his people. He has long dark hair, pulled back in a short pony tail.

    Armor: A mixed bag of legion heavy armour, chainmail, and leather. His upper torso is legion plate, while his lower torso, legs and arms are covered in chainmail and leather.

    Weapons: A steel mace and rectangular shield.

    Personality: A dour and cynical individual, Dareth has experienced the horrors of combat first hand, and knows that there's no such things as heroes in war. He'll be the first to point out the flaws in a plan. However, he's also not against using his military expertise to help his comrades.

    Likes: Gold, having the odds in his favour.

    Dislikes: Being told what to do, the Empire, Stormcloaks

    History: Born to refugee parents fleeing the Red Mountain, Dareth was raised in the Grey quarters of Windhelm, and quickly grew to resent the local nords treating him like vermin. After years of putting up with their abuse, Dareth snapped and murdered a drunk nord who'd taken to scrawling obscenities on doorways and throwing filth at any Dunmer unlucky enough to catch his attention.

    The guards were unaware of who had slain the man, but began questioning the locals closely. Not wanting to put his friends and family in danger, Dareth fled the city. He would have been pursued, but days later, the civil war broke out.

    Seeing an opportunity to strike back at the nords who'd tormented his people, he joined the legion in Solitude several weeks after fleeing Windhelm. He was assigned to a unit stationed in Dragonsbridge. His commander, an imperial who had been appointed to the position solely because of his father, who was some rich, influential noble, had no real idea of how to lead a unit.

    However the man thought to claim some glory, and when news of Storcloaks scouts across the bridge reached him, he lead the unit in force. The commander neglected to send out scouts of his own, and so failed understand that what he thought to be a dozen or so lightly armed and armoured scouts, were actually a war camp of at least fifty rebels.

    Caught in the open with no prior warning, Dareths' unit was slaughtered, with their glorious 'commander' being the first to flee. Only Dareth and three others survived that fateful day. They were instructed to train up a fresh batch of recruits from Cyrodiil while their commander was given a promotion for 'bravery in the field'.

    Thoroughly disgusted by the man, Dareth deserted, keeping some of his imperial gear more out of practicality, rather than sentimentality. Over the months that followed, he became a warrior of fortune, willing to risk his life for the promise of treasure.

    Text: Red.
     

    Aspen

    Member
    Name: Marwen Allionthar

    Alias: None

    Age: 89, but appears late twenties due to elven aging.

    Gender: Female

    Race: Altmer

    Sexuality: Homosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Ambidextrous

    Spoken Languages: Common, Aldmeri

    Afflictions: None

    Appearance: A typically tall altmer, she is well muscled and while not considered a stunning beauty she's far from unattractive. Dark blonde hair is scraped back away from her face, and held together by a leather strap in a long ponytail that falls to her shoulder blades.

    Unlike other high elves, her skin is more bronze than gold. A scar starts at the upper right corner of her mouth and stretches all the way up to just below her right ear. Her eyes are a sapphire blue.

    Armour: A mix of chainmail and leather. Leather covers her upper torso, shoulders, arms, and thighs. Chainmail covers her lower torso. She wears light leather boots and gloved leather gauntlets.

    Casual wear: A long sleeved grey or dark blue tunic with black or beige pants. For traveling, she has a hooded dark grey cloak, lined with fur to keep warm.

    Possessions: A coinpurse with several dozen septims, dried rations, waterskin.

    Weaponry: An elven battle axe with a leather wrapped haft, and two elven daggers that she wears on her waist.

    Class: Fighter

    Combat preference: She can hold her own in a pitched battle, but she prefers to take her enemies down one at time, and can't take too many hits due to her light armor. In the open she'll use her axe, but in tight quarters her daggers are her go to weapons.

    Personality: While not as self absorbed as most of her kind, Marwen definitely exudes a sense of 'supreme confidence'. Most of this is because she knows how capable she is in combat, rather than just thinking herself better than everyone.

    But this can be misunderstood, and she has a hard time connecting with people, due to that and certain events in her past. She isn't likely to betray her employer or comrades, but she sees most interactions like a business transaction and usually avoids casual conversation.

    Religion: Eight divines

    Positive traits: Reliable, strategic, confident

    Negative traits: Arrogant, Selfish, somewhat condescending.

    Likes: Gold, the sea, travel.

    Dislikes: Thalmor, cold, racists

    Fears: Being found by the thalmor, drowning.

    History: Unlike many altmer Marwen was born with very little magical talent. So little, in fact that she was seen as something of an embarrassment by her parents, and pitied or scorned by her peers. For her part, the young altmer focused on melee combat, favoring the axe.

    When she came of age, she joined the Dominion navy, and served as a marine for nearly a decade, fighting pirates and raiders off the coast of the Somerset isles, Valenwood, and Elsweyr.

    Things changed when she received word that her family had been accused of plotting against the thalmor, and been subsequently executed. The captain, upon learning this, urged Marwen to flee, suspecting that the rulers of the Dominion would quickly send juscticiars to arrest her.

    Putting into dock at Valenwood, Marwen left the ship with the help of several crewmates and the captain, with instructions to get as far from the Dominion and influence of the thalmor as possible.

    With no one to turn to, and limited supplies, Marwen took up life as a mercenary, serving both on land and sea. Eventually, she ended up in Skyrim, using the chaos of the war to hide her allegiances and status as a wanted woman. In more recent years, she has been made aware of a strange plot to destabilise Skyrim. She has been directed to the outside of Riverwood and makes her way there, eager to help, and perhaps make a little coin along the way.

    Dialogue Colour: Purple
     

    Screeching Spasmodically

    Spasmodic Screecher
    General Information
    Name: Selena Barnet

    Age- 28

    Sex- female

    Race- Redguard

    Class- Spellsword

    Sexuality- Bisexual

    Marital Status- Single

    Laterality- Right handed

    Afflictions- None

    Religion- Divines

    Appearance- Selena is fairly tall, (5'8") for a redguard woman and athletically built, with little in the way of curves. She has long dark hair that is usually bound in a long braid. Her eyes are a strikingly pale green, which contrasts with her caramel coloured skin. Her right earlobe has a sapphire gem piercing.
    Gear

    Armor- While most of her armour is light leather that protects her shoulders, upper legs and lower torso, she does wear a breastplate, made of surprisingly light material, and given to her by her father on her eighteenth birthday. It offers good protection against most blades, but because it is so light, it won't hold up terribly well against heavy blows.

    Weapons- She carries a masterfully forged scimitar, longer and thinner than the typical alik'r blades. Though it's only forged from steel, it has clearly been well cared for. Upon receiving it along with her armour, Selena named the weapon Summers' Song.

    Spells-
    Adept level destruction spells.

    Misc. gear (clothing/jewellery/etc.) She wears an amulet of Stendarr around her neck, and carries several days worth of provisions, including water. For travel and moving incognito, she wears a weatherworn, hooded brown cloak.

    Personality- Selena is friendly enough, but can be distant towards those she has just met or doesn't trust. She believes strongly in fair treatment for everyone and won't abide cruelty or racism in her presence. She'll lend a helping hand to those in need, often free of charge. She shares the traditional redguard dislike of undead.

    Likes- Sparring, the sea, adventure

    Dislikes- Undead, hypocrisy, thieves.

    Combat Preference- She's not as heavily armoured as a true warrior, so she can't really stand around trading blows with the enemy. She fights very economically, never wasting a single movement. Her main advantage is the arsenal of destructive magic that she keeps back until an opportunity presents itself.

    Background- Born on the island of Stros M'kai, Selena was somewhat of a tomboy, often playing soldier with boys from her village, or helping her father at the forge. Her father, an influential blacksmith, had aspirations of being a soldier his whole life, and encouraged Selena to do the same. Her mother was less keen on the idea but didn't want to confine her daughter to life on the island.

    Shortly before her eighteenth birthday, a thief broke into her fathers' shop one night, badly beating the man and making off with several weeks profit. Enraged and against her mothers' pleading, Selena snatched one of the blades from her fathers' workshop and went off in pursuit. She caught the man, and was promptly beaten bloody and probably would have died, if not for the intervention of a stranger.

    The man cut down the thief, kicked the coins back to Selena and left with the thiefs' head. As it turned out, the man was a bounty hunter, sent after the thief who had made the mistake of stealing from an influential lord in the empire. The man was Ferron Varl, someone Selena would be meeting again in the near future.(@Morbidbread )

    Impressed by the mans' actions, she brought the coin back to her bloodied father and worried mother. She also declared her intentions to become an adventurer. Seeing she could not be dissuaded,and as a birthday present, her proud father forged her a surprisingly light breastplate and her sword, which she named Summers' Song.

    She set out from the isle soon after, starting her career as an adventurer and encountering Ferron several more times, usually when she was in an embarrassing bit of trouble. Eventually, she became reknowned in her own right, adventuring through both Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. Recent news from Skyrim has drawn her attention to the town of Riverwood, where she hears that like minded adventurers may be gathering.

    Dialogue color(s)- Turquoise
     

    Morbidbread

    Fight for the lost
    General Information
    Name: Ferron Varl

    Age- 39

    Sex- male

    Race- Imperial

    Class- Bounty hunter

    Sexuality- Heterosexual

    Marital Status- Single

    Laterality- Ambidextrous

    Afflictions- None

    Religion- Ha!

    Appearance- Ferron has seen his fair share of fights...and his features show it. A nose that looks slightly crooked, a rugged, but not deformed face, with a scar from his left temple curving down to his chin. His eyes, a grey-blue, are often hard and unforgiving. He has short brown hair, starting to be flecked with grey, as is the stubble of his beard. He's clearly in good shape, though not overly tall.


    Armor- A mix of steel and leather, combining manueverability with the protection his heavier gear gives him. The leather armour dominates most of his lower torso, while he wears a steel breastplate, shoulder guards, greaves and gauntlets. The armour has clearly seen its' fair share of combat, like its' owner, with long scratches and slightly dented in some areas.

    Weapons- His primary weapon is a plain but well kept steel longsword he keeps at his side. He also carries a brutal shortsword, forged in the manner of the orcs, and taken from an orcish warlord as a trophy. Finally, he has a dagger that he keeps hidden at the small of his back.

    Misc. gear - A coinpurse with several dozen coins, and a satchel with dried rations, along with a water skin, bandages, and several contracts. A green-brown cloak usually hangs over his shoulders, with a hood to conceal his identity or provide shelter from the weather.

    Personality- Ferron comes across as harsh, callous, and maybe a little cruel. Which is exactly how he likes it. From brutal experience, he's learned that making friends in his line of work typically don't work out for the best. But deep down, he's a professional and will do what's best for him. He does have a soft spot for orphans, due to his own past. He does have a soft spot for a particular young adventurer, but he'll happily murder anyone who suggests that.

    Likes- Completing a contract, getting paid, good booze.

    Dislikes- Rich people (unless they're paying him), liars, and thieves. Despises holy men.

    Combat Preference-Ferron's a very pragmatic fighter. Why duel an opponent when you can punch them in the mouth and stab 'em while they're stunned? He can take a few hits, but he'd prefer not to, if he can help it. Absolutely useless when it comes to ranged fights, be it magic or archery.

    Background- Ferron grew up an orphan in the city of Chorrol, scrounging what he could from scraps in the streets. He never knew his father and his mother died from a wasting sickness when he was very young, despite Ferron pleading with a group of priests to heal her. They laughed in his face and threw him from the temple.

    For the rest of his time in the city, Ferron grew hard and cold as he learned to survive on his own. He became proficient with a blade, and quickly fell into the citys' criminal underworld. For a time, he was drawn into a small gang, terrorizing citizens for their gold.

    But he quickly grew tired of taking orders from others, and left the city and gang behind. Traveling throughout the empire as a young man, he quickly changed from criminal to 'lawman'. As a bounty hunter, he gained a reputation as a dangerous, persistent huntsman, willing to go through any danger to find his target.

    Dialogue: Tan
     

    Snoball

    23rd President of the United States of America
    This is interesting! Would love to join if you are still recruiting

    Name:
    Sir Brokk of Wayrest

    Race: Orc

    Sex: Male

    Age: 60 (Elderly in Orc years)

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Marital Status:
    Single

    Laterality: Right-Handed

    Afflictions: None

    Class: Mercenary / Retired Knight

    Religion: The Divines (Primarily Zenithar)

    Appearance:

    Brokk stands at 6'00". Despite his age, he still has a good amount of muscle thanks to remaining active even in old age, with numerous scrapes and scars adorned across his physique. His head is bald, but he has brownish-grey mutton chops and very thick eyebrows. His eyes are a light green and tend to look disinterested most of the time.

    Armor/Clothing:

    Brokk typically wears a blue padded leather tunic with steel pieces of armor covering certain parts of his body (Chest, Boots, Gauntlets, Shoulders). Thorny vines were once engraved into the steel pieces of armor, and although they are still there, they have been worn out quite a bit over the years.

    Weapons:

    He carries a two-handed warhammer into battle, which he has wielded since his time in the the Knights of the Rose. A similar worn-out vine pattern is engraved into the metal of the hammer. He also wields a Orcish bow for aid in ranged combat.

    Magic: None

    Personality:

    Brokk is someone most people would describe as being "over it". He's quite sarcastic and has a tendency to not not take things very seriously, which is to be expected of an Orc his age. Not as energetic about most things as he used to be, this older Orc goes about his life concerning himself only with making coin, having a good drink, and then making more coin.

    Though he might come off as being a bit rough around the edges most times, most would find he is a kind soul and a good friend to those willing to befriend a geezer like him.

    Likes: Gold, Drinking, Battle, Snowberry crostatas

    Dislikes: Malacath, Racism, Thieves, Assassins, People who don't shut up

    Background:

    Brokk was born to a wealthy Orc merchant and one of his mistresses in the Kingdom of Wayrest. The vast amount of wealth his father had amassed was enough to give Brokk a proper education and lavish childhood, better than most Orcs in the mountains had been living. Watching the kingdom's knights train daily, he dreamed of joining a similar fellowship when he was of age. After years of practicing with a with a wooden hammer, he was shaping up to become a proficient and talented knight.

    Despite his talent, the Bretons' stigma of the violent Wrothgar Orcs had made getting Brokk an opportunity to join the Kingdom's knights difficult. Through one chance encounter, he saves the prince of the Kingdom while out on a hunting trip from a bear attack. In his debt, the King gives Brokk a trial to test his abilities, which he passes with flying colors. Brokk is allowed entry into one of High Rock's most respected knightly orders and the protectors of the King, the Knights of the Rose.

    Brokk spends his adulthood in service to the King and after he passes, his son. Well into old age now, Brokk is willing to fight until he goes down on the battlefield protecting his king. Sadly this is not to be, as the King is assassinated under Brokk's watch. With the identity of the assailant unknown, Brokk is forced to take the fall, and is relieved of his duties under the decision that he is too old to be able to protect anyone at his current age. Though he is offered a keep in the city and to have all his personal needs attended to as thanks for his years of service, Brokk views this offer as an insult for all he's done in service to Wayrest.

    Left annoyed and with quite a bit of fight left in him, Brokk prepares for the final stage of his life: Taking mercenary contracts, making gold, and having some damn good fights along the way.

    Color: Light Orange
     
    Last edited:

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    My introduction and the first handful of posts are rolling on in now. I really like what I'm seeing from these characters people, everyone's accepted and free to get a post up on the main story as soon as they can!
     

    Hale Loneshadow

    Well-Known Member
    Oops! I guess I did post without waiting for confirmation. Sorry about that.

    Oh I don't care Screech! Until we hit my preferred limit on participants (another three or four writers/players) then people are free to post at will, as long as others are getting their screentime
     

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