Toxius
Frost Wolf
Name: Ragnii Algrim Thorbal Kadrinsson Dargosnevi. Just call me Ragnii Dargosnevi and nothing else, ‘cept me other names or just forget them.
Age: what, it’s been about 500 years or something now? I lost count, it’s hard to keep track sometimes.
Gender: Male
Race: Some half bred of various different races, who really can say what I am. Just about live as long as an elf, maybe even longer than elves and nearly as useless as one of them humans.
Laterality: Right handed
Sexuality: Straight
Marital status: Married, eh well. Single. It depends on the situation but for you my dear lady, I’m always available.
Family: None, or they’re pretty much dead or something. I never did find them. I just gave up.
Affiliations: hard to. eh, say. I guess I’ve pissed off my fair share of people, even though they probably still love me and wouldn’t dare do anything.
Afflictions: Some sort of dwarfism, or so the humans say it, and those pesky elves and I swear the lizard’s want to eat me or something. But there’s nothing damn wrong with me.
Property: none to speak off. Burned to the ground, but my gold is probably safe down in the caves. I also had a fair share on me.
Religion: Who the hell has time to worship something that simply doesn’t care? They are obviously there, bunch’o’useless gods they are. Damn good for nothing besides causing some trouble.
Appearance: Well, I’m a handsome fellow. Got a nice thick, but neat brown beard to match. Stands at about, 5’1”, I mean at 4’8” (1.5m). Nice long, I guess, brown hair, and they say I got blue eyes.
Bit of this is mixed in with the Armour.
Ragnii in his somewhat earlier years, he looks similar with shorter hair, and somewhat a longer beard.
Doesn't entirely match up with his looks.
(image is not my own, credits goes to author)
Personality: I could say, I’m modest at best. I’m adaptable and loving. I mean, who can’t love me. I really don’t care about you, or anybody else’s problems, unless you’re willing to talk in gold and stuff. Nothing takes me for a fool, and I mean nothing, ‘cept chairs and their devilish legs. I mean, they hurt. Nobody steals from me, without expecting some trouble. Also, if you going to meet my bad side, expect a bolt between your eyes.
Likes: I like them woman, weapons and pretty much anything that could kill. Love my crossbow the most of all, sure I got it out of some dwelmer cavern that I got lost in. Gold, nothing can be wrong with gold. Food, and drink, if it’s tasty enough.
Dislikes: So, I don’t like anybody playing around with me, or getting on my bad side. Backstabbing of any kind is prohibited unless you want to die, then go right ahead. Chairs are made by the devils, or those daedra things, like I read in them books. Skeevers, one of them nearly bit off my damn pinky while I was sleeping, and don’t ask it’s none of your business.
Habits: I have habits? Who knew? If I do, I dare you to tell me.
Gear:
Armour: It’s hard to find custom fitting armour, so I made my own from various materials. Mostly from hard steel, leather, fur. All of it dyed black to leave me with the added benefits, At least when it’s dark, or when it’s night. Plus, I’ve been told that black really looks good on me. There was this one person, somebody in a city called Whiterun, he was something. His head went rolling, and nobody saw me do it. Lucky? Or was it something else.
Armour is similar to this, except replace the metal gauntlet with the hide one on the left. Remove the shoulder guard entirely. The colour is black with the golden edges, which is the same. No helm. Added short cloak to protect from the elements, can cover head.
(Credits go to image designer)
Weapons: Well, I carry my baby everywhere I go and it’s always been of use to me. Nobody separates me from my Crossbow, ever since that cavern. Hell it’s been with me my entire life. Plus it’s a one of a kind, dwelmer piece that is nearly automatic. Shoots any kind of crossbolts I want it to and I only have to reload, after five or seven shots. I usually don’t need more than one, per head. Unless it’s something tough, mean and ugly. I guess I carry a knife around here somewhere. Oh here it i- Ah gawd damn it, I sliced my f@cken finger again!
Magicka: Does alchemy, or poisons and crap count as magic? Unless it does, then I don’t use any of that. Well, I admit, it would be nice to be able to fry me some fish whenever I wanted from my hands.
Abilities: So, I shoot a bolt. Don’t miss, and it get stuck between the target’s eyes? It falls down. So it’s probably dead by now. I give it a hard kick, then if it doesn’t move I get free loot. If it does move, then well, I stick the knife in its throat. I also know some moves with my fists, I mean the drunken brawls ain’t really just for the fun, it’s also great practice. ‘cept, I’m not the one that’s drunk or maybe I am? I got to know how to protect myself, besides, who else is going to?
Bio:
So I grew up in some place near morrowind, or whatever they call it now. My father was some sort of elf human and my mother was some sort of human elf. I mean it might sound the same, but they both two entirely difference things here. Something about a Chimer, or was it a dwelmer, or dunmer. I lost track of what they were when it was time. So I had a pretty normal life, my father taught me how to fish, what herbs were safe to eat, and what game was safe to kill and when to run from the one’s that bit hard as hell. He also taught me to smith metal and all sorts of stuff while my mother was good with the stiches and how to mix the certain crap together to form herbs, poisons and potions. I learned a good deal from the both of them, but then one day. They never did return and there was rumours of something murdering people at the time. So as it was, I managed to find where they last were, I was about 18 or something at the time. I had my father’s Hatchet in hand, doused in a fowl smelling substance that my mother called Cohepr’s Sting- Look, don’t even ask me about that, it’s something of a passed down recipe or whatnot, and if you want some, ask or pay me something- So I also had a backpack of about a week’s supply, I didn’t know how long it was going to be. I end up finding this beast, or werewolf as you call it. We have a go about, and I get trapped in some cave with nowhere else to go but down. I end up traveling far. So far, the flames of your torch struggles against the bleak darkness. Almost like it’s sucking the flame’s life, as it flickers and groans. What I found was nothing anybody could ever imagine, and by my count I was down there for almost year. Eating mushrooms and drinking from underground streams. Good thing I had a fair share of torches, and then the lantern I found was great. I understood it was a dwelmer latern, and these things last forever. So at this point, I was ready to give up, but I found this huge cavern which was lit up by various blue floating crap, which tasted like crap. They were mushrooms. I also found a hulking city of immerse proportions, It could even have been a central hub for something. The hallways went on, the tall pillars went on, the cobble or rock or whatever roads were endless. I thought I would never make it. That’s when I heard the damn werewolf, or wet dog howling around. I figured it probably survived, and just needed some time to dig its way out.
So around this time, I went looking for some armory of sorts and by the heavens, or whatever. It was just luck. I found my glorious crossbow, there were a great deal of them too but I only needed the one. I gathered a good amount of bolts and by then the damn dog found itself to me. I shot one bolt, and the damn thing went do- Hell don’t damn well look at me like that, okay… Have it your way- So the damn thing still keeps on running towards me, so I practically empty the thing onto the damn dog, who still won’t go down. It leaps on mean, and I beat the half dead, wet, smelly, stinking, furry - Did I mention the damn things pl*psty breath, which burst out with each whack- dog to death. It took a while before it went down, then it took an even longer while to get the mutt off me- Hell that’s how I get this scar right here, just by my arse, you wanna see it?
Oh anyway, I was feeling pretty damn woozy after that, passed out. Next thing I knew I was somewhere else. I never did find that city again. Even after many years of searching. I couldn’t get the location of the cave I went to, nor the cave I came out of. So I woke up near some sort of long passage again, it did have other types of smaller, trading places or whatever. Somehow I felt myself compelled to go in one direction and not the other. I end up in the craphole called skyrim. Hell, good for me ain’t it?
So in the craphole, I got mocked for reasons I have no knowledge of but then people did seem to learn quickly of things. I picked up work as some bounty hunter, or what not. I end up travelling to other places. I get quite a bit of gold, then I lost most of it to some crappy pirate. Hell, he said a bet was a bet. I hunted that pirate down, gutted him and fed him to his pet skeevers. Got half my gold back, dunno what he did with the rest. I started to look for that city again, but gave up for reasons or maybe I was just damn lazy by now.
So now, I was old at the least. Had a nice place and a good standing or was it a bad standing? I could never tell, maybe the visitors were afraid of those skulls around my front gate, I joke of course. I had a number of, special visitors. Time passed, and there some crap you probably don’t want to know and crap I haven’t told you about, but just forgot about it.
Just give me another damn pint… I guess that brings me to today, I must say, I did keep in shape. Well, I still did merc business, even though I was rich or something.
Starting Location: Stros M’kai
Dialogue colour: Orange
Here it is... Whenever you're ready.
Age: what, it’s been about 500 years or something now? I lost count, it’s hard to keep track sometimes.
Gender: Male
Race: Some half bred of various different races, who really can say what I am. Just about live as long as an elf, maybe even longer than elves and nearly as useless as one of them humans.
Laterality: Right handed
Sexuality: Straight
Marital status: Married, eh well. Single. It depends on the situation but for you my dear lady, I’m always available.
Family: None, or they’re pretty much dead or something. I never did find them. I just gave up.
Affiliations: hard to. eh, say. I guess I’ve pissed off my fair share of people, even though they probably still love me and wouldn’t dare do anything.
Afflictions: Some sort of dwarfism, or so the humans say it, and those pesky elves and I swear the lizard’s want to eat me or something. But there’s nothing damn wrong with me.
Property: none to speak off. Burned to the ground, but my gold is probably safe down in the caves. I also had a fair share on me.
Religion: Who the hell has time to worship something that simply doesn’t care? They are obviously there, bunch’o’useless gods they are. Damn good for nothing besides causing some trouble.
Appearance: Well, I’m a handsome fellow. Got a nice thick, but neat brown beard to match. Stands at about, 5’1”, I mean at 4’8” (1.5m). Nice long, I guess, brown hair, and they say I got blue eyes.
Bit of this is mixed in with the Armour.
Ragnii in his somewhat earlier years, he looks similar with shorter hair, and somewhat a longer beard.
Doesn't entirely match up with his looks.
(image is not my own, credits goes to author)
Personality: I could say, I’m modest at best. I’m adaptable and loving. I mean, who can’t love me. I really don’t care about you, or anybody else’s problems, unless you’re willing to talk in gold and stuff. Nothing takes me for a fool, and I mean nothing, ‘cept chairs and their devilish legs. I mean, they hurt. Nobody steals from me, without expecting some trouble. Also, if you going to meet my bad side, expect a bolt between your eyes.
Likes: I like them woman, weapons and pretty much anything that could kill. Love my crossbow the most of all, sure I got it out of some dwelmer cavern that I got lost in. Gold, nothing can be wrong with gold. Food, and drink, if it’s tasty enough.
Dislikes: So, I don’t like anybody playing around with me, or getting on my bad side. Backstabbing of any kind is prohibited unless you want to die, then go right ahead. Chairs are made by the devils, or those daedra things, like I read in them books. Skeevers, one of them nearly bit off my damn pinky while I was sleeping, and don’t ask it’s none of your business.
Habits: I have habits? Who knew? If I do, I dare you to tell me.
Gear:
Armour: It’s hard to find custom fitting armour, so I made my own from various materials. Mostly from hard steel, leather, fur. All of it dyed black to leave me with the added benefits, At least when it’s dark, or when it’s night. Plus, I’ve been told that black really looks good on me. There was this one person, somebody in a city called Whiterun, he was something. His head went rolling, and nobody saw me do it. Lucky? Or was it something else.
Armour is similar to this, except replace the metal gauntlet with the hide one on the left. Remove the shoulder guard entirely. The colour is black with the golden edges, which is the same. No helm. Added short cloak to protect from the elements, can cover head.
(Credits go to image designer)
Weapons: Well, I carry my baby everywhere I go and it’s always been of use to me. Nobody separates me from my Crossbow, ever since that cavern. Hell it’s been with me my entire life. Plus it’s a one of a kind, dwelmer piece that is nearly automatic. Shoots any kind of crossbolts I want it to and I only have to reload, after five or seven shots. I usually don’t need more than one, per head. Unless it’s something tough, mean and ugly. I guess I carry a knife around here somewhere. Oh here it i- Ah gawd damn it, I sliced my f@cken finger again!
Magicka: Does alchemy, or poisons and crap count as magic? Unless it does, then I don’t use any of that. Well, I admit, it would be nice to be able to fry me some fish whenever I wanted from my hands.
Abilities: So, I shoot a bolt. Don’t miss, and it get stuck between the target’s eyes? It falls down. So it’s probably dead by now. I give it a hard kick, then if it doesn’t move I get free loot. If it does move, then well, I stick the knife in its throat. I also know some moves with my fists, I mean the drunken brawls ain’t really just for the fun, it’s also great practice. ‘cept, I’m not the one that’s drunk or maybe I am? I got to know how to protect myself, besides, who else is going to?
Bio:
So I grew up in some place near morrowind, or whatever they call it now. My father was some sort of elf human and my mother was some sort of human elf. I mean it might sound the same, but they both two entirely difference things here. Something about a Chimer, or was it a dwelmer, or dunmer. I lost track of what they were when it was time. So I had a pretty normal life, my father taught me how to fish, what herbs were safe to eat, and what game was safe to kill and when to run from the one’s that bit hard as hell. He also taught me to smith metal and all sorts of stuff while my mother was good with the stiches and how to mix the certain crap together to form herbs, poisons and potions. I learned a good deal from the both of them, but then one day. They never did return and there was rumours of something murdering people at the time. So as it was, I managed to find where they last were, I was about 18 or something at the time. I had my father’s Hatchet in hand, doused in a fowl smelling substance that my mother called Cohepr’s Sting- Look, don’t even ask me about that, it’s something of a passed down recipe or whatnot, and if you want some, ask or pay me something- So I also had a backpack of about a week’s supply, I didn’t know how long it was going to be. I end up finding this beast, or werewolf as you call it. We have a go about, and I get trapped in some cave with nowhere else to go but down. I end up traveling far. So far, the flames of your torch struggles against the bleak darkness. Almost like it’s sucking the flame’s life, as it flickers and groans. What I found was nothing anybody could ever imagine, and by my count I was down there for almost year. Eating mushrooms and drinking from underground streams. Good thing I had a fair share of torches, and then the lantern I found was great. I understood it was a dwelmer latern, and these things last forever. So at this point, I was ready to give up, but I found this huge cavern which was lit up by various blue floating crap, which tasted like crap. They were mushrooms. I also found a hulking city of immerse proportions, It could even have been a central hub for something. The hallways went on, the tall pillars went on, the cobble or rock or whatever roads were endless. I thought I would never make it. That’s when I heard the damn werewolf, or wet dog howling around. I figured it probably survived, and just needed some time to dig its way out.
So around this time, I went looking for some armory of sorts and by the heavens, or whatever. It was just luck. I found my glorious crossbow, there were a great deal of them too but I only needed the one. I gathered a good amount of bolts and by then the damn dog found itself to me. I shot one bolt, and the damn thing went do- Hell don’t damn well look at me like that, okay… Have it your way- So the damn thing still keeps on running towards me, so I practically empty the thing onto the damn dog, who still won’t go down. It leaps on mean, and I beat the half dead, wet, smelly, stinking, furry - Did I mention the damn things pl*psty breath, which burst out with each whack- dog to death. It took a while before it went down, then it took an even longer while to get the mutt off me- Hell that’s how I get this scar right here, just by my arse, you wanna see it?
Oh anyway, I was feeling pretty damn woozy after that, passed out. Next thing I knew I was somewhere else. I never did find that city again. Even after many years of searching. I couldn’t get the location of the cave I went to, nor the cave I came out of. So I woke up near some sort of long passage again, it did have other types of smaller, trading places or whatever. Somehow I felt myself compelled to go in one direction and not the other. I end up in the craphole called skyrim. Hell, good for me ain’t it?
So in the craphole, I got mocked for reasons I have no knowledge of but then people did seem to learn quickly of things. I picked up work as some bounty hunter, or what not. I end up travelling to other places. I get quite a bit of gold, then I lost most of it to some crappy pirate. Hell, he said a bet was a bet. I hunted that pirate down, gutted him and fed him to his pet skeevers. Got half my gold back, dunno what he did with the rest. I started to look for that city again, but gave up for reasons or maybe I was just damn lazy by now.
So now, I was old at the least. Had a nice place and a good standing or was it a bad standing? I could never tell, maybe the visitors were afraid of those skulls around my front gate, I joke of course. I had a number of, special visitors. Time passed, and there some crap you probably don’t want to know and crap I haven’t told you about, but just forgot about it.
Just give me another damn pint… I guess that brings me to today, I must say, I did keep in shape. Well, I still did merc business, even though I was rich or something.
Starting Location: Stros M’kai
Dialogue colour: Orange
Here it is... Whenever you're ready.
Last edited: