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OOC {18+} Victory's Price

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Telleroftales, Jan 6, 2022.

  1. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Ulfric won the civil war. The legion was routed at the battle of Solitude, general Tullius killed. The survivors either fled to camps in the wilds, or back to Cyrodiil. In an ironic twist of fate, it is now the imperials that must engage in guerilla warfare, if they are to survive in such a harsh environment. The Thalmor fled with their imperial allies, well aware of the fate that would befall them if they were to remain.

    Holds that were loyal to Ulfric during his uprising now enjoy greater prestige, trade, and lowered taxes. While Solitude remains the capital of the snowy kingdom, the High King prefers to spend most of his time in the Hall of Kings, at Windhelm. Those holds that sided with the empire, or remained neutral, have had their jarls replaced, with those loyal to the new king. Stormcloak garrisons are in place, to ensure the locals 'security'.

    Despite these new measures, things in the tundra homeland of the nords have returned to pre-war levels. If not for the disappearances. If not for dissidents to the new regime, found butchered in their home. If not for non-nords being treated with suspicion or outright anger, merely for not picking a side. If not for the strange creatures, glimpsed by patrolling guards and traveling merchants.

    Rumours and whispers abound, some stating that a shadowy organization has taken power, and is using the king as a puppet with which to do their bidding. Others state that the king himself made some dark bargain in order to win the war and now those powers have come for what is owed them.

    The king dismisses and denounces these rumour mongers, of course. He has placed an order, that any and all able-bodied adventurers and mercenaries put a stop to these sinister occurrences. He offers pardons and more than a little gold for any that answer this call. Of course...there may be more than one force at play here, and those who step forwards may quickly find themselves in over their heads.
     
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  2. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Character Sheet Template​
    Name:
    Race:
    Gender:
    Sexuality:

    Physical appearance:
    Personality:

    Weapons:
    Armour:
    Misc.Gear:

    Background:
     
  3. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

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    Liking the story, will get a character up in a bit.
     
  4. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

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    Name: Thoras Lorian

    Age- 98, appears mid twenties, due to elvish aging.

    Sex- Male

    Race- Dunmer

    Class- Arcane Hunter (anti-mage warrior).

    Sexuality- Heterosexual

    Marital Status- Single

    Laterality- Ambidextrous

    Afflictions- None

    Religion- Azura

    Appearance- Thoras Lorian, despite his name, is a dunmer with dark grey skin, not quite black, but dark enough to pass for it in dim light. His hair is black, and braided with strings of gold and silver thread. He is not very muscular, but he is lean and clearly in shape. He has a thin, knife like nose, and his ears are typically elvish. His right ear has a golden earring, studded with three rubies. His eyes are his most spectacular feature; rather than the crimson of most dunmer, his are an icy blue.

    Swirling tattoos cover the lower half of his face, crimson swirls that cover his jaw and cheeks, then trail down either side of his neck. The tattoo continues down the upper half of his back, where it forms a dragon, coiled in on itself. Scars criss cross his torso, clearly from combat. Both of his forearms, are scarred. However, these do not seem self inflicted or caused by battle. Rather, it seems these were inflicted on him. Some of the scars are crooked, as if Thoras moved while the process was ongoing and someone had to restart.

    Gear


    Armor- Thoras does not wear a lot of armour. Instead, he wears light leather on his shoulders and torso, offering some protection during battle. Over this, he wears a long coat of deep purple, lined with gold thread. The coat offers little actual protection against blades or bolts, but offers protection against most basic spells. He wears a pair of knee high leather boots, the same type of leather that he has on his shoulders and chest.

    Weapons- A steel glaive, the shaft itself is made of sturdy oak, and wrapped with leather. The shaft is just under two meters long, while the blade is exactly half a meter. The blade curves ever so slightly, and is good for slashing/chopping and stabbing attacks. A dozen throwing knives he keeps hidden in the pockets of his coat.

    Known Spells-N/A

    Misc. gear (clothing/jewellery/etc.)- A ruby studded gold earring. He wears a ring on each finger, all but one are gold and silver. One ring, is made of a dark material, seemingly ebony, and set with a sapphire. Within, a faint silvery glow can be seen, if someone looks close enough. Under his armour he wears a long sleeved shirt of deep red. His pants are made of black cloth. Around his neck, he wears an amulet with Azuras' sigil on it.

    Personality-
    Thoras is a mysterious figure, but rather than being cold and stern, he prefers to bedazzle those closest to him with fantastic tails about his past, and slight mistruths that lead people to believe something that isn't exactly true. However, he prefers to not outright lie, and he will never say or do something that would endanger his companions. While used to traveling alone, Thoras is quick to introduce himself, though his eccentric mannerisms put the common folk on edge as often as they do charm them. He is quick with a smile and joke, though he possesses a fiercesome focus when in combat or serious situations.

    Likes- Wine, women, stories, mysteries, travel.

    Dislikes- Prisons, mages, boredom, undead and tyrants.

    Combat Preference- Thoras fights with astonishing speed, considering his weapon. He prefers to be in the midst of the fight, where he can cause maximum chaos. He prefers his glaive, but is more than capable of using his hands and feet to cripple opponents, and will slip a knife in where he can.

    Background- Thoras, as his name might suggest, was not born in morrowind, nor did he have dunmeri parents. In fact, he knows very little of his dark elf background. Found abandoned in the streets of Chorrol, Thoras was raised by a kindly imperial couple. He spent his early days in the city, and quickly revealed himself as something of a prankster. He also discovered that he had something of wanderlust, never content to be sitting and reading when he could be outside.

    As he aged, he began to take long walks outside the city, often slipping back in just before nightfall. Soon, though, that ceased to sate his hunger for adventure. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he left home, becoming an adventurer. He quickly fell in with a small group that traveled Cyrodiil, seeking bandits and monsters to slay. They did much good, and were welcome in every city from Leyawiin to Bruma.

    It was not long before they met their match attempting to clear a ruin of necromancers. The groups spell caster was quickly overwhelmed, and the others wounded or captured. Thoras was tortured by the victorious necromancers, but while his body was cut and beaten, his spirit was unbroken. One late night, he broke free of his bonds, and reclaimed his gear after slaying his guard.

    He had nearly escaped when he was confronted by his companions. As undead husks. Despairing, Thoras cut down his old friends and fled. The ordeal left deep scars on his mind and body, but his resolve remained solid. He wandered on his own, hunting evil mages and other lawless characters. The notice of disappearances in Skyrim draws his attention, and he quickly made the decision to leave his homeland behind, seeking justice and adventure.

    Dialogue color(s)- Ice Blue
     
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  5. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Name: Solun Decius

    Race: Imperial

    Gender: Male

    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Physical appearance: Lean and muscular, Solun is not quite six feet in height. He has piercing grey eyes, dark hair and fair skin. An old scar follows the right side of his jaw, terminating just under his ear. A tattoo of the third legion symbol is on his right shoulder. His jaw is covered by light stubble.

    Personality: Solun has always been a reserved, cautious individual. With the end of the war, he has only become more so. While slow to trust, he is loyal to his friends and allies.

    Weapons: His legion shortsword and a steel dagger.
    Armour: A mismatch of leather and chainmail. He 'lost' his legion gear months ago, knowing that to wear anything that gives him away as an imperial soldier would lead to a swift death sentence.

    Misc.Gear: A worn traveling cloak, sturdy leather boots that almost reach his knees, a warm, dark brown tunic and pants. A coinpurse with just shy of thirty septims, and cloth strips for bandaging wounds.

    Background: Born the son of a minor imperial noble in Bravil, Solun was always fascinated with the military. When he was of age, he joined up with the third legion. Due to his status as a noble, he was given an officers commission.

    Despite his lofty post, he quickly built a rapport with his men, unwilling to order men to do what he wouldn't. He believed strongly in the empire, and believed that unity was best for the empire.

    When the third legion was all but destroyed at the battle of Solitude, he found himself unwilling to return home. Ashamed at his own survival, he was unable to stomach the thought of facing the families of the men who had died under his command, so he remained in Skyrim, hoping to find an end that was fitting for a deserter and a coward.
     
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  6. FelidaePrime

    FelidaePrime New Member

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    Name: Zar'issa 'the midnight blade'
    Race: Khajiit
    Gender: Female
    Sexuality: Bisexual

    Physical appearance: The majority of her fur is black and dark grey, leading to her name epithet, the 'midnight blade'. The sole exception is a streak of cream-coloured fur that starts at the bottom of her chin, and runs down, between her breasts, and ends at her navel.

    Personality: Zar'issa typically comes across as aloof and more than a little callous. She doesn't make friends easily, though she takes a carefree approach to sex and danger. Those few friends she does make, she is willing to die for. Not that she'd ever admit it, and will ruthlessly mock those that profess any feelings of camaraderie for her.

    Weapons: A pair of steel scimitars, she wields with blinding skill and speed. A pair of daggers, usually hidden somewhere on her person.

    Armour: Dark leather armour, lightweight and not great for open combat, it allows her to slip through the dark with ease.

    Misc.Gear: Several common, easily obtainable poisons, a couple dozen septims, a khajiiti trinket on a leather twine. A dark, hooded traveling cloak, dark grey tunic and pants.

    Background: Orphaned in the Imperial City, Zar'issa quickly learned to fend for herself in the slums and back alleys. As a khajiit, she was naturally stealthy, and made enough coin picking pockets and cutting purses to haul herself out of the gutter.

    She traveled with a mercenary band for a time, learning to fight and survive, though her anti-social tendencies made her a poor fit for fighting in a unit. She parted ways with her fellow sellswords and began to make a name for herself. Bandit leaders, stormcloak commanders, imperial commanders, and everything in between, felt the bite of her blades.

    By the time Ulfric won the war, she was safely ensconced in a hideout in Skyrim, though she knew that a nord dominated province would make her life much more difficult. She was beginning to plan a long 'vacation' to the south, when she heard of the king's decree.
     
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  7. SoulofChrysamere

    SoulofChrysamere New Member

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    Name: Karshazo
    Race: Khajiit
    Gender: Male
    Sexuality: Heterosexual

    Physical appearance: 38 years of age, slightly above average height, fit and lean, dark brown fur mottled with gray and black, dark brown hair and mustache, wide nose, large yellow eyes

    Personality: A very "live and let live" person at heart, Karshazo usually enjoys a level-headed temperament and a general aversion to involving himself in the affairs of others, preferring to instead tuck himself into a corner and contemplate his own ambitions as in a tavern or on a wagon. This being said, the two sure-fire ways to draw his ire are to threaten those he considers his friends and family and to call his smarts into question. Despite his lack of formal education, his love of stories and wits sharpened from years of traveling and adventuring have made him into a clever and resourceful Khajiit.

    Weapons: Steel saber with a silver-plated blade (unenchanted); oaken Nordic hunting bow and arrows usually made out of whatever materials he had to hand at the time; steel knife

    Armour: Padded leather coat and pants, dark brown wool travel cloak with hood, fingerless bracers, knee-high leather boots

    Misc.Gear: Old and worn backpack fashioned from the hide of a brown bear, a different knives, some lockpicks, a few home-brewed tonics and poisons easily prepared from common ingredients in the wild plus some of those ingredients themselves; a pan flute made from horker tusk with scrimshaw decoration - a gift from a former adventuring companion; a simple bracelet of beads made of wood, tusk, and bone - a memento from a fellow member of his old Khajiit caravan.

    Background: Born to members of an intrepid Khajiit caravan in Elsweyr, Karshazo from the start found himself immersed in a life of near constant travel and adventure as well as needing to "grow up" in some ways fairly quickly. In his adolescence, he became much more interested in the role of the mercenaries hired to protect the caravan than in being a merchant. Against his parents wishes, he would often plead with the mercenaries to teach him how to fight and hunt.

    But sometimes, one's world gets turned on its head at the most unexpected of times and in the most unexpected of ways. It was a balmy spring afternoon in Falkreath hold, and Karshazo had just returned from an extended rendezvous with a girl in the caravan he was sweet on. Only, instead of finding the caravan as he'd left it, he came upon its charred remains scattered about the small forest clearing He cried out in shock ran frantically to and fro in a panicked rush to try and help the unfortunately quite dead caravaners. A chilling, otherworldly roar echoed throughout the woods from above, and Karshazo looked upward to behold a terrible winged beast descending upon the area to continue its fiery assault. Blind fear seized him and fueled his mad flight through the trees and underbrush.

    On and on he ran, toiling up and down rugged hills and through some of the meanest bush the province had to offer, with his scaly pursuer never being far behind. By some stroke of luck, he crested a rocky rise and found that he'd inadvertently been fleeing directly toward the town of Falkreath and risked a descent down the rocks to reach the perceived safety of its buildings. However, a filthy and beat-to-hell Khajiit with a dragon right behind him turned out to make for a less than inconspicuous or endearing entrance into town, and while the guardsmen and any other courageous able souls prepared to confront their mythical attacker, a couple of guards and townspeople tackled Karshazo to the ground. He struggled in vain to pull away and his protests fell on deaf ears as he was hauled off to the jail and summarily beaten to a pulp for leading such a foul beast to their storied and war-weary town.

    When the world failed to end in the minutes, then hours, then days thereafter, Karshazo found himself burdened with a crippling assortment of fear, grief, depression, dread, and physical injuries that wouldn't fully heal for a while yet. Endless questions that would never be answered bounced around inside his mind, although the most prominent one was why he'd been spared at all. Why hadn't he died with the rest of the caravan? Or during his flight? Why hadn't the guards just killed him when he'd first gotten there or after they'd gotten done beating the dog crap out of him? He didn't know. He'd never know. But he did know that he had to get out of there before death realized its mistake.

    And so, following a daring nighttime escape from Falkreath's jail, Karshazo embarked on a new life of traveling and adventuring markedly different from his time with the caravan. Since then, he's delved into some of the deepest and darkest of Skyrim's depths and has experienced audiences with some of her most powerful administrators. He's gained and lost fortunes and friends alike. Most of his friends who'd managed to survive adventuring in their twenties and early thirties have since given up the profession in lieu of settling down into a more stable life in a city or town, reminisce with friends at their local tavern of choice or start families. And yet, a curious compulsion to continue testing the full extent of Skyrim's mysteries still maintains a death grip on Karshazo's heart. At this point, he's decided that his only option is to try and make peace with the fact that he'll probably keep adventuring until he's dead, whether that happen at the hands of some fell beast or trap, or...if fortune were to smile particularly warmly upon him, when he's old and gray, able to regale listeners with decades' worth of tales, half of which might not ever be believed.

    But for now, he finds himself drawn to the High King's latest call for adventurers, interested to see how this new chapter in his life will unfold.
     
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  8. DrearyDay

    DrearyDay New Member

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    Name: Kjol Ironhand
    Race:Nord
    Gender:Male
    Sexuality:Heterosexual

    Physical appearance: At 34 years of age, Kjol is a burly man of average height, still in fighting shape despite his age. His hair is of average length, a dark brown, strange for a nord, but not enough to draw the eye. A long scar runs along his forehead, along his hairline.

    His features are fairly rugged, telling of a life of outdoors work and violence.
    His hands and arms are heavily callused, from work and wielding weapons. He is not overly tall, but is well muscled, giving would be challengers cause to think twice. His eyes are a deep blue, standing out in a fair skinned face.

    Personality: A gruff and stern individual, Kjol keeps to himself, haunted by the horrors of the war. He drowns his sorrows in ales at every town he goes to. Though he was once a stalwart believer in Talos and the Stormcloak cause, the war shattered his belief, and he now vehemently denies their existence, leading to many a fight with his fellow nords.

    Weapons: A well-maintained iron battleax along with a plain steel dagger.

    Armour: An iron breastplate, and shoulder guards make up the heaviest pieces of his gear. His upper legs and his arms are protected by thick leather.

    Misc.Gear: Sturdy boots, ideal for walking and combat, a warm cloak, venison and dried fruit, some septims.

    Background: Born in Dawnstar, Kjol spent most of his youth helping out in one of the two mines in the city. When he wasn't doing that, he was working at the Dawnstar docks, loading and unloading goods from ships. Years of this made him an intimidating individual, though he never was in trouble with the guard.

    When the civil war kicked off, he like many in the predominantly nordic holds, joined the Stormcloak movement. He fought with distinction, and survived the war, but lost his faith, both in Ulfric and in the gods at large. When the war was won for the Stormcloaks, Kjol left the army.

    He spent most of his life after that drinking, working as a mercenary, and drinking some more. When he heard of the king's decree, he felt a slight tug, of fate, perhaps. Or perhaps he was merely running out of septims with which to buy ales.

    Dialogue:This blue
     
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    #8 DrearyDay, Jan 10, 2022
    Last edited: Jan 11, 2022
  9. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Alright, I'm waiting on a couple other people to join us. Hopefully, they'll get here and have cards up by tomorrow so we can start.
     
  10. fellowknight

    fellowknight Devil Of The Details

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    ((Apologies for the thickness ahead, I simply couldn’t help myself :p))

    Name: Baroth Talsgor

    Alias(es): Mr. Rotten, Hodlin Graves, Madinille Liras, Greswald Brimborn, Aldvir Hjarksson, Gelien Hermingfel, Lyrwith Masnoth, Kjargrom War-Gale.

    Race: Atmoran/ Nede (Pre-Nord)

    Class: Revenant Knight/ Dark Paladin

    Gender: Male

    Sexuality: Pansexual

    Religion: Worships only those he has a pact with, though it mostly involves Molag Bal, Hircine, Arkay, Peryite, and Hermaeus Mora.

    Affliction: Baroth has a rare condition known as Vycanthropy-- A cross of the Vampiric and Lycanthrope species, bonded by a blood-poisoning curse, that allows him to transform into a hybrid of the two, an abominable night-spawn. To enter this powerful state, his body undergoes a gruesome transformation, running the risk of crippling himself, or becoming trapped in that form entirely. Alternatively, he’s capable of a half-form that’s not quite as taxing and allows for maneuverability, but is not nearly as powerful. Passive benefits permit a hazy version of night-vision, erratic reflexes, forced hand-talons, slightly enhanced strength, and blood-sense for creatures weaker than humans. There are also several health issues, including an acute allergy to silver and belladonna, long-term blood-poisoning and occasional schizophrenic/ demented episodes, and unpredictable, often lethal blackouts. Despite Baroth making reprimands through divine pacts and blood rituals, the disease appears terminal and incurable, spreading like a cancer.

    Physical appearance/ speech: Baroth is a broad-shouldered man of a sturdy build, weighing about 215lbs and standing at 5’10”. His pony-tailed hair and 3-inch beard are dirt-blonde and well-groomed, streaked gray and often trimmed. His physique tells of a wrinkled, wary discipline, hiding layers of toned muscle, stretch marks, and scars. His eyes are a serene baby-blue, inviting as his father’s were, yet only under-toning his ambitions. Sharp, archaic facial features and an undertone Nedic accent betray his place in the modern era, a product of his disease as well as his Atmoran heritage. This also enables him to pass for a Breton as well as a Nord.

    Personality: Baroth is, for all intents and purposes, a troubled man walking a fine line to satisfy his dream of restoring the human race to its former glory, its birthright. Though he deals with the depraved entities of Nirn, forging contracts with devils and snakes alike, he considers himself a champion of the mortal species and wishes to not only restore absolute order to the world, but to reclaim the divine powers that so rightfully belong to the mortal race.

    However, this epiphany is born of his own warped reflection of an unnaturally elongated life, one spent in blood-riddled sacrilege, and suffered clarity. And while he sees a majority of the mortal race as harmless cattle, he can separate the larger threats from the herd, and tends to underestimates them. Where forethought and pragmatism drive him to discover and consolidate, his phantom ego and unchecked primal impulses leave him vulnerable to the unseen and unpredictable.

    Baroth isn't completely apathetic, however, as he's fashioned an inner-circle of genuine friends and comrades through these later years. He's joined them in several battles, adventures, and journeys, and he'd gladly defend any of them with his life. But, in his mind, all else pales in comparison to his prophetic duty the mortal race.

    Weapons: Hidden on his person is a slingshot capable of a twenty-foot launch, as well as several push-knives for backup. Most notably, he employs a steel cusped falchion blade with a serrated edge to achieve cleaner cuts, strapped low at his side for angular draws.

    Armour: Baroth is currently donning his emissary garb: a hooded tunic with leather and light iron-plated reinforcement, as well as a matching cloak. This provides plenty of blind-spots for his weaponry, while remaining low-profile enough to support his diplomatic sentiment. He also carries a buckler shield, tri-weaved with steel and dipped in mammoth’s blood, making it harder to break as well as heavier to wield.

    Misc.Gear: Packs an extra change of clothes (tunic, trousers, boots, undergarments, etc), as well as dried rations, maps detailing legal territories, and short novels. He keeps the medallions of his gods close at hand, in case of short-hand prayer and ritual.

    Known Spells: Baroth is mostly practiced in soul and blood magick, but stronger spells require strenuous, ritualistic preparations; while weaker spells can drain the clarity and vigor of his targets, trick them into a hypnotic and suggestible state, and permit a small area of undismissable fog, they also require a fair amount of focus. He is notorious for reanimating his victims in battle and effectively using his blood magick in lieu with his condition for chaotic results, though it drains him considerably. Alternatively, he is versed in some minor alteration and destruction spells with low strength and cost. (i.e. faint lighting, jolting shocks, fabricated speech, etc)).

    Fighting Style: As a seasoned warrior and night-spawn, Baroth is equally comfortable causing mayhem in the midst of battle, as he is raining hail down from a distance, as he is ominously hunting his prey one by one. He engages with one weapon and a shield traditionally, using a combination of soul and blood magic to weaken his foes. He’s also intimate with the crossbow, any variety of reaching melee weapons, as well as several forms (often dead and forgotten) of hand-to-hand combat. Generally, he kills his opponents outright with furious strokes and controlled flurries, but if someone tempts him, he’s swift in disabling them with a razor’s edge. From there, death is sure to follow.

    Dialogue Color: Intrigue Purple

    Background: Born to the ancient land of Atmora, Baroth had to struggle for most of his young life in the chaotic country of wild men. In the wake of a civil war, the boy was left with nothing and clawed through bloodshed to face the bitter end of all warriors. But as he lay dying, a disembodied voice echoed in his skull, asking if he wanted to live forever. His fear of death blinded him to the lifetime of unholy sacrilege ahead, as he resigned to die as a man, and return as a Son of Coldharbour.

    As he entered the new world and left his brethren behind for good, he’d spend decades exploring a young, untamed Tamriel, and many more filling his master’s diabolical plots. He became entangled in the living cultures, sciences, and histories of the world, adopting commonplace names and titles; most notably, that of a knightly, trustworthy servant and emissary. Somewhere in between, he met and slayed a lycanthrope, suffering its contagious bite. Much to his dismay, his master confessed to luring the beast to Baroth and advised he make a pact with the Great Huntsman, and accept this new cocktail of power. With little choice, a naive Baroth played into the larger game, accepting the risk that came with it; a breed of warrior easily manipulated by both/ either of the Daedric Princes, essentially incapable of disloyalty.

    In the Second era, as his master was occupied with the Planemeld, Baroth intended to cash in on his plans of misdirection, inciting a coupe within the ranks. However high the stakes had been, and whatever he’d truly hoped to achieve, it was all for naught. His plot was discovered by the Corruptor, and he was hauled off to Coldharbour for two-hundred years of "correction and repentance". When he emerged, Baroth had been ‘reborn’ as a leashed hound with poisoned blood, a cur kept tightly at his master's side. But not all was undone. Beneath his skin, the man’s revelations had only festered and bloomed seeds of prophecy in his mind. He’d settle for a pawn no longer, but a self-proclaimed prophet, and there was much work to be done.

    In closing a couple of annual contracts with northern merchants, Baroth rapidly became aware of the “change in leadership” Skyrim had undergone, as well as the accompanying issues. So, with permission from his master, Baroth has proceeded into the province to investigate, fully intending to uncover and subdue the source of the newfound disturbance in Skyrim.
     
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    DeadlyDalliances: 1 Point (Very unique character!) Jan 11, 2022
    #10 fellowknight, Jan 11, 2022
    Last edited: Jan 14, 2022
  11. DeadlyDalliances

    DeadlyDalliances New Member

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    Sorry it’s taken me sooo long to get here, @Telleroftales cc incoming!

    Name: Thalia Frostthorn
    Race: Redguard
    Sexuality: Heterosexual
    Gender: female
    Age: 28

    Appearance: Thalia is a female redguard, with piercing,pale blue eyes, and light, caramel coloured skin. She has some curves, though years of hard living have made her unlikely to draw the eye. Her hair is black and bound into a long ponytail, often tucked into her tunic.

    Armour: Thalia wears a mix and match set of leather and chain mail armour. The majority of the armour is light enough to allow her to move and fight quickly. A leather “skirt” of sorts protects the back of her legs.

    Weapons: A long scimitar, though her preferred weapons is her magicka. She has learned several minor and apprentice spells . Generally, they are based around lightning and cold.

    Misc gear: A warm set of clothing, complete with furred cloak. Several septum’s, and some minor gems.

    Personality: Generally cool headed and reserved, Thalia has a burning hatred for the Vigilants of Stendarr. Her interactions with others are generally cool and she is slow to trust.

    Background: Born in a small farm outside of Dawnstar, Thalia realized her magical potential as a young child, though this discovery came at a tragic price. One day, when playing in her garden, she accidentally summoned a minor daedra, a scamp.

    Her father managed to slay the monster with his wood axe. Though Thalia was saved, the vigilants were alerted, and investigated. Fearing for his daughters safety, he claimed to be the one who had summoned the scamp.

    The vigilants hauled him off, never to be seen again. This event instilled an unending hatred of the vigilants in Thalia, and ever since, she’s fought them, nurturing her arcane abilities to better combat them. Lately, an announcement by the high king has put her quest for vengeance on hold…
     
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  12. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Very nice characters, everyone. We should be good to start tomorrow.
     
  13. FelidaePrime

    FelidaePrime New Member

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    Sounds good to me. I'll be waiting for the ic thread to pop up.
     
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  14. FelidaePrime

    FelidaePrime New Member

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    Alright, my intro is up. I've also decided to use this pale grey as my dialogue, to make it easier to discern from standard text.
     
  15. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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    Noted. I'll edit that in the cast list.
     
  16. DeadlyDalliances

    DeadlyDalliances New Member

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    Hopefully no one minds Thalia doing a little snooping. Also, I've decided to use this salmon pink for dialogue.
     
  17. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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  18. DeadlyDalliances

    DeadlyDalliances New Member

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  19. DrearyDay

    DrearyDay New Member

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    Can probably post for kjol tomorrow
     
  20. Telleroftales

    Telleroftales New Member

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