OOC [18+] Conquer with Fire

[EpicVakarian]

Woah, this is running through quickly. I don't even know how many people just applied... Anyway, I'll attempt to work on my CC now, while I have no writers blocks and no work to do.

 

[Blackdoom59]

Just coz i wanna watch this thread

Good luck guys! Wish i could be a part of it but sadly im flat out busy and at capacity with the RPs im currently in.

No harsh feelings, however if get more free time in the future, I can open a slot for you Irishman.

Woah, this is running through quickly. I don't even know how many people just applied... Anyway, I'll attempt to work on my CC now, while I have no writers blocks and no work to do.

Well I have been advertising
Also i can rethink the player cap, to lets say 15, just because there are so many of you applying.

 

[Blackdoom59]

Andre and kitty you're both accepted. Pick a color.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

Here is my CC: http://skyrimforum.com/entries/kal-the-lonesome.3582/

If I'm accepted, I'd like this color.

 

[Blackdoom59]

I've seen the way you write operator, and your char is awesome. You're in if you tell me the reason your characer joins the ressistance.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

Well, would the Graybeards/Blades be posting up notices requesting dragonslayers? If Kal were stopping over in a major city and saw a notice offering the chance to possibly be like the legends of old he'd probably get over his dislike for being around people in order to join.

 

[Blackdoom59]

Well, would the Graybeards/Blades be posting up notices requesting dragonslayers? If Kal were stopping over in a major city and saw a notice offering the chance to possibly be like the legends of old he'd probably get over his dislike for being around people in order to join.

They don't go that public, as they would have an army of farmers wannabe heroes. In fact people of Skyrim think the blades were destroyed by the dragons along with Sky Haven Temple. But some of them escaped, and joined up with the graybeards.

Only the rich and the famous can get to know about such things. So you can say your character either heard nobles talking or a contract from his past told him, but not a random notice requesting dragonslayers.

 

[Majir-Dar]

The image above was not made by me, all credit goes to: Evanyell

​

BASIC
Name: Alonzo
Age: 26
Race: Redguard
Birth Place: Sentinel, Hammerfell
Origin: Orphan
Class: Pirate
Gender: Male
Laterality: Right Handed
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
Health: Healthy
Affiliations: The Black Death, Various Criminal Organizations and Black Markets
Afflictions: Alcoholism
Religion: Atheist
Properties: His own ship called the Lexington
APPEARANCE
Hair: Mohawk
Eye Color: Green-Yellow
Build: Muscular
Height: 6'7”
Weight: 153 lb
Skin: Dark
Scars: Two running vertical on his chest
Misc.: A tattoo across his back of two scimitars forming a curved X
PERSONALITY
Positive Traits: Courageous, Endures, Courteous, Observant, Loyal, Compassionate (to friends); Wise in the making of ships, Hammerfell's history, the Seas, and the various Criminal Organizations of Tamriel (though mainly pirates)
Negative Traits: Secretive, Drunkard, Intrusive, Quiet, Harsh (to those he doesn't know or particularly care about)
Likes: Any Alcohol, Swords, Training, Sailing, Guards, Bread, Honest Sailors, Ships
Dislikes: Male perverts and flirts, Showoffs, Pirates, Bandits, Taking Jobs for the Evil (sees it as a necessary evil), Being Bored, Most People
Fears: Fire, Undead
Aspirations: To kill the one that raised him
COMBAT SKILLS
Major: Dual Wielding Scimitars, Hand-to-Hand
Minor: Light Armour, Smithing, Athletics
GEAR
Amour: Redguard robes and boots with steel shin guards and arm guards.
Weapons: Two steel scimitars
Other: A necklace he wears at all times

HISTORY

Childhood: Alonzo was born an orphan in the port city of Sentinel. His parents were unknown to him, his earliest memory was begging to a merchant for food, and being kicked in the gut for it. He immediately took to thieving when he realized his begging was about as good as a frog begging to a starving snake. He was a swift runner and good with his hands. His first target was a food merchant, the man was running a stall and the food out for display. It was mainly bread with mixed meats here and there. The young Alonzo (who was still unnamed) acted like he was looking at the food for awhile but grabbed it as soon as the merchant looked away. The rush he felt as he succeeded in his theft lifted him into a high. He began to associate the pleasure of eating with thieving and the two feelings eventually blended into one.

Teenager: A new ship came to Sentinel and with it new people flooded the streets and stores. These people wore their smiles as a mask to hide their hatred for the fat merchants and the thin beggars. These people were the pirates known as the Black Death. They had hidden their ship as one of a traveling nobleman's and had sailed into the harbor with ease. The wealthy of Sentinel welcomed them while the beggars despised them. Alonzo, however, saw the ship as a goldmine and planned to steal whatever was inside. He waited for night to come and for the sailors to wander off to their brothel of choosing. He then crept onto the ship, and searched its interior for anything of value. He was astonished at how the sailors seemed to carry their valuables on their person at all times, leaving little out in the open, but continued his vain hope for jewelry and gold. He was caught soon after he had crept onto the ship by the man that claimed to be the nobleman, but looked like he could beat a giant to death with his bare hands. The man was Stargel and this was the man that named and raised Alonzo into what he is today. The man gave Alonzo no last name as there was none to give, they were both orphans with unknown lineage. The two set off to sea as soon as possible, and this is where Alonzo would tell you (if you could get him to tell anyway) where he was truly born. He loved the ship and didn't suffer from the usual sea sickness a new sailor might. The incessant rocking lulled him to sleep like a mother may her child, and the sea shanties sounded better in his ears than the best lute player in all of Tamriel. This is where he found life. He wasn't aware of his father's pirating ways until they came across an Imperial ship. He was given a scimitar immediately and was trained in its usage by using it. Did he want to? No. But he had no choice. This is where Alonzo would tell you of his rising hatred of his new-found father. After the successful takeover of the ship Alonzo was trained by Stargel and the rest of the pirates in the use of the scimitar and eventually began using two. His hand-to-hand combat began to noticeably change as well, as he was getting both stronger and more talented by taking on the other pirates. He usually lost these fights as he was still young but he was still better than others his own age.

Adulthood: Alonzo had aided in the raid of countless ships at this point, he was finding his love of alcohol, and his hatred for his disgrace of a father Stargel had reached its height. He found out that he could drink to forget the pain he has caused others, but only to a degree. After his drunkenness was finished the guilt would beat his mentality until he could get another drink and the cycle went on. The sailors eventually landed ashore on Sentinel once more. Alonzo took lessens as a smith, by a kindly old man that just wanted his art to prevail against time itself. The old man had no heir and simply wanted Alonzo to become the master of his smithy. Stargel stepped in and, after seeing what his son was becoming, confronted Alonzo. The two fought to the death and, inevitably, Stargel won the conflict. After he won, Stargel decapitated the old man in front of Alonzo and left the body to rot. Stargel thought Alonzo dead and took off his necklace, he threw the jeweled necklace on Alonzo as his last gift to his past son, and left Sentinel immediately. But Alonzo's hatred of his father kept him alive and more prepared for their next encounter.

Dialogue Colour (if accepted): Crimson

 

[Majir-Dar]

Writing Sample


Majir-Dar had to stop casting his fire spells. Though effective, they were exhausting on the best of days. He began to consider his options. There wasn't much more that he could do, there were too many draugr. He considered leaving, it's not like they would miss him. Of course, they would probably die by the rusted axes and swords the draugr possessed. Why should he care about these fools and their thjizzrini?

He was thinking of his retreat but, like a knife in the dark, he was shot with an arrow. He winced in his pain and let out an involuntary yelp. The arrow pierced his leg, going completely through. He could hear the sharp PANG! as the arrow head hit the roof's tiles and rolled to the ground. The arrow came from his blind side, and released from a draugr's bow. It had climbed the roof, and more were following suit. It was an odd sight, seeing undead bones and flesh shamble up walls.

He then saw something much more horrific. The dead inside the houses were crawling out of their houses. They used the stone chimneys, the windows, and the doors. He saw a woman and her kids. They were dead, and had large chunks of flesh torn from their faces and scalps. He could see parts of their skull and cheek bones. Their hair was matted and the crimson blood made it stick to their faces and necks. One of the young, a Nord girl, had no arms, and her bones were showing from her sleeves. There was a deep gash in her neck, thick crimson rolled down her neck. The young boy had no foot, he was hobbling along, leaning on his raw muscle and bone as he went. The boy's scalp was cut clean off, revealing the boy's brain. The mother's spine was ripped from its resting place. He could tell because her back was twisted in a way that backs couldn't bend on any humanoid of any race. Her legs were moving but her head was on level with her feet.

He rolled over and regurgitated his dinner from earlier, it rolled off and hit an undead that was trying to climb the roof. He was sick and wanted to get away, but the wound in his leg wouldn't allow such a mercy. He would have to kill them. He felt tears roll like rain from his eyes as he weakly raised his trembling hands. He felt the familiar heat that accompanied the arrival of his heat spell. Maybe this is all a dream, a horrible, horrible, nightmaric dream. What gods in heaven or hell would allow such an atrocity? Majir-Dar tried to steel himself. However, unlike other situations he was in, this was much too horrific. His hand twitched as the spell was cast and it collided with the little girl's leg. It was torn from its socket, it burned as it ran through. The girl fell over, face first and attempted to crawl to Majir-Dar. Chunks of her flesh ripped off as she struggled to navigate the roof. Come on, damn it, calm yourself! Majir-Dar attempted to cast the spell yet again. This time succeeding. The spell collided with the mother and burned the flesh from her bones. The flame then carried to the children. Their horrid screams filled the night as they were burned. They fell to the ground below and landed with a sickening splat. The flame still burned, as if to serve as a reminder of what he just did.

Though Majir-Dar was only focused on the family, he was getting surrounded. There were more undead then ever up on the roofs and they were closing in on Majir-Dar. They resembled rabid wolves gaining on an injured deer, surrounding it first, then going in for the kill. Majir-Dar wouldn't allow this, he would kill everyone of the damned undead one-by-one if he had to. He cast a numbing spell and attempted to rise to his feet. He succeeded, feeling no pain, and raced to a nearby chimney. It was the same one the family came out of. He jumped in, his fur rubbed against the brick walls around him, though the numbing spell dulled much of the pain he would've felt.

However, as if the divines themselves were against Majir-Dar, the numbing spell wore off. It happened right before he landed on the ground. His wounded leg erupted in flames of pain, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! fl*ff IT! DAMN IT STRAIGHT TO HELL!" He curled up into a ball, looking more wretched then he ever had before. After a few minutes past, he managed to look around at his surroundings. He could see old, framed up pictures.

Majir-Dar felt tears well up in his eyes. The water was becoming familiar to him, an uncomfortable feeling for anyone. It was one thing to see the family in an undead and vicious state, but to see them in a real life scenario was crippling.

 

[Blackdoom59]

Majir you're in, mainly because of
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! fl*ff IT! DAMN IT STRAIGHT TO HELL!"
Pick a color.

 

[Majir-Dar]

Crimson if you will.

 

[EpicVakarian]

BASIC​

NAME Faervel​

GENDER Female​

AGE 47 (Due to the wonders of elven aging, she is the equivalent of a 21-year-old full-born human)​

RACE Bosmer-Imperial cross​

BIRTHPLACE Silvenar, Valenwood​

HEIGHT 5'8"​

WEIGHT 8st, 8lbs​

BMI 18.2​

LATERALITY Ambidextrous​

SEXUALITY Heterosexual​

MARITAL STATUS Single​

AFFILIATIONS The Parikh tribe​

AFFLICTIONS A form of asthma; constricted airways; needs open air to breathe properly​

RELIGION Forest Gods​

​

APPEARANCE​

HAIR Quite long, dirty brown-blonde.​

EYES Blueish green.​

BUILD Fairly skinny but toned, with strong arms.​

SKIN Quite tanned, smooth and lightly freckled.​

SCARS A cut on the side of her neck, from an operation to attempt to remove her breathing problems.​

WAR PAINT/TATTOOS Two dark green lines from her left cheek to her left temple, and a brown line from her forehead to her left eyebrow. Slightly faded.​

​

PERSONALITY​

POSITIVE TRAITS Exceptionally well-trained in archery and shortsword combat, very observant and intelligent, attuned to nature, loyal, extremely independent.​

NEGATIVE TRAITS Quite suspicious, quiet, sarcastic, speaks quite bluntly, not particularly friendly.​

FEARS Fire, asphyxiation.​

HABITS Sharpening her sword and arrows, scratching her neck.​

HOBBIES Sitting down in a wood and listening to the sounds of nature.​

ALIGNMENT Neutral good​

​

GEAR​

ARMOUR Much like the above picture; leather bracers and waist-length leather jacket, but with a similarly coloured brown top, that reaches down to her belly and up to wrap around her shoulders under the jacket. Brown leather trousers with leather pads on the hips and knees, with knee-high brown boots with a slight heel to them, making her about an inch taller. Also a black cloak with a hood, since Skyrim is much colder than her homeland in Valenwood.​

​

WEAPONS A longbow, crafted of wood sacred to her tribe. A quiver of foot-long arrows, tipped with steel and paralysis poison. A steel shortsword, forged of steel and with sacred symbols carved into the blade. Faervel can also use limited magic if she so chooses, but often rejects it in favour of her bow or sword.​

​

(Sorry for the huge images )​

​

HISTORY​

CHILDHOOD Faervel was born to an Imperial woman, Claudia, having been conceived by the Bosmer Parikh leader Annor in a one-off relation. Faervel's birth was a shock; Claudia hadn't known she was pregnant, and once the as yet unnamed Faervel was born, Claudia pushed her off on Annor, telling him that she wouldn't raise his bastard child.​

So Annor took his daughter, and named her Faervel, which translates to "strong spirit" in his language. He took her back to his Parikh tribesmen, who had settled in Silvenar, raising her gently but often leaving her at home in favour of going out with his men for weeks at a time.​

Faervel grew slowly; being an elf, her aging process was slowed down relative to humans. However, being only half-elf, she still grew quicker than most Bosmer her age. Not much quicker, but enough to be noticed. By the time she was twelve, she was the size that most elves were at fifteen.​

Of course, at fifteen she was the equivalent of a human eight-year-old. She was still extremely young, and all she knew was that her father kept abandoning her to go out with his friends. She harboured some distaste toward Annor, only growing particularly close to the steward who'd become her childminder, who cared for her like a daughter of his own. He fed her, he tucked her into bed, he read her stories, he taught her, he saved her from much bullying; he did more for her than her father ever did.​

​

MIDDLE YEARS Upon reaching twenty, equivalent to a human twelve-year-old, her steward decided to take her to weapon training; Parikh tradition decreed that all children should have some proficiency with weapons and self-defence, so she learnt with a short sword and a long bow, becoming proficient incredibly quickly. The steward called it "living up to her name", but the weapons master of Silvenar called it "inborn ability".​

After a few more years training with weapons, she got her own bow and sword. Her father had heard about her skill, and decided to grant her weapons forged specially for her. She began to grow closer to her father, and went hunting with him many times.​

​

ADULTHOOD Quick as a flash, Faervel grew to thirty-two, or sixteen in human years. She had become very beautiful, and elves aged nearly fifty were asking for her hand, having heard tell of her incredible skill and powerful father. Of course, she turned down them all; playing a few of them for a while before dropping them and returning to hunting with Annor.​

During her hunting trips, she learnt to appreciate nature. She liked to leave the hunting to her father, while she herself simply sat on a tree stump with her legs crossed and her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of nature.​

This life appealed to Faervel greatly, and she enjoyed it right up until she was forty-one, or nineteen in human years. She was considered quite social, and yet she rarely spoke to anyone but her father and her steward. However, this changed once one of the elves she'd toyed with earlier came back for more. He wanted to take her for himself, and tried to force himself on her. She managed to beat him down, but not before the elf's friends managed to beat Annor to death and mutilate the steward. Once the ordeal was over, Faervel came to the steward to cry about her father, but the steward sent her away. He was disgusted that she was the reason for this trouble, and told her to get out of Silvenar before he had her thrown out.​

With her life gone, she gathered her belongings and asked the local bartender for any rumours for her to follow. The first one to come up was that of dragons returning to Skyrim.​

So the bartender said, the dragons had taken the whole west and south borders of Skyrim, and the Jarls were searching for anyone to help fight off the dragons. It wasn't exactly a safe life, but it was a life; something that Faervel didn't have at this point.​

So she set off northeast, heading for Skyrim, enjoying the forests along the way and hoping that someone in Skyrim could grant her a new life.​

 

[EpicVakarian]

Can you see that picture? Of the character herself, I mean?

 

[Majir-Dar]

No

 

[Majir-Dar]

I added some more personality traits to Alonzo, seeing as how there were only three of each negative and positive trait, I thought I needed to fix that and did.

 

[EpicVakarian]

That should have done it, hopefully. Can you see the image now?

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

Yes, now.

 

[Majir-Dar]

Yes, we can see her.

 

[Blackdoom59]

What color vak?

 

[EpicVakarian]

What about this?