Info Character Profiles

[Gunnbjorn]

All of that will be explained in my Fan Fiction. Get to reading to keep up, the first 3 chapters are already out. Link is in my signature.

 

[Agent C]

Character name: Olaf
Race: Nord
Class: One-Handed Warrior
Gender: Male
Looks: Looks like Ralof. Except that Olaf has a beard down to his chest braided. And his hair is a darker shade of blonde.
Personality: Nice to people he knows, dislikes other races but tolerates them, tad bit cocky.
Combat Prefs: Steel Sword, with a Steel Shield, and a full set of Steel armor.
Misc: He is 23 years old. He was born in Riverwood. When he turned 4 he made his first sword out of wood. Iron sword at 7, steel by 8. He is cousins with Alvor.

And I have another one:

Character name: Activous Ravious Peaus
Race: Imperial
Class: One-Handed Warrior, Archery, Heavy Armor.
Gender: Male
Looks: Looks like Lucan but with hair like Hadvar. Built like an Imperial.
Personality: Funny, outgoing, good people skills, really good at trading, enjoys spending time around people.
Combat Prefs: Full Heavy Imperial set (including sword and shield), Hunting bow w/ 35 Steel Arrows.
Misc: He is 25. Born in Bruma. He was taught the way of sword at 10 by his father, Caesar, who was a Legion Soldier. Taught the way of the bow at 16 from his brother, Julian, also a Legion soldier. At 19, he decided that he wanted to follow in his family's footsteps and join the Legion. He has been a soldier since. He knows nothing else.

 

[Nadir-Natesse]

Name: Nadir-Natesse (only goes by Nadir)​

Race: Bosmer​

Class: Rouge​

Gender: Female​

Looks:​

• Short (5'3''), Light build, Quite athletic
• Shoulder-length auburn hair (natural), two braids on each side; considering dreadlocks.
• Deep red warpaint smeared over her entire face in three thick, curved lines; three flecks under left eye; has a meaning behind it.
• Has a cluster of scars on her right cheek.
• Wears forsworn "armor" by default.

Personality:​

• Nadir is a detached, loner type. She spends most of her time running jobs for whoever she is involved with at the time be it thieves, assassins or mercenaries; she regularly cavorts with those types and a like-minded individual could see it easily. She left Valenwood for Skyrim with the sole purpose of becoming a werewolf, though she keeps this objective to herself. She is fiery, but controlled; she does not suffer fools, but she also knows how to pick her battles. She would sooner let you taunt her now and slice your throat from the shadows later. When you get to know her, she is a witty, interesting individual, full of jokes and good-natured sarcasm. She keeps a journal of her travels and because of her slight absent-mindedness she tends to leave it behind on occasion. It is never stolen, but often defaced.

Skills/Perks:

• Archery (Master)
• One-Handed, specializing in daggers (Adept)
• Sneak (Expert)
• Destruction (Apprentice; education was stunted by journey to Skyrim)
• Alchemy, specializing in poisons (Adept)
• Light Armor

Misc.

• Her enchanted Deadric bow (4 sec. paralysis) is named "Severance" and her enchanted Deadric dagger (fire damage + health absorb) "Valtieri".
• She faithfully observes the Green Pact, though she only consumes the bodies of foes who offered a worthwhile battle.
• She's oblivious to the sexual appeal of her armor; it simply reminds her of the same thing she wore while in Valenwood.
• The heaviest armor she will wear is scaled; she detests heavy armor and has trouble traveling with those who wear it.
• She often complains about Skyrim's climate, especially to the far North.
• She is relatively fluent in the language of the dark elves, though she only uses it when infuriated.
• Her biggest pet peeve is being touched on her face. It annoys her to no end.

 

[Neverwin]

Name: Sverr the Short-tempered
Race: Bosmer
Class: Warrior/Adventurer/Treasure Hunter
Gender: Male


Looks: If you were to catch a glimpse of him outside of his armor, you would see what looks to be a typical Bosmer in physical structure. However, his dark eyes probably look quite a bit wilder and have a sort of mad gleam to them. His light blonde hair is worn at shoulder-length and is always rather messy and scraggly looking. He also may appear to be a bit more muscular than the average Bosmer. Unfortunately, it is very rare for him to ever take off his armor (he even wears it while sleeping), which is a full Steel Plate set (helmet, armor, gauntlets, boots). He still appears to be rather short, and it is clear that the short mass of heavy armor completely swallows the person inside.

Personality: Sverr is quite sociable, loud, and boisterous. It's quite obvious that he purposely tries to make his voice deeper and gruffer-sounding, but he doesn't seem to succeed at this very well. He is fun-loving, adventurous, prone to drunkenness (mainly because he insists on drinking heavy liquor despite the fact that he absolutely cannot hold his liquor) and engaging in "friendly" tavern brawls, plays the hero but has a slight greedy streak, and he's a womanizer (or tries to be). Despite his title as "the Short-tempered," he actually doesn't have much of a temper at all, preferring to take a "Live and let live" sort of attitude, as well as being the sort who would probably buy a drink for his enemies, if given a chance.

Likes: Women (although, he appears to have a bit of a misogynistic streak), dogs, ale, Nord Mead, meat, treasure (rare items, jewels, gold, etc.), socializing, haggling, fighting, exploring, performing heroic deeds, attending celebrations of pretty much any kind

Dislikes: Sneaking around, roadside bandits and/or assassins preying on unwary travelers, enemy archers, necromancers, undead, vampires, the current conflict brewing amongst Nords on the side of the Stormcloaks and Nords on the side of the Empire, other Bosmer (he still maintains friendliness, but it is forced, stiff, and very much like he wants to end all conversation with that Bosmer as soon as possible), being referred to as "Bosmer, wood elf, or elf."

Combat Prefs: Heavy Armor, Two-Handed (wields a Nord Hero Greatsword), Lockpicking, Speech, some Illusion (specifically Rally, Frenzy, Fear, and Calm). Sverr prefers to charge into battle head-first. He is actually quite fast despite all the heavy armor weighing him down, but he can only just barely lift his sword (which mainly leads to him wielding it more like a club than a sword... an accomplished swordsman would probably find his technique very laughable indeed). There have been more than a few occasions where he's had to use a Fear spell to get enemies to run from a battle or where he's had to perform what he calls strategic repositioning (he refuses to label it as what it really is... running away).

Bio: Sverr's background tends to be quite a mystery... this isn't because of a mistrustful attitude of others so much as it's from hating to talk about his past. Was he born in Skyrim? Was he raised by Nords? Did he have a fight with family or authorities in Valenwood? Is he crazy? Is Sverr the Short-tempered even his real name? The only thing that is clear is that he has completely rejected his Bosmer heritage and fully embraced a more Nordic way of life. It also seems that he goes to rather ridiculous lengths to appear less like a Bosmer and more like a Nord. Luckily, he has plenty of material with which to change the subject away from his past. He delights in telling tales of his adventures... most of it is even true, if slightly exaggerated.

 

[TheJester]

Name: Galero Donten (a.k.a The Jester)
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Class: Master Thief
Age: 29

Appearance: Galero stands at 5'11 and has a lean but muscular build. He has medium length brown hair and hazel eyes. Galero is clean shaven and tends to look very clean.

Gear / Combat Gear: When Galero is Galero, he is usually in a grey set of fine clothes. But when Galero becomes the Jester, his outfit is completely different. He wears a full set of jesters armor and a mask that covers his eyes and his nose. On his back is a powerful Staff of Incineration which he uses to blast fire into peoples faces. When in combat, Galero also uses the staff as a melee weapon, and is very skilled with it. In his boots are a pair of ebony daggers. He also uses Illusion magic and Destruction magic when needed. When he isn't in costume, Galero keeps his jesters outfit in a knapsack which he carries around. Galero also has a pouch that contains a variety of potions and poisons which he uses when necessary.

Abilities: Galero has enhanced strength, speed, endurance and agility after consuming a special drug. He is also a master of hand to hand combat and can take down the strongest of Nords with his bare hands easily. Kind of a jack of all trades.


Skills:

• Sneak - Master
• Pickpocket - Master
• Lockpicking - Master
• Alchemy - Expert
• Illusion - Expert
• Destruction - Adept

Personality: Galero and the Jester can be considered two different people. As Galero, he seems like a typical man and isn't very suspicious at all. He is very calm and collected and speaks in a suave voice. As the Jester, he becomes more care-free, cracking jokes even in the middle of battle. As a thief, he doesn't care about much other than the things he is going to steal. Though most people think he is a evil clown that kills people just for a bit of septims, Galero is actually a pretty nice guy when he's the jester. But don't trust him too much, cause he'll rob you broke if he gets the chance!

Bio: Most of Galeros past is unknown, but he was born to poor parents in Cyrodil and was forced to steal at a young age. He was a great thief by the age of 12 and moved to Skyrim a few years later. He created a alter-ego known as the Jester and stole from everyone from every hold. He even did jobs for the Dark Brotherhood for the right amount of coin and Galero (as the Jester) is known to be a good friend of Cicero. While in Skyrim, the Jester robbed a alchemist and found a potion that enhanced ones body. No one knows where the Jester currently is, but rumor has it that he intends to hit Whiterun next...

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

(Revamping one of my major characters.)

Name: Alistair
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Age: Early 30's
Class: Ranger

Appearance: Alistair stands tall at around 6'2, complemented with a muscular, yet slender build amassed through years of training and combat experience. His complexion is marred with a handful of brief scars, and his rough stubble and shoulder-length brown hair give off the impression of a rough and grizzled individual. The most prominent feature of his visage are his frost blue eyes, although his gaze can be intimidating to some; his eyes do have a certain vigor and youthfulness to them.

Gear/Skills: As a ranger, Alistair is very proficient in the use of his weapons of choice, lightweight, sturdy steel blade which hangs from his hip in a leather scabbard and a carefully refined wooden bow, with a matching quiver of arrows. Gifted to him many years ago by his Bosmer mentors. Along with this, he also possesses an Elven dagger strapped to his boot.

Alistair always wears lightweight armor, preferring to be light on his feet and dodging attacks rather than absorbing them through several layers of metal plate. He wears a reinforced leather cuirass, boots and bracers; along with a dark pair of trousers and a dark green/grey wool cloak fastened around the neck.

Personality: Mysterious and dangerous are words often used to describe him by those none-the-wiser, and taking into account his physical appearance and quiet, methodical manner it's understandable why some would think that. While it is true he seldom allows himself to get close to others and is soft spoken, preferring to let his actions speak for him, Alistair is by no stretch a criminal. Nor would he harm any innocent person. Around those he trusts he allows himself to open up a bit, occasionally cracking sarcastic remarks or jokes. However, he is quite the realist at times, and believes that the ends justifies the means.

Story: Alistair was born on a farm in the Whiterun Hold of Skyrim to loving parents. His father was a devoted farmer, working hard for hours at a time to feed his family. He was a former scout in the Imperial Legion, retiring after his leg was lamed in battle. Alistair's mother was a herbalist, and was quite skilled in alchemy. As they were hours from the city of Whiterun, the ability to concoct medicine or any other alchemical potions was an invaluable skill. For the first few years of his life, Alistair was as happy as could be.

One day, while on a routine trip to Whiterun for supplies, Alistair's father was ambushed by bandits. They took the goods and killed his horse; before severely wounding him and leaving him to bleed out. When Alistair and his mother heard the news, they were distraught. Things would be much harder around the farm, and it didn't help that Alistair's mother was beginning to fall ill.

As the weeks passed, her illness became worse and worse. Her alchemical concoctions were able to stall the symptoms, but not cure her ailment. With no alternative in sight, she revealed to Alistair that his father was born in Valenwood, the home of the Bosmer. There he; after being left by his parents who operated a caravan, was fostered by a Wood Elf named Faewen. She also revealed that she was sending Alistair to live with him, concerned for him and knowing she couldn't support him much longer. So, the young child was given his dying mother's blessing and was sent off on a dangerous journey across Tamriel.

As the wagon passed through the foreign and exotic jungles which were teaming with life, the young boy could not help but feel as if he was on another planet. Strange animals and plant-life were everywhere you looked. Trees as tall as the White-Gold Tower blotted out the sky. It was a new world he had stepped into, a strange and aberrant world. Alistair's arrival was not a surprise to the grizzled and aging Bosmer, as the boy's mother had sent a letter beforehand. The aging Bosmer tried to be friendly with the now adolescent Alistair, but he was angry. Angry at the cowards who killed his father, angry at the world for all the wrong it had done him and angry at Faewen for trying to help him. It didn't help that he received word his mother had died during the trip. Those were darker days for the child, he had never hated anything before in his life.

Overtime, Alistair became more comfortable with Faewen. The Bosmer was an experienced ranger, although now much older, he still knew a thing or two about combat and hunting. Wanting to prevent the same injustices that took his father happening to others, Alistair trained with his new mentor. Together they sparred, seasoned their archery skills and hunted in the dense wilderness of Valenwood, and explored much of Tamriel together. Spending months or even years in different provinces. Alistair was flourishing, after years of honing his skills he was becoming an experienced ranger himself. Faewen was proud to see the boy grow, even as he became older and older. After decades of training, Alistair had become a young man, surpassing the now very old Faewen in terms of skill.

Now that he was of age, it was time for Alistair to live his own life, make his own path. He thanked Faewen for all he had done, for taking him in and raising him well; before setting out on his own journey. His life as a peasant farmer is but a distant memory, he's moved beyond that now. Now he is older, it's been nearly ten years since he left Valenwood. Although he's seen much death and violence in those ten years, he believes there is good to be found; that the world is worth fighting for.

 

[Disturbed0n3]

Character name: Tiberius Final
Race: Imperial
Class: Battlemage/Spellsword
Gender: Male.

Looks: 6'2, 20 years old, muscular build, large for an Imperial, long Auburn hair, green eyes, scruffy beard, Facial tattoos. (The Waved imperial face paint that focuses around the mouth, will add a pic eventually)

Gear: Dwarven gauntlets, boots, chest, and shield, mage hood, war axe and Broadsword.

Personality: Quiet and reserved, values honor, freedom, wisdom and efficiency in battle, but power above all else.

Combat Prefs: One-handed, carries a broadsword, war axe, and shield, proficient in Restoration, destruction and conjuration.
Misc: everything else not covered by other areas

History; Born in the Imperial City in Cyrodil, he grew up an urchant on the street, acting as the eyes and ears for anyone with coin, transporting certain valuables from one location to another, taking what jobs he could to survive, as soon as he was old enough his first purchase was an iron sword, he would continue this lifestyle until he was old enough to join the Legion at 18, he was then posted as a guard in the Imperial city itself, given his knowledge of the City. He proudly served this post for several years until the Thalmor began to enforce their treaty harshly, dragging Talos worshipers away in secret at night, projecting their so called "superiority" on the good citizens of the empire, until one day he was ordered to assist in the arrest of an old woman, accused of practicing Talos worship in secret. With no evidence to be found, Final opted to let her go, the Thalmor wouldn't stand for it, and pressed for an arrest, the situation quickly grew out of hand a fight ensued, before he knew what he was doing, Final drew his sword and cut down the Thalmor agent closest to him in one motion, then turned and charged the second, thrusting his sword into the Elves gullet just as the Elf charged up a Lightning bolt, the third had already been overwhelmed and beaten to near death by the angry citizens, the area quickly erupted into chaos, Final ordered the accused and her family to flee the city; as these actions would not go unanswered. He himself slipped out in the confusion and headed North, he had heard of the rebellion in Skyrim, and knew that's where he belonged. Along the way he stopped in Bruma, sold his Legion gear and purchased all the tomes and books he could, after a brief study with the Local healers in the chapel he set off once again towards Skyrim, once in Skyrim he came across Avanchnzel, a Dwarven ruin, he took shelter in the cave entrance way where he found the body of an adventurer dawned in Dwarven armor, he dare not venture further, seeing the deceased as a warning. He stayed the night and when morning came he stripped the adventurer of his armor and supplies, and moved on.

 

[Neverwin]

Gonna make another character. *lol* Hope that's all right...

Name: Great-Comfort
Race: Argonian
Class: Healer/Maid
Gender: Female

Looks: Great-Comfort has red eyes (like most Argonian females), green scales, and long horns that curl downwards which are pierced. She has a rather curvy build, although it may be difficult to notice sometimes with the robes (Apprentice Robes of Restoration; a gift from a generous as well as amorous "client") she wears. She does not wear any headgear and for footwear, she only has footwraps.

Personality: Great-Comfort is generally calm and quiet, but she is not shy. In fact, she is very warm and welcoming to others. She just prefers to listen rather than talk. She is optimistic. If someone seems to show some "interest" in her or if they are sufficiently inebriated, she will behave in a more flirty manner but this is mostly conducted quietly as well. Smiles, light touches, showing a little more "scale." She is humble, perhaps even to the point of being too hard on herself. She is not a depressed individual, however. She seems to have accepted her role of being used by others. She is a pacifist and will not even attempt to hurt anyone unless it is the most dire of circumstances. She also will not steal from others nor consume alcohol.

Likes: Flowers, swimming, children, kind people, cleaning, helping others, tree sap, flirting, certain adult activities with a heavy preference for being paid

Dislikes: Wars, slavery, killers, necromancers, cold, meat, skeevers, arguing

Items She Typically Has: 3 septims, Apprentice Robes of Restoration, Footwraps, Broom, a few potions, a few alchemical ingredients

Combat Prefs: Restoration (very skilled and has a large supply of health and magicka), Alchemy (can make healing, magicka, and cure disease potions moderately well but nothing else), Alteration (Mage Armor only), Illusion (Calm only), Sneak. She does not carry any kind of weapon, though, she does carry a broom with her at all times. In very dire circumstances, she will hit someone with it but only enough to allow herself time and an opening for her escape.

Bio: Great-Comfort's parents were both slaves in Morrowind, though, her mother managed to escape to Cyrodil when she was pregnant with Great-Comfort and her siblings. She grew up poor and has pretty much stayed poor. After her mother died in an accident involving a horse, her and her siblings split up to find work on their own. She lived in Chorrol for a while, spending a lot of time in the Mages Guild studying magic, working as a maid and as a "provider of special services" (having read the book The Lusty Argonian Maid and seeing opportunity there), and healing people for free. She managed to stay slightly above the poverty line and was content with this life, although, she missed her siblings (she managed to keep in contact with two of them but was later contacted about one of them being killed).

Sadly, that life didn't last. She was framed for the murder of a family (in the house she worked the most in), and it couldn't have been a more perfect set-up. She had no alibi (and had, in fact, been inside the house when the murders happened... she did not see the murders or the murderer and didn't even know they had taken place until she heard a single, blood-curling scream and guards came in), she was the only suspect, and the murder weapon (a dagger coated in poison) was found in the little room the family provided for her. Some citizens found it peculiar that the woman known for healing others was a murderer, but other more racist individuals suspected that it was only a matter of time before someone of her kind pulled something like that and had nothing in the way of doubts. She only managed to escape prison through the help of a sympathetic and "curious" guard.

Not wanting to be imprisoned again or attacked for the bounty on her head, she fled to Skyrim to start anew. She ended up in Windhelm like many other Argonians. She wonders what has become of her siblings and is not quite content due to the cold conditions of Skyrim. She continues work as a maid, though finding people to offer her "special services" to has become somewhat more difficult. She does, in fact, sell the potions she makes but only enough to afford ingredients to make more potions with. Magic healing is still free.

 

[JBar2531]

Name: Achilles
Race: Imperial
Class: Warrior
Gender: Male

Looks: 5'9 21 years old. He has a buzz cut. Meduim build. Usually wearing his Nightingale armor. No scars on his face.

Gear: His fathers old sword "Riptide", and his Nightingale Bow. Elven arrows. Nightingale armor. Shield "Aegis."

Personality: Quiet. Fierce while fighting. Likes to help people if they really need it.

Combat Prefs: One Handed. Carries Elven Sword "Riptide". Prefers not to use magic, only uses healing if nessesary.

Misc: Hates Stormcloaks, but does not like politics very much, so he doesnt plan on joining a side in the war.

History: Achilles was born as an oldest child to Jovialis, his father and his mother Aquilla, in a cabin just outside Bruma. When Achilles was 2 they moved to the Imperial City. His younger brother, Patroclus, was born when Achilles was 4. His father was a former Imperial Legionare, but did not want his sons to experience what he did, so discouraged them from joining up. When the Civil War in Skyrim began, his father, (being a blacksmith) and mother (being an alchemist) decided to move to Skyrim to take advantage of the war and sell their weapons, and potions. When they were crossing the border of Skyrim, they were attacked by Stormcloaks once they found out Jovialis was a former Legionare. They slaughtered his mother and father and captured Achilles. Patroclus escaped into the woods. Once they were finished killing his parents they took there belongings from their carriage, including his fathers sword, Riptide. When the Stormcloaks set up camp for the night, Achilles escaped and took Riptide and decapitated 1 of the Stormcloaks. He then attacked a second Stormcloak, who tried to stab him in the chest. Achilles easily side stepped and sliced of the Stormcloaks hands. Achillies then ran into the woods to find his brother. He quickly realized he would need a few septims and some food so decided to walk to Riften. Once he was there he met Brynjolf, a member of the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf quickly propsed for Achilles to join the Theives Guild. Achilles, not having a septim to his name, joined up right away. Achilles still searches for his brother when hes not performing tasks for the Theives guild or Nightingales or hunting down Stormcloaks. Although he suspects Patroclus to be dead, he refuses to stop looking until he finds evidence.

 

[.ol0w0lo.]

Name: Swain the Man-Child

Sex: Male

Race: Half Nord, Half Redguard

Age: 23

Appearance: The bastard son of a Redguard merchant, Swain is a man with the skin of a redguard. From his birth, Swain has been incapable of growing hair on any part of his body, including his head. His eyes are brown, and over his left eye is a small scar, a reminder of the first street fight of his youth.

Equipment: Black Robes, laced with a silver trim. Black boots and gloves. While Swain does own a dagger, he much prefers the use of magic.

Skills: Self taught Mastery of Conjuration, a superficial understanding of Destruction Magic. Vast knowledge of Nordic, Yokundan, and Cyrodiilic mythology, courtesy of the books of the Arcaneum.

Personality: Having been orphaned as a child, Swain is an introvert. He rarely speaks, even to those that he considers to be his closest friends. He can be rather immature in his thoughts, despite his vast knowledge of magic, geography, and mythology.

Backstory: Swain's mother, a Nord from Falkreath, had been convinced by Swain's father to leave with him for Hammerfell, under the pretense that they would be married. The couple set off on their journey, deeply in love with one another, searching for a place to call home. All was well for six months. When she told the man that she was with child, he revealed the shady details of his life to the woman, revealing that he was already married, and had a family to provide for already. Gisla and her unborn son were left to die in a strange land. Swain was born on a warm night in the city of Sentinel, his mother dying after giving birth.
From the moment of his birth, Swain was moved from orphanage to orphanage, wondering why his parents hadn't wanted him. He tried his hardest to be like the other kids. He ran and jumped and skipped with the best of them, but to no avail. Finally, after years of trying, Swain succeeded in getting adopted. He and his new family set off for their home in Markarth, but small luxuries, such as family and love, were not in the cards for Swain. At the tender age of eight, Swain witnessed the murder of his adoptive parents as they crossed the border into Skyrim. He watched in horror as the bandits abused his mother, verbally and sexually. He watched as they skinned his father.

He was then taken by the bandits to later be sold to the highest bidder. Luckily enough, the bandits did not live long enough to find such a bidder. A year after his abduction, when he was nine, Swain stood witness as a nord named Beua brutally murdered the bandits, stripping them of all of their possessions. Swain wanted nothing more than to accompany his savior in his travels, but the Nord would hear nothing of it. Beau promptly escorted Swain to the Honorhall Orphanage in the Rift.

This orphanage wasn’t even vaguely similar to the orphanages of Hammerfell. While in Hammerfell, the caretakers neglected the orphans unintentionally, this Grelod the Kind seemed to hate the children. She often beat them, and they never saw any prospects or potential parents.

Eventually, Swain decided that he had had enough. Seven years after having arrived at Honorhall, he had finally decided to leave. He was sixteen, and while he was far older than most other orphans, Grelod had continued to keep him locked up in the orphanage with the others. In the dark of the night, he snuck out of the orphanage, and the Rift, heading north, away from Grelod, and hopefully, toward a new, bright future.

The Redguard eventually made his way to a desolate city called Winterhold. At the far end of the city was a rather large building that resembled a castle. As he navigated through the small, barren city, he learned that the castle was in fact a college of magic. Swain had never seen or even heard of magic before arriving in Winterhold, and for him to be so close to an institution dedicated to teaching it was reason enough for him to investigate. He scurried up to the college, where he found his new home. The rest is history.

 

[KeenEyes]

Name: Sylkus Keen-Eyes
Race: Bosmer / Argonian
Gender: Male
Age: 24

Appearance: A rare hybrid, Sylkus has looks of a Bosmer, but has green scales all over his body, except for his face. Even though his face is not scaled, it is still a green hue. Sylkus has a slightly muscular, skinny build. He has brown eyes and is clean shaven. Sylkus' hair is also a odd green, but is darker.

Class: Ranger
Equipment: Sylkus carries a hand-carved long bow and hand-crafted steel arrows. Strapped to the side of his upper arm is a glass dagger. He also carries a iron sword in a leather scabbard. Sylkus' armor is leather armor, though he doesn't wear a helmet, thinking it gets in the way of his vision. He also have a small pouch on his waste containing some potions and poisons.
Combat: In combat, Sylkus prefers to use his long bow whenever he can. He only uses his sword when he really needs it. His dagger does not see combat much, and is used more as an utility knife. Sylkus is very agile and fast, but does not do well in close combat with those stronger than him, as he is skinny.

Allies: Sylkus has a pet golden eagle named Flight that is with him all the time. If Sylkus is indoors, Flight will wait on top of the building he is in until he comes out. Flight is very loyal and she would never abandon Sylkus.

Skills: Archery, Sneak, Alchemy, One-Handed, Light Armor, Wilderness Survival, Animal Communication.

Personality: Sylkus is quiet, as he does not have any friends. People call him shy, or socially awkward, which is all kind of true. His lonely childhood was a big factor for this. If you do get him to talk though, you will find that Sylkus is very kind. He does not enjoy fighting, and likes the peacefulness of the wilderness. He dislikes Nords, as they have been branded "drunkards who started a civil war" in his mind.

Bio / Backstory: Sylkus was born in Arenthia, Valenwood. His father was a Argonian and his mother was a Bosmer. He does not know his father, as he abandoned Sylkus and his mother after Sylkus was born. His mother was named Cuwaen and she was a beautiful Bosmer who fell in love with a Argonian trader. After Sylkus was born, his Argonian father did not want the responsibility of taking care of a child, so he left and never came back.

Sadly, Sylkus never really knew his mother either, because she died after giving birth to him. She only had time to name Sylkus before she died. He was raised in an orphanage from then on and no one liked him. His freakish appearance appalled all who saw him.

At the age of 8, Sylkus' uncle came and got him. His uncle, Elwilorn, did not have a good relationship with his sister, Cuwaen. Because of this, he did not know that she died and gave birth to a child until now. Elwilorn brought Sylkus to a small village outside Falenesti. Even there, people avoided Sylkus because of his appearance.

When Sylkus was 12, Elwilorn decided to teach him how to hunt. Elwilorn was very skilled with the bow and taught Sylkus everything he knew. The boy was a natural, and Elwilorn gave him the name Keen-Eyes, for his accuracy with the bow, and also because of his Argonian heritage.

Elwilorn caught an illness when Sylkus was 18 and died soon after wards. This saddened Sylkus very much, and all he had left of his uncle was his prized glass dagger. After Elwilorn died, Sylkus was quickly kicked out of the village, and since he had no uncle to protect him, he was forced to leave.

Sylkus wandered around Valenwood for 2 years, living in the wilderness. One day he found a young golden eagle with a broken wing. Sylkus patched it up and the eagle followed him around everywhere. He named the bird Flight and she has been with Sylkus ever since.

After hearing great tales of adventure, Sylkus decided to go to Skyrim, and start a new life. It took a while to go through Cyrodil, but soon he made it. Sylkus was shocked at the fact that when he arrived, a civil war had started. Not wanting to turn back, he decided to continue on and find a new home.

 

[mast3rlinkx]

I suppose I could use this guy for Freeform.


Name: Nbthlad Balgorn

Age: 150

Gender: Male

Race: Dwemer/Deep Elf/Dwarf

Class: Battlemage/Engineer

Current Residence: He has a home in Nzalthalan, but due to its distance, he rarely visits it.

Belief/Religion: He worships the typical Gods of Logic that the Dwemer revere as a whole.

Titles/Honorifics: He was ranked fairly high as far as engineering goes, but he never brags about his skill.

Profession: Engineer/Mechanic

Attributes: Intelligence, Endurance, Speed, Wisdom

Skills: Smithing, One-Handed, Destruction, Restoration, Heavy Armor, Engineering

Weaponry: Dwarven Sword and his machines

Vernacular: Dwemer, Common

Mannerisms: Quiet, withdrawn, humble

Morals: He doesn't like killing, but if one of his machines kills someone, he doesn't consider that kill his, but the machine's.

Appearance:
In armor:

In Casual Wear (and for size reference):

Artwork is not mine. I am merely using it.

Personality: Nbthlad is not very talkative. He prefers to let his hands do the talking, which usually results in a machine of war or a utility machine. However, he can be proven to be a loyal ally. As evidenced by his leaving his city of birth, he is not as seclusive as most of his race, and is actually quite open to otherraces. What little he says always carries weight. Nbthlad does not speak empty words. He prefers to let his machines fight for him, but if direct combat is necessary, he will engage in it. He also tends to become attached to his machines, as may be common among Dwemer when they build a machine.

Biography: Nbthlad was born into a family of some power among the Dwemer of his native city of Nzalthalan, located deep in Blackreach, located inSkyrim. In fact, Nzalthalan is located under ground that is underwater, and has no buildings on the surface of the ground it's under, which explains why it went undiscovered. Its residents still don't know how they were spared from the disappearance of their fellow Deep Elves. To leave his city and venture into the world above, Nbthlad had to venture to the ruins of Mzulft and use its Great Lift, which, to his surprise, was still functional. The surface was not what he expected at all.

Fatal Flaw:Due to residing solely with other Dwemer his whole life and speaking only his native language, he didn't learn Common until he ventured to the surface. As such, his words are extremely accented, and others may have trouble understanding him because of his extremely thick accent. He also has a tendency to lapse into his native language in a conversation.

 

[UnLonged]

CHARACTER NAME: Wostrun Grace

RACE: Breton
GENDER: Male
LOOKS: Long wavy blonde hair. 5'4" in height. Slightly gaunt facial structure. Thin almond eyes tinted in crimson red, illusion magicka colors the eye a more human looking dark brown. Pale white skin. Light body build.

CLASS: Illusionist
EQUIPMENT: "Celestial Fury": Self-enchanted akaviri type sword; electrocutes and, if resistance is low, stumbles the stricken. Silver locket that radiates energy like that of the sun's rays; capable of shielding someone from the coldest and strongest of blizzards, and slight rejuvenation of the body - designed to be anti-vampire (seldom wears it as it burns his skin; acts as a keepsake of something "that was left behind"). High-class clothing even in battle.

COMBAT: He prefers others to do the fighting for him, either his undead minions or his enemies themselves, while he watches from the shadows, but if the situation calls for it, he is fully capable of melee combat.

BACKGROUND: Wostrun Grace is a simple man with simple tastes, despite being actually the heir of Gracelands, a medium sized town located in the Northern area of the Reach hold. He aspired to be an enchanter like his mother and a great swordsman like his father. Engaged to a beautiful lady named Lea Sunkiss. Always seeking the unknown, he often visited their local mage to study the arcane arts. These studies lead him to one of the oldest of arcane archives, an Elder Scroll.

With good intention in him, he wanted to use the scroll to see the fate of Gracelands in the future so that his rule over it can be without flaw. But with little knowledge on the workings of the scroll, he unintentionally forced himself into a parallel timeline, where Gracelands, and it's people, didn't exist, creating a Dragon Break.

Wostrun indulged himself in studies regarding dragon breaks, while at the same time, replicating the sensation of having his family and his love around through enchantments and illusions. Years go by, and still unsuccessful, he grew ill and unable to carry on. Desperate, he prayed to the daedric prince of wishes and bargains, Clavicus Vile. He wished that the daedric prince would rid him of his illness and enable him to carry on with his task, and Clavicus did just that. He transformed Wostrun into a vampire, ridding him of mortal diseases, and capable of living for years a simple man cannot.

Now a shadow of what he once was, Wostrun carried on with his undead life the way he now knows how, by taking the lives of people, ranging from the lowest of scavengers to the rulers of men, satisfying his beastly desires. Fully capable of adept-level necromancy, he travels from one grave to another, raising the dead to do his bidding and to keep him company (what would a master be without his servants?) while he waits until the time comes that the dragon break would end and that the reality he once knew and the reality he now lives in would reconnect.

 

[Hale Loneshadow]

(I think mine got lost in the shuffle, so I'm just gonna revamp my guy)

Name: Hale Loneshadow

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Race: Imperial/Breton mix.

Class: Ranger

Appearance: As above. Black hair, short and scruffy/rugged sideburns, rugged, tough but young features. Unique armor for his status as a Ranger Captain.

Skills: One-Handed, Archery, Restoration and Destruction magic (more emphasis on restoration). As a Ranger, he has unique skills when it comes to archery, and is in tune with the ways of nature. He has nearly unparalleled tracking skills as well, his natural abilities the reason he was made a leader among the Rangers so young. Has most experience with killing vampires, werewolves, and the occasional dremora, and as such his armory will mostly consist of weapons focused on killing the evil.

Equipment: Enchanted armor allows for great protection against the undead, especially vampires, and destruction magic. His longsword, Glamring, is elvish in design, and is infused with the essence of a dremora lord, which in turn causes added damage and fear to all evil creatures (dremora, vamps, etc). His bow, Elendil, is blessed with the sun-fire and shock spells.

Personality: While out adventuring, whether alone or with companions, Hale has an upbeat personality. Nothing suits him like a good adventure, quest, or general mission to kill evil, but women come quite close! Has a sardonic approach to most things, and is not above making witty (to him!) comments during the heat of battle. While his skills are legitimate, Hale is still somewhat young, and therefore is occasionally impulsive, and arrogant, which can lead to some thinking of him as annoying at times. Nonetheless, Hale is unswervingly loyal to any allies and friends (and sometimes to lovers ). His charm and smile are enough to disarm many, from the angry drunk, to the cold-eyed woman across the room.

Backstory: Hale was taught his skills as a Ranger from when he was very young, by his mentor Avalin the Seeker. Brought up around other rangers, Hale learned the ways of the Wilds quickly.
His closest friends are Peregrin Longrove and Ayaden Silverstream (my two other characters in-game and who I will use eventually here!).
{Main Story of my Character, abridged for all of your attention spans!}
Hale Loneshadow had always been attuned with Nature and the Wilds, even since a very young age. He supposed that was why Avalin had brought him in after his parents were killed in High Rock, by a ravaging band of vampires. In any case, this life had turned out to be a fulfilling one, at least. There was no end to the adventuring, questing, rescuing, and the killing of evil beings all around Skyrim. Being the Captain of Avalin's particular group of Rangers, Hale was the ranking member, just under Avalin himself. Then again, the ranks meant little to them. They were all brothers and sisters, unaffliated with the bloody civil war consuming the land. Although the dragon threat was ceased by the Dragonborn, thank Kynareth. However, there have been cropping threats of vampires throughout the land recently, something that the Rangers could not ignore. One day, after hearing of a brazen vampire attack within the walls of Whiterun, Avalin had approached Hale Loneshadow with a special task. "Hale, my son," he said, "these vampires are not to be taken lightly. Either these individual groups are part of a huge coven, or small covens are just sprouting all over the world. In any case, each scenario would prove disasterous if they were to gain the upper hand in Skyrim. You MUST go out there, in the Wilds, in the Cities, and in the Underdark (ooc: yes, I'm borrowing RA Salvatore's thing dont sue me), and find out what the bigger picture is. The Dragonborn is already dealing with the Volkihar clan, but something tells this old man that they are only part of this. We know there are more than a few ancient vampire clans resurfacing. If they are working together, that is only worse. Go, my son, and my Kynareth watch over you." The next night, Hale had set out, with all his gear, spells, and his trusty horse, Belshaw. Saying goodbye to his friend Peregrin and Ayaden with a unique spell to talk through Oak trees to reach each other, Hale set out on his journey, starting towards Markarth...

 

[Hale Loneshadow]

Name: Gunnbjorn; created by using two prefixes from Old Norse, means, "War Bear".
Race: Nord
Class: Viking/Barbarian Warrior
Gender: Male
Looks: 6'5" and 225 pounds. No scars, a thick dark brown beard to match his hair color.
Personality: Quiet, he isn't much of a talker anywhere other than the battlefield. His blood-curdling roars intimidate any foe. He loves to scream at the enemy in the middle of battle, and tell jokes to his comrades in the process. His eyes glare through your soul, showing the hatred and fire of pure war. Most believe he had never had parents, but rather a weapon spawn from the Gods built to balance the course of war in Skyrim.
Combat: He carries around two battle-axes at all times. One made of Iron, the other Steel. He has no preference, but rather switches off randomly. He wears a mixture of fur and studded armor. Built only to keep warm, he doesn't believe armor or protection is worth anything. He wants to die in battle, and go to Sovngarde. He doesn't want armor to help. That isn't fair.

Niice! Reminds me of the character Wulfgar from the Drizzt books!

 

[ArcaneArcher]

Name: Cruorin Loyalar
Race: Breton
Gender: Male
Age: 26

Appearance:

Cruorin stands at about 6' and has a muscular yet slim build. He has orange eyes, brown hair with a slight red tint and skin that is dark and tanned

Class: Arcane Archer (Fire Specialty)
Skills: Archery, Conjuration, Destruction, Sneak, Special Fire-Based skills.
Equipment: Cruorin has a custom made bow that is enchanted to resist fire. He does not have any arrows, but relies on arrows he creates by combining conjuration and destruction. His armor is a custom leather/studded armor. Cruorin also wears a leather hood and mask to protect his face. Tied to his waste is a deadly curved steel dagger.
Abilities: Most of Cruorins combat and skills are related to fire. He also has a unique ability which allows him to disappear in a wisp of smoke and appear somewhere else (Basically a short-range teleport. Cannot teleport to a very far range.)

Personality: People usually avoid Cruorin cause he looks menacing under his hood and armor. But really he isn't as 'evil' as everyone thinks. Cruorin loves to speak with sarcasm and has a pretty good sense of humor. He is friendly towards most people he meets, and one you ge tto know him, he isn't that bad!

Bio / Backstory: In the city of Wayrest, Highrock, three magic users were hired to be a Breton nobles personal guard. Rumor had it that the nobles daughter, Celena, had been targeted by assassins due to the fact that her family were disliked by the people of the city. Celenas father was a cruel and selfish man whom everyone hated, and assassins were hired to kill Celena to teach her father a lesson.

Afraid of paid killers reaching Celena, her father enlisted the help of three Breton men named Cruorin, Jamven and Panril. They were all skilled in destruction magic, Cruorin with fire, Jamven with shock, and Panril with frost, respectively.

They were paid a fine amount of money to protect Celena at all costs. They were called "The Royal Guards" by the people of the city. They were with Celena at all times, and though the people hated the nobles family, they had respect for the Guard.

After two months without much happening, the assassins struck. A group of five skilled killers infiltrated Celenas home and reached her room before the Royal Guard realized what was happening. The three fought back, and the fight lasted only two minutes. Sadly, in those two minutes, Jamven was killed and Panril was severly injured after his right arm was cut off.

After the attack, Celenas father decided to move her to Skyrim. Panril stayed behind to protect the rest of the family, while Cruorin was tasked with escorting Celena to Markarth.

After weeks of careful travel, Cruorin reached Markarth. Unknown to him, mercenaries knew they were coming and kidnapped Celena. Cruorin failed his mission, but is devoted to finding Celena again. Currently he is searching Skyrim for clues of where the Celena is.

 

[Cullen Wulf]

Name: Cullen Wulf

Race:Nord

Class: Assassin/warrior

Gender:female

Looks: She a tall (5'8) blonde, muscular for a women, but not in a bad looking way. She has a nasty claw mark like scar that runs down the left side of her face and over her eye, that's now clouded over. Her only good eye, is a bright blue color. She has a rough look about her, and does not seem like some one to mess with.

personality: She is very aggressive and quick to anger. She tends to do what ever she wants, when she wants, and this can cause her to get into trouble, but nothing she cant handle. Most of the time she keeps to her own thoughts, but when shes in a conversation, she can be rude. One of her favorite things to do, besides killing people, is messing with people. Weather, its starting fights, to blaming others for something she stole. If some one messes with her, she will not have the slightest hesitation to kill them.

Bio: Having her whole family murdered by a band of bandits before her eyes as a young child made her who is she today. As the years passed she swore revenge and attempted to track down the bandits who killed her family. On this journey, she was attacked and turned into a werewolf. After eventually, hunting down and killing all the bandits, she became a sell sword, to which she is this day.

Equipment: Daedric amour with a one handed dragon bone sword.

 

[Hale Loneshadow]

My new character! Still gonna use Hale, but just thought of this guy just now whose gonna be WAY different from my first one.

Name: Adnirr'ach Da'rae (Add-near+ahk Day-ray)

Gender: Male.

Race: Half Breton, Half Daemon/possibly Dremora (shows mostly human traits, with storm grey eyes which turn black when in battle or angry).

Appearace: Just like this

Unarmored: Strong, cleanshaven features. Jet black hair with naturally platinum streaks in it. Tall, about 7'1", thanks to his part demon heritage. The cross on his chest doesn't symbolize God (obviously, cause this is Skyrim!), but rather his own personal symbol of hope for anyone who seeks redemption.

Equipment: Heavy duty repeating crossbow, which thanks to his enhanced strength he can wield with one hand when needed. A morningstar, named Varrak, which is infused with a fire spell. A two-handed sword, black bladed, named Voruk-thal. Found and taken by Adnirr'ach when he stepped through a dimensional portal which led him to a similar, yet different world...(ten points if you guess the reference!); it is unnaturally, everlastingly sharp, able to cut through essentially anything. But it is also sentient, and Voruk-thal always tries to break the will of whoever uses it, Adnirr'ach included.
Black, plated armor which is enchanted to provide extra protection against demon/evil creature attacks. Helmet, which seemingly covers his whole face, but is enchanted so he has a full range of vision. Ebony short sword, named Derath, unenchanted, for extra backup.

Skills/Combat Style: Adnirr'ach's supernatural strength allows him to wield his greatsword with ease, allowing for a combat style similar to those who use one-handed or smaller swords. Occasionally uses his repeater crossbow in conjunction with Voruk-thal or Derath. Rarely, but sometimes, duel-wields Voruk-thal and Derath. While he could simply rely on brute force to smash through enemies, he usually prefers technique in conjunction with his enhanced abilities.

Personality: Although he is at times a very brooding individual, Adnirr'ach has been known for his sardonic remarks in and out of combat. Sometimes resorts to dark humor. Nonetheless, he is known for his charismatic leadership abilities, but at the same time knows when to step down and follow. Knows right from wrong, and usually chooses the path of light, but his darkness takes over at times, and he allows himself to make either brutal, or simply immoral decisions. Has a few good and loyal friends, many acquaintances, but few outside of this circle trust him, and for logical reasoning: he IS part demon, after all.

Abridged Backstory: Growing up with his longtime friend and comrade in arms, Landok, he was born to a single mother who died during childbirth. His father was either a daemon or dremora lord who took human form, and while the fact that Adnirr'ach's birth did kill his mother, his daemon father is still alive. The little Adnirrach knows about his father is, that unlike the rest of his clan, his father desired to repent his evil actions of his past, and help those he previously would have hurt. Unfortunately, his father was too far in to get out. Now, Adnirrach has vowed to use his heritage for good, fighting evil and helping the helpless. Unfortunately at times, his demon side gets the better of him, and takes over, making for immoral or destructive decisions on Adnirrach's part. Despite his obvious failings and the fact that it takes a special person to trust him, Adnirrach is stalwart in his mission(s); both to fight evil...and to find his father, and help free him from the daemons and dremora who hold him against his will.

 

[Linamina]

Character name: Baalena
Race: Redguard
Class: Agile warrior/monk
Gender: Female
Looks:

(Armor (in glass form))

Wears a dress with a corset on the outside in her casual time. (Kind of like Ysolda's dress.) She is overall very beautiful in an exotic fashion. Stands 5'10'' and is very lithe and curvy.





Personality: She often acts sly and confident and tends not to get angry, but can be a ferocious and focused fighter.



Combat Prefs: Prefers Melee but uses rune trap spells for tactics. Weapons are a poleblade and a scimitar.

 

[Elric the Evil]

Name: Paol
Race: Breton
Class: Death Knight
Gender: Male
Looks: Paol is a silver haired man. He wears the best armor he can find with a hood. He wears the scars of many failed attempts and practices of the arcane arts.
Personality: Lacks trust of anyone. The only good friend of his is his flaming pet wolf. He fears nothing but death. Hes a quiet man who tends to keep to himself and conjured minions. Because of his fear of death he never uses dead bodies for his assistance. He will put his bound blade into the belly of any who interfere with his current task at hand.
Combat: Conjuration, Used his atronauch companions to do most of his fighting
One Handed, more than efficient at slicing a draugr open with his summoned sword
Heavy Armor, hates when bandits get to close to swing at him but when the do he needs the protection required to save his life.
Misc: Never found much point in fighting other peoples war until the day the imperials decided they wanted to cut a strangers head off for no reason besides entertainment. The events that fell upon him that day drew out pure hatred for those snooty imperials, giving him no choice but to side with the racist nords. By no means does he enjoy their company or beliefs, but it does give him the opportunity to burn and slice imperials daily.