18+ Souls Deadlock [Recruiting]

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    Lifts-Her-Tail

    Well-Known Member
    ~---------------------------------------------------------------------------~
    PLOT
    Dark Times have begun to linger over Skyrim, a new evil and daemonic force is taking action. People have had their very souls taken from them and their bodies have been replaced with a new dark soul, one of pure malice and true greed for power and a greed for death.
    These daemonic forces are beginning to swiftly spread across the rest of Tamriel; many innocent people have suffered cruel and heartless fates, from their own loved ones who no longer have control over their once kind and loving bodies.
    The Priests of Skyrim are trying their best to find a way to drive away these daemon souls, from those unlucky enough to have been possessed by a new dark type of pure insidious evil that has bestowed so many in such little time.
    Time is running out. Many others are beginning to become possessed by evil spirits of depraved darkness and satanistic actions. So the time has come for people to strike back against these soul snatchers and to discover to true malicious entity behind all of this and so the fight begins; the priests have rung their warning bells, the soldiers are ready for a merciless fight against evil, but is there more behind this than what first seems?
    Only time shall tell of what events are to come.
    Only time will tell if Skyrim and the rest of Tamriel will be rid of this unholy evil.
    Or will Tamriel fall to the might of this malevolent coming?
    As it's stated only time will tell.
    And so the fight begins for the mortals homeland and their saviour...
    ~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------~
    PLEASE READ ALL OF THIS!!!!!
    So that is the basic plot for this roleplay. Now I will be reasonably strict in letting people in as I have high expectations for this rp. I would like five people max to join this so I'll be judging character cards to see who I should let in this rp, but I am willing to let another person join in if their character submission is exceptional. So please if you do submit add a sample of your writing which I can review just so I know how your rping style is and how good of a writer you are.
    Now I'm NOT looking for perfect grammar and spelling for all I'm asking of you is that you put a little bit of effort into your card as if it's of poor quality then it's a waste of my time and your own so please try your best in making sure your character card is of fair standard and not something which I'm going to think poorly of thats all I ask of a fair decent effort.
    Your character can be anyone as for this rp I want a lot of character development as it's not all going to be fighting every few posts so yeah make sure your character has emotions which can be linked into the deeper story.
    ~-----------------------------------------------------------------------------~
    Rules:
    • All normal and usual rp rules apply.
    • Swearing, cursing and other adult related things are allowed as this is an 18+ so if you can't take the heat of adult related things then do not join this rp!
     

    Felidae

    The White Wanderer
    Thanks :)

    Name: Felidae (Fe-li-day)
    Alias: 'Geinhaal'
    Race: Khajiit
    Gender: Female
    Age: 21
    Class: Wanderer
    Alignment: True Neutral
    Birthsign: The Thief
    Birthplace: The Ashlands, Vvardenfell

    Appearance: (See Avatar/Album)
    • Lithe and fairly toned body
    • Snow white fur w/ black leopard-like patterns
    • Red braided hair
    • Hooped earrings
    • Deep amber eyes
    • Vivid scar on forehead
    • Twin claw marks on right rib
    • Slave brand on left wrist (hidden by leather gauntlet)
    • 5'6"
    Occupations:
    • Bounty Hunter
    • Mercenary
    • Conwoman
    Major Skills:
    • Archery
    • One-Handed
    • Hand-to-Hand
    • Sneak
    • Speech
    • Light Armor
    Weapons:
    • Repeating crossbow
    • Twin Orcish daggers
    • Air Saber shurikens
    • Bare hands
    Personality:
    Felidae is a quick-witted, yet somewhat arrogant young Khajiit, who despite her age has experienced more during her short time in Tamriel than seems necessary. Despite being stern and sometimes harsh with her choice of words, she has a silver-tongue and is able to win-over almost anyone she wants through smarm and wile; an attribute that proved most valuable during her days as a conwoman. Despite this, Felidae rarely speaks and when she does she only says what she needs to, and doesn't tolerate idle chit-chat. Usually she would much rather settle a dispute through violence than negotiation.
    Having a very modern-girl type of attitude, she welcomes new and advanced weaponry such as repeating crossbows (her favored weapon of choice), and can't help but admire the Dwemer for all their strange contraptions (almost as much as she despises them). To Felidae, anything she considers 'old school' is weak and pointless compared to the superiority of modern weapons.
    Both cunning and ruthless in battle, Felidae uses her wits, speed and unmatched agility to elegantly snag her kills. Whilst she doesn't particularly enjoy killing, she certainly feels no remorse from it and sometimes uses it as a way of releasing pent-up stress; but usually, taking a life is just part of the job and is the only thing she knows she's good at.
    She holds a strong prejudice toward all Elven kind (especially Dunmer) due to her childhood being spent as a slave in a Morrowind mine, but she is struggling to put her past behind her. She also somewhat resents her own race in a way, feeling angry and ashamed of how her kind have sunk to becoming stereotypical thieves and do-badders, shunned by the rest of society (although her own actions can tend to contradict this).
    Whilst not a nasty person, Felidae is mean-spirited at times and has a short temper, resulting in many violent outbursts due to her impatience with other people, even though she can't help it. Despite this, she has a dark sense of humour and sometimes can't help but crack the odd joke, even at someone else's expense. Especially at someone else's expense, and usually dripping with sarcasm. She has also been known to hold enormous grudges and can be quite naive in certain situations, viewing herself as highly superior to other people, but most of the time she's very mature for her age.
    Despite having quite a "cute" outward appearance, the Khajiit can actually be very intimidating if she wants to be; her fiery orange eyes have been said to burn into the very souls of her enemies before she slaughters them.

    Combat Prefs:
    Felidae, preferring the elegant art of stealth over that of pure combat, uses her keen feline eyesight to achieve long distance kills with her repeating crossbow from the cover of darkness, and has the ability to use the weapon with only one hand. If the victim survives the initial attack (which is rare), she isn't afraid to get up close with her trusty twin blades and finish the fight in a much more personal manner. She also takes big advantage of her flexibility and fights in a very acrobatic manner to confuse her opponents, using cartwheels, somersaults and dives, almost like a dance. Albeit a very complex, deadly dance.
    Hidden under the cover of her poncho she wears a leather bandoleer equipped with twelve Air Sabre shurikens which she can use with pin-point accuracy, managing to hit arteries and other vital areas of the body with little effort. These unique throwing stars are used when the target is too close for a crossbow kill but too far for melee, and are also often used for a surprise attack; being thrown before the opponent even knows that her hands have left her poncho. If done right she has the ability of taking out up to five or even six enemies at the same time, although this is very rare and usually she can only take out around three using this method. Felidae disdains the use of her claws in combat, considering it barbaric and unsophisticated, and will always prefer to use her fists instead if engaged in unarmed combat.
    She is usually underestimated by her opponents due to her unassuming size and frame, which most of the time is a big advantage to her in combat as it gives her the element of surprise, even though she is actually quite tall for a female Khajiit. She has no interest whatsoever in the arcane arts, and barely raises an eyebrow when watching mages perform big, flashy destruction spells, remaining completely unimpressed by their magical abilities (however, impressive feats of archery have been known to occasionally win her over, even if she tends not to show it). She is exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand combat, even for a Khajiit, and knows many ways of taking down an armed opponent larger than herself, although she struggles when pitted against multiple opponents.
    Felidae loathes heavy armour as she can barely even move in it, let alone fight, and two-handed weapons are practically useless when wielded by her (usually resulting in a lot of nasty toe injuries). She doesn't even bother with magic, considering it far too complicated and preferring to leave her whiskers intact.
    She has been known to only use her right hand when doing everyday things such as eating, drinking, writing and even hand-to-hand fighting, her left remaining hidden beneath her poncho in case a situation arises that forces her to quickly grab a weapon, which tend to be her shurikens. For this reason, she has been dubbed the somewhat unflattering alias 'Geinhaal', meaning 'one-handed' in the Dovah language.

    Misc:
    Having been raised by an upstanding Legion captain in the Imperial City for ten years of her life, Felidae's speech is unlike that of most Khajiit; being more Cyrodillic in accent, spoken in first-person and losing most (if not all) of the nasal inflection that is common among the native cats of Elsweyr. She has a very standard, monotone kind of dialect, and she never uses slang (some have even regarded her accent as being 'posh'). However, this is mostly unapparent as she speaks only when she feels the need to, remaining quiet and reserved most of the time. She has no personal opinions of the civil war; viewing the chaos as an effective cover for any shady business she's currently getting involved in, and making it easier to slip around unnoticed. Although she does maintain a slight level of empathy for the soldiers on either side, and feels the carnage is just a waste of decent warriors, she mostly considers the war as being none of her concern. She also has no religious beliefs and doesn't really care whether the gods are real or not, as they have done nothing to either hinder or help her in her adventures.
    Felidae is mainly a drifter, travelling from town to town, village to village, never staying in one area for too long and taking whatever jobs are thrown at her, as long as they involve killing (although if someone was to ask about what line of work she's in, most of the time she'd call herself a bounty hunter). However, despite not being too fussed about which jobs she takes up, if there's one thing that's more important to her than money, it's dignity, and there are definite limits to how low she's willing to go to get paid.
    People often assume (wrongly) that she's an assassin due to the skintight black armour she wears, which only results in aggravating her due to the stereotype people associate with her kind. As for the Dark Brotherhood, Felidae has no desire whatsoever to join their ranks; she may be a killer, but she's not cold-blooded.
    Felidae wears a brown leather gauntlet on her left hand to hide the black Fabricant slave-mark burned onto her wrist when she was a child (although she claims she wears it to help her archery). She has no need nor want of friends and family, as past experience has taught her relationships can only lead to hurt and betrayal, and would act only as a hindrance in her travels. This makes it extremely difficult for her to trust other people and make friends. She has no interest whatsoever in men, and considers most of them as dirty, egotistical brutes obsessed with sex and violence, so she could be considered asexual due to her lack of interest in other people.
    Growing close to someone is her only fear (although she does suffer from quite a severe case of claustrophobia after a childhood spent crawling through cramped tunnels, and for this reason has a huge love of the outdoors).
    If she could be summed-up in one word, it would be 'austere'.

    RP Sample:
    Meanwhile, Felidae was perched on a small rock outcrop a short distance from camp, crossbow in hand. The night air chilled her to the bone now that they weren't on the move, and as an icy breeze whistled through the valley she shrank further into her thick poncho, trying in vain to keep out the worst of the cold. A deep frown was etched upon her face.
    The possibility of a Forsworn attack at some point during the night was still very high, no matter what the Elf had said. These hills were infested with the bastards, and to say that there'd be no chance of an ambush occurring? Well, it was a ridiculous claim to say the least.
    Felidae shivered slightly, and looked back at the welcoming glow of the fire where Falcion was seated. Several large cuts of meat were sizzling away on the spit, their tantalizing scent making her nose twitch with excitement. A gnawing hunger began to take hold, but she sniffed haughtily and turned back to her sombre vigil, ears flattened against her head; if anyone thought she'd sink low enough to eat the Elf's foul conjured victuals, then they should think again.

    Gritting her teeth against the cold, Felidae retrieved a small leather hip-flask from her belt and sipped at it, the liquid inside burning the back of her throat but having little effect on the rest of her body. She sighed heavily, and was just hooking it back in place when she caught some movement out the corner of her eye, causing her to freeze instinctively, ears now perked in rapt attention. Forsworn.
    Raising the crossbow to her eye the Khajiit squinted into the darkness, her keen feline vision easily picking out the approaching form of... Shisha?
    Her patterned face darkened as the Mer woman approached the camp.
    "Hey, Elf!" Felidae called out, lowering the weapon. "Where've you been?"
     

    Fexon

    Clever little Bosmer
    RP Sample:
    The day began to break, as the sun started its venture off of the horizon, the beams of light peered brightly between each and every visible crack of the makeshift tent. Fexon squinted tightly as he raised a forearm to his brow. His eyes slowly started to adjust, the snow covered forest became less of a blur and more of a clear reality….Skyrim…..Fexon almost forgot he was still in the bitter province. He had started his journey south many days ago and had hoped to cross the border into Cyrodiil a lot sooner.​
    Fexon started to pack up his belongings. He grabbed the sticks holding up the tattered cloth, in which he called home that prior evening, and gave them a firm yank. The tent fell to the ground and Fexon was quick to take a knee to roll up the cloth. Fexon pulled a light colored tunic over his head, covering his dirty athletic body. He gathered up the rest of his belongings, securing his belt and attaching various pouches upon it. Fexon thought to himself –can’t be too much farther now-. Fexon started his trek through the thick snowy tundra of Skyrim. The trees blanketed the bright sky, yet the light reflecting off the snow was completely blinding. Just as Fexon thought his tour through Skyrim was over he came upon a carriage surrounded by what appeared to be Imperial soldiers. He paused briefly, remaining hidden he glanced from around the side of a large tree, observing as the Imperials consulted with the coach. Fexon could not help but notice the Imperials were growing more aggressive, many of them were reaching for the hilt of their swords. The soldier in charge started shouting. –Time to go- Fexon thought as he crouched down, slowly creeping out and away from the caravan. *Snap!* -What are the odds…- he thought as stick cracked beneath his feet.​
    The Imperial soldiers reacted quickly as the abrupt noise caught their attention. “I heard something” spoke one of the soldiers. “Who’s out there? Show yourself!” shouted the Imperial in charge. At that moment, the Imperial officer waived his hand toward the noise and three soldiers immediately started moving in. Without hesitation Fexon side stepped from his hiding spot, his arms raised up level with his shoulders. In one hand he clenched his bow tightly; his other hand was open wide with his palm facing the soldiers. “It’s ok, I was just passing through.” Fexon spoke with determination. “Drop the bow archer!” the officer ordered with authority. Fexon responded “Why? I mean to do you no harm.” The three soldiers quickly raised their shields and held their swords forward. “This is your last chance elf, drop it” they ordered once again. Fexon let out a long bellowing sigh as he tossed his bow into the snowy ground, he watched as it sank to the surface. “You’re a long way from home elf, what business do you have in Skyrim?” the officer spoke with a condescending tone. As the officer spoke the other soldiers began to bind the people who were with the carriage. “I was just leaving, actually” Fexon snapped back cockily. The officers gave a distinct nod to one of the other Imperials. The soldier hurried behind Fexon and grabbed his arms, pulling them behind his back. Bindings were attached firmly to Fexon’s wrists. Fexons’ eyes peered at the officer as if he was looking through him. “You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. Your act of conspiracy to interfere with Imperial business will not go unpunished.” Fexon quickly interrupted “What are you talking about?! Conspiracy?!” The officer raised his hand beyond his shoulder, he lunged it forward striking Fexon with the back of his hand. “I know you came here to free these Stormcloak rebels, a crime punishable by death.” Just as Fexon opened his mouth to speak once again in his defense, he was smacked on the back of his head by an Imperial hilt, rendering him unconscious……It looked as though his stay in Skyrim was going to be extended…..​
     

    MagicBlade

    Instinctive
    I'm interested! I'll figure out what CC I'll use but, what does the curse do? Does it kill people, or cause the affected to kill people? Still very interesting, great Job! Nice stuff
     

    Timelord_Daelin

    High Queen of the Nerds! :3
    I'm still intrested. :)
     

    QuiBears

    The Simple Traveler
    (This looks very interesting, I am going to try my luck by posting my character)
    Name: Alanna Daren
    Age: 26
    Race: Nord
    Trade: Blacksmith
    Profession: Mercenary/Security Guard
    Home: Whiterun
    Height: Five feet, nine inches
    Weight: 140lbs

    Personality: Alanna is very competitive when she is dealing with combat, for she is looking for the perfect challenge. She is a very patient person and is considered fair for she will allow people options for she really does not want to kill anyone. Many in Whiterun would say that when she was a child she was brash and always tried to do things she knew she could not do. Now that she has matured she has become a lot more relaxed and thinks before she does something.

    Appearance:
    Hair Color: Raven color
    Hair Style: Her hair is pulled back in a loose pony tail though a strand of her hair is pulled over her scalp from the right to the left and is braided close to her scalp.
    Eye color: Sapphire blue
    Skin tone: Peach color
    Armor: Handmade banded iron armor, Handmade banded shield, iron boots, iron gauntlets, simple black linen cloak, and an Iron helmet
    Weapons: Iron short sword
    Body figure: Hourglass
    Accent: Nordic

    Skills:
    • Smithing
    • Heavy Armor
    • Block
    • One-handed weapon
    • Speech (currently learning)
    Story: Alanna was left on the doorstep of a simple blacksmith in Whiterun where she slowly learned not only how to make armor and weapons, but also how to use them. The two lived in peace for almost seventeen winters until Ragnar got sick to which he died leaving Alanna with the smithy. She continued to run the smithy, though she was not too proficient with handling costumers so she requested to forge equipment only for the Whiterun guards and employees of the Jarl. The Jarl rejected her request giving her smithy to the daughter of his Stewart. Alanna then left Whiterun where she would dwell inside of shops in Riften to scare off burglars who tried to make a name for themselves with the Thieves Guild.

    Other: Alanna will do whatever her employer tells her to do, within reason. She also believes that the ability to cast magic is a curse. She will not kill mages on sight, however she will be leery of them.
    _____________________________________________________
    RP Sample:
    The room flickered as the wind blew through the cracked window of Elgrim's Elixirs. leaning against the far wall just beyond the reach of the candle's light, is a woman with dark raven hair and unnoticeable deep blue eyes. She glanced around the shop scanning over the many barrels and tables checking to see if there was indeed a daring little thief trying to make "after hours" purchase. Her rather skillful right hand held tight the hilt of her unsheathed sword leaning next to her was her shield. A scrapping can be heard at the door to which she rolls her shoulders for a second then picked up her shield with her left hand, "Here we go..." She breathed while remaining in the darkness as the door creaked open. For a moment nothing happened yet in the pale moon a silhouette of a crouched figure could be seen, though nothing else really noticeable.

    "I am going to give you a choice. Leave now or be sorry." A deep feminine voice billowed from the darkness to which the intruder stood up and took a few steps back from the doorway then turn around and quickly dashed off into the darkness. "Damn..." She sighed while walking of into the candle light revealing that she is wearing heavy banded iron armor and raven hair pulled to the left in a simple pony tail. Slowly she moved over to the door closing it tightly then locking it from the inside. "This is getting too easy now." She sighed to herself while turning back from the door and heading back passed the candle and into the darkness where she again leaned up against the wall placing her shield next to her and sighed again.
     

    Cadaver

    Member
    name - Elrond Fireblade
    race - orc
    age - 27 years of age and still overflowing with hatred of daedra

    bio - charged with the protection of his sanctuary and the destruction of daedra and all theses who follow that religion,Elrond is the head of his order, he is the cardinal and a mercy- less killer who would die to deffend his honor, so when he was summoned to represent the fury of the tamreil order he took this opportunity , and again readed his blades and armour to revistit an dark chapter in the Fireblades long and troublesome history, and this chapter is rideled with deseat and stained with blood that runs through the gutters and stained the jarls courtrooms.

    armour/weapons

    Elrond though from a noble family witch consisted of generals but when it boils down to the family blade of choice there is no completion a blade forged from the dark brotherhood to the Firblade fold a small blade easyly consealed in a sash which engulfed most of his compact armour given by the thieves guild as a symbol that we must unite against a common foe this armour which was emblazoned with the crest of are family a red phoenix with blade running though the middle of this fierce birds chest.

    as well as a collection of sharp blades of cource including the gift from the dark brotherhood, also a staff from his predecessor with a spear tip and the power to increase you're magic . but his real weapon is his ability to conjour is his deadliest but in a quick successor is his vampiric ability after he was poisoned as a child with blood despite numerous amount of exousimsm

    personality - a ruff exsteria and often misjudged , he isent you're typical cardinal. this misconception is aided by the fact that he carries a array of weapons and also his fierce contacts witch he makes no attempt to conceal. he constantly associate with bands of outlaws thieves and assassins
     

    Hlíf 'Ulfr

    Nothing but a lyre
    Staff member
    :) Here are my characters

    Heres Hlif:

    Name: Hlíf’Ulfr
    Race: Nord
    Class: Warrior/Hunter
    Gender: Male
    Looks: After many weeks spent in journeying through Skyrim at first glance Hlíf’Ulfr has a rugged look about him although a usually relaxing demeanor. He stands at roughly 6 feet, his strong build emphasized by his toned muscles. His brown hair, although not short is always well kept which is more than can be said about his strong jaw upon which forgotten stubble would often appear against his tanned skin. Although he is adamant that it would never longer than this stubble. This stubble at times would be accompanied by war paint, painted to resemble bloody scratches along his face, thought removed at first opportunity upon entering a town or city. His chocolate brown eyes, gentle yet pensive most often times would smolder with unknown emotion and gleam with an almost childish interest but could change to become unreadable in an instance if he so chose.

    Personality: Many different things could be said about his way of acting all of this strongly depending on circumstances. Even when first met one could tell that behind his words he is always analyzing not only the words he hears spoken but the things, people, places, and everything else around him. This may if only explained to you and not having encountered him may give one the impression that he was not the best of listeners as he seems to always be in his head but the opposite is true. Hlíf’Ulfr has been said to have a inborn gift for making people feel heard and will listen intently and with genuine interest when the situation calls for it, concern to those he meets. Hlíf’Ulfr had always been more of a listener than a talker, although thoroughly enjoying deep conversations he is an introvert at heart, preferring one on one. This is not to say he is not a sociable person as when he so chooses he will immerse himself in many groups although he prefers a few close friends compared too many acquaintances. He is comparable to a vault of his own and countless others secrets, and does not easily trust others with all he is.
    The warm and friendly side to Hlíf’Ulfr may quickly change. When angered or when his morals or values are violated his face becomes like a stone, no emotion is shown and likewise his voice becomes hard, condescending, and unwavering. When in this state he is quick and clever often if he finds it unfit to walk away devastation his opponent. This side of him does not often surface as he is generally tolerant, this behavior also does not carry over to friends or those who did not intentionally do wrong. In these cases he prefers to walk away and later have a calm conversation to resolve the problem.
    Although rather reserved in some ways as a fighter he is anything but weak. He is skilled with many one handed weapons as well as the bow. Deadly, cunning, skilled, and accurate he fights with all that is in him, as with everything else pouring his very heart and soul, all that is his being into this that is one of his arts. Although he does not take joy in killing he will not hesitate to cut down an enemy that has well earned its demise.

    Heres Brynn's Unfinished without History as her history is well... QUITE LONG to be posting here so if you want to read that then its in my signature :). Her CC is unfinished as I would like to give myself some time to do it but I will post a previous post that may give some idea as to how she appears:

    Name: Brynn Ráðúlfr
    Race: Nord
    Gender: Female
    Age:20
    Class/Weapons/Armor: Warrior/Hunter (Dual Weild Skyforge Swords/ Nordic Bow/ Ancient Nord Armor)
    Appearance:
    The first thing one might notice about Brynn is her eyes, at most times they are a wonderful bright to grey blue. There is however an exception to this, the more Brynn’s bestial blood boils the lighter one of her eyes becomes eventually turning to that same colour that is displayed on both of her beast forms eyes, Ice blue. Often times her eyes and eye lids are covered with faded red war paint that reaches from around her individual eyes and descends slightly along her nose bridge. As she has no visible scars on her face the second thing one might notice would be her full lips. Her face is framed by long golden, brown hair that falls in large, soft, loose waves or curls and if donning her helm is braided back in the front to avoid it falling in her face. Her hair masks the only scars she has not somehow been rid of and if running ones fingers along her scalp one could feel all the ridges that the scars create. As for her figure she has a high waist and large rounded hips. She is most regularly seen in a full set of Ancient Nord Armor with an Amulet of Kynareth around her neck.

    This may give a slight idea to appearance (From another RP post I did for her) :) :

    She reached her destination, slowing to a stop she listen and probed with her fine tuned nose for signs of life, she was alone. Finally she let her head hang low, her tongue loll, and her mind wander. Her bag or pack lay by a stream the babbling of which calmed her fire. Then with a flash of light in her eyes she transformed back to her human form. Brynn lay now naked on the ground; she felt venerable and took not a second to stand up. Her golden brown hair lay in soft waves covering her chest but other than this it was blood that hid her smooth skin from view. Sighing she walked a few steps to her pack and rummaged about finding a small healing potion she threw her head back and drank. She wiped her full lips and walked towards the stream, the water was cold to her warm skin but she did not care she was a Nord after all. She let the water that stung her skin surround her, it became almost soothing as she stood with her eyes closed fingers trailing over the top of the water. Once her spirit was once more tamed she lowered herself in and submerged only to break the surface of the water once again. She wiped the water from her eyes and began to clean off the blood, sweat, and all other matter of nature’s filth that had clung to her body. Her hair floated around her as she clean, her blue eyes sparkling and just as reflective as the pool that the stream had fallen into in which she bathed now.

    Although thoroughly clean she remained her arms crossed over her chest, eyes closed with smiling lips slightly agape listening to the forest. She began to hum as she lifted herself from the water into the night air the blue moon still casing its light onto her, lying like a blanket over her shoulders. She returned now to her pack and finding a rough blanket she dried off, rubbing her body vigorously then turning her attention to drying her hair. She ran her fingers through her soft curls feeling her scalp, scars caused the smooth skin to rise as hills on a plane. She could almost hear the memories come back as she felt the very first of the few that she had received. A young child’s voice, a girls just shy of six or had it been of age five whispered in her head;

    “Mama,” the voice asked, so innocently so sweetly “Where’s Daddy…”

    The voice faded as quickly as it had come and Brynn tried to ignore the effect it would usually have had on her. She began now to pull on her undergarments then reaching for her customary Ancient Nord armor she began to redress herself. Once she was strapped in, boots on, and gauntlets secured she braided back the front half of her hair, painted on war paint over each eye, then as a final step she lowered her helmet unto her head. She dressed her wounds then shouldering her pack she looked around, making sure not to forget a single thing she traipsed off in search of a place to rest. She soon found what she was looking for in the hollow trunk of a fallen tree. Unrolling her bedroll she lay inside, curled up feeling at peace and at one with her bestial blood. The hunt for her kin would have to resume in the morn.


    RP Examples:

    Brynn:

    She could smell them coming, hear them approaching and it set off from her maw a tremendous howl. Where ever her paws met earth she considered now her hunting grounds, her path and she’d be damned if she was going to let the wretched Draugr interrupt her hunt. She could feel through her pads and in her bones the silence of the forest, the creatures that inhabited it attempting to hide their very existence from the she wolf and her challengers this was the quiet before the storm. The night sky loomed overhead dark yet spilling over with glimmering stars like gems in a rich man’s pouch they lit the wandering path of the dancing ribbons of light swimming with hues of greens, blues, purples and pinks. The moons appeared as the queen of the night sky swathed in her grey-blue cloak of clouds she spilt down her light giving clear paths to her children of the night. Her beams tonight where akin to the blue eyes of the living dead who now came, raised and hungry setting an eerie tone to the already ghostly surroundings.

    Brynn breathed in a deep breath before a sound, no a rumble, a growl that could cause skin to crawl, blood to freeze, and heart to stop erupted from within her as if the beasts blood in her heart was calling, speaking to the world from inside. The creaking of ancient bones grew louder in her sensitive ears and the smell of the crypts from which the dead had meant to stay buried within had climbed was pungent to her keen nose, it was almost time. She felt a certain anger grow inside though her beast blood crackled and burnt causing an excitement, a joy towards the challenge of her new prey. Foreshadowing their arrival she still sounding her challenge brought her forepaws to the earth, sharp claws creating ridges in the soil as she racked them slightly forward and then back preparing for battle. Her stance allowing her the maximum force that with which she could spring upon her enemies and in this way she waited with embers in her eyes for them to break the evergreen tree line.

    Then through the trees and darkness they came. Brynn lowered herself to a crouch, she would let them get closer and then she would attack. The corpses ambled towards her at first then with more intent and speed than before began in her direction their sightless glowing eyes bobbing in the darkness as if they were ridding on invisible waves. By Kyne she thought to herself sneering or perhaps snarling just my luck to have stumbled onto more of these miserable smelling things. Light my path. As by my claw and teeth these Draugr will tear not another soul from these lands.With this final though Brynn launched herself forward through the trees that lined her side of this meadow. She could feel the cold air rushing past her as she propelled her way towards the Draugr and as first contact was made there was a satisfying crunch between her jaws. She had bore down upon the first, her teeth bearing down on his neck with all her force behind them. She quickly bounded to the next few swiping them and crushing them with her vicious claws she extinguished the lights within another group of glowing eyes. This is when the first of the many arrows fired hit her well muscled shoulder; she stood on her hind legs and with arms extended to her sides let out another this time furious howl. She turned, standing on once more dead she had just slain and with all of the wild spirit taking over her eyes she roared. Swivelling she sped off once more to claim the life of her prey, zigzagging slightly to avoid further pain. She assaulted them with all the ferocity that was allotted a she wolf; her fire burned causing her to ignore the cutting blades and stinging arrows.

    She went on swiping, slicing, tearing, ripping, and crushing until not a single Draugr was left and she stood, all four paws on the ground covered in blood and shaking. Her breath was heavy and she panted loudly a “wolfish grin” across her furred face. She had taken several arrows, taken the biting of a few swords and the bruises she assumed she would have would be an impressive show. Perhaps she thought I won’t even need to sneak. The green and yellow that will surely cover my body will provide perfect camouflage. She padded about; examining her kills and calming her mind thing to herself their bad enough when they stayed in their crypts but now this… the divines surely test us to see if we are worthy beasts to walk in their lands. She had blocked out the images that began to surface in her mind of the innocent and defenceless fallen, she felt sadness for the beast kind that walked these lands along with her. I haven’t really needed to hunt for quite some time for all the animals that lay dead. Surely not the divines, they would not test us all so. She shook her head; blood sprinkling off like rain drops off a bird’s feathers. The smell of the corpses and the memories became too much for her to remain and with that she took off again in the direction she had come.

    She reached her destination, slowing to a stop she listen and probed with her fine tuned nose for signs of life, she was alone. Finally she let her head hang low, her tongue loll, and her mind wander. Her bag or pack lay by a stream the babbling of which calmed her fire. Then with a flash of light in her eyes she transformed back to her human form. Brynn lay now naked on the ground; she felt venerable and took not a second to stand up. Her golden brown hair lay in soft waves covering her chest but other than this it was blood that hid her smooth skin from view. Sighing she walked a few steps to her pack and rummaged about finding a small healing potion she threw her head back and drank. She wiped her full lips and walked towards the stream, the water was cold to her warm skin but she did not care she was a Nord after all. She let the water that stung her skin surround her, it became almost soothing as she stood with her eyes closed fingers trailing over the top of the water. Once her spirit was once more tamed she lowered herself in and submerged only to break the surface of the water once again. She wiped the water from her eyes and began to clean off the blood, sweat, and all other matter of nature’s filth that had clung to her body. Her hair floated around her as she clean, her blue eyes sparkling and just as reflective as the pool that the stream had fallen into in which she bathed now.

    Although thoroughly clean she remained her arms crossed over her chest, eyes closed with smiling lips slightly agape listening to the forest. She began to hum as she lifted herself from the water into the night air the blue moon still casing its light onto her, lying like a blanket over her shoulders. She returned now to her pack and finding a rough blanket she dried off, rubbing her body vigorously then turning her attention to drying her hair. She ran her fingers through her soft curls feeling her scalp, scars caused the smooth skin to rise as hills on a plane. She could almost hear the memories come back as she felt the very first of the few that she had received. A young child’s voice, a girls just shy of six or had it been of age five whispered in her head;

    “Mama,” the voice asked, so innocently so sweetly “Where’s Daddy…”

    The voice faded as quickly as it had come and Brynn tried to ignore the effect it would usually have had on her. She began now to pull on her undergarments then reaching for her customary Ancient Nord armor she began to redress herself. Once she was strapped in, boots on, and gauntlets secured she braided back the front half of her hair, painted on war paint over each eye, then as a final step she lowered her helmet unto her head. She dressed her wounds then shouldering her pack she looked around, making sure not to forget a single thing she traipsed off in search of a place to rest. She soon found what she was looking for in the hollow trunk of a fallen tree. Unrolling her bedroll she lay inside, curled up feeling at peace and at one with her bestial blood. The hunt for her kin would have to resume in the morn.

    And Hlif:

    Hlíf’Ulfr looked at the woman and tried to form a sentence but struggled with how to tell her he meant no harm. In normal circumstances he not only had a firm grasp on words but could charm his way out of anything, he was quite a words smith so he began to mentally kick himself as his mind drew a blank. He looked at his dappled grey and let out a deep whistle and watched as his trusted companion began to trot back to him past the woman, with this he began to walk closer.

    She needs to be buried,” he first whispered but then with more and more force began to repeat “She needs to be buried.

    Somewhere in his bleary mind he knew the woman would be apprehensive of his approach and stopped close enough to her that he could be heard but not close enough to be harmed.

    Ria,” he whispered “Entirely my fault... She needs... She needs to be buried.”

    He looked towards the Bosmer or Nord woman his deep brown eyes pleading with her to understand, his hardened face became gentle as he searched for the right words to make her realize his intent. His hansom features lacked a clean glow and his mental state was deteriorating and he was nowhere near the impressive specimen of a nord he prided himself to normally be but as he stood slightly shaking with the two drafts behind him he still clung to the tiniest scrap of what must have been his decency as he began anew:

    My lady, please,” he beseeched of the woman and the Dunmer who accompanied her “She needs to be...

    He trailed off looking to the ground and began to whisper her name, he clutched her even tighter, and somehow although he had neglected to clean himself the body was mostly free of blood and had on clean and new dress. It would have made much more sense for it to have been Hlíf’Ulfr lying dead if it was only that based on appearance that is neglecting the wounds.



    AND


    Hlíf’Ulfr looked at the woman, his eyes swimming enough to melt any heart then looked down at Ria. He gave her a loving look, she was in fact the only attachment he had to his family, the companions that had been tangible to him and now she was gone. It gave him great satisfaction and a certain comfort as the woman promised him that she would be properly taken care of. He tried again to put one foot in front of the other and again began the search through the mental labyrinth that was his exhausted psyche in attempt to thank the woman. He neared her and looking down and straight into her eyes he could only just managed to choke out, his voice husky and breaking:

    Thanks be to you… My Lady.

    His drained eyes seemed to fill again with life as he gazed into hers, if not with words he would express through feelings what she had done for him. He closed them and looked down at Ria’s peaceful face once more and whispered

    Won’t… Will never, never forget…

    His soiled, blood tainted muscles flexed as he lifted Ria higher against his chest so that her head lay as if it was only resting on my shoulder, as if she was only sleeping. Hlíf’Ulfr titled his head to the side so it lay just touching Ria’s and whispered just softly enough for the Bosmer Nord woman to just catch his words

    They’ll take care of you Ria… You can rest… rest easily now.”

    He closed his eyes for a moment and dropping his head slightly further from before he whispered one last thing to her death deafened ears he had been unable to find within himself to say prior to this moment

    Goodbye… Sister.

    He stood like this eyes closed face touching that of the dead woman’s for a moment then slowly raising his head he nodded to the Dunmer with thanks filling his gracious eyes signaling to him and to the horses that they would follow with no difficulty. He then laid his eyes to rest on the woman eyes swimming once again, she had given him hope that perhaps there was good and perhaps not only may his body survive this terror by his psyche as well. He craved to embrace her, to show her how she had laid his fears to rest some how but he could not, all he could do was hope that through his eyes and face she could see and recognize all these things. One more time he tried to thank her opening his mouth but no words came out, he closed his lips and pressed them in a firm line determine to say if not one more word .

    Hope” he finally managed to let fall from his quivering lip,then more more time he repeated "Hope"
     

    Felidae

    The White Wanderer
    Lifts-Her-Tail is taking a little while to get back to us, but we don't know whether something important has popped up IRL. I hope it's still going forward, anyway.
     

    QuiBears

    The Simple Traveler
    I am not sure if I should be posting this here however I really like everyone's characters!
     

    Timelord_Daelin

    High Queen of the Nerds! :3
    I'm going to post my cc because I don't want to feel left out. Lol :)

    NAME: Kyne Stormcrown

    RACE: Nord

    AGE: 20

    HEIGHT: 5’3"

    WEIGHT: 110 lb.

    CLASS: thief, assassin

    APPEARANCE: Kyne is an attractive young woman that any man in any race admires. She has long, red-brown hair that falls down to the middle of her back (she usually wears it in a side-ponytail, though) and gray eyes. She has tannish skin and has a very curvy, slim build. She’s also short for a Nord.

    PERSONALITY: Kyne’s trust is very hard to gain, so she may come off rude and cautious towards anyone she doesn’t know, but is very friendly and loyal to her friends. She’s flirtatious to some people and to others she’s sarcastic. She’s witty, naïve, sly, and cunning. She always has a trick up her sleeve and can be angered easily. She’s arrogant and defiant. People trust her very easily since she is very manipulative, but it is hard for her to trust others. However, she is very loyal to her friends, sometimes going out of her way to protect them.

    MARITAL STATUS: single

    ARMOR/APPERAL: shrouded armor (some adjustments), Amulet of Talos (it was her father’s, she always wears it), belted tunic with leggings (casual wear)

    WEAPONS: Nightingale bow (she calls it "Nightingale") with ebony arrows, one glass dagger called Nightblade and the Blade of Woe, variety of poisons, a pouch of throwing daggers, an extra glass dagger called Tallis

    COMBAT: Kyne likes to use the fine art of stealth. She mainly sticks to the shadows, using it to her advantage as she catches her enemies by surprise. She mainly uses her bow (which she can load quickly) and a variety of poisons, able to take out her enemies from afar most of the time, but if fighting gets to close, she uses her daggers. There's also a pouch of small, throwing daggers, which she is able to throw accuratly at her targets. Kyne is never seen wielding a sword or other weapons.

    DISLIKES: Thalmor, Penitus Oculatus, spiders, gargoyles, vampires, people who think that they’re better than everyone, Argonians (personal reasons), draugr

    SKILLS: archery, sneak, lockpicking, pickpocketing, one handed, light armor, speech

    SIGN: The Thief

    BIRTHPLACE: Windhelm, Skyrim

    CURRENT RESIDENCE: Traveling across Tamriel

    BIO: Kyne’s parents died the day after she was born due to a Thalmor patrol attacking her home. She was sent to Honorhall Orphanage in Riften where she stayed there until she was eight. She always used to go outside of the city walls and hunt (when she could), and became a great archer. However, Kyne also had a bad habit; she always used to wander the streets of Riften at nighttime, sneaking out of the orphanage and into stores to steal things. Kyne used to run into thieves who would be having trouble picking the locks to the closed shops and Kyne would offer to help. She would pick the locks, the thieves amazed at this young girl’s talent. One night while Kyne was wandering, she ran into Mercer Fray, the leader of the Thieves Guild. Mercer and Kyne established a friendship together, and pretty soon, Mercer adopted Kyne.

    Mercer taught Kyne all he knew about sneaking and thieving. Pretty soon, Kyne would take on small contracts in Riften to steal something. By the age of thirteen, Kyne turned into a prodigy, going out of the city with various members of the Thieves Guild to other cities and holds within Skyrim. At sixteen, Kyne was one of the best thief’s in the Guild, taking on major contracts and bringing in most of the coin to Guild.

    One night Mercer disappeared, saying that he had to go on a contract. Kyne was suspicious, however, because Mercer never left Riften, always giving the contracts to the other members. She questioned him when he got back, and he kept making excuses, never telling her the truth. When the Guild ran into some bad luck, Kyne grew more suspicious. Many members left and the Guild vaults slowly began to dry up, like the Guild wasn’t making enough coin. Mercer took Kyne to Snow Veil Sanctum after they began to unravel who was making the Guild have bad luck, where Mercer nearly murdered Kyne, admitting that he made the Guild fall into bad times. Kyne felt betrayed and became more cautious towards others.

    Kyne was saved by a mysterious Dunmer by the name of Karliah. Karliah revealed that she was one of Mercer’s friends before he murdered the old Guild leader, Gallus. She told Kyne that in order for the Guild to fall back into place, Mercer would have to die. When that day came, it turned out that Kyne had to kill Mercer. She didn’t want to kill Mercer, however, because he was the only one who took her in when nobody else would, but Kyne had another family to turn to: the Guild. She decided to kill Mercer, and (which scared her) she found that she liked it.

    Kyne liked killing and took some Dark Brotherhood jobs on. She wasn’t part of the Dark Brotherhood, though; she just overheard some contracts and went to do them. She got on the Brotherhood’s bad side by doing this. She was being hunted down, and then one night, she was taken in the middle of the night to an abandoned shack. She then joined them. She grew up to be very independant and self-reliant, only turning to her good friends in times of need. She worked up the ranks in both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood very quickly, honing her skills in sneak, archery, and speech.

    At twenty, Kyne was traveling all across Tamriel, doing various missions for the Guild and the Brotherhood. She went by the alias, Nightshade, a name that soon came to fear.

    ***

    RP Sample:
    Kyne crept through Understone Keep, keeping to the shadows. She moved fast and quietly, making her way through the ancient Dwemer halls. Kyne paused for a moment, standing still, as a door slowly opened allowing light to pour into the hallway. Two Thalmor soldiers emerged from it, closing the door tightly and locking it behind them. They stood outside of the door, looking for something.
    Kyne grabbed a poison from her belt and threw it at the ground by the Thalmor's feet, quickly covering her mouth. The glass shattered, a potion dropping to the floor, starting to form a gas. The Thalmor coughed then fell to the ground. Once the gas cleared up, Kyne crept over to the two bodies, rummaged around in their belongs, pulling out a few Septims and a key. She smiled at the key, placing it in the door and turning the handle.
    The door slowly swung open. Kyne peered inside. Her target was lying on his bed, sleeping. She slipped into the room, closing the door and walked over to her victim. She took out Nightblade, her enchanted glass dagger, and poised it over the Thalmor Justiciar's neck, ready to strike. She slit his throat silently. The Justiciar coughed up some blood before falling limp.
    Kyne robbed Justiciar of his valuable possessions before turning towards his desk. She rummaged through the desk, pulling out documents as she went. She smiled when she pulled out a sealed note and stuffed it into her pocket. She stood up and walked towards a chest and proceeded to do the same thing.
    The door opened and closed behind her, many footsteps coming along with it. Kyne whipped around to face a group of Thalmor soldiers and two Justiciars. She was grabbing for her bow when a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm was wrapped around her torso. She tried to scream, but was being dragged off.
    She was dragged to the bed and the Thalmor tied her to the bed post and gaged her moth. Kyne struggled, but to no avail. The bonds were tight and she couldn't speak. She went still and looked up at the Thalmor. The Thalmor who had just tied her up kneeled down beside her and smiled.
    Kyne had to admit, he was rather handsome. He had chiseled features and golden eyes. His blonde hair was pulled back and a hood that covered his head. She would probably fancy someone like him--well, if he wasn't a Thalmor.
    "You've caused enough trouble now, Nord," he said, his voice calm yet demanding. "We know that you're part of the Stormcloaks. We know you're the one causing all the trouble. The Aldmeri Dominion doesn't take kindly to people like you."
    Kyne rolled her eyes and kicked at the Thalmor, hearing threats like this tons of times before. Being an assassin and a thief meant a lot of jail time and interrogations. The Justiciar smiled.
    "Ooh, a feisty Nord," the Justiciar said, amused. He was toying with her, she knew it. She hated him.
    "We don't have forever, Sir," a Thalmor guarding the door said. "Lady Elenwen wants her immediately." The Altmer sighed.
    "Fine," he said standing up and walking away. "Knock her out, then. But don't kill her, Lady Elenwen wants her alive."
    Kyne shot him a look of hatred before focusing her attention to the two Thalmor guards approaching. One held her arms and head back as the other one forced a potion down her throat. Kyne coughed, the potion tasting sour and rancid. Her vision started to blur, and soon, she was lying on the floor unconscious, Thalmor soldiers hauling her limp body off.
     

    MagicBlade

    Instinctive
    Hoping is does come along, and I don't think I need to post some sample as I believe Lifts-Her-Tail has seen me write before, but who knows
     

    Fexon

    Clever little Bosmer
    I'm going to post my cc because I don't want to feel left out. Lol :)

    NAME: Kyne Stormcrown

    RACE: Nord

    AGE: 20

    HEIGHT: 5’3"

    WEIGHT: 110 lb.

    CLASS: thief, assassin

    APPEARANCE: Kyne is an attractive young woman that any man in any race admires. She has long, red-brown hair that falls down to the middle of her back (she usually wears it in a side-ponytail, though) and gray eyes. She has tannish skin and has a very curvy, slim build. She’s also short for a Nord.

    PERSONALITY: Kyne’s trust is very hard to gain, so she may come off rude and cautious towards anyone she doesn’t know, but is very friendly and loyal to her friends. She’s flirtatious to some people and to others she’s sarcastic. She’s witty, naïve, sly, and cunning. She always has a trick up her sleeve and can be angered easily. She’s arrogant and defiant. People trust her very easily since she is very manipulative, but it is hard for her to trust others. However, she is very loyal to her friends, sometimes going out of her way to protect them.

    MARITAL STATUS: single

    ARMOR/APPERAL: shrouded armor (some adjustments), Amulet of Talos (it was her father’s, she always wears it), belted tunic with leggings (casual wear)

    WEAPONS: Nightingale bow (she calls it "Nightingale") with ebony arrows, one glass dagger called Nightblade and the Blade of Woe, variety of poisons, a pouch of throwing daggers, an extra glass dagger called Tallis

    COMBAT: Kyne likes to use the fine art of stealth. She mainly sticks to the shadows, using it to her advantage as she catches her enemies by surprise. She mainly uses her bow (which she can load quickly) and a variety of poisons, able to take out her enemies from afar most of the time, but if fighting gets to close, she uses her daggers. There's also a pouch of small, throwing daggers, which she is able to throw accuratly at her targets. Kyne is never seen wielding a sword or other weapons.

    DISLIKES: Thalmor, Penitus Oculatus, spiders, gargoyles, vampires, people who think that they’re better than everyone, Argonians (personal reasons), draugr

    SKILLS: archery, sneak, lockpicking, pickpocketing, one handed, light armor, speech

    SIGN: The Thief

    BIRTHPLACE: Windhelm, Skyrim

    CURRENT RESIDENCE: Traveling across Tamriel

    BIO: Kyne’s parents died the day after she was born due to a Thalmor patrol attacking her home. She was sent to Honorhall Orphanage in Riften where she stayed there until she was eight. She always used to go outside of the city walls and hunt (when she could), and became a great archer. However, Kyne also had a bad habit; she always used to wander the streets of Riften at nighttime, sneaking out of the orphanage and into stores to steal things. Kyne used to run into thieves who would be having trouble picking the locks to the closed shops and Kyne would offer to help. She would pick the locks, the thieves amazed at this young girl’s talent. One night while Kyne was wandering, she ran into Mercer Fray, the leader of the Thieves Guild. Mercer and Kyne established a friendship together, and pretty soon, Mercer adopted Kyne.

    Mercer taught Kyne all he knew about sneaking and thieving. Pretty soon, Kyne would take on small contracts in Riften to steal something. By the age of thirteen, Kyne turned into a prodigy, going out of the city with various members of the Thieves Guild to other cities and holds within Skyrim. At sixteen, Kyne was one of the best thief’s in the Guild, taking on major contracts and bringing in most of the coin to Guild.

    One night Mercer disappeared, saying that he had to go on a contract. Kyne was suspicious, however, because Mercer never left Riften, always giving the contracts to the other members. She questioned him when he got back, and he kept making excuses, never telling her the truth. When the Guild ran into some bad luck, Kyne grew more suspicious. Many members left and the Guild vaults slowly began to dry up, like the Guild wasn’t making enough coin. Mercer took Kyne to Snow Veil Sanctum after they began to unravel who was making the Guild have bad luck, where Mercer nearly murdered Kyne, admitting that he made the Guild fall into bad times. Kyne felt betrayed and became more cautious towards others.

    Kyne was saved by a mysterious Dunmer by the name of Karliah. Karliah revealed that she was one of Mercer’s friends before he murdered the old Guild leader, Gallus. She told Kyne that in order for the Guild to fall back into place, Mercer would have to die. When that day came, it turned out that Kyne had to kill Mercer. She didn’t want to kill Mercer, however, because he was the only one who took her in when nobody else would, but Kyne had another family to turn to: the Guild. She decided to kill Mercer, and (which scared her) she found that she liked it.

    Kyne liked killing and took some Dark Brotherhood jobs on. She wasn’t part of the Dark Brotherhood, though; she just overheard some contracts and went to do them. She got on the Brotherhood’s bad side by doing this. She was being hunted down, and then one night, she was taken in the middle of the night to an abandoned shack. She then joined them. She grew up to be very independant and self-reliant, only turning to her good friends in times of need. She worked up the ranks in both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood very quickly, honing her skills in sneak, archery, and speech.

    At twenty, Kyne was traveling all across Tamriel, doing various missions for the Guild and the Brotherhood. She went by the alias, Nightshade, a name that soon came to fear. She would assassinate high officials in the Empire. One day, she got a contract to kill the Emperor of Tamriel, Titus Mede II. She went to go leave Skyrim before the winter storms closed the pass between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. She ran into a bit of trouble when she walked right into an Imperial ambush. She was knocked over the head, the Imperials thinking that she was a Stormcloak, and was sent off to Helgen to be beheaded.

    (Not original)

    Additional Info: Kyne has two young dragons named Fokrahdiin (he's dark blue with blue eyes) and Sithis (he's black with red eyes).

    With all due respect, are you serious? I take it you're the Dragonborn. You should consider revising.
     

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