Info Character Profiles

[Viarco Strong-Head]

Name: Viarco Strong-Head
Race: Nord
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Class: Spellsword
Height: 6'3"
Weight (without armor): 225 lbs
Appearance: Viarco is light-skinned, and is a fairly muscular fellow; not to the extent of shirt-ripping biceps, necessarily, but he's fit. He has eyes of a pale blue, with braided blonde hair and a short-cut beard of the same color. There's a small scar underneath his left eye, which Viarco is quite reserved on explaining the story of other than he's had it since childhood.
Typical Clothes: When not in battle-related situations, or anything that would require his armor, really, Viarco wears a dark blue robe that goes down to about his kneecaps, over a white and royal blue worn woolen garment and pants, and leather shoes. He keeps a hilt for his sword underneath the aforementioned robe, just in case he encounters an unexpected adversary of some kind.
Battle Armor: Viarco typically prefers to wear light armor, favoring maneuverability, but he's able to make the best of the situation if he doesn't have that; though he may be a tad over-encumbered should he be having to wear heavy armor.
Personality: While he is a bit reserved of a man, Viarco is always happy to share a bottle of mead with any man or woman, and he's one of the first to step forward when someone is in need. However, due a lot of the inner struggles he faces, Viarco tries to not let himself get attached much anymore, so he may begin acting rather abrasive around those whom he cares about, and whom he knows care about him as well, but he makes sure it's not to the point where it's considered hostility.
Background: Born and raised in Morthal to honorable working parents in 4E 170, Viarco led a peaceful early childhood until he was 5 years old, when the White-Gold Concordat was signed that gave the Aldmeri Dominion clearance to eliminate Talos worship. As the Thalmor made their initial rounds around Skyrim doing so, they stumbled across Viarco's family, who were open Talos worshippers and proud patriots of Nordic culture. With quite the struggle, Viarco's parents were seized from their home, with the young boy left with tears in his eyes as his parents yelled back at him, reaffirming that everything was fine as they were shoved into the Thalmor's carriage; and, additionally, a hatred for the Aldmeri Dominion that took his parents.

Fast forward to Viarco now, at 31 years of age. Waiting for the perfect time to fight back against the Thalmor and, he prayed, find his parents, he had been training himself in the use of the blade for years, as well as going out and doing mercenary work around the holds to earn his keep. Upon encountering and dispatching a certain bandit caravan one day on a job, he discovered one of the bandits had an old book of spells on his person; Viarco's curiosity was piqued, and studying it and Destruction magic in general more revealed to him new ways he could combat his foes, and led to him fully embracing the "spellsword" identity. Now, he sympathizes with the Stormcloak cause, keeping his eyes and ears open for openings to possibly cause damage to the Thalmor whenever possible.
Skills: The one-handed sword and the school of Destruction are Viarco's two weapons of choice, being incredibly skilled in both areas. Viarco also knows his way around a blacksmith's forge, thanks to some of the knowledge he retained from seeing his father work the forge when he was young, and is also able to maintain himself in the heat of battle with restoration magic, having learned a few spells from the school from the expansive spellbook he recovered from the bandits.

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

(UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Cosset Beaulieu
23 YEAR OLD FEMALE BRETON
THE SERPENT
​

PERSONAL DETAILS:

​

Alias: None

Sexuality: Not defined and I'm quite sure asking would elicit and odd look and an uncomfortable exit from the current conversation.

Marital status: Single

Occupation: Is compiling information in the written form as many scholars tend to do on oddities, anomalies, and just generally unrecorded subjects across Skyrim. She will also take on the odd jobs that strike her fancy in the moment and procures a decent quantity of coin this way, this vary from the usual adventurers grind to simple jobs of enchanting.

Residence: Obviously enough to those that would be privy to any kind of information as to her living quarters she would have some sort of space within the bounds of the college of Winterhold, though in truth she rarely passed within its bounds and occupies different inns for ever varying reasons and durations. Her family once owned land, far from these parts. She does not return to it if it does still exist in their names. Speaking of family...

Family: The "Manmeri" has no family to speak of or perhaps simply chooses not to speak of them. Especially to you, stranger that you are.

Affiliations: She is certainly affiliated with the college of Winterhold as is made obvious by the ever popular response to those that pry: "I'm on college business." Whether she is or not at the time is another affair entirely.

Note-worthy Personal Relationships:N/A (Open for editing)

Political Views: "Neither side is without fault, this is clear. However, more important than any small detail is this; the war must end. One way or another."

Religion: The Nine Divines

Affliction/Disease/Ailments: Is plagued with a suspected "Paranoid Personality Disorder"

​

When decorated with war paint it is a dusty blue that flows in fluid lines over her skin, running from her face and disappearing from her neck into the hidden parts of her body.​

PHYSIOLOGY:

The Breton is slight in stature, as is in line with the general standards of her people, standing at roughly 5'3. Though she is a traveler, an adventurer and spends much of her time moving about she has so far avoided the squaring of feminine features that often comes to those with heavy weapons and even heavier armor. Her body has a decidedly soft, womanly shape about it despite good muscle tone. Generous curves and ample bust only further this popular opinion, though in no way are used to draw attention. She has a natural conservative way about her, perhaps stemming from the fluid cloth that adorns her and finds her covered, though not hidden.


Contrary to the subtly hidden figure her face demands attention. It is framed by a halo of soft caramel curls touched with varying shades of blonde and in its darkest parts, the slightest hints of a copper auburn colouring. These stray strands tend to fall to the sides as well as in front of her face demanding to be tucked behind slightly pointed ears. Her own pigment is slightly deeper than a majority of her kin being a healthy lightly sun-kissed colour. The sun had also gifted her a sprinkle of hardly visible freckles dotting sparsely her button nose along with the warm glow. The eyes, filled with a brilliant fire burning under thick lashes, hold many a tint that mingle for a rather beautiful show. The base colour of the iris is a pale blue nestled tightly within a ring of deep indigo. Spirling throughout the colours is a network of webs white as snow, and finally, a rather large brown spot occupies the inner corner of the left eye. A small oddity but still they smile still just as jovially as any other set when called to meet a smile passing over the plump soft rose lips. That being said, this isn't the most common of looks. Her eyes tend to look somehow haunted, the lips often pulled to one side in concentration or contemplation.​

​

Voice: Dulcet​

PERSONALITY:

​

In short, she is no simpleton. The layers and depth of character are vast and often elusive and tainted by hidden mental illness. As an overreaching rule, Cosset is an intellectual to the point of being astonishingly bright and subscribes to logic as most other scholars would do, though individual logic may be tainted. For this reason, she finds shelter within facts and unbiased observation, obviously contributing to her current fields of study. She appreciates any sage though reacts aggressively to her own brainpower being challenged, questioned any perceived threat to it. She also does not stand for others belittling her either as you may have been able to deduce. These are some of her most evident traits to any acquaintance. However beneath the surface, and all other traits aside,a sickness festers.


A deep seeded paranoia stalks every conversation, every reflection that mirrors in her eyes of those around her. There, behind the icy eyes,a basic lack of trust lives entrenched. She harbors no belief in the commitments, promises, or general trustworthiness of others and in every word sees an attack on her person, a hidden meaning that may be nothing more than a ghost. These perceived wounds are met with no less than swift and unforgiving retaliation often paired with a long-held grudge. If not one can be assured that she is plotting her next calculated move, simply waiting for the right moment. All of this suspicion makes relaxation a difficult goal to achieve and a dangerous and unpredictable host. The process of acting upon such suspicions can happen with little to no notice and lack all mercy. One might go from jovial laughter to having a knife in between their ribs, it is a secret peril that is all too real.​

Positive Traits: Highly intelligent, Open-minded to diversity, Fiercely passionate


Negative Traits: Unpredictable, Paranoid, Untrusting, Detached, Hostile


Likes:

Cold drinking water & hot cider
Intellect. Charm. Are they not one in the same?
Literature, scholarly primarily.
Soft materials and luxurious furs​

Dislikes:

Overly deep bodies of water, especially those with strong or unpredictable currents.
Dullards and their ilk.
​

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral to Neutral Good (varies based on current severity of paranoia)​

​

COMBAT STATS/ DETAILS:

Cosset is without question a pure mage. A great wielder of destruction magic the woman prefers the element of fire and uses a great variety of fire-based spells when in the throes of battle. Whether it be a blast of flame or a rune placed carefully there is a tendency to get somewhat lost in the heat of those more involved altercations. Therefore those around her are suggested to carry caution in more intense situations.

Other schools of magic may be called upon as she possesses a firm grasp on these however the parallel to destruction, restoration, is her second strongest field of study. Providing balance in this way she is able to both heal her own body and those of her compatriots. This makes her a valuable asset to a team or group setting, at least on paper.

One peculiarity that is worth mentioning is the odd way in which her body reacts to depleted magicka stores. One might notice that this individual seems to be able to push beyond what would be a proper estimate for her capacity, however, it also appears to take a great toll on her body. Once the stores are depleted she begins to draw on her own health, replacing the magicka. It is a dangerous trade-off, though with the combination of restoration and high damage output it is clearly a boon.​

Class: Mage

Major Skills:
Destruction
Restoration
Alteration

"Minor" Skills:
Sneaking
Varying degrees of all other schools of Magic
Unarmed Combat and One Handed
Enchanting

Weapons: A number of finely made daggers, hidden on her person.

Gear: As a majority of those mages dedicated to the study of magic the young Breton is rarely if ever seen without her robes. That being said the robes that swaddle her form are in no way ordinary. The fabric that makes up the custom-made, tailored garments are of astounding quality, the craftsmanship being equally impressive. Blue dominates the landscape of the cloth, a colouring mimicking that of the faded paint found upon the shields of Winterhold. Woven into the folds are accents of white and pale silver embroidered threading. All buckles and other hardware fade seamlessly with this scheme, being silver themselves.

Upon the vestments is the handiwork of the mage herself. With an impressive handle on the process of enchanting the robes are heavily enchanted with 2 enchantments each. Everyone revolves around her favored schools of magic rather than regenerations of magicka. This pairs well with her rather odd style of magicka regeneration. A glint of a fine silver chain disappearing to hide within the cover of her clothing also suggest jewelry of some sort, claiming health properties rather than those of magicka.

Laterality: Ambidextrous

Inventory: (COMING SOON)​

HISTORY: (COMING SOON)

 

[thatguy2]

Names: Ragnar and Harrald Greycloak, Thovard and Berjorn
Ages: Ragnar is 49 and Harrald is 53.
Races: Nords

Harrald's Appearance:

Ragnar's Appearance:

Ragnar's Backstory: Ragnar was born in Helgen, the son of a hunter and his wife. He joined the Legion when he was 19 after he heard about the invasion of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. He was sent down to Cyrodiil, where he would meet Harrald Oaken-Heart, the son of a hunter from Falkreath. The two quickly developed a relationship. Soon, they saw their first taste of battle, and Ragnar was badly wounded by a Thalmor soldier. Both men soon left the Legion, but both still feel loyal to the Empire. After Ragnar recovered, he proposed to Harrald, and both men married each other soon after. They now travel as hunters, but have also worked with Thovard and Berjorn before and helped train them immediately after Thovard's father died since both men were friends with Thovard's parents. They currently live in Riverwood, and often travel to Whiterun for hunting and to talk to Thovard and Berjorn, two young Nords from Riverwood.

Harrald's Backstory: Harrald was born in Falkreath, the son of a woodcutter and his wife. When the Aldmeri Dominion invaded Cyrodiil, he joined the Legion as an archer, where he soon met Ragnar Greycloak. The two quickly developed a relationship, and when Ragnar was seriously wounded, he left the Legion along with Ragnar so he could take care of Ragnar. Ragnar proposed to him soon after, and they quickly married each other. When Thovard's father and mother died, they allowed Harrald and Ragnar to stay at their house for a while, until both Thovard and Berjorn joined the Companions.


Equipment: Ragnar wears the Northguard Ranger Armor(crafted under ebony) and a thick black fur cloak. and carries an Imperial Bow, 100 Steel Arrows, a Steel Sword, and two steel daggers. Harrald wears Studded Imperial Armor with a thick fur-lined cloak with the Imperial Dragon symbol on it. He carries a hunting bow, 100 steel arrows, two steel daggers, an imperial sword, and a small steel shield

_________________________________________________

Names: Thovard and Berjorn

Races: Nords

Ages: Thovard is 24 and Berjorn is 22.

Thovard's appearance:

Berjorn's appearance:

Backstories: Berjorn was born in Riverwood to a merchant and his wife. However, when he was very young, they were killed by bandits, and he was orphaned as a result. Thovard's family noticed him sleeping outside of the Sleeping Giant and so they took him in and adopted him. He was with Thovard and his father on the fateful day when he died, and he convinced Thovard to ultimately join the Companions.
Thovard was born in Riverwood. He enjoyed hunting with his father, a blacksmith. However, when he was 17, his father was killed by a pack of wolves while hunting. Thovard managed to kill the wolves and make it to Whiterun, where he joined the Companions. Thovard has recently married Berjorn.

Equipment: Thovard wears a full set of the Dovahkiin's Journeyman armor(crafted under leather armor)and a brown linen cloak. He carries a Skyforge steel sword and a dagger, as well as a longbow and 100 steel arrows. Berjorn wears Wolf armor and a Companions cape. He carries a Skyforge Steel sword.

 

[Viarco Strong-Head]

My two other characters besides Viarco; I like to have some variety in types of personalities to work with in different RPs haha

Name: Rohael

Race: Redguard

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Class: Crusader (heavy armor, blunt weaponry, Restoration)

Height: 6'0"

Weight (without armor): 205 lbs

Appearance: What Rohael lacks in height against a lot of the foes he faces on the battlefield, he makes up for in build. The man is in incredible shape, possessing toned muscles and broad shoulders; his dreadlocked hair is typically tied back out of his clean-shaven face, with a gap in between his front teeth that can make for a warm smile to friends and potential lovers, or mislead enemies into underestimating Rohael's combat abilities.

Typical Clothes: Rohael enjoys living large, and that's evident through his outfit of choice around towns; a garment of fine green and white linen, usually with a few necklaces dangling in front of it around Rohael's neck, a pair of pants out of fine black fabric with a hilt at the side for Rohael's mace, and leather boots of a dark brown.

Battle Armor: Intimidation is one of Rohael's favorite tactics in the heat of battle, and he achieves this through wearing a set of ebony armor, minus the helmet. Having won the set of armor after a formerly-renowned warrior stumbled into a bar Rohael had been at, drunkenly betting it, the Redguard has put it to exemplary use in situations where his mace is needed, and he continues to do so.

Personality: Thought of by most as "a Nord trapped in a Redguard's body", Rohael has quite the love for the heat of battle. He is a very confident man, and while he does have a good disposition most of the time, he will be more than happy to demonstrate of his prowess in any area, whether it be in a simple game of cards or a raid on a full-fledged castle (most likely followed with some variation of "I'm the best" to himself, as well). Rohael also fancies himself quite the ladies' man, and his efforts to appeal to a woman he may be interested in tends to cloud his judgement, and can land him in sticky situations, just as his desire to prove his ability in certain aforementioned areas can.

Background: Upon Hammerfell's secession from the Empire, as well as the chaos within the province that ensued after with the Aldmeri Dominion and the Civil War, Rohael's family relocated to Skyrim, where he would be born. His father, a former Imperial soldier, taught his son everything he knew about fighting, expressing much desire for him to be a soldier, or at least some sort of adventurer, because he saw greatness in him.

Indeed, that's what Rohael became, as he was hired by the Empire to help carry out certain operations throughout Skyrim, as well as joining on the occasional bandit fort raid he'd hear about in a bar every now and then. Over time, Rohael became a well-known warrior with his trusty mace, and after learning the art of Restoration thanks to being introduced to it by a magic-using colleague, he had truly embraced the "Crusader" mentality. Now, he considers himself a traveling warrior and adventurer, stopping in towns every now and then to "see if an honorable warrior can find an honorable lover".

Skills: A specialist in blunt weaponry and heavy armor, mainly, Rohael is most certainly the warrior type, the first one to charge in with his mace and the last one to be standing, armor covered in the dents of his would-be killers' swords. Rohael is also heavily experienced in the school of Restoration, able to heal himself and his allies in the heat of battle; and thanks to his confidence, the man has a tongue of silver, granting him ability to reason and bargain his way out of a lot of predicaments.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Name: Leonellus Umbin

Race: Imperial

Age: 44

Gender: Male

Class: Agent (Archery, Illusion, Sneak)

Height: 5'11"

Weight (without armor): 200 lbs

Appearance: Leonellus is a fairly thin man, with a clean-shaven head and, in contrast, a long, scraggly beard. His eyes are of a dark brown, and his beard is of a similar color; though, it has taken a grey tint, evidence of what the stress and the worry of his years has done to Leonellus. His skin is of a pale white, with only a handful of wrinkles here and there; usually no one looks hard enough to notice them.

Typical Clothes: When it comes to clothing, Leonellus isn't necessarily in a position to be picky, so he settles for a worn, hooded red garment. Additionally, he wears leather pants and shoes, with a belt for holding his dagger just in case.

Battle Armor: Leonellus counts on his skill with a bow and arrow to take care of adversaries before they can get close to strike, so he prefers to wear his typical clothes in battle situations; it helps him with maneuverability on the battlefield, and also can lull enemies into a false sense of security as to guessing the Imperial's ability. The only change he makes is the quiver on his back, filled with an ample amount of arrows for fighting his foes.

Personality: The events of the past years for Leonellus have certainly taken their toll, and it's evident in the Imperial's cynical, cold personality, as well as a desire to not have anyone else get close to him so they may risk suffering a similar fate as he did/is in the midst of. He's not much for conversation with those he doesn't know, and will be more than happy to let you know of this through an insult or some kind of harsh behavior; however, he does have an affinity towards the religious, as his search for hope in the life he's created for himself would warrant being in the Divines' good graces. Other than those kinds of people, Leonellus is cold towards just about everyone.

Background: Up to when he had enlisted in the Empire as an archer, not much is known about Leonellus' life. Having fought in various battles during the Great War, he suffered an almost life-ending injury in the Thalmor General Naarifin's assault on Bravil in 4E 171; his Imperial comrades were able to find him, though, and they were able to transport him along with the rest of the soldiers that were able to escape across the Alik'r desert. Upon his wounds being nursed back to health, and extensive recuperation in Hammerfell, Leonellus returned to Cyrodiil after the signing of the White-Gold Concordat; only to be told that, because of his injury, he had been removed from the Imperial Army's ranks.

Left to traveling around Tamriel, Leonellus stopped in Skyrim when he had came across a group of devotees to the Daedric prince Vaermina. Hungry, tired, and having no home to his name, Leonellus decided to become a part of these devotees; though, he never actually said that his soul would belong to Vaermina. Rather, he carried out tasks for the Daedra as they gave them to him, stealing artifacts, killing nobles, and the usual things that a Daedric prince would have happen in Tamriel. Up until he witnessed one of the members of the devotees he had grouped with, an Argonian, be gruesomely dispatched by the Daedra for failing to uphold a certain task. Renouncing his allegiance to Vaermina, Leonellus fled, but the Daedra has not left his consciousness, constantly taunting him and drawing him back to the shrine which he ran from, reminding him of his destiny for Oblivion.

Leonellus is back to being a traveler once more, desperately searching for a way to get Vaermina out of his mind, and for a peaceful night's rest to come to him once more. He has a wife in Cyrodiil, though Leonellus avoids speaking about her, sure that she'll have renounced her love for him by now after not seeing him for years. However, she is the reason behind Leonellus' resolve to be free of the Daedra, as he wants to ultimately return to her a good, earnest man of the Empire; as she would want.

Skills: Leonellus is able to take care of many an adversary before they can even draw their sword with his bow, having perfected his craft in archery for years upon years. Through years of missions carried out for Vaermina, Leonellus has also learned how to stay quiet and sneak up on foes, and he also learned the arts of the school of Illusion from one of the men at the Vaermina shrine. Leonellus also dabbles in alchemy, a skill he had learned in the Empire, and has a knowledge slightly beyond entry-level of making potions.

 

[DropTop]

Kharjiir Aohin
26
Cathay-Raht Khajiit
The Steed​

Personal Information​

Appearance:
There is a reason why Cathay-Rahts are the first into battle. Standing roughly 7ft 4 inches tall and weighing over 300lbs, Kharjiir is always a site to be seen. Born wardriven, only the Skyforge could create steel stronger than the bones of this brute. With hands like bear paws, a swat from his claws can engrave markings in stone. The moons destined him to be the bearer of weight where the weak tremble. Gladly he takes this responsibility. He is a bulky figure, not shredded but carrying a healthy layer of fat on his body while still keeping an athletic look. His arms are thick and solid, hardened over the years of fighting and lifting. His legs are round like tree-trunks, immovable and rooted in the earth where he stands. He doesn't look freakish for his height balances out his girth. However, he is a sore thumb in every crowd constantly drawing unwanted attention for his size.

Personality:
Kharjiir is a curious one, which in turn gets him in trouble. Wandering off on his own often, the beast loves to be lonesome with himself. The setting of Skyrim is a lofty one for those whose hearts request adventure. Kharjiir wishes he could be an adventurer, yet he is incapable of sustaining himself without the aid of the caravan. Many don’t take kindly to Khajiit, and so the saying goes “the bigger they are the harder they fall.” In getting to know him, you have a better chance at learning more about his knuckles than his personality. Be wary when confronting him as well, for he doesn’t take anything lightly. Very respect oriented, so look him in the eyes and speak clearly or else you already put yourself on the “not-welcome” list. Rough talker as well, using intimidation to get his point across most of the time. Given his menacing appearance combined with his confidence, fear is not something that plagues him, meaning he can get himself in sticky situations unknowingly. On the outside, appears rough edged and stiff. His trust issues make him a tough fellow to really get to know, but truly he is sweet at heart and deeply fond of those he cares for.

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Status:
Single

Occupation:
Kharjiir travels with a Khajiit caravan across the roads of Skyrim; however, he can leave whenever he pleases.

Affiliations:
None

Positive Traits:
Sense of humor through rough times, Tolerant of people he likes, great companion, loves adventure, very defensive of himself and those he likes, always will return the favor

Negative Traits:
Not fully trustworthy, curiosity killed the cat, anger issues, fears nothing, short attention span; easily distracted (why takes walks to gather his thoughts)

Likes:
Night, Adventure, arguing, challenges, drinking by himself, long walks to clear his mind

Dislikes:
Nords, stormcloaks, empire, argonians, ancient ruins, people who talk to fast, large bodies of water, trolls, heat

History:
(In the workings)

Voice:
I imagine him sounding like James Earl Jones. If you don’t know that voice then you haven’t lived (Darth Vader, Mufasa, etc). Very deep tone.

Class Information
Barbarian

Major Skills:
Hand-to-Hand
Light armor
Two-Handed

Minor Skills:
Block
Speech
One-handed

Inventory:
two-handed silver long-sword
Fur Armor (optional chest cuirass, usually without upper body covered)
Fur Gauntlets
Fur Boots
Silver Emerald Necklace
Brown Fur Bag for carrying
Wood Cutting axe
Torch
Single fur tent and bedding

Style:
Kharjiir always begins a fight with his hands, and if unable to end it with his hands resorts to his great longsword to finish the job. He can wield the weapon with one hand or both. When using both he acquires much better accuracy; however, when using one it leaves his other hand available to deal as much damage as possible yet limiting his maneuverability. His fur armor isn’t much for armor but to keep him warm which his already dense fur provides. He doesn’t like the cumbersome weight added through heavy armor, and prefers his ability to be rather agile for a large brute, of course relative to the skilled fighter he may not be as quick. His knowledge in fighting isn’t nearly in depth to that of the experience fighter; however, when it takes one palm to knock a heavy-set Nord on his rear then you don’t really need much knowledge or experience. His only experiences with combat are those endured while travelling Skyrim’s harsh roads, which has given him a cold shoulder and decent fight in him. Plenty a bandit and creature he has slayed through the past 3 years of caravanning, plenty more to come. He is weak against the nimble and those who use magic, strong against the fellow warrior.

Magic:
None

​

 

[haafingar hell]

EDIT: I replaced this entire thing because I expanded upon it.

Name: Cyredalf Silinal

Age: 89 (as of 17th Last Seed, 4E 201; born 16th of Last Seed, 4E 112)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Race: Altmer

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 198 lbs

Class: Rogue

Physical Description: As one would expect of a high elf, Cyredalf is very tall and rather lanky in build, coming in at roughly 6’6” and 198 lbs. However, he is a bit heavier and more sturdily built than most other Altmer, being more physical than the stereotypical one and engaging in more physical combat. His muscles are best described as wiry, though, as he seems to be physically stronger than he looks. However, between his practice in stealth-based combat and his preference for light armor, he would have difficulty holding up in the role of a warrior. He’s built for stealth and strategy, not brute strength.


Again, in a rather expected turn, he is fair-skinned and golden. He has narrowed, amber eyes and a head of blond hair barely lighter than his soft golden skin tone. His hair is pulled into the stereotypical elven ponytail, his cheekbones are extremely high, and his face a little on the more masculine side for an elf. By human standards and by instinct, he would probably appear to be in his mid-twenties.

Personality:

INTJ / Lawful Evil / Melancholic / Slytherin / Thunderbird


Cyredalf is a rather complicated individual. He is introverted and cynical, arrogant and selfish, ambitious and ruthless. But at the same time, he can be charming and courteous, friendly and curious, and morally sound in the most unusual of ways.


First and foremost, he makes his living making raids and selling stolen goods as an independent agent. He rarely if ever invites others in on raids with him, feeling as if he’s being held back by any partners or followers. This, however, also feeds into an innate fear that he has of his plans going wrong. One of the largest reasons that he has not joined the Thieves’ Guild properly and refers to remain simply as an independent asset is his fear of surrendering control. If he works in a group, he often feels as if he needs to be in command. However, he also believes that if you want something done right, you usually have to do it yourself, and this shows with the way he approaches missions and adventures. So while he is sneaky and fast, easily able to dispatch a room full of bandits without being detected, his ability to work in a team is not at all good. Due to his excessive need for rigidity and control, he would likely be diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder in the modern world.


While his approach to work rarely changes, his approach when socializing can span a very wide scale. He initially appears as a quiet and thoughtful individual, someone nondescript and none too memorable. However, he can be engaged in intellectual discussion with extreme ease. He loves conversing with other educated individuals, and this garners a sense of enjoyment that is rarely seen in him otherwise. However, unlocking this with him also may or may not feed his arrogance. He considers himself very learned, after all, and if the two of you stumble into a subject that he has a very vast knowledge about, you will have to deal with his arrogance. He mostly turns on charm with shopkeeps and inkeepers, and is known to drop it to sheer intimidation in the drop of a hat. He switches ‘codes’ quickly and often mid-sentence, making him appear a bit unstable. He will also engage you for information if you have something he wants to learn, treating you with respect if he appreciates the time you dedicated to him or if he considers you a fair equal. The latter is very difficult to achieve. He is certainly a person that is is very easy to find dozens of different first impressions for from different individuals.


Quite frankly if he thinks he could get out of jail time by turning in someone whose crimes he knows about or someone else who was involved in his operations, he will. He looks out for number one and number one alone, and this doesn’t look to be changing any time soon. Despite this lack of a sense of loyalty and trust, though, he still has a handful of things that are against his ‘code’. These things include but are not limited to the wood elven Green Pact, vampirism, and Daedra worship. However, he has no problems with theft and murder, ‘useful necromancy’, and making a business deal with a Daedric Prince.

Magic: Alteration, Illusion, Conjuration (frequently conjures Storm Atronach), Destruction (primarily lightning spells), Restoration (mostly just healing), Enchanting

Weapons: His favored weapons are his crossbow (as he operates with the Dawnguard)- which he enchanted to also inflict fire damage- as well as an elven and a glass dagger that he often dual wields together. The former has a frost damage enchantment and the latter has an absorb health enchantment. Is it clear he favors sneak attacks and speed yet?

Armor: He prefers the aesthetics of Elven armor, but would rather not be mistaken for Thalmor and he doesn't like being flashy so he usually wears leather armor, but will also wear glass armor sometimes. He shows a distinct light armor preference, and everything he wears is enchanted. He also wears an Amulet of Akatosh.


Likes:

• Cyrodiilic Brandy
• A challenge
• Gardening
• Playing the flute
• Singing

Dislikes:

• Boredom
• Drunken brawls (he’s not too good at barehanded combat)
• Slaughterfish
• Vampires
  

Civil War Alignment: He firmly supports the Empire.

He holds negative views of Talos and fervent Talos worshippers in general, but he doesn't find any problems with "letting people worship a false god" as he says. He doesn't care for the Thalmor's extremist views at all, and mostly wishes that the Empire would drive out the Aldmeri Dominion and resume normal flow of trade.

Backstory:

He was born in the Summerset Isles to a Thalmor Justiciar mother and a healer father. From a young age, he was told by his mother that he was to become an agent one day, and he was fine with that for the longest time. Into his twenties and thirties, he trained with the Thalmor in trades such as using light armor and bound weapons, as well as immersing himself in the arcane arts. His upbringing was very much what was expected for a young, physically capable high elf with a sharp mind and an observant nature. He was a model soldier with a model family from an outsider’s perspective, but looking into his household would lend a different picture. His father disagreed with pushing him right into the Thalmor, believing he should have had more time to explore the other options that Alinor provided. What if he just wanted to study magic, or pursue some other practice? This caused a lot of tension in his household, which continued until he moved to live on his own when he was in his thirties.


He spent much of his time when not serving with the Thalmor between this time and the Great War picking up some skills of petty thievery and less than ethical monetary gains. He ended up running a small scale crime ring by the time he was due to leave the province in order to march on Cyrodiil, which was about to crumble when he disappeared amongst the other soldiers and left his underlings to take the brunt of the punishment.


During the sacking of the Imperial City, he faked his own death and was able to make a new life for himself in Skyrim. He lives in Solitude, where he’s known as a friendly local intellectual and a somewhat wealthy socialite. However, next to nobody who is currently alive is aware of how he makes much of his money (because he doesn’t generate that much as a bookkeeper).

 

[haafingar hell]

I'm able to make characters that are good people, I promise. I have a lot of character ideas, I'm sorry if I end up posting here a lot.

Name: Brand
Age: 28 (as of 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201; born 6th of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 173)
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Race: Redguard
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 193 lbs
Class: Pilgrim
Religion: Nine Divines, primarily Stendarr
Affiliations: None in particular to speak of
Physical Description:

Brand is built very much like most other Redguards, them being one of the taller races of man in Tamriel and the men often sturdily built and broad-shouldered. However, it’s clear by just a glance his way that he’s never been horribly skilled with the sword. A little wobbly and almost outright clumsy on his feet, the dark-skinned young man otherwise carries himself well. His posture is impeccable and his caution and well-dressed presentation allow him to make a very fair first impression. He keeps his tightly curled hair cropped short to his head, and he has a slightly narrower and more androgynous than most facial structure that is still clearly male. He’s got a fair few lashes across his chest, and a rather prominent scar running from the corner of his mouth across his left cheek.

Ailments (Physical): He is unusually weak to frost, something that seems to have stemmed from being hit by a stray spell during the war in Hammerfell when he was a boy.

Ailments (Mental): Brand shows many signs of an eccentric man, from his tendency to make others think their relationship is closer than it actually is to the numerous days he’s spent pacing at some cliff’s edge and pondering whether it would be worth it to jump off, from the sudden action of trying to pickpocket Kodlak Whitemane in the middle of Whiterun to the skooma habit that has been fading in and out of his life. Through a modern lens, he would likely be diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 2 and anxiety, likely with PTSD on top of it.


Personality:

ISFJ / Neutral Evil / Melancholic / Slytherin / Horned Serpent

Brand can be summed up very easily with one word: superficial. It’s difficult, nearing impossible, to become a very close friend of his and it’s not exactly difficult to tell that he’s always keeping something at bay behind his words. And if one tries to question why he’s so guarded, he’ll immediately change the subject and refuse to address their complaints. His most common target for a ‘different subject’ is current affairs or sometimes your accomplishments. He may stop himself from having close relationships, but he knows how to wield his speechcraft dangerously well.

Brand’s entire survival strategy in the world is the use of making himself into the person that others want him to be. He keeps himself, his true thoughts and beliefs, and his weaknesses under tight wraps, opting for safety and blending in over the glory and possibly gold for standing out in the right ways. One could talk to him daily for a year and still not be clear on his stance on the civil war. And he uses this as an advantage greatly.

His strategy of coping with and surviving in the world isn’t necessarily a good one. Because of this approach, he’s got a very muddled sense of identity. He isn’t sure anymore whether a belief is from him or someone else, he has a lot of difficulty making even small decisions like when he was asked what sort of drink he wanted in the tavern, and he’s scared to even consider many new ideas because he’s afraid that his adopting a new idea is just some borrowed opinion he’ll turn around and begone with it within a few days. So he’s constantly questioning whether or not things are his thoughts or what.

Despite all of this, Brand does have the desire to break away from his fear and anxiety and become a well spoken and much liked nobleman if he can one day. He’s certainly intelligent and educated enough; it’s more of a matter of his taking a stand with pride and embracing his own opinions, rather than agreeing with whatever he thinks will win in the end. He’s a survivor, one with an enormous fear of being wrong and the consequences of being wrong. And with his goals, these survival mechanisms are enormously counterproductive.

They also make him extremely selfish, always looking for glory and prestige where he can find it easily and always trying to convince himself that he’s worthy by undergoing various dangerous tasks, from going into a dangerous cave recklessly in response to being called chicken (how he isn’t dead, even he isn’t sure) to engaging in bar brawls more often than he would like to admit. However, the bar brawls tend to come in strings of rage, all occurring within the same long stretches of drinking and recklessness and insomnia. It isn’t uncommon to not see him outside for weeks after these spells, whether that be out of embarrassment or something else.

These claims are disputed, but there is also a rumor that he did more than just punch someone one night. He got into a bad argument with a sharply opinionated, arrogant, loud-mouthed Breton man that he was an on and off friend to that night, and the two exited the city together, each with a companion that they had been drinking with that night. Early that morning, only three of them re-entered the city and the Breton was nowhere to be found. It is rumored that they engaged in armed combat to the death. Since this, there have been here and there rumors about some questionable activity involving him that a bounty hunter may have some interest in knowing.

Magic: Illusion (varying uses), Destruction (likes his runes), Restoration (healing and the occasional ward)

Weapons: Though he prefers not to engage with weapons and such, he carries on him both a scimitar and an ebony dagger, as well as a small selection of poisons. He’s usually the type to try and use stealth to escape rather than eliminate though.

Armor: He will don Hammerfell garb (both with and without the hood) while traveling, but he enjoys wearing fine clothes and sometimes circlets when he’s inside the walls of a city.

Likes:

• Studies of law
• Alcohol
• General academic studies
• Flute music
  

Dislikes:

• Highly pressured environments
• Indecision
• Speaking first

Civil War Alignment: Brand himself saw much of the intense warring that went on in Hammerfell between his people and the Aldmeri Dominion, and for this and related reasons considers himself a Stormcloak sympathizer.

Backstory:

Having been born in the midst of the Great War, Brand has hardly known peace throughout his life. He lived in a large house, son of an affluent military man and the daughter of nobility. He had an older sister that he had a nice enough relationship with, but his father was gone for the first three or four years of his life, off fighting in distant corners of Tamriel. By the time he was back in young Brand’s life, he may as well have been a stranger. That didn’t stop him from taking a firm hold of power back upon properly re-entering the household, though.

In short, war had changed Brand’s father to some degree. He drank to cope with pain and nightmares and began beating his wife and kids, something that he never would have even thought of before. His lack of ability to cope with the situation, as well as continued war with the Dominion, caused him to become cruel and violent. He pushed Brand to begin training with a sword very young so that one day he could fight the dominion, and the boy began to resent the sword and withdrew more into his books when he could. He couldn’t challenge his father’s opinions without fear of getting beaten.

His mother, at least, was still a very kind woman who was fiercely protective of her children. She saw to it that Brand’s older sister was married off to a kind and affluent young man and would live a comfortable life in Sentinel before fleeing with her son to a safe location, taking advantage of the fact that her husband had been sent to Stros M’kai to fight the Aldmeri Dominion and fleeing to High Rock to escape. Brand was seven years old, coming up on eight, at this time.

Life with his mother in High Rock was better and much more peaceful, word being sent to them not long after settling in Daggerfall that Brand’s father had died by the hands of Aldmeri forces. Though the mother and son were relieved to say the least, they decided not to return to Sentinel.

And so, Brand grew into a young man in High Rock, studying illusion magic primarily and occasionally picking up a sword. However, above magic and combat was his desire to learn about and understand people and society.

He left High Rock for Skyrim when his mother died in 4E 193. Since then, he’s fashioned himself a historian of sorts from all that he’s read, owning a few rare artifacts on top of a rather abundant book collection. He’s also known to buy and sell oddities, especially those found in Dwemer ruins, from his home in Markarth. While his work doesn’t ordinarily pay well, he is kept in an extremely comfortable position because and only because he unapologetically takes bribes from the Silver-Bloods to keep his nose very far away from their dealings.

 

[haafingar hell]

She's probably my last for awhile!

Name: Svana Hearth-Heart

Age: 21 (as of 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201; born 19th of Evening Star, 4E 179)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Race: Nord

Height: 6’4”‘

Weight: 216 lbs

Class: Barbarian

Religion: Nine Divines, primarily Talos

Affiliations: None officially, Stormcloak sympathizer

Physical Description:

Svana is a tall, strong, and well-built Nord woman. She’s not lithe and lanky like one might expect of a tall girl like her, but instead is broad-shouldered and built very sturdy. She’s rather ‘top heavy’ as well, often binding her chest with tight clothing so it doesn’t get in the way of her training, and it’s not unheard of that she’s mistaken for a man from behind, depending upon her attire. She’s also got great guns, and isn’t afraid to show them off.

She keeps her hair short and cropped close to her head, not wanting to do much with the fine bits of golden blonde. And despite not bothering at all with lip color, she’s certainly not afraid of a bit of eye makeup. She also wears two lines of dark blue war paint on each cheek. She’s got a square jaw with a slightly longer face and a somewhat large forehead, brown eyes, and sparse brows.

Ailments (Physical): None to speak of.

Ailments (Mental): She definitely has a noticeable substance problem, mostly mead and ale. Episodes of this seem to both precede and succeed bouts of depression, which has been both a reason she has considered enlisting with the Stormcloaks and the reason she has yet to do so. She basically believes that being in the military will force her to work through her problems. She also has a lot of behavior that is geared toward seeking attention, but further observation shows that it’s mostly that she doesn’t want to be alone. She can also have some frightening mood swings, and her reckless behavior is very apparent. She appears to function for the most part though, which leads to her possibly being diagnosed with intermittent depression and borderline personality disorder with histrionic traits if she were in a modern setting

Personality:

ENFJ / Chaotic Good / Sanguine / Gryffindor / Thunderbird

Svana is very much a ‘one of the guys’ type. She’s loud and a little brash, aggressively extroverted, and quite a charmer when she wants to be. She always seems to be vying for attention in some way or another, not always caring whether it was from her friends, from a girl she’s interested in, or from total strangers. She’s very clingy and feeds off the attention of others, seeming extremely disappointed when it isn’t paid any mind to and is no stranger to doing something outlandish in an attempt to top that. She’s even gone as far as exaggerating the hell out of stories she had to tell, even in front of people that had already heard them. She never seems to tell the same story twice, though she only really has a handful of stories she tells. If all else fails, she’s just got to be the life of the party. Being the shoulder to cry on, though, can certainly satisfy this apparent need for companionship.

She is a lot of fun to be around, but as one may become better friends with her it’s easy to discover that she’s very clingy, jealousy being a very prominent player in her relationships, afraid that her friends will find someone better and leave her for them. She’s afraid that she’s not pretty and feminine enough for the girls she likes, not fun enough for her friends, that she’s somehow forcing everyone to spend time with her. Despite her presentation, she’s extremely insecure about her interpersonal relationships and how people see her. She never seems to be confident in people’s thoughts about her, even positive ones, though she isn’t open at all about it. What she can’t as easily conceal, though, are the mood swings that seem to plague her. Frequency varies, but she can be moved to anger, tears, joy, or many other things with the right triggers and not much effort at all.

Despite her clinginess, though, she can also be an extremely good friend. She’s extremely empathetic and sympathetic, honing her listening ear as delicately as she has her use of two handed weaponry and doing her best to offer advice or even just someone to listen. Many who talk to her about their personal problems find she can be among the most empathetic and nonjudgmental people they’ve ever gone to for help. She’s surprisingly good at offering a jab of common sense right when you need it.

She’s also an enormous flirt, sometimes even toward people she isn’t interested in.

Magic: Restoration (only basic healing spells), Enchanting (enough to recharge already enchanted weapons)

Weapons: She favors steel and two-handed weapons in her fighting, her favorite being a steel warhammer gifted to her by her father. Even when in feminine dress (which is rare; she often wears men’s clothes), it is rare to see her without this warhammer. She also keeps a steel war axe on her in case she is disarmed when using her preferred weapon.

Armor: Preferring light armor, she almost always wears normal leather armor, including the helmet. However, she will also wear fur armor if she finds it cold enough to make the change. She keeps an amulet of Talos tucked under her armor (in case she runs into Thalmor while out), and a silver and ruby ring with a fortify light armor enchantment. It was given to her by a friend.

Likes:

• Nord Mead
• Pretty Women
• Arm wrestling
• Singing (though she isn’t very good at it)
• Dogs

Dislikes:

• Most elves and beast races
• “Milk drinkers
• Moon sugar / Skooma (she lost a friend to skooma addiction)

Civil War Alignment: She stands firmly with the Stormcloaks, and has considered enlisting in the Stormcloak army.

Backstory:

Svana is a rather simple girl. She was born in Ivarstead to a barmaid and a hold guard, but mostly raised by her older (and only) brother because her parents always seemed to be so busy. He was ten years older than her, and he could have left her by herself somewhere so that he could socialize with people his age, but instead he let her watch him and the other boys fight with wooden swords and even began teaching her how. Sometimes if her father saw them during his patrol, he would stop and help with the instruction. This assured her that she had some real grasp on a one handed sword before her own tenth birthday. These were some of the fondest memories of her childhood, especially for someone who rarely saw people her own age throughout it. She didn’t have someone her age in the village to play with until she was about eight or nine years old, but his father was another hold guard and she’s still friends with this boy to this day.

Probably one of the most traumatic events of her childhood was when her mother suddenly packed her bags and left in the middle of the night when she was twelve. She was caught by her father, and the two parents had a screaming match outside the house, thinking Svana was too fast asleep to wake up to this (her brother was already out training, as he had joined the Legion Army; this was way before the civil war). What affected her more than the leaving itself- her and her mother were never close, as the mother was an aggressive and sometimes violent workaholic and alcoholic- was the way the town gossiped about her family after that.

There were rumors everywhere, that her father cheated or that her mother had done disgusting things to her and her brother, and that’s why she left. They said that her father was abusive. This all angered her greatly, as her father was never a violent person. He had always been patient with her, always gentle, and he did his best to show his children that they were his first priority. There were several situations where she got physical with people who were saying these things, mostly boys a little older than her that were looking to get a rise out of her. Needless to say, they often walked away with black eyes, fat lips, and broken noses.

As she got older, she started gravitating toward smithing more and more as a trade, even seeking out a blacksmith to apprentice, but the dragon attacks in Helgen cut her apprenticeship short. Her father was leaving to move to Riften, the closest walled city in a Stormcloak-controlled hold. She eventually moved herself up to Windhelm from there, and has been staying in Candlehearth Hall contemplating whether or not to join the Stormcloaks.

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

​

"Bram" BramwellAckerly
MALE BOSMER​

PERSONAL DETAILS:

Alias: Silverthorn

Apparent age: As with many of the longer lived races the only indication of age is the eyes which hold the knowledge and pain of undeniable age and the slight crow's feet that accompany them. Due to this, even his apparent age is ambiguous, one might place him somewhere in his twenties.

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Marital status: Single

Occupation: The Bosmer has many titles and has many uses though they generally fall under the same shadow. Bram is an excellent source of sensitive information, for a price as well as a procurator of secrets and other such documents. In short, he deals in knowledge and has quite the impressive wealth. Quick fingers and an addiction to script, the smell of fresh ink and new paper, as well as rare alcohols, means he is a very specialized thief. Aside from that, he has been rumored to have organized the covert exit and entrance of individuals to and from Skyrim for a hefty price. Word is however that he is very selective of his clientele.

Residence: Though he is a proprietor of several safehouses he does not claim one as his center of domesticity. Often on the move he does dedicate a more substantial time to theDawnguard grounds if one central location had to be identified.

Family: He has known the warm glow of love and family, though the light has been snuffed and the warmth is no more.

Affiliations: Once a spider spinning his own silk in a dangerously complex web he was cursed with the truth and tore himself from it rather than be ensnared, and bled dry. Though that is a life past, and tentative affiliations have been forged anew. He is loosely affiliated with the thieves guild as he is both a source and a procurator of delicate and sensitive information and material, it is through them that one may contact him. Bramwell is also a member of the Dawnguard, though he takes his own personal freedom seriously.

Note-worthy Personal Relationships: Alder Fal'Cey. The only relationship from his past to survive his exodus, though he is lost in space and in mind.

Political Views: His political concerns have long been geared towards the shadows, the politics that hide within the underground channels and the murk of his past. His mind still lingers on such things, the careful watch for the slightest hint of a resurgence of any group involved, because though he has fled such things and cast himself outside of their circles transgressions are not so easily forgotten. Therefore, despite his intimate knowledge pertaining to those within politics his interests are otherwise entertained.

Religion: None that he makes obvious, though there is no intimate detail that is obvious to be had from him.

Affliction/Disease/Ailments: Alcoholism

It is clear that Bram is on friendly terms with the drink and has a knack for obtaining rare vintages and other such brews. This being said, despite his problem, he will not be found belligerently drunk and once working requires of himself a clear head, and no fire in his veins. One might classify him as a high-functioning alcoholic.

PHYSIOLOGY:

Bramwell has a decidedly weathered look, both lingering in his eyes and pooling in the lines that run across on his face. More than simply touched by the sun his skin has a certain warmth that pairs well with the rugged appearance that contrasts many more feminine of his kin. Crows feet line his piercing brown eyes, framing the pools that burn with a contempt for his past and astute shine.

His long, pointed ears are unmarked and unnotched, hugging his head and exposed by the sheared sides of his locks. Atop his head cool toned brown hair flows like water, to be tamed by a leather strip and pulled from the face. Cascading downwards it is falls over his shoulders and down his back. At times it is adorned with bone pendants, otherwise it may contain the odd piece of flora.

When comfortably covered scars appear predominantly though sparsely on the tops of his hands, while ink has stained a select few fingers on his left. When uncovered the marks of his past are more so visible. Those largest and thus most noable are as follows; one scar runs across his hard abdomen, another over his shoulder and collar bone. A spray of smaller scars claim his back, appearing to result from the infected wounds caused by arrows piercing the skin.

As opposed to his features his build is not uncommonly found amongst his people. Not particularly stocky the elf leans more towards willowy though his shoulders do display some notable width. His body is firm, with muscles earned through years of trials and hardship. Standing at 5'8 he is taller than most Bosmer, nearing the maximum height reached by his kind.

Voice: Smooth, Laconic, Blasé



PERSONALITY:

As a business man the wood elf is professional and to the point, efficient with little tolerance for time wasted. He is sure to make it clear that he is selective, exclusive and is not to be toyed or trifled with, and will react in both a cold and blunt manner. That being said he is reliable and dedicated, always completing jobs within reason.

On a personal level Bram can be surprisingly giving of material items and of time, though only to those he deems fit and in need. He does this not to seek any of his own advancement but because he feels it is his duty to give. He has a deep capacity for kindness, though it has not survived his past unscathed. He shows respect to those that deserve it, and may choose to engage in a friendly manner though he has little patience for the tiresome tribulations and pleasantries. He refuses small talk almost completely.

However if he feels others attacking unnecessarily or attempting to insert themselves in to his life and prying in to his past they will find him unyielding and cold. Shutting down the more pleasant aspects of his company with little trouble he can be seen as harsh. He requires a professional relationship and touch.

He prefers to sit in silence or surrounded by the gentle sound of his own music, to remain unaddressed when drinking. He does tend to brood, though he rejects others doting on him for it rather than encoruages it. He very much wishes to stew in his own misery, as old wounds have been torn open and must be licked. He is haunted by his past, seemingly nothing more than relic of it.

Positive Traits: Giving, Professional, Intelligent, Kind

Negative Traits: Brooding, Secretive, Cold

Likes: Good drink, Writing as well as the materials required, Literature, The smell of old pages, Learning, Knowledge, Secrets, Good music, Witty poetry, Solitude (not the city), The scent of lavender, Visits to Solstheim, Honey combs, Elsweyr fondue

Dislikes: Unruly Vampires, Pity, Not being taken seriously/ his time being wasted, Show-offs, Disorderly drunks, Discrimination

Hobbies: Drinking, Anything musical, Reading (Hoarding books)

Alignment: Chaotic Good

​

COMBAT STATS/ DETAILS:

Class: Sneak Archer

Major Skills:

• Archery
• Sneak
• Pickpocketing
• Unarmed

Other Note-worthy Skills: Musical inclination, Alchemy, One handed, Light armor(its wear andconstructionie leather working), Fletching, Speech

Weapons: With the knowledge that Bramwell fits within the class of archer one might assume that under the cloak or found somewhere on his person is a well-loved bow, polished by the oils of his hand and time though to assume is a dangerous and often fruitless game. While most archers prefer such a weapon, and somewhere leaning against a wall this bow does exists, a cross-bow is more often poised in his agile hands. This paired with an impressive arsenal of bolts with varied properties comprises his main method of delivery when dealing in death.

That being said there are other weapons that find themselves in use. His excellent aim paired with the need to improvise over the ages had led to his ability to use a variety of weapons as accurate projectiles, including but not limited to such things as hatchets and knives. Daggers are also a necessity for his kit, as close range surprises are always a possibility, so much so that it would be safe to called them an inevitability. Finally, he may also chose to substitute the aforementioned bow, most frequently when hunting animals. Though he is capable with other weapons it is seldome necessary that he venture beyond these parameters.


/GEAR/: A simple white tunic is the start of it all, a base for all other pieces to come. Atop this a simple leather jerkin, well-worn and fitted trimmed with a dark leather and cream sinew and brought together by several buckles along his torso. The leather garment reaches just passed his hips parting just above his groin. Over this the thick dark brown leather band, with an ornate silver buckle holds his quiver or crossbow to his back or at least offers the option. Around the thinnest part of his torso, just below his ribcage a deep tan belt hugs close to his body at about 4 inches in width being held together by a number of lashes and small buckles. Starting above the larger belt and meeting to buckle at the adjacent side resting firmly against it is let another more ornate belt, its edges scalloped on one side and holes punches to accentuate the decoration. A thin cheery-walnut coloured sword belt begins just below this falling as it reaches his other hip, a leather band breaking from this to hold a quiver of bolts.

A basic leather pauldron is attached to his left shoulder, well-made but uncomplicated. Buckles for the attachment of a cape most often hug their counterpart though the material and colour of such would vary widely situationally though always sporting a hood. Along his arms both elbow guards and laced leather gauntlets act as protection, matching the deep brown of the quiver strap.

His lower trappings were equally simple. Thick, soft cloth pants of a worn brown colour cover his legs, thin leather sides and lower front adding protection. To supplement this supple knee guards are paired with matching leg guards. His boots are likewise without any gaudy additions, plain black leather is all the decoration afforded though no more comfortable boots were to be found.

These are his most common raiment's, though in times that require more protection such gear is donned. Other such obstacles, such as inclementand brutally cold weather, require different protection. A heavy fur and skin coat, much like those worn by the skaal in the same earthy brown is the solution to such a problem and Bram sees no shame in indulging in its relief.

Laterality: Right-handed


HISTORY:

I'll write this when/if I feel like it.

Whatever this is:


She begged him with her eyes, so innocent and wishful, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. He returned her gaze but his eyes were empty, he felt nothing for the woman whose arm he pulled away from. HIs face turned, offering her his profile and a bank expression.

"Don't" was all he said, his voice clear and even.

Her eyes were confused, somehow she had mistaken his intentions though he had given her no reason. The drink had only made him colder, it did not loosen his tongue nor stir carnal desires. She was mistaken indeed for he did not crave her flesh, he did not want for her. He wished only to be alone, in the flickering light of the fire, in the flickering memories of his past where he could hope to feel them once more. His only desires to be plagued, he was no ordinary man.

Though he had aided her and offered kindness, a wave of disgust washed over him turning him even farther. His time was not payment to be accumulated, buying him access to intimacy. To be misunderstood once more, to be shaken from his nest and given cause for flight to lose his pursuer and lessen the pain of rejection was the outcome. Though he expected no good in return for the good he did it was no less off-putting.

"Take your leave," He indicated, replacing his arm on the polished banister, letting his weight shift to the left foot which rested on the stone step "And let me take mine."

He had no need to let his gaze drift over her face to feel the shock and the confusion which lived there, he could feel it in his bones and responded by pushing his teeth together, locking his jaw. The fault was not his he knew, though the shuffling of feet and the silence spoke of some blame. He had lived through too many similar moments to let it permeate his skin, emotions wicking off of his frame like water as if his skin had been treated with wax.

Like a ghost he took to the steps, floating through the still air with the grace of a dancer and the listless expression of one whose emotions existed only in the abstract limits of his own mind. The wine that warmed him left his head feeling wooly, pushing out all thoughts of the previous interaction with a sigh. In the darkness his fingers dropped to his waist, maneuvering themselves instinctually to the smooth wood surface of the small woodwind instrument. In the darkness he walked in circle after circle, slowly rising on a familiar path.

He had no need for his eyes as the flute met his lips and clear, haunting notes began pouring from him expressing and enciting emotion in a way that no combination of words could. As his lids folded blackening his vision, he lost himself in the tune. The sound of it echoed, bouncing against the stone confines of the stairway, filling his heart with its message. She had already faded from him.

This character is very near and dear to my heart, thank you for taking the time to read his card.​

 

[Brittonbubba]

Guess I oughta post more characters.

Name: Lyra (Pen name: Chitara.)

Race: Half Breton (in looks), Half Imperial (in abilities) (Bretimperial? Impereton?)

Class: Healer, with some experience in One-handed

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Looks: A girl with a rectangle figure. 5'05. She has long, straight hair, dyed a light shade of lavender.

Armor: Purple priest robes with a hood, Jade and Sapphire Circlet, Stalhrim Shield.

Weapons: Elven Mace (only when desperate), fists (only when REALLY desperate), offensive Restoration Spells (the kind used against the undead), Destruction Spells (though she hates to kill others)

Biography: A girl with a happy upbringing. Her father was Breton and her mother was Imperial. Her interest in medicine is what made her choose to become a healer.

Personality: Quiet, hates fighting directly. She's afraid of the undead, but she will go through an ancient Nordic tomb anyway. She usually falls in love with other magic users.

Misc: She has a minor Cinderella complex. She has latent maternal instincts and loves children.

 

[DraconicPsycho]

Name: Laatvulnil (final dark void)
Race: Dovah
Class: Mage
Gender: Male
Looks: 20 feet long and 9 feet tall (on all fours). Has pitch black scales with purple wings and eyes.
Personality: Cool and collected, but extremely fierce in battle. Often found near the throat of the world or in other high locations.
Misc: Has a shout "Nil Vokun Yol" that spits shadowflame. Often found in the company of other dragons. Can offer words of wisdom to travelers, or a spit of flame. Text color is darker violet.

 

[ElainalLovesNotes]

Name- Nivenesie Atenus

Gender- Female

Race- Dunmer (unbeknownst to her she is half imperial.)

Age- 22

Looks-

About 5"6, freckles, shaved back of head, remaining hair in a ponytail. Wears leather armour with no helmet, or plain peasants clothes. Uses a staff of healing and a steel war axe. Because of her freckles and slightly warmer colouring, Nivenesie suspects she is not pure dark elf, but because she was adopted and never knew her birth parents, she has no way of knowing her roots.

Class- Healer, mercenary.

Skills- Restoration magic, alchemy.

Personality- Charming and flirtatious, but tends to have a bit of a temper if not given what she wants. Nivenesie is always on the lookout for her next flame, but sometimes ends up in fist fights with the man she was interested in if he rejects her advances. Niv is loyal to her friends and is generally fun to be around, but can be easily offended. When her anger calms down though she'll often be the first to apologize. Nivenesie cares deeply for those who hurt, which is what originally inspired her to be a healer. She is always ready to help just about anyone, regardless of whether they can pay her or not.

History- Nivenesie is the middle of three adopted children. She grew up in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil with her Imperial mother, Kajiit father, Argonian older brother, Auguseethus (Also called August); and her Imperial younger brother, Arelus. Her older brother joined the Penitus Oculatus and was stationed in Skyrim to search for the Dark Brotherhood after Commander Maro failed. Niv's younger brother joined the Imperial Army and was also stationed in Skyrim, but went AWOL before his first battle. Nivenesie stayed in Cyrodiil to learn restoration magic and alchemy, but after Arelus's disappearance, August called Nivenesie to Skyrim to help him search for Arelus. Since then they have still not found him and have all but given up hope. Nivenesie hopes that in her journeys across Skyrim as a mercenary that she will find her lost brother.

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

"Ther" Etheril Matius
25 YEAR OLD FEMALE IMPERIAL
1st OF FIRST SEED, CYRODIIL, THE LORD
​

PERSONAL DETAILS:

Alias: None, though those she is on friendly terms with often come to call her “Ther” as opposed to Etheril.

Apparent age: Youthful in face, body, and movement yet clearly of age to be considered a woman one would place Etheril, quite rightly, in her mid to early twenties.

Sexuality: The Imperial woman, as a number of those in Tamriel, is attracted to both sexes, though more often found in the company of women. She has experienced a number of relationships in her life though she does not love nor chose another to share in indiscriminately.

Marital status: Unattached.

Occupation: Preferring the role of support as a healer she does not often travel on her own, and certainly does minimal adventuring in such a state. Hired, or enticed by wealth into action alongside others she has found herself comfortable enough and wanting little for material possessions. Always searching for a new journey to embark on, it is not unheard of for the woman to hire her own help and journey out on the trail of some treasure or myth.

Residence: Though there is a home somewhere, surrounded by wildflowers and tainted memories, to which she could return she has chosen not to do so and in that way claims no residence.

Family: This is a rather complicated matter and one best not discussed as it will simply be glossed over and is not worth the waste of time. That being said both her mother, father, and biological father still survive.

Affiliations: As of this point she has yet to find a notable group to attach herself to, however in her home province she has been a member of several mercenary groups of varying note and reputation. She no longer considered herself affiliated with any group after having left its ranks, and so flies under no banner.

Note-worthy Personal Relationships: ( Open for editing. )

Political Views: She supports the Empire if only for the fact that is would break her father's heart should she do otherwise. However, she does not put down those that support the storm cloaks and gives aid where it is needed regardless of uniform.

Religion: Having been raised in a religious home it has been ingrained by her upbringing to respect and praise the divines, giving them the credit they are due and the worship which that entails. It is difficult therefore for her to accept that a divine can simply be denounced and struck from the record, however, she also recognizes the pressure that created such a situation. Her mother's patron saint was, and perhaps still is, Mara and so Mara holds a special place too in the heart of the healer.

Affliction/Disease/Ailments: Has a tendency to indulge in illicit substances, some may label as a problem though it has yet to become such in her eyes. Sleeping tree sap is amongst the current favourites.

​

They shone, as though each soul she had come across was visible there in what they left behind. As the wood on a well loved trinket polished by its wear, by the grace and touch of its master's hand. To simply have described them as brown would be a slight, and a true loss.

PHYSIOLOGY:

A slender, lean figure holds the lively spirit of the young imperial girl captive and grounded, a curved back and shoulders which are thrown back confidently accentuating an exemplary posture. Standing at no more than 5'6 her stature is nothing spectacular, though her presence remains an elusive mixture of commanding and soft. Her long strides likewise exuded a confidence and authority, as though she belonged unquestionably exactly where she chose to place herself.

Years of wearing heavy armor have made their mark on the willowy healer, strengthening her muscles and leaving her firm and well toned. Her small shoulders and generally thin build have, however, refused to take on any extra bulk despite this. This translates to a preference to keep her pack light and choose loot conservatively as to offset the extra weight.

Often found outdoors, with a penchant to bask in the warmth of the sun and sleep under the stars, the girl has been marked with a warm and healthy glow. Likewise, the sun has set upon her face, sprinkled over her small nose and cheeks, a dusting of freckles which seem to fade slightly in winter months. Long locks of golden blonde hair, ranging to a light brown at its deepest points, have a polar reaction and take on a darker tone during the colder months.

A free spirited, impish smile is surely the focal point of a decidedly attractive face, brought to life with visible dimples and neat rows of white teeth. Following suit, her eyes seem quick to betray a smile, crinkling under the fringe of her full lashes. Housing a pair of gently curved brows the expressive visage is often easily read, as the imperial most often wears her emotions there for others to see. However, this is not a permanent trait as with some effort she is able to reign in her reactions and guard them in privacy.

Voice: Mellifluous, Lilting, Honeyed​

​

PERSONALITY:
Upon first meeting Ther it would be a fair assessment to deem her both friendly and warm, however, those that assume this may be taken advantage of are soon rectified in their opinions as such conduct is met with equally harsh and aggressive behavior. Quick to take up friends and lovers with passionate zeal she is also one to quickly cast an individual aside if feeling wounded and is a notoriously fickle partner. Though the situation may be rectified it will only occur with significant effort from the second party.

Those that have earned her respect, however, are treated to a vastly different set of rules. With a strong desire, urge to please such characters her own moral compass is at times overlooked in their service, though not without significant internal struggle. There is also a tendency to put the aforementioned objects of her admiration on a pedestal, a difficult view to be rid of, the upset of which causes her great emotional pain.

With a fiery disposition comes a temper, the masses are treated to a short fuse. The outcome of which if conflict arises leans one of two ways. The first is rage, hostility that seems uncharacteristic. The second is withdrawal and overall meek behavior. Regardless of the chosen path, the imperial is predispositioned to play a rather convincing victim regardless if the title is deserved or not and due to her depth of emotion and ability to make friends often wins other to her side at times out of spite. Needless to say, if you do not earn her respect you may be subject to such outbursts as she cares very little of what most think of her.

Likes: Adventure, Learning from those close to her, Temperate/ sunny condition, New locations, Warm soup or stew on cold nights, The glow of torch bugs, The full moon


Dislikes: Infidelity or those with similarly loose morals, Being deceived, Unfair judgement, The grey skies of winter, Being bound to a person or group (being robbed of her freedom), Assumptions made based on her appearance or class, Being forced to micromanage a group, Others using magic for gaudy or superfluous reasons​

Alignment: Chaotic Good

​

COMBAT STATS/ DETAILS:

Though classed as a healer Ther is much more than the basic priestess, healing the weak and ill who congregate at the temples. Tested and proven in battle the Imperial uses high-level restoration to target individuals and whole groups for immediate results. Wards and other such spells are used to protect and strike fear into the hearts of the undead, providing relief from incoming damage. When targeted, or when a group member is overwhelmed, illusion spells are made use of to dissuade enemies from attack. Finally when attack is unavoidable destruction spells, such as various cloaking spells, are used offensively.

Class: Healer

Major Skills:

• Restoration
• Heavy armor

Other Noteworthy Skills:

• Destruction
• Alchemy
• Illusion
• Speech

Weapons: The only physical weapons to be listed are a simple elven dagger and a staff. The staff however, is mainly used as a walking stick, and occasionally as a last resort for whacking enemies over the head.

/GEAR/: Foregoing simple robes in favour of protection and safeguarding her own life plate is worn to ensure she may focus on the wounds of others rather than waste resources on avoidable injuries of her own. Wrought of a metal, silver in colour, the chest plate as with each piece of her armor fits her body perfectly as it was not scavenged but made in her image. The chest plate is simplistic, decorated by a fine detailing of flowers and vines which gather first around the neck, falling down the center of the piece and finally fan out to spread across the hem, the metal guard altogether ending at the smallest point of her figure. Protecting the neck from the bite of the metal is a scarf, neatly folded and pristine white in colour. Attached by a metal disk each pauldron is equally uncomplicated and lacking in grandeur, rising slightly with her shoulders to come to a minute point, from under which sprouts a light pale green cloth cloak. Lashed to her upper arm a number of overlapping plate pieces guard her, though the buckles and leather pieces which bind them to her remain visible over sleeves of black cloth which tells of a chemise worn beneath the armor. Once more adjoined by a circle with a center of gold, the gauntlets leave no section of her forearm uncovered, outfitted also with an elbow guard which rises slightly for added defense. Intricate finger guards lay over black leather gloves, allowing full mobility.

Attached with a simple gold clip from the base of the chest plate guards fall to either side, leaving space to her front. Made of several ribs of metal they appear to follow the curves of her shape and provide a pleasing illusion to the eyes. At the center, which is left without the protections of these guards a metal triangle falls at its center, point down and with similar floral designs covering it in its entirety. The lower half of a tabard, hidden previously by the armor, flows freely between her legs. White and trimmed with gold it comes to a point past her knees. The back part of the tabard, splitting from the front somewhere under the plate, is much wider and descends with the guards. Trimmed this time with the same pale green of the cloak which breaks away from the edge to meet with its opposite side, forming a half circle, this section of cloth likewise comes to a point around the same area.

Of the legs very few glimpses of the black material beneath the armor are made available, as is the same with the buckles which hold together each piece. Protecting the thighs and upper legs the metal comes to rise along the front of her thigh. Those same flowers begin sparsely at the top of the rise, though golden in colour and begin to spread as they reach the knee. The knee guards are covered in the same design and scalloped decoratively on their edges. The last larger section of armor is scalloped in a similar way along its top, and at its widest point. In the opposite way that the upper leg had flowers growing in numbers as it descended, the lower displayed fewer as the eyes followed the sleek lines to the feet which are shielded with sleek armored boots.

Laterality: Right-handed

Inventory: TO BE ADDED


HISTORY:

Of the Matius family, there were three. Head of the family was a prosperous merchant who was first a father and second a businessman, though his work stole him away often. Always the first to offer a kind word and a smile, he was good to his wife and child and loved them deeply and received nothing less from his devoted daughter. Her mother was a charming woman and pious as she was gentle. It was by her hand that the young child was nurtured and tended, and taught to heal as to make something of herself in years to come. And of course, there was the girl, Etheril.

Her family had money enough to keep her comfortable as she danced barefoot through her childhood against a backdrop of the countryside and old stone walls, gripped tightly by the creepers which filled each crack. It was an enchanted time, and place which shielded her from the world outside the large property and kept her entrance long enough to make her believe that life could be blissful and sweet. In her youth, the lies which gathered like cobwebs in the shadows of the quaint villa seemed to escape her, and leave her to laugh and trust with the innocence of a child. Yet they weaved their webs around the girl, as she was born of them and could not hope for escape.

Her companions in this time were not other children but rather the animals and people that lived alongside her, trapped in her small world. One man in particular, who seemed as much of a part of the villa as each stone which had been laid in its construction, filled her hours with tales and companionship, guarding her as though she was his own. The bosmer seemed to fill the yearning she felt for a father whose attention was hers to have, and not borrowed time she waited desperately to steal. He helped to weave the charmed lie she lived but also helped to tear it away and taint the sunny days which had come to define her.

The signs of childhood had lost their grip on the girl just as her rose colored glasses were to be violently shattered. It was only by chance that she had caught them together, and finally after years of betrayal was shown the truth behind her own conception. Her mother, the devout and loving wife, had been involved in an affair long before the birth of her child. Furthermore, Etheril was herself a product of this affair, the Bosmer worker was, in fact, her father.

The discovery understandably shook not only the girl but her perception of relationships and fidelity. That her father should not know and love her so deeply and unconditionally was painful, even more, so that her mother should take no issue in deceiving him and Etheril both while playing at being devout. It would come to define her future relationships, by a lack of belief that any romantic bond could be genuine or lasting without deception. It taught her to reject attachment and that life was not blissful nor sweet, a truth which chased her from her home.

With a sum begged of her true father, the man whose name she carried, she took her leave disavowing her mother as she stepped over the threshold and into a world of uncertainty. Yet, in this world, she found a need for people like herself and a fulfillment of her desire for adventure. Beginning with only her knowledge of healing, some tutelage in the use and wear of heavy armor as well as her charm and joie-de-vivre she soon won the hearts, and knowledge of lovers and friends alike. Over time she would come to learn from them destruction and illusion magic, only improving through study and paid training as she left them behind, as she inevitably did everyone.

(Feedback is welcome, also for an updated verison of this CC or any of my other CCs please visit my blog. Thank you.) ​

 

[SciHighFant_asy420]

Who is Drea Owl-born?

Drea Owl-born is a female Nord of young adult years.

She has long, pale blonde hair and blue eyes that can change from bright blue to deadly bitter ice, much like Skyrim's own skies.

Her frame is tall and muscled, accentuated by broad shoulders and strong legs.

Her face is stubborn yet delicate, and despite her youth shadows lurk in her eyes.

Old claw marks, healed yet deep, run down her left cheek and graze the corner of her mouth.

Spoiler: In Depth Physical Appearance/Equipment Preferences

Drea is a gifted smith, having spent a short time as a Smith's apprentice in Cyrodill as a young sprout. She forges her own weapons and armor, and favors good cold Nord steel. She isn't shy, and likes her enemies to see her physical strength. She often bares her arms, legs, shoulders, or abs to some degree. When the air turns deadly cold, however, she has a floor length fur cloak made of thick white wolf pelts.

Drea hosts an impressive arsenal of weapons: one handed steel sword, magical staff, Scrimshaw bow, steel arrows, and steel dagger drape her back and hips. She makes quite an intimidating silhouette, especially when wearing her huge white cloak.

History: This young Nord woman is reminiscent of a snowberry fruit, hardy and vibrantly beautiful in the deadly North. Owl-born is her family name, Drea her given, and strange phenomenon seem to follow this battle maiden across the North shores of Skyrim. In her late girlhood years she set upon a quest for justice, personal and global, yet more death and tragedy is all she seems to find. Too stubborn to ever give up and hopeful enough to keep looking, Drea chose to make a last desperate attempt at answers.

Drea’s journey so far has been ripe with trial, even harder questions, and no answers. Political relations grow ever more unstable and violent, dragons are apparently returning, and a strange magical presence threatens Drea’s own idea of who she is.

The destiny of Drea Owl-born is complicated and diverse, and can only be told with time. One can only hope there are those out there who will help her upon her journey, and be helped in turn.

Class: Warrior/Spellsword

Spoiler: In Depth Combat Analysis

Drea’s skill in battle is fierce and breath taking, though some would say she is too reckless at times. She has a unique fighting style that combines the Nord warrior and elemental mage in her. Drea has a weathered old staff that effuses a powerful magical aura that she can use to either boost her own magical powers or to simply block incoming melee attacks. She weakens the enemy shock and ice spells before moving in with her sword and staff to quickly finish them off. Drea is naturally gifted with Restoration powers as well, and is generous with such spells to any in need. Most of the time, that is.

(Think a sexy Gandalf, twirling staff and sword while casting spells.)

Spoiler: In Depth Personality Analysis

Drea is a unique Nord, but a Nord all the same. She has a mostly positive and open outlook to things, but holds honor and duty as sacred. Not to say she doesn’t hold great stock in common sense, but blindly following an ideal is an egregious moral oversight in her mind. Drea teeters a delicate silver lining between most things at great sacrifice at times, but also understands that many simply cannot pay that great toll. She lives for all, but asks for all as well.

Drea wants to trust and love people, but is smart enough to know better sometimes. She is fawning with her praise when it is earned, but is scathing with her disapproval and holds grudges. Justice is a double edged sword, but Drea is more than willing to pay the price.

Drea's magical gifts aren't unheard of for a Nord, but no mage is safe from scorn in these times. Still, she walks boldly through any streets in Skyrim with her staff glowing at her back and sneers demurely at any who comment. Some, however, think the magic is merely pretty, and Drea will often talk for a moment with such people if she can spare the time.

Drea is also an fairly talented enchantress. She spent her childhood at the knees of her doting parents, learning the old Nord tradition of crafting from her father and the delicacies of magic from her scholar mother. She began combing the two arts, enchanting little rings, daggers, and boots as an older child.

More of Drea's interests include books (of all kinds, but especially ones about history. And combat. And magic.), wine (of all kinds. Especially cheap.), cooking (stews, pastries, and grilled leeks among her favorites), nature, and having a good laugh (she knows quite a lot of skeever jokes. Most of them dirty.) Drea likes to boast that she can skin an elk, pitch a tent, drink a bottle of wine, and read 20 pages at the same time.

OOC Author Notes: I use several mods in my game (250+...), including combat and skill tree overhauls. The ones I use are designed to add more content without changing the overall feel of the game, ultimately making the game more fun and challenging. Drea's combat skills described here reflect how I play her in my game, but should be lore friendly enough to comply with this forums purpose.

 

[thatguy2]

Name: Ser Renald Stroud
Nickname: Ren
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Gender: Male
Age: 61
Weight: 192 lbs.
Race: Breton (half-Nord)
Height: 6'1"
Sexuality: Bisexual, with a preference for men
Laterality: Right-handed

Appearance
Skin Color: Fair
Eye Color: One is brown while the other is blue.
Hair Color and Style: Gray, medium-length wavy
Build: broad, tall, well-built
Distinguishing Features: A scar underneath his left eye, freckles
Tattoos/Piercings: none

Apparel
Constant Wear: While at a temple, he will be seen wearing a monk's robes along with a pair of boots.

Casual Wear: When not at a temple, he will be seen wearing a brown linen tunic and brooches, along with a cloak of wolf skin.

Armor: Renald has his armor from his short time as a member of the Knights of the Rose. He also has a set of chain mail underneath a red surcoat. (the akatosh cleric armor from http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/26904/? and the hedge knight armor from Immersive Armors)

Gear
Weapons: Renald carries around a steel longsword and a shield, forged by the blacksmith of Wayrest.

Magic: Renald is skilled in the school of Restoration magic. His experiences both as a member of the College of Winterhold and as a priest have lent him skills in Restoration magic.

Other: He carries around a pipe and tobacco for smoking.

Personality
Personality: Renald is generally a kind older man, always willing to go out of his way to help those in need. Despite seeming so kind, his dark history has left him scarred due to the deaths of his family and having to execute his uncle. He smokes and drinks to deal with this problem. He is also a very studious man. However, he is also shy and softly spoken most of the time.

Fighting Style: While most competent with a Restoration spell in one hand and his father's longsword in the other, he is capable of fighting with most weapons, and trains with both magic and steel every day to improve.

Habits: Drinking and smoking are his two habits.

Voice: Ian McKellen

Likes: the Aedra, reading, studying, swordplay, his husband Ysmir, the Dawnguard, the priests at the Temple of the Divines

Dislikes: undead, vampires, werewolves, Ulfric Stormcloak, the Vigilants of Stendarr, the Stormcloak rebellion

Miscellaneous
Affiliations: When they were both young men, Ysmir and Renald studied at the College of Winterhold. They have also joined the Dawnguard to fight the vampire threat.

Afflictions/Fears: They are both worried about the dragons and the threat they pose to Skyrim as a whole. They worry about the vampires and werewolves becoming bolder. They also worry about death.

Properties: While they own a home in Solitude, when travelling, they will both stay at temples or the inns.

Job: He is a priest and knight. If someone asks for healing, he is always willing to do it.

Weaknesses: Speed. Due to his older age and his heavy armor, he is not able to move as quickly as younger folk. He is still able to move quickly for someone his age, though.

History/Backstory

Ser Renald was born in Wayrest, the son of a knight and his wife in the realm. His life was peaceful, and being the third son meant that he had more freedom than his older brothers. He would go and watch the Knights of the Rose train. When he turned sixteen, he enlisted in the city guard. However, there was little activity besides an occasional brawl in the city, so his life remained relatively the same. Soon he was told by his illegitimate uncle Arniel that there was a rescue mission that he would be a part of.

However, Arniel wanted the throne his older, legitimate brother held. He told the other mercenaries going with him to kill the lord and lady as well as his older brothers. The small group set out and were able to successfully rescue the merchant. However, they returned home to a bloodbath. Renald was soon recruited into the Knights of the Rose for his efforts in rescuing the merchant, as they soon began to investigate the deaths of his family. When it was discovered that Arniel had killed his family, he had Arniel as well as the mercenaries under his command executed for treason. However, even with them dead, Renald's pain was still strong.

Renald left home with his horse, his father's sword, and his armor from his time as a member of the Knights. He arrived in Solitude after about a month and a half, where he collapsed from sheer exhaustion. He woke up in the temple of Akatosh, being healed by a young priest named Ysmir. Ysmir convinced Renald to join the priesthood, and so he did. The two would get married, and set out to study at the College of Winterhold. Since then, they have returned home to Solitude. But with the threat of vampires becoming greater, they joined the Dawnguard.

Speech Color

 

[321ttocs01]

You know.... I think I know this person. ?.. but in real life!!!

Sent from my SM-T110 using Tapatalk

 

[Hlíf 'Ulfr]

You know.... I think I know this person. ?.. but in real life!!!

Sent from my SM-T110 using Tapatalk

http://ourclassroomdoodles.deviantart.com/art/Portrait-study-5-451569757

 

[Asmund Fire-helm]

This sounds cool. I'm storing my character Here, (I'll use this guy a lot)

Name: Farwil Berano
Birthsign: The Serpent
Gender: Male
Age: Really Old, looks young.
Weight: 170lbs
Race: Dunmer
Height: 6'1"
Sexuality: Straight
Laterality: Left-handed.

Appearance

Apparel

Armor: Farwil originally wore a dark looking set of Chitin armor. After joining the Dawnguard his main armor changed into the Inquisitor's Black Coat (Nexus). By the time he had entered the Soul Cairn he wore the Royal Vampire Armor. after Defeating Harkon he usually wore the Falmer armor.

Gear
Weapons: A Silver Longsword and a Crossbow.

Magic: Farwil is an Expert in the schools of Destruction and Alteration. As a Vampire, The School of Restoration doesn't really work on him (Mainly hurts him) but he knows a thing or two about Illusion.

Personality
Personality: Farwil is essentially full of Self-hatred. the Ancient Vampire has spent most of his unlife hunting others of his kind, seemingly because he wanted to stop anyone else to become like him. He is generally gruff, and a firm believer of 'Shoot First, Question never'.

Fighting Style: He is a master Swordsman, and specializes in Frost Magic. in a normal fight, he prefers to take out the most dangerous enemies with his crossbow first, and then tries to disable enemies rather than kill them. of course, the same cannot be said when he is fighting a vampire.

Likes: Magic as a whole.

Dislikes: Vampires (When they attack the innocent), The Vigil of Stendarr (That made the Vampires grow bold and vengeful enough to attack the people in the streets)

Miscellaneous
Affiliations: As an Ancient Vampire, hailing from the late Second Era, Farwil has been a member of many guilds and Organizations. most recently, he's been a member of the Dawnguard and the College of Winterhold.

Afflictions/Fears: His biggest fear is that the Vampire kind may grow so bold to try and wage open wage open War against mortals.

Properties: He is a Wanderer. he has no home.

Job: Vampire Hunter, as well as Detective

Weaknesses: Like most vampires, Sunlight and Fire.

History/Backstory

Farwil Berano was originally a Farmer's child in a Village on the Borders of Rift and Morrowind, before the Second Akaviri Invasion.
when he was a teen (By Human standards) a Coven of Vampires took over a small cave near the village, and when they had enough thralls and were tired of the place, attacked their village, burning it to the ground and slaughtering everyone.
Of his bad luck, Farwil was bitten by a starving vampire of said coven, and he survived the Carnage, instead forced to live his life as a Vampire.
His main drive, ever since that day, was to hunt down the coven that did this to him, and then to hunt down any vampire who dares attack innocents.

 

[Yingvar war wolf]

Name: Kalif
Race: Nord
Class: Warrior/Brute
Age: 38
Likes: Killing Imperials with his greatsword, sharpening his greatsword, getting drunk at the nearest inn/tavern.
Dislikes: Imperials, the thalmor, High Elves, books, magic.
Looks: Buzzed dark brown hair, with a medium-long goatee. Wears heavy armor while keeping his greatsword close at hand. About 6'1"-6'2" and 208 lbs. Very muscular build, looks slightly bulky. Dark brown eyes and a thick nose adorn his face.
Bio: Kalif's parents were murdered by the thalmor during the destruction of a Temple of Talos, near their hometown of Dawnstar. He wishes to end the Imperial control of Skyrim. While he supports the stormcloaks, he takes his own path in liberating Skyrim. He enjoys finding company with fellow Nords, but welcomes any who oppose the empire as his brothers and sisters.
Personality: Enjoys causing trouble when Imperials are around. Rough on the exterior , but get to know him and become his friend and he will gladly give his life for your protection.
(Just so everyone knows I'm new to RP, but I'm very excited to get started. If anyone sees something I'm doing wrong please let me know.)

Nice dude. I play a build similar. He may have his soul sold to hircine for lycanthropy but he dont give a skeevers arse about worshiping him. Hes a radical talosian lol...

 

[Yingvar war wolf]

Name: Wybjorn ironside It means thunder bear in old norse.
Race: Proud Nord.
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Height: ehhh 6.2
Class: Warrior
Weight: 210 mainly muscle he trains his mead gut off.
Sexuality: Straight. Married to aela.
Appearance: Big bear of a man. His parents named him with the name wybjorn because he was always big and strong for his age. He has red sorta kept sorta unkept hair with a war braid in front. A long goatee but is in the process of growing it out. )Face sculpter) He has blue war paint covering half his face and a couple of scars from his early days as a blade for hire.
Profession: Blacksmith and sell sword companion. later on SC soldier.
Favored gear. Heavy armor. Things made of steel or bone. Same for his swords. He prefers to use sword and shield. Nord hero or skyforge steel.
Affiliations: As of now companions above all else he is the harbinger.
Personality: Fun to be around. Tough yet smart. He thinks the empire has no place in skyrim. He loves fighting and is the happiest in the midst of battle. The only thing that makes him as happy as beheading a bandit with a sharp piece of steel is being with his wife aela. Very headstrong and stubborn. hes kind of a smart mouth. Very sure of himself.

Fears: That the thalmor may become a perminent presence in skyrim. (He aint gona let it happen) Spiders.

Things he hates. Thalmor. Empire. milk drinkers. Assassins. Thieves.
He doesnt hate all elves but has an instant distrust for them.

Current main gear.
Wolf armor
Steel shield
Skyforge steelsword
Nord hero sword.
Will wear furs when just out hunting.
Will wear clothes when staying in citys.

Current job. adventurer, mercenary. bounty hunter, Treasure hunter.

Main jarl. As of now balgruuf but is transitioning to falkreath. later ulfric

Helps guards. Fights for gold honor fame and glory.

likes mead other nords. Fighting.