OOC 18+ The Eternal Cycle

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    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    It has been fifteen years since the end of the dragon crisis, the death of Alduin, the World Eater, and the disappearance of the person known only as 'dragonborn'. It has been ten years since the brutal civil war came to an end, with the Stormcloaks and Ulfric, victorious. It has been five years since the assassination of Ulfric Stormcloak, the High King of Skyrim. Now, Skyrim once more hangs on the brink of war, with the imperial legion lurking at the borders and bandits running rampant in the wilds. Murmurs of nord supremacy are spreading from formerly rebel aligned holds, such as Dawnstar and Windhelm. Already, blood stains the snow red in those places.

    Yet, there is a cautious, hopeful stability throughout the rest of Skyrim. The people tenaciously cling to their independance, but maintain law and order throughout their respective holds. Though bandits may rule the outskirts and ruins, the hold guard maintain a vigil on the walls and roads. The jarls know that another civil war, so close to the last, may well destroy Skyrim once and for all.

    It is the hold of Falkreath, claimed almost entirely by great forests and crumbling towers, that has drawn the least scrutiny. Already known as the 'graveyard city' Falkreath has grown in the decade and a half since the dragon crisis. Still, it is somewhat less than the rest of Skyrim, and so no one pays much attention to the inhabitants of the hold. Or the disappearances. Or the murders. Sidgeir, jarl of Falkreath, is proud and independant. But even he knows when he's outmatched. A call for adventurers and mercenaries has been issued throughout Tamriel. Time is of the essence. The eldest of the nords talk among their ales and pipes, whispering that such troubles have come before...that this is just part of an endless cycle.



    With the introductions of the story complete, I'd like to thank @Madrar and @Aethalia for bringing me in on the project, since I had very little to do with the original story. I'd also like to thank @Simus since his ideas' (from my humble observations) helped shape the plot of Dusk in some small way. As mentioned in the thread that went up earlier today, Madrar, Aethalia and myself will be the three 'lead' writers of this story.

    We're not looking to have a massive cast, and have currently capped the list at nine writers and ten characters. This may change, if more people are interested in joining, more slots can be created, after consideration.

    Character Template
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    Current cast list

    9/9

    @Thesius as Murthagh Bordar

    @Madrar as Nurian the Masked

    @Aethalia as Aliah Stormwind

    @TheShadedOne as Shadari

    @Simus as Simus Psyrakon

    @Rell as Hafnar Thelgn

    @Rafen as Djor Blackmane

    @Signus as Soric Dane

    @TheArgonianDrell as Thallus Callen

    @Drahkma as
     
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    Rell

    Champion of Malacath!
    Name: Hafnar Thelgn

    Alias: N/A

    Age: 34

    Sex: Male

    Race: Nord

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Right handed, but uses both for his axe.

    Afflictions: PTSD

    Appearance: A rugged looking man partially because of years of traveling across Skyrims' unforgiving landscape, and partially from wounds received in the war and various skirmishes after. He is short for a nord, not even reaching six feet (5'9"). Despite this he is very well muscled and clearly a soldiers' soldier. He has short brown hair and a short, braided beard. His eyes are a deep blue and his skin is pale, though not so much as some of his more 'cushy' kinsmen who dwell in the major cities of Skyrim.

    Armour: Heavy iron armour that covers his entire body, except, strangely enough, his head. Hafnar believes strongly in being able to meet his foe 'eye to eye'. There's also a practical reason for not protecting his skull; with no helmet to block his peripheral vision, he has a better view of the battlefield, and is less likely to be blindsided. The collar of his armour is covered with fur, to help against the colder parts of Skyrim. The inside of it is also lined with a thin layer of leather, to absorb impacts and preserve body heat.

    Weaponry: A battleaxe with a curving blade on one end, larger than the typical iron axes found throughout Skyrim, and a long spike on the other. The axe has clearly seen its' fair share of battle, but is also clearly well cared for. The shaft of the weapon is studded and wrapped with leather, making for a more comfortable and better grip. Hafnar also carries a pair of smaller hatchets on his belt, in case he should ever lose his main weapon.

    Class: Warrior.

    Combat preference: With thick armour, a battle loving attitude, and a sharp axe, Hafnar refuses to be anywhere else but in the middle of a fight. He doesn't have much in the ways of defence against mages or armor piercing arrows and bolts, but he is a nightmare to face in close combat. With years of experience in the military and afterwards, he's no stranger to brawling, so even without weapons he's still pretty dangerous.

    Personality: A gruff, typical nord man, Hafnar gets along with fellow warriors just fine, and all the more so if they've shared a drink together. He doesn't particularly care for the rules of a hold, but he won't go out of his way to break them. After all, it's hard to get a good drink when you're rotting away in a jail cell. He doesn't trust thieves or assassins, and mages, while useful, rarely warrant more than a derisive sneer from him. His past experiences have had him shy away from religions, so much so that he despises many of his fellow nords for their worship of Talos.

    Religion: None

    Positive traits: Loyal, strong, friendly(after a time)

    Negative traits: Impetuous, quick to judge, alcoholic.

    Likes: Fighting, drinking, talking about fighting or drinking.

    Dislikes: Magic, religion, dishonorable tactics.

    Fears: Dying as an old man.

    History: Born in Dawnstar, Hafnar was just old enough to join the stormcloak army when the civil war rolled around. He was not the only young man from the harbour town to join up with Ulfrics' cause. Several of his friends also rallied to the 'bear of Markarth', determined to drive the empire out of Skyrim and claim it for themselves. While Hafnar was a reliable soldier, he never sought advancement or praise, instead living for Ulfrics' cause and the next fight.

    Those zealous ideals began to die out as more and more of his friends died in battle. By the time the stormcloaks had won their independence, Hafnar was the only one from Dawnstar to have survived the war. With the fighting over, Hafnar gave up his ties with the stormcloaks, instead becoming a freelance mercenary. For several years he roamed from one hold to another, hunting fugitives and bandits. On the rare occassion he left Skyrim as a guard for a trade caravan or two, but never stayed away long.

    On his return from one of these trips, he heard of the death of the High King, Ulfric. Killed by an imperial assassin. Rather than feel resentful or enraged like some of his kinsmen, Hafnar was wary of another war. He loved to fight, but he was tired of killing on such a large scale, and the deaths of the innocent. So he kept his distance from the former stormcloak centers of power, instead keeping near Whiterun and Markarth. Word eventually reached him of the strange happenings in Falkreath hold, and with a call for mercenary help being sent out, Hafnar packs his meager belongings, and sets out for the rainy hold.

    Dialogue Colour: My usual brown.
     

    Signus

    Well-Known Member
    Name: Soric Dane

    Alias: None

    Age: 28

    Sex: Male

    Race: Breton

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Right handed

    Afflictions: None

    Appearance: Soric is a average built male, standing at 5'11", looking more athletic than muscular, but not exactly thin. He is pale skinned, with dark, medium length hair, that falls the base of his skull. He has pale grey eyes, often described as 'sea grey'. Despite having the build of a fighter, he has no visible scars on his body.

    Armour: Soric wears a mix of leather and steel armour, balancing maneuverability and protection nicely. His shoulders and torso are protected by finely forged steel, while the rest of his armour is a dark grey leather.

    Weaponry: A masterforged steel longsword. The hilt is wire wrapped, with a half-diamond pommel, and crescent crossguard. While not enchanted, he's had the weapon for most of his life and cares for it more than any of his other possessions.

    Class: Swordsman/Duelist

    Combat preference: Soric is a skilled one on one fighter, preferring to take his enemies down individually rather than in groups. He can fight more than one at a time, but he runs the risk of being overwhelmed. He has little to no protection against ranged attacks, giving him great incentive to take care of them as soon as possible.

    Personality: Soric is generally a quiet, thoughtful person, preferring to keep his own council than engage with others. Despite this, he has no problem with working in a group. He respects the laws of the land he's in, so long as the people are not mistreated or oppressed under the rulers' law. He has a rather high opinion of his own abilities, which can lead to some people thinking of him as arrogant.

    Religion: Divines

    Positive traits: Thoughtful, strategic, kind

    Negative traits: Slightly arrogant, pessimistic, is smug when he turns out to be correct on something.

    Likes: Quiet introspection, sparring with those of equal skill, a good book.

    Dislikes: Chaos, meaningless killing, loud people.

    Fears: Losing his skills, being proven inadequate.

    History: Born in the breton city of Evermore, Sorics' father, a minor lord, quickly saw that the boy would recieve the best tutors in the kingdom that he could afford. It was from this that he gained his love of reading and quiet. As a young man, he took an interest in swordsmanship, and began dedicating much of his time to mastering the blade. Even though his skill grew quickly, he remained a quiet and introspective young man.

    When his father decided he was ready, near Sorics' twentieth birthday, he granted his son the ancestral longsword that his own father had passed down to him. The blade was clearly master worked, though neither it nor the pommel contained any familial crests or other symbolism. Eager to explore and make a name for himself outside Evermore, Soric left the breton city behind with his fathers' blessing.

    For years, he wandered from city to city, offering his blade to those in need, and sometimes just for coin, so that he might feed himself and be able to sleep in a warm bed. During his time in Cyrodiil, he recieved a message via courier that help was needed by capable mercenaries and adventurers in the nordic town of Falkreath. Though he has never been to that frigid land, he believes strongly in helping those who need it.

    Dialogue Colour: This red.
     

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    Oooooh. Should have a character together sometime after work.
     

    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 of Falkreath, to join up with like minded fellows.

    Dialogue Colour: This
     

    TheShadedOne

    The Angry One
    Name:Shadari

    Gender: Female

    Age: 22

    Race: Khajiit

    Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

    Sexual Preference: Bisexual

    Marital Status: Single


    Class: Assassin

    Combat Preference: She prefers not to be noticed, striking and fading before her target even realizes she's been there. But, she is very skilled at both hand to hand and one handed sword combat. When fighting at range, she uses her balanced steel throwing daggers to whittle down the number of enemies.

    Weapons: A moonstone and steel falchion, passed down through her family for generations. She also has six throwing knives, sheathed on her belt.

    Armour: Grey leather armour, nearly the same shade as her fur. The armour is slightly thicker at her shoulders, though for the most part, it's made to deflect blows, instead of absorbing them.

    Appearance: Shadari has dark grey, almost black fur, that pales near the tip of her tail and ears. Her eyes are an emerald green, with often a cold glint to them. She stands at 5'4", which means she's often underestimated by her targets. She is fairly attractive, wearing form fitting armour that leaves very little to the imagination.


    Personality: Shadari comes across as cold and callous. She hides enough of her true feelings beneath a blanket of abuse and sarcasm. She avoids anything even vaguely resembling a relationship.

    Likes: Quiet, well maintained weaponry

    Dislikes: Most people.

    Biography: Born in the Khajiit homeland of Elsweyr, Shadari was part of a litter of five, and spent most of her childhood in glorious ignorance of the outside world. Her clan, were renowned as 'problem' solvers both for Khajiit monarchy, and occasionally outsiders.

    When approached by a powerful sorcerer by the name of Jorn Blackstone, who wished to hire the group, but was both offensive and ignorant, they turned him away. This turned out to be their undoing, as the mage flew into a rage, and systematically slaughtered the Khajiit.All but Shadari, who'd been out on her own when the mage had arrived. Upon coming across her massacred clan, she swore vengeance on the perpetrator. Discovering his description from a witness, she left Elsweyr behind her.

    For two years she hunted him, taking additional contracts along the way as she did so. Now, she's stopped in Falkreath, having run low on leads and coin. Her last bit of information hinted at him heading to Windhelm, and joining up with the remnants of the Stormcloaks. Shadari knows that joining up with a group of adventurers and mercenaries is her best chance to find her target.

    This for her dialogue.
     

    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    Very much interested. I vaguely remember being in one of the What Lurks in the Dark. Will @Simus be joining us for this as well? I always enjoyed interecting with his Psyrakon characters.
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    I’m considering it. I’ve been lurking for the last couple of days. I miss this place.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    Well I think I speak for everyone when I say you're more than welcome to join. You were part of the original thing a lot more than I was. Schedule permitting of course.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    Name: Murthagh Bordar

    Alias:None

    Age: 32

    Sex: Male

    Race: Orc

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Single

    Laterality: Right handed

    Afflictions: Alcoholic

    Appearance: Unlike most orcs, Murtagh is a towering(6'3"), broad chested man, rippling with enough muscle to be intimidating without armour. He has a strong jaw with short tusks and a heavy brow. His deep blue eyes often appear brooding and foul tempered, something that is not entirely true. His hair is a dark brown, but he keeps his face clean shaven and the hair atop his head short enough to adhere to a soldiers level of comfort. He's collected several scars on his arms and torso, most of them clearly from blades or arrows.


    Armour:Like most of his kin, Murtagh prefers heavy armour. The cuirrass, gauntlets, and greaves are made of well forged steel. Chainmail covers the gaps between his upper arms and forearms, and leather protects his thighs. Though he once owned a helmet, he no longer owns one and has not seen fit to replace it.

    Weaponry: He wields a well crafted steel hammer, short enough to use with one hand, and sturdy enough to endure the rigours of combat. The haft is long enough to be wielded in two hands, should he desire, but not quite as long as a traditional warhammer.

    Class: Paladin of Arkay.

    Combat preference: As a well armoured and well equipped warrior, Murtagh is best suited in the thick of combat, or holding some chokepoint, narrow enough for a single man to defend. His stamina and stature ensure that only the most determined foe will get past him, and his skill with his hammer is surpassed by very few. He has some divine powers, generally focused on hurting the undead.

    Personality: Despite his appearance, Murtagh is a kind and compassionate individual. Even if he is a bit rough around the edges, especially when in search of something to drink. Unfortunately, his experiences during the war mean he tends to avoid large groups, fearing that he may react poorly with too much drink in him. Also, if thrust into a leadership position, he tends to hesitate in making decisions and second guess himself. Something that could potentially get himself and his allies killed.

    Religion: While he originally worshipped Malacath, he now worships Arkay, alongside the other divines.

    Positive traits: Kind, Brave, Determined.

    Negative traits: Hesitant, Self-doubting, Alcoholic

    Likes: A good bottle of booze, peace and quiet, the open road.

    Dislikes:Self reflection, being in charge, and being sober too long. Malacath


    Fears: Leadership, failing his comrades.

    History: Born and raised in Skyrim, at Narzulbur a stronghold of his kin, Murtagh quickly proved himself to be a strong fighter, who embraced any and all challenges with open arms. He was often chosen by the tribe chief to lead sorties against bandits or dangerous monsters that threatened the stronghold. On the rare occassion, he acted as an ambassador to the other peoples of Skyrim, giving him exposure to other races that many orcs lacked.

    However, the code of the stronghold meant that he would eventually have to challenge the current chief, if he ever wished to wed, and have children of his own. He admired his chieftan so greatly that the thought of cutting him down in battle, however honourable, was unthinkable. He gathered his trusty hammer and shield, and departed to wander Skyrim, promising to return should the stronghold ever need him.

    As the civil war heated up, Murtagh found work as a mercenary, and quickly gathered a group of like-minded men and orcs to him. Despite the common sentiment about mercenaries, Murtagh and his band were good hearted folk. Often times they would stop in their path to help refugees through a particularly bandit ridden road, or assist farmers in repairing their properties after the armies had passed through.

    But their allegiance was promised to the empire, and when the imperials were defeated, Murtagh and his men went their seperate ways, many abandoning Skyrim altogether, hoping to evade retribution at the hands of the Stormcloaks. It was during these wanderings that Murtagh discovered Arkays' light, realizing that constant violence and striving for dominance would lead only to his death, and the deaths of those closest to him. Murtagh returned home as a warrior-priest of Arkay, though his temperment made him less than likely to convert any of his kinsmen to the path of the divines. He was constantly on the move, seeking out undead to slay in his new gods' name.That is, until a courier approaches found him with an urgent summons.

    Dialogue Colour: Gold
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    Name: Nurian the Masked

    Gender: Male

    Race: Altmer (believed)

    Age : At least a couple of centuries.

    Sexual Preference: Asexual

    Class: wizard

    Weapons: Arcane powers

    Armour: None to speak of, though he wears black and grey robes, tunic, pants,boots, and an ebony mask, leading to his name.

    Combat Preference: Nurian, being a traditional mage, prefers to engage his foe at range. In fact, he must. His lack of close range weapons and armour mean that he'll be in trouble should something be able to close the distance. However, his repetoire of spells are quite formidable, and those that do hope to close with the mage must be formidable indeed.

    Character Appearance: Nurian is tall, standing at 6'1",but not particularly bulky. As such, he cuts an intimidating figure, as he is covered in dark cloth, from his head to his toes. This has lead to many rumours about the mysterious mage, including that his body is covered in horrible burns, or otherwise afflicted. The mage himself has never spoken on the matter, and when confronted directly, he deflects the question. His most remarkable physical characteristic is his silver eyes, the only part of his body that is visible.

    Personality: Nurian is by no means a cruel or indifferent mer. In fact, he will often go out of his way in order to help others. He despises those who are cruel to those less fortunate or unable to defend themselves. However, among 'equals' or experienced warriors, the mage comes across as dismissive and arrogant, getting himself very little in the way of friends.

    Likes: Knowledge, exploring ancient ruins, defending the weak.

    Dislikes: Seeing others abuse their power. Mercenary types, the more thug like, the worse. Undead.

    Quirks: Tends to summon a small ghost light, which he tosses from hand to hand when idle.

    Fears:Being portrayed as evil, the Thalmor triumphant.


    History : Those who have been persistent enough to peer into his past are often thwarted, by the lack of solid information, or by Nurian himself. It is known however that he fought in the great war between the Aldmeri dominion and the Cyrodiilic empire, and was around for several decades before then. Though he initially joined with the Thalmor as they purged the blades from the somerset isles, and hatched their plans to dominated most of Tamriel, he quickly became disgusted by their practices.

    Shortly after the great war, Nurian severed all ties with the Thalmor, something that did not go over well with the Thalmor themselves. A group of them stormed his residence in the city of Dusk, and a magical battle of epic proportions took place there. When the dust settled, the kill team was dead, and Nurian was nowhere to be found.

    A little over a year later, a shrouded figure began disrupting Thalmor operations throughout Elsweyr and Valenwood. The inability of the justiciar patrols to identify their tormentor, leading to them naming him 'the masked'. The title appealed to Nurian, and though he's moved steadily northwards, he has since introduced himself as 'Nurian the masked.' He was working with the mages of Winterhold when the a courier with an urgent message. Now, he heads to Falkreath, to provide what aid he may.

    Dialogue color: This.
     
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    TheArgonianDrell

    Well-Known Member
    Does that mean I missed a deadline? Or have I been forgotten?
     

    Madrar

    The Shadow in the Dark.
    I think she just forgot. Post a card whenever you have a moment.
     

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    I should get around to updating the cast list tomorrow or after work.
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member

    Thesius

    The Imperial Paladin
    Excellent.
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    Name: General Simus Psyrakon, Retired

    Alias: Ice Veins, General

    Age: 71

    Sex: Male

    Race: Imperial

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Relationship/Marital status: Widower to Amy Psyrakon since 4E 201. Married in 4E 171. Married to Carlotta Valentia 4E 206-present.

    Laterality: Ambidextrous.

    Afflictions: Moderate arthritis in hands, moderate tendinitis in knees and elbows, not being eighteen anymore.

    Appearance: Old and wrinkled, his long silver hair turned white, but still tall and strong. Left eye is white, cloudy and blind and three long scars from above the eye to the top of his lip. Right eye is still clear and blue.

    Armour: Old dragonbone armor he crafted himself during the Stormcloak Rebellion, right after the dragon attacking Kynesgrove was killed by the Dragonborn.

    Weaponry: Two ebony swords, Ashes and Cinders and The Chill of Death. Forged by himself like his armour. Ashes and Cinders is reinforced with fire and lightning and The Chill of Death with Frost and soul trap.

    Class: Warmage.

    Combat preference: Charges in with his swords when he has the advantage in combat or against a single opponent. Stays back with magic when disadvantaged, outnumbered or when supporting a larger force. Fire and lightning destruction magic with a flame atronach for support.

    Personality: Warm, kind and very experienced. Always seeks to understand people. Always ready to help those in need but long experience has taught him to guard against unprovoked kindness and to try to understand every situation before helping. Very strict and focused when in command of a situation and able to take orders unquestioningly when following.

    Religion: The Nine (not eight) Divines.

    Positive traits: Kind, loyal, compassionate, extremely energetic and trustworthy, imaginative, able to reserve quick judgement. A lifelong professional soldier, he understands men and armies inside and out. Can lead and inspire just about anyone.

    Negative traits: Proud, too aggressive, inflexible due to experience, cares too deeply about those under his command, prone to taking defeats and faults personally, prone to depression.

    Likes: Most alcohol, food, running, the thrill of combat, a warm fire, being with his family, being home, sleeping in a bed, alchemy, enchanting, smithing, reading, time to create something, learning, educating.

    Dislikes: Death, fighting, getting men killed, being away from home, sleeping on the ground, rain, cold weather, vodka, arrogance, caution, inaction, fast judgment.

    Fears: Losing his wife and family, getting soft, dying forgotten, failure, getting people killed, hurting people he loves, drowning, the Thalmor, wild animals.

    History: Simus Psyrakon has lived a long and eventful life, fraught with pain and loss but mostly good. Just before the Dragon Crisis in 201 the Thalmor chased him and his family out of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil and into the Jerrall Mountains after discovering that he was a Talos worshipper and his wife Amy was a former Blade. Amy was killed protecting their four children and Simus was knocked unconscious and left to freeze to death until being recovered by a Legion patrol and taken back to the Imperial City to rot in prison. After an eventful week of gladiator matches, a Dark Brotherhood Assassin and a half elf prostitute who was looking after her in the wake of the attack Simus's oldest daughter Alice rescued him from prison and both made their escape from Skyrim. Both had no choice other than to join Ulfric's rebellion in order to ensure their safety. Neither of whom had any problems with that after the way they were treated by their own people and Simus and Ulfric being old war comrades. Both rose to fame in the Stormcloaks, Simus being a harded Legion veteran from the Great War and the Battle of Red Ring and Alice blossoming into a creative soldier and brilliant strategist. As the rebellion progressed they went from simple officers in The Reach to being Ulfric's backroom stars. Taking care of the lion's share of "all this planning nonsense" that Galmar so detested. After the rebellion was won Simus was one of Ulfric's finest generals and had reunited with all of his children, except his oldest son whom had fallen during the war. He had also gotten to know Carlotta Valentia very well and developed strong feelings for her. Partly because their two girls Mila and Cilla became fast friends and partly because he had politely helped get Mickhail off her back. It was a good time for him but as Ulfric solidified his rule Simus began to see that Ulfric was not the man he promised Skyrim he was. He became a dangerous tyrant that Simus had helped place into power and he knew that needed to be correct. He and Alice led a rebellion against Ulfric that turned into another five years of hellish warfare. The rebellion was ultimately successful, ending with Simus killing Ulfric himself in the Palace of the Kings. Imperial support was critical in the war but through careful negotiations Skyrim was able to remain an independent ally of The Empire, rather than returning as a province.

    This began a period of peace Simus hadn't enjoyed in over a decade. He was able to retire, Alice was able to marry her sweetheart Julius and they even had a child together. A now five year old boy named Lucius Pellius, Simus' first grandchild. He was able to settle in Whiterun with Carlotta, watch his children grow into their adult lives and pursue the life of peace and creativity he'd always wanted but as the years have passed he's grown depressed and lethargic. The years have caught up with him and his fame as a general has faded. He's begun to realize that he misses the adventure and purpose being a soldier gave him. He needs to get his confidence back and he needs to be more than a husband and grandfather. He needs another adventure to remember who he is and this situation in Falkreath seems just the pace to get one.

    Dialogue Colour: Green
     

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